Chains of Mist (36 page)

“No, Talan! Don’t you see—this changes
everything
!” Roger blinked, focusing his gaze on the old man. His voice sounded like a stranger’s in his ears.
And I
am
a stranger. I never knew myself. I thought I did…but I was wrong.
“I killed him! I killed him—a friend, a companion in arms, and I
killed
him, just like that!
That’s
why they took my memory—because of something
I
did.” He reeled back, recoiling from the old man…but really recoiling from himself. “All this time, I’ve been imagining
them
as the bad guys, heartless monsters, for what they did to me. But now I see. This wasn’t a random act of cruelty—it was punishment. It wasn’t them. It was me.”

All this time, it was me.

Damn it, Talan! Why did you tell me?

“Roger—” Talan tried to say something, but Roger raised a hand to cut him off.

“No—please. Just…don’t. I need to be alone for a while.”

Talan nodded, and the sadness in his eyes would have torn at Roger’s heart if it hadn’t just been shattered into a thousand pieces. “As you wish. I will be here.”

Roger barely heard him. He turned and stumbled away like a blind man. His feet turned him towards the ship, instinctively carrying him towards the most familiar and comfortable object that they could. Around him, everything faded in and out of focus; he perceived more figures back away from him as he passed, but couldn’t remember who they were. It didn’t matter who they were.
It only matters who
I
was. Who I still am. A killer.

I spent five years raging against my fate. I didn’t think there could be anything worse than
not
knowing the truth. I was wrong.

Oh, how I was wrong.

-17-

Austin awoke to bright sunlight. He groaned, squinting and raising a hand to shield his eyes. His entire body ached, and his joints felt as if they were caked with rust. Pain radiated through his right shoulder, and every breath sent waves of pain rippling through his chest. An odd taste sat on his tongue—heavy and bitter, with a bit of a spicy kick that he couldn’t identify. It was enough to make him gag and send him into an excruciatingly painful fit of coughing.

A shadow suddenly rose up next to him. “Austin!” said a voice. “Austin, you’re awake!”

With an effort, Austin rolled over onto his side. Katrina crouched next to him, her face tight with worry. He cleared his throat and forced a smile through his discomfort. “Hi, Katrina.”

The little girl’s expression melted into relief. “Thank Kat’aia! Daddy wasn’t sure whether you would wake up. He said that you had one foot in our world and one foot in Lai’kar, and that your
di’ua
was in Ja’nal’s hands now.” She shuddered at the thought, but quickly brightened, breaking into a huge smile. “But
I
knew. I knew you wouldn’t die. You are a
fai’la’if
—and
nothing
can interfere with the quest of a
fai’la’if
.”

“I appreciate your confidence,” Austin replied. He brought himself carefully to a sitting position and saw that he was back inside the Belayas
a’kali’a
. His pack sat beside him, and atop it rested his pulseblade, dried purple blood still clinging to the blade. “Where is your father?”

“Oh, of course!” Katrina bounded to her feet. “Daddy said to tell him when you woke up. Wait here. I’ll be right back.”

She was gone before Austin had a chance to say anything, dashing off in a whirl of youthful energy. Austin was still trying to rub the stiffness from his joints when
Sho’nal
Taralen pushed through the bo’al
mat covering the entrance to the
a’kali’a
. Katrina half-ran, half-skipped behind her father. Austin raised a hand as they approached him. “Greetings, Taralen.”

“Greetings to you, Austin Forgera.” The
Sho’nal
came to a stop a few meters away from Austin, his daughter beside and slightly behind him. “I am glad to see that you have returned to us.”

“Yeah, me too.” Austin experimentally worked one arm in a slow circle and was relieved to find only a small twinge of pain accompanying the motion. “What happened?”

Taralen lowered himself into the same comfortable crouch that he had assumed during their first meeting. “Do you not remember?”

“I remember…” Austin blinked, clearing his head, and memories flowed back over him. He shuddered as he recalled the nightmarish visage of the huge beast bearing down upon him, felt again the dagger-like talons tearing into his shoulder. “What were those things?”

“They are called fenail’a,” replied Taralen, his voice soft and almost bordering on reverent. “The undisputed ruler of the grasses, the most fearsome predator put on this world by Ja’nal. Stronger than any ten men together and faster than an arrow in flight, with hide tough enough to break blades and turn aside spears.” Something like amusement suddenly sparkled in his emerald eyes. “Next time, Austin Forgera, might I advise that you not engage a fenail in combat. Especially not a mother and father defending their young.”

“Yeah, I’ll try to keep that in mind.” Austin coughed, and the strange, bitter taste rose suddenly rose up again in his mouth. He grimaced, fighting back the urge to vomit. “What did you give me?”

“That is feerak,” said the
Sho’nal
. “The juice from the berries dulls the senses.” He looked at Austin with gentle eyes. “We were not certain that you would survive, Austin Forgera, and you were in great pain. The least that we could do was ensure that your final moments were not spent in suffering.”

“Oh. Well, thanks, I guess.” Austin worked up some saliva and swallowed several times; the unpleasant taste receded but did not go away completely. “How did you find me?”

“Katrina noticed that you were gone.” In the corner of his eye, Austin saw the little girl practically swelling up with pride. “She alerted me, and I was able to persuade the
kat’ara
to send a
tar’keta
to find you. The rest was fairly simple. Our scouts are very skilled, and you left a path that a blind chakka
could follow. Even so, we barely reached you in time. A few more
heartbeats, and you would have been firmly along the path to whatever next life your people believe in.”

