The Prince of Exiles (The Exile Series) (6 page)

Raven, still conscious but only just, saw flashes and glimpses of the world around them; oak and pine trees, foliage, the sound of a heavy bulk crashing through brush. He realized numbly that they weren’t riding their horses, and tried to tell Tomaz to go back for them, but his lips were numb and his tongue was heavy.

And then he realized something odd – that they were moving far too quickly. So quickly that the forest around them had become barely a blur of motion – and around him seemed to glow a strange, muted red light that came from the giant holding him.

Tomaz was running faster and harder than should have been possible. His bounding strides carried them farther than any man could have possibly run, and Raven felt the heat of something burning through the big man’s armor.

“You … you touched the Ox Talisman,” he managed to say to his friend.

“Hush,” Tomaz said, his rumbling voice strained with exertion and fear.

“But you haven’t been able to before,” Raven said thickly. “You haven’t been able to reach through the Ox Talisman – it’s good you …”

“Be quiet,” Tomaz said harshly, running faster.

But the Talisman was not meant for endurance, and soon the giant began to tire. His breath came heavy and his body was drenched in sweat, though he wouldn’t stop. Raven was glad of it – for with every second that passed, more blood seeped from his shoulder and down his arm in spite of the hasty bandaging.

And then light – orange, soft, glowing. Torches.

“Tomaz! You caught up –
by the gods!
”

“Where’s your horse – did you
run
this whole way?!”

“Shadows and fire, what happened?!”

This last was the voice of Leah – Raven raised a hand, but found himself too weak to do anything with it.

“Death Watchmen,” said Tomaz, gasping and sputtering. “Eight of them.”

“
Eight?”

“Mother of –”

“Were there soldiers as well?”

“No, they were alone. It was a suicide mission – they were hunting him.”

“How?”

“Must have had orders to follow him until he was alone –”

“You have to get him to Roarke,” gasped Tomaz. He was stumbling forward, and suddenly Raven felt himself lifted off the giant’s shoulder and tied to the back of Davydd’s beautiful, dashing gray stallion.

“How much blood has he lost?” Someone asked. Raven, unable to focus properly, reached out and felt the man’s life –
anger, burning dice, spinning flames the color of heated metal –

Davydd.

“Too much,” Tomaz panted. His legs buckled and the big man fell to his knees, exhaustion taking him over now that the red glow had faded – he had released the Ox Talisman, maybe even on accident.

“Will he make it?” Davydd asked.

“Run,” Tomaz rumbled, not willing to answer the question. “Get him to Elder Keri. The Death Watchman sword hit an artery – we’re just lucky it wasn’t poisoned or he’d be gone already.”

Raven’s head felt light and fuzzy, and he found himself completely unable to focus on the rest of the conversation; all of it was just muted noise. He felt like he was about to be sick.

“Stop wasting time -
run
!” Shouted the voice of Leah, and then the earth was moving beneath him as the stallion took off down the beaten path, already halfway through the Branch back to the outskirts of Roarke.

Time passed quickly, since Raven now began to straddle the line between waking and sleeping with a dangerous, drunken tilt. Every so often he felt the cold fingers of Davydd press into the skin of his neck, checking his weakening pulse, but soon even that sensation faded, as he began to lose the fight for life.

The last thought he had was of his brother Geofred, the Prince of Eagles. The disappointed look he’d have on his face to know that after all he’d been through, Raven had succumbed to a Death Watch sword. Hardly befitting an epic adventure.

“How long has he been losing blood?” Asked a quick voice, high and fluttering. It was soothing, like honey on a sore throat; cautiously probing, like the wings of a butterfly against the skin of a flower.

“We were attacked by the Death Watch coming back from the –”

There was light around him now and he felt cold – but not the icy coldness of night. It was a deeper coldness, the chill of sickness and approaching death.

Sensation on his fingers and toes – pinpricks. Heat on the back of his neck, a ripping as his clothes were torn away, voices talking back and forth, the comforting voice and two lower, deeper ones – pressure on his arms, and then a knife was cutting into his skin, widening the wound that was already there, and finally the darkness overtook him and he fell silently into a deep abyss and knew no more.

Raven woke on a small pallet in a large, airy tent he didn’t recognize.

He groaned and tried to roll over, but found such action prevented by large piles of blankets gathered up on either side of him. He lifted his head and looked around and realized that this tent contained more blankets than he’d ever really thought existed. The ground itself was invisible – everywhere he looked there were blankets; thick, thin, cotton, wool, bundled up, spread out. And among them all were people – most of whom looked to be well bandaged and recovering from wounds and –

Wounds.

