“Bale Farrushaw,” Prianhe said with an almost breathless reverence. “I killed you. I watched you die.”
Farrus stared back at Navan Prianhe intensely. As they circled each other, he would spin his blade back and forth. A long time ago he had told Sim that such ticks were the telltale sign of a poor swordsman. It gave your opponent a chance to time your attacks. Sim wondered if he was doing it on purpose to trick Prianhe into making a mistake. “And yet, here I stand before you, Navan,” Farrus said through gritted teeth.
“An oversight, Bale,” Prianhe inclined his head toward Sim. “I came here for the trival. Killing you again will be a bonus.”
Sim had seen enough. He knew from watching Prianhe fight Givara, that Farrus had no chance. He couldn’t let anymore people he cared about die in his name. He gripped his sword and started for the ramp, but found his legs unable to move. He looked down at his feet in surprise as he found himself planted to the floor where he stood. The gem around his neck was hot against his chest. He hadn’t noticed it before because he had been preoccupied by the fighting.
“Let me go, Enaya,” he shouted at her, knowing it was the trivarial power that held him in place. He’d figured out that when someone directed the trivarial power at him, the gem reacted by heating up. “I can help them.”
“I know you can, Sim,” she answered, her eyes filled with terror. “But not with the sword.”
“I need time to concentrate to use the power. I’m not ready yet.” He watched horrified as Prianhe began his attack on Farrus, striking with speed and deadly efficiency. Sim had been trained in the art of swordplay by Farrus. Age had slowed the old guardsman down. He knew his friend was about to die at the hands of Desirmor’s monomach.
“You can Sim. You must focus.” The fear in her voice was palpable, but still Enaya did her best to be a calming influence.
Sim looked down at the scene on the floor. Givara had gotten back into the fray. She hobbled and limped but did her best to offer Prianhe a distraction to give Farrus a chance in the fight. Watching the grace and skill Prianhe displayed with his sword, Sim knew he didn’t have long. If he couldn’t harness his power, his friends would die.
He closed his eyes and tightened his fists. In his mind he tried to form a mental image of Prianhe engaging Farrus in combat. It took a few moments, but he made it happen. Holding on to the image of Prianhe, Sim imagined him lifting into the air and being hurled against the far wall in the room. He focused on the force it would take to throw him hard enough that the impact would knock him out or even kill him. The gem grew hot against his chest. He opened his eyes to the scene below. Givara lay on the ground, clutching at her arm, slowly pulling herself toward the Trevloc. Prianhe stood over Farrus, who was trying desperately to defend himself lying with his back to the ground. Sim knew the next blow could be the last.
Taking the image he’d formed in his mind, Sim took hold of the gem and held his free hand out before him. He forced his will toward Prianhe. At first Prianhe seemed to stumble around clumsily as though he were being lifted by a group of small children. He looked down at his feet with surprise, trying to understand why he was suddenly floating off of the floor. His eyes turned to Sim. He leveled a hate-filled glare that made the blood in Sim’s veins turn to ice. Then Sim pushed out his hand, and Prianhe shot through the air, crashing violently against the stone wall right next to the entranceway. His body crumbled to the ground in a heap, his sword clanging beside him. He didn’t move.
Farrus slowly got to his feet. He clutched at his left side and limped toward Givara. When he came up beside her, he offered her a hand up which she gratefully accepted. They stood for a moment in silence, their eyes locked together. Then Givara draped her arm over his shoulder, and the two of them stumbled together toward the ramp and up into the compartment. Both were covered in blood from several wounds given by Prianhe’s sword, but neither seemed to be in immediate danger of bleeding out.
“Please. We must leave now,” Enaya begged the rider.
