Dragons and Demons, page 31
Answon appeared distracted, but he said, “What is this friend’s name?”
“He is an Ashaiian named Tamarin Blackwater. He goes by Tam.”
Answon’s expression abruptly shuttered, and Rezkin knew the man recognized Tam’s name. Rezkin was relieved to confirm that Tam was, at one point, actually in the quarry. Whether or not he lived was still to be discovered. Answon glanced behind Rezkin again. He said, “A storm is brewing. You had best choose the right sect. Your friend, Jerril, will not be of any help when the thunder begins.”
Answon made to step past him, but Rezkin reached out and snagged the man by the collar. At the same time, he placed his foot behind the other man’s heel and shoved him, forcing Answon off balance and tipping him into the wall. Using his forearm, Rezkin applied pressure to Answon’s throat while simultaneously locking the joint of the man’s right hand. The great sect leader Answon could not so much as sneeze without Rezkin’s permission.
Rezkin stared icily into Answon’s wide eyes. “You will tell me where Tamarin Blackwater is now.”
Answon tried to swallow and failed. Rezkin eased off the man’s neck so that he could choke out a response. “The stone mage knows. I’ll take you to him.” Answon’s gaze slid to the end of the tunnel then back again. “But we have to be smart about it so the guards don’t catch us.”
Rezkin applied just enough pressure to the man’s larynx to make the warning clear then released him. Answon rubbed his throat then turned down the tunnel. He did not so much as glance Rezkin’s way again. Rezkin knew Answon had the information he needed. The fact that he was a sect leader was of no consequence. Rezkin was not interested in taking over the quarry. He wanted only to find Tam and get out of there. He hefted his pickaxe and followed Answon down the tunnel. The sect leader entered the main cavern ahead of Rezkin. Answon strode up next to another slave and began pushing the cart with him toward the mine entrance. Rezkin waited a moment for them to get far enough ahead that he may not be seen then tossed his pickaxe into another nearly full cart. He called to a man who was gathering rocks and beckoned him to help. They pushed the rickety metal bin toward the entrance then abandoned it in the yard where other men were unloading them into larger piles.
With a quick glance, Rezkin spied Answon just across the open expanse between the two sections of the quarry. Rezkin was about to follow him when the slave master approached. Jerril said, “Hey, what are you doing out here? You were working in the tunnels.”
Rezkin grabbed a chunk of white stone and started carrying it toward the larger pile. He did his best to shrug and said, “I got tired of that and decided to try this for a while.”
Jerril chuckled. “This is not a workhouse. You cannot switch jobs just because you want to.”
Rezkin grinned back at the man. “I never knew you could switch jobs in a workhouse. Why did I clean the latrines for so long?”
Jerril laughed heartily. “I do not care where you work just as long as you are working, but the other masters will care if they catch you.”
Rezkin shook his head. “They do not see me. I look the same as any man here.”
Jerril’s eyebrows reached for the sky. “Not like any man here. These are weak and tired. Beneath those rags you are strong. Tell me, friend, are you a fighter?”
The slave master walked closer and leaned in conspiratorially. “If you want to earn favor with the guards, you will fight for me.”
“Fight where?”
“In the pen. After work hours. There are always fights. Some of us place bets. It’s the only business happening around here. Choose a sect. I don’t care which one. Then ask to be a fighter. I will bet on you. If you win, both you and your sect leader will see rewards. It is a good way to gain status here—if you win.” He grinned maliciously. “Sometimes even if you lose.”
“You mean throw the fight?”
Jerril shrugged. “Sometimes, under the right conditions. You have to make a name for yourself first. Say, what is your name, anyhow?”
“Ren.”
“All right, Ren. I’ll be keeping an eye out for you. If you lose me money, you and I will have a very different relationship. Understand? In the meantime, get back to work.”
Rezkin unloaded the cart for the next few minutes as he waited for Jerril to move away, all the while keeping an eye out for Tam. Although many men accompanied the carts out of the mines, none of them were Tam. By the time Jerril was out of sight, Answon had disappeared into the darker interior of the encampment. The quarry lay in the shadow of the cliffs, causing the sky to darken quickly, and most of the lanterns lit only the working areas. The bell rang just as the sun disappeared, and the stars broke through the twilight. The moon, however, had not yet found the way to brighten the deep hole, so the slaves ambled through the pen in the dark with only a few torches to prevent them from tripping over each other.
