Aidan

The Realms

Seventhday, 1st week of the 12th month, Age of the Chosen 1

Late Afternoon

Nearing the Starchaser/Mist Stalker border

The caravan made slower progress on the return trip, with the wagons weighted down with bodies and body parts. Not only were the horses unable to move at the same speed, but they also needed to rest more often. Aidan alternated between chafing at the pace and being grateful for it.

On the one hand, he was desperate to see Brighid and Sunnild and Aoife and Ailis again. He wanted to bury himself in a cuddle pile and not come up for a week. Aidan's initial fear of rejection after the reality of his new condition set in had already faded. He knew his fiancees better than that. And Eldrid had done her part as well, keeping him talking during the day and proving he was still a functional man at night.

At the same time, Aidan dreaded confronting the ghosts who haunted his dreams at night. By any rational definition, the expedition was a legendary success. He led seventy fighters against a dragon and would return, successful, with more than half of them. Karsarrym could have defeated an army on its own, but Aidan and the others managed to slay it despite its preparations. There was no questioning the magnitude of their victory.

And yet, Aidan felt like he'd lost. A third of the mercenaries wouldn't return to their homes and families, and they hadn't even participated in the real fight. Among those who had, the casualty rate was over three quarters. Three heroes dead outright, three more crippled, and poor Aija traumatized. The quiet rabbitfolk woman bore a thousand-yard stare as she walked beside the wagon carrying Ritva's remains.

Then there was Conor. The loss of Aidan's Altruistic alignment was a punch to the gut. It felt like the world itself passed judgment on him and found him wanting. The catfolk man had been a villain through and through, self-entitled, arrogant, and aggressively assertive. Worse, he was right about Aidan. The words Conor spoke seconds before his death at Aidan's hand echoed loud in Aidan's thoughts.

"You would not have won without my help, and that requires life-blood. You ordered the deaths of those captives, you benefited from my assistance. Your hands are no less stained than mine."

"All Kings are tyrants, you no less than any other. You could have turned me away from the start, refused my assistance as soon as you learned about me, but no. You needed me. Now, though? Now I am superfluous. An inconvenience. An easy target for a guilty mind."

A tiny part of Aidan's mind denied those words. It told him that Conor alone was responsible for Conor's actions. The rest of him knew better. He could have put the slave women under Captain Dyfri's custody. It would've pissed Conor off, but they would've been safe. Instead, he'd left the key to the chicken coop in plain sight for the fox to find. And he'd done it so Conor could use them if it became necessary.

Aidan did not sleep well, even with Eldrid still sharing his bedroll. He spent hour after hour replaying every element of the fight against Karsarrym, trying to figure out what he could've done better. There wasn't much. He could have focused more on healing, but Aidan didn't have the tools for it. Patch Wounds was a joke for fights at this level, Pulse of Life was too limited, his Golden Fawn summon was too slow and vulnerable.

Phoenixfire Conflagration was his one true combat heal, but it wasn't well-suited for the battle they'd fought. It had plenty of restorative power, and it could affect multiple allies at once. However, it was as expensive as it was powerful, and it couldn't be relegated to his Crown of the Exalted. It also had a long cooldown at 30 seconds, much longer than the delay between Karsarrym's attacks. In addition, while it had an area of effect, a 30-foot radius was nothing when Karsarrym's lair had been at least a square kilometer in volume.

And it wasn't like the team went in unprepared. They all wore lightning resistance amulets and had belts full of restorative potions. Many of them had equipment fashioned from Karsarrym's own scales and bones, harvested from the ten feet of tail-tip Ysbail severed in their first fight. There wasn't much more preparation Aidan could think of, even with hindsight.

The best Aidan could come up with was to avoid the fight altogether. He could have sent Aija to infiltrate the dragon's lair, plant the explosive charges, and then detonated them remotely. The problem was, Aidan wasn't sure even that would've been lethal to Karsarrym. The dragon absorbed well over twenty-five thousand damage during the battle, most of it either magical or armor-piercing. Would ordinary rocks, even thousands of tons of them, have been able to kill it?

