I decided to remove my story from my blog, after some potential copyright concerns. I'll keep this blog running, in order to keep you all updated of the progress of Veyga. For now, I've completed my first draft of Veyga I, and am about 100 pages into Veyga II. I've made a few recent changes, like changing someone's eye color (I won't say who).
I'm also changing the name of one of the characters. I love the name Eithna, but I think it is going to trip up too many readers, so I am changing it to Einya. Same pronunciation, but much easier to run the eye over. The name has caught me up during my reviewing, so I just can't let it sit.
Einya's role has also been minimized in Book 2, so I will be changing the opening of Veyga I, although not drastically. I don't want to start my story with a character who is going to have less of a role than I predicted.
Thanks, all, for following along!
Thursday, May 12, 2011
Thursday, April 21, 2011
Post 22
Veyga drifted in and out of consciousness as he was carried in the jaws of the Hound. His head swung loose, free of the sharp teeth, and he caught glimpses of the ground passing beneath in great leaps and bounds, faster than a horse could travel. The wind rushed past him as he tried to take stock of his injuries.
Sharp pain skittered through his chest, and he was certain he must have at least one or two ribs broken. One of his legs was pinned between two of the Hound’s teeth, and he could no longer feel anything from the knee down. From the shrieking pain he’d felt from there earlier, that was probably a blessing. Miraculously, somehow, the Hounds’ teeth and claws, those unstoppable weapons, had not touched him otherwise.
Where were they taking him? Was there any way for him to escape? He freed one arm from between sharp teeth, watching in terror as acidic saliva dripped from his skin. His shirt was literally disintegrating before his eyes, but again his skin was untouched. The blue glow still swirled across his skin, and as the sleeve of his shirt fell away, he stared in further shock at his tattoos, where the silvery blue light glowed brilliantly. The ink seemed alive, thriving.
He tried to reach up to lever the Hound’s jaws apart. If he could get free- he couldn’t hold back another shriek as the jaws clamped down even tighter, and his world disappeared again.
Concerned brown eyes stared down at him as he seemed to lay crumpled. His awareness expanded, and while he couldn’t seem to move, he stared past the brown eyes to the crystalline walls beyond them. He was in Skeyon, and the pain was blessedly gone. That was Eavan above him, elderly face more tender than Veyga had seen it before. The old man reached out gentle fingers to touch his cheek, but Veyga could feel no contact. Tears dripped onto his face, and Veyga could only stare as the old man wept over him. “This is not meant to be. Razakel, we will see you dead, if it is possible. I will not let him have you. We still have one trick up our sleeves… Sleep, child. Sleep and we will do what we can. We were wrong to think we should not interfere. Sleep now.” And Veyga slept, the old man’s tears damp on his cheeks.
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Jared looked from face to face, trying not to let his despondency show. If he hadn’t felt so hopeless, Mel’awn’s obvious sulk would have been almost amusing- she looked like a child who had lost a toy. The priestess had recovered herself, and she sat with head high but eyes shining with unshed tears. Bard’an sat slumped in his chair, arms wrapped tightly around his chest and his head bowed sharply. All four of them, and he included himself, felt as if their lives had been snapped in half, and they huddled beneath the open-sided tent as dawn broke over the shattered camp.
Mel’awn scowled a little although she made an effort that it was a pretty scowl. “I didn’t even have a chance to show him the records. This was never mentioned in the prophecies. Now what’s the point?”
Bard’an spoke without looking up. “Could the prophecies be about another man? Could you have been mistaken?”
“Even if they were, my Foretellings showed his face clearly- it was that man and no other that needed to reach Polien.” The priestess ignored the dark look Mel’awn cast at her.
The Captain strode up to the tent, tall enough to have to duck to peer beneath the cover. “My Lord Jared, I need to speak with you. What are you all moping in here for?”
Jared gaped at him. “He’s gone, Captain. What’s the point?” At least he could return to Eithna now. To have to tell her, though…
“Well, as to that… I need to have a word with you. Probably best it be in private.” A strange light gleamed in the Captain’s dark eyes, and Jared blinked. He could have sworn he saw the swirl of a dim blue light behind the brown of those eyes. He nodded and forced himself to his feet, following the Captain from the tent. The Captain nodded to one of Veyga’s sentries as they walked into the little thicket where Veyga’s tent was being disassembled by three of the mercenaries. Two of them wore bandages, and the third limped heavily. Not many men had survived the night unscathed, among those that had survived at all.
The Captain motioned to the men, and they scattered, leaving the two of them alone, then he turned to Jared and smile grimly, white teeth bared among the curly beard. “He’s not dead yet.”
Jared’s jaw dropped again. “What?”
The Captain tapped his left temple. “There’s something of him, here. I can feel him, and he’s not dead yet. He’s badly injured, but he’s still alive. I’ve given orders for the camp to be packed and I’ve handed over most of my men to my second in command. They’ll return to Ay’marne. I took the liberty of replacing two of the men Master Veyga had chosen- they fell beneath the onslaught last night. The rest of us will do what we can to follow those creatures. I pledged my troth, and until I know he’s truly dead, we’ll damn well follow. The pack horses will come behind, they’ll slow us down otherwise, with a few more men I chose. I know Master Veyga said two score, but…” His grin widened, looking like nothing so much as a grimace. “But he’s not in a condition to be saying otherwise now. The priestess and the record keeper can stay with them, and catch up to us if-.” He shook his head, pounding a thick fist into his palm. “When we find him. I wish we had a healer along, but we’ve patched terrible injuries before, and we’ll do it again. Are you riding with us, my Lord Holt?”
Jared nodded numbly. Still alive? How in the seven hells- but it didn’t matter. If the Captain said it was true, it must be. It had to be. By the seven hells, it just had to be true. “Of course I am. Thank the Gods and Goddesses.”
The Captain’s teeth disappeared within his beard as he frowned. “It’s not that I’m not a God and Goddess fearing man, my Lord Holt, but I think we need to look after him ourselves, and not trust to any deities. Seems to me like if they were really worth praising, they would have prevented this from happening in the first place.”
Jared nodded grimly, not necessarily agreeing but hardly in a position to state otherwise.
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The incredible pressure that seemed to compact his torso was suddenly released. He felt himself falling, the sweet air rushing past his face, and then he hit the ground hard enough to bounce, and the world was gone again in a spiraling void. What seemed like moments later his eye opened and he watched the narrow strip of vision he could see beyond his nose. He couldn’t move; his entire body seemed to have dissolved. His arm was stretched out beyond him, and he could clearly see that the glow was gone. He watched as bright red blood welled from deep gouges along his bicep and was thankful that he couldn’t feel it. Maybe it wasn’t his arm, in spite of the visible tattoos, still gleaming just a little bit. Beyond the arm was a tangle of brush, blocking his view, and he realized he could hear those Hounds howling, and something else beneath. The beat of hooves, the angry scream of a horse, the clash of metal on claw. It seemed to go on for days, but he’d lost all sense of time. The oozing blood fascinated him, and he could only stare as it soaked the ground beneath him. Life’s blood, pulsing with his heartbeat, spreading into the earth below. He sent a thankful prayer up to the Gods and Goddesses that he could feel no pain.
His life faded. He felt wispy, not quite complete, as though he would evaporate with a strong breeze. It was a strange sensation, but freeing also. Maybe this would be a good place to stay, here where there was no pain, no death, no worry. Why should he return to where the weight of the world rested on his shoulders, pinning his spirit to the ground? It was good here, quiet. It was a fine place to stay. His body would be left behind, but he didn’t need it here.
He snapped back into that body with a grunt as the pain was woken anew. He tried to scream but his throat felt crushed and only a low whimper passed his cracked lips. There were hands on him, sliding beneath his legs and arms, supporting his torso. His head was cradled in soft bare arms, his cheek pressed into warm skin. He tried to force his eye open, but he couldn’t do more than crack the lid, barely catching a glimpse of tree branches moving swiftly, dizzyingly above him. No, it was him that was moving, with concerned faces above him, gleaming eyes taking turns touching on him and then turning to look ahead. Tall people, with long pale braids over their shoulders, skin even paler, almost white, and those eyes were all varying shades of green. He turned his face into the soft skin against his cheek, and stared in shock at the pert pink nipple just inches from his eye. Then he was jostled, and with a thick groan he returned to that place of mist and shadows, relief flooding him.
He floated there, where there was no form, for ages. There was nothing- featureless gray nothingness all around him. Then he saw sparkles in the distance, like silver fireflies, dancing away. He tried to move toward them and then realized anew that there was no body to move. He thought for a moment and then willed himself toward the glistening lights. All of a sudden he was within them and they were all around him, brushing gently against his soul. He reached for one somehow, drawn to it, and suddenly a panorama opened beneath his mind’s eye, and below him, as if he were watching from the ceiling, he saw a lovely young woman in a rocking chair, humming softly, her hands folded across her softly mounded belly, and he could see the soft flame of the new life within her. A name floated through his mind. Eithna… He blinked away, the scene fading below him, and another glow grasped him, another panorama opening beneath him. Here was another young woman, if a little older, in another rocking chair, with a baby nuzzled against her breast. The baby was feeding sleepily, softly curled fist pressing into her soft skin, kneading. She was singing quietly, caressing the baby’s downy head with gentle fingers. A man sat nearby, a fierce scar across his face. But his expression was tender as he watched his wife nurse their daughter. Kayli and Mik… He blinked away again, and one more scene opened beneath him. A third young woman, but this time she was sitting at a campfire, her eyes gleaming, laughing up at the young man cuddled beside her. The gleam of new love shone between them, and he knew it for a fact that these two would marry and create a good life together. Rayna… He returned to the featureless gray void.
There were people in his life that mattered to him. People that he was sworn to protect. But it hurt too much to return. Surely he could stay here; surely there was nothing he could do to help them. He wasn’t a God, to weave magic to save the world. He wasn’t a being of limitless power, a hero from a story; he was just a man, just one man against the force of evil, and he could not stand against it. It would crush him to dust.
But wasn’t he dust now? Wasn’t he dust, here in this void, where nothing could touch him? He would return here if he failed, to this utter peace, so maybe it was best to return, to give a try to the impossible odds. It would hurt him, that was certain in his mind, but it could only hurt so much, and then he would return here, to this peaceful haven.
The decision was wrenched from him when he was on the verge of returning on his own, and he screamed as agony tore through his body. Strong hands held him down, sliding a little on his sweat-slicked skin, as the broken bones in his leg were re-knit. Surging heat flooded his ribs, swirled around the two punctures in his lung, set the ribs that had been snapped like sticks. He tried weakly to escape the pain, to return to the gray void, but it was as if a gate had been locked behind him, and he was forced to remain in the pain-shattered body. His bad eye burned as it seemed to melt, and the pain stabbed straight into his head. The heat settled in a knot in his chest and back, poking tenderly at the round scars and the tissue between, sizzling. He screamed again as the heat forced itself into his flesh, into muscle and bone and sinew, seeking damage, wanting to repair, wanting to sew him back into himself.
Finally he screamed so long that there was no sound left. Soft murmurs echoed in his ears, but he was beyond hearing. Gentle hands caressed his face, wiping the sweat from his cheeks, but he was beyond understanding. He wanted to give in to the darkness, he wanted to escape into the blissful oblivion, but something held him back. Some small spark of life kept him in that tortured and shattered body and he could not flee. Names flickered behind his eyelids. Eithna, Jared, Kayli, Mik, Rayna, Bard’an, Captain Farstreak… Children’s faces, people from Ragged Valley, and then the faces of millions of strangers playing a scene through his brain, flickering there and gone in less than a heartbeat, but burned into his mind all the same.
He had a duty to perform, he had a journey to make, he had a destiny to survive, and it was his responsibility to protect the ones that could not protect themselves. For some reason, it was up to him, to the little boy who had hid on a battlefield crying when he could not find his mother, to the gangly youth who had cowered in terror when a black horse flashing fire from its eyes reared above him, to the teen sneaking into a stables terrified beyond belief to free a man who had been punished unfairly. He didn’t understand why he’d been chosen, it made no sense but he couldn’t avoid it, and he had too much honor to deny it. His damned fool pride prevented him from running, and he settled his soul back into his broken body, resigned to do what he could to survive. If he could keep that body alive- keep his lungs taking in air, keep his heart pumping blood- then he would accept his destiny. He would face down fate and he would quit running.
He was suddenly in the gray room, with the featureless floor and ceiling stretching out of sight. His image was before him, but only dimly, as if it weren’t fully there before him. The pain was blissfully gone, and as he lifted his head he gaped as the image lifted its own face to peer at him from a blackened eye, lips split, blood trickling from several shallow wounds and a deeper one across its forehead. He reached up his hand, and the image did as well. With a start he realized the image really was just a reflection of him. There was no separate entity- he had been looking at his own face, had been hearing his own words, and had been arguing with his own subconscious all along.
The room and his image disappeared and awareness surged into him again as more pain streaked through his body. He was lifted by those gentle hands again, carried a short ways, and then carefully laid on a soft surface. A body settled against him, soft curves fitting into his sharp angles, warm skin pressing against his. For some reason, he took comfort from a strong heartbeat pulsing against his weak one, and he could even sense his heart strengthening, the frail throb steadying and matching pace with the one nearby. The pain in his body receded to a faint pulsation somewhere in the back of his head, still there but held away for the time being. Relieved, his tense aching muscles released all at once, and healing sleep surged up to clutch him in gentle arms, warding away the dreams. He was barely aware of gentle fingers wiping away his tears.
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Jared glanced toward the Captain as they sat huddled around a tiny fire, shivering and eating in silence. The Captain was a wreck, eyes haunted as he stared blankly into the flames that reflected the faint blue lights flickering behind his eyes. He had collapsed shuddering to the ground earlier, mid-way through setting up camp, and had only snapped out of a strange half-aware daze a mark ago. He refused to talk about what had happened, but since he had joined them at the fire Jared had seen those blue lights. They seemed to flicker in and out of focus along with his stare. Jared thought maybe he was the only one who noticed, and he was certain that the strange fit the Captain had experienced earlier was related to the link with Veyga.
Finally the Captain took a deep shuddering breath and seemed to relax, a fierce glow unrelated to the blue lights shining from his eyes. “He’s been found, and someone is caring for him. He’s still alive. By the seven hells, I don’t know how he survived it, but he’s still alive.” He looked around at the rest of their party, gaze finally settling on Jared. His grin was harsh, humorless. “He’s alive.”
Jared sighed in relief, sending up a brief, fervent prayer of thanks.
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Veyga moaned when a bright light sliced across his face, lifting a hand weakly to shield his tender eyes. Sharp whispers cut into his ears, and the light disappeared. Awareness slowly filtered through his senses, and he forced his eyes open. That caught his attention for some reason, and then he realized. Both eyes. Both eyes, with perfect vision.
He winced as a horrible throbbing began in his right temple. A figure was kneeling before him, and it swam into focus with a sickening lurch. He squeezed his eyes closed to the sight. "Eithna?" Had he somehow made it to her?
"No, my name is not Eithna. I am Fionn. You were badly hurt.” The voice was gentle, soothing. So were the hands that stroked his brow. A scent drifted over him, of herbs and flowers and something else he couldn't quite place. "Rest now, you are still tired, it is plain to see. You are safe here, if anywhere.”
He forced his eyes open again. He was on his side, tucked into a cushion of soft fragrant grasses. Before him was a rough wall with a door set into it. There was a roof above, thatch woven tightly with dried flowers tucked into it. Darkened beams spread out from a central point. The floor beneath him seemed to be made of some sort of living moss. There was nothing else that he could see, no chairs or tables, just the spongy grasses beneath him. Where was he? He moved a little, about all he could manage, and although he felt aches and twinges throughout his entire body, the sharp stabs of pain he’d expected were gone.
It took him a moment to realize that the warmth pressed up against his back and buttocks was soft yielding skin, and that he wore not a stitch of clothing. With a yelp he tried to jerk away, but strong hands wrapped around him and held him in place. “Stop wiggling, you silly man. Your body needs to heal, it is not recovered yet.” The voice was gentle but firm, and definitely, absolutely, feminine.
He froze, straining away from the contact as much as possible. He tilted his head to glare down at the small hands that had settled against his chest, and just stared in horror at the light swirling through the blue tattoos beneath those slender fingers. He fought against the vertigo that threatened to take him over and then tossed his head, groaning softly at the waves of pain that began to wash over him. What had happened to him?
The images came back in a rush, the camp, the Hounds, the dreams, the pain… He suddenly retched, and those gentle hands rolled him forward and held his loose hair away from his face as he sicked up the little bit of fluid left in him. Those gentle hands used something soft to wipe his lips and chin afterward, and then gently pressed him onto his back in the grasses. “Shh… easy now, easy.” As if he was a colt to be gentled. The voice was reassuring all the same, and he did relax a little. "There now, that is good. You need only rest for a few more days, and things should be just fine. You don't seem to be responding to your healing as well as you should. But rest will see you well." He couldn’t prevent a groan as the memories flooded him. That gray void, remembered so clearly now, seemed like a haven, somewhere he never should have left. He should have stayed; nothing was worth this, not even the world. How much did he have to suffer, before he was finished with this life?
He didn’t realize he’d been mumbling the words until he felt a soft breath against his ear. “It is all right, shh… You are safe for now, the Hounds are gone. Those ones will not have you again. You are as safe here as a man can ever be.” The soft hands and the warmth at his back disappeared, and he struggled silently to overcome the growing pain as the owner of those hands made soft noises throughout the room. Some short time later, one of the hands slid beneath his head and through his hair to lift his head slightly. Something hard was pressed to his lips. "Drink this."
He sipped of a pungent broth, coughing and turning his head away at the foul taste. A gentle chuckled caressed his ears. "I know how bad it tastes. But it will help, I promise. Rest now, just rest, and let the magic do its work. Now let sleep take you.” Soft flutters against his closed eyelids, and sleep indeed dragged him down again. The dreams stayed away, and he welcomed the darkness; it was as close to the gray void as he could get now.
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“Come on now you silly man, wake up. Wake up, it is time for nourishment.” Gentle nudges against his chest and shoulders, that soft and fluttering touch. “Wake up, now.” The voice pressed against his ear, the tones soft and demanding at the same time. He dragged himself away from the darkness, dreading the light, but when he opened his eyes this time the pain was even dimmer, the aches nearly gone. Only his knee still burned, and somewhere in his chest the smolder was so faint that he couldn’t even pinpoint exactly where it was.
“You must eat, silly man. Open your eyes.”
He obeyed the firm voice, and immediately met the stare of pale green eyes. They smiled down at him, pleased that he had followed orders. “There you are. Well come. It is time for nourishment. Let us see if we can get you up.”
Strong, small hands grasped his upper arms and suddenly he was using weak muscles to help them sit him up. The room spun dizzyingly, but he was able to hold himself steady as the hands slid away. The room was as he remembered it- no furniture, just the soft moss floor and the softer nest of soft dry grasses beneath him.
Remembering his nakedness, he grabbed a handful of the grass and pulled it into his lap. Soft sweet breath tickled across the nape of his neck as soft laughter sounded in his ears, making him shiver. “You are so silly. So modest. I forget how men are sometimes.”
A soft rustle of cloth, and then the owner of the pale green eyes knelt gracefully at his side. She was beautiful. He corrected himself; she was beyond beautiful. She was tall and slender to the point of being almost boyish, but those slim curves he remembered in embarrassing detail were softly rounded all the same. Her scant gray gown left little to his imagination, being nothing more than two panels of cloth gathered at her shoulders and belted together at her slender waist. It came to her knees, and her feet were bare. Her hair was just as long as her gown, wispy about her form, and it was a pale silvery blue the color of washed out winter skies. The color wasn’t from age; her slender face was young-looking, although there was wisdom to her pale green eyes that belied that. Her complexion was soft and creamy, which only drew more attention to the startling green eyes. Her arms and legs were slim, the hands soft with long fingers, but he remembered the strength in those limbs, remembered them holding him down when he’d thrashed through the pain. Those green eyes were big and round, with thick pale lashes that gave her a look almost of surprise, and her small pert nose and lush lips completed a face from every man’s wet dream.
His gaze was caught again by the color of her hair, and she laughed, a little nicker of sound. "Yes, I see you have noticed that I am a bit different from you. Have you a name, stranger?" She was smiling at him and his gaze settled there, noting the fullness of her lower lip, and he wanted nothing more than to please her. He wanted to take her in his arms and press his lips against the slender column of her throat; he wanted to feel the press of that warm skin against his again. He’d give anything to have her heartbeat throbbing against his one more time. That laugh again, and he closed his eyes to savor it, to seal the sound of it away in his memory. “A name, stranger?”
“I-. My name is Arius. Where am I?” Realizing where his thoughts were taking him, his flush darkened further and he cleared his throat, tamping the images down firmly. If he wasn’t careful, his lack of clothing would show her just how lovely he thought she was, grass or no grass.
Those gentle fingers were touching his forehead again and he shied away from her touch, remembering the grass clutched to his lap. He met her gaze as her smile disappeared. She reached out with both hands then, clasping them firmly on either side of his head, and a strange sort of cooling sensation washed over him. “Hm, no fever. Are you feeling well?”
He shuddered a little as a strange awareness seemed to probe through his head. “Well enough.”
“Your skin looks too flushed. I thought maybe the healing was still not taking.”
“Healing?” He met her gaze then, beauty forgotten, strange images playing through his memory.
“Yes, you were healed. We could not rid you of every injury, but most of them have been repaired at least. Your leg was nearly beyond saving, but we did what we could. These,” she lowered one hand to touch the neat round scar beneath his tattoos. “These were bad, and we could not heal the flesh properly. The marks have faded now, but will always stay behind, I think. I am sorry for that.”
He looked down where her fingers were splayed across his chest, wondering. He remembered the skin ripped open, where the Hounds had fought over him, and he’d been stretched between their jaws. The teeth had not pierced his skin, but it had torn when they had tried to twist him apart. His ribs had cracked; he had felt at least one of them puncture his lung. His life had flashed before his eyes- a lonely life, in spite of the handful of friends he had made. His leg had nearly been torn off at the knee, already damaged from being ground between the Hound’s teeth.
