Dralin (16 page)

A shadow patted him on the back and gestured
with an arm that he was free to continue.
Either Distra is
protecting me with shadows or I’ve gone mad
. Frath realized he
couldn’t think about that right then. It took all his concentration
to put one foot in front of the other. His chest burned with each
ragged breath and he could barely stand his own foul stench.

He left the Orphan District heading toward
the Guard District. Between them were two housing districts and the
South Highway. More people were starting to appear on the streets.
Everyone who saw him moved as far away as possible before rushing
off. A few individuals stepped out of their houses only to step
right back inside as he passed by.

Frath was beginning to pick up speed and
walk with a little less stiffness. He knew he would collapse at
some point, but didn’t care, only wanting to get to the barracks
and Pelya before anything else happened. It was frustrating that so
many people were seeing him in such a terrible condition. Frath
hated showing weakness to anyone.

Each step was white-hot agony and it felt
like an eternity until he saw the wall of the Guard District. He
wasn’t able to yell or speak to get the attention of the guards.
Only a feeble croak managed to escape from his throat. He trudged
forward toward the large, open gates.

“Guard in distress!” a woman’s voice rang
out through the morning air from atop the wall. It was as though an
anthill had been poked. Guards rushed out with weapons drawn.
Nearby civilians put their hands up in the air quickly while they
looked for the disturbance.

The first few guards ran past Frath in order
to defend him from danger and to provide a protective barrier. The
next two were strong men who put Frath’s arms around their
shoulders and then lifted him up underneath his knees, locking
wrists underneath. They ran ahead as fast as possible, flanked by
other guards.

The first priority when rescuing a guard in
distress was to get him to safety before anything else. Guards were
drilled in rescue procedures until they were completely prepared to
handle any situation, then they were drilled even more. Frath was
safely within the walls less than a minute after being spotted.

“He’s injured. Take him to the healing hall
immediately,” a female lieutenant said, coming out of an office
responsible for overseeing the traffic in and out of the gate.

“It’s Frath Jornin, the missing guard,” a
man said from the side.

“What’s wrong with his eyes?” another
said.

The two men were carrying him too far away
for Frath to be able to hear anything else. The comment about his
eyes terrified him though. Frath needed his eyesight. Shadows
having a life of their own along with sensitivity to the growing
light were the only things that had changed from what he could
tell. If he were being honest with himself, he would have to admit
that his peripheral vision was clouded, but he was sure that was
just from pain, exhaustion and lack of nourishment.

Frath closed his eyes for a moment. They
snapped open when water splashed over his naked body. “Aghh!” he
croaked in protest. He must have passed out, because he had been
stripped and was being scrubbed by numerous hands.

“Be careful with him, but we have to find
any injuries. They may have become septic,” a man’s voice said
somewhere nearby. Frath found the smooth voice reassuring. His
eyelids slid down again as he began to relax. More water splashed
over Frath’s head and fingers ran through his hair. He shivered
even though the water was warm.

Frath opened his eyes. A robed healer in
front of him was scrubbing his face. The man had blonde hair and
beard and he was studying Frath closely. “What the?! . . .
Something’s wrong with his eyes.” The words sent a new wave of fear
through Frath. He blinked a couple more times to help focus. His
sight was still cloudy on the edges, but other than that, he could
see normally. A healer with grey hair moved next to the other and
took Frath’s chin. “Interesting. I’ve never seen that before.” It
was the first man who had spoken.

“I don’t see any other injuries, Master
Verbo,” someone said from behind Frath.

“I don’t think his injuries are physical, in
spite of the blood that was on his chest,” the grey-haired healer
replied. “Dry him off, get him in a gown and take him to a bed.”
Master Verbo put his face near Frath’s. “Do you need food and
liquid?”

Frath nodded weakly and croaked, “Yes.”

Master Verbo turned to the blonde-haired
healer. “Irmin, get him water, juices, and simple food.”

A towel covered Frath’s head as someone
dried him. Other towels worked the rest of his body. Everything
they did hurt his skin, muscles and bones. They pushed his arms
through the sleeves of a gown. Frath concentrated on breathing
rather than the pain and managed not to moan too badly at the
treatment.

