Tearing The Shroud (9 page)

Randolf turned with a smile. ‘Coleman, my lad, this looks like a bit more than a small infestation.’

Coleman gazed at the approaching horde. ‘That it does.’

‘If things go wrong, at least we’ll have a good smell about us.’

An urge to rush at the beasts welled in him bringing an odd sense of mirth. ‘Wrong? It looks like a party’s comin’ our way.’

As the first beast clambered at him, Coleman brought his longknife through a powerful downward strike. The blow severed its taloned claw and carried into the creature’s head, splitting it to the chin. What served for its brains, and brackish blood, splattered him. Fortunately, the gore didn’t start fires, like its spittle, which found gaps in his leather armor, scalding him. What should have felled the beast, merely made it stumble. It blindly grabbed one of his blades and succeeded in slicing off its own fingers. Coleman struck low, taking a chunk from the creature’s thigh and it flopped to the ground. The beast continued to fight until he’d dismembered it completely. Even then, the limbs twitched and squirmed as if alive.

Though his sixteen-man squad strove to fight side by side, the sheer number of the fiends soon divided them and Coleman struggled to survive. Abandoning all grace of blades, he resorted to a methodical hack and chop. In a momentary pause, he looked around, desperately hoping to see a brother in arms, but only found more of the beasts clawing toward him. He was nearing the end of his strength, his arms so tired he could barely grip his sword.

And so, he ran.

Not out of cowardice, but to survive.

Coleman sighed; his whole squad, lost. He needed to contact their families. He closed his eyes and lay there for a long moment, letting the grief wash over him like a cold wave. Though it hurt, Coleman took a deep breath, exhaling slowly, letting the pain help clear his thoughts. Mourning them would happen over time. He needed to find out where he was. Opening his eyes, he looked around the room as far as possible without moving his head; he wasn’t sure he was up to it yet.

What’s that awful smell?
The stench was like rotten eggs mixed with sheep’s dung. He ignored the pain and forced his head off the pillow to find the source. To the right was a comfortable looking chair. As he panned his gaze back across the room he saw his body and informed his caretakers he was awake. He took a deep breath and screamed, despite the agony it brought. His body looked like charred meat, and when he tried to move, he was unable to lift even his fingers. Panic burbled in him.

‘So, you’ve decided to wake up? Now, shush, you’ll bring the whole Cloister.’ She made calming motions with her hands.

At the sight of her, the scream caught in his throat.
It’s her. The spirit. The one from Paradise
.

‘Am I...dead?’ he asked.

‘No, not yet at least. I’m Jolie, your Healer. By the way, it’s good for you to exercise your lungs, but I suggest you try another way. If you keep screaming, you might rip a stitch. Besides, it isn’t exactly a heroic response, now is it?’ A playful smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.

Coleman drank in the sight of her as she went about the room, opening the curtains and checking his blackened body. She was tall, thin, and athletic. Her green and yellow eyes reminded him of a cat; her hair was a deep brown; her skin lightly tanned from the sun. She moved easily, with the smooth grace of a dancer. As she bent to retrieve something, a nicely formed bottom that stretched her leather breeches in a very pleasant way came into view.

Turning back with a cover sheet in her hands, she caught him looking. ‘Yes, I can see you are coming along quite well.’ Jolie smiled and tapped her fingernail here and there on the crust covering his body, before shaking the sheet out over him.

‘You’re the one, aren’t you?’

She giggled. ‘My, aren’t you the bold one.’

‘Pardon?’

‘Well, many people have appreciated my skills as a Healer, but never has anyone claimed me to be
the one
, at least so soon after meeting me.’ She stood near his head to make it easy for him to see her.

‘Oh. No. I mean...’

‘Ah, I see. Rescinding your proclamation, are you?’

‘No, I meant. The one. I saw. Er...in my um...vision.’ His voice lowered.

‘So, now I’m a vision, am I?’

‘No. Wait. Yes. But...but...

‘Yes. I noticed you were staring at mine.’ Jolie put a hand on her hip...