How had he survived that? He looked up at her, and watched in amazement as shining silver tears slid down her cheeks. He reached up to catch one shimmering droplet on his fingertip. “Why are you crying?”
“For what they did to you. You did not deserve the pain. We almost could not save you. It was so close-.” She swallowed hard, and then sat back on her haunches and dashed the tears from her cheeks. “You died several times, in our arms. We had to make you want to live; we had to find the memories that would make you survive. So sad…” She took a trembling breath and then her chin firmed and she met his gaze again. “Why did the Hounds have you? They would not tell us that.”
We? They? Who was she talking about? They were alone, now, in this little hut. There must be more people nearby though, the way she was talking. And who would not tell them why the Hounds had had him?
“I don’t know why, I wasn’t told why either. I thought maybe I could stop them-. He shuddered, and then winced at the slight aches that sprung back to life. “I was shown a way to stop them, but I never had a chance.”
She nodded. “That is the way, is it not? The Hounds, they are very fast, very powerful.” Her pale eyes gleamed. “Those two will not bother anyone again. We tore them apart completely.”
A brief image flashed into his head- had he really seen it, or was it just imagination? White horses and tall, pale nude women bearing crystalline swords leaping on the Hounds and dragging them to the ground. They had been vicious, and the Hounds’ dark blood had spurted through the forest. The bodies had been ripped to pieces, and he had not cared. He had been beyond caring then. A soft whimper was torn from his throat, and she reached out again to smooth the furrow from his brow with gentle fingertips. “They are gone. Remember that.”
He met her stare with another shiver, and then nodded slowly.
The door opened in the cabin, sending another bright shaft of light over him. He winced away from it, and realized with a start that there were no lamps, no candles in the little hut. Why was it not dark inside? Dim, certainly, as exposed by the bright sunlight coming through the open door, but not dark.
“Cover yourself, please. He is shy.” He was suddenly thankful that the brightness blinded him, as he heard another rustle of fabric, and the door was closed, shutting the light away.
“He is awake. That is good. That is very good.” The voice was equally soft, equally feminine. He looked up, at long tapering legs and an equally slim figure covered by a similar gown, to another lovely face with long pale silvery hair, and a set of green eyes several shades darker than the first set. “How is he feeling?”
“I have not asked yet.”
Both sets of green eyes turned to him, pale slim eyebrows raised. He cleared his throat. “I’m a little sore, but otherwise…” His gaze turned inward, assessing. He did feel much better. “Otherwise, I’m tired but better, much better.”
The newcomer nodded firmly. “That is well. Has he a name, Fionn?" She tilted her head to the side, examining him closely. “Has he had nourishment?”
“His name is Arius, and I was trying to get him up, Unai. He has only been awake for a little bit.” Fionn moved to sit cross-legged behind him, fingers skittering down his back to rest gently near his bare buttocks. “His skin flushes but I feel no fever.”
He had stiffened, and her touch darkened his skin even more. “Indeed.” The newcomer smiled a soul-shattering smile, and then she let loose a soft chuckle as Veyga shifted uncomfortably. “I think he is having difficulties with your touch, Fionn. Perchance you should give him some breathing space. Some men are not terribly comfortable with close contact.”
“I had forgotten.” Fionn sounded surprised, but she scooted away, and Veyga's temperature went down a notch or two. All he could do was hold the bunch of grass on his lap and look from one woman to the other. Fionn's smile faded as she saw his reaction, and she caught herself reaching for his face. “Are you unwell, Arius?”
“My eye. How did you-.” He shook his head, reaching up to touch his right cheek hesitantly. “I can see, everything is clear.”
The newcomer answered. “We did not see any reason to limit the healing to only new injuries. We repaired the damage done there just as we repaired the damage done elsewhere.” She dropped down before him, and he averted his gaze as her soft breasts swung slightly, unrestrained beneath the soft fabric. “This one, we could not touch.” She reached out to place her palm over the perfectly round scar on his chest. “We did try, we poured every bit of talent into it, but we were not successful. There is a wound beneath this skin that looks healed, but the wound would not heal. There are mysteries about you, Arius, which even I cannot probe. It is as if there is a shroud about you, one that cannot be parted to reveal the core of your soul. It concerns me, that someone feels you need this sort of protection.” She met his gaze suddenly, green eyes fierce.
He stared dumbly, a little ashamed that he was responding to her beauty as much as the beauty of the first woman. She smiled again, and he tucked the grasses even closer to his lap. “You are probably very hungry. Fionn, do you have nourishment for this wanderer? I must go.” She nodded once and opened the door only a little to slip out.
Fionn scrambled to her feet, and again he averted his gaze as he caught a glimpse of long tanned thigh and a tight rump. She knelt before him again, a woven basket in her lap, and smiled gently at him as she reached up to press a wooden bowl to his lips. “Drink.”
He drank deeply, trying not to gag at the taste of same foul broth from before. Fionn smiled encouragingly. Next she offered bits of apple, refusing to let him handle the food himself. She fed him each piece with those lush, curved lips tipped up in a knowing smile. The broth seemed to seep into his muscles, loosening both the knots and his self-control. He began to smile back, feeling light-headed, and even when she caressed his hair and touched his face, he did not pull away.
After the apple pieces, she fed him bits of grain cakes with honey drizzled over them, and he watched fascinated as she licked the honey that dripped on her fingers. He wanted to lick that honey off himself, but he couldn’t seem to lift his arm enough to reach for her. The room began to spin around him, and soft hands pressed against his chest, pushing him gently onto his back. Soft breath fluttered against his cheek, and the sweet, sweet voice whispered into his ear. “Sleep now, Arius. Sleep and have pleasant dreams.”
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Jared scowled, a rare expression for him, but the Captain just laughed and waved a hand. “My Lord Holt, he’s well and safe right now, there is no point to pressing the men more than needed. We may need our strength soon enough. At least he was traveling south before he was rescued, that certainly works in our favor.”
Jared was certain that whoever had ‘rescued’ Veyga was probably not looking out for his best interests. There was no reason for anyone to help the young man, not without a motive, and he found it difficult to outright accept that there might be people in this world kind enough to help a man for no reason at all. The Captain made it plain that he thought Jared was just being cynical.
Camp was being set up around them, the priestess and the record keeper already stashed beneath the open-sided tent and out of the way. Jared noted with a start that Veyga’s tent was erected a little away from the others. “Do you really think he will be back that soon, Captain?”
The big man’s grin split his beard, although there was less humor and more ferocity to it. “One way or another he will be. He’s close, my Lord Holt, close enough that I can’t quite tell which way to go from here. There’s… something between our connection now, a… veil, maybe.”
Jared was certain the alarm showed on his face, but the Captain patted his shoulder with a massive hand. “Enough, my Lord Holt. He’s well, he’s being cared for as tenderly as I could wish. We will find him, if we have to wait here for moonturns. There are several villages within a day’s ride, where we can get provisions if need be. We probably won’t need it- I brought along as much as I could, from the supplies provided for two hundred men.”
Indeed, two huge wagons had lumbered into the camp not too long after the priestess and the record keeper had arrived. Jared had been furious, considering the Captain had failed to mention the wagons, but the Captain had just grinned and told him that he’d thought it best, and that since Master Veyga wasn’t there to suggest otherwise, then the matter was settled. After all, the mercenaries had been hired to assist Master Veyga, not my Lord Holt.
So now they would wait. Jared thought that maybe he would go a little mad in the meantime, wondering and worrying. He decided to spend as much time each day ranging through the areas nearby, trying to find a trace of his charge.
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Sharp pain skittered through his chest, and he was certain he must have at least one or two ribs broken. One of his legs was pinned between two of the Hound’s teeth, and he could no longer feel anything from the knee down. From the shrieking pain he’d felt from there earlier, that was probably a blessing. Miraculously, somehow, the Hounds’ teeth and claws, those unstoppable weapons, had not touched him otherwise.
Where were they taking him? Was there any way for him to escape? He freed one arm from between sharp teeth, watching in terror as acidic saliva dripped from his skin. His shirt was literally disintegrating before his eyes, but again his skin was untouched. The blue glow still swirled across his skin, and as the sleeve of his shirt fell away, he stared in further shock at his tattoos, where the silvery blue light glowed brilliantly. The ink seemed alive, thriving.
He tried to reach up to lever the Hound’s jaws apart. If he could get free- he couldn’t hold back another shriek as the jaws clamped down even tighter, and his world disappeared again.
Concerned brown eyes stared down at him as he seemed to lay crumpled. His awareness expanded, and while he couldn’t seem to move, he stared past the brown eyes to the crystalline walls beyond them. He was in Skeyon, and the pain was blessedly gone. That was Eavan above him, elderly face more tender than Veyga had seen it before. The old man reached out gentle fingers to touch his cheek, but Veyga could feel no contact. Tears dripped onto his face, and Veyga could only stare as the old man wept over him. “This is not meant to be. Razakel, we will see you dead, if it is possible. I will not let him have you. We still have one trick up our sleeves… Sleep, child. Sleep and we will do what we can. We were wrong to think we should not interfere. Sleep now.” And Veyga slept, the old man’s tears damp on his cheeks.
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Jared looked from face to face, trying not to let his despondency show. If he hadn’t felt so hopeless, Mel’awn’s obvious sulk would have been almost amusing- she looked like a child who had lost a toy. The priestess had recovered herself, and she sat with head high but eyes shining with unshed tears. Bard’an sat slumped in his chair, arms wrapped tightly around his chest and his head bowed sharply. All four of them, and he included himself, felt as if their lives had been snapped in half, and they huddled beneath the open-sided tent as dawn broke over the shattered camp.
Mel’awn scowled a little although she made an effort that it was a pretty scowl. “I didn’t even have a chance to show him the records. This was never mentioned in the prophecies. Now what’s the point?”
Bard’an spoke without looking up. “Could the prophecies be about another man? Could you have been mistaken?”
“Even if they were, my Foretellings showed his face clearly- it was that man and no other that needed to reach Polien.” The priestess ignored the dark look Mel’awn cast at her.
The Captain strode up to the tent, tall enough to have to duck to peer beneath the cover. “My Lord Jared, I need to speak with you. What are you all moping in here for?”
Jared gaped at him. “He’s gone, Captain. What’s the point?” At least he could return to Eithna now. To have to tell her, though…
“Well, as to that… I need to have a word with you. Probably best it be in private.” A strange light gleamed in the Captain’s dark eyes, and Jared blinked. He could have sworn he saw the swirl of a dim blue light behind the brown of those eyes. He nodded and forced himself to his feet, following the Captain from the tent. The Captain nodded to one of Veyga’s sentries as they walked into the little thicket where Veyga’s tent was being disassembled by three of the mercenaries. Two of them wore bandages, and the third limped heavily. Not many men had survived the night unscathed, among those that had survived at all.
The Captain motioned to the men, and they scattered, leaving the two of them alone, then he turned to Jared and smile grimly, white teeth bared among the curly beard. “He’s not dead yet.”
Jared’s jaw dropped again. “What?”
The Captain tapped his left temple. “There’s something of him, here. I can feel him, and he’s not dead yet. He’s badly injured, but he’s still alive. I’ve given orders for the camp to be packed and I’ve handed over most of my men to my second in command. They’ll return to Ay’marne. I took the liberty of replacing two of the men Master Veyga had chosen- they fell beneath the onslaught last night. The rest of us will do what we can to follow those creatures. I pledged my troth, and until I know he’s truly dead, we’ll damn well follow. The pack horses will come behind, they’ll slow us down otherwise, with a few more men I chose. I know Master Veyga said two score, but…” His grin widened, looking like nothing so much as a grimace. “But he’s not in a condition to be saying otherwise now. The priestess and the record keeper can stay with them, and catch up to us if-.” He shook his head, pounding a thick fist into his palm. “When we find him. I wish we had a healer along, but we’ve patched terrible injuries before, and we’ll do it again. Are you riding with us, my Lord Holt?”
Jared nodded numbly. Still alive? How in the seven hells- but it didn’t matter. If the Captain said it was true, it must be. It had to be. By the seven hells, it just had to be true. “Of course I am. Thank the Gods and Goddesses.”
The Captain’s teeth disappeared within his beard as he frowned. “It’s not that I’m not a God and Goddess fearing man, my Lord Holt, but I think we need to look after him ourselves, and not trust to any deities. Seems to me like if they were really worth praising, they would have prevented this from happening in the first place.”
Jared nodded grimly, not necessarily agreeing but hardly in a position to state otherwise.
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The incredible pressure that seemed to compact his torso was suddenly released. He felt himself falling, the sweet air rushing past his face, and then he hit the ground hard enough to bounce, and the world was gone again in a spiraling void. What seemed like moments later his eye opened and he watched the narrow strip of vision he could see beyond his nose. He couldn’t move; his entire body seemed to have dissolved. His arm was stretched out beyond him, and he could clearly see that the glow was gone. He watched as bright red blood welled from deep gouges along his bicep and was thankful that he couldn’t feel it. Maybe it wasn’t his arm, in spite of the visible tattoos, still gleaming just a little bit. Beyond the arm was a tangle of brush, blocking his view, and he realized he could hear those Hounds howling, and something else beneath. The beat of hooves, the angry scream of a horse, the clash of metal on claw. It seemed to go on for days, but he’d lost all sense of time. The oozing blood fascinated him, and he could only stare as it soaked the ground beneath him. Life’s blood, pulsing with his heartbeat, spreading into the earth below. He sent a thankful prayer up to the Gods and Goddesses that he could feel no pain.
His life faded. He felt wispy, not quite complete, as though he would evaporate with a strong breeze. It was a strange sensation, but freeing also. Maybe this would be a good place to stay, here where there was no pain, no death, no worry. Why should he return to where the weight of the world rested on his shoulders, pinning his spirit to the ground? It was good here, quiet. It was a fine place to stay. His body would be left behind, but he didn’t need it here.
He snapped back into that body with a grunt as the pain was woken anew. He tried to scream but his throat felt crushed and only a low whimper passed his cracked lips. There were hands on him, sliding beneath his legs and arms, supporting his torso. His head was cradled in soft bare arms, his cheek pressed into warm skin. He tried to force his eye open, but he couldn’t do more than crack the lid, barely catching a glimpse of tree branches moving swiftly, dizzyingly above him. No, it was him that was moving, with concerned faces above him, gleaming eyes taking turns touching on him and then turning to look ahead. Tall people, with long pale braids over their shoulders, skin even paler, almost white, and those eyes were all varying shades of green. He turned his face into the soft skin against his cheek, and stared in shock at the pert pink nipple just inches from his eye. Then he was jostled, and with a thick groan he returned to that place of mist and shadows, relief flooding him.
He floated there, where there was no form, for ages. There was nothing- featureless gray nothingness all around him. Then he saw sparkles in the distance, like silver fireflies, dancing away. He tried to move toward them and then realized anew that there was no body to move. He thought for a moment and then willed himself toward the glistening lights. All of a sudden he was within them and they were all around him, brushing gently against his soul. He reached for one somehow, drawn to it, and suddenly a panorama opened beneath his mind’s eye, and below him, as if he were watching from the ceiling, he saw a lovely young woman in a rocking chair, humming softly, her hands folded across her softly mounded belly, and he could see the soft flame of the new life within her. A name floated through his mind. Eithna… He blinked away, the scene fading below him, and another glow grasped him, another panorama opening beneath him. Here was another young woman, if a little older, in another rocking chair, with a baby nuzzled against her breast. The baby was feeding sleepily, softly curled fist pressing into her soft skin, kneading. She was singing quietly, caressing the baby’s downy head with gentle fingers. A man sat nearby, a fierce scar across his face. But his expression was tender as he watched his wife nurse their daughter. Kayli and Mik… He blinked away again, and one more scene opened beneath him. A third young woman, but this time she was sitting at a campfire, her eyes gleaming, laughing up at the young man cuddled beside her. The gleam of new love shone between them, and he knew it for a fact that these two would marry and create a good life together. Rayna… He returned to the featureless gray void.
There were people in his life that mattered to him. People that he was sworn to protect. But it hurt too much to return. Surely he could stay here; surely there was nothing he could do to help them. He wasn’t a God, to weave magic to save the world. He wasn’t a being of limitless power, a hero from a story; he was just a man, just one man against the force of evil, and he could not stand against it. It would crush him to dust.
But wasn’t he dust now? Wasn’t he dust, here in this void, where nothing could touch him? He would return here if he failed, to this utter peace, so maybe it was best to return, to give a try to the impossible odds. It would hurt him, that was certain in his mind, but it could only hurt so much, and then he would return here, to this peaceful haven.
The decision was wrenched from him when he was on the verge of returning on his own, and he screamed as agony tore through his body. Strong hands held him down, sliding a little on his sweat-slicked skin, as the broken bones in his leg were re-knit. Surging heat flooded his ribs, swirled around the two punctures in his lung, set the ribs that had been snapped like sticks. He tried weakly to escape the pain, to return to the gray void, but it was as if a gate had been locked behind him, and he was forced to remain in the pain-shattered body. His bad eye burned as it seemed to melt, and the pain stabbed straight into his head. The heat settled in a knot in his chest and back, poking tenderly at the round scars and the tissue between, sizzling. He screamed again as the heat forced itself into his flesh, into muscle and bone and sinew, seeking damage, wanting to repair, wanting to sew him back into himself.
Finally he screamed so long that there was no sound left. Soft murmurs echoed in his ears, but he was beyond hearing. Gentle hands caressed his face, wiping the sweat from his cheeks, but he was beyond understanding. He wanted to give in to the darkness, he wanted to escape into the blissful oblivion, but something held him back. Some small spark of life kept him in that tortured and shattered body and he could not flee. Names flickered behind his eyelids. Eithna, Jared, Kayli, Mik, Rayna, Bard’an, Captain Farstreak… Children’s faces, people from Ragged Valley, and then the faces of millions of strangers playing a scene through his brain, flickering there and gone in less than a heartbeat, but burned into his mind all the same.
He had a duty to perform, he had a journey to make, he had a destiny to survive, and it was his responsibility to protect the ones that could not protect themselves. For some reason, it was up to him, to the little boy who had hid on a battlefield crying when he could not find his mother, to the gangly youth who had cowered in terror when a black horse flashing fire from its eyes reared above him, to the teen sneaking into a stables terrified beyond belief to free a man who had been punished unfairly. He didn’t understand why he’d been chosen, it made no sense but he couldn’t avoid it, and he had too much honor to deny it. His damned fool pride prevented him from running, and he settled his soul back into his broken body, resigned to do what he could to survive. If he could keep that body alive- keep his lungs taking in air, keep his heart pumping blood- then he would accept his destiny. He would face down fate and he would quit running.
He was suddenly in the gray room, with the featureless floor and ceiling stretching out of sight. His image was before him, but only dimly, as if it weren’t fully there before him. The pain was blissfully gone, and as he lifted his head he gaped as the image lifted its own face to peer at him from a blackened eye, lips split, blood trickling from several shallow wounds and a deeper one across its forehead. He reached up his hand, and the image did as well. With a start he realized the image really was just a reflection of him. There was no separate entity- he had been looking at his own face, had been hearing his own words, and had been arguing with his own subconscious all along.
The room and his image disappeared and awareness surged into him again as more pain streaked through his body. He was lifted by those gentle hands again, carried a short ways, and then carefully laid on a soft surface. A body settled against him, soft curves fitting into his sharp angles, warm skin pressing against his. For some reason, he took comfort from a strong heartbeat pulsing against his weak one, and he could even sense his heart strengthening, the frail throb steadying and matching pace with the one nearby. The pain in his body receded to a faint pulsation somewhere in the back of his head, still there but held away for the time being. Relieved, his tense aching muscles released all at once, and healing sleep surged up to clutch him in gentle arms, warding away the dreams. He was barely aware of gentle fingers wiping away his tears.
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Jared glanced toward the Captain as they sat huddled around a tiny fire, shivering and eating in silence. The Captain was a wreck, eyes haunted as he stared blankly into the flames that reflected the faint blue lights flickering behind his eyes. He had collapsed shuddering to the ground earlier, mid-way through setting up camp, and had only snapped out of a strange half-aware daze a mark ago. He refused to talk about what had happened, but since he had joined them at the fire Jared had seen those blue lights. They seemed to flicker in and out of focus along with his stare. Jared thought maybe he was the only one who noticed, and he was certain that the strange fit the Captain had experienced earlier was related to the link with Veyga.
Finally the Captain took a deep shuddering breath and seemed to relax, a fierce glow unrelated to the blue lights shining from his eyes. “He’s been found, and someone is caring for him. He’s still alive. By the seven hells, I don’t know how he survived it, but he’s still alive.” He looked around at the rest of their party, gaze finally settling on Jared. His grin was harsh, humorless. “He’s alive.”
Jared sighed in relief, sending up a brief, fervent prayer of thanks.
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Veyga moaned when a bright light sliced across his face, lifting a hand weakly to shield his tender eyes. Sharp whispers cut into his ears, and the light disappeared. Awareness slowly filtered through his senses, and he forced his eyes open. That caught his attention for some reason, and then he realized. Both eyes. Both eyes, with perfect vision.
He winced as a horrible throbbing began in his right temple. A figure was kneeling before him, and it swam into focus with a sickening lurch. He squeezed his eyes closed to the sight. "Eithna?" Had he somehow made it to her?
"No, my name is not Eithna. I am Fionn. You were badly hurt.” The voice was gentle, soothing. So were the hands that stroked his brow. A scent drifted over him, of herbs and flowers and something else he couldn't quite place. "Rest now, you are still tired, it is plain to see. You are safe here, if anywhere.”
He forced his eyes open again. He was on his side, tucked into a cushion of soft fragrant grasses. Before him was a rough wall with a door set into it. There was a roof above, thatch woven tightly with dried flowers tucked into it. Darkened beams spread out from a central point. The floor beneath him seemed to be made of some sort of living moss. There was nothing else that he could see, no chairs or tables, just the spongy grasses beneath him. Where was he? He moved a little, about all he could manage, and although he felt aches and twinges throughout his entire body, the sharp stabs of pain he’d expected were gone.
