Rohvim #1: Metal and Flesh (39 page)

Before Aeden’s eyes, the man flickered and dissolved away, leaving a wall flashing with red and orange. He stood there, processing what had just happened, and then sprang into action, running over to the wall to examine it. He found the blood controls and attempted to redirect flow while with his real hand he reached down and gathered up a fistful of the man’s tunic, pressing it into the wound. He reached and manipulated the blood to send a reconstructing fluid to the pierced area. The man’s lung controls blared red and as he watched the broken body it wretched up more blood. Aeden rushed, hands in a flurry over the controls to save the dying man. One light turned yellow and three more turned red. He made steady progress, only for a cascade of red lights to sprout up.

At last, the entire board was a mass of flashing red, and he knew he had failed. Slumping to the ground, eyes blinking rapidly, he called aloud in the man’s mind, and aloud to the room,

“Great Creator, I do not know this man, or what wrongs he has done, but save him now. I have done all I can. Please save him now.”

He raised his hand, placing it gently up on the wall, and a flood of emotion flowed through him, the same feelings as before—pain, desire for release and mercy, and now, a glimmer of hope and faith, but the feelings were diminishing. He hung his head and left the man’s mind. He remained kneeling, one hand still cradling the bloody head, the other pressing on the wound.

He remained in this position, steady, for several minutes, and tears surged into his eyes, blurring his vision of the dying man before him. The drops fell down on the bloody face.

The man stirred.

Aeden blinked and looked down at him, his breath held.

The man moaned, but breathed deeply. With some trepidation, he removed his hand on the wound and joined it with his other hand on the man’s head and entered again. He looked.

The red was gone. Some orange, some yellow, and some green had taken its place. As he watched, several more oranges turned yellow. He leapt forward and began again, slowly but surely healing the man, repairing the damage, draining the lungs, righting wrongs.

Who are you?
A voice asked. Aeden turned and saw the man standing behind him.

He answered,
Aeden Rossam of Elbeth.

 Shock covered the man’s face. And joy. He rushed to Aeden and grabbed him, pulling him in a close embrace.

Aeden, alarmed, struggled to pull away, but the man held tight and continued,
You found me. You found me, Great Creator be praised, you found me,
he sobbed.

Aeden, confused, asked,
Who are you?
The man released his hold and grabbed Aeden’s head with both hands.

My baby brother found me!

The two brothers sobbed, holding each other tight. Minutes, or possibly hours passed, the two men reluctant to part, fearing it a dream, but finally Aeden pulled away to arm’s length, looked at his brother again, and left the mind.

He sat looking down at the bloody head now staring up at him. The man mumbled weakly, “You found me.” Tears splattered down Aeden’s cheek, landing on the bloody face, and smiling, Aeden wiped the blood and the tears away with his sleeve of the armor of the shopkeeper of Ramath, still cradling his brother’s head.

Betha groggily awoke, again, and approaching the two brothers, saw them—their faces side by side, and understood. She knelt next to Aeden, and began to sing, his shaking voice joining hers after a moment:

“My comfort, my joy, my soul’s delight,

Welcome, beloved, my song in the night

Has lingered long, enduring bright,

Take my hand, beloved, my soul’s delight.”

The days that followed blurred together in Aeden’s mind—the exquisite pain of his loss now subjected to the exquisite joy of his gain, of the newness surging in him and through him. The master healer and the rest of the company awoke and marveled at the sight before them. With Aeden’s urgent explanation and plea, the elder members joined him inside the fallen warlord’s head to assist in more thorough healing, Betha kneeling behind Aeden with her hand on his shoulder.

They freed the prisoners, did what they could for the permanently disabled test subjects, and several of the older companions joined together to place robust copies of themselves inside the lieutenant to ensure his cooperation for the journey back to Ramath. Cyrus, healed and free, approached the remaining soldiers of his army that were still stationed at the compound, and announced the welcomed presence of the new strangers, who touched all and freed them one by one.

After a day of rest, the company, along with the now Lord Rossam, the lieutenant, and the freed citizens of Elbeth and surrounding towns began the journey home, arriving at dusk in Ramath nearly four months after they embarked on their quest.

