by Rae Brooks
The boy took another step back and glanced behind him. “I told you I would take care of the injury, I just can’t right here…”
The small form was staggering, and Calis knew that if he didn’t let the boy leave now that he would do more harm than good. “Alright,” he said, “and thank you—for all the halfwits in this district that don’t know how to say it.”
The boy’s eyes widened before he took off through the alleyway faster than Calis had ever seen anybody run.
“A Hero unlike any before him, on two fronts, and the likes of which none of the Magisters could have predicted—even Aleia.”
-A Hero’s Peace, vii
Chapter xiv
Taeru Lassau
Taeru breathed as gently as he could as Juliet applied the last of the herbs to the cut along his side. She’d laced the bandages on it with crushed leaves so that the soothing effect would continue. “You reckless, crazy, little boy—seven? Seven guards? Do you realize how easily they could have killed you?”
“They were hurting her!” he answered. “I couldn’t stand there and do nothing. I knew what they were trying to do—but I had no choice! They would have done more than hurt her!” He had been defending himself through the entire healing. He’d yet to disclose Aitken’s play in the events, as Taeru had decided to interfere far before the little boy had stepped in.
Juliet moved her hand to his face and wiped a rag over it gingerly. “You are too much of a hero, Kilik.”
Taeru had taken care of some of the injuries himself, as he’d learned that Tareth knew to check the healer for anyone who’d come in with severe injuries directly after he—or any noble he knew—had hurt the Phantom Blade. There had been one point, when Tareth had gotten Taeru rather nastily in the leg, that Tareth had men guard Juliet’s house for a full cycle. Taeru had lived on the floor of a cellar and had been so pale with blood loss by the time Juliet could treat him that he was lucky that he still had a leg at all.
After that, Taeru had made sure to learn a little more on how to patch up his own wounds. He was certainly not as good as Juliet, or even Katt, but he knew how to make sure that he survived a few suns without a healer.
Juliet stood back to observe her work and nodded approvingly. “How does that feel?” she asked.
“Better,” he said, “thank you, Juliet.”
No nobles had been near the healer this time, though. The nobles may have set a trap for him, but they weren’t as familiar with him as Tareth was and therefore had not thought to watch the healer’s home. Taeru was glad of that as well, since the traveler in the market place had left him feeling strangely guilty about his lack of interest in his own well-being.
The traveler had saved his life, in fact. Taeru had known that there was no way he could have gotten out of that situation without being revealed, but the blond had intervened just before the situation had escalated. He had done so without fear as well, going so far as to insult the noble he’d struck.
Taeru’s heart had admittedly started beating a little faster at the idea of being rescued by someone. He wasn’t sure that he had ever had that experience before, not as Taeru, Kilik, and certainly not as the Phantom Blade. Though, the people in Dark District were slowly coming around to the idea of accepting one another, their fear was still stronger.
In fact, despite how strange the words were and how severe the blond had been when he’d said them—Taeru was glad that the traveler had mentioned that the Phantom Blade was just another member of Dark District. He hadn’t wanted to guilt trip the citizens into helping him, but perhaps they would understand more clearly now that any one of them could be the Phantom Blade that they had come to adore so much.
Then again, none of them had interfered this sun, which meant that Taeru had a lot more work to do if he wanted them to help one another. That traveler had certainly been rather angry with them, or perhaps he was angry with Taeru. Taeru had been so dazed, and so awestruck by the traveler’s appearance, that he hadn’t completely understood the words the man had said.
A moment later, Aitken entered the room looking rather downtrodden. He probably had no idea that Taeru hadn’t mentioned what had happened, and Taeru didn’t bother telling him either way. “I’m sorry, Mother,” he said.
Juliet looked confused, and when Aitken shot a glance at Taeru, he just smiled and shrugged his shoulders. “What do you mean you’re sorry, Aitken? What did you do?” she asked sternly. Taeru wondered if the boy would be quick enough to get out of this.
