The Deathless Ones, page 19
He stared at the ceiling, not seeing anything, his vision blurred. He blinked back his tears. He would not wallow in self-pity. He would teach those all-powerful beings a lesson, and he would also have his revenge on Aster. That was all he had ever wanted, but now, there was this thorn in his side named Syamin, but not for long. His armies were already on the move, and within a few days, he would be joining them too. Then Syamin would learn who was the true Lord of Mirrel.
The Decision
"I can't stay here," Sadjah said. All heads turned to her. It had been a few days since they had learned about what the Elementals wanted them to do, and Sadjah had been thinking about it. She had finally made her decision. She and Madh hadn't discussed it. They had both decided that their decisions should be independent.
"I don't know anything about spells or magicians," She continued. "But I’ve a life back where I came from. I’m a healer. I help people. I have friends. I can't throw it all away just so you can be safe. I'm sorry."
"It's not just to make us safe," Kal said quietly. "Semil can enslave our nephews and nieces, but not the three of us. Once he enslaves them, he’ll be able to control the elemental energies they embody. He’ll control everything physical in this world. It’s to avoid such a situation that we ask, nay we beg, for your help."
Sadjah looked down, and then at the Elemental. "I understand what you're saying, but.... it's because of how we are that this magician is trying to use us, isn't it? Then can't you just take this away from us? Make us like everyone else?"
"We don’t have the power to do that," Jiv said quietly. "Only Nadais can do that."
"He’s your father. Can't you ask him?"
"We've already asked him too many things. I don't think he's ready to listen to us any more," Kal said.
"I'll stay," Madh said, next to her. "I don’t have much of a life to go back to. So, I'll stay." He squeezed Sadjah's hand. "You said Amrose needs both of us for the spell."
"That's right," Kal said.
"Then even if Rys- Sadjah leaves, even if she is found, it won't be of any use to them if I'm here."
"That's true," Jiv said. "But I do hope you'll reconsider." He looked at Sadjah. "You say you have a life, friends... but you'll have to leave them all behind and leave if you die. Even if you don't die, you still will need to leave when people start noticing you're not ageing."
Sadjah twisted her hands together. She couldn’t explain even to herself her overwhelming urge to be back home. She understood everything they were telling her, and realised she was probably being selfish and unreasonable, but she still wanted to go back. What Jiv said was right, but that did not mean she should just give everything up immediately.
"I want to go home," she said.
"Then I'll take you," Niya said, rising from her seat. "As I promised." She held out her hand to Sadjah. "Come."
Sadjah rose and then turned to look at Madh. "Madh," She said.
He rose, and came towards her, taking her hands in his. He squeezed her hands again. "Be safe," he said. "Be happy."
"You too," She said as she hugged him. He kissed the top of her head. "You be careful too."
She nodded as she stepped away from him. This parting was harder than their first one. At that time, it had happened so quickly and so accidentally. One moment they were in the boat, crossing the river; the next, he was overboard, and she only had time enough to let out a scream before arrows had started flying from both banks. She had jumped into the water, and had swum to shore, and hidden in some bushes before she was found by the healer and his wife who were on their way to Mirrel. She had refused to go with them at first, but they had finally convinced her, after a week of gentle persuasion and hopeless waiting. She had left, hoping Madh was somewhere safe. They had given her a new name and a new life, but even though she could leave everything behind, she couldn’t forget her brother. Her twin.
This time she knew that he would be safe, yet it was so hard to leave. It had taken her so long to get used to his absence in her life, and now, she had to leave him again. Yet, even the desire to be with her brother wasn’t enough to make her want to stay in this place. It was so sterile, despite the beauty and the greenery. It suffocated her, made her feel as if she was drowning, and the Elementals made her feel uncomfortable.