She looked to be in shock at the scene she had just witnessed but common sense told her to do as she was asked. Closing her eyes, she began a short incantation, finishing after flourishing her right hand in a wide arc. A light appeared over the compartment that bled down over them, forming a dome in which they were encapsulated. Then she took the reins of the trevloc and screamed an unintelligible command. The trevloc rose, rearing up and standing on its hind quarters. Sim sat in disbelief. Even though they all should have fallen right out of the now vertical compartment, it still appeared as if everything within the dome was level. The rider must have created the illusion with the trivarial power. Seated on the wooden bench, Sim’s weight didn’t even shift around. He sat as easily as he would have in a chair on the ground. Long hairless wings reached out on either side of the trevloc, like gigantic gray sails. The wings flipped up and down several times as though the trevloc was stretching them out. Then it kicked its hind legs and leapt into the air, its great wings thrusting back and forth lifting up off of the ground. They rose quickly, as the trevloc gained speed effortlessly.
A group of armed guards rushed into the landing station and watched the trevloc fly away.
Prianhe’s body still lay motionless on the ground below, and Sim watched it fade away with resignation. He knew Prianhe was still alive. He had to be. One way or another he would be there on that rainy cliffside. Sim just had to hope his vision was wrong.
As the trevloc climbed higher into the sky, the city of Carleton became smaller and fainter. The ships docked in the port looked like little toy boats a child might play with and the houses like faded pearls lined up in a jewelry case. The ocean lay out before them, a sea of blue pushing the horizon, leading to a world of possibilities. Sim felt his pulse race. He’d never been off of Caramour. They were heading to places that he had only heard about in books and conversation -- cities with buildings reaching into the clouds. Lands with mountains, and deserts, and wonders too impossible for him to imagine. And snow! He couldn’t wait to see snow. Sarimus had told him of lands far away to the north where white icy snow fell from the sky and blanketed the land.
Enaya tended to Givara, using the trivarial power to heal her. She held her hands over Givara’s wounds with her eyes closed. After mouthing a soundless chant, her hands gave off a faint white glow which seeped down to the lesions below. In seconds the wounds began to close leaving behind a faint scar. When she finished with Givara, she moved over to Farrus inspecting each gash first before repeating her ritual. Givara watched her closely, her brow furrowed with concern, until she was satisfied that Farrus would be alright.
“He called you Bale Farrushaw. Why?” Givara asked Farrus when Enaya finished with the healing.
Farrus made a low grunt in his throat. He looked irritated by the question. Sim had also heard Prianhe call him by that name. Prianhe had also said that he had killed Farrus. Clearly his old friend was keeping secrets.
“Yes, Master Farrus,” Enaya watched him closely. “It seems you are also supposed to be dead. Perhaps you might like to enlighten us.”
Farrus looked as though he might jump right out of the compartment. If it was possible to survive the fall into the ocean from their current height, Sim was sure he might have.
“A long time ago, I served in the Imperial army.” Farrus appeared reluctant to speak. He seemed to be choosing his words carefully. “Navan and I served in the same unit. We knew each other. That’s all.”
“Ah…that’s not all,” Enaya pointed a slender finger at his face. “You’re going to tell us the truth, Bale.” She made a point of emphasizing his old name mockingly. Enaya had a way of imposing her will on you. One way or the other, Farrus was going to tell her what she wanted to know.
“It was Sarimus.” Farrus locked eyes with Givara as he spoke. “I met him while I was serving in the army. He opened my eyes to the world around me. Made me see that Desirmor was a blight on the world. I was young, then. I’d never thought about whe
ther I was fighting on the right side. But then again, that’s the problem, isn’t it? We live in a world where most people accept the evil. Poverty and death just become a part of the scenery.
"We got sent one night to arrest a trival that had failed to register. It was a young woman, had a little girl, no husband. She didn’t put up much of a fight, but the little girl, she was different. Probably didn’t even know she had any power. Started throwing fire at us, trying to protect her mom. Just a little girl, maybe seven years old.
"Anyways, we take them and put them in a cell to wait for a magistrate. He comes and orders them put to death. Imagine it. Ordering the death of a little girl, just because she tried to defend her mother. That was all I could take. I snuck the two of them out and brought them to Sarimus. Prianhe found out and came after me. We were friends back then, but he was always unquestionably loyal to Desirmor. He was always better than me, too. Ran his sword right through my chest.” Farrus pointed at the left side of his chest. He untied the laces that held his white linen shirt together at the top, and pulled the folds back to reveal a thick scar right over his heart. “Lucky for me, Prianhe didn’t know that I’m a Dessantian.”
