This chapter has been modified for Wattpad, and will be different from the one in the published book.
***
They say that, when two beings are linked together by the mind, dreams and memories become mixed. Two become one at the thought level. Two become one, two souls in one body. Hopefully for this person, two souls work together in symbiosis.
Jessamine Alverre, A Treatise on Mental Processes, Vol. 5
***
Laidu sat bolt upright, grasping at his neck, painfully awake.
Everything was silent, save for his ragged breath. Karik'ar sat on a stump, by a now-dead fire, giving Laidu a strange look in the full moon. "Just a bad dream," Laidu said, trying to rein in his breathing.
But it hadn't been. It wasn't just a bad dream. She had been in it. Kyra. Bathing in a moonlit pool, she had invited him in. He had joined her, kissed her, felt her silky-smooth skin, and had turned her around after she had begged him with animalistic desire to take her.
And when he did, he was met with gore. Her body had been ripped apart. Laidu had seen the splintered ends of shattered ribs poking out like white daggers. Blood soaked into the pristine pool, staining everything red, and the dream had turned worse. Kazalibad was there, cackling, saying that Laidu had killed his mate. And he did.
The dream had changed. He hadn't kissed her neck, he bit into her throat. He hadn't stroked her skin, but raked his claws and tore her flesh. She didn't moan with desire, but scream in pain, and Laidu just kept going.
He felt...disgusted. Dirty. Like he was stained by that dream. He wasn't sure of himself afterwards. What kind of monster was he to see something like that? To have that in his head? To dream of it?
"Just a bad dream." It was a lie he wished so desperately was true.
"A bit of an understatement," Karik'ar said. "I could see it in your soul. Dreams usually appear like little bubbles on the surface of a pond. Not a whirlpool."
Laidu sighed. "I think it has to do with the voices," he said.
"I saw them too. Like clouds, torn apart, stretched thin. I've seen similar things before." He sighed. "You're going through a trial. A reckoning of spirit and mind. And while it is yours to prevail in, if you need help, if you need someone to talk to, I hope you consider me."
Laidu was stunned. "Thank you," he said after a while. "You want me to take over watch? I'm not going back to sleep any time soon."
"Yes, that would be nice." Karik'ar rose from the stump and trudged over to his bedroll, next to Skaria and Thaen. Odd, the two of them had grown rather close rather quickly. "Anything else before I fall asleep?"
"Yes," Laidu said. "What you offered me, I want to extend to you. If you need to talk, talk to me."
Karik'ar nodded. "Of course. Thank you."
Laidu rose, stretched, and sat himself down on the log. Indra turned in her sleep, her jet-black hair spilling onto the dirt. Thaen murmured something as Karik'ar sat on his bed, the massive Kai'Draen preparing to sleep.
And then there was Kyra.
She was beautiful, peaceful and asleep, her chest rising and falling evenly. She was alive. Alive, and not ripped apart and mangled like that dream.
How could he dream of her, how could he think of her like that? He felt sick, physically sick, at those thoughts. What was wrong with him? Why in the world would he dream of that?
Because you are sick, Kasran said. You're sick, twisted, and blackened on the inside. What did you expect? You're a monster, kid, and you're just like us. Go. Take her. You'll love the feel of her screaming under you. Admit it, you liked that dream, liked the taste of her blood, liked the feel of her body. Admit it.
Kasran's voice kept screaming at him, telling him to give in, to become the monster. Rhaem tried to cheer him up, but the cheer of his voice was quickly drowned out by the venom of Kasran's snarls. Why fight it? Why fight your nature?
Because those who don't fight their nature are doomed to be a slave to it, Laidu said. I was a slave once, and I'll die before I shackle myself. He had seen those who were slaves to their own nature, those who said they couldn't help it. Little more than animals. He had felt bad for beating those men, but he had done it to stop them.
Of course, there was one person, one woman ironically, he never felt guilty about hurting. She had deserved it, and men better than he would have killed her. Terror surged through him as one thought, dark and frightening, crossed his mind. He wasn't becoming like her, was he?
