by TJ Muir
“You rendered him dead!” Hak’kar exclaimed, voice like thunder booming across the room, eyes tightly focused on Kirrin.
Kirrin felt the floor heave, felt his balance slipping.
Hak’kar rose from behind his desk, picking up a decanter and glass, filled it quickly and shoved it into Kirrin’s hand. “Drink.”
The authority in Hak’kar’s voice penetrated through the haze. Kirrin lifted the glass to his mouth. Swallowed. Whatever was in the glass burned like fire.
“All of it,” Hak’kar commanded.
Kirrin raised the glass again, draining it. It burned his throat, making him cough and sputter. Then it turned to fire in his belly. He gasped and wheezed, trying to catch his breath. But the room had stopped spinning, at least for the moment.
It took a moment for Kirrin to gather his wits. Hak’kar took his own glass, walked over to one of the couches, and sat down. Kirrin turned slightly to face him.
“This is an inconvenience,” Hak’kar said.
The most powerful ruler in the region was dead. Inconvenient? Cataclysmic, catastrophic, were better words that came to mind.
“There is thinking to be done now. You are dismissed,” Hak’kar said, waving his hand.
“At the So’har’s command,” Kirrin said, using a very formal and official response impressing his absolute loyalty and then bowed-- which was a mistake that brought on another wave of dizziness. He turned and made his exit, feeling the trembling throughout his entire body. Once outside, he fell onto his knees, retching-- heaving the contents of his stomach out into the bushes.
He managed to make his way back to his room, slipping into the kitchens to grab a large bottle of brandy on his way. He sat on the floor, curled in a ball against the wall, drinking. He felt sick inside. He wanted his mother to hold him and make the world right again. But no one could make things right for him, never again. No one could tell him it was okay. He couldn’t even imagine telling anyone a secret this dark, this vile. And so he drank until he passed out. When he woke up, it was dark, except for the faint glow of the moons.
He looked up, rolling his head sideways, and saw Miral curled up on the bed. He hoisted himself onto his knees and staggered to his feet long enough to fall towards the bed, landing half across Miral’s legs, waking her. She sat up, helping him to straighten himself out on the bed. He flung his arms around her, clinging to her waist, and passed out.
The next two days passed in a dim haze. He remembered Miral checking on him several times, trying to get him to talk about what was wrong. Kirrin just shook his head, his secret pushed down deep inside.
Kip came to see him once. “No girl is worth it,” he said. Kirrin declined to correct his impression, mumbling incoherently. Kip sat a bottle of liquor on the table. “Have a good drunk and get over it.” Then he left.
A noise got Kirrin’s attention, forcing his mind to come back to the present, external world. It grew louder, intruding into his haze. Ch’hikk stood there, kicking his boot, insistent and persistent. He twisted his head to look up at her, only then realizing he was sprawled on the floor, propped against the wall.
“No training,” he said. Or thought he said, words feeling thick in his mouth.
She shook her head. “No. Not training. Poison in you, must be removed.” She reached into her shirt and took out a small vial. “Drink.” She bent over enough to hold it to Kirrin’s mouth, forcing it between his lips.
A reflexive swallow, followed by a cough. His mouth tightened, clenching against the horrible taste. He gagged as it went down, felt a bitter burning. But his head was clearer.
She reached down a hand, and hauled him to his feet. The room spun but it was manageable if only he didn’t move too quickly.
“Come,” she said, shoving an arm under his shoulders, holding him up and leading him towards the door.
“What? Where are we going?”
“Remove poison,” was all she said between breaths as she helped him balance his way down the stairs. She led him to the back area of the estate, seldom used for much, and over to a stone building. Smoke rose lazily from the chimney. She opened the door and heaved Kirrin through. He stumbled in, tripped over his own feet, and went down on a pile of blankets piled up to make a sleeping pallet. He didn’t bother even trying to get up.
