Cary had had many love affairs, some lasting longer than others. She knew the ways of womanhood much more than I did. Although her mother didn’t push duty on her yet, and as our numbers slowly declined, Cary knew she would end up married to one of the Arcan or a Skeptic. Her royal line, though not direct, was still important for the future of the kingdom. And she hated it. Her last love affair had been a high-ranking soldier who’d died a couple of years ago. His death had taken away something inside her. Her spirit had never sparked as brightly.
She leaned in again to whisper in my ear. “I’m saying that you’re all dressed up in your lovely clothes, and for once in a very long time, you actually look pretty and like a woman,” she said. I blushed. “I’m saying that you have the love of your life next to you, and tonight you should be together. Finally. You’ve waited long enough.”
“Cary! That is exactly the kind of thinking that would give my father a heart attack.”
“Oh, come on!” she jeered. “Your father, my uncle, is being held prisoner for his own failings, not yours. Nobody is going to do anything about it until morning. So, Halíka Dacomé, my beautiful cousin, please enjoy yourself, for once in your life.” She reached for my hand and held it gently. The worried but calm look in her eyes pleaded with me. “You deserve him more than anyone, and I know you’ve been lonely. You’ve been alone for far too long. Love is scary, I know that more than you, but just let him guide you. I know he loves you just as you love him. You are, after all, Halíka Dacomé, Arcanon Major’s fiercest warrior. You’re the one who parents tell their kids about at bedtime, tales about the battles you’ve won and how the magic you use cures the sick. Even that woman needs a man every now and again. Go with him, and let him love you back.”
I took a moment to look down at our joined hands. She knew me better than I knew myself sometimes.
“I’ll think about it,” was all I could say. I let her hand go and glanced at Nerído, who pretended not hear. One look told me that Carinder hadn’t been as quiet as she’d tried to be. He secretly winked at me and unobserved, rested his palm on my leg while engrossed in a conversation with Sanátu about the extremities of sonic waves under water.
I studied my plate, unsure of why my heart was beating so wildly. Blood pumped inside my ears as I recalled Cary’s words. Despite her assurance of his affection towards me, I had to keep in mind that I hadn’t seen Nerído Xipilé in a year. So much could’ve changed during that time.
I knew I loved him, but my doubts hinged on his own palace life. The Xipilé home was vast, extravagant, and while away from his duties, he had the choice of so many palace girls, clad in silks and bejewelled, alluring clothes, any of whom I’m sure would be more than eager to please him.
Could I even compare? What could I offer him in return? My dress tonight was pretty but I had nothing that resembled this in my wardrobe. I wasn’t a beauty; I didn’t paint my face like the Xipilé girls did; I didn’t wear the strong floral scents that they bathed themselves in.
Here on Xiryathon, our supplies were meagre. We had no trade partners to provide us with luxuries. And my wardrobe simply consisted of trousers and hemp shirts that had faded from being washed too often.
My mood turned sombre as I pulled back from such selfish thoughts, reminding myself of my own duties as yet unfulfilled. Those men couldn’t suffer any longer.
“I need to leave. I still have work to do.” I placed my napkin beside my empty plate and gave the bone from the barbecued water grouse to Zaquinto.
“You’re going now?” Cary cried.
“The men shouldn’t suffer needlessly, Cary. I won’t be long, promise,” I said, and kissed her cheek.
I leaned to Nerído Xipilé and whispered, “Stay here until I return.”
He nodded slowly. “Are you going to the healing tent?”
I nodded, surprised he would use mind-speak. “Yes, I won’t be long. Wait here for me?”
“Don’t exhaust yourself. If you’re not back soon, I’ll come looking for you.”
I squeezed his arm, then manoeuvred my way out from the bench and quietly left the revelry into the night.
Zaquinto barked from behind and was quickly at my side. His silky black coat shimmered in the moons’ light, his ears pricked and alert. He licked my palm—it probably still smelled of grouse bone—then bounded off into some shrub bushes to seek out a morsel of vermin.
