Bardian's Redemption: Book Four of the Guardian's Vambrace (The Guardian Vambrace 4)

by H. Jane Harrington

  When Kir had finished her lengthy narrative, Inagor's brow was heavy and his eyes were glazed. “I never dreamed it would happen that way. The moonless night. The Chaos Bringer. Alokien? It's leagues beyond what I had expected.”

  “Soventine played us all like lumachords,” Kir said. “We never heard the end note until it was already sung.”

  Inagor was overwhelmed with regrets that etched new creases into his face. “I wish I could have been there for the First Wedding.”

  “You were,” Kir assured him. “Palinora was, too.”

  Inagor nodded and inhaled for his grip on composure. The vorsnarm would take a while to purge. Kir could see him trying to push the jumble of emotions down. There was a lot to take in.

  “The important thing is that you'll be there for the Second Wedding. Once we get Vann back,” Kir forced brightly, trying to mask the uncertainty.

  Lili brought a cup to Kir's bedside and offered her a sip of the fruity concoction. It had a bitter aftertaste. Kir was so thirsty, she didn't care. She sucked it down through the hollow tanadas quickly.

  “Is it possible? Can a stray soul be found and harnessed?” Inagor asked, almost like he didn't want to hear the uncertainty broached.

  “The severing happened in a Godly Chamber—Scilio called it a rift in the folds of reality. There's a good chance he's trapped there,” Malacar answered, when Kir found her voice too weak and quivery to respond. “Kir's connection to Vann is guiding her feet. I have faith in that bond.”

  Kir didn't realize that Bertrand had already finished treating Inagor. She was growing hazy. The edge of her mattress gave as Bertrand sat on it.

  “That didn't take long,” Kir mumbled, feeling the threads of her consciousness slipping to the fatigue that was pulling her away.

  “I only mended the worst of his injuries. Allow me to see to yours, then I will return to the others,” Bertrand said.

  Kir nodded into her pillow mountain, suddenly too tired to be contrary. She felt Bertrand's fingers gingerly slide the tattered tunic up her back, but that was it. She realized too late that the fruity refreshment Lili had given her was more like a fruity soporific potion. She would have to scold and thank Lili later.

  A funny little thing about vorsnarm was discovered in the days that followed. Its uses as an enhancement substance were not limited to emotional and sensory interaction. The compounds from the vorsnarm's renal glands interacted with the binders in other potionary agents, thus augmenting their qualities and pervasiveness. Or, so Bertrand described. To Kir, it meant that the sleepy-juice, which should have lasted no more than a few hours, rendered her dead to the world for three whole days. Inagor, too, as he had accepted his own dose not long after Kir sucked hers down.

  When Kir finally roused and stretched awake, the hawk painting was still askew, but the room looked remarkably orderly. It was clean and bright. The bed linens were fresh. The wardrobe's previously empty drawers, that had been left open during their frantic flight months before, were stocked with folded, laundered clothes. A vase, overstuffed with weedflowers and uprooted buttercups, was parked on the nightstand table (compliments of little Guardling Erahnie, Kir guessed). The room did not smell stuffy and musty as it had before. Now it was permeated with the hint of spring and cherry blossom through the open window.

  Inagor no longer looked like a wild kaiyo-rider. He had been as refurbished and scrubbed as the bedchamber. His sandy hair was cleaned of the grease and dirt, trimmed neatly in his old style. The painted symbols of war on his face were gone, revealing the coppery tone underneath. There was no more kaiyo funk about him. A casual nightshirt covered Inagor's chest and hid the bandages beneath. He looked almost like Kir remembered him, except for his eyes. The color had not changed. The sorrows and horrors they guarded had.

  From their cozy blankets, Kir and Inagor stared across the bedchamber at each other. They didn't have to say a word. Even without the use of Psychonics or sound waves, there was a transmission of heartfelt feelings, wagonloads in volume, that they spoke with their eyes. They understood each other on a level that was forged by common experience. Both had survived unspeakable terrors, both had borne the weight of the vambrace, and both had loved their Guarded. Now they shared the connection of Guardian Bonding, as well. The precious moment was shattered by Lili, Melia and Gevriah, who bustled into the room with arms full of fresh linens.