Rezkin’s gaze swept the crowd for both Tam and Answon as he joined the food line. A prisoner to Rezkin’s left muttered in Gendishen, “Can’t they make anything besides this gruel?”
Rezkin said, “Do they always ring the bell so late?”
The man gave him a disparaging scowl but answered anyway. “Sometimes I think they forget to let us stop working. It wouldn’t surprise me if they made us work through the night. What do they care? It’s dark in the tunnels anyway.”
The man on Rezkin’s right huffed. “But then when would we process the leaves?”
“The leaves be damned,” said the man on the left. “I say we burn them all. Mayhap we’ll die happy from the smoke.”
“What leaves?” said Rezkin.
The man on the right said, “Some of us work the night shift at the tables.” He nodded into the dark toward a section of the quarry Rezkin had not yet visited. “We process parabata leaves.” He held up his hands to show they were stained a greyish purple. The crazed look in the man’s eyes suddenly made sense. He was high on ink.
“Why do you work at night?” said Rezkin.
“The leaves bake in the sunlight. It’s easier to make us work in the dark than to put up tents, I suppose.”
“Where do the leaves come from? I thought they grew only in Pruar.”
“So far as I know, they do. I guess that’s where they come from.”
Rezkin looked at the grey slop in his bowl and wondered if the cooks laced it with ink to keep the workers energized and compliant. Then he considered that perhaps they only laced the morning porridge since drugging them at night would be counterproductive. The food was hardly edible, but he had eaten worse. After a while, a fight broke out in the yard, and Rezkin used the distraction to slip into the dark and pad his way across the gravel inner yard toward the other barracks. He passed a pit on the way that had the cloying smell of death and decay, and Rezkin knew it was the hole where they tossed the bodies of those who succumbed to the devastating effects of the quarry.
The second barracks was identical to the first, and the men were just as miserable and downtrodden. Few even glanced his way when he entered the gathering area of the pen. In fact, most had their attention on the fight that was occurring there, except that the fight had become a brawl concerning at least five participants, none of whom were Tam to Rezkin’s relief.
Just as he was approaching the barracks, Rezkin caught sight of the man who had gotten away. Answon glanced toward him then turned around the corner. Rezkin approached on silent feet. When he rounded the side, he surprised those who lay in wait for him. The first man belatedly leapt forward bearing a broken axe handle. As it swung downward, Rezkin sidestepped and jabbed a second man in the throat. Then he elbowed the first man in the temple before ducking a punch and sweeping the legs out from beneath a third man. The second man, having recovered his breath, grabbed for Rezkin, but Rezkin wrenched him forward and behind as he issued a hard punch to the man’s kidney.
The first, now blocked by the second, growled and pushed his partner out of the way before barreling forward with his club. Rezkin grabbed the man’s wrist as he spun to the side causing the man to lose hold of the club, which Rezkin claimed. He clubbed the third man in the face before bringing the weapon up into the first man’s gut. Then he kicked the first man in the jaw sending him sprawling into the third. The second man jumped back into the fray, but not for long. Rezkin bludgeoned him in the back of the head, rendering him unconscious. Then he kicked the third man in the side of the head to the same effect. By the time Rezkin was finished, all three men lay in an unmoving, bloody pile.
Answon backed away with hands raised. “Okay, okay, peace! I will take you to him. I will take you to the stone mage.”
“That is what you said the first time. You had best not be wasting my time. I find it hard to believe there is a mage down here.”
Answon shrugged. “He says he’s not a mage, but he’s definitely something. Come.”
With all senses on alert, Rezkin followed Answon into the dark barracks where they were met by a crowd gathered around a central figure who was barely visible in the low light. Answon called out for people to move as he pushed his way through the throng. Most moved out of the sect leader’s way quickly, and those who did not were moved for him and none too gently.
