A King's Caution (The Eternal War Book 2)

by Brennan C. Adams

  No. The fit eventually calmed, and Pointer shuddered in the sand. The arena had gone quiet, nothing except the occasional scrape of bodies against stone filling the air.

  In his helplessness, Thumb could easily end their fight. Why hadn’t he? Was he-?

  Familiar hands hauled him upright. Their grip on his shoulders was all that kept him from tumbling for the instant it took his legs to function once more.

  “’Sin?” Thumb asked, muddled worry brimming in his eyes.

  Intense relief saturated Pointer from head to toe. Grabbing Thumb’s face, he dragged it to him. He tasted blood and the salt of sweat, but interwoven with those was a taste which was distinctly ‘Suvi, ‘Suvi, ‘Suvi!

  Carefully lowering one hand, Pointer fiddled with the objects at his belt. Thumb began twitching beneath the other, so he released the big man’s face and pulled away while staying firmly within his embrace. Thumb placed a single finger on his face, one eye spasming, and Pointer understood how much the skin to skin contact cost the big man.

  “Why are you crying, ‘Sin?” Thumb asked with concern.

  Crookedly smiling, Pointer thrust his dagger into Thumb’s back. The big man’s eyes went wide, and he backed away, reaching for the foreign object piercing his flesh. Flowing behind him, Pointer tripped Thumb onto his stomach-he couldn’t watch ‘Suvi’s face for what came next-and bent over to yank the dagger from his back. The big man’s body jerked and spasmed, and a trickle of blood spilled from the wound.

  When Thumb fell still, the usual Conscripted came forward to collect the body, but Pointer faced them with rapier drawn, one foot on either side of his fallen lover.

  “This one’s mine!” he snapped with a cough. “You can’t take him.”

  Exchanging a dubious glance, the Conscripted reached for their weapons.

  “He can keep it,” someone said from the crowd, voice oscillating from high to low with every word. “I’m interested to see what he does with it once decay takes hold. In any case, while he’s enormously entertaining, I’ve had enough of him this evening. He’s too… efficient. I wish carnage, not clean kills.”

  The guards bowed low, almost scraping the ground. Facing the Eselan, Pointer inclined his head.

  “Your generosity is appreciated, lord.” It hurt to say something even that quietly!

  The Eselan curiously cocked his head. “Such a rash of people who display fearlessness lately! I wonder, are you-? No, no one’s stupid enough to infiltrate Uduli’s pits.” He snapped his fingers at the Conscripted. “Get him and his new baggage out of my sight.”

  The crowd didn’t dare make a peep as Pointer shouldered the body and followed the Conscripted from the arena.

  Alouin, but Thumb was heavy! All of those firm, prominent muscles-Pointer shook his head to clear it-made for a heavy burden, but the walk back to the holding pens was short. The Conscripted quickly departed once they’d locked their captives inside, and Pointer dropped Thumb onto his back. The open gash would have to come later, especially considering it was only a flesh wound. First came counteracting the poison.

  One hand cleared Thumb’s mouth of foam and blood while the other withdrew a flask from his belt. Pointer poured its contents into the cleared passage, held Thumb’s jaws together, and stroked his neck until the paralyzed muscles were compelled to move. Then, he rolled Thumb onto his stomach, dipped a knife’s tip in the tiny meniscus remaining in the flask, and very gently grazed the open wound’s edges with the prepared instrument. One more roll and Pointer waited.

  Minutes dragged by, and he restlessly fidgeted. Maybe it was because a loved one lay here rather than a target who needed to vanish sans a messy murder, but Pointer had to swallow the bile crawling from his stomach. Alouin, what if he’d actually killed him?!

  “Come on, ‘Suvi!” he ground out.

  Another handful of minutes and he couldn’t take it anymore. The poison’s reagent must have malfunctioned. The fuck was he supposed to do now? He killed people, not healed! He’d try the only other option at his disposal, and if that didn’t work, he’d find a quiet corner to taste the contents of the flasks strapped to his belt. Contents he’d forced down someone’s throat at some point or another.

  A burst of unconsciously unleashed, high-pitched giggling roused the other prisoners with the intensity of its despair. Waking from their despondency as if from a dream, they crept toward the impossible scene.

