Shadows: Book One of the Eligia Shala (40 page)

“Can’t I get drunk first? Ow! Damn it, that hurts. I suppose you’re enjoying yourself.” He winced, gritting his teeth.

Jenevra was relieved when the healer arrived with a concoction that she’d requested for Logan. Washing her hands off, she took the dish.

“Who’s that for?” Tessier asked.

“Logan,” she answered softly. “There’s nothing they can do for him, so this will just make things easier until he goes.” She reached out unthinkingly and ran one finger through the dark hair running down towards his navel. “You’d better put a shirt on, Captain. And let that healer tie a bandage over your shoulder. Just keep it all clean and dry and you’ll be fine.”

Kneeling behind Logan, Jenevra rested his head in her lap and rubbed a pale green paste across his lips. Murmuring gentle words of encouragement, she watched as Logan licked parched lips, taking the medicine in. Logan’s breathing was becoming erratic now, shallow and fast. Brogan and Bernardo sat silently with them, Gavin still clinging to his brother’s hand.

Tessier pulled his shirt on and wandered down to where the small group was holding their vigil. He contemplated the young woman in front of him, still wondering if he’d ever solve the mystery of her. How could the terrified girl who’d clung to him through her nightmares be the same one he’d seen ready to throw herself across half a battlefield just to attack one man? Then she was here, removing the arrow from his shoulder with at least as much skill as any of the healers in the tent; and now, caring for Logan as if he was her child, stroking his hair and face, holding on to him as he died. Tessier shook his head, catching the somber look Brogan was giving him.

“Tell her Commander Rabenaldt will expect a report when she’s done here,” he advised the Sergeant quietly. “I’ll tell him where she is for now.”

 CHAPTER THIRTY TWO

Raik Rabenaldt was feeling old. It didn’t come upon him very often, but today he was feeling every one of his sixty years. Watching Kian Menzetti, who was only a few years younger than he was, fighting Jai-Nimh, who had to be in his late seventies, made him realize how rusty his own skills had become. He knew the Order had a very different way of life and training, but he also was honest enough to admit that either of them would have killed him with far less effort than they had expended on each other. Maybe it was time to consider retiring and letting someone younger run the show. Pulling his heavy breastplate off he thought that might be a really good idea. He sighed heavily as he remembered that he still had to find Jenevra and tell her that Ki-Nimh was hurt; possibly fatally, although the healer wasn’t prepared to give up hope yet. Calling his steward, Raik sent out word that he was ready for the reports to begin coming in from his Captains.

One by one they arrived. Rafael Massili had no report to make: having watched the entire battle with Raik. He just dropped his bulk into a chair and began drinking. Richard and Stephan Couressime had both fought with Captain Manvi’s troops, holding positions as honorary Lieutenants in that Flight. Both were bruised and scratched, but nothing serious. Captain Manvi was attending to some of his men who had been injured, but arrived just shortly after Captain Tessier.

“Captain Couressime will join us later. She’s staying with one of her men.” Tessier informed them quietly. “She’s fine.” He answered the unspoken questions from her brothers. He looked directly at Raik. “Logan Logansson,” he said simply.

Raik closed his eyes. Such waste. Logan had been in the Border Patrol until the Shadow Flight was formed; he knew both the twins well. “How’s Gavin taking it?”

Tessier shrugged. “About as well as you’d think. She’s staying with him until Logan goes. Brogan and Bernardo are there too; and I think I saw the archer and the blond boy, the good swordsman, going into the tent too.”

“Doesn’t believe in taking the easy way about anything, does she?” Rafael Massili was quietly serious: the princess had impressed him more than he was willing to admit to just yet.

Night was deepening as Logan finally slipped quietly from unconsciousness into death. It took several moments for Gavin to realize that his brother had stopped breathing, and that the Captain had stopped murmuring to Logan. He turned anguished eyes on her, seeing a pain mirrored there, an understanding of what he was feeling. “I’d like to stay with him a while, if that’s alright, Captain?”

Jenevra nodded. “Take as long as you need, Gavin. I’ll tell the healers not to bother you. Do you want us to stay?”

