The question got their attention. Many of them flinched, and they all reluctantly agreed to help.
“Fantastic. The Kiraak won’t immediately slaughter us on our way to the gardens,” Oswin exclaimed. “Before we leave, we should clarify who composes our party. I know the four students from my visits to your school, so we can dispense with those introductions, but who’s your… friend in the corner? Never seen him or anyone like him before.”
A stranger indeed stood in the direction indicated, tightly hugging himself. He started when Oswin pointed to him.
“I’m, uh, I’m Crea- No, that’s a terrible name for a physical being of this iteration, and I am a physical being now. I must adapt,” he muttered as if to himself. “Let’s see. What would be fitting? Ah! I know!” He excitedly clapped. “My name is Creaturae.”
He nervously smiled at them, oblivious to the fact that they stared not for his lack of name but because of his unearthly appearance. His olive-toned skin was the least of his oddities. His hair was silver. Not the washed-out gray associated with those who survived to their fifth decade, but actual, shimmering, spun silver.
And his eyes… Gods, his eyes. Irises of bone white surrounded black, pinhole pupils, all bordered by a thin, turquoise ring.
At least his body, for the most part, emulated his companions’. The only exceptions were his lengthened, delicate fingers, but the rest appeared ordinary. This wonderfully soothing bit of normalcy, however, was almost deliberately masked by what he wore.
A form-fitting shirt with short sleeves hugged his skinny chest. His hips and legs sported stiff, blue trousers and a precisely crafted leather belt with a shiny buckle. The trousers’ blue loops kept the belt in place around his waist.
His tiny feet bore… shoes. That was the only name Kheled could think to give them. They matched no other footwear he’d seen. A spongy, porous material protected the soles, and a meshed, colorful cloth enclosed the foot’s dorsal. String closed an opening along the top, and a long, puffy strip of mesh material rested beneath the string, placed to protect flesh exposed by the opening.
“Creation,” Kheled coughed. “Some questions before we flee this place. What the hell are you wearing? Why do you look like…” he waved a hand, “this? And why can Oswin see you?”
“First of all, it’s Creaturae,” the splinter replied. “The word comes from another iteration’s dead language. It holds the same meaning as my original name. Interestingly enough, that iteration is one of the few where tears are undetected-”
“Focus, please,” Kheled snapped.
“Right, sorry. Um,” Creaturae bit his lip. “I look the way I do because I didn’t want to resemble you for the small number of years remaining me. No offense, Erianger.”
“Plenty taken,” Kheled growled.
“Fair enough,” the splinter said with a shrug. “As for the clothes, I surmise the whole will consider my assumption of them a violation. I’m not supposed to mix iterations, but I just became a physical being, damn it! I think the sacrifice should give me some leeway over what I wear.”
“Wait,” Kheled interrupted, hand to forehead in an inadequate attempt to stop his head from swimming, “physical being? As in, like me and Raimie? What did you do to yourself?”
“I did nothing!” Creaturae pouted. “You did this to me.”
The splinter was not resolving Kheled’s confusion. He really should drop the snarled problem until they’d reached safety, but as far as he could tell, the palace gate held. No sounds of battle disturbed them. He had time for questions.
“I suppose I can accept that,” he grunted, surprised at how irritable he sounded.
Honestly, though, his annoyance shouldn’t come as a surprise, considering his near death experience, his efforts to stop his friend’s suicide, his worry Raimie and his sister were stuck in doll state, two days without sleep…
Stop it, Kheled. Focus. You’ll have time to fragment later.
“Why don’t you return to the whole like you did last time? Wouldn’t that fix you?” Kheled asked.
“Can’t.” Creaturae shrugged. “I’m too far gone.”
Kheled was about to rip into the splinter for being so obtuse when a loud boom interrupted him. The palace shook, swaying him and his companions.
“Not good!” Oswin shouted. “We need to leave, Kheled! Bring your odd friend if you want, but we’re going now. To the gardens, everyone!”
“What’s in the gardens?” Kheled shouted as he hurried to take Ren’s hand.
Oswin already had Raimie’s. “Escape.”
