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

by Brennan C. Adams

  “I didn’t think so,” she said. “Keep talking to me. Help me decipher where you are in this mess.”

  Raimie wondered what to say. Who are you? How did you get inside a tear? Where are you from? In the end, he decided on something simpler than those questions.

  “Does your… companion use Ele?”

  “What’s Ele?” she responded, eyes lazily tracking above him.

  What’s Ele? Everyone knew the answer to that question! Where did she live? Under a rock? Or perhaps a farm in the middle of nowhere…. Right.

  “Ele, the primal force of light, life, order, et. cetera,” Raimie explained. “Never heard of it?”

  “No,” she said as her eyes met his through the peephole. A smile predatorially flashed over her face. “Found you.”

  She opened her satchel, digging through its interior until its lip touched her shoulder. The bag couldn’t possibly contain her entire arm! Raimie calmed his stomach’s panicked fluttering. Chalk it up to another of the woman’s oddities, he told himself.

  Making a triumphant noise, she withdrew a set of gloves. Composed of a hexagonal, shimmering fabric, glowing tubes created a spider web across their backs, connecting to each fingertip.

  “Have you heard of the United States of America? Texas? Houston?” she asked, sliding the gloves on. “Thought not, but those names are commonplace in my reality. Don’t judge me for my lack of knowledge.” She knelt. “More light, Ailig.”

  The little ball considerably brightened.

  “What are those names?” Raimie asked, hoping to extend an olive branch to her.

  The woman stilled, features tight. “Home,” she whispered. Shivering, she rubbed her gloved hands together. “Let’s see if these still work.”

  When she grabbed the boulder closest to her, a whine which steadily rose in pitch screeched against Raimie’s ears, and tears pooled in his eyes. His hands twitched to block the noise, helplessly trapped by his sides, but mercifully, the jarring noise ceased when the boulder puffed into a cloud of fine, white granules. The woman enthusiastically kissed her palms.

  “Good job, my lovelies!”

  “What was that?” Raimie yelped.

  Her stern eyes snapped to his. “No. I’ve already done more, said more, than I should. I don’t want a repeat of Hiyuki,” she said. “Instead, why don’t you tell me your life story while I work?”

  Raimie understood stubborn women-his wife was one-and he knew when to retreat lest he unleash an onslaught of moody behavior. If he wished, he could coax more information from her later. For now, he told her about Auden, Ada’ir, and him in between sporadic bouts of his coffin’s destruction.

  Sometimes, the pauses between boulder vanishings stretched long, and occasionally, she bid Raimie silent so she could consult with Ailig. It was a delicate process, exhuming him. Incorrectly shift one rock, and Raimie would become meat paste between the rubble above and the cave floor below.

  Even still, he exhausted ‘safe’ conversation topics in what felt like no time, although it must have been hours. He tried to match the woman’s stoicism and silence, but quiet had never agreed with him. Unless he was alone. Which he never was with Nylion in his life.

  So, before long, Raimie found himself straying into his most guarded secrets and fears. His splinters, Kheled, the other half of him, his mother, meeting with Alouin, and the fear that those meetings had been the product of a dying mind.

  The last two were the only revelations to elicit a response from her. He’d long since ceased craning his neck to watch her work, so his only indication he’d caught her by surprise was a choked gasp at the mention of Alouin’s name.

  “Out of everything you’ve heard, that’s what catches you off guard?” he asked with amusement.

  The whine of another rock’s crumble cut him off mid-question. When the noise broke, Raimie stubbornly held his tongue, certain the interruption had been purposeful.

  “Sorry,” she finally said. “Alongside the doors, Alouin is one of the fixed concepts in every parallel universe, although he’s not always called ‘Alouin’ and the doors aren't always readily apparent. You’re the only other person I’ve come across who’s met him. As for the rest of your story… I didn’t know what to say. Life’s dealt you a rough hand.”

  “Who else have you known to meet him?” Raimie asked. “Was the experience shared with you the same as mine?”

  Her shuffles had grown louder in the last half hour, but now, they sounded from the other side of stone.