  “It's about time you two decided to rejoin the living,” Lili huffed with mirth. “We were beginning to think you both had become permanent residents of Pixie-nixie land.”

  “Thanks to you, I'm sure,” Kir winked. “You and your fruity refreshments. How should I go about scolding you?”

  “Oh, Malacar already has, several times over. None of us realized how potent the soporific would be.”

  Inagor harrumphed. “I hope he wasn't too hard on you. I was happy to get some good, hard shut-eye. First I've had in a long time.”

  Lili smiled slyly over Inagor's wrist-clasp greeting. “I can handle Guardian Malacar.”

  She probably had, too. Lili and Malacar always had a good working relationship with plenty of mutual respect between them. Although she and Scilio had shared intimate relations, it seemed to be more out of obligation than affection. Malacar was much more Lili's type. Kir had wondered about fixing them up, but Malacar never showed interest in anything more than his Guardianship duties. Now that Kir knew about Raynah, his abstinence made more sense.

  “I should thank you for the delay,” Melia said cheerily as she dumped her arm load on the end of the bed. “Copellian and I were allowed private quarters in the south wing.”

  “Copellian? That must make you Corban's daughter, Melia,” Inagor supposed.

  Kir introduced them, then asked Melia, “Why'd Vittie put you in the south part? I never had a chance to explore the manor, but seems like you could have roomed in this wing.”

  “There were Defensives that were never breached in that wing, so it wasn't as picked over and bothered as the rest of the manor. Quieter, too. Amari calls it the Honeymoon Wing. It was so luxurious, Kiriana! Every detail was so fine and wonderful... I can understand why this place used to be a popular couples' retreat. Tennras and Avalir had the suite next to ours. It was like a holiday! The first I've ever known.”

  Kir almost felt sorry for Melia. She deserved much more of a honeymoon than this place could offer. “Not much of a resort, this haunted manor. Someday you can take a real holiday. I'm glad you had a full day to yourselves, though.”

  “A day? Try three,” Lili corrected tightly. She took to snapping and folding the linens, and Gevriah took up the other end for aid. They commenced to explaining, in a perfect monotone imitation of Bertrand, the clinical observation of the vorsnarm's properties.

  “Three? That explains a lot,” Inagor said. “I was just thinking this room is much more put-together than a single day would allow.”

  “The caravan seems thankful for the stop, and for the cover of safety. The last kaiyo scare was hard on their nerves,” Lili said.

  “Several of the Karmines seem pretty happy here,” Gevriah noted. “A few of them told me they'd be willing to stay.”

  “Here? This manor is a rodent den.” Inagor wrinkled his nose skeptically.

  “You'll be surprised. Three days in the hands of busy hammers and soapy scrub rags can change a mind about a place,” Lili answered like she knew a great secret. She stacked the folded sheets onto their shelf, then turned to a waiting tea tray to work on wetting whistles.

  “How are you feeling?” Melia asked the both of them.

  Kir looked to Inagor proudly. “Like I've got a Guardian. That will get Malacar off my back about it.”

  “That's not what I meant,” Melia huffed in humor, but her cheeks fell as she threw a quick glance to Lili. It was an indicator that something was wrong.

  “I'm fine,” Kir answered quickly, to reassure whatever twinge of doubt that had just been betrayed in Melia's
uncertainty. She inhaled confidently, flexing her shoulders. “Not even a pang left. Three days of pixie-pamper and Bertrand's attentions did me good. Inagor?”

  He nodded agreement and patted his ribs. “If not for the bandage, I would not even know it was there.”

  “Your hand?” Gevriah said to Kir. “It's not paining you or...?”

  Kir hadn't paid mind to the dressings that covered the Blazer burns from the fingers to the forearm of her left hand. The wrappings were rigid and tight over a strange form of splint. A soft, rolled obstruction in her fist kept the shape of the palm neutral. Kir patted the bandage. “Don't worry, Gev. Can't feel a thing. But I can probably stand to take this off. After three days of Bertrand's fussing, the burns should be healed by now.”

  The women exchanged meaningful looks again.

