Warrior Baptism Chapter 3, Page 2

  As painful as this vision was, Theel was still thankful for what he was seeing. It showed the siblings floating down the Toden River, through the Iatan encampments, past Korsiren, and out into the Sea of God’s Eyes. He saw himself awaken, begin to panic, and fall into the water. He saw his sister sink down among the bodies, her arms outstretched, her face peaceful, as if dreaming. Yenia drifted in the darkness, sleeping, waiting to be received by her Lord.

  Theel saw where his sister went. He saw where she was. And knew where to find her.

  She was only a dozen feet away. She was invisible in the darkness, just one body among hundreds. But Theel’s Sight showed him exactly where his sister was. And then it showed him something else. Theel could see life within his sister’s body, a warm glow that pulsed slowly with Yenia’s heartbeat. She was gravely wounded. Her pulse was weak, but she was still alive.

  A moment ago, Theel didn’t have the strength to swim to his sister. But now he knew he did. He didn’t feel any pain in his chest. He wasn’t even breathing. He kicked his way through the water, reached out his arms, and pushed away the bodies that separated him from Yenia. It was almost effortless.

  Theel couldn’t see Yenia’s face, but he recognized her short, blonde hair and the white shirt with the wrist cuffs she wore. He grabbed his sister under the arms and hugged her to his chest as he kicked his way to the surface.

  Once again he splashed into the air, gasping desperately. He floated on his back, holding Yenia’s face above the water. For a moment, Theel felt his sister’s chest tighten.

  “Theel,” Yenia groaned. “Save…yourself.”

  “No, I’m saving you,” Theel said. “I’m not going to lose you like I lost Father.”

  Speaking those words seemed to sap all the strength Yenia had inside. Her muscles quickly relaxed and she was unconscious again. Theel didn’t let go. The siblings bobbed up and down on the waves, crowded on all sides by the filth, garbage, and death left by the Iatan. The sun was high in the sky, though it was occasionally blocked by the wings of carrion birds. They floated like this for hours. Theel said the same thing several times, for his own benefit as well as for Yenia’s.

  “I will never let go.”

  The Life Sign

  Theel was so far out into the middle of the Sea of God’s Eyes that he could barely see the land. But he still knew where he wanted to go. On the southwestern shore of the lake lay a small fishing town called Dockhaven. It was populated by sons of Embriss, loyal to the Alisters, and though the war was coming close to Dockhaven, Theel was certain there would be no Iatan there. Best of all, Dockhaven was home to someone who might help, a wheelmonger named Micka Dorn whom Uncle Guarn called a friend.

  All Theel needed to do was chase the sun in an exhausting, slow backstroke across the lake. It took supreme effort to keep moving, and to do so while holding Yenia’s head above water. His own situation hadn’t improved. The wound in his chest still ached, and every breath brought fresh pain. But he refused to give up. He would never let go of his sister. He would never forgive himself if he did.

  As he swam, the obstacles became fewer; less wreckage, less garbage, and fewer bodies. The water became cleaner and more tolerable to soak in. The going became easier, and so did Theel’s mind. The panic receded, replaced by purpose. It helped that he eventually found a boat.

  The wood was full of Iatan arrows, as were the two men who lay slumped in the bottom of the boat. Theel didn’t know who these men were, or where they were traveling when the Iatan cut their journey short. But their craft was seaworthy and he was grateful for that. He mentioned his thanks as he pushed their bodies overboard.

  The boat afforded Theel some time to rest and assess his situation. He was happy to see that Yenia was able to save his most important possessions. Theel wasn’t wearing his leather armor when he went over the waterfall, but he wore it now. His sister must have dressed him before laying him in the water. Yenia had also preserved his sword, his father’s knife, and Battle Hymn.

  “Thank you, sister,” he said as he unbuckled his swordbelts from Yenia’s waist.

