The Zi'veyn: The Devoted Trilogy, Book One

by Kim Wedlock

  Chapter 26

  "It's not his fault, Kienza," Aria whimpered from beside the sudden woman, her small voice studded with regret. "It's because I got captured."

  "Whatever do you mean by that?" She frowned softly, but before the remorseful young girl could stutter a reply, a firm hand grasped Kienza's shoulder and attempted to tear her away from Rathen's side.

  "Don't touch him!"

  "And just how am I supposed to help him if I don't?" She returned mildly, all too easily shaking off Petra's sharp grip as she continued to brush his hair aside. Her plump lips pulled downwards for a moment as she stroked a fingertip over his torn cheek.

  Petra's eyes blazed wrathfully as she moved to snatch for her again, but she choked to an abrupt stop when she noticed the glistening crimson that masked most of Rathen's disturbingly peaceful face. Anthis pulled her back to keep her from interfering, having recovered from the wave of nausea that had hit him after their sudden relocation. He'd fully expected her to resist, but she threw her arms around his shoulders instead and buried her face in his neck, shaking as she wept, her rage crumbling into an equally powerful grief.

  But he was too distracted to notice her contact. He held her absently as he stared back and forth between Garon and Kienza, neither of whom looked as troubled as they should have by what had just occurred. "What happened?" He implored them desperately once again, his eyes wide with shock, utter lack of comprehension, and a fear that would have been more suitable on the face of a child.

  "Yes, Mister Inquisitor," Kienza said with suspicion as she tore Rathen's shirt open, revealing the extent of the blood that covered his torso, "what did happen?"

  He sighed and folded his arms, but his usual superiority was nowhere to be found. Instead he explained, in the best terms he could, of their encounter with the thugs, Aria's capture, and Rathen's subsequent reaction.

  Kienza sighed, searching his skin with careful precision as she gauged the severity of his wounds. As Garon had expected, these were far worse. His chest was riddled with uncountable rips, like an aged sack that had been routinely over-stuffed throughout its lifetime. Petra blanched again when she saw them. "I see."

  "I don't!" Anthis proclaimed. "How did this happen to him?!" Against possibility, his eyes widened even further, a thought striking him as hard as a herd of stampeding cattle. "His magic...he said he thought the mages were losing control of their magic - did he just lose control?!"

  Kienza shook her head and stopped probing his skin. She flattened her palm and passed it slowly over his lacerated chest. "No mage has ever lost control of their magic to an extent like this. This is something else entirely."

  Anthis stared at her closely. "...You know what it is, though, don't you?" His eyes flicked towards Garon, and there was an immense distrust within them. "Both of you."

  Rathen's flesh began to knit itself back together beneath the passing of Kienza's hand, and she looked up at last, giving the young man a small, sad smile. "You know a little more than you let on yourself, Mister Karth," she said gently. "It sounds familiar, doesn't it?"

  The blood slowly drained from his face. "The mage in Kulokhar... That was...?"

  "Rathen," she nodded mournfully, "yes."

  "What mage in Kulokhar?" Petra asked. She stood on her own now, though she hugged herself and her voice still shook.

  "Eleven years ago, a mage within the ranks of the Order went on a senseless rampage." Kienza spoke with curious disconnection, her voice lilting as if she was recounting a revered but over-told story. "He killed sixteen people in the market of the capital city in broad daylight. Even now, no one knows why or how it happened; it was completely out of character. He was a respected sahrot, one of the highest ranking mages present on the battlefield, in command of a full regiment. But that day - a day outside of war, and no different to any other of its kind - something within him...changed. His body mutated physically and chemically to become something like what you all just saw. He lost total control of his mind and turned by all rights into a beast: unstoppable, inescapable, unreasonable and frightfully strong. He attacked and killed everyone who caught his eye that day, no matter who they were. Men, women, children..."

