Kheled brought his hands within a few inches of one another, and a miniature roiling ball of fire winked on in the space between.
“Conjuration or summoning…”
He lowered one hand to his lap, making the illusory star disappear, and flipped the other hand over with palm facing up. An apple popped into the air and landed in his waiting hand. He brought it to his face and took a bite.
“And shape change or shifting,” he finished through a full mouth.
He dropped the apple to the floor, revealing his face. His nose had lengthened and fused with his mouth to form a giant, yellow beak. He massaged his face with both hands, and when he put them back into his lap, his visage had almost returned to normal. The tip of his nose glowed a bright yellow despite the switch back to humanoid nose and mouth.
“I’m not very good at that last one,” he said, grinning at his audience’s shock.
“That’s unbelievable!” Raimie exclaimed breathlessly.
“It’s not as amazing as it seems, trust me. Each of those techniques comes accompanied with drawbacks. Esela who rely on illusions too heavily eventually fall prey to living in said illusions. Conjuration only works on real world objects in close proximity to the magic wielder, and shape change requires adopting the mindset of whatever new form is taken. Many a young Eselan gets trapped in an altered form during the first attempt to shape change because the attempt was made without adequate preparation. And of course, all magic takes a toll on the body. Use too much, and the wielder goes into energy debt.”
“All right, I understand,” Raimie raised his hands in surrender. “On top of being legendary creatures of yore, Esela are ridiculously powerful even taking into account magical drawbacks. So please explain why I, a mere human child, am hoping to prove myself to all of you fantastic creatures?”
Kheled took his time collecting his thoughts, never removing his gaze from his clasped hands. The healer’s serious demeanor rang alarm bells in Raimie’s head. Was Allanovian planning on collecting payment from him for services rendered? Did they know he couldn’t pay? If he couldn’t impress his usefulness, would they dispose of him?
“They know about the prophecy. They expect you to fulfill it.”
Raimie burst out laughing, holding his ribs as steady as he could with every shake of his shoulders. What an unbelievably unexpected mess.
“They must have missed the message from Eledis, assuming he ended up here like he planned,” he breathed, wiping his eyes and failing to contain his chortles. “I’m going nowhere, and I’m definitely not picking a fight with an evil overlord.”
A cascade of emotions dashed over Kheled’s face, fury followed by frustration which landed on pity.
“You really think you have a choice, don’t you?” he asked quietly. “Even with your home destroyed and your father maimed. Even after landing in the exact same spot your grandfather has turned into his base of operations.”
The healer shook his head sadly.
“You should accept your role in your story and get on with it.”
Raimie inhaled to rip through Kheled with a host of insulting words, but he was interrupted by a light slap.
“No. Don’t get angry with me,” the Eselan snapped, rubbing his stinging hand. “Direct that rage at whatever god created our shitty little world with its horrible circumstances, be that Alouin or whomever else you might believe in. Then, once you’ve finished sulking and being a selfish bastard, maybe we can discuss the trials my people will force on you, whether you want to accept your role or not.”
Raimie gulped his mouth open and shut like a fish, speechless at Kheled’s audacity. Even with anger roaring through his thoughts, he couldn’t help but admire the Eselan’s willingness to speak hard truths no matter the consequences, and much as he was loath to admit it, Kheled was right. He’d already defied prophecy once with disastrous consequences. Who could predict what might happen next if he continued to resist?
He’d also been, as the healer had said, a selfish bastard. He may have told Eledis and his father that he wouldn’t attempt to liberate Auden because of a lack of feasibility, but the truth was he’d been afraid. He’d been terrified of leaving his familiar home with his familiar family and familiar routine, of being required to make diplomatic ties with people he had no hope of comprehending, and of undertaking responsibility for the people of a kingdom he’d never heard of but was destined to free.
Well, to hell with fear. It hadn’t done Raimie any good.
He was afraid of making a fool of himself with new people? He’d take part in as many social interactions as possible until the practice allowed him to fake his way through any negotiation. He was afraid of responsibility? No one wanted to be responsible for another person. Raimie would take the task on so no one else had to. Why should he care about feasibility? Anything could be made possible with time and effort, even liberating an entire nation from the rule of a dictator.
“All right then,” Kheled said once acceptance had dawned. “There will be two trials, each designed to ensure that you are indeed the one foretold of generations ago. I can only fully explain the first since the second will involve closely guarded Eselan secrets, but I’ll tell you as much as I can about both. Let’s start with how to deal with the Council…”
* * *
It was mid-day by the time Kheled was finished. From what little the healer had been able to reveal, the trials themselves seemed simple enough, but the minutiae of etiquette had been intricate and overwhelmingly boring. Raimie knew he hadn’t absorbed enough of the details, but he couldn’t worry about how one slip of manners might affect the outcome of the next few days.
He grappled with the fact that he’d agreed to go along with Eledis’ ridiculous prophecy, oscillating between the belief that his decision made him an idiotic idealist or a pragmatic realist.
Once he’d finished with his explanation, Kheled had relinquished several books into Raimie’s care and murmured something about other patients and tending to them before disappearing, leaving Raimie in solitude.