If they'd tried it and failed, they'd have lost the initiative. There'd be no way to predict when Karsarrym would emerge from the rubble, so chances are, they'd be surprised. Worse, unless they got lucky, the dragon would've been able to fly away, leaving them behind while it attacked Ceallach Macht. It was the very definition of a high-risk, high-reward solution. Except it also denied them all the loot and meant Sunnild wouldn't get her baby dragon, so maybe it was high-risk, low-reward?

No, Aidan did the best he could. It just wasn't good enough, and now he had another couple of dozen names etched into his memories.

"You're brooding again." Eldrid tapped Aidan's chest to draw his attention.

"I know. Sorry." He caught her hand and brought it to his lips. Eldrid tightened her arm around his waist in answer.

"Penny for your thoughts?"

Aidan chuckled. "I'm not sure they're worth that much right now. Not that you could pay up."

"We could work out an equitable arrangement." Aidan could hear the teasing smile in Eldrid's words.

He shook his head and allowed the corners of his lips to turn up. "I'm sure we could. But no, it's the same things as always. Trying to figure out how I could have handled things better."

"That stuff'll eat you up if you let it. I know you don't need me to tell you this, but no one blames you for how beat up we got." Eldrid kissed Aidan's shoulder. "In fact, with the possible exception of Aija, everyone's pretty happy with you right about now. You're a hero, Aidan."

Aidan couldn't quite hold back a snort of derision. "I've been told that before. It never feels like it from this end. In fact, I've been feeling worse and worse for the last couple of days, and I don't know why."

"Hmm. Only the last day or two? Not since the fight?"

"Yeah, it started... um, it's hard to pinpoint, but sometime in the morning two days ago. And I can't describe what's wrong, either. It's like something is missing, and I can't put my finger on it."

Eldrid remained quiet for several seconds. "I'm sure it'll get better once you're back home," she said at last. "Brighid and the others will have you feeling right as rain soon enough."

Aidan nodded and settled back into her arms, taking care not to topple off the horse now that he had no knees to grip it with. She was right. A few days spent in the care of his fiancees would do wonders. He doubted they'd let him out of their sights for a while, anyway.

Firstday, 2nd week of the 12th month, Age of the Chosen 1

Pre-dawn

Aidan woke up to searing agony. Something inside him stretching, twisting, tearing free. He opened his mouth to scream, but only a breathless whine emerged. It felt like casting Soulfire Blast, except a thousand times worse. That spell was a twinge, a tweaked muscle, the faint stirrings of a headache. This was a raging river of incandescent magma incinerating his soul.

"Aidan?" Eldrid looked down at him, worry and fear clear on her face. "Aidan, what's wrong?" When he didn't respond, she raised her voice. "Guards! Guards!"

Aidan had no attention to spare for the outside world. He devoted all of his concentration to overcoming the pain engulfing his very essence. Slowly, one metaphysical step at a time, like a man walking against hurricane winds, he pushed it all together. Pressed it in on itself, wrapped it in threads of willpower until it shrank into a miniature sun burning within him.

Once contained, Aidan focused on numbing himself to the torment. Bit by bit, he pried himself loose from it, compartmentalizing the pain. Over time, it eased, either because of his efforts or the effect wearing off. When he opened his eyes again, Aidan could see dawn's first light staining the tent's canvas walls, illuminating Eldrid's and Cai's concerned faces.

"Aidan?" Eldrid whispered in a hoarse voice. "Are you..." she trailed off.

"Something's," wrong, he started to say, but his throat refused to cooperate. It ached clear down to his chest, scratchy and dry. He shook his head, which was another mistake as a headache he didn't realize existed made its presence known. "Water," he managed to croak.

Eldrid didn't waste any time. She cupped her right hand a few inches over his head. A thin streamer of water coalesced from the early morning air, twining between her fingers before snaking down to Aidan's mouth. He parted his lips and let the cool liquid trickle in, swallowing every couple of seconds. As he drank, he cataloged his condition.

Aidan's arms and back felt like he'd been moving furniture all day. Slick sweat covered every inch of his skin, soaking his pajamas and the bedroll beneath him. A migraine pounded against his skull from the inside, pulsing with every beat of his heart. Even his eyes, which had been closed the whole time, felt strained.

