His lips barely moved. He was gazing up into her face.
Meiran ran her fingers through his hair. “No, Darien. I’m not going to do that.” Her voice broke. She hadn’t wanted it to come to this. She’d prayed he’d be gone by now.
Darien frowned. A look of vague confusion clouded his face. “Heal me … please?”
Meiran shook her head. She clenched her jaw against the sorrow that wrenched her heart. “No.”
His eyes widened with understanding. Then they darkened with hurt. He turned his face away, closing his eyes. For just a moment she could feel the depths of his pain, so intense that it almost made her retch. Right before he walled her out completely.
Meiran looked up and found herself staring into Sayeed’s outraged glare. His expression was treacherous.
“If he dies, I’ll kill you.”
It was plain, simple fact. Not even a threat.
Meiran nodded. She could accept that; it was a price she was willing to pay. She looked back down at Darien. With her hand, she caressed the side of his face.
He didn’t respond. He was unconscious again.
Meiran lowered herself down and curled up on the boards at his side. She pulled him close, weeping quietly into his hair. His flesh was pale. Moist. Already cold.
“Madam, I cannot!” Quin insisted, waving his hands feverishly in the air. “I couldn’t possibly take another bite of food from your family’s plate!”
Across the low table from him, his hostess smiled graciously and gestured again at the platter she’d set down in front of him.
“You must eat! I insist!”
Quin chuckled, smiling around at the group of young women seated around him on pillows, all gathered around Uma Abada’s table. They’d come under the pretenses of helping Uma prepare dinner for a special guest. But, curiously enough, not a single one of Uma’s young visitors had lifted a finger or lent a hand to assist the hostess. They had piled into Uma’s house, showering Quin with questions and responding to his answers with choruses of giggles.
Quin spread his hands helplessly. “I really can’t eat another morsel. See? I’m stuffed!” He pointed at his stomach which, of course, didn’t help prove his point at all. His frame was just as thin now as before he’d started the meal.
A fresh eruption of laughter chorused all around the room, followed by a sibilant flurry of whispers.
This was too much for Uma Abada. She threw her hands up in the air, exclaiming, “You must not like the food!” She began reaching for the platter to take it away.
“No!” Quin gasped, catching her arm. “The food is delicious! Truly! I’ve never tasted anything so exquisite! Please, I’d be grateful to have another plate?”
To Uma’s never-ending gratitude, Quin scooped himself another serving, quickly shoving a large bite into his mouth.
“Scrumptious!” he announced around the mouthful.
The women that surrounded him burst into rippling laughter. Quin grinned despite himself. It had been a very long time since he’d been the center of anyone’s attention.
A tinkling clatter of beads signaled someone’s entry into the dwelling. Quin glanced up just as the girls’ laughter extinguished like a doused candle flame. He took one look at Azár’s face and swallowed his food whole. It went down hard.
“Quinlan Nach’tier!” Azár cried, her voice fraught with panic. “Please, come quickly!”
“Sorry!” Quin gulped at Uma and the girls as he sprang to his feet, in his rush knocking over the wash water that was offered. He dashed after Azár, but the woman was already gone, disappearing through the doorway. He paused only long enough to retrieve his shoes.
Quin ran after her into the darkness, onto the narrow streets of Qul. He staggered forward five or six steps and then pulled up short, realizing he had no idea which direction the girl had even gone.
“Quinlan!”
She was standing a block away, beckoning him furiously. Holding his hat, Quin sprinted after her. He followed her out of town and out into the open night, down the path that led away from the village. She didn’t pause to let him catch up. Azár ran ahead at full speed, gradually outdistancing him.
Down by the bank of the river, she finally turned back, gesturing for him to hurry. Quin sprinted forward, at last seeing the cause for her concern.
A man lay on the beach by the river, another man stooped over him. Azár threw herself down beside them both, motioning frantically for Quin.
“He’s near death!” she cried. “Can you heal? For I cannot!”
Quin gasped when he realized who it was that Azár wanted him to heal. He knelt down on his knees beside Darien, fear taking him in the chest like a sword thrust.
