Children of Ambros

by Katy Winter

  ~~~

  Bethel felt Jaden's presence in his mind. The healer was surprised the boy didn't panic as another mind drifted through the young consciousness and forced the boy to channel his thoughts about Sarehl to one point. Jaden gathered those clear thoughts. He fully utilised Bethel's mind and Bethel was conscious he would lose control of who he was in a meld that held him in a firm grip. He was swept by Jaden out and beyond, many miles distant. Bethel only vaguely heard Jaden curtly instruct him and responded obediently, if mechanically. After the image of his brother was roughly taken from him, Bethel felt Jaden's awareness swell in and possess him, in a way it was wrong for reader/seekers to do.

  Bethel had no time to think. His thoughts, as part of the being that was Jaden, were taken from him at ever-increasing velocity and with augmenting power. He forgot about his brother, while his and Jaden's energies flowed in and out of one another in a bewildering series of flurries and pulses, and in a way that led to the weaker essence becoming disoriented. Bethel dimly saw a pure and simple line of energy, that was Jaden as part of him, probe far into the distance. He only knew they, as one, touched someone else's mind, because he sensed that same mind held them in a powerful meld. Bethel lost all sense of self.

  Kaleb woke abruptly to the knowledge he wasn't alone. He accepted Sarssen's mind in his, and, as he'd been trained to do, followed exactly what the warrior earlier instructed. His mind, now fully melded with Sarssen's, saw the line of energy, mostly in green but tinged with a pale and weak blue, come steadily towards them, seeking and probing. He knew Sarssen caught the coloured energies. The two merged minds, in green and blue, one hopelessly dominated by the other, flowed into Kaleb's and the warrior's combined consciousness. Kaleb felt the surge of Sarssen's power and was grateful he'd been warned of it. It was frankly terrifying.

  Kaleb concentrated on the feebler blue pulse that flickered mercurially and grew fainter with each flurry of colour. Even as he felt his mind deliberately pushed free of Sarssen's, he sought the pulse. Kaleb had considerable difficulty trying to trace and gain a hold on the pulse, because it wavered and moved erratically even as it weakened. It was a young, untutored mind that began to unravel, the energy taken from it by Jaden leaving it too enervated and drained to help itself.

  Bethel felt he'd ceased to be. It was as if his mind streamed, in a disordered pattern, into a distance he could neither comprehend nor control, nor, at that moment, did he care. Just as he sensed disintegration, he felt a sharp tug at his mind. His meld with Jaden snapped and he was flung free, only to feel another mind gently touch his, a call coming that seemed from a long way away. Kaleb quickly mentally encircled him. He pulled insistently.

  The reeling and somersaulting, that was all Bethel could feel, steadied. He felt a gentle, persistent reassurance wrap itself around his mind and cradle him, as Kaleb eased the confused mind into forgetfulness. Bethel's mind finally responded, the boy slipping quietly and calmly into rest. Just as he slipped, his body reacted with a physical shock when both mind and body fused as one.

  Kaleb remained in the boy's mind for as long as he needed to, then, when he felt the release, he withdrew. As he went, he had a brief awareness of the man who held Bethel throughout. Deeply shaken by the emotions he received from the warlord, Kaleb let his own awareness fully return. He didn't experience the lash of terrifying power that took Jaden, but his mind did experience some recoil. His hands to his head, he curled himself up into a ball of pain, but the pain retreated as fast as it came as he heard Sarssen's voice, calm and supportive, before his mind relaxed and he slept.

  Jaden exulted in the power the mind-meld gave him. In his excitement and anticipation, he was blithely unaware he and Bethel melded with two minds, not one, nor did he know who they were. He thought the mind that touched his was the mind of the brother he sought. The full meld he became part of was powerful beyond anything Jaden had experienced, and, even as he began his work, he was awed. The very power of the mind that touched his should've warned him. He was, however, so preoccupied, he was unaware of any change in the meld, or that one mind left it. He was unconcerned about Bethel, because he was almost finished with what use he could make of such a young mind and intended to lose Bethel in the meld, this opportunity to dispose of the young one, once and for all, to be taken now.

  He tried to control the ebb and flow of power, to shape it and then mould it to the purpose he wanted. At first he was successful, but he made a fundamental error one of his learning and status shouldn't have made - so engrossed was he in his weaving, he completely forgot to probe the mind meshed as one with his. It never occurred to the reader there could be any other person of power to compete with him, so he sensed no threat. He was careless.

  The sudden throb of increased power caught him totally unaware. He sought the source of it and then, searching for the remaining strength he could drain from Bethel, found the boy's mind inexplicably missing from the meld. When he struggled to reorient his own mind, he found control gone.

  The ebb and flow of power he'd struggled to shape was turned on him and, pulsing through and through him with increasing strength, spun back at him and lashed him with vicious, crippling force. Unavailingly, he tried to throw up blocks of resistance, but the energy that coursed through him fragmented, then splintered, his mind.

