Obsidian: Retribution (Book 2)

Fifty-Five: Of Gods and Miracles

'Get up, Akshay,' the Salar's voice, coming from somewhere in the fire, from above, or from behind, he couldn't tell.

'Get up,' he said.

He had to move, to get out of here. It was a small fire only. Small enough to jump and make it across to the other side, to the door that would take him inside the Barai, where the Salar was waiting, or dying.

He couldn't feel them––his legs, his arms. He felt the heat on his face, the burn on it that wasn't from this fire, one that had healed for a long time. Or should have.

'Get up.' The voice was still trying to get him up. It grew louder this time, and coming from the fire. Like that time in the warehouse. Like that day when a cloaked figure came through the flames, to carry him out.

After all this time, even now, you're still waiting for him to save you.

It was pathetic, so pathetic that his mind was now manifesting that image again––a dark figure emerging from the fire, coming to save him. I must be dying.

But the figure wasn't right. It didn't match the one in his memory. It was coming toward him though. Or they were. There were two of them, a man and a woman.

The smoke was thick, and it was difficult to see through the dust that still hovered everywhere. He squeezed his eyes shut, tried to clear his vision, looked up again.

And saw the Salar.

Tears pooled in his eyes at the impossibility of it, at what it might mean. Am I too late? Are you dead already? Have you come to see me, to take me with you?

"Why are you here?" asked the Salar. He sounded young. He looked young, like that last time in the fire.

Why, indeed, was he here? He should be inside the Barai, doing his job, protecting him. He reached for the hem of the Salar's robe, not surprised that he could move at last. With this man here, anything was possible. "Forgive me, my lord Salar," he said. "I've failed you."

A breath was taken. A hand landed on his shoulder, gripping it firmly––the same hand that had pulled him out the last time. "Get up, Akshay," said the Salar. "Get up and tell me. What happened to my father?"

***

People, Saya decided as she watched the two men stared at each other, were going to mistake the son for the father often from now. There was an air of authority about the prince where there hadn't been before, something that demanded attention, something that made you want to bend around him, like this man had just done. They must have looked somewhat alike, judging from how easily her father had been convinced he was the son of his former apprentice. The prince seemed to have met this soldier called Akshay, and still he had been mistaken for the father. People could change overnight when they broke, more so when the breaking was severe. The prince had lost the love of his life and an eye in less than a day. He might lose even more than that, from what this man Akhay was telling them.

It felt like a miracle, Saya thought as she listened to the captain explained the situation, as the three of them hurried down the passage, toward the door that would bring them into the Barai. A few minutes ago they were about to die, either from the beast, or from being lost or trapped in the tunnel around which they had no map to navigate. Now they'd met an ally, or at least the prince had. There would be healers for them, a safe place to stay for a while, and protection from someone with authority.

If they could reach Salar Muradi in time.

Small chance, she thought. But the chance had been smaller against that beast, and the chance of them having run into this captain here, now, of all places, had been smaller still.