Chapter 19

Chapter

Nineteen

TAMAS

‘You are dying, young Razohan.'

Ovia was lying. The Eone always lied. I refused to believe her, but if I wasn't, why did it hurt so much?

I tried to recall what had made every part of my body burn like the Ashenlands pits and throb with an agony reserved for the dying, but searching my mind was like peering through an impenetrable fog.

‘We never expected nor wanted it to end this way.' Ineth came into view, leaning down over me as though peering down upon my sick bed.

‘We are truly sorry to see you fade into the death realm.'

Lying on my back, I was vulnerable. A Razohan never allowed themselves to be in such a position. To prove he was lying, I struggled to sit up, only to discover that my body, bathed in torment, failed me. I couldn't even move a finger .

‘You were brave, Tamas. Very brave, for one so young,' Fivia crooned. ‘Unfortunately, bravery is not reserved for the victor alone.' Fivia wore a gown of deep green, enhancing her green eyes. In her hair, on the left side, she'd braided green and golden lace.

‘If this is my death, then leave me to it. You're not welcome.'

Spasms of agony lanced through my head when I dared turn away from Fivia and Ineth. Even a mere twitch of my muscles ignited a deep burn that kept me prisoner.

‘Relax, brave soul,' Carthius said. ‘Be at peace in knowing your part in this divine game is over. You have done your best. Know you are not alone. We will stay by your side until the final goodbye.'

Being imprisoned within one's own body was enough to enrage any Razohan, and now the Eone forced me to endure their presence. Their incessant prattle would send me to the death realm quicker than a stake through my heart.

I needed to concentrate, find the memories to explain my predicament, not suffer their insincerities, but the fog wrapped tight around my mind like a blanket.

‘You struggle to remember because your mind is slowing as your body begins its final journey,' Ovia said.

‘Stop reading my mind. You've disregarded my wishes repeatedly. I refused to listen to you now. You're my enemy.' She was lying. She had to be lying because that's all the Eone did.

Move, damn you . My body remained in its cage.

‘We are deeply sorry for the hurt we have caused. It was done with good intentions. So, please, young Razohan, we beg you to cease your fighting. It makes the ending more painful.' Fivia's voice was the softest melody in my ears. ‘Peace is yours now, young friend. Embrace it.'

Though she spoke softly, her words had the opposite effect. Instead of comforting me, they ignited a desire to fight, so much so that my heart leaped into a wild beat, willing me to tear from this limbo. Yet, my limbs still refused to awaken, as if my head and body were severed from each other.

‘I'm not dying.' Rather than spoken with fury, my voice sounded like a child's feeble refusal.

‘Your will is strong, but it brings you nothing but grief. Let go of that which you hold dear and surrender, young friend. It is the only way to cease your suffering,' Carthius said.

If only I could rise high enough to head-butt him in the face. It seemed not even my loathing for him could grant me a snippet of freedom for that small satisfaction.

‘As soon as I can move my arm, I'm going to take off your head.' I'd do worse if I could touch any of them because their words drove a fury I'd never endured before. ‘I'm not fucking dying.' I infused each word with as much conviction as I could muster.

If I wasn't dying, why was I locked in this torture? Why was every part of my body screaming for a relief that seemed possible only in death? I wouldn't believe it. Not like this, not stuck in my mind with the Eone. If there was to be a deathbed vigil, my closest would be by my side, and the woman I loved: Tressya.

The Eone huddled in a circle, murmuring in a language I didn't understand. Curious to what they were saying, furious that I should even care, and desperate to climb off my deathbed, I roared, lurching myself forward with every ounce of my strength.

Two hands clamped on my shoulders, pressing me down. Distant voices chimed in my head, voices distinctly not Eone. I wasn't alone, as the Eone would have me believe. This knowledge loosened the fog's tight embrace. I had felt hands on my body, and now I sensed whatever lay beneath me—it was soft, like a bed.

Before I could utter a cry, hoping my shout would reach those beside me, the Eone was at my side, peering over me.

‘We have decided to give you one last gift before you fade from the realm of the living,' Ineth said.

I shook my head, squeezing my eyes shut, determined to block them out, determined to break free from the shackles that bound my mind. If I could do that, I was sure I could see, move, and talk. The Eone trapped me with their lies. But with their return, the fog also returned, shrouding my senses once again.

