The Eight Walls of Rogar: An Epic Fantasy Adventure Series! (The Lost Kingdoms of Laotswend Trilogy--Book One) (38 page)

About half an hour later, to the high ringing of trumpets, they jogged into the courtyard, coming to a stop in the shadow of the inner wall.

Gaven turned to Andaris.  “You don’t have to fight,” he told him.  “This isn’t your home.  No need to prove anything to me.  I know you’re not a coward.”

Andaris peered up at the line of men standing resolute on the wall, felt his blood surge with each trumpet blast, and then gave Gaven a grin.

The big man grinned back and, together, they ran up the steps to join in the fray.

As they neared the top, they heard the clashing of weapons and harsh, angry shouts of men locked in combat.  When they bounded up the last step, they stopped and stared, struck by the desperateness of what they saw.  A thin line of determined soldiers was all that stood between the Lost One and the fertile, open countryside to the east.  Gaven and Andaris ran to the center of the wall, to where the fighting was most intense.

Gaven stabbed an antler-headed creature through the throat an instant before its rusted axe would have hacked into Andaris’ waist.  “Stay behind me!” he yelled.  “I don’t want you dying up here!”  The next shapeling in line approached with more caution, walking with an awkward, shuffling kind of gait.  It was nine feet tall if it was an inch, wearing a leather tunic over thick red fur, the sides of which had been ripped apart to accommodate its bulk.

The fiend probably took it off some poor farmer,
Andaris thought.

Gaven brought his sword vertical and assumed a defensive stance.

The shapeling’s blocky mouth opened wider than should have been possible, revealing row after row of jagged teeth.

“Come on!” Gaven yelled.

The shapeling raised its spiked club and snarled.  Gaven took a step forward and slashed his sword through the air.  The shapeling swung the club across its body, from top right to bottom left.  Gaven parried the swing, dancing nimbly to the side.  The shapeling lunged past Gaven and went for Andaris.  Andaris brought his sword up just as its club was descending.  The force of the blow drove him to the ground, the flat of his own blade smacking hard against his forehead.  He rolled to the side, jumped to his feet…and then was swallowed by darkness.

When Andaris regained consciousness, he was lying on his back in a narrow cot made of canvas and wood.  The square had been converted into a makeshift hospital, complete with doctors, nurses, and row after row of cots.  Andaris stared at all the wounded and dying lying around him.  His eyes passed over most of them without expression, then widened slightly as they caught on a familiar face.  At first he couldn’t recall who the man was, then realized it was one of the soldiers who had ridden near him and Gaven during the journey from Sokerra to Rogar.  He had been so exuberant, so full of life, that now he scarcely recognized him.  The eyes that stared unblinking from beneath the layers of fresh bandages were haunted, the eyes of a man who’d seen too much.  Andaris turned away, looking to the sky for solace, but it was as gray and dismal as everything else.  Feeling a sudden weariness, he closed his eyes and drifted off.

When next he woke, a large woman with a round face was leaning over him, tending to some claw marks on his arm.  She had a kindly way about her—a maternal touch.  She smiled when she saw that he was awake.

“Name’s Molly,” she said. “That’s a pretty bump on your head.”

Her words reminded his head to start pounding.  “How long have I been asleep?” he asked, wincing as he felt of the welt above his eyes.

“That big boulder of a man carried you down here about three hours ago,” she told him.

“How was he?” he asked, halfway sitting up.  “Was he all right?”

“That one?” she said with a laugh.  “Of all the men on the wall I think
that one
can take care of himself.”

“So…he wasn’t injured?”

She patted his arm.  “No, not that I saw, dear.  A bit tattered about the edges perhaps, but not injured.  As far as I know, he’s up there still.”

Andaris lay back and sighed.  Once again, Gaven had saved him.  He’d have to start returning the favor.  The count was getting lopsided.

“Oh my, I almost forgot,” the woman told him, putting her hand over her mouth.  “I swear, my husband says my head would fall right off if it weren’t screwed on so tight, and sometimes I think he’s right.  Rodan bless him, the old rascal.  Well anyway, now what was I saying…oh yes, there was a man here to see you while you were unconscious.”