At the makeshift hospital, Nerí’s men had set up outside flood lighting that provided enough working light for the many doctors and helpers. The tents were large enough to house one hundred cots at any time, and our own healers were working alongside his. This was only a temporary measure. I knew they were all waiting for my arrival.
An elderly man wearing a black and gold Xipilé tunic gown trotted over.
“You must be Halíka Dacomé. It’s an honour to meet you, my lady. I am Healer Jzan from the Xipilé clan.” He bowed lowly and I pressed my palm on his shoulder to stand.
“Please, Healer Jzan, it should be my honour in meeting you. You have come from so far to help us. It is I who am indebted.”
He smiled and bowed again. “So, do you think you can heal them all?”
“I hope so. Did Nerído Xipilé tell you I was on my way?”
“No, my lady. But I knew you would stop by sooner or later, once your strength had returned. I know you must still be weary. But I have been earnestly waiting to see your magic at work and, of course, am thrilled to finally get the opportunity.”
“You honour me with your kind words, Healer Jzan. I will need you to remove all staff until I am done. I will require a chair to be placed in the most central point of the wounded. Can you see to that?”
“At once, my lady. I shall see to it right away.” He bowed again and hurried back to the medic station.
I called to Zaquinto and he bounced towards me with some creature in his mouth. As long as it wasn’t a Primord limb, I wasn’t worried, and I was glad to see that whatever it was had a tail.
At the nearest tent I peered around a flap, hoping to remain unnoticed. The sight was sickening. Row upon row, cot upon cot lay bandaged, bloodied, cleaved soldiers. They moaned and wailed in pain. I watched as Healer Jzan placed a chair in the third tent along the middle row. One soldier grabbed his trouser leg and asked for some medicine. Healer Jzan pointed to the chair and spoke quietly. The soldier raised his free hand into the air.
I made my way around to the vacant chair and looked for the healer. He stood with fifty other staff members at one end of the tent. I motioned him to go back farther, and they withdrew to the boundary of the medic station.
Sitting astride the chair, I took one final look around me. The men were mostly unconscious or so richly drugged that they didn’t notice my presence, for which I was thankful.
I leaned forward and rested my chin on the chair back.
I held my arms out, pointing to the floor, and closed my eyes.
The tingling started immediately. My body began its initial glow. Down my arms and from my fingertips, I imagined silver tendrils. An iridescent light blazed from each fingertip, bathing the small floor space. It grew so bright and filled the whole room entirely until there was nothing to see but me at the centre.
I imagined the healer and his colleagues were, by now, shielding their eyes from the radiance. Many people in the past had wanted to see my magic at work, but the intensity was always too much for them. They soon retreated to much darker viewpoints.
I brought my arms up, spread out each side, and felt for the presence of every injured person in the room.
The light bathed across all the cots and was soon drenching the men. As the light passed over them, I could feel the continual tug on my gift.
This was how it worked. I had to neither physically touch anyone nor guess where he or she was hurt. My gift was drawn out by the other bodies that needed healing. Once the body was healed, it didn’t need any more of my gift.
My own muscles were still sore, bu
t I ignored my own plight until my shine flickered halfway through healing. The task was more exhausting than I thought it would be.
Half the soldiers were now healed and resting, giving me the opportunity to shake my limbs out and twist the chair around to face the other way. While I got settled again, I shut my eyes to recapture the feeling of the presence in the room. The perimeter of the tent was now crowded with the essence of more people who had arrived to watch me work. One in particular formed a softer familiar glow behind my eyelids. I would know his presence anywhere.
I looked over my shoulder to see him. Standing near the tent flap was Nerído Xipilé, Zaquinto at his feet. Nerído tilted his head with a concerned look and then put his hands in his pockets. I took in the crowd that had gathered all around the exterior of the hospital station. I didn’t mind them there. Most of the Arcanon Major people had seen me heal at least once before.
In my new position, I started again with my arms directly in front. The light this time flew from my fingertips, ready for the next task. I bathed the cots in the healing magic, gradually opening my arms wider and wider in the circular arc. Once I was finally done, I heard clapping and cheering from all around. Even some soldiers had managed to stand up and join in.
