Indenuel took a deep breath and opened his eyes. He blinked at the ceiling of his own room; his brain replaced with mud. He rubbed his forehead, trying to remember what happened. He could smell something, a hint of ginseng with some sage. A few sticks of incense burned in a bowl. Martin was in the corner on a chair, his hands clasped together, resting under his chin, looking deep in thought.
“Martin?” Indenuel asked, his voice hoarse.
He looked up and smiled before he walked over, helping him to sit up. Indenuel still felt weak. The curtains were drawn back, and sunlight streamed in his room.
“How long was I…”
“Almost a full day. It’s well past the afternoon,” Martin said. “I’ll alert your staff to get you something to eat.”
Indenuel eased himself to a sitting position as memories tricked in through his mud brain. He felt a slight panic as he remembered the training grounds.
“The recruit. The healers. Are they alright?”
“They’re already up and practicing today,” Martin said.
Indenuel touched his head again, trying to force it to work. He couldn’t think clearly. His panic receded. Yes, he had hurt them, but they were alright. He hadn’t accidently murdered anyone.
“Take this,” Martin said, handing him one of the sticks of incense. It had the strongest ginseng scent.
Indenuel held it, breathing in the smell, already feeling his mind clearing. “What is this?”
“A special blend from Navir to wake you up. You’ve been in the devil’s sleep too long.”
Indenuel said nothing. He simply closed his eyes, breathing in the tangy scent, his mind becoming sharper. He had his bed clothes on, but his collar was low enough he could clearly see the red marks. The panic he felt yesterday was sharp and animalistic. He hadn’t felt that way in a long time. And since he didn’t have to hide that he had all four powers, it made it way too easy to use them.
Martin placed a tray on his lap with lunch, taking the incense back. With his mind sharper, his stomach also reminded him of the little food he had to eat in the past day. Indenuel ignored etiquette and began to stuff food in his mouth. Martin grabbed the chair from the corner and moved it closer to Indenuel’s bed.
“I don’t want to talk about it right now,” Indenuel said between bites.
“I can wait,” Martin said.
“I don’t want to talk about it after I eat, either.”
“I’m afraid you’ll have to.” There was a grim, almost apologetic tone to his voice. Indenuel tried not to let that bother him as he finished eating. The incense burned as he drained the last of his water. Martin took the empty tray back and placed it outside the door. Indenuel caught a sight of Tolomon waiting just outside, arms folded, his back to him. He touched his chest, trying to see if he could feel the mark. As his fingers pressed against the redness, he felt a distinct coldness, while the rest of his chest felt warm.
“You tapped into a strong reserve of the devil’s power,” Martin said as he sat back down. “You caused all those good people pain, and as I am the High Elder of healing, it is to me you must confess.”
Indenuel closed his eyes, shaking his head. “It was an accident.”
Martin steepled his fingers. “This level of pain cannot come by accident. What did that recruit do to provoke you?”
He turned away, looking at the scenery outside his window, seeing the garden, almost smelling the geraniums from here. “Nothing. The recruit did nothing. I… I simply didn’t want to get knocked out. Again.”
“You could have surrendered yourself,” Martin said.
Indenuel’s nod wasn’t convincing. “Yeah. Yeah, I could have.”
“You’ve got to be more cooperative with me, Indenuel.” There was a sense of worry in his voice, but there was a trickle of annoyance there too. “The pain you caused all those people, that comes from an alarming amount of hate. So, I will ask again. What did that recruit do?” Indenuel said nothing as he stared at Martin. He reflected on his thoughts. Remembered admitting to Tolomon how much he hated them. But it wasn’t the recruit he hated. He hated the High Elders. “Indenuel?”
Indenuel felt a spike of annoyance. “I just woke up. I don’t even have time to recover and you’re demanding me to confess my innermost feelings. Could you at least have the decency to let me get dressed?”
“I had hoped I would be able to heal you of the mark before you did that,” Martin said.
Indenuel pursed his lips, wishing he had the food back to at least distract him with something.
Martin sighed as he sat back down. “The High Elders realize we’re being too hard on you. You need to rest, and as soon as you confess-”
“Good God, Martin. Isn’t confession voluntary?” Indenuel asked.
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“We have fifty witnesses to your crime. We have proof you used the devil’s power. I can see the mark, right there. We need to root this out now, or you will be sent to the dungeons until you’re ready to confess.” Martin didn’t sound angry, but arguing with him wasn’t an option, either.
Indenuel grumbled to himself. He doubted the High Elders even knew what voluntary meant. “I don’t know what happened.” He knew exactly what happened. He was angry at the High Elders for the concubine law. Angry that he was being used as a tool for world domination. But how was he supposed to say any of this to Martin?
“It is not fit for the Warrior to have such anger,” Martin said.
Indenuel had to laugh as he threw the covers off him. “Seriously? I’ve been prophesied to fight in a great battle that will free the land, and you expect me not to get angry enough to hurt some people?” He got out of bed, heading toward his wardrobe.
Martin glared. “That’s different.”
“How?” Indenuel was genuinely curious.
“One is with the devil’s powers, the other is through the way God intended,” Martin said.
“Oh, so as long as I don’t use the corruptive powers, I’m perfectly fine to hate Kiam enough to kill them? That, somehow, is the right amount that won’t send my soul straight to Hell?”
Martin stilled, the glare softening just a bit. “What are you trying to say?”