“And?” Andaris asked, trying to be patient.

“And,” she repeated in a confidential tone, “he was an odd one, he was.  Nice enough fellow, but blind as a bat.  Now what did he say his name was?  Arzel, Akel, something like that.

“Ashel?” asked Andaris, instantly alert.

She patted his arm.  “Yes, that’s right, dear.  So you do know him.  Good.  He only arrived a couple of hours ago, he and his dog.  I asked him if he wanted me to wake you.  He said yes, but that I ought to let you sleep anyway, then he smiled and looked at me with those big blind eyes of his and walked away.  He was a strange one all right.  Eyes looked like two hard-boiled eggs.  Why I—“

“Did he say where I could find him?” Andaris interrupted.

She nodded eagerly.  “Said he would be with Princess Trilla of all people.  Sounds like a good person to know if you ask me.”

Andaris thanked her for her help and, despite a slight ringing in his ears, stood up to go tell Gaven the news.  Halfway to the steps, however, he became so dizzy that he had to turn around and go back to his cot.  He felt nauseated, tasting that dreaded sour tang in the back of his throat. 
Don’t throw up,
he thought. 
Don’t throw up.
  Of course about thirty seconds later, he threw up.

“My goodness,” Molly said, “what a mess.  You poor dear.  Now just lie back and I’ll clean this up.”

“Please,” Andaris said, “would you send someone to go fetch Gaven, the man who carried me down here?  Tell him it’s urgent.  Tell him it’s about Ashel.  Tell him….” And then once again, he was out.

Next thing Andaris knew, a hand on his shoulder was shaking him awake.

“Andaris.  It’s me, Gaven.”

He opened his eyes to find Gaven leaning over him with a concerned look on his face.

“She said it was urgent, something about someone named Arzel?”

Andaris sat up and took a deep breath.  “I think you better sit down.”

Gaven’s eyes narrowed.  “Are you sure you’re all right, Andaris?  That bump looks pretty nasty.”

“Not Arzel,” he corrected.  “
Ashel.
  Molly, the woman who tended my wounds said a blind man going by the name of Ashel inquired about my condition while I was unconscious.  He told her to tell me he’d be with Trilla.”

“But that’s not possible,” said Gaven.  “He’s dead.  We all saw it.  I don’t…unless.”  His mouth turned down.  “Unless…it’s someone masquerading as Ashel to get to Trilla?”

Andaris hadn’t thought of that, but of course should have.  What other explanation was there?  Perhaps it was the head wound, or perhaps it was just general stupidity.  Either way, he felt like a fool.

“Come on,” Gaven urged, helping him up, “she may be in danger.  Let’s go find Doctor Terrell.  He’s the king’s physician, which means he was probably one of the first people Trilla talked to after she arrived.”

When they found him, the doctor was busy wrapping a bandage around the forearm of a wounded Sokerran soldier.  “She was so exhausted after healing her father,” he said, sparing them only a quick glance, “that she went to her room to get some sleep.  It was remarkable what she did for him.  The wound is almost completely healed.  To think of the good I could do for these poor souls with even a fraction of her ability….”  He shook his head and sighed.  “Well, anyway, like as not she’s still up there, but I’d give her another hour or so before waking her.  After draining herself like that, she must rest or risk getting sick.”

“Thank you, Doctor,” said Gaven, turning away, “we’ll keep that in mind.”

“Nice to have seen you again, Gaven,” Terrell called after them.  “Take care of yourself.”

“You, too,” he replied.

A few minutes later, Gaven and Andaris found themselves before the door to Trilla’s childhood bedroom.  The big man lifted his fist and, after a slight hesitation, lightly knocked.  They heard shuffling steps from the other side.  The door slowly pulled open, and there, standing before them after all this time, was Ashel Tevellin—or at least someone who looked very much like Ashel Tevellin.

