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

grip - he was still dealing with an assassin after all. "Now who sent you? And I want names."

"I don't know who sent us," he replied in a hoarse voice, "only who paid us."

"Who, then?"

"Caelis."

"Caelis?" Finias repeated, making sure he'd heard right. "Cutter Caelis? He hired you?" Finias could feel his chest tightening uncomfortably. Caelis was one of Caldera’s most notorious fadeblades, known both for his prowess, and for his questionable sanity. His nickname was self-explanatory, and it had inspired an untold number of partially true stories about what he did to his victims. Finias had met the man once as a child and even then he'd known immediately just how dangerous he was. But even with his savage reputation, it wasn't Caelis he feared. "Does that mean... do you know who I am?" he asked breathlessly.

The assassin just smiled back at him. "That's more than one question, Finias."

 

~~~~~

 

Finias let his arm hang over the front side of the ferry's hull, feeling the water spray up as the small waves crested into the bow. Troubling thoughts filled his mind, so much so that he'd barely slept the last two nights, but being out here on the river seemed to calm him. He couldn't explain why, but he loved the water, especially the open sea. He'd spent very little time near water growing up, but he felt like it called to him whenever he saw it, beckoning him out onto its endless oceans, where he could get lost in a larger, less crowded world. When he first left home, he thought about getting a job on a trade ship and sailing away from the three kingdoms and their wars. He could have left everything behind if he’d ever had the guts to start his life over. He'd never done it, though. At first he figured he was just too scared, but that was only part of the reason. As much as he hated admitting it, Caldera was his home, and he bristled at the notion of leaving before he'd proven his worth to everyone who doubted him. Of course, the last two days had left him wishing he'd run away when he had the chance.

After leaving Trenant Keep, they'd traveled northwest to Hannerkeep, an outpost that overlooked the Lemais River. The Lemais flowed north from the Red Hills into the eastern edges of Teekwood, the vast forest where they would find the entrance to the caves that Riordan and the Warhounds had discovered. They secured a ferry at the Hannerkeep docks to take them about half the distance to their destination. Any farther would be dangerous, and expensive, so they would have to walk the rest of the way and hope they didn’t run into any serious trouble. All three kingdoms were under a ceasefire, and had been for almost two years now, but that only kept the main armies from engaging each other. Nothing stopped smaller groups from acting on their own, a practice that had strained the ceasefire to its breaking point. Each kingdom had been waiting for one of the other two to attack, hence the Warhounds scouting mission in Teekwood a few months ago. For some, the fact that they’d had relative peace for two years was a miracle in itself.

The ferry slowly drifted downriver with Finias and his four new companions. Aiden and Riordan sat near the front while Kat and Malcolm kept to the back next to him. Bastion sat on the floorboards at Aiden's feet, his tongue hanging lazily out of his mouth. Finias had spent the last hour of their journey trying to occupy himself by watching the shore and surveying in his mind all the spots with good cover for an archer. They were currently passing by a long stretch of cedar trees on the east shoreline, and he wondered how many other archers had hidden there to take shots at ferries as they moved back and forth along the river. He swore he'd heard someone loose an arrow shortly after they left the docks at Hannerkeep, but he never saw the arrow or heard it land. The short wooden barricades on each side of the ferry would block a direct shot, and he doubted there were many archers out here with the skill to drop an arrow on them from above, but he'd still spent much of the trip watching for good hiding spots. Partly for his own edification, and partly because he was worried about who might be following them.

Caelis and his small army of hired goons would be a problem for them. Caelis was vicious, cruel and unpredictable, which was why he'd been so effective for so long, and Finias could only imagine that he'd hire assassins in his own image. But he wasn't clever. He’d made a solid reputation out of being impetuous and rash, which made him hard to deal with, and an ineffective leader. Caelis was a soldier, and even though most of the commanders in Caldera found him impossible to control, there was one man Cutter Caelis would listen to, one man he respected enough to follow. Varusinian Vardakin. Varus the Dragon. One of the most feared and reviled fadeblades in the history of Caldera.

Varus was a cunning and vile man, who liked to study his opponents. He enjoyed finding their weak spots, so he could strike fast and hard, giving them no chance to defend themselves. And unfortunately for his targets, those weaknesses could be found in more than just armor. More than likely it would include friends or family, emotional weaknesses, as he called it. Varus was not above destroying everything his victims held dear. In fact, he probably delighted in it. Caelis may have hired these men, he may have handed them the money, but Finias was positive that Caelis still got his marching orders from Varus. And if that’s who now pursued them, then the stakes of this mission had changed drastically.