Austin looked at Katrina and tilted his head in a formal bow. “Thank you,” he said. Katrina beamed but said nothing.

Taralen gazed fondly at his daughter for a few moments. When he turned back to Austin his eyes were serious. “You were lucky,” he said gravely.

“Lucky?” Austin glanced down at his shoulder, and grimaced at the four long stripes of dried blood, a souvenir of the fenail’s claws. “I don’t feel lucky.”

“Yes, lucky,” repeated Taralen. “First, that you are alive at all. Few who are attacked by the fenail’a live to see another dawn. It is not uncommon for a single beast
to defeat an entire
tar’keta
in battle; overcoming two adults at once is a feat that is reserved for our greatest warriors of legend. Second, because the fenail’a
attacked you before you reached the border of Traika lands. Had you passed beyond that threshold, your life would have been forfeit. The Traika would have demanded that we surrender you to them, and we would have complied. As it is, nothing has changed. With the blessing of Ja’nal, we may yet discover a way to see you safely through to Kil’la’ril.”

“Nothing. Right.” At Taralen’s words, Austin felt a gloomy pall settle over him. His effort to reach Nembane Mountain on his own had failed, and he had very nearly gotten himself killed in the process. And now he was right back where he had started. Worse, probably, since now he knew the dangers that awaited him in the Espirian wilds. The memory of the fenail’s hot breath loud in his ears and of the beast’s sharp claws tearing into him would be like a new set of chains keeping him within the Belayas village. Keeping him from Justin.

The
Sho’nal
gave him an odd look. “Might I ask what you were thinking, sneaking off at first light like a koffa
stealing eggs from a koltala
nest?”

Austin hesitated. Taralen had been forthcoming with him, and had already risked much on Austin’s behalf. He deserved the truth. “Well, you see, it’s just…I’ve stayed here too long. It’s been three days now since I got here, and I’ve barely seen anyone or done anything. No one here will even talk to me, much less help me. And I can’t help Justin by standing around here admiring the birds. I know you’re trying to help me, and I appreciate it, I really do…but I don’t think you
can
help me. Maybe there is a solution, maybe there is some way for you to sneak me through the Traika…but I can’t afford to wait around any longer for you to think about it. I need to
do
something—even if it didn’t work, I have to try. I’m sorry.”

Taralen seemed taken aback. “Austin Forgera, it has only been a few days—hardly any time at all. I understand your desire to help your friend, but you must have patience. Perhaps I have not made it clear how powerful the Traika are within their own lands. For you to attempt to sneak through, alone, is suicide. And you have already seen that the bo’al
hides dangers that are as great as the Traika. There is a time for haste, but this is not it. If you do this, you
will
die. And your death will not aid your friend. Please, have patience—that is all that I ask.”

The
Sho’nal
’s words rang true, every single one. His reasoning was solid, unimpeachable; Justin, if he were here, would agree with him.
Every word is true…but he’s still wrong. He thinks that patience is all he’s asking for? He’s smart, I’ll give him that—but he doesn’t understand.
“I
did
have patience. For three days I waited—
forced
myself to wait, while every part of me screamed at me to
act
. And then I couldn’t
do
it anymore, I couldn’t just
sit
here!” He turned and pointed, to where Nembane Mountain loomed like a dread obelisk in the distance. “My friend is there,
right there
! Every day I spend here, I can see the mountain mocking me! I know you think there’s some neat and tidy solution, some way to whisk me off to Kil’la’ril without making anyone angry, but sometimes there just
isn’t
. Sometimes, life throws something at you that
doesn’t
have a right answer, and when that happens you just have to accept it and do the best you can with what you have. I understand why you can’t help me, believe me that I do, and I respect it. I haven’t tried to convince you, to bribe you, to
force
you to help me. But I still have to do
something
!”

As he spoke, Austin heard his voice rising, as all of his pent-up anger and frustration and anguish sought release—he tried to slow down, to take a deep breath, but his words had taken on a life of their own and were no longer his to control. “It’s fine for you to take the long view, the rational approach—but I
can’t
, do you understand? A man’s life is at stake, a man who by rights should never have come within a thousand parsecs of Hilthak, who probably
wouldn’t
be in this mess if it wasn’t for me—and I have to save him! I
will
save him! And I’ll do whatever it takes—
whatever it takes
!”

“I see,” replied Taralen, shock written openly across his long face—he had not been expecting such a turbulent outburst and had been unprepared for it. “I see, Austin Forgera. And I understand, I think—”

“I don’t think you do understand.” Austin felt his frustration building, growing slowly from mere irritation towards full-blown anger. “Maybe I will die, or maybe I won’t. But I owe it to Justin to
try
, don’t you see? Even if I die in the process, I have to try! How could I live with myself if I let him die while there was still something I could have done about it? How?”

A look of anguish came across Taralen’s face. “I
do
understand, Austin Forgera—believe me, I understand all too well.” He paused, his keen eyes searching Austin’s expression. “May I tell you a story? It is brief, I promise you. Whether or not it is relevant to your situation, I leave up to you to decide.”

Austin felt a flash of irritation but decided that to hear Taralen out. “Go ahead.”

“Thank you. Now, I once knew a man who was like you. Impulsive, a bit short-tempered—but very loyal. He was well respected among the warriors of his tribe, for he never asked them to do something that he was not willing to do himself. He never left a man behind and he valued the lives of his people as greater than his own. So great was the warriors’ respect for this man that they universally supported his bid to become
Dar’katal
after the current ruler
stepped down, without any of the normal squabbling that usually accompanied such a transition of power. Moreover, the
Dar’katal
at this time was very old and sure to step down soon.