No. No, he couldn't. If he did... He had powers. He had strength. And while that woman, while that demon in human flesh had prestige and status, he had a different kind of power. He would be worse. He could heal faster, but not from death. Should he give in, should he lose his mind, he knew what his last lucid moment would be.
He would end his own life.
Better for him to die, rather than for him to hurt anyone. He had hurt Thaen once by accident. He had hit Kyra in an act. If he really hurt them, if he really hurt her, he couldn't live with himself. Then, he would be the monster that Kasran said he was.
So Laidu, with a madman screaming in his head, did the only thing he could think of; he prayed. He bowed his head, lacing his fingers together, and quieted his soul.
When he talked to God, Laidu felt uncomfortable asking the All-Seeing, All-Knowing, All-Strong Creator of the Universe for anything. Begging, he thought, didn't fit God. Not that Laidu believed that requests dishonored Him, but Laidu didn't want to bother Him with pleas that, in the scope of the universe, were meaningless.
Now, he did. Kasran ranted, screamed, and mentally thrashed, and Laidu calmly asked, supplicated, and begged God for wisdom, to show him the path that He meant for Laidu. For to the God of everything, even monsters were His children.
Kasran shouted and ranted, and Laidu tried to focus on drowning him out. He was ranting on about God, uttering foulest blasphemy, screaming and raving. He gritted his teeth, and forced his will against Kasran.
He felt someone touch his back, someone put an arm around his shoulder; Karik'ar. The Kai'Draen held him, and Laidu felt the warrior's forehead against his, joining him in prayer. "Thank you," Laidu breathed out. Karik'ar nodded.
Laidu finished his prayer, opened his eyes, and grimaced. "You alright?" Karik'ar asked.
Kill him. Taste his blood.
"No," Laidu said with a hiss. "The voices. They're..."
"May I try to help?" Karik'ar asked. Laidu arched an eyebrow. "I can try to calm your troubled mind, but I need your compliance."
"Why?" Laidu asked.
"If I try to force my way into your mind," Karik'ar said, "I could hurt you. I could exacerbate the voices. Saying it helps prepare your mind, if you want."
"Oh." Laidu closed his eyes. Kasran was screaming, ranting, yelling for Laidu to rip Karik'ar's eyes out. "Please. Do it," he said.
"Alright." Karik'ar said. He drew closer to Laidu's head. "Three points of contact should do." Seeing Laidu's puzzled expression, he paused. "There are several symbolic areas or actions associated with the soul. Forehead to forehead implies mind to mind, thought to thought. Eyes, the window to the soul, is another one. And breath, for life." He frowned. "The only other ones I was taught was the throat and the tongue, the centers of willpower and art, but I'd rather not connect those together."
"Uh, yeah," Laidu said. "Just...what are you going to do?" he asked. Kasran was trying to drown out Karik'ar's voice, but imaginary sounds couldn't completely mute real ones. It came close, and that worried Laidu.
"Enter your mind, in layman's terms. I've done it before, and just so you know, it can be very disorienting."
"But will it help with the voices?"
"Probably. Don't try to fight, don't try to resist. Relax, experience, and it will go easy." Karik'ar gently grabbed Laidu's horns, the ones that jutted out to the side, and positioned his head so that their foreheads touched. "I guess I'm not going to sleep so quickly."
"Sorry," Laidu said, staring the Kai'Draen in the eye.
"Don't be. I don't do this often -only ever done it to two people- so know that I think you'll need this. One less hour of sleep won't hurt me." He paused. "Now, exhale, and do exactly as I say."
Laidu breathed out. "Focus on my eyes. Stare," Karik'ar said. Brown eyes met amber. "Stare." In the pits of the deep brown, Laidu thought he saw light. It grew and grew, blossoming into a shimmering, ever shifting glow, changing color at will. "See the light. Stare in it." It was so soft, so welcoming. He could feel something. And while Kasran ranted and raved, Laidu slowly slid into some strange, euphoric trance. The light, the only thing that captivated him.
