Divided (24 page)

Kilik was appealing to him, and in more ways than one—in the
way that he walked, the way he talked, the way he fought, as there was almost
no denying that Kilik stood before him now.  Yes, and that was why he was so
unhappy at the premise of being forced into marriage.

He stamped that inappropriate thought out of his mind.  As
currently, Kilik, or the Phantom Blade, didn’t look like he trusted Calis as
far as he could throw him—with his injured finger.  “Thank you…”  Calis could
see the very slight flush underneath the mask. 

“You’re bleeding,” Calis said.  But this time, when he tried
to get close enough to his masked companion, the boy leapt away and glared at
him—looking very similar to a boxed-in cat.  “For such a brave hero, you
certainly are skittish.”

The wet look of the side of the vigilante’s uniform had
Calis worried, though, to say the least.  Perhaps he should let the boy handle
his affairs how he usually did, but if his past behavior was any
indication—Kilik didn’t put much stock in attending to himself. 

“Forgive me, I’m wearing a mask—I’m just used to people…
trying to…”

At that moment, he glanced around and seemed to realize that
the people were advancing on him.  “Don’t run off,” Calis said.  “No one will
take the mask off… just let me help you to a healer—you’re hurt.”

The boy took a step back, and Calis could tell that this was
a prelude to his eventual darting off down the alleyway.  “I thank you very
much, and… I…”

“Everyone else here may be willing to extort you for your kindness,
but I will not.  You fail to realize that you are one of the people in this district
and that you need protection as much as any of these people do,” Calis said
with a hot snap in his voice.  Everyone was staring at them, and there was a
shift in the air when he spoke—as if he’d said something that none of them had
understood until then.  “You’re not listening to me, are you?”

The boy took another step back and glanced behind him.  “I
told you I would take care of the injury, I just can’t right here…”

The small form was staggering, and Calis knew that if he
didn’t let the boy leave now that he would do more harm than good.  “Alright,”
he said, “and thank you—for all the halfwits in this district that don’t know
how to say it.”

The boy’s eyes widened before he took off through the
alleyway faster than Calis had ever seen anybody run.

“A Hero unlike any before him, on two fronts, and the
likes of which none of the Magisters could have predicted—even Aleia.”

-A Hero’s Peace, vii

Taeru breathed as gently as he could as Juliet applied the
last of the herbs to the cut along his side.  She’d laced the bandages on it with
crushed leaves so that the soothing effect would continue.  “You reckless,
crazy, little boy—seven? 
Seven
guards?  Do you realize how easily they
could have killed you?”

“They were hurting her!” he answered.  “I couldn’t stand
there and do nothing.  I knew what they were trying to do—but I had no choice! 
They would have done more than hurt her!”  He had been defending himself
through the entire healing.  He’d yet to disclose Aitken’s play in the events,
as Taeru had decided to interfere far before the little boy had stepped in.

Juliet moved her hand to his face and wiped a rag over it
gingerly.  “You are too much of a hero, Kilik.”

Taeru had taken care of some of the injuries himself, as he’d
learned that Tareth knew to check the healer for anyone who’d come in with severe
injuries directly after he—or any noble he knew—had hurt the Phantom Blade. 
There had been one point, when Tareth had gotten Taeru rather nastily in the
leg, that Tareth had men guard Juliet’s house for a full cycle.  Taeru had lived
on the floor of a cellar and had been so pale with blood loss by the time
Juliet could treat him that he was lucky that he still had a leg at all.

After that, Taeru had made sure to learn a little more on
how to patch up his own wounds.  He was certainly not as good as Juliet, or
even Katt, but he knew how to make sure that he survived a few suns without a
healer. 

Juliet stood back to observe her work and nodded
approvingly.  “How does that feel?” she asked.

“Better,” he said, “thank you, Juliet.”

No nobles had been near the healer this time, though.  The
nobles may have set a trap for him, but they weren’t as familiar with him as
Tareth was and therefore had not thought to watch the healer’s home.  Taeru was
glad of that as well, since the traveler in the market place had left him
feeling strangely guilty about his lack of interest in his own well-being.

The traveler had saved his life, in fact.  Taeru had known
that there was no way he could have gotten out of that situation without being
revealed, but the blond had intervened just before the situation had
escalated.  He had done so without fear as well, going so far as to insult the
noble he’d struck.

Taeru’s heart had admittedly started beating a little faster
at the idea of being rescued by someone.  He wasn’t sure that he had ever had
that experience before, not as Taeru, Kilik, and certainly not as the Phantom
Blade.  Though, the people in Dark District were slowly coming around to the
idea of accepting one another, their fear was still stronger.

In fact, despite how strange the words were and how severe
the blond had been when he’d said them—Taeru was glad that the traveler had
mentioned that the Phantom Blade was just another member of Dark District.  He
hadn’t wanted to guilt trip the citizens into helping him, but perhaps they
would understand more clearly now that any one of them could be the Phantom
Blade that they had come to adore so much.