  ~~~

  Sarehl watched Kaleb in growing alarm and anxiety. He'd come to the healer's chambers, concerned when Kaleb didn't dine with them. To his surprise he found Kaleb lying on the bed, his food mostly uneaten and the healer very still. Sarehl limped across to the bed, hand out and words forming on his lips. He stopped abruptly. Any speech died.

  Kaleb lay rigid, his eyes staring wide; he breathed very rapidly as though he was feverish and the colourless eyes flickered every so often, very fast. His hands twitched and he was very pale. Sarehl, sitting quietly beside him and sensibly not touching him, thought the healer looked as though he was in the throes of a mild convulsion.

  Sarehl didn't move. He kept his gaze on the eyes that seemed suddenly to quieten. The hands went still and some of the rigidity eased from the tensed body, then Sarehl jumped with fright when Kaleb curled himself into a ball, gasped and flung his hands to his head. When Sarehl went to help him, he saw the healer's hands fall, the body uncurl and the healer's eyes close. Kaleb's head fell naturally to one side, his colour returned and his breathing became normal.

  Sarehl sat back, still monitoring him, but was relieved when he realised the healer slept very deeply. Sarehl pulled covers up and over his friend and then drew up a chair next to the bed. He waited.

  Kaleb opened weary eyes to find Sarehl bent over him, his dark eyes alert and concerned. The healer felt too drained to remonstrate. He just lay still, his eyes never wavering from Sarehl's face.

  "Dear friend," began Sarehl, "I know you can't and won't tell me what you've been doing, but for the gods, assure me you're not hurt." Kaleb grasped one of Sarehl's hands.

  "I'm not hurt," he said in a slightly husky voice.

  "Are you in any danger?"

  "No, but I'm very tired," responded Kaleb. "It's probably the hardest thing I've done in my life." His eyes closed.

  "I'll get you wine."

  Kaleb opened his eyes again when Sarehl came back to the bed, hauled himself up on the cushions and smiled up at his friend when he took the goblet and drank deeply. He made no effort to speak and Sarehl didn't ask him to. They sat in companionable silence, Sarehl rising every so often to fill the goblets.

  Finally, Kaleb asked quietly, "Why are you here?" Sarehl turned his head to look down affectionately at the healer.

  "I was naturally worried when you didn't dine with us. I came as soon after eating as I could to see if you were ill." Kaleb sighed.

  "How long were you here?"

  "Long enough to watch while your mind was busy elsewhere."

  "I see," was Kaleb's comment. "You could've left, you know."

  "No," replied Sarehl calmly, the smile warming hi
s eyes again. "I couldn't leave you vulnerable, my friend, anymore than you could leave one of us."

  "Oh, aye," mumbled Kaleb, pulling himself higher on the cushions. "You won't ask me to explain, I beg of you."

  "I won't," promised Sarehl, "though I'd dearly love to." He got a responsive smile from Kaleb at that, but the healer just shook his head reprovingly.

  "You have an insatiably curious mind, don't you?" he observed.

  "The unusual appeals to me certainly," admitted Sarehl, "but I know you have reasons for what you do. It isn't for me to question any action you may take."

  "What a good fellow you're becoming," mocked the healer gently.

  "You taught me that," was the quiet retort. Kaleb looked into the laughing eyes and his own lit up with amusement.

