Angst Box Set 2

by David Pedersen

  “How long have I been out?” Angst asked Aerella.

  “It’s been a day. Maybe longer,” she said softly. Her olive skin was blotchy and her bloodshot eyes hovered over dark, tired circles. She didn’t just look older; she appeared wasted away. “We landed by the Ruautu river several miles to the west and walked here. Faeoris carried you.”

  “Thank you,” he said over his shoulder. “Aerella, you look...I don’t know how to say it. Not older, but maybe drained?”

  “That portal took a lot out of me, Angst,” she said. “I don’t think I could do that again, even with your help.”

  “There’s something I don’t understand,” Angst began. “Andec, in Unsel, can move groups of people short distances with ease.”

  “Maybe you should’ve brought him,” she snapped.

  He reached around Kala and Scar to give her an awkward hug, and the tension in her shoulders relaxed. He pulled away, brushing her mane of brown hair from her face.

  “I didn’t mean it to come out like that,” she said, her husky voice hoarse from exhaustion. “Magic changes, over the years, and I can only do what I know. That portal spell exhausted me as well.”

  “Thank you,” he said. “You saved us.”

  “We need to keep moving,” she said. “We only have days before we have to turn back.”

  “Injuries?” Angst asked.

  “Maarja’s ribs. Faeoris has some burns,” she said. “And your arm. I’m sorry, I’ve been too exhausted.”

  “No need for apologies,” Angst said. He’d learned a little about healing from Dulgirgraut when he first found Moyra in a mermaid trap. Chryslaenor was ecstatic to provide him more spells, to the point that Angst had to be more specific about what needed healing.

  Maarja set the bundle down and lifted furs as he approached. Taut muscles were covered in angry red and black bruises. He gently placed a hand on her side. She was burning up, and he wondered if that was from the injury, or just being Nordruaut. Maarja winced at his touch, but said nothing as he concentrated. A gentle hue of blue light surrounded his hand, flowing through it into her skin. He didn’t completely understand everything he was doing; it was a spell borrowed from the sword, but he did understand bones, and he knit three of her ribs back to whole. Most of the bruising diminished, and he drew his hand away.

  “Thank you,” she said, her voice softer than he’d ever heard it.

  “Of course,” he said. “I’m not good at this, but at least your ribs aren’t broken anymore.”

  “Now, where were you burned?” Angst asked, turning to face Faeoris. “Oh no.”

  Boils and scorch marks covered her chest from shoulder to shoulder. How could he have missed this when he hugged her? Even the hug must’ve been excruciating, but she’d shown no sign of weakness. Fortunately, her armored top appeared untouched, but for the first time since meeting her, he wished it had covered more than her breasts.

  “Heal your arm first,” she said, her eyes stern. “I have a high tolerance for pain.”

  “Apparently. Now shut up,” he said, turning Faeoris around to face away from the others.

  “Why are you turning me around?” she asked, her words clipped.

  He glanced toward Kala before gently placing his hands on her chest.

  “Oh,” she said with a small smile. She leaned forward and whispered. “To get you to touch me, all I had to do was burn myself?”

  Angst tried not to smile as power coursed through his hands and into her chest. She had been burned deep, and he found himself drawing power from Chryslaenor. After long moments, the damage was mostly healed, except for a long scar over her left breast that didn’t want to give in. He frowned, trying to figure out how to mend it.

  “Angst,” she said, placing her hands on his, “it’s okay.”

  “I think I can fix this,” he said, unable to keep the shaky exhaustion from his voice.

  “Not all scars go away,” she said, gently pulling his hands away. “I feel better, thank you.”

  “But...” he said.

  “And I think it’s sort of cool.” Faeoris poked at the scar and smiled. “It could use a little color, though.”

  Angst sat hard on the ground, more tired than he would’ve expected. Healing definitely wasn’t his gift, and the wave of dizziness was overwhelming.

  “Why here?” he asked. “Why the cave?”

  “It will lead us under the river, all the way to Nordruaut,” Maarja said. “All the way home.”