He threw back the blanket covering him and looked down at his chest. He was bare from the waist up, though, thankfully, his pants were still in place. His upper chest and right shoulder were heavily bandaged, and he couldn’t see a thing beneath the wrappings. He was wrapped so tight he looked as if he were a mummy, like the kind Dysuna made to preserve human bodies. He pushed himself up on one elbow and, feeling no pain, came to a sitting position.

He looked down again and noticed that the bandages were clean and white, with no sign of blood. Perhaps the wound hadn’t been that serious?

Tomaz. The Talisman.

The memories of the attack came back to him then, and his mind reeled again at what had happened. How had he used the Ox Talisman? Tomaz had it. When Raven had killed his brother Ramael, he’d pulled the Ox Talisman from him and used it to bring Tomaz back to life using the giant man’s own memories. But during the transfer the Ox Talisman had gone into Tomaz along with his life, and now Raven couldn’t touch.

Except that he had. Somehow, when Tomaz had touched Aemon’s Blade, he’d been able to send the power of the Ox, the Talisman that granted inhuman strength, through the Blade to Raven.

However it happened, it saved my life.

But what had it done to Tomaz? He had fractured memories of the giant running him to the other Rangers and Rogues, running to the point of exhaustion.

I need to know that he’s all right.

He looked around quickly, scanning the tent for guards. There didn’t appear to be any – though he did notice two oddly shaped blankets out of the corner of his eye. He looked over – not blankets. His boots. He looked past them, glancing around the room, still seeing no tenders. It seemed as if, for the moment, the wounded had been left to sleep undisturbed.

For a fraction of a second, he hesitated, but then the need to see Tomaz overpowered his caution, and he seized the moment. He grabbed his boots, pulled them on, and sprang to his feet.

Springing was a bad idea. Pain shot up his side to his shoulder; it was so intense it felt like he had simultaneously been whipped and set on fire. He hissed and swore. He breathed in deeply, and as he did the pain subsided to a dull, persistent ache. Chances were he should spend more time resting, but he didn’t care. If the Kindred thought he’d lie here helpless, they were thicker than he’d already thought. He was getting out into the open air where he could get an idea of where he was and what was going on.

He made his way to the tethered canvas tent flaps, wading through the sea of blankets, careful not to step on or disturb any of the other wounded, most of whom were sleeping fitfully. Why on earth were there so many blankets? What was the purpose of that? These Exiles had very strange ideas about proper medical practices.

He reached the opening flap of the tent, swept it aside, and stepped out –

- only to run directly into the slight form of a young Healer.

“Ah!”

“Whoa!”

“
What are you doing up and about boy?
” She asked, channeling her surprise into an angry, suspicious glare that hit him so hard he was almost flung backwards into the tent.

“Boy?” he asked, looking her up and down, realizing she couldn’t be much older than him. “I’ve lived more lifetimes than you’ve lived years.”

“What?”

“Nothing,” he said, brushing past her.

Quick as a flash her hand snuck out and poked him in the shoulder. Immediately, pain raged up and down his side, and his vision momentarily doubled.

“
Don’t do that again
,” he hissed at the Healer. That was what they were called among the Kindred – all those who worked with Elder Keri, dressed in the baggy white shirts and pants with white boots and white hoods. This one was a head shorter than him, with strawberry-blonde hair and fierce hazel eyes that were looking at him with a huge amount of disapproval.

“You’re in no shape to be up and walking about,” she said fiercely. “You need another week in bed – ”

“I’ll be fine,” he said, the pain making him angry. He realized suddenly that he was still shirtless, and saw too that she was carrying a large pile of clothing … washed clothing. He looked closer at the pile and saw a heavy black tunic similar to the formal uniform Leah, Davydd and the other Eshendai wore when not on patrol. He pulled it out before she could stop him, though she made a sound halfway between a squawk and curse as he loosed it from the pile. Whatever the sound had been, it certainly seemed indignant.

He threw the shirt over his head and pulled it down gingerly. The motion pulled at his shoulder and chest, but not too bad. Whoever had worked on him had done an excellent job - he would heal quite quickly with this. He’d lost a lot of blood, but he didn’t feel light-headed or woozy.

He took a step forward, which caused his head spin, and he began to feel light-headed and woozy.

Ignore it – you’re fine. No need to sit in one place. Heal on the go.

“You’re going to tear those stitches,” the Healer warned darkly, watching him with a look that quite clearly hoped he would so she could watch him suffer. “Elder Keri saw to you herself, and if she finds out –”

“Do you happen to know where Tomaz is?” Raven asked, thinking it was highly unlikely, but worth a try. “Big man, black beard, usually with a girl named Leah?”

The girl gave him a look that could have torn down a wall of the Fortress, and then simply turned and entered the tent, mentioning, as she did, something impolite he could do to himself.

