Chapter Seven: When We Met

Raimie

The patter of distant water droplets in a deep quiet was the first thing I registered when I woke up. For a moment, I simply breathed into this hush, wrapped in the pleasant disbelief that I’d survived. Questions were held at bay until I’d finished with this marvel of life that I’d been given.

This took me quite a while as intermingled with my wonder was dread. I remembered everything that had happened, which meant I remembered every consequence spawned from a disastrous afternoon spent in a lovely village, now forever gone.

Alouin, the pain of that would haunt me forever, wouldn’t it?

Lifting my hands above my face, I pried my eyes open, squinting until they’d adjusted to the bright light. How badly mangled was I?

When my vision cleared, I frowned.

Bandages coated my hands, blocking my view of the blackened skin surely lying beneath. Someone must have treated my wounds, which made sense. When I’d woken up, debilitating pain hadn’t been clawing at me. Instead, there was only an annoying discomfort and a few spots of numbness.

I badly wanted to unwrap those cloth strips so I could see exactly how damaged my hands were in the light of day, but not only was I unsure if I could do that with such limited mobility but it seemed like a bad idea without the permission of the healer who’d placed them. If a healer had done it.

The question of my burns would have to wait, which was fine. I had other matters to address.

Lowering my arms, I blinked, not once tensing, at the two figures that my limbs had been blocking. They leaned over me from opposite sides, and I could swear concern radiated from their non-existent faces. Slits split across those faces, letting their typical buzzing pour forth, but I placidly listened to the noise this time, not once motioning for them to stop.

Why wasn’t I afraid of them now? They’d helped me escape Fissid, sure, but that didn’t explain this new trust or the ease I felt in their presences. Rather than monsters, they seemed like long-absent friends. Why such a drastic change?

“You’re allies, not enemies,” I rasped. “You never meant to hurt me.”

I hadn’t planned for those statements to be questions, and to most people’s ears, they wouldn’t sound as such, but the figures huffed as if insulted. One even crossed its arms while the other jiggled as if it was tapping its foot.

They knew me well enough to pick up on my slightest subtleties. How?

“I’m guessing you two plan to stick around for the foreseeable future,” I said.

Again, not truly a question, but from their shaking shoulders and rhythmic buzzing, so like laughter, I got my answer anyway.

“Then, I need to stop calling you ‘the figures’ in my head. You need names,” I said. “I’m sure you already have those, and I’d love to hear them when I can but in the meantime…”

Chewing on my lip, I bounced my gaze between the two before sighing through my nose.

“When in doubt, go simple,” I murmured.

Pointing as best I could at the figure of light, I said, “Bright.”

And to the shadowed figure, “Dim.”

Squealing—their version of chatter—erupted between the two, and wincing, I blocked my ears with cloth-wrapped skin. I opened my mouth to ask for relief from this when their discord cut off unprompted, and the figures… Bright and Dim stiffened.

Struggling to my elbows, I looked for what might have caused the change, half-expecting to see the monster from before bearing down on me, but besides my two anomalies, nothing out of the ordinary surrounded me or at least, nothing I could see.

I was lounging on a cot in a rectangle of a cave, one that had been converted into a clinic of some sort. More cots formed a neat line to my right with shelves hanging on the opposite wall, full of supplies. A few items I didn’t recognize rested there as well, namely glass tubes with needles jutting out of them.

In addition to that strangeness, the makings of a domicile occupied one corner of the cave. Above this, chunks had been gouged out of the stone, burrowing through it until they reached the outside air. Thin strips of sunlight aided candles and lamps in illuminating the clinic, and on the other side of this rock, water dripped in a steady trickle, the noise that had first woken me up.

This place… something about it echoed in my head like a shout in a cavern while a sense of familiarity, one that was quickly becoming normal, settled over me.

Much like every time I’d encountered the name Auden. Why-?

My ribs chose this moment to remind me of the harm done to them, and hissing, I collapsed, clutching at their sharp ache. Through watering eyes, I watched Bright loosen from the statue it had become before zipping out of my field of view. Meanwhile, Dim flung itself over me with its buzzing becoming a protective hiss. What the hell were they-?

“Who were you talking to?”

Gasping, I forgot about everything that was wrong with me, leaping from the cot in a spin toward the voice. I reached for the sword at my…

There was no sword at my side. I’d never worn a sword.