  “Your answers, in order, are a friend and me,” she whispered ‘friend’ so mournfully Raimie could almost feel her grief as his own, “and yes.”

  Another high-pitched hum, another puff as rock turned to dust. Light spilled into his coffin, and Raimie’s heart soared.

  “You should be able to squeeze through, whoa!” the woman exclaimed as Raimie scrambled past her.

  On his feet, he could move, he could breathe, he was free, free, FREE!

  “Thank you!” he exclaimed, grasping her gloved hands. “A thousand times, thank you! How can I ever repay you?”

  The woman’s dust-coated face wrinkled. “Your payment was your story which you’ve already given. Consider us even. Besides, don’t you have greater concerns at the moment?”

  Raimie’s face blanched. Doldimar. Uduli. Ren. In the easy comradery he’d found with the woman, he’d forgotten the reason behind his urgency to escape what should have been his grave.

  “Looks like I dug a path from this cave while unearthing you.”

  The woman pointed to a hollow crevasse between the cave’s wall and the unsteady rubble pile beneath which he’d lain.

  “You’re free to ‘go forth and save the kingdom!’” She giggled into her hand. “Always wanted to say that.”

  Raimie yearned to squeeze through the crack and run, sprint, fly, but the woman’s presence kept him momentarily tethered.

  “What about you?” he asked. “Will you come?”

  “Oh, I’m sure I’ve done enough damage,” she protested, throwing her hands up. “Besides, this isn’t my world. There’s nothing for me here.”

  “Well, I thank you,” Raimie said. “You’ve done me a great kindness, Mistress… Huh. I don’t believe I caught your name.”

  “I suppose no harm could come from telling you,” the woman murmured. “It’s Bren.”

  “In that case, Mistress Bren, I wish you luck on your journey and in your endeavors.”

  “And to you, Raimie. Maybe I’ll see you again sometime.”

  Flashing him a bright smile, Bren stepped to the tear. It’s black center eagerly reached for her like a lover, quickly drawing her into its embrace, and the strange, magnificent woman was gone, leaving Raimie with a catastrophe to avert.

  “Bright? Dim?” he asked the empty cave once more, shaking his head at the expected lack of response.

  “Maybe once we’re away from the tear…” Nylion said.

  I certainly hope so, Raimie replied.

  Because the alternative was a long hike via mundane means from wherever he was to Uduli. During which time Doldimar would have reasserted his control over Auden.

  Stone made one final attempt to contain him as he squeezed through the gap. His already lacerated back screeched protests at its further abuse, and when he reached the other side, he purposefully ignored the drench of cold sweat which soaked him. On this side of the rubble, a narrow passage gradually sloped upward, and sunlight’s dim glow shone down its length. Raimie darted to its culmination, a race which lasted what seemed first minutes and then days as his brain swirled from the lack of sleep, lack of food, lack of…

  A frustrated shriek echoed down the passage and into the abandoned cave.

  “You have got to be kidding me!” Raimie gritted out.

  Before him, the earth opened onto a sparkling, frozen, never-ending sprawl of empty landscape. It offered freedom and hope. His many explorations of the north would lend the knowledge necessary to find a beacon of
civilization from which to start his journey home. The problem was the sheet of clear ice which blocked his way.

  “What the hell am I supposed to do now?!” Raimie growled. “Melt my way out with my body heat?”

  “Certainly a possibility,” Nylion said, “but-”

  “Thank the whole, we found you!” Bright’s long sought-after voice boomed inside the passage.

  They were back, thank Alouin. Where they’d been, Raimie longed to ask, but-

  “We lost you when you pursued Arivor. Where have you-?”

  “No time,” Raimie rushed. “Dim, I need a precise shade meld. Can you help?”

  The Daevetch splinter had been staring down the passage, but he started and focused when his human said his name. “I- I can try.”

  “Let’s go, then.”

  Raimie dove into and out of the shadows in the blink of an eye, Dim’s assistance making the trip elapse with the ease of breathing. The simplicity didn’t halt his stumble, however, when shadows released him.