  "Hard for you, was it?" he teased. Sarehl raised mock fists at him.

  ~~~

  Lodestok stood behind Bethel, both hands holding the boy in a steely grip, his eyes fixed to Jaden with intense interest. He'd no reason to notice Sarssen who stood behind the healer in an attitude of rigidity, his face a mask of concentration. The warlord's eyes flickered from Bethel to Jaden and back again. He felt the boy's body shudder and experienced the tremors that shook Bethel. Lodestok transferred his gaze back to Jaden. He saw how wide and distant the healer's eyes were.

  He knew the two minds melded when he felt the flinch under his hands, his grip on Bethel tightening when the boy moaned. Once he yanked up the young head and turned it, to look at his slave with displeasure and distaste when he heard a soft cry, before he let the dark head fall forward again. Later, he felt the sharp jolt, like a shock, that left Bethel limp, and instantly removed his hands from the young shoulders. When he did, Bethel crumpled unresisting to the ground. A sigh was sucked out of him as he collapsed.

  The warlord concentrated on Jaden. A smile of triumph came to his mouth when he saw the reader's now closed eyes snap open with an arrested look. It lasted for only a few moments. It was swallowed by a look of sheer terror and agony.

  Jaden's pupils dilated. He flung his hands to his head with such an awful and agonised scream that Lodestok recoiled, stumbled over Bethel's body, and swore vilely as he went. He watched in fascination as Jaden's body twisted, his mouth open and his head flung back. No sound came from the healer's throat as his body shook and he struggled to speak, then Jaden swayed, his head fell forward and his eyes were inanimate. His arms hung limply at his sides. Sarssen fell back with a sharp indrawn breath, a brief tremor shook him, then he regained his poise, but his eyes stayed unutterably bleak.

  The warlord's fury exploded. He strode to the healer. He shook him with violent rage, his hand repeatedly coming down and across the white face. Jaden just hung in the huge paws. When released, he fell to the ground not far from Bethel. Sarssen had already left, calling urgently for a healer.

  When he re-entered the pavilion, he saw the warlord on his knees beside the reader, the look he cast up at Sarssen awful in its anger.

  "What went wrong?" he snarled. "Did you see?"

  Sarssen was beside Bethel, his hand carefully checking for a pulse and, finding one, he straightened immediately.

  "It seemed a success, my lord," he answered tactfully.

  "This one's alive," growled Lodestok, getting to his feet. "He will have some explaining to do." He didn't see Sarssen's face at that moment. "Where did you go?"

  "For a healer, my lord."

  Lodestok trod over to Bethel and prodded the prone figure with a boot, his angry gaze a clear warning to Sarssen or whoever else was unlucky enough to be near.

  "The boy. Is he alive?" he grunted. "I would not like to gratuitously lose him, though if he failed me he will wish he was dead."

  "I think he is alive, my lord."

  "He did as he was told, I suppose," was the barked comment.

  "He certainly mind-melded, my lord. I could see that clearly."

  "He is no damned use to me tonight though, is he?"

  The warlord flung himself onto the bed, his teeth gritted and his brow furrowed with thwarted passion. Sarssen sensibly filled two goblets and stood quietly, his eyes going from Bethel to Jaden, then, with the faintest of sighs, he crossed the pavilion and offered a goblet to the warlord. Lodestok's hand shot out and grasped Sarssen's wrist.

  "Sit!" he ordered, the ice back in his voice.

  With a weariness he didn't show, and a recognition of what was to come in all its ferocity, Sarssen sat. The warlord hauled himself up on the cushions, put his goblet on the small table by the bed and nodded to the warrior to do likewise. His hands fumbled with the long blond queue. Sarssen didn't move, well aware the warlord could draw a knife in seconds, and, soon, as was his wont in uncontrollable fury, probably would. His hair tumbled free. Lodestok then picked up his goblet and lay back, staring venomously at the two figures on the ground.

  "If I cannot have the boy, Sarssen, you will entertain me this evening."

  "Yes, my lord," Sarssen said in a neutral voice. His resigned glance took in the discarded estibe. Brooding silence fell over the pavilion. Sarssen began to breathe very slowly and deeply.

  When a healer appeared at the pavilion entrance Sarssen went to rise, but the grip back on his wrist painfully tightened. He put the goblet he'd just picked up back on the table as he felt himself pushed backwards, closed his eyes and tried to prepare himself for what was to come. He wasn't sure he'd survive the violent fury that would explode in physical violence very soon, because he was weakened by what had just passed. The warlord let go his wrist. He lay passive. He continued to breathe very deeply and went through what Morsh taught him cycles before. The warlord looked down at him. Then he spoke between clenched teeth.

  "Deal with them," he snarled at the healer, in a voice of scarcely mitigated savagery. "Take the boy to -." Lodestok's eyes glinted down at the warrior lying quietly beside him. "Leave him in Sarssen's pavilion. The tempkar will not use it tonight." He watched the green eyes slowly open and the flicker of a grim smile touched the warlord's face when he saw instant comprehension in those fine eyes. "Take the reader wherever you like. Now," he added, so gently that Sarssen closed his eyes again, "get out with them!"

  Lodestok didn't wait for the healer to remove the boy and Jaden, before he turned his attention to the tempkar, his pent-up wrath and relentless passion terrifyingly unleashed. The healer saw the knife flash before he turned to cope with the limp forms on the ground.

