Unleashed: Part 1 of the Baksa Series, page 39
The Zh’van did not know their names. None of them had wasted any breath on such frivolous information amid the torturous treatment. Elbrus rolled forward onto one knee, peering into the darkness. The voice was familiar, but impossible. He dreaded the inevitable disappointment, but had to hope.
“Cadel?” he asked.
“I can’t believe the Zh’van are still putting up with that mouth of yours,” came the soft, chuckling reply. “Here, you’re going to need these.”
Cadel placed a package on the stone floor with a metallic clank as the men gathered close. His presence gave them a tempered burst of energy. Defeated and demoralized, they could not bring themselves to hope or feel excitement beyond their prison walls.
“It’s good to know you are alive, Cadel,” said Kü.
“The feeling is mutual, Lieutenant,” said Cadel. “I didn’t know whether any of you had lived, either. Is everyone here?”
“We didn’t lose anyone, even in the failed escape,” said Kü. “I hate to say the Zh’van showed us mercy, but they didn’t kill us, either. There’s still no reason they’re keeping us alive beyond their own entertainment, it seems.”
“Are you all well? Do you have the strength to move and fight?”
“We’re Baksa.” Kü glared through the darkness. “Until blood no longer flows through our veins, we’ll have the strength to fight! Our effectiveness will be another conversation altogether, but if we coordinate and work together, I believe we can do damage.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” Cadel said. “Many would’ve quit long before. You’ll need all the determination you can find if you’re going to gain your freedom.”
“What’s in the bag?” asked Elbrus.
“Just some swords I’ve been collecting,” Cadel said. “My mother always taught me never to visit someone empty-handed, and I didn’t want to offend you by coming here without a gift.
“Did their owners approve of your collection process?” asked Elbrus.
“They didn’t put up much of a fuss.” Cadel grinned with a wink. “I don’t think they’ll notice their weapons are gone.”
“How did you get here?” Elbrus made a face no one could see in the darkness. “And I thought it stunk down here before, but you smell like rot!”
Cadel smirked and gave him a playful shove. “It’s not worth worrying about. I’ve been doing what I needed to, and I’m here now. If things go right, you’ll be out of here soon.”
“What do you mean? We’re not leaving here right now?”
Cadel shook his head, though just a shadowed outline could be seen.
“Not yet, Elbrus. My plan has two potential outcomes. The swords are in case the first option fails. Tuck them away. Keep them hidden, but be ready. It shouldn’t be much longer.”
He squeezed Elbrus on the shoulder, then returned to the door.
“Wait, Cadel,” Kü said in a loud whisper. “How will we know? Will there be a signal?”
Cadel already had the door ajar and paused, framed in the entryway’s faint back light as he looked back with Soulrend’s crosshilt rising above his shoulders and a mischievous grin on his lips.
“Just be ready, stay quiet, and listen. You’ll know.”
He turned and closed the door, casting the room into darkness again.
“You hear that, Elbrus?” asked Uati, making everyone chuckle. “Think you can do it?”
“Yeah, yeah. Be quiet. Real funny, guys. It’s not a problem. I’ve been silent plenty of times. Actually, that reminds me of the time when I was bear…”
“Elbrus!” Kü’s sharp command cut him off before he could continue the story while everyone busied themselves concealing the weapons. The room soon fell silent as time moved slower than ever before while they waited.
They did not know his plan, but everyone believed Cadel would succeed.
***
Cadel knew he needed to hurry while inside the Ridge, but he also needed to take immense care. The slightest misstep could turn deadly without warning, endangering his friends’ lives. He stayed tucked close to the edges with his back to the walls, drawn to the shadows. He never considered himself the stalking sort, feeling more natural facing his foes head-on rather than sneaking around like an assassin, but the shadows became his allies, offering pockets of obscured peace.
