By Rebecca Morn
Part 1
Excommunicate
Hell hath no limits, nor is
circumscrib’d
In one self place; for where we are is Hell,
And where Hell is, there must we ever be
Christopher Marlowe
But what is the greatest evil?
If you are going to epitomize evil, what is it? Is it the bomb? The
greatest evil that one has to face constantly, every minute of every day
until one dies, is the worst part of oneself.
Patrick McGoohan
What reinforcement we may gain
from hope; if not, what resolution from despair
John Milton
Chapter 1
The Dead Man
Early Evening, Day 5, Autumnsrest, 792 H.R.
I'm a dead man already. Why does he keep trying to
kill me?
Kozen had time only for that single unexpected thought,
and to draw his longsword, as the spiders came at him. They swarmed over
the glacier-jumbled rocks alongside the narrow packed-dirt road, and in
seconds, the arachnids were upon him. After that, he had no time for
anything else, save to try to avoid being killed.
Once again, he also wondered if his decidedly stale
skills as a soldier would be enough to save himself. Kozen retreated back
along the road to gain some room to fight.
Had these been ordinary spiders and only a few of them,
there would've been little peril, just the need for a carefully placed
boot-heel to squash them. These creatures skittering toward him with an
unrelenting determination, however, numbered at least fifteen or twenty--and
they were the size of pumpkins. The smallest was a foot across; the
largest, nearly three times that.
Yet another kind of Abomination, Kozen realized
as he swiped at nearest of the mottled black-and-orange spiders, severing
one of its hairy legs. Dark blood the color of ichor spurted from the
jutting end, and the arachnid gave a high screech. Waving its mandibles and
antennae wildly, its faceted black eyes remained fixed on Kozen. An instant
later, minus the leg, it renewed its attack anyway.
So busy was he with only the first of these monsters,
he almost missed the second as it leapt at him from atop a hunk of granite
next to him. Kozen slashed down hard with his sword and split it nearly in
two. The remains fell to the bare ground, staining it with black, red, and
a disgusting yellow-green. The outer skin of the main thorax was leathery,
and not at all chitinous as it ought to have been, if these were true
arachnids.
Kozen retreated and chopped at the third spider, but it
jumped out of the way. The fourth, however, was not as dexterous, and it
soon lay dead as well, burst like a rotten melon--with a reeking stench to
match.
He soon found himself forced to retreat still further
south and east, off and away from the road, toward a sloping field of larger
stones. In a moment, he realized the spiders were trying to drive him to
where they could climb those boulders and drop on him from above. So
instead, he cast about briefly, while merely parrying the hissing monster
before him to gain time. There--he spotted just the thing, about twenty
yards away.
No time for finesse, he thought, and simply ran
for it: A large, flat-topped granite slab about three and a half to four
feet high, and perhaps twice that size across. The spiders chittered and
hissed as they pursued, but he couldn't look just now. He was too busy
trying to avoid tripping on the jumble of smaller rocks in front of him.
Kozen reached the slab just ahead of the Abominations,
feeling one of them making a failed grab at his leg even as he leapt. His
boots skidded on the uneven surface, but he managed to stop himself before
he went over the far side. Behind, he could hear the spider which had
missed him and another climbing up, their hard articulated legs making
strange metallic scraping noises against the hard granite. Quickly, he
turned and swung his sword low in a broad sweep. With a dull clang, the
blade lopped off the mandibles and forelegs of the spider in the lead, and
Kozen immediately kicked it over the side. The other, he cut off its head
and watched as its body tumbled backwards to hit the ground with a thud.
The creature's limbs twitched and continued to gyrate randomly for several
seconds before growing still.
After that, the Abominations paused in their attack, as
if collectively reassessing their strategy. The remaining two at the base
of the granite slab merely kept Kozen there, as the rest of their kind
swarmed over and joined them. Now he was completely surrounded on all
sides.