  With a delicate touch, she unlaced Rathen's trousers and turned to the wounds along his legs and hips while the others averted their eyes. "It only lasted a few minutes," she continued, "and it ended as abruptly as it had begun, stopped only by his loss of consciousness. But he had no memory of what he'd done when he awoke. He was exhausted, and the change had put such a strain on his body that it almost killed him. It took him a week of bed rest and constant tending to recover - and his injuries then were far less severe than these."

  "What does that mean?"

  She didn't look up. "That Rathen's transformations are worse now than they were then.

  "But that, of course, wasn't the end of the matter," she sighed wearily, "and neither was the end as straight forward as it should have been. It was a terribly political situation; it occurred in public and involved a figure of significant authority. The people needed justice, but the Crown needed to save face. They couldn't come down as hard as the populace wanted them to or it would raise questions about the competence of everyone else under their command, and it would reinforce the fact that they'd been taken by surprise by one of their own. So instead, they allowed the suggestion of a conspiracy, the idea that the Crown had been aware that something like this could happen. Of course, that also allowed the implication that they were already taking steps to remedy it when this instance occurred. It was so brief, after all, that no one could tell whether or not those measures had been hurriedly put into effect to quell it."

  "The decision caused a lot of trouble for all branches of authority," Garon agreed, "but we all recovered more easily from that than if it had been handled hastily."

  "Like I said: they needed to save face. But they also didn't want to upset the Order in case it was something every mage was capable of. The Crown needed the Order on their side."

  "Is it not something any mage could do?"

  Kienza pulled her eyes away from the repair of his inside hip at Petra's hopeful tone, and she gave her a brief but penetrating look. "No," she replied a moment later.

  "You said it was 'something else entirely'," Anthis reminded her. "So it wasn't magic?"

  "It wasn't a spell, if that's what you mean."

  "Then could he have lost control of his magic?" He pressed. "The magic alone?"

  "No."

  "...Then..." The young man's brow knotted tighter at her flat and unhelpful responses. "I don't understand."

  "I am confident that this would never have happened to him if it weren't for that fifth chamber in his heart," she stated categorically, gently tapping his fully repaired chest, "but I don't believe that it's related to the magic itself. And as for why it's happened, I can't say. But the trigger seems to be extreme tension resulting, usually, from feeling that he's completely out of control of a situation."

  "Who are you?"

  Kienza smiled softly and looked back to Petra following not the simple question, but the cautious hope with which she'd delivered it. She also noted the affection and knew immediately that this deeply troubled woman considered Rathen a friend. That broadened her smile. "I am his..."

  "Girlfriend," Aria finished.

  "It's a little more complicated than that," she grinned almost as childishly, "but I suppose it's the simplest way of putting it."

  "And you're a mage...but I didn't think mages could heal wounds..."

  "They can't."

  Petra frowned, and both Anthis and Garon displayed a trace of the same uneasiness towards her as they had upon their first meeting. But when they didn't press this contradiction and Kienza turned her attention onto redressing Rathen and mending his clothes as easily as she had his body, Petra decided it best not to pursue.

  They were silent as she worked. Aria and Garon stood nearby, watching the mysterious woman weave her impossible magic, whi
le Petra and Anthis mulled over the words and their implications while trying to ignore the voice in their heads that screamed for them to flee his company.

  Kienza soon grunted in satisfaction. "He'll be better in the morning, but it's just as well you've leased some horses. He won't be able to walk very far for the next day or two."

  Suddenly remembering the beasts, Anthis spun around and looked towards the tree he'd hastily tangled their reins around. He hesitated as he counted them. "There are four..."

  "Well you did pay for four..."

  "Actually, I returned that last one."

  She blinked. "...Oh well, no harm done." She conjured a blanket and spread it over Rathen's body.

  "Wait, in the morning? I thought he'd need at least a week of bed rest..."

  "Oh, I wasn't the one tending him back then," she smiled. "We didn't meet until his banishment. Since then he's had much quicker recoveries, which is just as well given how these transformations have progressed..."

  "You say it like it's happened more than twice..."