He turned and looked around. He was in the Kindred camp outside Roarke, and the sun was about halfway through its decline in the western sky. Had he been out for a few days? More? The tent didn’t even have guards, why had he been allowed to sleep so long?

“Shadows and fire –
what are you doing out of bed?”

Raven turned to see Leah and Tomaz approaching the tent, the giant with a look of grave disapproval on his face.

“Tomaz!” He called out, looking the big man up and down quickly. He looked to be whole – was it possible he’d suffered no ill effect?

“Yes, me,” the giant rumbled menacingly. “Now why aren’t you in the tent?”

“I’m fine,” he said, smiling wide and big. The effect, while possibly charming, did not seem to fool Tomaz. His shoulder throbbed at him – it seemed to be agreeing with the giant.

Shut up – you’re fine.

“Get back in there and lie down before I make you,” the giant growled.

“I’m fine!” He insisted. “I didn’t have time to lie down anyway – I had to find you.”

“Why?” Tomaz asked, watching him closely.

“Because I wanted to make sure you were all right,” he said, looking the big man up and down and circling him. His side felt like it was on fire, but he didn’t want to let on. He would be damned if he got confined to a bed just because of a Death Watchmen attack. He wouldn’t let the Empire slow him down. Not now, not ever again. “I have no idea what happened back there with the sword and the Talismans. Have you felt any adverse effects since the event?”

“No,” Tomaz rumbled, looking surprised at Raven’s inspection.

“You certainly look like you’re feeling all right,” Leah said, watching him suspiciously. “And if you’re able to walk, I guess there’s really no excuse to keep you out of the meeting –”

“Not a chance,” Tomaz rumbled with an abrupt finality. “He’s staying in bed and resting.”

“What meeting?”

“We were told to make our report to the Elders,” Leah said slowly, still watching him, trying to decide if he was really feeling fine. “We were told to bring you if you were at all able to travel – they want to hear about the attack.”

“So it’s safe to assume they all know about what I can do,” he said quietly. He’d been hoping to keep that knowledge, or at least the specifics of it, to himself and his two friends.

“Crane told the others,” Leah said with a grimace. “I only know because Ishmael asked me about it when we all got into camp last night.”

“Last – last night? It’s only been a
single night
?”

“Indeed,” Leah confirmed, still watching him with that strange wariness, which now made perfect sense. Raven had assumed he’d been unconsciousness for a few days at least, maybe even a week. Maybe … maybe he really should still be in bed.

And sit around just waiting for the Death Watchmen or a Seeker to come around and finish the job? No. I have to be moving. I can’t let them catch me unprepared again. I will not be their prey, I will not let them chase me.

“Now I understand why you’re looking at me funny,” he said. He glanced down at his shoulder, lifting the neck of the shirt he was wearing to look beneath it. The bandages were still white – his stitches hadn’t ripped, there was no blood. The wound still hurt, and if he moved too quickly it burned like fire, but otherwise … he could deal with it.

“What happened in the mountains,” Tomaz rumbled slowly, “do you think it helped you heal faster?”

Raven thought back, and as he did a headache sprang up and began to pound against his temples.

“Somehow you
gave
me strength,” he said, ignoring the pain and trying to piece together what had happened. “You transferred the Talisman … no, not transferred really but
shared
it.”

He looked up and pointed at Leah.

“You told her what happened?” He asked.

They both nodded, still looking at him with wary looks.

“The Ox Talisman speeds healing,” Raven told them, doing his best to speak as if nothing were wrong. “It pulls strength from … I don’t know, from
somewhere
, and feeds it into the person who has it. When Tomaz gave me strength last night, when he was holding onto the Blade … some of it must have stayed with me. It must have helped me heal – that’s the only thing I can think of.”

They all were silent for a moment as they absorbed this thought.

“Well then it’s good I guess that we brought this along with us,” Tomaz said. “If it can do something like that, I’m eager to have it back in your hands.”

He unlimbered a bundle he’d been wearing over his shoulder. He passed it to Raven, who found inside Aemon’s Blade and his cloak, which had been washed.

“You were able to touch it again?” Raven asked quickly. Tomaz nodded.

“I decided not to try,” Leah said.

“Probably a good idea.”

Many Valerium blades were keyed to specific people through rituals of which Raven didn’t know the details. Plain metal could be bonded as well – Leah’s daggers were linked to her, making her a Spellblade, giving her supernatural control over the weapons, and burning anyone else who touched them. The bond was sometimes unpredictable though – Tomaz could touch Leah’s daggers, likely due to their close friendship. Perhaps that was the same reason Tomaz could touch the Blade?