Splintered Loyalties

by S. B. Sebrick

  A stone whizzed past his head, ricocheting off the nearby wall with an awkward clack. A couple others got similar ideas and soon Keevan found himself running in a zig-zag formation just to avoid the projectiles. His tactics weren't perfect. One stone pegged him right on the butt, of all places. When he stumbled from the blow, another clipped his shoulder.

  His leather armor scraped against one wall as Keevan dove to the right at the next intersection. His pursuers were so close their flaming swords lit his way, all but his own shadow at least. He cursed his foul luck. How could he outrun the Rhetans completely, when he needed their flames to see by?

  Sprinting around another corner, Keevan slammed face first into a collapsed portion of tunnel. The sound blow connected with his head so firmly, he didn't remember actually hitting the ground. He lay there, on his side, facing his pursuers as the fire light grew brighter.

  His head still swimming from the blow, Keevan watched the proceedings as if they were a dream, somehow detached from his body. A Rhetan stumbled around the corner, catching himself before repeating Keevan's mistake. He glanced down at Keevan, gasping for air, letting forth a deep, throaty chuckle. The Danica blade glowed orange in his hand, as if urging the Rhetan on.

  "I've got him!" The Rhetan cried, glancing back down the tunnel. "The fool ran into a wall." He stared down the empty catacombs, then he turned back to Keevan, brow furrowed, eyes confused. Shrugging off the absence of his fellows, he towered over Keevan, holding his red-hot blade high overhead.

  Keevan raised his training sword, a feeble attempt at defending himself. A wave of fear washed over him as he stared at the wooden stick in his hand, a paltry defense against a flaming Danica blade. Keevan dropped the weapon, cover his face against the tears and the anticipated attack. For all his training, he couldn't even fight of one lone Rhetan.

  "At least we'll have one less Persuader to worry about," The Rhetan laughed, grasping his sword in both hands. The blade flickered red in response to the wielder's emotions, bathing the tunnel around them in shadows. He grinned widely, exposing teeth in various stages of decay. "You led us for a merry chase, boy. It's a shame you chose the wrong tunnel to run down. Time to die."

  Chapter 10

  As the Rhetan raised his weapon, a number of thoughts raced through Keevan's addled mind. The first, was the impulse to cry out for mercy. The second, was to reveal he glowing eyes and hope the Rhetan would see the value in a Sight Seeker hostage. The third, was the ironic observation that all of last month's grueling training was just undone by a wall.

  The final thought, and perhaps the most noteworthy, was a simple question indeed. Why were the shadows behind the Rhetan taking shape? Still hovering somewhere between dream and reality, Keevan wasn't sure if what he saw was real or not. The writhing shadows took solid form. Two thick arms snaked around the Rhetan's neck with all the ferocity of a snapped whip, tearing Keevan's would be executioner off-balance.

  The thick shouldered Rhetan roared in anger, twisting around as he tried to reach his attacker with his weapon. The Rhetan's blade blossomed into flame, so hot Keevan wondered if his hair was going to catch fire. Flesh sizzled.

  The shadow creature yelped in pain, revealing a pair of tattered trousers as he spun. Keevan's rescuer took the Rhetan's momentum and guided the man's head, quite soundly, into the adjacent wall. The Rhetan crumpled to the ground, moaning his pain. His sword clattered away, quickly extinguished, plunging them into the silent, crypt-like realm of the catacombs.

  Something got ahold of Keevan by his collar, steadily dragging him along the hard stone floor. The air was thick with the scent of burnt hair, like the last time Nariem accidentally set his beard aflame. Masha never did like her husband with a beard, claiming facial hair made her feel like she were married to someone twice her age. Grimly, Keevan noticed his difficulty in keeping his thoughts centered on any one thing for long. Was that typical of a head injury?

  In the distance, cries for aid, moans of pain and yelps of frustration echoed down the tunnels behind them. Thankfully, they were already too far down the catacombs to see the light of the Rhetan blades. Keevan paused a moment at that thought, glancing over his shoulder as he slid along the ground. The gesture was a useless one however, for in the dark he could see nothing. The identity of his rescuer was a mystery still and he couldn't risk lighting the tunnel with the elemental plane until he knew his rescuer's intentions.

