Chapter Twenty-three: Aspect of Strength
The Prince felt as though he were floating. He was lighter than air, and he was perched up high somewhere, his body pillowed by soft, fluffy, billowing white clouds. He wasn’t thinking about much of anything, just existing. Vague impressions came to him, here and there, something about the sunlight… something about the smell of pine trees… and something about a pair of fiery green eyes. He liked the thought of those green eyes, but at the same time it all seemed rather unimportant… so he floated on.
He came across a cloud that smelled like travel dust and lavender soap, and then a little while later a cloud that was black and stormy-looking. It was pouting over in the corner all alone, trying to look dignified, but succeeding only in looking… well, foolish.
Another cloud, slowly fading away, was revealing the sky behind it—a cloud that looked as if it had been a storm cloud once, but now appeared rather harmless.
And then it was as if a bubble had been popped, and he was falling. Down through the clouds, down through the sky, toward a vast plain of swaying grass, and a wolf was howling in the distance, accompanied by a lion’s roar. An eagle screeched as it descended next to him and caught a small animal far below—a golden, furry thing whose luck had run out.
He fell and fell, down through the sky, and then as the grass grew closer he saw a small bed, far faaaaar below… but growing, growing so quickly, with the sound of air rushing past his head, the wind pounding in his ears, the animals screaming with one voice.
Light—and softer sound. Voices.
“But… how did he do it?”
“I’m not sure. One minute I’m telling him to kill me, the next minute I’m jumping up, the sun’s rising, and there’s the shadow-cursed Prince of Ravens lying next to me with a valerium sword, looking like he’d been rolled through a briar patch, clubbed, and set on fire.”
The Prince opened his eyes. He was wearing a long white shirt, sitting in a small hospital cot, and every other part of him seemed to be wrapped in bandages. His eyes began to drag closed again… he was very sleepy…
“I felt myself die,” rumbled a voice, like boulders running down a hill.
“That’s impossible, Tomaz,” the girl responded.
TOMAZ?!
“Argh!” The Prince’s eyes flew open, and then he did a kind of twitching jump as he realized that there was a dead man standing beside his bed.
“Whoa! Calm yourself, princeling,” the big man said, shock turning to laughter. “Nice of you to come back to us.”
“How are you—you’re dead!”
The Prince wasn’t certain what was happening. His memories were all confused, his brain overworked, sore, and uncooperative.
“But I—I killed you!”
“And brought him back,” a voice said from the door. “Which I, at least, find much more interesting.”
Leah and Tomaz both started and looked around as Elder Crane entered the rather small infirmary room. The Elder was wearing a simple gray-green cloak with a soft brown tunic and loose pants tied at the waist. Something hung around his neck, perhaps the ornamental dagger the Prince had seen back in Value, but the Elder tucked it inside his shirt when he saw the Prince looking at it.
Crane came forward slowly, using a long wooden cane to steady himself.
“Elder,” Tomaz and Leah said, respectfully bowing their heads. He nodded back, and then a smile brightened his face. The Prince felt as though the room had just grown lighter.
“I am sorry to intrude on your recovery,” Crane said, “but I wished to be the first to thank you, on behalf of the Kindred, for what you did last night. Elder Keri notified me when she thought you were about to wake; I’ve often said she’s nigh on clairvoyant. I expected to wait for a while, but it appears I arrived at precisely the right moment.”
The Prince stared at him blankly, trying and failing to get his mind into some semblance of working order. “Thank me?” he finally managed to ask. His tongue felt too large for his mouth. “Why is that necessary? I promised I would help, and I did not do it for you.”
He realized that what he’d just said sounded a little rude, and tried to speak again, but the Elder motioned him to silence, smiling as he did so.
“Please, there is no need for apologies,” Crane said. “I understand what you are trying to say. You did not help the Kindred out of loyalty, and you did not do it out of belief in our cause. I understand this, and I know that your reasons are your own. But the Kindred do owe you thanks. You had the chance to betray us, a chance to end the Exiled Kindred forever, and you did not. You turned against your society, your nation, and even your family in order to do what you thought was right. And for whatever other reasons you might have had, I think that you did it out of duty to the realm, and out of an understanding of the worthiness of life. These are qualities that are found in true princes, those men and women who are not merely rulers but leaders as well. And it is for that reason I, and the Kindred, thank you.”
The Prince opened his mouth to respond, but he wasn’t quite sure what he could say to such a statement. His body ached, and he again began to question if this was all a dream.
“As to what I overheard when I was entering,” Crane continued, “I believe I might be able to shed some light on how Tomaz came to be here. Do not worry,” he continued, as the Prince recoiled slightly, “he is very much alive and kicking, as the expression goes.”
“How?” the Prince asked. His throat felt sore, and his voice came out low and gravelly. “Is it real? Or have I gone mad?”
“Well, I think you might be a better judge of that than I,” Crane responded. “I gather that you have the ability to sense life in others. A great gift indeed. Can you sense life in Tomaz?”
