The Forgotten King (Korin's Journal) (17 page)

Chapter 16

Sometimes It Just Takes a Kick in the Ass from a Cat

My spirit was broken, my soul dead.  Kait’ had gotten exactly what she’d wanted. 

After a few hours of failed attempts, Briscott gave up on prodding me to speak, tending to my wounds and nothing more.  When he tried to give me some tashave leaf, I held up a hand in refusal.  As dark as it sounds, I felt I deserved the pain as atonement for my actions.  Despite Briscott’s repeated words that what happened with the brigands wasn’t my fault, I felt otherwise.
I
had been holding the weapon that killed those men. 
I
had taken their lives.

For the next four days, I didn’t speak unless ordered to.  What Briscott had complained about in the other men, I found to be a blessing.  They didn’t speak to me except to tell me when it was my turn for watch or whatever other task Eyebrows and Kait’ decided to heap on me.  Briscott gave me space but made at least one strong attempt each day to pull me out from my self-withdrawal.  He didn’t succeed.  Feeding
myself felt like a chore, one that I had no interest in.  However, whenever Briscott wasn’t on watch, he’d stare me down until I ate.  Looking back, I feel horrible about how I acted around him.  He was only trying to help. 

Kait’ made sure to give me a knowing smile whenever she saw me.  Those smiles were all that distracted me from my pain and self-loathing.  They instead filled me with a focused anger that unfortunately couldn’t be released.  Thankfully, I didn’t go on any other scoutings with her. 

We set up camp every night, even though our supplies were stretched thin.  After the brigands were looted, we had plenty of money to restock with coin to spare for whenever we finally did cross a town.  That meant that Kait’ and Eyebrows could save Til’s woodwork for a large city, where it would fetch a better price.

Til’, Sal’, and Max hardly entered my troubled mind during those days.  When they did, I felt even worse.  I could only think of how I’d failed them all.  Especially Max.  Even though we were making our way to Tahron, I knew that I wouldn’t be able to save him.  Eyebrows and Kait’ planned for us to enslave wizards in towns outside of the Academy, keeping us from ever actually going to the Academy itself. 

Even if we survived through that, I was positive that Eyebrows didn’t plan on letting his current slaves live.  That included me.  He would likely take the rocks from our chests to enslave six more wizards, who would be better equipped to fight the undead in Gualain.  Then, he would probably have us killed to keep us from hindering his plans.

With the days passing, I figured
Til’ had decided to make his way to Tahron, as opposed to coming after me.  I couldn’t help but worry about what would happen to him once he found Sal’ and Max, if he were even able to.  The weight kept piling on my shoulders, just like a stone in the ocean or the ground under a mountain. 

On the fourth night after involuntarily slaying the brigands, we stopped to set up camp.  I was given first shift on watch, along with Oslen.  Afterwards, I was allowed my four hours of sleep.  The first two hours, as with the three nights before, were spent reliving the horrors of that day with Kait’ and the brigands.  There’s only so long your mind can keep going after you shut your eyes, though, and I eventually fell into a deep sleep.

****

I awoke to two small points of pressure on my chest and a larger one on my stomach.  Sitting atop me was Max, the familiar black stripes on his gray-furred body and black M on his forehead intact.  His green feline eyes glared at me as if disappointed.

“Max?  Is that really you?” I asked, my voice echoing in my ears. 

He simply huffed.

“How did you get free?” 

Another huff, this time followed by a twitch of his whiskers.  “Just think about this for a moment, lunkhead,” he said in his raspy voice.  It had been far too long since I’d heard that voice.

At his words, I looked around me.  I was no longer in the tent I’d fallen asleep in.  I was lying on a cold stone floor, the world completely black aside from a small circle of light surrounding us.  I pushed myself up on my elbows, causing Max to jump down beside me.  The blackness parted, keeping Max illuminated.  My rising spirits from seeing my friend alive crashed as I realized what was happening.

