Kinshield's Redemption (Book 4)

by K. C. May

  Edan knelt to his left and held her arm in place. “I’ve got it.”

  Gavin wrapped both hands around the arm and stump, covering the wound. Immediately they burned, ignited by the severity of her injury. He grasped the connection with Daia and pulled hard, drawing strength from her. He didn’t have time to warn her with an ever-increasing draw. Battlers died from wounds such as this.

  The burning in his hands and wrists was excruciating. He held on as long as he could, gritting his teeth through the agony, thinking he might have to let go this time and begin again once the pain faded. Tennara would probably be healed enough by then to survive. When he started to loosen his grip on her arm, the idyllic white fluttering overtook him. He floated in it, relieved and comforted by the ecstasy it brought. If this was what dying was like, he would welcome death. Every bit of him felt immense pleasure—his body, his mind, even his wretched soul. It occurred to him that instead of being king, he could become a healer. Then he would live in this heaven every day and stop making mistakes that killed people.

  It didn’t last. He felt the fluttering drift away, and with it his relief from the guilt that all his wrong choices had caused. His vision returned, and the sniffles and whispers and sounds of breathing seeped into his consciousness. When he opened his eyes, Tennara was looking at him with clarity in her face.

  “My thanks, King Gavin,” she whispered. “I was sure this would be my last battle.”

  He removed his hands and inspected her arm. The scar was thick and dark pink, but it was healed. The lower portion of her sleeve that still covered her arm was soaked through with dark red blood, and he pulled it off and flung it aside. “Can you move it?”

  She stared at her hand for a long moment, but it lay still on her thigh. She thumped it a few times with flicks of her left forefinger and thumb. The skin reddened, but she shook her head. “I don’t feel it.”

  “At all?”

  “No, but I’m still grateful for your efforts.”

  “Maybe the feeling will return in time,” Edan said. “It reddens, so blood is flowing to it.”

  Gavin rose slowly to his feet, trembling with exhaustion and cursing the ache in his knees and ankles. His joints popped. “Let’s get the rest o’these people home.”

  Chapter 58

  The other eighty-some people stood around them looking relieved and anxious at the same time. Though they were back in the blue realm, they weren’t home yet. They’d been abducted from all over the world, and getting them to their homes was going to take some effort. And some assistance. “I’ve got an idea.” Gavin outlined his plan.

  “I don’t know about this, Gav,” Edan said.

  “Trust me. This’ll work.” With that, he took one of the two summoning runes from his knapsack and clutched it in his fist. With the name of his subject in mind, he whispered the name of the rune.

  A black hole opened in the air before him, and Baron Hexx Gnorglsht of Tapfss stepped out of it. He was dressed in only a towel wrapped around his torso, and his white hair was wet. “What is the meaning of this?” he asked, clutching the towel tightly. When he caught sight of the battlers, their weapons aimed at him, he froze. “Sir King?”

  “Baron Hexx,” Gavin said jovially. He put a friendly arm around the Baron’s hairy, naked shoulders. “I got a favor to ask, though I’m going to have to insist on your cooperation.”

  “You wouldn’t kill me. Would you?” he asked, eyeing the swords pointed at him.

  “Not if I don’t have to. I was near my home when I entered your realm, but when I left, I was here, many miles away. The same is true for everyone here. All these people need to get back to their homes. You’re going to grant safe passage through your realm, and with the aid of your Callers, return everyone to where they should be.”

  The Baron’s eyes widened. “All these people?”

  “All o’them.”

  A slyness crept over the Baron’s face. “Of course, King. I’ll be glad to aid you and your friends. Release me and enter my realm. We’ll have you back in no time at all.”

  “I don’t trust you any more than I like you,” Gavin said. “Here’s what I’ll do. I’ll release you first. You’ll have five minutes to talk to your Callers and the Baron Flisk’s Callers and instruct everyone what to do. Then, I’ll summon you back here, where you’ll stay with my armed friends until the rest o’these people are safely back home in our own realm. When my wife and I are home, I’ll release you, and you can get back to your business. If anything goes wrong—anything—I’ll take you to the red realm, where you’ll die the most terrible death you can imagine. Guardians, would you show him what awaits in the red realm?”

