Ƨäʈūr, he prayed, to what end does this pain serve? I’m struggling to find a single answer. Point me in the right direction. Help me understand Your purpose in all of this. Show me how to mend my rended soul.
A knock sounded at the door. Alderan shoved the necklace and ring back inside his shirt and wiped his eyes and cheeks with his shirtsleeve. He cleared his throat and swallowed down the phlegm it’d produced.
“Come in.” His voice came out strained and stringy. Whoever stood on the other side of the door would know his secret.
The door creaked as it swung into the room. Wizard Wrik stood in the doorway with a candle holder in his left hand. The candle’s flame multiplied and danced in his spectacles. “Aria and Cinolth have just about completed this side of the gateway. They will be leaving within the hour to go and build the other side. I thought you might want to know.”
“Thank you.” Alderan rose from the bed. His head ached and his eyes burned with fever, both issues likely caused from an hour’s worth of crying. “Are you headed down there?”
Wrik shook his head. “Hadn’t planned on it. Unless you’d like the company.”
Without Rayah around, Alderan desperately needed a friend. He opened his mouth to accept, but his lips betrayed him. “Appreciate the offer, but it’s not necessary.”
Not necessary? What is wrong with you, you big oaf?
“Very well.” Wrik dipped his head. “I bade you good night.” Wrik turned and walked away, casting Alderan back into the darkness.
Alderan stopped and turned back toward his bedchamber twice on the way down to the castle gates but forced himself to continue forward. He must see Aria off even if they didn’t exchange any words. She needed to see that he still cared about her.
I won’t give up on you.
† † †
Aria walked along the northern face of the thirteen-hundred-foot-long, forty-foot-tall, and ten-foot-thick wall that stood on the northern side of Galondu Castle, outside the castle walls. A large orb of light lit the wall and her path as she made her way from one end of it to the other. She examined the wall for two things: that the web of spells she’d conjured adhered to the wall and that the wall’s structural integrity held fast. Both remained true across the entire wall, and it pleased her.
She walked back over to where Pravus, Cinolth, Mutius, and Bardaric stood. “Everything is in order.”
“Excellent.” Excitement strained Pravus’s voice even though he’d tried to mask it.
Aria’s words hadn’t been aimed at Pravus, but she refused to let it bother her. Nothing would on this day. She’d accomplished something far greater than anything Pravus could ever hope to achieve.
Pravus continued, “By the time you’ve finished the northern side of the gateway, the entire army will be armed and ready for battle.”
“Two weeks from now, the Three Kingdoms will fall.” Cinolth’s gravelly voice shook the world’s foundation. At least that’s what it felt like to Aria.
“And then the Ancient Realm,” finished Aria.
Her skin prickled with gooseflesh. Two weeks, and she’d be a proper queen. Recognized by the entire realm.
Centauria will be mine.
Pravus steepled his fingers. “As we discussed before, and, as I promised, Karraar will meet you outside of Elatos. For what purpose I’m still uncertain.”
Karraar.
She’d already accomplished what she’d wanted him to do, but she’d find another purpose for him easily enough. “Good. One can never have enough protection.”
A six-foot cube of iron bars with a narrow, iron door stood to Cinolth’s left. Aria pointed at it. “Mutius. Bardaric. Climb into the cage. We leave at once.”
“But I thought—” Bardaric started to say.
“You’re not here to think,” said Aria. “You’re here to work. Now, either get in the cage or prepare yourself for death. It’s your choice, but make it quickly.”
Bardaric and Mutius climbed into the cage without further protest. Pravus secured the door and handed Aria the key.
“You’re certain you don’t want me to come with you?” asked Pravus.
She knew his concern. He didn’t trust Cinolth. But she didn’t trust him.
She reached up and stroked his cheek. “As you’ve said before, you cannot be in two places at once. There are far too many things that need your attention here.”
“Yes, I know.” He sighed, but then his eyes brightened. “An hour’s delay will be of little consequence. Accompany me to our bedchamber before you leave.”
