Wanderlust - Chapter 29: Chapter 29

Soren thought the interrogation was over when the King sent a handful of soldiers out to find Tanden and Toliver. His knees hurt from the stone floor, but it was easy enough to ignore when every breath caused a jolt of pain to shoot through his chest. He didn't want to keep kneeling. He wanted to go lie down. Or rush down to the port and find Tanden. Either one was preferable to waiting while the King and Lord Tandrael held a hushed conversation. Both men looked annoyed, but they spoke quietly enough that Soren couldn't hear them, and trying to read their lips was too much effort.
In an attempt to lessen the pain, or at least change it, Soren leaned forward on his good arm. It wasn't any better, but it was different. He took a few shallow breaths and winced, but before he could readjust himself again his vision swam and he started to sway. The broken fingers on his left hand nearly gave out as he caught himself.
Then he realized someone was saying his name. He opened his eyes, not sure exactly when he had closed them, and looked up at the dais. Lord Tandrael had gotten to his feet.
"Soren?"
"I'm all right," he mumbled. Or did he? It was hard to tell, and Lord Tandrael didn't look like he'd heard anything. "I'm all right."
"We need the physician." Tandrael stepped down from the dais and walked towards Soren, his boots clicking loudly against the stone. Then Tanden crouched in front of him.
Soren blinked. Tanden's face aged, and his hair shortened, and suddenly it was Tandrael in front of him. He shook his head but instantly regretted it.
"Soren, remind me, who attacked you?"
"What?" That explained why everything hurt so much. "Who attacked me?" Over Tandrael's shoulder, Soren could just make out the King through the haze that filled the throne room. "Am I in trouble? Where's Tanden?" Cold fear flooded through him. "Was he attacked, too? Is he—"
"No, Tanden's fine." Tandrael abruptly stood up, as an old man walked up. "It's his head. This happened to Tandar two or three times when we were younger. Look at his eyes."
The old man cupped Soren's chin and lifted his face. He was stronger than he looked, when Soren tried to pull away he just tightened his grip. The man nodded. "I agree. He should be resting. With your permission, my lord?"
"Of course."
A moment later, Soren was pulled to his feet. Almost immediately, he started to fall, until he felt hands steady him.
"Soren, look at me."
Lord Tandrael sounded a lot like Tanden. Soren forced himself to look up, into Lord Tandrael's eyes.
"Do not talk to anybody unless Tanden, Tandar or I are with you. Do you understand?"
Soren nodded. That didn't really make sense, but he understood the words.
Tandrael put a gentle hand on his shoulder, just for a moment, before climbing back onto the dais to talk to the King. Something important must have been happening for the King to be in West Draulin.
The men holding him started to help him turn around, but Soren's vision went blurry again and he fell limply into their hands.
Tanden wiped the back of his arm across his face, smearing the sweat that had been beading on his forehead. Despite the darkened sky, it was still fairly warm, and Lorca had put up quite a fight. But now the man was crumpled on the deck, bleeding from multiple cuts on his arms and a large gash across his stomach.
Tanden held Acell's sword loosely in his left hand. It was heavier than the cutlasses he had gotten more accustomed to fighting with, and his right arm ached from the effort. The long slice Lorca had inflicted from his elbow to his wrist wasn't helping, either. Strangely, Tanden wasn't sure he could actually feel the wound, or if he could just feel the blood running down his hand and dripping to the deck.
Lorca was still alive. He shuffled backwards weakly, and leaned against the mast. He looked up at Tanden, and there was no fear in his eyes. His mouth briefly curved into a pained smile.
"Rage suits you, Lord Tanden of West Draulin."
It took Tanden a moment to realize what Lorca had said, his voice was so shaky and raw. He could only think of one word to reply. "Captain."
Lorca chuckled, which turned into a rough cough. When he spoke again he sounded worse. "Toliver's gone. Supposed t'sail the Hiraeth out of port'n meet him."
"Where?"
The sailor shrugged. Or tried to. "Reckon I won't tell you. 'm dyin', anyway. Didn't want t'kill Soren, he didn't... but, maybe I should've." He paused to draw in a deep breath. "Might've taught you somethin'."
Tanden tightened his grip on the sword. He could kill someone with his left hand as easily as his right. "You beat Soren?" he asked, forcing himself to sound calm.