  “Don’t you dare leave me now!” Pointer exclaimed as he straddled Thumb, preparing to bear down on his chest.

  The big man gasped and immediately began coughing. Pointer scrambled off of him in time to avoid the vomit and bile which spewed from his mouth. He awkwardly rubbed the cloth above the wound in Thumb’s back, doing his best to provide comfort. When the stream ceased, he handed over his water flask, and for a solid minute, Thumb chugged at it until it was nearly empty.

  “Ugh,” the big man grunted once he’d finished.

  Silence fell. It was so heavy, and Pointer needed to fill it.

  “I’m sorry,” he intoned in a small, detached voice. “It was the only plan I could devise to get us out of the arena alive.”

  Thumb merely stared into space.

  “If it helps, I fashioned an escape route for us once I’d found you,” Pointer rasped, his voice protesting its continued use. “We might even risk saving these people if you think we can get away with it. If you don’t want to be near me once we’re free and clear, I’ll unders-mpf.”

  Twisting around, Thumb pinned Pointer into dirt and roughly smothered his remorse with warm lips. ‘Suvi’s tongue still faintly carried the taste of sick, but Pointer didn’t care. Wrapping an arm around the big man’s neck and another in his hair, he melted into him. Thumb broke contact, leaving Pointer gasping.

  “You’re not angry?” he asked.

  “You found me. Why would I be mad?” Thumb grumbled before leaning down and nipping the spot on Pointer’s neck which sent shivers up his spine.

  “‘Suvi!” Pointer laughed, shoving against the heavy body holding him down, “we need to get out of here. And people are watching.”

  Thumb lifted his head to return the mixture of blank, fascinated, and crazed stares.

  “We have time, I promise, ‘Sin.” He grinned down at Pointer. “As for the watchers, they’re welcome to join. If it gives them a break in their world’s horror, I can endure their contact for a time.”

  Murmurs spread through the pen, but Pointer decided their opinions didn’t matter. He was exhausted, overwrought with anxiety, and ready to leave this place, but the one he loved was right there, grinning at him, and he needed this so badly. He pulled ‘Suvi to him.

  Chapter Fifteen

  My Darling,

  I’ve safely delivered our beloved Illasaya into the hands of the Audish royal family and must admit, my love, I’m not comfortable with the arrangement. No matter that you’ve foreseen this marriage as increasing our odds, I can’t help the little pit of revulsion which afflicts me at the idea of her with their crown prince.

  The stupid boy failed to recognize or greet her when we arrived! I eventually had to introduce the two of them! I realize customs concerning women are different between Lyzencroft and Auden but really. The insult was too much.

  Unfortunately, I believe this accidental slight may have once more soured me against the man on whom we must pin our hopes. I’ll grant he’s beginning to learn respect and to take his role seriously, but he continues to be a self-centered brat. Maybe I’m missing whatever it is you’ve foreseen in him. Maybe our dear princess will change him for the better. I certainly hope so.

  In the meantime, what news from home? I realize that, by the time this letter reaches you, I’ll be back (and I again emphasize communication would be much simpler if you’d make use of your summoning abilities), but I must know. What do our scouts say about the disturbances on our Haven’s fringes? Is it HIM? Are our troubles soon to begin?

  After our recent scare with the dissident
uprising, I hesitate to place every random uproar at HIS feet, but I can’t help but quail every time I hear of an Eselan village destroyed or a scouting party annihilated. Will this terrible anticipation ever come to an end?

  I’ll be home soon, my love, and you can tell me everything I’ve missed in person. Until then, I remain faithfully yours.

  Raimie had left for Tiro without him. His friend had promise to stay out of trouble for one day while Keltheryl fought energy drain’s pull, and the kid had run off, sans protection, through one of the most well-traveled regions of Doldimar’s domain, without him.

  Well, Raimie needn’t worry about danger anymore. Keltheryl was going to kill the little bastard once he’d caught up.

  He refused to admit he over-exaggerated the anger directed at his friend to keep other, less easily manipulated emotions at bay. Hadrion…

  “You can’t forget your tragedies forever…” “I like you without your mask.”

  No. Anger moved him forward. Anger pieced his mask together, pasted it to his face. Anger made his flight down enemy infested roads swift. Guilt. Grief. Regret. He’d no time for these or any others.

