Song of the Sea Spirit: An epic fantasy novel (The Mindstream Chronicles) (26 page)

She smiled, glad to have some good news to share. “I have.” And she told him what she’d learned so far.

As Jora was shaving her head that night, preparing for bed, she was reminded of Boden’s departure from Kaild and his shaven head, and it occurred to her that she hadn’t checked his journal for messages recently. Though there wasn’t any way to relay messages to his family and friends at home, she at least wanted to get a sense of how things were going for him.

And whether he was still alive.

She set down the razor, ran her fingers over her scalp to feel for spots she’d missed, then rinsed and dried her head. Seeing herself in the mirror without hair wasn’t so shocking anymore, though she wasn’t yet comfortable with her appearance. At least she was in good company. Hair made identifying nonmembers of the Order working within the Justice Bureau much easier.

Satisfied, she sat cross-legged on her bed, closed her eyes, and opened the Mindstream, easily picking out Boden’s thread from the bundle that formed in the center of her torso. She wasn’t sure whether her training at the Justice Bureau made it easier, or if Boden’s being the most-used thread did.

Boden was undressing for bed in a tent with four other men. Assured that he was uninjured and not wanting to see him naked, she raced backward along his thread to sunset on the most recent Suns Day. In the back of his journal, he had written:

I wonder how you are and wish there was a way you could reply. The Truth Sayers told me you’re in training at the Justice Bureau, but that’s all they will tell me. Maybe one day you’ll be sent to my company to serve March Commander Turounce and I can see your bald head for myself. (smile)

She smiled back, though she doubted she would earn the Adept title before his ten years were up. According to Bastin, people who joined the Order as adults typically spent three years as a novice, and eight to twelve as a disciple. It would be at least eleven years before she reached that level. Considering how angry he’d been with Gunnar for reenlisting, it wasn’t likely he would reenlist and risk alienating his child. No, chances were good she would never see Boden again in person.

She felt a tear trickle down her face, though to wipe it away would’ve disrupted her concentration. Instead, she moved backward in time to the previous Suns Day, to see whether he’d written anything then. He had, though it wasn’t in the back of his journal but in the front.

Korlan told me about his death experience, and though it sounds frightening, the idea of surviving a death makes it worthwhile. Every day I think about Micah and our growing babe, wondering how big her belly is and whether she can feel the baby kicking. I’ve seen men lose limbs, I’ve seen entrails spilling out and faces disfigured, and seen men’s eyes go flat after their hearts beat their last. Ugly is this war, bloody and painful. The sound of a woman screaming in the throes of childbirth no longer terrifies me. Now I only wish I could be with her to hold her hand while our baby is born. Death is ugly. Birth is beautiful, especially when it’s my own son.

Jora smiled at his words, at how he had matured and his perspective had changed. How sad it was that it sometimes took seeing and experiencing the ugliest life had to offer before one could appreciate the beauty.

She wondered whether he’d written these words for her. This wasn’t the kind of conversation they normally had. When she realized that she’d streamed to sunrise on that previous Suns Day rather than sunset, she raced forward in time, embarrassed and ashamed for having been eavesdropping on his private musings. She would be more careful next time.

The message in the back of his journal, presumably meant for her, was:

I wonder if godfruit is common in the cities. Do people eat it before setting out to sea for a day of fishing? Do pregnant women eat it when they start their labor? Godfruit saves people from one death, and I saw it work on the battlefield when my friend Korlan fell from a sword to the chest. He died right in front of me, and when I was certain he was gone, he awoke with a start, as if he’d merely had a bad dream. We call men like Korlan Relived. I wonder if crates and crates of it are shipped to the cities, or if they’re going to other destinations. I saw someone carting off godfruit under the darkness of night. Would Serocian merchants need to conceal their desire to harvest and sell godfruit to our own people, or is something more sinister going on? To ask the Legion Truth Sayers would get me worse than a reprimand. If only you could tell me whether I’m worrying about nothing.

Jora didn’t remember seeing godfruit for sale in the market, but she had to admit not knowing what a godfruit looked like. She would inquire next time, though she still had no idea how to get the answer to Boden.

She didn’t see him write a journal entry for her on the previous Suns Day, and so she closed the Mindstream, remembering to put up the barring hood first, as Elder Kassyl had taught her. Then she blew out the lamp and lay down to sleep.

Why ask these questions of her? The question went around and around in her mind. Did he want her to investigate, and if so, what or whom? And what would she be able to do about it anyway? If the godfruit truly erased a death, then every warrior would be eating them, giving the Serocian Legion a distinct advantage in the war. Surely the carts of godfruit he’d seen were being shipped to other warriors along the coast or at the Barad border.

What if the enemies were getting godfruit? It would essentially double the number of soldiers on the battlefield.

Jora shuddered. Could that be why the war had lasted so long? If neither Serocia nor its enemies were running out of men to fight, it could go on indefinitely.