Coleman blushed, and struggled to find a way out of the hole he seemed to be digging for himself. He opened his mouth several times to say something, until he noticed a smile once again tugging at the corner of her mouth.

‘Well, it would be a shame,’ he said.

Jolie’s eyebrows lifted. ‘A shame to what?’

‘To let such a well-rounded bottom go unnoticed.’

Jolie blushed. ‘What?’

He continued as if she hadn’t spoken. ‘Especially when it’s presented to me for viewing.’

‘Now you just wait a min — ’

‘In such form-fitting leather.’

Her blush had gone from her cheeks to her neck, and was traveling to her ears. ‘I, well, I never — ’

‘You just did.’

‘...why you...’

Coleman bit back his laughter, tears forming at the corners of his eyes. A contagious giggle replaced Jolie’s rosy cheeks and neither of them could resist it.

‘Oh.’ Coleman gasped through his mirth. ‘Ah...stop...hurts to laugh.’

‘You...have only yourself...to blame.’ She blew out, trying to quit, as he panted quickly, attempting to do the same. When their laughter finally subsided Jolie said, ‘At least I got you breathing hard.’

‘It seems our patient is doing well, Jolie.’ A woman stood in the doorway with her arms crossed, and head tilted.

‘You know, Sari, laughter is the best medicine.’ Jolie smiled and motioned that she enter.

‘Speaking of medicine...’ Coleman said, ‘Will I ever...be able to walk again?’

‘Walk?’ Sari asked.

‘Yes, these burns, I just wondered.’ He looked toward his covered body.

‘Oh, don’t tell me?’ Sari rounded on Jolie. ‘You haven’t explained it yet?’

‘Well, I didn’t have time.’

‘Time? What else
was
there?’ Sari looked at her with narrowed eyes.

‘He had more
pressing issues
on his mind. As his Healer, I felt it best to give him a
well-rounded
answer,’ Jolie said. She winked and blew him a kiss.

He stifled a laugh, and Sari whipped her head back around. Jolie was completely composed.

Sari threw up her hands. ‘If you weren’t so blasted good at what you do, you’d be back scrubbing pots in the scullery.’

Jolie turned to him, speaking in an overly concerned voice, ‘So then, let’s get your questions answered. However, first, might we know your name? It makes conversation ever so much easier. Don’t you agree, Commander?’

Sari rolled her eyes.

‘Coleman of Lomendel,’ he said. Though her presence put him at ease, he braced himself for the news.

‘Coleman, I’m the Mistress of Healing. Don’t worry about Commander Sari, she isn’t usually this tense.’

Sari huffed.

‘You have nothing to worry about; you’re in remarkably good health. There are several deep wounds that will need to heal for a sevenday or so.’

‘But the burns — ’

‘Are not burns at all. It’s a medicinal poultice, mixed, applied, and allowed to harden around the injured person. It brings the herbs directly into contact with the body, and keeps the patient immobile so wounds or broken bones may mend properly.’

‘And the smell?’

Jolie smiled. ‘That is an unfortunate part of the process. I’m sorry; it’s so common in our order that I sometimes forget it can be alarming to outsiders.’ She patted his forehead with a damp cloth. ‘You’re going to be fine. In fact, we can remove it today; enough time has passed.’

His brow creased. ‘How long have I been here?’

Sari came around to the other side of Colman’s bed and laid her hand on his encrusted shoulder. ‘You’ve been with us nearly a cycle,’ she told him.

His eyes widened and his mind whirled, taking the room with it. He blinked, then closed his eyes. When he opened them the room had stopped spinning. ‘Twenty-nine days? It can’t be. It was just yesterday...’

Jolie wiped his brow again. ‘It’s true, Coleman. We found you in the Refuge, near death from exhaustion and wounds. Truly, I’ve never seen someone so depleted of life energy. We readily sewed your wounds, but they healed slower than they should. Somehow you used all of what keeps us alive; every resource within you seemed to have been drawn out.’

Sari asked, ‘Do you know how it happened?’

Ignoring the question, he took a painful breath and asked, ‘Where am I?’

‘You are in the Cloister of Berdine. Near Hidden Falls,’ Sari told him.