Then again, none of them had interfered this sun, which
meant that Taeru had a lot more work to do if he wanted them to help one
another.  That traveler had certainly been rather angry with them, or perhaps
he was angry with Taeru.  Taeru had been so dazed, and so awestruck by the
traveler’s appearance, that he hadn’t completely understood the words the man had
said.

A moment later, Aitken entered the room looking rather
downtrodden.  He probably had no idea that Taeru hadn’t mentioned what had
happened, and Taeru didn’t bother telling him either way.  “I’m sorry, Mother,”
he said.

Juliet looked confused, and when Aitken shot a glance at
Taeru, he just smiled and shrugged his shoulders.  “What do you mean you’re
sorry, Aitken?  What did you do?” she asked sternly.  Taeru wondered if the boy
would be quick enough to get out of this.

“I…” he started.  His eyes were wide with panic.  “I…” 
Then, he squeezed his eyes shut and gave in.  “Well, before Ki—I mean the Phantom
Blade showed up this sun, I got the soldiers attention and nearly got myself in
a lot of trouble.”

Juliet’s head snapped to find Taeru, who nodded his head
apologetically.  “You!  Aitken!  You realize that if the Phantom Blade had been
smart enough to stay out of the fray, that your involvement would have given
him no choice?” she asked.  Her eyes sparked as she searched her son for
injuries and got angrier when they found none.

“I’m sorry!” Aitken said.

“It was not his fault,” Taeru said simply.  Aitken shot him
a grateful glance, but Taeru returned it with a very serious one of his own. 
He didn’t want Aitken, of all people, interfering in matters that could land
him with serious injury or worse.

Juliet sighed.  “Nevertheless, you should not have done it.”

“No, you shouldn’t have,” Taeru agreed.

Aitken lowered his voice, upon realizing that he was not going
to be implicated much further on the issue, and smiled.  “I can’t believe that
guy helped you, Kilik!  The way he hit that stupid old soldier on the head like
that!  That was amazing!  I wonder if he knew it was you.”

That was a thought that had occurred to Taeru.  The
possibility was certainly there, as there had been a flash of recognition
during their interaction at the market.  The traveler might have known who
Taeru was, and he might not have.  Well, he may have known half of who Taeru
was, anyway.  “He certainly saved me,” Taeru admitted weakly.

“He was looking for you, well, he was looking for Kilik
before we ran into the nobles.  He said to tell you that he liked you very
much,” Aitken reported, “and that he thought Alyx was odd.”

Taeru flushed at being told by a child that some strange, blond
traveler liked him very much.  Aitken surely didn’t know what he was saying,
but the grin on Juliet’s face said that she knew precisely what was being
said.  “Ah, well… perhaps I will run into him tomorrow.”  Taeru secretly hoped
not, though, as his injuries would certainly give him away.

“You should have seen it, Mother,” Aitken said.  Taeru
wished fervently that he would stop talking now.  “He grabbed Kilik’s hand and
took off his glove so he could see his finger and messed up hand, and then he
got very serious about Kilik taking care of himself.  I think you would have
liked him very much, Mother.  And he was very brave.”  The boy rattled off all
the things that Taeru had already told himself too many times.

Taeru didn’t need to be thinking about this strange traveler
anymore, and he knew that.  He knew that the feelings he had for this blond
were quickly escalating, and he did not want any part of those feelings
associated with another person.  So, he stowed them away and pretended they
didn’t exist.  “I’m sure he’ll leave soon,” Taeru mused aloud.

“Perhaps not, Kilik.  Perhaps he is taken enough with you to
want to stay around for a very long time,” Juliet said.

The thought of that blond staying in Telandus for the sole
purpose of being with Taeru was laughable.  Not only was Taeru nothing more
than a commoner, but he was—well, ordinary.  No, that idea was positively
absurd.  “Don’t be ridiculous, Juliet,” Taeru said.

She just laughed, and she didn’t seem to think that she was
being ridiculous in the slightest.  “Just be glad that Alyx wasn’t around for
that earlier—she would never let you live it down.”

“She will no doubt hear of it,” Aitken said, “on my way
home, I could already hear people talking about secret romances and all that
stuff between the Phantom Blade and the blond guy.  I thought it was funny, but
Alyx will love it, I bet!”

Red flushed across Taeru’s cheeks, and he glared at the
wall.  “Romance?  How can people be so absurd?  Just because he helped me
instantly implies romance—then perhaps I am romantically involved with half of
Dark District!”

“Perhaps you are,” Juliet answered him.  “And I hardly think
that this traveler friend of yours deals with you in the same way that you deal
with the people of Dark District.  Now, enough—go lie down.  You must be
exhausted.”

Making his way to his bed, Taeru found that he was more
exhausted and sore than he’d expected.  Despite that the sun had not fully set,
he found himself drifting off only moments after he’d lay down.

