Soldier Saved Read online

  “Come. Come.” The woman waved him to follow her, so he did, trailing after her as he headed into the room.

  She shut the door behind him, leaving him with a faint, pale white light that emanated from two lanterns that hung near the door. The woman headed down the hall, and Endric followed. She turned a corner but when he followed after her, she was gone.

  He paused. Where had she gone? There had to be some door that she had disappeared behind. Every question that she’d asked the scholar had seemed a test. Was that what she did now? Did she test Endric?

  If that were the case, he wasn’t certain what he would say that would help him pass whatever they might have of him. He wasn’t certain what he might be asked to do to prove that he belonged.

  He continued along the hall, listening for sounds of the old woman, but heard none.

  The last time he had come to Elizabeth, there had been teralin involved. She had implanted it into the stone of the hallway, leaving it so that he had been forced into darkness, leaving him and Pendin wondering what was happening. He still wasn’t entirely certain what had transpired, but wondered if perhaps she used teralin on him now.

  He tried to focus on it, but there was no sense of it around him.

  Endric decided to try a different tact.

  He sat.

  He waited in the hall, sitting there with his knees bent, his sword within easy reach. He wasn’t certain how long he remained in such a position. Time passed, moments or hours, long enough that he lost track. Eventually, he noted a sense of pressure around him that reminded him of teralin though it was not.

  That sensation passed, and when it did, he saw Elizabeth standing at one end of the hall.

  She was short and petite. She had dark blue eyes that seemed to pierce him, as if seeing deeper within him than she had a right to. In spite of her short stature, she carried herself as a much taller and commanding person.

  “Have you returned to destroy my son’s career further?”

  “Destroy his career? When I was raised to an officer, I brought him with me as steward.”

  “And then you disappeared. You left him without an officer to serve, and without any other rank.”

  Endric stood slowly, holding Elizabeth with his gaze. He hadn’t considered how his disappearance would have affected Pendin. He had assumed that his father would have allowed Pendin to continue to serve, but Pendin had only been Endric’s steward and had not had any other responsibility. Had Endric continued to gain rank, he would have brought Pendin with him, but without Endric, Pendin would not have such opportunities.

  “I did not intend to abandon him.”

  “And Senda? Did you abandon her?”

  “I didn’t intend to abandon anyone.”

  “What do you need, Endric?” Elizabeth asked.

  She was direct, and there was irritation in her voice. Endric suspected he deserved it, especially if she perceived him as someone who placed her son in danger and had potentially impacted his career in a negative fashion. Endric had not been the best influence on Pendin, and had not provided him all the opportunities that he deserved. Pendin was far too skilled to be held back by Endric’s incompetence. He felt the same way about Senda, but at least she had not been held back by him.

  “I need to know what happened to Tresten.”

  Her eyes narrowed and she looked past him, seeming to scan the hall. She stared into the distance for a moment before shaking her head and then waved for him to follow her.

  She hurried along the hallway, taking a few sharp turns and then heading down a series of steps. Endric took them cautiously, remembering when he’d been trapped in a strange room the last time he’d followed one of the scholars down a series of steps. This time, Elizabeth guided him to a formal office, one that reminded him of the room he had occupied the last time he’d found her, though he suspected it was not the same one.

  She motioned to a chair, and he took a seat.

  “Is that why you traveled the tunnels? Is that why you ended up in the Lashiin ruins?”

  “You knew?”

  Elizabeth chuckled. “There is not much that happens within the mines that we aren’t aware of. They might be shuttered, and the Magi might have seen fit to ensure that we don’t have the same level of authority over them that we once did, but we still have our knowledge. That will not change.”

  There was likely more to it, but Endric didn’t expect her to share that with him. Whatever secrets the miners had of the mines, it would remain confined not only to the miners, but to the university and those who controlled it. The Magi thought they controlled the mines, but even closed, they did not control them at all.

  “What do you know about his death?”

  “Death?”

  “I had word that Tresten slipped and fell,” Endric said.

  Elizabeth watched him, her nostrils flaring as she took steady breaths. “I’m not entirely certain what happened.”

  “Then you know that he slipped and that he’s gone.”

  “Gone. Perhaps that’s a better way of putting it than dead.”

  “You don’t think Tresten is dead?”

  A hint of a smile spread across her mouth. “Tresten is far too capable to have slipped and fallen to his death. I think a more likely scenario is that he needed a way of maintaining his anonymity. That is something I would expect of Tresten.”

  Could that be why he had sent him the summons to return to Vasha? “It seems as if you know him well.”

  “There is no knowing Tresten. He is a force of nature.”

  Endric laughed, thinking of what he remembered of the Mage the last time he’d seen him. He was unlike any other Mage that Endric had encountered within the city. Most were reserved and barely came out of the palace. Not Tresten. He had come to the barracks several times to speak to Dendril and had ventured outside of the city to help them defeat Urik. Without Tresten’s involvement, Endric wasn’t sure that they would have managed to defeat Urik. He didn’t think that he’d ever thanked Tresten for all the Mage had done.

