The Bonding (The Song and the Rhythm) (10 page)

Sickened, Vaun tried to close out the thoughts, only to find them replaced by that peculiar tingling he’d felt upon first touching his sword. It didn’t go away this time, however, and he tried to puzzle out why as he blocked his opponent’s strikes. The tingling intensified and receded with the proximity of his opponent’s weapon. Confused even more now, he gave ground easily.

The bandit pressed his advantage, obviously sensing Vaun’s distress. He grinned evilly as he wove elaborate attacks at the distracted young adventurer. Seconds later, his face retained its shocked expression as his head rolled to the ground and his body fell lifeless after the young warrior spun clockwise and decapitated him.

Realizing what he had just done, Vaun Tarsus dropped his sword and fell to his knees, his stomach heaving and his senses whirling. The tingling strengthened and took on a somewhat triumphant feel as the bandit fell dead; then it, too, died. Though he was glad it was gone, Vaun found himself wishing for the security it had provided. With it, he felt invincible.

Horrified and scared at the same time, he ignored the battle and retched violently over and over, clutching his stomach. Oblivious to his surroundings, the youth rocked back and forth for several minutes after his stomach had emptied, and gave no start when a friendly hand laid on his shoulder.

He heard sounds that might have been voices, but he shut them out as he drew up his knees and pressed his head between them and his chest, his arms wrapped around his legs. He rocked and rocked, reliving again and again the almost graceful ease that had killed the two men. Even though he’d done it in self-defense, he hated it.

*
*
*

Drath watched Vaun curl himself into a tight ball. He could hear the youth mumbling to himself but couldn’t understand anything he said. He sounded like he wasn’t just talking to himself. He sounded like he was arguing!

The tall man resisted the urge to reach out to his friend. He wanted to comfort him, to let him know everything was okay, but he knew he had to let Vaun fight some of his demons himself. It was the only way the youth would be able to accept himself in the end.

Vaun began to rock back and forth, and as his voice rose, he pressed his hands over his ears, as if trying to block out something he heard. Drath could only hear him fight with himself more violently. At times his voice would be soft, almost plaintive, and then a stronger, more mature voice would dominate. Though he knew they both came from the same mouth, Drath began to doubt whether they came from the same mind. The tall man found himself not only worried, but frightened.

*
*
*

Coming back to reality, Vaun Tarsus lifted his tear-streaked face and stared at Drath standing before him. Deep in the tall man’s green eyes, Vaun saw concern mixed with something peculiar. It took a moment to realize that Drath looked afraid.

He’s not just afraid for me; he’s afraid
of
me
.

Vaun didn’t know what to think, nor did he know what to make of the looks his other companions gave him. They, too, seemed apprehensive of him. He knew he’d just argued with himself, but he couldn’t think of anything he’d said to make them feel fear. Surely they hadn’t heard that noise in his head.

Rising, Vaun tried to figure out what that peculiar feeling had been, the one that had almost taken control of his actions. But he could find no explanation. It seemed to have just happened, with no help from him at all. What was so bad about it was that it made killing feel almost good. Shaking off a sudden chill, he vowed he’d fight only in defense and never, ever draw his sword first. One look at the bloody weapon by his feet and his stomach lurched. He had to turn away to vomit again. He waited to make sure his stomach had calmed, then studied his hands. They were clean, though they felt covered in blood. Rubbing them on his pants did no good; the slick, sticky feel wouldn’t leave them. He choked down another urge to retch as he stepped away from his sword, though for some reason that made him feel worse.

Thorne mutely acknowledged Vaun’s reluctance to accept the sword, picking up the Vaulka and setting about cleaning and inspecting it himself.

Vaun glanced around at the grassy floor and counted ten bodies. None of his companions numbered among the dead, and that made him smile. He noticed Rush attended to a cut across Dart’s forehead, and Drath scratching at a fresh bandage around his left arm. Thorne rubbed at a spot on his arm, which must have only been a bruise since there was no blood. Merdel leaned heavily on his staff, uninjured but looking exhausted. Blood covered Rush, but the way the elf moved convinced Vaun that the majority of it wasn’t his. Sighing, the black-haired youth smiled at their good fortune.