  "Thanks for saving me," Keevan rasped, clutching his sore skull. He could already feel a tender goose egg forming above his right eye.

  "Shhhh," The shadows replied, dragging him through the endless blackness.

  The tunnel turned again, this time leading upward. At one point Keevan felt like he was being carried by the neck of his armor, like a cat holding a kitten. By the third time the shadows lifted him, Keevan's addled brain recognized this person's immense strength, for Keevan could only feel one hand supporting his entire weight as he slid along.

  The throaty rush of a canal thundered in the distance, growing progressively louder as they plodded on. Keevan felt the air get progressively cooler, little flecks of moisture settling on his skin. When his rescuer finally set him down, Keevan found himself on a slick, flat plane of cobblestones.

  The canal roared next to him, and for one bizarre moment, Keevan feared his attacker might push him in. Then, rough hands gingerly touched his forehead. Warmth flooded his body, the pain faded and he suddenly felt invigorated.

  "You can use your eyes now, we're safe. You only suffered a minor concussion, that much I can heal," The shadows said. Keevan rubbed his temples in confusion, only a faint ache remained around the goose egg shaped bump. He pursed his lips in nervous excitement. The voice was Corvan's.

  With a sigh of relief, Keevan drew on his elemental vision. The canal next to them glowed moisture, caking the ceiling, walls and floor and glowing blue energy. The water carried little warmth and even less electricity, so the lack of every other element made the little cavern feel almost divine, a place for Suada only and no one else.

  Then he saw Corvan and smiled. After a lifetime of seeing the Tri-Beings' cloud-like forms through his elemental vision, see an Outlander with no elemental connections at all felt wonderfully strange. The Varadour had shaved off his beard, a stark contrast against the countless shaggy haired pictures of him spread throughout the city. He looked younger now, stronger, until you considered his eyes, haunted and full of pain, with just a touch of hope.

  "I didn't know you could heal others," Keevan said in amazement, tentatively rubbing his legs and forearms, his bruises had indeed vanished.

  "I'm much better at camouflage than healing," Corvan admitted, tapping his temple. "Thankfully, that rap on your head only rattled your brain a little. No swelling or bleeding in there to worry about."

  "You could tell that much from just a touch?"

  "It's not a perfect technique," Corvan cautioned, "I just gave your body the chance to heal itself all the faster. You'll have a fierce appetite this afternoon, as your body makes up for the fuel it just burned through to heal you more quickly."

  Keevan nodded, already feeling the pangs of hunger. He pulled the remains of Masha's biscuit from his bag, savoring the honey glaze with each mouthful. He glanced at Corvan, breaking off a handful, "Would you like some?"

  "No, I ate before the job, just in case," Corvan explained, turning his neck from side to side as he stretched. The water's glow in Keevan's elemental vision, gave Corvan a supernatural aura, as if he were part deity. Considering the damage he'd inflicted on the Rhetans earlier, the comparison wasn't far off. "Most of them go just fine, but sometimes there are unexpected developments."

  Corvan sat on a thick wooden stool, patches of burned skin dotting his face, his singed cloak exposing a chunk of tender flesh peeking out from his left forearm. Keevan chewed on his lower lip nervously. Corvan had taken a huge risk and a serious injury in defending him. Looking around, Keevan also noticed a tangle of wooden fish traps in
the corner of the room, adjacent to the wall, a stack of fur blankets and the mouth of the canal.

  "You live down here?" Keevan asked.

  "I move around a lot," Corvan answered, peeling off his scorched cloak. "There are a couple locations like this, where a mountain stream first enters the city's canal system. No refuse, just fish and pure water. Everything a man needs."

  "Not bad," Keevan said, still rubbing his temples. "No wonder the Persuaders haven't found you yet. I don't see any torches. How do you manage your way around here?"

  "It's a Varadour trick, one of many," Corvan said, gritting teeth as he peeled away a layer of dead skin from his forearm. "Think of it as I can blend into the dark even and see through it."

  "How do you cook the fish?"

