“Would you like-?”
“No!” Khollo said quickly. “No. Pain, I can deal with.” Another wave tore through his chest, leaving him breathless. Khollo grunted and clenched his teeth, trying to keep from screaming out. The healer watched uncertainly, his right hand hovering by a pouch at his waist.
Suddenly, in a final, blinding flash, the pain returned. And stayed. Hundreds of slivers of hot metal, just pricking the skin on the right side of his chest, and every now and then, a short searing pain along four roughly parallel lines. Khollo growled and grunted and clenched his fists, grimacing horribly. But he did not cry out, nor beg for relief. He began to sweat, and continued to sweat until his bandages were saturated and the bed beneath him sodden. His hair was plastered to his forehead, his breath coming in ragged gasps. Slowly, the edges of Khollo’s vision began to dim. He felt his strength ebbing, but also a slight decrease in the pain. Maybe if I hold out a little longer I’ll slip unconscious, Khollo thought hopefully. He realized a potential flaw in this plan almost immediately.
“Give me your word,” he growled to the healer, who stood a few feet away.
“I beg your pardon?”
“None of the drug.”
“I – ”
“Your. Word,” Khollo managed through gritted teeth.
The healer straightened. “I give you my word that I shall not let a single crumb of the drug pass your lips, unless it seems you are guaranteed to die otherwise.”
That’ll have to do, Khollo thought as his vision dimmed further. Then, mercifully, he blacked out and felt no more.
Chapter 17
Darkness. Absolute darkness. Then a wan gray light, slowly brightening the scene. Jagged shapes like the broken fangs of some giant beast loomed in the distance. But between Khollo and those shapes was a wide, desolate land, devoid of color. He realized suddenly that he was standing at the mouth of a great valley, that the distant shapes must surely be mountains. But which mountains?
The weak light strengthened, but still Khollo saw no color. The land itself was gray, dead, devoid of all life. The mountains were the same, leering down at him.
Khollo caught sight of a glistening surface. A lake, perhaps? Yes, there was some body of dark water near the base of the mountains, just in front of a range of cliffs a hundred meters high. The water hardly reflected any light at all, but now that Khollo knew what to look for he could better make out the other features of the valley. What commanded his attention was an ominous shape between the lake and the cliffs.
Solid, smooth stone, a battlement-like construction. A banner, the device upon which Khollo could not make out. He strove for a clearer view, but at that moment the vision began to fade. Khollo tried to call it back, but he was dragged away by some unknown force.
Later, a voice in his head promised. But not yet. Not for a very long time. There are more important things which must be done first. Seek me out, free me.
Where are you? Khollo asked. Who are you?
You will see. Find me where stone meets bowl, in the shadow of the Broken Peak.
The voice grew more distant, less clear. Khollo barely heard the last words, and even then wasn’t sure that he had gotten them quite right. Where stone meets bowl? he wondered, baffled. What in the world could that mean?
But then he was being called back, summoned to a land of light which was far from the desolate landscape of the valley. Khollo struggled with this new force, wishing that whoever these others were they would not drag him around as though in a tug of war. The whole affair was growing terribly disorienting.
“Khollo! Wake up, Khollo!”
Khollo opened his eyes, frowning. There was a ceiling above him, and an anxious face peering down at him. Sermas’ face, to be precise.
Khollo frowned up at his friend. “What day is it?” he muttered.
Sermas cocked his head. “Nice to see he’s worried about us, huh, Hern?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” said another voice that came from a position somewhere to the left of Khollo’s field of vision. “Seems to me that Khollo has had quite enough to worry about on his own.”
Sermas smirked, and Khollo noticed his friend’s left arm was in a sling. “Well, I suppose I’ll let it slide, just this once. Since he saved our lives and all.”
“You’re both fine?” Khollo asked, turning his head. He could see no other injury on Sermas, and Hern’s only apparent wound was a long scab running from his left ear to the corner of his mouth.
“We’re alive and healing quickly,” Hern said confidently. “I feel like I could go back into battle any day now.” He frowned. “Against . . . vertaga?” He directed the question to Sermas.
Sermas nodded. “Precisely.” The younger cadet turned to Khollo. “Hern is still having some memory problems, but he’s coming around. Doesn’t help that he was a little slow in the head before his injury.”
“I was not!” Hern protested.
“Seeing as you’re the one with the head injury, it’s my word we’ll be trusting,” Sermas said with a mischievous grin.
Hern snorted. “Right. Not after you managed to convince me that bacon was a terrible food and I should promptly hand my share over to you so you could dispose of it.”
Khollo was feeling quite left out of the discussion, and decided it was time to change the subject. “So, back to my original question?” he prompted.
“Right,” Sermas agreed hastily. “Hern, how many days since the battle?”
Hern scowled. “You’re making fun of me again.”
“Of course not! I’m trying to help,” Sermas said innocently. “The
