“Revive him?” Wrik stared at Nardus, obviously puzzled at the notion. “His heart has given out.”
“Yes, but if it hasn’t been for long, we still have a chance to save him.” Nardus knelt down and placed a hand over Gnaud’s chest. Mezhik tingled in his fingers once again, but this time miniature bolts of lightning arced between his fingers and crackled across his palm. He pressed down firmly on Gnaud’s chest and released the lightning. Gnaud’s body jolted and arched off the couch. Singed hair joined the pungent odor of sickness, creating the perfect combination to relieve one’s stomach of its contents.
Wrik’s face turned a shade of green, but he didn’t back away from Gnaud. Nardus struggled to hang onto his stomach’s contents and had to turn his head for several seconds but managed to compose himself. He wouldn’t give up on Gnaud.
Lightning built in Nardus’s hand again, and he thrust the lightning into Gnaud’s heart once more, but the result didn’t change. On the fourth attempt, everything happened just as before, but then Wrik’s eyes grew wide.
“He’s got a pulse!” exclaimed Wrik.
“Good.” Nardus worked quickly to remove Gnaud’s bandages and then placed both of his hands over Gnaud. He glanced up at Wrik. “I’m not sure how long this process will take, so be ready to seal the wounds when I say to.”
Wrik nodded focused on Gnaud. “I’m ready.”
Nardus closed his eyes, drew upon his mezhik once again, and began pouring it into Gnaud’s three wounds. Like a cleansing process, he drew out the dark energy and sickness and replaced it with light energy. Within his mind, Nardus monitored Gnaud’s aura. Minute by minute, it slowly transitioned from a dark, putrid brown to a lighter, pinkish-red. Nearly a half hour passed as he continued drawing and replacing Gnaud’s energy.
Nearing the point of exhaustion and complete collapse, Nardus knew he had to pull his energy back soon, but he had just the one shot. He must finish the job, or the dark energy would return quicker and consume Gnaud. One more cycle and another scan of Gnaud’s aura confirmed he’d removed the last of the dark energy.
“Close them,” barked Nardus.
He slumped to the floor and convulsed.
† † †
Theyn howled, growled, and paced, but what could Wrik do about it? He worked feverishly healing Gnaud’s wounds and couldn’t tend to Nardus at the same time. “Relax, Theyn. He’ll be fine. He’s just exhausted from saving Gnaud’s life.”
Sharp pain stabbed Wrik right between the eyes and burrowed into his skull. Somehow, Theyn managed to penetrate the defenses of his mind and mindspoke to him. “Brownish-black sludge is dripping from the corners of his mouth and pooling around his head.”
Her girlish voice threw him off. It didn’t sound anything like what he would’ve expected, not that he’d actually contemplated it. Still strange coming from someone he only knew as a cat.
“I won’t pretend to understand what it is that he did to Gnaud, but I believe that the sludge you’re seeing is the physical manifestation of Gnaud’s sickness.” He wiped his brow with his sleeve as he worked on closing the third and final wound. “Turn him on his side so that he doesn’t choke and so that the sludge can come out easier.”
Theyn did. “Now what?” she asked in Wrik’s mind.
“There’s nothing else you can do but wait.”
Gnaud’s final wound began stitching itself together from the inside out. Muscles, tendons, fat layer, and finally the skin. The scars would remain. Nothing he could do about them. Strange how the wounds would scar, even when healed with mezhik, but the only thing mezhik really did was speed up the process. Pravus, being a Fizärd Iəllūƨzhän, had the ability to “hide” scars and other physical deformities, but no one could actually remove them. If mezhik could erase wounds, it’d be like reversing time. The wound would simply “unhappen.”
Wrik sat back on the floor and propped himself up with his arms. Sweat poured from the crown of his head and ran down his face and the back of his head. Of all the mezhik spells, incantations, and webs a wizard could cast, healing took the most energy. Every time he healed someone, it gave him a deep sense of satisfaction and warmed his heart, but he didn’t understand why. He wondered if it worked that way for all wizards or if it specifically tied to his oversensitivity. Either way, he was content with the outcome.