Lorca chuckled and coughed again. "No. I held him. Toliver wanted t'try him out, see if he was worth your attention. Good with his mouth, is he?"
Tanden nearly lunged forward at that, and only barely kept his anger in check. "If you raped him—"
"'m dyin', anyway," Lorca pointed out. "Doesn't matter what you do."
"I'm going to find Toliver," Tanden snarled. "And I'm going to kill him. You won't be around to protect him."
"Doesn't need me," Lorca attempted another shrug. "He's a Crelan out at sea. You'll never find him. Fuckin' Teltish lords don't belong at sea. And fuckin' a Crelan doesn't make you one of us."
Tanden narrowed his eyes. It would have been easy to run Lorca through with the sword. It would have been quick. Instead, he spun around and walked to the gangway, pausing only to knock an oil lamp over with the tip of his sword. By the time his feet hit the dock, a sizeable fire had spread out behind him. Clumsily, he tucked Acell's sword under his belt, and turned to watch the fire spread.
The entire deck was on fire when a hand grabbed Tanden's shoulder. Without averting his gaze, he held up his hands, fully expecting a guard to clamp a set of manacles around his wrists. So he was surprised when, instead of being arrested, he was roughly turned around to face the man holding him.
"Tandar. Of course."
His brother gestured at the ship. "How many people?"
"Probably just one." Tanden glanced back at the flames. Part of him knew he should feel badly, but he just couldn't bring himself to care. "He almost burned Soren alive."
"Is he dead?"
Tanden shrugged. "Probably." He met Tandar's wide eyes for a second. "You would have done the same for Brilana."
"Probably?" Tandar swore under his breath. "You need to get back to the fort. Get out of here. I'll handle this. Atricell, take him—"
Another hand latched onto his forearm, and Tanden pulled away. "I'm staying here. I need to make sure he's dead."
"He's dead," Tandar snarled.
There were shouts now, coming from the port, as people reacted to the flames. The fire had to be put out, before it spread. The thought occurred to Tanden hazily, and although part of him knew how bad that could be, it was as if he couldn't quite grasp it. He wanted to stay. He wanted to watch the fire eat the Hiraeth until there was nothing left. Nothing for Toliver to come back for. No trace of Lorca ever existing.
His head cleared for a moment, as Tandar gave him a rough shake. "Get back to the fort. You can't be anywhere near this."
For a second he understood how it would look. The first fire blamed on Soren, the second caused by him—the King would see treason. Not revenge. Arresting Tanden would be difficult, politics would get in the way. Arresting Soren would be easy. Executing Soren would be easy.
Tandar turned away from him, and jogged down the pier to intercept the men coming with buckets of water. Tanden almost went after him, then remembered Acell, standing nearby.
"Where's Soren?"
"I'll take you to him," Acell promised. "You need to come with me. Your arm—"
Tanden had nearly forgotten about it, but suddenly he could feel it.
"—needs to be looked at. Sir Tandar was right, you can't be seen here."
"I told you to watch Soren."
"He told me to come after you." Acell looked down the pier, then pulled his tunic over his head. He stepped closer and began to wrap it tightly around Tanden's arm.
Tanden was too dazed to pull away. He watched Acell work like it was someone else's arm being wrapped. "Who do you work for? I told you—"
"I work for Lord West Draulin, actually," Acell interrupted. "Are you still a good swimmer?"
Tanden blinked in confusion. "I'm an exceptional swimmer."
"Good."
Acell pushed him into the water. The chill surprised him, but at least it dulled the pain in his arm slightly. Tanden came up gasping, just in time to see Acell's graceful dive. The knight surfaced a moment later.
"Is this your grand plan, then? Try to drown me?"
"Just shut up and follow me." Acell began to swim away.
Seeing no other real option, Tanden swam after him. As they got further from the fire, the warm light it had cast over them was replaced with silvery moonlight. It was easy enough to see as they made their way around a few sailboats and a smaller merchant ship. Tanden thanked the Goddess the water was calm. His right arm was next to useless, and now that he was used to the chill, the salt had begun to sting. He was a strong swimmer, but in his state even the gentlest of waves might have been too much.
Acell led him to a pier further down the port, before hoisting himself out of the water. He grasped Tanden's left hand and helped pull him out, and for a moment they lay there, on their backs, staring up at the stars.