  Then, through much struggle and no small amount of pain, he managed to undo the laces and buckles on his leather armor, getting a look at his chest. His shirt was soaked with redness. Even though the wound still hurt terribly and seeped small amounts of blood and pus, it had healed tremendously since the Trader’s Cave. In fact, he had recovered far more than he would have naturally. Theel knew this was because his sister healed him.

  “I owe you more thanks than I can give you,” Theel said to Yenia. “I owe you my life.”

  He spent some time looking over his sister’s wounds. They were bad. A spear in the leg. An arrow in the back. Yenia had lost a lot of blood. Her skin was ice-cold, and she was barely breathing. There was very little Theel could do about it under the circumstances, but he still tried. He cleaned the wounds as best he could, then made bandages by cutting his right shirt sleeve into strips.

  When that was done, Theel collapsed in exhaustion, lay in the boat and stared at the blue sky above. He needed a moment to collect his thoughts, to choose his next actions. Reaching Dockhaven as quickly as possible was a priority. He needed to find Guarn’s friend Micka Dorn, and hoped the man knew a healer or a potion peddler. Both of the siblings were in dire need of help, but Yenia was worse. She wouldn’t survive long with only the wet bandages Theel made.

  Theel needed to get her to Dockhaven, regardless of the cost. But Theel could do nothing in his current condition. He needed to heal first. It would take too long for his wounds to heal naturally. If Theel was going to survive long enough to save his sister, he would have to heal by another method.

  An unnatural method.

  Theel was born with a uniquely strong connection to his juy, the inner mystic will that fueled life. Juy was raw power that came from within, gave form to a man’s flesh, and separated his body from the world around him. The body used juy to live. The mind used juy to think. Everyone had a well of juy within them. But precious few could draw from this well as they wished, and even fewer still could control it, use it to affect their own body or to affect the world around them. Such skills took a lifetime to master, so difficult was the mental discipline required. Men who accomplished this were called juy priests, and employed a discipline known as the Juy Method.

  A skill most juy priests had mastered was the ability to accelerate their own healing, or the healing of others. It was a process by which the priest employed the Method in concentrating juy into areas of his body that needed it most, where wounds had been inflicted or where the body fought diseases. He could also push his own juy into the body of another, accelerating their healing. It was a very difficult process that required mastery of the Method. It was also very dangerous. If done improperly, healing through the manipulation of juy could result in death. The priest could drain himself of juy. He could accidentally steal juy from his intended patient. One or both could fall asleep and never wake up.

  Theel’s innate connection to his inner well of juy was unusually strong, and therefore was considered a precious asset to the realm. Not only would he be trained by his father to be a Knight of the King’s Cross, he would also learn the Method from the Keeper of the Craft. But despite his great potential, Theel never learned to control his juy. The Keeper showed great patience, gave more time and resources to Theel’s training than most other students. Yet Theel’s abilities never developed as hoped.

  Though he would never admit this, the Keeper gave up on Theel’s training. Theel knew this to be a fact. If the Keeper still believed in Theel’s potential, he wouldn’t have sent the squire on this quest for Warrior Baptism. If the Keeper still believed Theel was special, he wouldn’t have sent him to die.

  Theel was such a failure at his training that he eventually grew to resent this “gift.” He no longer tried to access his well of juy. He mostly tried to ignore it was there. But he could never keep it away entirely. His Sight was always there, coming a
nd going as it pleased, completely outside of Theel’s control. Once in a great while, his juy showed him something pleasant, or useful. But most often, Theel suffered from unwanted visions of history mixed seamlessly with current day, leaving little distinction between past or present, dreams and reality.

  Theel wanted to use the Method to heal himself and his sister. A fully trained juy priest could have done so without fear of failure. But Theel knew he couldn’t do it. He was more likely to kill Yenia than help her. It had happened before. He couldn’t bear for it to happen again.

  That left him with only one option; a tattoo the Keeper had given him called the Life Sign.

  The traditional name of the Life Sign was the Kel Arka Moor, a green weeper vine which was the sigil of the father of Arka Moor, the old Clan of Life. Many Knights of the King’s Cross blessed by the Temple of Juy or any of the Seven Guardians of the old clans bore this tattoo.

