Skies (35 page)

“They are the guides to the Path upon which our people trod. Those who stray from it wander into darker Paths and are lost.”

—From the Discourses on Knowledge, Volume 17, Year 1171

Gavin fought against the pain, and the pain fought back with valiant disregard for his efforts. His vision blurred as he tried to focus on the face of the man before him, the hard-faced Orinai commander who had promised a long night for all. Gavin couldn’t remember how long it had been—time lost all meaning beneath the pain—but he suspected it had been several long, bitter hours.

“How do I get to your camp?” the man repeated. He had told the three of them his name at some point during the night, but the pain had made that seem a distant, ethereal memory. Gavin couldn’t get the word to form in his mind.

“Where is the camp?” he repeated, no firmer or louder than any other time he’d asked the question.

Gavin gurgled something inarticulate, unable to speak properly even if he’d wanted to. Thinking hurt. Speaking was a pain as bad as any he’d ever felt, though they were both dull aches beneath the massive throb that was the
present
pain of the dozens of cuts that covered his body.

The man sighed finally, tossing the dagger to the side. His hands were red.

“I admire your courage, all three of you, I truly do,” he said, turning away from them. “It shows great strength, more so, even, than those who follow that Path.”

Gavin slumped down against his bonds again, unable to hold himself up any longer. He sucked in a ragged breath, tasting the salty tang of blood on his lips. It had run down from two shallow cuts under his eye. He heard the sound of boots against hardened earth followed by a sudden, empty stillness. Pain greeted him like an old lover in that stillness.

“Gavin?”

Gavin sucked in another ragged breath and tried to focus.

“Gavin?” the voice sounded as torn and weary as Gavin felt. There was something familiar about it. An image of another man’s face passed through Gavin’s mind’s eye.

“Evrouin?” Gavin croaked.

“You’re alive,” Evrouin said, then coughed. The sound was wet. “I thought he had killed you.”

Gavin didn’t have the strength to answer. He pulled back from the pain, allowing his mind to retreat into a small corner away from the hurt.

“Gavin? Gavin!”

Gavin mumbled something, then gathered what little strength he had left. “I’m alright. I need sleep.”

“No!” this time it was Tadeo’s voice, cracking like a whip and pulling Gavin out of his sleeping mind. “Do not do this thing. Sleep will not help you now.”

Gavin struggled to focus and some small measure of clarity returned to him, though the pain flared back up with it.

“Do not think on the pain,” Tadeo said, voice clear and firm. “Think of anything else. Think of the woman, Farah. You love her, yes?”

An image of Farah popped into Gavin’s mind. The pain retreated a little, enough for him to answer.

“Yes.”

“Tell me of the Sharani Desert. Evrouin, you must speak as well. Focus your mind away from the pain. This thing is important. Do not let the pain beat you.”

Gavin blinked. The words sounded familiar, as if he’d heard them before, but slightly differently and in a different place and situation.
But why fight the escape? Shouldn’t I hide from the pain?

“I’m . . .” Evrouin’s voice trailed off, then returned, “I’m not sure I can.”

Evrouin.

“You’re going to be a father, Evrouin,” Gavin said, struggling to form each word. “Think of your child. Fight it for him.”

“Him? Fortune would smile on me if it were a son. A son . . .”

“This thing is good news,” Tadeo said.

Gavin forced his head up enough to look over at his two companions. Evrouin lay slumped against his bonds just like Gavin. Blood dripped from dozens of shallow cuts. Still, his lung rose and fell and Gavin saw one corner of the man’s lip curl upward in a small smile. Tadeo was covered in just as much blood, but he held himself erect, having somehow gotten to his knees. As Gavin watched, Tadeo got to his feet, rising awkwardly but rising nonetheless.

Gavin opened his mouth, but Tadeo shook his head. “Another warrior for the Rahuli people,” he said. “He will be as strong as his father, I do not doubt.”

Gavin focused on Tadeo, watching the man shift and look around the room. Because he was focusing, Gavin noticed the movement in the dark just behind Tadeo. Metal glinted and suddenly Tadeo’s hands were free. The movement in the dark formed into the figure of a man as he stood upright.

