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

by Brennan C. Adams

  “Maybe your students can help,” Creation suggested.

  “They’re scheduled for a field trip on the other side of Auden this week!” Kheled scoffed. “Why would they-?”

  An explosion of white detonated nearby, revealing Raimie's first recruit when it faded.

  “Kheled! Thank the gods!” Miranon exclaimed. “What do we do?”

  “How?!” Kheled asked, scrambling to understand. “Why are you here?!”

  “The King sent us home when Doldimar interrupted our field trip,” Miranon replied, eyes skimming over the burning city, the closed palace gate. “Guess he knew what was coming-”

  Her gaze landed on the square below them, and a hand flew to her mouth. An instant later, she sprinted to the roof’s edge and heaved, her wretched coughs loud over the noise of distant battle. When she returned, a light Ele coating glistened beneath her skin.

  Using the energy to soothe nerves as she did was a horrible idea, eventually leading to an addiction that was close to impossible to break. Teacher Kheled would tell her as much, but soldier Kheled kept his mouth firmly closed against the warning. He knew in war, everything changed.

  “Where are your fellow students?” he asked instead.

  “We raced for Uduli as fast as Ele would take us, but some of us aren’t as proficient at pushing energy to speed our flight, as you know,” Miranon answered. “Those who are swifter left the others behind, but we planned to meet outside the palace gate if we could.”

  As she finished explaining, three more figures, Jeme and the two Matvai, landed in Ele sprays.

  “Kheled, yu’re back!” Talkovsky, the Matvai boy, exclaimed. “Gud timing! Yanovna and I discussing how to scaele the-”

  He broke off as the three observed what lay beneath their feet.

  “How do we kill them, Kheled?” Jeme asked, the fists by her side trembling.

  “We don’t,” he told them, hurrying to explain at their outraged stares. “Our priority is Raimie. We get into the palace, we find him, and we get him out.”

  “But the King just with us!” Yanovna protested. “He stayed to distract Duldimar lung as pussible!”

  “Well, Doldimar’s here now, and you’d better hope Raimie is too.” Because otherwise, I might lose it. “Any other objections? If not, I could use your help.”

  They exchanged dubious glances.

  “Why?” Jeme asked. “You’re the strongest of us, Kheled. We… we can feel it when we’re near you. If you can’t get inside, how could we?”

  Kheled chewed his lip. How much to share, and what to hold back? As if the humiliation wouldn’t be enough… Oh, well. Such shame wouldn’t be a new experience.

  “I can’t touch Ele at the moment.”

  Silence greeted the proclamation. After a beat where they tried and failed to understand, Talkovsky giggled.

  “Yu jest, right?” he asked. “Is nut pussible.”

  Kheled shrugged. “It is what it is. Will you help me or not?”

  “We’ll do what we can,” Jeme rushed to assure him, “but how do you expect us to scale the wall? The distance to it is too far to leap, even with Ele, and if we descend from the rooftops, we’ll get caught between the defenders and the Kiraak.”

  “How have your attraction skills progressed since last I saw you?” Kheled asked them.

  “Fair.” “Decent.” “Middling.” “Abysmal.”

  Kheled peered down his nose at Jeme, knowing full well what ‘abysmal’ meant for that perfectionist.

  “Can you feel the Ele in the gate’s parapets?”

  The gate was the wall’s closest portion to them, making it the easiest to perceive. Nods all around answered his question.

  “Bind the Ele in you to the parapets’. The resulting attraction will carry you and me, bound to one of you, across the distance to the wall's interior. At the last second, dispel the connection and push Ele in the opposite direction, if you don’t want to break anything that is.”

  “That’s… brilliant!” Miranon breathed. “You know, if you made a chain of these bindings and dispellings, you could stand in thin air!””

  “Among other things, yes,” Kheled replied, amused by the normally inventive girl’s lack of imagination.

  Gods, so many bones broken and organs smashed to perfect this Ele usage. Maybe his long-ago, hesitant experimentation was where his fear of heights had originated.

  “If you two are quite finished gushing over this particular Ele application, can we please use it to cross the palace wall?” Jeme snapped, but amusement softened her question’s sting.