The seedling stood before him again, and its whispers felt
more like tiny pinpricks in his ear than actual sounds.  He couldn’t find his
body, or rather, he didn’t know where he was—or how to move away from the
field.  He only knew that he was before it, and that he wanted to get away from
it.

The field stood, unmoving under a crimson sky.  The scene
felt morbid, as though there was something truly evil lying just below the
surface of the fields.  Or perhaps it wasn’t evil, perhaps there was just
something
wrong
—trying to break through.

All at once, he knew precisely where he was.  He was lying
on the ground before the seedling.  It had grown since he’d last been in the
field, and the strange energy pouring from it had grown in power.  Taeru pushed
himself up onto his hands—hands that he soon found were bloodied and bruised.

Somewhere in the distance, Taeru could hear his father
making plans for war.  He could hear the plans, but he could not see his
father.  In fact, Taeru had never felt so entirely alone and helpless.  He took
a few steps away from the seedling, and as soon as he did, he felt an
overwhelming pain surge into his body and knock him to the ground.

When he tried to get back up, his body seemed to become more
bruised and battered, and he couldn’t find the source of it.  The bruise on his
shoulder was by far the worst, and he knew where he’d gotten that.  But the
other injuries were new, and he didn’t recall acquiring them.  The voices in
the distance grew angrier and angrier, and Taeru knew they were angry with
him.  They ought to be angry with him because he had failed all of them in the
worst possible way.

The problem was that he didn’t know how he had failed them,
only that he had.  Again and again, he tried to force himself onto his feet to
face what he’d done—but again and again, pain kept him where he was. 

Stay, little boy.  Stay here.

The voice in his ear finally spoke words that he was able to
understand, and he knew that he wanted to disobey them more than he had ever wanted
to disobey anything.  He scrambled upwards, finally getting to his feet and
stumbling back—away from the growing, twisted creation.

“What is this?” Taeru asked the air.  The air that seemed to
resonate with the presence of the creature that seemed to want so desperately
Taeru’s suffering.  In fact, Taeru could feel the power increasing with every
bit of pain that possessed him.

Taeru’s eyes moved along the twisting plantlike thing. 
Perhaps it had once been a tree, and perhaps it still pretended to be a
tree—but this was no ordinary tree.  As it grew before his eyes, there were twisting
vines moving around it, and shards of purplish black crystals jutted out from
it.

This is your grave, little prince…

His body twitched in response to the voice.  He stumbled
back a little further, and this time he ran into another body.  His heart
lurched at who it might be, and then he turned to see Lavus Tsrali staring into
his eyes with the cold grip of insanity on his face.  Taeru was unable to
respond before the king’s hand moved forward and closed around Taeru’s neck, lifting
the boy to dangle in the air.

When Taeru tried to speak, Lavus’s grip only tightened, and
he found that he could not breathe, let alone speak.  Lavus’s hand was
unnaturally big, and as it held Taeru, it began changing into something much
more grotesque.  A claw enclosed around his throat more firmly, and Taeru could
feel life leaking out of him and into the tree that seemed to grow behind him. 
His eyes opened and closed as he fought for breath, but none came.

In another instant, Lavus turned, and then, all at once,
there was a sword jutting through Taeru’s abdomen.  With a flick of the king’s
arms, Taeru was tossed to the ground before the tree.  Lavus stared up at the
corrupt plant as if it was a god that needed to be worshipped, and then, as if
to confirm this, he knelt.

Taeru was sure that Lavus Tsrali would never kneel to
anything.  Lavus was power-hungry, greedy, and insane.  He would never bow to
anything that wasn’t entirely unnatural.  Taeru scrambled back up to his feet
and away from the still growing tree.  It whispered to him in languages that he
didn’t understand, but nonetheless, he knew he needed to get away from it. 

The sword had vanished from his stomach, but the stab wound remained,
and the pain that it produced seemed to feed the tree like water.  When he
tried to move, pain shot through him like fire and the tree seemed to moan with
glee. 

Failure.  Worthless.  Pathetic.

The words repeated to him and despite his best efforts, Taeru could not block
them out.  Perhaps they were true.  After all, he had abandoned his family to
get away from a war that he knew to be inevitable.  He hadn’t been able to stop
the war due to his own inability to communicate.  He had done many things that
could be considered failures, and perhaps he deserved this sort of nightmare—if
he could do no better.

Precisely.

The words now sounded like a purr, as if they were so
ecstatic with his agony that the creature producing the sounds could not contain
itself.  No matter how unhappy he was with himself, Taeru knew that he could
not continue feeding the monster near to him.  Lavus was gone—entirely consumed
by the crystallized structure forming behind Taeru. 

With a crack, there was a tentacle about Taeru’s arm.  The
grip was painful, as though there were tiny spikes on the insides of the black
tentacle.  Angry electricity crackled through his body, and he could feel his
ability to fight draining from him.  He needed his sword—but it was nowhere to
be found, and with a tug, he was being yanked towards the tree again.