  “We are pleased to help you, Emtor.”

  Baron Hexx’s eyes widened, and his throat bobbed, but he straightened defiantly. “Your zhi nature prevents you from doing such a thing to another living being.”

  Gavin shrugged. “I might feel bad for a few days, but I’ll get over it.”

  “That isn’t fair. What do I get in return?”

  “You get to live the rest o’your life.”

  “But for your interference, I would already live the rest of my life.”

  “Yeh, but I interfered, didn’t I? Your choice. Help us and live, or die screaming.”

  The Baron smiled again, but this time it was with resignation. “I’ll help you, but in return, you must agree never to summon me to this despicable realm again.”

  He’d already used the Baron to restore Hennah’s khozhi balance and wouldn’t need him again except for this task. “Agreed.”

  Gavin released Baron Hexx to return to his own realm and waited a few minutes to give him time to make arrangements with his Callers. While they waited, Gavin asked everyone to group up by their home countries. The two Farthans stood by a large rock, the twelve Osgani huddled together near a sapling, sixteen Thendylathians behind Gavin, eight Nilmarions gathered together, and the citizens of five other countries created their own respective groups.

  The Baron was putting on a shirt when Gavin summoned him back. Everything was arranged. “I’ll take the Osgani home first.” With his arms out to his sides, the dozen Osgani gathered close, and together they went into the yellow realm.

  They were back where they started—in the holding cell, surrounded by ten Callers. Three more appeared.

  Gavin thought the Baron had crossed him, tricked him into imprisonment once again. Each Caller in turn pointed at one of the Osgani, and then the two of them vanished. A Caller raised his bony finger and pointed at Gavin, and in an instant, he found himself surrounded by the nervous Osgani people. Before long, all twelve were together again, clutching each other as they staggered from dizziness.

  “Awright, back to our own realm. Let’s hope this works.”

  He created a portal to the blue realm and took the Osgani people home.

  They were surrounded by squat buildings with deeply sloping roofs and glazed windows. Passersby stopped to point and stare, no doubt wondering about the thirteen people who appeared so suddenly in the road. The landscape was unfamiliar to Gavin, but several of his fellow travelers cheered. They marveled at their surroundings, at their dizziness, and at the wonder of the frightening experience they’d shared. But it was over now, and they smiled and laughed and embraced each other.

  “We thank you for returning us to our home, King,” one man said. He offered his hand, which Gavin shook. The others shook his hand as well and several of them ran off, eager to reunite with family members. Two of the Osgani looked around warily.

  “This isn’t my home city,” one of them said.

  “Nor mine,” said the other.

  The first fellow who’d shaken Gavin’s hand put his arms around them both. “I’ve got horses and a wagon. I’ll see you safely to your homes.”

  They lifted their hands to wave at Gavin, and he returned to the Yellow realm, ready to be whisked back to where the others awaited.

  With most of the abductees returned t
o their home countries in the blue realm, Gavin let the dizziness, exhaustion, and dread drag him to his knees. Only four groups remained. He tugged the scabbard strap off over his head and collapsed onto his back in the grassy field. Clouds floated beneath a purple and pink sky. The sun gleamed weakly through the trees to his right. To his left lay his wife’s dead body and his son in her womb. Looking at her felt like a knife in his heart, so he avoided even a glance in that direction. There would be a funeral to honor her, and a burial to lay her to rest, but until then, he needed to focus on getting them all home.

  Restoring Daia, the fight with the Clout and Callers, the healing he’d done to Tennara, and constant use of magic to open the portals had used up quite a bit of his essence. He needed a couple months’ rest to recover it all, though he knew that by then, he wouldn’t be the same. The image of Jennalia’s gray hair and wrinkled skin reminded him that he was shortening his life. Would he be gray-haired and slumped over by winter, too frail to wield Aldras Gar as a battler? Would he look like an old man at the age of twenty-seven?