  For the first time since waking, Angst took in their surroundings. A hundred yards from the rocky cave entrance was a river unlike any he’d seen. It seemed more like a lake than a river, in the sense that it was incredibly wide. But rivers flowed, and an old tree the size of his house rushed by. He was a strong swimmer, but wouldn’t even consider trying to cross this.

  “I could try finding a stone large enough to carry us across,” he suggested.

  They all looked at him like he was a crazy old man. Maybe he was.

  “Even Al’eyrn need to rest,” Aerella said gently. “Why push yourself when there’s already an easy path?”

  “Well, yeah,” he said reluctantly. “I could still do it.”

  “What about me?” Faeoris asked. “I could fly everyone over, one or two at a time.”

  “My ribs still hurt from our last flight,” Maarja said, practically spitting out the words. She wouldn’t look at Faeoris, and it was apparent that she would put up a fight before letting the Berfemmian fly her over.

  “We should avoid splitting up,” Aerella said, instantly calming the tension. “Is the cave safe?”

  “Mostly,” Maarja said. “It’s hard to explain, but some claim to see ghosts and visions in these caves.”

  “Is this...is this sotherscra?” Aerella asked in wonder.

  “You speak our old words,” Maarja said in surprise.

  “A few,” Aerella said, her brow knitted. She chewed her bottom lip, looking down into the cave, lost in thought. “I’ve heard things. Stories.”

  “The stories keep thieves and spies away,” Maarja said, looking down guiltily at the bundle of Jintorich in her arms. “Everyone I’ve known has made it through alive, and sane.”

  “Every Nordruaut?” Aerella pressed.

  “Well,” Maarja said hesitantly. “Yes.”

  “Sane?” Angst asked. Chimes from both swords rang through his mind, pressing against his skull. Now was not the best time to struggle with this battle between foci. It was almost too much effort to concentrate and he didn’t need another discordant note in his thoughts. Angst willed them to hush.

  “The cave is a beautiful place, filled with crystals,” Maarja said encouragingly. She looked at Faeoris. “They are pretty, like you.”

  “Oh,” Faeoris said, smiling at the Nordruaut, maybe for the first time ever. “I want to see.”

  “And...” Aerella urged her to continue.

  “It is a great story, but very long and we are in a hurry,” she said, apparently reluctant to cut it short. “It is said a man entered the cave, looking for an easy way to cross the river. In each crystal, he saw a different future, and lost himself in the one he liked most.”

  “He got lost?” Kala asked, a sincere frown on her face.

  “A Nordruaut found him, sitting by a crystal, talking of love and happiness,” Maarja said, looking around nervously. “When she tried to remove the man, he became wild, and then like a durr.”

  Faeoris looked at Angst in confusion. He hadn’t heard of a durr either and shrugged.

  It seemed Aerella had. “Durr are maybe the dumbest animals that exist. They basically lie about on the shores of Nordruaut waiting to be eaten,” she explained. “Basically, his mind was gone.”

  “It is said that humans lose their mind to the crystals,” Maarja said. “But this is only story. They do not affect Nordruaut.”

  “Why not just have Faeoris fly us over?” Angst asked, pressing the issue again.

  “I will not be flow
n around like prey by the Berfemmian!” Maarja snapped. “She already injured me once.”

  “Well, you shouldn’t have left Angst behind like that!” Faeoris said, balling up her fists and shifting into a defensive stance.

  Angst held out his arms and moved between the two women.

  “We must hurry, and this is the fastest way. I will see you through safely,” Maarja said, her words rushed. “Do you trust me, Angst?”

  He thought on this, blocking out the quiet warning songs between his ears and ignoring the awkward tension between his companions. He knew Maarja least of all, but she’d never strayed from their goal. She’d been very close to Jintorich, who he’d liked. Tarness was practically in love with her, and he didn’t trust anyone more. Angst studied her pretty face, noting the white vertical lines painted under her large, light blue eyes. Those eyes pleaded, but were sincere. She was really pretty. He nodded.

  “I trust you, Maarja,” he said.

  “Angst,” Aerella warned. “I trust her too, but this may not be the best idea. Especially considering you and the swords.”