  ~~~

  Jane paced up and down Sarssen's pavilion, unable to rest, his anxiety so acute he felt ill. He looked up at every sound, half-expecting to see Sarssen, with Bethel, come through the entrance. He was gravely concerned, therefore, when a slight figure appeared at the entrance, a tall burden draped in his arms.

  Startled, Jane strode forward, grasping a lantern from the table as he went. He held the light high so it cast its light over a pallid and shaking man. Jane barely noticed him. He looked at the limp figure in the man's arms, set down the lantern and abruptly relieved the healer of Bethel, carefully carrying the youth over to the bed and drawing furs round the slight form.

  "Do you bring the light," he snapped unceremoniously. The healer hastily complied, setting the lantern on the table with a shaking hand. "Is he alive?" Jane shot at him.

  "Yes, he's alive," the healer whispered, "but he's unconscious. I've done all I can, but I can't rouse him. Ah, the gods!" He sank to his knees.

  Jane ignored him. He made sure Bethel lay comfortably by gently resting the boy's head more easily among the cushions, looked intently at the unconscious face, and some of his distress abated. Certainly Bethel was pale, but his skin wasn't waxy white, the young face was drawn, but the mouth was quite relaxed and Bethel seemed more in a very deep, restorative sleep rather than in a coma. Jane stroked the dark hair back from the forehead, then shifted the lantern so not too much light fell on the sleeping figure.

  He turned and looked down at the healer still crouched on his knees. He put a hand down to help t
he man to his feet.

  "Who are you?" he asked quietly.

  "Xori, a healer," came the shaken reply. "May I sit?"

  Jane nodded. He looked at the healer curiously. When Xori sat weakly and closed his eyes, Jane shrugged and crossed the pavilion to pour two goblets of wine. He needed a restorative himself.

  "Here," he said calmly, returning to the healer and holding out a goblet. "Drink this." The healer opened his eyes and looked up surprised, gratefully took the goblet and gulped at the wine. "Can you tell me what's happened?" A shudder shook the healer and he gulped more wine. His attempt at speech was a croak. Jane rose and refilled the man's goblet. "In your own time, man," he said quietly. Xori brushed a hand across his eyes. After a few moments, he spoke.

  "I didn't see what happened, though the warrior told me a reading and seeking went badly wrong. I went to the pavilion with him." Another shudder took Xori, so badly, the wine splashed from his goblet, but he didn't notice. Jane saw how sick the man looked. "The boy," Xori nodded at the bed, "was in a crumpled heap on the ground and so was the senior reader Jaden. I thought they were both dead."

  "The boy isn't," was Jane's soothing reply. "What about the reader?"

  "Oh, he's alive - in a manner of speaking." Another tremor caught Xori, while Jane waited patiently. "I got him conscious, but his mind's gone. He's babbling like a child."

  "And Tempkar Sarssen? What's happened to him?" The healer went such a ghastly colour Jane felt a momentary surge of panic.

  "Gods," moaned the healer, almost dropping the goblet.

  "Tell me!" growled Jane, anxiety making his voice sharp. The healer breathed deeply.

  "The warlord - savage, that's the only word for it," he gasped, tears in his eyes. "I had to listen while I was trying to get the boy and the healer away, but I couldn't -." Xori's voice became suspended.

  Jane felt nauseous. He glanced over at Bethel and thought how much the young man owed the large Churchik warrior who befriended him. He got to his feet.