  “Aren't they?” Kir searched the other places where the whip had left its mark, only to find them entirely mended. Her ankle, the collarbone, and even her right arm were all smooth, unscarred and unbandaged. Only the left hand remained bound. Kir tried to flex it. The wrappings were too tight and her grip was fixed in place around the obstruction.

  “I think that's for Bertrand to say,” Lili said carefully. “He's playing dice with Lyndal and Malacar in the suite parlor. I'll fetch him.”

  Inagor sat upright in his bed, concerned for the first time. Lili poked her head out the door to call summons.

  Malacar came hustling into the bedchamber almost as soon as the door hinge squeaked. His face was awash in relief. “Thought you two would never wake up,” he huffed. “Was starting to worry.”

  “Starting? You never stop...” Kir mumbled, loud enough for him to hear.

  Malacar strode forward and offered an arm to Inagor. They clasped vambraces in greeting, then Malacar lowered himself to the mattress beside Kir and propped against the headboard. He tugged her into the crook of his arm the way Vann used to do.

  Copellian hustled to Inagor's side and they clasped wrists exuberantly. Kir had not seen her clan brother smile so wide since his wedding. “It's good to see you, Guardian Arrelius. I felt responsible for what happened on the airferry, since I couldn't help you. Thank you for not dying on me.”

  Inagor laughed. “You're quite welcome. It was an endeavor, let me tell you.”

  Ulivall came in next, with a hint of paternal warmth for Kir in the hand that brushed over her head affectionately. After greeting Inagor, he parked himself on a chair beside Kir's bed.

  Lyndal followed Bertrand into the room. He was all smiles and energy, though he was trying his best to be respectful of the sick-room the chamber was supposed to be. Kir wondered how Lyndal's mother had survived the pregnancy, with him all wriggling and raring to go.

  “Guardian Arrelius,” Lyndal greeted with a salute. “You're a damn fine sight for sore eyes.”

  “Your eyes have never been sore a day in your life, Brassybins,” Kir chuckled to ease her nerves. She was anxious for the news that Lili had been hesitant to deliver. If Bertrand had to announce it in company, it was probably not good.

  Lyndal answered her with a boisterous embrace that was much more animated than Malacar's subdued greeting. “They say I'm a bundle of trouble. You got me beat by leaps and bounds, big sister.”

  Kir batted away his teasing hands that tried to muss up her hair playfully. She cackled and shoved him away by his face as he pretended a big, smoochy kiss. He plopped to the floor beside her bed.

  “So, what's the prognosis, Bertrand? Since we've been asleep for three days, we should be well ready to start back on the road tomorrow.”

  “You are both fit for travel at your convenience,” Bertrand reported. “I apologize for the length of the soporific's effect. The compounds from the vorsnarm's renal glands interact with the binders in other potionary agents, thus augmenting their qualities and pervasiveness. This is an aspect of the substance to which I was previously unaware.”

  “Not your fault about that,” Kir said. “Sounds like you could use a healthy supply in your practice. If it enhances potions, does that help your patients? Maybe to increase the effectiveness of pain remedies and such, when paired with them?”

  “It would be a welcome addition to my potionary, in diluted suspension.”

  “We'll have to ask Shanwehl if any was harvested from the kaiyo pits.”

  “Agreed. Pertaining to your original inquiry regarding prognosis,” Bertrand continued without an ounce of emotion in the tone, “Guardian Arrelius is cleared from my treatment. No lasting effects from the injuries remain. I cannot report the same outcome for Your Highness, however.”

  Here it came. Bertrand hesitated and Malacar's supportive arm firmed on Kir's wrist.

  “Go on.”

  “You have noted the bandages and splint on your left hand. The affected end of the Blazer whip you held in said extremity fed concentrated energy to the tendons, muscles and nerves for an extended period of time. The internal damage was extensive, leading to a palsy of the ulnar nerve. I am still in the process of mending the soft tissues and muscular degeneration, but the nerve was beyond full repair.”

  “I've lost the use of my hand,” Kir summarized, as devoid of emotion as Bertrand's monotone sounded.

