Chosen

by Jolea M. Harrison

  “You should take another sample of blood,” Maralt said to her, thinking it would be handy to have her do it and bring the vial to him. Easier for certain.

  “Why would I want to do that?” she said and then muttered over the way she was thinking.

  “Geneal,” Roth said. “You’re talking to yourself.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” she said. “I do that sometimes.”

  “Why wouldn’t you do it?” Maralt asked, persisting. He really needed that vial and didn't want to traipse all over City Medical to find it.

  “I don’t need any more of his blood,” she said. “There are vials of it already.”

  “Geneal?” Roth said, setting aside his comboard and standing. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing,” she said quickly. “I’m just having some sort of strange internal debate that...well I don’t know. I’m just tired.”

  “Where are the vials?” Maralt said even more quietly than before, daring to push her for the answers he needed.

  “Where they’ve always been,” she said to herself this time, and Maralt saw a visual of a room that looked like a lab and had several storage units installed. That didn’t help him enough, so he asked for the specific location.

  Geneal whirled around looking for someone standing behind her, but found only Roth looking at her in concerned confusion that was growing to something more than that. Maralt supposed it was the mention of blood that set the First Minister on edge.

  Geneal pressed her hands to her head, fighting the compunction to tell Maralt what he wanted even when she didn’t know what she was fighting. He extracted the answer just before the pain in her head became the only thing she could think of.

  Maralt heard someone talking right next to him then. When his eyes cleared and his mind came back to himself, a man was standing over him, shaking him.

  “Are you all right?” The man was a doctor and this was his office. The tag he wore on his coat matched the nameplate on the desk.

  “Yes, I’m fine, thank you. I’m sorry,” Maralt said and pushed to his feet. “I’ve been working three shifts and I felt a little unsteady so I came in and sat down. I must have fallen asleep.”

  “Understandable under the circumstances,” Dr. Korin said, moving around to sit at his desk. “You should go home and get some rest. I’ll alert your superior that it’s necessary. What’s your name and section?”

  “No, that’s all right,” Maralt said. “I’m fine now. I’ll just go back to work—”

  “I noticed you weren’t wearing your identcard, which is grounds for dismissal. Especially right now.”

  Maralt feigned to look for the thing hoping to avoid entering the man’s mind to change a few things, but he saw the doctor’s fingers resting too closely to the companel in the desk and discovered that he was about to alert the guard.

  “That isn’t going to be necessary,” Maralt said in his head. “Move your hand from the controls. I’m going to leave and you’re not going to notify anyone. You never saw me. There was never anyone in your office. You’re just tired. You’re going to—”

  Maralt stopped. The last conversation the man had was playing through his mind, and it was all about Dynan. The whispers he heard were alarming. Maralt forgot about being gentle and extracted the sum of the discussion.

  There’d been a meeting between Eldelar Elger and a number of doctors, who accused the Chief of Palace Medicine of being too closely tied to the patient and his family to make an impartial decision. They all believed the time had come to end the young Prince’s struggle, or at least discontinue the support systems that were keeping him alive.

  “Where is this coming from?” Maralt asked the doctor. “Who’s behind it?”

  “Governor Alse.”

  “You agreed.”

  “Yes,” the doctor said. “The Governor is a family friend.”

  “You’re going to change your mind,” Maralt said. “Yes, you are. You’re going to support Eldelar in any decision he makes unless it involves cutting off those systems. This isn’t about political discourse, doctor. This is about the life of a young man who’ll survive if he’s given half a chance. It was only four days ago since he had his heart cut in half. Go tell Eldelar you’ve changed your mind. Now.”

  The man dithered behind his desk for a second before popping up as if on a string. He fought it for a moment, but then gave in. “He’s already on his way to speak to the King. It’s going to happen within the hour.”

  “No, it isn’t. Go tell Eldelar you’ve had a change of heart.”

