“Then Kheled is dead,” he pronounced. “I’ll deal with it.”
“How?” Oswin asked from his corner. “Do you plan to announce your abilities to the world? Because otherwise, you can’t show your face amongst the men.”
Laughter crowded Oswin’s voice, and Kheled’s lips twitched. Damn the consequences! He’d instill unease in that man even if it killed him. Again.
“Give me a moment,” he murmured with a fierce grin.
He dealt with the cursed height first. It had remained unadjusted for so many years because the effort to change it couldn't be justified. If daily magic usage was to be foisted upon him, however…
The view from a foot lower was decidedly disconcerting. Raimie suddenly appeared less a kid with their heights equalized, and Oswin’s shocked expression was blissfully glorious from straight on.
He next bled the green from his hair and into his eyes. The red couldn’t stay its same brilliant shade either. It was much too distinctive. He darkened the hue until it resembled dried blood rather than an apple.
The last few changes were simply his way of perfecting the painting which was his face. He removed a vertical line of follicles in his left eyebrow, crooked his nose, and spread a rash of freckles across his cheeks.
“Do you think this will fool your men?” he asked Raimie.
“It’s brilliant, Khel!” His friend laughed.
“The name will have to change too. I’ll pick something similar so you don’t accidentally ruin the disguise when you inevitably forget the new one.” He sucked on his teeth. “Keltheryl! The name’s from enough cycles previous it won’t be recognized by the average person, and Keltheryl had a good life.” He melancholily smiled. “Could pass for human. Will that do?”
As usual, the name change was easy to assume. Discarding Kheled and taking up Keltheryl was simple, like swapping a deck of cards. Even thinking of himself as Kheled felt strange.
“An excellent choice. How do you plan to maintain the shape change?” Raimie asked. “Because you’ll need to be ‘Keltheryl’ for quite a while.”
“Is that what he did?” Oswin interrupted. “It’s not another primeancer magic like the temporarily dipping into death from which he just woke?”
What? Had Raimie called the curse Ele held on him primeancer magic?
“I told you, Oswin, it’s not actually death,” his friend sighed. “If we primeancers are severely injured, Ele sends us into a death-like state, maintaining the body until either time or a healer repairs it.”
Well, that assertion was blatantly bullshit. Ele delayed the effect of injuries to a certain degree, but that was all. Keltheryl didn’t know whether to praise or disapprove of his friend’s deceit.
If Raimie had explained his lifeless condition to Oswin in that way, then he’d attacked his friend for no reason. Catching Raimie’s eye while the bodyguard struggled to understand, Keltheryl mouthed, ‘Sorry’. His friend shook his head, the hand furthest from Oswin waving away the apology.
“It’s Esela magic,” he informed Oswin.
“Esela… magic,” the bodyguard repeated. “Shape change? I didn’t know Esela could masquerade as human.”
“That’s because we avoid the technique unless its use becomes necessary,” Keltheryl explained. “Assuming human form carries certain dangers. If someone discovers an Eselan while wearing it, the unfortunate person is usually strung up. Most humans don’t particularly care for the fact that we Esela can look like you. The physical distinction is like a safety blanket for you all. Plus, small changes such as hair color and height shifts are enormously difficult to complete.”
“What a shame.” Oswin grimaced. “The ability to change your face would make you a mighty fine spy.”
“It’s proven useful in the past.”
Raimie noisily cleared his throat. “Delightful as you two agreeing on something is, I’d like an answer to my question,” he grumbled. “How will you maintain the shift? A physical toll accompanies Esela magic, does it not? I assume whatever the cost manifests as could kill you if the spell’s held too long.”
“The energy debt is what k-” Keltheryl barely caught the slip in time, “almost killed me tonight, but the spell I now hold doesn’t worry me. I promise to release it as required, and who knows? Maybe in a few months, once memory has faded, Kheled can make a return.”
Oswin and Raimie uneasily glanced at one another.
“Tonight? Khel, you’ve been… out for half a day. It’s nearly evening again,” Raimie informed him.
“Ah.” Keltheryl found the splinter who’d attempted to blend into the room’s corner.
