The Companions of Tartiël (27 page)

“My lady,” Kaiyr replied wearily, bowing slightly. “What can I do for you?”

She glanced around somewhat nervously. “I… I haven’t seen my children yet. Do you have any idea where they might be found?”

Frowning, Kaiyr thought for a moment, casting his thoughts back over the past several days. “I apologize, my lady,” he said after a few moments. “I cannot remember having seen… any children at all.” His frown deepened, and he turned to Caineye, troubled.

*

I sat back in my chair, falling silent. Xavier and Matt did likewise, and we all said nothing, lost in thought.

“Are we missing something?” I asked Matt and Xavier. “I mean, Wild noticed there weren’t any children around.”

“Yeah,” Matt agreed. “But we didn’t really find any of them, either. Were we supposed to find them, or something?” He looked at Dingo, who merely shrugged; it wasn’t the DM’s place to let us know if we’d missed something. At least, not out-of-game. He would, in-game, when it came to bite us in our collective ass.

“Xavier?” I asked.

He shook his head, staring at the battle-grid upon which our miniatures still sat from the battle with the shadowy dragon half an hour ago. “I got nothing.”

I sighed and tapped my pencil on my desk, glancing at the clock. It was already midnight and we had been playing for five hours already. But we each still had about another hour in us before we needed to head to bed. I flipped my ponytail back and forth in defeat. “I…” Then I looked up at Dingo. He was grinning.

It hit me like an ogre’s fist to my stomach, and my eyes went wide. His grin spread even further across his face. My pencil fell from my hand, and my heart leaped into my throat for Kaiyr. “Oh, no you
didn’t
,” I told him in the darkest, most serious voice I could muster, though it was weakened with dread. He started nodding and laughing, too pleased with the outcome of his designs to even speak. “Oh, no, you fucking did
not
.”

“Oh, yes. Oh, yes, I most certainly
did
,” he cackled.

I groaned. “Oh, hell. You, sir, are a fucking bastard… a dirty whore. You are the biggest ass in the entire world. Ho, damn. This is not good.”

Xavier and Matt stared at me, uncomprehending. “What’s the deal?” Matt asked.

Rubbing my forehead in consternation, I glanced up at him. “I know where the children are,” I sighed.

*

Caineye spotted Kaiyr near the edge of the gathering, pacing back and forth and scratching his chin in thought. Joining him, he asked the blademaster, “Still wondering about the children? I don’t think any of us has spotted them, Master Kaiyr.”

The elf shrugged. “There is little else I can do for these people this night until we are certain there are no others still missing but alive. So…” He trailed off, glancing down the path that eventually led to the “treasure hunter’s” house. His blue eyes went wide, and his hand dropped weakly from his chin. “No!
No!
”

Caineye stared, bemused, as the blademaster took off like a wizard’s lightning bolt. “Master Kaiyr?” he called after him. Then, with a sudden ill feeling that all was not right, he gave chase.

As the druid neared the house, the door having been pulled off its hinges in Kaiyr’s haste, a tormented, keening wail of grief split the lightening night. Caineye rushed inside, nearly tripping over one of the rugs, and stumbled into the back room to discover the blademaster kneeling by the iron door. Kaiyr pounded the floor with his fists, his knuckles already a bloody mess, as tears streamed from his face and fell to mix with his blood.

“No!” the elf shouted, over and over again as Caineye fully realized what had really been in this pit. They had been werewolves, yes, but they had been a little smaller than most.

“Oh, gods,” the human swore, his words barely audible over Kaiyr’s grieving. “What have we done? What in the Nine Hells have we done?” He knelt next to the blademaster, staring into the hole. The bodies of the elven children had been so horribly burned by the glass orb’s explosion that only a few twisted remains lay scattered about the floor and embedded in the walls.

XIX.

“I am going to them,” Kaiyr said several hours later, breaking a reverent and grief-stricken silence that had settled over them all after Wild had found them in the back room with the blackened bodies of the children below. Kaiyr had taken upon his shoulders the blame for the deaths of these children, rejecting Caineye’s claim that they all shared in the blame. In one corner of his mind, Kaiyr realized that he was being selfish in not allowing his companion to accept the responsibility for what had been done here. But his emotions overrode that small, logical part of him that was usually much more in control. Kaiyr took no notice of Caineye and Wild following him as he strode doggedly from the house, but he paused when Astra, still clad in Kaiyr’s old clothes, stopped in front of him, blocking his path.

