Oracle (Book 5)

by Ben Cassidy

  Kendril looked hard at Tomas. “East? You’re sure?”

  Tomas gave a short nod. “It makes sense, doesn’t it? New Marlin would be the perfect jumping-off point to catch a ship that way.”

  “Jothland,” Kendril breathed. A new fire shone in his eyes. “That must mean something. There are barbarian tribes in Jothland, in the Wastelands. That might be where the Seteru are going to make their assault from.”

  Tomas spread his hands on the table. “Possibly. It’s a lead, at any rate.”

  Kendril’s mind was working furiously. “There’s only one port she could put in at. Redemption. It’s a small enough town. Someone like her would be sure to get noticed.”

  “She might have gone up-country,” Tomas said cautiously. “Or put in somewhere further north along the coast, met up with one of those barbarian tribes.”

  Kendril gave a determined shake of his head. “No. She couldn’t get past the Wall without being noticed. And there’s no where along the coast suitable for landing, not for miles. It’s all cliffs and jagged rocks. You can’t even get a rowboat in.”

  Tomas gave Kendril a curious look. “You sound like you know the place well.”

  Kendril gave a dismissive wave of his hand. “Old history. The point is, no ship from New Marlin would sail anywhere in Jothland except Redemption. Bronwyn will almost certainly be headed there.”

  Tomas arched an eyebrow. “And after that?”

  Kendril drowned the last bit of ale, and set the empty flagon down with a loud clink. “Eru only knows. But if we can find her first, we’ll make her tell us what she knows.” He reached over the table and clapped Tomas hard on the shoulder. “Maybe you’re not such a weasel after all, Tomas.”

  The other Ghostwalker gave a dagger-thin smile. “Just doing my part to help the Order.”

  Kendril rose from his seat. “We don’t have a minute to lose. We’ll need passage east. There might be a ship heading out with the evening tide.” He turned and gave Simon a hard smack on the flank. “Get your head out of that bucket, boy. I need you able to walk.”

  The mule stuck his head out and spat beer at Kendril.

  Kendril raised a finger. “Don’t think I’m going to let that go, you big lout.” He glanced around. “Now where’s Marley?”

  Tomas started to get up from his chair, and stopped. “Who?”

  “Marley!” Kendril stepped over to an overturned table, and kicked a huddled form behind it. “Get up. We’re going.”

  The old sailor lifted his head with a groan.”Uhh. Huh?” He rubbed his eyes with a grimy fist. “What’s going on?”

  “We’re leaving.” Kendril nodded towards the mule. “Get Simon. And watch out, he’s had a lot of beer.”

  Marley moaned. He tried to get up to a sitting position. “So have I.”

  Tomas wrinkled his nose. “What on Zanthora? Kendril, who is this person?”

  Kendril snatched the last of the bread off the table. “My new manservant.”

  Tomas rocked back on his heels. “What?”

  Marley’s face went white. “What?”

  Kendril glanced back over his shoulder. “You swore up and down last night, called on Eru himself to deal with you ever so severely if you didn’t serve me. Don’t you remember?”

  Marley put a hand to his head. “Remember? No, I don’t remember. My head is pounding like a sledge hammer.”

  Kendril shrugged. “Half the tavern heard you. I tried to talk you out of it, but you wouldn’t listen to me. Kept saying I had saved your life.”

  “Saved my life?” Marley leapt to his feet, and almost fell back over again. He grabbed the tumbled table in front of him for balance. “Are you daft? You almost got me killed!”

  Kendril picked up his pistol from the table and stuck it into his belt. “I agree. You should have listened to me.”

  Simon shook his head at Marley.

  Tomas took a step towards Kendril and lowered his voice. “You can’t be serious. You’re taking this…this drunkard along with us?”

  Kendril examined the bread for a moment, then stuffed it into a pocket in his cloak. “Not really my idea.” He considered for a moment. “Though it would be nice to have someone along to carry the bags. Simon gets tired of doing it all the time.”

  The mule brayed his agreement.

  “Carry bags?” Marley staggered forward, his face flushed. “Now see here. Ghostwalker or not, you’ve no right to—”

  Kendril turned to the door. “I don’t care either way, Marley. Just be careful going outside.”

