The Chosen (The Compendium of Raath, Book 1) (39 page)

“Hal!” Trance barked. “Don't yell at a woman
of God.”

“Shh,” Domma warned. “Let's get out of
here.”

Trance carried her off in strong arms, Hal
huffing and puffing behind them.

“I
'm trying to choose the right path here,” Trance said. “On
the one hand I find it hard to give up Hal, here. His hand seems
somehow connected with the Foglins. Could help us find them. But
his symbol . . . one is most unwise to ignore magics this
powerful.”

Trance, Hal, and Domma huddled just north of
the city. With a small surge of power from Trance it had been easy
and quick to get there. Domma marveled at the strength of the
Kingsguardian.

“What am I?” Hal asked. “What are we?”

“We are chosen of God, Hal,” said Domma.
“This is a holy quest.”

“Like in a damn child's tale,” Hal said.

“Like in The Book,” she corrected him.

“Trance,” Hal said, “it's been a hell of a
ride, but I have things to see to. You know that.”

“This is probably more important,” Trance
said slowly. “That mark also means you're a Benefactor!” Trance
clapped his hands together in glee. “Oh, those guys are going to
owe me so much money! I bet them you would be! Didn't I say you
would be, Hal?” Then he winced. “Well, Telin'll have to pay me
later, I guess.”

“If I go and do this I want you to promise
to find my brother. His name's Tellurian D'Arvenant.”

“I know,” Trance said. “You don't have to
remind me again.”

Domma's eyebrows shot up at the mention of
that name. “Tellurian's your brother? His donations were paramount
in founding the current hos-”

“I know what he's done,” Hal said. “I'm
Halimaldie D'Arvenant. You may have heard of me as well. I run a
trading empire. Or, at least, I did. Now I'm a glowing
wanderer.”

“I'm sorry,” Trance said. “I don't know what
else to tell you. I'm going to leave you two in each others' care
now. I'll send one of the men north for you when I can Hal, but
likely it won't be Kelin. They need him, with all he's seen. Haroma
needs me. Maybe the world needs me. Ah. Telin would say my head's
gotten too big. He'd probably be right, that stodgy old fuck.
Pardon my tongue, Cleric.”

“It's alright,” Domma said. “Call it even
for the rescue.”

“Fair enough,” Trance said. He rode away
without another word.

“So,” Halimaldie said, slowly. “I don't
believe I caught your name in any of this.”

“Cleric Domma.”

“Do all clerics shave their heads like
that?”

“No,” she said simply. “What's wrong with
your hand?”

Halimaldie drew it back. “It seems that we
both have stories to tell,” he said. “Perhaps it would be best if
you led on and we swapped who we are on the way. I'm a man who
likes to have answers. My empire has survived worse than this, it
can survive a bit longer without me.”

“Just like that?” she asked.

“Just like that,” Halimaldie replied. “Make
a decision, then do it, Domma. That's how I usually operate. If I'm
going to be chosen by God, someone who – and I'm sorry to say this
– I rarely give a single thought to, then it seems best to accept
my fate. I don't pretend to understand everything in the world, but
I've always tried to take a rational approach to things. Someone's
forearm doesn't glow for no reason, so . . . Tellurian can wait.
Yarrow can wait. My life, as much as I hate to say it, can
wait.”

“Bold words, D'Arvenant.”

“I'm a bold man. I'm sorry I panicked
earlier down in the hospital. That's not much like me. I've found
that things, when they do happen, happen very rapidly. This series
of events . . . well, I wasn't ready for it.”

“When it rains, it pours,” Domma said.

“Yeah. I like that phrase. I'll have to use
it sometime.”

“Give me credit when you do.”

“S
hh,” Domma said. “Hold still.”

“I've never done this before,” said
Halimaldie.

“Get your hands ready,” Domma whispered.

Domma lunged forward then, charging into the
bushes. Halimaldie waited, his eyes searching frantically. Then he
saw it. A rabbit bolted out of the bush and Halimaldie dove,
throwing himself on top of it as quickly as he could. The thing
screamed, like he had never known rabbits could do, and then his
dagger was in it. He stabbed right near where he thought its heart
might be, but honestly he didn't know.

