Choice
Cole was flying. The water was gone. The pain and fear fled from his mind. He didn't feel sad about his departure; there was no guilt. Not even happiness. Just...contentedness. Peace.
But something pricked at the back of his mind. Elusive as the details of a dream, his memories tried to resurface. Something about...a garden. A redheaded girl, crying in the grass. A man with a magnificent blade. Fire and chains.
A tiny baby, smiling up at him with blue-gray eyes.
Hate. Love. Betrayal.
Confusion.
Cole wanted to flee. But like fetters, something held him back. Voices?
"Don't you dare leave us. Come back. Come on, Cole..."
"He's gone, Kai. Please calm down. Get off the table. Even the best doctors fail."
And so it went. Many times, the lines would repeat themselves. He felt himself getting pulled close to the water again.
No. He wouldn't go back. Not there. Not to the world where he was a hated man. A murderer.
Who would miss him if he stayed here forever?
"Come on, Cole. Please come back."
They...couldn't want him, could they? He was so close to death. He could feel his soul slipping from his body; fading way like the final notes of a song.
But what if he decided to stay? What if, instead of setting down his bow and walking away, he learned a new tune?
...What if no one liked his new tune?
"Jay, use your blade again! We aren't done yet."
It was a hard decision. One he felt too weak to make.
Perhaps...it would be...best to just...sleep.
Hagar reached the river exhausted and out of breath. The sun had risen above the mountains, and the air was getting hot. Chedva cried loudly in her sling.
Hagar stepped into the river's current and scooped herself a handful of water. She drank greedily with her left hand; her right was too swollen and painful to move.
It had been an hour since her last sighting of any stone warriors. They had probably given up the chase after she'd hidden under a bush several miles back.
After drinking her fill, she splashed her face and sat down on the bank to examine her bleeding feet. If she didn't find a way to wrap them, she'd give herself away with these red tracks.
"Shh," she took her child from its sling with her good arm. "Shh, phri derych, Chedva. Phri pecha, hotza grtel." We are safe, Chedva. We are going home, to wait for daddy.
Wait for daddy. Hagar sniffed, then laughed at herself. How foolish. Overlord said that he would be dead by sunrise. And that was almost an hour ago. She wiped away a tear. "Still, we'll wait for him. Together. We'll be free, like he promised."
A bird chirped behind her.
Hagar turned, infant clutched to her breast. "Grenchyl," she whispered. This bird was deep brown- almost gold- with a hooked beak and bright, pastel green eyes. They seemed to be almost glowing.
Moments later, a cloaked figure emerged from the trees. "Stay away!" Hagar said, alarmed. "Nuneldsrym! Stay away!" She leapt to her feet and tried to run, but slipped on a rock and fell into the water. Chedva flew from her arm as she tumbled.
"No!" Hagar gasped as the child sank beneath the currents. She clambered to her feet and sloshed through the water, terror seizing her heart. She tripped and fell on her injured arm.
The bird cried loudly and shot into the water, drawing Chedva out with its long talons. It dropped the gagging, shivering infant into the cloaked man- or woman's- arms.
After a few solid pats on the infant's back, the mysterious figure looked up at Hagar, who was standing slowly, and flipped the hood from her face.
Long, tangled blond hair. Green eyes, similar to those of her bird. She wore a green shirt that was several sizes too large and had a sword buckled to her tattered black trousers.
The woman approached Hagar and held out the infant.
Hagar eagerly snatched Chedva from the arms of this stranger. It was impossible to suppress her relieved sobs as she hugged her cold, scared child with her one arm. "Thank you," she said.
The woman nodded and reached for Hagar's wounded arm. After examining it for a moment, she ripped a large shred of fabric from her cloak and bound the wound tightly. As Hagar had suspected, the bone was only cracked. But it hurt.
Once the woman was done, she pointed downstream. Away from danger. To...Cole's home?
"Where do you want me to go?" Hagar asked.
The silent woman did not answer. She simply started walking.
Not knowing what else to do, Hagar followed.
It wasn't working. Kai had been trying to revive Cole for over three minutes. Jay was unable to make Stormstrider's energy enter Cole's body. Was it because he was dead, so he was rejecting the power?
No. Not dead. Not that word. Kai opened Cole's mouth and breathed into him again. Don't you dare leave us, he thought viciously. Come on, Cole. We need you alive.
"Kai," Zane said. "You should stop. He's gone. You've done all you can."
"Don't say that!" Kai growled as he threw his weight into the chest compressions. "I won't stop until his body's cold and hard. None of you will stop me. Jay, try again."
"But-"
"DO IT!" Kai completed his rhythm and went back down for another breath. And another. He sat upright and pumped again. "You will try again, Jay Walker, or I swear I'll break every bone in your body!"
Jay summoned more light from Stormstrider and tried to give Cole the energy.
Host-cursed Overlord, Kai thought. He should go and rot in a hole. Cole doesn't deserve to die. Not like this.
"Kai..." Jay began.