It took him a moment to realize that the warmth pressed up against his back and buttocks was soft yielding skin, and that he wore not a stitch of clothing. With a yelp he tried to jerk away, but strong hands wrapped around him and held him in place. “Stop wiggling, you silly man. Your body needs to heal, it is not recovered yet.” The voice was gentle but firm, and definitely, absolutely, feminine.
He froze, straining away from the contact as much as possible. He tilted his head to glare down at the small hands that had settled against his chest, and just stared in horror at the light swirling through the blue tattoos beneath those slender fingers. He fought against the vertigo that threatened to take him over and then tossed his head, groaning softly at the waves of pain that began to wash over him. What had happened to him?
The images came back in a rush, the camp, the Hounds, the dreams, the pain… He suddenly retched, and those gentle hands rolled him forward and held his loose hair away from his face as he sicked up the little bit of fluid left in him. Those gentle hands used something soft to wipe his lips and chin afterward, and then gently pressed him onto his back in the grasses. “Shh… easy now, easy.” As if he was a colt to be gentled. The voice was reassuring all the same, and he did relax a little. "There now, that is good. You need only rest for a few more days, and things should be just fine. You don't seem to be responding to your healing as well as you should. But rest will see you well." He couldn’t prevent a groan as the memories flooded him. That gray void, remembered so clearly now, seemed like a haven, somewhere he never should have left. He should have stayed; nothing was worth this, not even the world. How much did he have to suffer, before he was finished with this life?
He didn’t realize he’d been mumbling the words until he felt a soft breath against his ear. “It is all right, shh… You are safe for now, the Hounds are gone. Those ones will not have you again. You are as safe here as a man can ever be.” The soft hands and the warmth at his back disappeared, and he struggled silently to overcome the growing pain as the owner of those hands made soft noises throughout the room. Some short time later, one of the hands slid beneath his head and through his hair to lift his head slightly. Something hard was pressed to his lips. "Drink this."
He sipped of a pungent broth, coughing and turning his head away at the foul taste. A gentle chuckled caressed his ears. "I know how bad it tastes. But it will help, I promise. Rest now, just rest, and let the magic do its work. Now let sleep take you.” Soft flutters against his closed eyelids, and sleep indeed dragged him down again. The dreams stayed away, and he welcomed the darkness; it was as close to the gray void as he could get now.
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“Come on now you silly man, wake up. Wake up, it is time for nourishment.” Gentle nudges against his chest and shoulders, that soft and fluttering touch. “Wake up, now.” The voice pressed against his ear, the tones soft and demanding at the same time. He dragged himself away from the darkness, dreading the light, but when he opened his eyes this time the pain was even dimmer, the aches nearly gone. Only his knee still burned, and somewhere in his chest the smolder was so faint that he couldn’t even pinpoint exactly where it was.
“You must eat, silly man. Open your eyes.”
He obeyed the firm voice, and immediately met the stare of pale green eyes. They smiled down at him, pleased that he had followed orders. “There you are. Well come. It is time for nourishment. Let us see if we can get you up.”
Strong, small hands grasped his upper arms and suddenly he was using weak muscles to help them sit him up. The room spun dizzyingly, but he was able to hold himself steady as the hands slid away. The room was as he remembered it- no furniture, just the soft moss floor and the softer nest of soft dry grasses beneath him.
Remembering his nakedness, he grabbed a handful of the grass and pulled it into his lap. Soft sweet breath tickled across the nape of his neck as soft laughter sounded in his ears, making him shiver. “You are so silly. So modest. I forget how men are sometimes.”
A soft rustle of cloth, and then the owner of the pale green eyes knelt gracefully at his side. She was beautiful. He corrected himself; she was beyond beautiful. She was tall and slender to the point of being almost boyish, but those slim curves he remembered in embarrassing detail were softly rounded all the same. Her scant gray gown left little to his imagination, being nothing more than two panels of cloth gathered at her shoulders and belted together at her slender waist. It came to her knees, and her feet were bare. Her hair was just as long as her gown, wispy about her form, and it was a pale silvery blue the color of washed out winter skies. The color wasn’t from age; her slender face was young-looking, although there was wisdom to her pale green eyes that belied that. Her complexion was soft and creamy, which only drew more attention to the startling green eyes. Her arms and legs were slim, the hands soft with long fingers, but he remembered the strength in those limbs, remembered them holding him down when he’d thrashed through the pain. Those green eyes were big and round, with thick pale lashes that gave her a look almost of surprise, and her small pert nose and lush lips completed a face from every man’s wet dream.
His gaze was caught again by the color of her hair, and she laughed, a little nicker of sound. "Yes, I see you have noticed that I am a bit different from you. Have you a name, stranger?" She was smiling at him and his gaze settled there, noting the fullness of her lower lip, and he wanted nothing more than to please her. He wanted to take her in his arms and press his lips against the slender column of her throat; he wanted to feel the press of that warm skin against his again. He’d give anything to have her heartbeat throbbing against his one more time. That laugh again, and he closed his eyes to savor it, to seal the sound of it away in his memory. “A name, stranger?”
“I-. My name is Arius. Where am I?” Realizing where his thoughts were taking him, his flush darkened further and he cleared his throat, tamping the images down firmly. If he wasn’t careful, his lack of clothing would show her just how lovely he thought she was, grass or no grass.
Those gentle fingers were touching his forehead again and he shied away from her touch, remembering the grass clutched to his lap. He met her gaze as her smile disappeared. She reached out with both hands then, clasping them firmly on either side of his head, and a strange sort of cooling sensation washed over him. “Hm, no fever. Are you feeling well?”
He shuddered a little as a strange awareness seemed to probe through his head. “Well enough.”
“Your skin looks too flushed. I thought maybe the healing was still not taking.”
“Healing?” He met her gaze then, beauty forgotten, strange images playing through his memory.
“Yes, you were healed. We could not rid you of every injury, but most of them have been repaired at least. Your leg was nearly beyond saving, but we did what we could. These,” she lowered one hand to touch the neat round scar beneath his tattoos. “These were bad, and we could not heal the flesh properly. The marks have faded now, but will always stay behind, I think. I am sorry for that.”
He looked down where her fingers were splayed across his chest, wondering. He remembered the skin ripped open, where the Hounds had fought over him, and he’d been stretched between their jaws. The teeth had not pierced his skin, but it had torn when they had tried to twist him apart. His ribs had cracked; he had felt at least one of them puncture his lung. His life had flashed before his eyes- a lonely life, in spite of the handful of friends he had made. His leg had nearly been torn off at the knee, already damaged from being ground between the Hound’s teeth.
How had he survived that? He looked up at her, and watched in amazement as shining silver tears slid down her cheeks. He reached up to catch one shimmering droplet on his fingertip. “Why are you crying?”
“For what they did to you. You did not deserve the pain. We almost could not save you. It was so close-.” She swallowed hard, and then sat back on her haunches and dashed the tears from her cheeks. “You died several times, in our arms. We had to make you want to live; we had to find the memories that would make you survive. So sad…” She took a trembling breath and then her chin firmed and she met his gaze again. “Why did the Hounds have you? They would not tell us that.”
We? They? Who was she talking about? They were alone, now, in this little hut. There must be more people nearby though, the way she was talking. And who would not tell them why the Hounds had had him?
“I don’t know why, I wasn’t told why either. I thought maybe I could stop them-. He shuddered, and then winced at the slight aches that sprung back to life. “I was shown a way to stop them, but I never had a chance.”
She nodded. “That is the way, is it not? The Hounds, they are very fast, very powerful.” Her pale eyes gleamed. “Those two will not bother anyone again. We tore them apart completely.”
A brief image flashed into his head- had he really seen it, or was it just imagination? White horses and tall, pale nude women bearing crystalline swords leaping on the Hounds and dragging them to the ground. They had been vicious, and the Hounds’ dark blood had spurted through the forest. The bodies had been ripped to pieces, and he had not cared. He had been beyond caring then. A soft whimper was torn from his throat, and she reached out again to smooth the furrow from his brow with gentle fingertips. “They are gone. Remember that.”
He met her stare with another shiver, and then nodded slowly.
The door opened in the cabin, sending another bright shaft of light over him. He winced away from it, and realized with a start that there were no lamps, no candles in the little hut. Why was it not dark inside? Dim, certainly, as exposed by the bright sunlight coming through the open door, but not dark.
“Cover yourself, please. He is shy.” He was suddenly thankful that the brightness blinded him, as he heard another rustle of fabric, and the door was closed, shutting the light away.
“He is awake. That is good. That is very good.” The voice was equally soft, equally feminine. He looked up, at long tapering legs and an equally slim figure covered by a similar gown, to another lovely face with long pale silvery hair, and a set of green eyes several shades darker than the first set. “How is he feeling?”
“I have not asked yet.”
Both sets of green eyes turned to him, pale slim eyebrows raised. He cleared his throat. “I’m a little sore, but otherwise…” His gaze turned inward, assessing. He did feel much better. “Otherwise, I’m tired but better, much better.”
The newcomer nodded firmly. “That is well. Has he a name, Fionn?" She tilted her head to the side, examining him closely. “Has he had nourishment?”
“His name is Arius, and I was trying to get him up, Unai. He has only been awake for a little bit.” Fionn moved to sit cross-legged behind him, fingers skittering down his back to rest gently near his bare buttocks. “His skin flushes but I feel no fever.”
He had stiffened, and her touch darkened his skin even more. “Indeed.” The newcomer smiled a soul-shattering smile, and then she let loose a soft chuckle as Veyga shifted uncomfortably. “I think he is having difficulties with your touch, Fionn. Perchance you should give him some breathing space. Some men are not terribly comfortable with close contact.”
“I had forgotten.” Fionn sounded surprised, but she scooted away, and Veyga's temperature went down a notch or two. All he could do was hold the bunch of grass on his lap and look from one woman to the other. Fionn's smile faded as she saw his reaction, and she caught herself reaching for his face. “Are you unwell, Arius?”
“My eye. How did you-.” He shook his head, reaching up to touch his right cheek hesitantly. “I can see, everything is clear.”
The newcomer answered. “We did not see any reason to limit the healing to only new injuries. We repaired the damage done there just as we repaired the damage done elsewhere.” She dropped down before him, and he averted his gaze as her soft breasts swung slightly, unrestrained beneath the soft fabric. “This one, we could not touch.” She reached out to place her palm over the perfectly round scar on his chest. “We did try, we poured every bit of talent into it, but we were not successful. There is a wound beneath this skin that looks healed, but the wound would not heal. There are mysteries about you, Arius, which even I cannot probe. It is as if there is a shroud about you, one that cannot be parted to reveal the core of your soul. It concerns me, that someone feels you need this sort of protection.” She met his gaze suddenly, green eyes fierce.
He stared dumbly, a little ashamed that he was responding to her beauty as much as the beauty of the first woman. She smiled again, and he tucked the grasses even closer to his lap. “You are probably very hungry. Fionn, do you have nourishment for this wanderer? I must go.” She nodded once and opened the door only a little to slip out.
Fionn scrambled to her feet, and again he averted his gaze as he caught a glimpse of long tanned thigh and a tight rump. She knelt before him again, a woven basket in her lap, and smiled gently at him as she reached up to press a wooden bowl to his lips. “Drink.”
He drank deeply, trying not to gag at the taste of same foul broth from before. Fionn smiled encouragingly. Next she offered bits of apple, refusing to let him handle the food himself. She fed him each piece with those lush, curved lips tipped up in a knowing smile. The broth seemed to seep into his muscles, loosening both the knots and his self-control. He began to smile back, feeling light-headed, and even when she caressed his hair and touched his face, he did not pull away.
After the apple pieces, she fed him bits of grain cakes with honey drizzled over them, and he watched fascinated as she licked the honey that dripped on her fingers. He wanted to lick that honey off himself, but he couldn’t seem to lift his arm enough to reach for her. The room began to spin around him, and soft hands pressed against his chest, pushing him gently onto his back. Soft breath fluttered against his cheek, and the sweet, sweet voice whispered into his ear. “Sleep now, Arius. Sleep and have pleasant dreams.”
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Jared scowled, a rare expression for him, but the Captain just laughed and waved a hand. “My Lord Holt, he’s well and safe right now, there is no point to pressing the men more than needed. We may need our strength soon enough. At least he was traveling south before he was rescued, that certainly works in our favor.”
Jared was certain that whoever had ‘rescued’ Veyga was probably not looking out for his best interests. There was no reason for anyone to help the young man, not without a motive, and he found it difficult to outright accept that there might be people in this world kind enough to help a man for no reason at all. The Captain made it plain that he thought Jared was just being cynical.
Camp was being set up around them, the priestess and the record keeper already stashed beneath the open-sided tent and out of the way. Jared noted with a start that Veyga’s tent was erected a little away from the others. “Do you really think he will be back that soon, Captain?”
The big man’s grin split his beard, although there was less humor and more ferocity to it. “One way or another he will be. He’s close, my Lord Holt, close enough that I can’t quite tell which way to go from here. There’s… something between our connection now, a… veil, maybe.”
Jared was certain the alarm showed on his face, but the Captain patted his shoulder with a massive hand. “Enough, my Lord Holt. He’s well, he’s being cared for as tenderly as I could wish. We will find him, if we have to wait here for moonturns. There are several villages within a day’s ride, where we can get provisions if need be. We probably won’t need it- I brought along as much as I could, from the supplies provided for two hundred men.”
Indeed, two huge wagons had lumbered into the camp not too long after the priestess and the record keeper had arrived. Jared had been furious, considering the Captain had failed to mention the wagons, but the Captain had just grinned and told him that he’d thought it best, and that since Master Veyga wasn’t there to suggest otherwise, then the matter was settled. After all, the mercenaries had been hired to assist Master Veyga, not my Lord Holt.
So now they would wait. Jared thought that maybe he would go a little mad in the meantime, wondering and worrying. He decided to spend as much time each day ranging through the areas nearby, trying to find a trace of his charge.
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Post 21
“Captain Farstreak, may I have a word?”
The Captain glanced up from the maps he was reviewing and then leapt to his feet when he saw who he addressed. “Yes, of course, my Lord Holt.”
Jared waved back to his seat and took the one across table. He crossed his arms and met the Captain’s gaze steadily. “May I speak frankly, Captain? In confidence?”
The Captain nodded. “Of course, but a moment first please. Merlyn!” A shaggy head ducked into the three-sided. “Merlyn, ensure we are not interrupted. Or overheard.” A message seemed to pass between the two mercenaries, and then the other man nodded and disappeared. Within a few moments, everyone within twenty paces of the front of the tent was ushered away.
“Your men listen well, Captain.” Jared was impressed.
“We’ve been through a lot together, my Lord Holt.” The Captain showed him complete deference, but there was a skeptical gleam in the back of the brown eyes that made Jared suspect that this wasn’t a man who would give his trust easily, which just made his reaction to Veyga that much more suspicious.
“I think I can safely assume that you are here to protect Arius from the outside world, and I want to make sure you know that that is not my priority.” At the Captain’s confused look, Jared sighed. “I apologize. Master Veyga. I forget sometimes.” The Captain nodded understanding, and he continued. “My priority is to protect him from himself. He’s a hard taskmaster, Captain, but to none so much as himself. I will not countermand his orders, I will not even try to usurp his authority, but if I have to step before a sword to stop him from hurting himself,” By the seven hells he hoped it didn’t come to that- Eithna would kill him if the sword didn’t, “then I will. I will also protect him from anyone else, of course, that means to do him harm, but I won’t be able to stay on for this whole journey. A few moonturns, at most, and I must return home. I will trust you to watch over him then.”
The Captain was offended. “Do you treat him as a child, then? Is he not a man grown, who can make his own decisions?”
Jared raised a hand to settle the man. “You misunderstand, Captain. Veyga is a man who will sacrifice his life, his soul, everything, if he thought it would protect the helpless. Bard’an mentioned that there have been foretellings and prophecies, am I correct?”
The Captain nodded hesitantly. “I have been told that.”
“I know someone who also occasionally has foretelling dreams. She has seen several possibilities of what might happen on this journey, and of them all, only one sees Veyga reaching Polien unharmed. For some reason, he needs to get there in one piece, and I can’t stress enough how important it is.” Eithna had wept when she had told him, and he’d held her the rest of the night. She had avoided Veyga for days afterward, afraid she would burst into tears every time she saw him. Even Veyga didn’t know about her dreams yet, if he hadn’t finished reading the book she sent along with him. If he had, he hadn’t mentioned it to Jared.
The Captain nodded again, but his expression had shifted a little. “Do you know Master Veyga well, my Lord Holt?”
Jared shrugged. “I think that no one really knows him well, Captain. But I know him better than most.” It was possible that Eithna knew him better, or even Rayna, but Jared doubted it.
“I was waiting to interview the priestess and the record keeper, my Lord Holt. I thought it best that Master Veyga have that honor first.”
“You chose well, Captain. I think that is for the best. But perhaps you would be present during the discussion?” The determination in the Captains face as he nodded agreement reassured Jared, and he left the tent much happier then when he entered. Something strange was going on, that much was clear, but if even Veyga didn’t know what it was, then they would just have to wait and see how it shaped up.
Jared made his way quietly through the camp and back to Veyga’s little thicket. Most of the camp was clearing out, packing up equipment and tents. Other soldiers were mending tack, oiling saddles, sharpening knives and swords, fletching arrows. Everywhere he looked the mercenary camp was quietly busy. Jared didn’t have much personal experience in war himself but he’d been raised minor nobility with all the training that entailed, and knew that he was seeing a well-run camp.
Veyga was sitting at his table reading when he called entry to Jared’s scratch. He gave the Lord a sharp look. “What are you so satisfied about?”
Jared paused, noting the foul mood. Then he smiled a little. “Have you eaten?”
Veyga stared darkly at him for a long moment, but Jared didn’t back down as he met that cool gray gaze. Finally Veyga looked away, realizing how he’d snapped at his friend. “I’m sorry, Jared.”
The Lord just chuckled. “I’ll take that as a no.”
“I was told a plate was on its way. I asked enough for two.” He felt a little ashamed now, but for some reason he couldn’t seem to control his moods lately. He usually prided himself on his cool outward demeanor, but it seemed to have fled now. Another side-effect of the Searing, most likely. The Searing! “Damn it all!” He smashed his palm flat against the table, causing it shudder. The book laid before him bounced shut.
Jared had jumped, but continued to watch him calmly. Veyga shook his head, knowing he was quickly losing control. “I don’t understand what’s wrong with me.”
“Any dreams lately, Arius?” Jared sat on the edge of Veyga’s cot, the only other piece of furniture in the tent other than the washstand.
Dreams? No, he hadn’t had any for the last few days, had he? Only one since the Sa’san and that one had been… He frowned to himself. He couldn’t remember much about that one. Had it been another dream with the gray floor? He didn’t think so. But maybe… He thought there had been a different room, with a white floor? Or maybe it was a crystal floor… Crystal? An old man… He remembered an old man… He put a hand up to his head; it was starting to ache. He remembered red hair… had Kayli been in his dream? No, not this time… Kayli had been lying broken on the ground, eyes staring, flies crawling across her face. No, steer clear of that one. Crystal goblets, he remembered crystal goblets…
“Arius? Arius!”
He jumped and focused on Jared. “What?”
“Eat.” Jared pointed to the dishes laid out on the table.
Veyga stared dumbly. “When did this get here?”
“A few minutes ago, and you hardly even blinked. I think you may have frightened the soldier that brought it.” Jared leaned forward. “Are you all right?”
A strange tingle slid down his back and he shivered a little, then scowled and laid into the food before him. It was camp food- beans and ham, two apples, a hunk of cheese and a thick slice of bread with butter smeared on- but it was good and there was plenty of it, but even after finishing every last crumb he was still hungry.
Jared was watching him closely, and soon as the last bite was swallowed he spoke again. “Are you all right, Arius?”
Veyga met his gaze, trying to hide the anxiety he was feeling. “I think so, but really, I’m not completely sure yet. Things keep passing through my head. I think maybe part of it might have been the Sa’san, but some of it… Some of it started before that.” He shivered again. “I’ve been seeing things; I don’t know what you’d call them. Auras I guess. Around people, I mean. That’s how I knew about Eithna. I didn’t know, actually when I saw it, it just popped into my head, later, and made sense. But today, when we arrived at the camp, Captain Farstreak had one, and so did almost all of the soldiers he had chosen. There were only a few without.”
“Is that why you changed a handful of them out?” Jared asked casually, but his voice was tense.
Veyga nodded. It sounded even stranger when he said it out loud. Was he going mad? “I don’t know what it means, I really don’t.”
“And did you see these auras before the Sa’san?”
Veyga hesitated, but he’d told Jared almost everything else already so what was the point in holding this back? “Yes, I did. Not all the time, but sometimes. It seemed random, but maybe it wasn’t.”
“What happened with Captain Farstreak, Arius?” He was asking carefully, but Veyga winced anyhow.
“It was like someone else was in my body. I don’t know why I put my hand on his head, and then once I did- I saw strange blue swirls, down my arm and into his head. And then when he looked at me-.” He swallowed hard. “I saw the same light in his eyes. I did something. And now? Now, Jared? Now, I when I even think about him, I can-.” He cleared his throat, trying to work past the lump there. “I can feel him, hiding there, crouching in my head, I can-. I can feel him, Jared!” He leapt to his feet, stumbled once, and then with a grim expression started to pace.
Jared watched unhappily. “Maybe there will be answers in Polien, Arius.”
Veyga stopped suddenly, facing Jared with a hopeful light in his eyes. “You said there was a priestess, and a record keeper?”
“You… You met them, Arius. When you met Captain Farstreak.”
Veyga waved that away. “No matter. I want to talk to them. Now, if possible. I want to know what they know.”
Jared stood, nodding once. “I’ll go see if they will come, all right?”
Veyga didn’t respond, he just resumed his pacing. Jared sighed and turned to leave.
“Jared?”
He paused, looking over his shoulder.
“Will you see if there are a few more chairs? For when they come?”