‘Tamas,' Fivia said, gently placing her hand on my shoulder. ‘These are your last few moments. Our gift is precious. Do not waste it on raging against the inevitable.'

‘Your gift is poisonous.'

‘Our gift comes from our hearts. A valuable gift for the dying.'

‘You're liars,' I shouted, renewing my struggle to break free from the binds on my mind and body. ‘You've lost my trust now.'

‘That is a pity. '

My gaze shifted to Carthius. My struggle and anger faltered at seeing the sadness in his eyes. It wasn't genuine. It couldn't be. The Eone was manipulative and dishonest. Nothing that came from their mouths could be believed.

"The poisonous infection appears to be spreading," came an unfamiliar male voice that wasn't inside my head. The same man who'd pressed me into the bed?

‘Tamas.' Ovia touched my cheek with the back of her hand. ‘Your mind is fighting its end, wanting to distract you from its death.'

I tried to roll my head away from her touch, but in this torturous cage there seemed no escape from the Eone.

The voice was real, not a dream I'd woven to fight death.

"We must keep trying. Once Selisimus and Wellard arrive, we shall have more strength."

Who were these people? Not Osmud and Garrat, whom I was sure would be present in my final moments. Perhaps Ovia was right, and my mind was trying to distract me from my impending death.

"Perhaps we're getting the phrasing wrong. It's such a complicated language."

"No. I'm certain of what we're saying."

In my last hours, why would I attempt to find comfort with strangers?

"I fear we made a mistake in insisting they allow us to treat him."

"Have faith, Plesy. These past decades, we've honed our abilities. And now we have a chance to prove ourselves and be of use."

"Something this important, I fear we should've allowed them to take him to his people. This magic is too great for us."

"Now is not the time to lose faith in your training."

‘Tamas,' came a soft, harmonious voice.

I turned my head toward the sound and found Fivia leaning close. ‘Come, young Razohan. Let us open your eyes.'

I squeezed them tight. ‘To your lies, no thanks.'

‘You will soon see for yourself if what we say is lies,' she continued.

I felt a shift in my mind, as if I were leaving it and my body behind, floating. This sensation roiled my stomach and raised a lump in my throat, but rather than being sickness, I gasped in surprise and relief, for the agony in my body had eased. The fight was useless, but I fought death all the same.

‘Relax, young friend,' said Ineth. ‘You are not yet dead. But close?—'

‘So close, young Razohan,' continued Carthius. ‘We wish to bestow this gift before it is too late.'

When only I saw the Eone, I now saw a stately room, richly adorned with lush rugs, colorful tapestries, dark wood furniture and heavy drapes pulled wide to reveal a shaft of sunlight piercing through a gray cloud. This wasn't Ironhelm.

‘Where am I?'

‘Look, young Tamas,' Fivia said.

I drew my gaze from the window to look down upon the three people in the room. Suddenly the fog, holding my mind prisoner, parted, and my memories flooded in. Emberforge, the ritual, our flight, the fight.

This was the Eone's gift; sharing my last moments.

The two apostles, Tortilus and Plesy, sat on the bed beside me. Whether it was from moving my body or some other unearthly force, I shifted closer, peering down between the two apostles. Their hands were placed upon my chest and chanting in an ancient tongue unearthed from one of their tomes, attempting to heal me from Salmun magic.

After the apostles insisted we return through Emberforge and not the labyrinth of deep tunnels under the temple, we separated in the streets of Tolum, with Tressya insisting on returning to Emberfell for Gusselan, stubbornly refusing to leave immediately despite my arguments. I made my way to Orbiteen House and Osmud, deciding it was best to leave the apostles with him while I ensured Tressya and Gusselan could escape Emberfell smoothly.

The Salmun's poisonous magic had worked fast, consuming my strength and vitality, ensuring I failed to reach the north with Tressya and Gusselan in my claws. I'd struggled hard to maintain my height, filled with the horror of knowing that if I fell, so too would Tressya.

‘Where's Tressya?' I demanded.

She'd be there by my side. In my last hours, she would. I knew she would. That she wasn't… I couldn't bear the thought. And Osmud? If the apostles were here, it had to mean Osmud had caught up with us, as I knew he would. No one was better at tracking than a Razohan, except a Huungardred.

‘Young Tamas, we are sorry—' Ovid began.

‘We did not agree to this,' Carthius interrupted.

‘Shut up and tell me?' I snarled .