“I…” he started. His eyes were wide with panic. “I…” Then, he squeezed his eyes shut and gave in. “Well, before Ki—I mean the Phantom Blade showed up this sun, I got the soldiers attention and nearly got myself in a lot of trouble.”
Juliet’s head snapped to find Taeru, who nodded his head apologetically. “You! Aitken! You realize that if the Phantom Blade had been smart enough to stay out of the fray, that your involvement would have given him no choice?” she asked. Her eyes sparked as she searched her son for injuries and got angrier when they found none.
“I’m sorry!” Aitken said.
“It was not his fault,” Taeru said simply. Aitken shot him a grateful glance, but Taeru returned it with a very serious one of his own. He didn’t want Aitken, of all people, interfering in matters that could land him with serious injury or worse.
Juliet sighed. “Nevertheless, you should not have done it.”
“No, you shouldn’t have,” Taeru agreed.
Aitken lowered his voice, upon realizing that he was not going to be implicated much further on the issue, and smiled. “I can’t believe that guy helped you, Kilik! The way he hit that stupid old soldier on the head like that! That was amazing! I wonder if he knew it was you.”
That was a thought that had occurred to Taeru. The possibility was certainly there, as there had been a flash of recognition during their interaction at the market. The traveler might have known who Taeru was, and he might not have. Well, he may have known half of who Taeru was, anyway. “He certainly saved me,” Taeru admitted weakly.
“He was looking for you, well, he was looking for Kilik before we ran into the nobles. He said to tell you that he liked you very much,” Aitken reported, “and that he thought Alyx was odd.”
Taeru flushed at being told by a child that some strange, blond traveler liked him very much. Aitken surely didn’t know what he was saying, but the grin on Juliet’s face said that she knew precisely what was being said. “Ah, well… perhaps I will run into him tomorrow.” Taeru secretly hoped not, though, as his injuries would certainly give him away.
“You should have seen it, Mother,” Aitken said. Taeru wished fervently that he would stop talking now. “He grabbed Kilik’s hand and took off his glove so he could see his finger and messed up hand, and then he got very serious about Kilik taking care of himself. I think you would have liked him very much, Mother. And he was very brave.” The boy rattled off all the things that Taeru had already told himself too many times.
Taeru didn’t need to be thinking about this strange traveler anymore, and he knew that. He knew that the feelings he had for this blond were quickly escalating, and he did not want any part of those feelings associated with another person. So, he stowed them away and pretended they didn’t exist. “I’m sure he’ll leave soon,” Taeru mused aloud.
“Perhaps not, Kilik. Perhaps he is taken enough with you to want to stay around for a very long time,” Juliet said.
The thought of that blond staying in Telandus for the sole purpose of being with Taeru was laughable. Not only was Taeru nothing more than a commoner, but he was—well, ordinary. No, that idea was positively absurd. “Don’t be ridiculous, Juliet,” Taeru said.
She just laughed, and she didn’t seem to think that she was being ridiculous in the slightest. “Just be glad that Alyx wasn’t around for that earlier—she would never let you live it down.”
“She will no doubt hear of it,” Aitken said, “on my way home, I could already he
ar people talking about secret romances and all that stuff between the Phantom Blade and the blond guy. I thought it was funny, but Alyx will love it, I bet!”
Red flushed across Taeru’s cheeks, and he glared at the wall. “Romance? How can people be so absurd? Just because he helped me instantly implies romance—then perhaps I am romantically involved with half of Dark District!”
“Perhaps you are,” Juliet answered him. “And I hardly think that this traveler friend of yours deals with you in the same way that you deal with the people of Dark District. Now, enough—go lie down. You must be exhausted.”
Making his way to his bed, Taeru found that he was more exhausted and sore than he’d expected. Despite that the sun had not fully set, he found himself drifting off only moments after he’d lay down.