Frozen, I could only blink until my mind acknowledged the other person in the clinic. Leaning against a door-sized hole in the wall, a man was watching me with his arms crossed and eyebrows raised.

“You shouldn’t be up,” he said.

I, however, was much too preoccupied with this stranger’s appearance to hear what he’d said. Abnormally tall, he tried to diminish this by hunching his body on itself. A stern expression was carved into his pleasant features, although their current state wasn’t helped by how tightly his hair had been pulled back. I noted plain clothes hanging from a limber frame and the fact that Bright had plastered itself to this man, but what sent my thoughts screeching to a stop were the stranger’s eyes.

They were gray. Which was impossible.

Clicking his tongue, the man pushed off of the wall, heading for me, and I scrambled backward, repressing every subdued scream that my body tried to pull out of me.

“Stay back,” I said with my voice shaking. “Just stay… Who are you? Where am I? Where’s-?”

A black cloak billows behind the monster as he lunges into his kick.

Licking my lips, I whispered, “Where’s my dad?”

Was he alive? Had that awful monster killed-?

“Aramar is staying with a few friends at the moment,” the impossible man said. “From what I understand, they had some catching up to do, so I left them to it.”

He took a cautious step toward me, but I copied him backward, nearly tumbling over a cot. Straightening, the stranger held a hand to his lips with his eyes pinching.

“I thought you’d be…” he said. “Huh.”

Shaking now, I screwed my eyes shut, fighting to stay on my feet.

“Stop, stop, stop! I can’t take any more strangeness!” I shouted. “I need something to make sense. Please. Just- tell me what’s going on. Who are you?”

My body had nothing more to give, so my knees buckled, but something caught me, taking my elbows to keep me upright. I snapped my eyes open to a view of gray: impossible, can’t-be-real gray.

“My name is Rhylix, although my friends call me Rhy,” the stranger said, “and you are safe, Raimie of the line of Audish kings.”

Alouin, I wanted to believe that safety was mine, but Dim’s continued hiss at my back and that gray…

That gray I could swear I’d seen before, even though that was imposs-

Why did this place and those eyes seem so familiar, like something from a nightmare…?

And I remembered.

The fever started four days after the accident. Right now, it’s addling me, but I’m cognizant enough to understand what the gray-eyed woman is telling my father.

“The malaise has turnssssssssHas to have been induced by someonessssssssI don’t believe she has much of a chancesssssssShould perform the ritual soon if youssssssssMy magic only holdssssssss.”

The blob that is my father may have shaken with a sob, but it also nods. The world blurs into dreams, and when I wake up again, I climb out of my cot. The cave’s stone floor is cool on my bare feet. I stumble through an open doorway.

Empty corridors pass in a haze, but somehow, I find my mother’s room. Staring at her sweat-soaked face, I watch the rise and fall of her chest, listening to the mumble of fevered words on her lips.

I must have blacked out again because the next thing I know, someone’s hauling me away from the bed, gripping my arms in a vice. My mother bucks and thrashes behind me, and several people have surrounded her, holding her in place.

Hands spin me away from this view.

“WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?” my father roars.

I burst into tears.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to knock mama off of the rope. I didn’t want to die!”

My father’s gaze softens, and he pulls me into a hug. In this cave of safety, I sob into his chest.

“There, there, Raimie. It’s not your fault.”

“Dad?”

I pull free so I can see my father’s face.

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“Is mama going to die?”

A grim expression tells me everything I need to know. My blubbering resumes while shudders wrack my body. Fever hooks its claws into my mind, and everything fuzzes.

‘…been here before?’ I mouthed before speaking aloud. “The Esela aren’t extinct.”

A snort answered me while something clattered to the floor.

“Hardly.”

After a moment, Rhylix leaned over me with something clutched in his fist.

“How do you feel?” he asked.

I was back on the cot with a blanket pulled over me. How had I gotten here? And…

Glancing to either side, I frowned. Where had Bright and Dim gone?

“Raimie?”

Right. The question.

“I’m fine,” I said. “Confused but fine.”

“Wonderful. I can check head injuries off of my list, then. I wasn’t sure for a moment there.”

I winced. My behavior before probably had seemed crazy. For a moment, I’d become like a feral animal.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have exploded on you,” I said. “Can I make it up to you-?”

A crunch interrupted me, whipping my head to Rhylix again. He dug at something in his closed fist before popping it into his mouth. With his brow furrowed, he chewed for a moment before extending what he was holding to me.