Suddenly, this did not look like such a good place to
have chosen after all, Kozen realized. He'd allowed himself to be
cornered. Furthermore, he would have to wait for them to make the next
move. He couldn't reach them otherwise. Indeed, these creatures appeared
to be displaying a kind of crude intelligence, but by now he was no longer
surprised by anything an Abomination might do.
These spider-things had not been the first, nor the
only kind.
First, it had been the rats, he recalled. These
had been no larger than the usual variety of wharf-rats--that is to say, a
little smaller than the average housecat. Unlike normal rats though, these
had been covered with reptilian scales and tried to spit venom into his
face.
Fortunately, their range had proven inadequate, and
there were only the three of them. Even more fortunately, Kozen was usually
a light sleeper; he'd heard their scales scraping behind the thin wooden
walls of his rented room at the Eleahome waterfront tavern. The only
lasting results of that first attack were the faded dark black stains still
visibly dotting his otherwise brown breeches.
Two of the spiders now made as if to jump up onto the
rock with him, but he saw the move for the feint it was. They deliberately
fell short, the claws of one actually drawing a few sparks. They have
actual metal in their talons? Kozen wondered. Is that even possible?
Of course it is, his own irritated thoughts
replied immediately. The word 'impossible' never applies to such as
these.
The actual assault came from behind, with three spiders
managing to find claw-holds on the side he'd thought was the more
difficult. Kozen spun and slashed at one, and kicked another over the
side. The third, however, managed to snag his leg. Swinging up by the grip
of a pair of forelegs, it sunk its mandibles into his calf. Immediately, it
scrabbled higher, onto his thigh, biting directly through the thick cotton
fabric as if it was mere gossamer.
With an involuntary shout of pain, Kozen thrust his
sword, point down. He drove the blade directly into the body of the spider,
missing his own leg by bare inches. Yanking the sword back and forth,
eventually he was able to dislodge the creature, although its mandibles
remained imbedded in the flesh of Kozen's upper leg. He knocked them free
with the pommel and felt something warm running down the outside of his left
leg. His blood.
Feint and retreat, the Abominations tested him again
and again. He managed to take another claw, but that was all, as they were
not exposing themselves nearly as much as they had at the start. The
spiders were clever, he had to give them that.
His right shoulder beginning to ache, Kozen remembered
the second monster he'd encountered, after the rats. The were-bear with
the small head and huge hands... That had been when? Maybe two hands
of days outside of Eleahome, as he'd fled eastward. For several days
afterwards, he had wondered if he would ever regain full use of his
sword-arm, until the passing tinker had noticed Kozen's distress, and both
diagnosed the dislocated shoulder and known what to do about it.
Even as he continued to fend off the spiders, he
thought, Thank the Great Ruler for the tinker's strong hands. Not to
mention the fact he didn't recognize me.
Kozen chided himself then, for old habits. He knew he
shouldn't by any rights be thanking the god also known by the unspoken name,
Tos, for whatever small portions of good fortune might come his way.
That deity's eyes had been closed to him, forever, as had any other god or
goddess to whom he might turn for aid or solace.
Another of the monstrous spiders found a way up onto
the rock, and Kozen killed it with a savage slash. Its thick blood
splattered his legs, adding to the dark stains. If this kept up, there'd be
no brown left. Only black. An appropriate color, the notion occurred to
him.
Damned is damned, he thought to himself.
Maybe these things are just the torments of the Abyss come early for the
rest of me.
Almost as if they'd been reading his mind, the arachnid
Abominations suddenly swarmed up at him from all sides at once.
Kozen sliced, stabbed, kicked, and shoved. He spun
like a whirlwind to try to face them all, and still it wasn't enough. His
steel longsword's edge was sharp, but so were the spiders' claws and
mandibles. Moreover, he was but one man, and the spiders were many. They
kept slashing at his legs, and Kozen knew that if he lost his footing and
fell, it would all be over before he hit the rocky ground.