Jared nodded and ducked out of the tent. Thoughts roared through his head as he went in search of the women. He hadn’t realized things were this bad. Maybe it was still a better idea to send Veyga back to Eithna; maybe she would know what to do to help. Jared shook his head. There was no way Veyga was going to leave off this journey, especially if only for personal reasons. Maybe he should press for Veyga to take the teas Eithna had sent- maybe if he slept better…
He thought maybe the women were still beneath the open-sided tent where he had left them earlier. As he approached, though, he paused at the sound of raised voices, and ducked behind another tent to listen.
“I’m not trying to be amusing, Mel’awn. This isn’t funny. Stay away.” That sounded like Captain Farstreak.
“Oh stop, I’m not a child anymore Jiasin, I don’t have to listen to you.”
“This is my camp, Mel’awn. If I had my way you wouldn’t even be here.”
“Oh, are you too good for the palace, Jiasin? The palace! I’m a record keeper, I deserve better than your dirty camp anyway. And why do I have to share a tent with a priestess of all people? You know they’re celibate!”
“Mel… Mel, that’s not what I meant.” The Captain sounded tired. “I’m proud of where you’ve gotten, I brag to my men that my little sister is a record keeper. It’s a position of honor, I know that. But even you have to admit it’s a soft job; you aren’t cut out to travel with soldiers. The tent is the perfect example; should we pack a separate tent for every single man here? Do you know how much gear we’d have to carry to do that?”
She sniffed. “It doesn’t matter to me, he gets his own tent.”
A deep sigh. “Mel’awn, he’s different and you of all people should understand that. You are welcome to stay behind. Give him your information, make sure he knows everything you found, and then I’ll escort you back to the palace myself.”
Another sniff. “Fine. I’ll stay, and I’ll share my tent. But only until I find someone else to share with.”
“Mel’awn, this is the last time I’m going to tell you to get those ideas out of your head. If Master Veyga shows an interest in you then fine I won’t interfere, but I don’t want you pursuing him.”
She laughed, and Jared winced. So that was how the road lay, was it? He decided to interrupt then. Veyga was waiting.
Jared approached noisily, and the two jumped a little. Captain Farstreak wiped a guilty look off his face but not before Jared saw it. Jared ignored it and offered a pleasant smile. “Master Veyga was wondering if he might have a word with the ladies, Captain. And with you, as well.” He gave the Captain a pointed look, and the man nodded soberly.
“I’ll go and fetch the priestess. Mel’awn, remember what I said.” The Captain saluted Jared and then walked away.
Jared caught the record keeper’s gaze. She smiled, giving him a slanted look from beneath thick dark lashes. Her velvety eyes were quite pretty, and that worried him. “Record Keeper, if you hurt him, I will make sure you live to regret it.”
She paled and gasped, putting a hand to her throat. “What- what do you mean?”
“You know what I mean. Now come, he’s waiting.” He motioned in the direction of Veyga’s tent, and she followed quietly. Jared paused long enough to ask one of the sentries to send a few more chairs along, and then led the rest of the way. He scratched at the tent, waited for Veyga to call ‘enter,’ and then held the tent flap open for the record keeper. She hesitated and then slipped past him into the tent.
The dishes had been cleared away and Veyga sat at the table once again, arms folded along the top, looking calm and composed. He didn’t stand when they entered, and Mel’awn glanced at Jared in surprise. She knew he was of higher rank, and she noticed when Veyga did not stand for him.
“Arius, this is Mel’awn Farstreak, one of the palace record keepers.”
Veyga nodded somberly, pinning her with one of his icy stares. “Well met, Mistress Farstreak. I take you are Captain Farstreak’s sister?”
She nodded, dark eyes wide. Veyga wondered if she was surprised or just trying to show off how pretty her eyes were. He quelled that thought as fast as it occurred. He had no desire to think about how pretty her eyes were.
Another scratch outside, and the Captain was ducking in, the priestess on his heels. A soldier handed three more chairs through, and Jared helped to arrange them along the edge of the table opposite Veyga. Jared continued to stand beside the door as the three guests settled into their chairs. Once they were comfortable, Jared introduced the priestess.
“This is Priestess Feyona Rasha, and of course you know Captain Farstreak.”
Veyga nodded to each, and wasted no time. “I’m told there are prophecies and foretellings which you both believe are about me. I’d like to know more.”
The priestess spoke up first. “Of course, I’ll happily tell you everything I know.”
Veyga nodded politely for her to continue, and while she spoke, her pale eyes lit with the fire of conviction. “Several of the priests and priestesses of Ay’marne retain their faith only because of strange dreams that they have. Many of them make no sense. We think those are dreams of futures that didn’t happen. You see, there are many possibilities of the future- every decision you make can change what the outcome will be. Do you understand?”
Veyga nodded, considering. It made sense so far.
“But sometimes, a very strong dream happens- we call these Foretellings. The day before you arrived at the palace, I had one of these dreams.”
“Is there a difference between a Foretelling and the other kind- the ones that are just possibilities?”
She shook her head, clasping her hands tightly in her lap. “Not really. What tells them apart, for us, is when they happen.”
Veyga sat up straighter, eye sharpening. That was interesting. Were any of his dreams Foretellings? He hoped not, he’d rather not have images of the future popping into his head. The dreams he had now were bad enough. “And you dreamed something about me that happened.”
The priestess nodded excitedly. “I dreamed that you would demand the Sa’san. It made no sense to me; I didn’t even know what the Sa’san was. I’m just a simple priestess and I know nothing of magic. But there is more. In the Foretelling, you also endured the Sa’san, and survived! You were Seared of all of your crimes, and-.”
He cut her off, eye practically gleaming now. “Seared. Did you say Seared?” She had said Seared! It wasn’t just a random term burned into his brain. But wait- that still didn’t explain how he had learned the word in the first place.
She nodded again. “I don’t know much about that, I’m sure Mel’awn knows more than I do, with the history and all. But in my Foretelling, I knew you were Seared of your crimes. You were released, and you were to set out on an important journey. A journey that could affect the entire world, not just Anyon! The Foretelling told me that you would need help, that you would need soldiers to protect you, and that you must succeed to your goal. What convinced the High Lord to help you was that I Foretold your destination. You are going to the forgotten city of Polien, aren’t you?”
Veyga nodded distractedly. Strange to think she’d dreamt it before he even knew what it was. Stranger still that the High Lord had been convinced to help based on the dream of a priestess. “You Foretold this the day before I even reached the palace?”
“The day before you presented yourself, yes. We are required to report all Foretellings to the High Lord, especially when one has confirmable facts that happen. As soon as I learned you had presented yourself- word does travel quickly through the palace- I made sure that the High Lord knew of my Foretelling.”
“So he knew I would survive the Sa’san?” He rubbed the back of his neck, a wondering look on his face. Had the High Lord known that before he hinted about the Sa’san? But no, she had said she went to the High Lord after he had demanded Sa’san.
“Well, he knew that was the most likely outcome, yes. As I said before, the only difference between Foretelling and not is that it happens.”
Veyga nodded. “What else can you tell me?”
“Well really, that’s all. The High Lord heard the name Polien, and that was it, I was bundled up and on my way with these soldiers. I-.” Her excited eyes dimmed a little. “I’m not sure I am prepared for a long journey, Master Veyga, but I will do my best. I’ve never even been beyond the gates on Ay’marne before.”
“If you would rather return to the palace, priestess, then you may.” Captain Farstreak looked offended that she had even mentioned her concerns.
The priestess stiffened. “I will do no such thing! I understand my duty, and I’ll do it. It’s best that I continue with you. It’s common for a dreamer to have more Foretellings about the same subject, and if I do have another one, I think I should be close to share it.”
“I appreciate that, Priestess Rasha.” Veyga offered a small smile.
She blushed a little, her pale eyes brightening again. “Please, just Priestess Feyona. Priests and priestesses drop our secondname when we take our vows.”
He nodded. “Priestess Feyona, I will do what I can to keep our journey uneventful.”
She beamed at him, and he hoped he was able to live up to her glowing expectations. He turned his stare to the record keeper next. She practically preened beneath his gaze. “And what can you tell me, Mistress Farstreak?”
“Please, just Mel’awn. While record keepers are certainly prized at the palace, we do not stand on formality.” She smiled warmly, giving him a strange look that he wasn’t sure how to interpret. “I can tell you about several prophecies which may or may not involve your journey. I have records of them-.”
“With you? Here in camp, right now?” He pinned her with his best glare, and she wilted a little, but then seemed to get a little backbone and she glared right back.
“Yes, of course here in camp.”
“Hand them over to me, I will read them myself.” He would rather not hear a rendition from her lips; people could put the wrong spin on anything, and a vague description could be applied to a hundred different events.
She seemed insulted. “I will certainly not hand them over to you. They were put into my keeping, I am responsible for them. If you would like to read them, then you may do so with me present.”
“Fine. Have the records brought here, and you can stay while I read them.” He knew he’d made a mistake the moment the words left his mouth. She got that cat-and-canary look again, and nearly purred when she agreed to his demand. “Tomorrow, break your fast and then come here. Do not come into my tent without requesting entry first.” Hopefully that would give him a moment to organize himself before she barraged him. “Thank you ladies, I appreciate your assistance. I would like a moment with the Captain now.”
The priestess did not hesitate, and left the tent as quietly as she had come in. Mel’awn, however, took her time rising from her seat, smoothing her hands over her coat and turning a little to dust invisible dirt from the seat of her breeches. She smiled one more time at him and then- he didn’t even know how to describe it- slunk from the tent, moving her hips in a way that drew his eye. He grunted and tore his gaze away, angry at himself for being distracted. She laughed over her shoulder and ducked through the tent flap, giving another little wiggle in the process.
Veyga felt hot; he was certain his face was flushed. “Jared, please make sure that we’re left undisturbed for a few moments.”
Jared nodded and followed Mel’awn out. The Captain sat quietly, attentively, eyes never leaving Veyga’s face.
Veyga stood and began to pace, rubbing the back of his neck. “I fear I’ve done you a great disservice, Captain Farstreak. I don’t really know exactly what I did, actually, but I fear you may not be working of your own volition.”
The Captain frowned. “My own volition? What are you talking about?”
“I think I may have… entranced you somehow. I think… I think maybe I did something to you, inadvertently of course, and I hope that I can figure out a way to undo it.”
“Are you hitting on me, Master Veyga? I know some men prefer other men in their beds, and I mean no disrespect but I’m not really into that sort of thing.”
Veyga yelped. “By the seven hells, no! No, Captain, absolutely not.”
“Well then, all right.” The Captain did look quite relieved, and Veyga wondered ironically if he should be offended or not. “Listen, Master Veyga, I was hired- and already paid mind you- to make sure that you got to this place called Polien. I am to protect you with my life if need be, as are every one of my men. That is what we signed up for, that is what I committed myself to even before you accepted my troth. If you think you did something, and if that’s why it feels like you’re in the back of my brain now, then so be it. It’s done, and what’s done is done, there’s no sense trying to undo it now.”
Veyga sat down hard in his chair, gaping. “Well-. Well, that’s very sensible-. Wait, do you mean you can feel it too?”
The Captain shrugged. “It’s a little strange, I’ll admit, and took a little getting used to at first, but like I said, done is done. It may come in handy, is how I look at it. Might be good to keep track of you that way, to help keep you safe.”
“You are a remarkable man, Captain. If I can find a way to undo it all the same, I will. Were you able to switch out the men I requested? I apologize for dumping that on you; I realize now it would probably have been best to have that conversation in private. I’m not sure what came over me.”
“I’ve made the switches, although it might be best if you check the men over to be sure I’ve gotten the right ones.”
Veyga’s head was pounding again. Strange, that he’d spent so much time worrying about having the Captain in the back of his head, when the Captain had accepted it so matter-of-factly. “I’m sure you did fine.”
“If there’s nothing else, Master Veyga, maybe it would be best if you lie down for a bit. You’re feeling kind of sickly. I can tell.” He tapped a thick finger to his temple, giving Veyga a knowing wink.
Veyga stared blankly at him. This was certainly going to be an interesting trip. “Thank you Captain, I think maybe that’s a good idea. But first, before you go, one more thing. I met a soldier earlier, name of Kazadrey. I’d like to have him assigned directly to me, if that is acceptable. I think it might be a good idea to have a… a buffer, I guess. I don’t want to make any more missteps. I don’t want to usurp your authority with him, but if he could act as a personal guard, and possibly run errands as well, when he isn’t busy with his other duties…”
“He’s yours, Master Veyga. I’ll let him know. Funny you asked for Kaz, actually. He was a secretary before he became a mercenary. He’ll serve you well. Now, about that nap…” He winked again and stood, then ducked from the tent. Veyga sighed deeply and kicked his boots off. It was the middle of the day, but he was exhausted. And sleep did sound good right now... Even if it had been the Captain to suggest it, as if he was a fond uncle who knew better than he did. He was asleep before he even pulled the blanket half over himself.
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Jared sat crossed-legged right outside the tent, for all intents and purposes guarding, no matter how casually he tried to appear. He winced inwardly every time he heard a groan or whimper come from inside, but he left Veyga alone all the same. He hated to hear the young man’s distress when he dreamed, but Jared suspected that it was for the best that Veyga have an opportunity to dream all the same. Whether the dreams were visions or something else, some strange communication from Veyga’s subconscious, they seemed important.
The plain brown man from before approached warily, and Jared held up a hand to stop him. He quietly motioned for the man to step aside with him, away from the tent. A few paces away, Jared smiled and held out a hand. The man hesitated only a moment before gripping his arm firmly before stepping back a little. “Well met, Kazadrey is it?”
“Yes, my Lord Holt. Or just Kaz is fine.” A soft sound from the tent drew the man’s eye, but Jared shook his head warningly.
“Don’t worry about that for now, Kaz. Master Veyga asked specifically for you. I ask that you keep a close eye on him when you can. Let me know if anything… out of the ordinary catches your attention, would you?”
The brown man had puffed up a little when he heard he’d been specially requested, but at that comment he looked a little leery. “Like what?”
Jared chuckled a little. “You’ll know what I mean if you see it.”
The sound of Veyga murmuring came to them, even with the distance from the tent. Kaz glanced again toward the noise, and Jared shook his head. “He has dreams, is all.”
An understanding look crossed the plain man’s face. “Ah. That I can understand. See enough things, my Lord Holt…” He shrugged. “See enough things, and we all have dreams.”
Jared nodded and motioned towards the tent, where the two of them sat before the door flap, one on either side, chatting casually but neither managing to look like anything but guards.
It had been a crystal room. Veyga could remember now, if not all of the dream at least most of it. It helped, of course, to discover himself back in the same room again. He looked around nervously, noting the same crystal table, the same chairs and benches, the same slanting sunlight with what appeared to be dust motes dancing through them.
Veyga frowned and examined those dancing dust motes closer. With a yelp he leaped back away from any of the slating rays of light. Those were certainly not dust motes. He didn’t know what they were, but each little fleck held the spark of life within it. Another thing he didn’t know how he came to know, but he would have staked his own life on the certainty that it was true.
Movement from the doorway across the room, and he was stumbling back until his back hit the hall behind and the bench there buckled his knees. He sat down so hard his teeth snapped together, but all he could do was stare in shock as the four deities flowed into the room and took their seats again. They looked equally surprised at seeing him in their crystal cathedral, but then Eavan stood behind the last chair, and once again motioned to Veyga to take the chair.
Veyga was shaking his head before he even realized what he was doing, pressing as far back against the wall behind him as he could manage. Eavan smiled gently, but there was a hard glint in his wise eyes as he came around the table and then planted himself before Veyga, leaning on his staff. “Listen to me, boy.” In spite of his gentle smile, his voice was icy and Veyga was reminded once again that this was a God who stood before him, not a man. “There’s a reason you keep popping up here, in Skeyon, where no mortal has ever been welcomed since the beginning of time. We need to know why, and I will have it from you with your cooperation,” he reached out a gnarled finger and poked within an inch of Veyga’s nose, “or without, if necessary.”
Veyga swallowed hard and then looked up at the God with a shaky nod. “All right.”
With a satisfied smile the God stepped back and motioned for Veyga to take the chair. He crossed the room slowly, cautiously avoiding the slanting beams of light with the life flickering within them, and then gingerly settled into the chair. Once he was seated, he gasped a little, as his arms were suddenly fused to the arms of the chair, and his back was clutched up tight. He would not be leaving this seat until he was released. He tried to keep the horror from his face, but the smirks from around the table told him clearly that they knew what had happened, and approved.
Eavan stepped up beside Veyga with a perfectly blank face, but those eyes pierced him clean through. He placed a gnarled hand on Veyga’s head, and it began to ache so fiercely that he convulsed, thrashing within the confines of the chair. When the pain receded a little, he found himself slumping and panting, and drenched in sweat. His chest was tight, he could barely draw a breath, and spots swam before his eyes. Minutes or candlemarks could have passed and it was almost the agony of the Sa’san all over again.
Eavan smiled suddenly. “So. That explains much.”
Endara leaned forward. “What? You must tell us. How has he managed to get here? It makes no sense, Eavan. If he can get here, can Keary as well?”
“No, I think we don’t have anything to worry about there, Endara. Keary will not breach these walls. This one, however…” A gentle tap on Veyga’s left temple, and the pain receded enough that he could straighten a little and his chest loosened enough to draw a full breath. “This one came for a reason.”
Veyga blanked out a little, and when he next came aware Eavan was standing beside Endara, and the conversation was continuing without him. Kyarol was leaning forward on the table, hands clasped tight before him as he spoke, his tone urgent. “This cannot be, Eavan. It simply cannot be. We did not create the road to lead to this.”
Eavan waved a hand as he noticed Veyga’s attention, and again he blanked out. Sheryas was speaking when next he came to. “Should I try to heal the tear in his soul, Eavan? Surely that is part of the trouble. If the tear was repaired, would he know, would he become aware of who he is? There must be a reason for his rebirth, or else why would it happen without our involvement? There is no touch of Razakel on him, this wasn’t his doing.”
“I don’t know, Sheryas. He already becomes more aware. He is already beginning to use the gifts we gave them so long ago. It might be best to let the transformation happen without intervention. If we become involved, it might complicate things. As you just said, this happened without us, there must be a reason.”
“Eavan, this is ridiculous.” He thought that might be Endara’s voice. It seemed to shiver in his ears, and he couldn’t seem to focus enough to turn his head toward her. “While I sense no taint within him, he is a hard man, how can he reincarnate a soul that was so gentle? I say we finish him now. There must have been a mistake, to let-.”
A soft hiss from Eavan, and again he was gone, mind blank, eyes unseeing and ears unhearing. The next time he came to, the argument was still brewing, and it was then that the dawning horror washed over him. They were talking about him!
“It is decided, we will let him return, and we will watch to see what happens, but we will not interfere unless we must. We need to check Razakel’s wards, though, and it might be best to awaken Kembell. He’s the last one, the only one not attached to a ward, and maybe he will know more. There has to be a reason this happened.” Eavan sounded angry, and Veyga shivered a little, trying to lift his bowed head to look at the God’s face, but then Eavan grunted. “This one is strong, though; much stronger than the others ever were. That’s surprising. My bonds struggle to hold him, and he’s wakened from the Sleep three times now.”
“Send him away, Eavan. It’s best he not witness this discussion. Place a Bond on him that we might find him again later. He must not be let free to run unfettered.” That was Endara again.
“Hm, that’s a thought.” A shuffling, and then Eavan was placing his hand on Veyga’s head. This time Veyga shrieked as the pain tore through, ricocheting through his skill. He convulsed again, his throat closing, cutting off the scream abruptly. His head flung back, striking the edge of the chair, and as blackness closed around him he caught one last comment. “This is impossible, I cannot place the Bond.”
“Arius, wake up! Arius, you must wake up!” He was being drug from the cot, which flipped beneath them, and Veyga opened his eyes to find darkness, and Jared’s limbs tangled with his. Confusion reigned in the darkness, and outside the tent men were fighting and shouting. “Arius, damn it all, wake up!”
“I’m awake, Jared. What’s happening?” He untangled himself and crawled away a little, straining to see in the darkness.
“There’s- something here, Arius. I don’t even know what they are. Beasts of some sort, probably magic-bound, and they’re wreaking havoc, tearing up the camp, clearly looking for something. Hang on.” Some shuffling, and then a bright flare as Jared located the lamp he’d dropped and relit it.
Veyga threw an arm up as his eyes adjusted to the light. Awareness hit him, and he groaned as he scrambled to his feet. “The Hounds.” He had completely forgotten about the Hounds! “Where’s my sword?”
Jared was on his feet, the scabbard in hand. He passed it over and Veyga buckled it on as he dashed from the tent, not bothering to pull on his boots. Time was of the essence now, only he knew where the Hounds’ weak spot was. Only he knew, and there were two hundred men trying to keep him alive that had no chance of standing against the Hounds.
Veyga broke through the little copse of trees around his tent, and froze. Chaos was indeed ruling the night. Nearby a few tents were on fire, providing enough light along with the campfires that had dotted the camp. Veyga stared dumbly for a moment. There were two of the beasts, and if he thought he’d been prepared from his one vision, then he’d been sadly mistaken. It was like looking at a picture of death, and then confronting it head-on. There was no comparison.
They were huge, first of all. Probably as tall at the shoulder as a two-story house, and twice as long. They were vaguely dog-shaped, with canine snouts and short floppy ears. But that was where the resemblances ended. They had no hair, and instead were covered with a thick leathery skin. Their bodies were heavily muscled, with sharp sword-like talons where claws would have been. They were laying waste to the soldiers around them, although they paused every few moments to sniff the air with rubbery noses, swinging their massive heads with outthrust tusks scoring the air, clearly searching for something.
Veyga shook himself and dashed through the camp, leaping obstacles without even looking at them. His attention was fastened completely on the Hound closest to him, sword drawn, heart pounding. The Hound sniffed the air again, and then lifted its huge head and howled. The sound rocked the camp, causing the ground to tremble beneath his feet. He didn’t slow his charge even when both Hounds seemed to fasten tiny pig-like eyes on him. Of course, they’d been searching for him.
