Blooded (Lisen of Solsta Book 3)

by D. Hart St. Martin

  Several torches lit up the main room with its large, carefully detailed map of Bellin Plain on that huge table right in the middle. They’d even brought along the wooden chess-like pieces to plan and eventually play out what actually occurred, and Commander Tanres along with several of her captains had spent the latter part of the afternoon moving the pieces around in a manner which completely escaped Lisen’s understanding.

  She’d read a lot of fantasy on Earth, but, although she remembered the battles, she’d paid little attention to their finer points. She’d observed how the action affected the characters, both physically and emotionally, but who fought whom and how they fought had eluded her.

  She sat down at the table and fiddled with one of the “chess” pieces. A year ago she’d been in Thristas. With Korin. Sharing meals with him. Sharing a pallet with him. And on this upcoming Evenday, only a week away now, it would be Farii for the Thristans again, and she didn’t know what that meant. Anything? She shrugged. Probably not.

  They’d dropped all the flaps for the evening, so she could see nothing outside save for the tightly framed view from the doorway. It yielded nothing in the way of information—a couple of trees, a bush or two, and that was it. She rested her chin on the heel of her hand with her elbow on the table and sighed. Bala and Nalin off someplace enjoying each other’s company, whatever that meant to them. Guard officers conferring over strategy somewhere other than in here so she could have a little time to herself. Holders with their troops. She wasn’t a stranger to loneliness, but she found its presence anything but comforting.

  “My Liege.”

  Lisen looked up at the urgency of the speaker’s tone and watched with surprise as Captain Kopol strode into the tent.

  “Kopol.”

  The guard who stood at the entry took one step inside and queried his Empir with a look.

  “It’s all right,” Lisen said, standing up. “She’s one of you.”

  Lisen shooed the man out and smiled at the glory of her captain returned from her mission. It would have been easy for the guard on duty to mistake Kopol for an enemy spy or something equally unsavory; she wore no uniform, and she was covered in dust from the road. But all Lisen wanted to know was if the captain had procured the item she’d sent her for.

  Kopol set a small cloth bag on the table. “All of Thristas is riding in behind me, I think,” she said, speech taking precious breath from her exhausted lungs.

  Lisen felt panic in her stomach. “Creators, now?”

  “No, at least a day. I saw them still in the desert approaching the east side of the Pass right before I slipped between its cliffs.”

  “You’ll need to report to Tanres about that.”

  “I will. Now. This is the gryl, my Liege. And it came with specific instructions.”

  “All right. Tell me.”

  “You put everything, all the ingredients—a concoction of leaves and twigs and such, looks to me—into boiling water. Wait until the water is boiling before you add it.”

  “I understand.”

  “Boil until everything grows soft and dissolves. I was told that could take up to a half hour.”

  “Then?”

  “Allow it to cool a bit, then soak a cloth in it and inhale the fumes. Are you sure you want to do this, my Liege? This blinded you once.”

  “Only when I used my powers. I won’t go blind if I don’t use them, and if I do have to use them, well, it won’t matter much at that point now, will it.”

  “They also said you could drink it but that it wouldn’t work as well.”

  “So I’ve been told.”

  Kopol shifted from one foot to the other.

  “Go,” Lisen said, releasing her from further duty to her Empir. “Report to the commander and then get some food. You look like you need it.” Kopol started to leave, but Lisen called her back. “And tell the commander you have my highest commendation for the successful completion of your mission. Oh, but don’t tell her what the mission was.”

  “No, my Liege. My silence is yours.”

  Lisen stood, alone again in the tent, and contemplated her next step. She picked up the cloth bag and headed to the door.

  “I need water in a pan with a lid and someone to build me a fire, somewhere away from everyone else,” she commanded the guard there. “Immediately.” The sergeant nodded, and Lisen stepped back into the tent. Within a few moments, a lieutenant entered.

  “My Liege, your fire and water are ready.”