"Now," said the voice of the light, "we begin." And the world vanished.
***
It was a place of pure spirit, a place where time and space had lost all meaning. A place where ideas had more control than reality. A never-place.
"Death! I'll kill them all! I'll bathe in their blood and drink their tears! I'll feast on their bones! I'll devour flesh until all is dead, and then I shall devour the world!" These were said, but not heard. In this world, ears had no use, sound had no meaning. But though not heard, others comprehended.
Hush now.
Words, once empty, now fraught with meaning, began to assemble together. Fragments of sensation, of warmth and smells of rot and water, wove about him, as time and space began to form in a world they never existed in, a world with no need for sound or light.
It was a past-intrusion, a tear, an etching in the facet of this world. It was an invasion of the real world, the Real Place.
A memory.
***
Laidu remembered.
He remembered the sun upon his skin, the warmth of the summer day soaking into his bare back. He lay on one of the few grassy knolls not covered by the dense swamp trees, one of the few that was dry. He let he scents of nature, of warmed earth and grass, fill his nostrils. He let himself be, simply laying and taking in sensory data.
He wasn't supposed to be there. A young man of thirteen summers should have been with the other boys, sporting or hunting. Not meditating. That was for one of the Flameborn castes to do, not a warrior Earthenborn. Laidu was Steelborn, one of three Earthenborn, so he should have been training to fight, to hunt. He should have been testing his might against one of the Tuskborn, trying to subdue one of his tribesmates. But the young Kai'Draen didn't feel like it.
Instead, he lay, sunning himself, drying off after a short swim. His bow quiver lay to the side; Laidu had discarded those so they didn't get soaked when he dove. Wet arrows were unworkable, and getting the longbow damp was sure to ruin it. So Laidu lay there, letting the sun dry off his red skin, resting while his tribesbrothers of Red Claw prepared their games and fights, trying to outwrestle each other, to outrace each other, to outjump each other, to impress some of the girls.
Even for the deadly swamp, it was peaceful for Laidu, for a young Kai'Draeni boy. Especially one with a spirit friend.
"It's kind of pretty here," the young lady said. She wasn't Kai'Draen. Human? Her thin frame was taller than Laidu's. "You found this place?"
"You're not real," Laidu said with a groan.
"I'm not material," the woman said indignantly. "Doesn't mean I'm not real." She sighed. "And will you please sit up? Just because you're lazy doesn't mean you can't talk to me like a normal person."
Laidu sat up. "What do you want?" he asked.
"Talk." She brushed against him as she moved, and he felt her, as if she actually weighed something. Her dress, made of some soft, unknown material, was smooth against Laidu's red skin. He wore a dhoka, a large loincloth made of rendered chilog hide, fitting for the tribes of his swamp. Refining chilog hide made it slightly softer than the coarse fabric used for building, but it was nowhere near as soft and luxurious as the slip the imaginary woman wore. "Tell me of this place."
"I found this place a while back. Seeing as it's a hill, not too hidden."
"That's boring," the young woman said. "What does this place mean?"
"Hmm." Laidu paused. "Fresh flowers and grass. A nice place to dry after swimming." He paused. "Freedom."
"There." She smiled. "Now, that's better. Call me...Cure-All. Panacea." She smiled. "It's what I do. You made me, but I never knew your name. What is it?" She started to vanish, like mist, until she was gone, like every other time she appeared.
"Karik," Laidu answered to the empty air. Both were his names, somehow.
***
Back to that place, to that limbo that nothing real could touch. They drifted, alone, two yet one, then three, then more.
"I shall rule, and you can't tell me what to do! Who do you think you are? I have power here, not you!" The words, though without sound, were not strong, not foundation-stone-strong. They were weakened, flawed. Uncertainty flawed them.
Cease now.
Another broken-place, another breach in the seamless never-was-world. A memory. Of stones and caves, of dampness and loneliness.
Another memory.
***
Karik'ar remembered.
He remembered screams wakening him, his own screams. Every shadow of his small room was a monster, every shift in the light was another fiend, waiting, waiting for the right moment to pounce.