The clusters of soldiers around each of the Hounds continued to strike with swords, staves, knives, arrows- nothing penetrated the thick hides. The eyes, usually a prime target, were too small to hit, with wiry lashes around them to protect them. Even as Veyga watched, an arrow was stopped by those lashes, and with a blink the Hound knocked it loose.
The world narrowed, as it did when he fought, and the red rage overtook him before he was even aware that he was angry. Now it was just the Hounds, and him, and nothing else mattered. He lunged forward, sword raised, intent on doing whatever damage he could, even if it meant giving his own life to protect those around him.
Jared scrambled on Veyga’s heels, trying to keep up, but stopped dead when he saw those beasts again. Veyga had called them ‘hounds,’ although they hardly resembled hounds to him. He drew his own sword, but looked blankly at it for a moment, then back to the men already clustered around the beasts, striking, trying to kill, to wound at least, and not succeeding. There were already dozens of men dead near each beast, sliced by those razor claws. There wasn’t a single mark on either monster.
A streak of light from the corner of his eye drew his head up, and he gaped as he watched Veyga dash toward the Hounds, leaping campfires and the equipment that littered the camp. His sword was drawn; his face was set in complete determination. And he was glowing! A now-familiar blue swirl of light was bleeding from beneath his shirt. The tattoos. An image flashed in Jared’s head, of that blue light settling into those tattoos. It grew now, wrapping about the man’s arms and chest, sliding down long legs and up over his head- even to the tip of the braid where it swung behind him. Only the sword was not glowing. Men all around the camp were dropping back from the beasts with dismay on their faces as they realized they could not harm these nightmare animals.
Jared watched dumbfounded as Veyga finally reached one of the Hounds, and stared it down for only a moment before attacking. His heart in his throat, Jared watched as Veyga’s sword bounced off the beast’s thick skin just as every other man’s had.
The shock recoiled up his arms as his sword rebounded from the Hound’s hide, and Veyga dropped back, panting slightly. He met that piggish glare for only a moment before the beast was rearing on its hind legs, reaching for him with those sharp claws. He tried to run, tried to spin, but he was gathered into up the beast’s embrace before he could even blink. He braced himself, waiting for the pain that would surely follow as he was sheared clean through, but it didn’t come. He gasped as he put his hands on the beast’s paws where they were wrapped around him, the sharp claws pressing into his skin but not penetrating. His skin… His skin was gleaming with a soft blue light. He stared in horror as his shirt was shredded, could feel the fabric of his breeches torn apart, but the blade-sharp claws did not pierce his skin. His ribs groaned as the beast squeezed, lowering its massive head to peer closely at him. Hot fetid breath washed over him as the Hound tried to see what was wrong, why he wasn’t being torn limb from limb. Confusion showed in those little eyes, the wiry lashes whipping against Veyga’s face like a wire flog.
The camp was growing quiet around them, and Veyga tried to twist to see the other Hound. What was happening? The other beast lurched toward them, and some sort of growling language passed between the two Hounds. There was intelligence there; these were not simply mindless creatures. The other Hound was up on its hind legs now, reaching for Veyga. It stretched a pointed claw toward him, reaching to pierce his chest… and the claw slid off him.
The Hounds seemed as confused as he did. Relief was short-lived, though, as the Hound that held him reached toward the other’s gaping maw. Veyga was shoved past the tusks that scraped across his legs and chest, and then those great jaws closed on him. He couldn’t help but scream as the pressure ground his bones together. Then the world closed around him as everything disappeared but the pain.
Jared watched in horror, along with every other man in the camp, as the creatures seemed to be having some sort of discussion over the clasped claws. Then the first beast was shoving Veyga into the mouth of the second, and Veyga’s scream was reverberating through the camp. The first Hound swung its massive head about one more time before letting loose another howl, and then they both turned and left the camp in great leaping bounds.
Jared shook himself and lurched after them, knowing it was futile, knowing that there was no way he would be able to reach the Hounds before they crested the lip of the valley where the camp was nestled, knowing he could not save Veyga, but having to try. But then they were gone, and so was his friend. He stopped, staring in shock where they had disappeared over the edge.
A soft sobbing finally registered on him, and he looked to his left where the priestess was huddled, her robe dirty and torn. She’d lost her scarf somewhere, and her hair hung around her face in a tangled mess of raven-black locks. He bent to comfort her, eyes returning to the edge of the valley, fear sinking into his heart. There was no way to get Veyga back now. He turned his attention back to the priestess. “Shh… It’s all right-.”
“It’s not all right! Don’t tell me that! I dreamed, I Foretold this, but it was too late, I was coming to tell you- it was too late! Why couldn’t I have Foretold this earlier? We could have-.” She hiccuped, eyes red-rimmed and terror-filled. “We could have-.” She wailed and then hiccuped again.
“Shh. There’s nothing we could have done, priestess. There’s nothing we could have done.” He gathered her into his arms, eyes returning again to the valley’s edge. There was a man standing there now, barely highlighted by the fires behind him. His dark curls were a riotous mass around his head, and his broad shoulders shook.
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The Captain glanced up from the maps he was reviewing and then leapt to his feet when he saw who he addressed. “Yes, of course, my Lord Holt.”
Jared waved back to his seat and took the one across table. He crossed his arms and met the Captain’s gaze steadily. “May I speak frankly, Captain? In confidence?”
The Captain nodded. “Of course, but a moment first please. Merlyn!” A shaggy head ducked into the three-sided. “Merlyn, ensure we are not interrupted. Or overheard.” A message seemed to pass between the two mercenaries, and then the other man nodded and disappeared. Within a few moments, everyone within twenty paces of the front of the tent was ushered away.
“Your men listen well, Captain.” Jared was impressed.
“We’ve been through a lot together, my Lord Holt.” The Captain showed him complete deference, but there was a skeptical gleam in the back of the brown eyes that made Jared suspect that this wasn’t a man who would give his trust easily, which just made his reaction to Veyga that much more suspicious.
“I think I can safely assume that you are here to protect Arius from the outside world, and I want to make sure you know that that is not my priority.” At the Captain’s confused look, Jared sighed. “I apologize. Master Veyga. I forget sometimes.” The Captain nodded understanding, and he continued. “My priority is to protect him from himself. He’s a hard taskmaster, Captain, but to none so much as himself. I will not countermand his orders, I will not even try to usurp his authority, but if I have to step before a sword to stop him from hurting himself,” By the seven hells he hoped it didn’t come to that- Eithna would kill him if the sword didn’t, “then I will. I will also protect him from anyone else, of course, that means to do him harm, but I won’t be able to stay on for this whole journey. A few moonturns, at most, and I must return home. I will trust you to watch over him then.”
The Captain was offended. “Do you treat him as a child, then? Is he not a man grown, who can make his own decisions?”
Jared raised a hand to settle the man. “You misunderstand, Captain. Veyga is a man who will sacrifice his life, his soul, everything, if he thought it would protect the helpless. Bard’an mentioned that there have been foretellings and prophecies, am I correct?”
The Captain nodded hesitantly. “I have been told that.”
“I know someone who also occasionally has foretelling dreams. She has seen several possibilities of what might happen on this journey, and of them all, only one sees Veyga reaching Polien unharmed. For some reason, he needs to get there in one piece, and I can’t stress enough how important it is.” Eithna had wept when she had told him, and he’d held her the rest of the night. She had avoided Veyga for days afterward, afraid she would burst into tears every time she saw him. Even Veyga didn’t know about her dreams yet, if he hadn’t finished reading the book she sent along with him. If he had, he hadn’t mentioned it to Jared.
The Captain nodded again, but his expression had shifted a little. “Do you know Master Veyga well, my Lord Holt?”
Jared shrugged. “I think that no one really knows him well, Captain. But I know him better than most.” It was possible that Eithna knew him better, or even Rayna, but Jared doubted it.
“I was waiting to interview the priestess and the record keeper, my Lord Holt. I thought it best that Master Veyga have that honor first.”
“You chose well, Captain. I think that is for the best. But perhaps you would be present during the discussion?” The determination in the Captains face as he nodded agreement reassured Jared, and he left the tent much happier then when he entered. Something strange was going on, that much was clear, but if even Veyga didn’t know what it was, then they would just have to wait and see how it shaped up.
Jared made his way quietly through the camp and back to Veyga’s little thicket. Most of the camp was clearing out, packing up equipment and tents. Other soldiers were mending tack, oiling saddles, sharpening knives and swords, fletching arrows. Everywhere he looked the mercenary camp was quietly busy. Jared didn’t have much personal experience in war himself but he’d been raised minor nobility with all the training that entailed, and knew that he was seeing a well-run camp.
Veyga was sitting at his table reading when he called entry to Jared’s scratch. He gave the Lord a sharp look. “What are you so satisfied about?”
Jared paused, noting the foul mood. Then he smiled a little. “Have you eaten?”
Veyga stared darkly at him for a long moment, but Jared didn’t back down as he met that cool gray gaze. Finally Veyga looked away, realizing how he’d snapped at his friend. “I’m sorry, Jared.”
The Lord just chuckled. “I’ll take that as a no.”
“I was told a plate was on its way. I asked enough for two.” He felt a little ashamed now, but for some reason he couldn’t seem to control his moods lately. He usually prided himself on his cool outward demeanor, but it seemed to have fled now. Another side-effect of the Searing, most likely. The Searing! “Damn it all!” He smashed his palm flat against the table, causing it shudder. The book laid before him bounced shut.
Jared had jumped, but continued to watch him calmly. Veyga shook his head, knowing he was quickly losing control. “I don’t understand what’s wrong with me.”
“Any dreams lately, Arius?” Jared sat on the edge of Veyga’s cot, the only other piece of furniture in the tent other than the washstand.
Dreams? No, he hadn’t had any for the last few days, had he? Only one since the Sa’san and that one had been… He frowned to himself. He couldn’t remember much about that one. Had it been another dream with the gray floor? He didn’t think so. But maybe… He thought there had been a different room, with a white floor? Or maybe it was a crystal floor… Crystal? An old man… He remembered an old man… He put a hand up to his head; it was starting to ache. He remembered red hair… had Kayli been in his dream? No, not this time… Kayli had been lying broken on the ground, eyes staring, flies crawling across her face. No, steer clear of that one. Crystal goblets, he remembered crystal goblets…
“Arius? Arius!”
He jumped and focused on Jared. “What?”
“Eat.” Jared pointed to the dishes laid out on the table.
Veyga stared dumbly. “When did this get here?”
“A few minutes ago, and you hardly even blinked. I think you may have frightened the soldier that brought it.” Jared leaned forward. “Are you all right?”
A strange tingle slid down his back and he shivered a little, then scowled and laid into the food before him. It was camp food- beans and ham, two apples, a hunk of cheese and a thick slice of bread with butter smeared on- but it was good and there was plenty of it, but even after finishing every last crumb he was still hungry.
Jared was watching him closely, and soon as the last bite was swallowed he spoke again. “Are you all right, Arius?”
Veyga met his gaze, trying to hide the anxiety he was feeling. “I think so, but really, I’m not completely sure yet. Things keep passing through my head. I think maybe part of it might have been the Sa’san, but some of it… Some of it started before that.” He shivered again. “I’ve been seeing things; I don’t know what you’d call them. Auras I guess. Around people, I mean. That’s how I knew about Eithna. I didn’t know, actually when I saw it, it just popped into my head, later, and made sense. But today, when we arrived at the camp, Captain Farstreak had one, and so did almost all of the soldiers he had chosen. There were only a few without.”
“Is that why you changed a handful of them out?” Jared asked casually, but his voice was tense.
Veyga nodded. It sounded even stranger when he said it out loud. Was he going mad? “I don’t know what it means, I really don’t.”
“And did you see these auras before the Sa’san?”
Veyga hesitated, but he’d told Jared almost everything else already so what was the point in holding this back? “Yes, I did. Not all the time, but sometimes. It seemed random, but maybe it wasn’t.”
“What happened with Captain Farstreak, Arius?” He was asking carefully, but Veyga winced anyhow.
“It was like someone else was in my body. I don’t know why I put my hand on his head, and then once I did- I saw strange blue swirls, down my arm and into his head. And then when he looked at me-.” He swallowed hard. “I saw the same light in his eyes. I did something. And now? Now, Jared? Now, I when I even think about him, I can-.” He cleared his throat, trying to work past the lump there. “I can feel him, hiding there, crouching in my head, I can-. I can feel him, Jared!” He leapt to his feet, stumbled once, and then with a grim expression started to pace.
Jared watched unhappily. “Maybe there will be answers in Polien, Arius.”
Veyga stopped suddenly, facing Jared with a hopeful light in his eyes. “You said there was a priestess, and a record keeper?”
“You… You met them, Arius. When you met Captain Farstreak.”
Veyga waved that away. “No matter. I want to talk to them. Now, if possible. I want to know what they know.”
Jared stood, nodding once. “I’ll go see if they will come, all right?”
Veyga didn’t respond, he just resumed his pacing. Jared sighed and turned to leave.
“Jared?”
He paused, looking over his shoulder.
“Will you see if there are a few more chairs? For when they come?”
Jared nodded and ducked out of the tent. Thoughts roared through his head as he went in search of the women. He hadn’t realized things were this bad. Maybe it was still a better idea to send Veyga back to Eithna; maybe she would know what to do to help. Jared shook his head. There was no way Veyga was going to leave off this journey, especially if only for personal reasons. Maybe he should press for Veyga to take the teas Eithna had sent- maybe if he slept better…
He thought maybe the women were still beneath the open-sided tent where he had left them earlier. As he approached, though, he paused at the sound of raised voices, and ducked behind another tent to listen.
“I’m not trying to be amusing, Mel’awn. This isn’t funny. Stay away.” That sounded like Captain Farstreak.
“Oh stop, I’m not a child anymore Jiasin, I don’t have to listen to you.”
“This is my camp, Mel’awn. If I had my way you wouldn’t even be here.”
“Oh, are you too good for the palace, Jiasin? The palace! I’m a record keeper, I deserve better than your dirty camp anyway. And why do I have to share a tent with a priestess of all people? You know they’re celibate!”
“Mel… Mel, that’s not what I meant.” The Captain sounded tired. “I’m proud of where you’ve gotten, I brag to my men that my little sister is a record keeper. It’s a position of honor, I know that. But even you have to admit it’s a soft job; you aren’t cut out to travel with soldiers. The tent is the perfect example; should we pack a separate tent for every single man here? Do you know how much gear we’d have to carry to do that?”
She sniffed. “It doesn’t matter to me, he gets his own tent.”
A deep sigh. “Mel’awn, he’s different and you of all people should understand that. You are welcome to stay behind. Give him your information, make sure he knows everything you found, and then I’ll escort you back to the palace myself.”
Another sniff. “Fine. I’ll stay, and I’ll share my tent. But only until I find someone else to share with.”
“Mel’awn, this is the last time I’m going to tell you to get those ideas out of your head. If Master Veyga shows an interest in you then fine I won’t interfere, but I don’t want you pursuing him.”
She laughed, and Jared winced. So that was how the road lay, was it? He decided to interrupt then. Veyga was waiting.
Jared approached noisily, and the two jumped a little. Captain Farstreak wiped a guilty look off his face but not before Jared saw it. Jared ignored it and offered a pleasant smile. “Master Veyga was wondering if he might have a word with the ladies, Captain. And with you, as well.” He gave the Captain a pointed look, and the man nodded soberly.
“I’ll go and fetch the priestess. Mel’awn, remember what I said.” The Captain saluted Jared and then walked away.
Jared caught the record keeper’s gaze. She smiled, giving him a slanted look from beneath thick dark lashes. Her velvety eyes were quite pretty, and that worried him. “Record Keeper, if you hurt him, I will make sure you live to regret it.”
She paled and gasped, putting a hand to her throat. “What- what do you mean?”
“You know what I mean. Now come, he’s waiting.” He motioned in the direction of Veyga’s tent, and she followed quietly. Jared paused long enough to ask one of the sentries to send a few more chairs along, and then led the rest of the way. He scratched at the tent, waited for Veyga to call ‘enter,’ and then held the tent flap open for the record keeper. She hesitated and then slipped past him into the tent.
The dishes had been cleared away and Veyga sat at the table once again, arms folded along the top, looking calm and composed. He didn’t stand when they entered, and Mel’awn glanced at Jared in surprise. She knew he was of higher rank, and she noticed when Veyga did not stand for him.
“Arius, this is Mel’awn Farstreak, one of the palace record keepers.”
Veyga nodded somberly, pinning her with one of his icy stares. “Well met, Mistress Farstreak. I take you are Captain Farstreak’s sister?”
She nodded, dark eyes wide. Veyga wondered if she was surprised or just trying to show off how pretty her eyes were. He quelled that thought as fast as it occurred. He had no desire to think about how pretty her eyes were.
Another scratch outside, and the Captain was ducking in, the priestess on his heels. A soldier handed three more chairs through, and Jared helped to arrange them along the edge of the table opposite Veyga. Jared continued to stand beside the door as the three guests settled into their chairs. Once they were comfortable, Jared introduced the priestess.
“This is Priestess Feyona Rasha, and of course you know Captain Farstreak.”
Veyga nodded to each, and wasted no time. “I’m told there are prophecies and foretellings which you both believe are about me. I’d like to know more.”
The priestess spoke up first. “Of course, I’ll happily tell you everything I know.”
Veyga nodded politely for her to continue, and while she spoke, her pale eyes lit with the fire of conviction. “Several of the priests and priestesses of Ay’marne retain their faith only because of strange dreams that they have. Many of them make no sense. We think those are dreams of futures that didn’t happen. You see, there are many possibilities of the future- every decision you make can change what the outcome will be. Do you understand?”
Veyga nodded, considering. It made sense so far.
“But sometimes, a very strong dream happens- we call these Foretellings. The day before you arrived at the palace, I had one of these dreams.”
“Is there a difference between a Foretelling and the other kind- the ones that are just possibilities?”
She shook her head, clasping her hands tightly in her lap. “Not really. What tells them apart, for us, is when they happen.”
Veyga sat up straighter, eye sharpening. That was interesting. Were any of his dreams Foretellings? He hoped not, he’d rather not have images of the future popping into his head. The dreams he had now were bad enough. “And you dreamed something about me that happened.”
The priestess nodded excitedly. “I dreamed that you would demand the Sa’san. It made no sense to me; I didn’t even know what the Sa’san was. I’m just a simple priestess and I know nothing of magic. But there is more. In the Foretelling, you also endured the Sa’san, and survived! You were Seared of all of your crimes, and-.”
He cut her off, eye practically gleaming now. “Seared. Did you say Seared?” She had said Seared! It wasn’t just a random term burned into his brain. But wait- that still didn’t explain how he had learned the word in the first place.
She nodded again. “I don’t know much about that, I’m sure Mel’awn knows more than I do, with the history and all. But in my Foretelling, I knew you were Seared of your crimes. You were released, and you were to set out on an important journey. A journey that could affect the entire world, not just Anyon! The Foretelling told me that you would need help, that you would need soldiers to protect you, and that you must succeed to your goal. What convinced the High Lord to help you was that I Foretold your destination. You are going to the forgotten city of Polien, aren’t you?”
Veyga nodded distractedly. Strange to think she’d dreamt it before he even knew what it was. Stranger still that the High Lord had been convinced to help based on the dream of a priestess. “You Foretold this the day before I even reached the palace?”
“The day before you presented yourself, yes. We are required to report all Foretellings to the High Lord, especially when one has confirmable facts that happen. As soon as I learned you had presented yourself- word does travel quickly through the palace- I made sure that the High Lord knew of my Foretelling.”
“So he knew I would survive the Sa’san?” He rubbed the back of his neck, a wondering look on his face. Had the High Lord known that before he hinted about the Sa’san? But no, she had said she went to the High Lord after he had demanded Sa’san.
“Well, he knew that was the most likely outcome, yes. As I said before, the only difference between Foretelling and not is that it happens.”
Veyga nodded. “What else can you tell me?”
“Well really, that’s all. The High Lord heard the name Polien, and that was it, I was bundled up and on my way with these soldiers. I-.” Her excited eyes dimmed a little. “I’m not sure I am prepared for a long journey, Master Veyga, but I will do my best. I’ve never even been beyond the gates on Ay’marne before.”
“If you would rather return to the palace, priestess, then you may.” Captain Farstreak looked offended that she had even mentioned her concerns.
The priestess stiffened. “I will do no such thing! I understand my duty, and I’ll do it. It’s best that I continue with you. It’s common for a dreamer to have more Foretellings about the same subject, and if I do have another one, I think I should be close to share it.”
“I appreciate that, Priestess Rasha.” Veyga offered a small smile.
She blushed a little, her pale eyes brightening again. “Please, just Priestess Feyona. Priests and priestesses drop our secondname when we take our vows.”
He nodded. “Priestess Feyona, I will do what I can to keep our journey uneventful.”
She beamed at him, and he hoped he was able to live up to her glowing expectations. He turned his stare to the record keeper next. She practically preened beneath his gaze. “And what can you tell me, Mistress Farstreak?”
“Please, just Mel’awn. While record keepers are certainly prized at the palace, we do not stand on formality.” She smiled warmly, giving him a strange look that he wasn’t sure how to interpret. “I can tell you about several prophecies which may or may not involve your journey. I have records of them-.”
“With you? Here in camp, right now?” He pinned her with his best glare, and she wilted a little, but then seemed to get a little backbone and she glared right back.
“Yes, of course here in camp.”
“Hand them over to me, I will read them myself.” He would rather not hear a rendition from her lips; people could put the wrong spin on anything, and a vague description could be applied to a hundred different events.
She seemed insulted. “I will certainly not hand them over to you. They were put into my keeping, I am responsible for them. If you would like to read them, then you may do so with me present.”
“Fine. Have the records brought here, and you can stay while I read them.” He knew he’d made a mistake the moment the words left his mouth. She got that cat-and-canary look again, and nearly purred when she agreed to his demand. “Tomorrow, break your fast and then come here. Do not come into my tent without requesting entry first.” Hopefully that would give him a moment to organize himself before she barraged him. “Thank you ladies, I appreciate your assistance. I would like a moment with the Captain now.”
