Him? Why him? Recently, he’d only played the role of teacher, not warrior, not advisor. For these people, his only other source of importance was his friendship with Raimie, but surely that wasn’t enough to grant him first priority out. Oswin was also Raimie’s friend, and he was the spymaster of the King’s Hand! Why wasn’t he-?
Raimie! Where was his friend? He searched the group once more, worried the catatonic man had been left behind in the confusion to reach the gardens.
“Is that your argument’s source? Who gains an easy getaway from Uduli?” Kheled distractedly asked.
There he was! Not far behind Oswin and next to Ren. In fact, Raimie’s arms encircled his wife. As if the attention had awoken him, Raimie’s head swiveled, and he met Kheled’s eyes. His friend’s pupils were enormously dilated. He tilted his head in acknowledgment of Kheled’s stare, and both he and Ren vanished.
Well. One problem solved.
Aramar and Gistrick had devolved into bickering again, and Kheled rolled his eye. The group ran on borrowed time, and those two fought.
“You don’t need to worry about Raimie or Ren anymore,” he announced. “Nylion shade melded them out.”
“What?” “He’s right!” “Alouin damn it, Raim-”
They didn’t have time for this.
“Everyone SHUT UP!” His outburst shocked them to silence.
Accustomed to surly, passive Kheled, are you? Well, you’ve never seen me in a situation where no one will take command.
“Tejesper, get your ass over here,” Kheled commanded, and after the Daevetch primeancer pushed his way forward, he asked, “Only five of you left?”
“Six if you count Rilishin and Balasar, but one had a breakdown, if you know what I mean, and the other stopped making trips hours ago. So, we’re actually four.” The teenager nervously giggled.
“I assume you’ve been listening?” Kheled asked.
Tejesper’s head looked like it would crack from his shoulders, so forcefully did he nod.
“In that case, who are you taking with you?”
The teenager’s shocked expression was comical enough to draw a snort from Kheled despite their situation’s seriousness. The others didn’t find it nearly as amusing.
“You’re letting them make the decision?!” Gistrick asked in a strangled cry.
“These children have spent the last twenty-four hours evacuating civilians without rest or sustenance and of their own accord,” Oswin snapped. “They can make the decision.”
“But they’re children-”
An arrow thunked between Gistrick’s feet.
“Shut the hell up, my friend, or I’ll put one somewhere rather less pleasant,” Aramar sighed.
Gistrick’s face reddened, but he held his tongue. Aramar retrieved his projectile, bopped Gistrick’s forehead with it, and returned it to its quiver. Tejesper uncomfortably shifted, looking at his feet, the trees, the burning city below. Oblivious to the people waiting on him.
“Well? Make your choices!” Kheled exclaimed.
“Oh.”
As if emerging from a trance, the primeancers stirred. For years, they’d received and obeyed orders whether from King, teacher, or family. They’d carefully conformed to the bounds of acceptable behavior, the strictures imposed upon them due to their primeancy. Kheled offered them a chance to make a choice of their own, and the opportunity seemed to baffle them.
Hesitantly, Tejesper shuffled to Oswin, took the spymaster’s hand, and disappeared. After a whispered debate, two more made their decisions, claiming Gistrick and Aramar. The friends’ surprise made Kheled chuckle. He hadn’t understood why the two had been so unsure of their position. The primeancers’ choice of them had been a given, considering their importance to Raimie.
When a Daevetch primeancer took Gistrick’s hand, however, he gazed at the little girl in shock. “Why are you…?” he managed before trailing off.
“You’re a coward,” she pronounced, “but you can learn to fake bravery. Plus, you lead something called ‘Zrelnach’ which sounds important. I think the King can use you.”
Her shade meld silenced Gistrick’s barking guffaw before it could reach an unbearably loud volume.
Their departure left only Nessaira lacking her chosen one, but her mannerisms made her intended target abundantly evident. She came for him in the slow stalk of a lioness, eyes hooded, shoulders back, sway just so to emphasize her hips. Kheled nervously withdrew, tripping over his own feet.