The seedling stood before him again, and its whispers felt more like tiny pinpricks in his ear than actual sounds. He couldn’t find his body, or rather, he didn’t know where he was—or how to move away from the field. He only knew that he was before it, and that he wanted to get away from it.
The field stood, unmoving under a crimson sky. The scene felt morbid, as though there was something truly evil lying just below the surface of the fields. Or perhaps it wasn’t evil, perhaps there was just something wrong—trying to break through.
All at once, he knew precisely where he was. He was lying on the ground before the seedling. It had grown since he’d last been in the field, and the strange energy pouring from it had grown in power. Taeru pushed himself up onto his hands—hands that he soon found were bloodied and bruised.
Somewhere in the distance, Taeru could hear his father making plans for war. He could hear the plans, but he could not see his father. In fact, Taeru had never felt so entirely alone and helpless. He took a few steps away from the seedling, and as soon as he did, he felt an overwhelming pain surge into his body and knock him to the ground.
When he tried to get back up, his body seemed to become more bruised and battered, and he couldn’t find the source of it. The bruise on his shoulder was by far the worst, and he knew where he’d gotten that. But the other injuries were new, and he didn’t recall acquiring them. The voices in the distance grew angrier and angrier, and Taeru knew they were angry with him. They ought to be angry with him because he had failed all of them in the worst possible way.
The problem was that he didn’t know how he had failed them, only that he had. Again and again, he tried to force himself onto his feet to face what he’d done—but again and again, pain kept him where he was.
Stay, little boy. Stay here.
The voice in his ear finally spoke words that he was able to understand, and he knew that he wanted to disobey them more than he had ever wanted to disobey anything. He scrambled upwards, finally getting to his feet and stumbling back—away from the growing, twisted creation.
“What is this?” Taeru asked the air. The air that seemed to resonate with the presence of the creature that seemed to want so desperately Taeru’s suffering. In fact, Taeru could feel the power increasing with every bit of pain that possessed him.
Taeru’s eyes moved along the twisting plantlike thing. Perhaps it had once been a tree, and perhaps it still pretended to be a tree—but this was no ordinary tree. As it grew before his eyes, there were twisting vines moving around it, and shards of purplish black crystals jutted out from it.
This is your grave, little prince…
His body twitched in response to the voice. He stumbled back a little further, and this time he ran into another body. His heart lurched at who it might be, and then he turned to see Lavus Tsrali staring into his eyes with the cold grip of insanity on his face. Taeru was unable to respond before the king’s hand moved forward and closed around Taeru’s neck, lifting the boy to dangle in the air.
When Taeru tried to speak, Lavus’s grip only tightened, and he found that he could not breathe, let alone speak. Lavus’s hand was unnaturally big, and as it held Taeru, it began changing into something much more grotesque. A claw enclosed around his throat more firmly, and Taeru could feel life leaking out of him and into the tree that seemed to grow behind him. His eyes opened and closed as he fought for breath, but none came.
In another instant, Lavus turned, and then, all at once, there was a sword jutting through Taeru’s abdomen. With a flick of the king’s arms, Taeru was tossed to the ground before the tree. Lavus stared up at the corrupt plant as if it was a god that needed to be worshipped, and then, as if to confirm this, he knelt.
Taeru was sure that Lavus Tsrali would never kneel to anything. Lavus was power-hungry, greedy, and insane. He would never bow to anything that wasn’t entirely unnatural. Taeru scrambled back up to his feet and away from the still growing tree. It whispered to him in languages that he didn’t understand, but nonetheless, he knew he needed to get away from it.
The sword had vanished from his stomach, but the stab wound remained, and the pain that it produced seemed to feed the tree like water. When he tried to move, pain shot through him like fire and the tree seemed to moan with glee.
Failure. Worthless. Pathetic.
The words repeated to him and despite his best efforts, Taeru could not block them out. Perhaps they were true. After all, he had abandoned his family to get away from a war that he knew to be inevitable. He hadn’t been able to stop the war due to his own inability to communicate. He had done many things that could be considered failures, and perhaps he deserved this sort of nightmare—if he could do no better.