  "What I just recounted to you was, itself, the second incident." She paused to stroke Rathen's cheek again once she'd finished tucking the blanket around him. "There were no witnesses to the first, and only three victims."

  Anthis eyed her warily. "How many times has this happened?"

  She stopped to think for a moment and began counting on her fingers, which was already enough to tell them that they didn't want the answer. "Well, there were the two in Kulokhar, then three while he was in my care, and...six thereafter?"

  Aria shook her head. "Seven."

  "Seven," Kienza corrected.

  All eyes crashed onto the eight year old girl, and though the same question formed on everyone's lips, their tongues were too horrified to ask it.

  Kienza turned away from them in dismissal and gave Aria a warm and affectionate smile, asking her quietly if she was all right. She nodded and smiled sadly, telling her she'd hidden just like he always told her to - he could never find her when she hid - and accepted the long and tight embrace her mother-figure offered, as well as the whispered words that no one else managed to catch.

  Kienza then rose to her feet and turned towards the others. "You may as well make yourselves comfortable here. You won't be going any further today with Rathen as he is - assuming, of course," she added carefully, casting a gentle and sympathetic gaze over Petra and Anthis, though it was one that suggested she already knew their intentions, "that you're staying with him."

  They looked to one another, but neither could read their own minds, let alone each other's.

  "Where are we?" Garon asked, finally looking about himself and noticing the dryness to the air. He, of course, would stay.

  "I've teleported you somewhere safe," she replied, stepping purposefully towards him. "You won't be troubled here." She looked at him critically, and suddenly he felt the need to take a step back from her, desperate not to fall under her fiercely studious gaze again. "Take off your shirt." She smiled in amusement at the uncensored shock that passed over his face, then pointed towards his chest. He looked down and found a long rip through his shirt, its edges stiffened by dried blood, and a broad cut across his skin beneath it that he surely should have noticed sooner. His eyes widened in a second wave of alarm. "You did a fine job keeping away from him, Inquisitor. Truly commendable. In fact, I'm surprised you've come out of it so cleanly."

  He recalled the first of Rathen's charges. He thought he'd managed to jump aside just in time, but it looked like he'd been slower than he'd thought. It must have been the spike on his elbow.

  But then she twirled her finger, and as he turned around he found another cut across his lower back, one he'd likely gained while baiting him. This one, however, he could feel, and the young clotting had broken back open as he'd twisted to see it, causing it to bleed once again.

  "Both superficial," she assured him. "Now, like I said: shirt off."

  Petra and Anthis turned away as he obliged with severe resentment, though Petra was a touch slower, and they began to do as they'd been instructed. But as they left to gather firewood for the approaching evening, both cast a glance over their shoulder towards the unconscious mage, whose daughter sat devotedly beside him, holding and stroking his hand, and felt their ferocious misgivings pressing in. Neither were quick to return to camp.

  Almost two hours had passed when the darkness beneath the forest canopy began to deepen, the sun's descent masked behind the boughs, and the air had stilled with the fading light. The tension was finally beginning to wane, and spirits were eased by the comforting light of the fire and the smell of the food cooking over it.

  But Rathen still hadn't stirred.

  Each of them sent uneasy stares from the fire a short distance away as Kienza sat quietly and patiently beside him, but no one voiced their questions or variety of concerns, to her or to each other. It was only once dusk had truly set in that she rose to her feet, startling everyone after being motionless for so long, and gave them the update they silently craved.

  He was fine - or 'out of the woods', which they excused - merely sleeping, which he would do for the most part until dawn. The others were doubtful that it could be that simple, a response which this time the sorceress excused, but she was confident enough in her diagnosis to leave him untended, and Aria seemed equally as trusting.

  "What if something happens?" Petra had asked worriedly as the two left for a walk in the woods not five minutes later, but Kienza had smiled and assured her that if anything happened and she was needed, she would know.

