A gentle breeze rustled the awnings above and carried the scents of fresh grass and roasted wildfowl into the space. Through the open-ended tent, Joel caught a glimpse of the evening sky outside. Bands of red and orange sat low on the horizon, buckling beneath the weight of the growing darkness. The muted voices of dining soldiers hummed in Joel’s ears, a collective murmur that was soothing rather than irritating. Somewhere in the distance, he could even hear frogs singing along the riverbank.
The army had been mobilized for just shy of a full moonturn. The rolling hillsides east of Silver City were long behind them, replaced by smooth, flowing grasslands that made for easy travel but offered little variety in view. One sennight ago, they’d reached the fishing village of Davenport, nestled on the edge of Lake Talhador. Joel recalled scarcely being able to contain a gasp at the sight of clear water stretching endlessly into the horizon. Beneath the cloudless sky, the lake sparkled, like it might have been made of diamonds.
After only a day’s reprieve to rest and restock, the army had turned due south, following alongside the Nishika River, the vast waterway which would guide them all the way to Arden’s southeastern border—and beyond. With regular shipments of wheat, rye, grain, and other vital supplies now being delivered by barge, the army was moving even faster. Koal estimated they’d reach the border within another moonturn. Then things would get interesting.
Joel finished checking the last two remaining crates he’d been assigned before taking a seat on the edge of a nearby cot. Nawaz seemed determined not to quit until every last phial was examined and properly stowed away. At last, the young Healer closed one final lid and took a seat beside Joel.
For some time, they sat in silence, gazing at the tower of sorted crates and admiring the work they’d completed. Joel was almost sad there was no further toil. The longer he busied himself here, the longer he could avoid returning to his own campfire.
“Thanks,” Nawaz said at length. “For helping.”
Joel shrugged. “You looked like you could use it. Every time I happen upon you, you’re up to your elbows in grunt work.”
“Eh. I like to stay busy. Keeps my mind from wandering.” Nawaz turned in his seat, giving Joel a sideways glance. “You’ve been spending a lot of time at the Healers’ pavilion lately. You suddenly rethinking your decision to become a mage?”
“Goddesses, no! Even if I had the Healing gift, I’m afraid my stomach isn’t nearly stout enough to handle all that a Healer’s job entails. I can’t stand the sight of blood.”
“Oh, I see. Then I guess you just miss my company too much to stay away, right?” Nawaz waggled his eyebrows.
“No. I mean—” Joel groaned as Nawaz feigned dejection. “Yes, sure. I enjoy our nightly banter. But that’s not the reason I’m here.” Nawaz didn’t press further, but Joel felt compelled to better explain himself. Staring into the dimming light, he let out a troubled sigh. “Riding with Father and the others all day is trying. Coming here is a nice excuse to get away.”
Nawaz cocked an eyebrow. “Things still awkward with Gib then, eh?”
Biting his lower lip, Joel shook his head. There was that, yes, but Gib wasn’t the only reason Joel had been keeping his distance from the command tent. Nor the main reason.
All this time spent riding had given Joel time to ponder, to think about everything that had happened over the past year. And the thoughts hadn’t been pleasant. The carnage of the arena in Teivel, Cenric’s murder, King Rishi’s death—
And the secret the Radek family seemed so desperate to keep hidden away but each day became more apparent to Joel, no matter how hard he tried to deny it. What if his inclination proved to be true? What if the people closest to him—his own family—had been harboring a lifetime of secrets that until recently, Joel hadn’t had an inkling about? How could they lie to him for so long?
“It’s not just Gib,” Joel managed to fumble out when he realized Nawaz was still awaiting a response. “It’s—everything. I don’t know how much longer I can grin and bear all the things I’ve heard and seen over the past few moonturns. I’m feeling a bit overwhelmed.”
“I just try to avoid thinking about anything of substance.”
“Does it help?”
“No. Not really.” Nawaz absently rubbed the bare place on his finger where the Adelwijn crest used to lie.
Joel’s own hands sought to busy themselves, and before he realized it, he was touching his own ring. The golden band, encrusted with sapphires and engraved with the Adelwijn coat of arms, shimmered in the low light of the fire, its weight atop Joel’s finger a sudden reminder of how fortunate he truly was.