  Raimie had two days head start on him. Recovering from a weeks long grip on human form had taken longer than Keltheryl had anticipated, an anomaly which had confounded him until he’d remembered Ele had begun to retreat from the physical realm. The force which kept him hale and hearty might work less efficiently than that to which he was accustomed. In the future, he planned to drop the guise more frequently to offset the unanticipated length of shape change’s consequences. In the meantime, he’d remain furious with Ele for leaving him high and dry after millennia spent coercing him into doing its bidding.

  Meanwhile, his gratitude to Oswin knew no bounds. The spymaster had kept him hidden and fed for the two days he’d been Eselan and out of commission. Oswin had also been the one to inform him Raimie no longer inhabited the Birthing Grounds. The bodyguard had seemed pleased by Keltheryl’s immediate response to prepare for departure even though his recovery had been far from complete, and Keltheryl found he couldn’t blame the spymaster’s manipulation. Oswin’s charge had abandoned him again, and he didn’t possess the ability to quickly follow. Keltheryl did. He’d have tried the same trick on Oswin if their roles had been reversed.

  Funny how one human’s exploitation proved acceptable but Ele’s manipulation and his friend’s broken promise prompted nothing but outrage.

  So it was that when he arrived outside Tiro, anger was the only thing which propelled him into the city.

  “Where is he?” he demanded of Creation.

  “Training yard with Eledis,” the splinter answered. “Careful, Erianger. Something’s broken within him since you two last spoke.”

  “More than it already was?” Keltheryl muttered, more to himself than anything.

  “Mm,” was all Creation hummed in response.

  Keltheryl stormed toward the training grounds, forcibly parting a stream of people retreating to their homes for the evening. Soon enough, he spotted a familiar mop of drab, brown hair bobbing amongst relative strangers. He changed his trajectory to match Raimie’s.

  “There you are!” he exclaimed when he met his friend, his mouth twisting.

  “Hey, Khel!” Raimie piped. “I’m glad you’re here.”

  Grabbing his friend’s shoulders, Keltheryl flipped him around. Placing a hand between Raimie’s’ shoulder blades, he drove him in the opposite direction.

  “What are you doing? Khel! I need to sleep!” Raimie protested.

  “So do I!” Keltheryl snapped.

  When they neared the training yard, they brushed past its startled master, coming to a stop in the wide, open space. It was empty, abandoned for the night save for the yard master who’d been closing shop when they’d arrived. The vacancy was good. Keltheryl wouldn’t need to hold back.

  “Time for a lesson,” he said, drawing his saber.

  “What-?”

  Keltheryl, however, didn’t allow Raimie to finish his question. He lunged, and his friend was lucky enough to lean away before the swipe cleaved him in two. Instantly, Silverblade was out of its scabbard, and the two descended into a frantic fight, fueled by a wealth of bitter emotions sunk below the surface. Safely hidden until a trigger swelled them to the forefront.

  Anger pushed Keltheryl a step beyond the regular limits he imposed when fighting his friend, and surprisingly, Raimie managed to keep up. Keltheryl read his friend’s aimless wrath, hurt, and betrayal in the boy’s reckless abandonment of safety, his willful overreaching. Raimie’s fighting style almost begged for Keltheryl to smash through and strike him. For a moment, he reigned his fury in, terrified of harming his friend and wondering whether Raimie’s absence of fear allowed the boy to match his speed. Then, Keltheryl saw Ele’s light dancing across his friend’s limbs.

  Drawing upon his own supply of white light, Keltheryl became a blur. With his magically increased speed, Raimie could almost keep up, but he possessed neither the necessary experience using primeancy nor the edge Keltheryl enjoyed as Ele’s Champion, both of which were required to move faster than the eye could track. After all, Raimie’s Ele source was separate from him, in his splinter, whereas Keltheryl’s resided inside.

  Keltheryl ducked Silverblade’s slow motion thrust at his neck before knocking the sword from his friend’s hand. Reaching for the Ele within the stone behind Raimie, he attracted it to what resided within his friend, and Raimie zipped backward as if on a line attached to his back. He slammed into the wall and despite his frenzied efforts to break free, couldn’t disrupt the hold Ele imposed on him. In an instant, he stopped trying, the torrent of sentiments he’d displayed during the fight diving deep beneath the waters once more. Keltheryl dashed across the two steps between them, drawing uncomfortably close to his friend.

