“Here. Eat something.” A hand offered him a cold strip of cooked meat. He took it with a shaking hand and ate quickly. How had he gotten so ravenous? The stars. He had been trapped by them again. Who knew how long it had been this time?
He managed to sit up and found himself looking into the eyes of his rescuer. A human. Here. And not Marshal.
His height, though tall by human standards, barely put him at Talinir’s eye level while seated. He did not look well fed. His clothes hung in tatters, and his gray hair and beard long and disheveled. Pale, sun-starved skin was broken up by blotches of pure darkness, some around the size of a coin, others much larger. Talinir recognized the symptoms, but not on a human. He must have been here for many years.
“Who—” Talinir began.
“Who I am is not important,” the man interrupted. He stuck a spear into the ground and removed a battered water pouch from his belt. “Your identity matters more just now. Am I right in thinking you are Talinir?”
The warden nodded. His benefactor offered him the water pouch and he drank. The water, though warm, felt exquisite on his parched throat.
“Good to know. I was looking for you. But I didn’t expect to find one of your kind caught by the stars. Why is that happening?” The man stared at Talinir with such intensity, the warden felt uncomfortable.
“I am… all here,” he said.
“I can see that you’re here. What— oh. You mean you’re here, as in, all of you is here? What does that mean?”
Talinir started to rub his eyes and found them dry. He blinked multiple times. “An Eldani is normally a part of both worlds,” he said. “As a warden, I spend most of my life in the primary world. That is, most of my physical essence is there. A part of me remains here, which allows me to see with this eye.” He pointed at his right eye. “And even interact with things here, to some degree. Many of my race, however, do the opposite, keeping most of their essence here and only a portion in the primary world.”
He made a sweeping gesture to reference his entire body. “But now… I was dragged into the Starlit Realm all at once. I am here, all of me. I cannot see the primary world at all.”
The man’s expression did not change. “And this is a problem for you, is it?”
“Yes!” Talinir pulled his knees up. “It is wrong! Unnatural. And if I stay here like this for very long, I risk…” He stopped.
“You risk becoming one of the dark ones,” the man finished for him.
Talinir nodded. “The Durunim.”
The man removed his eyes from Talinir for the first time and looked around. He made his way to the remains of a fallen tree and sat down. He leaned his long spear against the tree trunk, keeping it near him, and sighed.
Talinir eyed him. “I don’t know who you are, but I cannot do this on my own,” he said. “You have already assisted me greatly. Can you help me further?”
The man looked up. “Help you? Oh, yes. I’ll do that. It’s why I was looking for you. I promised my… that young man that I would do that.”
“Young man? Marshal?”
“Marshal? Is that his name? Marshal.” The man seemed pleased to hear that.
“Was his face covered in scars?”
The man nodded.
“That was Marshal. Is he still here?”
“No, he’s returned to his proper place. But I strongly suspect that you’ll meet again. In the meantime, what are we to do with you?”
Talinir looked away. “I had thought to go southwest, to the high place. It’s on the border of Varioch and Rasna.”
“You won’t get through there,” the man said. “That one’s been buried on the other side. But I hear they may be fighting over it now.”
“Of course. The war.” Talinir closed his eyes. “Then I suppose I should head toward Intal Eldanir. It’s the most likely place.”
“Let me offer another suggestion,” the man said. “I could take you that way, but it’s far away from where I eventually want to go. What about the northern high place instead?”
Talinir opened his eyes again. “The one in Ch’olan? Why there?”
“It’s on my way. And it’s not much further than the trip to Intal Eldanir, if I’m calculating correctly.”
Talinir nodded. “I suppose that will work. If you don’t mind, I will rest, and then we can start.”
“You do that. I don’t think you could get more than a few yards right now, anyway.”
Talinir made himself as comfortable as he could. “I will repay your kindness,” he told his rescuer. “What do I call you?”
The man snorted. “I’ve picked up a few names in my time. For now… call me Janaab.”
Janaab. The name sounded like it came from Ch’olan. Perhaps it explained the man’s desire to travel in that direction. But it didn’t explain how he got here, his true identity, or what… Talinir could think no more about it. He fell asleep.
CHAPTER EIGHT
VICTOR FINISHED FILLETING the two fish and handed the dagger back to Marshal with a chuckle. “Your brother may have meant that dagger for a twisted purpose, but it’s come in pretty handy.”
“Half-brother,” Marshal said. He wiped off Volraag’s dagger and put it away.
Victor pushed a skewer through one of the fish and set it carefully on the smoldering fire pit. He repeated it with the second. “Should be just a few minutes,” he murmured. “Who needs Talinir, anyway?”
“You can make tea?” Marshal said. “With sugar?”
Victor rolled his eyes. “This is gratitude. Keep that up and—” He broke off as Marshal shot a look over his shoulder. A moment later, he heard it too: voices.
“Up here!” one called. “Coming!” came the answer from a different direction.
Victor got to his feet and took a quick glance around their makeshift camp. His flail lay on the ground near the fire, but it wouldn’t be much use with so many trees around. He put his hand on his sword hilt, noting that Marshal had done the same.