They hadn’t lain together in a week and she missed his touch, but it’d have to wait. She needed to be at full strength to conjure the other side of the gateway. An hour in his arms would delay them at least a day. Perhaps two.
She rose on her tippy-toes, kissed him deep, and then pushed him away. “I’m sorry, but that sort of conquest must wait.”
She stepped into Cinolth’s open hand, and he lifted her onto his back. She situated herself at the base of Cinolth’s neck and grabbed hold of one of his spikes. “Be ready, husband.”
“Be careful, my queen.”
She looked around. Alderan hadn’t shown up to see her off, and it stung a little, but what had she expected? For the time being, she wouldn’t dwell on it. More important matters needed her attention.
He’ll come around.
She almost believed herself.
During their training sessions, Cinolth had shown her how to clear her mind and focus only on the task at hand. With two calming breaths, she took every thought within her mind and shoved them inside a small metal box. Then, she took that box and placed it on a shelf. No thoughts within that box could escape as long as she kept watch over it. That was always the trick, but she improved every time she placed them there.
Satisfied and focused, Aria mindspoke to Cinolth. “Ready when you are.”
Cinolth snorted smoke, grabbed the iron cage with one of his hind feet, and took to the sky in a flurry of beating wings. The ground below quickly shrank away as they climbed high into the night sky. She didn’t envy Bardaric and Mutius’s means of travel, but she imagined it still surpassed her experience in the clutches of that níʈfinzh several weeks back. Even so, the thought brought a smile to her lips.
† † †
Pravus strolled back toward the castle. Another week, and their army would be within striking distance of the Three Kingdoms. The thought salivated his mouth. Nearly thirty years of work would soon pay off. He afforded himself a small smile, but the true celebration would have to wait a few more weeks.
He turned the corner and walked through the castle gates. Alderan met him just inside, his eyes red and bloodshot.
The boy’s presence disturbed him, but Pravus would never allow it to show. He smiled wide. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”
Alderan glared at him. “Don’t flatter yourself. I came down to see Aria off.”
“Ah.” Pravus steepled his fingers. “Then I’m afraid you’ve arrived too late.” He pushed past Alderan and traversed the wide corridor.
With each step, he pushed Alderan further from his mind. Nothing would spoil his mood. Credan approached with a fervent gait, his complexion ghostly white.
“My lord.” Credan turned and fell in beside Pravus.
“If you’re about to deliver unfavorable news to my ears, I suggest you leave and resolve it yourself.” Pravus marched on, not even giving Credan a sideways glance. “I’m in high spirits right now, and I don’t need the likes of you dragging me down into your pit of squalor.”
“In most circumstances, I would. However, there are several matters that can only be resolved by your presence and with your fortitude.”
Pravus stopped and eyed Credan. “My fortitude? I’m already finding this conversation bothersome.”
“Yes, yes. I know.” Beads of sweat dotted Credan’s brow. His gaze fell to the floor. “Three of the lords hav
e withdrawn their support for your campaign.”
“What?” Pravus seethed and ground his teeth. Mezhik rushed into his clenched fists and crackled. “Which three?” he demanded.
Credan shrank back. “Lord Jagesh Rubano, Lord Elder Baarth, and Lord Uli Edersheimer.”
Those bastards dare cross me?
Pravus paced in the corridor. He needed the support of all the lords or more of them might pull out as well. He took a deep breath and rescinded the mezhik from his fingertips.
“Call for them at once. If any of them refuse, send Reubane.”
“My lord?” Somehow, Credan’s face managed to turn a shade paler.
“We’re headed to war.” Pravus waved Credan on. “Just do as I say.”
“Yes, but Reubane?” His voice cracked. “You know he cannot be controlled.”
Pravus turned to Credan with fire in his eyes. “And that’s exactly what I’d be counting on.”