Ch’hikk stoked the fire, removing stones from around the edge, and filling the room with a comforting warmth. Then she poured water over the stones, creating a thick steam that filled the small building. She turned back to Kirrin, bringing him a jug of water, forcing him to drink. Later, she made him drink another potion, which made him so ill he retched up the bitter contents in his stomach. More water, another potion. Time passed in a blur as the pattern repeated.
Finally, Kirrin opened his eyes, feeling weak but clear-headed. He tried to sit up, wobbled. Ch’hikk put an arm around him, helping him to sit up and then handed him a bottle. “Drink.”
Kirrin didn’t have the strength to argue. He brought the bottle to his mouth and took a sip. It tasted fruity, with a hint of honey and mint.
“Small sips,” Ch’hikk said.
He nodded, faint dip of his head. After, he felt a little better, like he could hold himself up at least for a few moments. He took a breath, let it out slowly. And then another. He looked at Ch’hikk, sitting across from him, watching.
“The poison in your body is gone. The poison in your soul….” her voice trailed off.
Kirrin couldn’t hold her stare. He looked down at the ground, ashamed. She had taught him about balance, respect, and honor. He possessed none of those things.
“Your assignment, the death of the Da’har, and your heavy drinking. These things are all connected.”
Kirrin nodded, remaining silent. He couldn’t bring himself to say the words out loud. That would make it real.
She continued to watch him.
“It was an accident,” he cried. “An accident. I never intended harm.” He cried, tears streaming down his face, hands gripping his knees, nails digging into his skin. He drew his knees up to his chest, making himself into a tiny ball as he sobbed.
As his breathing calmed, he heard a soft humming. Ch’hikk was chanting something. He didn’t recognize the words, but he felt soothed by the sounds, floating with the rhythm. He smelled a pungent scent, cracked an eye open to see her putting something into the embers that made a sweet smoke. She took out a large feather, and used it to waft the smoke around his body while she continued to chant and hum.
When she was done, she put her things away, back into her pack, and made him drink more of the tea. This time, it didn’t make him feel ill.
“What should I do?” he asked her.
She returned his gaze, saying nothing for a long while. “For this, there is no easy answer. The only counsel I can offer is to ask: What brings balance?”
No answer came to Kirrin. As she had said, there was no easy answer. He just stared back at her, feeling lost.
“Solution to all things. Train.” With that, she hoisted him to his feet and led him back outside. From what he could tell, it was just before dawn. He must have been in there for quite a while. The air felt cool and refreshing, as though he were reborn. He laughed, thinking that. What was he reborn as, he wondered. He didn’t have time to consider an answer as Ch’hikk led him over to their stump with a gentle push on his shoulder.
The routine was familiar and his muscles remembered it, even though his mind faltered. First one pose, then the next, each one flowing, drawing him forward. By the end of his third repetition, his muscles were trembling and he felt shaky. He glanced over to Ch’hikk, who nodded permission for him to stop.
She handed him the bottle. “Slow sips, ” she advised him, watching him closely. “Some time away from here would be advised. Is there some reason to make for absence?”
When he had finished, he handed it back and thought for a while. “I had been doing some research for the So’har at the archives. That might suffice. But
an overlong absence may raise concern-- now.”
“Find the path through today. And let that path guide you to the next.”
“Thank you,” he said, remembering his manners. The world was still spinning, but the ground under his feet was solid now, at least for the moment.
NEW CHAPTER
“I made your favorite breakfast,” his mother said when he came downstairs. She had her worried look- the one where she wouldn’t ask questions. She would just hover.
“Thanks,” he said, picking at the sausages. He tried to make a good show of eating. “This is really great, mum. Really. I have to go to the archives for a while, but I’ll take the rest with me.”
His mother stopped chopping garlic and packed him a bundle with breakfast, and rolls and some spiced chocolate fruit. She put it into his hands, holding onto him firmly for a moment. He just looked at her, eye to eye, silently.
