Novels2Search
The Warrior
Chapter 124

Chapter 124

There weren’t as many healings as Martin expected. In fact, most of them seemed more political in nature, requesting a tweak in laws or something like that. Dalius finished writing notes and nodded toward the servant at the door.

Martin took a drink when the door burst open and Indenuel marched in. Martin raised an eyebrow. Tolomon followed in soon after, looking worried as he stayed by the door.

“Indenuel!” Navir asked. “To what do we owe this honor?”

“Do you know all the Oraminians who have the power of speaking to the dead have become slaves themselves in their own lands?” Indenuel asked.

Martin sighed, rubbing his forehead. That was a very simplified version of what was going on in Oramin, but he didn’t think Indenuel would ever find out in the first place.

Navir’s smile dropped. “This seems like a conversation for the King and Queen of Santollia.”

“I just came from there,” Indenuel said, pointing at the door as his eyes narrowed. “They sent me here. It’s a good thing my status lets me jump the line, but I will not jump from Palace to Cathedral all day. I have my own beseeching’s to do.” Indenuel’s tone was dangerous. The boy had a temper, Martin had to admit that.

Navir sighed, then tried to smile. “Alright then. Let’s discuss these accusations. We share a continent with the Oraminians. They were also the first to fall in the war.”

“They are our allies!” Indenuel said.

“We signed a treaty with them, yes,” Navir said. “In a time of peace, they could keep their lands. In a time of war, we could use their resources and take up to half of what they produce. Zimoro signed the same contract.”

“Half!” Indenuel’s eyes were wide.

“As this is a time of war, we need the resources and placed Santollian military in appropriate places in order to make sure their part of the treaty is being fulfilled,” Navir said.

“It is slavery!” Indenuel said.

“No, we pay them, therefore it is not slavery,” Navir said.

Indenuel glared as he took a few steps forward. “A woman came to my home. Oraminian. She described slave-like conditions on the farm she was working on.”

“One woman’s word against ours? She must have been lying to you,” Navir said.

“She wasn’t. I saw it. Ten to a stable. Starvation. Working the fields all day, nearly dropping from exhaustion,” Indenuel said.

“You… saw?” Navir asked.

“Yes. Through the trees,” Indenuel said.

“The trees of Santollia and Oramin do not meet. You must have been mistaken,” Navir said.

“I made them meet,” Indenuel said.

“You made them…” Navir frowned, then the realization dawned on him. He stood. “Did you move the trees?”

Indenuel shrugged, folding his arms. “Just the roots.”

“Tolomon, bind him,” Navir said before moving toward the window.

“What?” Tolomon asked, even though everyone knew he heard well enough.

“I said bind him. Keep him there. Don’t make him move. He might be marked.” Navir opened the window.

Indenuel scoffed as Tolomon walked forward before pinning Indenuel’s arms behind him. “I saw what I saw.”

“Dalius,” Navir said.

Dalius stood and walked over as Navir closed his eyes as he touched a tree. Dalius grabbed the collar of Indenuel’s shirt and moved it enough to see his shoulder. “Instinctual. There’s no mark. Release him, Tolomon.”

He did so, returning to his spot by the door as Navir continued to use his power. Navir opened his eyes, glaring at the floor. “You have moved the roots of the tree. You have touched our borders without permission. This breaks so many laws that we could arrest you.”

Indenuel shrugged. “Will you?” Navir glared, and Indenuel answered it with a smirk. “You felt yourself, then, that there is slavery going on.”

“What the Santollian militia men do to get more production out of our Oraminian allies is not our concern. As long as they are paying them, it is not slavery,” Navir said.

“Are you serious?” Indenuel asked, his voice rising dangerously.

“The slaves were only ever paid with a crust of bread,” Navir said. “We give them more.”

“Two coppers a week? To buy bread that costs three!” There was a slew of dangerous emotions traveling across Indenuel’s face. “There are Santollian whores who get paid more than they are!”

“Do not use such language with us,” Navir said.

“It doesn’t make it any less true,” Indenuel said. “These people are destitute!”

“We need the resources, or the rest of us will be under Kiam rule. We cannot dictate to these certain militia men how they need to treat the Oraminians,” Navir said.

“Yes, we can!” Indenuel roared. “That is literally what we did to the Oraminians when we barged in there to stop them from practicing slavery! Tell your men to treat them like the human beings they are!”