There were footsteps outside his room. Karik'ar pulled the covers closer, over his scaled body, as if to try to hide what he couldn't. He couldn't hide the monstrosity he was. Horns, and scales, weren't supposed to be stuck on a human form.
His door opened, and a familiar figure entered. The man who called himself Father, the man named Dai Lan. Why he'd call himself "father" of a hideous grotesque beast, Karik'ar didn't know.
"Laidu, you alright?" he whispered.
"No, Daddy," Karik'ar said. He was only eight winters old, approximately. Nightmares still scared him. "Don't go," he said.
Dai Lan shook his head. "I won't." He moved over, wrapping his arms around Karik'ar. Karik'ar did the same, desperately clinging to his father as if Dai Lan was a life raft in a storm.
Gently, Dai Lan let go of his son. "Try to go back to sleep," he advised.
"Don't leave," Karik'ar said, pulling on his father's robe tighter. "The monsters will come back. They'll say I'm like them."
Dai Lan shifted, before sitting down on his son's bed. "Laidu, listen to me." He put a reassuring arm around Karik'ar. "Why did they call you a monster?"
"Look at me," Karik'ar said.
"No." Dai Lan pulled his son in closer. "Monsters exist. And there's a monster in here," he said, pointing to his own heart. "And in here," he said, pointing to Karik'ar's chest.
"But you know what? God put heroes in there too." He smiled. "The hero and the monster, battling for you," he said.
"Which one wins?" Karik'ar asked.
"Which one you help. Fight the monster with light, with forgiveness. See the bad things you've done, admit them to yourself, to God, and they'll lose power over you." He paused. "Or do the bad deeds, and ignore the good, even when your conscience wants you to do it. Take the easy way, not the right way." He paused. "It's not horns or scales that make you a monster. You choose to become that."
Karik'ar looked at him. "Don't go."
"I won't." Dai Lan sat there, silent for a bit, just holding his son. "I had a dream from God. I saw you."
"Oh?"
"You were grown up, tall and strong. Shadows tried to pull you down, and you almost let them, you almost believed. But then you taught the shadows how to shine, and you both flew higher than the sun rising."
"Oh," Karik'ar said. "Thanks."
Soon, he was asleep again.
***
The place was different now. It wasn't brighter, or full of more color; light and hue had no meaning in this world. But atmosphere, vague feelings and thoughts, those were of permanence here.
"I'll not be stopped. He's mine, mine forever and will be mine. Eventually, he'll lose control. Eventually, he'll surrender to me."
Release him.
The world shook, not with motion, but with dread, dread that had become more real than matter or sensation. The world shook, and it all changed. Fire and rage and power poured in, mere ideas blossoming into life.
A memory.
***
Karik'ar adjusted the sand-veil around his head, which was especially difficult given the horns that jutted out. The dragon Changed of nineteen summers paused, before wiping some sand off of his arms. He had learned that sand got everywhere, and it tended to stick in between the crevices of some of his plate-like scales.
He entered the small palace, ducking the small doorways. Even young as he was, he was still taller than most people. Sometimes that was useful, when he had to intimidate people, but in this case... his horns kept catching on some of the ornaments that hung from the ceiling.
"Ah, the foreigner," he heard a loud voice say inside, in Common tongue. Karik'ar stepped into the main chamber. Dozens of tapestries and carpets covered the walls in an attempt to show off the power and prestige of the sultan. "Please, come closer. Let me see you." He sat, couched in flowing swaths of silk. A few viziers and advisers surrounded him, standing a ways off. They weren't terribly distracting. The three ladies, all dressed in the revealing outfit of the sia'alaat dancers, reclining at the sultan's fat feet, were much more distracting.
Karik'ar stepped forward, in the small pool of light cast by hundreds of candles, feeling self-conscious about the scales and horns. "Well, when my viziers said you were uglier than a leper, they didn't lie." The sultan himself was by no means a handsome man. What skin that showed through the voluminous silk robes (designed to cover his corpulence, no doubt) was swarthy and sweaty. "Yet it is not ugliness that led you here."