Healers guided him to a bed where they made
him sit. Irmin sat next to him and instantly put a spoonful of warm
soup into his mouth. Frath swallowed it down the best he could,
spilling some over his chin. Someone else immediately wiped the
dribble away.

“Where is he?” the familiar voice of
Sergeant Gorman sounded through the hall.

Irmin stood abruptly, handed the soup off to
an assistant and then moved to intercept the approaching sergeant
“You will keep your voice down,” he demanded in a stern tone. Frath
figured the healer to be second in command to Master Verbo, who was
nowhere to be seen. The assistant gave Frath another spoonful of
soup and he did a better job of keeping it in his mouth.

Gorman stopped in his tracks and glared at
the healer. Irmin leaned forward with arms folded. The staredown
only lasted a moment before the sergeant backed down. “I apologize,
Healer Irmin. Is he alright?”

“No. He’s in terrible shape even though
there’s no obvious injury. Come see.”

Frath didn’t like those words so much, but
set aside his feelings about it and asked a much more important
question before anyone else spoke. “Pelya?” His voice worked a
little better that time.

“She’s fine, Private. Bava and Herman are
taking good care of her at the moment,” Sergeant Gorman reassured
him. He put his hands on his hips and stared at Frath. Then he
blinked and took a step back. “What in the world happened to your
eyes?”

It was really starting to irritate Frath,
but he couldn’t answer because another helping of soup was shoved
into his mouth. Irmin spoke instead. “We don’t know, but it doesn’t
look good. I believe Master Verbo is trying to find out.”

“Will he be able to continue his duties with
his eyes like that?” Gorman asked worriedly while leaning forward
to stare at them.

“I don’t know. I’m not sure what other side
effects there may be from it,” Irmin admitted, also leaning
forward.

“What’s wrong with my eyes?!” Frath
demanded, unable to take anymore. It felt like sandpaper running up
his throat as he rasped out the words and he clutched his neck with
both hands.

“Shh. Don’t speak,” Irmin ordered. “You need
to take it easy.” Frath became more irritated by the fact that the
healer didn’t answer the question. He looked at Sergeant Gorman
with pleading eyes.

The sergeant took a deep breath and then
exhaled slowly. “Your eyes are glowing purple. It’s weird. Can you
see?” he asked with a questioning eyebrow raised.

Frath nodded, unwilling to draw Irmin’s ire
by talking. The healer was glaring at both men and was about to
speak when Master Verbo came in with another person. “This is the
man, Priestess Calla. Before I try any healing methods, I want to
make certain there’s nothing supernatural about it. I think magic
may have been cast against him.”

She nodded and sat on the opposite side of
the bed from the assistant feeding Frath soup. Everyone else
stepped back respectfully, including the assistant. The priestess
was short with hair grey from many decades of life. She was
physically frail just like most priests and priestesses who tended
to spend their time fasting and praying to their various gods.

Her eyes were just as grey as her hair, and
the power in them was undeniable. Frath didn’t like priests and
priestesses, but he didn’t deny their holy powers. Priestess Calla
didn’t touch him, instead grabbing the focus of his eyes with her
own.

He felt her look into his soul and didn’t
resist the invasion. At other times he might have tried, but being
open seemed the best choice considering the situation he was
in.

Suddenly, a door slammed shut and forcefully
shoved the priestess out. Calla gasped and jerked her head back.
Frath became even more concerned. S
omeone else
had closed
his mind.

The priestess gripped his head in between
her hands and came close. He felt her push into his soul again.
Whatever had shut the door pushed back. The woman gasped again,
except this time she wasn’t kicked out. Frath suddenly saw into
her
soul. Not much, but a little bit. He didn’t understand
any of it, but was still awed by the sensation. Then the priestess
pried herself away with a low wail, shaking her head. She stood and
swayed, only to be caught by Master Verbo. “Priestess Calla, are
you alright?”