“Good job,” Domma said sarcastically. “It's
all squished, bloody, and mangled.”

“It's dead, isn't it?” Halimaldie replied.
“That means we can eat it, right?” He was breathing heavily, heart
pounding as hard as it had been when he had been near the Foglins
in the mine. There was something exhilarating about catching his
own food.

He held his bloody prize in
his gloved hand and made his way back to the fire, suddenly
realizing he'd never really
traveled
. He'd gone other places,
surely, but always with an entourage of servants, sell-swords, and
navigators.

“Now what?” he asked.

“We'd better skin it,” Domma said.

“My dagger's already bloody. We could just
use that.”

Domma took it from him. He never let anyone
touch his golden prize, but he let her take it.

“I just can't believe you've never done
this,” Domma said.

“Usually by the time I
touch my food, this part's been dealt with already. Why have
you
done this? You're a
Cleric, right?”

“We do go on missions to other places,
Halimaldie. We don't just stay holed up in our Temple for our
entire lives.”

“I guess I feel a bit naïve,” Halimaldie
said. “I've always thought I was so worldly. I've traveled
extensively when I've needed to for business. But this scenario
we've found ourselves in . . . despite its simplicity it's
completely foreign to me. I've been discovering a lot of things I
never knew before. Or maybe never believed in. Maybe I'm getting
used to it.”

Domma was busy slicing up the rabbit. “I saw
four of my sisters murdered before my own eyes, used as some sort
of disgusting Foglin incubators.” She looked sick. “Some things you
don't get used to.”

“I'm sorry,” Halimaldie said. “This is all
new to me, too. I mean this Foglin thing. They were always just
stories here in Hardeen Kingdom. The Vaporgaard seems to be
slacking on the job. Or else the game has changed, I don't
know.”

Domma began to stab sticks
through various parts of the rabbit, setting them at angles on the
fire to cook. The meat started to smell incredibly good to
Halimaldie, and he felt something primal begin to stir inside of
him. He gazed across the flames at Domma and just the look of her
brought to mind Yarrow. He had wanted that woman badly, not because
she was like him, but because she was
unlike
him. He wanted to feel the
organics of her world again and vowed he would do so when he
returned to Haroma.

Domma handed Halimaldie's dagger back to
him. He wiped it off in the snow as best he could and dried it on
his shirt, then he tucked it back into the sheath where it
belonged. The daggers had been gifts from his father, just before
the old man had passed from this world into whatever lay
beyond.

Halimaldie's stomach rumbled audibly. “Is it
done?” he asked, licking his lips.

“Not unless you want it totally raw in the
middle.”

Halimaldie wasn't sure if he did or not.

“What is it that you believe, Halimaldie?”
Domma asked rather suddenly. “What drives you?”

Halimaldie laughed through his nose a little
bit. “I'd hate to tell you, Cleric. You'll find I'm not a man of
God at heart.”

“Halimaldie, I know people of many Gods. I
know people with none. I've heard your name before, you know.
You're one of the most influential players in Haroma and you know
it. It's not many that get an intimate chance to talk to you like
this. So tell me. Who are you?”

Halimaldie stopped and thought. “What an
easy yet difficult question. I like it. Who am I? I am a man that
enjoys being successful. I enjoy challenges. I can adapt to almost
any situation that interests me. I don't believe in things I can't
see with my own eyes. I believe that successful men are brilliant
and hardworking, but also lucky. I don't believe in failure. I
don't suffer fools gladly, but who does?”

“Have you ever been married?”

Halimaldie smirked. “No.”

“Ever wanted to?”

“If you're asking-”

“Oh, I'm not asking for myself,” she
laughed. “It's just . . . well, I thought I was in love. I was sure
of it. Have you ever been sure of something? So sure of it that
when it doesn't turn out to be true you can't deal with it and so
you simply push it aside?”

“I was sure my brother would go into
business with me,” Halimaldie said, sighing. “Brotherly love.
That's a thing, right?”

Domma nodded.