“I told you. No, thank you.” He warningly raised a finger. “I’ve no interest in traveling via Daevetch. Pick someone else. There are plenty of Zrelnach from whom to choose...”
But there weren’t. The Esela had disappeared, off to find their own escapes, leaving he and Creaturae alone with the Daevetch primeancer.
“How do you plan to stop me?” Nessaira purred. “Will you unleash Ele on me?”
“He can’t. Erianger’s momentarily cut from the whole,” Creaturae said behind Kheled.
“Little traitor!” Kheled mumbled.
Creation had been problematic enough when he was intangible. Now that the splinter was physical, Kheled knew the aggravating annoyance would endeavor to find new and creative ways to induce headaches in his Eselan’s skull, but…
Those headaches would never transpire if Nessaira chose to whisk him to safety rather than Creaturae.
“Take him,” Kheled said, jerking his thumb over his shoulder. “I know. He was your enemy, but Creaturae’s merely human now, and he’s new to this plane, practically a baby. You can’t abandon him to Doldimar. The Dark Lord will heap suffering and torment on him until he’s left a shell.”
Solid flesh blocked his retreat. “And he’ll grant you any mercy?” Creaturae whispered.
Kheled spun. “If a trace of Arivor persists, then yes, he will.”
“Too high a risk,” Creaturae murmured before leaning in to whisper in his Eselan’s ear. “I hope that, in some minute way, I’ve evened the scale between us. I know I can never fully repay you for the damage done, for the countless times I’ve overruled your decision to spare Arivor. Maybe, by rescuing you while you’re vulnerable, I can shift another grain of sand from the dune of wrongs committed against you. Besides, I’m not as helpless as I seem, my old friend.” Creaturae straightened, white eyes fixed on his Eselan as he tapped Kheled’s cheek with the flat of a long dagger. “You will not waste the time I’ve given you, not when I’ve sacrificed eternity, Erianger.”
Kheled’s hand flew to the dagger’s resting place on his belt. When had Creaturae stolen the weapon?
“My second opportunity to see you shocked!” the former splinter exclaimed with a chuckle. “It gets better every time!”
Without warning, Creaturae’s hand shot out, shoving his Eselan away from him. Kheled never had time to recover his footing. He fell into Nessaira’s waiting arms, and the forest’s green swirled into black.
Immediately, Kheled’s stomach rebelled, or it would have if he’d had one. Around him, void-like space hummed with darkness, Chaos, and Entropy, every particle grating against him with intense dissonance.
Malicious motes of wrong, of Daevetch, gathered around him, warily circling. He instinctively lashed out, fear singing him a discordant lullaby.
‘Sleep, Erianger.’ ‘Your body cries for rest.’ ‘So many years… So many torments…’ ‘Lay your burdens down.’
Let us in let us in let us in let us in let us in
The whispers spoke truth. He was utterly depleted. The specter of unconsciousness had haunted him before he sprinted pell-mell into Uduli, but here, his brain gave it shape and form, the guise of a malevolent, scorched skull.
Despite the wrongness which surrounded him, despite the dissonance threatening to drown him in insanity, despite… or maybe because of it. Maybe this soul-wrenching struggle to hold darkness at bay, the most intensely difficult undertaking in which he’d ever participated, finally broke Kheled. He surrendered, allowing his mind to wander.
/>
So tired. I’m so tired. Why won’t it end? I’m ready for an end. Will someone please end me? Maybe the specter will accomplish a task with which none have succeeded for millennia. It certainly looked terrifying enough. What is that phrase supposed to mean? Specter of unconsciousness? Who invents these sayings?
Guard lowered, Kheled took no notice of the Daevetch motes’ cautious advance. They crowded the Ele strings which held him to the physical realm, the only source of shining light in this place.
‘What should we- Break- the- You first- Coward- Someone- Destroy the enemy!’
One inched nearer, plucking on a string once it was within reach. The string darkened, shivering in a wave up and down its length, before repelling the encroaching shadows, but its glow had dimmed. The change was enough to encourage the motes. Daevetch hungrily surged forward and played Kheled like a harp, each tremoring, snapping string annihilating vital shards of him.