Niya took her hand, the world blurred and then she was standing in her own bedroom, alone. She was feeling tired, and she remembered that she had died, just before Niya had taken her to the Valley. The pain that had somehow disappeared when she was there, returned in full measure now. It was so intense, she nearly sobbed aloud. She grabbed the potion she had left on her bed and drank it. The pain abated, but she dared not drink more. Too much of the potion could cause a paralysing numbness, and though it was temporary, she didn’t like to be so helpless. She looked around, noticing that her blood stained clothes were gone. She went to the kitchen, holding on to the walls for support. The floor was clean, and everything was just as it normally looked, so Niya had really cleaned the kitchen. She went to the living room, opened the windows and went to unlock her front door. A note fixed to the outside of the door caught her attention. It was in her own handwriting.
"Dear Friends," it read. "I've gone on a visit to some friends in Mirrel. I shall be gone for a while. Love, Sadjah."
Niya had certainly been thorough. She lifted her arm to remove the note, but withdrew her hand. If the villagers believed she was away, she could afford to take some time off, wait for her pain to lessen at least, take time to properly heal. She closed the door quietly, closed the windows of the living room and went back to her bedroom. She took some more pain potion, and also a sleeping draught and went to bed. She knew she would wake up hungry, but she would face that when she woke.
It was a noise that woke her. She frowned as she sat up, still groggy from her medicines, when a stab of intense pain shot through her. That got rid of the remnants of sleep, and she heard a noise again, coming from the kitchen. She rose, and wondered if some thief had seen the note on the door and broken in. It was not common in small villages like this, but it had been known to happen. But what was a thief doing in the kitchen? Sadjah stealthily made her way to the kitchen. It was hard since she was still in pain, but she made it. A faint light was coming in from under the kitchen door which was closed. She braced herself for an attack as she pushed the door open, drawing her robe tightly around her. Three pairs of eyes were on her, two wide and fearful and one held an expression of dismay that was almost comical.
"Oh Sur!" The owner of that pair of eyes said. "We're in trouble now!"
Sadjah felt a smile tug at her lips, but she kept her face straight as she surveyed the intruders. The frightened pairs of eyes belonged to two children, both girls, aged around five and nine, and the third was a tall woman around Sadjah's own age, with short hair. She reminded Sadjah of Marian but her eyes were warmer, and when she smiled ruefully at Sadjah, the smile reached her eyes.
"I'm sorry," The woman apologised. "I thought the house was empty." She paused. "This is your house isn't it?"
Sadjah nodded. "I'm the healer of this village. I got here late and forgot to remove the note."
Sadjah noticed that there was a pot on the stove, and that an appetizing aroma was coming from it. The two children were holding steaming bowls in their hands, and had their hands tight around their spoons. A lamp was lit on the table.
"Have your stew before it grows cold," Sadjah told them, trying to smile. It hurt her chest even to do that, and she had to sit down at the kitchen table.
"Are you all right?" The woman asked, concerned.
Sadjah nodded. "I'm fine." The aroma of the stew reminded her how hungry she was. "Have you any more of that stew?"
The woman ladled some stew on to a bowl and gave it to Sadjah. "I'll clean up," She promised. "The children were hungry, and I didn't realise there was anyone inside. That's why I broke in. Otherwise I would've just knocked. I'll repair your window, I promise."
The stew was really good, but every mouthful hurt like Hivas while swallowing. Sadjah could only manage to eat a few bites before the pain began to make her feel nauseous. She put the bowl down and looked at the children again. They were very thin and looked starved. Their hairs were tangled, and their clothes patched and tattered.
"It's alright," She managed to say. "You can all stay the night. There are beds in the treatment room, and blankets in the cupboard." She paused as it occurred to her that the woman might not know how to reach the treatment room. Most patients never came into the living quarters of healers, so they had no idea about the layout of that part with reference to the healing rooms. "I'll show you to the treatment rooms." she said as she rose from the chair, pain shooting through her.
"You go back to bed," The other woman said in some concern. "I've... known a healer, and I am familiar with a healer's house. I can find the treatment rooms." She gave Sadjah a bow. "I'm Layla."
Sadjah could only nod in response as she said. "I'm Sadjah."