Martin felt the buildup of anger and hate, sensing the moment it turned into pain. “Indenuel.” He held up a hand, using his power to keep the pain contained. “Don’t.”

Next to him, Fadrique lifted his own hand. Martin turned to see, then noticed Navir and Dalius doing the same. Indenuel did not seem to notice that all four of them were containing the corruption inside him. He was glaring at Navir.

“Calm yourself, my boy,” Martin said. “We can come to a conclusion without all this corruption.”

Indenuel closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. The pain eased away with every deep breath he took. Tolomon was standing ready at the door, watching him carefully. Martin felt hallow inside.

If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

Indenuel opened his eyes, the glare still there. “I was told as a child that the Oraminians were cursed because they treated others as subhuman. If we don’t stop this, that same curse is going to fall on us.”

Navir said nothing, simply met Indenuel’s gaze. Martin stood. “Indenuel, there is a way their treatment can end. One I can confidently say we can help with.”

Indenuel turned to look at him. “I’m listening.”

“Once this war ends, the treaty will play out. In a time of peace, we do not need to take their resources. Militia men will come back to Santollia, and the land will revert into the hands of the Oraminians. You end the war, the Oraminians go back to growing their crops how they see fit.”

Indenuel’s frown deepened. “And if we lose?”

Martin shook his head. He hated this doubt that had entered the boy. “We don’t lose.”

Indenuel seemed more troubled by this than anything else.

“Dalius has taken careful notes of your beseeching,” Navir said. “I agree with Martin that this is the best case for your Oraminian friend, but we will deliberate and let you know as soon as possible.”

Indenuel took another deep breath and let it out slowly. Martin sensed the pain returning.

“Please make sure my Oraminian friend has the safety and protection she needs as she returns home.”

“We can offer no such protection,” Navir said.

“Because she is at the mercy of her slave masters?” Indenuel asked, the anger dripping from his voice.

Navir glared. “You have overstepped your position, Indenuel. We have given our answer. Return home now.”

Indenuel didn’t move as he studied them each in turn. Slowly he unfolded his arms and headed toward the door. Martin could have sworn he heard Indenuel mutter the word, “Useless.”

***

Indenuel followed Tolomon into the carriage. He covered his face so no one could see how angry he got. They were almost home when Tolomon cleared his throat.

“Politics is a tricky game. There is only so much we can do.”

“Don’t,” Indenuel said.

“It’s a lot messier than either one of us realize. I have full faith that the High Elders will do what they must, but Martin is right. Winning the war is what will help the Oraminians,” Tolomon said.

“I said don’t,” Indenuel said. He didn’t want to hear another excuse for why it was alright for the Oraminians to be treated like slaves during a time of war. And, from what he heard, Zimoro and Dengria were possibly being treated the same way. Indenuel closed his eyes, his powers all in a jumble. He tried to stay calm, tried to organize what he felt, but he was mad. It was dangerous for him to be this mad. Yasirda was in trouble. She risked her life, and for what? To remind Indenuel he needed to win this war, and he could not let her die for that.

Indenuel got out of the carriage, heading back toward his desk.

“We have the messages people would like to have sent through the trees, as well as to the dead,” a guard said, approaching the desk. “Those can be done today at least until another crowd gathers.”

“I’ll look at the tree messages,” Indenuel said quietly. “As long as they don’t need to have a conversation.”

The guard nodded, handing Indenuel a large stack. But instead, he was struck with an idea. He touched the tree next to his desk and closed his eyes. He pushed his power, surging it through, sensing the tree.

“Who is Yasirda’s master?” Indenuel asked the trees.

The trees searched through Indenuel’s memories of the woman, reaching out toward the Oraminian part of the world to figure out Indenuel’s meaning. Yasirda was not a tree talker, but it turned out the Santollian over her was. Indenuel pushed, then narrowed it down, following the man’s path through Oramin until he was on a horse on the main road, almost to Santollia City. The man brushed against a branch and Indenuel forced a connection.

“What? Who is this?” the man asked.

“Indenuel the Warrior,” Indenuel said.

There was a hesitancy, almost a faltering. The man doubted, but Indenuel let him see just a portion of his memories to let the man understand exactly who he was talking to. The man got off his horse, placing his hand flat against the tree to get a stronger connection.

“What can I do for you, Indenuel?” The man certainly felt more humbled.

“You have a slave, Yasirda.” Indenuel let the man see Yasirda in his mind’s eye.