Aeden and his brother walked towards the house of their mother, talking, joking, punching and poking like brothers, and at last entered the garden, where a woman stood, surveying the frost’s effect on the garden. Their reunion was sweet and joyful, and need not be told here.

Early the next morning, Aeden dreamed of a voice calling him. He rose from his bed, hearing the voice more clearly, coming from outside. He quickly dressed and opened the front door, seeing Betha and Darla on the front walkway.

“Hey Prince! There’s another council at the healer’s hall this afternoon. You coming?”

Aeden rubbed his eyes and yawned, “Already?”

Darla retorted back, “Don’t you want to go whip that army out of your city? I thought you’d be first in line! Oh, and tell your brother to come—he’s the guest of honor, so to speak.”

Betha asked, “How is your mother?”

“Good. Very good. She’s ecstatic—made us stay up half the night telling her of our adventure and Cyrus’ capture. I just went to bed a few hours ago …” he trailed off in another yawn. Aeden’s brother appeared in the doorway behind him.

“Hey warlard!” called Darla.

He leaned to his little brother, “Why does she keep calling me that? I’m very proportional!”

Aeden retorted to Darla, “Ladies, please, a little more respect for the sixth duke of Elbeth for his majesty the king, and holder of the ancient scepter of King Rossam the second …”

Darla interrupted, “There’s your new nickname!” She continued in an official sounding voice, “The sixth duke of etcetera! Or just duke etcetera, for short. Nah, I like warlard better.” The older brother rolled his eyes and re-entered the house.

Betha looked at Aeden, “Will you and your family like to join my father and me for supper tonight?”

Aeden smiled at her. “We would love to. I’m afraid my mother has hardly left this house in four months. It’s about time we reintroduce her to society.”

“It’s a date then. Well, maybe not a date, more like a … two families … eating dinner togetherletsgoDarla.” She spun around and pulled Darla with her. Aeden watched the two girls stride off, grinning slightly.

After the noon hour, Aeden and his brother wandered through the city, aiming for the healer’s hall. As they passed down the streets and alleys, He noticed the people staring at the wicked looking gashes on his face. After long sessions, the master healer and Lady Ellen had been able to heal them only to a point—sealing up the wound such that the metallic skull and jaw were mostly no longer exposed, but the wound was deep and his face would never be the youthful wonder of before.

They talked, Cyrus reminiscing of the trips to Ramath their father would often take him on as a youth, the wellbeing of their mother, Aeden’s interest in Betha, any possible prospects for Cyrus in Ramath ….

“You’ve been asleep for fifteen years, and the first thing on your mind when you get back to civilization is girls?”

The man looked at his younger brother, “So, to restate what you’ve said, I’ve been prisoner in my essentially virginal, pent up, desire filled twenty-something body for fifteen years stuck with a bunch of drones, I get back to civilization, and you’re surprised that I think about girls?”

Aeden asked, “There weren’t any good looking drones?” Cyrus shoved him into an outcropping of wall with one arm, continuing his walk.

They arrived at the gleaming white hall, seeing other healers stream into the building. They paused for the doorkeeper, and Aeden whispered into Cyrus’ ear, “You have to enter his mind and shake his hand there.” Cyrus nodded, and after placing his hand on the old man’s head, passed inside with a “Welcome!” from the gatekeeper, Aeden following. The large white hall thronged with people, milling about, generally moving towards the council chamber at the rear of the building.

“This is far more than were here four months ago …” Aeden remarked. They entered through the double doors at the rear of the hall, getting misted by the spray from the fountain, and found seats. Frederick and Darla saw them and waved from across the room. Aeden saw the other company members, who he had come to think of as his family, enter one by one with many others and find their seats as well. When the chamber was filled to capacity, overflowing out into the hall, the small door on the rear of the dais opened and out stepped the thirteen members of the elder council, taking their seats, all except for Clara and the master healer who stood at the front of the dais. The chamber fell silent.

Clara began, “In the beginning …” She repeated her story of discovery, similar to before, the speech almost becoming a ritual for the old, graceful woman.

