“Was he after Marshal or both of you?” Aelia interrupted.
“He was after Marshal. I tried to stop him. I really did.”
“I know you did, Victor.” Aelia adjusted the blanket around Marshal’s shoulders. “Volraag must have sent him.”
With a sigh, she got to her feet and faced Talinir. She bowed for the second time. “Most noble warden of the Eldanim,” she began, “I cannot thank you enough for saving my son’s life.”
Talinir inclined his head and stirred the tea.
“In fact, I am exceedingly pleased to see you, regardless of the circumstances. We were searching for you.”
Talinir arched his eyebrows. With the angularity of his face, they formed shapes more like arrowheads than arches. “You were looking for me?”
“Not you specifically,” Aelia admitted. “I regret that, until now, I did not know you by name. But we were searching for the Eldanim. Had we failed to meet one of you, my plan was to enter the Great Plains in search of Intal Eldanir.”
Talinir spread his hands, one holding the wooden spoon. “You have found me. What can I do for you, Aelia, daughter of Evander? I know you have been seeking my people. We heard your call weeks ago. I was unaware that any humans held a Ranir Stone.”
A strange expression crossed Aelia’s face, Marshal noted. He had never heard his grandfather’s name from anyone’s lips but his mother’s. How had Talinir known it? And what did he mean by her call? Was it the time Marshal had seen her chanting in the dark? Maybe the Ranir Stone was the glowing thing he had seen.
Aelia put her hands on Marshal’s shoulders. “If you remember my father, you will know why this is important. My son is cursed, through no fault of his own. I wish to petition the Eldanim to lift his curse.”
Marshal’s eyes widened, and he heard Victor’s intake of breath. So that was what Aelia had been planning all this time. It made some sense. The Eldanim were said to be creatures of magic. Curses were caused by magic. If anyone could undo a curse, surely it would be them. He felt a strange feeling amid the chills. Hope. But even as the feeling rose, he pushed it back down. Curses lasted until death. This was the way of the world.
Talinir seemed unaffected by Aelia’s statement. With careful skill, he removed the pot from the fire and poured the steaming liquid into four cups. “I find that adding sugar dulls the sharpness of the leaves and allows one to enjoy the flavor even more,” he said.
“What’s sugar?” Victor wondered.
Talinir stopped in mid-pour. “You don’t know about sugar?” He looked to Marshal, who also shook his head. “Amazing. Well, then I shall add extra, so that you will really enjoy this.” He took out a sealed pouch, opened it, and began measuring quantities of a brown grainy substance into the cups. “I am lying to you, I must admit. I always add extra.”
Throughout all this, Aelia stood stiff, a confused expression growing on her face.
“It’s ready,” Talinir announced. He handed one cup to Victor, and another to Marshal. He offered the third to Aelia, who stared at him.
Talinir met her gaze for a moment, then sighed. He set the cup down on the ground near her. He returned to the other side of the fire and sat cross-legged on a large rock. He took a sip of his tea and smiled. He took another sip and set the cup beside him.
“I do not believe you will find receptive ears to your petition,” he said. “Humans created the curses. They must deal with the consequences.” Seeing the look on her face, he hastened to add, “That is the prevailing opinion, I should say. I do not say that I agree with it. But the majority of the High Council are strongly opposed to any involvement with humans.”
“Then why are you out here?” Victor asked.
Talinir smiled. “I am a warden. A select number of us roam the country around Intal Eldanir, guarding it from harm.”
“What harm?”
“Ah, that would require a lengthy explanation. Perhaps another time.”
Marshal finally took a sip of the tea. The sweetness surprised him so much that he almost didn’t notice the flavor. On rare occasions, his mother had obtained honey and sweetened some tea with it, but this was different. It lacked the thickness and distinct flavor of honey, but included even more sweetness. His second sip gave him more of an idea of the tea’s flavor itself, dark and spicy, though muted by the sugar. What a wonderful combination. He drank deeper, letting the warmth of it flood through his body.