  After regaining his footing, he took his bearings, and his face drained of color. He stood on the farmland which surrounded Uduli, the city in the distance. At first glance, an illusion of normality imprinted upon his irises, but then, he observed a black smudge spilling from the walls and the faintest flicker of orange between the buildings. The city was in flames.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  I told you to inspect that gifted horse with a fine-tooth comb! Now, your entire team’s diseased, and you’re stranded with nowhere to go.

  -Unknown

  Kaedesa had acted strangely for the length of her visit to Auden, but her behavior at the moment bordered on erratic. Her hands continually fluttered to the pockets where she stashed her journals, her nervous fidgeting setting Eledis’ skin into a slow crawl. She’d hardly partaken of the feast set before her, picking at the bones of her dish, and she alternated between bouts of manic, pleased outbursts and moody quiet.

  “How have you found our fair city?” Eledis asked while buttering his roll.

  He knew she couldn’t say much besides empty compliments. Since her arrival a few weeks ago, the Queen of Ada’ir had yet to leave the palace. This dinner was the first time she’d emerged from her quarters even during the ball for which she’d come, an outlier for her behaviorally. While she loved to complain to anyone who’d listen about such events, Eledis’ experience with Kaedesa belied her assertions. Social butterfly that she was, she’d never miss an event as widely anticipated as Auden’s Anniversary Ball, one where her beloved Raimie had promised momentous news, unless something truly intriguing had preoccupied her.

  The acceptable length of time for Kaedesa to answer his question terminated, and they wandered into the territory of the awkward. Kaedesa never noticed. She fiddled with her utensils, hunched over her meal with a curtain of hair hiding her face.

  “What’s wrong, ‘desa?” Eledis asked, experimenting with Marcuset’s nickname for her.

  She winced which made him cringe, suppressing an urgent need to apologize.

  “Don’t, Eledis,” she muttered. “Don’t use that name. I like it when you call me ‘saya.”

  Lash framed emeralds peered from behind Kaedesa’s hair, daring Eledis to meet them, and he answered the challenge, even as a tingle of nervous anticipation zipped down his spine. Shivering, he folded his hands in his lap and lazily reclined in his chair.

  “Why ‘saya?” he asked, voice trembling from the intensity of his ice-cold fear. “The nickname holds no resemblance to your-”

  “I remember, Eledis,” she cut him off, “or rather, this helped me remember.”

  She withdrew a single notebook from a pocket. Its pages wore the marks of use and age well, holding together despite yellowed must and crinkled corners. At the sight of it, warmth drove the ice from Eledis’ chest, the memory of her smile upon receiving it providing the necessary fuel. Then, a hollow pit carved through that warmth. Following the seer’s curse, he’d helplessly watched her sob while scribbling what she could into the journal.

  She’d read it. She remembered. His heart couldn’t take the anxiety of what she’d next say.

  “You’re the one who reminded me of the archives,” she explained. “I store the oldest and most important journals there, among the many transcriptions I’ve had made. When I came home from my last stay in Auden, I visited the archives in the hopes that you and Aramar might have missed something in the purge of your family from my memories. Instead, I found this.”

  For how thin and airy it appeared, the journal loudly thumped when dropped.

  “Illasaya…” Eledis breathed.

  His finger bones ground against one another, he clenched them so tightly. The times when she was her instead of an adopted false persona were few and far between. What should he say to her? He’d thoroughly demolished their relationship during his negotiations with Doldimar, his relinquishment of their son as hostage, his acceptance of their exile. Could he say anything to fix what they’d had? Considering their old nemesis had vanished without a trace, their curse might soon break. This might be his last chance to make amends.

  “I’m sorry, ‘saya,” he began, but anger squeezed the apology into silence.

  Almost three hundred years gone, and she still hadn’t forgiven him!

  “He was my son too!” the strangled cry came. “Do you know, I have moments when I look at Raimie and my arms ache to hold our son, the two are so similar? I miss him too!”