"I don't want to hear it!"
"No, umm...Kai?"
"What?" Kai flooded Cole's lungs with oxygen again.
"He took it."
Kai looked at Jay. "Who took what?"
"Cole," Jay said. "His body took a little bit of the energy."
Kai eagerly jabbed his thumb into the tender, pale skin above Cole's larynx.
Nothing.
"Do it again," Kai commanded as he went back to work. "I think it's working."
"All right."
You're almost there, Cole, Kai said in his mind as he went mouth-to-mouth with the dead man again. Come back, please.
Cole coughed.
Kai released Cole's lips and pumped again. "That's enough power, Jay," he said. "We don't want to make the same mistake twice."
He checked for a pulse again, then looked up at Zane. "He's alive!" he said, smiling triumphantly. "Oh, thank the First King, he's alive." He reached for the cup of chili juice, then realized that he did not need it. Cole's single cough had evolved into a mad fit, expelling bloody fluids from his lungs.
"Good job," Kai said as he unbuttoned his shirt and used it as a napkin to wipe the sputum from Cole's face. "Good job, Cole. That's right. Let your body do its thing."
"You did it," Zane said softly. "You actually did it."
Kai looked at his fellow nobleman and gave him a tired smile. His face was almost as pale as Cole's. "Of course I did it," he said. "Did you expect anything less?" He stood stiffly, then leaned against the table for support. He was exhausted.
Nya threw her arms around him and laughed. "You actually did it!" she said. "I can't... Wow!"
"Yeah," Kai grunted as he pressed on Cole's chest again, expelling more fluids. He had to focus all of his attention on his patient. Sure, Cole was alive. But his heart could fail again at any moment. "Someone find some bandages. I need to set Cole's broken ribs."
Fifteen Years Prior
John sat in an oak tree in the woods behind the house. He held a thick branch that he had ripped from a pine on his way here.
Each rough stroke of his hunting knife across the branch cut a bit of the anger and guilt from his heart. He watched each piece flutter to the ground before stripping another.
He'd kept his promise to himself for these two months since the Overlord's takeover. Not one tear. He felt proud of himself for being so strong. Especially since he had lost so much. His father...his mother...his kingdom...
...Merv.
He violently ripped another strip of bark. No tears. Not ever. His weakness was the reason that Merv had gotten left behind. If only he had been strong enough to carry her away from the fire.
She had escaped an execution, but the flames would not be beaten.
"John?" The voice of his 'father,' Lason Vijay, called him from across the green. "Come inside, son. Your uncle is here."
Ah, yes. John flipped the branch and continued working. Miss Paean's brother. What's his name? Boris? Corin? Something like that.
"John," Lason's voice was firm. "Don't make him wait. He's an important man."
Frustrated, John threw his branch to the ground and sheathed his knife. Then, with his best impersonation of a smile, he shimmied down the tree. He took Lason's outstretched hand and followed him down the path to the house.
"Ah," said a kindly voice from beyond the door. "This is him, Lason?"
"Yes," Lason said, entering the house. "Go on, son. Introduce yourself."
John stared up at the tall, wiry man. He looked to be about thirty, with black hair that was cut short; brown eyes, partially hidden behind the glare of his glasses.
"Hello," the man said, beaming. "How are you faring, sir?"
John accepted the man's outstretched hand. "Just fine," he said. "Yourself?"
"Oh, I'm all right," the man said. His grip was firm as he shook the boy's hand. "I'm tired, and my legs hurt. I've done far too much riding today. My name is Cyrus. I'm Paean's brother."
"A pleasure to meet you, sir," John said politely.
"You seem like a brave young man," Cyrus said. He knelt next to John. "That's good. We need strong men to help us win Keitorin back. You'll make a fine leader."
This drew a real smile from the boy. He looked away, bashful.
Cyrus chuckled and patted John's arm. "My sister tells me that you enjoy reading," he said. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small package.
John accepted it hesitantly. "A...book?" he said, examining the thick brown wrapping.
"Several, actually," Cyrus said. "I wasn't sure which subjects interested you."
John carefully undid the paper and held up three books. His smile grew as he read the titles. The first was a fictional novel. The second was a book of flora and fauna. And the third...
"This one has your name on it," he said. "You wrote it?"
Cyrus nodded. "I enjoy engineering," he said. "I write books on machines and inventing in my spare time."
John fingered the gold lettering on the second book. "Thank you," he said softly. "I...I like them." He was touched by Cyrus' simple gifts.
No one had treated him this way before. In Keitorin, he had been a god of sorts. Everyone was below him. In Ninjago, he had been the opposite. An orphaned farmer boy that was to be pitied.
But to Cyrus, John was a friend. Someone who could look him in the eye, smile, and shake his hand.
"I'm glad," Cyrus said, standing. "Come on, then. Hide those books in your secret place- you do have a secret place, right?- and then come to the kitchen. It smells like something wonderful is cooking. I'll bet that we can drive my sister crazy with a good old-fashioned bad manner war."