Hunt of the Bandham (The Bowl of Souls: Book Three) (60 page)

Deathclaw was hurt, but he is gone
.

He didn’t go far,
Justan replied.
But he seems-.

What was that thing that came out of you?
Fist asked.

I’m not sure.
Justan briefly shared his memories of the day he had met the Scralag.
The wizards called it a frost elemental. Whatever it is, it is a part of us now.

I see
, Fist said, troubled.

Qyxal!
Gwyrtha said, nudging Justan.

I will follow after you
, Fist said in understanding.

Justan nodded and climbed onto her saddle. He could see his friends gathered around the elf’s still form. Lenny and Master Coal knelt at his side, while Bettie and Samson watched somberly. Gwyrtha arrived and Justan slid down to join them. He walked to Master Coal, but Bettie grabbed his shoulder and shook her head.

“He’s trying, Sir Edge. Give him some time.”

Justan’s guts wrenched as he looked down at Qyxal’s blackened form. A great sense of frustration rose within him. What use was his magic, if he couldn’t help heal his friend? Justan clenched his fists and fell into the bond.

He sent his thoughts through to Gwyrtha and inspected her injuries. They were relatively minor, just a few burns. He soothed the pain and reinforced her body’s natural healing ability before moving on to Fist. With Gwyrtha’s permission, he funneled some of her energy into the ogre’s tired muscles and went to work on the lacerations he had received during his fight. When he had done all he could, he moved on to Deathclaw.

The raptoid was hiding in the trees once again. His wounds were more severe than any of the other bonded, but he did not want to let Justan inspect him closer. Justan didn’t back off. At that moment it was more important to him than ever that Deathclaw let him heal him.

You can trust me
, Justan pleaded.

Deathclaw hissed and Justan saw the visage of the Scralag pass through the raptoid’s thoughts. Deathclaw had seen it burst free from his chest. Seeing the event from his bonded’s perspective gave Justan shivers. The raptoid was wary, but there was something more, perhaps approval.
What was it?

I still don’t know. I’ve been trying to find out myself. I-.
Justan felt a tug on his shoulder. He withdrew from the bond and opened his eyes. Bettie released his shoulder and gestured towards Master Coal. The wizard still knelt by Qyxal’s head, his hands outstretched. Justan saw his magical energies pouring into the elf. Gwyrtha had laid down at Qyxal’s side, her scaled head nestled against his.

A lump rose in Justan’s throat. It didn’t look good. Qyxal’s body was blackened and twisted and his chest rose and fell erratically, as he struggled for each breath. Only the right side of his face was untouched. Somehow seeing his one perfect brow and cheekbone combined with one unfocused and pain-filled eye made it worse. Justan knelt by his master but the wizard said nothing. Samson spoke instead.

“Coal can’t talk aloud right now. H-he is trying but the damage is too severe. He thinks he could perhaps save his major organs but the majority of his body is just too badly burnt to fix. Even if he could somehow save his life, the pain . . .” A tear fell from the centaur’s eye and his breath caught. “The pain is the worst part now. He’s trying to soothe it, but . . .”

Justan unsheathed his left sword. Gingerly, he placed its hilt in Qyxal’s withered hand. The elf sighed and the pain left his face. His one good eye focused and glanced at the people gathered around him.

“I’m so sorry, Qyxal,” Justan said and the lump in his throat turned into sobs. “It’s a-all my fault . . . All my fault you are here. If not for me, you’d still be at the Mage School.”

“Justan,” Qyxal said, his voice little more than a hoarse whisper. “I . . . wanted to be here.” He coughed and the sound was horrible, but the sword sucked away all his pain.

“But-,” Justan started.

“Just listen, son.” Lenny said quietly. “This ain’t about guilt. This is about Qyxal. Listen to him.”

“Justan . . . my books. The seeds . . .”

“Yes, Qyxal.” They had been in his pack. They were on Albert. The warhorse was well trained. He wouldn’t be too far away. “I will get them to your people.”

“Antyni,” Qyxal said. “Take them to Antyni . . . she is . . .” His eye looked to the side. A half grin hit his face. “Gwyrtha. Hi girl . . .” His eye unfocused and a final breath left his lungs.

Master Coal gasped and swore. He stood and ran a shaking hand through his hair. “I’m sorry.” Bettie and Samson each clasped his shoulder.

Gwyrtha keened as Justan took his sword gently from the elf’s hand and resheathed it. He stood and stared blankly at his friend. Fist walked up and wrapped him in a big hug and Gwyrtha’s sorrow mixed with theirs. Together they mourned.

Lenny closed Qyxal’s eye with one finger and stood. “Bettie.”

The half orc didn’t respond. She had her head laid against Master Coal’s and was deep within the bond.

“Bettie!”

She looked at him and frowned. “What?”

“I’m sorry, girl, but it can’t wait. We need somethin’ to wrap him in.”

The half-orc nodded and left Coal’s side. “Leather okay?”

“Yeah, but it’s gotta be clean. NO DIRT, understand?” Lenny looked down at Qyxal’s still form. “Quickly now. We gots to get him back to his people in as whole a piece as we dag-gum can.”

She dug through their packs and pulled out the leather tarp they had brought to sleep on. She dusted it off. “Why no dirt?”

“He’s a dag-gum elf,” Lenny said. “His body’ll stay good forever, unless it’s buried. If dirt’s touchin’ him he’d break down so fast, all we’d have when we got there’d be a pile of bones. His people’re gonna want to plant him in their homeland.”

