“The others?” Victor asked.
In response, Marshal pointed with his sword.
Victor turned. One of the twins knelt beside the still body of his brother. Victor’s guts twisted, both from the death and the fact that even now he couldn’t tell the twins apart.
“Gallus,” Marshal whispered, as if knowing his mind.
Victor looked about. Albus lay nearby, three arrows protruding from his chest, his eyes wide and unmoving. Had his curse released him at the moment of death? Had he seen one last time, one brief second of light, one look at the face of death itself? What a horrible thought.
Wolf sat nearby, looking more withdrawn than ever. His arm rested around the shoulders of Gnaeus, whose body shook with sobs.
“We’re lucky,” Marshal said. “We only lost three. Most squads lost more.” He gestured weakly around them.
“Three?”
“It will be three. Topleb is… hurt bad. I had Rufus and Merish carry him to the medics, but I don’t see…” He trailed off.
No. Not Topleb. Victor recalled, almost like remembering a dream, seeing him go down after killing the mage. He looked around again. They had been standing… not far from here. He took a few steps, then broke into a short run. Marshal followed.
Topleb’s atlatl lay on the ground where he had fallen. The fragments of two of his spears lay around it. Victor sheathed his sword and hung his flail on his belt. He bent and gathered Topleb’s fallen gear into his arms. He looked up at Marshal.
“Starshine,” he said. “It saved me. Maybe they can use it to save him.”
Marshal’s eyes lit up with a strange light, one Victor couldn’t identify. Not that it mattered. He clambered to his feet. “Let’s go find him.”
It took longer than he expected for them to make their way back from the battlefield into the camp and then find the medics. Three times, dirty conscripts rushed up to him and threw their arms around him, whispering thanks. Others just looked at him with tears in their eyes.
“Why are they doing this?” he asked Marshal.
Marshal raised his eyebrows and looked at him askance. “You don’t know?” Victor shook his head. “You fought the Rasnians. Alone.”
“But… but we all charged after they fired, didn’t we?”
Marshal shook his head. “You charged. No one else.”
“I didn’t—I couldn’t have killed them all by myself.”
Marshal shrugged. “You did the most. We followed after you, but you did most of it.”
Victor didn’t know what to say. He tried to remember his charge. The Rasnian soldiers. Hadn’t there been dozens of them? He couldn’t have. Marshal must not have seen the other conscripts that also attacked. And yet… he could not remember anyone fighting at his side.
The wails of the wounded led them to their destination. Victor tried not to look too closely as they moved between the hurt and dying. His foot slipped on wet ground and he almost fell, catching himself by grabbing Marshal’s arm. His other hand dropped Topleb’s weapons and hit the ground to push himself back up. Only then did he realize the wetness came from blood.
Lifting up his eyes, he saw Merish standing with a vacant expression and smile. At the same time, Rufus came running up to them.
“Have they… helped him?” Marshal asked.
“A doctor looked at him,” Rufus said. He glanced at Victor and flinched. “He muttered something about it being too late and went to the next man.”
Victor saw Topleb then, lying on a mat beside Merish. A single arrow jutted out from his left thigh. But his head and neck looked horrible. The entire right side was a mass of blood. His chest moved up and down with a wheezing that did not sound natural at all.
Marshal grabbed a man who tried to hurry past. “Are you a doctor?” he demanded.
“Yes…” He glanced at Marshal’s insignia. “…decanus. Is there a problem?”
“This man. Can you help him?”
The doctor looked to Topleb, then shook his head. “We haven’t the tools or skill to deal with something like that. I’m sorry.”
“What about starshine?” Victor said.
The doctor snorted. “Is he an elite? We have very little starshine and it’s only for them.”
Victor grabbed the doctor’s tunic. “This man saved us out there! He killed the mage. You need to save him!”
“I’m sorry. It’s out of my hands.”
“There he is!” Several regular soldiers hurried up, followed by a taller man in a Remavian Guard uniform. He looked them over and addressed himself to Victor.
“You’re the one who charged the enemy?”
“Yes, but—”
“You need to come with me. Lord Volraag wishes to see you.”
Victor looked to Marshal, their eyes wide. The Guard followed his gaze. “Your decanus is not summoned. Just you.”
Victor swallowed his protest. “Yes, sir.”
Victor hesitated at the entrance to the command tent. Volraag would not remember him, of course. When he visited Drusa’s Crossing, he had spoken only with the town leaders, Aelia, and Marshal. Even so, Victor could not restrain a shudder of trepidation as the Remavian Guard gestured him inside. He stepped out of the early twilight and into the large tent, lit by a pair of lanterns.
Volraag looked up from a map spread across a small table. It had been months, but Victor easily recognized Marshal’s half-brother, the new Lord of Varioch. If anything, he looked taller and stronger than he had that day. Try as he might, Victor could not see any resemblance between this man and his friend.
“Is this him?” Volraag asked.
“Yes, sir.”
The Lord stepped out from behind the table and put his hands behind his back. “I’m told that you’re the hero of the battle today,” he said to Victor.
“No, sir.” Victor shook his head.