His preferences were scrapped the moment he and his allies were taken captive by the Zh’van. Until everyone was freed, he was on a self-assigned rescue mission, and with the overwhelming odds stacked against him, he had no choice but to employ every element of subterfuge he could recall from his studies. Beyond the knowledge he absorbed, he found he had a natural feeling for blending in with his surroundings, a challenging task for someone of his stature. At the barracks, he spent countless hours working on his balance and agility for swordplay, and it was paying off as he crept through the systems of underground halls and caverns. He had to stay hidden in his rush against time.
“You’re the Baksa I’ve heard about.” A voice from the darkness caught him completely off-guard as his hand reached for his dagger. It would be difficult to wield Soulrend in the tight hallways, leaving him vulnerable to attack.
“There’s no need for that,” the raspy, aged voice said with a humorous tinge. “I’m not your enemy. But don’t become too complacent; I’m not your ally, either.”
He turned around, hoping to keep the confrontation amicable, but he saw only shadows.
“Who are you, if neither friend nor foe?”
“I’m just an observer with a vested interest, helping those who aren’t too proud to ask for it and offering counsel to those who realize they don’t have every answer already figured out. I heal those who are foolish enough to get themselves wounded and have spent more time than usual healing people who’ve crossed paths with you, Baksa. You may call me Laeriss.”
“Laeriss, can I put a face to your name? It’s difficult to trust those who remain concealed.”
A scratchy chuckle emitted from the darkness along the wall. “You’re one to speak as you slink through the halls of my home.” The old healer stepped from the shadows with a smirk playing on her wrinkled face. “Do you bear a name, or should I continue referring to you as Baksa?”
“I’m Cadel. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Laeriss…I think.” His hand relaxed on the dagger’s black handle. He was still uncertain of her intentions, but felt at peace in her presence. Still, he remained on guard, engaging her with trepidation.
“Cadel. That’s a powerful name. It fits you,” she said. “Now that I see your stature, I can better understand why I’ve been so busy repairing the Zh’van you keep sending me!”
“I’m not looking for enemies…”
“Pish-tush!” she said, waving a dismissive hand at him. “The Zh’van need no help finding enemies. It’s our identity! We search it out like the Horebians search for berries across the Horebian Mountain Range! We’re tough, angry, bitter, and offended at everyone!” She gave a mischievous wink. “We’re too busy making enemies to let anyone become one. Want to know a secret about the Zh’van?”
Cadel shrugged and gave an apprehensive nod, still uncertain about the purpose of the old woman’s prattling.
“No one hates the Zh’van more than we hate ourselves. We’re our own worst enemy, and until we sort out that personal issue, we’ll remain a foe of all the realms.”
“I can see aspects of that from my interactions with your people,” he said. “Nothing personal, but I’m kind of in the middle of something…”
“That’s quite all right. I won’t hold you up much longer.” She paused thoughtfully. “You did something to Sa’res. Whatever happened between you two out there last autumn changed her. She’s different, and I’m trying to figure out what’s going on. I’ve known her for a long time.
“What did you do to her? What magic did you weave to change her violent, hateful heart into what I see now? She would have killed all the prisoners with her own hands for trying to escape before, but she spared them and helped you escape instead. Don’t look so surprised. The old Sa’res would have died before letting you beat her up and run away. Her nature has completely changed because of whatever you weaved into her. If you did it for her, I wonder whether you could do it for the rest of my people, too.”
Cadel looked at the floor, deep in thought. The conversation was contrary to where his mind was focused. After a pause, he looked into her pleading red eyes.
“Mercy,” he said. “She tried to kill me many times, and once I overpowered her and had the chance to kill her, I looked into her eyes and saw that something good was buried deep within her heart. I hate killing, but I was ready to kill her. I wanted to kill her. She deserved to die. But mercy stayed my hand and would not let me strike.”
“You speak like one of the Scribes or a Yaqol follower,” she said.
“I assure you, I’m neither,” he said. “I believe in defending good by opposing evil. That’s why I’m a Baksa.”
She hesitated before asking. “Do you see in me what you saw in Sa’res?”