“What does that mean?” Enaya asked confused.
“It means that he has two hearts. One is on the left and the other is on the right side of his chest,” Givara answered, with an intrigued smile.
Farrus nodded with approval. “That’s right. Prianhe left me there, assuming that he’d made a killing blow. Sarimus found me and brought that woman I’d helped escape. Turns out she was a healer. That’s when they brought me to Vistrello and introduced me to Sevin and Bella. That’s how this all started for me.”
Enaya studied him with that firm, serious look, that she often gave Sim.
“Is there anything else, Master Farrus?”
Farrus just shrugged his shoulders. Sim had the feeling that there was more, but Farrus wasn’t going to give up any more than he needed to. Something was still bothering Sim, though. Something Prianhe had said.
“I don’t think they know I’m a Harven,” he announced to three pairs of surprised eyes.
“Of course they do,” Farrus said in his customary gruff monotone. “Why else would Prianhe have been after you?”
“Sim, they don’t send the leader of the First Defenders to hunt just anyone.” Enaya was speaking to him as though he were a complete fool. He was actually surprised that she had remembered to use his name instead of something patronizing like ‘boy’. It was an encouraging sign, he thought.
“He told Farrus that he had come for the trival.” Sim looked around to see if any of them had noticed the choice of words. “Why would he call me ‘the trival’ if he thought I was a Harven?” All three sat there thinking about what he had just said. Sim could tell that they could see the sense in it. “The night before the city was attacked, as I lay in bed, I had this feeling that I was being watched. I looked out the window, and I was sure there was someone standing in the alley across the street, but it was too dark. I couldn’t see anyone. Sarimus had just given me the necklace and when I started thinking about how I needed some light down there, I guess the gem made a light appear. It was Navan Prianhe. I didn’t know who he was then, of course, but it was definitely him. When he realized I could see him, he took off. I think that’s why he thinks I’m a trival. If he knew I was a Harven, why wouldn’t he have just raided the inn that night?”
“He’s on to something,” Farrus said, giving Sim a reassuring nod. “I’ve been wondering about it since the city was attacked. The whole thing made no sense.”
“Yes, you’re right,” Enaya agreed. Sim could see the wheels of thought turning in her head. “Why attack the city? I don’t understand that.”
Farrus ran a calloused, blood-stained hand through his greasy gray hair. “Right. Tactically, there was no reason for it. Thorl was lucky Sarimus was on his ship when the attack began. If he’d been at the inn, they all might have escaped.”
“There’s something we’re missing here,” Enaya said, tapping her finger on her chin. She looked at Farrus intently. “We have to assume that they followed Sarimus to Dell which means they had identified him as the last Harven. But that doesn’t mean they actually knew about Sim.”
“Prianhe was probably in Dell before the Blood Lord arrived,” Givara added. “He was watching the Kelmor inn.” She looked at Farrus. “He had an informant. Someone close to Sarimus who must have known he was a Harven. Can you think of anyone?”
With a faraway look in his steely gray eyes, Farrus shook his head no. “No-one but me, Sevin and Bella knew who Sarimus truly was. I don’t even think any of his crew knew his secret.”
“There has to be someone,” Enaya said, rubbing her temples as though the motion would help her find the answer.
Sim thought hard as well. He thought about all of the merchants who had come to the inn over the years, people his parents might have trusted with the secret, but no-one stood out. His parents didn’t really have any close friends, just customers. Then he suddenly remembered the man who had questioned Sevin’s ethnicity. He had reacted strangely when Sevin told him that he wasn’t Massoniel. Sim also remembered hearing about Desirmor sending spies back out into the world. It was possible there was a connection.
“Farrus, did my father ever mention a man coming into the inn a while back asking about whether he was a Massoniel?”
Farrus gave him a hard look. “I think I remember him mentioning something about it. Some drifter looking to gamble.”
