From Across the Clouded Range

“Get out!” Ipid whispered around the misery that kept his head pressed to the dirt at the bottom of his tent. “Get out! I don’t want to see you or hear your lies again. You and your Belab can go to chaos. I don’t need or want your help.” His head came up, eyes red, cheeks wet, face twisted. “I said, get out!” he screamed at Eia.

  It had been several minutes since Ipid had witnessed Arin’s betrayal. In that time he had gone from blaming Arin to himself to Belab to every one of the above. He had cried, raged, plotted, and finally given up. He was powerless to help, was nothing more than a leaf being blown by a tornado, was no more powerful than that leaf to stop what was happening. But that didn’t mean he had to be happy about it, had to sit with his betrayer and pretend it was alright.

  Since the moment his view had been broken, Eia had traded off comforting him and begging him to calm down. It was clear that his distress caused her pain, but he didn’t care. He almost wanted to hurt her, to make her feel some fraction of what he felt. He didn’t care what she had said, what Belab had said. He didn’t care if they knew what would happen. He was far too angry to care if his wrath was justified.

  I am a traitor, he repeated to himself. Even if it wasn’t true, it might as well be. I will be remembered for all time as the man who delivered Thoren to the invaders. Director Ahern was correct, it was all a plot to lure the defenders from the city, and it had worked to perfection. I delivered Thoren without a siege, without a single tower crumbling. I delivered the perfect stronghold and supply center into the hands of my sworn enemy, and I was happy to do it. I will never be trusted, will be tied throughout history to the invaders, will be lumped in as every bit as bloodthirsty and devious as these men that I want more than anything to destroy. It was all too much. It was not a misery to be shared. Even if he trusted Eia, he did not want her here. He wanted to suffer alone.

  “I am sorry that you feel that way,” Eia said calmly. She seemed entirely unfazed by his outburst, did not even react to the rise in emotion as she had in the past. She rubbed his arm and pointedly ignored his demands. “If it means anything, the Eroth Amache is real. This battle had to happen, and it had to happen in this way. The fact that Arin did not stop the battle when he promised has nothing to do with what you told the people of your city. You were betrayed every bit as much as they were.”

  Ipid was too stunned to speak. He had just screamed at her to leave and she acted like he was a child having a tantrum. And like that child, her calm deflection only increased his anger. “I don’t give a shit if it is real and neither do the men dying on that field. You . . . you and that monster Arin, all of you, lied. You trapped me, made me into a traitor to my own people. You will slaughter them, but their blood will be on my hands. Do you understand that? On my hands!” He held up his palms, almost expecting them to be so marked.

  Eia just sighed. She drew a deep breath, put a, somehow warm, hand on his face, and stared calmly into his eyes. “I know you are upset, but . . . .”

  Her words fell off to a slur. Eia’s eyes turned blank, her face went slack, her hand fell away, and she crumpled to the floor. At the same time, Ipid felt an incredible wave of calm rush over him, felt his anger sucked away, felt perfect contentment. He could not even remember what he had been angry about, and he watched Eia collapse without the slightest concern.

  “Eia,” Ipid called to her out of curiosity, wondering why she was suddenly lying down. She’s probably hurt or sick, he thought but there was no fear, no worry, no empathy attached to the thought. He stared at her crumpled shape, wondering how long she would lie there or if she would ever rise again. He didn’t care either way. Then he wondered why he was sitting in the tent. He remembered Arin telling him to but couldn’t imagine why he followed that order. He was also tired. He wanted to sleep, did not know what was keeping him awake. He wanted to sleep, and there was no reason not to. He started to lay down. Sleep would be good, he thought.

  A stab of worry flashed through the blanket of calm. His pulse accelerated, his head came back up, and he searched the tent. Something is wrong. Eia might be sick. She might be hurt. “Eia!” Ipid's emotions flooded back, stronger than before. His heart pounded, his hands shook, his mind spun as all his emotions rose up simultaneously. For a moment, he was paralyzed as those emotions fought for control – run, fight, cry, beg, surrender – until, finally, panic won. He grabbed Eia's limp form and searched the tent for the cause of her collapse.

  Nothing in the tent had changed. It was still empty. The flap was still closed. There were no holes in the walls. Did my anger become too much for her? Dud she do something to soothe me and collapsed as a result? He felt her robes and the slender form beneath. There was no sign of injury. But her pale skin looked sallow. The pink was gone from her cheeks. She was still breathing, but shallowly. Her heart still beat, but faintly.