Two soldiers approached over the edge of the hill. They wore regular Varioch army uniforms and carried short swords and triangular shields. A rustle behind Victor signaled the arrival of more. He looked back and saw three more soldiers, one of whom wore a helmet. The leader, maybe?
“Watch yourselves,” one of the first soldiers said. “They’ve got swords.”
“And we know how to use them,” Victor said, moving back-to-back with Marshal. “What do you want with us?”
The helmeted soldier circled around in front of them. Victor kept facing him, while Marshal maintained their defensive posture.
“Two young men, both with swords, both who know how to use them,” the leader said. “Sounds like you’re practically perfect for the army.”
“We’re not interested,” said Victor, but a slight thrill went down his back. Being part of the army had been his dream for years, before any of this, before Marshal.
“That doesn’t matter,” one of the other soldiers said. His companion elbowed him.
The leader stopped circling. “Indeed, it really doesn’t. You see, we’re the Lord’s conscriptors. It’s our job to find new soldiers for his Lordship’s army.”
One of the soldiers, a large man who stood a head taller than his comrades, gestured at Marshal with his sword. “What about that one, venator? Those scars. He might be cursed.”
The venator waved it off. “Well, put him in the curse squad. I don’t care.”
“No,” Marshal said.
“No?” The venator chuckled. “Did you hear that, boys? The freak said no. He thinks he has a choice.”
“Will you try to force us?” Victor asked. “Are you willing to risk getting cursed?”
“You haven’t heard,” the venator said. “Lord Volraag has declared war. While carrying out his orders, we don’t risk a thing!”
At that moment, Nian burst onto the scene in a flurry of robes. “What is going on here? I insist you leave these two alone!”
The venator raised
his hands and took a step back. “Your pardon, priest. But we are here under his Lordship’s orders.”
“And I am telling you, in the name of Theon, to let these men go. They are engaged on a vitally important mission.”
“And what would that be?”
“I am not… authorized to tell you.”
“He’s making it up,” one of the other soldiers said.
Nian spun on him. “You accuse a priest of Theon of telling lies?”
“How do we even know he’s a priest?” the larger soldier asked. “I mean, he’s obviously not from around here, is he?”
“Albus raises a good point,” the venator said. “Tell me your name, priest. And if I go to the temple—what’s left of it—will they know you there?”
Nian glared at him.
“Nian,” Victor said softly. “Let it go. We’ll deal with them.”
The priest looked at him. “I will not allow it. There has been enough fighting and killing already.”
“Take them,” the venator said.
The four soldiers lowered their swords and moved in. Marshal and Victor swept out their swords and took defensive stances.
“I will not countenance this!” Nian insisted.
“You can’t stop us,” Albus said. He took another step toward Marshal.
Nian shoved his way between Marshal and the soldier. Victor tried to keep an eye on both of them while watching the soldiers in front of him. Two against five were not good odds, but he and Marshal might be better trained. And if Marshal’s magical blade ward still worked, and if he could summon some of his power…
“Get out of the way, priest!”
“I will not.”
Albus tried to push him out of the way with his shield, but Nian dodged around it. The priest grabbed Albus’s sword hand and tried to push it away.
“All right, that’s enough,” the venator said, moving forward to intervene.
“Let go!”
“Leave them be!”
It happened faster than anyone else could react. Albus yanked back and forth, trying to get Nian to release his sword hand. When the priest’s grip finally weakened, Albus didn’t realize it and shoved forward again. His sword cut cleanly through Nian’s chest.
“Nian!” Marshal screamed. Victor spun around and lunged forward. He caught the priest as he fell.
Marshal dropped his sword and fell to his knees beside Nian as Victor lowered him to the ground. Albus stepped back, his mouth and eyes open in horror, his sword dripping Nian’s blood. The other soldiers looked equally horrified.
“You killed a priest!”
“No! No, I… I didn’t mean to…”
Victor ignored them. He pulled Nian’s robe aside to look at the wound. His breath caught at seeing the size of it. Marshal pushed him aside and shoved parts of the robe into the wound, trying to stop the blood flow.
“Marshal…” Nian wheezed.
“It’s all right,” Victor said. “Don’t try to talk. We’ll… we’ll get help. We…” He looked up. “Are any of you trained in healing?”
The soldiers looked helplessly at each other. The venator snorted.
“No curses, Marshal,” Nian said, his voice growing weaker. “Blessings.”
“Nian…”
“Blessings…”
The priest gasped once more, and then the air left him in one final breath. He grew still, his eyes staring up at the sky that somehow seemed much darker than a few moments ago.
For another moment, no one moved or spoke.
“My eyes!” Albus screamed. He dropped both sword and shield and grabbed at his head. “I can’t see!”
The other soldiers backed away and murmured as Albus staggered from side to side. Two of them dropped their shields so they could touch their palms with index fingers.
“It’s the curse!”
“I thought we were immune to curses!”
“But it’s a priest!”
Albus screamed and dropped to his knees. Victor stood, sword in hand, at first intent on avenging his friend. But as he took a step, he hesitated. Albus began to weep, making pathetic sounds for a man his size.
