Legends of Ahn (King's Dark Tidings Book 3)

by Kel Kade

  Firm hands jerked at his shoulders. “Rezkin …”

  He lurched to his feet and drew Kingslayer in one fluid motion, its point coming to rest at the throat of his assailant. Wide, fear-filled brown eyes stared back at him. A drop of crimson trailed down Frisha’s exposed neck. Rezkin blinked several more times, lowered his sword—but only slightly—and then back-pedaled. He needed something solid at his back. With the swift realization that he had no knowledge of his surroundings, Rezkin immediately went on the defensive. His heart was racing, but the battle energy refused to heed his call. He could see dozens of eyes peering at him, but the images were disjointed, and he could not find even the simplest focus.

  Kai stepped forward and pushed the terrified young woman behind him. “My king,” he said with raised, empty hands as he took a step forward.

  Rezkin saw the striker’s advance and immediately raised his sword in preparation to defend himself.

  The striker glanced around and then lowered his voice. “Rezkin, please. No one intends you harm. Please, put the sword away.”

  Blinking a few times, Rezkin attempted to clear his vision. He ran a hand over his face and then looked down at the hand. Reaching up again, he touched his cheek. His mask. His mask was gone. Where was his mask? His frantic gaze darted over the spectators and finally found the stolen object in the hands of the battle mage. Wesson watched the king pensively while chewing on his lip.

  The dark warrior narrowed his crystal blue eyes at the mage and tightened the grip on his sword. Wesson’s eyes widened when it suddenly appeared that Rezkin might attack. Kai took a step forward, and Rezkin’s attention shifted to the advancing striker.

  In his king’s clear, blue eyes, Kai saw what he could only interpret as panic—at least, the closest thing to panic that Rezkin had ever shown. The striker decided it was best to give him space.

  “Everyone back. Regroup,” Kai ordered. “The king desires a private conference to discuss how we will proceed.”

  Striker Shezar stood facing the crowd to block their sight of the disturbed king. With the striker’s back to him, Rezkin immediately zeroed in on the elite warrior’s vulnerability. If he needed to fight, Shezar would be the first to die.

  “Rezkin,” came Kai’s deep voice.

  His attention darted to the older man, forgetting all about Shezar.

  Kai said, “Do you know who I am?”

  Rezkin narrowed his eyes at the patronizing striker. “Of course I know who you are. I have not lost my mind.”

  The striker raised a questioning brow, his expression still seeking an answer.

  Rezkin grumbled, “You are Kai, my most uncooperative vassal.”

  Kai grinned unapologetically. “Good. Do you know where you are?”

  “Caellurum,” Rezkin stated with confidence.

  “Yes,” Kai drawled, his tone patient as though speaking to a small-one. “So what is the problem, my king? You seem to be a bit … defensive.”

  Rezkin knew it to be true. He blinked several more times as Kai’s face swam before him. In a sudden rush, he realized he had forgotten his surroundings again. He had no idea where anyone was or who might be listening. A hoard of enemies could be bearing down on him at this very moment, and he was completely exposed. Rezkin raised his sword and backed up again, hoping to feel the second door behind him. His back pressed against the solid rock, and he was momentarily relieved—until the goliath began to swing open as silently as the first.

  Rezkin darted to the frame and pressed his back to the stone. He could not leave the vast, unknown space at his rear, and a multitude of potential attackers occupied the dock. The two strikers glanced at each other with looks of concern and then spied the sea of curious faces.

  Wesson, who had stayed to help, said, “I placed a sound and light shield around this entire opening. They cannot see or hear anything. For all they know, we are exploring the interior.

  “The mages,” Shezar asked, “can they see through it?”

  “No, and I will sense it if they try,” Wesson said.

  Shezar released a breath and turned to observe his liege as Kai closed the distance to the king.

  “Rezkin,” Kai tried again. “What concerns you?”

  Rezkin’s attention was fully on Kai. After a long stare, he said, “I cannot focus … or rather … I cannot split my focus.” He shook his head, and then his eyes abruptly sought Kai again. “I can focus on you, but then everything else disappears. When I focus elsewhere, you disappear.”