I must be the most ungrateful person in all Arden. Here I am, wallowing in self-pity. At least I have a family that loves me. At least I have a father who’s proud to call me his son.
“I’m sorry about what happened between you and my uncle,” Joel said, keeping his eyes lowered. “You deserved better than to be treated so unjustly all those years.”
Nawaz shifted his weight, frowning. “What’s done is done. Gotta keep looking to the future.”
Good. Finally, something positive to discuss.
“And what a bright future you have. Just think! When you arrive home, you’ll be a father. And, bless The Two, I’ll be an uncle!”
“Yeah. There’ll be lots of changes. That’s for sure.”
“You and Heidi will make fine parents. If anything good has come out of this whole mess with Neetra, it’s that you won’t have to worry about pleasing him anymore. You’ll be able to focus on your family and to hell with what my uncle thinks of you. Heidi loves you. My parents love you. Marc loves you. And as for Neetra, he’s never been able to requite love to anyone—”
“Aye. Unrequited love. Possibly the most heartrending thing in life.”
Joel fell silent. There it was, the colossus lounging in the middle of the tent that both of them seemed content to ignore. Nawaz was still pining for Kezra Malin-Rai.
Joel understood. Gods, he understood. Solitude would always be the more appealing option if he couldn’t be with the person he loved most. But Nawaz had made the decision to marry, and whether or not he continued to harbor feelings for Kezra, he needed to be a good husband to Heidi now. She deserved as much.
I hope for Nawaz’s sanity he’s able to move on. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to stop loving Gib. Not completely.
Joel rose shakily to his feet. The pavilion had become too stifling. He needed fresh air. “I better go. I promised myself that before I went to sleep tonight, I’d charge the satchel of runestones that has been hiding away inside my saddlebags since we left.”
Nawaz didn’t fight Joel’s departure. “Yeah. See you around.”
Joel returned to the command tent with a heavy heart. Outside, Hasain and Tular sat with Deegan in front of a roaring campfire, engaged in muted conversation as they took their meal. Blazes of fire cast a faint glow across their faces, warming Deegan’s and Hasain’s dark eyes and accentuating the swirls of sunset red in Tular’s hair.
The aroma of roasted quail and blackened trout beckoned Joel to join them. He almost did—but the doubt tormenting his mind held him back. As he lurked beneath the long shadows of the pavilion, Joel wondered what else in his life might be fallacious. Were there more secrets to be discovered? Were there more lies that hadn’t yet been brought to light? Could he even trust his own friends and family anymore? The longer he thought about it, the more betrayed he felt. How deep did the deceit run? Was anything he’d been told genuine?
Quiet tittering drew his attention back to the campfire. Deegan was doubled over, trying to contain laughter. Hasain or Tular must have said something funny. As Joel looked on, Tular raised one hand toward the Crown Prince, his eyes bursting with malice—
Visions of the monster inside the arena, slicing a bloody line across Nikodemos’ abdomen, snapping the gladiator’s neck like it had been a twig, sent a wave of panic surging through Joel’s body. Before he knew what h
e was doing, he’d instinctively pooled magic in his hands, preparing to unleash it in a violent wave. If that thing tried to harm his cousin—
Tular clasped Deegan on the back, hollering with laughter. Joel blinked, blood pounding in his head in a deafening squall. Tular hadn’t been trying to attack the prince. He was merely playing.
Joel’s mouth twisted into a horrified grimace. He stumbled back, the conjured magic sizzling in his palm as he released it back into the air. Tular would never harm Deegan. Joel knew that. But in the moment, terror had clouded his judgment.
Raising one hand to cover his shamed face, Joel retreated further into the shadows.
Stop this nonsense! Has Tular ever given you reason not to trust him? What about Aodan? Gudrin? They might be—different, but that doesn’t make them dangerous, does it?
Subtle movement in the darkness drew Joel’s attention. Startled, he whirled around, his body once again on full alert. His heart skipped a beat when he realized Blessed Mage Natori was standing not even a full arm’s length away. Where had she come from? How long had she been there? If he hadn’t been so caught up in his own distress, would he have sensed her presence earlier?