“I was so sure he would join me. We grew up
privileged, you know? That's what people would say, anyway. I never
thought of it that way, honestly. I was always somewhat shocked
when people hated me without knowing me, but there you have it.
Anyway, I expected Tell and I to rule Haroma. Not as kings, mind
you. I wanted us to do what we knew how to do and do it well.
Better than anyone.” Halimaldie sighed. “Then, something changed in
him, but not in me. I continued on without him. I left him behind.
Or he left me. I don't know where the blame lies, or who
failed.”

“Maybe it doesn't need to lie anywhere,”
Domma said. “Maybe things just are as they are. Remember, you don't
believe in failure.” She smiled.

Halimaldie laughed. “It's easier to preach
than to practice, isn't it?”

“I have always found that to be true.”

“I suppose you deal with it every day.”

“More than you know,” Domma said. She seemed
to have more secrets behind her eyes, but Halimaldie wasn't going
to pry. “Don't you ever feel that something is missing,
Halimaldie?”

“I honestly don't have time to think about
it.”

“Don't you have time right now?”

Halimaldie dodged the question. “Right now
what's missing is food from my stomach.”

The fire guttered a little bit under a cold
breeze that blew, and Halimaldie noticed that the rabbit parts were
now black.

“Ack!” Domma yelled as she grabbed for them.
“Okay, they're a little blackened. It could be worse.”

But Halimaldie was already eating one,
burning his mouth and not caring.

T
hey melted snow for water and Halimaldie drank it from his
cupped hands, another thing he could never remember doing. Mostly
he and Domma walked in silence, offering each other the odd phrase
of conversation but never really committing to anything since that
first night.

“You're sure you know where we're going?”
Halimaldie asked for the twentieth time.

“Yes,” Domma said. “I had a vision while I
was down in the hospital. God told me.”

Halimaldie had no other option but to trust.
He'd never been this far north before. This region had vastly
inferior natural resources. Unless he suddenly wanted to import
snow there was really nothing of use. His efforts were better spent
elsewhere.

He had to admit that the mountains were
beautiful. Spring had not yet been entirely able to clear the snow
from them, and it was a pleasant thing, because Halimaldie had
always enjoyed winter.

On one particularly drab day Halimaldie and
Domma were hoisting each other over some large sloping rocks, when
Halimaldie saw something out of the corner of his eye.

“Stay still,” he whispered, his hand going
to his dagger.

“What?” Domma hissed.

“I think someone's back there.”

The shape shifted and moved. Halimaldie
couldn't follow it with his eyes. It seemed to be just a mass of
swirling colors that skipped here and there. “What the hell?” he
breathed.

Suddenly a man stood in front of him and
Halimaldie lurched backwards, losing his footing on one of the
rocks and going painfully to one knee.

“Hello,” said the man. He was wearing purple
and silver, and Halimaldie could tell just from the way he stood
that he was a Kingsguardian. “My name is Angloriel. Trance sent
me.”

The Kingsguardian wore a comically large
sword at his hip, but Halimaldie had no doubt that in this man's
hands it was a serious weapon that had taken many lives. Other than
that sword he was standard Kingsguard fare: purple and silver
tabard over light, mobile armor. He looked about forty years old,
but it was hard to tell. Teeth were the best indicator of age, and
Halimaldie had trouble seeing Angloriel's mouth through the man's
shaggy beard.

“Halimaldie,” said
Halimaldie, standing up and extending his hand. The Kingsguardian
probably could have squeezed the blood out of it, but he took it in
a measured grip.
So he's not an
asshole
, Halimaldie thought. He was able
to tell a lot about a person by their handshake.

“Those symbols are incredible,” Angloriel
said. “I've never seen magic like that before.” He leaned closer to
inspect their arms.

Domma was balanced precariously between two
rocks. “Could we do introductions later?” she asked.

Angloriel laughed and stepped over to her,
as sure as a goat. He scooped her and carried her across the uneven
field. He started to head back for Halimaldie, but Halimaldie held
up his hand and did his best to cross by himself. He only fell
twice.

“Manly,” Angloriel said, a hint of mischief
in his eyes.