What Was Forgotten (39 page)

“Yes! It’s because they won’t
stop
. It has nothing to do with weakness on my part. A lesser man would have given up already. Or would have been captured by one of them.” He motioned towards Oridus, who glanced over his shoulder dismissively before looking back out the front window.

“I know that’s what you think, lad. I asked him to find you so that I might help in some small way.”

“How would you help me? You have no idea what is going on.”

“I want you to know that none of the Ardent that have been ordered to bring you in have anything to do with me. It’s all coming from Vicar Eldon. But I do
hear
things, and I’ve known that you’ve been giving them the slip at every turn.”

Osmun nodded.

“But it must be difficult, and… I can’t imagine how difficult. I wanted the best for you all along, I truly did.” Egus clasped his hands together as he spoke, as if praying. “You must realize, as I do, that it’s only a matter of time before they win this game. Look at you, Osmun… look at what this has done to you. They are going to find you and when they do, you’re going to wish you had already died. It won’t be quick. They’re going to treat you as an enemy of the faith… they’ll torture you until the brink of death. Over and over, they’re going to take you to the brink before they finally allow you to die.” Egus’ voice began to shake. “I couldn’t live with myself if I saw that happen to you, and I don’t want you to allow it to happen. Don’t die in ignominy.”

The cleric produced a small, black pouch cinched shut with string and held it out to Osmun. “Take this… please.”

Osmun hesitated before taking the pouch from Egus’ open hand. “What is it?” he asked as he undid the string.

“Something to give you some peace. You
deserve
some peace, not the horrors that await you if you are captured.” Inside the pouch, in the light of the nearby candles, was a familiar-looking leaf.

Black thornleaf.

Osmun looked into Egus’s pleading eyes and saw them become glassy with tears.

“You think I’m this desperate?” Osmun muttered as he let the pouch drop to the floor. Egus’ opened his mouth to speak but he struggled to find words.

“You… you
are
this desperate! Can you not see it? You would see it if you could see yourself! You’re half-starved and half-mad, nearly crippled and wholly destitute.”

“You want me dead?”

“Osmun…” Egus slowly leaned forward, his bushy grey eyebrows arched in concern, and placed his hands around one of Osmun’s. “You are dead already, and you were the day that Vicar Eldon ordered the Ardent after you. You’ve been drawing your final breaths since that day. I only want you to realize it, and… and take some
control
of it. You have this one last thing in your grasp – your life – and they’re ready to snatch it away from you and squeeze it and smash it. Don’t let them have it. Don’t let them take this one last thing from you.”

Osmun slowly pulled his hand away from Egus’s. “Have you said all you’ve come to say?”

Egus nodded once.

“Then leave me alone.”

“I told you he was stubborn,” Oridus said as he walked back and helped Egus to his feet. “Too stubborn to see the plainness of his plight.”

“Wait, wait,” Egus said. “The, uh… what I brought. Leave it with him.”

Oridus nodded and produced a leather water skin and set it on the stool. “It’s wine. Thought you might need it given the state you’re in.”

“Thank you, Orry,” Osmun said.

“It’s the last thing you’ll have to be thankful for. I mean that.” They turned to leave and, as they neared the door, Osmun spoke again.

“Orry… the owner of this place… he hasn’t done anything wrong, and he’s not an enemy of the faith. He’s just offered me shelter. I had to beg him, and… I promised him he was in no danger.”

“If you mean to keep that promise,” Orry said, “then you should leave this place. One way or another.”

The voices returned as soon as they left – he didn’t even hear the door open or shut – and Osmun began to weep almost immediately. He wanted them to come back and talk. They could tell him how low he had become, and he would listen for hours only for the company. He looked down at the spilled pouch on the floor between his feet. Egus
did
care for him and was probably the last person he knew of that did. The cleric’s words echoed in his mind, nearly becoming lost and indistinguishable in the clamour, yet they remained, refusing to be lost; the words instead started to become more defined. Something gave them contour and definition, and Osmun realized it must be the truth that did so.

He wiped the tears from his eyes and reached for the water skin, removed the cork and smelled the contents. His mouth immediately began to water. How long had it been since he had tasted anything so sweet? The taste of it reminded him of the nights he would spend reading by candlelight or savouring his own accomplishments after cleansing the lands past the border provinces. He had been certain of himself then, assured that he had only just begun to grasp his potential, his true greatness. All of the clerics had known of him by reputation.

They did, still. Only now as a murderer and an enemy of the faith. And, if he did nothing, they would know that he died having his body smashed or torn apart, and the elders who observed his torture would tell of the things they saw and of the things they would make him say. They would make him confess to killing Nestor and for abandoning the faith… perhaps even that he discarded his vows in favour of lusting after an Ivesian shaman.

No. They would have none of that from him, and he would not give them the chance. Osmun picked up the pouch and carefully poured the remainder of its contents into the skin and squeezed it to combine the wine and the leaves.

“Xidius, I pray… I pray that I acted justly, that I acted in service of the truth; that I was not deceived or manipulated. I pray that I will be forgiven for whatever crimes I am truly guilty of, and that this world knows that I am innocent, that the church and the Empire remember me for the things I did in its name, and in its service.”

He raised the skin to his lips, drank until it was empty, then lay back on the cot. Osmun felt a weight lifting from his chest, felt his pain disappearing and felt the voices becoming quiet until they were completely silenced.

Egus was right. The peace in the last moment was the best thing he had ever known, a place he could linger forever; it was without pain, without need or desire. The perfect place for a serenity that was absolute, its only flaw being that it had to end.

And for Osmun, it ended.