“I told you resources were scarce.” Creation shrugged at his Eselan’s glare.
“Good gods, Creation, half a day? What if I’d missed something crucial to the War? You and your whole could at least wait until Doldimar’s dead before you stop helping.”
“Is he talking to his splinter?” Oswin murmured to Raimie.
“I think so,” Raimie whispered back. “I can’t see Creation at the moment, so I can’t be sure.”
“Sorry.” Keltheryl focused on Oswin and his friend, mortified that details of the eternal war had audibly passed his lips. He’d already almost lost his temper with Raimie. How could he-? How many mistakes was he destined to make this evening? “I was- Sorry.”
“Stop apologizing, Khel!” Raimie exclaimed. “You only recently woke from a beating which brought you to the brink of death. You’re entitled to a little insanity.”
Speaking of mental problems. Grateful for the distraction, Keltheryl turned to the ever-present question of his friend.
“Oswin…” he began, meaning to ask the man to leave.
When he truly considered what he’d say to Raimie, however, Keltheryl hesitated. So far, this ‘Nyl’ hadn’t precipitated disaster. In fact, the other personality had been so quiet and dormant Keltheryl hadn’t noticed his presence until last night.
Perhaps he shouldn’t accuse Raimie of mental instability until the condition caused a problem. Keltheryl could monitor his friend for further volatility, step in if disaster ever loomed. Add it to his long list of responsibilities. He groaned.
“…yes?” Oswin asked, his eyebrows high on his forehead.
Right. He’d said the bodyguard’s name. “Can you keep my secret?” Keltheryl asked.
“I keep many secrets,” Oswin said, frowning. “One more won’t prove a problem.”
Could Keltheryl trust the other man? Could he really?
“Khel, listen.” Raimie faced Oswin and looked over his shoulder. “Are you listening?”
“Yes?”
“Oswin, the knowledge of Khele- Keltheryl’s abilities is privileged information. Consider it as highly guarded as the most prized state secrets. Thus, your King commands. Understood?”
“Yes, Your Majesty!” Oswin deeply bowed.
“Get up!” Raimie snapped good-naturedly. “None of that. I don’t like it.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.” Oswin rose with a wicked grin.
“Satisfied, Khel?” Raimie asked, not bothering to hide his huff of irritation.
“Supremely. Thank you.”
A knock sounded, and Keltheryl almost sprang behind the opening door to hide before remembering he’d already applied the shape change. A soldier stepped through and saluted.
“Sir!”
Raimie waved, and the soldier relaxed.
“I’m guessing Nessaira’s finished spilling her guts.”
“Yes, sir, and per your orders, we’ve confined her to a cell,” the soldier reported. “How long should we expect her to stay with us?”
“Until I decide what to do with her,” Raimie answered. “It may be a while. I want her comfortable in the meantime. She may have well and truly defected.”
“Yes, sir. As to the other matter,” the soldier’s posture stiffened, “it seems to have been an isolated incident, and the men who instigated it have been punished as they deserved.”
; The soldier may have kept his anger from his face and body, but it certainly displayed in the low, rough rumble of his voice.
“But you already knew that, sir. My apologies.”
“Not necessary.” Raimie bit his lip, eyes growing distant.
“If I may, sir,” the soldier asked, continuing when Raimie gave permission. “The volunteers from the beach battle… we’re wondering what you plan to do with his body. He saved us from slaughter, sir. We’d like to join you in honoring him. If you’ll allow us, of course.”
Raimie was silent. He almost looked lost, and Keltheryl thought he might join his friend. When had the world changed from the one so full of fear and bias to one of nobility and acceptance? He ordered the tears blurring the room not to fall.
“Kheled’s body will be returned to his family,” Raimie said upon deciding on a course of action. “In fact, the man who’ll transport it has only recently arrived. Keltheryl will accompany Kheled to Tiro and safely return him to his sister.”
Keltheryl shivered at the masterful manipulation of truth. Almost as good as something he’d devise.