  “Let me impart instructions for the other students onto Creation,” Kheled answered, “and we can go save the King.”

  * * *

  Thank the gods he and Raimie had been so flagrant with their primeancy use in the last four years. Kheled was reasonably confident he and the other Ele primeancers would have otherwise been shot when they landed. As it was, the soldiers hardly flinched, even with other, less startling noises twitching fingers to triggers and bowstrings. Strangely, instead of displaying the disgust and disdain Kheled found standard now, hopeful faces turned toward them.

  “Gardens. Study. Throne room. The Hand’s headquarters,” Kheled said, pointing to each student in turn. “Meet in the royal bedroom.” Because reaching my target will, unfortunately, take me longer. “If you encounter Doldimar, do not try to fight him. Avoid at all co-”

  He broke off, breath knocked from his lungs. The presence which had dragged him forward like an addict to his drug of choice, so apparent without the shock of a loved one’s wraith to mask it, puffed into smoke. There one second, gone the next.

  Close. He’d been so close. Why was Doldimar being exceptionally difficult this cycle? Kheled had thought Arivor clung to the surface after Little had imparted his friend (enemy’s) message, but that delivery had been years ago. Had Arivor now vanished, ground out by Daevetch’s influence? No tether to restrain Doldimar, to give Erianger an advantage?

  In the past, such a circumstance had only once occurred. One cycle of never-ending misery, suffering, and tragedy which had toppled him into detached disinterest. Not again. Ohhh please, not again…

  “Is something wrong?” someone asked.

  Kheled nearly sprang at the hapless soldier, snarling his terror in her face, but instead, he managed to smile and mumble reassurances until she returned to her post. His poor students stared at him with a ghost of his sick feeling mirrored on their faces.

  “What was that?” Jeme asked. “I hadn’t noticed the revulsion building, but it’s gone now. Why?”

  “Doldimar has shade melded from the city,” Kheled answered, clearing his throat of an unexpected rasp. “Don’t concern yourself with him. His departure simply means we’ve less time to find the King. So, why are you standing here? Go!”

  His shooting stars darted in their respective directions, and Kheled followed their example, if at a much-reduced pace. Even still, the path to the palace raced in a blur beneath his feet, and quicker than he’d expected, a massive edifice of resin and obsidian loomed over him.

  When he stepped into the entrance hall, its deathly stillness prompted him to draw his dagger and saber, infusing a burst of speed to his steps. Empty corridors and staircases passed in endless repetition, each one’s false tranquility adding to his dread, until he turned down the hall to Raimie’s room, and his stomach lurched.

  A uniformed soldier hunched, shoulders shaking, over another, the only recognizable features being Oswin’s distinctively bleach-blonde hair and the other man’s drab mop. A mop which sported color so very similar to Raimie’s. They huddled in a pool of blood. Too much blood. Dear gods, if his friend hid in Oswin’s arms…

  Little’s shiny scars glinted at Kheled as he neared, and he couldn’t help the guilty rush of relief and gratitude the sight invoked. The young spy’s eyes blankly stared at the ceiling, and Kheled reached over Oswin’s shuddering, mumbling form to slide cold eyelids closed. He laid a hand on
the spymaster’s back, and Oswin’s curl tightened further, mantra pausing before resuming at a much louder volume.

  “They’re gone, my love, my child, they’re gone, my love…”

  “Where’s Raimie?” Kheled asked as gently as he could.

  Oswin only shook his head and squeezed Little more tightly. Kheled planned to try again when an animalistic howl interrupted him, a sound which glued his feet to resin, chilled him to the bone. The sound of a man pushed beyond reason, one step from a despair so overwhelming it knocked him from his balcony, to plummet to a messy death below.

  He slammed the door open in time to see his sister on the floor, something turning her skin white as snow, and Raimie chasing Kheled’s fath- no, Coleath to the balcony railing. Alarm blared at deafening volumes, prompted by the blood on the Enforcer’s mouth, on his torso, in his arms. Was that a… baby clutched to his chest?

  Coleath leaped over the railing, immediately disappearing as gravity took hold. Raimie scrambled to follow, already balanced on the railing when Kheled caught the back of his trousers. His friend pitched forward, and Kheled dug his heels in, free hand bracing on stone, to keep Raimie from plummeting. Below, Coleath vanished before impacting the ground.