  Kai thought that, in that moment, Rezkin sounded like the scared trainee he should have been at his age.

  “How can I see my attackers?” Rezkin asked. “How will I anticipate the danger?”

  The strikers’ gazes met, and they nodded in understanding. They turned back to their king. Focus was one of the fundamental principles of their training. For the young man who had probably learned to focus before he could walk, having little or none of it would undermine everything he knew.

  “Did you not train to fight while intoxicated?” Shezar asked.

  Rezkin’s eyes grew wide, his gaze flashed to the speaker. He gripped his sword before him in ready battle stance. “Yes, of course, but this is different. Kai was only a few feet from you, yet I had somehow forgotten that you were present. I could not even see you when I was focused on him.”

  At Rezkin’s own mention of the other striker, he abruptly sought Kai. He became panicked when he realized the striker was not where he thought the man should have been. His gaze shot around, but he once again found Shezar, who was also not where Rezkin thought the man had previously been standing. Drawing his second blade, Rezkin held a sword in each hand ready to defend himself from their hostile maneuvers.

  “I see what you mean,” Kai said from beside the mage, a good ten feet from where Rezkin thought the man had been. With Rezkin’s back to the wall, both men should have been within his field of view at all times, and their movements would have been obvious. Wesson’s presence had not even registered until Kai had spoken from beside him.

  “Look, Rezkin, we are your servants, your guards,” Kai said in a calming tone. “We are on your side. Let us focus for you. We will allow no harm to befall our king.”

  “I cannot,” Rezkin replied. “Rule 8 – Know your surroundings, Rule 84 – Do not allow your attention linger, Rule 164 – Do not depend on others, Rule 165 – Trust no one …”

  “Truly?” Kai interrupted with a deep frown. “Is there no one you trust enough to guard your back? Even as strikers, we trust in our brethren. We all fight for the same cause.”

  “Do you?” Rezkin asked, and Kai winced. “I have no brethren,” Rezkin said. “I am alone—a weapon—an intent.”

  “He is vulnerable,” Shezar observed. “It is instinct to fall back on his training.”

  “I always follow the Rules,” Rezkin argued, his attention drawn back to the second striker.

  “Perhaps,” the striker conceded, “but you are usually more reasonable about it. You understand that some of us are less likely to attack you than others.”

  “I know little of you, Shezar,” Rezkin said with unusual candor. “I have no reason to trust you any more than the others.”

  Shezar’s face dropped. He replied, “I concede the point, but surely there is someone. The woman perhaps? Frisha.”

  “Yes,” Wesson said from out of nowhere. Rezkin had once again forgotten the mage. “You have said on several occasions that you trusted her to some extent.”

  “She is angry with me. She no longer speaks to me … and … and I have injured her,” he said as the vague memory of crimson blood resurfaced. “She may seek reprisal.”

  “Rezkin! I cannot believe you would say that!” Frisha shouted.

  Rezkin nearly jumped out of his skin. Where had she come from? These people appeared from the void like specters. Rezkin was beginning to wonder if he was truly conscious. This felt more like a twisted dream than reality.

  “Lady Frisha, you s
hould not be here within the ward. He is not well,” Kai said to the angry woman.

  Rezkin swung his sword in the direction of the deep voice. His gaze landed on the striker, and he blurted, “Where is she? What have you done with her?”

  “Who?” Kai asked in surprise.

  Rezkin heatedly said, “Frisha. You were just speaking to her.”

  “Rezkin, I’m right here,” the young woman answered.

  Rezkin’s gaze followed the voice across the distorted expanse, and the woman could not have been more than a few feet from the striker. Frisha’s brow was furrowed in concern. She took a step forward, but Rezkin raised his sword in warning.

  “Okaaaay,” she drawled as her anger appeared to deepen. “What about Tam? Would you trust Tam to help you?”

  “I …” he paused as he remembered Tam calling him a mass murderer. “No,” he said, “Tam is conflicted. He may yet retract his support.”