Carthius continued as if I hadn't spoken. ‘We agreed to ease his suffering. He deserves peace.'

‘I want the truth.' My gaze shifted to each of the Eone. ‘What're you hiding?'

‘Please, Carthius,' Ovid said.

‘His final minutes will be filled with suffering. We agreed to interfere to ease that burden, not make it worse.'

‘I implore you, Carthius,' Ovia continued. She looked to Ineth and then Fivia. ‘Let us grant him his dying wish. To not tell, I believe would be far worse.'

‘She's right. If you really want me at peace, then tell me where Tressya is?'

Carthius ducked his head, slowly shaking it as he sighed. ‘Very well. We will grant you your wish, but know it burdens our heart to see you suffer when there is nothing you can do to change either your fate or Tressya's.'

‘Tell me,' I shouted.

‘Tressya is dying, just as you are.' It was Ineth who revealed the shocking truth.

‘What?'

‘It seems we were wrong, young friend. Yours and Tressya's fates were never to sit upon the Bone Throne.'

‘That can't be true. Tressya's not dying.' My mind and heart raged.

‘The poison in your veins is no ordinary poison. The Salmun cursed you from within. There is no stopping its spread. You are too weak, my friend. You were too weak to carry your two companions with you.'

I stared down at myself, prone on the bed, seeing the black striations spreading across my torso, climbing their way up my throat. I shook my head, all the while knowing my refusal was futile. I'd felt the beginnings of the sickness inside the tunnel, only for it to grow worse with each breath I made.

‘You tried, Tamas. Your will was strong, but the poison laded your body. Your two companions suffered terribly from the fall.'

I turned, spearing my hands through my hair.

‘Osmud rushed you here first, with two apostles intent on curing the poison, which…they unfortunately, cannot. Now your friend has returned to your two companions. But it is unlikely there is much that can be done. The apostles will try, of course, using whatever rudimentary healing arts they have taught themselves. But it is not enough. Not nearly enough. Not for you. And not for Tressya.'

‘You're lying,' I growled. ‘The prophecy stated an heir to Ricaud will one day claim the throne.'

‘Many prophecies are made, my friend. Each countering the last. It seems, perhaps, another was made unbeknownst to the Nazeen.'

I detested how easily the Eone sifted through my mind, yet it seemed in the end, I would endure a fitting punishment, for that was my ability when I took the souls of those I killed.

‘This can't be true. It can't be the end. What about the Etherweave?'

‘With the deaths of you and Tressya, the last heirs of King Ricaud will have passed. The Etherweave will rise, but with no one capable of possessing and wielding it, it will return to the elements whence it came, and we can rest in eternal peace knowing no one can wield it for evil.'

‘I don't believe you. The Etherweave was your creation. You're as greedy for it now as you were when you were alive. If it vanishes, you vanish.'

‘We are weary, young Tamas. Too many millennia we've lived. Our final rest beckons us and we long to heed its call.'

‘No. You're lying. That's all you're capable of doing.' I spun away from them. "I'm not ready to die." The truth pulsed through my veins, filling me with a defiance that made me feel as if I couldn't die. Yet, I was dying. The evidence was right before my eyes.

‘There is only one way to survive this fate, my friend,' Carthius said.

‘And to save Tressya,' added Ovia. ‘But we do not choose to take such a path. We wish only to take our final sleep.'

‘What way is it?' I growled. Two strides and I'd seized Ovia by the throat. ‘If there is a way to save Tressya, you'll tell me now.'

‘It's risky,' Carthius said.

‘Too risky,' Ineth replied.

‘Tell me,' I shouted at the two males, releasing Ovia's throat.

She stumbled away into Fivia's arms. Cradled in Fivia's embrace, she said to her two male companions. ‘Tell him. We owe him that for our part in all of this.'

Carthius nodded. ‘Very well. If you wish to save Tressya's life, you must accept us.' He spoke with such solemnity it was hard for me to dismiss what I'd heard.

‘What are you talking about?' This was a ploy .

‘Open your mind, Tamas,' Fivia urged. ‘Allow us into your mind and soul.'

‘We retain remanent power,' Ineth said. ‘If you surrender to us and allow us to work through you, together we will save Tressya.'

I backed away from them, huffing my disdainful laugh. ‘Of course. I should've known.'

The Eone exchanged glances, revealing nothing of their thoughts.