Credan swallowed hard. “Yes, my lord. Consider it done.” He turned and scurried down the corridor.
Pravus roared and stomped his foot.
“Trouble in paradise?”
Wrik.
Pravus glared daggers at the big man as he lumbered toward him. “Where the gods did you come from?”
Wrik smiled and pointed at an open door a little way down the corridor. “Just through there. Is there anything I can do to help?”
“You’ve helped far too much already.” Pravus stormed down the corridor and yelled over his shoulder, “And stay out of my way!”
Damn this night already.
† † †
Wrik stood outside the small room occupied by Gnaud and verified that none of the wards had been tripped or manipulated in any fashion. Satisfied that everything was still in order and undisturbed, he teleported into the room.
Gnaud sat in a grey, cushioned chair next to a blazing fire. A hefty book sat upon his lap, but his head lolled, and his chin rested on his chest. Spectacles hung from his pink ears but didn’t touch his gaunt, furry face.
A dwarf in a giant’s chair. Wrik chuckled to himself.
Crimson seeped through Gnaud’s bandages again. Every five or six hours, Wrik healed Gnaud’s wounds, but they continued to split open and fester. To worsen matters, the frequency at which it happened seemed to be increasing as well. Nardus couldn’t get back quick enough.
If the army marched before Nardus returned, Gnaud would be on his own, and that would put Wrik in quite the conundrum. Seeing prophecy fulfilled on the battlefield would be an exhilarating experience, but did it compare to Nasduron and the knowledge it held? He didn’t know. How could he?
An impossible choice.
Wrik knelt next to Gnaud’s chair and roused Gnaud. “Time to change your bandages.”
Gnaud sat up and grimaced. “Oh my. Far sorer this time.”
Wrik removed the soiled bandages from around Gnaud’s torso. As expected, the wounds had opened up again. “They look worse as well.”
Not only did Gnaud’s wounds open at a quicker pace, but they also required an ever-increasing amount of mezhik to close them back up. Soon, Wrik would have to find an additional source of mezhik to supplement his own.
“Still got the stick?” asked Wrik.
Gnaud held an inch-thick stick up for a moment and then stuck it between his teeth and bit down on it.
“Good.” Wrik pulled mezhik from within himself and poured it into Gnaud’s wounds.
Gnaud groaned, seized in the chair, and his eyes rolled back in his head. Foam frothed around the stick and collected in the fur around his mouth.
“I’m sorry it’s so painful, but there’s nothing I can do. It’s the bacteria in the wound that causes the pain.”
Wrik worked for a good twenty minutes and got two of the three wounds closed up without issue, but the last one—the deepest of the three—wouldn’t cooperate. By the time he moved from one end of it to the other, it began pulling apart at the start again.
An hour later, Wrik managed to seal the final wound and keep it closed. But it’d cost him most of his energy.
The stick fell from Gnaud’s mouth. His eyes crossed and his head bobbed on his shoulders. “Thank you,” he whispered and then passed out.
Wrik sat back and lay on the floor, too spent to get up. Tomorrow, he’d return with help.
And I know just who to bring.
With Aria gone and ƨäbräƨär around his neck, what better things did Alderan have to do anyway?
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Nardus strolled through the caves deep beneath the Valley of Dragons as images and memories flooded his mind. All of them events from a past he’d all but forgotten. In his mind, he stood at the edge of Summitto Valley and faced Cinolth. Twelve hundred years ago.
The thought of it being one of his memories fractured his mind further than the rune spell Peorvem had cast on him five days earlier. In that instant, he realized that he didn’t stand on that hill as a man named Nardus Remison. When he’d sought out Cyrus Nithik, he’d truly sought out himself.
But is that life this one as well?
He struggled to wrap his mind around everything. Had his life as Cyrus been a past life? Had Ƨäʈūr returned him to Centauria as Nardus Remison? In a world of mezhik, he knew anything was possible.
