Gib accepted the canteen only because he couldn’t think of any excuse not to. Lukewarm water touched his lips and trickled down his throat. It tasted like nothing, as empty as his heart. Gib corked the vessel, wondering if he’d ever again be able to enjoy life’s simple pleasures. Perhaps the soul could bear only so much sorrow before it shut down entirely.
“Pass it here, Gib,” Tular said from his position on the ground. He waved a hand. Even the slight gesture caused him to wince and clutch his side.
Gib tensed his shoulders. He couldn’t help but stare warily as he handed Tular the wineskin. Gib knew he was being foolish. Tular might not be—what Gib had believed, but the other man sure as hell wasn’t an enemy. His loyalty to Deegan was undeniable—and he’d risked his own life to save them.
Tular raised the canteen to his mouth with a groan. He was trying to downplay the severity of his injuries, but Gib could see the young lord was in pain. His face twisted into a grimace every time he moved.
Deegan jumped to help. “Here, let me hold it.”
“I’m fine,” Tular replied, taking a jagged breath.
Deegan motioned toward the Blessed Mage. “You’re as stubborn as she.”
Shrugging, Tular tried to pass the wineskin to Hasain, but the Radek lord shook his head. He sat rigidly atop a crate, hands clenched together. Gib could see they were shaking.
“Take it,” Tular demanded.
Hasain’s shoulders quivered along with his hands. “I’m not thirsty.”
“You haven’t drunk anything since sunrise. You’ll become delirious.”
“Worry about yourself. You’re the one who’s injured.”
Tular raised a fist, like he might want to clobber Hasain. “You’re damn lucky I’m injured.”
“And you’re lucky no one else besides Gib saw you,” Hasain shot back in a low hiss. “You acted recklessly.”
Deegan placed a hand on Tular’s shoulder. “Don’t be so harsh, Hasain. He did what he had to do to distract the beast. He saved Natori—and all of us.”
Hasain glared at the ground, saying nothing more.
“What happened?” Nawaz asked without glancing up. He worked tirelessly to wrap a clean linen strip around Natori’s head. “How was Tular hurt?”
Deegan hesitated, sharing a somber look with Tular, but finally replied, “One of the beasts pinned him to the ground. He would have been crushed if the monster hadn’t suddenly been scared off.”
Nawaz’s eyebrows ticked higher. “Scared off by what?”
Tular scowled as he repositioned himself, with no small effort. “No idea. It stopped attacking us—just like that—and ran away.”
“Maybe it knew the ground was going to cave. Maybe that had it frightened.”
“I don’t think so. It ran back toward the other beasts, right into the worst of it.”
“Huh. Odd.”
Gib swallowed. They might never know the reason the beast had fled nor what caused the ground to cave. And what did it matter? It wouldn’t change anything. It wouldn’t bring back the fallen.
Nawaz smiled tightly as he finished bandaging Natori’s wound. “There. Good as new, m’lady.” The Blessed Mage grunted under her breath, but Nawaz had already turned to face Tular. “All right, your turn. Let me have a look at you.”
Tular recoiled. “No.”
“This is serious, Tular. You could have broken ribs—or worse, a punctured lung. Even if you’re only bruised, I can hasten the healing and numb some of the pain.”
“You—can’t—” Tular gasped, backing away from Nawaz as the Healer knelt.
“Look at you! You can’t even issue a full sentence!”
Tular glanced around with wide eyes, pleading silently for help. “Marc is my Healer.”
“Yeah, well, Marc’s not here. You’re gonna have to settle for me.”
Deegan sucked his lower lip into his mouth. “Tular, let him Heal you.”
“Prince,” Natori cautioned. “I must advise against—”
“There’s no other choice,” Deegan said, his conflicted eyes darting back and forth. “Tular needs a Healer. Nawaz has been a loyal friend for years. We have to trust him now.”
Gib cleared his throat, adding tentatively, “For what it’s worth, Tular did take a hard hit. I think Prince Deegan is right.”
“Then he must swear himself to secrecy,” Natori said. “On his own life.” Her attention shifted to Nawaz. She narrowed her eyes. “Nawaz Arrio, I want to hear your promise. Anything you should learn beneath this awning stays here. Do you understand?”