One of the larger spiders bounced up to wrap itself
firmly around Kozen's left leg, tearing viciously at his thigh again before
he could cut it loose. He punted the creature over the side, feeling the
toe of his boot sink sickeningly into its side. Blood ran down his leg now
in a minor torrent, and he felt the warm moisture gathering in his boot.
Another Abomination landed hard against his back,
making him stagger. In an instant of panic, he felt it trying to reach him
from around his pack. Finally, with a few blind thrusts over his shoulder,
he managed to batter it loose, swinging wildly as the creature fell away.
His sword sliced it wide open. To his horror, he saw innards that were
queerly undifferentiated, like a mélange of black and red liquids swirled
through a substance that looked sickeningly like custard. The stench was
indescribable.
Fighting both nausea and the spiders now, he was almost
thankful when another pair of its kind clambered over the corpse, knocking
it past the edge of the boulder and out of sight. Once again, Kozen could
only wield his sword against one of them, daring a kick at the other. The
tactic cost him another cut on his lower leg.
Still more of the Abominations came at him.
Growling imprecations and rough obscenities, Kozen slew
one after another. The pile of dead spiders around the granite slab grew,
making it ever easier for the survivors to press the attack. Arms growing
leaden with weariness, Kozen continued to defend. All around, the creatures
sought for ways up.
He killed, and killed again.
Suddenly, a pair of the spiders attacked from either
side. Being right-handed, Kozen managed to slay the one on that side
without much difficulty, but the other darted close and clamped onto his
left leg before he could react. As he stabbed down at that one, another
spider flew at him from behind and clambered straight up his pack. Its legs
nearly encircling his head, he felt it trying to get past the
obstructions--and into the back of his neck. The creature hissed angrily in
his ear.
Kozen had no choice. Without the time to look, he
could only hope he'd killed or disabled the one that had fell away from his
leg. He dropped the longsword and reached over his head with both hands,
grabbing at the soft, leathery body.
With little but his own fury and terror fueling the
effort, he ripped the Abomination free. Its mandibles snapped repeatedly at
his unprotected hands, and he knew he'd lose fingers if they got even close
to the noisome, grasping maw. Heedless of the danger and the pain stabbing
at his left leg, he dropped to his knees now. With all his strength, he
dashed the Abomination, this quintessence of wrongness, against the
rough stone.
Howling with inarticulate rage, Kozen slammed it down
again and again. The spider screeched back, struggling. Finally, its
bloated body burst, spilling its obscene guts out and over the side of the
boulder. They ran down the face of the rock, leaving trails of dark blood
and slime, steaming in the chill air.
Kozen didn't even realize it was his own voice still
ringing in his ears, nor that he had shouted himself hoarse. Instead, he
scrabbled blindly about himself for his sword, eyes otherwise seeking for
the next assault. His groping fingers found his sword, the hilt slick with
blood--his own or that of the monsters, he did not know nor did he care.
Gripping the weapon tightly, he staggered to his feet again, nearly spent
but ready nonetheless.
The attack didn't come. The last of them? he
wondered.
He waited for nearly a minute to be sure, breathing
heavily, but it seemed to be so.
Wearily, Kozen eased himself down from the boulder. He
could hardly walk for the exhaustion though, and the leg wound, so he moved
just a short distance away and leaned against another granite boulder.
Watching carefully for movement from the corpses, he
surveyed the carnage around him with tired eyes, red-rimmed from lack of
sleep. He counted over twenty of the black-and-orange spider bodies in a
circle roughly centered on the slab, most motionless but some few yet
twitching. This wasn't counting the two he'd slain before reaching his
unwise perch.
Needless to say, he also kept watch for more of the
Abominations, but fortunately none came.