  "Cook them?" Corvan chuckled, "I spent three months eating sailor's hardtack. I sometimes had to break my breakfast off the loaf with a chisel. Raw meat is a step up from that. Barely."

  Keevan pictured the writhing, slimy fish. Then he tried to picture eating such a thing, raw and moist. He shuddered. "Perhaps I could talk to the Malik on your behalf? You could make a deal with him, as I have."

  Corvan laughed, a grim, bitter sound. "No, I'm sorry dear boy, but I've endured quite enough of Tri-Being hospitality in my months with the Harbor Guild. Besides, there's a rebellion on the rise. As I see it, siding with either side decreases one's chance of survival by fifty percent."

  "What kind of advice is that?" Keevan grumbled, cupping one hand as he scooped up a handful of water from the canal. The liquid was cool, fresh and perfect for his dry throat. He sighed contently, before returning his attention to Corvan. "I overheard everything the Rhetans in the tunnel said. You're working with Zerik, and arming rebels. That sounds a lot like 'choosing a side' to me."

  "I'm a contractor, nothing more," Corvan corrected, fiercely. "I get fair compensation for delivering merchandise to a secluded location few others can access."

  "Fair compensation?" Keevan asked, glancing around, "You have a pile of gold buried away somewhere?"

  "A couple, actually," Corvan said dismissively, gritting his teeth as he peeled a final layer of burned clothing from his seared wound. The blistered, swollen skin gradually healed before their eyes, shedding the remaining dead flesh like a serpent discarding dead skin. "Then I opted for payment in information instead."

  "Information?"

  "About you," Corvan admitted, leaning over the canal to immerse his now-healing arm in the cool water. He closed his eyes and sighed in relief. "I had a feeling we'd meet again and I wanted to be ready, just in case."

  "Ready for what?" Keevan asked.

  "To get you out, obviously," Corvan laughed, splashing water around the chamber as he waved his wounded arm in the air. "This, is a minor wound compared to what's coming. You and I are the only two Outlanders in Issamere. We're far stronger together than apart. You must see that."

  "We?" Keevan said, confused. "Last I checked, you did all the work back there. I'm not sure how much help I could be."

  "Really?" Corvan said, shooting Keevan a frustrated look, "You're going to give me the 'I'm helpless' speech? This rebellion wouldn't be possible if you hadn't brought about the Watcher's and the Great Crystal's ends. You are far from useless. Your skills are specialized, that's all."

  "I suppose," Keevan said, trailing off into thought. A moment later, he laughed, shaking his head. "My mother gave me the same speech this morning about having an escape ready, just in case. If Persuader Madol or Malik Morgra pull me aside and make the same offe-"

  "They won't," Corvan insisted, "don't be daft."

  "How can you be sure?" Keevan insisted, "Of course, they'll want to protect me."

  "They'll want to use you, first and foremost. Protecting you is secondary," Corvan grated, he slammed his fist into the canal, spending a spray of water against the far wall. "That, combined with your tendency to jump headlong into trouble, will likely get you killed," Corvan paused then, returning to his stool and taking a deep breath, visibly shaken from his recent outburst.

  "It's odd, seeing someone angry without any fire around," Keevan offered softly, giving Corvan a chance to calm down. "This must be how the Tri-Beings feel around me, when I get emotional. It must be so odd to them."

  "Odd is a bit of an understatement," Corvan said, grudgingly. "We see the world and face problems very differently than they. It makes it difficult for our races to work together."

  "I've done alright so far," Keevan answered defensively, "I'm learning to protect myself, at least."

  Corvan paused at that, examining Keevan from head to toe. After a moment, he said, "Hadrian is teaching you the mechanics well enough, but you are still trying to fight other bodies with your own. The best warriors don't fight bodies, they fight minds. You could have defeated those Rhetans yourself, if you weren't so busy running."

  "What other choice did I have?" Keevan asked, pointing back down the tunnel. "There were too many of them."

  "Too many for one man to take?" Corvan countered, flashing a knowing smile.

  "That's different," Keevan insisted, "You were attacking them from behind and your powers are far more... physical... in nature."