Gavin looked around at the other men: his eyes filling with sudden emotion, he turned back to his brother. “No … thanks. I’d like to be alone with Logan.”

Each of the men laid a hand on Gavin’s shoulder as they filed silently out, leaving him hunched over his dead twin, dark head bowed over the blond one. Kneeling on the opposite side of Logan, Jenevra smoothed his hair back from his forehead one last time, bending forward to lay a light kiss on it. Brogan, Bernardo, Finn and Simon were standing around outside the tent waiting for her. She gave them a tired smile. “Go on back to the Flight. Get some beer out. I know no-one will really be in the mood to celebrate now, but at least you can all have a decent drink.” She sighed wearily. “I’ll go see Commander Rabenaldt. You never know,” she glanced at Bernardo. “I might even be able to sleep tonight.”

As she trudged through the camp towards Raik’s Command tent the talisman’s faint buzzing was beginning to intrude onto her consciousness; a vibration deep within her mind. Irritated, she put it down to the emotion of the day, the let down of adrenalin, and tried to focus away from it. She could hear all the familiar voices inside Raik’s tent as she came along the side of it. The front was open, tied back to allow the cool evening breezes in.

“Jenn!” Stephan jumped up, smothering her as usual in a massive bear hug.

Pushing him off, she nodded at everyone else. “Tessier told you?” she directed the question at Raik, who nodded. “Logan was our only injury,” she continued. “The rest of my Flight is fine. We did not, however, complete our mission to retrieve the talisman. Mikhail is still alive, and out there somewhere with it.” Taking a deep breath, she folded her arms defiantly. “I want permission for my Flight to go after him.”

Everyone, except Raik who’d been expecting it, sat up from their slouched positions, objecting vociferously.

“No.”

“That’s it … no?”

“Correct. But before you argue, you might want to see how your mentor is doing. I was planning on sending you to take him home to Mirizir.”

“Ki-Nimh’s hurt?” Her manner changed instantly; another thread pulling out of the fabric of her life. “Where is he?”

“Second tent down.” Raik watched her disappear, hoping she would find Kian still alive. At least they’d be able to say good-bye.

Wynn, senior of the Healers traveling with Raik’s Patrol, was leaving Ki-Nimh’s tent as she reached it: he’d done all he could for the man inside and needed to return to supervise the main healers’ tent. He knew the princess from many years of bumps and scrapes in the Palace, and nodded a welcoming smile as she entered the darkened interior. The remaining healer stood, signaling her to quiet as she entered the tent. Moving noiselessly across to the low bed, she knelt by the side of the man who had guided her for five years. “Ki-Nimh?” She whispered; a hollow feeling in the pit of her stomach.

The lean form on the bed remained still and silent, hands resting at his sides. The stern face seemed more relaxed and peaceful than she had ever seen it before; steel colored hair released from its usual tight braid, falling around his face, making him look younger and, somehow, vulnerable.

“He has a deep wound,” the healer explained. “It came close to his heart. Also another that caused a massive loss of blood. We’ve managed to halt the bleeding now; the wounds are closed and will heal in time. If he doesn’t get a fever on top of this, then maybe he has a chance … if he’s strong enough. I’m sorry I cannot be more hopeful.”

“He’ll be fine,” Jenevra stated with a quiet confidence that she wasn’t sure she truly felt. “He’s strong. You don’t know what he’s been through before this, and he’s still here.” Taking Ki-Nimh’s hand in her own on a sudden impulse, she placed it on the talisman that still hung around her neck. “I’m not losing you too,” she muttered, closing her eyes and reaching out for Ki-Nimh in her mind. The white mists were still there, but thicker, more tangible; holding her like wading through treacle; blocking the pathway from clear view. She had a strong sense of someone else there with her, someone searching for her, trying to reach her. Dragging deep inside of herself, she pushed every ounce of strength and energy she could feel into the hand she was holding; sensing a warmth building up in her arm. Dimly she heard the healer’s muffled gasp before the buzzing sound began to impose its awareness again; pulling her back through the mists into the dimly lit tent. Nauseous, and gasping as if she had run forever, she looked at Ki-Nimh’s face, relieved to see it had a little more color, and his breathing seemed a little stronger.