They rushed from the bedroom, Oswin pointedly keeping his eyes from the body lying beside its door. They flew down stairs and through corridors, retracing a path near identical to the one Kheled had sprinted earlier, until they ran into the first wave of invading Kiraak. After that, they became the prey of a panicked game of chase, backtracking and desperately searching for a way out of the palace. Bloodthirsty howls constantly hounded their backs.
The Kiraak hemmed them in not fifty feet from an exit which directly opened onto the gardens. Some sixty to seventy of the monsters faced them: one spymaster, two catatonic monarchs, one newly-made-physical splinter, and five Ele primeancers. One of whom couldn’t access his life-saving energy. Godsdamn it, Ele.
“We’re dead,” Oswin sighed, barely audible over hisses and spitting.
An accurate assessment. They were outnumbered ten to one if they counted the helpless couple they surrounded. Since their primary purpose was to protect the King and Queen, they couldn’t move about as heavily as they normally might. Confined to their corner and surrounded as they were, their deaths were a foregone conclusion. Only Ele’s bright blaze kept the Kiraak at bay, but their respite wouldn’t last long.
“Weapon, please,” Creaturae demanded, extending a hand.
A first, brave Kiraak cautiously edged forward.
“What?! No!” Kheled squeaked. “You’d only stab yourself with it, newbie. Just… stay back.”
“Erianger, I’ve existed since the dawn of time,” Creaturae scolded. “How much of my life do you think I spent watching you lot? I can handle myself. Weapon. Please.”
The extended hand insistently jerked, and Kheled stared at it, acutely aware of the Kiraak drawing near. Should he oblige the splinter’s request? Creaturae had become his responsibility the moment his actions had drawn the aggravating annoyance to this plane of existence. The splinter may have existed as a piece of god-like, almighty Ele, but he’d no idea what sick and twisted things the physical realm could produce. No idea. On the other hand…
Kheled scanned the numbers they faced once more. The best they could hope for was a quick death. He might as well give Creaturae the means to take a few of the Kiraak with him.
“Now!” a voice shouted from the enemy’s midst.
Kheled’s head whipped toward the sound, the splinter wiped from his thoughts. A mill of confusion spread from the enemy glob’s center. What in the name of everything holy-?
White light flashed, and a Kiraak sailed over its brethren to land at Kheled’s feet. He dispatched it, piecing their change in fortune together. The other Ele primeancers. They must have infiltrated the Kiraak, using their cover to find teacher and comrades. Now that they’d located their quarry, his students fought to free them.
“We have to help them!” Kheled shouted.
Miranon and the others already stood ready, Ele pulled to every body part.
“How du we know whu tu attack?” Yanovna asked.
“You’ll know.”
“Raimie?” Jeme asked.
“Go!” Oswin called, brandishing his pistol and a sword. “I’ll cover him!”
No further instruction was required. Ele would never harm Ele, so they’d no reason to hold back. They dove in with abandon.
It was glorious. Finally, something simple. Kill or be killed. Kiraak versus non. Ele against Daevetch. Forget Raimie could save every Kiraak Kheled cut down. For the moment, his frien
d had departed. Kheled was free to eliminate Corruption without blotting his conscience.
It was easy, until it wasn’t. His muscles burned within the first dozen exchanges, and without Ele to set the beat, Kheled’s feet were offset to the battle’s dance. He back-stepped too slowly from a thrust and received a slice across his ribs for his trouble. When he retreated to the fringes, Oswin saved him from a stab to the back.
“You’re off your game, Kheled,” he panted before running off.
The spy finished a Kiraak who attempted to sneak up on Raimie.
Oswin was more right than he could know, but Kheled pushed on, heedlessly plunging into the thick of battle. What else was he supposed to do? Leave the fight to his students?
When an arrow through a Kiraak’s eye saved him from a painful jab to the groin, he thought nothing of it at first. An oddity. A welcome miracle. But then, a mouse he’d almost stepped on grew in size. The change was so rapid the resulting Eselan’s head smashed into a Kiraak’s jaw, instantaneously dropping the enemy. The Eselan proceeded to claim the fallen Kiraak’s blade. She summoned fire to her hand before disappearing into the shifting fight, and Kheled wondered.
