by Kim Wedlock
But she had something she needed to say, and she thought him the best to hear it.
"No," she replied softly, "and Aria is fine. Garon and I stopped you."
His eyebrows twitched, a weak expression of surprise, and he dragged his eyes towards her. They opened a little wider after a long moment, only then recognising her. "You're still here..."
She breathed a laugh. "Yes, I am, even after you all tried to leave without me."
His eyebrows twitched again, and his lips followed suit, curving into a mildly sheepish smile. "We...meant nothing by it."
Petra reached over for a waterskin. "Here." She lifted his head and encouraged him to drink in manageable sips, but whatever had happened to him must have made him thirsty, as he all but drained the skin. Gently, she lay him back down and took a deep breath. "I am out for revenge," she stated clearly, well aware that, in the still of the night, the others could also hear her, "and you should know that, if I get the information I need, I will act on it."
Rathen blinked slowly. "Okay...why are you telling me this?" His voice, at least, had cleared a little. Now he sounded as if he'd just woken from a long and deep sleep.
"Because it seemed like an appropriate time to confess a personal issue that may well cause us trouble. And because my problems seem relatively simple now, compared to yours."
"'Us trouble'?" He blinked slowly again. "You're staying with us?"
"We've already established that this situation is not the workings of the Order, and it has them concerned, which means it's serious. I'm worried about what it could mean for my sister, be it the way it reflects on the Order or if this loss of control is related to it. If you all think you can fix it, then you need all the help you can get, and with the state of things - you must have heard about the war while we were in Carenna - another sword arm couldn't hurt. And," she added carefully, "after seeing all of that, I cannot, in good conscience, leave you with the others. And I don't think you want me to. You need someone who can beat you down, if the need arises."
He managed a smile, but it was not one of mockery - at least, as far as she could tell. "Beat me down?"
"If the need arises."
"I don't think you could."
"I'm the reason we caught you."
Surprised tugged at his black eyebrows again, but it shortly passed. "Then you must have gotten lucky."
"You're underestimating me."
"And you're underestimating this curse. But..." he managed another painful smile. "Thank you." He turned his head towards her, the first movement beyond his face which he'd made by himself. "So - revenge?"
She hesitated.
"Oh, come on. You can't say a thing like that and then clam up..."
She sighed, smiling in grim defeat. The others were still listening - she could feel their attention as if they were staring, but as she glanced over her shoulder towards them, both seemed enraptured by the fire. "Someone very dear to me was murdered," she said without lowering her voice, pretending she hadn't noticed. She supposed they needed to hear it, too. "You don't need the details, all you need to know is that I will avenge them as soon as I'm presented with an opportunity, even if it means walking right into trouble. I don't expect any of you to follow me into it, or to change your own plans to fit around mine, but if I am in your company when that opportunity appears, it will take personal precedence."
Rathen stared up at her, and the two by the fire equally absorbed her confession, but not one of them spoke.
Rathen nodded, a laborious action in his present state, but he committed himself to it. "Thank you," he whispered. "I...appreciate you sharing this...and for..."
"Not running away?" She smiled. "I didn't really know quite what was going on - I didn't even know it was you. I just acted on impulse to help Garon. And then I was swept up with the rest of you and dumped in this forest."
Rathen's eyes widened and he tried to raise his head. "Kienza, where is she?"
"Here."
Petra looked up in time to see Aria burst through the trees with the sorceress only a few paces behind her. The girl skidded across the knotted ground and stumbled to a stop beside him, and grinned broadly, her face hovering very close to his. He chuckled, then coughed, and she threw her arms around him as best she could where he lay while Kienza looked on in affection.
Petra rose to her feet. "He seems fine."
"I would expect no less," she smiled, but as she looked up at Petra, there was a deep sympathy in her piercing dark eyes. Somehow, she knew what she'd shared.
But Petra found that she wasn't troubled. She smiled back, her heart strangely lighter, then turned away and left the three together. She glanced down at Garon and Anthis as she passed them, heading off into the forest herself in search of a stream or river, but neither looked back at her. Not until she'd looked away. Then they watched her until she disappeared amongst the trees.
"What are you doing here?" Rathen asked feebly as Aria lay down in the dirt beside him and wriggled her way beneath the blanket.
"Well, initially, because I have something you all need to hear - but now isn't the time. It can wait."
"And secondly?"
"Because I sensed what was happening to you just as I was about to make my way over."
"'Make my way'," he smiled slowly. "Teleporting isn't really 'making your way' anywhere."
"No," she agreed, "it's more like 'being', but 'be my way over' doesn't really sound right, does it?"
"No, I suppose not..." He released a deep breath and closed his eyes as she settled down on the ground beside him, her perfectly curved form visible to him even in the darkness. He was sure it was a spell of some kind, a constant enchantment either over herself or just over him, but he'd never been able to find it. "I'm tired," he mumbled.
"I know," she whispered. "So rest."
"Mm. I hope I have a dream as peaceful as I did last night."
"Peaceful dream?" Kienza asked.
"Mhm... It was...strange..."