She nodded once more to Layla, smiled at the two girls and went out of the kitchen. The house was cold after the warmth in the kitchen and she shivered.
The House of Nadais
The walls of the city loomed large before them, but the gates were open, though guards were stationed there. As they came up to the gates, Myra noticed that three horizontal bars were placed across the gates, barring the way. One was placed at knee level of an adult, the next at chest level, and the third at chest level of a horse. They were all made of pheyt, a metal that was strong enough to pierce almost anything, and was almost transparent, but also extremely heavy in spite of its delicate appearance. The bars were visible only when close and they had to rein their horses in at the barrier. The guard there looked at them and exclaimed,
“My Lord, Syamin!”
Syamin smiled at him. “All well, Bydor?”
“Of course, my Lord.”
Soon, there was a grinding noise as the three bars were retracted into the wall. A row of mounted soldiers awaited them.
“Your escort is ready, my Lord,” one of the men said.
“Thank you, Soren. You may escort the three of us to the House of Nadais. Bydor, send a man ahead to inform Aster of our arrival. Tell him we have a seriously injured person with us.” Syamin's arm was held protectively around Mylwin all this while.
“At once, my Lord.” Bydor said, looking at him with the same adoration with which Mylwin, Fin, Kore and all the others used to look at him once.
Myra could see Miran's lips thin in anger, and she could feel the fury rise in her again. His deception still burned her. She thought she could understand why he did it. With the armies of Rhenon and Mirrel, he could perhaps be the strongest of all the contenders in the war, but neither Aadron nor Semil were weak. Neither was going to let Syamin establish ascendancy that easily.
The escort of soldiers rode surrounding them, making Myra feel like a prisoner again. A carriage had been brought for Mylwin and he was placed inside, and strapped in. Syamin took the reins of the carriage and was leading the way. It surprised Myra to see that the city looked so peaceful. Rhenon was relatively peaceful these days, but Mirrel looked like it had never faced a war. Yet, she knew that the war had started in Mirrel, though there were conflicting accounts of how it had happened. They approached a vast compound surrounded by a low wall. A white building was set in its middle. Gardens and lawns surrounded the building. There was also a grove of trees towards one side. Fountains and pools were seen amongst the grass and flowers. The last moon was setting and the sun was rising. In the rosy light, the whole place looked like something out of a dream.
“The House of Nadais, my Lady,” The soldier whom Syamin had addressed as Soren spoke. Myra drew a deep breath as she rode into the compound. An old man stood on top of the steps. His hair was white and short, and his face was lined. Two men carrying a stretcher were waiting at the foot of the steps. As soon as the carriage stopped, they had climbed into it, and transferred Mylwin to it, before taking him inside through a ramp near the steps. The old man came down the steps briskly as Syamin jumped down. A soldier drove the chariot towards the north, probably where the stables were.
“You've managed to get yourself injured again?” The old man asked with fond exasperation.
“It’s nothing, Aster,” Syamin smiled at the man affectionately. “Just a scratch, but the boy needs your skills.”
“Another one of your strays?” Aster asked resignedly.
“In a manner of speaking.”
Myra and Miran had reached them by then. Syamin turned to her, and held out his good hand to help her dismount.
“My Lady, may I present Aster of Mirrel? Aster, this is Lady Myra, the Lord of Rhenon, and her captain of guards, Miran. The injured boy, Mylwin, is one of her guards.”
Aster bowed to her. “My Lady,” he said. “It is a joy to see you. I knew Lord Keriven well. You resemble him greatly.”
Myra bowed back, warming to the man. “It is an honour to meet you, great Aster.”
Aster turned to Miran and spoke. “And you would be the son of Revlan, I presume.”
Miran nodded and bowed.
Aster led them inside. Syamin seemed abstracted and was fidgeting. Aster turned to him. “Stop fidgeting. Syamin. I promise you that the young man won't die before I attend to him.”
Syamin grinned. “I’d still worry,” he said.
