Rarick’s face contorted and he pressed the sword into Tyla’s side. She gasped and her back arched. Jarrett surged forward, but Kalas knocked him back. “Please, that’s all I want. I just want to see my mother.”
“Betraying bitch,” Rarick hissed. “She’s dead.”
Kalas felt a catch in his chest. He hadn’t expected that. No matter what he’d thought of her, he’d never expected he wouldn’t have a chance to say goodbye.
He lowered the sword until the tip touched the stone of the tower floor. He couldn’t pull in his thoughts. He couldn’t make sense of what was happening. He felt Tyla’s eyes on him and he met her gaze. Tears slipped down her cheeks.
“Let her go, Rarick,” he said, “please.”
Rarick’s brow lowered. “Rarick? Rarick?” His voice rose. “You would dare to show such disrespect.”
Kalas realized his mistake immediately. “No, listen.”
“Rarick?” He pressed the sword into Tyla and she gave an involuntary cry of pain. A red spot blossomed around the sword’s tip.
“Stop!” Kalas shouted, taking a step forward.
Rarick wrenched her head back, making him stumble to a halt. “Surrender. Drop your sword.”
Kalas nodded. “Let her go first. Let her go and I’ll surrender.”
“No. No, I can’t trust you. I’ve never been able to trust you. Both of you betrayed me, both of you plotted and schemed behind my back.”
“No, we didn’t. We didn’t scheme.” Kalas felt panic edge into his voice.
The look in Rarick’s eyes was chilling – wild and feral, insane. He would never let Tyla go.
As the thought flashed into his mind, he knew Tyla caught it. Her gaze fixed on him for a moment, a shared moment of complete comprehension. They both knew Rarick would never let them live. Not now.
Her gaze shifted from Kalas to Jarrett and she gave him a sad, resigned smile.
“Tyla, don’t!” said the Terrian, but Tyla lifted her chin and her eyes narrowed.
Then she slammed her elbow into Rarick’s stomach.
Rarick doubled over, releasing her, and she fell, rolling into a sitting position.
Lifting the sword, Rarick grasped the hilt with both hands and brought it over her, ramming it downward.
“NO!”
The shout tore from Kalas’ throat. He felt a force rise up inside of him and lash out. At the same moment, a flash of green light ricochet around the tower room, smashing windows, sending bodies to the floor. A percussion of energy slammed into Rarick, lifted him off his feet, and caromed him backward. He smashed into the tower wall and hung there, suspended by energy, then slowly he slid down to crumple on the floor.
Kalas stepped between him and Tyla, his sword extended as he crossed the room. He came to a halt before the Sarkisian King, the tip of his blade aimed at the hollow of Rarick’s throat. Around him, green light eddied and surged, lighting his face with its glow.
Rarick lolled his head against the wall, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. It ran down the side of his throat and he gave a gurgling chuckle. “I knew it was in you. I knew it was there.”
Kalas stared down at the man who had tortured him all his life. The man who had made him beg and plead. The man who had robbed him of his father. His family. His life.
Rarick narrowed his eyes, flexing his hands in his lap. “I knew you had your father’s power.”
Kalas swallowed hard and the sword wavered.
Rarick’s eyes focused on it.
“You draw your weapon on me?” he demanded. “How dare you! After all I’ve done for you, you come here, trying to take my throne.”
Kalas wanted to answer. He wanted to shout that he’d never wanted anything from Rarick. Nothing, ever. Except peace. Except to be left alone. But the words wouldn’t come.
Rarick’s expression hardened. “Do you plan to kill me? Is that it? You think you can? You think you have it in you? Go on then. Do it. Kill me.”
Kalas’ hand trembled, but he didn’t lower the sword.
Rarick smiled again. “Help me up and we’ll rule Sarkisian together. Help me and it’ll be like it was before.”
The green light heaved and pulsed. Kalas gripped the sword harder, trying to hold it steady, but his body shook uncontrollably. Gritting his teeth, he tried to regain control, tried to banish the memories that assailed him, but they came, surging with the green light, assaulting him with their intensity.
Then he felt a touch in the center of his back, and small fingers curled around his hand where it held the sword. “It’s all right, Kalas,” said Tyla at his side. “You can let go. It’s over.”