  Dr. Korin left the office as commanded while Maralt stood uncertain what to do beside stop this catastrophe from taking place. He wasn’t sure how he’d manage it. He couldn’t imagine Ambrose Telaerin allowing it, but the risk that he might was too great. Ambrose had to be told something that would stop any consideration of it. He had to be given hope that his son would survive despite what the doctors might tell him.

  Maralt moved to the door, hesitating and abruptly keyed in the lock mechanism instead. He went back to the chair in front of the desk and sat down again.

  “Eminence,” he said in thought, reaching across the city to the Sacred Temple.

  “Maralt,” Gradyn answered almost instantly. “Where are you?”

  “At City Medical,” he said, and then gave him the explanation, but before the High Bishop could start berating him, told him the rest. “I have to talk to Ambrose Telaerin. He needs to hear the truth.”

  For a moment there was nothing but silence and a curtain that cut off Gradyn’s thought process so Maralt couldn’t tell what he might say about it.

  “Eminence,” Maralt said again when he thought enough time had gone by. “They’re going to speak with the King right now.”

  “If you tell him, Maralt, the consequences could be larger and worse than you imagine. Will he believe you? Will he be silent? Will he allow events that must happen to occur?”

  “How else can I stop them from turning the machines off?” Maralt asked. “Aside from going in there and forcing them not to do it. Is that what you want?”

  “Of course not, and you know it wouldn’t work, but telling the King the truth may not work either, particularly since I only just told him that none of it was real.”

  “I’ll tell him why you had to. I’ll convince him not to speak of it and I’ll make him see what has to be done.”

  “And how will you do that, Maralt, with the King?”

  “By talking to him. I won’t use any other method except at the outset when he’ll probably want to call the guard.”

  “How many have you turned today?”

  “A few,” Maralt said. “I know I shouldn’t.”

  “It’s a rare drug, isn’t it?” Gradyn asked him.

  “It’s just easy,” Maralt said. “I don’t have time for anything else.”

  For some reason, Gradyn smiled at the answer and then he nodded. “I’ve faith that you’ll do what is necessary and what is right.”

  Gradyn stepped back and there was a slight mental push that meant the conversation was over. Maralt realized he hadn’t gotten an answer. He thought for a second to talk to Carryn about it, but then changed his mind. He was afraid she’d talk him out of it and his nerves were already failing. Getting caught was only part of it. He couldn’t afford to fail. With the survival of the whole damn universe in the balance, the stakes were immense. Fear of being wrong kept him from moving for a moment.

  “I think I like it better when he just says do this or do that or this other thing,” he said to himself. “Well, I can't stand here and do nothing, can I?”

  At least the answer to that was easy.

  He walked out of Dr. Korin’s office and almost ran into another linen carrier, which was serendipity.

  “I need to borrow this,” he said, and took Medic Poole's id, and the stack of bed sheets. He made him forget about it and then made his way to the checkpoint. He wasn't stopped or even noticed.

  The gua
rd at the corner took his id number and put it into a comboard, which meant only certain bed changers were allowed into the family complex. Maralt prepared himself to alter the guard’s perception, but found himself waved through the next moment.

  “Make it quick,” he was told as he started away. “The King will be back soon and he won’t want you in there. Not after the news he’s getting.”

  “What news?” Maralt asked, wondering how many people knew.

  “Just do your job and move on.”

  Dynan wasn’t alone. While Roth and Geneal were gone, four of his friends were in. They spoke in feigned amusement, talking about the notes and cards they’d collected, joking about some of the content. The laughter was fleeting. They knew to expect bad news as well.

  “I need you to leave for a moment,” Maralt said and that was all it took for them to get up and file out, no mental push required. They were trained to do as they were told by figures of authority. Maralt supposed a Medic counted as one.

  The door closed and Maralt turned to Dynan, who looked even worse in person than he had through Geneal’s eyes. A labyrinth of tubes and bandages surrounded him. He lay completely still except for the forced rise and fall of his chest. Maralt had hoped he’d find some small spark of light around him but it wasn’t there.

