Once We Were Kings (Young Adult Fantasy) (The Sojourner Saga) (20 page)

// WEEP NOT FOR THY LOVED ONES, MY SON //

And at that moment, all the anger and hatred for the Torians, all the sorrow and tears for his fallen family lifted off of his chest like a millstone.  He breathed in the cool, refreshing wind that blew his hair back, dried the stinging water from his open wounds and it made him feel....

Whole.

"My Lord, Valhandra.  I have sought after you my entire life."

// IT IS WELL SOUGHT, MY SON //

"Thank you."  It was all he could think to say, in the presence of The Supremacy—for it was all he could conceive of Valhandra's infinite nature.

// AND NOW, BELOVED SON.  BEHOLD, I SHEW THEE THY DESTINY //

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

Beating hooves, the shouts of mounted soldiers, his own heart beating so hard it might very well burst out of his chest.   Through tar-like mud and slippery leaves, with little more to light his way than fingers of dim moonlight, groping down through parting clouds, Render scrambled through the wood.

Despite his start, the Torian horsemen and their hunting dogs gained upon him quickly.  His only advantage was the shadows.  With his luck, he would run straight into the hands of the Tianese.

Every breath seared his lungs, every step impaled his calves like a hot skewer.  What point was there in running, in delaying the inevitable?  Where could he go?  To the West, all of Valdshire Tor considered him a traitor and demanded his blood.  To the East, the land of the people who attacked his home, he would not be spared.  Perhaps the Sojourners were the only people who might receive him—if he could find any of them.  Render shuddered at the thought of falling into league with the very people who had been so vilified throughout his entire life.

The worst part of his flight was the thirst.  So parched were his mouth and throat that simply breathing caused him to cough.  And that only made it worse.

Up ahead, he noticed a silver glimmer in the ground.  It sparkled between trees and branches.  A pool. 

I'll stop to drink, he thought.  And die at the hands of the soldiers, to be certain.  At least I won't die of thirst.

Rather than slowing to a dignified pace, Render fell face forward into the mud, the pool some fifty paces away.  Just then, the Torian soldiers came into view.

Three of them came to an abrupt stop.  The hounds began to whimper and whine.  The horses reared up and whinnied.  Despite their riders' commands, they would not continue any further. 

"Captain," one said.  "We dare not go on."

Render lifted his head.  They did not see him down in the muck.

"No, Jarod," said the Captain, his breath trembling.  "I don't suppose we should."

Barely comprehensible, Jarod began to stammer.  "It's here, isn't it?

"There's no mistaking it, just look by the water's edge." 

Render tried, but from the ground, he could not see past the rock in front of him.

"Sire, I would rather not."

The third rider spoke.  "Captain, I will support you if you claim that our quarry fell in."

The captain took in a shaky breath.  "Who's to say he hasn't, Payden?"

Jarod cleared his throat.  "What shall we do then?"

"By my counsel," said the captain, he and his horse backing away slowly.  "We shall return at once and report to The Lord Mooregaard what each of us has witnessed:  The young fugitive named Render has fallen into the pool and..."

Both Jarod and Payden agreed and followed him away, the hounds along with them.

Presently, alone with the rustling leaves, the drip-drip-drip of fat, blood-like raindrops hitting the leaves around him, Render let out a slow breath, his first since the Tianese attacked Castle Mitlevald.

In the short time that had elapsed, his entire world collapsed.  He'd seen Folen and Stewan dead, while that odious brat, Branson was saved.  By Render's own hand, no less.  Where's the justice in that?

And more disturbing still, Edwyn had given his life so that Render, an accused murderer and traitor could escape.  For what truth had he died?  Why would he allow himself to die in the very manner for which he'd resented his parents?

As Render stood up, his head became faint.  The image of Kaine, vivid as daylight, eyes wide with surprise that his own brother would kill him, lodged itself the darkest recesses of his mind. 

Traitor.

Murderer. 

"No,"  Render staggered towards the pool.  "It must be delirium.  I'm dehydrated.  Yes, that's all it is.  I'm dehydrated.  Water.  That's all I need."

