Journey onto the Storm (BOOK 2)

Chapter 8

KEMAL

A clock ticked in the corner of the Infirmary ward while he sat in front of Kayal, with the last book his Trainee studied before the fateful patrol: Tales of Shadows and the Progenitor Truth of the Gate. Its leatherbound spine tickled his fingertips as he opened and closed the pages for an answer. His condition never changed with the passing days, though he ate and drank when prompted. He stared into nothing, never quite sleeping. Kemal rested his hand on his knee and searched for the light within Kayal's empty eyes, devoid of pupils.

What did you see on that patrol? What did any of them see? What made them disappear but left you like this? He slapped the book against the endstand beside Kayal's chair then whipped out his Derelict resonator. It buzzed against the inner crystals, a constant reminder of their taunting enemies. With a snip, it shut as he pressed his fingers against the engraved golden metal. Sighing, he leaned back when the door opened with its own click to reveal Julis, who carried a steaming mug with his other hand.

"You've been with him all night," Julis said as he stood at his side, and the two stared down the empty Trainee.

"I owe him that much." Kemal tapped the edge of the book against his knee while Julis set the cup beside Kayal, who gave no indication or acknowledgement. "You sense any change?"

Julis knelt and the blue spirals spun with the stars unseen. His head tipped back and forth while his gaze drew over Kayal. He blinked twice while the stars fluttered on the edges of his irides. "I'm afraid not," he said. "I don't know if something was done to him to cause this. It is no auric magick I've ever seen if that's the case — at least, it'd take an especially powerful Aurus to cause this." Julis lifted Kayal's chin, who responded in one rustic motion. "His aura exists, but I can't get past it into the river of thoughts and emotions. I can't help but wonder if that is what is missing." Julis gently released Kayal and folded his arms. "I'll watch him, Kemal. Captain Lotayrin wanted to talk to you."

Kemal slapped his hands against his knees and lifted himself out of his chair. He scowled when soreness crawled through his thighs and up his back, which he rubbed the tightened knots of muscles as he clutched Julis' shoulder. "I know you're hesitant, but I want you to do what you can for him. You've got my permission as his Trainer." He studied Kayal, who never changed, and never gave signs of life. "If you want my opinion, I don't think there's anything you can do that'll make this worse." One more pat on his friend's shoulder, he left the small Infirmary attached to the Elvkin alchemist shop. He hesitated at the marble archway which led into the nature-born buildings, but continued on his route.

Neven wants to talk? Here I was worried he'd go back down there and obsess himself to death over that void text. He sighed, while the temptation tugged at the back of his mind, where nothing else gave an answer, and nothing else revealed the truth but the dark. He passed through the markets, but came to a stop at the sight of Maria, who haggled with Asairai's resident alchemist, Tanaara, heads and a single pair of horns taller than either him or Maria, Maria put her own looming figure forward.

"Maria," Kemal called as Tanaara handed her a box of clinking, sparkling phials. "Do you know where Neven is?"

Maria broke her attention away from Tanaara, who returned to her outside stall full of steaming mixtures. "He should still be at the Lodge." Her gaze drifted behind him. "He hasn't changed, has he?"

"I'm afraid not. It doesn't look like he's about to either."

Maria hauled the box over her shoulder and rested the side of her head against the wood. Her crescent blade hung against her waist, safely tucked through the double belt which propped her white overcoat which the wind pushed against her. Golden trimmings danced along the fabric and denoted her as a Warden Healer. Beneath it, her brown tunic carried a couple of chained phials attached to some buttons.