by Kim Wedlock
He sighed heavily and turned towards the window once again, but this time he cast his eyes into the city, towards the obtrusive elven tower the Order called home. He became aware of the knot in his jaw. They needed the artefact now. "If we thought we had a mess on our hands before," he mumbled bitterly to himself, "things are going to be downright impossible to work through now. But if there was any question in people's minds about the loyalty of the Order and the mages roaming our streets, they've been unequivocally satisfied."
"There will be unrest," Taliel agreed.
"More than unrest, there will be chaos. No one out there is going to feel safe, and in Kulokhar least of all..." He growled in defeat. Magic. What good had it ever done anyone? The Order was only really needed in defence against other magic-users, but if they were going to present that very threat to Turunda themselves, they were an even bigger risk to the country's safety.
No one with magic could be trusted, not one of them. They all carried power's corruption in their veins, they all viewed themselves as better than the rest - they were granted high social standing out of nothing more than fear. They were no more deserving of respect or consideration than the noblemen that graced Salus's view from his office window. None of them truly had the best interest of the country at heart - just because their magic had surfaced didn't mean they had to learn how to wield it. Nothing would have happened to it or to them if it had been left alone, it would have been no different to having the ability to paint or to sing but never doing so. It was vanity; they'd discovered their power, leapt upon it and let it carry them as high as it could. None of them had taken it on responsibly with the thought of safeguarding the country or its people.
No one.
No one...
"Forgive me," Taliel began softly, startling him out of his spiralling thoughts, "with the greatest respect, Keliceran...have you been sleeping well lately?"
He frowned as he turned towards her, pulling himself quickly back together. "Sleeping? Yes? Why?" His heart jumped as he found her looking directly at him, but though she quickly averted her gaze, there was a very real concern within her eyes.
"You...seem..."
"I'm fine," he assured her, his tone softening as the smallest smile tugged at his lips. "I appreciate your concern, Taliel." And, much to his surprise, he truly did. It sent a very welcome warmth through his whole body and eased his mind better than any deep breath ever could have - but though he would have liked very much to have lingered in her company and enjoyed it a little while longer, his mind was now consumed by another and far more ravenous thought, and he found himself already making for the door behind her. "I'm fine. I can manage...I can do it..."
He fled the office in a hurry, closing the door behind himself, his urgency having already pushed aside any thought of the phidipan woman, and all but ran towards the staircase.
Word had spread of his increasingly temperamental moods and so no one delayed in stepping swiftly out of his path, but he wouldn't have noticed if they had. His mind was deafened by waves of questions and countless warnings, but he found himself clinging tightly to the faintest whisper of the desperate hope which they tried to smother. He was well aware of how foolish he was to indulge it - in fact, if it continued to lead him, he knew he could be bounding eagerly into the biggest mistake of his career. But he just couldn't silence it, and neither could he deny the desire that lurked, ever-present, in the depths of his heart as it lurched to the surface in its wake.
He was more uncertain in that moment than he had been about anything in his life, but he continued to put one foot in front of the other, as if his feet were more convinced than his head, and soon his unstoppable steps were echoing through the stone cells, the sound rushing off eagerly ahead of him.
"Keliceran," Nolan said respectfully as he stepped hurriedly out from one of the occupied cells, leaving the sound of weeping behind him, and he inclined his head as his superior approached though he was clearly confused by his arrival. "What can I do for you?"
"Open it."
He followed the advancing keliceran's gesture two cells down behind him and grunted in understanding. He nodded to one of the mages standing guard outside it, who duly obeyed, and the cell door clattered opened in time with Salus's stride.
The dark haired man sitting in the shadows raised his head as Salus passed the cell's iron threshold. His shocking, pale blue-grey eyes were sharp and expectant. He had known he was coming and, the keliceran suspected, he also knew why. He didn't like that.
Salus drew to a stop, maintaining a few paces' distance, and stared rigidly back at him. It was a gaze that asserted his dominance in any situation, one only the Crown's liaison seemed to have any resistance to - but this mage did not quake beneath it. He met his gaze levelly, brazenly. As if he had no idea what 'keliceran' meant.
Salus chose, however, to brush his spiking irritation aside. He crouched down in front of him, maintaining his oppressive air while the mage merely watched him, waiting for him to begin.
"You are going to help me."
The mage's eyebrows barely twitched. "What brought about this change?" He asked far too mildly in that strange, lilting accent of his, his arrogance increasing now he knew for certain that he had something his captor wanted.
"I have had enough of leaving things in everyone else's hands. If there is some way that I can put an end to everything trying to tear this country apart with my own two hands, I will grasp it with all my strength. If I possess magic, as you say, then you will teach me how to wield it."
The mage scrutinised him for a long while, but Salus's steady gaze didn't waver. "And if I don't?"
"I will kill you."
This didn't provoke a reaction either, but Salus knew the mage could see clearly in his eyes that he had meant it. He'd still offered them no information, and he was beginning to doubt that he would, and with the Order's recent activity, he wasn't inclined to release him even if the king himself demanded it. One fewer mage in the world would help everyone sleep a little better.