The late afternoon sun, now only a few handspans above
the western horizon, cast lengthening shadows from the jumbled stones and
hacked spider corpses across the barren ground. There was a chill bite to
the stiffening breeze from that direction, and although only a few clouds
marked the reddish sky, the air felt humid and heavy with the promise of the
coming autumn rains.
Kozen would've preferred to get much further away from
the scene of this latest ambush as quickly as possible. However, the
stabbing pain in his leg, as well as the squish of blood in the bottom of
his left boot, told him he'd better deal with this more urgent matter first.
He set down his longsword, point resting in the dirt
and hilt within easy reach, before drawing a dagger from his belt. The
brown cotton cloth of his breeches, in addition to being badly stained was
now also tattered, with a long rent at the thigh. It only took a few cuts
to trim back the fabric, exposing the largest of the wounds.
No doubt about it--this would have be dealt with before
he could go anywhere. A chunk of skin and muscle had been bitten right out
of his leg, about two inches long by one wide, and deep. Very nearly a
puncture wound, which were the worst with respect to risk of festering. It
actually looked like it ought to be stitched. However, he didn't have a
steel needle nor the boiled cotton thread necessary, since those had been
lost with the majority of his belongings outside Pala, almost a month ago.
He could only hope the spiders' bites weren't
envenomed, because it would be several hours before he could reach the
village to the south. He wasn't even sure they'd have a decent herbalist.
Going north again was out of the question, obviously, since he'd only be
turned back once more.
For a time there back at the border, earlier in the
afternoon, Kozen had believed the guards would let him pass through to
Hest. Thus would begin the exile he'd assumed was the intended punishment
for his crimes. First exiled from the eyes of my god, then from the
kingdom of my birth, Kozen thought. Wasn't that what he had in
mind? What can he want?
Unlimbering the small pack slung across his back, Kozen
slipped it out from under his woolen cloak. At least this time his right
shoulder only twinged--the dislocation he'd suffered during the attack of
the were-bear was almost fully healed, and today's workout didn't appear to
have done it too much additional harm. It would be sore tomorrow, he was
certain, but hoped that would be all.
He untied the leather thongs holding the piece of
oilskin he'd used as impromptu water-proofing over the cloth pack. The
weather a few hours earlier had looked distinctly threatening and the last
thing he'd needed was to have his remaining meager supplies soaked and
ruined by another of the early autumn rainstorms, icy with the presage of
coming winter. Rummaging through the contents, looking for the squares of
clean muslin he knew were down in there somewhere, Kozen scratched at his
bearded chin with his free hand.
Near the bottom, under a spare shirt, he finally found
the folded squares of cloth, and two long strips of lightly cured leather.
After washing out the wound with as much water as he dared spare from his
waterskin--roughly half the amount left to him--he then secured the muslin
pad as best he could. The pain was considerable, and he groaned aloud as he
cinched down the leather strips.
Getting his pack roughly organized once more, Kozen
then wiped clean his longsword on a nether fold of his cloak and resheathed
it. Finally, he put away the dagger. The latter weapon was the same plain,
unadorned dagger, he remembered now, that he'd used to kill the bear-like
Abomination.
Despite having kept up with his sword form exercises
even after joining the priesthood, Kozen still knew he was badly out of
practice. Otherwise, he wouldn't have been that far forward over his right
leg, off-balance and prone to exactly the grabbing attack the bear creature
had made. It ignored thrust sword, batting it away. Then, it grabbed his
forearm with its oversized prehensile-fingered paws and would not let go.
All that saved him was the ursinoid apparently hadn't seen the dagger in
Kozen's left hand, concealed behind his back. After it drew him in, the
fight quickly became contest. A race between the bear's ability to crush
him into unconsciousness and thence to death, and Kozen's rapidly flagging
attempts to drive that dagger up into the thing's heart. He won, but only
by a little.