Natori made no indication she saw Joel. She didn’t make eye contact, nor did she incline her head in greeting. Shadows blanketed her face and hair, but her violet eyes cut through the night, two lavender orbs against a backdrop of gloom. Joel opened his mouth, though he didn’t know what to say. When words failed to form, he found himself following Natori’s gaze back toward the blazing fire.
A twig snapped inside the inferno, preluding a deep sigh from the Blessed Mage. Natori’s voice came to life, but still she didn’t look away from the flames. “Do not be so quick to judge that which you do not understand. Reckless ignorance breeds unwarranted fear. Remember that, before you pass judgment.”
Joel floundered where he stood. Did Natori somehow know what he’d almost done? She couldn’t really know, could she? “Lady—I–I don’t understand.”
Natori’s body remained perfectly motionless, statuesque—except her eyes. They finally shifted away from the campfire, seeking out Joel. “Oh, but I think you do. The creature you saw inside the arena, do you believe it was inherently evil? Was it truly monstrous?”
“No.” Joel managed to shake his head. “It didn’t want to kill those gladiators. It was just trying to defend itself. The real monsters were the men who forced it to fight.”
“Some of the most dangerous monsters in this world are human, Joel Adelwijn. A good bit of wisdom to remember when you begin to doubt your heart.”
Unable to hold the Blessed Mage’s gaze any longer, Joel focused his attention onto the dirt beneath his boots. “I—thank you. You’ve given me much to think about.”
“Keep your friends and family close, youngling. In the end, they are all we ever truly have.”
With a faint nod, Joel excused himself. He wanted to be alone. He needed space to clear his muddled head. He knew he should probably reflect upon Natori’s words, but not tonight. He couldn’t handle any more difficult thoughts right now.
Ivory had been tied to a post with several other horses on the far side of the clearing. As Joel approached, her ears perked, but she didn’t lift her muzzle from the bucket of water by her feet. Joel scratched the filly’s neck for a few moments before rummaging through his saddlebags, stacked neatly beneath the long shadows of the tent. It wasn’t long before he found the runestones, heavy and bulging within a burlap sack. Clutching the satchel close to his chest, Joel scanned the vicinity, seeking a quiet place, away from the rest of the world.
Set near the outskirts of the war camp, yet still within view, a fire burned low, its flames barely more than pulsating embers. Abandoned and lonely, it beckoned Joel forward. It was the perfect place to work.
Joel took a seat a safe distance from the fire and made himself comfortable. The red-hot coals licked his face with drowsy heat. The warmth helped soothe his mind and relax his stiff muscles. Setting the satchel in his lap, Joel worked to undo the bit of rope that held the pearly stones inside. There was a good number of them. Joel had packed the stones himself. Even if he couldn’t charge all of them in one sitting, the magical toil would keep him busy for the next mark or two.
Charging runestones was one of the more menial tasks a mage had to perform, but given the circumstances, it was exactly the kind of job Joel needed: something to lose himself in until exhaustion rendered him unable to do anything but fall onto his sleeping mat. If he needn’t think, he wouldn’t have to worry.
Joel pulled the first runestone free and placed it in the palm of his open hand. He took a moment to admire its smooth, rounded edges and iridescent shimmer before closing a fist around the object. Shutting his eyes, Joel centered himself and drew power from the magic ley line that ran parallel to the Nishika. He channeled the raw, untamed energy through his body, harvesting it, molding it, and finally redirecting it into the runestone. The runestone absorbed the energy, soaking up the magic like water into a doily, until it could hold no more. Satisfied, Joel set the stone aside and reached for another.
“H–hello? Joel?”
The newcomer’s words jarred Joel out of his meditative state.
Zandi’s footfalls fell silently as he stepped within the fading light of the campfire. Hands clasped together at his waist and cheeks dusted red, he kept his face downcast. His emerald eyes, wavering and uncertain, somehow lifted to meet Joel’s.
Joel froze. What did Zandi want? They hadn’t once spoken since the army mobilized. Hell, they hadn’t exchanged words in entire moonturns before the trek even began.
“I was hoping we might have a word,” Zandi said.