  “Take me.”

  She followed the guard to a secluded clearing where another sergeant and a growing fire awaited her. She sent the lieutenant away and stood as the other guard brought the fire up to the point where he could put the pan of water in a prepared spot.

  “You may leave,” Lisen said.

  “Will you be removing the pan from the fire, my Liege?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then you’ll need this.” He reached out and handed Lisen a heavy towel. “To keep from burning your hands.”

  “And something to stir with?” The guard produced a wooden spoon. “Thank you. Give me an hour alone and then come back and put the fire out. Leave no trace, do you hear me?”

  “Aye, my Liege.”

  Alone. Again. But this time the loneliness served a purpose. She hunched down in front of the fire and watched the water evolve from quiescent and motionless to tiny little bubbles forming on the sides and eventually, after what seemed an eternity, into a full boil. Only then did she open Kopol’s bag and empty its entire contents into the pan.

  She wrapped her arms around her knees and waited, stirring occasionally, waiting for all the contents to dissolve. She didn’t know how long it took, but by the time she picked the pan up by its handle and started back for her tent, the sun had completely disappeared and the camp had grown dark, save for several lit torches. She picked her way through uncharted land, and, other than nearly tripping over an exposed root, she reached her tent without incident. She snuck in through a back panel, set the pan down on the small table in her somewhat luxurious private chamber and went to the main entry.

  “I snuck in the back way,” she told the guard there, a different one from earlier.

  “Aye, my Liege.”

  She returned to her curtained-off space, crinkled her nose at the familiar acrid smell, grabbed a bathing cloth and dipped it in the cooling gryl. She sat down at the table and put the cloth to her face, covering her nose and mouth. She breathed deeply, closing her eyes to will the drug into her system. She didn’t dare try to push now—she didn’t want to bring the blindness on before she actually needed the power—so she didn’t know if it was working. She felt no different as she breathed in and out slowly, purposefully, and wondered if the money Kopol had spent had been wasted on something that wasn’t gryl at all. But it did smell right.

  Why isn’t my head fuzzy? Why don’t I feel like I did the first time? I’m not confused, not befuddled, no vat of warm butter waiting for stirring.

  She pulled the cloth from her face and stared at the pan. She needed more, somehow. Maybe after living under its influence for over a month, she’d grown immune to its effects. She set the cloth in the pan to resoak it and got up to look for a cup—or something like a cup if she couldn’t actually find a cup. A goblet emptied of its wine remained from last night’s heated discussion with Nalin over the potential validity of Korin’s predictions. She picked it up and brought it to the table. She sat there, staring at the goblet, staring at the contents of the pan, returning to the goblet, returning to the pan. Finally, she pulled the cloth out of the pan, wrung it out and then poured some of the liquid gryl into the goblet.

  Still, she hesitated. It wasn’t supposed to work as well, but perhaps it would kick the gryl into action. She had to do something, or this entire exercise was pointless. With the cloth in one hand, she picked the goblet up, toasted up to the sky in a gesture intended to summon the Creators into this makeshift ritual, and then drank the gryl down.

>   “Oh, damn, it tastes worse than it smells,” she said, the taste lingering without relief. Suspecting she couldn’t do anything about the aftertaste, she set the goblet down and got up, taking the cloth with her to the bed where she lay down, surrendered and lay the cloth on her face. And within minutes, darkness overwhelmed her mind with a trance so deep she felt nothing but dead.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  the answer in the plain

  After a long and complicated day, Nalin crutched his way back into the great tent and sat down at the table to rest his poor, aching arms. He sat there for several minutes, smiling to himself. Watching the sun set with Bala, just sitting there quietly enjoying the view and holding her hand, had cheered his usually pessimistic self. He wanted to settle here quietly, if only for a moment, basking in the lingering glow, before reality could soar in to descend upon his shoulders once again.