  “Namia!” Raimie screamed.

  Fists punched the air in an attempt to loosen what held him, but Kheled’s grip was iron. He hauled Raimie backward, tossed him from the balcony’s edge. Smashing him into the wall, Kheled relentlessly crushed his forearm into his friend’s chest.

  “Let me go, Khel! I can follow! I can get her back!” Raimie pleaded, his struggles hardly worth noting. “I can-”

  “You can’t save a baby that underdeveloped, Raimie! It’s dead, and I can’t let you charge to your own death to save a corpse! I need you with me!” Kheled shouted. “Tell me what’s wrong with Ren! What happened to her?”

  But Raimie was gone. His eyes had dulled, features slackened, and when Kheled loosened his hold, his friend slid down the wall without resistance. He landed with legs uncomfortably splayed but made no move to relieve his discomfort, only stared glassily ahead. Crouching, Kheled snapped fingers in Raimie’s face. No reaction. At all.

  “Shit!”

  His friend had retreated in this manner once before, following the Allanovian tear’s closure. At that point, his breakdown had possessed an apparent cause, the price for the magic he’d used, but this time, Kheled didn’t know what could have hurt Raimie so badly he’d go doll as he had. While the loss of a random child would certainly sadden him, it wouldn’t…

  Kheled rocked back on his heels.

  “Oh gods, it was your kid, wasn’t it?” he whispered.

  But that meant…

  He was beside Ren near instantaneously, Raimie momentarily forgotten, with hands twitching and hovering over his sister’s hollowed out stomach. She was motionless and had paled to an unnatural color. Terror burbled in a rising swell. Terror she’d passed but before he could completely fall to pieces, her chest rose a fraction of an inch, and her eyes fluttered open.

  “Khelly!” she softly cried. “Did you see? Papa was here, Khelly.”

  “I saw, Ren.” Kheled smiled. “I need you to stay still for me. All right, sis? Still. Don’t you worry. I will fix you.”

  “You do that, and you will die,” Creation grumbled. “Restoration won’t come to your rescue, and I can’t guarantee the whole will bring you back. I haven’t entirely convinced it of the plan, Erianger. It may send you to the balance point despite my protests.”

  “This is my sister!” Kheled snapped. “Enough of my family has died in the name of your damn eternal war, and I won’t have it anymore! My family is finished suffering for you!”

  “If Restoring her is what you wish, then I won’t stop you.”

  Kheled paused. He hadn’t considered the splinter might overrule his decision, forcing him to watch his sister die instead. The threat had been unspoken long enough he’d forgotten it. For the first time, Kheled felt genuine gratitude toward Creation.

  Ren giggled and moaned in pain. “Khelly, tell the nuisance to go away.”

  “Can’t, sis,” Kheled muttered. “I may need his help.”

  Please, let this work today.

  He delicately placed one hand on either side of her face, gave her his best interpretation of a silly grin, and Let Go.

  “Aghh!”

  The scream echoed while Kheled clutched his sunken stomach, collapsing beside Ren with a groan. In the grand scheme of things, the pain wasn’t terrible. Worse than a stabbing or broken bone, but nothing compared to what Doldimar had done in his lab back home.

  The brain, however, didn’t care about such distinctions. To that squishy organ, pain was pain, and so, Kheled wasn’t aware of four primeancers’ addition to the scene. Didn’t notice Raimie standing over him with detached eyes before turning aside, uncaring, to sink onto the bed. Didn’t feel Ren running her hands over his skin, all while yelling at him for his irresponsible and reckless actions.

  Soon enough, agony eased, and a dangerous cold took its place, letting Kheled flounder to consciousness.

  “Creation…” he mumbled through a mouthful of blood.

  His tongue ached. Must have bitten it at some point. He tried to take a breath, but blood clotted his nose closed, stinging between the eyes leading to a quick conclusion it had broken. A lack of energy forbade him from leaning over to expel metallic liquid from his mouth. Which meant he’d have to swallow it if he wanted to breathe… He’d almost rather let it drown him.