Joel opened his mouth, but he didn’t know what to say. He’d been caught so off-guard he couldn’t rally a response.
Zandi didn’t allow the silence to grow. “Is now a good time? I can come back if you’re—” His eyes flicked toward the satchel. “O–oh, you’re charging runestones? May I help?”
Joel clenched his jaw, holding back the urge to curl his nose.
No, he wanted to say. No, you may not help.
Proper protocol dictated he should be polite, however, so with a sigh, he motioned for the mage to sit.
Zandi’s cheeks darkened further as he kneeled. “Thank you.”
Joel nodded curtly and moved the satchel into the empty space separating them, so both he and Zandi could reach it with ease. He didn’t want to converse, but for Gib’s sake, he’d try to be civil.
Zandi didn’t move, save for his fumbling hands. “I’m sure you must hate me.”
“I don’t hate you, Zandi.” Joel bit the inside of his cheek, turning the runestone in his palm from side to side, knowing he should say more but unable to bring himself to.
Crimson flecks of light shone like miniscule mage orbs in Zandi’s eyes as he stared into the dying embers of the campfire. “We haven’t had an opportunity to speak since—since everything happened, and I just wanted you to know how much respect I have for you—have always had for you. It seems so long ago now, the day you stood up and courageously declared your love for another man.”
Joel tightened his grip around the runestone. “Nothing more than an idealistic boy making a foolish choice. My actions did little more than bring shame to my family name and give the court something scandalous to gossip about.”
“No. You’re wrong. What you did gave so many people hope. People like me.”
“It doesn’t matter. Nothing has changed.”
“Change takes time. You mustn’t give up.”
“Any hope for change died with the King. If you hadn’t already noticed, Arden’s in the hands of a madman now.”
Joel refocused his attention onto the task of charging the runestones and hoped Zandi would do the same. As well-intended as Zandi might be, Joel was in no mood for reminiscing about the past. He didn’t want to think about anything right now, least of all the country’s dire predicament or his doomed rom
ance with Gib.
For a time, they worked without speaking, but the hush didn’t last long. Joel had just plucked a fourth runestone from the satchel when Zandi sucked in a jagged breath and squared his shoulders. Joel braced himself.
“I’m sorry for the way things turned out.” Zandi’s words were gasped more than spoken. “I’d have it be known it was never my intention to come between you and Gib. You were gone, and he seemed so lost. I approached Gib with honorable intent. I just wanted to help him, to be a friend. I–I never meant to—fall for him.”
Joel ground his teeth.
Don’t scream. Breathe. Just breathe.
“The cracks in our foundation already existed. You had little to do with the actual crumbling. Our fate was sealed the moment I made the decision to step through that portal.”
“I’m sorry. Truly.” Zandi’s voice wavered, thick with desperation. “If it’s any consolation, I do love Gib. I’d never hurt him. And even if you and I are never friends, I hope the two of you can one day reconcile—”
Joel had heard enough. His voice clipped as he interrupted the other man. “Not to be rude, but I’m really in no mood for company right now. Can you please just leave? I’d rather be alone.”
Zandi averted his eyes and folded his arms across his stomach, a barrier between them. “I’ll go. I just—had to speak my mind. And now that I have, I’ll take my leave.” He clambered to his feet and gave a quick bow. His hands trembled as he deliberately turned his back to Joel. “Farewell, Lord Adelwijn.”
Joel watched the mage depart. Guilt mingled with relief, creating turbulent waves of emotion that tumbled in his stomach. He pushed the feelings aside. He couldn’t dedicate thought or energy to Zandi’s wants right now, not when more pressing issues already burdened Joel’s mind. What had Zandi expected would happen anyway? That they’d have a friendly chat and suddenly everything would be all right? Nothing could ever be so simple.
Joel stared at the tiny runestone, still nestled within the curves of his palm. Weariness stole the vigor from his body, and he found it suddenly difficult to keep his arm steady. But he couldn’t stop now. The thought of returning to his sleeping quarters, of lying idle and unable to sleep and allowing his mind to wander, was unbearable.
Battle Dawn: Book Three of the Chronicles of Arden Page 11
