Awakening Camelot: A Wizard's Quest (Awakening Camelot Duology Book 1)

by Dan Wingreen

  Two Rivers eyed him warily from where he lay on the ground.

  "He seemed more interested in talking before," Bryce said in that same drawling tone. It set Two Rivers' teeth on edge. It also, to his surprise, seemed to bother the brown-haired man as well. His eyes narrowed slightly.

  "You questioned him?"

  Bryce seemed to realize he'd said something wrong. "No," he said, a hint of wariness replacing the arrogant drawl, "He was just sort of shouting."

  The man turned back towards Bryce and Barnes. "And why was he shouting?"

  "I don't know," Bryce said, holding up his hands. "Barnes was the one talking to him, I just heard the shouting. Don't blame me."

  The new arrival turned to Barnes. "Officer Barnes, was I at all less than clear when I told you to stay away from the young man no matter how much bodily harm you might want to inflict?"

  Barnes shifted uncomfortably, looking a lot like Two Rivers when he was getting scolded by the Shaman. At any other time, he probably would have laughed.

  "He was giving me lip."

  The man closed his eyes and sighed. Apparently Two Rivers wasn't the only one to think that excuse sucked.

  "Get inside the tent, both of you. We will be having a discussion on orders, and the proper following of them, later."

  Barnes wasted no time, rushing into the tent almost before the man had finished speaking. Bryce was slower about it, but Two Rivers got the impression he was trying really hard to force himself to seem unconcerned. When they were inside the yurt, the man turned back to Two Rivers, his expression surprisingly pleasant.

  "Well," he said. "Now that they're gone, maybe we can have a conversation, hmm?"

  He seemed to be waiting for a response, but when he didn't get one he moved on easily. "Perhaps we should start off by introducing ourselves. My name is Noah. What's yours?"

  He paused, and again Two Rivers stayed silent, not trusting this new outsider no matter how polite his voice was. He wasn't going to say a word. He glanced at the Shaman and was shocked by the sad resignation on his face. It wasn't the sadness that surprised him. He'd seen the Shaman sad before, many times. But this was the first time he'd ever seen the Shaman look…helpless.

  The man laughed softly to himself. "Where are my manners?" He walked over to Two Rivers, who stiffened. Instead of hitting him or doing something awful with all the magic writhing inside of him, he grabbed him by the shoulders and sat him up. Two Rivers' back protested after being on the stiff ground for what had to be hours, but he refused to make so much as a grunt of discomfort.

  "Now," Noah said, crouching down in front of Two Rivers, "we can talk face to face."

  Noah didn't seem all that surprised when he didn’t respond.

  "You don't want to talk? Well that's fine; you don't need to right now." He ran his palm over his thinning hair. "Although, I have to tell you, I did have higher hopes for you than the rest of your village. They haven’t been too keen on speaking to me either."

  Two Rivers started. "Th-they're alive?"

  So much for not saying anything…

  "Some, at least," Noah said, "For now."

  Two Rivers bit the inside of his cheek to keep from saying anything else. Again, Noah didn't seem surprised or disturbed by the silence.

  "Who is this man to you?" Noah asked suddenly, gesturing at the Shaman. Two Rivers blinked in surprise. Noah's lips pulled into a tiny, barely there smile. "Just because you don't want to talk doesn't mean I can't ask questions. I'm curious, that's all. Curiosity should be given every opportunity to be satisfied," he added with the distinct air of someone quoting somebody else.

  Two Rivers set his jaw stubbornly, hoping his defiance masked his thundering heart and trembling hands.

  "Is he your lover?"

  "What? No! That—" Two Rivers clamped his mouth shut.

  Noah smiled that almost invisible smile again. "Well, that was indeed a strong reaction. Denial? Or perhaps you don't want him to know the true feelings you're harboring for him…?"

  "No!" Two Rivers yelled again before he got a hold of himself. "I'm not into—" He clenched his jaw.

  "Not into…men? Or maybe older men?" Noah suggested when it was obvious he wasn't going to complete the sentence. He made a thoughtful noise. "Interesting how that's what you went with and not 'he's my father' or 'my uncle'. So, he's not family, then?" Noah cocked his head. "Do savages even have families?"