  “You cannot leave me behind like that,” he hissed in Raimie’s face. “The one you fight is at least as powerful as I, and you’re my ally. He’ll take any opportunity to destroy you. You agreed to help with my quest, so when I tell you I’ll be out of commission for a day, you stay put until I can provide protection once more. Do you understand?”

  “How are you doing this?” Raimie asked as he craned his neck to get a look at what restrained him. “It’s fascinating!”

  “Raimie! Do. You. Understand?” Keltheryl snapped.

  “Yes!” his friend exclaimed with an eye roll. “I’m sorry I left the Birthing Grounds without you! Will you please let me go?”

  Raimie’s blasé attitude toward Keltheryl’s insistence of danger was less than reassuring, but he couldn’t keep his friend pinned to the wall like a butterfly until the kid understood. That might take hours. Keltheryl returned the Ele within the stone to its natural state, and Raimie slumped at the sudden release of pressure. He rubbed his shoulders with a wince.

  “I don’t understand why you’re so upset,” he whined. “I moved too quickly through enemy territory for anyone to touch me.”

  “Except an Enforcer who could shade meld before you, toss Daevetch into your path, or snare you in a Vice,” Keltheryl growled, jabbing a finger at an open cut on Raimie’s neck. His friend winced. “When you're close, they can sense you, much as you can them. Plus, every time you’ve absconded without me in the past, I’ve had to rescue you from some incredibly dangerous situation. I swear, I stop tracking your every move for a single moment, and you nearly get yourself killed.”

  “Whoa! What an invasion of privacy, Khel!” Raimie chuckled. “But I see your point. I won’t leave you behind again without at least informing you first.”

  “Thank you.”

  Raimie stepped closer, surreptitiously looked around the empty yard, and leaned toward Keltheryl. “You know I’m capable of protecting myself, right?” he whispered.

  Keltheryl snorted. “To a certain extent, conceivably.”

  “If you lack confidence in my abilities, perhaps you should return to the role of tutor,” Raimie suggested, sp
reading his arms wide. “I’d say you’ve held out on me.”

  “I have been neglecting that duty, haven’t I?” Keltheryl mused.

  “Yes,” Raimie instantly replied, mischief dancing in his eyes.

  “Oh, hush. Let’s allow the yard master to finish closing shop for the evening, shall we? I fear my haste to make a point has delayed the man long enough.”

  Raimie sharply glanced at the bewildered man perching on the fence. “I forgot how late it is!” he exclaimed, rushing to clasp the master’s hands. “I apologize for keeping you, sir.”

  Prying a hand from Raimie’s grasp, the yard master reassuringly patted the top of their finger pile.

  “That’s all right, Your Majesty. Watching the two of you spar was a pleasure, and if I may say so,” he lowered his voice, “I’d avoid making your friend angry in the future. He just about cleaned the floor with you, and he was holding back.”

  “Oh, I know.” Raimie laughed. “He does that, has from the moment we met. I’d be insulted if I wasn’t terrified to face him at his strongest. I’ve never seen the likes of his grab bag of techniques, not even as a child in Dair-” He cut off, face reddening and eyes going wide. “If you’ll excuse me, sir,” he begged leave of the master.

  Despite his seeming haste, Raimie’s feet dragged while he took his leave, and he paused outside the fence.

  “Come see me later, Khel! I’ve a favor to ask,” he shouted, almost as an afterthought.

  Right... Like Raimie hadn’t sought the proper moment to spring his request since they’d met in the street. The kid refused to ask help from anyone, preferring the handle his problems on his own, so his current difficulty must be dire.

  Raimie, however, should know by now he didn’t need to ask a favor of Keltheryl. He’d do whatever he could to ease his friend’s troubles without expecting anything in return.

  “Can’t ask now?” Keltheryl asked.

  “It’s of a sensitive nature,” Raimie explained, eyes darting to the master who watched their exchange with interest. “Plus, I thought you’d want to visit your sister as soon as possible.”