The priestess did not hesitate, and left the tent as quietly as she had come in. Mel’awn, however, took her time rising from her seat, smoothing her hands over her coat and turning a little to dust invisible dirt from the seat of her breeches. She smiled one more time at him and then- he didn’t even know how to describe it- slunk from the tent, moving her hips in a way that drew his eye. He grunted and tore his gaze away, angry at himself for being distracted. She laughed over her shoulder and ducked through the tent flap, giving another little wiggle in the process.
Veyga felt hot; he was certain his face was flushed. “Jared, please make sure that we’re left undisturbed for a few moments.”
Jared nodded and followed Mel’awn out. The Captain sat quietly, attentively, eyes never leaving Veyga’s face.
Veyga stood and began to pace, rubbing the back of his neck. “I fear I’ve done you a great disservice, Captain Farstreak. I don’t really know exactly what I did, actually, but I fear you may not be working of your own volition.”
The Captain frowned. “My own volition? What are you talking about?”
“I think I may have… entranced you somehow. I think… I think maybe I did something to you, inadvertently of course, and I hope that I can figure out a way to undo it.”
“Are you hitting on me, Master Veyga? I know some men prefer other men in their beds, and I mean no disrespect but I’m not really into that sort of thing.”
Veyga yelped. “By the seven hells, no! No, Captain, absolutely not.”
“Well then, all right.” The Captain did look quite relieved, and Veyga wondered ironically if he should be offended or not. “Listen, Master Veyga, I was hired- and already paid mind you- to make sure that you got to this place called Polien. I am to protect you with my life if need be, as are every one of my men. That is what we signed up for, that is what I committed myself to even before you accepted my troth. If you think you did something, and if that’s why it feels like you’re in the back of my brain now, then so be it. It’s done, and what’s done is done, there’s no sense trying to undo it now.”
Veyga sat down hard in his chair, gaping. “Well-. Well, that’s very sensible-. Wait, do you mean you can feel it too?”
The Captain shrugged. “It’s a little strange, I’ll admit, and took a little getting used to at first, but like I said, done is done. It may come in handy, is how I look at it. Might be good to keep track of you that way, to help keep you safe.”
“You are a remarkable man, Captain. If I can find a way to undo it all the same, I will. Were you able to switch out the men I requested? I apologize for dumping that on you; I realize now it would probably have been best to have that conversation in private. I’m not sure what came over me.”
“I’ve made the switches, although it might be best if you check the men over to be sure I’ve gotten the right ones.”
Veyga’s head was pounding again. Strange, that he’d spent so much time worrying about having the Captain in the back of his head, when the Captain had accepted it so matter-of-factly. “I’m sure you did fine.”
“If there’s nothing else, Master Veyga, maybe it would be best if you lie down for a bit. You’re feeling kind of sickly. I can tell.” He tapped a thick finger to his temple, giving Veyga a knowing wink.
Veyga stared blankly at him. This was certainly going to be an interesting trip. “Thank you Captain, I think maybe that’s a good idea. But first, before you go, one more thing. I met a soldier earlier, name of Kazadrey. I’d like to have him assigned directly to me, if that is acceptable. I think it might be a good idea to have a… a buffer, I guess. I don’t want to make any more missteps. I don’t want to usurp your authority with him, but if he could act as a personal guard, and possibly run errands as well, when he isn’t busy with his other duties…”
“He’s yours, Master Veyga. I’ll let him know. Funny you asked for Kaz, actually. He was a secretary before he became a mercenary. He’ll serve you well. Now, about that nap…” He winked again and stood, then ducked from the tent. Veyga sighed deeply and kicked his boots off. It was the middle of the day, but he was exhausted. And sleep did sound good right now... Even if it had been the Captain to suggest it, as if he was a fond uncle who knew better than he did. He was asleep before he even pulled the blanket half over himself.
༄◦°˚°◦.◦°˚ˆ*♡∗.◦ ༄◦°˚°◦.◦°˚ˆ*♡∗.◦༄◦°˚°◦.◦°˚ˆ*♡∗.◦༄◦°˚°◦.◦°˚ˆ*♡∗.◦ ༄◦°˚°◦.◦°˚ˆ*♡∗.◦
Jared sat crossed-legged right outside the tent, for all intents and purposes guarding, no matter how casually he tried to appear. He winced inwardly every time he heard a groan or whimper come from inside, but he left Veyga alone all the same. He hated to hear the young man’s distress when he dreamed, but Jared suspected that it was for the best that Veyga have an opportunity to dream all the same. Whether the dreams were visions or something else, some strange communication from Veyga’s subconscious, they seemed important.
The plain brown man from before approached warily, and Jared held up a hand to stop him. He quietly motioned for the man to step aside with him, away from the tent. A few paces away, Jared smiled and held out a hand. The man hesitated only a moment before gripping his arm firmly before stepping back a little. “Well met, Kazadrey is it?”
“Yes, my Lord Holt. Or just Kaz is fine.” A soft sound from the tent drew the man’s eye, but Jared shook his head warningly.
“Don’t worry about that for now, Kaz. Master Veyga asked specifically for you. I ask that you keep a close eye on him when you can. Let me know if anything… out of the ordinary catches your attention, would you?”
The brown man had puffed up a little when he heard he’d been specially requested, but at that comment he looked a little leery. “Like what?”
Jared chuckled a little. “You’ll know what I mean if you see it.”
The sound of Veyga murmuring came to them, even with the distance from the tent. Kaz glanced again toward the noise, and Jared shook his head. “He has dreams, is all.”
An understanding look crossed the plain man’s face. “Ah. That I can understand. See enough things, my Lord Holt…” He shrugged. “See enough things, and we all have dreams.”
Jared nodded and motioned towards the tent, where the two of them sat before the door flap, one on either side, chatting casually but neither managing to look like anything but guards.
It had been a crystal room. Veyga could remember now, if not all of the dream at least most of it. It helped, of course, to discover himself back in the same room again. He looked around nervously, noting the same crystal table, the same chairs and benches, the same slanting sunlight with what appeared to be dust motes dancing through them.
Veyga frowned and examined those dancing dust motes closer. With a yelp he leaped back away from any of the slating rays of light. Those were certainly not dust motes. He didn’t know what they were, but each little fleck held the spark of life within it. Another thing he didn’t know how he came to know, but he would have staked his own life on the certainty that it was true.
Movement from the doorway across the room, and he was stumbling back until his back hit the hall behind and the bench there buckled his knees. He sat down so hard his teeth snapped together, but all he could do was stare in shock as the four deities flowed into the room and took their seats again. They looked equally surprised at seeing him in their crystal cathedral, but then Eavan stood behind the last chair, and once again motioned to Veyga to take the chair.
Veyga was shaking his head before he even realized what he was doing, pressing as far back against the wall behind him as he could manage. Eavan smiled gently, but there was a hard glint in his wise eyes as he came around the table and then planted himself before Veyga, leaning on his staff. “Listen to me, boy.” In spite of his gentle smile, his voice was icy and Veyga was reminded once again that this was a God who stood before him, not a man. “There’s a reason you keep popping up here, in Skeyon, where no mortal has ever been welcomed since the beginning of time. We need to know why, and I will have it from you with your cooperation,” he reached out a gnarled finger and poked within an inch of Veyga’s nose, “or without, if necessary.”
Veyga swallowed hard and then looked up at the God with a shaky nod. “All right.”
With a satisfied smile the God stepped back and motioned for Veyga to take the chair. He crossed the room slowly, cautiously avoiding the slanting beams of light with the life flickering within them, and then gingerly settled into the chair. Once he was seated, he gasped a little, as his arms were suddenly fused to the arms of the chair, and his back was clutched up tight. He would not be leaving this seat until he was released. He tried to keep the horror from his face, but the smirks from around the table told him clearly that they knew what had happened, and approved.
Eavan stepped up beside Veyga with a perfectly blank face, but those eyes pierced him clean through. He placed a gnarled hand on Veyga’s head, and it began to ache so fiercely that he convulsed, thrashing within the confines of the chair. When the pain receded a little, he found himself slumping and panting, and drenched in sweat. His chest was tight, he could barely draw a breath, and spots swam before his eyes. Minutes or candlemarks could have passed and it was almost the agony of the Sa’san all over again.
Eavan smiled suddenly. “So. That explains much.”
Endara leaned forward. “What? You must tell us. How has he managed to get here? It makes no sense, Eavan. If he can get here, can Keary as well?”
“No, I think we don’t have anything to worry about there, Endara. Keary will not breach these walls. This one, however…” A gentle tap on Veyga’s left temple, and the pain receded enough that he could straighten a little and his chest loosened enough to draw a full breath. “This one came for a reason.”
Veyga blanked out a little, and when he next came aware Eavan was standing beside Endara, and the conversation was continuing without him. Kyarol was leaning forward on the table, hands clasped tight before him as he spoke, his tone urgent. “This cannot be, Eavan. It simply cannot be. We did not create the road to lead to this.”
Eavan waved a hand as he noticed Veyga’s attention, and again he blanked out. Sheryas was speaking when next he came to. “Should I try to heal the tear in his soul, Eavan? Surely that is part of the trouble. If the tear was repaired, would he know, would he become aware of who he is? There must be a reason for his rebirth, or else why would it happen without our involvement? There is no touch of Razakel on him, this wasn’t his doing.”
“I don’t know, Sheryas. He already becomes more aware. He is already beginning to use the gifts we gave them so long ago. It might be best to let the transformation happen without intervention. If we become involved, it might complicate things. As you just said, this happened without us, there must be a reason.”
“Eavan, this is ridiculous.” He thought that might be Endara’s voice. It seemed to shiver in his ears, and he couldn’t seem to focus enough to turn his head toward her. “While I sense no taint within him, he is a hard man, how can he reincarnate a soul that was so gentle? I say we finish him now. There must have been a mistake, to let-.”
A soft hiss from Eavan, and again he was gone, mind blank, eyes unseeing and ears unhearing. The next time he came to, the argument was still brewing, and it was then that the dawning horror washed over him. They were talking about him!
“It is decided, we will let him return, and we will watch to see what happens, but we will not interfere unless we must. We need to check Razakel’s wards, though, and it might be best to awaken Kembell. He’s the last one, the only one not attached to a ward, and maybe he will know more. There has to be a reason this happened.” Eavan sounded angry, and Veyga shivered a little, trying to lift his bowed head to look at the God’s face, but then Eavan grunted. “This one is strong, though; much stronger than the others ever were. That’s surprising. My bonds struggle to hold him, and he’s wakened from the Sleep three times now.”
“Send him away, Eavan. It’s best he not witness this discussion. Place a Bond on him that we might find him again later. He must not be let free to run unfettered.” That was Endara again.
“Hm, that’s a thought.” A shuffling, and then Eavan was placing his hand on Veyga’s head. This time Veyga shrieked as the pain tore through, ricocheting through his skill. He convulsed again, his throat closing, cutting off the scream abruptly. His head flung back, striking the edge of the chair, and as blackness closed around him he caught one last comment. “This is impossible, I cannot place the Bond.”
“Arius, wake up! Arius, you must wake up!” He was being drug from the cot, which flipped beneath them, and Veyga opened his eyes to find darkness, and Jared’s limbs tangled with his. Confusion reigned in the darkness, and outside the tent men were fighting and shouting. “Arius, damn it all, wake up!”
“I’m awake, Jared. What’s happening?” He untangled himself and crawled away a little, straining to see in the darkness.
“There’s- something here, Arius. I don’t even know what they are. Beasts of some sort, probably magic-bound, and they’re wreaking havoc, tearing up the camp, clearly looking for something. Hang on.” Some shuffling, and then a bright flare as Jared located the lamp he’d dropped and relit it.
Veyga threw an arm up as his eyes adjusted to the light. Awareness hit him, and he groaned as he scrambled to his feet. “The Hounds.” He had completely forgotten about the Hounds! “Where’s my sword?”
Jared was on his feet, the scabbard in hand. He passed it over and Veyga buckled it on as he dashed from the tent, not bothering to pull on his boots. Time was of the essence now, only he knew where the Hounds’ weak spot was. Only he knew, and there were two hundred men trying to keep him alive that had no chance of standing against the Hounds.
Veyga broke through the little copse of trees around his tent, and froze. Chaos was indeed ruling the night. Nearby a few tents were on fire, providing enough light along with the campfires that had dotted the camp. Veyga stared dumbly for a moment. There were two of the beasts, and if he thought he’d been prepared from his one vision, then he’d been sadly mistaken. It was like looking at a picture of death, and then confronting it head-on. There was no comparison.
They were huge, first of all. Probably as tall at the shoulder as a two-story house, and twice as long. They were vaguely dog-shaped, with canine snouts and short floppy ears. But that was where the resemblances ended. They had no hair, and instead were covered with a thick leathery skin. Their bodies were heavily muscled, with sharp sword-like talons where claws would have been. They were laying waste to the soldiers around them, although they paused every few moments to sniff the air with rubbery noses, swinging their massive heads with outthrust tusks scoring the air, clearly searching for something.
Veyga shook himself and dashed through the camp, leaping obstacles without even looking at them. His attention was fastened completely on the Hound closest to him, sword drawn, heart pounding. The Hound sniffed the air again, and then lifted its huge head and howled. The sound rocked the camp, causing the ground to tremble beneath his feet. He didn’t slow his charge even when both Hounds seemed to fasten tiny pig-like eyes on him. Of course, they’d been searching for him.
The clusters of soldiers around each of the Hounds continued to strike with swords, staves, knives, arrows- nothing penetrated the thick hides. The eyes, usually a prime target, were too small to hit, with wiry lashes around them to protect them. Even as Veyga watched, an arrow was stopped by those lashes, and with a blink the Hound knocked it loose.
The world narrowed, as it did when he fought, and the red rage overtook him before he was even aware that he was angry. Now it was just the Hounds, and him, and nothing else mattered. He lunged forward, sword raised, intent on doing whatever damage he could, even if it meant giving his own life to protect those around him.
Jared scrambled on Veyga’s heels, trying to keep up, but stopped dead when he saw those beasts again. Veyga had called them ‘hounds,’ although they hardly resembled hounds to him. He drew his own sword, but looked blankly at it for a moment, then back to the men already clustered around the beasts, striking, trying to kill, to wound at least, and not succeeding. There were already dozens of men dead near each beast, sliced by those razor claws. There wasn’t a single mark on either monster.
A streak of light from the corner of his eye drew his head up, and he gaped as he watched Veyga dash toward the Hounds, leaping campfires and the equipment that littered the camp. His sword was drawn; his face was set in complete determination. And he was glowing! A now-familiar blue swirl of light was bleeding from beneath his shirt. The tattoos. An image flashed in Jared’s head, of that blue light settling into those tattoos. It grew now, wrapping about the man’s arms and chest, sliding down long legs and up over his head- even to the tip of the braid where it swung behind him. Only the sword was not glowing. Men all around the camp were dropping back from the beasts with dismay on their faces as they realized they could not harm these nightmare animals.
Jared watched dumbfounded as Veyga finally reached one of the Hounds, and stared it down for only a moment before attacking. His heart in his throat, Jared watched as Veyga’s sword bounced off the beast’s thick skin just as every other man’s had.
The shock recoiled up his arms as his sword rebounded from the Hound’s hide, and Veyga dropped back, panting slightly. He met that piggish glare for only a moment before the beast was rearing on its hind legs, reaching for him with those sharp claws. He tried to run, tried to spin, but he was gathered into up the beast’s embrace before he could even blink. He braced himself, waiting for the pain that would surely follow as he was sheared clean through, but it didn’t come. He gasped as he put his hands on the beast’s paws where they were wrapped around him, the sharp claws pressing into his skin but not penetrating. His skin… His skin was gleaming with a soft blue light. He stared in horror as his shirt was shredded, could feel the fabric of his breeches torn apart, but the blade-sharp claws did not pierce his skin. His ribs groaned as the beast squeezed, lowering its massive head to peer closely at him. Hot fetid breath washed over him as the Hound tried to see what was wrong, why he wasn’t being torn limb from limb. Confusion showed in those little eyes, the wiry lashes whipping against Veyga’s face like a wire flog.
The camp was growing quiet around them, and Veyga tried to twist to see the other Hound. What was happening? The other beast lurched toward them, and some sort of growling language passed between the two Hounds. There was intelligence there; these were not simply mindless creatures. The other Hound was up on its hind legs now, reaching for Veyga. It stretched a pointed claw toward him, reaching to pierce his chest… and the claw slid off him.
The Hounds seemed as confused as he did. Relief was short-lived, though, as the Hound that held him reached toward the other’s gaping maw. Veyga was shoved past the tusks that scraped across his legs and chest, and then those great jaws closed on him. He couldn’t help but scream as the pressure ground his bones together. Then the world closed around him as everything disappeared but the pain.
Jared watched in horror, along with every other man in the camp, as the creatures seemed to be having some sort of discussion over the clasped claws. Then the first beast was shoving Veyga into the mouth of the second, and Veyga’s scream was reverberating through the camp. The first Hound swung its massive head about one more time before letting loose another howl, and then they both turned and left the camp in great leaping bounds.
Jared shook himself and lurched after them, knowing it was futile, knowing that there was no way he would be able to reach the Hounds before they crested the lip of the valley where the camp was nestled, knowing he could not save Veyga, but having to try. But then they were gone, and so was his friend. He stopped, staring in shock where they had disappeared over the edge.
A soft sobbing finally registered on him, and he looked to his left where the priestess was huddled, her robe dirty and torn. She’d lost her scarf somewhere, and her hair hung around her face in a tangled mess of raven-black locks. He bent to comfort her, eyes returning to the edge of the valley, fear sinking into his heart. There was no way to get Veyga back now. He turned his attention back to the priestess. “Shh… It’s all right-.”
“It’s not all right! Don’t tell me that! I dreamed, I Foretold this, but it was too late, I was coming to tell you- it was too late! Why couldn’t I have Foretold this earlier? We could have-.” She hiccuped, eyes red-rimmed and terror-filled. “We could have-.” She wailed and then hiccuped again.
“Shh. There’s nothing we could have done, priestess. There’s nothing we could have done.” He gathered her into his arms, eyes returning again to the valley’s edge. There was a man standing there now, barely highlighted by the fires behind him. His dark curls were a riotous mass around his head, and his broad shoulders shook.
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Wednesday, April 20, 2011
Post 20
Smoke danced beneath him, and he distractedly reined him in, looking down the small slope at the veritable army camped below. Bard’an was approaching, mounted on his leggy bay gelding, and Jared and Veyga waited patiently. “Good morn, my Lords.”
Veyga glared a little at that, and Bard’an cleared his throat. “Good morn, my Lord Holt, Master Veyga.”
Jared hid a smile by wiping his mouth, but Veyga looked appeased at least. The younger man had woken in a foul mood, and no amount of gentle cajoling from Jared had helped to improve it. Maybe it was because Veyga had slept too late for a proper meal to break his fast, and had had to make do with stale biscuits and a small handful of cold sausages. Jared suspected that Veyga would have eaten a cow whole if one had happened to wander by.
“A few more than you had mentioned, Bard’an.” Veyga looked out over the little valley, where easily two hundred mercenaries were camped. The older man shifted in his saddle, but didn’t drop his eyes.
“I never specifically mentioned numbers, my- er- Master Veyga. If you came to different conclusions, then I apologize.”
Another quicksilver glare, and then Veyga was wiping his face blank as a few more riders approached. Jared suppressed another smile. Bard’an would do well once he got over his awe.
Veyga watched the approaching riders closely, turning Smoke a little to keep Bard’an in the corner of his left eye. He had admitted to Jared that one disadvantage to his eye patch was a blind spot on his right side, and he rarely liked having anyone there. Jared tried to gauge where that place was, and he tried to keep the ‘hole’ plugged with his own body.
Three more horses, one a rangy long-legged pale gray stallion with a darker mane and tail that blew nervously toward Smoke. This one reached them first, and the man on the back of the gray saluted Veyga in the way of mercenaries, his left fist crossed over his chest. “Lord Veyga welcome, my name is Jiasin Farstreak, and I am the Captain of this mercenary band. We would pledge our troth to you, if you would have it.”
Veyga nodded solemnly. When would these fools quit calling him a Lord? If he hadn’t been hung for treason already, it didn’t mean he couldn’t be in the future. He gave the Captain a quick once-over, noting the mane of riotous black curls for caught up at his nape with a leather thong. Calm brown eyes that didn’t quite meet his own, a plain face except for an equally unruly beard several inches thick. The man was probably huge off his horse. His biceps were the size of tree trunks and his large scarred hands looked like they could crush a man’s skull. He handled his horse well though, even though the stallion was rolling his eyes at Smoke who was prancing and blowing hard. Veyga applied a little pressure with his heels, and Smoke settled somewhat.
The second rider was just a step ahead of the third, both women on near-matching calm nondescript brown mares. That was where the similarities ended. The first woman was tall and lean, boyish almost, in the plain light green robes of a priestess. It had been so long since Veyga had seen a priestess that he was nearly taken aback. She met his gaze with a curious one of her own, but her washed-out blue eyes were serious. The priestess wore her hood up, and all of her hair was tucked under a green scarf.
The third rider was something else altogether. She must be the record keeper, with her ink-stained fingers, but there was nothing else studious about her with her curvy, compact figure and her short cap of dark brown curls as rebellious as Captain Farstreak’s. Her brown eyes flashed defiantly as she eyed Veyga from tip to toe, a satisfied smile curving lush lips beneath a pert nose. This one would be trouble, and Veyga would stake his life on it. She already had her velvety eyes pinned him, and not a flicker toward any of the other men, including Jared. To top it all off, she wore men’s gray breeches and a short waist-length gray coat over a white blouse. The fabric clearly hugged every curve, and she was certainly aware of it.
Veyga suppressed a shiver as she continued to eye him, feeling like the canary to her cat. Even Rayna had never given him looks quite that heated. He gave her what he hoped was a quelling stare, but she just smiled smugly, her gaze not wavering. She would bear close watching.
