The God-Stone War

Chapter 35

“Good morning,” I said, as Roland stirred beside the small campfire. “Did you sleep well?”

He groaned, “My mouth tastes as if something crawled in and died. What did I drink?”

Obviously he hadn’t quite remembered the circumstances surrounding his last awakening. I handed him a cup containing watered wine, “Here rinse your mouth out.”

“Where are we?” he asked, looking around at the dark and empty landscape.

“The southern desert, a short distance from Agraden,” I replied.

Roland frowned. “How did I get here…? Oh you bastard!” he said, standing up with a loud exclamation. “You tried to kill me!”

“I wouldn’t go that far. I tried to make the trip as pleasant as possible,” I protested.

“Pleasant?! Is that what you call it? I woke up being thrown around inside your invisible box and nearly broke my nose, and then I discovered we’re miles in the air and falling to our deaths! That’s supposed to be pleasant?” he yelled.

I did my best to keep my features calm. Roland was quite upset and it wouldn’t do any good to laugh while he was still angry. He had actually been through a traumatic ordeal, especially for someone already deathly afraid of heights. “You’re right, but you did repay me a bit for your suffering,” I said blandly.

“Repay you?” he said, staring at me blankly. I plucked at my shirt to draw his attention to my clothes; his quick eyes took them in. “Are you wearing a peasant’s tunic?” he asked.

I nodded. “I couldn’t get the others to stop smelling, so I traded them to a kindly farmer.”

“Smelling? Oh! Well it serves you right! What you did was despicable!” he finished, and I could see he was struggling to keep an angry expression on his face, but eventually a smile crept across his lips. “You were covered in it weren’t you?”

“Mmm hmm,” I said in agreement. “It was hours before I found a place to set down and clean up,” I lied. As Marc might have said, ‘a little embellishment never hurt anyone,’ and in this case it served to make Roland feel a bit better about his inadvertent revenge.

He laughed and I joined him, letting the simple sound ease the tension between us. “How long did it take us to get here?” he asked, once he had finished snickering at me.

“Less than half a day,” I told him. I might have been able to manage it in less time, but after our near death experience I had restricted myself to more modest speeds.

Roland let out an appreciative whistle. “As impressive as that is, there is no way I’m letting you put me back in that flying deathtrap of yours,” he informed me.

“No need,” I replied. “We can walk to Agraden in a half an hour from here, once the sun comes up. I’ll make a circle to take us back to Lancaster or Castle Cameron after we…,” I paused as the realization of why we were there struck home, “…after we’re done,” I finished. Once your brother, my best friend, is dead, said my inner voice.

I slept fitfully that night, while Roland slept not at all. He had had a very restful day already, thanks to my sleep inducing spells. The next day we started walking early. My companion woke me at the first light of dawn, probably out of spite, but I couldn’t complain.

We hadn’t brought anything in the way of supplies for camping or traveling, and there was very little food for breakfast. That might sound foolish, but I’d had no intention of making a long trip, and if we had run into serious problems securing food, we always had the option of creating a circle and returning home.

True to my word, I had put us close enough to the desert city that it was a short walk to reach the outer limits within a half an hour. While most of the landscape for many miles in most directions was barren, the city itself was situated in a lush oasis created by a natural system of springs that rose to the surface there.

From what Marc had told me previously, the home he and Marissa had settled into was located near the northern part of the city, in a district that also housed several of her relatives. Much to my confusion though, the city was an elongated elliptical in shape, with the longer distance stretching in an east-west direction. That meant ‘northern’ encompassed a lot of potential areas.

“I never imagined it would be so big,” commented Roland, as we walked down one of the bigger thoroughfares. The buildings on either side of us were constructed of some sort of tan bricks, as almost everything we had seen was. The predominant color was a sandy brown, from the buildings to the road, and it might have been monotonous if not for the large palm trees and lush vegetation surrounding and infusing the city with a sense of vitality.

Remembering my geography lessons I replied, “I have heard that nearly a hundred thousand people live in or near Agraden.”

“Do you intend to pay a visit to the Shah?” asked Roland suddenly.

The thought had not occurred to me. As a landed noble of Lothion, it would be considered mildly rude for me not to pay a courtesy visit… for the crown prince, Roland, it would be a diplomatic insult to ignore the Shah. None of that mattered though, if our presence went unreported. “I’m really not dressed for it anymore,” I answered, plucking at my shirt. “But we should keep our identities to ourselves for now, just to be safe.”

After asking directions several more times we eventually arrived at our destination. The house standing before us was one of the larger ones in the neighborhood, and I could tell from the front that it probably had a large inner courtyard as well as side buildings. I wonder what I paid for this, I thought silently. Marcus had used an open letter of credit I had given him to purchase whatever he needed. I wasn’t surprised though; he had never been one to do anything by halves.

A servant answered the gate at our knock, and we were ushered into a pleasantly decorated courtyard. Several varieties of small palm decorated the perimeter, along with some broad leafed plants I didn’t recognize at all. A large archway led into what I presumed was an area to stable horses, while the other side of the courtyard boasted a highly carved and ornamented set of wooden doors… the main entrance to the house itself. The center of it all was completed by a three tiered fountain, which strengthened the impression that we had arrived at a place of sanctuary and refuge.

Our wait was short. Only moments after the servant left, Marissa appeared, obviously glad to see us. Her features were composed, though her eyes seemed slightly swollen… a sure sign that she had been crying recently. What worried me far more than that was her choice in clothing; she was covered from head to toe in black, the near universal color for mourning.

She embraced Roland first, as was proper, and while I stood watching, I saw her face clench in unspoken grief. The scene was surreal, and it almost felt as if I stood outside of it looking in, watching the drama unfold while not really being a part of it. A moment later her arms were around me, and I embraced her calmly, my mind blank.