"It really wasn't any trouble," Karik'ar said. "Sir."
"Respectful, too." The sultan paused. "Yet you said it was no trouble," he said. "What country do you hail from? What land has raised a mighty warrior?"
"Ten-Zuan, Your Excellency." Your Excellency was how one addressed a sultan, Your Grace for a satrap, and Your Highness for a king in this country. And no one addressed the emperor directly.
"The Rebel Kingdom? The one that the Empire of Qin failed to conquer?"
"Yes. That one." Karik'ar nodded. "Sir."
"I should have thought. I have heard mountain air is most invigorating. Though I have never heard of it bestowing enough vigor for one to singlehandedly defeat seven marauders."
"I have had some training," Karik'ar admitted.
"And there are dozens of parents who wish to thank you by proxy." The sultan smiled. "Several of their daughters would have been carried off." He turned. "How can I reward you? Anything but the sultanate, of course. A night with my harem? A thousand khanjars of gold?"
His first offer was tempting, but Karik'ar remembered Dai Lan's advice on women. "Actually, I have a bit of a strange request."
"If it is within my power, I shall grant it," he said. "Please, tell me."
"I had a dream, where my God warned me of a trial I shall go through, where I was dressed with riches and finery, yet I had set my blade aside in a casket of sand. I passed through a fire, and though I was unharmed, my fine clothes were burnt. Yet, my sword wasn't touched." He undid the baldric, and held the sheath out. "Please, safeguard this, let me stay for the night, and possibly give me a new weapon."
"Of course." The sultan barked that order. "What is your name, so we can return it for you when you come to collect it?"
"Tsung," Karik'ar said. "Laidu Tsung."
***
The world shook, warped, as if in pain. Yet again, it shook in ideal feelings, not in empirical data. This was the soul, he realized, but not his soul. Whether he was Karik'ar or Laidu, he couldn't tell. For both had mingled and joined.
"You can't do this to me! I'm my own man, and he's mine. He takes my birthright, my power, my inheritance, and he defiles them!" His voice was weak.
Rest, now. Be calm.
Sickness, rage, and hope flooded into the world as another partition opened. Yet another memory.
***
Laidu remembered.
He remembered staring at Skaria as she shuddered, sick of whatever that baron had poisoned her with. Tucked under the sheets, she thrashed, delirious in her fever dream. Laidu sat next to her, his bulky Kai'Draen body too big for the chair.
Her eyes opened, and through the fever haze, Laidu could see a hint of lucidity. "I lost it," she moaned softly. "I...I know what the sickness does," she said. "I can feel it working in me. Twisting me, hurting me," she said. "I can't eat, can't piss, and..." she gritted her teeth. "The cramps..."
"Rest," Laidu said.
"I can't have kids," Skaria said. "I mean, I don't want them now, but what if I did? What if I wanted to start a family? I can't now."
Laidu didn't say anything. He simply held her hand until she fell asleep.
It hurt him, to see someone he loved hurt. He loved Skaria, but not with the fire of romance. They had a different bond, one of earth, solid and strong. She was khokani, sister. She was family. Even when her friend died, and Laidu froze, overcome by fear and indecision, she still took him in.
"Panacea," he whispered. "Can you heal her?"
Panacea materialized next to him. She didn't have to be breathed out when only the two of them were talking. "I'm afraid not. If I tried, I could kill her, cause her womb to become toxic, or worse."
"Worse?" Laidu asked.
"Yes." Panacea looked at him. "She could give birth, but have a child so deformed it wouldn't survive outside the womb for more than minutes." Panacea sighed, "Maybe afterwards. If we learn more, if you study, if we both learn more, we might be able to help."
Laidu nodded, and rose. "You can go now, rest." Panacea nodded and vanished. He leaned over, kissed Skaria on her burning-hot forehead, and walked out.
He marched through the house, heading down two flights of stairs into the hot, sweltering forge room. He could hear metal being pounded. "Caedak," he said. "CAEDAK!"