  He saw himself stabbing Dynan again, the shock in his eyes, the look on his face, the blood pooling out of his mouth. Being responsible for Dynan’s death was more than Maralt wanted to think about, or endure should it turn out that way. He'd sworn an oath to protect him. Maralt closed his eyes against the rise of revulsion and fear.

  Ambrose Telaerin walked in and closed the door behind him. Maralt remained backed into the corner waiting for Melgan or one of the others to come in with him, but the King remained alone. He leaned against the door and Maralt thought he might break down, but he only pressed his palms into his eyes and then held his head a moment. Maralt waited for him to move to time his introduction when the King wasn’t standing next to the door and easy escape, or the companel in the wall.

  Ambrose was an astute man though, and turned abruptly at the foot of Dynan’s bed an instant before Maralt meant to speak. The uniform confused him a second, but Ambrose realized quickly that Maralt wasn’t a Medic.

  “Your Majesty, my name is Maralt Adaeryn. I’m from the Temple. The High Bishop knows I’m here. I’m a telepath like your sons. I know where they are. Please, let me talk to you and explain.”

  Ambrose regarded him, unafraid, taking in his appearance and judging him in one glance. It was the first time in his life Maralt was completely intimidated by anyone.

  “It’s all true,” the King said, watching him closely and Maralt could only nod.

  “Everything your father said to you before he died, yes. All of it, and more. It’s worse than you think. And if you tell anyone about this, Sir, even your closest friends, it will cause the end of the world. All the demon needs is a whisper now to come here, less than that. You can’t tell anyone about this. You can’t let them remove Dynan as heir. And you can’t let them turn off these machines.”

  ~*~

  Chapter 21

  The shelf below was a large circle of barren rock, studded with rough-hewn pillars arrayed around a central altar. It was dark; full of shadows even though it was open to the air. Large, jagged walls of rock rose to enclose it, making access to it difficult. The driving rain of blood had stopped, but a heavy mist of it hung in the air.

  Dain was chained to the altar, unmoving, blood oozing from the cuts in his arms over the surface of the rock. His eyes were open but sightless. For an instant, Dynan thought he was dead.

  Fadril set a hand on his arm to remind him to be still and wait. It was impossible to do, sitting there watching. The urge to go down to Dain was so nearly overwhelming that Dynan had to stop looking. He turned and slid down the face of the boulder he was behind, cutting off the terrible view. He studied his hands instead, and imagined them holding a sword.

  There was no sign of Alurn, which meant they were holding him somewhere out of sight, or somewhere else entirely. There wasn’t any easy way to find him, but then Dynan realized he could probably communicate with him since he was a telepath. Fadril didn’t want to risk it yet, just like she didn’t want to risk it with Dain.

  There was no sign of Adiem either, or any of the five other parts of him, or the other creatures that inhabited this world. The shelf was empty except for Dain. It probably wouldn’t stay empty for long, Dynan thought, if he took the chance to go down there,

  So he sat and waited, and tried not to think too much about the pain his brother was in, or wonder about Alurn. He thought about the research paper he’d been writing, a lifetime ago it seemed, and felt like he had it all wrong again. Certainly, Polen Forb was responsible for much of Cobalt’s success in battle, but he and Faulkin and Grint were men who would follow Alurn to their death. They already had. They didn't think he was immature or reckless. They believed in him.

  Dynan had a flash then of Alurn surrounded by stone, chained hand and foot, and unable to move. He looked exactly like Adiem and Dynan almost ran from him until he looked up. The eyes of his father looked back at him.

  Alurn recognized him, acknowledging his presence with a nod. He seemed to expect him. There was a hint of relief in his face. He showed Dynan where he was in relation to the shelf. Alurn took him on a path cut through the rocks, winding his way out of his prison. The entrance was beneath them.

  “Are you all right?” Dynan asked, curious about him and a little overwhelmed that he was meeting a legend.

  “I’ve seen better days,” Alurn said and smiled. “I’m better now. I hope you have a plan.”