  “I’m trying to find out what happened.”

  “And what has your father told you?”

  Endric shook his head. “He told me that he slipped and he fell.”

  “That much is true. If he has disappeared, he’s done so for his own purposes.”

  “His disappearance has forced my father to use Urik to help him with the teralin.”

  Her mouth twisted in a frown. “Yes. That’s an unfortunate consequence. I am surprised that your father would utilize Urik in such a way. I’m surprised that Urik would agree to help them.”

  “The last time I saw you, you made a statement that made it clear that you supported Urik. You agreed with what he did.”

  “Not what he did, but the intention behind it. Urik wanted the Denraen to confront the Deshmahne. There was little doubt in my mind that had he not, the Deshmahne would have continued to gain strength and the Denraen would have ignored them for much longer than they should have.”

  “There are other ways of facilitating what needed to happen,” Endric said.

  “With your father? I’m not sure that there were. Dendril can be… stubborn. It’s a trait I believe you share?”

  Endric sat back in his chair. It had a hard back and was otherwise uncomfortable, not the kind of chair he would have wanted to spend hours sitting in, not at all like the plush chair Elizabeth sat upon. Hers reminded him of the chairs within the officers’ hall, the kind that he could sit in for extended periods of time. They were comfortable enough to relax within, comfortable enough that he could even fall asleep, were he given the opportunity.

  “Why would Tresten have disappeared?” Endric asked.

  “That is a very different question, isn’t it?”

  “Do the Magi believe him gone as well?”

  Elizabeth shrugged. “If Tresten has decided to disappear, he would not do so lightly. He would make sure that there were no loose ends, and he would not have any who coul
d claim that he still lived if he intended to be gone.”

  “But you believe he’s alive.”

  “Belief and proof are different things. I believe that he lives, much as I believe he is connected to the world in ways that I don’t fully understand.”

  He had the sense that admitting that was difficult for her.

  “Why do you think he has disappeared?” Endric asked.

  Elizabeth shrugged. “There are many reasons he might have chosen to disappear. He could have been working on something that he considered dangerous for him to remain exposed. It could be that he has decided that it simply was his time to disappear. It could be that he was simply tired.” She smiled and spread her hands across her desk. “He wouldn’t be the first Mage who has decided that he’s had enough of the world and decided to separate from it.”

  “I’ve never heard of any others disappearing like that,” Endric said.

  “No? Are you so well connected to the Magi that you would have heard of this?”

  Endric frowned. “I suppose not.”

  Elizabeth nodded. “Then do not suppose that you know all that the Magi might do.”

  The idea that Tresten would have disappeared troubled him. It was nearly as bad as thinking that Tresten had died, though perhaps not quite as unsettling. Thinking that Tresten had fallen had bothered him if only because he found it unlikely. It was almost as if someone intended to play a prank on him, to try and hide the Magi’s disappearance. If he wasn’t dead, if he had only disappeared, then Endric would have to be content with that.

  Worse, he didn’t think there was anyone he could talk to about it. Could he share with his father that Elizabeth believed that Tresten still lived? Would his father care?

  Probably not. He would have told Endric to leave the Magi alone, to let them do whatever it was that they felt they needed to do, to avoid involving himself in the machinations of the Magi. It was good advice, but it was the kind of advice that Endric didn’t think that he could heed.

  Yet, he would have to.

  “Is that all?” Elizabeth asked.

  Endric sighed. “I suppose that it is. I came looking for answers. You’ve given me what you know.”

  “I’ve given you what I can,” Elizabeth said.

  “Does that mean you know more than what you shared?”

  She stared at him, saying nothing.

  Endric barked out a laugh. “You’re much like my father, do you realize that?”

  “Dendril does as he sees necessary. In that way, he and I probably are the same.”

  “And what do you see as necessary?”

  “Only turmoil within the Denraen.”

  “Turmoil?”

  She leaned forward and fixed him with her intense gaze. “You’ve been gone a long time, Endric. Many things have become unsettled in the time that you’ve been gone. Survey your men, discover what bothers them. Understand. Then you might begin to recognize what role you could play now that you’ve return to Vasha. It is one that is greater than simply ensuring Urik doesn’t attack the Denraen again.”

  Endric waited for her to say more, but she didn’t. He shook his head, realizing that was all he was going to get from her. It was more than he had before he’d come, but also less than what he needed.

  8

  Endric patrolled the yard, making a slow circuit as he observed the Denraen. So far, the men moved in formation, drilling with an intensity that they had not had when he’d been here before. Endric stood off to the side, watching the soldiers as they marched, noting the precise movements. Every so often, one of the sergeants would pause and make a few corrections before continuing.

  Watching rather than actually leading led him to wonder if this was this all he was destined to do. He felt as if there should be more—that after what he’d been through, that there would be more—but maybe this was it for him. He had returned to the Denraen, thinking that he would take on a greater role with them, that after what he’d seen, he needed to take on a greater role, but since returning, he’d felt as if he weren’t needed. Since returning, he’d been treated the way the Antrilii viewed his father.

