The Chosen by Kris Kramer (read the beginning after the end novel TXT) 📕

finally, and truly, called to him, daring him to take back his life.

Aiden hurried as fast as his failing strength would allow him to the chest in the corner. He opened it and pulled out his long sword and then dragged his shield out from under the stack of armor that lay on top of it. He hefted the shield on his arm, tightening the straps just enough to feel snug. He held his sword in his hand, feeling comfortable with the weight and balance. He smiled. He'd just survived a brutal assassination attempt, he was wounded in the leg and chest, poisoned, and getting weaker by the minute. But he had a friend outside who needed him, a friend who'd come to find him, a friend he wouldn't fail.

He limped out the front door and down the path in front of his house, banging his sword on his shield as he did. The mercenaries, who until now had been held at bay by Riordan’s magic and defense, backed away in surprise. They'd probably expected to see two assassins walk out of that house, not this stout armsman who should be dead by now. Aiden glared at them, sizing them up as decent enough fighters, but they were confused by Aiden's appearance, and slow to adjust.

"Aiden," Riordan said, smiling at him as if nothing untoward was happening. “Think you could give me a hand here?”

Aiden watched as the two mercenaries backed away, not sure who they should worry about more.

“It would be my pleasure,” Aiden replied with a smile. He hefted his shield up and charged into the fray.

Chapter 17

 

Aiden ripped his sword free from the mercenary’s belly, and he watched with heated satisfaction as the man dropped his brightly polished hand axe, clutched his wound, and fell to his knees. He'd be dead in moments, but that wasn't fast enough for Aiden, so he plunged his sword down into his enemy’s shoulder, cracking his collar bone and wrenching out a chunk of flesh. A scream permeated the remote, desolate hills around Aiden's home as the mercenary collapsed to the ground, where his shrill wailing quickly turned to loud, preening groans.

Aiden was about to finish him off when he heard a loud thud behind him. He turned to see the other mercenary crumpling lifelessly to the ground, his head misshapen from a cracked skull. Riordan stood over him, his sword held ready, but slowly coming down to rest now that he'd finished off his own assailant. Aiden looked around, just to make sure no one else had come for them in the dark. When he was sure they were alone, he thrust his sword through the first mercenary's throat, silencing him forever. He pulled his sword free and held it tight in his hand, reveling in the frenzy of battle. He grunted at the dead man lying on the ground, one of victory and of satisfaction. Only then did he lower his guard and allow himself a sly grin as he limped over to his old friend.

Before he could say anything, though, Riordan held up his hand, scanning the forest around them. Aiden stopped, squeezing the hilt of his sword anxiously, listening for the sound of movement nearby. Bastion finally came jogging up the path from the house and when Aiden saw him, he motioned the dog off into the forest. That old hunting dog had just saved his life twice tonight with his ability to sniff out assassins – a skill he didn’t know the dog had – and Aiden hoped he'd be able to do it a third time. Sure enough, as soon as the dog started running off into the trees he stopped, sniffed the air, and barked at something to Aiden's left. He turned, and as soon as he did, he heard the telltale creak of groaning wood, the sound a bow makes when stretched. Aiden immediately brought his shield up as a man appeared from the shadows only an instant before letting fly an arrow. It clipped the upper edge of his shield, right in front of Aiden's heart, and bounced sideways off into the bushes. Before Aiden could react, though, a second arrow flew out, this one from behind, flying just over his shoulder, and striking the first bowman directly in the center of his chest.

Aiden ducked to the side and spun around. He expected another attacker, but instead saw Finias standing about a dozen yards behind him, his bow in one hand and a second arrow already in the other. He gave the boy a crooked smile, but Finias didn't see it. He was completely focused on the now staggering archer. He coolly nocked that second arrow, pulled back the bowstring, aimed for his target, and fired at the man’s chest, sending him flailing backwards into the brush, moments from death.

Aiden let himself breath again, and when he saw Finias glance over at him, he nodded to the boy, glad to see him again despite it all. He turned back to Bastion, and sent him off into the trees, to flush out any other nearby attackers. The dog bounded off through the underbrush, sniffing the ground.

"What about the other one?" Riordan asked Finias, breaking the silence.

"He got away," Finias said darkly.

Riordan nodded glumly and walked over to Aiden, where he began examining his wounds. Aiden immediately turned his head, mostly by instinct, trying to keep his brand out of sight. He wasn't sure if Riordan had already seen it, but if he had he showed no sign of it, instead staring inquisitively at Aiden's knife wounds. "It's good to see you again, Aiden. Although I wish our circumstances weren’t so dire."

"I should say the same." Aiden's battle high was fading now, the pain and fatigue coming back quickly. He felt his strength wane, and he decided he needed to sit down before he fell. He limped over to a tree stump, with Riordan following, and sat with a painful groan.

"Let me take care of those wounds." Riordan kneeled down next to him. "Which one is the worst?"

