The Vitalis Chronicles: Steps of Krakador (2 page)

“
Rescue...” The headache may have been gone, but his mind was still a swirling drain of confusion. “Why didn't they attack... me? The monsters... what's happening?”

“
I must heal you as best as I can for now. If they find you like this, they will murder you and claim it was the blast.”

“
Murder?” But Keaton's questions hung unanswered in the air among the smells of carnage.

The warrior's broad ethereal wings almost looked solid, blocking the sun like some giant eagle. He was dressed in an archaic armor Keaton had seen somewhere before. The gloved hands moved down to his neck, where he felt the warmth intrude again. There was a quick, sharp pain before he felt a crack above his shoulders. The sudden fear it brought was quickly replaced by relief as he realized he could move his arms again. But the motion brought a fresh pain, the searing burns on his arms finding their voice as his nerves were restored.

He gasped at the shock and would have arched his back to scream had his back responded to the pain.
Oscilian,
he thought, the name coming to him in a sudden rush of memory.
The Brethren.
But those thoughts were wiped from his mind as Oscilian continued to prod and massage his body. Bones were set, his spine straightened, and the major cuts staunched before he bled to death.

“
I do not have time to finish properly,”
Oscilian said as he pulled Keaton up to sit. “
Though I fear they would find it difficult to believe you escaped unscathed in any case. We can only handle so much suspicion and scrutiny, after all.”

Keaton's world had gone from a confused haze to a blinding pain. He was covered in burns and cuts. Though the majority of the breaks had been healed, he was convinced that his left forearm was still fractured under the scorched flesh. He cradled it as best as he could.

“
I'm afraid I'm not the best of healers,”
Oscilian said, as if reading Keaton's mind. “
Brenton has closed their port; nearly one hundred ships lie off the coast just south of here near the Western Harbor.”

“
Why are you telling me this?” Keaton said through gritted teeth. He rocked forward over his arm as a wave of pain racked him.

“
You must contact a man by the name of Paul Donovan as soon as you can. He captains a ship that will be anchored with the fleet. Send him to Grandia as quickly as possible.”

“
Grandia?” Keaton looked up at the massive warrior kneeling before him. Standing, the being must have been at least nine feet tall with wings twice as broad. “What's to be found in Grandia?”

“
Your fellow man. Donovan can rescue them with the ships around him if only they think it to be at Elandir's command.”
A gloved hand rested on his arm, healing the break through the shock of the contact with the burn. “
You must live long enough to give that command.”

With a flash and a light thrum in his ears, Oscilian vanished. The white mist that swirled in the vacated space was the only sign that the warrior had been there a moment before.

“
Live long enough? What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Keaton grunted to himself as he got to his feet. “You already saved me...”

It took him a moment to stand, the trembling in his legs verging on uncontrollable. He tried to survey his surroundings. The low hill he had been standing on only minutes before had been all but leveled by Elandir's firepower. Why those monsters hadn't killed him and how he had survived the blast at all plagued his thoughts and left him standing in a haze.

“
Anders Keaton.” His name was spoken with as much loathing as disbelief. Keaton shook his head to clear his mind. He looked to his right to see Lucius Vestus walking towards him with an armed guard. “And to think I believed you would be a good boy and die on your own.”

The walk back to the battle line was a long one. Ground that had taken Keaton seconds to cover earlier in the day took painstaking minutes, minutes that felt like hours. The guards weren't helping, gripping his arms to help him keep his balance and pressing the remnants of his uniform into his fresh and oozing burns. The pain was racking him continually, blinding him in stabs and making death sound more welcome with every passing step. It felt like every groan he uttered was rewarded with a firmer grip on his mangled body, so he did his best to keep his mouth shut.

To his surprise, Lucius hadn't blown his brains out yet. For all the intent to have Keaton die in the battle and serve as a rallying post for the nation, Lucius seemed reluctant to follow through on his own. If Keaton hadn't known just how cold and murderous Lucius could be, he would have attributed the reluctance to cowardice. Something else was at play if he was still alive. Whatever that might be, Keaton was grateful for it for as long as it lasted. He just needed one opportunity to escape, that was all.

As they crossed through the broken bodies that littered Liscentia's side of the battle lines, Lucius broke the silence. “I can't believe we fought them like this,” he said to no one in particular as he stepped over the green-clad body of a Liscentian soldier. “We just lined up and butted heads like two stupid goats on a mountain...”

Was that remorse in his voice? He turned and faced Keaton, the guards bringing him to an abrupt halt as the rest of the soldiers fanned out behind Lucius. Keaton's back arched against the pain that rolled through him as if he could fight it.

“
Shit's not right, Anders.” Lucius ignored his plight. “Not by a long shot. This is all too perfect. Too perfectly bad, to be sure.” Lucius was staring at him, Keaton realized. He looked up to find the face he hated so much twisted by doubt. “I don't know who's pulling the strings any more, Anders. But those two rat-scum pirates Merodach was using came out on top here, whatever their goals were.”

“
I would say their goals should be obvious enough by now,” Keaton's voice rasped out of his dry throat.

“
And what's that, Keaton?” Lucius actually sounded genuine, Keaton realized.

“
I thought you wanted me dead.”

“
I've wanted you dead for a long time, Anders. Days like this won't change that any time soon. What were they up to?”

“
You think I know?” Keaton coughed, and a canteen of warm stale water was pressed to his lips. He swallowed slowly, trying to think of what he stood to lose by coming clean. In the end, he figured things couldn't get much worse. “Those two you're talking about.” He couldn't keep his head up, so he stared at the ground as he worked out the words. “One of them disappeared before the attack on Elandir, didn't he?”