“I do not hold slaves, sir,” the man said. “I am simply coming to collect a runaway Oraminian. She does not belong in Santollia.”

Anger began to burn in his gut. He let the man hear Yasirda’s story from his point of view, let him see the corner of her back that was shown, let the man feel his anger.

“If you harm her in any way, I will come find you.”

Indenuel didn’t have to give much more of a threat than that. The trees passed on perfectly the anger and hatred he would feel if he discovered Yasirda was dead. The man was flustered. There was no lying. He broke the man’s privacy, searching through his memories, seeing the mistreatment of the men and woman, laughing about it with his buddies. Trading stories of inhumanity like they were jokes. Before Indenuel knew it, a branch was wrapping itself around the man’s neck.

“Please, don’t!” Indenuel could not tell if this was from the man or from the tree.

“I swear, Yasirda will not be harmed,” the man said.

Indenuel let him go because he had to. He was starting to lose his connection with conversation. He healed the tree of its corruption while hiding what he was doing to the man.

“Treat your slaves better.”

“I-”

“Don’t bother lying to me.”

“It’s not what it looks like! I swear!”

Indenuel broke his privacy again and saw it. The slaves’ quarters, the hot summer days watching the Oraminians working in the field. He watched as some of the sickest were dying where they stood in the field.

“The trees are mine.” Indenuel told the man. “I will ask reports of them. If you ever do anything to bring your slaves harm, I will break the will of the trees and kill you where you stand.”

“I understand, sir. I understand completely. It will never happen again.”

“Good.”

Indenuel opened his eyes, glaring at the ground as he released his hold on the tree. Tolomon looked down, noticing his glare, and concern crossed his face. “Indenuel?”

He turned away, breathing deeply. “I need a drink.”

“Of course,” Tolomon said.

Tolomon turned and Indenuel quickly glanced down his shirt. The faintest of red lines covered his chest. Indenuel stood. “I need a drink in my study. I’m not in the right state of mind to take requests. This entire thing has put me off.”

“Alright. Do you need the rest of the day?” Tolomon asked.

“No, not the rest of the day,” Indenuel said, walking into his home, trying to relax the anger in his face. “I’ll come back once I’m ready.”

Tolomon grabbed his wrist and pinned him against the tree as he lifted the bottom of Indenuel’s shirt. “Dammit, what did you do?”

He threw his bodyguard off, then headed toward the house. “Nothing some meditation won’t cure.”

“Are you going to swear me to secrecy again?” Tolomon asked.

“No, I’m not. I honestly don’t give a damn what the High Elders think. So go ahead. Tell them. Tell the world I have a light pink mark on my chest. I would love to tell anyone that listens exactly what I did to that slave master to keep Yasirda safe. No one should be treated like they’re less than human,” Indenuel said.

“You think bullying that man will somehow make you better?” Tolomon asked.

“I just saved her life!” Indenuel said, walking into his home and quickly heading into the study. “I will do what I have to.”

“We have laws for a reason!” Tolomon said, following him into his study and closing the door. “You need to go about this the right way.”

“I did!” Indenuel shouted. “I did go about the right way, and Yasirda’s life was still in danger! I had to do what I did to keep her safe!”

“You cannot be God!” Tolomon shouted back.

“God is-” Indenuel froze, then let out an angry breath.

“Dead?” Tolomon asked. It surprised Indenuel enough that some of the anger ebbed away at his words. “Come on, Indenuel. The Guardian program isn’t just for building muscle. Do you think I’d never figure that out too?”

Indenuel sat down at his study desk. He rubbed his face. “We will carry on this conversation after the mark is gone. I cannot risk it getting deeper.”

Tolomon shook his head, backing to his post at the door. “With all the faults of that slave master as you so call him, you need to understand he is human too,” Tolomon said quietly. “And it looks as though you treated him with little regard.”

“He deserves it,” Indenuel muttered as he closed his eyes.

“Is that not, too, treating him as subhuman?” Tolomon asked.

Indenuel opened his eyes, looking at Tolomon who stared straight back. “Are you seriously defending the life of a slave master? You have no idea what it’s like to be treated unfairly.”

“Yes, I do,” Tolomon said, conviction in his tone. “And I would not wish it upon my worst enemy.”

Indenuel closed his eyes again, trying to ignore Tolomon’s words, and yet they plagued him the entire time he cleansed the corruption in his soul.