“Yes, yes. I’m fine,” she answered weakly,
patting the man’s arm.

“What happened?” Healer Irmin asked.

“Will he be alright?” Gorman asked over him,
eliciting a glare from Irmin.

“Alright?” she replied incredulously. “Will
he be alright?” Priestess Calla turned to Frath with narrowed eyes
and jutting jaw. “You’ll just have to ask whatever god or goddess
touched him.” The room fell silent and they all stared at
Frath.

He had no desire to enlighten them, which
was good, because he felt his jaw lock and instantly knew he would
never be able to tell anyone.

“God-Touched?” Healer Irmin asked in awe.
“I’ve heard of it, but never seen it myself.”

“That’s because almost everyone dies when it
happens. The very few who do live go mad instantly.” The priestess
was refusing to look at Frath anymore.

“Then he’s mad,” Gorman said dejectedly,
hanging his head.

“No, he’s not. I was able to see that much
before being shut out.” Priestess Calla sighed and rubbed her
temples, suddenly looking her age.

“Really? That’s great. Can you do anything
to fix his eyes?” Gorman pressed.

The priestess glared at the sergeant,
causing him to take a step back. “I can’t lay a hand on him
anymore. He’s God-Touched and it would kill me to do so. No priest
can undo the work of a god without that god’s permission.” She took
a deep breath and rubbed her temples again. “I was specifically
forbidden permission and might have died had I not detached myself
quickly.”

Sergeant Gorman stared at the priestess,
then Master Verbo, and then Healer Irmin. When none of them
responded with anything more than a shrug, he turned to Frath.
“Well? What god touched you? Help me out here.”

Frath’s jaw froze shut. He was extremely
worried by how much Distra was controlling him. At that thought,
the presence in his mind retreated, leaving behind locks only on
the details of everything about Distra and her church.

“I can’t tell you,” he finally croaked.

“Have you been giving him liquids?” Master
Verbo demanded of Healer Irmin. The blonde-bearded man reddened in
embarrassment. Meanwhile the assistants sat back down quickly and
tried to give him soup and juice all at once.

He took the drink first to try to quench the
fiery soreness in his throat. It helped some, but he couldn’t talk
because soup followed it too quickly. Healer Irmin turned to the
sergeant and pushed him away, or at least he tried to. Gorman was a
rock of a man and didn’t budge unless he chose to. The healer
glared at him. “You can talk to him after he’s had some
nourishment. He might be able to answer questions without sounding
like a demented frog then. Now go away. I’ll send someone for
you.”

Gorman crossed his arms and set his jaw
stubbornly. Master Verbo became irritated by the exchange. “Shall I
report to Captain Duuth that you are interfering with the ability
of a healer to care for a patient?” His voice was hard with the
very real threat.

Sergeant Gorman relented immediately.
“You’ll let me know right away?” he asked Irmin, concern filling
his words.

The healer softened a bit. “Yes. I’ll send
someone as soon as he is feeling better and can talk.”

Gorman patted Frath on the leg through the
blanket. “Pelya’s just fine. You get better and come back as soon
as possible.” The sergeant looked over his shoulder a few times as
he left the hall.

Chapter
10

A few days later, Frath was back in the
barracks with his squad. They greeted him with cheers and claps on
the back, but also with some hesitation. No one would look into his
eyes for long. He couldn’t blame them. Frath had looked in a
mirror. The glow was gone, but they were still dark purple in
color. The irises glistened like amethyst gems around the pupils
and the whites had a lavender tint to them, much like the combined
light of the two moons.

It was the middle of the night and he sat on
his footlocker feeding Pelya. Everyone was asleep in their bunks
and it was quiet in the room even with the door open. Pelya kept
staring into his eyes. What unnerved Frath was that he got the
distinct impression that Distra was staring back at the baby.

A shadow wiggled along the wall, amusing
itself in the steady light cast by the lone lantern. Frath
remembered paying attention to shadows when he was a child, but
they had faded from his mind as he grew. Now he noticed them all
the time. They moved, they danced and they wiggled, but mostly they
were sad.