The joy was gone from the battle after that, the illusion broken, to be replaced by bone-deep weariness and resignation. The change made him reckless. How fortunate, then, that the fight quickly reached its culmination.
When the last Kiraak fell, Kheled waited with bated breath for more, but Miranon sobbed and scooped the closest Ele boy, Irya, into a hug. Jeme stood at attention before Gistrick, probably relaying a report.
Gistrick? Kheled squinted. Was that truly the Zrelnach commander? He hadn’t seen the man in years.
Slowly, he relaxed. He didn’t sheath his blades, but they lowered from a defensive guard.
A man stomped on a nearby body’s face, metal bow strung across his back, and pulled the arrow from its eye.
“Thank you for saving my life,” Kheled told him.
The man twirled the arrow before jamming it into his quiver. “It was the least I could do after what you did for me.”
“Aramar,” Kheled breathed as the other man faced him. “Why are you here?”
“I know, I know. Exiled from Raimie’s presence,” Aramar said, raising a hand to stifle Kheled’s further grousing. “I figured he wouldn’t mind the disobedience if it saved his life. Besides, Gistrick and I have, for years, planned a rescue like this. We never wanted Uduli’s recapture to occur, but we prepared for it any case. It’s a good thing we did. You lot were in dire straits when we showed up.”
“But why?” Kheled asked. “Raimie’s more than expressed his distaste for the two of you. Why would you want to save him?”
“Gistrick has never stopped seeing him as his pupil, and no matter what he does, Raimie will always be my son,” Aramar answered. “I suppose we hoped that, if it ever did come to a disaster, the two of us serving as his safety net would somehow begin to return us to Raimie’s good graces. Where is he, by the way? I should explain before the Kiraak attack once more. Don’t want him to stab me in the back.”
Pointing, Kheled followed the archer to his son.
“Alouin, what’s happened to him?” Aramar cried when Raimie came into view. He hesitantly spread a hand on his son’s chest, recoiling at the lack of reaction. “You were supposed to keep him safe!” he growled, glaring at Kheled.
How to justify his actions? He’d only ever endeavored to protect Raimie, but had made mistakes along the way which had cost his friend dearly. How to explain that to Aramar?
Oswin saved him the effort. “You can talk, or you can live, people!” he shouted. “Let’s get going! The gardens are close.”
“That’s your destination?” Gistrick asked. “The civilians are gone. How do you know your means of escape will wait for you?”
“I don’t-” Oswin started.
“They’re nut waiting fur us. They wait fur King.”
A host of incredulous faces turned toward Talkovsky.
“Whaet?” the Matvai asked in response to their blank stares. “Waes just there.”
“You heard him!” Aramar roared. “Let’s go!”
Zrelnach, primeancer, and every warrior in between hastened toward the door, toward an escape from the scene of battle. No one stopped to mourn the dead, the Kiraak not worth the effort and practicality forbidding it for their own.
When Oswin came to retrieve Raimie’s hand, Aramar’s hackles raised, reminiscent of a cat’s hissing. Stunned, Oswin’s arm hesitantly lowered, an inward self-crumble forming. Kheled thrust his sister’s hand toward him.
“Here. Take Ren.” When the spymaster reluctantly accepted, Kheled patted his shoulder. “Good man. Keep her safe, my friend. Raimie’s hopeless without her.”
Oswin chuckled, the sound like a glass teetering at table’s edge, before moving as quickly as Ren would allow toward the door. Kheled couldn’t resist slowing as he passed Aramar.
“So you know,” he murmured, “Ring’s missing, presumed dead, and Little gave his life attempting to save your daughter-in-law from an Enforcer. You might want to go easier on Oswin. He did the best he could, given the circumstances. Were you any better at the job when it was yours?”
Without giving Aramar a chance to respond, Kheled stormed for the door, quickly moving through Zrelnach and primeancers and into open air. The mini jungle was prepared to conceal them in a handful of steps, and Kheled contentedly breathed in fresh air, scented with foliage and flowers.