  It dropped more quickly than he’d planned. Commander Tanres burst into the tent and stopped at full attention.

  “Commander?”

  “My lord, we have word. Captain Kopol has returned from an errand for the Empir and reports that she saw the Thristan army, many thousands of them, approaching the eastern ascent point to the Rim.”

  “How long do we have?” Nalin asked.

  “A day, maybe less, maybe more. We’ll know better when our people on this side report, which should be in the next several hours. We should summon the Empir’s privy council and my officers. Where is the Empir?”

  “I don’t know. I just got back. Maybe taking a nap?”

  The commander nodded and stepped over to the drapery dividing Lisen’s room from this one.

  “My Liege?” she said softly. When she got no answer, she spoke more firmly. “My Liege?” She looked at Nalin for permission to enter. He shrugged.

  “Go ahead. Tell her I made you do it.”

  The commander slipped through the dividing curtain, and Nalin began writing down a list of those to summon.

  “My lord!”

  Before Nalin could grab his crutches and get up, Commander Tanres had burst back through the drape, her expression filled with alarm.

  “What is it?” Nalin demanded.

  “It’s the Empir. She’s—”

  “Dead?” Nalin asked, a sudden pain in his chest forcing him to fight for every breath. He’d feared this for months when the Thristans had held her. To have her return and then….

  “No, my lord. Unconscious. Barely breathing. I found this on her face.” Tanres held up a piece of cloth.

  “Give me that and go get the healer from Solsta. No one else, understood?”

  “Aye, my lord.”

  “And Holder Tuane!” he added as the commander strode out of the tent.

  “Aye, my lord,” she shouted back.

  Nalin studied the piece of old cloth Tanres had handed him as she left. It smelled odd but meant nothing to him. He dropped it on the table, then rose slowly on his one foot and settled onto his crutches, and all the while he stared at the tapestried curtain that divided him from Lisen, gathering strength. With a painful deep breath, he set out for Lisen’s chamber.

  He passed through the curtain and entered the room as though he were stepping into a tomb. He’d never felt such stillness before in his life, and although he knew the minute others encroached that would all change, he maintained the reverential silence as he made his way to her bed.

  A single torch broke the dark, and he stood there staring at her lifeless-appearing body. He finally gained the courage to reach out with one hand and place a finger below her nose. Yes, Tanres had been correct. She did breathe, but he couldn’t see her chest rise and fall at all. He stood there, balancing on his left leg and his crutches—the crutches she designed, he remembered—and felt the heat of grief burning in his heart. Stop! He required reason, not a boiling cauldron of emotion.

  “Nalin? Tanres told me to….” Bala’s voice trailed off as he turned to look at her.

  He sighed. “It’s Lisen. There’s something wrong.” Bala rushed to him and knelt down beside the bed. With one hand she checked Lisen’s wrist and then felt her neck for a pulse. With the other, she reached up to touch Nalin’s arm, but he jerked away.

  “Well, she’s not dead.” Bala rose and looked Nalin in the eyes, and he noted a sadness about her that hadn’t been there earlier. “What happened?”

  “I don’t know. I came back and sat down at the table. Then Tanres came in with news so I told her to go ahead and wake the Empir up. She was only in here for a moment. Then she was yelling at me and running back out, and…oh, I don’t know.”

  “Have you summoned a healer?”

  Nalin nodded. “Yes. Tanres is seeing to it. I told her to get Hermit Titus. I trust him. We’re going to need people we trust with this.”

  “I agree. Now, why don’t you sit down.”

  His mind awash with illogical thoughts, he waited for Bala to retrieve a chair from the main room. There was a chair on the other side of the bed, but he’d leave that one for the healer.

  Within minutes, the healer had arrived, and “Hmm” seemed to accompany each poke and prod he performed. Nalin sat with Bala standing behind him, not touching him. He couldn’t tolerate being touched right now. And Commander Tanres, the voice of reason in the group, kept pacing back and forth, fiddling with the piece of cloth she’d brought in with her from the other room upon her return.