The dwarf gently prodded the others from their mourning and explained what they needed to do. They walked to the river’s edge and everyone worked in silence. Coal and Samson washed the leather tarp. Fist lifted Qyxal’s body while Justan and Lenny meticulously cleaned the elf of any dirt. Coal cast a spell to dry the tarp and they laid Qyxal on top of it. Bettie retrieved a brush from her pack and gently combed the elf’s remaining hair free of debris, then Lenny wrapped the tarp around the elf and tied the bundle with rope.

They gathered their things and Gwyrtha went to round up Albert and Stanza. As Justan had guessed, they hadn’t wandered too far. Both had burns and Albert had lost a good portion of his mane to the fire, but Master Coal was able to heal them. Lenny tied Qyxal’s bundled body to the back of Stanza’s saddle.

Justan retrieved Qyxal’s journals and the bag of honstule seeds and tucked them into the bundle. He choked back another flood of tears. He had seen far too much death lately, but this was the first time that someone he had been truly close to had been killed.

He walked over to the place where Charz had fought Kenn. A small crater had been left behind by Kenn’s final assault on the giant. The heat had been so intense that the rock had melted and pooled. It was hardened now and veins of glass were scattered throughout.

Justan shook his head at what remained of the rock giant. His body in many places looked fused with the rock and glass around him. His face was a ruin, his features half melted away, his gaping mouth with its white teeth the only part of him that was recognizable.

Master Coal walked up to him. “I did what I could for Qyxal.”

“I know,” Justan said and they stood in silence for a moment.

“That creature that came out of you, was it-?”

“It was the Scralag.” Justan said. He rubbed at the rune on his chest. “And its still here, inside me. I don’t know what to do about it.”

“It’s bonded to you,” Master Coal said. “You will have time to figure it out.”

Justan nodded and thought he saw movement in the ground in front of him. Just to make sure, he switched to mage sight. His breath caught in his throat. “Master Coal . . .”

“Yes?”

“What is it?” Samson trotted over and joined them.

“I think Charz is still alive. L-look at the spirit magic.” Justan could see a long whispy white cord connected to a spot deep within the giant’s chest. “The bond would be gone if he was dead, wouldn’t it?”

Coal sighed. “He would be the one to survive this, wouldn’t he?”

“What do we do?”

“Leave him,” Samson said.

“But he tried to help us,” Justan said. “Shouldn’t we help him?”

The wizard hesitated, but shook his head. “He’s right, Sir Edge. We should just go. This far away from his cave, Charz will heal very slowly, but he will heal. If he wakes up, he may decide to attack.”

“No,” came a pained voice. Justan and the others backed away as Charz’s twisted bulk stirred. His head strained free from the ground and the rock around his ruined face cracked and shattered, some stones and shards of glass still clinging to his rocky flesh. He moved his mouth and spat but the rest of his face remained an unrecognizable lump. “I can’t see . . . Coal, is that you?”

“It’s me, Charz.” Coal said.

The giant let out a pained chuckle and tried to move again, but all he did was crack the ground around him. He grunted. “I . . . didn’t see you when I came out of the forest. You must find it . . . really funny to see me like this.”

“I find it sad, Charz.” Coal said, and there was genuine sadness in his voice. “I always find your condition sad.”

“Is that named warrior here?” the giant asked. “That, Sir Edge?”

“I’m here,” Justan said in surprise.

“Good,” there was relief in the giant’s voice. “I have a favor to ask you.”

“He owes you nothing, Charz,” said Samson.

“It’s okay, Samson,” Justan said. “What do you want?”

“Kill me.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Master Coal said. “He’s not going to-.”

Justan drew his right sword and laid it against Charz’s throat. The sword pulsed with the need to expend the energy it had absorbed from Qyxal’s pain and Justan knew that it would only take a thought to remove the giant’s head from his body. “Why, Charz? Tell me why I should kill you?”

“Cuz I’m done,” Charz wheezed. “I’m tired, and you . . . you are a bonding wizard, aren’t you?”

“N- . . . How do you know?”

“Thought about it after you left me here on the river ba-.” The giant coughed hard, then spat out blood and black chunks. “I laid here for two days, you know that? Two days before I healed enough to drag myself back to my cave. You’d beat me. The first time ever . . . I thought about it over and over, played the fight over in my head.”

“The rogue horse didn’t give it away?” Samson snorted.

The giant hacked and spat and gave a pained smile. “Yeah, but I wasn’t thinking about that. It was the way Sir Edge fought that second time when he came back. That’s how I knew they were bonded.”

“So why does that mean I should kill you?” Justan asked.

“Because you’re the one that beat me, why else? And it’s fitting that it’s a bonding wizard.” the giant said. He worked his head around, dislodging one rather large rock that was stuck to his forehead. “Hell, I’m beat twice now. That last fight was a great one though, wasn’t it? I mean, look what it did to me. I never fought something like that.” Charz sighed and coughed again. “Anyway, just do it.”

Justan withdrew his blade. “Before I decide, I want to understand. So you’ve been defeated. Why do you want to die?”

“I’m not worthy to live.” Charz said. “I’ve known it for decades now. All the people I hurt, all the people I killed . . . My master tried to show me, you know. For the longest time, he would track down the families of the people I hurt. He would show them to me. Show me how much pain they were in.”

“He was trying to help them,” Coal said. “He was trying to make amends.”

“Yeah, I laughed in his face. ‘They shouldn’t have fought me,’ I said. But I knew. I knew.”

“Why didn’t you stop, then?” Coal demanded. “He would have forgiven you.”