Wanderlust (mxm)

Chapter Twenty-eight

Soren thought the interrogation was over when the King sent a handful of soldiers out to find Tanden and Toliver. His knees hurt from the stone floor, but it was easy enough to ignore when every breath caused a jolt of pain to shoot through his chest. He didn't want to keep kneeling. He wanted to go lie down. Or rush down to the port and find Tanden. Either one was preferable to waiting while the King and Lord Tandrael held a hushed conversation. Both men looked annoyed, but they spoke quietly enough that Soren couldn't hear them, and trying to read their lips was too much effort.

In an attempt to lessen the pain, or at least change it, Soren leaned forward on his good arm. It wasn't any better, but it was different. He took a few shallow breaths and winced, but before he could readjust himself again his vision swam and he started to sway. The broken fingers on his left hand nearly gave out as he caught himself.

Then he realized someone was saying his name. He opened his eyes, not sure exactly when he had closed them, and looked up at the dais. Lord Tandrael had gotten to his feet.

"Soren?"

"I'm all right," he mumbled. Or did he? It was hard to tell, and Lord Tandrael didn't look like he'd heard anything. "I'm all right."

"We need the physician." Tandrael stepped down from the dais and walked towards Soren, his boots clicking loudly against the stone. Then Tanden crouched in front of him.

Soren blinked. Tanden's face aged, and his hair shortened, and suddenly it was Tandrael in front of him. He shook his head but instantly regretted it.

"Soren, remind me, who attacked you?"

"What?" That explained why everything hurt so much. "Who attacked me?" Over Tandrael's shoulder, Soren could just make out the King through the haze that filled the throne room. "Am I in trouble? Where's Tanden?" Cold fear flooded through him. "Was he attacked, too? Is he—"

"No, Tanden's fine." Tandrael abruptly stood up, as an old man walked up. "It's his head. This happened to Tandar two or three times when we were younger. Look at his eyes."

The old man cupped Soren's chin and lifted his face. He was stronger than he looked, when Soren tried to pull away he just tightened his grip. The man nodded. "I agree. He should be resting. With your permission, my lord?"

"Of course."

A moment later, Soren was pulled to his feet. Almost immediately, he started to fall, until he felt hands steady him.

"Soren, look at me."

Lord Tandrael sounded a lot like Tanden. Soren forced himself to look up, into Lord Tandrael's eyes.

"Do not talk to anybody unless Tanden, Tandar or I are with you. Do you understand?"

Soren nodded. That didn't really make sense, but he understood the words.

Tandrael put a gentle hand on his shoulder, just for a moment, before climbing back onto the dais to talk to the King. Something important must have been happening for the King to be in West Draulin.

The men holding him started to help him turn around, but Soren's vision went blurry again and he fell limply into their hands.

Tanden wiped the back of his arm across his face, smearing the sweat that had been beading on his forehead. Despite the darkened sky, it was still fairly warm, and Lorca had put up quite a fight. But now the man was crumpled on the deck, bleeding from multiple cuts on his arms and a large gash across his stomach.