As Rezkin grew closer, the stone mage drew to his feet, and so did the man to whom he was connected by a thick chain. Despite the dark, the stone mage seemed to recognize a potential threat when he saw one because he raised his pickaxe as though he intended to put it through Rezkin’s head.
“Come no closer,” said the stone mage.
Rezkin said, “If you raise your weapon against me, you had best know how to use it.”
The stone mage faltered. “R-Rez?”
“’Tis I, Tam. I’ve been looking for you.”
Tam abruptly dropped the pickaxe and threw his arms around Rezkin’s shoulders. Rezkin allowed it, knowing Tam was not a true threat to him. “Rez! I’m so glad to see you. I knew you would come!”
Rezkin patted Tam’s back, then looked at him in the dim light as they pulled apart. “Of course I came for you, Tam. You are my best friend.”
Tam suddenly appeared cautious as he released Rezkin and leaned toward the man to whom he was connected. He said in Gendishen, “You can see him, right? He is really here?”
“Aye, he’s here, but I couldn’t say who he is,” said the man. He abruptly cleared his throat and stepped forward. He, too, spoke in Gendishen. “I’m Uthey, Tam’s partner in everything we do”—he chuckled as he hefted the chain that linked them—“but who are you?”
Tam turned to Uthey so abruptly that he nearly fell over. “This is him! This is my friend, my king.” Tam turned to Rezkin. “Or is it emperor? I heard someone was taking over the Souelian. It was you, wasn’t it? I knew it!”
“This?” said Uthey. “This is your emperor? The one you’ve been going on about? He is nothing but a slave like us.”
“No,” said Tam, shaking his head so adamantly that his chain rattled. “Don’t you see? He’s disguised.” He said this last word in a drawn-out, hushed stage voice as though it was a secret between him and everyone gathered around them. “I’m so glad you’re here, Rez. I really need your help. The headaches, the nosebleeds, the constant influx of everything—I can’t take it anymore. I’d be dead if not for Goragana.”
Rezkin’s blood felt cold as he said, “What do you know of Goragana?”
Tam abruptly grabbed Rezkin’s shirt in both hands and said, “I’m telling you, Rez, he talks to me. The rocks talk to me. And they can move all on their own.”
“Okay, Tam, but what did Goragana do? Did you make a deal with him?”
“A deal?” Tam shook his head, then wiped his nose, and Rezkin could see the dark liquid staining his hand. “No deal. He said the deal was already made by the shattered one. That’s you, Rez. I can see it now. The light—your aura, I guess—is all around you, and it’s so broken. How did you get so broken, Rez?”
Tam wiped his nose again, then looked at his bloodied hand appearing confused by what he saw. He turned back to Rezkin, picking up a previous line of thought as though nothing else had occurred. “Goragana helped slow the bleed, Rez, but I need it to stop. Where are the healers?”
It was obvious that Tam’s mind was not all there, and Rezkin hoped that healing the hole the healers had induced would repair him. Tam swayed again, and Rezkin worried that they were out of time. Entris and Azeria were beyond the quarry walls, and Rezkin wanted Tam fixed immediately. For all he knew, the stress of the escape could be Tam’s end.
Grabbing Tam’s head between both hands, Rezkin said, “The healers are not here, but I am going to help you, Tam. I know how to do it now.”
“Really? You finally found your power? I can see it flowing through your broken aura.”
Rezkin’s voice lowered as he growled, “Everyone out. Now.”
An icy chill suffused the air, and those nearest him jumped to do his bidding, dragging those on the outskirts with them as they exited the barracks. Even Answon departed, pausing only once at the doorway to glance back into the nearly vacant room. Once they were alone, Rezkin looked at Uthey. “You will kneel there and not move a muscle. Do you understand?”
Uthey backed away a step but looked to Tam before kneeling as Rezkin demanded.
“Okay, just keep focusing on my power,” Rezkin said. He recalled what Entris had told him about healing. Rezkin had all the requisite knowledge from his mundane healing studies, and he knew how to access his power. The one issue that had held him back from healing Entris was his inability to feel compassion for the male. Rezkin could tell by the heat against his chest and the dragging sensation that came with every breath that his worry and fear for Tam would be enough to make the connection. He hoped that the knowledge and skills he had at his disposal would be sufficient to heal something as complex and delicate as a hole in his friend’s mind.
