How do they do it?
Eban glared at the two in front of him. Fair-haired, quick-tempered Glynn he knew as they had ridden together from Tir Brenin. The second man, Kael, he recognised as belonging to the troop they had joined with several days before. The man was a stranger to him, although the scar across his left cheek told Eban than Kael probably shared Glynn's punch-first-question-later approach. This spat had started over a seat by the fire, but it was only the latest symptom of the tension boiling between the two companies.
"Surely you know better," he muttered before he could stop himself. Mentally, he winced. I sound like mother. "We're only a few miles from the borders. There'll be plenty of time for fighting soon enough."
Thankfully, neither man had suffered anything worse than a few bruises and split skin that bled badly but was an easy fix. Nothing he could not handle, and nothing that would need time to heal correctly. Which meant that neither Corporal Kerr nor Corporal Gallia would need to know about it.
Glynn did at least have the grace to look sheepish as Eban healed him. Kael looked irritated at being dressed down by someone so much younger, but he received his healing without complaint and did manage a reluctant apology.
Glynn turned to Kael and held out a hand. "Truce?" he asked.
Kael nodded and reached out to clasp Glynn's hand in a gesture of acceptance. "I'd rather not be on the receiving end of another of your right hooks," he muttered.
"Kerr's coming," Arran called out. As Eban sorted out the combatants, Arran had stationed himself by the tavern's door. Cedric, making use of a life spent in inns, was charming the tavern owners, staff and patrons, convincing them to keep the events of the night to themselves. No one wanted the officers involved in the trouble. Unfortunately, the only currency Cedric had to offer by way of enticement was Eban. As a result, most of the inhabitants of the tavern were expecting some degree of Healing that night.
Who needs sleep anyway? Eban thought sourly.
Arran sprinted from the door, returning to the seat he had occupied before the fight broke out. Eban rushed the Healing of the most obvious injuries – the rest could wait until Kerr left. Cedric appeared at his elbow and passed a clean, damp rag to each of the men, who quickly did what they could to wipe the remnants of the fight from their faces and hide the evidence before Kerr appeared.
Kerr, frowning, stepped through the door to a scene of peaceful contemplation. He glanced around the room, his eyes sharp and searching. Over the past few weeks, Eban had come to respect the man. He was scrupulously fair in his decisions and, though he could be harsh in his judgements, he usually allowed some degree of leniency before drawing a line. Generally, that meant he did not care too much what his charges got up to, so long as it was not bad enough to find its way back to him.
Gallia, the corporal in charge of the second company, was entirely Kerr's opposite. Where Kerr treated everyone equally, Gallia had her favourites. Where Kerr's rules were consistent, Gallia's changed at her whim. And where Kerr would give anyone on the receiving end of one of his judgements a chance to explain themselves, Gallia would mete out punishments without caring about the circumstances.
Eban had take one look at Gallia and felt his hackles rise. Since then, he had done his best to stay away from the woman. The task had been complicated by the fact that Gallia had taken an interest in the young Healer powerful enough to save the Duke of Derwent. She had cornered Eban several times and tried to convince him to transfer to her company. Each time Eban had refused on the grounds than Kerr held his contract. Each time he refused he felt her anger grow. It was only a matter of time before something happened, but there was little Eban could do but try to avoid her.
Seeing Eban, Kerr moved into the tavern. "I heard that there was trouble brewing here. Is that true?" he asked, his eyes passing from Eban to Glynn to Kael, before moving on to the locals.
The soldiers were quick to make comments to the negative. The locals were slower, with several requiring pointed looks from Cedric before they held up their ends of the bargain.
Kerr did not look convinced, but he seemed satisfied that any trouble that may have occurred was now over. He nodded. "Very well," he said. "See that -"
"Oh, surely you're not going to let them off that easily," a snide voice said from the door.
Kerr's frown briefly deepened into a grimace before his face settled into careful neutrality as he turned to the door.
"Gallia, what a surprise. I thought you'd gone ahead to the encampment."
She sauntered in, her eyes flittering over each of the soldiers until they came to rest on Eban. "Interesting company you keep, Kerr," she said. "I would have thought you above befriending such mongrels."
Eban felt the anger rising in Glynn. He reached out, catching the man's hand against his dagger. Angry at being stopped, Glynn glared at Eban, but he released the hilt.