“No?” Volraag looked back to the Guard. “Otioch, did you find the wrong man?”
“No, your lordship. The other conscripts had no doubt. This is the man.”
Volraag turned back to Victor. “So. Humility then. Did you not charge the enemy and defeat most of them alone?”
“They say I did, sir. But I did not kill the mage. My friend did that.”
“Then we should honor him as well,” Volraag said. “Otioch, find this friend and—”
“He’s dying,” Victor interrupted. “Please, sir. If you want to honor someone, do so by saving his life. Starshine can save him. I know it.”
Volraag cocked his head. “You are acquainted with the effects of starshine?”
Victor nodded. “It saved my life once.”
Volraag stepped closer and reached out. He pulled aside a piece of Victor’s tunic, exposing the long scar across his chest. Until that moment, Victor hadn’t even noticed that his tunic hung in tatters. How had that happened?
“So I see. Very well. Otioch, find this injured man and make sure they make every effort to save his life, including starshine if necessary.”
“As you command, sir.” The Guard ducked and left the tent.
Victor found himself alone with Lord Volraag. The thought crossed his mind that he could draw his sword and end all of this with one quick thrust. Yet even as he thought it, he dismissed the idea. He had no concept of how well Volraag could use his powers.
“You have fought before.”
Victor jumped, as the raspy voice did not come from Volraag, but from behind him. He could have sworn they were alone in the tent. He turned as another Remavian Guard stepped out of the tent’s shadows, looking him over. Victor took in a sharp breath. The leper assassin! But… no. This man looked very like him, but not quite the same. How could there be two of them?
The Guard moved past him. “He has a scar on his back even larger,” he told Volraag. “Not fully healed.”
“The time you were saved by starshine?” Volraag asked.
Victor nodded.
“Who were you fighting?”
“It was…
an insane man.”
“No doubt.” Volraag nodded in approval. “Otherwise, you’d be cursed yourself, I suppose. Which raises another question. I’m told you’re part of a curse squad.”
“What is your curse?” the leprous-looking Guard asked. Victor tried to keep himself from shivering.
“I am not cursed. I am there because of a friend.”
“The same friend who killed the mage?”
“No. Another friend.”
“Loyalty is commendable. But sacrificing your own future and achievements for someone who can never return the favor? That’s going a bit far, don’t you think?”
“It wouldn’t be called sacrifice then.” Victor wasn’t sure where that response had come from. It just felt right.
The Guard hissed. What a strange reaction.
“Rathri, there’s no need to traumatize our brave soldier.” Volraag waved the Guard away. Victor couldn’t help noticing a brief look of annoyance on the Lord’s face.
Volraag took a deep breath. He stepped forward and placed a hand on Victor’s shoulder. “We’ve gotten sidetracked. I invited you here to see you for myself and to honor you. What you did today took great courage and skill. If you like, I would be proud to have you move up to the regular army, out of the conscripts. In time, if you continue to prove yourself, you would be a prime candidate for my Remavian Guard.”
It was everything Victor ever wanted. All he had to do was say yes. It wouldn’t even be a problem with his Bond to Marshal. While this war lasted, Bonds were overruled. In the midst of the battle today, he had experienced no sense of Marshal, even though he had been in grave danger.
All he had to do was say yes. All he had to do was abandon his friend.
“Thank you, sir. But I’d rather stay where I am.” They were the right words, but he could not help the regret that flooded him upon saying them.
Volraag nodded as if he expected that answer. He removed his hand and walked back to his table. “Your friend will be saved, if it is at all possible. And your squad will receive double rations for the next three days.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“You may go.”
Victor started toward the entrance.
“Should you change your mind…” Volraag said.
Victor paused.
“The offer remains open.”
Victor nodded and left the tent.
“He has been around a magic user.”
Volraag looked up as Rathri’s voice disturbed his thoughts. The assassin’s behavior during his meeting with the conscript hero had been disturbing. Volraag hadn’t even noticed his return. “What are you talking about?”
“The conscript. He has been around someone with power.”
“The Rasnian mage? He was close, at least.”
“No.” Rathri pulled his helmet off, revealing his hairless, decaying skin. “Not a brief encounter. He has been in close proximity to magic for a lengthy time. He’s absorbed it.”
“I’ve never heard of such a thing.”
“It is why I asked to be by your side. Those who stay close to a Lord for the longest are transformed by their magic.”
“If that were true, I would have heard it,” Volraag argued. “More, that would mean my mother…”
“Your mother?”
Memories flooded back into Volraag’s head, memories of his childhood. His mother’s hands shaking. The doctor never understood. The treatment…
“She died,” Volraag said. “She died because of it.”
Rathri scratched his head and flakes of skin tumbled off. Volraag tried not to let his revulsion show. “I have made a long study of this,” he said. “Most of the time, it is the Lord’s wife who absorbs excess power. Sometimes, they can cope with it, even use it. Sometimes… not.”
The revelation upended much of what Volraag thought he knew of his mother. But that could not be the focus of his thoughts right now. He considered the immediate implications.