  He glanced at the others. Faeoris frowned at him prettily, on the verge of saying something, but kept it to herself. No doubt she would ask what Aerella meant later.

  “I think Maarja knows the danger everyone would be in if the crystals drove me crazy. She wouldn’t put you all at risk like that, so let’s go.” He tried to sound positive. “What could possibly go wrong?”

  42

  Enurthen

  Hector spent thirty minutes looking for Alloria. He searched the pond she bathed in, her quarters, the kitchen they all ate in, and the pond again. Unfortunately, she wasn’t in the pond. She tended to follow Dallow around, mostly to irk Rose, so he also checked his friend’s room and the library. There was no sign of her, not even the faint scent of her. He returned to the riverbank and paced.

  After an impatient wait of ten more minutes, worry crept into his thoughts. Dallow was supposed to grab Rose, figuratively, while he grabbed Alloria, literally. Dallow felt that Jormbrinder was the key to escape this prison. This beautiful, amazing, luscious, vacation spot where nobody got killed and he’d actually learned to relax. Kind of. Hector snorted in frustration, not only for his love-hate relationship with this mage city, but that he had to go find his friends.

  He knew which building Rose called home this week, but didn’t know which floor, or room. That was Dallow’s job, and he was slightly uncomfortable showing up unannounced. Hector’s relationship with Rose was much different than everyone else’s. Rose was Angst’s friend, Dallow’s something, and his... She was young enough to be his daughter. This made it feel inappropriate to even spend time with her, socially, but Angst and Dallow seemed to forget this small fact. Maybe he should too. He had no kids, that he knew of. He liked Rose, and they had much in common—neither of them enjoyed hugging.

  Each floor of the building seemed to be its own home. There were no locks on any doors, and he walked into the first-floor entryway like a guest. Hector cautiously wandered through a kitchen, dining room, bedrooms, and a great room for gathering. At one time the main room must’ve been welcoming and cozy. It featured a spacious fireplace with a mouth wide enough to warm Nordruaut. Cushioned chairs were placed neatly around an oval stone table. The room felt comfortable, made for entertaining a small group of friends or family. Games must’ve been played here, conversations had—he could practically hear the ghostly echoes of friendly laughter. People had lived lives in this room, and he felt like an intruder.

  Someone screamed, jerking his thoughts back to present. He remained still, waiting, and listening. A woman’s cry made him sprint back to the entrance. Was it Rose? No. It had to be Alloria. Hector rushed upstairs, not caring for stealth or silence. The center of the building was a wide spiral staircase that annoyingly leveled out at every floor. Two screams weren't enough to find them. He stopped on the third floor and breathed deeply through his nose. His ability to follow scents wasn’t quite as good as a trained hunting dog’s, but it was far better than a regular human’s. Copper. The coppery scent of blood was close, but not here.

  He sprinted to the fourth floor, pausing to smell once again. It was strong enough to make him wince. This was it, and he pushed through another unlocked door. The layout was identical to the first-floor home, and he hugged curved walls while searching the rooms, peeking around each corner as quickly as he felt was safe. Around the way, at the farthest point from the door, he heard quiet sobbing.

  Hector entered a small bedroom to see Alloria lying unconscious on the floor. Rose held Dallow close, her hand on the deep red spot of blood soaked into his jerkin. There was so much blood it was pooling on the floor. She rocked back and forth, and when she looked up, it dribbled from an open wound on her neck. He was too late; they were both as good as dead.

  “Rose... I’m so sorry I wasn’t here. Can I do anything?” he said, dropping to his knees beside them.

  Rose shook her head, and he was at a loss. Long moments passed; he didn’t know what to do. He was used to death, but not like this. They’d become family, and he felt closer to Dallow than anyone. His military-disciplined emotions slipped, and his throat became so tight Hector lifted his chin to stretch it. Breathing shouldn’t have been this hard. He reached out to place a shaky hand on Dallow’s chest.