Unfortunately, Gallia had seen the movement. She strode up to Glynn, grabbed his tunic in her hand and pulled him nose to nose with her. "So, you think you have a chance against me, dog?" she asked. There was a purr to her voice that reminded Eban of the large nocturnal cats that lived in the forests near Whiting. They were big and strong enough to take down a deer, but you would never hear them coming.
Glynn swallowed audibly. "No, Corporal," he managed, his voice weak. Gallia's stare stayed on him a moment longer, and then she released him roughly enough to push him from his stool.
Something under the table caught Gallia's eye and she bent down. When she straightened again, a strip of red-streaked cloth was in her hand.
"You mentioned trouble, did you not?" she asked Kerr. "I think this is evidence enough for punishment." Gallia threw the cloth at Kerr.
Frowning with distaste, Kerr caught the bloodied rag. "I'm sure there's a reasonable explanation for this, Gallia, that does not require punishment." Kerr turned to Eban. "Well, lad? Have your services been required tonight?"
Gallia's eyes snapped to Eban, who did his best, again, to ignore her. "Yes, sir," Eban said, fighting to stay calm. "Glynn here was sharpening his dagger when the blade slipped. An unfortunate mishap with lots of blood, but easy enough to fix. He'll be more than capable of completing any weapon drill you throw at him tomorrow."
Kerr smiled and nodded, happy with Eban's excuse, but Gallia's eyes had narrowed. "You," she said to Kael, "You're in my company. Is this true?"
Kael was visibly nervous, and Eban could feel the man's fear. "Yes, ma'am," Kael said finally, his voice shaky. "The Healer speaks the truth."
"Saw it with my own eyes," said an elderly man close to Cedric. "Back in my day, soldiers knew how to sharpen knives properly. Guess you've learnt now too, haven't you, lad?"
Glynn, going slightly red with embarrassment, nodded.
"Very well, then," Kerr said, clearly eager to get this over with. "That's sorted then. He glanced around at the soldiers in the room. "Make sure you're all bright-eyed tomorrow morning. We'll be arriving at the main camp and, if any of you embarrass me, you'll be on latrine duties for the rest of your life."
Threats made, he caught Gallia's sleeve and drew her from the tavern. Everyone started to breathe again.
"Thanks," Glynn said. Kael and Eban nodded.
The elderly man came up to Eban, a grinning Cedric at his side. "And you thought my plan wouldn't work," Cedric said, winking at Eban.
Eban ignored his friend and instead studied his next patient. He had to stifle the laughter growing in his throat as he understood their amusement. The old man's eyes were filmed over with a thick layer of cataracts.
The Healing had, as Eban predicted, taken half the night. Still, it had been worth the loss of sleep. Many of his patients had had conditions that normally healing would never be able to cure. Thanks to him, and to Cedric and his over-ambitious plans, an old man could see again. That was worth something.
Eban wandered down the deserted streets of the town. He would need to head to the camp soon. He should get what sleep he could. Arran had said as much when he had parted ways with them at the tavern.
Eban was not ready to close his eyes. If, when, he did, the dream would start again, as it had done every night since he had started on his way from Tir Brenin. It would repeat, scene for scene, as it had every night since Tir Brenin. While he was grateful for the fact that some of the more brutal nightmares – dreams, whispered a voice in the depths of his consciousness – had stopped, there were only so many corridors ending in doors he could take.
The dreams had come every night for a week. He still could not say whether he wanted to find out what was on the other side of that door. His dreams were telling him something, he knew that, and they could be cryptic, but this was on another level. He just wished they would either make up their mind and show him what it was they wanted him to see or stop.
The night air was cool after the heat of the day and the thick, smoky air of the tavern. He breathed it in, taking in the scents around him. Animals, the smoke from dying cooking fires, grass and the sweet freshness of nightweed. Eban's eyes opened as he identified the last scent. A brief search showed him its source – a clump of the pale blue flowers grew at the base of one house. In the moonlight, the petals seemed to glow.
Taking the nightweed as a sign, Eban took the path that ran by them as the direction for his wandering. In the peace of the night, he felt some of the tension he had been carrying since Tir Brenin ease. He did not know if his father had received his message. He did not know if it had arrived in time to be of any use. He did not know if Owain's plan had been successful. Nathan's strong, Eban thought, he knows how to look after himself. He's fine. He'll be waiting at the encampment, ready to yell at you like mother did about how joining the army was a bad idea. He's fine.
Eban sighed. It did not matter how many times he thought it. He would not believe it until he saw the truth with his own eyes. Tomorrow. I'll know tomorr -.