Kalas shuddered, but he didn’t release the sword.
Tyla slid her hand over his, pressing his fingers. “Let it go. It’s over. He can’t hurt us anymore. It’s all right now.”
Kalas swallowed again, but slowly he relaxed his hold, letting her curl her own hand around the hilt. The sword lowered, the tip touching the stone of the tower floor.
Rarick chuckled again. “I knew you couldn’t do it. I knew you didn’t have it in you.”
Before Kalas could react, Tyla tightened her grip, drew her arm back, and stabbed forward. The sword rammed through the middle of Rarick, impaling him to the wall behind him. He gasped and his hands lifted, grabbing the blade and trying to wrench it free. Tyla leaned into the hilt, driving the sword deeper into his body.
Then she brought her face close to his and stared into his bulging eyes. “But I do,” she whispered.
EPILOGUE
Jarrett removed the rag from Tyla’s forehead and rinsed it in cold water, then replaced it. At her throat, the emerald flared briefly, then dulled. He picked up her hand. The heat of her flesh startled him and he fought a wave of panic. She hadn’t responded to his voice in more than a day.
Around him rose the fabric walls of the pavilion. He’d insisted she be moved from Stronghold. He couldn’t stand the thought of her in that place. Beyond the pavilion, Farad had ordered the Temerian camp be pitched beside the soldiers from Adishian. And beyond the military camp, the gates of Sarkisian were now open, allowing commerce to flow freely.
Kalas sat on the other side of her bed, but he and Jarrett alternated with Tash, when the older man allowed himself to sit. For the most part, Tash paced…paced and shouted for someone to do something.
They were trying. The healers from Temeron had given her every potion they could concoct and doctors from Sarkisian were brought in, but the poison raged unchecked. Her breathing was ragged and her cheeks were flushed with fever.
Standing or sitting around the perimeter of the pavilion were so many people, Jarrett couldn’t even keep track of the count. Muzik huddled to his left with Kian’s head in his lap. Inara held vigil behind Kalas. Even Earon floated in and out, watching Tyla anxiously. Kalas, himself, looked half sick. Dark circles bruised the flesh beneath his eyes and stubble covered his chin.
“You’ve got to do something, Farad,” said Tash.
“I don’t know what else to do, Tash. We’ve tried everything.” The misery in his voice was evident.
Jarrett pressed Tyla’s hand to his brow and closed his eyes. He wanted to rail, he wanted to scream, but he was helpless.
“How did you survive?” asked Tash.
Jarrett shook his head. “I don’t know. Tyla…” His voice trailed away. No words could make this better. Come back to me, he thought.
Exhaustion pressed at him, but he fought it. Laying his head against her arm, he closed his eyes. Just for a moment. Just a moment.
“Jarrett?” Someone touched his shoulder.
He jerked upright, sucking in a startled breath. Nothing had changed in the pavilion. Tyla still slept and the others stood around, ineffective and grieving. He shifted in his chair.
Kendrick stood behind him. “I need to talk to you. It’s important.”
Jarrett rubbed the last of sleep from his eyes. Nodding, he rose and bent over, kissing Tyla’s cheek. He
r flesh blazed beneath his lips.
He leaned close to her ear. “I love you,” he whispered, then released her hand and followed the Nazarien from the pavilion.
Stepping outside, he was surprised to find it was dusk, the sun lowering beyond the walls of Sarkisian, fires flickering in the military encampments. Kendrick motioned to a fold of volcanic rock that had flattened into a plateau. A few stunted trees covered the plateau and a lean-to had been erected in the middle of it. Standing before the lean-to was a man in silhouette.
“The Nazarien have arrived,” said Kendrick. “That’s the Nazar’s shelter.”
Jarrett didn’t respond.
“I went to see him, but he refused me. His guard wouldn’t even let me get within a pace of him.”
Jarrett frowned, not sure where Kendrick was going with this. He wanted to go back inside with Tyla.
“Jarrett, no one knows more about the Orahim poisons than the Nazarien. They’ve studied them for years. If there is an antidote, the Nazar knows of it.”
Jarrett’s head lifted. “But he wouldn’t see you?”