He stepped over a log.  Not even bothering to look around, Render knelt by the pool, the water of which seemed utterly pure and reflective.  Like a mirror.  He cupped his hands and lowered them.

"My word!"  Not even a ripple formed as his hands sank into the cool, refreshing water.  The pool was so beautiful, it was almost terrifying.   He lifted his hands to his mouth.  Barely a drop leaked out, and those that did fell silently back into the pool, without that deep dripping sound one ordinarily hears.  It was more of a hiss.  As if it they had evaporated.

As soon as the water touched his tongue, Render gasped.  It was by far the sweetest water he had ever tasted.  Right away, he slurped the entire handful into his mouth and swallowed greedily.  Then he went and drew another handful.  And another.  He could not seem to get enough.  Nor did he desire to be satiated.

He was so engrossed in his frenzied drinking that he never heard the deep growl of the creature that leapt at him and knocked him over.

"What!"

Render's first instinct was to run back to the water.  But when the creature let out a vicious snarl, he jumped back.  When he saw what it was, he scampered back on his rear.

Looming before him was the largest, blackest, most terrible creature he'd ever laid eyes on.  It stood over him, breathing in his face.  A panther.  From the way its deep green eyes fixed upon his, you'd think it had something to say.

Slowly and with great care, Render tried to inch away towards the water.  But the panther slapped its mighty forepaw down onto his arm, tearing through his sleeve and skin.  It bled slightly, but Render got up and backed away.  Strangely, every time he tried to get near the water, the panther would lurch forward, warding him off.

"So this is your pool, then.  I see." Render tried without success to sound unafraid.  But a numbing chill tingled down his spine.  Because when he looked around, he saw that the log he had previously stepped over had not been a log at all.  It was the leg of a dead soldier.  Render let out a gasp.

On thick black velvet paws, the panther approached.  It bore deadly white fangs and let out a deep, undulating growl as it looked around the pool.  Render counted not one, not two, but nearly a dozen dead soldiers, Torian and Tianese alike, strewn around the pool, all in various stages of decay.

"Your work, no doubt." Render stared into the emeralds in the panther's head which had not yet released him.  "For water, you killed them?"

The Panther lifted a paw and let out an angry growl.  It pounded the ground with a heavy thump.

"I'll leave, if that's what you want."  Render bent down and reached a hand towards the water.  "Just one more sip and I'll—"

The panther roared and leapt right onto Render, knocking him off his feet.  Its paw rested on his chest and it flashed angry teeth.  Chest heaving, through wheezing breaths, Render said, "All right, all right.  I'll leave!"

The odd thing about the panther's response was that it actually stepped away and permitted Render to leave.  Stranger still, at least in Render's mind, was that this did not surprise him.  Somehow, it seemed that he and the beast had come to an understanding.

"Well then," Render said, glancing back at the pool.  "Thank you for the drink."  He thought himself clever and bold to jest, when he should surely be dead, like those soldiers on the ground.  But the thought faded as he walked away.  It was then that he noticed something most peculiar about the dead soldiers.

One clutched a sword protruding from his stomach.  Another, the hilt of a dagger which he appeared to have used to slit his own throat and wrists.  And another still clutching his own wrist, which held the blade that he had used to gouge out his own eyes.

Now, not for fear of the panther that stood there like a mythical dragon guarding its treasure, Render began to run.  The sweet aftertaste of the water in which he had so delighted turned bitter.  No matter how much he spat, he could not get the taste out of his mouth.  Or his memory for that matter.

He would have continued to run, if not for the voice that whispered, "Murderer."

"Who's there?"

The voice came neither from behind, nor before him.  Not from the left or the right.  Thus disoriented, Render tried to convince himself that he was only imagining this.  But before he could take another step, it came again.  This time so close, the whisper seemed to be directly in his ears.  But without an embodied breath behind it.

"You killed them all."

Render tripped back over a fallen tree trunk, his eyes wide with fear.   Another corpse, a dirk lodged into its heart.  Render grabbed the knife and pressed his back up against a large rock.  He pointed the dirk before him.  "Who are you?"

"Who are you?"

"Show yourself!"