“There you are,” she said, a little out of breath. “It took me a while to…” Her voice trailed off when she noticed the look of absolute desolation in the blademaster’s eyes and the way he did not quite meet her gaze before edging around her and away from the house. “What? What happened?” she asked, trailing after him and turning to Caineye when Kaiyr did not respond.

Caineye, though, just shook his head, and Wild was of no more help, offering only a sad, little shrug. “Not… not right now, please.” Caineye’s voice was heavy with pain, and he barely noticed when Vinto, who had arrived with Astra, rejoined him and bumped against his leg in question, sensing that all was not well with his master. Astra shook her head in worry but followed the group.

Upon reaching the area with the gathered elves, Kaiyr gained their attention by climbing atop one of the buildings opposite the gate, constructed by the elves while controlled by whatever mind was behind the curse. There, he entreated all present to gather around him. His solemn voice brought them to him in silence although their hearts clamored with questions. And so, Kaiyr started at the beginning.

He left nothing out of the story, recounting everything he knew from the moment he and his companions had set foot in Andorra, to Wild’s encounter at the temple of Alduros Hol, to their dealings with the Terth’Kaftineya. His voice cracked when he told the townspeople of his part in the deaths of many of the town’s children, just over an hour before they would have been released from the curse.

“And so,” he told them all, tears streaming from his eyes as he manifested his soulblade and rested it on his own shoulder, its sharp edge glittering in the early morning sun as it pressed against his neck, “I put my life in your hands. I caused the deaths of thirty-six innocent children. If you wish my death, then upon my honor as Blademaster Kaiyr, as a child of Arvanos Sinterian… you shall have it.”

“No!” Astra said from where she stood on the ground near the building. “Kaiyr, this is ridiculous.”

“Be silent, Lady Astra,” he commanded her without looking. “Please.”

She scowled. “No, I don’t please.” In a sudden flash of blue light, she appeared on the roof next to him. Her rapier danced from her scabbard to her hand, and she used the tip to flip Kaiyr’s soulblade away from his neck.

Kaiyr whirled a step away from her, his spiritual sword appearing in his other hand as the crowd below watched in stunned stillness. “Lady Astra, this is not your decision to make!”

Putting a fist to her hip, she frowned, her black eyebrows furrowing over her violet eyes. “Kaiyr, by the power over you which you willingly gave to me, I command you to stop this!”

Caineye, on the ground, shook his head and murmured too quietly to be heard by anyone but himself, “It’s not going to work.”

“Hm,” Kaiyr scoffed. “Lady Astra, this is beyond the power I gave to you. Stay back!” He pressed the blade against his neck again, threatening to take his own life should she take another step toward him. Lowering her rapier, she relented and backed away.

Then Maran stepped between them verbally. “Blademaster Kaiyr,” he said, and both the elf and the nymph atop the roof looked at the elder, regal and commanding in his tone of voice, quiet though it was. “The people of Andorra accept your admission of guilt. As you can see,” he told him, motioning to the elves around him, “none of us raises a hand against you. You acted as you had to in the heat of battle, and with what information you had, it comes as no surprise to me that such a tragedy could happen. Yes, it is a terrible thing, and I mourn the loss of so many young souls. But Arvanos will welcome them into the Everwood as he does every elven soul to pass from this world. If you wish to place blame where it belongs, lay it upon those who are behind the curse that stripped us of our lives, our free will, and our time in this world.” He spread his arms and strode forward until he stood near the building, nearly beneath the desolate blademaster. The elves of Andorra, to the very last one, moved with Maran, their silently chosen leader, without a word of dissent, some of them nodding their accord. The pain of loss was clearly written on their faces: for the children, yes, but also for all those who had been lost to the curse and whatever power was behind it.

After a pause during which Maran let Kaiyr think about his words, the elder continued, “If you still seek to cleanse yourself of the mark you feel on your soul for your part in the loss of our young, then seek out those who brought such harm upon us.” His aged features turned fierce. “Follow your precepts, Blademaster! Destroy them,” he snarled, swiping one arm out to the side in a cutting motion. “Do not send them to the deepest pits of hell. Destroy them so utterly that there shall be nothing left to send to the devils!”