  Cold sweat began dripping into his eyes, and he wiped at his brow with his sleeve.

  Frisha’s mouth parted in surprise. “Uh, what about Malcius?”

  “He blames me for his brother’s death, and possibly those of his parents.”

  With more than a hint of frustration, she suggested, “Tieran?”

  “May still change his mind about wanting the crown.”

  “Brandt?”

  “His house declared support for Caydean.”

  Frisha shifted uncomfortably. “Jimson?”

  “Is an officer of the Ashaiian army, which currently seeks my head.”

  Frisha could not believe her ears. “Is there no one you trust, Rezkin?”

  “Everyone I know has cause to want me dead, Frisha. Any who know of my … condition … could seek to take advantage.”

  Frisha could not decide which she felt more keenly, pity or anger. Her voice was filled with scorn as she said, “I had no idea you were so fearful of our betrayal.”

  “Not fear, Frisha,” Rezkin said. “Acknowledgement and acceptance. In recognizing the potential for attack, I will not be surprised when it occurs.”

  Frisha’s attention darted to the side, and she spoke to someone Rezkin did not see. “What happened to him? Whatever it was has made him paranoid. He speaks nonsense.”

  Frisha hated seeing her stoic warrior so frightened and vulnerable, but, even more so, she hated to hear his opinions of his friends.

  Rezkin tore his attention from the woman to see to whom she spoke and was surprised to see that Wesson was present.

  The mage replied, “I cannot say what happened. I have not been able to get close enough to determine if he is under a spell.”

  Rezkin’s gaze darted to the side. He did not know to whom the mage was speaking, but he worried that the unseen individual could be an attacker. His gaze landed on Frisha. He had forgotten about her.

  From somewhere to the left, a man’s voice said, “I think perhaps we are getting an unusual glimpse into the mind of our king.”

  Had Shezar been there the whole time, or had he just arrived?

  “You mean he thinks like this all the time?” Frisha said with abhorrence.

  “Perhaps to some extent,” Shezar said.

  Frisha was aghast. “You’re saying he’s paranoid?”

  “Not paranoid—prepared,” the striker said. “We are all trained to think in such a way to a degree. From what I have gathered, our king’s training was more brutal and intense than the rest of ours. The strikers do not begin training until we reach adulthood. We have years of developing personal relationships and trust with others before we are instructed otherwise. King Rezkin finished his training at that age, having never experienced anything else. I would say he is usually better able to prioritize his concerns, and his masterful skills of observation enable him to develop a reasonable threat level analysis. At this moment, however, he is incapable of observing more than one point of focus at a time. Therefore, everything is, in essence, at the same threat level. Because of his training, he is on highest alert.”

  Rezkin said, “You speak of me as though I am not present.”

  The striker met Rezkin’s fitful gaze. “Do you reject my assessment?”

  Rezkin narrowed his eyes. “To whom were you speaking?”

  Shezar shook his head. “This is getting us nowhere. We must do something quickly. The others are becoming anxious.” To Rezkin he said, “Can you at least pretend you are confident in our loyalty and dedication?”

  “Who is we?” Rezkin asked.

  The striker sighed in exasperation and glanced at someone to the side.

  “Do not look at me,” Wesson said. “He would likely view anything I do as an attack.”

  “Journeyman,” Rezkin said upon noticing the mage’s presence for the first time. “Place a ward around me.”

  It had suddenly donned on Rezkin that his behavior seemed erratic to his companions, and he could not afford to show such vulnerability.

  “Are you certain?” Wesson asked with uncertainty. “You usually view wards with contempt.”

  Rezkin could not believe he was going to have to put faith in a mage ward to keep him alive. “Yes, do it. As far as I know, none of our traveling companions are able to breach your wards, at least not without your knowing about it, yes?”

  “Yes …”

  “The others. They are here, are they not?” Rezkin asked.