“As for honoring the dead, you’ll have to take that up with Ren, and I’m not sure what she’ll say,” Raimie continued. “My advice to you and your friends is to honor Kheled in your own way. You don’t need a body for that. He’s not there anyway. He’s here,” Raimie gently nudged the soldier’s forehead, “in your memories.”
“Thank you, sir,” the soldier said, tears glistening.
“If you lot do decide to hold a memorial for him, make sure you invite me,” Raimie instructed.
“We wouldn’t dream of it otherwise, sir!”
“Was there anything else?”
Taking a long, shuddering breath, the soldier nodded. “Gistrick asked me to inform you he and his men have settled in and are ready to assume control. He said you could, and I’m quoting here, sir, ‘get on with whatever the hell comes next in this ridiculous plan.'”
Raimie snorted. “He would say that. Thank you, Dravenik.” The name made the soldier start. “You’re dismissed. Enjoy your time off duty.”
“Thank you, sir.” With a bow, the soldier practically ran from the room.
“I’m not sure they like you knowing their names, sir,” Oswin said.
“Well, that's a shame,” Raimie pouted. “I can’t help collecting them over time. I won’t feign ignorance.”
“Don’t worry,” Keltheryl said with a smile. “The fear will transform into appreciation soon enough.”
“He’s right.”
“Your approval warms my heart,” Raimie replied. “Now, are you two ready to go home?”
Chapter Five
Diary,
Alouin damn that Eselan man! The nerve of him! To call me whiny and selfish, how dare he!
…But perhaps he has a point. I’m getting older. I even know some curses now, as you’ve seen. Perhaps it’s time for me to take my position more seriously.
Diary, here is my resolve. I will stop avoiding Kinlith’s lessons. I’ll endure the boredom and tedium so when I eventually take the crown, I’ll be ready for it.
That won’t stop me from tormenting Kinlith, though!
Tiro’s stone gate cracked open, and Raimie eagerly stepped forward. When silky black hair and gray eyes didn’t immediately spring forth to greet him, he swallowed his disappointment.
In Da’kul, he’d reflexively called Tiro home, but it wasn’t the city which granted the comfort and relief a return home would generate. Tiro provided safety, something he and his people sorely needed, but that was all. It was crowded and enclosed, stone, wood, and ivy creating a roof overhead, all of which made Raimie’s skin itch when he walked within the walls.
No, home was a woman who lived here. A beautiful girl who’d decided, for reasons he couldn’t fathom, to court him.
Winter had been harsh last year, but it had been nothing but kind to the blossoming relationship between a boy on the cusp of manhood and a half-Eselan girl. Inordinately frequent snowstorms had strangled activity throughout the kingdom, most notably those of Doldimar’s dreaded appetites, and subsequently, Auden had lain quiet, her citizens given time to rest and regroup for the resumption of horror in the spring. The relative quiet had given Raimie the time for which he’d thirsted, time following Teron’s death to recover and plan, but as was his nature, he’d quickly burned through each duty presented him and before long, had found himself idle, waiting for a snow melt not soon to come. Such had been the case for Ren as well.
In this time of peace, they’d found ways to surreptitiously spend time together, away from her father’s disapproval. Long had been the days they’d spent in the woods, exploring a canvas transformed by snow. They’d engaged in battles where weapons had been snowballs and defenses, tree trunks, and had lounged in low-hanging tree limbs while the sun set. Nights had been spent in taverns, where they’d been anonymous in the press of rowdy patrons, or huddled before a fire, waiting for their clothes to dry.
Raimie’s wariness of Ren had gradually bowed to something new and other. His appreciation of the woman had deepened with every foray, the addition of contentment and warmth creeping up on him, a firestorm of want which had pounced on him at the strangest of moments. Ren had defeated his guardedness, wading through the shores composed of the army for which he cared and blasting into the tight circle of people whom he fiercely cherished.
Stepping through Tiro’s gate, Raimie wanted nothing more than to find her and hold her close, but there were tasks to complete before he could realize the desire. He waited until the last of his men had passed through the gate before plunging deeper into the city.
