Kian frowned, some part of himself urgently revisiting memories better left forgotten. In a sudden rush everything came spilling forth, a black tide of pain and suffering. And yet through that abysmal flood, there shone a spark of light, pure and warm. Ellonlef. She and his friends had come for him, taken him from the darkness, somehow returned him to safety.
He flexed his hands, expecting weakness and pain, but finding strength. His fingers slowly, almost fearfully, investigated his torso, knowing they should encounter absolute physical destruction. Instead, they found taut skin and warm flesh. How…?
The question evaporated and he blinked several times. Aside from the image of Ellonlef gazing down on him with a strange mingling of joy and fear and something else, the last thing he recalled was darkness and rough-hewn stone, and the babble of hungry voices. The longer he considered, the more he remembered.
Hazad, Azuri, and Ellonlef had brought him to this somehow familiar place. It took some moments before he realized he was staring at a ceiling of once white plaster gone to brown with smoke and ages. Kian rolled his head to one side, waiting for the red pain he recalled to fall on him again. Nothing met his movement, save a little stiffness. A glowing brazier stood beside an old table below a shuttered window. On the table sat a low-burning oil lamp and a green vase filled with a long-dead cutting of flowers.
He turned his head in the opposite direction and found an old woman clad in a dense swaddling of gray robes sitting on a stool just beyond the doorway. I know her … Hya, a Sister of Najihar. She did not notice his movements.
He glanced back to the ceiling and saw a lizard, sluggish with cold, peering down at him. A fly lumbered near, then the fly was in the lizard’s mouth. Kian would have sworn the creature smiled in triumph, and he smiled in return. He had never felt so alive.
Stop this! a warning voice raved. Danger is drawing near!
His happiness, doubtless a distraction concocted by his weary mind, began to crack and fall away. How he had come to be healed, he had no answer, but of scourges savaging his flesh, of iron spikes ripping through his arms, the memory of those things was alive in him. He surveyed a faint, puckered scar on his forearm where a wrought iron spike had been driven through by a robed priest, his cowled eyes burning with anger and disgust-not for Kian, but for Varis. He turned his wrist and saw the same scar on the other side. Such a wound should have left him crippled, yet had not. There were other scars, faded and pale, crisscrossing over his skin, as if long healed.
How long would that have taken? He had heard more than one tale of men grievously wounded in battle who had remained senseless and abed for years before coming awake. Years … could it have been so long?
“You are awake then,” Hya said with a dry cackle. “Good. It saves me the effort of rousing your lazy bones.”
“How long have I been here?” Kian asked?
Hya stood with much effort, curiosity lighting her wizened features. “Less than an hour.”
Kian gasped. If he had been given the choice, he would have suggested weeks, if not months, had passed since he was thrown into the Pit, yet less than a full day had passed since Varis had done all he could to destroy him.
“How …” the unasked questioned disintegrated. He had been about to ask how he could have possibly been healed from what should have killed him, but like knowing where he was, he suddenly knew how it had happened. The powers of creation had been used to knit his flesh whole … and those powers had been wielded by Ellonlef.
Hazad burst into the shop with the slam of a door and a soft but urgent cry of warning. A moment later he pushed into the room, looking frantic. Melting snow wetted his wild hair. When his eyes fell on Kian, his features split in a wide grin. Tears shone in the big man’s eyes, and he rushed to Kian’s side. Then, without warning, overcome with joy, he leaned over and kissed his captain on the brow. Smothering under the man’s drenched beard braids, Kian jabbed him in the ribs with a half-hearted curse. Despite the threat of danger, Kian could not shake the sensation of exultation he felt at being alive.
Azuri came next. He drew back the hood of his cloak, careful not to let the wet touch his skin. He surveyed the scene in an instant, stepped forward with a wry smirk, clasped hands with Kian, then stood back, composed.
“While I’m sure this bumbling lout would slobber on you the rest of the night,” he said, “we have no time. The House Guard, twenty or more mounted, is fast approaching. There is no doubt they know the general area they are looking for, but thank the gods, it seems they are not sure exactly where they are going. Despite that small mercy, we have but moments before they find us. We must depart.” This last he spoke to Hya.
Kian did not waste time wondering if he would be able to stand on his own. Taking a deep breath, he sat up. He felt a little weak, but there was a sense of strength deep in his bones that wanted to be unleashed. Unassisted, he got to his feet just as Ellonlef came into the room, confused by all the commotion. For the barest moment Kian’s eyes found hers. In that instant, a silent promise was made to speak later. For his part, Kian was not sure how he felt about what needed to be spoken between them, but he was exhilarated by the prospect. But he sensed that there were many dangers to face before that conversation took place-dangers that might not allow them to ever speak of those matters.
He pushed that aside. “I need clothes,” he said, “unless you expect me to run about naked, fighting like a Whitehold savage.”
Ellonlef blinked, then turned and rushed to another part of the shop, but not before Kian had seen the blush coloring her cheeks.
“There will be no fighting, Izutarian,” Hya said grimly. “You must flee Aradan.”
Kian’s face grew stern, and he shook his head. “What was begun, must be finished. Varis cannot be allowed to rule either as a man … or a god.”
“He nearly killed you the first time,” Hya admonished.
“I will not stop fighting him until either he is dead, or I am. He may have been born human, but he is no longer. He has become a demon. I would rather perish than accept his rule.”
Ellonlef returned with a armful of Kian’s clothes and a pair of spare boots. The clothing still bore the dust and sweat from the journey across the Kaliayth. Kian took the garb from her and began to dress, his movements further renewing his strength. He spoke without looking at Hya.
“Will you-can you-help us find a way into the palace, a secret way?”
Hya ground her few teeth together in frustration, but Kian sensed that she would help as she could, that she understood all too well the cost of failure.
“As I said before, I know a man who can get you free of Ammathor. That same man, I am sure, can get you into the palace. Whether he will help or not, only time will tell. The man of whom I speak is inclined to enjoy the advantages of troubles in distressed lands. Should you destroy Varis … well, that may prove a devastating blow to the commerce of all smugglers and lawbreakers.”
“Take us to him,” Kian said. “One way or another, he will aid us.” He was not keen on torturing, especially given his recent ordeal, but neither was he willing to risk Varis rising to the levels of power he sought.
Kian sat upon the edge of the bed to drag on his boots. As he pulled on the second, a flurry of shouts went up outdoors, sounding near. Hazad and Azuri spun as one, going out to see what was amiss.
“Are we in readiness?” Hya asked, urgently drawing on another robe, giving her the look of a gray tick fat on its latest feed.