Captain Farstreak motioned sharply to the two women as they reined in beside them. “My Lord Veyga, this is Priestess Feyona Rasha, and Palace Record Keeper Mel’awn Farstreak.” Veyga nodded to each of the women, noting the shared name.
“My Lord Veyga, I understand that you have restricted us to no more than two score soldiers,” a brief tightening of the Captain’s mouth showed his displeasure, “so I have taken the liberty of hand-selecting some soldiers for your review. If you would give me the honor my Lord Veyga, this way please.” He turned his stallion’s head toward the far north of the encampment, and sharing a quiet look with Jared, Veyga turned Smoke to follow. Jared was sure to keep his gelding close to Smoke’s right flank, especially when that smug record keeper tried to knee her mare up closer to Veyga.
They skirted around the outside edge of the encampment, and the soldiers below them quieted as they passed. When they neared a smaller group set off a little ways from the rest of the group, those soldiers scrambled forward to fall into place shoulder to shoulder in four smart rows at salute, their left fists thrust to their right shoulders. It looked like pains had been made to clean them up, and each man wore clothing in a similar shade of gray; as close to a uniform as many mercenaries were willing to get.
Captain Farstreak halted close before them. “Salute!” Barely a man moved, having already fallen into formation. “My Lord Veyga, before you are the best of the Farstreak Mercenaries.” He called off their names, and as the Captain announced each one, they dropped to one knee, bowing their head. Veyga let the names wash over him for now; he would learn later, when he could remember a face to go with each name. As he looked out over the precise lines of men, he blinked. Most of them were suddenly outlined by the strange auras he’d seen before, at Wensellas Manor. Only a few were not, and he glanced out across the rest of the camp, where he saw only a few more men with the aura, those standing out clearly even among the other eight score men.
Captain Farstreak dismounted from his stallion, casually passing his reins off to a young boy that ran up to take them, then he bent his own knee in salute as well. “My Lord Veyga-.”
“Captain Farstreak, I must interrupt before your troth. I realize that it is in poor manners, but I must insist.” He had to put a stop to this Lord business now.
“First of all, I would to change a few of your choices. Most of these men are suitable, but there are a few I ask that you change.” He pointed out the half a dozen men who were not currently wrapped with the silvery blue light, and then turned to peruse the main part of the camp. He described the half a dozen men among the eight score as well he could, hopeful that that would be sufficient. For whatever reason, he was completely certain the changes had to be made.
The Captain was red-faced, but from his blank face it was impossible to tell if he was furious or embarrassed. “As you wish it, my Lord Veyga.”
“Next, I am not a Lord, Captain Farstreak. If rumor has not reached this far,” the twist of his lips showed how much he doubted that, “then you will know that I was nearly hanged for treason, for declaring myself at a rank I had not earned. I would prefer to avoid that noose in the future, if at all possible.” He worked hard to keep the tone of his voice dry. No one here needed to know how much the idea terrified him. Jared knew, and that was enough.
The Captain was pale now, face completely bloodless. He didn’t stammer, though, and Veyga was willing to give him credit for that. “My sincerest apologies, my L- er-, Master Veyga.”
“Accepted. Continue, Captain Farstreak.” He swung carefully from Smoke’s saddle, passing the reins to the same boy who was holding the Captain’s stallion. The boy eyed the two stallions who were watching each other cautiously. Veyga strode forward until he was standing just in front of the Captain, and when the Captain made his troth, he placed his palm on the back of the man’s head. The Captain jumped a little, but then relaxed visibly beneath the touch. Veyga wasn’t sure exactly why he had been drawn to do that, and a little frown creased his brow as he stared down at his hand, pressed lightly into the black curls, soft curls, springing up to wrap around his fingers. What was he doing? Something… strange. He could feel the Tendrils flowing from him. Wait… Tendrils? Of what? They slid from his chest and through his shoulder, down his arm and into his hand. From there, he could almost see a warm blue-silver light flood across those curls, dancing around his fingers, and settling into the Captain’s head. His voice was only a whisper. “I accept your troth.”
Veyga looked up, to stare blankly at Jared, who was frowning softly at him. With a start, he lifted his hand from the Captain’s head and took a stumbling step back. The Captain looked up at him then, and Veyga was certain that he saw that strange silver-blue light flicker in the man’s eyes before he met Veyga’s gray stare with complete adoration and respect. “I thank you, Master Veyga. I will defend to the death.”
Veyga’s heart stuttered, and he spun on his heel, yanking his reins from the boy’s hand and scrambling into his saddle. With a shout, he kicked his heels sharply into Storm’s ribs and the stallion squealed as he dug his hooves in and threw off clods of dirt as he galloped up the little hill and over the edge.
Everyone was just staring, stunned. Captain Farstreak had surged to his feet, looking off in the direction Veyga had gone, and Jared glanced one more time at him, questioning, weighing, before turning his own gelding. “Wait here.” Thrown over his shoulder, his order was clear as he cantered after the younger man.
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Veyga didn’t look down from his perch when Jared rode up below him. He ignored him pointedly, desiring nothing more than to be left alone. But he knew Jared had a stubborn streak; after all, he’d married Eithna. “What do you want, Jared? Leave me be.”
“You know I won’t do that, Arius. Will you come down, so we can talk?”
Arius dropped his head back against the tree trunk at his back, dropping his hand from the grip on the branch above him. “I’d rather not.”
A heavy sigh from below, and then some scrambling and cursing, and then Jared’s head popped up beside Veyga’s thigh where it was stretched out along the heavy heart-branch. “Move off, let me up.”
With a wry twist to his lips, Veyga scooted as far as he was able, and Jared pulled himself up on another heart-branch beside him. Shoulders touching, they sat in the tree spans above the ground. Then Jared breathed deeply. “Wow.”
Veyga only nodded, returning his gaze out across the valley spread before them. The massive oak he’d climbed had grown almost to the edge of a cliff with a drop of several hundred spans. The view was breathtaking, out across that valley with a shining ribbon of water weaving from one end to the other. They could see for miles and miles, all the way out to the mountains in the distance, pale purple and wreathed in mist. It would take nearly a full span of seasons to reach those mountains, and here they were with a view all the way across.
“I like to get up high sometimes. It’s strange, I suppose, but being all the way up here makes me feel small, and it helps me to put the rest of the world into perspective. I’m just a little bug; I’m not important to the bigger picture. If I were to be stepped on tomorrow, it would be okay, and the world would spin on without me.”
Jared grunted. “That makes sense, actually.”
A long pause, then a deep sigh. “It’s been a philosophy I’ve kept all my life. But now I’m not so sure; I’m not feeling much like a little bug anymore, Jared. I’m not certain I can handle that.”
Jared turned his head a little- just a little- to look at Veyga’s profile. It had been by chance that Jared had climbed up on Veyga’s left- he was able to watch that gray eye carefully before asking, “What happened back there?”
“I don’t know. I can’t explain. I can’t even tell you how it happened, or why.”
Something had clearly happened. Jared sighed a little and shrugged carefully, grabbing a nearby branch to keep his balance. He’d never been one for climbing in trees. “There comes a time in every man’s life when he can’t be that little bug anymore, Arius. Maybe it’s when he becomes a husband, or a father. Or when he becomes a leader, or even when he realizes he just has to step up and quit being that little bug.”
A little chuckle. “You’re so tender, but so unyielding at the same time.”
“I try.”
Veyga turned his head a little too, meeting Jared’s gaze. “I’m a coward, to run from this. How can I ask those men to swear their troth to me when at the first sign of…?” He hesitated, and Jared would have given anything to be able to read the thoughts flashing behind that gray eye. “At the first sign of something not as I expected it to be, I run away?”
“Sometimes the best defense is to run away and regroup, Arius. Every good general knows that.”
“You’re just trying to make me feel better.”
“Probably.”
Veyga laughed with a little more humor this time. “Thank you, Jared.”
Jared carefully eased away from the trunk. “I’m going to head back, and get things in hand if that’s all right with you. Will you come back when you are ready?”
Veyga nodded, steady stare returning to the valley and the mountains beyond. Somewhere out there was Polien. He knew that if nothing else, he had to reach Polien.
Jared carefully levered himself back down through the branches, until he had to drop the rest of the way out of the tree, trying to use the thick trunk to steady himself as he went. He dusted himself off and glanced one more time up at the quiet young man, then mounted and turned his gelding back to the camp.
Bard’an and the two women were in folding chairs beneath an open-walled tent, out of the warming sun, talking quietly. They looked up at Jared’s approach, and the same boy from earlier dashed up to take his horse’s reins. Jared waved off one of the mercenaries who offered to bring another chair, and folded his legs beneath him at the edge of the tent, resting his wrists across his knees. Bard’an gave him a cautious look. “Will he be returning?”
Jared nodded. “He will. He needs a little time alone right now. He is still recovering, from the Sa’san. I’m afraid it will be a few days until he’s fully on his feet again.” Hopefully that was fairly close to the truth; it sounded good anyhow.
The Captain approached on foot, saluting Jared. “My Lord Holt, is there something I can do for Master Veyga?”
Jared studied him closely. The Captain looked a little frantic around the eyes, in spite of his steady face. “No, he’s all right. He just needs a little quiet right now.” It wasn’t his imagination that the crease between the Captain’s heavy brows relaxed, and the straight slash of his shoulders eased a little as well. “It’s been a trying few days for Master Veyga, and I fear your candid dedication to him quite overwhelmed him. He’s thankful for your troth, and you did nothing wrong, but a fortnight ago Master Veyga wasn’t even sure he’d be alive today. I’m sure you can understand how that could feel.”
The Captain snapped off another salute. “Please, my Lord Holt, call for me when he is ready.”
Jared nodded, and the Captain returned to his men. He felt someone staring, and turned his head to meet the gaze of the palace record keeper. She didn’t say a word, but soon enough she was looking away, and Jared was certain her gaze was arrowed in on Veyga’s exact position. She started to get up, and Jared held a hand out. “I wouldn’t, record keeper. He needs a little privacy right now, more than you can imagine.” She settled back into her seat, but her gaze never wavered.
“My Lord Holt, were you present for the Sa’san?”
He turned his attention to the priestess, frowning a little. “I was.”
“Will you tell me about it? Bard’an was there, of course, but he was near the front of the room and missed much of it due to the crowd. Did you have a better vantage point?”
Jared had nearly dashed up the aisle at Veyga’s first whimper after donning the helmet, and even High Lord Gregor had not ordered him back. He had watched Jared instead, his gaze considering, as he questioned the younger man kneeling before him. Every cry, every wail, every murmur, had made Jared flinch. He had been right there, almost close enough to touch, with Rayna at his side, watching for the two marks it had taken to complete the Sa’san. They had rushed forward when the helmet had been removed, but not quick enough to catch Veyga as he had collapsed on his side, mouth working and eye staring sightlessly. Jared had worked incredibly hard to keep his face blank as he’d helped Rayna to pull Veyga up enough to drape his arms across their shoulders. She hadn’t bothered, and had glared daggers at the High Lord and the two guards who had been ordered to hold Veyga. The room had been silent except for Veyga’s agonized wheezing as they had carried him out. “I’m sure I can’t” -won’t- “tell you anything you don’t already know.”
She sniffed imperiously and tipped her chin up, looking down her nose at him. He could have laughed, if there had really been any hilarity in the situation. “What I don’t understand is how does the Sa’san even work? I don’t see why a man should be absolved of all of his sins just because he admits them in public. That simply makes no sense.”
Jared glanced at the record keeper, curious if she would comment, but she just kept staring in Veyga’s direction. He shrugged. “I probably know less than you. Master Veyga tried to explain it, but I’m not sure he knew much more than me. Record Keeper Farstreak, do you know anything more?”
The record keeper jumped. “What?”
“We were discussing the Sa’san.” Jared met her eyes steadily, and she shrugged a little, uncomfortable. Satisfied that he had made a point to her, Jared wondered for a moment if he could talk Veyga into teaching him the trick of his own impressive stare. How did a man do it, with just one eye? Or was that the trick?
The record keeper apparently got the message, because she left off staring towards Veyga and smiled prettily at Jared. “The Sa’san. Oh, I can’t believe it even happened! What a miracle, in my lifetime. I wish I had witnesses it for myself.” She gave a little pout with those full lips. She missed Jared’s frown as she continued. “It’s been more than a hundred years since the last demand, and I don’t think that time it was even granted. If you’re not an Anyonian citizen, it doesn’t have to be granted.”
Jared shivered. He hadn’t known that detail. It might have a little luck on Veyga’s part then that the High Lord had apparently considered Ragged Valley within the borders on Anyon, fealty or not.
“Well how does it work then, Mel’awn?” The priestess had recovered from her snit, she was all goggle-eyes now as she leaned forward in her seat, fascination on her face.
The record keeper shrugged charmingly. “No one is quite completely sure. There are a few fragments of records, but the Sa’san is older even than Anyon. We’re not even sure what kind of metal it’s made from, but it shows not a bit of wear for its age, so it must be something we’ve never seen.”
Jared remembered the helmet. It had looked like a simple conical silver cap, engraved with strange symbols. Nothing else had seemed extraordinary about it, but he’d seen the results first hand.
“Regardless, it’s an object of magic and it works, and that’s about all we know.”
“Well-. But why can be a man be freed of his crimes just for wearing a silly hat?”
Mel’awn laughed. “It’s certainly not just a silly hat, Feyona. And a man isn’t just ‘freed’ from his crimes. They are absolved, that’s certain, but for every crime a man commits, that ‘silly hat’ tears a man’s soul apart just a little bit. That’s why I’m so amazed that our Master Veyga survived it. I know about the list of his crimes, I helped to print the scrolls. Such a very long list.” She swallowed hard, but there was a gleam in her eye that made Jared nervous. “And the Sa’san only frees a man who truly committed those crimes for a greater good. If he were just a simple criminal, just a bad person, then the Sa’san would have killed him. The records indicate that several men that have died during the Sa’san had their brains melted in their skulls.” She shivered a little, but that gleam was a little stronger too. “We’re also not sure where the Sa’san came from originally. It could have been made in the Dawn of Time, for all we know. I want to know how Master Veyga knew about it- very few do. I didn’t even know until I was put on the case soon after his demand. We had to scramble to find all the records on it. If the High Lord Gregor had not already known what it was and where we needed to look, it would have taken full moonturns to find everything.”
Jared looked up at the sound of an approaching horse. He watched as Smoke picked his way down the little slope, was stopped by a sentry, and then turned away from their group and toward a little grove of trees nearby. A movement to their left caught Jared’s eye, and he glanced over to see Captain Farstreak at full alert, watching Smoke carefully. There was no way the man could have heard Veyga’s approach from where he was, so how had he known? Was it just happenstance, or was it something more?
Mel’awn was on her feet, and Jared caught her wrist when she would have walked past. She glanced down at him curiously and he shook his head. “Not now, Record Keeper.” She frowned and jerked her arm away from it, stumbling a little when he quickly released her. Now all three of them were staring at Smoke, and Jared stood, brushing off the seat of his breeches. “Please, let him be for a little longer. When he is ready, he will come and speak with you.”
The priestess and Bard’an nodded concurrence without hesitation, but Mel’awn scowled as she dropped back into her chair. Jared found some small satisfaction when the foldable chair wobbled beneath her and she gasped. He turned to meet Smoke on his own.
Veyga could feel Captain Farstreak nearby. It was like a little buzzing in the back of his head, nagging at him. He purposely did not look in the direction the buzzing was from, and headed toward the little copse of trees where the sentry had directed him. Smoke picked his way neatly down the little slope and into the trees, then into a small tidy clearing where a tent was being erected hastily by three mercenaries. They looked up when he neared, then snapped a salute and at his tired nod finished their job. He waited to dismount, not certain his legs would hold him. There was no sense in giving anyone any ideas about his lack of strength.
The three mercenaries were just tying off the last guideline for the tent when Jared approached on foot. He stood at Veyga’s left stirrup watching as they snapped another salute and hurried away. It was just the two of them for a few moments, and Jared placed hand on Veyga’s leg and stared up at him with a question in his eyes.
Veyga sighed deeply. “I’m not sure I can get down without falling.”
Jared grinned a little, stepping back. “I’ll catch you.”
Veyga laughed, but glanced around to be sure they were still alone and then forced his leg over the cantle of the saddle and slid down. As he’d expected, his knees buckled, but Jared was there to catch his arm and help him find his feet. With a thankful look, Veyga forced his legs to cooperate and hold him up on his own. Jared stepped back just in time as several more mercenaries hurried into the little clearing, burdened with a cot, bundles of bedding, and even a foldable table and washstand. One of them men came up to them and saluted before unfolding the chair he carried and setting up right beside them. He saluted again. “Master Veyga, Captain Farstreak thought you might appreciate a seat while your tent is set up.”
Veyga shared a wry look with Jared, but inside he quailed a little. And how, exactly, had Captain Farstreak known that? “Thank you.” He suspected that it had something to do with what had happened when he’d placed his hand on Captain Farstreak’s curls.
Veyga slowly lowered himself into the chair. Jared was right at his side, not close enough to make it obvious that Veyga might need help, but close enough that if he did collapse he’d at least have help. Once he was settled into the chair Jared took a place on his right, directly within Veyga’s blind spot. It was reassuring to have someone he trusted there.
Soon enough the mercenaries cleared out, and the one who had brought the chair came to stand before them again, snapping another salute. “Master Veyga, your camp is complete. If there is anything else you need, please don’t hesitate to ask. We are setting sentries, five at a time for now.”
“What is your name, soldier?” Veyga nearly tucked his hands beneath his legs, not wanting to touch the man, remembering what had happened with Captain Farstreak.
“Kazadrey, Master Veyga.” He looked a little surprised at the question.
“Thank you Kazadrey. Please, relax and talk with me awhile. What is your role here among the Farstreak Mercenaries?”
“I am just a soldier with the Farstreak Mercenaries, Master Veyga.” The man clearly wanted to salute again, but Veyga had told him to relax. Jared looked him over closely, wondering at Veyga’s questions. The soldier was of an average height and weight, plain even features, short brown hair and brown eyes. He could blend in among a small crowd, and the eye would probably pass right over him. There was literally nothing about the man to make him distinctive.
“Can you read, Kazadrey?” Veyga’s tone was mild.
The soldier nodded hesitantly. “A little, Master Veyga.”
“All right. Thank you, you are dismissed.”
The man did salute then before walking away. Again, they were left alone and Veyga relaxed back into his chair carefully. Jared chuckled when he heard a faint rumble. “Shall I see what I can dig up for you to eat?”
He earned a sharp look for that, but also a grudging nod. “I’d appreciate that. I think this gods-awful hunger has something to do with the Sa’san, with the Searing.”
Jared stepped around to stand in front of Veyga, dropping to his haunches and catching that gray gaze directly. “The what?”
Veyga’s brow furrowed. “The Searing. Now where did that come from?” Strange ideas were still popping up, still surprising him. Unfortunately, a description did not accompany the term, and he still didn’t know what the Searing was, just that it was associated with the Sa’san. There had been a brief hint when he had been speaking, but as soon as he concentrated on it, it slipped out of his reach. “Jared, do me a favor. If you notice something like that, something slipping out, pay attention to what happens, and let me know later. I’m afraid that I may be going a little mad.” He laughed a little, but the sound was stressed and forced.
“The record keeper knows a little about the Sa’san, Arius. It might be best to ask her what she knows.”
Veyga nodded, but his gaze was turned inward and Jared wasn’t sure he really heard. Jared shook his head and stood, determined to find a meal for his friend. Fortunately, he didn’t have far to go, as one of the sentries just outside the thicket of trees eagerly took over the task.
Veyga had disappeared into the tent when Jared returned, and he scratched on the outside. When no answer came, he lifted the flap over the doorway and ducked his head inside. The younger man was stretched out on the cot, one knee bent with his foot on the ground, and his arm up over his eyes. He’d loosened the laces on his shirt, and his scabbard was laid out across the foldable table, the belt wrapped around it. Jared hesitated for a moment, and then cleared his throat.
“Food is coming, Arius. Should I keep everyone clear for the rest of the day?”
Veyga mumbled something, and Jared couldn’t quite hear. He stepped inside the tent. “Arius?” No response. “Arius?” He crouched beside the cot, reaching a hand out to gently touch the man’s arm. No fever, at least. But no response either. Then a soft snore escaped between Veyga’s lips, and Jared chuckled softly, sagging in relief. He would let the young man sleep, at least until the food came.
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Veyga glared a little at that, and Bard’an cleared his throat. “Good morn, my Lord Holt, Master Veyga.”
Jared hid a smile by wiping his mouth, but Veyga looked appeased at least. The younger man had woken in a foul mood, and no amount of gentle cajoling from Jared had helped to improve it. Maybe it was because Veyga had slept too late for a proper meal to break his fast, and had had to make do with stale biscuits and a small handful of cold sausages. Jared suspected that Veyga would have eaten a cow whole if one had happened to wander by.
“A few more than you had mentioned, Bard’an.” Veyga looked out over the little valley, where easily two hundred mercenaries were camped. The older man shifted in his saddle, but didn’t drop his eyes.
“I never specifically mentioned numbers, my- er- Master Veyga. If you came to different conclusions, then I apologize.”
Another quicksilver glare, and then Veyga was wiping his face blank as a few more riders approached. Jared suppressed another smile. Bard’an would do well once he got over his awe.
Veyga watched the approaching riders closely, turning Smoke a little to keep Bard’an in the corner of his left eye. He had admitted to Jared that one disadvantage to his eye patch was a blind spot on his right side, and he rarely liked having anyone there. Jared tried to gauge where that place was, and he tried to keep the ‘hole’ plugged with his own body.
Three more horses, one a rangy long-legged pale gray stallion with a darker mane and tail that blew nervously toward Smoke. This one reached them first, and the man on the back of the gray saluted Veyga in the way of mercenaries, his left fist crossed over his chest. “Lord Veyga welcome, my name is Jiasin Farstreak, and I am the Captain of this mercenary band. We would pledge our troth to you, if you would have it.”