The Kai'Draen looked up. "What do you want, Karik'ar?"
Laidu looked around. "Do you know where I can get a book on medicine?"
Caedak paused. "Why?"
"One of my sendings, sorry, my altersouls wants it."
"The healer?" Caedak asked.
"Yes."
Caedak paused. "Three levels down, there's an old bookstore that might be able to help you." He fished some coins out of his pockets and tossed them to the younger Kai'Draen. "Remember, keep your cloak on."
"Yes sir," Laidu said. He didn't want to be identified in case Algror was still in Saefel Aedhin. He'd rather not have to fight an assassin. But he'd do anything for Skaria.
See? Panacea whispered into his mind. Now you have something to fight for!
***
The immaterial world had changed. That which had been disjointed, while not completely back n place, were moving towards a happy medium. The others had joined them, and it was quite crowded. He could feel their presence.
"Why are they here? What are you trying to do?" The voice was panicking now. "Get them away from me! Stop! Why are you doing this to me?"
Fuse.
There was pain, screaming that shook the nonexistent walls of this world. And then, silence. And light.
A memory.
***
Karik'ar remembered.
He remembered a small house in Monata, one that his friend Iako showed him into. His house. Gial, Raddas, and him stepped in. Iako had mentioned he wanted his wife to meet his other members
The first thing he remembered was Iako's wife. She must have been a jellyfish in the same way Iako was a shark. A pale, creamy white with red stripes, her skin was faintly translucent. She was, for a Tethyd, quite pretty, and wore a patterned gown. Medaella, Karik'ar remembered her name.
And around her feet was their son, Kalako. He was odd-looking. If a jellyfish and a shark had a hypothetical child together... wait, no, they actually did have a child together. In most respects, he took after his father, though his hue and a few patches of slightly transparent skin came from his mother. He gave Karik'ar a lopsided grin. "You're that guy my dad talks about!"
"You talk about me?" Karik'ar asked Iako.
"To my son? Yes." Iako rolled his eyes. "Come in."
He led his companions to a table low to the ground, with cushions around it. Numerous dishes of cooked fish and what looked like salads made from seaweed covered the table. Karik'ar sank down into one of the cushions, and Kalako sat next to him. "Kal, you better not talk his ear off," Medaella said. "Please, everyone else, sit. I spent a while preparing all this food." She blessed the food quickly, and they began to dig in.
"I met a Tethyd lady once," Gial said. "Complained about other women being 'docile' as she put it."
"'Docile?' Hardly." Medaella smiled. "I enjoy cooking. Though I don't know why I needed this much food."
"He's why," Iako said, pointing to Karik'ar. The dragon Changed had already scarfed down half of one platter of fish, and was attacking the other half. "Eats like a draft horse."
"Yeah," Karik'ar admitted.
"May I ask you a question?" Gial asked. Before they even answered, he spoke again. "Every Tethyd couple I've seen...well, they tend to be similar. Why not you? How did you meet?"
Raddas looked like he was about to smack Gial, but Medaella laughed. "Don't hit him for that, I don't mind sharing. But Kalako, can you go up to your room?" Her son made a face, but marched up. She poked her husband. "You see, when Iako was younger, maybe sixteen, he tried to style himself as a tough man, acted like he was a bit of a... what's the word?" she asked her husband.
"Common tongue doesn't have one for that." He shrugged. "Braggart, playboy, and macho all rolled into one." He rolled his eyes. "I wanted to bed a girl and brag to my friends."
"Really?" Raddas admitted. Iako never bragged. He was quite humble in his attitude around the training house.
"Yes," Iako said. "I met my dear at our library. She was fifteen, and I tried laying on the charm. Was an athlete, kinda smart, and pretty attractive at that age."
"Anyway," Medaella said, "he ended up one day suggesting we go somewhere a bit more private to..." She grimaced. "Aisle five in the library worked for him. We didn't get too far, as he forgot to check around. Turns out my father was in aisle six."