“I’m dreaming, aren’t I?” I sighed.

“Such a genius,” Max replied sarcastically.  “What tipped you off?  The fact that you are not where you fell asleep, the unnatural darkness, or the fact that I am a cat instead of a squirrel?”

I ran a hand through my choppy hair, reminded of Sal’ as I did.  “Yeah, I kind of forgot about the whole squirrel thing.”

“Lunkhead,” Max muttered, turning to bite at his haunches. 

“Well, this is better than my other dreams of late,” I admitted.  I was enjoying the absence of pain in my dream world. 

Max whipped his head back towards me, his green eyes glowing in the unnatural light.  “I would certainly hope so.  This one actually means something.”

“And how can you tell me that?  You’re not even real.”

Yet another huff.  “Your subconscious is trying to tell you something, lunkhead.”

“Is it now?” I replied.  “And just what is it trying to tell me? That I have a wise-ass cat for a best friend?”

“No, that you still owe me that salmon.  It has been weeks since you promised me, you know.”

My laughter echoed through the darkness.  It felt good.  “I don’t think that salmon’s in the cards for you anymore, Max.  Neither of us is exactly in any position to make it happen.”

Max shook his head.  “I was being sarcastic.  You would think you would know me well enough by now to recognize that.”  Max shook his head.  “No, Korin, this is all about not letting you give up hope.”

I laughed again, this time ruefully. 
“A little late for that, Max.”

“Korinalis
Karell, quit being such an idiot.  You have people who care for you.  You have to live for them.  Your current mindset is only going to lead to your death, and you know it.”

“Maybe so, but I don’t have much of a choice.  With what these bastards want me to do, I’ll probably end up dead anyway,” I countered. 

In a flash, Max was no longer a cat, but a wizened old man in a brown wizard’s robe.  He had short gray hair and a long gray beard streaked with black that hung down his chest.  This was how I’d seen Max in a prior dream, in his true human form.  As Jonasir Spensolin.  During that instant, Jonasir smacked me hard enough to flip me onto my side before turning back into a cat—into Max—again.  As I rubbed my now throbbing cheek with a hand, Max casually licked at a paw.

“What was that for?” I screamed.

“For being such an Averninax-blooded lunkhead, lunkhead.  I just had to turn into a human to deliver the type of smack you deserved,” he explained before going back to licking his paw. 

I sat up, still rubbing my cheek.  “But you’re a wizard, remember?  Couldn’t you have just used magic?”

“Oh yeah,” Max replied.  Suddenly I was knocked back onto my side again by an unseen blow. 

“Me and my big mouth,” I muttered, sitting up again.  “Can you actually give me any
real
advice?  Something more than how gravy makes everything better?”  Max stopped mid-lick and ran his tongue in a circle around his cat lips.  “Seriously, Max.”

“All right, all right.  Look, you have to stay alive to help your friends.”  He stood up on his haunches and started counting his next points by extending claws on one paw while gesturing at them with the other.  “One, you know you do not wish me to be a research subject.  Two, you know that Til’ is coming after you.  And Three, you know Salmaea loves you back, right?”  He gave me a pointed look, holding up the three claws before me.

“I highly doubt that last part,” I replied, trying to decide if cats could extend individual claws at will in real life.

Max dropped his front legs back to the ground and let out another huff.  “You are about to get smacked again.  This is
your
subconscious telling you this. 
You
believe she has feelings for you.” 

I threw up my hands in exasperation.  “And what does any of that matter?  I’m a slave here.  I can’t get away.”

“That is not the point,” Max replied, annoyance clear in his tone.

“Then what is?” I asked, irritated.

“You have to live.  Not just for your friends, but to stop Raijom.”  His voice had become completely serious.

I hung my head, pressure building in my chest, a sour burn filling my stomach.  It was hard to speak through the constriction of my throat.  “I’m only one person, Max.  If Raijom’s starting a war, then it’ll be up to the kings of Amirand and their armies, or maybe even the Tahronian wizards, to take care of him.  Not me.”