  The braided weeper vine of Arka Moor was tapped from his left elbow to his left knee, with branches reaching out to his lower back, his neck, and his heart. Created with both the powers of the Craft and the Method, the Life Sign gave a knight the ability to tap his own well of juy to heal himself.

  It was one of the first tattoos Theel was given by the Keeper of the Craft after he’d sworn the oath to squire. This was highly unusual, since most knights did not receive the Life Sign unless they achieved the rank of Battle Lord. But the Keeper decided Theel was special. His strong connection to his juy, as well as his frequent visions, made him so.

  Igniting the power of the Life Sign was a risky choice, to be done in only the most desperate of circumstances. All living things needed their life-giving juy to survive. Bleeding juy from a dying man, even in an effort to save himself, might only accelerate his end. But it might also be just the thing to save him. In a pivotal moment that might mean life or death, the Life Sign could stop a mortal wound from bleeding, a disease from spreading, or a fever from cooking a man to death.

  The reward was great, but so was the danger. If Theel wasn’t careful, he could drain all the juy he had left. With no life force to sustain his body, he would slip away forever. Would it matter whether or not the corpse he left behind bore any wounds?

  The Keeper said the Life Sign was to be used sparingly, only when death was the alternative. But death was the alternative, Theel decided. Not his own death, but his sister’s. Yenia would die unless Theel found help. And Theel could do nothing in his current state, bleeding and gasping, and fighting to hold onto consciousness. This was necessary.

  Theel had rarely used the Life Sign; only a handful of times. He’d always relied on his father or his sister to help him in the past. But he knew the prescribed words, the prayer that must be said to invoke its power. It contained words from the Morning Supplication of the King’s Cross, taught to every child of the Temple of Juy, and was required of each squire to be recited on his sixth name day, followed by the Knight’s Creed.

  Give this child strength,

  That he might raise your banner.

  Cleanse this child’s wounds,

  That he might carry your shield.

  I, as a son of the Silvermarsh Clans, do commit myself, body, soul, and spirit, to the earthly warriors of the King’s Cross, to the Seven Kingdoms they protect, and to the one true Lord of all Creation, that I might do his will, to love God’s children, to lead God’s children, to protect God’s children, and that by these deeds, the Lord’s blessings be given.

  I will care for God’s children by showing his love.

  I will guide God’s children by speaking his word.

  I will protect God’s children by wielding his judgment.

  With his mercy, I will care.

  With his compassion, I will give.

  With his wisdom, I will speak.

  With his word, I will guide.

  With his shield, I will protect.

  With his sword, I will defend.

  I will serve the Lord with my heart, my mind, and my voice, by learning and understanding his holy word, gratefully receiving his holy gift of faith, and always proclaiming his holy name.

  These things I hold dear.

  Amen.

  Theel recited the words, and now he was healing through the power of the tattoo. It sucked his juy away, sapped his strength, but it helped the wound in his chest to heal faster than normal. It was an exhausting process. And painful. Fire burned under his skin from his neck to his knee. On top of that, he felt all the pain and suffering of weeks of recovery in only a few seconds. But it was worth it. He could feel his skin stretching and pulling, knitting itself back together. His muscles twitched. His ribs crackled. It was agonizing. And it took all the strength he had left.

  He passed out.

  The Robbers

  Theel awoke to hot sun on his face and wet sand on his back. He heard waves rolling up on a shoreline and felt the coolness lapping against his sides. He’d somehow made it to land. But where? How far was he from Dockhaven? And where was Yenia? Then he heard something else. Hushed voices.

  “We got dandy fools, for certain.”

  “Maybe so.”

  “Could be lords.”

  “So? Shut up and help me strip this one.”

  Theel still lay under a heavy blanket of sleepiness, but the more of this conversation he heard, the more he fought his way back to consciousness.

  “Could be a rich lord. Could be coin in helping him.”