“Pistachio? They’re pre-shelled. It’s the last of my stash from when they last came through the tear,” he said. “I’ve been saving them for a special occasion.”

My mouth was gaping open. I knew this, but I couldn’t bring myself to close it. What the hell was this man doing?

Grinning, Rhylix jiggled his fist.

“Come on,” he said. “You must be hungry.”

Hungry was an understatement. Slowly, I lifted a bandaged hand, palm up, and Rhylix shook a few nuts onto it. Now to figure out how I’d get them into my mouth. While that conundrum occupied me, Rhylix walked out of view, to retrieve something presumably.

“You’re a strange one, Raimie of the line of Audish kings,” he said. “And I don’t mean your purported bad behavior from before. The propensity for violence that you showed is normal for me but receiving an apology after the fact? That I’m unused to.”

Dropping a chair beside my cot, Rhylix plopped into it, leaning his arms and chin on its back.

“Also, I wasn’t referring to how you reacted when I mentioned a head injury,” he said. “That was mostly said in jest, although you did pass out for a moment.”

I had? Maybe a spot of unconsciousness explained how I’d gotten on the cot again.

“Funny,” I said.

Chasing nuts around on my palm, I eventually gave up, slapping them into my mouth instead. Rhylix watched this with a faint smile, retaining any offers of help as if he’d known that was what I’d wanted.

Once the snack was gone, he said, “You’re taking the revelation of my people’s existence rather well, all things considering.”

“It’s one of the least strange things I’ve learned recently,” I said. “How should I be acting?”

“Oh, I don’t know.”

Making a face, Rhylix clung to the chair’s back as he dangled away from it.

“Showering me with disdainful comments like ‘gray-eyed bastard’. Looking for a pitchfork. Secretly plotting my death. That sort of thing.”

As Rhylix swung forward once more, beaming, I tried to fit his expectations into what I knew of the Esela and came up blank.

“Why would I do anything like that?” I asked. “The Esela are amazing! I loved stories about them growing up. Is- is it true you can use magic?”

Rhylix’s upbeat countenance fell from him like a stone over a cliff.

“Yes. Illusion work, conjuration or summoning, and shape change,” he said in a hollow voice. “Please don’t ask for a demonstration. I despise Esela magic.”

Yes, I could see that.

“Then, I won’t,” I said. “I was mostly asking because bizarre things have been happening to me lately…”

Why was I sharing this, something that might get me killed, with a relative stranger? People weren’t accepting of oddities in this part of the world.

“You know what? It doesn’t matter. Our world’s second race, long thought vanished, still exists. I’m glad to know it. Makes me curious about other lost phenomena, such as primeancers and the like,” I said, wincing when I thought about what I’d said.

Most people didn’t like to talk about the magic wielders from ages ago.

“But I wondered if we might discuss something else. Namely… where the hell I am and how I’m alive.”

The bare minimum of life returned to Rhylix’s face, and he cocked his head as if deciding which story to tell. An overabundance of giddiness returned to him as he lifted a finger to twirl it.

“You sit in Allanovian, last haven of the Esela in Ada’ir,” he said. “I doubt you’ve heard of it, seeing as how you believed my people were extinct, but I have to ask…”

At his expectant look, I shook my head.

“I thought not. From what your father told me, your homestead lies outside the radius of our typical trading runs,” Rhylix said. “Well, Allanovian is a city burrowed into a mountain, led by a four-person Council. You’ll have to convince them of your worthiness soon, but we’ll get to that in a moment.

“As for how you’re alive, that answer’s simple. I saved you.”

Grinning, he stopped as if that explained everything, and if I weren’t so tired, I might have gotten up to shake the man.

“Care to elaborate?” I drawled.

Rhylix’s smile grew, lengthening until his teeth showed between his lips.

“No,” he said.

“Will you please do so anyway?” I growled.

The smile slipped away, still present but with something infinitely sad behind it now.

“Where should I start?” Rhylix quietly asked.

“I don’t know,” I said. “I was fighting a monster, trying to save my dad’s life, but my story ends there. Must have blacked out.”

“You did, but it was understandable given what was done to you. Honestly, I’m amazed you stayed conscious for as long as you did,” Rhylix said, “especially in the face of Teron’s famed battle magic.”

Teron. I had a name for the monster who’d massacred a town full of people.

“You know this Teron?” I asked.