‘Very well. That is your wish. We will understand and respect the choice you have made,' Ineth said.

‘We have wronged you. It was kinder to allow you to pass in ignorance,' Ovia said.

‘I am sorry for my part. It was I who convinced you all to tell the truth,' Fivia said.

‘No, Fivia, do not blame yourself for your kind heart,' Carthius said.

‘Shut up. Shut up. Shut up,' I yelled, fisting my hair. ‘You always lie. That's all you do. Lie and manipulate. I can't trust you.'

‘And we are sorry for your confusion and pain. Please, calm yourself, young Razohan. Allow your final moments to end in peace,' Ovia said.

‘Fuck that. And fuck you. Tressya won't die.' Because of me. I should never have carried her when I felt so ill.

‘There is no holding back death when it arrives for you.'

‘You said there was.'

‘We have been honest. Yes. That is the only way,' Carthius said .

‘But you have made your choice, and we respect that,' Fivia continued.

‘If I can save Tressya, then I'll do it. I'll let you in. But you'd better swear on your lives you're telling me the truth.'

‘In your final hours, we would never lie. But you must be sure you of your consent.'

‘Just fucking do it. We're wasting time and Tressya's life.'

‘Very well. If this is your wish.' Carthius held out his hand to Ineth on his left. ‘Come.' He motioned for me to take his right hand. Ovia took my other hand and so it went until the five of us were joined in a circle.

‘Open your mind, young Razohan. Whatever you do, whatever you feel, don't shut us out.'

I closed my eyes, unable to witness the apostles' pitiful attempt to free me from the Salmun's magic. I refused to dwell on the terrible mistake I might be making in accepting the Eone. All I could concentrate on was my torment in knowing Tressya was suffering because of me. She had to survive. I could accept my own death, but never hers.

Their chanting started as a low hum, growing in strength and intensity on every repeat of their mantra. It wove around my mind and heart like tendrils of smoke, fleeting touches that made me want to recoil. Instincts told me to resist the touch, release both Carthius's and Ovia's hands and back away, but I fought against my instincts.

For Tressya I would surrender.

An awareness nudged at my mind the same moment I felt a stab pierce my heart. I tried to suck in a breath, but instead of air, I sucked in smoke, which coated my tongue in a layer of tar and burned the back of my throat. It felt as though I was breathing through water, each breath gradually drowning me.

I struggled against Carthius's hold, but our hands felt melded together.

Do not fight, young Razohan, came Carthius's voice in my head.

I surrendered for Tressya's sake, to save her as they'd promised. And right now, I was perhaps making the biggest mistake of my life, but I'd rather make this mistake than discover I'd refused my one chance of saving her.

I yielded and let them in, feeling my mind expand as if it were swelling beyond the confines of my skull. My heart raced uncontrollably, and an icy chill seemed to freeze the blood in my veins. I could have sworn my heart ceased beating for a moment, only to restart with such a forceful lurch that it threw me backward, causing me to lose my grip on Carthius and Ovia's hands.

I jerked upright, feeling the bedding beneath me, the gentle breeze caressing my exposed skin and smelling the soft scent of day lilies.

"It worked," shouted a man beside me.

I turned, blinked and stared at Plesy.

"We did it," Tortilus announced.

I clambered across to the other side of the bed and climbed off.

"Wait. What're you doing?" Tortilus said.

"It's best you don't stand. You were badly infected by the Salmun's poison. It's probably?—"

"Where's Tressya?" I demanded as I strode for the door.

Halfway across the room, I heard the hurried footsteps ascending the stairs. I dashed to the door just as it burst open, and Tressya rushed in.

We stared at each other as if no one was there.

"You're alive," we said in unison.

"You survived." We again spoke as one.

"I felt sure—" We both stopped, having said the same words again.

To double my surprise, Bryra walked through the door. "Bryra?"

"Tamas," she replied.

"Bryra?" Tressya said, turning to stare up at the Huungardred.

"It worked," Selisimus announced, squeezing around Bryra who blocked the doorway while her gaze remained steadfast on me.

"I must admit, I had my doubts. I feared we had it wrong," Plesy said.

The apostles' conversation dwindled to a murmur as Osmud entered, trailed by Gusselan. Osmud strode over and enveloped me in a hug, thumping my back as though he intended to punch my lungs through my ribcage. Yet my gaze was fixed on Tressya as I realized how much the Eone had fooled me.

What had I done?