  “Why don’t you bow to him, then, and ask for his coin?”

  “He might be happy we helped. Pay us some reward.”

  “We don’t ask for a reward. We just take it.”

  Theel fought to peel his eyes open, and finally succeeded. The light of day seared his eyes and cut into his brain but he ignored the pain, fighting to sit up, eventually making it to his hands and knees. It was laborious, and agonizing. And he could barely see, so foggy was his eyesight.

  “What do we do with them? Put them back in their boat and let them drift?”

  “No, wool-head. We steal their coin and leave them to die.”

  “We can’t just leave them like this.”

  “Yes we can. It’s better if they die, so they can’t tell anyone what we done.”

  Theel’s chest throbbed, and fresh blood dripped down his stomach. Theel was dimly aware that the Life Sign had done its job. It kept him alive, but only for a few more hours. He was far from recovered. The waves of pain that emanated from his chest wound reminded him of that.

  “Wait now. This one is a girl.”

  “Oh, and she’s a pretty one, too.”

  Theel put one foot on the ground then leaned on his knee, pushing with all his strength. He eventually made it to his feet but on knees so weak, he wasn’t sure how long he could stay upright. But he kept his feet, and as his awareness returned, he realized he was cold, his wet skin chilled by the breezes coming off the lake. He was shirtless, and shoeless, his bare feet pressing into the sticky sand. Also…no sword belts.

  “We should love her quick.”

  “Don’t touch her. She’s just a maid.”

  “All the better. No one’s loved her before us.”

  Theel rubbed his eyes and smeared his hair back, looking around. Everything was where it belonged; the gray waves splashing beneath a cloudy sky, mountains to the north, and a beach of pebbles and coarse sand stretching to his left and right. His head swiveled as he searched for his little sister.

  Two dozen paces away, Yenia lay on her side, the surf licking at her legs. She was faced away, her shirt was pulled up over her head, exposing the tattoos on her back and the bandages he’d wrapped around her chest. This was done, Theel guessed, by the two men who knelt over her, arguing with one another. By their look, these two were pieces of human sea dreck, shirtless, sunbaked, filthy. And toothless, by the sound of their slithery, clipped speech.

  “There isn’t time for raping. You said so.”

  “There’s always time for love. You go first.”<
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  “I don’t want to. She’s hurt. And she’s just a maid.”

  “You’re a maid yourself. You’ll do it or I’ll cut you!”

  A pile of things lay close by, things that Theel recognized. His own backpack, boots, most of his armor, and both swords. The robbers began stripping their victims in search of coin, but as they began removing Yenia’s shirt, they found something they desired more.

  “Look at these tattoos. She’s a wild hare, I’ll wager. Might steal her when we’re done. Might love her for days.”

  Theel could see the bandages he’d applied to his sister’s back hanging loose. He’d wrapped them around her chest and torso, but now one of the robbers was cutting the bandages off to expose her breasts. The red puncture wound in her back was a circle of red, visibly leaking blood. As Theel watched, the robber rolled Yenia onto her back. The open wound mushed into the dirty sand.

  “Oh! She’s a sweet one! But we can make her bitter!”

  The robber laughed at his own joke and Theel’s stomach twisted in knots. Yenia was naked from the waist up, unconscious, defenseless against what was coming. She had done so much to protect and care for Theel. But now it was she who needed him. She needed him more than ever.

  One of the robbers crawled between Yenia’s legs, putting his dirty hands on her pale skin.

  “That’s a good boy,” the other said. “Go quickly, now. Get those little boy trousers off her.”

  The fog slowly receded from Theel’s brain and it was replaced by rage. But even though he knew what must be done, his body wouldn’t respond. He tried to charge the men and attack them, but he only staggered a few steps and fell to his knees. He attempted to shout at them in a commanding tone, but his voice failed him. His words were lost in a fit of coughing that hurt his chest so bad he feared he might pass out again.

  “This one’s wakened,” the standing robber said.