Nawaz’s brows knitted as he looked from face to face. Gib understood. He’d been asked to make the same vow of secrecy. Never in his wildest dreams could he have imagined this was what he’d been agreeing to.
“Hasain’s been my best friend since we were children,” Nawaz said quietly, “Tular, too. I’d never betray them, nor their families. Whatever secrets you ask me to conceal, I’ll do so without hesitation. You have my word.”
Natori folded her arms, a scowl hardening her face. “Koal won’t like this. Too many people know already, Deegan. All it takes is one slipup—accidental or not—and your claim to the crown could be jeopardized.”
“I know,” Deegan replied. “But we have to trust our allies. We have so few remaining…” Wringing his hands, he nodded for Nawaz to proceed.
The Healer crouched beside Tular, who was still wide-eyed and fidgeting. “All right. Sit still and relax.” Nawaz gave no further warning before he closed his eyes and slipped a hand onto Tular’s forearm.
Gib watched in tense silence. He recalled when his wrist had been broken during his first year at Academy and Nawaz had performed this same magic. Using the Healing Gift, he’d been able to See Gib’s ailment straight through his flesh.
Gib held his breath. Everyone else seemed to be doing the same. Would Nawaz See more than he should? Gib didn’t pretend to know anything about magic or how it worked to conceal Tular’s true identity, but he could only assume the guise was vulnerable to exposure when scrutinized so intimately. Why else would Marc be Tular’s only Healer?
At first, Nawaz’s expression remained serene. But that changed in an instant. His brows hiked higher on his forehead, and then his entire face pinched. Another moment passed before the Healer uttered a startled gasp and his eyes popped open. He sat back, gaping first at Tular, and then at everyone else. No one said anything. What could they say?
After the shock of discovery had a few moments to settle, Nawaz cleared his throat pointedly. “Any other surprises I should know about before I continue?”
“We couldn’t tell you,” Hasain whispered, glaring angrily. “You have to keep your mouth shut.”
All of Nawaz’s typical wit seemed to have abandoned him. “Will do.” He raised his hand again but hesitated before making contact with Tular’s arm.
Tular looked like he wanted to crawl into a hole. “It’s still me, Nawaz. You don’t have to be afraid.”
Nodding tightly, Nawaz shut his eyes and went back to work. “It looks like you do have one fractured rib, as well as some significant bruising.”
“Will he be all right?” Deegan asked, hovering above. “You can help him, can’t you?”
“For now, I can block some of the pain. But you have to take it easy, Tular. No sudden movements. Riding is probably going to be hell for a good moonturn or more.”
Tular sighed. “Fantastic.”
They fell into silence as Nawaz focused all his attention on the task at hand.
Gib’s eyes wandered restlessly around the encampment. Another cluster of survivors had arrived, and Koal was taking quick steps across the clearing to greet them. Gib craned his head, trying to get a better look. His heart fluttered. Dare he hope? Could it be—Joel?
No. Gib’s spirit came crashing down when he recognized Morathi’s grey stallion. The general swung from his saddle in a flurry of crimson silk and gleaming armor, barking orders for someone to fetch water for his hor
se. Koal approached, and the two men exchanged terse words spoken too low for Gib to overhear.
Deegan’s nose curled with revulsion. “Of course he survived.”
“He’s not the only one,” Tular sneered. “Look.”
Gib balled his hands as Morathi’s two traitorous dogs separated from the crowd and raced over to meet the general. So, the cowards who’d abandoned their charge had lived after all.
“Traitors,” Hasain said darkly. “They left Deegan to die after swearing to protect him.”
“They deserve to be hanged,” Gib heard himself growl. Rash anger gushed through his veins, only to be usurped by terrible apprehension moments later. “You—don’t think they saw anything, do you?”
Deegan’s eyes widened with uncertainty. “They’d already run off when Tular—saved us.”
“Are you sure?” Gib pressed. “Did anyone turn and look?”
Tular snorted. “I don’t think looking for Morathi’s henchmen was on any of our minds with that monster bearing down on us.”
“I’m serious. We need to make sure neither of them saw you.”
“If they had,” Tular replied. “I’d probably already be shot dead.”