  Petra was sceptical, but she had seen her magic and knew already that this woman was capable of things she shouldn't have been, and saw little choice but to accept her response - especially since she was already walking away while delivering it.

  But despite her foreboding in his presence, she found herself equally uncomfortable with leaving Rathen be, so she remained diligently beside him in the healer's absence, keeping watch for either another transformation or any sign of discomfort. But after a short while of listening closely to his soft, rhythmic breathing and staring intently at the peace in his face, she soon fell deep into her own heavy thoughts.

  Garon, meanwhile, had stayed by the fire to tend the meagre meal, though it was one undeniably more luxurious than what they'd recently become accustomed to. But as he turned the thinly-salted fish on their sticks, he heard footsteps approach from behind. He lowered the hand that had been absently tracing where the cut had been across his chest and braced himself for the accusation. He'd been waiting for it for an hour, and he was surprised it had taken so long.

  "You knew about this," Anthis declared with the expected condemnation as he came to a stop beside him, but he didn't sit, and Garon didn't rise.

  "Of course I did," he replied flatly.

  "Do you not think it was a bit irresponsible not to say anything to me about it when you recruited me?"

  "You would never have agreed. Besides, Rathen was never to leave my side."

  "And what good it did, too."

  Garon brushed off the sarcasm. "I had already spoken to Rathen about this when I recruited him. It was his leading concern, in fact, and his overriding condition was that, if the need arose, I did whatever I had to to prevent a repeat of Kulokhar. Fortunately, I didn't have to."

  "And what would that be, pray tell?"

  Garon finally looked away from the flames and turned steady eyes up to the historian. There was nothing in them but cold duty. "Kill him."

  Anthis stared back at him for a long moment, a thousand thoughts racing through his eyes. Eventually, he sighed and sat down on the spot, his silence persisting. Garon turned the fish again.

  "...Forgive me, Garon," he said at last with a more considerate tone, "but I don't see how you could have killed that--him. I don't see how anyone could."

  "You don't need to worry about that detail. Suffice it to say, if I couldn't have subdued him, I already had a number of other options planned out
. As I will if it happens again."

  Anthis buried his face in his hands, exasperation completely overcoming him, and he released a long, hot breath into his palms.

  "What will you do?"

  He dropped his hands as his eyes shifted back towards the inquisitor, and though he opened his mouth to speak, he began chewing his lip instead. "I..." He sighed in defeat. "I don't have much of a choice but to stay. This goes beyond a simple research commission...things were already too complicated, I can't run away just because of this..." He laughed suddenly and shook his head. "'Just because of this'..."

  "I assure you: I can handle him."

  His eyes flicked back to him again, and he analysed the officer for another long moment. "Well, you'll have to, won't you? Because I can't, and Aria...oh, Vastal, watch over her..." He became lost in thought again, and Garon didn't interrupt. "Yes," Anthis finally grunted, his attempt to sound decisive somewhat unconvincing, "I'm staying. Vastal watch over me."

  Garon nodded and offered a brief but genuinely grateful smile.

  The slightest groan behind them gripped their attention and they twisted around in their seats, but they didn't rise or move towards it - Kienza had been quite precise when she'd told them all not to crowd him. They turned back to the fire and listened silently instead.

  "Did I kill anyone?"

  Half way between human and monster, the meek voice was rough, as if his throat had been shredded, and it startled Petra out of her ponderings. She looked down and found Rathen's eyes half-open. He wasn't looking at her; he didn't seem to be looking at anything, but bleary though they were, there was a definite expression within them. Guilt, dread and immense self-hatred were hard to miss. Unlike in Kienza's story, it seemed he had since come to learn what he was capable of, and it clearly sickened him.

  She looked quickly back into the dark forest, but there was no sign of Kienza or Aria. Would the woman know he'd stirred? It would have been better if one of them had been at his side when he'd woken - or perhaps one of the others. Anyone, really, but her. Of everyone, she'd known him for the shortest time - what comfort could she offer at a time like this? She was the worst possible choice...