Brisson?

Tadeo turned with more grace than Gavin thought possible given the amount of blood on the man’s clothes and grabbed Brisson’s hand. Metal glinted and a dagger landed in the sand. Brisson’s face contorted in pain.

Tadeo clamped his other hand over Brisson’s mouth. “You will explain this thing that you do,” he said, voice barely more than a whisper. He moved the hand on Brisson’s mouth just enough for him to speak, though he kept Brisson’s other hand clasped firmly in his own.

Brisson’s face contorted with pain as Tadeo added pressure on the other hand. Tadeo’s face contorted into such a picture of absolute anger that Gavin was glad he was only partly able to focus on the event. “If you scream,” Tadeo said, his voice the embodiment of death, “you will die first.”

Evrouin stirred at the sound of Tadeo’s whispered voice. Blood dripped down his forehead, pooled on his eyebrow, and then slipped down in to the man’s eye where it mingled with sweat to run down his face. It looked like he was crying bloody tears.

“Please,” Brisson breathed. “We must hurry. The guards will be back—”

He cut off jaggedly, suppressing a scream as Tadeo’s grip on his arm tightened.

“Why do you do this thing?” Tadeo hissed. “Why free us after your betrayal?”

Brisson’s face clouded over with pain. Gavin knew he should stop Tadeo, should keep him from pushing it too far, but didn’t. Brisson had betrayed them. He was a traitor not just to them but to their whole people. He was the same as Kaiden. He didn’t deserve mercy.

“The army,” Brisson gasped, voice loud enough to make Gavin nervous, even in the middle of his mental haze and exhaustion brought on by loss of blood and pain. “They’re making ready to march on the valley. I paid them what they asked, but still, they march on.”

“Did you not think this thing would happen? Did you think, in your wisdom, oh great leader, that these here could be trusted?” The anger in Tadeo’s voice, even in whisper, was terrifying to behold.

“I—” Brisson gasped, face contorted in pain. “I just did what I thought best for my people. I had to—to protect them. I’m not a warrior. It’s all I had.”

Tadeo growled and took a half step forward, murder in his eyes.

“Tadeo,” Gavin croaked. “Don’t. Let’s get out of here before we’re caught.” Gavin coughed and sprayed blood. None of it came from inside him though, thankfully. “Hurry.”

Tadeo stopped and looked over at Gavin. The eyes that met Gavin’s were not the eyes of a man, not a complete one anyway. Gavin wanted to shrink back from the rage and death burning within. Then Tadeo blinked and the darkness receded. He shoved Brisson to the ground and let go of his hand. Brisson sank to his knees, cradling his arm, breathing out an almost silent sigh of absolute relief.

Tadeo picked up the long, curved dagger the Orinai commander had used to torture them, the blade still wet with blood. He stepped over to Evrouin and cut him free in one swift stroke. Gavin didn’t need that to know the blade was sharp. Evrouin would have fallen face first into the dirt if Tadeo had not caught him and held him up.

“Sit. Gather strength,” Tadeo said. “You will need this thing.”

The tall, wiry man stepped over to Gavin and cut him free as well. Gavin was prepared and so didn’t fall, though he hadn’t anticipated the deep level of his weakness. He could barely hold himself up.

Tadeo looked down at the curved dagger for a long moment, blade washed partially clean of blood from cutting the rope. Eventually, he tucked it into his belt and walked back over to Brisson, who was still on the floor nursing his arm. Gavin used the pole to which he’d been tied to pull himself to his feet. Evrouin had also managed to get to his feet, though he looked pale and shaky.

“What now?” Evrouin asked, voice as tremulous as his frame. “The entire Orinai army is out there and we’re barely able to stand.”

Gavin shook his head, trying to clear it. He hadn’t needed Evrouin’s words to remind him how desperate they now were. Still, they resonated within his mind, like the haunting, echoing scream of a dying man.

“This thing will not be easy,” Tadeo said, looking back at them both, then back at Brisson, “but is not impossible. Orinai are stupid when not near their cities. They do not see what they do not expect.”