Indenuel didn’t know himself. He gathered what clothes he wanted before placing them onto the bed. “I pushed myself too far,” Indenuel said instead. “This is a lot of responsibility, and yesterday I just snapped. I’m sorry.”
Martin nodded, not looking at Indenuel as he put on his pants. Once Indenuel had his night shirt off, Martin stood, motioning him closer. He placed a finger to the beginning of the mark and closed his eyes. The warmth of the healing power poured into it. It was slow. He cracked an eye open, staring at Indenuel.
“Are you sure you just snapped?”
Indenuel paused too long. He didn’t need Martin to open the other eye to stare at him to know that. The residual anger was there for the High Elders, and it contributed to the mark. He had been mad at the other three, but he had to admit some of the anger trickled toward Martin. He clearly disliked the concubine law. How could he go along with it?
“Before the accident I was training with Fadrique,” Indenuel said, not looking at Martin. He had fallen back on a habit. He would withhold key elements that made it a partial truth. “Fadrique and his inflated sense of self got under my skin. That, on top of not feeling like my skill in the sword was good enough, as well as the expected responsibilities pushed me past my limits. I am sorry. It won’t happen again.”
Martin sighed as he brought his hand down. As the mark was only partially healed, Indenuel watched in mild interest as the redness reappeared on his skin. “Fadrique may have a strong personality, but you must forgive him. He is used to being the strongest weather controller in the entire city.”
Indenuel scoffed. “I don’t see why I’m the one who has to forgive him simply because I’m better.”
“Despite what you may think, Fadrique does have more experience with his power-”
“Because he’s old.”
“-and therefore it would be wise to listen to what he has to say,” Martin continued as though Indenuel hadn’t interrupted. “That being said, I will have a talk with him, as his personality has taken a stronger turn since you’ve arrived.” Indenuel’s nod was short and almost imperceptible. Martin paused, studying Indenuel’s face. “And war is messy. Good or evil, when a war lasts this long, it takes a toll on everyone’s soul. Killing, fighting, war, I didn’t want it to last this long, but it has. Hence our desire to end it. More importantly, you must tether yourself to God as you try to fulfill the prophecy. You can end a war without hating Kiam.”
Indenuel nodded. “I’ll do my best, Martin.”
“That’s all we ask.” Martin raised his hand again and healed the mark. It was a lot easier this time, and Indenuel relaxed, knowing it was enough. Once the mark was removed, Indenuel slipped his shirt on.
“You may take the rest of the week to relax,” Martin said. Considering it was already the fourth day of the week, there wasn’t much of the week left, but Indenuel didn’t mind. “We are lightening your schedule. Once the first day of the week comes back again, you will train with Captain Luiz for the day, or as long as he wants you to. The next day you will train with me. Then Captain Luiz again, then with me, and finally Captain Luiz. Are we clear?” Indenuel nodded. To be honest, his favorite part about the whole thing was that he wouldn’t have to see Fadrique for an entire week. “Very well. Thank you for your confession, Indenuel. To finish it, you must attend Sabbath worship for the next two weeks to make sure your soul remains close to God. Please use this time to relax.”
Indenuel nodded again. As soon as Martin opened the door to leave, Pablo was there, bowing as Martin left.
“Two letters for you, sir,” Pablo said.
“Thank you,” Indenuel said, opening the first one.
“The children are closer?” Pablo asked.
Indenuel skimmed over the note. “Yes. They made it to Arital. Do you want to update the map?”
“Of course, sir,” Pablo said.
Pablo walked over to the map near the door, placing the pin in the next town. The children were almost halfway to Santollia City, yet they still felt so far away. Pablo left as Indenuel opened the other letter, studying the map a moment longer before looking down at the letter.
His face fell. It was from Nathaniel.
Dear Indenuel,
Word has reached me about what happened at the training grounds in Santollia City.
Indenuel looked away, feeling a shame creep through him that was never there when he confessed to Martin. He eased himself onto the edge of the bed and kept reading.
You may of course correct me on any misunderstanding I might have gotten from hearing it through multiple people, but it sounded like you pushed yourself too hard. Remember your limits. Do not feel ashamed for stopping when you feel you need to stop. It is easier to do that then to put good people in danger. Take this as a learning opportunity and do better next time.
Your servants know how to reach me. Please write me. You can’t carry this all by yourself.
-Nathaniel
Indenuel slowly folded the letter again as Tolomon walked in. “Is there a place I could write a letter? To Nathaniel?”
“Your study,” Tolomon said.
“I have a study?” He had toured his home when he first arrived, but he had forgotten that detail in his busy trainings. Honestly, the only rooms he knew well were the dining hall and his own room.
Tolomon motioned him over. Indenuel stood and followed him out of his room to another one closer to the front door. It was a beautiful room, covered in bookshelves with a large, mahogany desk.
“There should be plenty of paper there for you,” Tolomon said.
Indenuel nodded as he sat in an extremely comfortable chair. The desk seemed far too grand for someone like him. There was a stack of papers in one of the drawers that he took out and placed on the desk. He had rarely written on paper before. Mostly on dirt floors. He grabbed a quill, another luxury as he dipped it in ink before staring at the blank page. What was he supposed to tell Nathaniel? His thoughts were in such a jumble he didn’t even know what to think himself.
Start with organizing your thoughts. There’s plenty of paper here to do it.
Indenuel dipped the quill again before starting to write.