He paused to consider his answer. “I don’t know, Laeriss. Whether or not I see it in you, I believe there’s hope for everyone, no matter how far into darkness they’ve fallen.”
“Even for the Zh’van?” she asked.
“If I don’t believe it for the most pernicious souls, do I really believe it at all? Hope is available for all who choose it, but sometimes the consuming darkness is too overwhelming for some to escape, and they remain forever lost within its entanglements.”
She shook her head. “You don’t look old enough to possess such wisdom, Cadel.”
“Age and wisdom are not fundamentally synonymous,” he said with a grin.
“So true,” she said with a laugh before her visage took on a severe nature. “I understand you have to do what’s needed. Don’t worry about me. I won’t raise the alarm. I’m just the old woman who will clean up the fallout after the conflict. It would have been nice to meet you under different circumstances, Cadel. You’re a pleasant young man, and I would’ve enjoyed a longer conversation with you.”
He smiled before turning to go. “Same to you, Laeriss. You seem to have a good heart…for a Zh’van.”
He delivered the last statement with a wink, eliciting another chuckle from the ancient healer.
“Cadel,” she said, and he paused, turning to acknowledge her comment. “If Yaqol exists, I hope He guides your hand with strength and wisdom. Thank you for saving Sa’res with your mercy…”
He nodded before turning down the hall to continue his assignment, and as she watched him depart, she whispered softly to herself before making her way back to her chambers.
“…and if you find it in your heart to see any good in us, may you show us mercy as well. Yaqol knows we need it.”
Chapter 35
The Niph’al Ghost had taken on mythical proportions, terrorizing the hearts of the night watch. No assaults occurred during the daylight, but every guard sent out at night in the past week had vanished before dawn. There were no signs of a struggle and they all disappeared without a trace, leaving no evidence showing how they met their demise or where their bodies were taken.
Ghal’yat’s fierce red eyes glared across the room as he slouched back on his ornate stone throne, stroking his thick black beard while his mind wandered around his ever-increasing frustrations. He had no explanation for the disappearances outside the Ridge, but despite the rumors, he was certain the ghost was human, even with no evidence. Still, the gossip took on an uncontrollable life of its own, turning a presumed myth into an assumed reality.
He increased the guards every night to stand watch, but that only added more numbers to the growing body count. The Zh’van were being preyed on, and he could do nothing about it. There was no apparent reason or motive for the attacks. No messages were conveyed, no warnings issued. The mystery was the hardest part. It was impossible to know whether random bandits were challenging the Zh’van for their home or if it was someone seeking vengeance. It was possible the Tamayans had found Ridge, and the attacks were linked to the prisoners. As unlikely as it sounded in his head, he knew Ganden’s ancient mystical history, and there was the slimmest chance that the Niph’al Ghost was something more than an elaborate figment of imagination.
He lifted a goblet of bold, elderberry wine to his lips and drank deep, letting the rich bitter liquid run across his tongue. Sa’res was especially challenging, but in a different way than normal. Her questioning personality had become more passive and introspective, a stark contrast to her argumentative and demanding nature. Her intensity remained, but with a different compulsion. He was unconcerned. Her raiders had been with her for years, and losing them to Cadel the previous autumn was bound to leave wounds.
She would be fine, he mused while taking another drink. Women always overcame their emotions and learned how to bury them. He was more concerned about Te’kash. His son did not speak about his Tamayan imprisonment, and Ghal’yat did not pursue answers. His son knew where to go if he wanted to talk about such foolish feelings. The Zh’van were decisive, cold, and calculating. Emotional turmoil led to hesitation, and the realm had no place for such weaknesses.
Still, Te’kash’s intense demeanor was more violent and volatile since Sa’res rescued him, flying into unexpected fits of rage over mundane situations. Only Ghal’yat or Sa’res were able to stop him from slaughtering anyone in his vicinity on multiple occasions. Whatever was troubling his son danced on the fringes of murderous rage, but remained somewhat controllable.