She watched him expectantly, a troubled wrinkle in her otherwise perfectly smooth brow, but he slipped back into a long, unbreakable sleep.
Chapter 27
It had been four days since the occupations. The Arana had arrived in the east on the second, and the Order on the third. The west had been reached far sooner since most of the Arana's focus had been on the impending war.
Reports claimed Rokhar was half-razed and held by soldiers and a handful of mages; a typical occupation that would take manpower to overcome. But besieging was always a pointless endeavour that cost more than it delivered, and downright ridiculous when their own towns and cities were the prizes. Rokhar was important, of course it was, as were the lives of the surviving citizens trapped within it, but it was far better to focus Turunda's own divided resources on rounding up the remaining fragments of Skilan's force - as well as the small approaching companies from Kalokh that had been pressed into their servitude. Putting the majority under pressure would force the rest to abandon their early trophies if they hoped to come out on top.
The same could also have been applied to the three locations in the east, if not for one particularly painful detail: every one of them had been protected by spells alone.
Not a soul had remained to fortify them, instead the populace had been locked inside and abandoned by the attackers who left as suddenly as they'd arrived. That was unusual in itself, but was not what had had Salus sitting in his office all afternoon berating himself - once Malson had had his turn, of course. In fact, handing over the latest information his people had uncovered of Skilan's intentions - to lure Turunda's military into a valley where they could attack from the slopes - he'd found himself overcome with the desire to simply withhold it in case he was wrong again. He didn't, because he'd had it triple-checked first, and though it had been met with scepticism on the liaison's part, he'd accepted it all the same.
No, what made him wish the earth might open up beneath him was the revelation that those three settlemen
ts had been attacked from the east, by the east. Despite their woes with Voent, Doana had come out of nowhere and set upon Turunda with no obvious motive. They'd arrived in inconceivably small forces, no larger than platoons, twenty men at most to each, and had taken the three most significant eastern settlements at the same time. And then they'd just vanished. All before dawn.
According to those who'd managed to send a messenger to the capital before the arcane lock-downs, the assailants hadn't worn armour, nor even Doana's colours, and they'd not spilled a single drop of blood. Salus had to trust them on the first of those counts, but the last he knew to be untrue. Two bodies had been discovered by reassigned operatives, one just outside of Toakh, the other Ferna.
They'd been his local observers.
It couldn't be misunderstood. But not only had his long-term plants been discovered by a newly-arrived invading force, they had been discovered quickly.
Someone had to have known, which meant that Doana - simple, small and sinless Doana - had operatives of their own, and they were already in Turunda.
Salus mulled this over for the seventeenth time as he stared down at the bed sheets through the pitch black of night, his head in his hands and slumped body slick with sweat. He'd braved going to bed that night - though only after falling asleep at his desk - but he'd woken with a start from that wretched dream again. He had no idea how long he'd slept, and had no desire to find out. He decided to believe that it was hours rather than minutes if just so he wouldn't have to try again.
So he sat in the dark instead, his mind spinning, spiralling into thoughts and feelings he couldn't understand. He could have subdued them - he'd been trained as a portian as soon as he'd been old enough - but something weary and perhaps a little bit masochistic stopped him from trying, and a small, tormented part of him wanted to see where they would lead.
But they had no organisation; unfinished thoughts looped chaotically into another, and any time he thought he had a grasp on some kind of comprehension, it squirmed away from him.
All he could identify was the longing, though its object still eluded him. But the sensation had grown in recent weeks, becoming a spectre that followed him all day, every day, standing just over his shoulder and whispering in his ear in a language he couldn't understand. It was dragging away his sanity, he was sure, but though he looked - and he looked hard - he could see no other signs of madness.
Desperation lodged in his throat and he wished, wished with all his being, that he could do something, anything, to stop every threat absolutely, to eradicate every enemy with a single thought or sweep of his arm, that they would fall as easily as the pieces on the palace's war room map. Then...then he might just get some peace.
Something dropped from his chin and he heard it hit the sheets. He lowered his hand and brushed his stubble. Was that a tear? Or sweat?
The bed springs creaked as he jumped, startled by a knock at the door.
He felt dread make a knot of his intestines. Teagan was on shift. A knock at his home this early in the morning - it could not be good.
For a moment, he considered feigning sleep and ignoring it, but he knew it would only eat him alive if he did and he needn't give his mind any additional fuel to torment him.
Defeated, he threw the damp sheets aside and rose to his feet to make his way blindly through his dour home, stumbling as he went, and opened the front door to find his favoured standing outside, waiting patiently. In hindsight, if he had chosen to ignore it, he would probably have continued to knock and wait.
"Teagan," he nodded, standing to one side to let him in, silently resentful of the usual portian lack of emotion that kept his face unreadable and Salus unable to predict the news.
"You weren't sleeping."
He sighed as he closed the door behind him. "Would I have answered if I was?" He turned and led him into what passed for a sitting area, sparsely furnished but for a sideboard, sofa, table and fireplace, and the occasional plant which the private cleaner took care of - he assumed, at least. He'd never watered it, and it hadn't died yet.