  The old sailor paused. “Going…what?”

  Kendril raised his hood. “You called on Eru to strike you dead with lightning if you reneged on your oath.”

  Marley’s mouth dropped open. He stared at Kendril’s retreating back.

  Kendril whistled.

  Simon wheeled and followed his master out of the tavern, swaying unsteadily from side to side as he walked.

  “Watch out,” Kendril said in a low voice to Tomas. “If he gets sick you don’t want to be standing in front of him.”

  Tomas hurriedly took a step to the side.

  They exited the tavern and walked out onto the wet planks of the dockside.

  Tomas glanced back at the tavern entrance. “He’s not coming.”

  “Wait for it,” Kendril said with a half-smile.

  Three seconds later Marley came running out of the door, casting one fearful eye on the sky above him. “Wait! Mr. Kendril, wait!”

  Tomas frowned. He dropped his voice to a harsh whisper. “Did he really swear an oath to you last night?”

  Kendril smiled. “Well, that’s hard to say. Unlike you, I haven’t promised never to lie.”

  “Great.” Tomas looked out over the harbor. He could just make out the massive carcass of the beast that Kendril had killed the night before, lying across the rocks of the breakwater. “Finding Bronwyn better be worth all this, Kendril.”

  The Ghostwalker’s eyes glittered. “Trust me, Tomas, it is.”

  The wind tore around Kendril’s black cloak, making it flap and flutter like the wings of a raven. Ahead of the ship the sky was just beginning to fade into the rosy colors of dawn. The ocean was dark and restless before them.

  Tomas came up behind Kendril. His own cloak was wrapped around him against the cold.

  “Looks like fair sailing,” Kendril remarked without turning around.

  Tomas stepped up beside his fellow Ghostwalker. He peered over the bow of the ship. “I hate the ocean,” he murmured. “I’ve only been over to Jothland once, years ago.”

  Kendril rubbed his hands together against the freezing wind. “Really?”

  “Really. To kill a man in Redemption. Some cultist who was stirring up trouble.” Tomas looked out at the dark water. “That was back when I had just taken the Vow. At the time it didn’t really seem different than my old life.”

  Kendril smirked. “And what exactly did you do in your old life, Tomas?”

  “You first.” Tomas gave Kendril a sharp glance. “You’ve been to Jothland before, haven’t you? Spent some time there, maybe?”

  Kendril’s eyes hardened. “No business of yours, Tomas. You know what we have to do. Get to Redemption, track down the witch, and get the information we need out of her. Simple.”

  Tomas nodded slowly. “Right. I also know the past has a way of catching up with us. And I don’t like surprises. So if there’s anything you need to tell me before we set foot on land, I think now would be the time.”

  “Sure,” said Kendril. “I have something to say. I don’t trust you, Tomas. And I don’t like you, either. Anything else you want to know?”

  Tomas smiled. “No, I’d say that about covers it. At least the feeling is mutual, then.”

  Kendril grunted. He turned his face back towards the churning sea.

  Tomas turned away and headed back up the deck.

  Kendril remained silent for a few seconds. The wind was like ice on his face. Tears stung his eyes
. He continued to stare straight ahead, across the water and towards the rising sun.

  He was returning at last, after all these years. To Jothland. To Redemption.

  Home.

  Chapter 6

  The Sanitarium was just outside the Vorten city wall on the western side, far enough in the country to be relatively secluded, but also still within easy reach of the town proper. It was a short enough carriage ride to the estate, but for Joseph and Maklavir it still seemed to take an eternity.

  Iola sat weeping out of sheer nerves and stress. It was impossible to get much out of her at all.

  Maklavir sat dutifully beside the plump woman, patting her hand and telling her not to worry. He looked anxiously out the carriage window from time to time at the slowly passing landscape.

  Joseph sat on the opposite side of the carriage. His face was drained of color. He set his eyes on the opposite wall of the carriage, staring at it as if willing the vehicle to move faster than it was. He was tensed, crouched, as if preparing to spring on an enemy any second.