  Two Rivers bristled. He knew he was being goaded, but he couldn't stop himself. "Savages? We're not the ones killing and torturing whole villages just to ask them stupid questions!"

  "And yet you kill anyone who goes too far into your desert. In very inventive and, dare I say, savage ways as well," Noah said. "Is it savage to respond to savagery with savagery?"

  "You attacked us first! This was our land and you came and—"

  "I didn't come from anywhere or do anything. I was born in Kentucky, all the way on the other side of this country. I've never even seen a shaman until today, so tell me why should I be held responsible for the actions of men who died three hundred years before I was even born? Why should anybody who makes a wrong turn and winds up in the desert be held accountable for such actions? Does that not seem savage to you?"

  Two Rivers glared at him. "Everyone knows what outsiders are like."

  Noah laughed. "Oh! So, everyone knows what we're like? And how do you know that everyone is right? Has everyone spent time around outsiders to know them so well? Have you? Have you ever even seen an outsider before today?"

  "Ye—"

  It was only by pure chance that he glanced past Noah right then and saw the warning look the Shaman shot him, but it was too late. Even though he cut himself off before he could fully answer, he saw the gleam of satisfaction in Noah's eyes.

  So, that's what they were doing here. They wanted Aidan and Eallair.

  And Two Rivers might as well have just shouted that they had been here without even a hand being laid on him, when the Shaman, and who knew how many other People, probably hadn't even given him that much while they were being tortured.

  "And did you talk with these outsiders that you met?" Noah asked, a thread of eagerness slipping into his voice. "Did they tell you who they were? What they believed in? Where they were going? Did they tell you that they weren't as bad as you'd always thought and, if they did, why would you believe them and not me?"

  Two Rivers stayed silent.

  "Did your grandfather speak to them as well?" Noah asked.

  "He's not my grandfather!" Two Rivers internally swore at himself. He hated that he couldn't just keep his mouth shut.

  "But he is your family, correct? Even animals have families, so savages must have them as well. Although I do wonder why you so obviously care for him, yet you hold back admitting his relation to you."

  Two Rivers' anger began to flare higher at the ‘savage’ comment, but one look past Noah at the Shaman snuffed it out completely. The sadness was back in his eyes, and Two Rivers couldn't stand it anymore. It was too much like disappointment.

  "Yes, he is. He's…" Two Rivers trailed off, looking at the battered and bloody Shaman—no, his bloody and battered father—right in the eye. "He's the only family I have."

  If Two Rivers was going to die, at least the Shaman would know for sure how he thought of him.

  His ruined lips twitched into a warm smile, the warmest that had ever been directed at Two Rivers, and he knew with more surety than he’d ever known anything that wasn’t a vision, that the Shaman felt the same. Tears welled up in Two Rivers’ eyes. Why had he wasted so much time keeping his distance? Why was it only now, when everything they had loved and fought so hard to protect was burned to ash around them, that they could be honest with each other?

  "That's good," Noah said, nodding. "Family is important." He looked intently at Two Rivers but seemed unphased by his sudden tears. "But do you know what's more important even than family?"

  He paused.

  "Loyalty. Loyal
ty to your people, loyalty to your way of life. Loyalty to your leader. And that leads me to my next question, which is, and this is really the most important question that any man can ever ask or be asked of another, are you loyal?"

  He didn't wait for Two Rivers to answer. "Now, if I thought you were loyal I would try to manipulate you and tell you that your loyalty to your people demands you tell me everything I want to know to save them from more of the suffering and pain I would happily inflict upon them, etcetera, etcetera. But, here’s the thing.” Noah leaned in close and locked eyes with him. “I don't think you're loyal.

  "You can tell a lot about a man by looking into his eyes. My daddy always said that to me when he knew I was lying and wanted me to confess my misdeeds, but he was right, nonetheless. I've looked into your eyes, boy, and I do not see loyalty." Noah's eyes seemed to bore into Two Rivers' soul, and he couldn't suppress a shiver. "I see fear."