“I know a way,” Brisson said, sitting up and holding his injured arm. “It’s the way I came back.”

“Why should we trust you?” Evrouin said, eyes hard. “You’ve already betrayed us once. What’s to stop you from doing it again?”

“Why would I free you only to lead you back into another trap? That makes as much sense as trying to spit at the moon.”

“Why would you betray us to begin with?” Evrouin said, taking two deliberate steps toward Brisson.

“Enough, Evrouin,” Gavin said, stopping the man with as hard a voice as he could muster. “The longer we stand around here arguing, the greater chance we’re going to get captured. We need to act.”

“And what do you suggest we do?” Evrouin demanded.

Gavin looked at Brisson, meeting the man’s eyes. He wanted nothing more than to inflict every pain he’d just had to endure back on the man, but instead he nodded.

“Brisson will show us out,” Gavin said. “Tadeo, stick as close to him as you can. If he does anything that even looks like he’ll betray us, kill him.”

“This thing will be done.”

Brisson licked his lips and nodded. “Alright. But you can’t go out looking like this. There’s too much blood. Dawn is only an hour away. The blood will give us away.”

Gavin grunted, looking around the room. It was bare except for the poles and severed ropes lying on the ground.

“Looks like we’ll just have to chance it.”

Brisson opened his mouth to protest, but Tadeo shifted slightly and Brisson snapped his mouth shut with an audible click.

Gavin looked to Evrouin. “Are you up for this?” He didn’t ask Tadeo. The man looked as he always did, stoic and ready for anything.

“Are you?” Evrouin asked.

Gavin shrugged, though the motion sent waves of pain passing through him. “I guess we’ll find out. Either way, I’d rather try than just sit here waiting to die.”

Evrouin grunted his assent.

“Let’s go, Brisson.”

The man looked over the three of them, rubbing at his wrist. He seemed to be deciding if he’d made a mistake.

“Move, little man,” Tadeo said.

Brisson jumped and hurried toward the back of the tent. Gavin followed after him, moving more slowly than he wanted to. They needed to be fast, but his body refused to cooperate. He tried reaching out to the energy around him, as he had a thousand times before during the night, but it was a muffled, ineffective thing. The energy was there, he felt
something
, but it was blocked. Or dampened.

Brisson crouched low at the back of the tent where the lantern light cast shadows in large pools. The tent met the ground here and was held in place by several thick wooden stakes. Brisson bent down and pulled two of the stakes out with his uninjured hand. He set them aside and lifted the flap, peering out. Snow lay thick on the ground outside and a blast of freezing air burst in.

“It’s clear.” He moved to slip out, but Tadeo put a hand on his leg. Brisson froze. Tadeo pushed around him and, getting down on his stomach, slid out under the tent’s canvas back and into the night.

“Is clear,” he whispered back.

Brisson slipped out next and Gavin gestured for Evrouin to go next. The man swallowed hard and Gavin saw the muscles in his jaw tense, becoming as hard as bone, but he bent down and crawled through the opening which Tadeo held open from the other side. Gavin grit his own teeth, ignoring his protesting body, and got down on hands and knees to crawl out into the night as well, shivering both from the cold and the pain which wracked him. He felt so terribly weak.

Once out, Tadeo lowered the tent canvas and then reached inside. He fiddled with something for several long moments, the tent canvas shifting with his movement. Gavin looked around, noting the line of tents near them and the near absolute darkness. Snow drifted down in massive, lazy flakes. Gavin wrapped his arms around himself, shivering in the cold. The canvas tent had offered surprising warmth compared to the temperature outside. Gavin wore only a loose shirt and thin, short trousers, which offered absolutely no protection from the elements. The hair on his arms rose.

“Come on,” Evrouin whispered, breath puffing into little clouds of mist. “Hurry up.”

Tadeo finished whatever he was doing and rose, brushing the snow off his trousers as if it were sand or dirt caught there and not freezing snow. He put a hand on Brisson’s shoulder and pointed into the night, indicating that Brisson was to show them out.