“That’s right. He wouldn’t let me get close. But…”
“But?”
“His guards said he’d see you.”
Jarrett clenched his jaw. He had no desire to see this man, but if there was even a slight possibility he had an antidote…
He started walking.
Kendrick caught his shoulder as he passed and turned him around. “Be careful, Jarrett.”
Jarrett arched a brow.
“He’s crafty, cunning. A man doesn’t become Nazar without knowing how to manipulate people.”
“I’ll be careful. Will you sit with Tyla for me? Come get me if anything changes, and don’t let any guards keep you away.”
“I will,” said the Nazarien, releasing him, “but remember what I said. Watch out for him.”
Jarrett offered Kendrick a nod, then turned away. As he climbed the plateau to the Nazar’s camp, he caught a glimpse of the guards, slinking just at the edge of sight, peering around the trees. The Nazar met him at the rim of the plateau, his blue eyes scanning Jarrett intently.
Jarrett came to a halt and surveyed the man in return. There was no denying his paternity. Even he could see their similarities. They were nearly the same height and build, the same darkness of hair. Their eyes were the same shade of blue.
“You’re favoring your side. Were you injured?” asked the Nazar.
Jarrett cocked his head in surprise. That hadn’t been what he’d expected him to say, but he had no intention of playing social games with this man. “Kendrick said you might have an antidote to the Orahim poison. Is that true?”
The Nazar motioned toward his lean-to. “Would you like a drink? You look exhausted.”
Jarrett followed him a few paces. “I want answers. Do you have an antidote?”
The Nazar turned and surveyed him yet again. “I do.”
“Then give it to me.”
Drawing a deep breath, the Nazar leaned against the table placed in the center of his shelter. “I appreciate directness. I would expect nothing less from a man of action.”
“I’m not here to banter. If you have the antidote, I want it.”
“I’m afraid it’s not that simple.”
“How so?”
The Nazar crossed his arms over his chest. “I didn’t become Nazar because I gave things away, Jarrett. Nothing in life is free. Neither is this.”
“What the hell are you talking about? My wife’s in that pavilion dying. Talar Eldralin’s daughter is dying, and you have the cure. Why did I even have to come up here?”
“Tyla’s plight is most unfortunate, but an opportunity should never be ignored.”
“What? What opportunity?”
The Nazar studied him. Jarrett found it unnerving, as if he were looking into a mirror at an older version of himself, but he refused to fidget. “I propose an exchange.”
“Exchange? What sort of exchange can you want? We’re talking about her life.”
“Then I think you’d be more than willing to listen.”
Jarrett forced himself to draw a deep breath. He opened and closed his hands. Kendrick was right. Getting furious and desperate was not going to sway this man. “That’s all you want? You want me to listen to you?”
“For now.”
“I don’t have time for this. My wife’s dying.” He couldn’t keep the tremor from his voice.
“I know that. This shouldn’t take long, but I ask you to indulge me…” His voice trailed off and he studied Jarrett some more, as if he were an interesting specimen in a laboratory. “It isn’t often that a Nazarien gets to have such a meeting with his son.”
Jarrett straightened his shoulders, but he gave nothing else away.
“You don’t seem surprised?”
Jarrett didn’t respond. He was too tired to care anymore.
“I’ll admit I had envisioned it a different way, but I’ve never been a man to look askance at an opportunity.” The Nazar held out his hands. “Come on, Jarrett. There must be at least one question you have for me.”
Jarrett drew another cleansing breath. “Only one. Why?”
“Why?”
“Why would you father a child on a human woman when you had any number of Nazarien women at your command?”
Tomlin Trauner nodded. “It’s a good question and the answer is simple. She belonged to me.”
Jarrett frowned. “What?”
“We grew up together, your mother and I. I knew very early on that I would have a child with her. I picked her myself. However, when we came of age and were scheduled for our first Procreation Ceremony, her mother panicked and disappeared with her.” The Nazar shrugged. “It was years later when I found out she’d followed Talar Eldralin to Terra Antiguo.”
Jarrett shook his head in confusion. “Wait a minute. You followed her to Terra Antiguo? A human woman? Did you love her?”