Chapter 24

Zayd scanned the trees, trying to see if there were others. “I lost them,” he blurted out, not knowing what else to say. “I lost track of the Dramandi.”

Barrett approached, leaving his warhorse standing behind him, keeping his blade levelled. “Is that so?” he asked, just loud enough to be heard over the water at Zayd’s back. “My guess is you never had them.” The knight pointed to the wheel tracks in the soil. “What’s this?”

Zayd clenched his jaw. What could he say? He doubted Barrett knew exactly what had transpired, but he also knew there was no lie that could be told. Even now the knight looked at him the way he used to – with anger brimming, ready to boil over.

“Why did you go off on your own?” Barrett pressed, stepping closer still. The warrior stood only a few paces from being able to strike him with his sword, and Zayd would have no time to react. “Were you even on your own? None of your kin were missing from the fort. Was it one of them?” Barrett looked around to make sure they were indeed alone there on the precipice. Zayd acted, drawing his blade while the knight was looking away. Barrett saw and reacted just as quickly, raising his sword and taking a step back and adopting a defensive stance. He looked confused.

“Zayd! What… what
is
this? What are you doing?”

“You’re going to find out, Barrett, but you have to know that I had to… I
had
to do this. Do you understand?”

Barrett looked again at the tracks, his eyes following them over the edge of the gorge, and he realized. “But… the mariners took it. The mariners took it, didn’t they?”

“No, they didn’t. We couldn’t let anyone take it.”

“That was
not
your decision to make,” Barrett said, edging closer to Zayd. “And
we
… who is that? You and who else?”

Zayd backed up, closer to the gorge as Barrett closed distance. “I know what you’re going to think, but –”

“You… you god-cursed liar! It was her! That Dramandi witch, wasn’t it?”

“Listen to me!” Zayd yelled. “I didn’t take it for me or for anyone. I took it because there was evil... sowed within it somehow. She saw it, and so did I.”

“Is that so?” Barrett took another step. “More like she made you some empty promises. What did she say, Zayd? Or was it something she
did
, hmm?”

Zayd could not stop himself. The thought of Symm. He hurled his sword at Barrett with rage and abandon. The pommel struck Barrett in the head and sent a stream of red down his face instantly, and he sank to his knees, unbalanced.

“Always so ready to blame me just because I wasn’t born the same! I’m not Trueborn, you proud
bastard
, but if that means I’m not a man like Praene, then so be it! I did this for the Empire, because no one else saw the danger, all they saw was the treasure, and it blinded you –”

The blow took him by surprise. Barrett was on his feet faster than Zayd could react and rammed his fist into Zayd’s sternum. Zayd toppled over, gasping for breath. Barrett wiped blood from his brow and stepped on Zayd’s chest, pinning him in place. “You expect me to believe that? Do you think I’m a fool?”

Zayd shook his head and spoke in between breaths. “Not a fool… it is… unbelievable. Why do you think the Dramandi never unearthed it? They were going to bury it again…… Why have men like Praene been coaxed into treason? Why would soldiers try to fight Talazz?”

“For the gold,” Barrett said. “For simple greed.”

“No… for whoever…whatever… really claims it. That is why…… something has its own design, its own will, and it was using us as servants for its scheme.”

“What scheme?” Barrett asked, pointing the end of his blade inches away from Zayd’s throat.

Zayd finally caught his breath. “Only it knows, Barrett, but… is it not enough for the faithful, for you and I, to know that Xidius commands this kind of darkness is expelled into the Beyond? If it wasn’t this, then it would have gone to Lycernum… and, maybe the clerics could have dealt with it… but I don’t think they would have. It would have used them like it used Vard and Bailern to do its wickedness. There was that chance, Barrett, and even just the
chance
of it is too much. Just the chance of it is not worth all of the gold that disguises the danger. I would not take that chance, knowing what I know. Would you, Barrett? Would you let abominations desecrate our holy places? The Great Cathedral? Would you allow it to happen and blaspheme in doing so? Tell me you would and kill me, or tell me you would not and let me up.”

Zayd felt the end of the blade on his chest, ready to cut through him with nothing more than Barrett shifting his weight to it...

But the weight lifted, and Barrett drove the end of the sword in the ground next to him and offered Zayd his hand. The knight lifted him to his feet as though he weighed nothing.

“The mariners took a carriage,” Barrett said. “What was it?”
“Unused timber, mostly. And stones to give it weight.”

“They’ll find out once they get to Lycernum, if not sooner. They’ll find out they’ve been deceived. What will you do then? Won’t it lead back to you?”

“It might lead back to Ten Tower, but I doubt it will lead to me.”

“Marinus’ mother,” Barrett said. He looked at his feet and then at the sky. “What am I to do with this? What am I to do with you? You’re a traitor in the eyes of the Empire.”

“The eyes of the Empire do not see what you and I see,” Zayd said. Barrett looked at him with disdain, at least for his reasoning, if not for him altogether, until he at last looked back to the sky.

“This problem is better suited for a general or a high marshal, one who is used to the grey. I am a man of two worlds, two sides: good and evil. This is both and neither.” He looked at Zayd. “I will say nothing and I will
do
nothing. I will let Xidius decide your fate, which He will. Once the mariners discover what you’ve given them, it will be up to the Beacon what will happen to you. His wisdom, His judgment.”

Zayd tried not to, but he smiled, and he couldn’t stop smiling. “I… I accept.”

“Of course you accept – it was never a choice.”

“Then… I applaud.”

“Yes. I suppose that is fitting.”

Barrett knelt, picked up Zayd’s short sword and handed it back to him.

“What now?” Zayd asked.

“Go back to the fort.”