He asked Drath what had happened to the other two bandits as the tall man led him to a tree and told him to sit. Drath said that the two had run away after the others had been killed, and after Merdel had killed two without touching them. At Vaun’s inquiring gaze, the wizard, looking strangely pale, told him that he’d given each of his assailants a sudden heart attack. Vaun again wiped his hands on his trouser legs.

Thorne and Dart approached the three humans seated with their backs against various trees, and sat down to rest and wait for Rush to finish looting the bodies. Thorne still held Vaun’s sword, now clean and ready for battle. The dwarf looked questioningly at Vaun, though he also seemed hesitant to return the sword to its owner.

Vaun only barely noticed Thorne’s reluctance, concentrating mainly on the cleanliness of his blade. Nodding his satisfaction, he removed his scabbard from his back and resheathed the weapon. Despite the urgent need to do so, he didn’t feel ready to don it, so he rested the sword across his knees and accepted dried meat from Dart. His hands, too, finally felt clean.

Drath chewed for a minute. “I’ve been wondering how you were going to draw that sword from your back, but you didn’t seem to have a problem with that. I must admit you handled yourself extremely well back there. I’d been wondering how you’d fare in battle.”

Vaun addressed the ground beneath him. “I don’t like the killing, but I realize it can’t be helped sometimes. I’ll never really accept it, but I’ll do it to stay alive.”

Thorne nodded at his words after Vaun raised his head and commented that Vaun was learning wisdom. “No one likes it. Except maybe those scum over there.” He gestured vaguely toward the ten bodies several yards away. “But we all have to stay alive.”

Drath nodded. “Aye.” He noticed Vaun glance at his bandaged arm and waved his hand. “It’s just a small cut, nothing serious. I’ve had worse.”

Merdel grunted a laugh. “That’s true enough.”

Vaun had noticed as their journey progressed that he wasn’t the only one in the group who’d changed. Drath acted more and more like their leader every day, and the others readily obeyed him. He was a much better leader than Matt, Vaun’s older friend from his youth. Thorne had become gruffer and swore more often, reminding the youth of Charlie, although the dwarf’s swearing was more well-placed and had more variety. Merdel’s accent had become more pronounced, and he spent most of his time mumbling to himself. He claimed he practiced his magic, but sometimes Vaun thought him plain crazy.

Rush and Dart hadn’t changed much at all. They hadn’t bothered trying to fit into the youth’s home world, content to be themselves. Vaun found he liked that. It made them seem more genuine somehow.

As for himself, he had changed dramatically. His talks with Drath, as well as a few with Thorne, had helped him reduce the amount of abuse he heaped on himself. They had taught him that the best way to overcome a low self-esteem was first to stop putting yourself down. The youth had also noticed that he enjoyed being called Vaun, especially since the others had so easily accepted his new name, and mentally stuck his tongue out at David for saying it was childish. If everything continued as it was, with the exception of being attacked over and over, this quest might turn out to be all that he hoped. Unless, that is, that peculiar feeling returned.

Thorne belched, officially announcing the end of their break. “Well, are we goin’ t’sit ’round here all day mournin’ completely unworthy strangers, or are we goin’ to depart?”

They all obediently rose.

“Merdel!” Rush knelt over one of the dead bandits. “I think you’d better take a look at this.”

The wizard walked over to where he waited. “What?”

Vaun watched them curiously, as did the others.

“Where did you get that?” Merdel hissed in a startled but quiet voice when the elf showed him a black handkerchief.

Rush pointed at the dead man he stood over. “From him.”

“What is it?” Drath approached the two of them, the others behind him.

Merdel turned to face them, motioning Rush to hide the handkerchief. “Nothing out of the ordinary.”

Drath frowned.

“Really.” Merdel warded off the harsh look. “It’s nothing that concerns us.”

“’Tis a black handkerchief, yes.” Thorne did not phrase his outburst as a question.

Merdel shot a withering look at the dwarf but said nothing. Thorne glared back, his eyes saying what his mouth need not.

Drath’s eyes darkened with suspicion. “Is it?”

Vaun snorted. “What could be so special about a black handkerchief?”

