His companion barely flinched, but rather spun on the prince, his raven hair wild. “You cannot be so insensitive when you discuss the fate of Sevrigel! The place was his homeland! Those who passed were his brothers!”
“Makes me almost grateful I have Sairel,” Darcarus muttered in reply, pressing a finger to the captain’s balled fist and easing it away. He clapped his hands before Jikun’s face, but the Darivalian did not react.
“They are all dead,” Jikun whispered. He had known that, and yet having the reality confirmed… In the shadow of Hairem’s suicide and Saebellus’ kingship… What mad hope had he conjured?! What in all of Aersadore could he ever accomplish to atone for all the blood his cowardice had shed? “There is nothing I can do…” he mumbled. The cliff on his right or the sword at the prince’s side—both seemed far too swift a punishment for his failures. Maybe dying slowly of trial after trial was exactly what the gods had designed for him.
And still less than he deserved.
“Jikun,” Darcarus hissed, and by the level of his tone, he was repeating his call. “Jik—”
“What?”
Navon snapped to instant attention. “He’s conscious! Jikun, it is as the writings of Shalah say: ‘You cannot live in the past; the past is already gone.’ What we did is something that will—”
But Darcarus shoved the Helven aside as though he were a disease. “Honor is for those who have nothing to lose. As I said before, General, I think you made the sensible choice—what good could you do with your head rolling across the earth? I was compelled to help you for a reason and now you are alive. I could use your experience. Not just use it, I need it. Of many thousands, you are the one who managed to escape Dahel’s destruction. And if you had not assisted me in turn, Relstavum would have most certainly killed me. You saved my life. Now I offer you yours in return.
“You need to justify your decision, do you not?”
Jikun felt his mind stirring, a dull throbbing reawakening within his breast.
“You need to prove that you made the just decision at Elarium. Well, I believe the gods planned this encounter: what series of events must have taken place to lead us both here? Now we have a true chance to save Sevrigel through my brother. But he needs an army: the army Sairel currently requires to defend against Saebellus’ machinations. But if Relstavum were dead…”
Jikun blinked, sharply aware of the stench of vomit and the pain in his chest… but also of the Sel’ven’s intent.
The male was crouched beside him, breath cool on his ear. “If Relstavum… if the leader and mastermind behind the rebellions, genocide, and bandits were dead, those evils would die with him. We would be capable of redirecting our resources to combating Saebellus before he neutralizes the forces of resistance upon Sevrigel.” He put a hand firmly on Jikun’s shoulder. “General, I am not talking about saving one country or the other. If we kill Relstavum, Aersadore is saved. What more righteous path is there for any soul? You can condemn the lives of your soldiers to futility, or you can demonstrate that their sacrifice for your life was necessary to achieve Aersadore’s freedom… That in itself is far greater than even the vast bounty that will be rewarded for Relstavum’s death.”
Jikun’s mind churned. Darcarus was right. He had to lose the battle to win the war. And if he won the war, was his life not worth all of theirs?
Honor was for those who had nothing to lose.
Navon thrust back into view, his face twisted in disgust. “That plan is madness!” he accused the prince. “Do not try to justify our crimes! Sel’ari would never condone the murder of tens of thousands for two lives—no matter what those two lives would go on to accomplish. Failing to act is no different than wielding the blade. We need atonement, not justification!”
Darcarus tossed his long, blond hair, deliberating catching Navon with the end of his braid. He stepped between Jikun and Navon’s outraged gape once more as though protecting Jikun from the plague-ridden words his captain was spewing. “You may sleep soundly with the deaths of thousands hovering above your head, but I believe Jikun has a dash more morality at heart.”
Navon choked out a single laugh before he dropped his voice into a snarl. “This is not about morality. We forfeited our entire lives when we fled: we have no money, no future, no titles, and no weapons. We are beggars on the very brink of death. And now you dare suggest we aspire to be heroes?! You are a coward to take advantage of his weakened mind!”
“Hardly. I do not come without a sensible path. I am offering my aid—physically and monetarily,” Darcarus replied succinctly. “Or do you intend to continue running from Saebellus?”