She looked away, laughing. “My, when did you get so tall?” she asked. “You’re taller than I am now.” She wiped her hands on a towel, wringing all of her worries into the cleaning cloth. “Will you be back for lunch, or dinner?” she asked, a little too hastily.
“I should be,” he said, hugging her.
Kirrin knew he would have to go over to the archives-- knew Hak’kar had eyes and ears in many places. He didn’t want to risk getting caught in a lie, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t take a bit of time for himself first. It had been a while since he had seen Eben and he knew the spiced chocolate was a favorite of his.
He tossed a few pebbles at Eben’s window. After a moment, the curtain moved and Eben’s face popped into view.
“What do you want?” Eben asked, sounding distant.
“C’mon,” Kirrin said. “I’m around for a couple of days, and thought we might go swimming.” He held up the bag of candies. “I’ve got treats.”
Eben stood in the window, looked over his shoulder, then shrugged. “Around the corner.” And then disappeared back into his room.
“By the nine hells! What happened to you?”
Eben came around the corner, and Kirrin couldn’t believe what he saw. Eben’s arm was splinted, his face was badly bruised and swollen, and he was limping.
Eben shrugged, keeping a bit of a distance from Kirrin.
“I tried to do like you taught me. But I was outnumbered.”
Guilt twinged in Kirrin’s gut. Had he caused this by leading Eben to believe he could defend himself? Eben could have managed the kids that had been bothering him. He had, at least enough that they mostly left him alone. Unless that freedom was fear of Kirrin more than fear of Eben...until Kirrin wasn’t around to be a threat.
“Who did this to you? I’ll make sure they never lay another hand on you-- or anyone… ever again!” Kirrin’s guilt changed to anger, looking for a target to vent it on.
Eben shrugged, then winced, rubbing his arm. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Yes. It does. I’m not going to let anyone touch you. Ever.”
Eben blinked, and took a step back. “They won’t.”
“They sure won’t. I’m going to make sure of it. Just tell me who.”
Eben shook his head. “They won’t, because I’m leaving,” Eben said. “to go to school. As soon as I’m done healing.”
“You don’t have to. I promise to take care of this.”
Eben just shook his head. “It’s my choice. I want to study to become a teacher.”
“A teacher?” Kirrin asked, incredulous.
“Is there something wrong with that?” Eben asked, a slight edge to his voice.
“No,” Kirrin said, shaking his head. “Just surprised me, is all. You’ll make a great teacher.”
“I’ll be going into a special one year intensive program, and try for a spot in one of the top schools. I’d like to try for Oldfall, but there are a few smaller colleges that are almost as good.”
Kirrin didn’t know what to say. A teacher? He couldn’t remember Eben ever talking about it, or about any plans. Mostly though, Kirrin was trying to process what he had heard. Eben was one of the first real friends he had had. And he was leaving. Although nothing was said, Kirrin couldn’t help feeling that he was directly responsible.
“Well, you’ll still be around,” Kirrin said, “at least for a while, right?”
Eben shifted his feet, wincing, then half-shrugged. “I really have a lot of studying to do before I start the intensive. It’s kind of important, so I really won’t have much free time.”
“Oh,” Kirrin said, trying not to sound disappointed or hurt. “Okay. Maybe when you come home to visit..”
“Yeah, sure, maybe” Eben said.
But Kirrin heard the tone in Eben’s voice.
SOFT BREAK
Kirrin watched Fern mirror Ch’hikk’s moves with an athletic grace that mesmerized him. She still couldn’t do some of the harder moves Ch’hikk put Kirrin through, but she kept pace with them and her enthusiasm showed in her movements. Fern took to this in a way Kirrin envied as he struggled to keep his own demons at bay. It helped that Fern was a natural night owl. At least she had the luxury of sleeping through most of the day.