Trapped, with no way to resist, Kheled screamed and roared and wept. Searing agony ripped through his consciousness and burned through him until all that remained was an embodiment of pain…
Sunlight bathed his skin in glorious warmth, Daevetch gone, but he remained caught in someone’s embrace. Driving an elbow into what he hoped was a diaphragm, Kheled broke through the clenching arms, stumbling several feet before collapsing to his hands and knees.
His body demanded a purge of the Corruption inside. His stomach defied his brain, gushing surge after surge of bile and mucus. The wretched coughs and dry heaves would have horrified Kheled if he could hear them, but insensibility’s skulled face had followed from the black, and it stormed toward him wearing the Minister of War’s body.
As Kheled struggled to stand, he learned what specter of unconsciousness meant. For him, it came in the form of Emri’s fist buried in his face.
Epilogue
When Raimie peeked his head through the door for a final check, the party was perfection itself, as well it should be. Ren and Ring had spent months planning the event, dragging Raimie into their chaos at every possible opportunity.
Which flowers should we choose for the centerpieces? What do you think of duck for the main course?
As if he had time to deal with such minor details.
“Papa!” shouted a voice behind him.
Tiny hands latched onto his leg, climbing him until they entangled in his hair. Raimie smiled. Here was the reason he’d foregone a full night’s rest for the last few weeks, instead traveling in hops and skips across the known world to gather supplies. Why, last night after the palace had slipped into slumber, he’d lingered in the formal dining hall until the small hours of the morning, adding final touches. She made the late nights worth it.
“Hey, monkey! How’s my Namia today?”
Raimie lifted his daughter up and over his head, making appreciative gasps when she came into view. She giggled at his admiration.
Namia had taken her papa’s favored nickname to heart, shape changing her fingers to match a monkey’s. A tail swished back and forth over Raimie’s boosting hands, and ears which made her father’s appear small sprouted from mottled black and brown hair.
“Mama said your get-up was all right?” Raimie asked her. “You didn’t alter more than you should?”
“Papa worries too much,” Namia pouted. “Mama said to tell you nap time will be earlier today, and I’ll sleep it off.”
Great… Putting little monkey to bed was difficult enough without the addition of an earlier beginning, not to mention the crankiness of energy drain, but she beamed at him so happily! He couldn’t stay irritated for long.
“Thank you for the honesty, monkey. Papa is proud of you.”
Her face acquired an evil grin reminiscent of her mother’s, and Raimie wondered what trap he’d walked into this time.
“Does that mean we can play our game?” she whispered.
Raimie quietly groaned. His little girl seemed hell-bent on getting him into trouble today.
“Where’s mama?” he asked her.
“Auntie Ring just sat down with her,” Namia said. “Making up mama’s face takes so long! We have time. Please, papa!”
Those wide, gray eyes. That pouting lip. How could he say no?
“All right,” Raimie exhaled with resignation.
Namia happily squealed as he set her on the ground.
“Ready?” he asked her.
“Ready,” she breathlessly answered.
Summoning Ele to hand, Raimie tossed it at the child. For a moment, he thought Namia might let it hit her. Then, she grinned, and he felt her take it. Catching the bolt at the last second, she threw it back, increasing its speed upon its turn.
So, she wanted to play that game, did she?
When he took control of the bolt, he didn’t immediately return it. Instead, he looped it behind his back and tossed from the opposite side. Namia copied his feat, but she performed every move with her arms crossed and tongue stuck out. Their antics became increasingly more intricate and ridiculous until Dim coughed.
“Shall we confound her?”
Raimie sent their three Ele sparks in a complicated pattern around the room before relinquishing them with a question.
“Shall we add Daevetch?”
“Uncle Dim!” Namia shouted, eyes sparkling. “Yes, please!”