Tomlin cocked his head. “Love? Nazarien don’t love, Jarrett, no matter what you’ve been told. No, I didn’t love her, but I wanted her blood-line. I wanted a child by her, a son.”
“You wanted a half-Human son?”
Tomlin pushed away from the table. “Ah, I see your confusion. No, your mother’s only half-Human herself, but the other half…the other half is pure Nazarien, pure Nazar. That is the part of her I wanted.”
“Nazar?”
“She’s Andoloshian’s only surviving child. Do you realize the blood that flows in your veins?”
“So you followed her to Terra Antiguo?”
“I did, but by then she was already married to Murata and had given him a couple of pale, pasty off-spring. Still it didn’t take much to seduce her away. Murata was a drunken, abusive bastard…”
Jarrett took a menacing step forward. He hadn’t meant to give anything away, but he couldn’t help himself.
Tomlin’s eyes flashed to his face. “I’m sorry. Poor choice of words.”
“Poor choice…” Jarrett’s voice failed him. He gave a bark of laughter. “Poor choice of words? Do you know what he did to me? He almost killed me…numerous times.”
“I know.”
“No, you don’t. You stand here and tell me you knew he was abusive, but you had an affair with her and left me there to suffer for it. You left me there…”
Tomlin moved a step closer to him. “Not once I knew. Not once I had the evidence.”
“Every day was torture. He’d stand me in front of him and he’d punch me in the face, and if I didn’t take it, if I cried or whimpered or fell down, he’d do it again and again. You left me to that.”
“I didn’t.”
“Stop saying that!”
“But it’s true.” The Nazar grabbed Jarrett’s shoulders. Jarrett threw up his arms to break his hold, but he was too strong. “Think, Jarrett, think. Who do you think sent Lawyan to you? Who do you think told him what was going on?”
Jarrett went still. “What?”
Jarrett knocked the Nazar’s hands away. He took a step back. His mind couldn’t process what he was hearing.
“They wanted you to become a scholar, like Shad. Who do you think suggested to Shandar that you train at weapons? I told Shandar you needed to protect yourself, especially after what you’d already suffered. I was the one who orchestrated that.” He let his hands fall against his thighs. “I orchestrated everything. Who do you think sent you after Tyla Eldralin? I knew you needed to be tested, but Lawyan wanted to protect you. He didn’t want to chance you getting hurt, even for his own niece, but I encouraged it, I demanded it. Everything you are was orchestrated by me.”
Jarrett turned away. He looked out over the camps. The soldiers were shadows now, backlit by their fires. The only light on the plateau came from the lamp on the Nazar’s table. Lifting a hand, he rubbed his eyes. He needed to get back to Tyla.
“All right. I’ve heard your story. Now give me the antidote.”
Tomlin didn’t answer for a moment.
Jarrett looked over his shoulder at him.
“It’s not that simple, Jarrett.”
“Why? What more is there?” He faced him again.
“You didn’t ask why I left you in Terra Antiguo. Why I didn’t bring you to Chernow.”
“I don’t care.”
“But I do. This is where you must attend me, Jarrett. This is where it all has meaning.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I’ve dedicated my entire life to the Nazarien. You spoke of love earlier. Well, this is all that gives my life meaning. This is the closest I’ve ever come to love.”
“The Nazarien?”
Tomlin nodded. “But I’m not a foolish man. I see our weaknesses. We’re dying, Jarrett. Our Procreation Ceremonies have made it too difficult for us to reproduce, too prescribed. We can’t replenish our numbers fast enough.” He returned to his table and reached for a silver decanter. He poured a few fingers into the bottom of a glass and lifted it. His hand shook as he drank. Leaning against the table again, he regarded Jarrett. “I didn’t approve Nazarien marriages because I was honoring Talar Eldralin. I thought his weakness for his wife was that and nothing more. I approved those marriages because I was hoping that married couples would reproduce quicker, more prolifically, but too many of our comrades are afraid of taking such a vow. The very discipline and dedication we prize has become our noose. We are strangling under it.” He motioned at Jarrett with his glass. “You’ve seen this yourself. You see how rigid and shallow Kendrick is.”
The World of Samar Box Set 3 Page 51