Deegan gave the young lord a swat on the back. “Don’t say such things.”
Tular shrugged. His shrewd gaze trailed the general’s every move. Still shouting orders, Morathi trudged across the sand and disappeared inside a tent. His two dogs followed at his heels. Gib’s skin crawled. He had half a mind to sneak over and attempt to eavesdrop on their conversation, but the open desert offered few places to hide.
Uttering an exhausted sigh, Gib stepped out from beneath the awning before anyone could tell him otherwise. He needed to tell the seneschal what had happened and that Morathi’s men might be trouble. Gib scanned the place he’d last spotted his mentor—but Koal was no longer there.
Where—?
A wisp of the seneschal’s red cape caught Gib’s eye. Koal’s long strides were carrying him toward the edge of the encampment. His arms were held out, almost as if in surrender, but no—he was reaching for someone.
The sight of a weary but radiant smile and misty eyes made Gib’s knees weak. No. His mind must be playing tricks. He blinked, but the image of silky raven hair didn’t fade away. There was no way—it couldn’t be. But—it was. It was!
White mage robes shimmered in the sunlight, and a tender voice lifted above the din, calling for his father. A pitiful squeak leapt from Gib’s throat as he watched Koal throw his arms around his son’s shoulders. Joel! He’d survived! He was alive!
Gib stumbled over without thinking. “Joel! Joel!”
The mage had his eyes squeezed shut, but he must have heard Gib’s voice. Still embracing his father, Joel raised his chin and locked his gaze onto Gib. Joel’s mouth dropped open, and then he burst into tears.
“You’re alive,” he cried, sobbing against Koal’s neck. “Daya, you’re all alive.”
Gib’s heart was racing so swiftly he barely registered the sound of boots crunching in the sand, approaching from behind. He jumped when a small hand ghosted over his back.
“Damn good thing I had the insight to paint that mark on your forehead this morning, Nemesio.”
Gib gasped. He knew that voice. He whirled around and gaped, dumbfounded. “Kezra!”
Kezra smiled back at him sadly. Sweat glistened on her cheeks and flattened her dark tresses against her skin. Her tabard was bloodied and ripped beyond repair, but the armor beneath remained intact. Gib took that for a good sign. At least she wasn’t seriously injured.
Kezra took Gib’s hands. Her clasp was frail, and her own hands wobbled beyond control. Gib was certain he’d never seen Kezra’s eyes look quite so lost before. She was safe though. In that moment, that’s all he cared about. Another day—together—there would be time to heal emotional wounds.
Gib squeezed her fingers. “Thank The Two you’re okay.”
“I saved a couple of mages for you,” Kezra replied. She nodded over her shoulder.
The air deflated from Gib’s chest for a third time when he noticed Kezra wasn’t alone. He shook his head in disbelief. Surely this had to be a dream. The Goddesses were never so merciful.
Zandi lingered only a few paces away, holding Epona’s reins. His hair fell in tousled waves around his face. The cinnabar paint on his brow was hopelessly smeared across his forehead. His robes were filthy. Nevertheless, his emerald eyes blazed. The smile that curled both corners of his mouth was bright. He came forward with arms spread wide, and Gib rushed to greet him.
“I was sure you’d fallen,” Zandi choked. “When the ground opened up, I feared the worst.”
Gib uttered a startled gasp when he was embraced with so much vigor that his feet lifted right off the ground. “Me too. I thought you were all dead.”
“If it wasn’t for Kezra and Joel, I would be.” Zandi loosened his grip around Gib’s shoulders but didn’t let go entirely. “They saved my life.”
That didn’t surprise Gib, not one bit. He touched his companion’s cheek, wiping away a stray tear. “Are you hurt? Nawaz is beneath the awning if you need to see a Healer.”
Zandi shook his head. “I’m fine. Just in shock. The army—”
“I know.” Gib wished he could offer something more, but speech failed him. How would Arden ever come back from this loss? There were so few survivors.
Koal passed by without a word, leading his son into the shade. Tears continued to stream down Joel’s lovely face. Gib’s heart twisted. There had been a time when he would have willingly wiped the droplets away. He still would, Gib admitted to himself, if only Joel asked. But he didn’t say a word, and shameful heat seared Gib’s cheeks when he had to remind himself that Zandi was the one standing at his side now.