  He looked beyond the immediate vicinity and saw a multitude of people … and a ship. Yes, they had been traveling on a ship, and now he was in Caellurum. But, what had he just been doing? He shook his head. Talking to the mage. Where is the mage? Ah, there he is. Rezkin felt the faint tingle of mage power envelop him, and he stiffened.

  “What are you doing?” he asked in alarm.

  “You told me to put a ward around you,” Wesson responded with wide eyes.

  Rezkin stared at the mage. After a moment, he relaxed his stance.

  “Yes, so I did.” His thoughts were slowly piecing themselves together. “Kai and Shezar … and Frisha … they are here as well?” He maintained eye contact with the mage as he spoke so as not to lose him.

  Wesson nodded. “Yes,” he said slowly. “They are right here, only a few feet from me.”

  “I cannot see them while I am looking at you, but I remember they are here, at least. I can feel your ward, though, and can see you at the same time. Your ward will keep me safe, and I will keep you safe. It is the best I can do for now.”

  Wesson nodded and replied, “Yes, that seems reasonable … unless you decide I am a threat, and you attack me.”

  “Mage,” Kai scolded from … somewhere.

  Rezkin sheathed one of his swords and took a step away from the wall. He gripped the other sword casually, rather than in preparation to strike.

  “Attacking you would be counterproductive … unless you become hostile, and I cannot think of a reason you would seek to harm me right now.”

  “And me? You think I could hurt you?” Frisha asked.

  Keeping his eyes on the mage, Rezkin replied to the disembodied voice. “No, Frisha. I find the prospect doubtful.”

  “Doubtful but not impossible,” she observed.

  “Everyone is capable of violence,” he said. “It is best to always expect the possibility.”

  Kai muttered, “Well, at least he is making more sense now.”

  Rezkin had forgotten about the striker again, but at least now he could focus on the voice and Wesson at the same time.

  “What happened?” Wesson asked. “When you touched the door?”

  “A minor setback,” Rezkin replied. “I am recovering.”

  Wesson said, “That was no minor setback, Rezkin. You died.”

  “What?” Rezkin said in astonishment.

  Wesson shifted uncomfortably and added, “Well, a little bit, anyway.”

  Rezkin frowned. “How can one die a little bit? A person is either dead or alive.”

  “You weren’t breathing,” Frisha said, “and your heart stopped.
”

  Wesson held up the mask and said, “I had to break the enchantment securing your mask to remove it. Healer Aelis said you were getting hotter and that something was causing your blood to rush even though your heart no longer beat. He said he has never heard of the like, and neither have I.”

  Rezkin tried to focus long enough to recall the memory but was concerned he would lose track of his surroundings again. With his peripheral vision returning, he could now see that Frisha was standing beside the mage. He could also remember that Kai and Shezar were present, but he could not yet determine their locations.

  “I cannot speak on it, yet. Shezar said the others are becoming restless, did he not? I need more time to collect myself before we explore the interior, but you may drop the shield blocking us from view of the others.” With a smirk, he added, “I will behave myself.”

  As soon as the shield dropped, Tieran, Malcius, Brandt, and Tam rushed forward.

  “Rez, are you okay?” Tam asked with obvious concern.

  Rezkin continued to hold Wesson in his gaze as he raised a hand and said, “I will be fine.” He was not sure of the statement’s veracity, but optimism was better than exposure.

  “What happened?” Tieran asked. “We saw you collapse, and the healer said you died.”

  Out of the corner of his eye, Rezkin could see Tieran standing next to Wesson, so he felt relatively confident he would still be able to see the mage if he looked at Tieran.

  He met Tieran’s gaze and said, “Well, obviously, I am not dead.” Without looking behind him, Rezkin motioned to the gaping chasm beyond the massive threshold and said, “I managed to open the door.”

  “Yes, I can see that,” Tieran said facetiously. He may have matured along the voyage, but he was still Tieran. “How did you do it?”

  “I am uncertain,” Rezkin admitted.

  “Is that a Sheyalin?” Malcius asked.

  Rezkin gripped the hilt and risked meeting Malcius’s gaze, hoping he would still be able to see Wesson.