  “Not completely. The palsy affects the outer two fingers down to the wrist. With splinting and regular exercises, we can prevent clawing and atrophic deformity. As affecting the weaker fingers, it would not represent a catastrophic debility in most occupations. As a warrior, however, your ability to effectively grip and manipulate a weapon in that hand will be impaired. You may regain slight sensation in time, but I'm afraid the nerve damage is permanent.”

  Kir almost expected to feel something after the announcement. Sorrow, anger, even loss. Maybe the overabundance of emotions from the vorsnarm had drained her dry of care. She didn't feel a thing, like the hand that probably wouldn't either. Everyone seemed to have been notified before, and they all reacted with looks of sorrow and sympathy.

  Inagor dropped his head into his hand. He was wrestling with the very same torments Kir had expected to feel, but didn't. His jaw clenched in guilt and anguish at his part in it.

  “Well, that's not so bad,” Kir said to the room. “I'm pretty resourceful in hand-to-hand, even with one tied behind my back. I knew a Master Warrior once that lost these same two fingers in a disagreement with his pet crocodile. He did just fine. Made a good living in the Hatchel rumble rings. So there's nothing to be grieving about.”

  Kir smiled confidently, to show that her warrior spirit was not flustered by the little hiccup. Everyone answered silently with messages of encouragement in their gazes, but Inagor couldn't bring himself to look at her.

  Pulling from Malacar's arm, Kir slipped out from the blankets. She sat on the edge of Inagor's bed, facing him. It hurt to see the heartache he bore in her honor. Her bandaged hand lifted her Guardian's chin, as proof that it still worked just fine.

  “I'd have cut it off to win you back,” Kir told him solidly.

  Inagor's glazed eyes couldn't dam the cracks. He looked heartsick. “You should not be forced to conquer my demons and pay for my failures.”

  “As if they were yours alone?” Kir soothed, using her bandage to absorb the streaks from his face.

  She remembered a conversation from ages ago, when Inagor had shared the true nature of the Guardian's relationship with his brethren. They had clung to Kir's mind verbatim, and she had engraved them on her heart. Using Inagor's own words, she turned them back on him. “From the moment you gave yourself to the brotherhood, you lost the privilege of suffering in ithinary silence. We all shoulder the burdens of our brothers. How else can a wheel turn, without the stronger spokes alleviating the stress on the weaker ones? Never feel as though you must take on a foe, or your troubles, alone. We share in our tribulations, as well as our triumphs. Or, so a wise Guardian told me once upon a pavilion.”

  Kir folded Inagor into her arms and allowed him to regain his compo
sure in the steady strength of the embrace. The message she sent was not only absolving Inagor of his culpability in Kir's injury. It was reminding him that whatever horrors he had witnessed in Soreina's chambers, whatever evils he had done in her name, and whatever nightmares he would entertain in the memories of his tortures, he was not alone in facing them. Kir had overcome her own demons with the help of the Guardian brotherhood. Inagor would overcome, too.

  When the statement seemed to have been accepted for its full value, Inagor inhaled deeply and nodded that he was collected. Kir pulled back. “They say, Epic achievement demands epic sacrifice.” She rubbed the bandage, moist from Inagor's tears, over his vambrace for the polish. “Looking at the epicness of what I gained, I consider this a bargain.”

  Their foreheads touched and Inagor solidified the rest of his composure and resolve. There were some kinds of wounds that healers and their potions couldn't mend. Those kinds could only be sutured and eased with the time-honored remedy of brotherhood.

  “I heard they're finally awake,” Corban's eager voice came from the parlor. He wheeled a delivery cart into the room, shattering another precious moment. Erahnie was hitching a ride on the empty bottom shelf. She wriggled herself out and spilled onto the floor.

  Melia sprang forward and scolded her father for the intrusion. Kir rolled off the mattress and ushered him into the room. “Don't chase away the chef, Mel. If we don't eat soon, our navels are gonna be shaking hands with our spines.”

  The Ithinar Steel boys followed Corban in, tongues practically lolling from their heads. Kir wondered if they had trailed Corban in parade, or maybe in guard formation, from the kitchens. They issued Kir and Inagor hearty hello's, then helped Corban and Melia distribute the chow platters.

  There were more than enough trays for everyone. They all packed in and sat where they could, making room on the beds, floor and clinic table for their meals.