  "My point is, I didn't take them on all at once," Corvan said, holing up a single finger, "and you wouldn't of had too either. They were strung out, the fastest in the front, all chasing you. Had you ambushed the leader as he rounded the corner, be it with stone or sword, the others would have lost heart. Quite readily, if you'd killed him. Think about it."

  "You know how I feel about killing," Keevan said defensively.

  Corvan raised his hands defensively, palms open. "I was careful to wound or knock them unconscious. I may have gotten rough with that last one, but his friends will take him to a Suadan healer and he'll survive. I gave his body a dose of healing energy before we left, to keep the swelling down in his brain."

  "You haven't killed anyone since your escape?" Keevan asked.

  "Nope. Well, not since you made me promise not to," Corvan said, correcting himself. "In the end, it was good advice. Nothing motivates local guards and Persuaders like a few of their own winding up dead. Since the rebellion's been active in that department, and not me, they've been too busy to put as much pressure on me as they could have."

  "So, you're using the rebellion to distract the guards," Keevan noted, shifting uncomfortably on the hard, wet cobblestones.

  "As are you," Corvan said with a smirk.

  "What?" Keevan said in disbelief, "I came down here to learn what they're up to and put a stop to them."

  "So the Malik will see how useful you are and let you live your life in peace," Corvan answered flatly. "Ask yourself, without a threat as serious as the rebels, without Zerik manipulating you to damage the Great Crystal and beat the Watcher, would they still have accepted you into the Persuader Academy? Would they be giving you, someone the Harbor Guild insists will bring destruction on Issamere, military training?"

  Keevan had no immediate response to that. He glanced over at the canal, watching the coursing water through the elemental plane. Corvan made a good point. They were both misfits, Outlanders living among Tri-Beings, taking advantage of Issamere's problems in order to survive.

  "What did the Rhetans mean when they asked about the next shipment?" Keevan asked.

  "Just because I deliver a few crates of swords, doesn't mean I know the extent of their plans," Corvan sighed, tenderly stroking the healing burns on his face.

  "Could you find out more?" Keevan asked, "If you got more involved?"

  "Not by tomorrow," Corvan insisted. "I can snoop around the east gate tomorrow, but a few of Zerik's men know my face now."

  "We couldn't turn that to our advantage?" Keevan insisted, "Insist Zerik invited you along for extra security?"

  "Perhaps," Corvan muttered, watching Keevan suspiciously. "Then what? Steal it? It's too big, even for me. That much I've gathered from the few rumors I've picked up among Zerik's men."

 
"Which is why we need to figure out what Zerik plans to do with it, or at least where and when," Keevan said, slamming the cobblestones with his fist. "Corvan, if we do nothing, thousands of people could die. Danica armed Rhetans tearing into desperate Etrendi, Issamere will be in chaos. If we can prevent the conflict, it increases both our chances of survival. I'd much rather manipulate Etrendi nobles in peace time than try to survive a thousand angry Rhets."

  "You make a strong point," Corvan echoed, staring off into the distance. "Are you sure they're worth saving?"

  "What do you mean?"

  Corvan sighed, rubbing his temples. "I didn't know a gentle way to bring this up, so I'm just going to come out and say it."

  "Say what?" Keevan asked darkly.

  "Your powers, they're limited to seeing the elemental plane, right?" Corvan clarified. When Keevan nodded, Corvan continued, the words pouring from him like acid. "All you know for certain, is these Tri-Beings salvaged you from a sinking Outlander craft. I've read the reports. They say you were wounded when they found you, a long-healed blow to the head, that has limited the growth of your powers."

  "My growth?" Keevan echoed, gulping nervously. This was one of the questions he'd longed to ask Corvan, the only person on the entire continent capable of giving him a decent answer. "What are the Sight Seekers like? How do their powers normally progress?"

  Corvan squirmed uncomfortably. "Look, I've no doubt your parents raised you with love. But they must have known about the injury's true source and purpose. The wound had to be fresh when they first met you. There wasn't time between your rescue and adoption for the superficial damage to heal."

  "What powers am I missing, Corvan?" Keevan growled. Hit grit his teeth and prepared for the truth, the words of a living Outlander held far more weight than the ancient lore Keevan studied, over the years.