But he felt a sudden pinch of anger as the briefest doubt slipped into the prisoner's eyes, a delayed response, as though he had weighed the likelihood that Salus could manage it and decided out of favour. But Salus locked down his reaction, just as he also concealed his intentions of delivering the same fate if he didn't see results within two weeks. The mage could well be wasting his time, and he was disinclined to sacrifice much if he was.
But he had to find out for certain.
The mage straightened himself where he sat, a decision made in his eyes. "Denek." He rose to his feet. "Not 'him', 'prisoner' or 'mage'. And I want better accommodation - a cell with a window, at least."
"Denek. Good." Then he stood, turned, and walked away, exiting the cell and leaving him standing in confusion.
Chapter 34
Despite misgivings, the lead had been turned over to the tribal girl. They were left little choice in a place so alien, so barren and featureless - but, regardless, they didn't trust her guidance lightly. Following her route through the sands and ever sparser parched grass, they remained cautious and watchful, their eyes keen in search of anyone or anything that might be expertly concealed, waiting only for her signal to pounce.
It was true that she had done nothing to personally invoke such wariness - in fact she'd been downright polite, as far as savage tribals went, and had even chosen a path that was washed from time to time in cool mountain breeze for their benefit. But it was an ingrained mistrust that had no intention of relenting, and it rose again when she informed them that that path meant it would take a little longer to reach her people. But, suspicious or not, no one objected. They had yet to truly set foot in the desert, and the longer they could put that off, the better.
But there was another concern: an earthen tribe lived in the nearby mountains, whose roots they were skirting just as they were the desert, and they were acutely aware of the tribulations that had grown between the tribes. Eyila assured them that con
flict hadn't reached her people - the Ikaheka, they called themselves - and that they were still working to keep it that way, but that did little to assuage their fears or lower their ever-heightening guard. Surely lies and deception weren't limited to inquisitors.
And, of course, that grudge was still there. Despite their tensions, they still had the energy to maintain resentment towards Garon, and Garon equally maintained his distance. For the past two nights he ate quickly and immediately left to stand watch, his duty unfailing, and he set his bed roll apart from the others, though no one was sure that he slept in it. But despite his expulsion, he showed no hint of loneliness. In fact, he seemed to welcome the seclusion.
Aria had expressed dismay at their treatment towards him, and though Rathen had tried to rationalise it, he failed quite astoundingly to convince her. But even he couldn't privately deny that they were being childish. He wondered what that said about Aria, and felt another swell of pride for her intelligence and consideration, as well as an equal touch of shame for his own lack thereof.
But he was still disinclined to adjust his behaviour, and ate that evening with his back turned to the inquisitor, who stood as still as stone a distance behind them, while Aria removed herself from the atmosphere with her whittling and Anthis kept a careful watch of the tribal girl as she meditated nearby, sat upon a boulder, having found what was surely the only consistent, if pointlessly weak, breeze around.
Petra, however, sat staring over Rathen's shoulder, her features hardened thoughtfully, and startled everyone when she finally rose to her feet and headed without apology towards the exiled inquisitor.
Rathen and Anthis exchanged quick, curious glances and watched her as subtly as they could.
Her footsteps were just as light and graceful as they always were, and though they made not a sound over the thin sand, she was certain he was aware of her approach. But he didn't turn, nor even glance her way as she stopped beside him, and he took the waterskin she offered just as indifferently. "Much to see?" She asked lightly, but he merely grunted.
"Sand. Grass."
"Lots of nothing, then."
He nodded, skilfully unstoppering the skin with his free hand, and took a conservative sip. "Thank you."
"And you."
"Me?" He frowned in confusion, finally acknowledging her with a look.
"For being vigilant. Even if you have just been trying to escape from us..."
He grunted again and turned away, his brow flattening in his usual disinterest. "I have a duty to your safety."
"Even so, thank you."
Silence descended, as it so often did when Garon was around. "How's your shoulder?" She asked in a casual bid to break it.
"Fine." Evidently, Garon was content with the atmosphere as it was.
She sighed in defeat, but rather than give in and walk away, leaving him alone again, she got right to the point. "Look, I can't speak for the others because they're just as stubborn as you are, but, all this...I'm sorry for how we all reacted. It's just that--"
"It's all right. I understand. There's no need to apologise."
Petra frowned as she processed his tone. The usual bite to his voice had softened, albeit only by a fraction, but she noticed that he hadn't yet tried to shoo her away. Sympathy pulled at the middle of her brow. Clearly, he wanted someone to talk to - or perhaps he truly was untroubled, just tired. The warmth certainly made her feel drowsy. But at the same time, she couldn't believe that he wasn't in some way regretful for having misled them, even if he wouldn't admit it.
"What will you do now?" She asked softly.
"What do you mean?"
"Well, your secret's out. No one's looking at you with the same respect anymore; your leadership's shot."
A defensive frown creased his face. "I may not be the officer you all thought I was," he growled, "but that doesn't mean that this task is obsolete. My superior did give me this mission, and I intend to see it through..."
She frowned again. "But?"