Gnaud’s eyes flitted and slowly opened. He yawned and stretched and looked over at Wrik. “You’re in a fit of cheer.”
“Glad to have you back,” said Wrik.
Gnaud cocked his head. “Was I gone?” He turned to his left and squealed like a mouse. He shot off the couch and hunkered behind Wrik. He peered over Wrik’s shoulder and pointed toward the couch. “She’s the one who attacked me,” he whispered.
“Let him know how sorry I am about that,” said Theyn in Wrik‘s mind.
“Yes, and she couldn’t be sorrier,” said Wrik.
“Dear Ƨäʈūr!” exclaimed Gnaud. “You speak to beasts? I didn’t peg you as Fizärd Enämäəll.”
“That’s because I’m not. Despite her current form, Theyn’s no beast.”
Gnaud drew a deep breath and his eyes nearly bulged from his head. “She’s a shifter…”
“Yes, but she has no control of it right now and admittedly turns primal when she’s separated from Nardus.”
“Nardus is here?” Gnaud scanned the room and gasped. “Oh my! What’s happened to him?”
“Saved your life.” Wrik chuckled. “From what I understand, he owes you several of them.”
Gnaud frowned. “I assure you that no score has been kept.”
Wrik shrugged and cocked his head. “Maybe you’re not keeping score, but Nardus is.”
And so am I.
† † †
Many hours later, Nardus sat at a small table with Wrik and Gnaud. Theyn lay at his feet. With a full belly and a few hours of sleep, he felt surprisingly well. An earthy, moldy taste lingered in the back of his throat despite prescribing himself copious amounts of ale to wash it down with. Unfortunately, knowing what still lay ahead kept him sober. Morbidly so.
As the man named Nardus, he’d made so many mistakes. The majority of them were minor but a few were borderline catastrophic. One such major mistake involved the agreement he’d made with Wrik. Yes, saving Gnaud’s life had been urgent, but not as urgent as keeping Nasduron’s existence hidden from anyone who might use its knowledge for nefarious purposes.
As Cyrus, such an accord would never have been struck. In fact, Wrik would never have known Nasduron still existed. But he couldn’t renege now. Wrik had held up his end of the agreement.
In short, Nardus didn’t know if he could trust Wrik. The man seemed to be on level, but his association with Pravus tainted any goodwill he garnered by befriending Gnaud and Shanara. Then again, his own agreement with Pravus started the entire mess to begin with. Could he really judge the man for it?
Is Pravus holding something over Wrik’s head? Or has he promised to do something for him like he did me?
Pravus manipulated and corrupted everything he touched. The probability of him controlling Wrik neared certainty. Like he does Shanara. The thought of Pravus’s hands on his daughter drove Nardus toward madness.
How strange it felt knowing he’d never wanted a family and had abstained from any sort of relationship prior to his life as Nardus. Now, he couldn’t imagine his life differently. Well, with the exception of regaining Shanara’s love and trust. That battle might prove more difficult than defeating Pravus and Cinolth, but the reward for such a victory would surpass any treasure.
She will come around.
Wrik rose from the table. “I believe it’s time we headed to Nasduron.”
Gnaud eyed Nardus. “If anything remains of it.” He might’ve winked a little.
Nardus understood what Gnaud eluded to and appreciated his concern, but Nardus could never live with such a lie. For better or worse, he’d bring Wrik into t
he fold. “Some parts of Nasduron might be damaged or lost, but I’m certain the majority of it remains. Your resilience is commendable, my furry little friend. Have faith in yourself.”
Gnaud gasped and stood on his chair. “Oh my! My faith lies in Ƨäʈūr, never in myself.”
Nardus stretched and got to his feet. “Yes, of course. Simply a figure of speech. Now, let’s all hold hands so that we can go to Nasduron.”
Gnaud hopped off his chair and Theyn rose from the floor. Nardus and Wrik each took one of Gnaud’s hands and then Nardus reached down and grabbed a handful of loose skin on the back of Theyn’s neck.
“We’ll all step forward on my word,” said Nardus. “Understood?”
When everyone agreed, Nardus set his mind on Nasduron.
“Now,” said Nardus.