  He continued, saying lightly, "But, no one’s perfect, and even I’ve been proven wrong on occasion, so here's what we're going to do. I'm going to test your loyalty. If you're loyal, truly loyal, then you won't answer my question. If you're truly loyal, under no circumstances will you give me what I want. No matter what I do, you'll sit there in silence and make me so angry that I kill you, thus denying me the information I want. Just like this old man and every other shaman I've questioned today." He gave the battered Shaman a significant look.

  "It may take some time," he admitted, picking up speed as he spoke. "But I am not possessed of infinite patience and, in fact, am known to have something of a temper, and, I assure you, if you frustrate me enough I will kill you in a fit of the blinding rage my daddy failed to beat out of me when I was a child. So, I ask you, do you think you can be that loyal?" He leaned even closer, so close Two Rivers could smell his breath. Mint and ash. Sweetness and death. "Do you think you can prove me wrong, boy?"

  Two Rivers began to shake. So, this was it. He was really going to die. And not even right away, but only after a lot of pain and possibly the shame of knowing his entire People had suffered for nothing. He was glad he didn't know who survived now. If he gave in, he didn't want to picture their faces. He didn't want to think about the disgust and contempt they'd have for him. That would be a thousand times worse than all the distance and pity in the world.

  And he would be lying if he said he was eager to see what kind of torture they suffered through. What he was about to suffer through.

  Although…maybe that didn't matter, because strangely enough it was thoughts of the Shaman's face that stopped his shaking. It wasn't just the simmering anger that hadn't fully died. It wasn't just the shame of being weak when others had been strong. It wasn't the devastation of the Shaman's face that steeled his spine. It was, for the first time in his life, that he looked at the Shaman and saw a man he thought he could become. He'd saved Swift Cloud when he thought she would die because he was too weak. Maybe he was more than his limitations. Maybe he could show this outsider, who dared pass judgment on his people, what true loyalty was.

  Maybe he could make his Shaman proud.

  "Do what you want to me," Two Rivers said, glaring defiantly into Noah's eyes. Let him see the truth of who he really was, of who he could be. "I won't say anything."

  Noah smiled then, not one of those small, near invisible ones, but a slow, full smile that crinkled his eyes and made the lines on his face seem like canyons.

  "Silly boy," Noah said as he got to his feet. "When did I ever say I was gonna do anything to you?"

  He made a quick gesture with two fingers on one hand, and a spray of warm liquid splashed against Two Rivers' face. He stared in horror, barely even feeling the blood dripping down his cheeks as the Shaman's right ear was sliced off his head by some invisible magic. It dropped to the sand with a wet smack he could hear even over the Shaman's short scream.

  "Let's see how much I have to cut off before you talk."

  "No!" Two Rivers screamed.

  "No. No, I don't think that was an 'I'll tell you everything' no," Noah said. "Shall we move on, then?"

  He gestured again and the same invisible blade cut off the thumb on the Shaman's right hand.

  "Stop!" Two Rivers gritted his teeth as he twisted and pulled at the rope tying his hands. Noah cut off another finger. Two Rivers’ wrists burned as he scraped them raw trying to get free, but he refused to acknowledge such a small pain when the Shaman was literally being cut to pieces in front of him.

  In the end, that was his only victory. The bindings wouldn't come loose. He couldn’t free himself.

  "Only one thing can make me stop," Noah said as he cut a strip of flesh from the Shaman's arm, exposing muscle and a sickening amount of bone. "Answer my questions."

  "You're not even asking any!" Two Rivers screamed, his voice cracking again.

  Another slow smile spread across Noah's face. "No. No, I'm not, am I?"

  He cut off the Shaman's middle finger.

  Tears blurred Two Rivers' vision. There had to be something he could do! If only he had enough magic…

  "Do you know why I'm not?" Noah asked. "Because I'm not in the habit of wasting my time. You haven't given in to the inevitable yet. You still think there's another way out of this; I can see it in your eyes, and the eyes. Never. Lie."

  Two Rivers tried to ignore him, tried to block him out. He had to focus. He was awake and his head was clear, so he had to have some magic. He'd always been quick to recharge, and he didn't even need much, just enough to take the bastard by surprise. He closed his eyes and tried to look inward, the way the Shaman had taught him. Tried to see into the deepest parts of himself where his magic lived. If he could see it, then he could use it—

  There!