  Ipid moved toward the tent flap. He had to get help, but if he was caught outside, the punishment would be severe. Beyond that, how would he explain one of the te-am’ eiruh in his tent? Arin would be enraged. He did not know why he cared what Arin thought, but for some reason, he could not move.

  “Eia!” he begged and shook her. “Please, wake up. By the Holy Order, what’s wrong?” He searched the tent for something, anything that could help, but other than the thin blanket that made his bed, it was empty. Outside there were no sounds. The camp was every bit as deserted as it had been all day, but in the distance the sound of the battle had also stopped. Will the army soon return? Will Arin arrive at my tent? Will he find Eia lying there and punish us both?

  Again he shook Eia’s limp form, but there were no signs of life – she was barely breathing.

  There was only one thing to do. Ipid took a deep breath and rose. He had to get help. He was not sure what he would find, but he had to do something. He pulled aside the flap of the tent.

  A hand grabbed his wrist and held him in place. Ipid looked down and saw Eia lift her head. Her, now icy, hand was clamped around his wrist like a manacle.

  “Are you alright?” He sank down beside her. “What happened?”

  “Please.” Eia's voice was a rasp, scarcely audible. “Please, be still.”

  Ipid tried to do just that, but he was pumped full of anxious energy and could barely control himself. He expectantly watched as Eia rose, closed her eyes, and rubbed her head. She looked much older than she had a moment ago, tired and frail as if the life had been sucked out of her. Her breathing was shallow and slow.

  “Is there anything I can do?” Ipid was unable to tolerate his inaction.

  “Yes,” Eia snapped back without any of her normal patience, “you can calm yourself.”

  Feeling like a small child who had annoyed his mother to the point of breaking, Ipid literally sat on his hands and focused all of his energy on being calm. Eventually, his heart returned to an only slightly accelerated cadence, his breathing slowed, and his posture relaxed. Everything is fine, he told himself again and again as he watched Eia, who was still clasping her head and looking older by the second.

  “Thank you,” she finally managed to groan. “It is coming back now. I will be fine in a few seconds.”

  Ipid had no idea what she meant, so he concentrated on staying calm, on thinking about something other than what he had just witnessed. He listened for some sounds from the camp or the battle that might distract him, but there was nothing. Even after he had broken the magical link with Eia, he had been able to hear the battle as a low rumble in the distance, but now, even that was gone. It was as if he were the last person remaining within a hundred miles. Even if the battle was over, he should hear the sound of horns and the cheers of men returning to camp, but there was only silence as deep and eerie as a winter’s night.

  Then, in one cacophonic rush, the roar of battle returned. The sound rose as a single wave and washed over him with an almost welcome din, but rather than rea
ssure him that the world still existed, the sound of battle increased his anxiety, brought his anger back, and made his teeth clench. It was not the idea of the battle that caused this reaction, it was the mere fact that the battle existed. If he had been a casual observer with no interest at all, he would have felt the same rise in his emotions, as if the battle generated those feelings through its very existence.

  The sight of Eia looking at him with her wide eyes pulled him from those thoughts. “Are you feeling better?” His words were tentative. He hoped that she would not snap at him again. She looked much improved, though a closer examination showed that her features masked devastating fatigue.

  “Yes, I am.” The distance in her voice belied her words. “I am sorry that I was short, but I have never experienced anything like that, and I do not think it bodes well.”

  “What . . . what happened?”

  “The power that I and my kind draw upon was suddenly gone, all of it. It was as if Hilaal’s gift no longer existed. As one that is constantly in touch with that power, I have grown somewhat dependent upon it to sustain me. To lose it was a . . . tremendous blow.”

  Eia sighed. “I should go. I think that your young hero has done something unimaginable with his newfound powers. Given the surely desperate battle that raged around him, he must have drawn a tremendous amount of power to create the void I just felt.” She paused and shook her head as if pondering something inconceivable. “With such power, he could have killed every living creature on that field or created a schism in the very fabric of the world.” Ipid gulped. “Do you understand now why such a person is so dangerous? I can only wonder at the effect this had on the Belan. I need to give them my aid. I hope that the damage was not too great.”

  Eia rose the short distance to her feet. “Stay here.” She turned to go then seemed to think better of it. She looked into his eyes, said a few strange words, and placed her hand on his head. She kissed his forehead lightly. “In a moment you will grow very sleepy. You should sleep for as long as you are able. I will see you again when I can. Remember, you did not see the battle. Arin cannot know that I aided you, or we never be able to see each other again. Take care, my friend. Sleep well and be calmed.” She strode from the tent with her black robes ruffling behind her.

  Ipid was asleep before the tent flap fell back in place.