The four of them stepped forward. As they did, the small room shifted, distorted, and phased out, and then the Great Library phased in. At least what was left of it.
Waist-high water greeted them. Theyn and Gnaud had to tread water to keep their heads afloat. Books, broken pieces of wood, and other debris bobbed on the water’s surface. The damage far exceeded what he and Theyn had witnessed a few weeks back. To say the least, it disheartened him.
Wrik fished several pages from the water but they sloughed apart between his fingers. He turned in a circle, his face long with disappointment. “Did anything survive?”
Nardus drew upon his mezhik and pushed the water away from the four of them with a circular wall of air. He held it in place with his hand and his mind. The effort required a good deal of continuous energy, so he wouldn’t be able to hold the water back for long.
“This will get better.” He pointed with his free hand. “Look at the walls. You can see how far the water level had risen. The healing process has begun.”
“But what about all the books? So much knowledge lost.” Wrik groaned.
“And that’s where you’re wrong,” said Nardus. “As Gnaud grows stronger, this place will repair itself. That includes the books.”
Theyn shook the water from her fur. “This place represents one of my darkest hours. I’m ready to leave when you are,” she said in Nardus’s mind.
Nardus mindspoke to Theyn, “As soon as we can get Gnaud settled.”
At the least, Gnaud would need a table to sit on to stay out of the water. As Fizärd Brefäʈ, a Prophet Wizard, Wrik was of little use in reparations of any kind. Nardus would have to do everything on his own.
Still holding back the water with one hand, Nardus stooped down and collected a broken table leg with his other hand. He held the table leg upright on the floor, reached deep within himself, and poured mezhik näíʈƨzhär into it. A variety of shards and splintered wood shot out of the water and rose off the floor. Each piece attached itself to the next, slowly assembling themselves back into a table. The entire process took less than a minute to complete, and the table looked brand new.
Wrik clapped. “Now that’s impressive for a man who loathes mezhik and isn’t a wizard.”
Nardus released the table leg and took a deep breath. After expending so much energy healing Gnaud earlier, he didn’t have the strength to do much else without more food and a good night’s rest. The air wall dissolved, and the water came crashing back around them.
Gnaud jumped up on the table and sat down. He rubbed its smooth surface. “This will certainly do for now. Thank you…” He cocked his head. “Cyrus?”
Nardus rubbed his left bicep. The mental and physical scars from his past would remain with him beyond death. “I may have Cyrus’s powers and memories, but I cannot be everything he was and stood for and still be the man I’ve become. For better or worse, Cyrus died with the past.”
“Wise words,” said Wrik. “Remind yourself of them often, especially when you’re dealing with Aria. She’s not the little girl you lost either.”
As much as Nardus didn’t like it, Wrik had a point. He lost and buried Shanara long ago. Aria represented a new future in much the same way Theyn did. Perhaps thinking of it like that would allow him to move forward and accept Aria for who she was now.
Nardus and Wrik spent the next hour discussing the four rules of reaching Nasduron and how to go back and forth. Wrik caught on quickly and found loopholes of his own within the rules. Nardus prayed Wrik would be honorable in his usage of the knowledge he obtained from Nasduron.
Nothing’s ever guaranteed.
Theyn lay on the table with Gnaud. Nardus stroked her back. “It’s time Theyn and I left. We’ve many matters to attend and little time to accomplish them. Gnaud, I have faith that all your memories will be restored. When we return, I expect to see a full library once more.”
“Oh my! That’s a load of pressure, and I’m not so big.” Gnaud pushed his spectacles back up his nose.
“Perhaps not in stature, but you’ve got the biggest heart and the greatest mind,” said Nardus.
Theyn rose. “I’m ready,” she said in Nardus’s mind.
“Wrik.” Nardus proffered his hand.
Wrik grabbed Nardus and bear hugged him, pulling him right off the floor. “You’ve no idea what you’ve done for me.”
Nardus groaned in Wrik’s embrace. “I do, and if you don’t use it wisely, I’ll find you and kill you. Understood?”
Wrik nodded and released Nardus. “I do.”
“Perfect. Now, there’s something else I need you to do for me.” Nardus looked at Gnaud. “Both of you.”