  Maklavir sat up in his seat. His consolations to Iola became somewhat less earnest and convincing as the carriage passed a large, neatly trimmed hedge.

  Joseph glanced out the window, his face stormy.

  Outside the day was dawning cold and gray. The first songs of birds could be heard on the wet morning air.

  The carriage entered a large circle turnabout. Outside the carriage window the Sanitarium came into view.

  It was a beautiful manor house, several centuries old and made out of yellowed stone. Ivy clung to the walls, and the well-kept lawn stretched away from the building for quite a distance. Just visible was a wide pond with several ducks floating and bobbing in the still water. Patches of morning mist stuck to the grass like fallen wool.

  The house had been a nobleman’s residence once, before the last Baderan War. After the man’s son had been killed in the fighting, the old nobleman had willed his estate to the Army, who in turn had turned it into a hospital for soldiers of the war. Over time it had been closed down, then repurposed as a monastery, and then as a Sanitarium.

  After the last cultist uprising in Vorten, the population of patients had dramatically increased.

  Joseph was out of the carriage like a shot before it had even stopped. He leapt up the broad stairs of the mansion without stopping, and headed right for the front doors.

  Maklavir gave Iola one last soothing remark, then quickly exited the carriage himself. He followed his friend up the stairs, his heart pumping hard and his hands unusually sweaty.

  The entrance hall of the Sanitarium was dominated by a large desk that had been placed against one wall. Two women in the long white robes of nurses were arguing heatedly with Joseph, blocking his way.

  The pathfinder unconsciously had one hand gripped on the hilt of his sword.

  Maklavir rushed forward and put a restraining hand on Joseph’s arm. “It’s me,” he said to the women. “Iola is still in the carriage. She told us that Kara has come out of her coma. Is that true?”

  The two nurses looked at each other, then back at Maklavir.

  “And who is this?” the older nurse demanded, sticking out her chin at Joseph.

  “A friend,” Maklavir said hesitantly “Mine and Kara’s. Now please tell us, has she really awakened?”

  The older nurse crossed her arms, glaring at Joseph with a look that would have turned a lesser man into stone. “This is not a dance hall or card house,” she said crossly. “We do not allow any ragamuffins who so please to come barging in here, unannounced and at whatever hour they choose. Our patients have very specific needs, and that includes a certain degree of security, not to mention peace and quiet—”

  “Yes, yes,” said Maklavir, trying to keep the irritation out of his voice. He struggled for a moment to remember the woman’s name, even though he had seen her countless times before. “Look…Grelda, we need to know about Kara. Is she awake? Can we see her?”

  Iola arrived at the door to the mansion, huffing and puffing from the climb up the steps.

  Grelda gave the nurse a frosty glare, then looked back at Maklavir. “You certainly cannot see her at once, no. And not now. It is not even breakfast time—”

  “Regnuthu take you, woman!” Joseph exploded, his face red and his eyes flaming. “Is she awake?”

  Maklavir instinctively caught his friend’s arm, pulling him a step back.

  Grelda looked flustered, but determined to hold her ground. “Now see here, young man, I’ll not have that kind of talk here. It’s highly uncivilized, not to mention rude.” She straightened her shoulders and smoothed out her robe. “For your information, she has recovered from her coma.”

  Both men were silent for a moment.

  Joseph took a step back. The anger seemed to drain completely out of him. “Please,” he said in a whisper. “Please, I need to see her.”

  Grelda’s face softened, but only the tiniest little bit. “She…” The older nurse hesitated, as if unsure what to say next. “Look, you must try to understand. The girl is awake, but she is still not quite…herself.”

  Maklavir felt the room spin around him. He caught at the edge of the desk to steady himself.

  Joseph looked as if he would collapse himself. “What do you mean?”

  Iola broke into a fresh new round of weeping.

  Grelda diverted her attention to the other nurse, seemingly glad of the distraction. “Now that’s enough out of you, Iola. Eru knows there’s no room for that kind of emotional nonsense here.”

  “What do you mean she’s not herself?” Joseph repeated. His voice was more strident than ever.