They just stared at him, struck momentarily speechless.  If, indeed, this was an impostor, it was a good one, for the resemblance was uncanny.  Not to say there weren’t some striking differences.  There were.  For instance, he was skinnier, if that was possible, and his hair was streaked with silver.  The most notable difference, however, was his eyes.  They were covered by a milky film, and swollen to nearly twice their original size. 
Molly was right,
thought Andaris. 
They do look like hard-boiled eggs.  In the dream, his eyes were covered by skin.  That’s too much of a coincidence to—

“I don’t understand,” Gaven whispered.  “I saw you die.”

Ashel smiled thinly.  “I’m not entirely certain what happened either,” he admitted.  “I was dead…and then somehow the magic brought me back.”

Andaris opened his mouth to ask him if he was still able to see, and then closed it again, not wanting to make him uncomfortable.

Ashel turned his head and looked straight at him.  “Yes,” he answered, “though not in the traditional sense.”

Andaris’ eyes widened.  “You heard me?” he asked.

Ashel nodded.  “I have been altered in many ways, Andaris.  My sight has been taken, and yet with my mind’s eye, I can see some things better than before.  Sometimes I can see things that are far removed by both time and distance.  And sometimes, if I concentrate very hard, I can even hear what people are thinking—particularly the simpleminded.”

“I’m sorry,” Gaven began, raising his hand in a placating gesture, “but I’m finding all this a bit hard to swallow.  I want to believe you, it’s just…I watched you die.  We
buried
you.
We shed our tears and said our goodbyes.”

Andaris could see how much it pained Gaven to hold back his trust, saw the deep conflict on his face.  He did want to believe him, badly, but had taken his friend’s death much too hard to simply accept things at face value.  He had seen too many illusions to believe the man standing before him was anything more than a charlatan.

Ashel laced his fingers together, looking somewhat amused.  “The eternal skeptic, eh, Gaven?  Well, I suppose I can’t expect you to have changed, too.  You see, old friend, my own magic joined with the other wizard’s, making me many times stronger than before.  Somehow, I don’t really understand how, that increased level of magic coursing through me brought me back.”  Ashel’s face tightened with what was obviously a painful memory.  “As I said, I’m not sure how it happened.  I only know that when I woke, I couldn’t even recall my own name.  I wandered for a long while as things gradually came back to me.”

“I want to believe you,” Gaven said, peering hard at him and frowning.  “I really do.  If there was just some way—”

“Ask him something,” Andaris suggested.  “Something only you and he would know…but be sure to keep your mind guarded, so he can’t read it.”

“Go ahead,” Ashel agreed, “but remember, some of my memories are still clouded.  I do have blank areas.”

Gaven nodded, crossed his arms, and began chewing on the inside of his lower lip.

Andaris imagined giant gears ponderously beginning to turn.  Gaven’s mind was often methodical, a trait which some people mistook for slow, yet give him enough time, and he could see through a stone wall.

Instead of becoming irritated by the delay, as he would have before, Ashel waited with a look of warm acceptance on his face.

“All right,” Gaven huffed, “I’ve got it.  The first one is easy.”

Ashel motioned him to proceed.

“When we were little, what did you do to my leg that made me do what to you?”

Ashel grinned.  “I used an illusion spell to make you think your leg was a serpent.  When you heard me laughing, you knew what I’d done, so you bloodied my mouth and didn’t talk to me for a week.”

“Yes!” Gaven declared, making Ashel’s grin broaden.  “That’s it.”

Andaris had never seen the mage smile so much.  He was glad his sour disposition had improved, but found the smile as out of place on his gaunt cheeks as a red rose in a garden of ash.

The smile vanished.  “Do I really look so dire?” Ashel asked.

“Uh, no,” Andaris stammered.  “Just different.  I’ll get used to it.”

“I suppose I can understand,” he said.  “Before Jade found me, I was alone.  Nobody wanted to travel with me because of the way I looked, because I was different.  It scared them.  Sometimes I could hear what they thought of me, and it wasn’t…let’s just say, very complimentary.

“Did you say
Jade
is with you?” Andaris asked, assuming he’d misunderstood.