His army had taken up residence in Tiro’s main square. Soldiers bedded on cobblestone, spilling into nearby streets and alleys. Raimie mingled with his men, his big, sprawling family. While catching up on the city’s happenings, he inquired as to whether anyone needed anything. He was primarily concerned with whether Riadur, Tiro’s leader, had kept his end of their bargain while he’d been away, but none of the soldiers complained of hunger. The big man must be providing the food he’d promised. Raimie would pay him back plus interest with what they’d confiscated from Da’kul.
Eventually, he ran out of tasks to justify his procrastination, and he trudged to Riadur’s house. The big man had reluctantly offered a room to him and his family provided they kept out of sight. The tenuous arrangement was sure to fall through sooner or later, but in the meantime, Eledis and Aramar had eagerly seized on the chance to have a roof over their head.
Unfortunately, the relatively large guest room had only come with two beds, but Raimie had been more than happy to let the older men claim them. He’d found a much better place to sleep, somewhere only the stars and Kheled- Keltheryl could keep him company.
At some point, the name change would get Raimie in trouble. He’d slip, and the deception keeping his friend’s secret safe would shatter.
Speaking of deception, how long had he stood before Riadur’s door blankly staring? Raimie made a face. Faking emotion and lying were some of his least favorite past times, and the subsequent conversation would certainly require both.
“If it helps, sir,” Oswin murmured beside him, “I’ll support whatever you decide to tell them.”
“Thank you. It does.”
He cautiously poked his head through the cracked door and upon observing an empty foyer, scurried to their assigned room.
“You’re back!” his father exclaimed as he and Oswin entered.
Aramar rolled to the entrance, and Raimie leaned over to embrace him. “I am.”
Eledis perched on his bed, scanning a densely inked document, and Marcuset reclined on a tiny stool. Raimie hadn’t expected the commander’s presence, but it might prove a blessing. He’d only have to hold this conversation once.
“Is that the report I asked Lhineber to compose?” Raimie asked.
“Who?” Eledis murmured before returning to his examination of the page. “
It’s certainly a report.”
“I trust your expedition went well, Your Majesty,” Marcuset said.
“Very well. Da’kul is ours.” Raimie grinned. “Like I said it would be.”
“You’ll have to forgive our doubts, Your Majesty,” Marcuset said. “Two hundred to take a heavily fortified fort seemed a tall order, even for you.”
“No need for forgiveness, Commander! I was grateful you trusted me enough to limit your protests as much as you did.”
“Congratulations, son! You’ve achieved a goal Tiro has striven for years to accomplish.” Aramar patted Raimie’s hand.
“What’s this about three men dying by your hand?” Eledis asked, entirely focused on the report.
The room stilled. Marcuset’s eyes snapped open, and his spine turned ramrod straight. Aramar stiffened in his chair, his hand tightening on his son’s. Eledis raised his gaze to meet Raimie’s.
“Is it true? You killed your soldiers?”
Apparently. Nylion had probably intended their deaths as a gift, a kindness, to him, but so far, they’d only caused headaches.
“I’m guessing you didn’t finish the report on that particular incident,” he replied.
Eledis’ brow furrowed, and he returned to his reading. Marcuset and Aramar tensely waited for him to finish.
“Ah,” was all Eledis said when he set the report to the side.
“Is it true?” Aramar asked.
Raimie peeled his father’s hand from his own. “Yes. It’s true, but their deaths were warranted,” he answered.
“How does murdering men under your command become acceptable?” Marcuset asked.
Raimie inwardly winced. This debacle’s timing couldn’t be worse. The commander had hovered on the edge of open rebellion ever since he’d learned of Raimie’s primeancy. Judging by the wild eyes and panicky foot jittering, this incident might prove the final shove which allowed Marcuset to reason his way from his oath.
“The men in question ambushed a fellow soldier the night we took Da’kul. They were in the process of beating him to death when I showed up. I attempted to make them stop, but they wouldn’t listen to me. I didn’t want to lose the man they were in the process of murdering, and the fastest way to stop them was to kill them.” Raimie took a shuddering breath. “It didn’t matter in the end. The victim succumbed to his wounds before I could find a healer.”
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