  The blood dribbling from her neck slowed, and finally stopped. She swallowed hard, still rocking. Dallow gasped for air as Rose let loose a racking sob. They were breathing. Dallow was breathing. Alloria was breathing. He wasn’t crying. That had to be sweat. From his eyes.

  “What on Ehrde is going on?” he demanded, his voice strained.

  Dallow’s glowing eyes were wide with panic, and his head rocked back and forth as though searching the room for an answer. Rose made calming noises, patting his hair until he stopped.

  “It’s okay,” Hector said, his gravelly voice low. “Rose and I are here.”

  “Rose!” Dallow coughed, reaching up with a hand. His voice was weak, barely audible. “You...you’re alive! I stumbled on your body. There was so much blood.”

  “Alloria stopped by for a visit,” Rose said. “The bitch cut my throat the minute my back was turned."

  “Oooh,” Hector said, his whisper low. “I’m surprised you didn’t heal through it.”

  “She kept the dagger against my throat. Jormbrinder must’ve dampened my wielding, and I lost too much blood,” she said through gritted teeth. “But somehow Dallow was able to heal me, a little.”

  "How did you, uh..." Hector pointed at Alloria's unmoving body.

  "I think the dumb cow slipped on all that blood," Rose said. "She must have struck her head on the wall."

  "It sounded like she was screaming," Hector said.

  Rose shrugged, all of her focus on Dallow. He tried speaking and instead gurgled, turning his head aside to expunge whatever had entered his lungs. He rolled over to his hands and knees, gasping, coughing, and vomiting. Hector placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder.

  “I’ve seen you in worse shape after a good night at Graloon’s,” he said, trying to sound cheerful. “You’ll be fine.”

  Dallow nodded, pale and dry-heaving, but alive. Rose, free from holding Dallow, stood. She rushed over to Alloria and kicked her in the ribs. The princess didn’t even grunt, and Rose kicked her again.

  “Rose,” Hector said softly.

  She held her next kick mid-air. “I’m going to make it hurt before I kill her.”

  “We’re better than that,” Hector said then replied to her wry expression. “Okay, we’re not better than that. But, we may need her.”

  “She tried to kill us,” she snapped, but lowered her leg. “I’ve never pulled someone back so close from the edge. I almost couldn’t.”

  “I’m glad you did. Thank you,” Hector said.

  “Then why let her live?” she asked.

  “The foci,” Hector said. “She’s the only one who can wield it. Dallow thinks we need Jo
rmbrinder to leave, and I don’t think cutting off her hand or dragging her body to the wall is enough. I don’t think we could do that with Angst and his foci. The weapons are too smart.”

  “He’s right,” Dallow wheezed then sighed deeply. “I never thought air could taste so good.”

  Rose knelt and went back to petting his hair. “I get to kill her when we’re out, right?”

  “Fair enough.” Hector bowed his head.

  “Good, then we need to get out of here now,” Rose said. “I can’t stand this place any longer.”

  “You said I only healed you a little?” Dallow asked, rubbing his chest.

  “Yeah,” she said, peering at Alloria. “It was like you flicked my ear, but I guess that was enough.”

  “I thought I healed more than a trickle,” he said. “The dagger must’ve affected me too. I had completely forgotten it could do that, which could explain something else.”

  “What’s that?” Hector asked, scratching the scar along his chin.

  “Alloria read some book titles while we were at the library. It should’ve been enough to let me figure out the rest of Ughcratic,” Dallow said. “The dagger may have caused some sort of disconnect with my ability to absorb information.”

  “That’s why she kept going to the library with you,” Hector said. “Hoping to slow you down.”

  “I thought she was following you just to piss me off,” Rose said.

  “Even after her run-in with the elements, she’d be too afraid to do that,” Hector said with a broad smile. “I would be.”

  “You should be,” Rose said, punching him in the arm.

  “Enurthen,” Dallow said.

  “What?” Hector and Rose asked.

  “This place, this mage city is called Enurthen,” Dallow said, sitting up with a wince. “That’s what she said before killing me...almost killing me.”

  “Pretty name for a prison,” Hector said.

  “Why does that matter?” Rose asked, crossing her arms.