“Damn.”
Closing his eyes, he placed a hand on Darien to gain a better sense of the extent of his injuries. His fear immediately collapsed into panic. He didn’t dare wait another second.
Bracing himself, Quin reached within and pulled at the magic field as if grasping for life, drawing it in with all the force of his mind, focusing with every fiber of his concentration. He threw everything he had into Darien, all of his training, all of his skill, all of his effort and experience, uncertain if all he had would even be enough.
With a gasp, Quin shrank back, blood draining from his face. He reeled, almost passing out. He steadied himself with a hand thrust in the dirt, his other hand clasped against his forehead. He sat there, rocking himself, slowly shaking his head. It took him a long time to finally pull himself back together.
Leaning forward, he probed Darien one more time. He was sleeping deeply, mercifully still alive.
Quin closed his eyes, sighing in relief. He opened them just in time to see the other man fall to his knees, prostrating himself fully prone in the dirt.
Still a little dizzy, Quin had to use both arms to wrench his body up off the ground. He gazed down at the prostrated figure, absently chewing his lip.
“Get up,” he chided the man. “Who are you? Can you tell me what happened?”
The bearded man regained his feet in one elegant, fluid motion. He effected a perfect bow, one hand pressed against his heart. “I am Sayeed son of Alborz, Chamberlain of Armorers,” he stated proudly. Indicating Darien, he said, “This man was gravely injured. I brought him out of the vortex to you.”
Quin chewed on that information, wishing the soldier would elaborate just a tad. It was only then that he recognized him: the officer from Tokashi who’d delivered Meiran’s necklace. The man was Zakai to the core: direct, succinct, and thoroughly uninformative. “Where’s Meiran?” he demanded. “Is she with you?”
“The woman is still in the boat,” Sayeed gestured toward the craft. “She would not help. He asked, but she refused.”
Quin’s eyebrows shot up. “Refused?” he echoed, exchanging a wide-eyed look with Azár.
The soldier nodded. “Yes. She refused to help him even though he begged.”
At that news, Quin hung his head, heaving out a long, exasperated sigh. If Meiran had refused to help Darien despite the ghastly nature of his injuries, it spoke volumes of her character. She had committed herself to his death, despite the depth of her feelings for him. It was a deplorable act, both selfish and selfless at the same time. In all his life, Quin had only known one other person capable of making such a decision.
Sagging, he removed his hat from his head and turned to Sayeed with a weary expression on his face. “Can the two of you get him back to the village?”
“Will he live?” the officer seemed surprised.
“Yes, but … he’ll be sleeping for a couple of days.” Quin bounced his hat against his thigh a few times, absently collecting his thoughts. Meiran was his responsibility, even more than Darien. He needed to make sure she would be all right.
The officer appeared to be considering. “I will take him back to Tokashi,” Sayeed decided finally. “He will be protected there. It is where he belongs.”
Quin frowned. “He has the support of th
e Tanisars, then?”
Sayeed solemnly spread his hands. “Darien Lauchlin is the overlord that was promised. He has the full support of the Tanisar corps.”
Quin nodded, reserving judgement. He glanced to Azár, who was likewise staring at Sayeed with a shocked expression on her face.
“And do you have the authority to speak for all the Zakai?” Quin pressed. He needed to know Sayeed’s claim was legitimate, and not some rogue faction of the Tanisars throwing their support behind Darien in an attempt at a coup.
The soldier bowed low. “I, Sayeed son of Alborz, have the authority to speak for all the Zakai and the whole of the Tanisar corps.”
That was good enough for Quin. He turned immediately to Azár. The look of shock on her face only supported his decision. “Go with them,” he directed her. “I’ll take Meiran back to Qul.”
Azár stared up at him with a mixture of disbelief and outright fear. “I’m a Lightweaver!” she gasped. “I can’t just abandon my lightfields!”
Quin waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. Replacing the hat on his head, he reminded her, “Tokashi Palace must have Lightweavers aplenty. Send one of them back here to replace you.”