But he remembered details of his childhood as Nardus. The authenticity of them couldn’t be matched. Yet, if what Tharos had told him was the truth, Nardus Remison never had a childhood because he never existed.
Nardus massaged his temples. How could he ever reconcile the two?
How can I be two people?
So many things filled his head that he could not explain away. He recalled everything from the Great War to the creation of the chambers to the vow Ūrdär Dhef Ƨäfn Dhä took to protect the world. The vow he took. All of it he could learn to accept, save one thing: Vitara.
My anchor and first love.
He remembered the first day he met her. He swam in the lake as she and her friends walked by. Never had his heart pounded so hard. It pounded just thinking about it.
But now I know the truth.
Sorrow welled within him and drove him to his knees.
Vitara doesn’t exist. She never did.
But they’d had three kids together. That part must be real. Shanara proved it.
Through Cyrus’s memories he’d discovered that Vitara, the woman he desperately loved or was tricked into thinking he loved, had been a woman he’d loathed as Cyrus. A sworn enemy of his family.
Ilia.
The two of them never saw eye-to-eye and were at odds about almost every topic ever discussed. The only reason they’d worked together during the Great War was because of their mutual enemies: Cinolth and Magus. At the time, saving the world mattered more than a bitter family rivalry.
So, how had it all happened? How had he lived two lives without knowing it? Even worse, how could he ever heal the damage he’d caused as the man named Nardus? In a single, failed swoop, he’d managed to destroy everything he’d worked so hard to prevent as Cyrus.
Cyrus took Cinolth’s heart and locked it away in a place no one would ever be able to retrieve it from. Yet Nardus found a way. Everything currently wrong in the world stemmed from his reckless actions.
Everything is my fault.
Then again, had Cyrus done everything necessary to destroy Cinolth long ago, the world wouldn’t be in its current situation.
Everything truly is my fault.
His mind returned to Vitara or Ilia. He didn’t know what to call her anymore. Knowing what had happened troubled him so much. Even as one of the greatest mages to ever have lived, he never knew such mezhik existed that could cause two people at such odds to believe they loved each other. To make matters worse, he still loved her.
How could I not?
He’d never love another woman the way he’d loved Vitara ever again. And the children. Everything he di
d was for them. His mind clicked and everything made sense.
Somehow, Pravus planned this long ago.
Nardus clenched his jaws and balled his hands. Mezhik crackled across his knuckles.
He’ll pay with his life.
Nothing would stop Nardus from killing the bastard.
Nardus rose. Theyn stood next to him, still stuck in her cat form. As promised, she’d stayed at his side through every step of the process. He loved her more than any words could ever express, but never in the way he’d loved Vitara.
“It’s time we go heal Gnaud and then crush the life from Pravus.”
“Lead the way,” she said in his mind. “I go where you go. Forever.”
They snaked their way back through the maze of caves until they came back to the pool where Peorvem rested. The old dragon had retreated deep beneath the waters again.
Nardus cleared his throat. “Peorvem The Ancient, we seek your council one last time.”
The blue waters stirred, shifted, and then Peorvem rose out of the depths. “One last time?” Water dripped from the hairs on his chin.
Nardus knelt before Peorvem. “Thank you for everything you’ve done for me. I now remember every last detail of my life as Cyrus Nithik. I’m ready to face the consequences of my actions.”
Peorvem stepped out of the water and eyed Nardus until Nardus’s skin squirmed beneath his clothes. “I fear you are not ready. Mezhik derk still flows within you. You must stay and heal.”
Nardus rose. He had business to take care of and a score to settle. “I’m sorry, but we’re leaving now. Too much time has been lost already.”
“Why do you seek my council if you wish not to heed my words?”
“My friend is dying.” He thrust his arms in the air. “I don’t have time to argue about it.”
Peorvem sighed and water spewed from his nostrils. “If you leave, you may never be whole again.”
“I’m willing to take the risk.”
“Nardus, wait,” said Theyn in his mind. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
Rended Souls Page 32