Aster led them into a chamber in which lay Mylwin, on a bed in the middle of the room. His shirt had been taken off, and his bandages removed. Aster moved towards the bed, and felt his wounds. “This one is serious,” he said, feeling the wound at his side.
Syamin nodded. “That's what Radik and Pelmeya said.”
Aster turned to Syamin sharply. “Lady Pelmeya? Is she coming here too?”
“Yes. Why?”
“I’ll be glad to see Lady Pelmeya again.” Aster replied. “It has been a long time since I had the pleasure of her conversation.”
His hands were moving over Mylwin's wounds as he spoke and to Myra's astonishment, each wound knit itself, skin stretched over it, and the wound was but a scar.
Miran gasped. “What magic is this!” he whispered, looking at Aster in awe.
“This is no magic,” Aster replied, looking disdainful at the word. “This is the power of Nadais that chooses to manifest through me when He pleases.”
“Can you cure any illness?” Myra asked, awed, still staring at the healed wounds on Mylwin's body.
“If Nadais wills it,” Aster said. “But he will not interfere with men's destinies. If a man's time is nigh, there's nothing I can do, but pray that Rhyn give him the touch of death to make his passing easier.” He turned to Syamin. “Your shoulder. Now.”
“I thought petty humans were beneath your concern,” Syamin murmured as he sat on a stool and removed his shirt.
“I said petty human wars were beneath my concern,” Aster said scathingly. “Humans are not petty; nor are human lives cheap.”
His hands were removing Syamin's bandages and he felt the shoulder. “You've been exerting it.”
“Not more than usual,” Syamin said dismissively.
Myra could see the various scars on Syamin's torso, and she mentally contrasted it with Mylwin's smooth torso. Syamin's body reminded her of her father's the one time she had been in the treatment rooms as he was being patched up. His entire upper body had been full of scars too. The healers had sent her out as soon as they had noticed her, and her father had been in too much pain to notice her presence. She had never asked him about the scars.
Aster shook his head as his hand moved over Syamin's wound and it knit itself just as Mylwin's had done.
“Now if you can stop it from scarring, that would be a neat trick,” Syamin said, earning himself a box on the ears from Aster.
“You can find your own room, I think,” Aster said as he stepped away from him. Syamin pulled on his shirt again, and said. “Yes. Don't worry about me.”
“You make it very difficult not to.” Aster paused. “When is Vasry returning?”
“Soon, I hope. He was waiting for Radik,” Syamin said. “They have a prisoner. A magician, who works for Semil.”
“Strange coincidence,” Aster said. “I have in my healing rooms a very ill young woman who also works for Semil.”
Syamin frowned. “No coincidence. He's going to attack Mirrel.”
Aster stared at him, and Myra was startled too. Aster asked the question she was burning to ask. “How did you figure that out?”
“I know how he thinks, at least where military strategies are concerned. He's putting people in place. He plans to attack Mirrel, and soon.” He looked at Aster. “One of these days, you'll have to tell me why he hates you so much.”
“I couldn’t cure his mother,” Aster sighed. “I already told you.”
Syamin gave him a sceptical look as he exited the room.
Aster turned to Myra, “Come, my Lady. I'll show you both to your rooms.”
“Doesn't someone have to stay with him?” Miran asked, indicating Mylwin.
“My people shall be with him,” Aster assured her as he led them to a staircase.
“Have you known Lord Syamin long?” she asked.
“All his life. He was born here, you know. He saved my life once and my nephew adopted him as his ward. He had to go with him to Albin, but he still used to write me, showing off his writing skills.” Aster smiled reminiscently. “When he came to Mirrel and brought the city under his control, we renewed our acquaintance.”
“You seem fond of each other.”
“We are. He’s the only one who dares tease me and talk to me as if I were human and not as if I was the incarnation of Nadais. It’s such a refreshing change.” Aster turned a shrewd glance on her. “I know what he has done to you, my Lady, and you’ve every reason to hate him. I hope that hatred will not blind you to the good he has done for you and your city either.”