  Just a spark. Just a tiny bit of magic trickling into a vast, deep well of emptiness, but it was enough. It had to be.

  It wasn't.

  He pulled at it, but it slipped through his trembling fingers like precious water after a long drought.

  He truly was helpless.

  Noah chuckled softly. "Now I think we're ready for a question."

  Two Rivers stared at him, tears streaming down his cheeks.

  "Where are the outsiders going?"

  Shame slithered through Two Rivers’ like an eel. He couldn't even look at the Shaman as he opened his mouth to—

  "No! Do not…answer—" The Shaman's words were cut off with a choked, gurgling scream as Noah spun around and gestured harshly with his hand. Two Rivers watched in horror and disgust as the Shaman coughed and spat a thick, pink piece of meat out of his mouth and onto the sand.

  His tongue.

  Two Rivers turned his head and threw up.

  "One of the great ironies of my profession," Noah said in mild frustration. "People only ever want to talk when I don't want them to."

  He walked over to Two Rivers and laid his hand on his forehead. There was a white flash, and Two Rivers' nausea disappeared mid-vomit.

  "Now I believe you were about to say something?"

  Breathing heavily, Two Rivers slowly turned his head back to Noah. Behind him, the Shaman looked at Two Rivers intently. He almost laughed. Even with pieces cut off him and bleeding from more places than he could count, the Shaman still managed to look like a teacher waiting for his student to finally understand the lesson.

  And this time, Two Rivers thought maybe he did. He looked into Noah's eyes and closed his mouth deliberately.

  For one brief, glorious moment, the outsider finally looked surprised.

  Then the look faded, and he smiled.

  "All right then," he said evenly. "Let's continue."

  As Two Rivers watched, Noah started cutting into the Shaman again. With every slice and every bit of flesh that fell to the ground, he could feel the determination to stay silent waver. Every cut was like a cut on his spirit, every piece of the Shaman that fell to the bloody sand was like a piece of him dying. But he refused to open his mouth. He couldn't. He couldn't….

  "Where a
re they going?" Noah asked harshly as he sliced into the Shaman.

  Another finger fell.

  "What are they planning?"

  He pulled out a tooth.

  "Why did you help them?"

  He cut off the Shaman's now fingerless right hand.

  "Where. Did. They. Go?"

  He couldn't…

  Noah spun around, frustration creeping into his expression.

  "I'm only just getting started, boy. I have a whole other side to work on." He gestured and the Shaman's left ear came off. "But, I know what you're thinking. You're thinking that eventually I'm going to run out of things to cut off the old man. That eventually he's going to die and be free from all the pain. But you know what? When I'm done, when there isn't anything left for me to cut off, do you know what I'm going to do?"

  He couldn't…

  Noah knelt down in front of Two Rivers and brought his face close. With a start, Two Rivers realized he had the same eyes as the coyote from that long-ago vision. His breath was still surprisingly sweet as he whispered, "I'm going to heal him up and do it all again. Over and over." His eyes flashed with power and purpose and Two Rivers knew he was speaking the truth. After all, the eyes never lied. "Forever."

  He couldn't…

  He just couldn't.

  "I'm sorry," he whispered, forcing himself to look past Noah at the bloody mess that was the Shaman. Their eyes locked and he could the see the Shaman silently urging him not to say anything. He could almost hear the words: "Be strong. I can handle pain. Do not let them win. Do not betray your people. You can endure."

  But he couldn't.

  He couldn't endure. He couldn't watch the Shaman be tortured over and over again. He'd already lost his parents once and it cracked something inside of him. Watching this happen to the Shaman broke it fully. He could feel the jagged edges tearing at him from the inside and he couldn't stand another second of it. Noah was right. He wasn't loyal. He was selfish and weak and he couldn't put his People ahead of himself. He couldn't be the Shaman they needed.

  So, he did the only thing he could do.

  "They're going east," he said. His voice was ragged and hoarse and completely appropriate for speaking betrayal. "To someplace called Ohio."