Max shook his head again.  “Think about it.  Why was Raijom trying so hard to kill you?”

“Because of the prophecy,” I answered.

“So . . .” he prodded, gesturing with a paw for me to continue. 

I was silent for a moment.  Then it hit me. 
“Because I’m a danger to him.  Well, a danger to whatever his plans are, at least.  He thinks I can stop him.  The prophecy must have something to do with the threat I pose to him.”  My heart, or at least my dream heart, started racing.

Max’s cat mouth curled up into an approving smile.  It looked so unnatural on a cat, but I’d grown used to it over my years with him. 

“Max, am I the only one who can stop him?”  My voice echoed hollowly through the surrounding darkness as Max stared at me, lost in thought.  I guess in all reality, it was really me doing the thinking.

“That, I do not know,” he answered finally, cutting through the fading echoes of my prior question.  “But is it worth giving up hope when there is even a sliver of possibility that you are?  Think about all we have been through.  We have killed eldrhims.  We lived through a fight with Prexwin.  You found a way to get around the magic of your Activated Contract with Galius.  This is just another bump in the road, another knot in the wood, another bone in your grilled salmon.”

“You’re absolutely right,” I whispered.

“I typically am,” Max smiled.

I eased back, looking down at myself for the first time.  I was shirtless, but there was no glowing rock in my chest.  My mind was telling me that I’d make it through this.  Suddenly, without conscious thought, I rolled onto my side and curled into a ball.  Strangely, a blanket was covering me.

Then someone kicked me in the ass.

“Max, I got your point already,” I mumbled in irritation.

Another kick.
 

“Max, I told you . . .”

****

“I don’t care who you tol’ what.  Get up ’fer I kick ya again.” 

My eyes snapped open, and I flipped onto my back to see Kevrin standing over me, his back hunched due to the slanted top of the canvas tent.  His greasy blond hair hung down over his eyes.  One of the black cuirasses kept his glowing rock hidden.

“Okay, I’m up,” I mumbled, rubbing my eyes. 

“Jefren wants ya to stand watch outside his an’ Kait’s tent,” he told me in his backwoods accent, scratching at his beard.

Only hours before, I would’ve remained silent and mechanically gone about the task, but now, with my dream fresh on my mind, I took hold of something I hadn’t felt in days: hope.

I threw my blanket aside and stretched.  It was the first time in days that I’d actually wanted to wake up.  Even with just four hours of sleep, I felt energized.  I stood, also having to keep my back hunched in the cramped tent. 

The pain behind my eyes was torturous, my chest not exactly feeling pleasant either.  Instead of letting it consume my thoughts as before, I took a deep breath of the cold night air and pushed the pain to the back of my thoughts.  I still hurt like an old man on his Rizear-blooded deathbed, but accepting the pain and consciously focusing my attention away from it made me feel much better.  It was like having iron hammer blows exchanged for punching fists.  I know that still sounds bad, but trust
me, it was a more than welcome reprieve.

As I turned to leave, I gave Kevrin a big smile.  “Thanks, Kevrin.”

Kevrin eyed me suspiciously but said nothing as he tossed his cuirass aside and took my place on the thin bedroll, pulling the blanket over himself.  Knowing that I’d been acting the same way just hours before made me realize how broken I’d been.  Had my eyes looked so dead?  Had my expression been just as haunted?  Did Briscott see me the way that I’d just seen Kevrin? 

It mattered little.  I wasn’t going to win these men over when Briscott had failed to do so in the months he’d known them.  However, I wasn’t going to become like them either.  Yes, I’d killed men in cold blood, but my newfound hope brought forth another feeling: acceptance.  I had to accept what I’d done, whether I was to blame or not, and move on.  I couldn’t change the
past.  I could only focus on the future, a future where I was free again.  A future where I could save my friends and attempt to do some good for the world.