The Warden

Chapter 57

The boy can do something right after all, thought Kyla, as Charlan burst apart in a darkly golden maelstrom. She allowed a grim, satisfied smile briefly onto her lips.

The glittering display faded as quickly as it had ignited, plunging the alcove where Masis had collapsed in complete blackness once again. The air, still but still echoing with the recent violence, rusted with metallic gore. Above and about her, in the other alcoves, breathing, some heavy and heaving, others quick and desperate, sounded out, as the mages ceased their concealing Works one by one, revealing the soldiers.

The first morning ray struck the conical rooms hollow point. The clever design took that single beam and magnified it, intensifying its light, and then poured it into the space. The fiery light ran along the walls, painting the stone in a languid, luscious flow. The sight stopped Kyla short. Each facet and groove of the supposedly naturally rough stone created intricate patterns that shifted and changed as the light's angle continued to increase. The design had taken weeks, no, months to perfect. Months to years to execute. She never thought she would see this sight again.

Your work is done, came a ponderously masculine voice. Wilo's presence, warm and settling, interrupted her nostalgia.

Kyla's brow wrinkled. What?

Your work, came Werold's grounded and gentle voice. It is finished.

Not quite, thought Kyla, the image of those wighties escaping replaying in her mind.

The new Warden is more than equal to the task, said Werold.

He is, conceded Kyla, biting the inside of her lip and glancing sideways.

Are you hesitating? Wilo asked. Isn't finishing this task what you've always wanted?

It is, but...

She stopped.

Masis still had things to learn, things that only she could teach him. He had become a friend. Something she had not had in centuries. She had lived over four hundred years and those years did wear on her, weigh her down, tax her. She was tired. But now she had something more to live for, someone to work with. She was not lonely anymore.

You've qualified for the Grand Palaces and your rest, said Werold, startling Kyla from her musings.

Kyla shifted on her feet. It would be nice to see old friends, family—she tried to swallow—her husband. Maybe even her spoiled son had somehow found his way there. With just a thought she could join them. One thought would release her. Just one thought.

No, she thought, surprising herself with how firm her resolve had become. No. I still have work to do.

She stiffened as the image of the collapsing Masis fell back into her mind.

Don't worry, reassured Wilo, a smile in his words. Your young charge is still alive. We made him stronger than most.

Be well, said both Wilo and Werold's as Kyla dashed away, their presences fading as they withdrew.

A cheer from the men chased her from the room.

* * *

Darkness. Existence was darkness. And pain, apparently. Pain and darkness—an agony that throbbed with explosions of intensity all about and a gloom with pockets of heat, unpleasant and smothering.

Light sliced into that obscure and twinging existence, bringing with it its own unpleasantness, a new type of ache, that of reality.

Masis was alive, and not just some amorphous blob floating about in darkness and pain, unaware of any other type of existence. He was Masis Domrae, Warden of Haimlant, and he had one deuce of a headache.

Pattering footsteps rebounded off the stone around him, battering his ears. Groaning, he rolled to his side in an attempt to alleviate some little of his suffering. His movement only made it worse. Now, his head spun and his stomach threatened to heave out its contents. He squeezed his eyelids shut in a vain attempt to make the world stop tottering so. It did little good.

The footsteps stopped as they came through the door.

Oh, thank Wilo, thought Masis, as the sound died away.

A moment passed. Someone gasped. Masis peaked his mindeye open, squinting it ever so at the world around him, and found General Biligrim's familiar lifelight now free of its inky restraints. Calla lay off to one side of him, her lifelight still strong and vibrant but enmeshed in mesmer.

"Is the boy all right?" whispered the general.

"Shall we find out?" asked Lady Kyla, a hint of mischief apparent in her voice.

Masis detected someone kneel next to him, soundlessly. Instinctively, he reached up, snatching Kyla's hand before it collided with his face.

"Why am I not surprised?" asked Masis, grumbling. He worked his eyes slowly open to take in Kyla's smirking features.

"Because you know how much I care," she said with a mocking motherly tone.

"Oh, wonderful," said Masis, releasing Kyla's arm. "You've suddenly rediscovered humor."

"Oh, I've always been funny. You've just been too dense."

Masis slumped to his back with a large sigh. His eyes had finally adjusted to the daylight glowing in from above. Running his hands over his face, he drew in a few long, shaky breaths. He reopened his eyes and found the general peering down at him.

"I hope you don't get into too much trouble, sir," said Masis, grimacing. "Disobeying orders and all that."

"Don't worry about me," said the older man, a grim smile on his face. "I'll come through."

"Besides," cut in Kyla, "we have bigger problems."

Her serious expression made Masis instantly more alert, readying his body to move in spite of the pain. "How many got away?"

"My count would be well over a score," said Kyla. "Maybe, more."

A score?! Masis groaned his way to a sitting position. Oh, Werold help us!

They could spread out all over Haimlant. Disappear. They did not age. If they were careful they could lie low for centuries only to reemerge more numerous. More prepared.

He tried to stand, but Kyla forced him to stay seated.

"I know what you're thinking," she said, her hands still on his shoulders. "And believe me I've already thought about it." She settled back on a single foot. "They couldn't have gotten that far. The sun came up only a minute or so after you finished off Charlan. So, they're stuck or dead wherever they ended up. We can hunt them. We will hunt them. We will find every last one of them. Look at me." Her stare increased in intensity. "Have I ever told you anything that I haven't completely believed?"

"Yes," said Masis, widening his eyes and twisting his mouth, amazed that she had actually, in all seriousness, asked the question.

"Semantics," said Kyla, waving away his response. She stood, dusting off her hands. "Now, why don't you look after your nursemaid, and we'll get on with it."

She offered Masis a hand.

He shook his head, snorting. Blasted woman!

With a grin, he latched onto her hand, hoisting himself up. "Yes. We will."