Shifting, Rhylix said, “I know of him. He’s fairly famous among the Esela because of his magic. Like I said.”

That made sense. In a way. Did that make Teron an Eselan or simply another type of magic wielder? I wouldn’t be surprised to learn that other thaumaturges existed.

“So, how did I go from helpless at Teron’s feet to lying safely here?” I asked.

Rhylix shrugged, rocking his chin on the chair’s back.

“Luck mostly,” he said. “I happened to be near Fissid that night. I happened to catch sight of your struggle. I happened to surprise Teron, pinning the bastard to a tree.”

A viciously triumphant grin cracked his mask for a moment.

“Then, it was a simple matter of fixing you and your father up, loading you into my cart, and returning to this place,” he finished.

“Fixing… us… up,” I said. “You’re a healer.”

Of course he was. Who else randomly showed up to a clinic when they weren’t injured?

“Indeed,” Rhylix said with a nod.

“Then, can you tell me…?”

Hesitantly, I lifted my hands, unsure if I wanted an answer to my unspoken question.

“Oh, those are fine,” Rhylix said, waving at me. “Your ribs were of greater concern. They’d pierced one of your lungs, and wasn’t that fun to fix?”

Licking my lips, I asked, “So, I’m not…?”

How to finish the question?

“You’re whole, Raimie,” Rhylix said, “and if I have any say in it, you will remain as such.”

How did I fight this burn in my eyes? How did I express this growing gratitude?

As my view of the clinic misted over, I said, “Thank you. For saving my life. For helping me when you could just as easily have avoided danger. I am in your debt.”

Pursing his lips, Rhylix examined me for a moment.

“Don’t do that,” he eventually said. “Never place yourself under someone’s sway, especially not a stranger. You hardly know me.”

“I know you well enough,” I retorted. “No one with evil in their heart goes out of their way to help someone like you did.”

Rhylix looked like he wanted to protest, so I continued to my next concern, never giving him a chance to speak.

“How’s my dad?” I asked. “The last bit of his fight didn’t look good.”

“Aramar is alive,” Rhylix said with a sigh. “I’m sure he’ll see you soon. Him and Eledis.”

Fatigue fell from me as I shot upright.

“Eledis is here?” I asked.

Rhylix straightened in his chair, making a face as he did so.

“Unfortunately,” he said. “He and the Council have been screaming at one another for hours. It’s put Allanovian in an uproar.”

Why was Eledis here? I hadn’t seen him in Fissid. How had he known to come here if he hadn’t followed Rhylix, and… where was here relative to Fissid? How far had I been dragged from home? Most importantly, though-

“How long was I out?” I asked. “Also, you mentioned your Council before. Something about proving myself to them?”

“Yes. Yes, I did,” Rhylix sighed.

He rubbed his face. Repeatedly. Almost as if he was delaying with his response.

“In answer to your first question, you’ve been asleep for about a day,” he said through his hands. “It’s nearly sundown once more.”

Damn. I’d lost a lot of time. If I’d slept for so long, though, why was I still fatigued? Was it merely due to my weeks-long sleep debt, accrued before this fiasco had begun, or did my body really need that much rest to heal?

Speaking of fatigue.

Swaying in place, I considered how I’d get my head on a pillow once more, and pulling his hands away from his face, Rhylix clicked his tongue, rising to help me.

“Maybe we should wait on the Council business for now-” he started.

“No. Please, don’t,” I interrupted. “I hate having things hanging over my head, and with the way you’re acting, this thing seems like it’ll be bad for me. So, just tell me what it is.”

Slumping, Rhylix said, “Ok.”

Flipping his chair around, he sank into it, crossing his legs and folding his hands on his knee.

“So you know, your attitude toward the Esela isn’t typical for humans. Usually, our world’s primary race treats my people with nothing but hostility,” he said. “This conduct has fostered a certain stance among Allanovian’s citizens, namely one of disdain for humans. Some here believe you’re nothing more than scum in need of scouring from the earth, the idiots.

“Very few of your race are allowed into this village, and when one is, they’re forbidden to carry weapons and must follow a strict set of rules. Even rarer is when someone can so clearly display their worth that Allanovian consider them of equal status. This demanding accomplishment is what you must achieve once you’ve healed.”

Was Rhylix serious? I was enjoying the ‘hospitality’ of people who didn’t think I was a person. How was that possible?