The Sun fell closer and closer to the horizon, transforming its rays into rainbows via the trickle of water outside the slits in the wall. By early evening, Raimie was numb with boredom. He could only agonize over his decision, process new knowledge, and read for so long before his brain cried out for some other diversion.
He cast a guilty look around, even though he was clearly alone, climbed out of bed, and padded to the clinic’s entrance. Peering down the visible length of the hallway, Raimie chewed on his lower lip. It only took a few seconds of agonizing before he proceeded down it, bare feet slapping against stone.
Wall sconces provided illumination once sunlight fell far behind, appearing with greater frequency the deeper into the earth Raimie delved. The hallway gradually widened and dead ended into another passageway.
Raimie had a choice of right or left, and he picked the side with voices emanating from it. After a yard of smooth stone, doorways opened every twenty feet on either side of the corridor, leading into simple residences. Each contained a straw bed, a chest, and a table with a wash basin. Most were immaculately clean, but a small number had a few personal belongings, such as weapons and garments, strewn about. Three or four were presently occupied by Esela, and Raimie forced himself not the stop and stare. The rooms’ occupants were distracted by various activities such as lounging in bed with a book, washing up, or sharpening blades, but one noticed him padding by.
She did a double take and stiffened, reaching for her sword before confusion caused her to pause. Raimie passed her door before she could decide whether or not to attack.
“Someone else can deal with it,” he heard her mutter before he was out of earshot.
The whisper of voices that had drawn him in this direction exploded into a roar when Raimie turned the next corner. The hallway continued on another thousand feet or so before bending again, but to his left, a large archway led into a massive cavern.
Giant
stalactites hung from the ceiling, and along the perimeter of the open space, smaller stalagmites hugged the floor. A roaring fire was built into an enormous hearth carved out of the far wall.
The cave was packed with hundreds of Esela, all garbed in black-dyed leather armor. A large number of those gathered were armed with curiously curved swords, and some few had daggers and throwing knives hanging from various belts, loops, and straps. They lounged at tables scattered around the room or stood, conversing or eating. In one corner, straw men had been dressed and staked to poles, and smatterings of those assembled were attacking them with fists and swords.
One Eselan noticed Raimie gaping and went through the same confused and hostile reaction the woman in the hallway had displayed. His companions noticed his expression, and a wave of silence spread through the cavern.
Observing so many people seconds from drawing weapons against him, Raimie froze. It felt like an eternity before someone spoke.
“It’s Aramar’s whelp.”
Just like the tension before it, a wave of relaxation swept through the room. Several groans and sighs echoed off of the walls and ceiling.
“Someone get Kheled. He’s supposed to contain it until it’s had its chance at the trials.”
One male split off from his group and raced down a different corridor from the one Raimie blocked. Chatter started up again, although not quite as loudly as before.
Raimie was acutely aware of the curious glances directed his way. He turned to make his escape and was immediately blocked by the female he’d passed. Her hand rested lightly on her sword hilt, and she shook her head.
Raimie flopped against the archway, fully prepared to bide his time for an hour or more while waiting. To his surprise, it didn’t take long before Kheled came marching toward him through the cavern. Grabbing Raimie’s arm, he bowed to the female.
“My apologies, mistress.”
The woman inclined her head and left to join her brethren at a table.
“I leave you alone for a few minutes, and you get yourself in trouble,” Kheled hissed once she was out of earshot.
“Technically,” Raimie held up a finger, “it was a few hours.”
Kheled rolled his eyes and tugged on Raimie’s arm, not unkindly.
The Eselan led his patient back to the clinic, never releasing his hold. Once they were safely tucked away, Kheled sat Raimie down on a cot and retrieved his mortar and pestle. He mixed another sleep tonic and handed it off to the young man once it was finished. Only then did he give Raimie his dinner.
“I was bringing this back for you when they dragged me away. The Zrelnach aren’t the most kind when they’re annoyed so some of the food may be squashed.”
Raimie ducked his head, only a little ashamed of his exploration, and accepted the sustenance. Kheled fumed a few moments more before he relaxed.
“I know it’s boring waiting in this tiny room, and I’m sorry for that. If Eledis hasn’t returned tomorrow, maybe I can give you a short tour of the city?”
“Please!” Raimie fervently replied.
“Sounds like a plan. Eat your food, drink your tonic, and go to sleep. We’ll do something more interesting tomorrow, I promise.”
“Thank you!” Raimie gratefully exclaimed.
“You’re welcome.”
Raimie devoured his dinner, enjoying every delicious, slightly bruised bite. Once he was finished, he drank his tonic to the very last drop under the healer’s watchful eye.
“Good night, Khel,” he yawned, settling into bed with drooping eyes.
“Good night.”
* * *
After what felt like mere seconds, rough hands shook him awake.
“What?” he complained, swiping at the agitating hands.
Raimie glared at Kheled.
“It’s not even light outside!”
Kheled shrugged.
“I’m only doing as I’m told,” he explained. “Your grandfather has returned with a small army, and he’s insisting that you’re brought to him immediately. He’s also insisting you wear this.”