The giant lifted his goblet to his lips and sneered, cursing under his breath when he realized it was empty. He rose from the throne and plodded across the room to the pitcher resting on a table, then paused mid-pour when an unexpected voice emanated from the shadows along the chamber wall.
“I could kill you where you stand and end this.”
Unfazed once the initial shock wore off, he finished filling the goblet and took a deep draught without turning around.
“I know you better than that, Baksa,” he said. “You’re too honorable for such murderous behavior. You’d best leave such things to us Zh’van. It’s what we’re good for.” He stayed casual as he turned around, careful not to make any sudden moves, still unable to see his foe. “You must be the Niph’al Ghost who’s been haunting my guards at night. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. What’s your play?”
“Release my men,” said Cadel from deep in the shadows, still playing off the ruse of being an officer. “Leave the Tamayans alone. End this now, and I walk away. I won’t stop until I’ve taken your kingdom down.”
The comment lacked bravado, spoken as a plain fact.
“Why would I ever bow to your demands?” asked Ghal’yat. “You’re just one man against an entire realm.”
“I may be alone, but I’m still a ghost,” said Cadel. “Have you considered that I defeated every guard you’ve sent out? No one can find me. I’m in your throne room, and no one else knows I’m here.”
“And yet I’m still breathing.” The giant shook his head. “You’re not a killer, Baksa.”
“My desire for peace won’t hinder me from doing whatever it takes to end this,” said Cadel. “Killing you isn’t my intention, but I will if I have to.”
Ghal’yat topped off the goblet again and returned to his throne, scanning the wall where Cadel spoke from, but could not find his location. His massive crescent-tipped sword leaned against the wall, just far enough away to remove any hopes of reaching for it. He did not share his antagonist’s hesitation to kill and would be glad to remove the man’s head from his shoulders.
“So what next, Baksa?” he asked. “Do we sit here talking forever?”
Cadel emerged from the shadows. His shoulder-length black and tan hair was pulled back into a loose topknot, and his normally clean-shaven face had grown a layer of patchy stubble, with mud smeared in patterns across his face. His deep brown eyes were set in a fierce glare as he held a confident stance with his feet shoulder-width apart, maintaining a healthy distance between himself and the chieftain as they eyed each other.
“Your people are not dead,” Cadel said.
“Excuse me?” asked Ghal’yat.
“I haven’t killed any of your guards.” Cadel stared at the giant. “They’re alive and safe right now.”
“You’re bluffing.” Ghal’yat shook his mighty head. “You couldn’t build a prison to hold them that fast. The fish and serpents of the Niph’al waters are feasting on their bodies right now, I’m sure.”
“Don’t be so certain,” said Cadel. “Not all prisons look the same. You’ve confined my people in a dungeon deep below the ground, but I’ve restrained your people in a place without chains or walls. They’re unharmed, and I’ve kept them sedated. They’ll return to you when the tardema subsides in a couple of days. I have no intention of killing them, and I’m not threatening their lives. However, they can’t eat or drink in their condition and won’t survive forever. You would be wise to decide soon.”
Ghal’yat’s face twisted into a grin. “You’re more devious than I gave you credit for. That’s quite impressive indeed. I can’t say I understand why you’d want to keep them alive, but that’s your prerogative.”
“It’s far more humane than how you treat your prisoners,” Cadel said.
The giant laughed. “I’ll do what I want with my possessions; do what you will with yours.”
“Let my people go, Ghal’yat,” said Cadel.
The chieftain lunged forward on the throne with both hands gripping the stone arms, but Cadel did not flinch. “And what’s your plan if I refuse? You already proved you won’t kill the people you captured! You had your chance to murder me and passed on it! From what I hear, you had the opportunity to kill both of my children, yet spared their lives! You’re a fool, Baksa! You could’ve ended this many times before, but you’re bound to some ridiculous moral code that keeps you from killing anyone. Your misguided mercy caused more deaths than if you’d killed us. Fool!”