She concluded the history and continued, “And now we face a crisis possibly more grave than the previous one. Four months ago, we, on an errand from the king himself, sent a group of thirteen to track down the warlord and neutralize him. I stand before you today to announce that the mission was a success!”

A wild cheer went up from the crowd, Clara motioning for the surviving members to stand and receive the adulation. After nearly a minute of cheering and clapping, she raised her hand, and the hall fell silent again. The company members sat back down and she continued, “The mission was a success, though not without grievous loss. Our beloved Rupert Murridock, of Ramath, was killed. Another, Priam Switchback, of Elbeth, was captured by the enemy, and … well, I shall permit the master healer to provide further details to you all.” She nodded to the master healer, and fell silent.

The old man spoke, “Thank you, Clara, for your words. It is true, the mission went as well as we could have hoped for, though we passed through trial and pain to win it. In addition to our dear Rupert, it was discovered, after Priam was captured, that the enemy managed to seduce the young man, with power or fame or glory or who knows what, and he returned to ambush the company several weeks later, resulting in the death of Rupert. The reason I bring this up, is that Priam was seduced by the enemy, but it was not the warlord. In fact, the warlord is here among us now.”

The chamber erupted in chatter, many people flashing looks of fear, and the master motioned to Cyrus to stand. “This was the warlord Shiavo. He is the elder brother of Aeden Rossam, member of the company, who was kidnapped some fifteen years ago, and made thrall to a man named Yoruth. Through Cyrus, Yoruth masterminded the entire plot to march on the kingdom and capture the city of Elbeth and the region surrounding.”

A woman on the front row asked, “But why? He sent a large army, yes, but surely he knew it was not large enough to conquer the entire kingdom.”

The master healer replied, “True. And the answer is, we do not know why. In fact, we know very little. What has been made apparent by this entire episode, however, is that we were inadequately prepared for this disaster, and are still ill prepared to investigate it further and ultimately solve it. As such, in the company’s absence, Clara and the other members of the council have been busy recruiting other members into the society, greatly swelling our ranks. They have aimed for balancing our numbers with rohvim of a variety of skills and strengths. Our primary occupation is still as healers and to be a comfort to the world, but Clara has gone out of her way to recruit skilled warriors, noblemen familiar with the politics of the kingdom, blacksmiths, armorers, farmers, craftsmen, builders, tinkers, laborers, people from all parts of the kingdom. We risk our sacred secret becoming common knowledge, and of the people rejecting us as sorcerers and witches with such a greater presence, but Clara believes, as do I and the rest of the council, that the time has come to take a more active role in the affairs of the kingdom, so that events similar to those of recent days may be averted in the future.” And with that, the master healer ended his speech and turned to Clara.

“My beloved people. You, saviors of the world and benefactors of the race, are a royal generation of rohvim. Your great grandchildren will tell their great grandchildren stories of these days. Look around you at your companions—they will be the future heroes of myth and legend. But now, the question arises, how do we meet this new threat? How do we discover the identity of this Yoruth and guess his plans before doom overtakes us all? We know little, and we have few clues to guide even our guesses. As such, we will send groups of you to all corners of the known world. To the north, to the south, to the east, traveling far and wide in our own kingdom and the other kingdoms of the west, searching for answers, for clues, and through our combined efforts we will discover this new evil and stop it before it comes to fruition. Over the upcoming days and weeks, we will organize ourselves and begin sending out our scouts. Until then, go. Prepare yourselves. Get your affairs in order. On the morrow, return, and we will take counsel together once more. Of one mind and heart!” she called.

“Of one mind and heart!” the crowd answered, and the multitude stood, gathering around the members of the company and Aeden’s brother, peppering them with questions and begging for stories. It was late afternoon before Aeden and his brother managed to escape the hall and start the walk home.

“Let’s go get mother and head on over to Betha’s,” said Aeden. “I talked much with the master healer on the journey home, and he agreed that with both of us now in the society, it would be permissible to tell her about it and our true natures. Maybe Betha and her father can help with that.”