Blood Tempered: Book 1 of the Sword Monk Saga

Blood Tempered: Part 38

Caida wiped his blade clean on the grass, and resumed his climb up the knoll. The guardian was dead, but not permanently. As long as the Book existed, and the guardian was indentured, he couldn't truly die. That much Caida knew. How long it would take for the man to be resurrected was something Caida did not know, and he preferred not to find out. He was at the limits of his endurance.

The book lay open on the grass. Caida glimpsed the pages it was open to, and turned away, suddenly dizzy. The magus was crouched over the book, on hands and knees, in trance. There was a boy in the livery of the College crouched behind a nearby tree, obviously trying to hide, obviously frightened, having no clue what he should do. Caida felt both pity and envy for the boy.

In one sense, what Caida had to do next was utterly simple and painfully obvious. In another sense, it was near impossible. He, an Andine, was about to kill a man while he was defenseless.

"No," Caida said. "That I will not do." He turned to the youth. "Boy, come here and take the Book."

The boy didn't move.

"If you don't come and take it, I'll be forced to kick it towards you."

"No!" the boy squawked. "That—that would be very dangerous."

"Then come and get it. I swear I will not harm you."

Reluctantly, the boy approached. "You're going to kill him," the boy said. No need to explain who him was.

"I am. I have no choice."

"Why?"

"Why will I kill him? Or why do I have no choice?"

"Both. Either."

Caida shook his head. "Duty," he finally replied, but he did not know if that was the truth. He did not know anything anymore, except that it was far, far too easy to end life.

One eye on Caida and his sword, the youth crouched down and slid the Book out from under the magus's form. The magus didn't seem to notice. The boy held the Book to his chest and backed away. According to the ancient law, the boy was now a magus, one of twenty in the entire world to have access to the Axumite's magic.

"What will you do with the Book?" Caida asked, to distract himself from what came next. Some small part of his soul called him a coward.

"Do? Nothing," the boy said, suddenly more afraid of what he held than the killer in front of him.

"Nothing is likely the best use for it," Caida replied. "If you try to repeat your master's attack on the witch, I'll be forced to kill you as well. Understand?"

The boy nodded, wide-eyed and eager to be believed.

"Good," said Caida. Then he turned to the tranced, chanting man crouched on the grass and kicked him in the side.

The now-former magus sprawled on the grass. It took a few moments for him to return to the world. Then he focused on Caida.

"Get up," Caida said, "and leave. Now."

"You filthy peasant fool!" The man screamed. "You broke my hold! I was winning! Now the spell has gone feral!"

"Get up and leave. Now."

The man screamed and thrust his hand towards Caida, fingers forked. Whatever spell he was attempting had no effect. He was no longer the bearer of the Book, and so he was no longer the wielder of its magics. The man stared at Caida in shock, then looked around wildly. He saw the youth clutching the book.

"Give it to me, you pimply little shit! Give it to me now!" The man rose on unsteady legs and advanced towards the youth, who backed away.

Caida interposed his sword between the man and the boy. "Leave. It's the last time I'll say it."

"Or else what? You'll kill me? An Andine, kill an unarmed man? According to your tenets, I'm the one you should be protecting! Get out of my way, you holy turd."

Caida was sick of killing, and sickened by the fact that the man was right. He could not slay a man who could not defend himself.

That did not mean the man couldn't be harmed.

Caida snapped the man's leg with one savage kick. He fell, screaming, to the turf. Caida turned to the youth.

"I leave his fate to you. If I were you, I would get far away from him. He will kill you to regain the Book."

"No he won't," came a voice from behind. Caida turned. The guardian staggered up, clutching his blades. His shirt was bloody and rent, the skin beneath bloody but whole.

Caida gave the guardian a long look, then nodded. He turned and started down the hill.

Away from Thunderhead.

It would be a long walk back to Drum. He could have gone back and got a horse, but he could not imagine taking one step back in the direction of that slaughter. In the direction of her.

Whatever she did now was no concern of his, though he knew his thoughts would be taken up with her for a long time to come.

Brother Caida savagely turned his thoughts away from the princess, the witch, and towards Drum.

He had many questions for his abbot. And until they were answered, he would not protect, or obey, or pray. Instead, he would seek the truth. If it led him to a nunnery in the Kash, or to the Emperor's private quarters, he would have answers.

I am a wheel whose edge is death, thought Caida, and I will not cease to spin until I have cut to the core of the truth.

End of Book One