  “You should rest, Gavin,” Calinor said. “You look like hell, and by that, I mean even worse than usual.”

  Gavin looked up without raising his head, unable to dredge up even a half-hearted smile.

  “We can sleep here,” Edan said, squatting beside him. “I’ve got three arrows left, and I’ve seen deer scat. A deer will be more than enough for several meals for the rest of us.”

  “If you’re going to sit there doing nothing,” the Baron Hexx said, “send me home. I’ve got better things to do than to wait here with you people.”

  Gavin still had people to take home. Gripping Calinor’s arm, Gavin hauled himself back to his feet. “Where’s Tokpah?”

  Edan made an annoyed face. “Kaoque and Tokpah have left.”

  He must have gone to look for Kaoque. “Awright, you three,” he said, waving a weak hand at three bucks with shaved heads and full blond beards. “You’re next.”

  “King Gavin,” said a short man with a goatee. He bowed and smiled and beckoned with his hand. “We wanted to pay our respects. Please. This way.” He led Gavin in the direction of Feanna’s body.

  Dread built in his heart with every step. Someone had lain flowers over his wife’s heart. Why did they have to do this now? Gavin gazed down at his wife’s face. His chest felt tight and his legs weak. He picked up the yellow flower that lay atop her breast and sniffed its sweet scent.

  “That’s kind o’you—” Then he scowled. Something wasn’t right. He’d killed enough people, seen enough die, to know what the body did after death. Feanna hadn’t evacuated. He looked again at her haze, but again, he saw nothing. He licked the inside of his wrist and held it under her nose, but he felt no breath on his skin.

  “She’s alive,” the short fellow said.

  Shaking his head to refuse the hope that tried to build in his heart, Gavin put his hand over hers. It wasn’t warm, but it wasn’t cool, either. At least, not as cool as he’d expected. He picked up her wrist and watched her hand flop down. The stiffness of death hadn’t set in. He put two fingers to the side of her neck, but his own thundering heart made it difficult to sense any pulse.

  Then he felt two light taps against his fingers.

  His thoughts raced. The Callers had drained her. She had no haze left. It was his mind tricking him.

  Edan squatted beside him. “Are you sure? Let me feel.” He put two fingers to her neck where Gavin had. No one made a sound. “By the sword of King Arek! She’s alive.”

  Gavin’s hand darted out to grab hold of Edan. Alive?

  Edan put his arm around Gavin’s shoulders and shook him. “Her pulse is slow, but she’s alive.”

  Gavin bent his head and pressed his ear to her chest. He plugged the other ear with a finger and listened.

  Thump-thump.

  A sob escaped his throat, and he lay his forehead against her. She’s alive. She’s alive. He wiped the wetness from his cheeks and looked up. “I interrupted the last Caller, but I thought I was too late. I thought he finished her.” He looked again for her haze, and though he still saw no trace of it, that didn’t dampen the hope that was becoming certainty. Her heart was beating, and if her heart still beat, he could save her. He first had to replenish her essence—and his son’s—from his own.

  “Exactly so, Emtor,” the Guardians said. “Her haze is drained almost to the point of death, but you successfully interrupted the Caller before he finished.”

  He didn’t know that the baby was still alive—he had no way to check—but he refused to let that hope die. He rolled Feanna onto her side, facing him. “Someone bring my sword. Pick it up by the scabbard—don’t touch the hilt.” An older buck brought Aldras Gar, holding it gingerly by the scabbard strap. Gavin laid it on the ground in front of her, and then lay beside her, facing her as he’d done with Daia.

  “I might faint,” he said. “Don’t move me. Don’t touch me. Just let me lay right here.”

  “What are you doing?” Edan asked.

  “I’m going to save my wife and son.”

  “Emtor, you mustn’t,” the Guardians said. “Your essence is already depleted from your heavy use of magic. You have none to spare.”

  Then he would have to do the best he could.