  Grelda looked at the grizzled pathfinder again. “You must understand, sir, that Kara has been a coma for weeks. Months. It often takes time for a person to adjust again when they finally regain consciousness.” She hesitated a beat, as if unsure whether to add the final thought. “And as I am sure you know, if you really are her friend, that she was grievously wounded.”

  The two men glanced at each other.

  Kara had been shot by Kendril during the last stage of the battle for Vorten, when the Seteru spirit known as Indigoru had possessed her body through the pendant known as the Soulbinder. Some of the shards of the Soulbinder had cut deep into Kara’s chest. At least one or two had been lodged so deep that they could not be removed.

  Maklavir read the same fear in Joseph’s eyes that he was feeling himself.

  Joseph put a hand on the hilt to his rapier. “We need to see her. Now.”

  Grelda furrowed her brows. “Now? Do you have any idea how early it is? I can never—”

  “You need to understand me,” said Joseph in a low voice. “I am going to see Kara one way or the other.”

  Maklavir squeezed the man’s arm tight. “Joseph,” he said in a harsh whisper, “for the love of Eru, don’t make this worse.”

  Grelda looked angrily at both men. “This is highly irregular. The girl has barely been awake for more than an few hours—”

  Maklavir looked over at the nurse. “Grelda, please. You know me. I have always been prompt with the payments for Kara’s care, haven’t I? I’ve been here often to check up on her. Five minutes. That’s all we’re asking.”

  Joseph shot Maklavir a warning glance, but the diplomat ignored him.

  “Well,” Grelda gave a deep sigh. “You have always been the perfect gentleman, Maklavir.” She stared hard at Joseph. “Unlike your new friend here.” She gave a slow nod of her head. “Five minutes. No more. And if I say the visit is terminated earlier than that, you’ll both have to leave.”

  “Agreed,” Maklavir said swiftly.

  Joseph looked as if he wanted to leap forward and throttle the woman. “Agreed,” he said between clenched teeth.

  “All right then,” Grelda said, smoothing her white robe like a hen ruffling its feathers. “Follow me, if you please.” She looked over at Iola. “I’ll deal with you later.”

  The two men started to follo
w her.

  “Oh,” said Grelda suddenly, turning around on them, “one more thing. Your weapons will have to stay here.”

  Maklavir gave a smile that he did not feel in the slightest. “Of course, Grelda.” He unbuckled his sheathed sword and put it next to the front desk.

  Joseph didn’t move a muscle.

  Grelda glared at him. “It’s for the safety of the patients,” she said coldly. “There is no reason that you’ll need your sword in our establishment.”

  Maklavir looked over at Joseph. “For Eru’s sake, man,” he hissed, “what’s wrong with you? Drop the sword.”

  Joseph looked over at his friend with a face pale with anger.

  “Talin’s ashes,” said Maklavir in exasperation. “Do you want to see Kara or not?”

  With slow, measured movements, Joseph removed his rapier and put it down by the desk.

  Grelda eyed Joseph uneasily, as if she was having second thoughts about letting him into the Sanitarium at all. Finally, she turned and waved her hand. “Follow me, gentlemen. And remember, five minutes only.”

  “You’re embarrassing me,” Maklavir whispered to Joseph as they climbed the stairs after the nurse. “What in Zanthora’s name did you think we needed weapons in here for, anyway?”

  Joseph looked over at Maklavir. “What...if Kara’s not there?”

  Maklavir reached the landing and turned towards the next flight of stairs. “What are you talking about? Who else would we see?”

  Joseph gave Maklavir a look with eyes so pained and hard that they sent a chill down the diplomat’s spine. “It hasn’t occurred to you, yet? We don’t know yet if the goddess is wholly gone.”

  Maklavir felt the blood pound in his ears. His foot missed the next step, and he stumbled.

  The terrifying possibility that Joseph was suggesting had not entered his mind at all. A year ago he would easily have laughed the mere suggestion of such a thing off with ease.

  Now he found himself whispering a prayer to Eru as he climbed.

  They reached the top of the stairs, and headed down a long corridor filled with side chambers and closed doors. Down the hall came the echoing cry of someone weeping. A repeated pounding came from inside one of the rooms.