Ch’hikk led them down an alley towards the harbor, swinging around a pole, then landing lightly for a moment only to run sideways along a wall before bouncing from steps to railing to the top of the wall. Fern followed, with Kirrin bringing up the rear. Kirrin expected her to head down toward the central square, but instead she made a turn down an alley he had never noticed, bounding down a set of stairs that disappeared into half-shadow. They ran through lower tiers, under bridges and short tunnels he had only heard about.
Her pace eased up as they came to a statue of a miniature shell. Kirrin was surprised, watching Ch’hikk scramble up the tall, slender structure. The sight made him a little uncomfortable, as though she was defiling a temple. So sacred were the shells, even the statue felt holy. She stood on the top of the statue, perched on the thin tapered spiral, like she owned it. Down below, Fern practiced landings, hopping from the base of the statue onto the steps.
“Hey, what’s this, over here?” she called.
Ch’hikk spun to face where Fern was headed toward a narrow opening set back into the shadows. A moment later, she was beside Fern, peering into the dim light. “The stones are different here.” She ran a finger over the surface. “Old. Very old.”
“How old, do you think?” Fern asked.
“Older than the rest of the city. Different stone, different style.”
Kirrin peeked at the opening. These stones were a soft white, not the sandy colored stones nor the blue-grey stones most of the city had.
“What could be older than the city?” Kirrin asked.
Ch’hikk shrugged. “Whoever lived here before.”
“What is it, do you think? Where does it go?”
Another shrug, as she cast a look over her shoulder at the other two.
“Let’s go find out,” Fern said.
That surprised Kirrin. He saw her as athletic and graceful, but hadn’t realized she was this adventurous. His own senses were on alert, warning him. He stiffened his shoulders, resolved not to be outdone by two girls. “It’s pretty dark inside. There’s no telling how far it goes back.” So much for resolve, he thought to himself.
“Just give it a moment, let your eyes adjust to the dark,” Ch’hikk said as she stepped into the opening without bothering to wait.
Fern moved to follow her, but Kirrin grabbed her arm, holding her back. “Wait, see what she finds first. It may just be a dead end.”
“Psssht,” Fern said, shaking off Kirrin’s hand and walking in.
“It seems to go on for a ways,” Ch’hikk called out from further down the tunnel.
Kirrin followed, hoping his eyes adjusted to the pitch black soon. “Too bad no one has a lantern.”
A moment later a light flared, soft blue glowing magic. “Better than a lantern,” Ch’hikk said as she turned and disappeared down the passage with Fern
a half step behind.
Kirrin followed reluctantly. So much for his determination to keep his nose out of things. After a few moments, his curiosity began to stir. Who had built these passages, and why? What were they used for and how long had they been abandoned? If they were as ancient as Ch’hikk had said, they had worn extremely well. There was no trace of decay or deterioration. In the dim light, he would swear the stones might have been laid down just that day.
“It feels like this tunnel runs north, maybe under the north terrace?” Fern said, wondering out loud as they walked.
Before long, they came to an intersection that made a Y, with a fourth passage making a right hand turn to their left. All four passageways looked fairly identical.
“Maybe we should come back when we have better light, and something to mark our path?” Kirrin asked, trying to be practical.
“I’ve got some cheek-polish in my pack,” Fern said. “We could use that.” She began rifling through her gear before Kirrin could object. Since Ch’hikk hadn’t said anything, he didn’t want to complain a third time. “I’ll make an arrow pointing back the way we came, so we can find our way out.”
“Which way?” Ch’hikk asked, looking at the pair.
Fern looked toward Kirrin. He swallowed, knowing they were being polite but expecting him to make a decision. He shrugged, looking in all three directions. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to imagine where each might lead, but his sense of direction was completely turned around. He lifted his arm and pointed to the left side of the y. “That way.”
They had only walked a little ways down the passage when Kirrin stopped. “Wait a minute.”
“You want to go back already?” Fern scoffed.
“No,” he said. “It’s not that. It just… it…”
And then a soft purple light flared, running along the walls. Kirrin and Fern both jumped slightly, huddling a bit closer to Ch’hikk.
