Corran

Corran

Running. Huffing. Straining against his own chest. Sweat tumbled down Corran’s head as he staggered to a stop and leaned on his knees. How many miles? How far had they run? He puffed for a moment, then grit his teeth and forced himself to straighten. His whole chest protested, but he stretched it anyway, keeping the muscles loose and opening his airways.

Looking around, he could see no one at all. Just the empty grassland, and not a single tree for shade. The hills rolled around him, catching the heat of the sun and throwing it at him, mocking him. He bent for a moment to tear a handful of grass, intending to purify it and use the energy to expand his aura, see if anyone was around. Instead, he saw a small, dark shape a few feet away. With a thought, he brought it to himself and caught it.

It was a small travel journal, bound in thin leather. It had old sweat stains, and some of the pages had water damage, but the text was readable. Or, at least, it was readable to Corran. He’d made a study of Galan language in his youth. It must have fallen from Shiver’s pockets as he ran. He stared at the thing. It dared him to read it, to gain insight into his captain’s shrouded past. Curiosity overtook him, and he flipped through the pages, aura and eyes together letting him read each one incredibly quickly. Originally, it must have belonged to someone called “Axel Schernov,” and it was full of half-written letters to his or her family. Some of the pages were missing, and…

And Shiver’s aura hit him, carrying the message that he was searching for a book he’d dropped.

Corran jumped, trying to slap the little journal shut too quickly, and a folded paper fluttered out and onto the ground. He hastily pulled it back to himself but he couldn’t read it (because of course he tried, damn his curiosity) in the moment before Shiver came up around the hill and caught him red-handed.

They stared at each other for a moment. For an instant of that moment, Shiver’s aura boiled with disbelief and anger, and Corran was certain he would close himself off and start shouting. Instead, Shiver cleansed his aura and simply asked where Corran had found the journal. Corran couldn’t help but let a trickle of relief into his aura as he gestured at the ground, explaining that he’d only just picked it up. Shiver asked if he’d read anything interesting, sending good-natured derision with the question.

Corran thought for a moment, then took a risk. He told Shiver he was surprised to know that he’d led men before now. Shiver grinned, that disconcerting baring of teeth that meant amusement, and also sent amusement. Did Corran think the High Chieftain would have allowed Shiver to lead men without any experience? No, Corran supposed not. He tossed the journal to Shiver, who tucked it away. He said it seemed like the journal’s owner thought highly of Shiver, who replied that he had been a good soldier. Corran questioned the sense of grief at the statement, and Shiver clarified that Axel was dead.

Corran sent consolation. Losing a friend is always difficult. Shiver agreed, and they stood without speaking for a minute or two. Just as Corran was about to break the silence and suggest they continue their endurance training, Shiver spoke. He sent and used the Tongue at the same time, making Corran shudder as his mind and ears received the same message.

“I keep this to remind me, to make me remember the lies of the powerful. Don’t forget that the powerful lie, Corran.”