There was no time for him to recover, however. Aidan lifted a trembling hand and passed it through Eldrid's conjured fountain. She obliged, canceling the magic so he could talk. "Something's wrong," he forced out in a scratchy whisper. "Attack or..." there was another possibility, but his mind shied away whenever the thought approached. "Need to get home."

"You are in no condition to travel, Lord Aidan."

"Have to. Soonest. Safest there."

The creases on Cai's face deepened as she frowned. "Lord Aidan," she started to say.

"Order, Cai. Home. Now." Aidan poured every ounce of Command and Dominance he could muster into those last two words, then blacked out.

Late Afternoon

Near Ceallach Macht

When he woke again, Aidan noticed the lack of pain first. Or, rather, how much less of it there was. His headache no longer made his head throb, his strained muscles only let out a dull ache, and, best and worst of all, the raging inferno within him was now but a flickering ember.

Having taken stock of his condition, Aidan turned his attention to the world around him. There was a blanket wrapped around him like he was a giant burrito. Two strong arms cradled him to an armored chest, though the hold was awkward with no knees to hook under. The wind ruffled his hair, The drumbeat of hooves against earth filled his ears, and his entire body jostled up and down as the centaur carrying him galloped across the Highlands.

Opening his eyes, Aidan saw familiar hillsides speeding past him. He recognized the shallow valley passing him by. He'd traveled through it several times now, going to Mist Stalker territory and coming home from it. At the current pace, Aidan would be back in Ceallach Macht in less than an hour. He sought out the sun and spotted it less than a finger's width above the distant mountaintops.

The sun would be setting when Aidan arrived in his city. He couldn't help but feel it was an omen.

"Awake, my Lord?"

Aidan craned his neck around to see Cai's helmed face scanning the path ahead. "Yes," he replied. "How long was I out?"

"All day, but no more," she reassured him. Her voice came in controlled bursts. Aidan could hear the strain in it.

Aidan nodded, realized Cai wasn't looking at him and wouldn't see it, then said, "Thank you, Cai."

"I am your loyal servant, my Lord. Are you feeling better?"

Yes and no. His body felt much better, but Aidan couldn't shake a growing feeling of dread. "Some," he said by way of compromise. Now that he was within Ceallach Macht's territory, Aidan commanded a pair of passion elementals to escort him. It would take them a few minutes to arrive, but Cai would no doubt be happier with their assistance. Aidan knew they were too vulnerable to an ambush like this.

When the magical guardians arrived in a rush of fiery wings, Cai somehow managed to pick up the pace. She'd been galloping from sunup to sundown—literally!—and still had enough energy and willpower to push herself further for him. Aidan swallowed past a sudden lump in his throat. He needed to find a way to reward Cai, Llwyd, and the others who devoted themselves to his cause. He took them for granted too often.

Aidan's apprehension grew when he sought out the little ball of Aoife's emotions in the back of his mind. They'd faded into the background as the distance between them grew. At Karsarrym's lair, he'd only been aware that she still lived. However, despite being almost within sight of the city, Aidan couldn't feel her at all now.

That's it, Aidan realized, what I've been missing. My link with her is gone. He'd left the control bracelet with Brighid so Aoife wouldn't need to follow him into the dungeon, but he was still the one bound to her. Unless they'd somehow found a way to free Aoife from her enslavement... Aidan's stomach heaved at the thought of the alternative.

Soon enough, Cai's hooves clattered against paved stones. Aidan scanned the faces of those they passed, his heart clenching at the looks he saw in their eyes. Pity. Was it for his condition or something else? Within minutes, they reached the hill, Cai slowing at last to a stop as Ailis trotted out of the tunnel to meet them.

Red-rimmed blue eyes sought Aidan out, then squeezed shut for a moment. When they opened again, tears spilled from their corners down already-damp cheeks. "Oh, Aidan," Ailis said, despair in her voice. She reached out and took him from Cai, then buried her head against his chest as she held him.

"Where's Aoife?" Aidan asked. "And Brighid?"

Ailis drew in a shuddering breath. "I... I will take you to Brighid. You need to see her... first." The setting sun turned the ever-present fog blood red around her legs as Ailis carried Aidan back into the tunnel beneath the hill.