“Nothing!” Merdel stomped off, his weariness apparently forgotten. He motioned for the others to follow, which they did, though reluctantly.

Vaun wondered at the wizard’s peculiar behavior and could tell the others were just as upset about it. He began to wonder if there was something they hadn’t told him. But no, surely they would’ve told him all they could, for they were his friends. Still, something nagged at the back of his mind, something that had been there for several days now, but he couldn’t figure out quite what it was. He didn’t bother with it right now, content just to leave the dead bodies behind.

They marched on for another hundred yards before Thorne finally lost his patience. “Stone bury you, wizard! ’Tis it or ’tis it not? We need to know!”

They all stopped when Thorne did, and Merdel turned slowly toward the dwarf, who stood with his fists resting on his hips and his mouth set in a thin, harsh line. He would not be moved. Before the wizard could retort, Drath agreed with Thorne and told the mage they all deserved to know. Rush and Dart agreed as well. Vaun merely stood where he was, trying to listen through a sudden headache.

They’d stopped at the edge of the trees, and sunlight slanted down through the few branches overhead, landing on Merdel and the others. The wind had picked up, and it seemed suddenly more bitter than before as each party member shivered slightly. Birds called from the sky and the trees, but they were hushed, as if they knew that what Merdel was about to tell them was extremely important.

The bearded wizard studied each of his companions, his eyes resting the longest on Vaun, then sat on a nearby tree stump, suggesting the others do likewise. He took the handkerchief from Rush and displayed it for all to see.

Vaun saw nothing special about the handkerchief. It looked normal enough, but the automatic tensing of muscles that occurred in his companions when they saw it told him there was more to it than he thought. He also wondered why his headache suddenly worsened.

“It is this black handkerchief,” the wizard eyed Vaun, “that caused us to begin this quest and go into your world to find another companion.”

Vaun snickered. “All because of a handkerchief?”

No one laughed.

Merdel exhaled. “Do you remember what Drath told you about the man who threatens our two worlds?”

“Elak? Aye, I remember.”

“Good. This is his handkerchief. It’s his symbol. All his soldiers carry it, so that everyone will know whom they work for. It helps spread the fear most people have of him.”

“So what does this handkerchief have to do with us?”

“Only this: Elak must know we’re here, which means we’re in even more danger than before. I should be able to block his scrying, so he can’t locate us exactly, but he will find us. He has soldiers all over the world, and they will stop at nothing to prevent us from reaching their master.”

Vaun was puzzled. “Why didn’t you want to tell us this?”

Merdel shrugged. “I thought it best to keep all of you from worrying too much about pursuit. Warriors are notorious for overreacting to such things. It’s impossible to stop him from finding us, and that knowledge tends to frustrate fighting men. They always want an open confrontation, and wizards rarely give them one. Especially Elak.”

Vaun squinted suspiciously. “You sound like you know him fairly well.”

The others nodded agreement.

“I do.” The admission was obviously difficult.

They all started talking at once. Thorne bounded off his tree stump and planted himself in front of the wizard, shouting at the top of his lungs. Rush and Dart engaged themselves in deep conversation, though they also added to what the dwarf said to Merdel. Drath hadn’t risen, but nevertheless demanded answers from the now silent wizard. Only Vaun said nothing, for he’d only begun to realize what it was that had been bothering him. It wasn’t clear yet, but he knew he was close to figuring it out. And somehow it was connected to Merdel. Strangely, his headache receded.

Merdel endured it all for several minutes, simply letting the others voice their frustrations without contradicting them
.
“Why haven’t you mentioned this before?” was the most common question. “Why didn’t you tell us you knew the wizard feared the world over?” “And since you knew him, why didn’t you lead us straight to him, instead of to another world, you ice-minded idiot?” “How could you let someone you know do the things Elak was doing?” And so on until he grew tired of it. Finally, the wizard held up his hands.

Thorne was the last to obey Merdel’s request for silence, his last comment of “…stone-headed, fire-brained spell thrower…” drifting into mutterings too quiet for anyone to hear.

“If you will all give me a chance to explain, I will answer what questions I can.” His black eyes met each of his companions’, and he held them until they acquiesced. “Thank you.”