Deegan didn’t even wait for Joel to reach the awning. Throwing formalities to the wind, the prince greeted his elder cousin with a fierce hug. Even Hasain seemed to come out of his stupor long enough to grip Joel’s shoulder. Gib’s gaze lingered longingly on his former companion. He stared, perhaps too long, but if Zandi noticed, he didn’t say anything.
Swallowing the hard lump that had formed in the base of his throat, Gib finally tore his treacherous eyes away. He still had friends who were unaccounted for. He glanced around the encampment. “Have either of you seen Nage and Gara?”
Kezra’s hands found their way to Gib’s forearms. The sight of her damp face, warped by sorrow and guilt, sent shudders racing down Gib’s spine. He braced himself even as Kezra and Zandi rushed to do the same.
“There’s something you need to know—” Kezra choked over the words. Chest heaving, she lowered her face. Tears clung to her lashes. One by one, they dripped into the sand. “Nage didn’t make it.”
Gib would have slumped to the ground if Zandi hadn’t been there to hold him upright.
No. Not Nage. Not my friend.
Gib slammed his eyes shut, but the tears fell anyway. He could see Nage’s crooked grin shining through the darkness. His boisterous laughter rang as clearly as if the sentinel were standing there even now. But he wasn’t. Like Liza and so many other brave warriors, he was gone—lost to senseless war.
A cloudless autumn day brightened the gloom in Gib’s mind. All at once, he was young again, a boy of thirteen. He stood alone in a sea of sentinel trainees, terrified for the young brothers he’d been ripped away from, and even more frightened by the strange new world surrounding him. He’d never known such hopelessness before.
But then a scrawny boy—clad in rags, shoeless, with absolutely nothing to his name—had introduced himself. He’d accepted Gib with open arms and no questions asked. And just like that, Gib was no longer left to feel alone or scared. Nage had been Gib’s first true friend. They’d gotten through that first day, first moonturn, and first year together. They’d grown up together. They’d shared laughter, love, and sorrow together. Nage had been a part of Gib’s life for so long Gib couldn’t imagine a world without his friend
. In Gib’s soul, he knew things would never be the same. Another life had been stolen too soon. Another unfillable void was left to fester in Gib’s heart.
“He died a hero,” Zandi whispered, stroking long fingers through Gib’s curls. “He’ll always be remembered as a warrior.”
Gib leaned into the touch. “And as a dear and loyal friend.” Somehow, he managed to hold himself together long enough to ask, “What about Gara?”
Kezra’s voice wavered. “Gara’s there—at the edge of the rift. She wanted a moment to be alone.”
Gib nodded absently. He still refused to open his eyes. Maybe if he kept his memories trapped inside, Nage’s infectious grin wouldn’t fade away. Already Liza’s face blurred in his mind. His father’s kind smile had been shrouded for years. He was losing them all, piece by broken piece. Soon there would be nothing left to remember.
“We should go to Gara,” Gib said at long last. “We should say our final farewells together.” He bowed his weary head. A single teardrop slipped down his cheek. “Chhaya, keep vigil, for one of your children comes.”
The last traces of color still clung to the eventide sky, bands of deep orange and ruby against a navy backdrop. Stars scattered across the heavens in perfect disarray and moonlight trickled through a hazy veil of clouds. The pale tendrils stretched over the sand, enticing each individual granule to twinkle. The sight was hauntingly beautiful. Perhaps the Goddesses Themselves had woven such an exquisite evening in tribute to the fallen.
Somewhere in the distance, Tahir’s ruins still stood, though darkness had long since shrouded the city from view. No lanterns shone along the remnants of the alabaster wall on this night, only impenetrable gloom. The people of Shiraz had lost nearly as much as Arden. There were precious few survivors.
With a forlorn sigh, Joel turned away from the open desert. He didn’t want to look at it anymore. He didn’t want to see sand everywhere he glanced. How long had it been since he’d tasted fresh, mountain-chilled water? How long had it been since he’d stepped on grass that wasn’t shriveled and brown? He couldn’t recall.
Battle Dawn: Book Three of the Chronicles of Arden Page 37
