Warlord of the Broken Land by Doc Spears

Author:Doc Spears [Spears, Doc]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: WarGate Books
Published: 2022-12-18T16:00:00+00:00

15

I was ready to bear the fury for violating her privacy, sharing her condition with someone she thought of as an adversary. Honestly, it would be an improvement. Apathy wounded deeper than hate. Injured me more than her irrational accusations. Or the confusion of the surreal attempt to kill me. It was her indifference that for so very long had hurt me most. But learning the source of her continued decline elicited an emotion I did not anticipate.

“How could she have seen what I could not?”

Jealousy.

“Oh my God. What’s it going to take for you to bury the hatchet with her?”

“Peace treaties do not have the power to erase all enmities. The matriarch of their order is correct that at our essences, she and I will ever distrust each other.”

“You’ve never told me what that’s about.”

“Now is not the time, either.” She massaged her temples. “Yet there is much here that makes sense.”

Shining through her resentment was the realization that we had a diagnosis for her ailment.

“Good! Don’t you feel better knowing what’s happening to you is something beyond your control? That you’re not responsible? ”

My attempted words of comfort brought back her spite. She assumed the role of a desperate creature backed into a corner, with no choice but to fight a predator to the death. Only I was the predator. My prey, whatever it was that possessed her. The demon within her reared.

“More proof for you that I am a hapless victim! She aids your quest to see me confirmed feeble.”

I was never more certain the Whites had done something to prevent her from regaining health.

“Listen to yourself. Your mind’s been tampered with in a way we hadn’t suspected. And Sister Wavecrest may be able to help. This is our way forward! Wake up!”

I was exhausted. And frustrated. I restrained from acting on the mental image stolen from some old movie. Shaking someone by the shoulders was violence, not medicine. Whatever begins in anger ends in shame. But as if the image was stolen from me, she committed the act on herself.

She shook, flinging her head and body back and forth, winding and unwinding as if to shed something stuck to her. Startled, I grabbed her by the shoulders to calm her, but she fought me off. Like some frustrated slave who could bear her oppressive shackles no longer, she sprang up, screaming.

A radiance built from her. It required great concentration to manipulate the energies around her, and for the first time in an eternity, she was trying. Like an athlete putting all their effort into pressing the heaviest weight overhead, her crazed effort yielded results. A yellow glow covered her, then burned orange, and finally red. It faded, and she relaxed.

Her eyes cleared, but her voice was tiny and distant.

“It can only be that I suffer because someone has tampered with my mind, damaging my reason.”

The dots at last, connected.

“Yes! Hallelujah!” I witnessed her epiphany and nearly cried when it came.

“I am not at fault.”

“And I’m going

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