  Illasaya’s chair scraped against floor, and her hands gripped the tabletop so fiercely her knuckles whitened. “Our baby died a lifetime ago, Eledis. That mistake has long been forgiven,” she replied. “Do you know what I couldn’t stand?”

  Eledis matched her stance and volume. “What?!” he snapped. “What action of mine was so horrible you felt the need to marry another man?”

  Circling the table, Illasaya got in his face, and Eledis’ traitorous heart skipped a beat despite the zing of anger surging along his veins.

  “Your self-loathing, doubt, and pettiness were what eventually distanced me, not some monstrous act! For years, I tried to snap you from your slump, but all you could think about, talk about, Alouin, even exhibit passion about were Auden and destroying Doldimar. You turned our dead son into the mark of your shame, the banner of your revenge, never seeing the blessing we’d been given. Life for as long as we wanted it! Together with one another.”

  Eledis tried to cut in, but sharp pain across his cheek halted his effort.

  “You warped our living son into an unrecognizable weapon because of your guilt. He died thinking he’d failed you, and you’ve branded your mark into each of our descendants since, all because of a remorse you refuse to release,” Illasaya muttered, rubbing her palm. “Where did my husband go? Where’s the smart, poised, charming man I married?”

  Eledis warily eyed her once her words’ flow trickled to nothing. “Are you quite finished?”

  Illasaya stepped away from him, heat coloring the back of her neck, and nodded.

  “Then, let’s go.”

  He’d almost made it from the room before her strangled voice chased him.

  “What?!”

  “You said a life together. I assume we don’t need to lead it here,” Eledis said.

  She always had looked cute when astonished. Something about the frustrated gape of her mouth…

  “I don’t follow,” she grunted.

  “Obviously,” Eledis replied, rolling his eyes, “otherwise, we’d already be through the door.” He chuckled at her growl. “‘saya, I only ever fixated on Auden because I thought Auden was what you wanted. I won’t deny the idea of wiping Doldimar from existence sustained me during our exile’s initial years. I wouldn’t disagree that I blamed myself for the disasters which ended in our flight, but I didn’t care about Auden. I cared about you and your desires, and you didn’t seem happy without a nation to rule. So, I endeavored to get you one.”

  “In that case, why continue with your o
bsession once I’d claimed Ada’ir as my own?” Illasaya retorted, but he could see uncertainty waver in her eyes.

  “When you married Belqarim,” Eledis’ mouth twisted upon speaking the name, “I thought you’d left me for good. I had nothing to live for besides the vain hope that gifting you Auden would return you to me.”

  “What about your family? Aramar and Raimie? They weren’t enough?” Illasaya whispered, face growing somber as the truth of Eledis’ words wormed their way into acceptance.

  “Aramar…” Eledis momentarily trailed off while he scrambled for a sensible explanation. “He made an irreconcilable error when he married Samantha. She was trouble from the moment the tear spat her into our world, but even knowing that, he proceeded to further entangle us with the woman. I couldn’t forgive him for such a stupid mistake, despite his potential. Still can’t. As for Raimie, you know why I don’t like him.”

  “He’s a constant reminder of what you perceive as failure.”

  Eledis reeled from her frank assessment of the irrationality behind his dislike. “How did he attract not only an Ele splinter but a Daevetch one as well?” he growled, hands lifting to his hair. “Why not me? If Ele had come to me as it should, perhaps Doldimar wouldn’t have risen to power. Perhaps our son…”

  Illasaya pried his hands from his head. When had she crossed the room?

  “There it is,” she murmured. “The self-loathing. You did the best you could in difficult circumstances. Forgive yourself. I certainly have.”

  How could she say that? How could she forgive him?! He didn’t deserve…

  But wasn’t that the point of forgiveness? To be given to the undeserving?

  Drawing a shuddering breath, he laughed. Here he’d complained that Illasaya hadn’t forgiven him after so many decades, and when she did, all he wanted was to scream that it was unwarranted, that he deserved her hate. Alouin, he’d used the perception of his wife’s loathing to feed his lack of self-merit.