“Ah, you see? Sugar in tea. One of this world’s greatest accomplishments.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
EVERYTHING MADE SENSE now.
Kishin retrieved the pack he had hidden before his confrontation with Marshal and checked it for tampering. It had taken him hours to make his way back after being swept down river. An inconvenience, but not discouraging.
No wonder Volraag wanted this young man dead. He had to be Lord Varion’s first-born son. Nothing else could explain enough k’uh to shatter rock.
Kishin glanced up at the cliff bank. He could see the spot where the rock platform had been. What rock remained looked scarred and unnatural.
Once Kishin killed the target, the power would pass to Volraag. And he had offered “usual rates.” Kishin snorted. He would demand much greater payment, once he had accomplished this one.
That in itself had become much harder now. Discovering the target had power created new factors to consider, as well as the unusual nature of his curse.
More disturbing was the help the target had obtained. Kishin had not encountered one in many years, but he recognized an Eldani warden. If the target stayed with him, it would make things far more difficult. The Eldanim were imposing warriors, and the wardens were the best of the best. They trained to literally fight opponents in two different worlds at the same time.
He smiled grimly. What he had considered an easy job had turned into a significant challenge. Since the coming of his curse, Kishin had found few pleasures remaining in his life. But a challenge of this magnitude could be immensely gratifying. When he succeeded in taking Marshal’s life, it would be the most pleasure he had enjoyed in many years.
CHAPTER TWENTY
MARSHAL WOKE THE next morning with a start. In his dreams, the leper assassin had started growing until he became the shadow man from Efesun. In the aftermath of the fight, he had almost forgotten that strange encounter the night before.
As so often happened, he would have to move on with his questions unanswered. Somehow, he suspected the warden had a good idea about the nature of the shadow man, if anyone did.
Talinir sat awake, watching the fire. When he saw Marshal sit up, he prepared a cup of tea and offered it to him. “This will help wake you up, while warming you,” he said.
Marshal accepted it gratefully. The tea tasted just as sweet as the night before, but this time he was used to it. He smiled and inhaled the steam coming off the cup.
Talinir chuckled and sat back with his own cup. “Whenever I can, I start the day with this. Not only does it taste wonderful, it spurs the mind into wakefulness.” He took a sip. “Some of the other wardens prefer a drink made with crushed beans. Can you imagine? It actually smells quite wonderful, but I prefer tea. I’ve worked for years to concoct the perfect recipe. You can come up with so many different varieties, you know.”
While he enjoyed the warden’s conversation, Marshal couldn’t help wondering about more serious topics, like the assassin. Talinir seemed happy to babble on about his tea, but said very little when asked about other things the night before.
Talinir noticed the expression on his face and leaned forward. He spoke in a low tone, even though Victor and Aelia still slept. “I know that you are concerned over many things. I pledge to you now. As long as I am with you, no harm will come to you or your mother. You have the word of Talinir, Eldani warden.” He made a curious gesture with three fingers laid against his face, one across his eye and the other two pointing toward his ear.
Aelia yawned and sat up. Talinir fetched another cup
and poured it. “Another cup of tea to start your day, madam?” Aelia accepted the cup with a few blinks and a nod.
Marshal took another sip, then realized he felt a strong need. He got to his feet and sought privacy. When he returned, Victor had awakened, grumbling as usual. After a short breakfast, all four of them set out together with Talinir in the lead. From what Marshal could gather, he had agreed to lead them to Intal Eldanir, his city.
What would that be like? As fascinating as he found Talinir, Marshal had a hard time imagining an entire city of Eldanim. Talinir doubted they would be willing to lift Marshal’s curse. So what was the point of going? Did Aelia think she could change their minds?
All his life, Marshal had trusted his mother. He never had cause not to. But the past few weeks had changed all of that. She had secrets, so many secrets, things she had never told him. Now, out of nowhere, she wanted to get his curse lifted and had brought them to petition the Eldanim, of all people.