The Eselan looked at me as if expecting an answer, but I didn’t know what to say. Should I share that I didn’t give a damn what Allanovian’s people thought of me? That I understood, in part, how subjugation could turn the oppressed against the oppressor?

“I have two questions,” I eventually said. “First of all, why? Why would I care to impress people who act as you’ve described? If they need payment for what they’ve provided, then I’ll give it in whatever way I can, but then, I mean to leave. I don’t need anything found in Allanovian. I don’t think.”

“You’ll need the village’s warriors,” Rhylix said with amusement. “The Zrelnach are considered the most elite fighting force on this side of the Narrow Sea. Could be useful to you, yes?”

Frowning, I asked, “Why would I need that?”

The look on Rhylix’s face gave me pause. Bewilderment quickly gave way to an interesting mix of pity and muted fury.

“Don’t you know your role, Shadowsteal’s keeper?” he asked. “Surely someone’s explained it to you by now.”

Role? What was he talking…?

Oh.

“Do you mean the one where I’m supposed to stop an evil overlord because a foretelling says so? A little trite, don’t you think?” I said. “How do you know about Shadowsteal or who my family is? Did dad share?”

Without a word, Rhylix stared at me until I had to shift my gaze away, squirming.

“You’re not taking this seriously.”

Tensing, I flattened my body into the cot. Something had lain in the other man’s voice, something dangerous and barely contained. Even still, I spoke what had been on my mind since stumbling onto a light-filled clearing, keeping each of my words calm. Controlled.

“I don’t know how to handle what’s happened in recent days. From my point of view, I learned that I’m from a displaced royal line a few hours ago while the days between were spent in various states of unconsciousness. I’m still deciding whether I believe what my family claims, so of course I’m reacting to it as I do with every stressor: with flippancy.

“How I’m acting and speaking, however, doesn’t mean that I’m ignoring the seriousness of this proposed course of action. I have every intention of doing as my family says until I can make a decision about their claim, but don’t expect me to be rational, forward thinking, or put together at the moment. I’m- I’m barely-”

Since finding Shadowsteal, I’d focused on each moment because if I looked at the big picture—everyoneinFissidwasdead—I might fly to pieces. I’d nearly reached that state now with only slow and steady breathing holding me together.

“Ok.”

Slowly, I turned to Rhylix, and he leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, nodding at me.

“I shouldn’t have pushed you like I did. I’m sorry,” he said, “and I’ll do everything I can to help you through the next few days.”

“Why would you go out of your way for me?” I asked.

Shrugging, Rhylix said, “Because you need the help. But you had two questions, yes? So, what’s the second?”

In the moment’s tension, I’d almost forgotten our original subject. What else had I wanted to know?

“How do I impress Allanovian’s Council?” I asked.

“Unfortunately, you only have one way to gain their approval,” Rhylix said. “You undertake the Zrelnach trials.”

Zrelnach… trials? As in the elite warriors he’d mentioned? As in an initiation rite of some sort?

“I do what now?” I squeaked. “Have you seen me, Rhy? I’m not a fighter.”

A pained expression crossed Rhylix’s face before he cocked his head with amusement blooming in its place.

“Perhaps you don’t know what you’re capable of,” he said. “But we can discuss this in the morning. You need rest, and I’m late for a… meeting.”

I didn’t want to wait until morning, not with anxiety buzzing under my skin, but my body was protesting how long I’d stayed awake.

One problem lay in any of my attempts to fall asleep, though.

“I don’t suppose you have a fancy tincture to keep me from dreaming, do you?” I asked. “I have… nightmares.”

“I know.”

Fiddling in a pocket, Rhylix offered a withdrawn vial to me.

“You mumbled and thrashed something fierce on the way here. Aramar had to hold you down so you didn’t worsen your injuries.”

Flushing, I accepted the tincture.

“I’m sorry to have caused trouble,” I said, fiddling with the vial. “Will you tell my dad I’d like to see him? If you run across him, I mean.”

We should talk.

“I’ll let him know that you’ve returned to us,” Rhylix said with a smile. “Now, take your medicine, Raimie.”

Downing it as bidden, I gagged at its awful taste before returning the emptied vial to Rhylix. While he rose from the chair, I struggled to lift the weights that were dragging my eyelids down, and as I lost this fight, Bright flickered into existence with its hum filling the air, but—

“No! Do not leave me-!”

—what words might have formed in its buzz were wiped out by a glorious lack of dreams.