“
Yeah.” By the sound of it, Lucius had shifted his stance. “We never found him. His partner claimed he was securing aid for... the city's defense.”

Keaton ignored the lie. What little Merodach hadn't told him to his face he had figured out on his own. “They knew you were planning to attack Liscentia, and they were a part of initiating the hostilities, weren't they? They helped organize the faked attack from Liscentia.”

Lucius didn't respond, though Keaton could sense the ice was growing treacherously thin. “The one that didn't return must have raised the alarm in Liscentia. That's why they had their army ready to fight. There was nothing prepared a few months ago, no army being raised until your pirates showed up. It's why we were met in force when you thought we were coming in surprise. Both sides were played.”

“
We were prepared for that,” Lucius agreed reluctantly. “We moved our attack up a few days to... compensate for any unforeseen betrayals.”

Keaton clenched his jaw against the burns and decided to move forward; he had no energy for this. Lucius could play games all he wanted. “They wanted this conflict to happen, Lucius. Why would they help you gain a tactical advantage only to even the field?” The question hung in the air as expected. “They wanted there to be a total engagement, and they got it. They aren't fighting for you. Nor are they fighting for Liscentia. They're fighting against you both.”

Keaton stopped there. He knew this much should become painfully obvious if only Lucius would think about it. It was the next logical question that he didn't want to answer, because until now he hadn't truly believed it himself.

“
Who are they fighting for, then?” The tension in Lucius' voice was thick, the sense of betrayal behind it barely hidden. “Who could possibly want to fight us both? Who even stands to gain anything?”

Keaton coughed against the dryness in his throat again. This time he was not rewarded with a drink. The men holding him wanted to hear the answer as badly as Lucius, though Keaton felt it to be obvious by now.

“
Look around you, Lucius. You've heard the stories of these monsters, how they harried the army that traveled with the Magi to Grandia.” He couldn't help but cough again and groaned against the pain it caused. “Like your pirates, they serve only one master, and he's coming back to finish where he failed.” Keaton's eyes raised to meet Lucius' unblinking stare. The conviction in his heart finally matched that in his voice. “The Relequim is moving against us, Lucius. And we're running out of time.”

T
WO

T
HE TALL WHITE SPIRES SURROUNDING
I
SLENDA SOARED OVER
R
AIN AS SHE APPROACHED ALONG THE HIGH ROAD
. Seeing them made her feel safe. The feeling was contested, however calm she might try to remain, as her mission pressed. Those walls had never fallen, and she let herself believe they never would. The city itself was a glistening reminder of better days. The walls and towers were made of a white granite that blended beautifully with the peaks into which Islenda was nestled. The face of the walls stood straight, implacable, and ran between four slender towers which looked like they might be elegant relations to ancient spears.

The Spring Vale was home, and it had been a long time since she had seen it. It felt like ages since she had ridden among the low grasses and smelled them on the breeze. Even her horse had perked up since leaving the mountain passes behind. Rain could sense her urge to break loose and run free along the plane that spread between the tall, craggy peaks.

Had it been any other day, Rain would have let the horse do just as she wished. After an eleven-day journey home, the last thing she wanted to do was go straight to her brother. Crossing the barren wastes of the east would make anyone pause and revel in the glorious greenery that encompassed her now. But facing the king with dire news added a level of hesitation to her approach, despite the necessity.

The walls were growing steadily before her. What exactly was she going to tell her brother? How two strangers had appeared during one of her raids? That they had helped free some slaves and then the one had turned out to be the Captain of the Guard from their father's time? And that his companion had been some sort of half-Mage who was now rushing to stop a Shade from releasing the Relequim? She shook her head. How on earth was she going to make such inconceivable truth sound believable?

Her throat twisted as she remembered how bad things had gotten. Her brother had to know that the Demon was escaping, that their war was only just beginning. She should have been galloping there, not taking time to enjoy the scenery.

A trumpet sounded quietly as she neared the tall, slender gates of her home, the unceremonious alert that a ranger was returning from the field. No one would suspect she was herself. She hadn't accepted an escort from the pass either, so what significance her birth or name might carry was well hidden within her armor. The gates swung silently open just before she could think to slow her pace. Wrought from the same stone as the walls, they were ornately designed with carvings of the kings of the West. They were well balanced on massive hinges, of a craftsmanship that had been lost generations ago. No one could make gates of granite like this any more. There was no longer any need.

She slowed her horse down to a trot as she entered her home for the first time in nearly a year. A strange apprehension rose in her stomach.
Am I afraid to enter my own home?
The streets were as busy as they had ever been. The markets branching to either side of the main road bustled with activity. She had to slow her horse to work her way through the press, but before she could continue on, her reins were grabbed by a stocky man in the armor of the city's protectors.

“
And where do you think you're goin' miss?” He chuckled. “Just 'cause we let you in doesn't mean you can go ridin' off without us checkin' you first.”

She looked down at him, fire in her eyes before she realized he didn't recognize her. A fear rose in her that he might not be the last. “I have urgent business.”

“
Yeah yeah,” the guard said as his comrades began a lazy search of her saddlebags. “Everyone has urgent business to attend to, miss. It doesn't alter our need for caution.”

“
Urgent business with the king.” It was difficult to keep the edge out of her voice, but she truly didn't have time for this.

“
As do I,” he laughed from under the polished helm that covered his nose and cheeks. “I've been wonderin' when he'll be givin' us lighter duty on the walls. Can't be so much trouble brewin' so close to home.”