He’d done better today, but the effort still hadn’t
been up to his former skills with the longsword. Shaking his head, Kozen
decided to add evening practice sessions and sword forms to the half hour
he'd already been spending on these in the mornings. Such ought to help
strengthen his still-healing shoulder, too. It'd be better if he'd had a
sparring partner, but he knew he might just as well have wished to be twenty
years younger and still in good graces with king and church. He'd find a
way to make do.
And a mere month after the bear, then came the
climbing snakes, he remembered. Those he'd encountered outside Pala, a
month later, when he was camped near a lowland pond. A huge swarm of snakes
swarmed into his small camp just as bold as you please, taking no notice of
his campfire nor the blazing brands he waved to try to drive them off.
There looked to be thirty or forty of them, each as thick around as his
wrist.
Initially, he climbed a cypress tree to try to escape
what he'd thought initially was just some bizarre species of marsh-snake
he'd never encountered before. However, Kozen soon saw the snakes were
equipped with stubby, fur-covered legs, and claws sharp enough to grip
bark--and that's when he'd realized he was facing Abominations again. He
escaped them, narrowly, but at the cost of his horse and nearly everything
he owned. The pack Kozen now slung on his back, his sword and dagger, the
clothes on his back, and a small purse of money at his belt were all that
remained to him after that night.
Afterwards, he'd fled northward, until finally reaching
this place, just south of the border between Telaria and Hest.
He ran a hand wearily through his sweat-dampened hair.
It was already an inch or two longer than had been regulation in the Royal
Guard and the general rule by unspoken convention in the Church. The
salt-and-pepper beard, just now thick enough to change the contours of his
features somewhat, still itched; it also went against normal regulation and
convention, not to mention his own preferences.
I'm not bound by those rules anymore, Kozen
thought. Or any regulation, rule, or law ever written.
The idea was hardly a consolation, but it was also just
about the only upside he could think of for the sentence of Excommunication:
There was literally nothing he could do to make it worse.
Nor am I protected by those laws either...
That, of course, was the rub. As an outlaw, he could
be robbed, assaulted, even killed, and the perpetrator would suffer no
penalty whatsoever. His killer could even end up rewarded.
What now? Kozen asked silently, and not for the
first time. Where can I go?
No answers, and the dead spiders still weren't talking.
Enough dawdling, he chided himself. Back to
the village then, if nowhere else.
Kozen pushed himself to his feet and reslung his pack
across his shoulders, under the tattered and stained cloak.
Picking his way slowly back toward the road, he noted
again that the land here was hard indeed, the sharp hills strewn with rocks
from some long-ago ice age, and useless for farming. The deeply rutted
track scarred the scrubby ground, heading straight as an arrow due north and
south. It almost ignored the contours of the hills entirely, as if the
people passing through here--those who'd made the road with the wheels of
their wagons and the hooves of their oxen, donkeys, and horses--had wanted
the trip to be as brief and uninteresting as possible.
Kozen took a deep breath, pinched the bridge of his
nose, and wiped sweat from his forehead with one sleeve. The perfect
place for a border between two kingdoms. No one wants it.
This was also why he'd tried to flee along this route,
of course. A shame it hadn't worked.
The poor but well-traveled road also explained the
three prosperous wainwright shops in the last Telarian village, two or three
leagues to the south. Although the village was small, the wainwrights
appeared to do a booming business in the repair of broken wagon brakes,
wheels, and axles. Likely there were similar shops doing just as well a few
leagues into Hest, for exactly the same reason, but Kozen wouldn't have a
chance to confirm this. Having alerted the squad of Elite guardsmen to his
presence near the border, they'd be certain to send runners and outriders
east and west from the post, just to ensure he didn't attempt to leave the
road and circle around.
They could be watching right now. I wouldn't even
know it.
He resisted the urge to search the scattered boulders
and hilltops, knowing the Elite would not be seen unless they wished to be.
If that happened, he was sure it would only be to finish what the monstrous
spiders had failed to accomplish.