Chuckling, Raimie spun two Daevetch bolts into the mix. Quickly accepting them, Namia twisted them in wide arcs over her head. Raimie kept a careful watch on them, ready to step in if her control slipped, but something about the shadows ringing his daughter’s head… something about it…
Windows rattled to the rhythm of Raimie’s respiration, and curtains muffled the whispers which drifted from glass.
We can’t maintain this farce much longer. People begin to question whether he truly survived.
Be quiet, Aramar. I’m reading to my nephew. For a time, I regained my Raimie from the time before you three ruined him. I’ll spend my allotted block with the King sans your interruptions and worries.
…
Diary,
I’ve had the time of my life today, but Kinlith is furious with me.
Was that… Uncle Emri? Why did he sound so upset?
Raimie shook himself, ignoring the voices no one else heard, the windows everyone insisted couldn’t breathe. He focused on the game in time for an Ele bolt to splash against his chest, knocking him to the floor.
“Exactly what is going on here?” Raimie heard Ren ask thru a daze.
He called their playthings to him, storing them in a cloth concealed spot, and prayed his wife hadn’t seen.
“Ren!” he exclaimed as he sprang to his feet. “Namia and I were about to come find you.”
“Truly?” Ren asked, smiling sweetly. “From where I stand, it looks like you two played with primeancy again, something you both know isn’t a toy.”
They ducked their heads, mumbling apologies.
“Oh, don’t do that! I only reprimand because I worry about the two people I love best.”
Beside him, Namia puffed a sigh and scampered to her mother.
“Shall we join the party?” Ren asked.
Straightening to offer her his arm, Raimie sucked in a breath. With the cleverly accentuating dress and tasteful face paint, Ren was a vision of beauty. Gods, had he ever been lucky with her.
“Mama, papa’s making lovey-dovey faces again,” Namia distastefully announced.
“He does so because he loves your mama, silly.” Ren laughed.
She offered her arm, and Raimie rushed to slip his through it. Namia scurried toward the dining room, and Raimie slowed so he could whisper in his wife’s ear.
“You and me, at the south spire’s summit once Namia’s down for her nap?”
Blushing, Ren covered her giggle with a hand. “Only if you bring Nyl,” she answered.
Nyl? Who…?
The windows began to breathe again, and Raimie threw the dining room doors open.
“Happy birthday
, Princess Namia!” the room’s occupants shouted.
Giggling, his daughter clapped with delight, as well she should. Much thought and work had gone into transforming the dining hall into a jungle. Tropical plants from every corner of the known world coated the walls and stood between tables. A canopy of blue cloth and vines hung overhead, and pinpricks of light gave the illusion of stars, but the best part was the monkeys.
Raimie had spent hours with the smelly creatures, discovering the perfect quantity of Ele to apply to their brains. He’d needed enough to make them docile without violating their natural inclinations. Only enough to take the edge off.
Namia loved it. She skipped to the closest one and began comparing tails.
“She looks happy, sir,” Little commented at Raimie’s back.
“Yes, she does,” Raimie murmured.
“You need to let her go, sir. Let us go.”
Spinning, Raimie reeled from the young spy. One of Little’s legs bent at an unnatural angle, barely supporting his weight, and his guts hung from a gash in his abdomen to trail along the floor.
“Little! What-?”
Leaves and stalks rustled as the room inhaled.
They only allow me to visit because they think I can heal you and because I’ve been on my best behavior. I-
A sigh.
They’ve found their scapegoat, Raimie, and it’s me. Is my captivity something you’d want? I refuse to believe it, but you may need me to take the blame all the same.
So, I’ll endure the curses and abuse until you wake up. If you wake up.
…
Please wake up.
Kheled? Why did he hear Kheled’s distraught voice as if it whispered straight into his ear? His friend stood on the opposite side of the room, companionably chatting with Kylorian.
“Sir, are you quite well?” Little asked.
Raimie blinked. The spy was perfectly fine, every bone and organ in place and intact.
“I’m fine, thank you.”
He trotted to join Ren and Namia at the room’s head. The incidents of insanity were becoming more frequent. He should ask Kheled about it when next his little girl wasn’t within earshot.
A King's Caution (The Eternal War Book 2) Page 73