Navon drew level with the Sel’ven. “Even if we were to accept your aid, there must be other methods of combating Saebellus than contesting Relstavum ourselves—the male is clearly far more powerful than all of us,” he spat. “You said that Relstavum is forming a rebellion against the king. We should join the force fighting that rebellion—the military will clothe us. Feed us. Provide us with an honest living. And if Relstavum loses that battle, it will shatter the faith of his allies which—assuming they’ve won no true victories—must be fragile. This rebellion may hold lofty aspirations for Saebellus, but it is an incredibly risky venture. We failed to defeat Saebellus in battle before—this is clearly Sel’ari’s opportunity to atone!”
Darcarus stepped closer, until the two elves were practically feeding off one another’s furious breaths. “How exactly does that signify that Jikun made the right choice at Elarium?—The humans will win or lose this war regardless of your assistance, Captain. Two paltry soldiers, no matter your questionable magical skill, will not grant the army victory.”
“It takes every soldier to form an army, you insolent, arrogant pri—”
Darcarus twisted Navon’s ear smartly and spat in his shocked face. “Saebellus has assigned Relstavum full responsibility in assuring that Ryekarayn remains uninvolved in Sevrigel’s struggles. This last decade of work has been Relstavum’s endeavor, and he holds the knowledge and commitment of all involved: these are Relstavum’s plans, Relstavum’s allies—if you remove the damn necromancer, you sever everything connected to him. Saebellus’ fragile hold on Sevrigel does not allow him the ability to divide his attention between two continents—if he loses Relstavum, the last decade of his plans are gone. He does not have the resources or personal allies necessary to concoct a new scheme.” He watched as Navon rubbed his cheek vigorously in an attempt to regain some semblance of dignity. “Only after Relstavum is defeated can Ryekarayn aid Sevrigel, you stupid, little—!”
“Silence!” Jikun roared. He groaned, his head drowning in too many damn emotions. He sucked in a breath. “I will do it.”
Navon’s hand fell away, leaving a red patch in its wake. “What?”
“I will do it,” Jikun repeated for his companion’s sake. “If Relstavum is the key to everything Saebellus could hope to gain on Ryekarayn, then he is the key to destroying everything as well.”
“Relstavum obliterated a dragon and nearly killed us both with that undead serpent. We are objectively outmatched! A war needs soldiers—that is what we are!”
“I have made my decision,” Jikun hissed. “You can join me, or you can go on alone.”
He could almost hear Navon’s heart still. There was utter silence in the cavern as the Helven digested those cutting words.
“So what is your plan?” Jikun spoke after a moment, raising his heavy head.
Darcarus grinned, extending a hand to offer assistance. “First, we get you back to health; flinging your corpse at the necromancer would be futile. Then, I would have bought you both gear worthy of kings… but my coin was in my cloak… If Relstavum is kind enough to leave it, we will have everything we need… If not, we will have to ask more of the Brotherhood than I had intended. But our course is to them either way: Geldin Laeris’ mercenary organization should know Relstavum’s whereabouts. Gods know there is nothing they don’t have their hands in.” He raised his pa
lm sharply as though Jikun had even considered protesting.
Navon knocked Darcarus’ hand down with a personal vengeance. “Why can you not return to your home for more coin when that seems the surest fix to all our woes?”
Darcarus’ shoulders stiffened, his hand flexing into a responding fist. “You are slow, Helven. It should have been very clear that what I did in Dahel was in secret. I was not supposed to be here, helping ferry my brother to Sevrigel… Dare I add that he was not supposed to be here, travelling to Sevrigel. By Ramul, we weren’t even supposed to be privy to what is occurring on Sevrigel!—That’s three offenses against my father already. If I go back to the Realm without his precious baby boy, they’ll surrender my bowels to the rats. And had I Hadoream at my side, I would still be beaten senseless for meddling in affairs unrelated to our glorious Realm.” He laughed as he spoke, but there was venom lurking behind his words and his eyes shot to the northern end of the cavern, as though piercing his father with their spite. “So we will rely on the Brotherhood. They will direct us.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of.”