Gnaud straightened his spectacles. “And what might that be?”
“I want you both to spend as much time as possible searching for anything that pertains to Hemär Dhef Əllíʈ.”
“The Hammer of Light?” asked Wrik.
“That is correct,” said Nardus. “We will need it if we have any hope of stopping Cinolth for good.”
“We shall do our best, right Gnaud?” asked Wrik.
“Oh my, yes,” Gnaud confirmed.
“There is one more thing…” Wrik fished through his robes. “Ah, here it is.” He pulled out a small book with a coiled tin binding and handed it to Nardus. “I believe this will tell you everything you need to know about Theyn.”
Nardus read the title aloud, “Shift Your View and Take Control.” The author’s name brought back memories of his childhood. “My uncle wrote this? As far as I can remember, he never mentioned knowing anything about shifters.” He turned the book over in his hands several times and then eyed Wrik. “Where did you find this?”
Wrik waved him off. “It’s of no significance. I just hope it helps.”
“Speaking of help, I’d like my sword back. Do you know what Pravus did with it?”
“I do.” Wrik grabbed a piece of blank parchment, drew a crude map on it, and handed it to Nardus. “This should be the place.”
“Good.”
Nardus stuffed the map and the book into his pack, grabbed Theyn by the scruff of her neck, and then the two of them stepped out of Nasduron and back into the small room in Galondu Castle. But they weren’t alone when they arrived. A man the size of a mountain stepped out of the shadows.
“Thought I might find you here.” His voice boomed.
† † †
Berggren knelt and hugged Theyn’s neck. Her yellow fur tickled his nose. “Gods, it’s good to see you.”
Nardus clasped Berggren’s forearm. “You’re a sight for weary eyes. How did you find us?”
Berggren unsheathed the knife hanging from his belt and held it up. “My lucky charm.”
“A knife?” questioned Nardus. “What does that have to do with finding us?”
“I told him a story about an old witch.” Niesha stepped out of the shadows. She hadn’t left Berggren’s side since they’d met in East Hotah. “She could track individuals using an item they once possessed, even to their graves.”
“Turns out the story was true.” Berggren rubbed Niesha’s head. “Knife belonged to Theyn. Led us righ
t to this room.”
“Some mezhik can be quite useful,” said Nardus.
Berggren stood. “Thought you hated mezhik.”
“It’s complicated,” said Nardus.
“Like you.” Berggren crossed his arms. “Something’s changed, hasn’t it.” It wasn’t a question but an observation. He’d been around Nardus enough to detect the subtle change in Nardus’s eyes. The fire still remained, but there were many more layers than before. Berggren couldn’t quite put his finger on the exact change. Wisdom perhaps.
In two weeks’ time? What could cause such a change?
Nardus nodded. “How long have you been waiting for us?”
“Not long at all. Few hours, perhaps. Figured we’d wait until she showed back up.”
“And Joriah? Has he recovered?” asked Nardus.
Berggren glared daggers at Nardus, not because Nardus angered him, but because Nardus reopened wounds that’d just begun to heal. “He’s dead.”
Nardus gasped, and Theyn moaned deep in her throat.
Memories of Joriah flashed in Berggren’s mind, and his throat and chest tightened as he fought back tears of regret, but the battle over his emotions had caught him by surprise. He moved over to the couch and sat down. A torrent of tears rained down on his cheeks and streamed off his chin.
Sorry I couldn’t save you, old friend.
Niesha joined Berggren on the couch and hugged his side. “Berggren carried Joriah for a good three miles before we realized he’d died.”
“I don’t understand.” Nardus rounded the couch and faced Berggren and Niesha. “Didn’t you feed him the concoction Sorsha gave you?”
Niesha tensed next to Berggren. “Of course we gave it to him, but it must’ve been too late.”
Nardus lowered his head. “I truly am sorry for your loss. Joriah was a special man and will be missed.”
“That he will,” said Berggren.
Nardus stroked Theyn’s head. Seemed so natural and yet odd to Berggren. “Theyn gives her condolences as well. Says he was like an uncle to her.”
Rended Souls Page 42