  Chapter 59

  Aldras Gar.

  Gavin jerked to wakefulness and struggled to sit up. The sky was dark now, and his companions were gathered around a fire, talking quietly.

  “Something wrong, Gavin?” Calinor asked.

  “I’m not sure.”

  Aldras Gar.

  Everyone fell quiet, all looking towards a glow of firelight in the trees to the east. Gavin summoned the last of his strength to stand up, taking his sword in hand.

  “Someone’s coming,” Calinor said.

  “Maybe Kaoque is returning,” said Edan.

  “No, that’s too many torches,” someone else said.

  They were right. As the torches neared, marching footsteps through the forest grew louder but were far too many to count. Gavin made out the shapes of Cyprindian warriors approaching. He assessed his own numbers: he had two able-bodied battlers, one without the use of her sword arm, and himself. The others looked like farmers or merchants or servants. They had a half dozen swords between them, and Edan had only two arrows left. There was no use trying to arm everyone. They wouldn’t stand a chance against so many Cyprindian warriors.

  “Take Feanna,” Gavin said, stumbling to his feet. He would’ve picked her up himself, but he could barely stand up without help. “Where’s her amulet?” It would hide her from the warriors.

  “I saw a necklace on the floor in the room where you found her,” Tennara said. “With everything happening, I didn’t think to pick it up. I’m sorry.”

  It was too late to return for it now. Edan and another man picked Feanna up, one under each arm, and carried her behind Gavin. The others gathered around her, and Edan made his way forward to stand behind Gavin’s right shoulder.

  They waited anxiously as the battlers stepped into the clearing and formed a circle around them. Each was dressed and tattooed like Tokpah, with a single metal breastplate barely large enough to cover his heart. Each carried a pole-arm, some with what looked like axe blades on the end, others with sword-like tips, and a few with tips that resembled daggers with downward-facing barbs to do incredible damage when they were yanked from their targets. With these weapons, the Cyprindians had greater reach than a man with a sword had, though he would have to be accurate on the first strike. The wooden staff didn’t look strong enough to be used to block a blow from a sword.

  “What do you want?” Gavin asked them.

  A man wearing a white tunic that reached to his knees stepped forward. Beneath the tunic, he wore white trousers and sandals that had to be uncomfortable walking in the forest. Atop the man’s head was a short, round hat that was red on the bottom and black on the top. Loops of gold hung around his neck and wrists, and two gold
rings pierced his lower lip. Thick, black lines were tattooed beside his eyes, unlike the swirling thin lines the Nilmarions wore.

  To Gavin’s surprise, Kaoque stepped forward beside him. “Kaoque? You brought these battlers down upon us after I saved your life?”

  “This is Tunktah Vopku standing for the Lord Orator of Cyprindia,” Kaoque said. “You will address him as you would the Lord Orator.”

  “You’re the King of Thendylath, descendent of the Beresfard ruler known as the Demon Lord, who brought permanent death upon thousands of distinguished warriors of Cyprindia?” the fake Lord Orator asked. His voice was deep and clear, the voice of a man used to speaking before large audiences.

  “What’s he talking about?” Gavin muttered to Edan.

  “I can’t understand him, remember?”

  Gavin cursed silently and quickly repeated what the Lord Orator’s stand-in had said.

  Edan said quietly into his ear, “Samuar Beresfard was the king who started the war with Cyprindia four centuries ago. He summoned Ritol, or something like it, and fled while the demon devoured the souls of thousands of Cyprindian warriors.”

  Gavin knew that couldn’t be true. Ritol didn’t eat souls. It ate essence, with a particular appetite for zhi. Those warriors hadn’t been lost, simply killed in battle no different than by a sword or lance. “I’m not who you think I am,” he said to the Cyprindian speaker. “I’m a Kinshield, not a Beresfard.”

  “Actually, you are,” Edan said softly. “I meant to tell you about it, but we got distracted.”

  That was neither here nor there. He didn’t start the bloody war. “We were stranded here, and we want to go home. Will you let us pass?”