“Idiots!” the venator bellowed. He stepped up and slapped Albus across the face, silencing him.
“Curses don’t apply to us if we’re doing our jobs!” He glared around at the other three soldiers. “Killing a priest is not part of the job! Now pull yourselves together!”
He turned to Victor. “This has gone far enough, don’t you agree?”
Victor’s eyes narrowed. “It went too far the moment you arrived.”
The venator met his stare. “We have a job to do, by the orders of Lord Volraag. Now. You can come along with us, or we fight, and more people die.”
“You and your men will be the ones who die.”
“No.” Marshal stepped up and put a hand on Victor’s arm. He shook his head.
“Marshal?”
“We’ll come,” Marshal said to the venator.
“I’m glad one of you has sense. Fine. Let’s—”
“Wait.” Marshal pointed at Nian’s body. “You must… take him to the other priests.”
The venator raised an eyebrow, either at the request or at Marshal’s stumbling voice. He looked at them for a moment, then nodded. “I will see it done.”
He gestured to one of the soldiers. “You. Take the priest’s body to the temple. The rest of us will escort these two to the camp.”
“Venator, Sir? What about Albus?”
“Bring him too.”
Victor took one last look at Nian. The priest had annoyed him from time to time and perplexed him often, but he had done everything he could to help them during Aelia’s plan for Marshal and ever since. He would be missed.
“The pillars of Raeton,” Marshal said.
“What?”
“He never… got to see… pillars of Raeton.”
Raindrops began to fall, sizzling on the abandoned fire pit and the crisp, burnt fish.
CHAPTER NINE
“WHAT IS THAT horrible sound?” Seri asked.
Ixchel paused from laying out her bedroll. “That would be frogs, my Lady,” she said. “We’re not far from a creek. They will probably sing all night.”
Seri frowned. She didn’t remember sleeping outside much. Actually, she didn’t remember doing it at all. Sleeping on the ship that brought them here had been a new experience. But this… she didn’t know what to think about this.
She also wasn’t used to this much walking. Ixchel led the way, but allowed frequent stops for the other two to rest. Dravid, despite his impairment, seemed less tired than Seri. That just wasn’t fair.
Still, she would make the best of it. She reached for her pack, then hesitated. How was she supposed to change into sleep clothes with Dravid around? These were things she had never considered before agreeing to go on this quest.
“You may change over there,” Ixchel said, as if reading her thoughts. She pointed to several trees close together. “Behind those trees. I will watch out for you.”
Dravid glanced up from his bedroll. His eyes darted back and forth between them, then returned to the tiny fire he had started. He even knew how to start fires!
Seri went behind the trees and struggled with changing into her sleep clothes. Where was she supposed to put one set of clothes while she took off the others? With no other choices, she set them carefully on the ground, but examined each one thoroughly for bugs before putting it on. Shoes were the hardest. How did Ixchel walk around without them all the time, anyway? She decided to wait until back at her bedroll before removing them.
She hesitated only briefly before returning to the fire. Even this, walking in front of a man in her night clothes, would be unthinkable back home in Arazu. For Theon’s sake, she exposed her bare feet! She wasted no time in gathering her blanket around herself as she sat. Arazu’s customs dated back before the founding of Antises. Seri had been raised to respect those customs, to be proud of them. Ye
t tonight she felt silly.
Dravid looked up and smiled. Why did his smile have to be so… so cute? He had the barest hint of dimples in his cheeks during each smile.
Stop it. Those kind of thoughts did not belong, at least not right now. The unusual circumstances threw off her self-control. She took a deep breath.
“Tell me how you made the fire,” she said.
Dravid showed little surprise at her request. “When we gathered the wood,” he began, “I filled the lowest level of this pile with debris: twigs, small broken pieces, everything as small as possible…”
Seri listened intently. When Dravid explained things, he often used broad gestures. Tonight was no exception. His mannerisms had always fascinated her, along with his looks, and that smile. Her eyes drifted and settled briefly on the point where his left leg ended so abruptly. She felt a pang in her heart at the wrongness of it. So completely wrong.
Dravid stopped talking and followed her gaze. He looked away.
Seri gasped. “Oh, I’m so sorry, Dravid! My mind was drifting. I wasn’t… I didn’t…”
“It’s all right.” Dravid took a deep breath and looked back at the fire. “Everyone will look at that part of me. For the rest of my life.”
“I said my mind was drifting!” Seri insisted. “You know that doesn’t bother me.”
“It should. It bothers me. Every moment. Sometimes it hurts, even though it’s not there.”
Seri sighed. She pulled her knees up to her chin and looked into the fire herself. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Every time she even thought about a man in… that way… she said or did something stupid. It felt worse this time, because Dravid was her friend. She really did care for him, even if she wasn’t sure how much. She took a quick look up at his face to see what he might be thinking.
He wasn’t looking at her. He seemed greatly distracted by something off to his right. Seri looked.
Ixchel knelt on her bedroll. She had washed off her face paint and unbound her braid. Her dark brown hair, surprisingly long when released, reached almost to her mid-back. She brushed it with care, not noticing the other two watching her.
Until All Bonds Are Broken Page 4