“How … how did you do that, Your Highness?” the healer stuttered. “It looked as though light was running down your arm into him. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Still trying to catch her breath, Jenevra shook her head. “I have no idea. I’m just glad it seems to have done something. When can he travel to Mirizir? He can get well there.”

The healer felt his patient’s pulse. Pursing his lips, he nodded slowly. “His pulse is stronger now; I think he may just do it, Your Highness. Give him a couple of days here to gain some strength and then he should be strong enough to travel.”

She slumped exhausted on the floor at his side, her head resting on her elbow on the side of the bed. She watched him for over an hour, the deep vibration humming within her erasing her concept of time. Resigned to the fact that he wasn’t coming round any time soon, she stood and stretched. Lifting Ki-Nimh’s Master’s sword tentatively from its customary place on a stand in the corner, holding it close to her, she bowed deeply to her unconscious mentor and left.

Making her way back to Raik’s tent, where the men were already indulging in some serious drinking by the sound of things, she saw Baran Wargentin enter ahead of her and heard his voice. “Where’s Jenevra?” Baran’s voice was almost as loud as Rafael Massili’s when he was excited. Jenevra wasn’t close enough to hear the other voices in the tent, but Baran’s voice boomed out loud and clear. “Well, we had to make sure there were no stragglers—make sure we knew where they all were. Can’t have them sneaking back in the night, can we? Anyway, where’s the princess?”

More mutterings from another voice that she couldn’t place.

“Yes, Tessier, I am well aware that I’m married. Jenevra and I … well, let’s just say we have an understanding …”

Unwilling to prolong the suspense any further, but ready to play along, Jenevra appeared around the corner of the tent. “Hello, Baran. You sound like you’ve been having fun.” Although her expression was calm, Baran had caught the gleam in her eyes.

“My dear Princess,” he held his arm out to her. “Care to join me for a stroll?”

“Why, Your Highness, that would be delightful,” she smiled blithely at him: the dark look being thrown at them by Captain Tessier merely sweetening the moment. “Commander,” she turned to Raik. “You win. The healer says Ki-Nimh will be able to travel in a couple of days. I’ll go with him to Mirizir.” Swinging Ki-Nimh’s sword over her left shoulder, she gave her right arm to Baran, and they wandered off through the camp together, to the amazement and disgust of various members of the party in Raik’s tent.

“How does she manage to make obeying a direct order sound like she’s doing me a favor?” Raik asked the tent in general, not really expecting an answer.

When they were out of direct line of sight, Jenevra removed her arm and turned to Baran, poking a sharp finger into his ribs. “So, what’s this all about? We have an understanding? Really? I thought my brothers were going to choke.”

“I was just trying to see if I could get Tessier to lose his grip,” Baran grinned widely. “But I have news for you, and I didn’t want anyone else to hear it.” He glanced at her, pleased to see he’d piqued her interest. “I know where Mikhail Dhorani is.”

She narrowed her eyes in suspicion. “Well, that’s interesting; but why’d you think I would care where he is?”

Baran’s massive hand picked up one of hers. Tapping a finger at the red cord still bound around her wrist, suddenly deadly serious, he said, “I know what these are for, sweetheart. And in this case, I think I also know who they’re for.”

Jenevra didn’t drop her gaze, meeting Baran’s clear blue eyes with her own. “That is a very unusual piece of information for you to have,” she noted quietly. “How do you know about the cords?”

Baran shrugged huge shoulders. “I met a man—years ago now. It was an inn down in Nixehafen as I recall. I helped him out and he explained the significance of the oath that goes with them to me.” His voice dropped as he added, “I’d rather not see you have to take your own life, and I reckon you have a decent chance in a fair fight against Dhorani. I just went on a little information gathering exercise on your behalf. How long do you have?”

“Oh, a couple of days,” she said, vaguely. “Where was he?”

Baran explained, attributing the princess’s vague expression to concentration; not knowing that the talisman was buzzing in her head again like an angry swarm of hornets.