I let my arms hang down, as they grew heavy from the strain; the exhaustion was finally sinking in. My eyelids grew heavier and I shifted to get more comfortable.
“Oh no, you don’t,” Nerído Xipilé whispered in my head.
“Can’t move. Too tired,” I said sleepily.
I felt his arm under one shoulder and another under my knees as he removed me from the chair, lifting me higher. The tough but soft chest of Nerído Xipilé made an excellent pillow and I fell into a deep sleep.
Chapter 7 - A Warning
It was only a dream but they chased me into the clearing. I had nowhere left to run.
At the centre was a tall, round structure that I didn’t recognise. I passed quickly into the open space but they were closing in around me fast.
Sprinting until my heart hurt from its pounding thud, my leg muscles smarting with pain, I reached the building and desperately grappled at the door handle. To my horror, it was locked.
Half turning slowly, I gasped as the realisation finally dawned; I was now surrounded and left with nowhere else to run.
Hundreds of hooded, cloaked men drew nearer, leaving no gaps for me to dart through. Their circle was complete.
The hoods hid their faces as they chanted in a low murmur I could not understand.
Some strange tongue that was unfamiliar to me.
Fear overtook panic and I stepped backwards until my head clashed against the wall of the lone tower. I felt wet stone jar against my shoulder and hip. I clawed at the stone in desperation. If only I could climb, one final chance to flee, but the stone was unforgiving, and my fingertips soon ran with blood.
A thunderclap brought down a lightning flash; a spark of white fire hit the ground and took hold. I screamed silently and shook, knowing that the fire sealed my fate.
A fire in a perfect circle was now all that separated us. The men in shrouds finally stopped at the fire’s edge as their continuous hum grew louder and louder, a cacophonous chant that peaked at the loudest possible crescendo.
The unrelenting pitch pulsated deep into my eardrums. I crushed my hands to my ears to drown out its roar. It did no good.
My mind began to disassemble the word pattern and reassemble them again, like a brittle leaf, crushed into tiny pieces and then slowly recreated.
Now the words made sense. I cringed down as I understood their true meaning.
“Kill her.”
“Kill her.”
I shrank in horror against the doorframe, trying to form the tiniest ball possible. Out of the black abyss behind came another taller, shrouded figure. He passed through the crowd easily to reach the front and stopped outside the fiery circle.
In his left hand, he brandished a long lit torch and held it high above his head. The hot, white flames licked the air and pulsed in time to the chant of the crowd.
I tried to cry out, to plead with him to let me go, but my words stuck in my throat and no sound crossed my lips.
The fevered frenzy and angry anticipation, the maddened chants finally reached their climax.
“KILL HER!” they cried at once.
The shrouded man stepped through the fire circle unburned and untouched by the scorching heat and stopped a few steps away. He aimed the white fire at my face. The heat alone seared my cheek.
“Halíka Dacomé, it’s time for you to die.” His voice held a deep resonance that frightened me to the core. I tried to scream one last time as he pulled at the back of his hood so I could see his face in the fiery doom.
A raw knot twisted in my stomach. My heart skipped a whole two beats as I recognised my accuser.
The face belonged to Nerído Xipilé.
Chapter 8 - New World Order
My body jerked and I scrambled awake, instinctively reaching for my glaives that were no longer on my belt.
“Hal. You’re all right. Everything’s okay. You’re safe now,” his rich voice whispered in my head.
The blood pumped around my body at an alarming rate and I blinked frantically to take in my surrounds in the quickest time possible. This room smelled and looked too clean.
“How long have I been asleep?” I croaked.
“Only an hour, though, you probably need more.”
Wrapped around me was a soft but heavy blanket edged in darkest blue and sewn with the tiniest of stitches. The colours and threads were so beautifully woven, I almost felt unworthy to be sleeping here. Under my head was the plumpest pillow of the finest down, and I was wedged against an array of cushions of all different sizes.
I couldn't remember the last time I’d slept in such luxury. The weight of my body sinking into the bed each time I moved made me imagine what it was like to sleep inside a cloud.
