Blood of the King - Khirro's Journey Book 1 Page 0,131
with Ghaul’s face reaching inside his tunic. His hand went to the hidden pocket, grabbed for the vial.
Gone.
Khirro’s gut wrenched. He jumped to his feet, ignoring his throbbing head, the pain in his throat and abdomen, and snatched up his sword and glove. The feel of the hilt in his hand comforted him, something he would have never imagined could be true. It had always been pick or shovel that fit his hand.
How things change.
The scrollwork on the black blade glowed dully until his hand wrapped around the hilt, then it brightened as though it drew energy from his touch. Grinding his teeth, he crept around the rock hiding his companions without knowing why he felt the need for stealth. Part of him expected to find they’d been slain in their sleep. Another part wouldn’t have been surprised if they lay in wait to ambush him.
His foot sent a pebble skittering across the ground, a small sound made loud by the cavern’s quiet. He paused but saw no sign the noise disturbed anyone. He moved again, more careful of his footing.
He rounded the curve of the huge boulder and was mildly surprised to find his companions alive and sleeping exactly as he’d left them. Athryn lay closest to him. Khirro went to him—the only one who hadn’t been in his hallucination, perhaps the only one to be trusted. He pressed the tip of his boot lightly against the magician’s thigh and his eyes slid open immediately like he’d been waiting for the sign to wake. Khirro signaled for him to be quiet and follow and the magician did without question, moving with the natural ease and grace Khirro envied.
“The vial is gone,” Khirro told him with the boulder safely between them and the others. Droplets of water plopped into the puddle of water from which he’d drunk, distracting him. When he looked back, Athryn had removed his black sleeping mask. He watched Khirro, a look of concern twisting his scarred face into cracks and crevasses.
“What happened?”
Khirro told him most of the vision, leaving out details about Emeline, his brother and the baby because he didn’t want to think about them or what it meant. Athryn listened, brow furrowed, neither nodding nor commenting until Khirro finished.
“The water.” Athryn glanced at the puddle. “Nothing is safe for us here. The very ground we walk upon resents our presence. But what of the vial?”
“It was Ghaul who took it.”
“In the vision,” Athryn added. “Ghaul’s corpse.”
Khirro conceded the point and thought of the slack, dead face and the ghostly pale baby. He glanced away so Athryn wouldn’t see the disquiet the memory brought.
“Then we will begin with Ghaul.”
Khirro sheathed the Mourning Sword and sighed, relieved Athryn didn’t question what he’d seen nor think him crazy. The man was a magician and had seen and done things Khirro would have difficulty believing.
They returned to the others without worry of noise. Ghaul woke before they roused him, hand reaching for his sword as it did every time he awoke unexpectedly. The sign of a well trained soldier.
Or a man with something to hide.
As he looked at Ghaul, Khirro thought of the corpse in his vision. In wakefulness, the resemblance seemed superficial. The corpse’s face was loose and drooping, its expression blank; Ghaul’s eyes were hard, full of life and dangerous strength, his taut cheeks clean shaven. Perhaps his mind conjured the similarity.
“Give me back the vial,” Khirro said, regretting his choice of words as soon as they spilled from his lips.
“What are you talking about?” A strange look flashed through Ghaul’s eyes, then disappeared as they returned to inscrutability. “I don’t have the vial, you do. Have you lost your mind?”
“The vial is gone,” Athryn said in a tone free of emotion or accusation. Ghaul’s eyes flickered from Khirro to Athryn and back, hand still on the grip of his sword. “Khirro had a vision. In it, you took the vial.”
Ghaul’s hard face became stone. “I don’t have the vial. But perhaps I should. I wouldn’t be stupid enough to fall asleep and lose it.”
Who is he calling stupid?
The hair on the back of Khirro’s neck bristled. From the corner of his eye he saw Elyea sit up, a look of confusion on her sleepy face.
“I was drugged. I saw you take it, now give it back.”
Ghaul released his sword and spread his arms wide in a mock gesture of welcome.
“If you’re convinced I have it,” he said through clenched teeth, “then come get it, farmer.”