“I said enough,” Jikun growled. “I will warn you once more, Navon—you can come with, or you can go join that war alone.”
Navon’s fingers were interlocking in and out of symbols that Jikun was beginning to recognize. He displayed an expression the general did not know he was capable of directing toward one of Sel’ari’s chosen. “I agree that we first need sustenance. There is food down below,” he finally mumbled.
Jikun ignored the Sel’ven’s offer of assistance, instead reaching out for his captain’s hand. “Did you say food?”
Navon’s muscles eased in Jikun’s undivided attention. “Yes. I saw it when you nearly fell over the edge the first time.” He gestured to the ledge and Jikun allowed himself to be assisted to its side. “Maybe it is connected to the oasis in Dahel…”
When Jikun dared to cast his gaze over the cliff, what he saw took his breath away. In the massive cavern below, water gurgled softly over the rounded grey stones of a stream that wound gently through thick, lush grass. Towering, flowered trees hung still in the damp air, tossing petals onto the wildflowers growing about their roots. Branches drooped heavily with an abundance of fruit. The land was flat except for a steeply sloped hill that climbed toward shafts of sunlight. They radiated down from the stone dome, breathing life but not heat into the world beneath.
And this was the paradise in which they now sat.
“Praise Lady Luck,” Darcarus breathed as he came up beside them, slouching as though the tension was forgotten. “Would you look at that?!—Our fortune is coalescing! What did I tell you about the gods’ plan?”
“Not you, too,” Jikun muttered as he stretched his aching neck and tried unsuccessfully to once more smooth his gnarled hair. “An underground oasis…?” Far too much luck for his taste. “Looks too… Sevrigelian… Keep a keen eye.” Those trees… those flowers… they were undoubtedly northern Sevrigelian in origin. But what was Sevrigelian foliage doing lost beneath Ryekarayn’s desert sands?
Navon nodded once and Jikun could only imagine that a thousand prayers of thanks were racing about in his tiny brain.
“Is that fruit?” Darcarus exclaimed from his left. “On that tree?! Kamora fuck me senseless! We need to get down there now!”
Navon cringed.
‘Kamora fuck me senseless…? How have I not sworn such before? That is one god I wouldn’t mind getting fucked by,’ Jikun thought, easing somewhat in the familiarity of the uncouth company.
Navon was still grumbling his offense as Jikun stepped gingerly around the edge of their stone platform. “There is a drop to another ledge here—three or five yards? …And more after that!” The realization that the food beneath them could be reached, and without an exertion of magic he doubted he still possessed, evoked a surge of mindless hunger in Jikun’s gut. Even the brilliance of the prince’s blasphemy was forgotten.
Darcarus was already vaulting over the ledge, leaving Jikun and Navon to fend for themselves; it seemed his own base desires trumped even his rallying speech.
The three descended the series of massive, earthen steps until finally, with deep exhales of relief, they landed upon the moist grass of the cavern floor.
Jikun had hardly gathered his immediate surroundings when Navon let out an elated gasp. “Fish?!” he dashed past him, nearly sending Jikun toppling to the ground. “Jikun, there are fish!”
Jikun found himself scrambling after, his pain dismissed, his dry mouth struggling to salivate. “Fish? Fruit? Water?” he murmured in mutual disbelief.
“A godsend!”
As Darcarus stepped up beside them to the shore of the stream, he carried himself like a quintessential Sel’ven: as though he had a stick shoved up his ass. Jikun did not bother to gather any semblance of pride. He dipped his hands into the cool water, drew it to his lips, and sucked it down fervently. As a fish darted past, he shot a thin spear of ice from his palm to the stream’s floor, pinning the silver ray through the center.
“I’ll collect some fruit!” Navon added hungrily, vanishing into a cluster of trees behind them as Jikun speared another.
Darcarus was pursuing at his heels. “Wait right there, imbecile!” he hollered. “You should not go off alone! Gods, how were you ever a captain?!”
The hasty footfalls faded and were gone, leaving Jikun beneath the formidable weight of silence. His gut grew swiftly unsettled. An unfamiliar picture arose in his mind, an image he had barely gathered in that last, frantic moment of escape—strange, runic symbols that hung over the cave’s entrance.