I leaned on my hands to sit up and awkwardly smoothed my hair into order. Nerí sat at the edge, waiting for me to wake up fully.
“Is this your room?”
He laughed. “Of course. You didn’t think I’d let you sleep outside on a cot, did you?”
I shrugged. High up in the middle of the ceiling were dulled shades of yellow, making the tone of the room just perfect, neither too bright nor too dark.
A little romantic, even. My mind wandered as I imagined Nerído lying here on his own. Was I the first woman to sleep in his bed?
Stop! I shouted at myself. It didn’t matter, anyway. Nerído could choose whomever he wanted but I was still tied to Arfron Uhnok’s proposal, whether I liked it or not.
“Halíka, something’s troubling you.” He placed his arm across my shoulder and pulled me to lean against him.
“There’s nothing,” I said a little too flippantly. “My dream … it was … strange, and then waking up here … stranger.”
“You had a vision?”
“I don’t know, but I wasn’t on Xiryathon or on the alliance planets. This was someplace new,” I said, shaking my head.
“A future vision then. Your Seer skills are advancing.”
“All I know is that I was terrified,” I said, my throat constricting as my thoughts returned to the burning white flame and the circle of fire.
“Was I there to save the day?” he said, kissing my head lightly.
If only he knew. I shuddered at the sudden flash of black cloaks behind my eyelids, unexpectedly feeling uncomfortable in our closeness. I crawled out from under the blanket and got up from the bed. Nerído was watching me cautiously but he remained silent.
“So this is your room. I didn’t expect anything quite like this.” I hoped my airy tone would calm him. It worked. “It’s bigger than I thought it would be. From the outside, I mean.”
He relaxed and put his hands behind his head. “What did you expect?”
“Something a little less … opulent.”
“Op
ulent? No. Comfortable, yes.”
I laughed. “I’ve been sleeping in an army cot at Cary’s house for years. If I get four hours sleep every three days, I’m lucky. I’m amazed Cary hasn’t kicked me out for nonattendance. I don’t sleep at home much now.”
His eyebrows pushed forward. “So that’s why you looked so tired. I thought it was because you’d been up early this morning.”
“No,” I shook my head with a nervous laugh. “I can’t remember the last time I slept before now. No time to sleep. There’s always something going on that needs me. I heal myself to stay awake.”
He tsked. “This life is no good for you, Halíka.” It was a statement that I chose not to answer. How little he really knew about my life, about my duties, about what we endured here.
From his bed in the corner, I followed the wall around to a shelving unit full of knickknacks and strange, beautifully carved boxes that the Xipilés were famed for.
The two giant windows to the right made up the other wall. As I looked outside, from so high up inside Nerí’s vessel, the entire Inner City was in unusual darkness except for the marked tents of the hospital and the eating area. The outline of the palace dome was the only landmark I could make out against the backdrop of the moonlight. Tonight, two of the moons were closer than their third counterpart, but they all looked beautiful with their atmospheric multicolours dazzling against the harsh black sky.
Nerído got up and pushed a button on the far sidewall, bringing the metal shutters down with a snap.
“Hey, why did you do that?”
“Because I don’t want everyone to see us,” he said flatly. “And, I think it’s time we talked.”
He followed me slowly as I walked to his desk area. A chair was pushed into a desk footwell, his desktop littered with writing sticks and calendar charts, timetables and random note jotters.
An updated firing weapon lay on a piece of cloth. I didn’t even know that these were still being made. I sealed my fingers around the handle and picked it up, turning it left and right, watching the rainbow light flash across the shiny grey barrel. I had only seen one other before, and now it lay in the archive rooms far below the palace. Thousands of years ago, these had been the weapon of choice for the Primords and Primord Elementals. Since the closure of the mines, the amount of Xerilium needed was enormous, and as the munitions factories were now hospitals, we had no machinery to create the bullets. The only Xerilium we now had stored was used solely for the barricades.
The Battle for Arcanon Major (The Lost Dacomé Files) Page 6