Veyga nodded solemnly. When would these fools quit calling him a Lord? If he hadn’t been hung for treason already, it didn’t mean he couldn’t be in the future. He gave the Captain a quick once-over, noting the mane of riotous black curls for caught up at his nape with a leather thong. Calm brown eyes that didn’t quite meet his own, a plain face except for an equally unruly beard several inches thick. The man was probably huge off his horse. His biceps were the size of tree trunks and his large scarred hands looked like they could crush a man’s skull. He handled his horse well though, even though the stallion was rolling his eyes at Smoke who was prancing and blowing hard. Veyga applied a little pressure with his heels, and Smoke settled somewhat.
The second rider was just a step ahead of the third, both women on near-matching calm nondescript brown mares. That was where the similarities ended. The first woman was tall and lean, boyish almost, in the plain light green robes of a priestess. It had been so long since Veyga had seen a priestess that he was nearly taken aback. She met his gaze with a curious one of her own, but her washed-out blue eyes were serious. The priestess wore her hood up, and all of her hair was tucked under a green scarf.
The third rider was something else altogether. She must be the record keeper, with her ink-stained fingers, but there was nothing else studious about her with her curvy, compact figure and her short cap of dark brown curls as rebellious as Captain Farstreak’s. Her brown eyes flashed defiantly as she eyed Veyga from tip to toe, a satisfied smile curving lush lips beneath a pert nose. This one would be trouble, and Veyga would stake his life on it. She already had her velvety eyes pinned him, and not a flicker toward any of the other men, including Jared. To top it all off, she wore men’s gray breeches and a short waist-length gray coat over a white blouse. The fabric clearly hugged every curve, and she was certainly aware of it.
Veyga suppressed a shiver as she continued to eye him, feeling like the canary to her cat. Even Rayna had never given him looks quite that heated. He gave her what he hoped was a quelling stare, but she just smiled smugly, her gaze not wavering. She would bear close watching.
Captain Farstreak motioned sharply to the two women as they reined in beside them. “My Lord Veyga, this is Priestess Feyona Rasha, and Palace Record Keeper Mel’awn Farstreak.” Veyga nodded to each of the women, noting the shared name.
“My Lord Veyga, I understand that you have restricted us to no more than two score soldiers,” a brief tightening of the Captain’s mouth showed his displeasure, “so I have taken the liberty of hand-selecting some soldiers for your review. If you would give me the honor my Lord Veyga, this way please.” He turned his stallion’s head toward the far north of the encampment, and sharing a quiet look with Jared, Veyga turned Smoke to follow. Jared was sure to keep his gelding close to Smoke’s right flank, especially when that smug record keeper tried to knee her mare up closer to Veyga.
They skirted around the outside edge of the encampment, and the soldiers below them quieted as they passed. When they neared a smaller group set off a little ways from the rest of the group, those soldiers scrambled forward to fall into place shoulder to shoulder in four smart rows at salute, their left fists thrust to their right shoulders. It looked like pains had been made to clean them up, and each man wore clothing in a similar shade of gray; as close to a uniform as many mercenaries were willing to get.
Captain Farstreak halted close before them. “Salute!” Barely a man moved, having already fallen into formation. “My Lord Veyga, before you are the best of the Farstreak Mercenaries.” He called off their names, and as the Captain announced each one, they dropped to one knee, bowing their head. Veyga let the names wash over him for now; he would learn later, when he could remember a face to go with each name. As he looked out over the precise lines of men, he blinked. Most of them were suddenly outlined by the strange auras he’d seen before, at Wensellas Manor. Only a few were not, and he glanced out across the rest of the camp, where he saw only a few more men with the aura, those standing out clearly even among the other eight score men.
Captain Farstreak dismounted from his stallion, casually passing his reins off to a young boy that ran up to take them, then he bent his own knee in salute as well. “My Lord Veyga-.”
“Captain Farstreak, I must interrupt before your troth. I realize that it is in poor manners, but I must insist.” He had to put a stop to this Lord business now.
“First of all, I would to change a few of your choices. Most of these men are suitable, but there are a few I ask that you change.” He pointed out the half a dozen men who were not currently wrapped with the silvery blue light, and then turned to peruse the main part of the camp. He described the half a dozen men among the eight score as well he could, hopeful that that would be sufficient. For whatever reason, he was completely certain the changes had to be made.
The Captain was red-faced, but from his blank face it was impossible to tell if he was furious or embarrassed. “As you wish it, my Lord Veyga.”
“Next, I am not a Lord, Captain Farstreak. If rumor has not reached this far,” the twist of his lips showed how much he doubted that, “then you will know that I was nearly hanged for treason, for declaring myself at a rank I had not earned. I would prefer to avoid that noose in the future, if at all possible.” He worked hard to keep the tone of his voice dry. No one here needed to know how much the idea terrified him. Jared knew, and that was enough.
The Captain was pale now, face completely bloodless. He didn’t stammer, though, and Veyga was willing to give him credit for that. “My sincerest apologies, my L- er-, Master Veyga.”
“Accepted. Continue, Captain Farstreak.” He swung carefully from Smoke’s saddle, passing the reins to the same boy who was holding the Captain’s stallion. The boy eyed the two stallions who were watching each other cautiously. Veyga strode forward until he was standing just in front of the Captain, and when the Captain made his troth, he placed his palm on the back of the man’s head. The Captain jumped a little, but then relaxed visibly beneath the touch. Veyga wasn’t sure exactly why he had been drawn to do that, and a little frown creased his brow as he stared down at his hand, pressed lightly into the black curls, soft curls, springing up to wrap around his fingers. What was he doing? Something… strange. He could feel the Tendrils flowing from him. Wait… Tendrils? Of what? They slid from his chest and through his shoulder, down his arm and into his hand. From there, he could almost see a warm blue-silver light flood across those curls, dancing around his fingers, and settling into the Captain’s head. His voice was only a whisper. “I accept your troth.”
Veyga looked up, to stare blankly at Jared, who was frowning softly at him. With a start, he lifted his hand from the Captain’s head and took a stumbling step back. The Captain looked up at him then, and Veyga was certain that he saw that strange silver-blue light flicker in the man’s eyes before he met Veyga’s gray stare with complete adoration and respect. “I thank you, Master Veyga. I will defend to the death.”
Veyga’s heart stuttered, and he spun on his heel, yanking his reins from the boy’s hand and scrambling into his saddle. With a shout, he kicked his heels sharply into Storm’s ribs and the stallion squealed as he dug his hooves in and threw off clods of dirt as he galloped up the little hill and over the edge.
Everyone was just staring, stunned. Captain Farstreak had surged to his feet, looking off in the direction Veyga had gone, and Jared glanced one more time at him, questioning, weighing, before turning his own gelding. “Wait here.” Thrown over his shoulder, his order was clear as he cantered after the younger man.
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Veyga didn’t look down from his perch when Jared rode up below him. He ignored him pointedly, desiring nothing more than to be left alone. But he knew Jared had a stubborn streak; after all, he’d married Eithna. “What do you want, Jared? Leave me be.”
“You know I won’t do that, Arius. Will you come down, so we can talk?”
Arius dropped his head back against the tree trunk at his back, dropping his hand from the grip on the branch above him. “I’d rather not.”
A heavy sigh from below, and then some scrambling and cursing, and then Jared’s head popped up beside Veyga’s thigh where it was stretched out along the heavy heart-branch. “Move off, let me up.”
With a wry twist to his lips, Veyga scooted as far as he was able, and Jared pulled himself up on another heart-branch beside him. Shoulders touching, they sat in the tree spans above the ground. Then Jared breathed deeply. “Wow.”
Veyga only nodded, returning his gaze out across the valley spread before them. The massive oak he’d climbed had grown almost to the edge of a cliff with a drop of several hundred spans. The view was breathtaking, out across that valley with a shining ribbon of water weaving from one end to the other. They could see for miles and miles, all the way out to the mountains in the distance, pale purple and wreathed in mist. It would take nearly a full span of seasons to reach those mountains, and here they were with a view all the way across.
“I like to get up high sometimes. It’s strange, I suppose, but being all the way up here makes me feel small, and it helps me to put the rest of the world into perspective. I’m just a little bug; I’m not important to the bigger picture. If I were to be stepped on tomorrow, it would be okay, and the world would spin on without me.”
Jared grunted. “That makes sense, actually.”
A long pause, then a deep sigh. “It’s been a philosophy I’ve kept all my life. But now I’m not so sure; I’m not feeling much like a little bug anymore, Jared. I’m not certain I can handle that.”
Jared turned his head a little- just a little- to look at Veyga’s profile. It had been by chance that Jared had climbed up on Veyga’s left- he was able to watch that gray eye carefully before asking, “What happened back there?”
“I don’t know. I can’t explain. I can’t even tell you how it happened, or why.”
Something had clearly happened. Jared sighed a little and shrugged carefully, grabbing a nearby branch to keep his balance. He’d never been one for climbing in trees. “There comes a time in every man’s life when he can’t be that little bug anymore, Arius. Maybe it’s when he becomes a husband, or a father. Or when he becomes a leader, or even when he realizes he just has to step up and quit being that little bug.”
A little chuckle. “You’re so tender, but so unyielding at the same time.”
“I try.”
Veyga turned his head a little too, meeting Jared’s gaze. “I’m a coward, to run from this. How can I ask those men to swear their troth to me when at the first sign of…?” He hesitated, and Jared would have given anything to be able to read the thoughts flashing behind that gray eye. “At the first sign of something not as I expected it to be, I run away?”
“Sometimes the best defense is to run away and regroup, Arius. Every good general knows that.”
“You’re just trying to make me feel better.”
“Probably.”
Veyga laughed with a little more humor this time. “Thank you, Jared.”
Jared carefully eased away from the trunk. “I’m going to head back, and get things in hand if that’s all right with you. Will you come back when you are ready?”
Veyga nodded, steady stare returning to the valley and the mountains beyond. Somewhere out there was Polien. He knew that if nothing else, he had to reach Polien.
Jared carefully levered himself back down through the branches, until he had to drop the rest of the way out of the tree, trying to use the thick trunk to steady himself as he went. He dusted himself off and glanced one more time up at the quiet young man, then mounted and turned his gelding back to the camp.
Bard’an and the two women were in folding chairs beneath an open-walled tent, out of the warming sun, talking quietly. They looked up at Jared’s approach, and the same boy from earlier dashed up to take his horse’s reins. Jared waved off one of the mercenaries who offered to bring another chair, and folded his legs beneath him at the edge of the tent, resting his wrists across his knees. Bard’an gave him a cautious look. “Will he be returning?”
Jared nodded. “He will. He needs a little time alone right now. He is still recovering, from the Sa’san. I’m afraid it will be a few days until he’s fully on his feet again.” Hopefully that was fairly close to the truth; it sounded good anyhow.
The Captain approached on foot, saluting Jared. “My Lord Holt, is there something I can do for Master Veyga?”
Jared studied him closely. The Captain looked a little frantic around the eyes, in spite of his steady face. “No, he’s all right. He just needs a little quiet right now.” It wasn’t his imagination that the crease between the Captain’s heavy brows relaxed, and the straight slash of his shoulders eased a little as well. “It’s been a trying few days for Master Veyga, and I fear your candid dedication to him quite overwhelmed him. He’s thankful for your troth, and you did nothing wrong, but a fortnight ago Master Veyga wasn’t even sure he’d be alive today. I’m sure you can understand how that could feel.”
The Captain snapped off another salute. “Please, my Lord Holt, call for me when he is ready.”
Jared nodded, and the Captain returned to his men. He felt someone staring, and turned his head to meet the gaze of the palace record keeper. She didn’t say a word, but soon enough she was looking away, and Jared was certain her gaze was arrowed in on Veyga’s exact position. She started to get up, and Jared held a hand out. “I wouldn’t, record keeper. He needs a little privacy right now, more than you can imagine.” She settled back into her seat, but her gaze never wavered.
“My Lord Holt, were you present for the Sa’san?”
He turned his attention to the priestess, frowning a little. “I was.”
“Will you tell me about it? Bard’an was there, of course, but he was near the front of the room and missed much of it due to the crowd. Did you have a better vantage point?”
Jared had nearly dashed up the aisle at Veyga’s first whimper after donning the helmet, and even High Lord Gregor had not ordered him back. He had watched Jared instead, his gaze considering, as he questioned the younger man kneeling before him. Every cry, every wail, every murmur, had made Jared flinch. He had been right there, almost close enough to touch, with Rayna at his side, watching for the two marks it had taken to complete the Sa’san. They had rushed forward when the helmet had been removed, but not quick enough to catch Veyga as he had collapsed on his side, mouth working and eye staring sightlessly. Jared had worked incredibly hard to keep his face blank as he’d helped Rayna to pull Veyga up enough to drape his arms across their shoulders. She hadn’t bothered, and had glared daggers at the High Lord and the two guards who had been ordered to hold Veyga. The room had been silent except for Veyga’s agonized wheezing as they had carried him out. “I’m sure I can’t” -won’t- “tell you anything you don’t already know.”
She sniffed imperiously and tipped her chin up, looking down her nose at him. He could have laughed, if there had really been any hilarity in the situation. “What I don’t understand is how does the Sa’san even work? I don’t see why a man should be absolved of all of his sins just because he admits them in public. That simply makes no sense.”
Jared glanced at the record keeper, curious if she would comment, but she just kept staring in Veyga’s direction. He shrugged. “I probably know less than you. Master Veyga tried to explain it, but I’m not sure he knew much more than me. Record Keeper Farstreak, do you know anything more?”
The record keeper jumped. “What?”
“We were discussing the Sa’san.” Jared met her eyes steadily, and she shrugged a little, uncomfortable. Satisfied that he had made a point to her, Jared wondered for a moment if he could talk Veyga into teaching him the trick of his own impressive stare. How did a man do it, with just one eye? Or was that the trick?
The record keeper apparently got the message, because she left off staring towards Veyga and smiled prettily at Jared. “The Sa’san. Oh, I can’t believe it even happened! What a miracle, in my lifetime. I wish I had witnesses it for myself.” She gave a little pout with those full lips. She missed Jared’s frown as she continued. “It’s been more than a hundred years since the last demand, and I don’t think that time it was even granted. If you’re not an Anyonian citizen, it doesn’t have to be granted.”
Jared shivered. He hadn’t known that detail. It might have a little luck on Veyga’s part then that the High Lord had apparently considered Ragged Valley within the borders on Anyon, fealty or not.
“Well how does it work then, Mel’awn?” The priestess had recovered from her snit, she was all goggle-eyes now as she leaned forward in her seat, fascination on her face.
The record keeper shrugged charmingly. “No one is quite completely sure. There are a few fragments of records, but the Sa’san is older even than Anyon. We’re not even sure what kind of metal it’s made from, but it shows not a bit of wear for its age, so it must be something we’ve never seen.”
Jared remembered the helmet. It had looked like a simple conical silver cap, engraved with strange symbols. Nothing else had seemed extraordinary about it, but he’d seen the results first hand.
“Regardless, it’s an object of magic and it works, and that’s about all we know.”
“Well-. But why can be a man be freed of his crimes just for wearing a silly hat?”
Mel’awn laughed. “It’s certainly not just a silly hat, Feyona. And a man isn’t just ‘freed’ from his crimes. They are absolved, that’s certain, but for every crime a man commits, that ‘silly hat’ tears a man’s soul apart just a little bit. That’s why I’m so amazed that our Master Veyga survived it. I know about the list of his crimes, I helped to print the scrolls. Such a very long list.” She swallowed hard, but there was a gleam in her eye that made Jared nervous. “And the Sa’san only frees a man who truly committed those crimes for a greater good. If he were just a simple criminal, just a bad person, then the Sa’san would have killed him. The records indicate that several men that have died during the Sa’san had their brains melted in their skulls.” She shivered a little, but that gleam was a little stronger too. “We’re also not sure where the Sa’san came from originally. It could have been made in the Dawn of Time, for all we know. I want to know how Master Veyga knew about it- very few do. I didn’t even know until I was put on the case soon after his demand. We had to scramble to find all the records on it. If the High Lord Gregor had not already known what it was and where we needed to look, it would have taken full moonturns to find everything.”
Jared looked up at the sound of an approaching horse. He watched as Smoke picked his way down the little slope, was stopped by a sentry, and then turned away from their group and toward a little grove of trees nearby. A movement to their left caught Jared’s eye, and he glanced over to see Captain Farstreak at full alert, watching Smoke carefully. There was no way the man could have heard Veyga’s approach from where he was, so how had he known? Was it just happenstance, or was it something more?
Mel’awn was on her feet, and Jared caught her wrist when she would have walked past. She glanced down at him curiously and he shook his head. “Not now, Record Keeper.” She frowned and jerked her arm away from it, stumbling a little when he quickly released her. Now all three of them were staring at Smoke, and Jared stood, brushing off the seat of his breeches. “Please, let him be for a little longer. When he is ready, he will come and speak with you.”
The priestess and Bard’an nodded concurrence without hesitation, but Mel’awn scowled as she dropped back into her chair. Jared found some small satisfaction when the foldable chair wobbled beneath her and she gasped. He turned to meet Smoke on his own.
Veyga could feel Captain Farstreak nearby. It was like a little buzzing in the back of his head, nagging at him. He purposely did not look in the direction the buzzing was from, and headed toward the little copse of trees where the sentry had directed him. Smoke picked his way neatly down the little slope and into the trees, then into a small tidy clearing where a tent was being erected hastily by three mercenaries. They looked up when he neared, then snapped a salute and at his tired nod finished their job. He waited to dismount, not certain his legs would hold him. There was no sense in giving anyone any ideas about his lack of strength.
The three mercenaries were just tying off the last guideline for the tent when Jared approached on foot. He stood at Veyga’s left stirrup watching as they snapped another salute and hurried away. It was just the two of them for a few moments, and Jared placed hand on Veyga’s leg and stared up at him with a question in his eyes.
Veyga sighed deeply. “I’m not sure I can get down without falling.”
Jared grinned a little, stepping back. “I’ll catch you.”
Veyga laughed, but glanced around to be sure they were still alone and then forced his leg over the cantle of the saddle and slid down. As he’d expected, his knees buckled, but Jared was there to catch his arm and help him find his feet. With a thankful look, Veyga forced his legs to cooperate and hold him up on his own. Jared stepped back just in time as several more mercenaries hurried into the little clearing, burdened with a cot, bundles of bedding, and even a foldable table and washstand. One of them men came up to them and saluted before unfolding the chair he carried and setting up right beside them. He saluted again. “Master Veyga, Captain Farstreak thought you might appreciate a seat while your tent is set up.”
Veyga shared a wry look with Jared, but inside he quailed a little. And how, exactly, had Captain Farstreak known that? “Thank you.” He suspected that it had something to do with what had happened when he’d placed his hand on Captain Farstreak’s curls.
Veyga slowly lowered himself into the chair. Jared was right at his side, not close enough to make it obvious that Veyga might need help, but close enough that if he did collapse he’d at least have help. Once he was settled into the chair Jared took a place on his right, directly within Veyga’s blind spot. It was reassuring to have someone he trusted there.
Soon enough the mercenaries cleared out, and the one who had brought the chair came to stand before them again, snapping another salute. “Master Veyga, your camp is complete. If there is anything else you need, please don’t hesitate to ask. We are setting sentries, five at a time for now.”
“What is your name, soldier?” Veyga nearly tucked his hands beneath his legs, not wanting to touch the man, remembering what had happened with Captain Farstreak.
“Kazadrey, Master Veyga.” He looked a little surprised at the question.
“Thank you Kazadrey. Please, relax and talk with me awhile. What is your role here among the Farstreak Mercenaries?”
“I am just a soldier with the Farstreak Mercenaries, Master Veyga.” The man clearly wanted to salute again, but Veyga had told him to relax. Jared looked him over closely, wondering at Veyga’s questions. The soldier was of an average height and weight, plain even features, short brown hair and brown eyes. He could blend in among a small crowd, and the eye would probably pass right over him. There was literally nothing about the man to make him distinctive.
“Can you read, Kazadrey?” Veyga’s tone was mild.
The soldier nodded hesitantly. “A little, Master Veyga.”
“All right. Thank you, you are dismissed.”
The man did salute then before walking away. Again, they were left alone and Veyga relaxed back into his chair carefully. Jared chuckled when he heard a faint rumble. “Shall I see what I can dig up for you to eat?”
He earned a sharp look for that, but also a grudging nod. “I’d appreciate that. I think this gods-awful hunger has something to do with the Sa’san, with the Searing.”
Jared stepped around to stand in front of Veyga, dropping to his haunches and catching that gray gaze directly. “The what?”
Veyga’s brow furrowed. “The Searing. Now where did that come from?” Strange ideas were still popping up, still surprising him. Unfortunately, a description did not accompany the term, and he still didn’t know what the Searing was, just that it was associated with the Sa’san. There had been a brief hint when he had been speaking, but as soon as he concentrated on it, it slipped out of his reach. “Jared, do me a favor. If you notice something like that, something slipping out, pay attention to what happens, and let me know later. I’m afraid that I may be going a little mad.” He laughed a little, but the sound was stressed and forced.
“The record keeper knows a little about the Sa’san, Arius. It might be best to ask her what she knows.”
Veyga nodded, but his gaze was turned inward and Jared wasn’t sure he really heard. Jared shook his head and stood, determined to find a meal for his friend. Fortunately, he didn’t have far to go, as one of the sentries just outside the thicket of trees eagerly took over the task.
Veyga had disappeared into the tent when Jared returned, and he scratched on the outside. When no answer came, he lifted the flap over the doorway and ducked his head inside. The younger man was stretched out on the cot, one knee bent with his foot on the ground, and his arm up over his eyes. He’d loosened the laces on his shirt, and his scabbard was laid out across the foldable table, the belt wrapped around it. Jared hesitated for a moment, and then cleared his throat.
“Food is coming, Arius. Should I keep everyone clear for the rest of the day?”
Veyga mumbled something, and Jared couldn’t quite hear. He stepped inside the tent. “Arius?” No response. “Arius?” He crouched beside the cot, reaching a hand out to gently touch the man’s arm. No fever, at least. But no response either. Then a soft snore escaped between Veyga’s lips, and Jared chuckled softly, sagging in relief. He would let the young man sleep, at least until the food came.
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