He paused, dropping the second fish beside the first, and leaned over into the earth beside the stream. “Navon, come translate this,” he called out, trying not to let the unease alter his tone as he traced his finger through the mud.
Navon reappeared behind him, practically prancing as he laid the fruit down as delicately as though they were orbs of glass. He seemed to have momentarily forgotten his bitterness toward the prince and his plan—though his cheek was still smartly red.
“Translate what…? Oh…” Navon trailed off, setting the last fruit hesitantly beside the others. “…Why?”
Jikun pointed his muddy finger upward once, then wiped it on the hem of Navon’s cloak. “There was something like this on the cave. Something like…” he gestured to the three vague symbols he had recalled. “Something like that.”
Darcarus had reappeared on their right and swiftly wiped his boot across the soil. “That was ancient Farvian. Some variation of sealing magic,” he replied gruffly, rolling his shoulders back to banish what Jikun suspected to be mutual disquiet.
Jikun slowly leaned back. “To keep something out… or to keep something in…?”
Navon raised a fruit to his lips, eyes still fixated on the smudged earth. He hesitated, considering Jikun’s words. “Isn’t that the question,” he replied grimly. He dared to look to the prince, but the male merely shrugged.
“I gave little heed to my tutor,” he replied. “That was for Sairel’s indoctrinated mind.”
‘God-damn useless royalty,’ Jikun scoffed as he studied the carefully composed face of the Helven. He knew that the directions of their thoughts were aligned.
Relstavum.
“This isn’t what I saw in Dahel,” Navon attempted to reassure him. “Or what was on that amulet.”
Jikun stood, ears straining for even the most hushed sound. Wherever his eyes searched, their lush haven was peacefully serene, and he detected no sign of intelligent life. The cavern remained reticent, closely guarding whatever secret it possessed.
“Eat!” Darcarus barked as Jikun’s eyes finally returned to the stream. He seized Jikun by the cloak and jerked him downward. “Your health!”
Jikun choked out a gasp as he spilled onto the ground, barely catching himself with his hands in time to prevent his nose from taking the brunt of the fall. “Damn it! Stop that!” he growled, rubbing his neck and huff
ing through his cracked ribs. He cuffed the prince for good measure. “This is not a damn leash! The next one of you who pulls this I will beat until he looks like an Apapian plum.” His complaint was abruptly terminated as a fruit bounced off his forehead and rolled away beside him. He hurriedly snatched it from the earth, ravenously biting into its flesh. The runes… the necromancer… it was all momentarily pushed aside. He could not sustain his caution above his fatigue.
They devoured every bit of fruit and fish they had gathered, and when the meal was at last consumed, Jikun lay back and let his body sink into the thick grass. “It’s been weeks since I’ve had a decent meal,” he breathed softly.
“I can relate,” Darcarus grunted. He had removed the braid, and his hair splayed about his freshly washed face. Like the Sel’vi in Jikun’s army, Darcarus had prioritized cleanliness over even his fatigue. “You would not believe how ungenerous humans are in some parts. It’s like damn dwarven hospitality right now. Not that the Eph’vi are much better.”
But Jikun had stopped listening. His attention had drifted to Navon, and he briefly considered speaking some words of reassurance in his decision about hunting Relstavum. He would be a fool to join the war against the rebels and risk losing Sevrigel yet again. Yet it was clear by the steady rise and fall of the Helven’s chest that his companion had already succumbed to sleep.
As his own eyes began to droop, Jikun forced them wide in one last scan of the cavern ceiling. He pushed his fingers against his ribs, using the pain to keep himself awake. But it would not last long; the agony was just as great as his fatigue and it would send him into far deeper throes of unconsciousness.
He dropped his hand and stared as long as he could sustain at the great dome. He could not erase the visage of the ancient elven magic from his mind—it was as though the symbols had been burned into his memory. Sealing magic.
A fissure as small as the entrance to the cavern would not need sealing magic to prevent the hel’onja from entering. Did other beasts prowl the desert that someone wished to keep out?
Heroes or Thieves (Steps of Power 2) Page 15