The Eselan dropped a stack of clothing into his lap. Ramie unfolded an outfit consisting of a purple-dyed, gold-embroidered, silk robe and a pair of linen hose. He wrinkled his nose.
“Or…” Kheled continued, placing another bundle of clothing next to Raimie’s leg.
Raimie snatched his old clothing from the sheets. They’d been laundered, but the pungent smell of smoke still clung to every fiber. None of the burn marks had been repaired, and additional garments had been added to both hide and accentuate the fire damage at the same time.
Kheled turned his back so Raimie could change. He donned his pants and secured them to his waist with a brand new belt. An empty scabbard dangled off of it to his left. His tunic came next followed by a flexible leather vest that fell halfway down his torso before cutting off. A cross-shoulder and waist harness holding his bow and an empty quiver came after that. His accouterment was finished by stiff, boiled leather pauldrons that continued in a close fitting sheath to the wrist. Every piece of leather had been dyed black.
“It’s mostly for show, but I thought the appearance of armor would do more for your standing with Eledis’ men and the Esela than fancy, noble’s clothes would. Plus, I thought it might better fit your purposes.
“I found what I could in your size from the scraps cast aside by the Zrelnach’s dedicated armorer. Someone will get you fitted for real armor once you’ve passed your trials, but you can use this ramshackle combination in the meantime,” Kheled commented without turning around.
Behind the Eselan, Raimie struggled to shove his feet into a new pair of knee high boots. After much huffing and puffing, his toes reached the end of the shoe’s sole. He shoved the scraggly ends of his pants into the boots’ tops, but some of the edges refused to stay in place. He gave up after his third attempt to tame them. Standing, Raimie cleared his throat, letting Kheled know that he could turn around.
“Well now, that outfit ought to tell the proper story, don’t you think?” the Eselan asked with a smirk.
He took a few steps back and withdrew a small hand mirror from his waistband.
Raimie had a general idea of what he looked like based off of blurry and distorted images viewed in creek water, but this was the first time he’d seen such a clear reflection.
He immediately despaired of his mousy brown hair, unruly without a comb to tame it; his crooked nose; and his elephant ears. His uncertainty broadcasted from his astonishingly clear, pale, blue eyes and from the slight frown curling his full lips. Stubble covered his lack of cheekbones, and his gangly body was disguised with his clothing.
And disguise they did, masking the bewildered teenager with a different story. That tale spoke of a young man who’d walked through fire to fulfill his duties, ready and willing to fight to see them through. The only piece needed to sell the story was a careless grin. Raimie tried one on, and the illusion was complete.
“Ooo, I think you gave me goose bumps,” Kheled teased, putting the mirror away.
“Very funny,” Raimie laughed. “I feel like a nervous wreck.”
“But you don’t look it. That’s the key to leading and quite honestly, a lot of other things in life. You fake it until you make it, or you believe the lie yourself.”
“I’ll try,” Raimie said, “but I’m astonishingly awful at putting on a face.”
“Fortunately, you’ll only have to do it on the short walk from here to your grandfather. Can you last that long?”
“I think so,” Raimie replied with more confidence than he felt.
“Fantastic. In that case, I only have one more gift for you.”
The Eselan unhooked a dagger from his belt and offered it hilt first to the young man. Ramie gingerly accepted, delicately balancing the grip of the weapon between thumb and pointer finger.
“This is very important, Raimie,” Kheled solemnly said. “Allanovian has certain rules, and by giving you that dagger, I’m bre
aking one of the most sacred. Humans, precluding certain special circumstances, aren’t allowed to carry or have access to weapons within Allanovian’s walls. You should be armed, considering the type of person that’s already attacked you, but if I’m found to have broken this rule, I’m dead. I need you to promise that you won’t use that dagger unless your life’s in danger.”
Raimie gulped and flipped the dagger so that the hilt smacked firmly in his healing palm. He grimaced at the flare of pain.
“I’ll do my best.”
He carefully slid the weapon into his right boot until even the hilt was covered by leather. Kheled puffed out a long breath, obviously uncomfortable with trusting someone else.
“Let’s get you to Eledis,” he said, passing Raimie into the corridor beyond.
They arrived at the first crossroad, and the healer abruptly stopped. Raimie cartwheeled his arms to keep from careening into Kheled’s back.
“Might as well give you that tour I promised,” the Eselan said, shrugging. “The direction you turned earlier this evening leads to the Zrelnach’s quarters. Zrelnach is the name Allanovian gives to the members of its army, which, if rumors are to be believed, is currently one of the most elite fighting forces in Ada’ir, and on this particular topic, I’d believe the rumors. They’re the reason Eledis has remained here and that you’re completing the trials. Even with a small increase of five hundred Zrelnach, about half of the current roster, your goals would become infinitely easier to achieve. Down the other direction are quarters for the general populace.”
“So you’re saying that I went exactly the wrong direction last night,” Raimie said, fighting back a yawn at the reminder of how little sleep he’d had since then.
“You could say that.”
“Why are you so sure of the Zrelnach’s capability?”
“Let’s just say that I’ve some experience with them,” Kheled replied, grimacing as he turned away from the barracks.
The Undying Champions (The Eternal War Book 1) Page 12