Marshal felt again the weight of Volraag’s dagger. It was always there, beckoning him. He still didn’t think he had the strength to use it on himself. He berated himself for his cowardice.
Everyone Marshal knew had aspirations, goals in life. Many in Drusa’s Crossing only aspired to continuing the family business, whether fisherman, blacksmith, or farmer. Others, such as Victor, aspired to leave the village and find purpose elsewhere.
Marshal had no aspirations. He was cursed, and that’s all there was to it. He had never dared dream that things could be any different. Now, the possibility had been dangled in front of him, however remote, and it terrified him, if he was honest with himself. For if he began to believe it, then so much would change. He could have aspirations, hopes, dreams.
But dreams died. Hopes failed. And aspirations, unless carefully controlled, only led to misery. This much he had seen in his short life, and he knew it to be true.
The cursed had no future.
•••••
Talinir showed himself a swift trailblazer. Despite there being no real road beyond the Trebia, Talinir led them by open paths, mostly easy to traverse. It wasn’t long before they emerged from the woods and the Great Plains stretched before them.
Marshal stared in awe. The line of trees from which they had emerged curved off in either direction until it faded from view. The ground in front of them was flat. Just… flat.
“Edin Na Zu.” Victor had heard the expression once from a visitor from Arazu. Marshal suspected Victor had no idea what it meant, but he liked it for some reason.
Growing up at the feet of the mountains, Marshal had assumed the whole world to be the same. The earth beneath his feet curved up and down, forming hills and valleys, crevices and peaks. Towns grew on flat areas, such as could be found. Never in his life had he imagined a flat area this massive, this vast.
“There’s no end to it,” Victor said. Indeed, at the furthest distance they could see, the sky seemed to come down to meet the grass.
“Hailstones and coals of fire!” Talinir murmured. Marshal glanced at him. The Eldani warden was not awestruck over the plains - why would he be? He stared straight ahead at something Marshal couldn’t see.
“I need the three of you to remain right here,” Talinir said. His tone of voice had become commanding again. “Whatever you see… or think you see, do not interfere.”
“What?” Victor’s question went unanswered as Talinir strode forward into the open. He dropped his pack and unsheathed the sword from his belt.
All three of them stared at the sword. It gleamed in the weak sunlight, flawless and smooth. The blade stretched around two and a half feet long with a slight curve. Marshal couldn’t tell whether it held a double or single edge. But as Talinir took a few practice swings, Marshal’s eyes couldn’t stop following it. The air behind the blade shimmered as it swept through.
Talinir took a dramatic stance about ten feet away, facing away from them. He held his sword in front of him, both hands grasping the lengthy hilt. A long moment passed. Abruptly, he took a step backward and swung up, releasing the sword with his left hand. Then he dodged to the left. His blade swept down and back.
Fascinated, Marshal watched as Talinir continued what seemed to be an elaborate dance of some kind. He stepped forward, back, right and left, dodged rapidly, walked slowly. His movements constantly changed, but he wielded the sword through it all - thrusting, slashing, blocking.
“I’ve heard about this,” Victor said. “It’s a kind of practice, where you go through a series of moves in a row. You do it over and over to learn them by instinct.”
“Perhaps,” Aelia said. She did not sound convinced.
In fact, the more Marshal watched, the more he became sure Talinir battled in deadly earnest. The few times he caught a glimpse of the warden’s face, it appeared grim and determined. He did not have the look of someone practicing. And why would he have warned them not to interfere?
Talinir’s movements became quicker, more urgent. His long hair whipped through the air and around his face. At times, his strikes and dodges became a blur, too fast to understand. Sweat dripped from his head.
Marshal thought he saw something and waited for another opportunity. When Talinir fell back and rolled to his left, he got a full look at the warden’s face and confirmed it. Talinir kept his “normal” eye closed. Whatever he fought could only be seen with his starry eye.
In the next moment, Talinir soared six feet through the air and landed hard, rolling uncontrollably. Marshal took an instinctive step forward. He wasn’t alone.
“He is wounded!” Aelia exclaimed.