They could hear shouts and the crackling fire. The whole city probably could.
Tanden pushed himself upright just as a loud, popping groan echoed across the port, and the Hiraeth's mast collapsed.
The old man was running his hands over Soren's head gently, speaking as he did. "Memory loss is common with head injuries. You're not bleeding anywhere, so I don't think there's much I can do. Does your head hurt?"
That seemed like a stupid question. Everything hurt. Soren nodded, and winced.
"Stay still," the physician chastised. "You're going to need to rest."
Around him, Tanden's bedchamber swam in and out of focus. Soren's memories, too, were fuzzy. He knew exactly where he was, but he wasn't entirely sure how he'd come to be there, sitting on Tanden's bed. Two guards stood near the door, arms crossed, wearing the yellow and black uniforms of Zianna. But he wasn't in Zianna.
The physician dropped his hand to Soren's neck and prodded it carefully. "How does your throat feel?"
Soren felt the urge to clear his throat and resisted, knowing doing so would be painful. "It hurts."
The physician nodded. "Your voice is sounding better, so that's good news, isn't it? Drink this." He picked up a cup of water and pressed it into Soren's good hand. "Slowly. Let it sooth your throat."
Soren was just lifting it to his mouth when the door burst open. The two guards spun to face... it took Soren a moment to recognize Tanden and Acell. They were soaked. Tanden looked dazed and Acell wasn't wearing a shirt. Despite that, the knight turned to the guards.
"Sir Atricell. I'll take over here."
One of the guards shook his head, and he glanced Acell up and down doubtfully. "We're here on orders from the King. And you look—"
"So stand outside," Acell insisted.
"Gentlemen—" Tanden cut in. He didn't seem to notice Acell trying to hold him back. "This is my chamber, and I am ordering you to go into the hallway."
"We're not supposed to let the Crelan out of our sight."
Acell scoffed. "What do you think he's going to do, climb out the window?"
"Get out," Tanden added.
The guard hesitated, frowning, then finally nodded. "Yes, my lord." He nodded at the other guard and they marched out into the hallway.
"Goddess help us," Acell muttered. He gave Tanden a nudge towards the bed. "Sit down. Show the physician your arm."
Soren watched the entire thing unfold, still puzzled by the men's appearance. But when Tanden collapsed onto the bed beside him, he shuffled closer. "Are you..."
"Soren." Tanden threw his left arm around Soren's shoulders, and leaned in for a kiss. "I love you."
Soren's attention was drawn to Tanden's arm, as the physician pulled away the filthy cloth that was wrapped around it. His arm looked awful. Bloody and puffy with irritation. The physician turned his arm slightly to get a better look, and the cut came into view. The sight of it caused a handful of memories to clarify, and Soren gasped.
"What did you do?"
Tanden ignored the question. "Did Lorca touch you?"
"Did... who?" The name sounded familiar, but Soren couldn't quite place it. Tanden smelled like seawater and smoke. Soren struggled to connect those things. He remembered a fire, but Tanden hadn't been there. "What happened?"
Tanden just repeated his question. "Did Lorca touch you?" The physician was wiping at his arm, but he didn't seem to notice.
Soren shook his head in confusion, forgetting just for a moment how much doing so would hurt. His head throbbed and he closed his eyes. "I don't know. I don't remember."
The physician interrupted them by clearing his throat. "My lord? I need to stitch your arm."
"Captain," Tanden muttered.
"It'll hurt," the physician continued, as if Tanden hadn't spoken. "Sir... knight. You'll have to hold him down."
Soren opened his eyes to see Tanden pull away from the physician and get to his feet. "Held down? I don't have time for this. Just wrap it."
From a large black case, the physician pulled out a needle and thin thread. He shook his head at Tanden's outburst. "I understand that you think you know best, Captain Tanden. But you don't. Knight? If you would?"
Acell sighed. "Don't fight me, sir."
They eyed each other, both of them looking wary and weary. Soren reached up to take Tanden's left hand, and gave it a gentle tug. "Lie down. Please."
Tanden didn't move at first, and continued staring down Acell and the physician. Then it seemed like all the energy had left him at once, and he sat back down heavily. He lay back and didn't complain when Acell leaned over to bed to hold him in place. His only reaction was his hand tightening in Soren's when the needle first pierced his skin.