"They're under a spell?" Kat asked, shaking Finias out of his thoughts. She was responding to Riordan's long monologue explaining why they were going to the caves, but it wasn't just her question that got his attention. Her voice constantly drew him in, partly because he couldn't quite identify it. It had a sing-songy quality that she kept trying to hide. It immediately pegged her as being raised in a noble house, though why she would hide that was a curious question. But he liked her voice. He liked hearing her talk. He found her to be especially pretty, though he hadn't quite decided what he thought of her assertiveness, even though that's what drew him to her earlier. He'd seen her pleading her case outside the keep, she was about his age and very easy to look at, and he really did want to help her. He certainly knew how it felt to have everyone doubt you. Or to try to force you down another path.

"Yes," Riordan replied calmly. "And because of that spell, they think we're their enemies. And they will try to kill us because of it."

"Our own people?" she said with disbelief. Upon meeting her and Malcolm, Finias had only mentioned that they were undertaking a mission in Teekwood. He hadn't felt the need to explain much more than that because they'd been so eager to go, Kat especially, which technically made it her fault for not bothering to find out just what she had agreed to.

"Surely we can't fight our own people?" Malcolm asked, in what was probably the second time Finias had heard him say anything. His voice was deep and regal, another clue to noble upbringing. In fact, he hadn't noticed before, but he sensed the hint of an accent, one that placed his childhood in Venria, perhaps. Is that where they'd grown up? An even more interesting question, though, was whether or not they’d owned Movri slaves.

"You can if they start fighting you," Aiden said, watching the shoreline. Like Finias, he'd only been half paying attention to the story.

"But if they can't control it, then wouldn't you be murdering them?" Kat asked, although it was less a question and more an accusation.

"You'd rather they murder us?" Aiden quipped. Kat turned to her brother in frustration, but all he could muster in return was the same worried look he'd had on his face ever since leaving Pauk’s Hill.

Finias cringed at the sound of that word. Murder. He could still see himself firing the two arrows that killed that Warshield. He could see his body falling lifelessly to the ground. He remembered carrying that same, ridiculously heavy body to Corendar, and being unable to look anywhere but at the two wounds in the man’s head and neck. He'd never killed anyone before that moment, despite years of prodding from his father, and he feared what would become of him if it ever happened. Now it had, and he didn't feel different, but still he worried. He worried, because those images in his mind were fading. He expected to have that moment ingrained in him forever, but he was already having trouble remembering all of the details. Finias had spent every moment since then expecting to be sick, to be ashamed, hoping for any kind of physical response as retribution for that act. But he felt nothing. No remorse, at least none that he didn't try to fabricate himself. No guilt. Nothing.

"I know it's strange," Riordan said, "but we're going there to help them. And we'll do what we can to avoid them. But you must be ready to do your part."

"I don't know..." Katarina's voice trailed off, but no one else on the ferry cared to fill the silence, and they continued north with little discussion. Finias thought he would be glad to have quiet, but he soon wished people would start talking again, about anything, just to get his mind on something else. He was tired of worrying, tired of feeling angry, and most of all he was tired of running.

They reached the Medwain outpost about an hour later, a thick, stone tower on the west bank that stood about three stories tall. As the ferryman steered the boat closer to the docks, Riordan explained the dangers that lay ahead once they disembarked. From Medwain they would travel a few hundred paces farther north, to a bridge that spanned a narrow section of the Lemais River. He wanted them on the east bank, which would be a little bit safer to travel for a group their size. That meant they would have to move north from the docks across a dangerously open stretch of riverbank before they could cross the bridge. A small hill dotted with clumps of trees overlooked the west bank, and Anduain and Bergsbor archers liked to hide in those trees and look for stragglers moving back and forth between the docks and the bridge. And that's exactly what a small, ill-equipped group of five was out here. Stragglers.

"Don't dawdle." That was Aiden's only advice.

The ferry finally reached the dock where a small contingent of five soldiers greeted them, having already seen their approach. The ferryman threw a rope to the dock master, who caught it and used it to pull the boat up alongside the near edge of the dock. Aiden stepped up first while holding Bastion under one arm, followed by Riordan, and Finias noticed that both men kept a watchful eye on that hill to the west. Kat went up next, then Malcolm, and Finias reluctantly climbed out last, almost immediately missing the gentle rocking of the waves.

"How are things today?" Riordan asked the dock master, a young man wearing woefully inadequate leather armor. He had a patch on his chest with the outline of a falcon, which marked him as Astrovian.

"Been quiet out here for a few days now," he replied. “Feels a bit eerie if you ask me. You headed north?”

“Aye,” Riordan said. "To Teekwood."

The dock master raised an eyebrow. "The wood's a different story. Lotta noise up there. Had some swifts come down yesterday saying trackers are crawling all over that place." Aiden and Riordan shared a frown at that news. The dock master looked the five of them over and then shrugged. "So good luck."

Riordan smiled weakly, then followed Aiden onto the grassy riverbank where they both waited. Kat and Malcolm hurried after, but Finias lingered, watching the horizon carefully. He didn’t like being out in the open while surrounded by so many hiding spots. A thousand pairs of eyes could be watching him and he wouldn’t know. Bastion barked at the air, and Finias pulled his bow off his shoulder as a precaution, feeling a kindred sense of unease with that mangy beast. He reluctantly followed the others