He stared at her in that same defence for a moment, but the hint of doubt she thought she'd heard in his voice abruptly won out, replacing his challenge with shame. He looked quite unfamiliar wearing it, as mild as it was, and the sight tugged at the corners of her lips. "'Duty to your safety'." He shook his head and looked back out over the empty land. "I've already disgraced that sentiment, and my honour. I have led you all into danger - them, you, Aria. Rathen is right to take the lead. He at least has experience. Whereas I've been fooling myself all along..."
"How have you been fooling yourself? Aside from...well, a few slip-ups, you've been keeping us on track and we are making progress."
He shook his head more aggressively. "This is too important for any slip-ups."
"But why is it so important?" She implored him, stepping around to force herself into his gaze. "To you, I mean."
His eyes fell onto her heavily, reluctantly at first, then fired by what looked like desperation. "It's not important to me, it's important to everyone. The stakes are so high, and yet we're the only ones trying to handle it. Everything is riding on us. And where have we gotten? Nowhere."
"Yet."
"Well, that had better change soon. I can't let any more people die because of this magic."
"You heard Kienza - it's going to get worse before it gets better, and we need to accept that rather than let it drag us down."
"That's easy for you to say," he suddenly snapped, "you don't have a stake in this - you shouldn't even be out here with us."
Her hazel eyes flashed in insult, encouraged by the abrupt shift in his, and she stepped around and squared up to him. She may have been shorter than him, far more slender and with a surprisingly gentle temperament more often than not, but there was a definite menace to her bearing when she wanted it. "I know you don't want me out here, Garon," she told him in a low and dangerous voice. "I've understood that from the moment I joined you. You've made it excessively clear. But don't say that I don't have a stake in this. My sister is a mage, and Rathen won't admit it, but when I spoke to him about this I saw a flash of something in his eyes. He thinks these mages are losing control because of this accursed magic, and that means that my sister could be at risk. And I can't lose her, too. If there's anything I can do to protect her - or Rathen, or Aria if she possesses magic like her father, or perhaps even my own future children - then I will do it. And you absolutely won't be able to drive me away. Not now."
"Oh?" He challenged. "And what about this noble pursuit of yours? The revenge you said takes precedence over everything?"
She took a threatening step closer but his stare didn't waver, his veil of superiority falling back into place to render him unreadable once more. "That still stands. But, by the looks of things, it doesn't seem like the opportunity is going to present itself any time soon." He glanced around at the desert in concedence, but when he looked back, she was already walking away. "Get some rest tonight," she told him brusquely, her tone belying her lingering concern. "You look awful."
"To protect people."
Surprise faltered her steps, and she turned back towards him in puzzlement. "Sorry?"
"You asked me once why I do what I do," he reminded her. "It's to protect people. That's the only reason I've ever had."
Even in the late-dusk light, she couldn't miss the distinct honesty that glinted in his eyes as his veil blew briefly to one side. A soft smile, unbidden, began pulling at her lips. With a single nod of approval, she turned around and continued away, wishing him a good night. She knew he wasn't going to say any more - that alone had been a gesture of some kind - so she left him to his watch as he frowned to himself in similar confusion.
Anthis watched the two converse from a distance, frowning as he pondered. "Is it my imagination--"
"She's definitely attracted to him," Rathen replied quietly, having moved so that he could watch them himself from the corner of his eye, and Aria clapped softly in her excitement from beside him.
"But...why?" He a
sked in growing bewilderment. "What is there to be attracted to?"
"You're really asking the wrong person." He turned his head away as Petra started back towards the camp, and Anthis turned casually as if he'd been wandering around on the spot. Aria, meanwhile, beamed openly. Petra frowned curiously as she reached them, but the young girl was often grinning for no obvious reason so she didn't question it as she sat back down, the soft smile of her own remaining firmly in place.
"We should discuss tomorrow," Eyila's distinct voice rose from behind them. They'd grown fractionally used to it so it didn't startle them as much anymore, though she still made Anthis jump, who had been in a leisurely rotation as she had risen to her feet.
"What do you mean?" Rathen asked as they followed her up and Garon approached from the edge.
"We will reach my people in the morning, so it's time you knew what to expect." Nervous and wary glances rippled through them before falling onto her, which she returned with disconcerting mildness. "When we enter the village you must all keep your hands at your backs, fingers laced, so you cannot reach for your weapons - except for you two."
Rathen and Petra frowned at one another.
"You will keep your hands clasped in front of you instead, where they can be seen."
"Why?" Aria asked in a mild strop, as if she'd rather have been grouped with them.
"Because she has weapons at her back, and he is a mage.
"While we're in the village, do not try to take anything, do not touch anything; do not stare, do not speak to anyone unless they speak directly to you. Everyone around you is to be respected. When you meet the chief, the men will raise their left fist to their head and touch their second knuckles to their brow in greeting, and the women will raise their open right hand to their foreheads and sweep it forwards and down, like this." She proceeded to demonstrate, her numbed hands still able to at least perform that simple movement. "The sweep should be quick enough that you feel a slight breeze across your brow. Try it."