The first thing I noticed was the clean smell of her hair, even as her arms gripped me with a strength I would not have expected from her slender frame. Still I felt nothing, but I held onto her nonetheless, afraid for some reason to let go. Her body shook and the sound of loud, ungainly sobs reached my ears. I wanted to cry, yet I was helpless to reach the torrential core of my sorrow.

I was there… twisting my inner-self into an agony of turmoil, but a veneer of numbness seemed to be shielding me from experiencing it directly. I still held Marissa, but finally I found my voice, “When?”

“Early this morning, not long after midnight,” she replied, squeezing me tighter.

If we hadn’t stopped we probably would have been here, the unbidden thought rose in my mind. We should have continued into the city and gotten directions, even though it had been well past dark when we arrived. I had missed my last chance to say goodbye.

Marissa, now a widow, led us into the house and bade the servants to bring us tea. She offered breakfast as well, but none of us had an appetite. We sat in a silence that was fearful to contemplate.

“Where is he now?” asked Roland.

I had found him already with my magesight, but Marissa answered readily, “He’s still in his bed. I’ve called for the undertaker, but he hasn’t arrived to take him away yet. Would you like to see him?”

Roland politely declined, but after a minute or two I was unable to help myself, and I spoke up, “I think I’d like to see him, if that’s alright.”

“Of course it is,” said Marissa, with wet eyes, “You were as much a brother to him as Roland.”

I glanced at Roland, and he nodded as well, “I’ll wait here, go ahead,” he told me.

Entering the bedroom, the first thing I noticed was his color, his skin was unusually pale, almost grey. The muscles in his face had gone slack and he looked gaunt. I gazed on him for only a minute before I looked away. Instead I began taking in the details of his bedroom, not in a desire to pry, but curious about his recent life. Aside from a few books, and a lot of hastily written notes, there was little to see. On his writing desk I found a heavy leather-bound journal entitled, ‘On the Nature of Faith and Magic’. I knew immediately it must contain the primary focus of his scholarly work on magic over the past few years, but reading his papers would be a task for another day.

A chair on one side of the room bore his long coat. He had probably needed it in the evenings, for as I had discovered the night before, the desert could be quite cold at night. I set my hand on it, feeling the texture of the wool, and then I picked it up. Alone and unobserved, I sank into the chair and buried my face in the heavy garment. It smelled familiar and at long last my emotions broke free.

I wept like a child, drawing air in suddenly and releasing it with great, wracking sobs. Self-consciously, I tried to keep from making any sound as I cried, but my attempts only made it worse. My awareness of the world around me had shrunk, and I had become a solitary ball of misery, until I felt a warm hand on my shoulder. Roland had entered unnoticed, along with Marissa. The two of them had their arms around me, and I found myself surrounded by them in an awkward three way embrace. It was the only comfort any of us found that day.

The rest of the week passed in a whirlwind. After eventually putting myself back together, I created a circle to Albamarl. Informing James of his eldest son’s death was one of the hardest things I could remember having to do.

Marcus was buried in Agraden the same day that Roland and I had arrived, but James held a memorial service for him a week later. It was a private affair, attended primarily by the Lancaster family and those of us in Cameron who were close to Marc. I was asked to speak, and I did, but to this day I still can’t recall a thing I said.

My second biggest shock came a day after, when Dorian and I had our first chance to talk alone. He had seemed tense ever since receiving the news, but I had attributed this primarily to grief; and not just grief over Marc. He had also lost over half of his knights only a few days prior to our friend’s death. All of them had been men he had worked closely with for years. If anyone had reason for mourning, it was Dorian.

“It just doesn’t seem possible,” I told him, hoping to draw him out. He had been very reticent of late.

“Yeah,” said Dorian, his face could have been made of stone.

I put a hand on his shoulder. “It’s just the two of us,” I reminded him, “You don’t have to try and imitate Cyhan.”

His eye twitched for a moment. “Alright, I’ll spit it out then,” he replied, brushing my hand away from his shoulder. His body radiated tension and he seemed angry.

“What?”

“You weren’t thinking clearly, and I’ll forgive you down the road, but what you did was wrong,” said Dorian in a voice that shook with barely suppressed emotion.

I stared at him in shock. What the hell did I do to him? I couldn’t remember the last time I had truly upset Dorian. It wasn’t something I expected.

“When you got word that he was dying, you left without telling me a damn thing. You found Roland, but I didn’t merit telling. I had to find out after you had already gone,” he bit out.

I held out my hands. “I was in a rush Dorian. I wasn’t thinking.”

“I know that!” he shouted suddenly. “I found out second hand. You never considered that I might want to be there too.”

“We didn’t make it in time anyway. It wouldn’t have done any good for you…,” I began.

“That’s not the point, damnitt!” he interrupted me. “You should have told me. You should have given me a choice. You never even considered my feelings. Did you think you were the only one that cared about him? He was my friend too!” Dorian’s face was flushed and his cheeks were wet with tears.

That was when it finally sank in. Of course my untested magical flyer was too small for three people, but what my friend had said was essentially true. I had never considered him, not at all. I had gotten the news and left without a word to anyone but Penny.

“And then, you tell me after, that he knew he was dying… before he even moved! You kept that a secret from me as well! What the fuck Mort!? Do you think I’m so unimportant I don’t deserve your trust?” he yelled, putting emphasis on each word.

I trust you as much as anyone alive, I thought quietly. “He told me to keep it a secret, Dorian. That wasn’t my choice.”

“He was an asshole too! Both of you!” The tears were streaming down his face now.

I hugged him. “I’m sorry. You’re right.”

Even angry, he hugged me back, though for a moment I thought he might break my back, and then he shoved me away. “I’ll get over this, but I’d rather not see you for a few days.”