Precisely.
The words now sounded like a purr, as if they were so ecstatic with his agony that the creature producing the sounds could not contain itself. No matter how unhappy he was with himself, Taeru knew that he could not continue feeding the monster near to him. Lavus was gone—entirely consumed by the crystallized structure forming behind Taeru.
With a crack, there was a tentacle about Taeru’s arm. The grip was painful, as though there were tiny spikes on the insides of the black tentacle. Angry electricity crackled through his body, and he could feel his ability to fight draining from him. He needed his sword—but it was nowhere to be found, and with a tug, he was being yanked towards the tree again.
After fighting for a few moments, Taeru got up the courage to glance to the place to which he was being dragged. To his surprise, the structure had opened, with a long, single rod protruding up from it. There was something odd about the opening of the structure—and Taeru realized belatedly that it was meant to hold something—it was meant to hold him. Letting out a shocked scream, he began fighting with more vigor.
He couldn’t let himself be pulled inside of that thing. If he allowed that, then it would certainly be able to cause him all sorts of pain—and if it could do that, then it would be more well-fed than any creature so evil should ever be. He didn’t know how, but the creature would destroy Cathalar and Telandus—all of Elyst—if he didn’t get away from it. Still—everything hurt, and he didn’t know how to escape.
Another tentacle shot outwards, wrapping around his ankle and preventing his fight even further. He let out a desperate cry, and then the world faded to black.
Taeru’s dreams had left him shaken, but they hadn’t given him a fever yet. He had heard the whispers in his ears, but he was fairly certain that they weren’t there—and that he was only imagining them. The dream had been two suns ago, which meant that he had largely gotten it out of his mind.
Still, the haunting image of that twisted obelisk—desperately trying to pull him towards it, to start an infinite sequence of torture on his body that would certainly destroy more than his own life—plagued him. His hands still trembled when he thought of it. He longed for Manali to let him know of an extra shipment, as working was the only thing that successfully kept his mind from the horrifying images.
That, or the Phantom Blade—but that would not have been advisable as his side was still incredibly sore, and his finger was no less broken than it had been those few suns ago. Once again, the t
raveler was not around when Taeru expected him to be, and so he’d been unable to deduce where the man had been before his convenient return.
Thinking back on the interaction, he wasn’t sure if he’d have found a way out of the trap by himself—as he’d been lured out foolishly before—but he knew he’d be far more hurt if the blond hadn’t shown up when he did. Or Taeru may have actually been dead—there was no way for him to know.
However, the man had shown up, and though Taeru had thanked him awkwardly as the Phantom Blade—he was sure that the man had earned more than that. Unfortunately, he never seemed to be around unless Taeru was occupied with other things. Then again, seeing the traveler this sun may well have given away who he was. Perhaps not, though, as he was ensuring that the injuries he had were not obvious. The gashes on his back and side were covered, and he had much practice pretending as though wounds weren’t present.
His finger made handling objects a little more difficult, but his gloves covered that particular dilemma rather well. As he gathered the supplies Juliet had requested from the market and paid accordingly, he couldn’t help continuing to wonder about the elusive blond. They had run into one another at the dance, and then the man had come to Juliet’s for healing.
And now, the Phantom Blade had run into him twice as well. There did seem to be a pattern that meant that the traveler might be following him. Taeru realized for the first time that the guy could be spying on him, and that sent a horror burning down his throat. He had been so completely taken with the man that he would have never expected that the man was trying to figure something out. Nevertheless, that would be a reasonable assumption for why the young man always seemed to be there when—well… when Taeru wasn’t expecting him.
Still, why would someone obviously trying to find out information help Taeru in the way he had? If he had stood idly by while the nobles had figured out Taeru’s identity, then surely he’d have all the information he needed. Unless he wanted to be the one to relay the information, and if he’d helped the nobles—they’d never have given him any credit.