A commotion rose over the leaves’ rustle, Kiraak shouting for support. Curses spat from a dozen mouths, and the group broke into an all-out sprint. Kheled almost missed the fact that not everyone had joined. Slowing to a stop, he retraced his last steps. He halted in the midst of fourteen Ele primeancers and a handful of Zrelnach.
“Exactly what do you think you’re doing? We’ve no time to fight. We need to-”
“We’re covering your retreat, Kheled. Please, move along,” Jeme informed him.
“Are those Gistrick’s orders? You know you don’t have to follow them anymore, yes?”
“No, Khel. This doesn’t originate from Gistrick. We came to this compact before our flight to Uduli,” she said. “Don’t worry, we don’t intend to make a final stand. We’ll fight for as long as we can before we make a break for it.”
“Is right,” Yanovna added. “Will nut die fur Audish king.”
His throat closed on itself. These people weren't prepared for a suic- He’d not had time to adequately prepare them! A slew of lessons which could never be. His students...
“What kind of teacher would I be if I fled while you stayed?” he asked as steadily as he could.
“Don’t be stupid-” Creaturae started.
Of course the splinter had stuck with him.
“Please, Creation, hush before I do something I might regret,” Kheled hissed.
“We need to-”
“I swear to Alouin I'll abandon you here if you can't stay silent!”
A polite, feminine cough restored his blazing fire of anger to the dull coals of despair.
“Thank you for your concern, but it’s not necessary. Here is where your story diverges from ours, Khel,” Miranon said. “Our role is to fight and give you a chance. Yours is to run and someday kill Doldimar, avenging us if need be, and let me tell you,” she leaned in and whispered, “your role is much harder, Erianger.”
And she winked.
No. She couldn’t know. Could she? The stories of his past lives floated about this world, stories of the Eselan Preserver. How could they not? Every primeancer calamity had its origins in him. But Erianger’s tale? He’d thought it long buried. If anyone could dig it up, however, it was Miranon, the insufferably inquisitive scholar from Qena.
Her words’ meaning penetrated his steadily deteriorating state of consciousness. You’re the only one with the ability to kill Doldimar. Get your weakened ass out of here.
“Thank you,” he whispered. “Don’t die.
”
Turning his back on them, Kheled sprinted into the gardens before the sounds of their struggle could reach him, Creaturae at his heels. By the time he burst into the clearing, the others had already gathered at the cliff’s edge, a modest crowd of Zrelnach and the humans they guarded. Creaturae wandered, wide eyed, into their midst. Amazingly, an argument had broken out in the short time he’d been absent.
“-need the Zrelnach if he wants to launch a successful raiding campaign,” Gistrick growled. “Human aggression has given us abundant experience with hit and run attacks.”
“Stop, Gistrick!” Aramar sighed. “You make yourself weak with such pleading. You don’t hear me arguing my case, do you?”
“You’re his father! You have-”
“What’s the problem now?” Kheled asked as he approached.
The other two’s aggressively close positions had hidden Oswin, but at Kheled’s question, he shoved his arms between them and peeled them apart.
“Much better,” he breathed. “Our newest conundrum is that our life raft from Uduli has only five spots remaining.”
“How is that possible?!”
But he already knew. While scanning the group’s faces, he caught sight of Tejesper. Standing on the opposite side of the crowd, the teenager glowered at Creaturae. Kheled wondered whether he should separate the two of them before realization beat down the doors of his tired mind.
Shade melding. They wanted to use the Daevetch primeancers to shade meld away, and with the Kiraak hot on their trail, only one trip would be possible.
“You can count me out!” Kheled chirped over Oswin’s explanation. “No way in hell am I traveling through the shadows.”
“Pity,” Oswin muttered. “You and Raimie were the only two who we unanimously agreed should go.”
Him? Why him? Recently, he’d only played the role of teacher, not warrior, not advisor. For these people, his only other source of importance was his friendship with Raimie, but surely that wasn’t enough to grant him first priority out. Oswin was also Raimie’s friend, and he was the spymaster of the King’s Hand! Why wasn’t he-?
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