Azár licked her lips, indecision knitting her brow. She glanced back up at Quin. “I do not have that kind of authority.”
Quin shrugged, casually pointing a finger down at Darien. “He does.”
Azár looked lost. Her brow furrowed even more. She seemed to be grappling with some enormous internal struggle. At last, something seemed to yield inside her. Nodding, she clenched her hands into balls at her sides. “I will go to Tokashi Palace,” she said at last.
Sayeed nodded with a look somewhere split between gratitude, respect, and downright doubt. Quin wasn’t quite sure how it was possible for one human face to manage so many emotions all at once. The soldier could convey in one look what it would take a scribe a page or more to fill.
“Let’s get Meiran,” Quin grumbled.
He left Darien lying on the shoreline and walked to the boat to check on the Prime Warden. He found her fast asleep, curled up in the bowels of the vessel, cuddled up in a kaftan stained dark with blood. Gore streaked her face, her hands, her skin. The bottom of the boat was coated with sticky filth. Quin felt an instant pang of fear. All that blood couldn’t be Darien’s.
Then he saw the bandage on Meiran’s arm.
He reached out and probed her with his mind, getting a sense of her condition. She wasn’t good. She had been starved for days on top of the torture she’d obviously been subjected to. Her skin was hot to the touch; the wound on her arm had already started to fester.
Quin mended her just as he’d mended Darien, then gathered her sleeping body up into his arms. He rested her head against his shoulder, staring down at Meiran’s peaceful face. He tried to feel angry with her, but realized that he couldn’t do it. He didn’t agree with Meiran’s actions. But he understood her, all the same. He understood her all too well.
“What are you going to do with her?” Azár asked, wandering over to gaze at Meiran as if she were something of a curiosity.
“I’ll take her back to Qul. She’s my responsibility. From there…” he shrugged. “Who knows?”
“I could run my sword through her,” suggested Sayeed.
Quin barked a laugh, casting the man a sideways smirk. “Trust me, I’ve been tempted. Unfortunately, that wouldn’t go over very well with your new overlord.”
He knelt down, laying Meiran out on the black sand of the riverbank. Then he went to help Sayeed and Azár load Darien into the boat. When they had him in, Sayeed immediately sat down and took up the oars as Quin waded out into the water, pushing the boat and casting them off. He gave a good, hard shove that sent the little craft floating quickly away. Quin gazed at Azár, watching the distance between them slowly widen, standing in water up to his hips. He remained there as Sayeed dipped the oars into the river, pushing back, turning the boat into the current.
“Keep him safe,” Quin called after them.
The little craft pulled slowly away even as a cloud of fog rolled in around them, cloaking them in mist. Quin turned and waded back toward the shoreline. But before he could gain the bank, a sudden splash made him turn.
His mouth dropped open. Darien’s hound had thrown itself into the river and was paddling dutifully after its master. He watched the beast overtake the boat, bobbing furiously and pawing at the side of the craft. Sayeed stopped rowing, clearly perplexed.
Between the soldier and Azár, they somehow managed to get the demon-dog over the side and into the boat. The beast shook the water from its fur and, circling several times, finally positioned itself at the bow of the craft as if determined to keep watch. It’s hellish-green eyes gleamed from out of the darkness.
“Now, that’s quite a sight,” Quin muttered, shaking his head.
27
Hard Choices
Meiran awakened to a pale amber glow. The flickering light of a lantern cast murky shadows on the walls, bizarre patterns of dappled light mixed with shadow. She was warm and comfortable. She stretched languidly, feeling the stiffness leech slowly from her bones. She felt content.
A sudden pang of emptiness jarred her fully awake. Meiran sat up, blinking as she gazed in surprise around a room that was altogether unfamiliar.
Quin’s skeletal face was the first thing she saw. He was sitting, leaning against the far wall of the room with one leg drawn up against his chest, the other stretched out in front of him. He regarded her with a hard, callous stare. He was chewing on something that hung dangling from his mouth. Some type of root, it looked like.
“Where’s Darien?” Meiran asked, her stomach in knots.
Quin’s stare was like cold, unfeeling lead. “Alive. No thanks to you.”
