David Dalglish - Dawn of Swords

“Thirsty.”

Ahaesarus nodded. “That can occur with nightwing root,” he replied, grabbing a waterskin from beneath the desk and handing it over. Geris snatched the skin and guzzled down its contents, his thirst overriding the fact he had never heard of this nightwing root before.

When he finished drinking, he wiped spittle from his chin, and dropped the waterskin beside him on the bed. He reeled back, his head suddenly wobbly. Ahaesarus was up in a flash, holding him steady so he wouldn’t topple headfirst off the bed.

“Easy, young lordling,” the Warden said. “Mustn’t drink so quickly.”

The strange sensation of vertigo caused a cyclone of fear to emerge from the dark corners of his mind. He thought again of how he had no memory of arriving in this strange and windowless round room. The last thing he remembered was riding with Ben in the carriage, bouncing along in the night while unable to sleep. The darkness of his memories frightened him, and the more he tried to restore them, the more a strange anxiety filled the pit of his stomach. Ahaesarus held him closer and gently rubbed his back.

“It will be fine, boy. Calm yourself. Shush now.”

Eventually, the trembling fit ended. Geris leaned back and stared up into his mentor’s twinkling green eyes. Ahaesarus bent over and-in an act that shocked young Geris to his core-placed a tender kiss on the boy’s forehead.

“What was that for?” Geris whispered.

“You deserve it,” replied the Warden.

“For what?”

“For being strong.”

Geris, still locked in his mentor’s caring embrace, felt his jaw drop. Ahaesarus, whose favorite words seemed to be lazy, inept, spoiled, indignant , and foolhardy , had told him he was strong. He would have been overjoyed if he weren’t so stunned. He tilted his head to the side, felt a crick in the back of his neck, and once more a wave of dizziness washed over him.

“Warden,” he murmured, bringing his hands up to cover his eyes, “what’s happening to me? How did I get here?”

Ahaesarus’s fingers began playing a staccato beat along his spine, easing the pressure in his head. “You do not remember?”

Geris shook his head slowly, so as to not incur more pain in his head.

“You suffered a fit of madness three days ago. You began screaming and crying in the middle of the night, and there was nothing we could do to stop it. Even your mother could not calm you down. We tried every healing spell we knew, all for naught. When we entered Mordeina and were greeted by our hosts, you finally fell into a black sleep. You were slick with fever, your breath shallow. Thankfully, Lady DuTaureau saw to your care and brought you to Daniel Nefram, one of her sons-in-law. He found a lump at the base of your skull”-the Warden reached out and tapped the sore spot on the back of Geris’s neck-“and immediately began to pray.”

“What was it?” Geris asked. The tale intrigued him, though he felt detached, as if it were the story of someone else’s life.

“You were stricken with the Wasting. Very much so, actually. You were blessed that Daniel is such a powerful healer, for had it been anyone else caring for you, you would have died within the day. But Daniel’s faith eradicated the poisonous growth.” Ahaesarus removed from beneath his shirt the pouch that always hung from a string around his neck. “I fed you a pinch of nightwing root-a powerful herb from my world that thins the blood and increases circulation-and then waited.”

“Thank you,” said Geris. He felt truly honored.

Ahaesarus’s voice shifted tone, becoming even softer, yet somehow more serious. His eyes never left Geris’s.

“I also owe you an apology, boy. I have been rather rough on you of late. I took you for a miscreant; you seemed at times to be a frightened weakling, and at others, a cocky fool so confident of victory that he stopped trying. However, given the size of the growth, the Wasting has been with you for quite some time. That explains many things-your lethargy, your forgetfulness, the forcefulness of your nightmares.…”

“You know of them?” Geris asked, shocked.

“Do not look so surprised,” the Warden said, chuckling. “My tent is beside yours when we train. Many a night I felt like slapping you awake, both to spare you the dreams and allow me some rest.”

Geris smiled weakly. “Thank you for not doing so.”

“I am very glad I did not. It would have been a…most regrettable action, given what I know now.”

Geris leaned into his mentor, wrapping his spindly, thirteen-year-old arms around him. He wanted no more words, only for this newfound comfort and compassion to continue.

“Why don’t we bring your family in?” Ahaesarus said after a time. “I am sure they are desperate to know you’ve awoken. And then, if you feel up to it, later this evening we can all meet our hosts for dinner. Is that agreeable to you?”

So shocked was Geris at Ahaesarus’s words-his mentor was actually asking permission and treating him like an equal , which was a very Jacob Eveningstar way of behaving-that he could only nod dumbly in response.

The gathering was long, filled with desperate embraces and a multitude of frantic kisses from his mother. Even his father, who usually carried himself with an air of disinterest in regards to his kingling son, seemed touched. There were tears in the man’s eyes, and his lower lip quivered when he told Geris he was glad he’d made it through the ordeal unscathed.

With each passing moment, Geris felt better and better. His sluggishness dissipated, his thoughts became less muddled, and he no longer became dizzy each time he turned his head. The smile he wore almost never left his face; it was so persistent that the muscles in his cheeks began to feel sore. The nightmares that had plagued him for weeks seemed like distant childhood memories. By the end of it all he was refreshed and reinvigorated, feeling better than he had since the day Martin had been killed.

That thought of the nightmares caused a bit of the darkness to resurface in him, but he shrugged the feeling aside, especially because Ahaesarus was so intent on spending nearly every moment by his pupil’s side. He wanted nothing more than to bask in the Warden’s approval.

I will be a good king , he thought, and his smile grew all the wider.

When it was time for dinner, Ahaesarus left the room, leaving Geris’s mother and two of his sisters to assist in cleaning and dressing him. They fitted him with a delicately crafted red undertunic, a black doublet, and a tight-fitting pair of tan, spun-cotton breeches. The clothes were uncomfortable-much more constricting than the loose rags and animal hides he was used to wearing-yet he did not once complain. A king needs to look stately , he thought, remembering the regal lords and ladies in the swashbuckling tales that Ahaesarus, Judarius, Azariah, and the other Wardens often told. So instead of whining, he stood up straight, flexed himself to loosen his clothing, and allowed his sister Margo to brush the kinks from his overly long golden locks. All the while his mother looked on, smiling.

A rapping sounded at the door, followed by a gruff voice announcing that dinner was about to be served. A powerful-looking young man dressed in a draping pallium entered. His hair was close-cropped and black, a highly unusual color in the light-haired north. The beard on his face was neatly trimmed, with a zigzag pattern along his sideburns. Around his waist was a belt, fastened to which was the second blade Geris had ever laid eyes on in his life, the first being the sharp knife Jacob always carried with him. It was half a foot long, with a simple ivory handle. The steel, visible through gaps in the scabbard that contained the blade, shimmered in the candlelight. The man introduced himself as Howard Phillip Baedan, master steward and counselor of Lady DuTaureau. Ahaesarus noticed him eyeing the blade and pulled him aside. Baedan had once been a steward in Lerder, he told him, and the blade had been a gift from a merchant from Neldar who used the riverside town as a way station on his journeys to the north and south of his kingdom. “It is a rarity that Howard thinks heightens his image,” the Warden whispered, before guiding Geris back into place.