  “Sort of,” Dynan said. “Hold on a minute.”

  Dynan turned to Fadril to tell her he knew where Alurn was and realized his mistake the next instant. Alurn was right there with him, looking at his wife. Dynan didn’t stand a chance of blocking out the flood of emotions that raced through his sixteen-year-old mind.

  “Hey! She’s like my grandmother,” he said to him.

  Alurn smiled at that. “Is she all right?”

  “She’s fine. Stop it, would you? You’ll get to talk to her in minute.”

  Fadril’s voice intruded on the silent conversation. “Are you talking to him? Dynan?”

  Dynan found himself pushed aside of his own mind, unable to keep Alurn from taking over, even while part of him remained chained in the cave. Dynan did his best to ignore what was going on. He didn’t really want to know what it was like to kiss Fadril. He concentrated on not finding out.

  “He shouldn’t have told you,” Fadril said, realizing easily enough who was kissing her.

  “I’m going to get you out of here,” Alurn said and wrapped her up in his/Dynan’s arms again. “Why do you think I came here? I mean, originally the bastard twisted it up to lure me in, but I found out you were really here. I’m not leaving without you.”

  “Seriously, this is not right,” Dynan muttered, annoyed he was being ignored.

  “It isn’t possible, Alurn,” she said, running her fingers down the side of his face.

  “It will be possible,” Alurn said. “I’m not leaving you here. You can’t ask me to. I can’t believe you stayed.”

  “We’ve both fought in our own way,” she said. “It was necessary.”

  Dynan intruded into their sphere of existence. “This is beautiful and all, but could you maybe wait until I’m not right here for it? Mother. Father.”

  Alurn laughed and put an arm around him, putting him between the two of them. “I’m sorry. But it’s been time beyond—”

  “The count of years,” Dynan said. “I get that. Where’s Adiem?”

  “The Six have gone down to the plain to meet your army and destroy it,” Alurn said and then looked at his wife. “Where did you find an army?”

  “They aren’t an army,” Dynan said. “It won’t take long to find that out. It’s a trap, isn’t it? The shelf.�
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  “Yes. They’ll know the moment you set foot there.” Alurn frowned for a second, his brows drawing downward and he looked over his shoulder. “But there might be a way. Have you and Dain ever mentally switched places?”

  “Yes,” Dynan said and started to see what Alurn might suggest.

  “You’ll have to do the same thing here, only you won’t switch, you’ll take over.”

  “Take over?” Dynan repeated. “Me, take over Dain?”

  “Yes,” Alurn said. “He won’t be the same. His strength has been taken, maybe to the point he won’t ever get it back. You’ll have to ignore the screaming. The demon brought him here, Dynan.”

  Fadril gasped at that. “Then Dynan could be taken too, the moment he touches his mind, Alurn.”

  “Not if he doesn’t allow it,” Alurn said and turned to him. “Don’t doubt your abilities. You’re first born.”

  “I wasn’t supposed to be,” Dynan said.

  “But you are. I know; your brother had some difficulty getting himself born. Not to get too detailed about it.”

  “Yes. How did you...No one knows that.”

  “I was there,” Alurn said. “I’m wondering who told you.”

  “Kamien.”

  “Ah,” Alurn nodded. “Interesting. Well, I can tell you without doubt that your birth happened for a reason, just the way it did. Maybe this reason, right now with Dain and what you’re faced with. Here you are and there he is, damned if you don’t save him. Once you’re physically joined with him, you can come get me. I’ll face Adiem when the time comes once I’m free. Go, before you lose your nerve. Don’t think about it too much.”

  But Alurn stopped him a moment longer, looking to his wife. Dynan swore under his breath and tried to be invisible and unknowing again.

  “I’m not leaving you here,” Alurn told her, caressing her face. “You can’t ask me to.”

  “I don’t have a choice,” she said. “But it won’t be for eternity, Alurn. When you finally put this to rights, when your namesake succeeds in the long fight, I’ll be free of my vow.”