Karik'ar winced. "That must have been awkward." He forgot how...candid Tethyd could be.
"Yep," Iako said. "Her father was glad her honor was still intact, and he had a priest do a rite of separation. We weren't allowed to see each other for a year." He smiled. "Of course, we had a mutual friend. She carried letters between us. She'd write beautiful poetry. I'd scrawl a love letter, and she'd send it back pointing out my grammatical errors."
"Anyway," Medaella said. "A year passes, and at a dance, of course he asks me out. Rumors have been circulating that his friends teased and teased him about it, and he said he'd get me."
Iako shrugged. "I might have added a step to the plan. I'd her, and I did brag, but first we wed." He smiled.
Karik'ar smiled, but inwardly, he felt some jealousy. He wanted that, wanted a nice story like that for himself.
***
Laidu awoke, his face pressed against Karik'ar's shirt. He checked his face with his hands. Scaly, with horns. Good. He felt like he was back in his own body.
He shoved himself away from Karik'ar. "What...why..." he began to say.
"What did I do?" Karik'ar asked. "I connected our souls. And, since our sense of identity is more integral than our sense of memory, we experienced each others memories as ourselves."
"No, I was going to ask why you were holding me against your chest." Laidu said.
"Oh. You were convulsing. It's normal after a soul bond like such. I didn't want you to hit your head on a rock."
"I was convulsing?" Laidu asked.
"And drooling." Karik'ar pointed to a dark patch on the shirt. "Dragon slobber. Not too nice."
Laidu nodded. "Sorry." He stopped. "They shut up."
"They're still there," Karik'ar said. "I stabilized the voices. They were worse before, but not as powerful. As their stability grew, so did their influence. But their mental stability wasn't growing fast enough."
"I'm mad," Laidu said. "That's the short answer."
"No," Karik'ar said. "I've been in the minds of the mad. You're odd, though. You have both the traits of a whole and hale mind, and one that's quite diseased. Both at the same time." He sighed. "And that Tethyd family seems nice."
"Wait..." Laidu frowned. "You have my memories?"
"Some. As you have some of mine."
Laidu paused. "You Kai'Draen really need to learn to put more clothes on. Trousers at least."
"Trousers are, unfortunately, only used in conjunction with chilog saddle harnesses. And harnesses hurt when they pinch. Most Kai'Draen treat trousers, or any type of legging, with distrust." Somehow, Laidu already knew that. He looked back. "You should have had horses in Ten-Zuan."
"The ground was too rocky. If anything, the horse would slip and fall-"
"-and then it's a hundred foot drop down to the bottom." Karik'ar nodded.
Laidu frowned. "Are there any other side effects?"
"One possible one," Karik'ar said. "We may start sharing dreams for a short period of time."
"Dreams?" Laidu frowned. "That's physically impossible."
"The bonds of souls are not constrained by time or space." Karik'ar shrugged. "IT should go away within a fortnight."
Laidu nodded, and then a thought struck him. "You...you know about her."
Karik'ar looked at a sleeping Kyra. "Don't worry," he said. "Your secret's safe with me." He paused. "She should count herself lucky to have such an ardent admirer." With that, he sat down in his bedroll. "Good night. Keep a good watch."
Laidu nodded. Lucky? She may have been lucky if she reciprocated those feelings. But why would she? If he wasn't a monster, then he was just ugly.
"Oh," Karik'ar said. "Now, we're one step away from becoming...the closest translation would be 'soul brother.' I'd be honored to have you as one, Laidu."
Laidu smiled. That warmed him.
The night carried on, oblivious to the solitary man, sitting on a tree stump, staring up at the sky. The night did not see this man, but this man saw the night. He had seen it before, but it had been drowned out by a voice of rage. And now, with that voice quieted, he could truly see the night, and the stars, and the crickets, and every other speck of life.
Laidu exhaled, loud. It was a nice night.
I'm bored, Rhaem said with a mental yawn. Laidu sighed. They weren't gone. Just tamed. Rendered mostly harmless.
But that was enough for now.