Rezkin, for once, embraced the elation at finding his friend and the sadness of seeing him in such a state as he reached for his fluxing vimara. He envisioned the liquid river of white in his mind, mentally splitting it into multiple-colored filaments. Then he plucked at the silvery adamantine power of healing and the amber power of life. He could hear the melody of his vimaral music as he wove the threads into a single rope and began pouring them into Tam’s mind.
Tam’s eyes widened, and he sucked in a breath as Rezkin continued his ministrations. The light of his vimara illuminated the recesses of Tam’s mind, and Rezkin easily identified the gaping hole that consumed much of it. The hole seemed quite a bit larger than what his healers had first described, and Rezkin wondered how much of the damage would be permanent. The silver and amber rope separated into hundreds of smaller silver and amber threads, and Rezkin began stitching the hole with the filaments. Once it was closed, the scar flashed brightly then was gone. Rezkin searched for additional damage to Tam’s brain but found only a few small lacerations that needed repair. When he was finished, he pulled away and closed off his vimara.
Rezkin was immediately on alert. People were surrounding the barracks. He could feel them moving in on him, and he knew he needed to kill them before they succeeded in their devious plans. He bent and retrieved the pickaxe Tam had dropped and surveyed the dark recesses. Uthey had not moved, but Rezkin knew the man was merely waiting for the best opportunity to strike. Rezkin was preparing to spring into action when Tam’s voice cut through the paranoid fog that had invaded his mind.
“Rez, you did it! I can feel the difference. The sounds and lights and everything that was so blindingly brutal are all gone! I knew you had power. I mean, we knew that as Tieran’s cousin, you should have had power. No one can deny you’re the True King.”
Rezkin gripped the pickaxe tightly in one hand but released the other to pat Tam’s shoulder. “There is much for us to discuss, but for now, you may rest. Here, allow me to remove those shackles from your necks.”
“You can do that?”
“Of course. There are few bindings that elude me,” he replied with a bit of chagrin as he recalled the way Entris had trussed him in power. Rezkin reached inside his boot and pulled out a set of lockpicks he had stowed there in case the slavers had chained him as they had Tam. He motioned Tam toward him and set his hands upon the shackle around his friend’s neck. He felt the enchantments in the metal that would normally prevent anyone from removing them without the key. Rezkin created a small potential ward and wrapped it around the enchanted metal sealing away the enchantments. It was a technique that Journeyman Wesson had assured him was impossible, but Rezkin had known it to work on many occasions. Then he pushed into the potential ward, creating a hold where the lock was located and through which he could use his picks to free the two men. As the chains fell away from first Tam’s and then Uthey’s necks, the two men stretched and stared at each other. For months they had been chained together learning to move as one, and now they were free to move beyond the limits of the short chain. Tam rubbed his neck but said nothing as he slowly moved farther from Uthey than he had been in months.
“Thanks be to the gods, the Afterlife, the Hells or wherever you hail from,” muttered Uthey.
Finally, Tam found his voice. “Thank you, Rez. I thought I would die in those chains.”
“I know not how you will die, Tam, but so long as I breathe, it will not be in chains.”
Tears flooded Tam’s eyes, and he swallowed hard as he gave a curt nod.
Rezkin hefted the pickaxe and said, “Come, let us depart this place.”
Tam reached out and grabbed Rezkin’s arm. “Wait, it’s almost time.”
“Time for what?”
There was a loud crack followed by a deep rumbling. Through the open doorway, Rezkin’s could see the ground and walls of the quarry shaking violently, and massive boulders split from the rock face to tumble into the quarry floor and shatter. Someone called into the darkness, and the bell began ringing furiously. Rezkin, Tam, and Uthey ran out of the barracks. Around them, the slaves erupted into what at first appeared to be anarchy, but it quickly became clear that most of the men seemed to know where they were going and what they should be doing. Several stormed the gate to the pen and began pushing against it. Then someone produced a pickaxe and began hacking away at the lock. As soon as it popped free, the gate was shoved open, and men flooded into the larger yard where they scrambled for tools.