  Thankfully, he didn't have to make the choice. Someone gently tilted him sideways, giving him the chance to spit his mouth clean.

  “What did you do, you bastard?” Ren sobbed.

  “Couldn’t let… you die,” he answered. “No way… to save… baby… but you…”

  Couldn’t keep going. Too much… too much. His eyes had begun to slide closed when someone slapped him. When the world focused, Jeme hovered overhead.

  “Hey, you. What do you need?” she asked. “The Queen insisted you’d fix yourself, which isn’t happening. Obviously, something’s gone wrong. So, what do you need?”

  “Where… Ren…?” Kheled sleepily mumbled.

  “She’s joined the King in la-la land. Hey!” Jeme slapped him again when his attention wandered. “Don’t do that. You’re not allowed to die, Khel.”

  “You’ve never… called me that.” Kheled smiled, and she flinched.

  “I know. I must be desperate.” She gestured, and three other faces-the Matvai? Mira-Miranon?-joined her. “How can we help you?”

  He’d had something in mind before madly plunging into this, something to counteract Ele’s lack. What had it…?

  “Creation,” he grunted, wincing. Talking didn’t feel natural anymore. “Splinters.”

  They uncertainly traded glances, and Jeme shrugged. One copy each of Jeme, Talkovsky, Miranon, and Yanovna appeared beside their respective twins.

  And kneeling beside him, Creation. The splinter looked different. White eyes. Something off about his hair. Maybe Kheled had approached the madness which came shortly before death.

  “They know what you need and have agreed to help. I told you that you had allies,” the splinter said, smiling wanly. “Do what you must, Erianger.”

  Groaning, Kheled reached for the five separate sources which surrounded him as well as the faulty one inside. Behind each of them lurked the well of peace and calm which was Ele. Gods, how he missed having it at his beck and call.

  He only meant to take a sip, but as soon as Ele brushed him with the slightest tendril, roaring hunger took over. He was a starving man sat before a veritable feast and asked to select one course. Even when Ele permeated him to the brim, it wasn’t enough. It would never be enough. He would take and take and…

  He would devour it all.

  Hands lifted him from the ground, and a voice screamed. “Erianger, stop, you insufferably arrogant, selfish asshole!”

  Creation. The Ele splin
ter who’d done everything in his power to make amends. Oh, hell. What was he doing?

  Before he could voluntarily release his hold, however, the gushing floodgates slammed closed, and Kheled gasped at a renting loss of connection.

  “Is thaet it?” one of the Matvai asked. “Dun’t get me wrung, waes impressive, but I see nu difference.”

  Piercing light drove darkness from the room, forcing it from the corners. It faded in steps, shadows gradually beating it to its origin, Kheled, who rubbed his inflated stomach.

  He also tried not to look at the four primeancers around him. Who knew what they’d do after such a spectacle? The power they held could accomplish many miraculous feats. Returning from the brink of death wasn’t one of them.

  The voice which first broke the silence, however, utterly surprised Kheled. “I knew Raimie lied through his teeth about the Da’kul incident,” Oswin stated. “He’s never been proficient with deception, and true to form, his story regarding why, for a time, you seemed dead always rang hollow to me.”

  Before Kheled could explain, the breeze of the spymaster’s passage ruffled his hair, and Oswin crouched before Raimie, touching his knee. “How long has he been like this?” he asked.

  “I don’t know,” Kheled answered. “Since the hostile Enforcer vanished with his dead baby girl.”

  “Baby girl?” Oswin cast a questioning glance at first him and then Ren, sitting blank-eyed beside her husband. To her flat stomach. “Oh.”

  He stood, hands on hips, as he regarded Auden’s monarchs. “Getting them out in this state will prove difficult.”

  “It shouldn’t,” Kheled replied. “I’ve done it with Raimie before, albeit in less dangerous circumstances, and we’ll have help this time.”

  The primeancers had stolen glances at Kheled for the entirety of the conversation’s length, but now, they openly stared. Their reluctance drew an irritable hum from him.

  “Look, I know you lot find me unnerving after my little sideshow-”

  “To say the least,” Jeme muttered. “Mercy won’t speak to me, but I know something’s wrong with her, something you did.”