Something hard and heavy slammed into him, knocking him to the ground. Instinct forced him to roll, which saved his shoulder most of the impact of the blow that fell against it. Eban rolled again and this time managed to find his feet. He came up in a crouch that brought him nose to nose with two iridescent eyes and a lot of sharp teeth.
Eban reacted on instinct. When you come face to face with a predator, never make the mistake of being prey. Elaine's words echoed through his mind as he bared his teeth and stared the animal down. Deep within him, his Wild magic stirred fully for the first time in months. He felt it take hold of his senses, making him faster and stronger and his nails longer and sharper. Sounds intensified as his hearing improved, and his pupils widened further than was possible for a normal human – even for any other mage type – to give him better night vision. His snarl deepened. It was instinct that told him when the creature hesitated, and it was instinct that brought his claw-like hands to wrap around the animal's throat. He squeezed, the pressure enough to make it clear who was in command. They stayed like that for a moment, both frozen in a silent battle of wills that could mean life or death, and then the animal purred its submission.
Eban released the cat carefully and slowly stood up. His eyes did not leave the creature, but now it was awe that kept him focused rather than survival.
"She's beautiful, isn't she?"
Eban's head cocked to one side in acknowledgement of the speaker, but he did not take his eyes from the cat.
"I didn't think ragged cats ventured this far north," Eban said. The cat bobbed his head at him, as if pleased to be recognised. She started to lick her paw, apparently no longer interested in Eban now that it was clear he was not food. Eban swallowed when she flexed her claws. Long and sharp enough to be mistaken for knives, they had given the cats their name – ragged remains were all that was left of their prey. A glint of scarlet caught the moonlight just before the cat licked the claw clean. Eban did not need to look at his shoulder to know the source of the blood.
"This one does." Gallia came into view, her hand reaching out nonchalantly to rest against the massive feline head. She studied Eban, her eyes mirroring the assessing look the cat had given him minutes before. Do not be prey, Eban thought, squaring his shoulders.
"I'll admit, I'm surprised. I didn't think you'd survive Oscia's attack."
Eban's eyes fists clenched. "What do you want, Gallia?"
She smiled, unphased by his sharpness. "Do your friends know of your Wildness, Eban dear?" her smile widened, showing far too many teeth. "Does your darling Kerr?"
"If you're threatening me, you should know I'm more than willing to bring you down with me," Eban said.
"Oh, don't worry, lad, you'd know if I was threatening." She laughed; the sound was harsh on the still night air. "I merely want you to understand what you're missing by not joining my company. Wild mages should stick together. The world can be so unpleasant for a Wild mage on their own."
"I am hardly on my own, Gallia."
She sighed. "So stubborn." She studied him carefully, her expression serious for once. "There are people who want to help us, Eban. People who will give us the freedom to be ourselves and to live in a world where Wild mages are as valued as Healers and Manipulators." She nodded at him, her smile returning. "You've found your place as a Healer. Wouldn't you like to be able to show your Wild magic as well, and to be accepted?"
"That sounds like a nice dream," Eban said, "but I'm waiting for you to tell me what it would cost."
"Smart, aren't you? There'll be a place for you if you agree." Gallia sighed when Eban's glare remained. "All you'd have to do is shift your allegiances from one king of Ferann to another."
"Adair is not dead yet, Gallia. Suggesting otherwise is treason."
"Treason's such an ugly word, Eban. So closed-minded. Adair is old. It won't hurt to earn a little bit of credit with the prince before his coronation."
All he had wanted to do was go for a walk. How did he end up discussing treason with a Wild mage who clearly had a rather loose grip on reality?
Desperate to get away from her, Eban sighed. "Perhaps you have a point. I'll think over what you said."
Gallia smiled sweetly. "That's all I ask, lad."
Eban nodded. Not sure he should push his luck with her, he tried anyway. "Do me a favour, Gallia?"
Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. "What?"
"Keep Oscia away from any human prey. The last thing we need is a Wild hunt."
"Oh, don't you worry about that. Everyone in my company knows better than to gossip about things that don't concern them."
A chill ran down Eban's back. No wonder Kael was so scared. He took a slow breath in, forcing himself to be calm, then turned and walked away, all the while conscious of the iridescent eyes and knife-like teeth that were at his back. When the tents of Kerr's company surrounded him, he finally allowed himself to relax.
That night, when he knocked on the dream's door, it opened.