Well, if they'd wanted him dead, he'd be dead. The
Elite were all but invincible. For whatever reasons, their orders seemed
not to include his demise, only a denial of permission to leave the
kingdom. Despite their flat, expressionless faces, Kozen had thought he'd
detected the slightest flicker of recognition in the brown eyes of one of
the youngest guard. Had the man known who he was, really? Had he guessed?
Not likely, Kozen decided. That one would've
been mere boy at the time of the Roan's Run massacre. No, probably they
were working from a description and a name, perhaps a rough drawing. He
could just imagine such orders: He'll be traveling alone. Goes by the
name Kozen Athesis, although since that name is known, he may be using an
alias. About six feet tall, average build, in his middle years. Brown hair
turning to gray, receding a little at the temples. Gray-green eyes, good
teeth. Talks like an educated man, but acts like a soldier--which he was,
once a Captain in the Royal Guard before resigning under questionable
circumstances some years ago. The education came from time spent in the
Holy Church, so he may be trying to pass himself off as a priest, if not as
a soldier or free mercenary. If you look closely, you may be able to
discern that there is something terribly wrong with him, that he lacks a
human soul…
Kozen shook his head. He didn't honestly believe this
last would be in the border guards' orders, but there would probably be
something in there to achieve the same effect. None would knowingly aid him
for fear of being sentenced to the same fate.
Outlawry and damnation everlasting.
Upon reaching the road, he glanced only briefly
northward, a sudden gust of breeze making him squint. No, can't go north,
he knew. South to Nara is out of the question as well, obviously.
Almost certainly can't buy passage on any ship on the Southern Sea, Leopold
will have seen to that. What's left?
That left only the west open to him--but that way lay
the direction he came from--back towards Eleahome. Kozen considered this,
scratching at his chin again. He really didn't like the new beard.
Could he go back? Right now, he was almost as far from
Eleahome as he could possibly be and still be in Telaria. It would be a
very long journey, taking months.
The current day, however, wasn't getting any longer,
and the wind was beginning to pick up, so Kozen resumed walking south on the
steep road. Almost absently, he was gratified to note that the spiders'
bites did not seem to have been envenomed. His leg, despite missing the
large chunk of muscle, held his weight just fine, even if it did hurt like
blazes as he climbed the first slope.
He picked up his pace, limping somewhat more
noticeably. The breeze at his back was stiffening further. It might rain
that very night, he decided, and he didn't want to get caught out in it.
Last thing he needed was a case of wet-lung to accomplish what the spiders
had failed to do.
Pain he could deal with. Besides, he now had an
interesting problem to entertain him during the hours it would take him to
reach the small Telarian village--provided he wasn't attacked again. It
would by dark by then, he knew, but the road was clear enough. Pulling his
swirling cloak a little tighter around himself as he walked, Kozen pondered
what he knew.
Hiking as rapidly as his damaged leg and state of
exhaustion would allow, he considered that less than an hour ago, he'd been
literally in the hands of King Leopold's Elite guardsmen, soldiers with the
reputation of being Honor and Loyalty personified. Their orders? Not to
kill him. Not to capture him and return him to Old Telaria, Eleahome, or
anyplace else. Not to hand him over to someone else who'd kill him. Their
only order apparently was to prevent him from leaving the kingdom. Why?
Either I know something potentially damning about Leopold, but I don't know
what it is--or I don't, but he thinks I do. But what? Kozen shook his
head. My every attempt to flee into exile is thwarted, while
coincidentally, these creatures--these Abominations from the Abyss--have
been harrying me across the length and breadth of the kingdom…
All the pieces fell together, all at once in a single
breathtaking instant, and Kozen also realized he'd known the full truth for
some time now. The thought he'd had when the spider Abominations first
attacked--I'm a dead man already, why does he keep trying to kill me?--hadn't
been random at all.
It was not a coincidence. None of it had been an
accident. More to the point, Leopold does have reason to want me dead,
but dares not act openly, he realized.