Chapter 16

Boden let his sword drop to his side and wiped the sweat from his brow. Most of the men were idle during the day, sleeping, playing Winds and Dragons, tossing a ball, or sitting and talking. Though he was sore from the recent battle, he preferred to work out the soreness than stiffen up by lying around. Working the sword drills also calmed his agitated mind and kept his skills honed.

He noticed Corporal Pharson watching with arms crossed over his chest. “You’ve got good form, Sayeg,” he said. “Focus on keeping your elbow up when you come out of that half-strike, though. It’ll keep you in better position for a lunge or flash.”

Boden nodded. “Thanks.” He walked over to a nearby table where he’d left a cup of water, drained it, and wiped his chin. “Care to spar a bit?”

“Maybe later,” Pharson said. “I need you to scout again tonight. I’ll send Korlan with you. He’s got good far sight. Remember what I told you last time about paying attention to what you need to pay attention to.”

“Yes, sir,” Boden said, but he had to ask. “March Commander Turounce is taking the appropriate action?”

Pharson nodded once. “It’s out of our hands. He’s conferred with his superiors over how to handle it. My guess is he’ll send a team of assassins to take care of the problem. You haven’t mentioned it to anyone?”

“No, sir.”

“Good. Get on up there as soon as you’re finished with supper.”

Boden stopped by the well pump for another cup of water to drink and one to pour over the top of his sweaty head. When the dinner bell rang, he headed to the mess hall and ran into Rasmus coming out of his tent, as well as Korlan. They lined up to receive their rations.

“Glad to see you up and about,” Boden said. “How’re you feeling?”

“Thanks, brother. Hungry. The physician said all I need now is food to replenish the blood I lost.”

“So you’re fully healed?” Rasmus asked.

Korlan told them the physician had given him leave to walk around, participate in light drills, and do small errands, though he was forbidden to fight until his wound was fully healed. They got their food and sat together at a table to eat. Korlan’s hunger was wolfish, as was his mood, especially whenever someone stopped by to pat his shoulder and welcome him back to the living, but Boden was confident Korlan would find his old humor.

“What was it like?” Rasmus asked. “Dying, I mean.”

“I’m not ready to talk about it, all right?” he said with a scowl. “Quit asking me.”

“You can see it from our perspective, can’t you?” Rasmus asked. “It’s like the boy who gets to take the prettiest girl in town as his First Wife, and all the other boys want to know what it was like in her wedding bed.”

“No,” Korlan grumbled.

“Are you a believer now?” Boden asked Rasmus with a teasing smile.

Rasmus took another bite of meat. “I don’t know about that,” he said, his mouth full. “Does the godfruit really taste that bad?”

“No, brother. We were pulling your leg.” Boden winked at Korlan but got no response.

“It can’t be worse than those yellow beans we had the other night,” Rasmus said.

Boden barked a laugh. “Isn’t that the truth? Hey, Kor, will you be up to scouting tonight? Pharson wants you to go with me.”

Korlan paused eating to stare into his bowl for a moment. “Yah. Sitting on a horse beats sleeping.”

The stable hand already had Fidget dressed by the time Boden got there, and so he stroked the horse’s muscular neck and inquired about how the hay was while he waited for Korlan. The sun had set, but there was still enough daylight to ride without lamps or torches.

“Sorry,” Korlan said, jogging over. “My tentmates kept me.”

The stable hand brought Korlan’s horse, and the two men mounted up, Korlan with a bit of a groan. They rode though camp at a walk, then trotted south toward the rocky coast.

“I don’t think I ever thanked you for trying to save me yesterday.”

Boden shrugged. “You’d have done the same for me.”

“Thanks for keeping Rasmus off my ass about the dying bit, too. He can be pretty relentless at times.”

“He’s curious, that’s all.” Boden was, too, but he knew that sometimes it was easier to wait until a man was ready to talk than to constantly badger him. His own repeated questions to his father about his second enlistment had gotten him nowhere.

“Boden, promise me you won’t eat the godfruit.”

“You’re going to have to give me more to go on than a plea. Why shouldn’t I?”

“Because it does something to you. I’m not sure what, exactly, but I can feel it. I’m different now.”

“Maybe that’s because you died. They say near-death experiences change a man. Maybe it’s like that.”

“It’s more than that,” Korlan said. He fell silent for a moment. “I think I’m still dead.”

Boden turned to regard his friend. “That’s mad. You’re not dead, Kor.”

“How do you know?”

Unnerved by what his friend had said, Boden tried levity. “Because you don’t stink any worse now than you did the day I met you.”

Korlan didn’t crack a smile. “I’m serious. Don’t you see something different when you look into my eyes?”

Yes. He had, but it wasn’t something Boden could put into words. He thought Korlan had simply been deeply disturbed by the experience. “You died. That’s bound to change the way you see life.”

“Never mind,” Korlan said. “You wouldn’t understand. Just... don’t eat it anymore, all right? If you trust me at all, don’t eat it.”