Aiden tugged on the bandage around his leg. "This one,” he said with a sigh. “I think I'm poisoned, too. There were two assassins in my house. One of them is dead. The other... might be. I don't know."

Riordan turned to Finias. "Can you go in and check? We might need one alive, so we can question him."

"Hold on," Finias said brusquely. "I'm not doing a bloody thing for either one of you until I'm sure I'm not being lied to."

Riordan looked at Finias, surprised, as did Aiden.

"You two know each other." Finias pointed accusingly at Riordan. "You didn't think to mention that sometime in the last few hours?"

Riordan calmly turned back to Aiden's wounds and slowly pulled away the cloth of his leggings. "I should have, I suppose,” he began, “but I didn't feel safe. I thought I’d made that clear."

Finias shook his head in disbelief. "I don't know what to believe about you anymore. You were right about the assassins, but you lied about knowing Aiden. You've been acting crazy and paranoid all night, but now... now you're about as calm as a corpse." Finias slung his bow back over his shoulder. "What are you? A liar, a mad man, or someone who's just done a really good job at making me the fool?"

"I'm a man in trouble, Finias. Just like the two of you. Great trouble, as I think I’ve just proven. And I assure you that I'm no less scared for my life now than I was before we were ambushed. These men," he motioned to the bodies around them, "will not be the last ones we have to defend ourselves against."

"What's going on?" Aiden finally asked. He could sense the tension in the air.

"The King wants us dead,” Finias remarked. “Haven't you heard?"

Riordan looked down at the ground and sighed for a long moment. Finally, he looked up at Aiden, and he saw the brand on his face, but Aiden couldn't tell by his blank expression what he thought of it. For the first time in a long while, though, he truly felt ashamed. This was the first time in the two years since his effective banishment that he'd come face to face with a former comrade in arms, a man he respected, with the mark of a coward plain on his cheek. He wanted to look away, but he knew that would only make it worse. So he forced himself be strong and to look his friend in the eyes.

"Finias," Riordan began, "would you please check Aiden's house and see if anyone is alive? We need to learn what we can from these men while there's time. After that, I will tell you everything. I promise."

Finias stood his ground for a moment, no doubt bristling at being told what to do, but he relented and walked away. "There's rope on the side of the house there," Aiden said, calling after him, but Finias gave no sign that he'd heard him.

"You were stabbed in the chest, too?" Riordan asked, looking up at the wound under Aiden's arm. Aiden nodded, and Riordan began rubbing his hands together. He chanted something under his breath, then he gave a quick wave of his hand and Aiden saw a flash of light appear in the priest's palm. Riordan quickly put his hand over Aiden's leg wound, where the light at first spread out over his leg and then quickly retreated back into the wound. Aiden gritted his teeth as he felt the telltale sting of a priest's healing magic coursing through his leg, repairing the torn flesh through a magic they called Restoration. He knew nothing about how it worked, only that it did, and he was grateful for it tonight. But as wonderful as healing magic could be, it did strange things to a person's body while repairing it, uncomfortable things that some people just never could get used to. But it would keep him alive to fight another day, and that's what Aiden focused on while trying to fight off his nausea.

The effects were apparent in seconds, and Aiden felt his ripped leg muscles pulling, rolling and stretching as they worked to find each other once again. Riordan let his magic do its work and he moved up to the chest wound, and Aiden steeled himself for the next round of healing. The whole thing was familiar to him, and he remembered quite vividly the last time Riordan had kept him alive like this. They'd been defending the fort outside the town of Whitecap, in the southern reaches of Astrovia, from an invasion by Bergsbor forces almost three years ago. Aiden took an arrow to his shoulder, and Riordan had found him in the chaos of that battle, pulled the arrow out, and healed the wound. It had been only a few months after Aiden left the Warhounds, finding it impossible to get along with their commander, Lord Andreas of Devrin. He didn't feel bad about that, since few people were able to suffer that arrogant bastard, but he did miss many of his other comrades in that unit, Riordan included. In fact, his time in the Warhounds had been both incredibly frustrating and completely exhilarating. There were few other groups of soldiers serving the kingdom of Caldera who'd achieved the same level of success as the Warhounds, and the day Aiden had been invited to join them was one of the proudest of his life. He spent only a year with them, and Andreas had pounced on his every little mistake, but he'd learned and experienced more in that year than all the other years of his life combined.

"This one will take care of the poison," Riordan said calmly. "Just close your eyes and relax."

Aiden did as he was told, although it was hard for him to ignore the queasy sensation. His eyes were closed, but he could tell when Riordan cast his next spell, because he felt a wave of cold flow through his body, making him feel numb for an instant as the magic cleansed his blood of the poison. It was over as soon as it began, and as his body warmed up, he felt better, and stronger. The magic had worked, and once his leg and chest muscles finished their incessant tugging and stretching, he would be ready to fight again in minutes.

He heard the door shut behind him, and he glanced back to see Finias walking up the path toward them.

"They're both dead," he said.

"Are you sure?" Aiden asked.

"The one you left alive poisoned himself. He had a