‘But that’s a sevenday ride by horse from my station.’ His voice grew quiet.

‘I’m sorry. We didn’t find your mount. It must have been taken by the Kafla,’ she continued.

‘I didn’t have one,’ he said quietly.

‘But then, how did you come to be at the Refuge?’ Sari asked.

‘I ran.’

The Matriarch

‘He what?’ The Matriarch looked up, her brows furrowed.

The Matriarch,
surprised.
Jolie loved it when that happened.

‘He told us he ran,’ Sari raised a hand. ‘I know, it sounds impossible.’

‘From the ranges east of Callendel? On foot? While being pursued by the Kafla?’

‘After a long battle,’ Jolie said.

‘We have no reason to doubt him. What’s to gain from fabricating such a story?’ Sari looked at her.

‘It would explain his condition when we found him,’ Jolie said.

The Matriarch put a hand to her chin. ‘How did he say he accomplished this feat?’

Jolie continued, ‘He’s been with the Warriors of the Oaks since his apprentice age, perhaps ten years. Coleman told us they specialize in a training called The Run. He didn’t give specific details — as we know, every Cloister has its secrets.’ She hesitated. ‘I’ve never seen anything like it. He somehow channeled every resource into running.’ She looked at Sari as she finished. ‘I’d venture even his Masters would be surprised at what he accomplished.’

The older woman tented her fingers. ‘Sari, what are your thoughts?’

‘Matriarch, I have to say. When you sent us out, with nothing to follow except what you dreamt, I had my doubts. However, after what I’ve seen and heard...’ She shook her head. ‘The details were precisely as you spoke of them. Now, learning of these abilities, I’m convinced. We’ve found a Traveler.’

The Matriarch sat back and asked quietly, ‘But will he be willing?’

After a moment, Sari cleared her throat: ‘Matriarch, may I speak plainly?’

The woman’s eyebrows shot up. ‘Of course, Sari, you know every voice is valued in our order. We are behind closed doors as well. Speak your mind.’

‘I don’t want to seem disrespectful. Or that I doubt your leadership in this matter...’

‘Oh, for goodness sake woman, out with it.’ The Matriarch waved a hand.

‘What good is a Traveler without a Companion?’ she said in a rush.

‘That’s what’s bothering you?’

‘Of course it is. The Archives are clear. Should the need arise for a Traveler, he must have a Companion as a willing guide. Without both, each of them is useless!’

Jolie bit the inside of her cheek to keep quiet. Sari had done it now.
She’ll be the one scrubbing pots.

The Matriarch only smiled. ‘My dear, of course there’s a Companion. I found him before I sent you to retrieve our Traveler.’

Jolie saw her own surprise reflected in Sari’s face. They looked back at the Matriarch, who simply sipped her tea and sighed contentedly. She looked every bit the gentle grandmother rather than the most powerful Seer in the Realm.

‘But...’ Jolie said.

‘How?’ Sari finished the sentence.

‘That? It was fairly simple.’ She paused for another sip. ‘I just had him roll the dice.’ She smiled warmly at them and went back to her tea.

Chapter 9

The Eight Sisters
Thirty-Seven Years in the Past
Callendel

Justus closed the book. He was excited. Though he had previously failed to get the results he sought, he believed he finally had the answer. After all this time, to find a solution…
in such drivel
. He tossed the book to the table in his office. ‘
Samuel’s Book of Tales
.’ He shook his head.
A garish children’s book.

He turned and stared out the paned window. The city of Callendel was bustling with afternoon life. From his home on the hill, a maze of streets sprawled to the bay beyond. Shops of every description lined them, and the people bustled about.
Scurrying like ants, living their insignificant lives.
He long ago distanced himself from them; others were a way to achieve his own goals and pleasures, nothing more.

He looked at his library. His esoteric collection greatly exceeded that of his father. Four large shelves contained book after book of fables. He had discovered that many mysteries of life were touched on in these simple tomes. It was a way, he supposed, of passing knowledge to the next generation, along with the ridiculous morals they attempted to instruct. ‘They don’t comprehend what they truly hold. Ants.’