"What an utter and complete fool I've been," he said
aloud. "And blind as poxed beggar besides…"
For a long time, Kozen had concluded that the unwanted
attentions of these monstrous creatures were the direct result of the
Excommunication. After all, it seemed only natural that having been shriven
of his immortal soul, the attentions of these malign beings would be drawn
to him.
But no, this wouldn't have explained the first
Abomination, nearly five years ago--the pale, gibbering horror that had
appeared and quickly died on the steps of the church in Eleahome. That was
what set everything in motion. If not for that event, he wouldn't have been
seeking answers in the church's library, in the restricted sections.
The borders were closed to him because he knew
something that Leopold dare not let anyone else discover: The
Abominations belong to the king, and what's more, he's been using wizardry
to summon them. The proof likely lies somewhere in that library, and he
believes I found it. This is what he cannot allow to be revealed, else the
entire civilized world--all the nations and powers of Lunare--would rise up
to crush him. Even his own Bishopric Council would turn against him, as
would the generals and the nobles.
After the holocaust a thousand years ago, a complete
and total ban on all wizard-related magic was the only thing the nations and
powers of the crescent-shaped continent that comprised the known world had
ever all agreed upon. Knowledge of how wizards' powers worked had been
utterly eradicated. To say today that such magic was forbidden would have
been an understatement. It had become unthinkable.
When caught in his illicit research, Kozen had as yet
discovered little to assuage his previously roused suspicions, however.
Just the usual censored and heavily redacted books and scrolls about the
wars, a few names and battles, and not much more. But why was almost
everything known and recorded about Leopold and his line of ancestors, going
all the way back to Willem, in the restricted section as well? Was that
what he feared?
Trudging downhill now, feeling a bolt of pain in his
wounded leg with every stride, Kozen watched his lengthening shadow keep
pace to his left. Abruptly, he barked laughter. The sudden sound startled
a trio of grackles supping on some unseen carrion in the brambles alongside
the road ahead.
"I don't know why he bothers--even if I somehow got an
audience with the Emperor himself, no one would believe me. I have no
proof!"
On the other hand, King Leopold obviously believed that
Kozen had the evidence, concealed somewhere perhaps--and hence the
Excommunication. Would that only it were so! With evidence in hand,
things would be so much easier.
Was Leopold hoping then that Kozen would eventually
lead him to this supposed proof? It seemed likely.
The grackles, fluttered their small black wings as they
circled back to return to the dinner and cawed their agreement. At least,
that was how it sounded to Kozen.
A shame, he had no proof of anything, not one shred of
evidence to support his accusations. In time, the Telarian monarch would
bring ruin down on everyone. And eventually, the Abominations would
accomplish what Leopold apparently either would not or could not order
openly, namely Kozen's demise. That left only one option remaining to him,
to attempt to deal with Leopold on his own.
Deal with Leopold myself? Kozen snorted, coming
momentarily to a halt.
Well, why not? What do I have to lose?
Absolutely nothing.
Furthermore, he now realized that the answers were back
in Eleahome after all, as his intuitions had already tried to suggest.
Besides the library, he might just be able to find one who could help him
with this improbable quest. His lead for that consisted only of a rumor,
but it was better than nothing.
Shrugging, he pushed himself back into motion, resuming
the hike south towards the village. Despite the pain, the injured leg
continued to bear his weight well enough, and the bandage seemed to be
holding. The breeze, still blowing at his back, became increasingly chilly
as the sun began to slip below the western horizon. Nevertheless, Kozen
barely noticed any of these things, as his mind turned upon the
possibilities, like a child trying to unlock a puzzle-box. It felt good to
be doing something positive for a change.
It was almost enough to make a man forget he was
irrevocably damned.
(Copyright 2005, all rights reserved. Duplication, retransmission, or
alteration without permission is prohibited.)
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