  Sound nearby caused him to turn.

  He noted men practicing and was dragged toward them, as he so often was when sparring took place. It compelled him and he wanted to be a part of it, even knowing that he should keep his distance. They didn’t want Endric working with them. Perhaps when he was outside of the city on patrol, there would have been a desire for him to remain with them, but inside the city, men practiced with who they wanted.

  As he watched, he noted one of the men—a younger recruit he’d not met—used his sword sloppily. It was more about the technique than anything else. He didn’t keep his movements as controlled as he needed.

  The other man, an older soldier named Olivar, was much more careful with his attack. He used a steady sweep, each movement controlled, and had an easy time of defeating the other man.

  Was this all they did?

  There needed to be more to sparring. It had to be about learning, not simply going through the motions. That was how he had learned, first from Andril and later from his father, and how he had taught when they had been outside the city on patrols.

  When the men were finished, Olivar replaced his practice stave on the rack. He nodded to Endric but said nothing.

  The younger man watched Olivar as he departed. He had a dejected look in his eyes, one that Endric recognized. He had started to turn away when Endric decided to step forward.

  “Your form is all over the place,” he said.

  The man paused and turned to Endric. He took in Endric’s crisp, gray uniform, but no hint of recognition flashed in his eyes. Endric decided that was for the best. Maybe it was better that he not be recognized by Denraen soldiers. He could work in relative anonymity.

  “What do you know about my form?”

  A bit of attitude. That might serve him well. It reminded Endric of him when he had sparred with Andril. He had a streak that required him to challenge as well. It had gotten him in trouble more often than he liked, but it had served him as well.

  “I know that you bring your hand back too far when you’re moving through your patterns. I know that you open yourself up too much. It’s wasteful.”

  The man pressed his mouth together, likely trying to decide whether Endric was high enough ranking that he needed to worry about offending him. Endric suppressed a grin. Had he been concerned about that, he would have chosen his words more carefully from the beginning.

  “You think you can show me better?”

  Was that a hint of interest?

  Endric nodded and grabbed one of the practice staves from the rack. He swung it once, moving through a series of movements to loosen himself up, and then stood across from the young Denraen, holding himself at the ready.

  “I think I can show you better, if you’re willing to improve.”

  It was a similar thing that had been said to him before. Most of the ranking Denraen wanted only to help the soldiers improve. Few willingly faced anyone with real rank, something that did nothing to improve the skill of the overall Denraen.

  “All I want is a chance to improve. They plucked me out of Gomald and brought me here but haven’t been willing to teach me anything.”

  “Well, I’m willing to teach.”

  The man nodded and brought his practice stave up, preparing to attack.

  The young Denraen, Bem, leaned forward, resting his hands on his thighs. Sweat streamed down his face and he looked at Endric with something that seemed almost appreciative. The man had improved. Endric had returned to the barracks yard each day over the last few, a way to break up the monotony, and had practiced as he promised with Bem.

  “You keep pulling your shoulder back too much,” Endric said.

  “I have to. Otherwise your longer reach would sever my arm.”

  Endric sniffed. He was barely winded, though a trail of sweat did stream from his forehead, nothing like it did
with Bem. “You have to trust the catah. If you don’t, you will have your arm severed.”

  Bem had improved over the last few days, gaining more confidence if nothing else. His footwork remained jumpy and he continued to be sloppy with the sword, but overall there had been improvement.

  He nodded to Endric and his jaw clenched, moving as if he seemed to want to say something.

  “Get on with it,” Endric said.

  Bem stood and jabbed at him with his practice stave. “I know who you are.”

  Endric chuckled. “Is that right? And who is that?”

  “You’re the general’s son.”

  Endric could only nod. Was that what he was now? Was he Dendril’s son once more? Before leaving Vasha the last time, he had taken on his own role and had begun to serve in a leadership capacity. Had all of that changed since he had gone north?

  He’d tried to push away the comments that Urik had made to him. It was difficult, especially as he made a valid point. As much as what Endric might have learned traveling through the north and working with the Antrilii, his departure had created a separation.

  “Endric,” he said.

  Bem nodded. “That’s what I said.”

  Endric replaced his practice stave on the rack and noted that a few other Denraen watched him. Each day there had been a couple, but today there were nearly two dozen Denraen who tried to remain unobtrusive, but they each watched.

  Endric scanned the barracks, looking for sign of an instructor, but there was none. Where was the sword master? There should be someone—ideally, someone other than Olivar—who would work with the Denraen, especially the new recruits, and ensure that each of the Denraen was given similar levels of training.

  “Work on keeping your elbows in.”

  He nodded to Bem, dismissing him.

  The young Denraen hurriedly replaced his practice stave and joined a pair of the Denraen watching him. They spoke quietly and Bem glanced over his shoulder and motioned to Endric.