“Are you suggesting that conscript is actually a close confidante of Lord Tyrr?”
“I don’t know who it is. But it is someone with great power.”
“Recent, you say?”
“Recent and prolonged.”
“In the curse squad.”
A long silence followed.
“Your brother is cursed, is he not?” Rathri asked.
Volraag leaned on his table. “I learned… recently… that my half-brother’s curse was lifted.”
“That is not possible.”
“The mages on Zes Sivas disagree with you. And so does… my source.”
“Not. Possible.” Rathri’s scowl transformed his repulsive face into something downright horrifying.
“Regardless. Why am I even discussing this with you? Otioch!”
The tent door pushed open and Volraag’s right hand entered. “Your lordship?”
“The hero you brought in earlier. I have reason to believe he may be in contact with… someone of power.”
“You need a spy.”
Volraag nodded. “I promised double rations for the squad for three days. See to it. And find one of them willing to be your spy. I want to know everything there is to know about this Victor. And who his friends are.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
VICTOR RETURNED TO the diminished curse squad’s camp area. The darkness of night enveloped the camp, broken only by each squad’s fire. Callus and Gnaeus sat by their own. He didn’t see anyone else around.
“Where’s Marshal?”
Callus pointed toward the tents.
Victor found the tent he shared with his friend and lifted the flap. “Marshal?”
Marshal sat inside, his knees pulled up to his chest. He glanced up when Victor peered in, but did not move.
“Are you all right?”
Marshal hugged his knees. “Is he coming for me?”
“Volraag? No. I didn’t mention you at all.”
“Then why did he want to see you?”
“Uh, the battle? He offered me a transfer to the regular army. I turned him down.” Victor crawled into the tent and let the flap close. “But good news! He sent someone to bring Topleb some starshine.”
Marshal nodded, but did not look at him. “That’s good,” he whispered.
“What’s wrong with you?”
Marshal finally looked at him, his face twisted. “How can you ask that? After… that battle? Two of our men died, Victor!” He looked away again. “Two of my men.”
“A lot of men died.” Victor crossed his legs and settled into a more comfortable position. “But… yeah, it’s horrible. This is war.”
“I never wanted this.”
“Can’t change it now. But you could do something good.”
“What’s that?”
Victor pointed outside the tent. “Callus and Gnaeus are grieving. You should go talk to them.”
“Why? What good would that do?”
“You’re their leader!”
“No.” Marshal seemed to pull himself even smaller. “No, I’m not. You are.”
“We already talked about this.”
“You talked about it. I’m still not a leader. I’m worthless.”
“Worthless? Don’t be ridiculous. You—you’re practically a Lord! Your mother died for you!”
“And what good did it do?” Marshal lashed out. “She died! Nian died! Gallus and Albus died! Everyone around me dies! And it’s all for nothing!”
Victor grabbed Marshal’s tunic and forced him to look him in the face. “You don’t know how important you are. You’re—”
Vibration tossed Victor away from Marshal into the side of the tent. For a moment, he remained still, stunned that Marshal would do such a thing.
“Well, look at that,” he said at last. “I guess your power is coming back after all.”
“What difference does it make?”
“You’re upset that Gallus and Albus died? Then next time, don’t hold back. Protect them all. You have the powe
r.”
“And then Volraag will find me and we’ll all be dead, anyway.”
“Not if you do it right! You can change things here. You can make a difference!”
“I’ll just fail again. It’s hopeless.”
Victor’s own emotions threatened to overwhelm him. After everything they had been through today… His voice shook. “I just turned down everything I ever wanted. For you.”
“I didn’t ask you to do that. I don’t want that.”
“And you didn’t want Aelia to die, either, but she did! For you! Because you’re worth it! She—she would have told you. That you have a purpose, right?”
“She was wrong. And so are you.”
“You’re pathetic.” Victor clambered out of the tent.
The air outside the tent felt cool through Victor’s tattered tunic. He shivered, but whether from the chill or from the turmoil he felt inside, he didn’t know. What was wrong with Marshal? How could he possibly feel that way after all they had been through? It made no sense.
He turned down Volraag’s offer, only to be treated like this? It stung. Volraag said the offer remained open, though. For a moment, he considered it. But only for a moment.
He worked his way back to the fire where Gnaeus and Callus still sat. He warmed himself for a minute or so, knowing he needed to say something to these two. If Marshal wouldn’t help them, someone had to. Callus sat with one knee pulled up to his chest, staring into the fire. Gnaeus held his twisted hand with his other, staring as if it were the cause of all his problems. He probably believed that. Victor took a deep breath.
“Callus, your brother was a good man. Will you—will you be all right?”
The young man did not respond.
“Callus?”
“We’ve always been together,” he said, still staring at the fire. “We never left each other’s side.”
“I noticed that,” Victor said, trying to keep his voice calm and soothing. He had no idea if he were succeeding.
“That’s part of why people think we’re strange. Even cursed. Not just because we look the same, but because we stay together.” Callus shrugged. “We just enjoyed each other’s company more than anyone else.”
Until All Bonds Are Broken Page 12