With sardonic laughter, the voice faded away.

Then all was still.

Save the cold, weeping wind.

A dark cloud smothered whatever remaining moonlight there had been.  With the resounding accusations, the cruel laughter echoing in his mind, he sat.  When he was fairly certain he was alone, the full realization fell heavy upon him.  Their faces haunted him.

Stewan.

Folen.

Sir Edwyn.

"Kaine," he murmured, and wept bitterly.

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

The trouble with weeping out in the open is that you never know who might come your way and interrupt.  With his knees drawn up and face buried in his arms, Render's heart flowed out with his tears.   How could his only friends, his only brother be gone?

"I'm alone."

A cold breeze rushed by.  Render pulled his knees in closer.

"Alone, yes." 

That voice.  Eerily familiar, yet not.  It mocked him.

Render bolted up to his feet.  Reached for his sword but realized he had none.

"Behind you."

He spun around and standing right before him was the most awful sight he'd ever seen.  "You?"

"You, actually."  It was as though Render was gazing into a looking glass.   By all that made sense, this could not be.  Yet, it was clear that this person embodied everything Render knew of himself.  His doppelganger, wore almost identical clothing, yet devoid of hue.  In fact, its entire presence seemed translucent, like dark, gray tulle.  He stood with his arms crossed over his chest.  "Come now, Render.  Let's not put off the inevitable.  You know what you've earned."

"But I didn't—"

"Pond scum!  You weren't worth anything at birth and you're worth even less now."

What horrified Render most was the familiarity, the intimacy of these words.  The way they were spoken, personified.  "What a fool you were to imagine that you could be anyone of significance.  A painter?  A poet or musician?  Ha!   You were at best a lowborn slave!"

"I'll not hear any of this," said Render.  He shook his head, rubbed his eyes and walked away.  "You're not real.  Not even here.  You're just a product of my distress."

The dark Render laughed.  "Even now, you deny my existence?  Well, I'll show you the futility of that effort.  The sooner you admit the truth, the sooner we resolve this."

"And just what shall I admit?"  He began to walk faster, ignoring as best he could the cruel accusations. 

"That you're nobody.  You're worthless."  To Render's surprise, the ghostly double grasped his arm and held him back.  "You cannot escape me any more than you can yourself."

Anger boiled up.  Render withheld the words he felt like saying.

"That's right," said the double.  "Ponder it.  More and more.  It's just that close to your tongue."

"I hate you."

"And I, you, sickly worm!"

"Shut up!  Shut up!  Or I'll—"

"Or you'll what?"  The doppelganger slapped the back of Render's head.  A stinging shock flashed down his spine.  "You haven't got Kaine to hide behind any more.  What will you do, eh?  As if you could conceal your dark thoughts from me, you sniveling, whining child!"

Never had anyone incensed him as this ghastly reflection, never had Render felt such dark intentions so close to the surface.  He never thought he'd act upon such barbaric feelings.

Until his doppelganger shoved him in the back of his head one time too many.  Render swung around and, despite the fact that this ghostly double could not in actuality exist, grabbed his throat and snarled. "I don't care who you think you are, you're going to shut up and leave me alone!"

"Oh am I?" He laughed, unaffected by the fingers gripping his throat.  "You're like one of those little lap dogs.  You know, the kind that barks and snarls, but never really—"

"Shut up!  Shut...UP!" Render thrust his fist square into the doppelganger's nose.  The double fell back, and touched it, gazed at the blood that had dripped onto his hand.

"Oh, nice.  Very nice indeed."  Before Render could react, the doppelganger hooked his leg under Render's.  Render tripped and fell back.  The insidious version of Render fell upon him and began striking him in the face.  Each blow sent white flecks of light into his eyes, shut though they were.

Render managed to turn over onto his side and deflect the blows.  Then he clutched both hands around the doppelganger's neck and began to throttle him.

In the very same way, Render's double attempted to strangle him.  The harder Render squeezed, the harder his double did.  The double however, only smiled with satisfaction, whereas Render felt his eyes would burst out of his head.  He reached for the dirk he'd lifted from the corpse.  But it was no longer in his belt.