“Is he fighting an invisible monster?” Victor grabbed his flail and took another step. He stopped when Marshal grabbed his arm. “What are you doing? He needs help!”
Marshal shook his head. If he understood, Victor could do nothing to harm the enemy, and he might succeed only in getting himself or Talinir injured further.
Talinir leaped to his feet, the front of his tunic torn to shreds. Marshal thought he saw blood.
“i hatel indalanim!” Talinir cried. He lifted his sword in the air, and Marshal swore the air around it warped, curving around the blade. As if in response, his hands began to shake. He let go of Victor. The power flowed through him. He felt it leaving his feet and entering the ground, which trembled in response. Victor shot him a look.
Talinir took three steps and leaped into the air. He landed, or seemed to land, in mid-air, at a height of about eight feet. He stabbed his sword down with both hands, screaming something Marshal couldn’t make out.
Again, Talinir tumbled through the air, clearly not in control of himself. He landed hard and lay still. Victor rushed forward, his flail at the ready. Aelia followed, cautious but determined. Marshal stood alone, unsure and trembling.
Victor rushed past Talinir and stopped, looking around. What could he possibly do now?
Aelia knelt beside Talinir. The Eldani waved her back and climbed to one knee. Marshal approached them. His power faded again, back to the familiar tingling that almost never left.
“It’s all right,” Talinir called to Victor. “It’s dying now. It won’t trouble us.”
Victor turned back, a perplexed expression on his face. “What was it?” he demanded.
Talinir’s chest rose and fell in deep breaths. “Tunaldi,” he said. “The enemy I spoke of.”
Marshal stepped close enough to see Talinir’s chest. Aelia pulled away the torn tunic with gentle concern. “The wounds don’t look too deep,” she said. “But…” She pursed her lips and wrinkled her brow. Marshal looked closer. Talinir’s chest, which shared the sharp angles of his face, bore three large scratches, equally spaced. Marshal had seen wounds of this size before, but not like this. Something appeared extremely wrong about them, but he couldn’t identify it. He looked to his mother.
Talinir closed his eyes. “The wounds go beyond your ability to heal, though I do appreciate the help,” he said. “They require starlight to fully close.”
Victor glanced at the sky. “It’s still early morning, and it’s been cloudy for days.”
Talinir gestured back to the edge of the plains. “Bring me my pack.”
Marshal ran back and retrieved the warden’s pack. When he returned, he found Talinir stretched out on the ground while Aelia worked to clean his wounds. “In the side pocket there.” Talinir pointed. Marshal pulled out something that resembled a leather water pouch.
Talinir took the pouch and unscrewed the lid. He turned it upside down and squeezed over his palm. Three drops of a thick, viscous liquid oozed out. He handed the pouch and its lid back to Marshal.
With a sigh of relief, Talinir laid his head back on the ground. He held his hand above his head, the palm facing him. The three drops began to glow. Marshal knelt down to get a better look. The glow of the drops formed into beams that played across Talinir’s face. Marshal had never seen starlight during the day, of course, but he assumed he saw it now.
“Liquid stars?” Victor asked. “What’s next? Moon bread?”
“It is called starshine,” Aelia said. “It is not true starlight, but is close enough for his needs.” She frowned at Talinir as she wrapped a bandage around his chest. “I do hope you are using it in moderation, sir warden.”
“Of course,” Talinir murmured. His normal eye grew distant and unfocused. He seemed to have fallen into a kind of trance. Once Aelia finished with the bandage, she looked down at his face, shaking her head.
“He’ll be like that for an hour or so,” she said. “I guess we’re not getting very far today.”
Marshal sat on the grass and looked out across the plains. So many questions raised in the space of a few minutes. What was a tunaldi? Why was it invisible? Were there more of them about? And then there was Talinir’s sword. He looked down at his hands again. Why had his power reacted to it so strongly?
“Tell me your curse.” The words startled Marshal out of his reverie. He stood and turned, knowing what he would see.
Until All Curses Are Lifted Page 12
