The Consuls of the Vicariate by Brian Kittrell

Author:Brian Kittrell [Kittrell, Brian]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Speculative Fiction
ISBN: 9780982949535
Google: NPr9ugAACAAJ
Goodreads: 13637348
Publisher: Late Nite Books
Published: 2012-05-01T07:00:00+00:00

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← Chapter Twelve | Chapter Fourteen →

Toying with the Fates

Marac reached down, grabbing Laedron’s hand tight in his own. “Stay with me, Lae! Can you hear me?”

Laedron didn’t respond, but Marac noticed movement across the roof. Won’t you stay dead, bastard? He took a firm grip on his sword and rose to his feet. Then, he realized Andolis lay dead and still where he had fallen. The movement came from further away.

“Oh, my head,” Brice said, sitting up.

Crouching at Laedron’s side again, Marac shouted to Brice, “Laedron’s hurt badly. We have to get him out of here.”

Brice took the staff from Andolis’s dead hands and the ring from the corpse’s finger, then returned to Laedron’s side. “You get that arm, and I’ll take this one.” He pulled Laedron’s limp body forward.

Marac eyed the staff and the ring. “What, we’re looters now, Brice?”

“No, no. The ring glimmers like the stones in the staff. It could be important.”

Please, don’t die. Azura… Creator… whoever is listening, please, save my friend, Marac prayed, lifting Laedron by his other arm. “Be careful with him, but we must hurry. To the headquarters. Jurgen will know what to do.”

They lugged Laedron’s seemingly lifeless body through the streets with little more than surprised looks from passersby. Buildings burned, illuminating the night sky, and the total chaos gave no one time to ask questions or share concerns. Marac and Brice ended the race across town at the door of the Shimmering Dawn headquarters.

Marac burst through the door and yelled, “Jurgen! Help!”

Without delay, Jurgen and Valyrie joined them at the door and helped carry Laedron the rest of the way into the room.

“What happened?” Valyrie asked.

“Greathis decided we would take Andolis and the palace tonight,” Marac said.

Jurgen’s face twisted with confusion. “What? He told us—”

“I know what he said. After Forane’s confession, he decided we had to act quickly. He’s dead, Jurgen, Greathis and many of his men, and Laedron’s not far behind. Help him!”

Jurgen led them to Laedron’s room, and they laid him on the bed. The priest examined his body. “A great deal of damage has been done. If you value your friend’s life, you’ll leave me to my work.”

“I can’t leave him,” Marac said. “Not in a time such as this.”

Jurgen pressed his hand firmly against Marac’s chest. “You must give me time and space to work. Now go!”

He breathes still. Marac glanced at Laedron one last time, then begrudgingly walked out, and Brice and Valyrie joined him at the long dining table.

“After all we’ve done for him, Jurgen had better fix this.”

“What if he can’t?” Brice asked.

“He better find a way. I’m not losing Laedron now. No, not now. We finally accomplish what we’ve come here to do, and he dies? No, I won’t have it.”

“He’s hurt pretty—”

“Not another word,” Marac snarled. “That is a possibility I will not accept. Do you not understand? He will survive.”

Every crackle of the fire grated on Marac’s nerves, his temper rising with each second that passed without news.

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