Maran settled down and composed himself as murmurs of agreement rippled through the crowd. Kaiyr stared in awe at them as Astra sheathed her rapier, a quirky smile on her lips.

But then, someone in the throng of elves threw off a cloak and extended a wide pair of black-feathered wings so suddenly that he bowled over a score of those nearest him. It was a creature not unlike the Nemesis, with dark skin and strange hair. “No, no, no,” he said theatrically, “that wasn’t how it was supposed to happen, silly elves.” Those around the creature drew back, shocked at the sudden appearance of a being who radiated such malevolence. “Come, now, all of you. You know you want to kill this man. Come on, you know you want to. Master Sayel would be
so
pleased with your performance.”

Kaiyr’s eyes widened, and Astra recoiled in a mixture of shock and fear. “Sayel?” the blademaster hissed. “So, this Sayel is behind this?”

In response, the creature merely laughed, pulsing with cruel amusement that was so intense it was physically painful.

The blademaster launched himself from the rooftop in a leaping charge at the dark being snarling in exertion and anger. Holding his soulblade in both hands, he rocketed toward his foe and swung in a scything arc that caught the first rays of the suns shining down from between the leaves like a pair of holy lances.

Still laughing, the Nemesis-like creature flapped his wings and dusted off, dodging Kaiyr’s attack to hover high in the air. “Yes,” he chuckled. “You’ve become quite a thorn in my master’s side, elf. I was told to return that lady over there as a warning to all of you. Getting further tangled in our business is going to be… messy. For you.” With another cackle, he turned and beat his wings against the air even as some of the elves on the ground scared up a few bows and arrows. As their weapons twanged, the creature soared away and out of range. “For your sake, I hope to never see you again. But then, it might be fun tearing you limb from limb.” His words and laughter faded from hearing as his form likewise disappeared through the trees and into the sky.

A hush fell over the crowd. Kaiyr crouched in the same position in which he had landed. Astra leaned against the chimney to support her wounded body. She, Caineye, and Wild stared, slack-jawed, at where the creature had been hovering in the air.

At last, Kaiyr straightened, twirled his soulblade once, and released it. Then, turning, he fixed Maran with a steady gaze that bespoke icy vengeance. “I
gladly
accept the task set before me.”

*

The minions of Sayel, however, were not yet done toying with the companions. As the trio, bedraggled and exhausted, helped the elves organize themselves, one of Kathir’s lieutenants arrived, covered in long lacerations.

“We… need help at the den,” he gasped, shaking weakly on all four paws from lack of blood. “Damn. That man… he was one of them, after all.”

“We’re there,” Caineye said, looking at Kaiyr and Wild with an expression that told them in no uncertain terms they would be coming with him, grieving, fatigued, wounded, or not. Both of them nodded back; they would have come regardless.

They sped through the trees, having told the wounded Terth’Kaftineya to stay put and rest. Kaiyr carried Wild on one shoulder so they could all travel faster, the trees rushing by in a speed-and exhaustion-inspired blur. When at last they neared the den, Kathir and Mateus, along with five others, appeared, blocking their path. All of them carried wounds of battle, but also something that ran much deeper.

“You sent one of them into our midst!” Mateus growled, stepping forward menacingly. “Have you any idea what you’ve done?”

Wild winced. “Damn. So that acolyte was faking it this whole time. Is everything all right?”

“
Of course it’s not all right!
” Mateus roared his last word trailing off into an angry howl that rattled the leaves on the trees around them.

“Be silent, Mateus,” Kathir said calmly, though his voice betrayed his grief and weariness. “It is not their fault, but the fault of those who would visit such harm upon us.”

Kaiyr frowned. “What happened?”

Mateus looked like he wanted to leap forward and tear the blademaster’s head from his shoulders, but a look from Kathir, the alpha male, stopped him. Turning back to Kaiyr, the Terth’Kaftineya leader took a stabilizing breath. “The man you ‘rescued’ attacked the den. Some of them managed to get away, but… not many.”