Meiran swallowed, feeling the grief inside tighten into a ball at the base of her throat. That was not the news she’d been expecting to hear. Not good news at all. She lifted her eyes reluctantly back to Quin. Yet another darkmage who was too dangerous to live.
“You healed him.”
Quin plucked the root he was gnawing out of his mouth, gesturing with it in the air. “Well, I wasn’t going to just sit back and watch him die. Like you were planning to do.”
“I did everything I could to save him,” Meiran said defensively. She had been trying to save Darien. In her own way. The only way she could.
Quinlan Reis sneered at her in mocking contempt. “What exactly were you trying to save him from? Life?”
Meiran grimaced, utterly resenting his cruel sarcasm. “I was trying to save Darien from hell,” she informed him, not expecting him to understand.
“Darling, you bring new meaning to the phrase ‘damned if you do, damned if you don’t.’”
Meiran glared at him. “It’s nothing to joke about, Quin. The man I loved has become a demon. A true demon. One who channels the powers of hell, raises necrators from the dead, and wants to rally the legions of Chaos against his own homeland. My homeland.”
Quin sneered, gesturing in the air with the half-chewed root. “That’s because the ‘legions of Chaos’ are going to starve to death if they stay here too much longer. Are you really so coldblooded that you’d condemn an entire nation to death? Honestly, Meiran, you’re the one who’s starting to sound more demonic.”
The look on his face was haughty and insolent. He was a contemptible creature, just as wretched as Darien. Perhaps more so.
“There’s hard choices to be made,” Meiran said. “On both sides. I’m not denying it. Compromises will have to be made. But Darien’s way—your way—it’s not the answer. The Rhen will never submit to the rule of Xerys.”
Quin popped the root back into his mouth and sprang instantly to his feet. Dusting off his long, black coat with the palms of his hands, he strode toward the door, making a sweeping gesture toward it.
“Well, then,” he announced. “We’d better get started. Shall we?”
Meiran gawked up at him.
“Started?”
Quin cracked a broad grin. “Titherry, remember? To find Athera’s Crescent? Ending the curse over the Black Lands sounds like it just might be the only recourse we have left. If you’re still willing to make the journey with me, that is.”
Meiran glared at him suspiciously. So, the darkmage still wanted to go through with it. She’d thought he’d forgotten all about the bargain they’d struck with Darien. Well, she’d since had a change of heart. She’d had enough.
“I’m not going anywhere with you,” Meiran told him coldly. “In fact, I’m going home.”
Quin gazed at her levelly. Reaching up, he plucked the root out from between his teeth and flicked it away. She couldn’t see his eyes under the shadow of his hat. But she could see the set of his jawline. He stuffed his hands into the pockets of his coat, facing her with feet spread apart.
“I wouldn’t advise that, Prime Warden. If we don’t find an end to the curse, you’ll leave Renquist no choice but to invade.”
Meiran glared up at him, her face set in anger. “I don’t care. I’ve seen enough. You’re just like Darien. They’ve manipulated you, Quin. They’ve manipulated your mind. I didn’t know you in life, so I can’t look at you the way I can look at Darien. I can’t tell you exactly how much you’ve changed and how corrupt you’ve become. But I do know this: at one time, you were the brother of Braden Reis. You must have had some sense of honor. Just look at how far you’ve fallen. I’m sorry, Quin. I can’t trust you.”
With that, she stood up. Looking down at her arm, she rotated it to confirm it was indeed very well mended. Not even a scar remained. She was grateful for that. But not grateful enough to stay.
“I’m going home,” she said. “I’ll find my own way from here. Please don’t follow me.”
She started to turn away, but Quin’s voice stopped her.
“Wait.”
Meiran turned back around. She looked at him sadly. Somewhere deep inside that emaciated husk of a body there was a soul, a soul that once might have been worthwhile. Perhaps Quin was irredeemable. Perhaps not. It didn’t matter; he wasn’t her problem any longer.
The Complete Rhenwars Saga: An Epic Fantasy Pentalogy Page 80