  “My lord,” the commander finally said, “there was no one here when you returned to the tent, correct?”

  “Yes, no one,” Nalin replied, grateful for any distraction from the Empir’s examination, which he couldn’t follow anyway.

  “So, the question is, who was with her last?” Tanres appeared to think and then halted mid step in her pacing. “Kopol. It must have been Captain Kopol. Perhaps something to do with that mission of hers?”

  “Where is she?” Bala asked. “I’ll find her.”

  Tanres paused in thought, then answered. “I assigned her to the Miras. She should be there.”

  Nalin turned to say something to Bala, but all he saw was her back as she rushed from the chamber.

  “And I’ll talk to the guard outside. He may know something.” The commander handed the cloth over to the hermit and then also left the room.

  “This cloth.” The hermit finally spoke and held the cloth up.

  “Yes?”

  “It was on her face?”

  “So the commander said.”

  Titus nodded. “And how long has that been there?” the hermit asked, pointing to a pan on the table next to Nalin.

  “It doesn’t look familiar,” Nalin said and leaned over to study its contents. All he saw was water with some minimal residue of something floating on the top, and it gave off the same odor as the cloth.

  He started to dip his finger in, but the hermit shouted, “No! Don’t touch it!”

  Nalin pulled his hand back. “What do you think it is?”

  “I don’t know,” Titus replied. “But if it wasn’t there before, then it’s suspicious.”

  Nalin nodded. “So, what’s wrong with her?”

  “I don’t know. She appears to be in a deep sleep or some sort of trance.”

  Nalin leaned back with a sigh and rubbed his forehead. He’d used all his hope up, none left to drawn on.

  “I wish I could give you more,” Hermit Titus said. “I know these have been difficult times.”

  “You know nothing,” Nalin barked, and Titus kept his silence.

  Nalin looked up, wishing for a renewal of his hope, as Tanres returned.

  “The guard outside wasn’t here when she left,” the commander reported.

  “Then how does he know she left?” Nalin asked.

  “She came to him from inside and advised him she’d returned via the ‘back way.’”

  “So who was here when she left?”

  “I’m working on that, my lord.”

  Nalin nodded and returned to staring at Lisen. So still
. He marveled that she actually lived. And where the Destroyer was Bala with that damn captain?

  For Nalin, it seemed an eternity passed before Bala returned, Lisen’s latest favorite captain in tow. Short auburn hair darker than Ariel’s, Captain Kopol was a strange candidate for the Guard—at least that was Nalin’s impression. She entered the room, surveyed it with her icy blue eyes and settled her gaze on her Empir.

  “Creators,” she whispered. “What did she do?” The woman looked around, from commander to Bala to Nalin and finally stopped at the hermit.

  “We don’t know,” Titus said. “We were hoping you could tell us.”

  “I swore my silence.” The captain’s eyes darted around the room, resting on her Empir for a moment, then moving on.

  “As her Will, I release you from your oath,” Nalin said. “Tell us what you know.”

  “It’s gryl. I’m sorry, my lord. I cautioned her against it.”

  “But she made you get it for her anyway.” Nalin nodded.

  “I didn’t know she was going to use it now. I mean, she gave me no hint. Forgive me, my lord.”

  “Go back to the Miras,” Nalin said, dismissing her. “But not a word to anyone. That goes for all of you. Not even to each other outside this tent.”

  “Aye, my lord,” the captain replied, saluted fist to chest and left. The others nodded.

  “If anyone asks,” Nalin continued, grasping for something, anything to explain Lisen’s absence from the camp, “tell them the Empir is meditating about the coming battle.”

  “Commander?” They all turned to look at a guard who’d just entered.

  “Yes?” Tanres replied, and the young man stepped over to her and whispered in her ear. She nodded and waved him off, and he left.

  “Commander?” Nalin queried.