Sim nodded in agreement. “Right. He was asking a lot of questions that night and in the morning he was gone. It seemed a bit strange then but not very important.”
“Alright,” Enaya chimed in. “So a man was asking about Sevin’s origins. I asked you the same thing the night I stayed at your inn, remember?”
“I do remember.” Sim was beginning to get that feeling. He knew he was on to something. “You thought it was strange that I could be his son because Massoniel have such distinct features, right?”
“So?” Enaya asked condescendingly. Sim could tell she thought he was being a fool again.
“So,” Sim said to her, making his voice sound as though he were swallowing a handful of marbles. “What if he was one of Desirmor’s spies?”
Enaya looked as though she were ready to slap him silly. She clearly did not appreciate the mocking way he had just spoken to her. She opened her mouth to put him in his place, and then realized he was making sense. Her mouth suddenly fell open, and she looked around at Givara and Farrus who also seemed to be putting the pieces together.
“I’ll bet that’s it,” she said wonderingly. She looked at Sim with a hint of shame in her sapphire eyes. “You’ve done well, Siminus.”
“It’s possible that he was a spy, but we don’t know for sure. Pinning Sevin as a Massoniel doesn‘t mean much.” Farrus tried to put things in perspective. “It still doesn’t explain why the city was attacked.”
“The answer is beyond us for now,” Givara said. “Desirmor’s plans will be revealed in time. For now we must stay alert and vigilant.”
Sim looked out at the endless blue sea and sighed. “So what now?”
Enaya quirked a secret smile at Givara, who simply nodded. “Now we seek the Librarian, Siminus.”
Farrus grunted in disgust. “That’s your plan?” he said in a voice as close to disbelief as his gruff monotone would allow. “The Librarian is dead.”
“Who’s the Librarian?” Sim asked
“He was the royal scribe during the Alexidus regime. He has the prophecy as it was written, and he’s not dead,” said Enaya indignantly.
“He’s dead. Long dead. Sarimus followed that trail for most of his life. The Librarian is gone.”
“You seem to know everything, guardsman,” Givara chided him, with a fond smile. “I wonder how it must feel to be so wise.”
Farrus’ eyes narrowed. “Don’t tease me woman.”
“The Librar
ian is in Nal’Dahara,” Enaya said, giving Givara a chastising glare.
Farrus looked skeptical. He considered the two women for a moment then looked at Sim and shrugged. “To Nal’Dahara then. We’ll see which of us is a fool then.”
Givara smiled mischievously and gently placed her hand on Farrus’ knee. “In my experience, Master guardsman, all men are fools.”
Chapter nine: Navan Prianhe
The sickening scent of lilac greeted Navan Prianhe when he awoke. In his homeland criminals were placed in cells washed with lilac water. The smell was meant to torture the prisoner, which led to quicker rehabilitations. Repeat offenders were few. Prianhe’s first thought as he tried unsuccessfully to sit up was that he had somehow been put in a prison cell.
Looking around, he quickly realized that he was in an inn. The room was plain and simple with white walls and a single cabinet. Next to his feather bed was a stool and end table which held a pitcher of water and a saucer of lilac oil. His clothes hung upon a hook protruding from the wall next to the room’s only window, a tiny single pane square with enough brown grime to keep out most of the sunlight and make the view outside completely indistinguishable. Prianhe looked under the linen sheet covering his body to his chest and wondered how he had ended up in this strange room, completely naked.
He tried to sit up again and found he had little strength. With a grimace he forced himself into a seated position and found the small exertion had left him totally winded. He breathed deeply and contemplated lying back down and falling to sleep. His whole body felt listless and weak. What had happened? Prianhe searched his memories but couldn’t recall how he had ended up in his current position.
The door on the wall opposite his bed suddenly opened and a short, obese woman in her middle years entered. She stopped as soon as she saw Prianhe sitting up in bed, considering her.
“Pardon, my Lord,” she said, lowering her eyes and attempting to curtsy though her bulk prevented a proper one. “I was unaware that you’d awoken.”
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