He didn't think to light a candle, but Teagan's eyesight was as good as his own, so he sat and gestured for him to do the same. He didn't, of course.
"Teagan," he said flatly, "it's too early for this. Please, just stop."
The slightly younger man's eyes shifted onto him at last, and in that moment the formality dropped. But he still didn't smile. All it really meant was that he might call him by his name in place of 'Keliceran', and that he would direct upon him his indecipherable and highly perceptive gaze. But after such conditioning, that was the best Salus could ask for.
Teagan finally took a seat. "I won't keep you. The eastern settlements have been reclaimed."
Salus's eyebrows rose.
"According to our mages, the spells protecting them were simply-constructed and the Order easily dismantled them. They were meant only to delay."
His eyebrows fell again. "And the occupations meant only to distract. So Doana has other plans..." His eyes turned grave in the darkness. "They had help. A small force, no colours or armour; they'd have been easily missed with our own attention so..." He shook his head and breathed. "But they would have been noticed entering each settlement, and they would have been stopped."
"A guard, then?"
"It's possible. But it was the early hours of the morning, the guards could well have been drowsy, easily distracted. It could have been a chimney sweep."
"We already have people on it."
"Find out if anyone is missing, and if no one is, look for someone who seems suspiciously unrattled by the whole situation - or unusually put out. They'd have been locked in, too."
"We already have people on it," Teagan repeated. "What of your suggestions to Lord Malson?"
Salus's brow flattened and he grunted back into his seat. "Turned down again, every one of them." He shook his head. "We have no allies of our own, we have to see this through ourselves, and while Skilan and even Kalokh can be predicted and handled, Doana is a wild card. No one could have expected them..." 'and now Turunda could be in trouble.' He silenced that voice immediately. "It's as if the Crown isn't willing to do what it must, make the decisions Turunda needs of it."
Teagan studied him with his sharp gaze. "Then...perhaps you should just issue the orders yourself, if you believe them to be the best course of action. Have them done and face the music when it comes. You've done it before - your mage, for example."
"Yes, but not after being explicitly told 'no'..." He chewed the inside of his cheek for a long moment. "But," he continued slowly, "I will. I am responsible for the safety of the country in far many more ways than the king or the general, and as long as the country is safe, I'll take whatever punishment my 'insubordination' is issued."
"Then you have new orders?" Teagan straightened expectantly, and Salus's eyes hardened.
"Hunt Doana down and stop them. Send our best trackers. They'll be moving in small, scattered groups, and they'll be adept at avoiding detection. They were able to get close enough to kill the watch guards along the mountains before they could raise the alarm. And lift from them any and all information possible, by any means necessary." His tone had steeled upon that final point, becoming almost spiteful. "We need to find out not only what they plan and why, but what they know about us."
"The bodies."
Salus nodded.
"It will be done."
But Teagan rose too quickly.
Salus's eyes grew speculative as he watched him move in the darkness. "This could have waited. What did you really come here to tell me?"
The portian hesitated as he turned towards the door.
"Oh, the irony." Salus smiled briefly. "You needn't protect me, you know."
Teagan sighed and his shoulders slumped - both were only slight, but it was more than would ever usually be seen of this or any other portian. He turned back to Salus, reached into a pocket and removed a miniature scroll.
His jaw tightened at
the sight of it. It seemed his office was filling with more of these moth-delivered 'urgent's than standard reports, and he was growing quite weary of them. But he didn't voice it. He lit a nearby candle and held out his hand.
Teagan remained at his side as he dropped it into his palm, braced for what would surely follow, but Salus ignored him as his eyes adjusted quickly to the dim, unsteady light and rolled across the abbreviations. He stared down at it for a long while, and a slight frown began pulling at Teagan's brow as he waited for some kind of reaction. But Salus wore no expression at all, revealed not even a hint of his thoughts. He only stared in silence, his eyes roving over the words again and again. He'd become erratic as of late, but at that moment, it seemed to Teagan that that unpredictability had become distinctly predictable. He would usually have shouted or thrown things, if not both, but here he simply sat in a disconcerting silence with the parchment held loosely in his fingers.
Perhaps he'd burst something.
Finally, Salus blinked. "How...?" He spoke too calmly, but as Teagan waited for him to elaborate, he began reading over the report once again. He shook his head after two more attempts, lowered the parchment and scratched his stubbled chin.
"More information is being gathered," Teagan offered, as if the silence was beginning to disturb him. "It should be on your desk within the next hour."
He nodded and rose lightly to his feet. "Then, I suppose I'd better get dressed."
No sooner had the office door closed behind them than Salus erupted into a white-hot fury. Teagan found himself almost relieved as he shouted and kicked things, his eyes blazing wildly. A delayed reaction, no doubt; the contents of the report must have finally registered and he'd been bubbling over as they walked through the early dawn light towards the main building. Not that he truly understood its extent, of course, but he was portian. Such a reaction was beyond his own ability, let alone comprehension.
"But he is dead!" He bellowed, certainly audible several rooms over. "Dead and banished! A decade ago!"