Fate’s Pawn

Great treasures are great vulnerabilities.

- Aelan the One-Handed, King of the Ashen Hills, Dragonslayer

Raziel opened his eyes to an unfamiliar ceiling. He was in a bed that he normally would have found uncomfortable but, despite his nap, he was so tired that he didn't want to move. His broken hand, his feet, and his back all hurt, each a separate voice in a chorus of pain.

"Ah, you're awake." Raziel didn't recognize the voice. It was a monumental effort to turn his head. He had to concentrate to bring the face into focus. A dwarf sat next to him in a chair. He had the broad features characteristic of his race, softened by the smile lines around his eyes and a bushy beard that could not hide his warm, steady expression.

"You will be thirsty. Let me help you drink." His accent wasn't thick but it was noticeable. He pronounced the words with a crisp attention to the consonants, though his 'w's came out sounding like 'v's. The dwarf gently lifted Raziel by the shoulders into a half sitting position and held a glass of cool water to his lips. Raziel wanted to protest, to say that he didn't need help. He just couldn't seem to find the energy and, now that he was aware of it, he found that he was desperately thirsty.

The sips the dwarf allowed him were maddeningly small, but Raziel didn't have the strength to protest. When the glass was empty, the dwarf lowered Raziel back into the pillow. Raziel found sleep already tugging at him again but he fought it, trying to find his voice.

"You will have questions, of course. I will tell you a little now so that you can rest easy. I am Dietrich. I am your doctor. I have seen to your hand. It was not badly broken, and it will heal quickly. My understanding is that you have only recently begun using your magic, yes? You used too much of it, likely masking your pain."

Raziel gave a nod and summoned up as much strength as he could gather.

"Is everyone o--" he managed to get out in a croaky whisper before Dietrich shushed him nodding.

"Your friends are all safe. They are here as well and resting comfortably, or as comfortably as the situation will allow. Tomorrow, providing you have recovered sufficiently, you will see your grandfather. He is very anxious to see that you are okay. Would you like a little more water?"

Raziel twitched his head in assent. Dietrich filled the glass and helped him drink again. By the time the dwarf lowered him back onto his pillow, sleep's call had become irresistible and he drifted away.

He dreamed that the moon was watching him. When he opened his eyes next, the unfamiliar ceiling was still there to greet him. He found that he could move now, though it was slow. His body tingled with sharp pricks like it did when blood flow returned after a limb fell asleep. The worst of it was his hand, both painful and itchy, and when he sat up, he found that it was encased in a cast. There were symbols carved into the material, and he could faintly sense some magic there. Probably to accelerate his healing.

Raziel sat on the bed and drew his knees to his chin, his arms wrapped around them. From the light coming in through the window behind him, he guessed it was morning. There were a dozen or so other beds in the room, but they were empty. Four of them looked like they'd been slept in recently.

He looked around the room, cataloguing meaningless details until his eyes went unfocused. In his mind, he saw again and again the moment Azariel's book began to come apart. Tears further blurred his vision. Part of his mind wanted to stop crying. If the others had slept here, they could return at any moment. But it just didn't matter. Nothing did.

There was no telling how long he sat there. He was thirsty and terribly hungry, but he didn't want to eat. There was water in a jug beside the bed on a nightstand, but he wanted the discomfort. He deserved it.

A soft knock at the door drew his attention. Dietrich stood there with a tray of food. Even from across the room, the smell hit Raziel like a physical blow. A hunger pang ripped through his gut, so powerful he didn't know if he wanted to eat or throw up. Still, he made no move to get up.

The dwarf brought the tray over to his bed and set it in front of Raziel. Raziel just stared at it as Dietrich pulled up a chair beside him. He poured a glass of water from the jug before sitting.

"Well? What are you waiting for? I know the magic will have you ravenous by now. Eat." He proffered the glass. "Drink."

Raziel willed his hands to move, but they wouldn't. He didn't really want them to. He wished the dwarf would just leave.

Dietrich set the glass back on the table. He took Raziel's arm, the one in the cast, in one hand. With the other, he reached into a pocket and pulled out a gold monocle. The dwarf squinted at the cast.

"I can see that you are hurt," he said. Raziel felt his eyes flick involuntarily towards the dwarf. He tried to point them back at his food before Dietrich could notice but was too slow. For a moment they locked eyes.

"I don't mean with the monocle," he said, and Raziel could hear the small smile in his voice. "That's for the cast. The runes don't seem to be causing you an undue amount of stress. It is quite obvious however that something is."

He paused there for a few moments, continuing to look over the cast. It was obvious he wanted Raziel to respond. Stubbornly, Raziel refused. With a sigh, the dwarf set his arm back down and sat back in his chair. He cleaned the monocle on his robes before returning it to his pocket.

"Your friends are very worried about you, you know. Your grandfather too. But especially Hoeru and Miles. They were quite beside themselves when you came in. They hardly left your side through that first night." He gestured to the two beds on either side of Raziel's. "You do not know me, so I will not ask it on my own behalf, but please, eat for their sake."

The realization that he was being both silly and childish crashed over Raziel. He picked up the fork and began eating, and it only took a few moments for food and water to become his entire world. Dietrich had to ask him to slow down twice before he'd cleared his plate. When it was gone, he felt simultaneously that he wanted more, that he was completely satiated, and guilty for feeling better.

"Much better. Now, can you walk?" Dietrich asked. Raziel thought about it and shrugged. He started to get off the bed, and Dietrich stood suddenly, ready to catch him. It wasn't easy getting his legs over the side of the bed. Every movement felt sluggish. It wasn't just that he was tired and weak, though he was certainly both of those things. His limbs just seemed to delay their movements. It seemed to take extra seconds for his desires to travel from his mind to his extremities. But once he got to his feet, he found that he could walk. Slowly and with constantly wavering balance, but nevertheless, he could do it.

"Good. I would like you to come with me."

"Where are we going?" Raziel asked, his voice a croak.

"I am guessing you will need to use the bathroom. And then to see your grandfather."

"Ah, alright," he said. He did need to use the bathroom. Quite badly, now that his attention had been brought to it. But he didn't know if he was ready to talk to his grandfather. Then again, he didn't know that he'd ever be ready.

Raziel didn't want help going to the bathroom, but as unsteady as he was, he didn't know if he'd have been able to make it without Dietrich's steady presence. He drew the line at helping him past the bathroom door though.

Once he'd finished, Raziel found himself dreading opening the door, hoping that when he finally did, Dietrich would have been called away to some other patient. The dwarf was still there though, waiting patiently. Thankfully he didn't ask any questions as he led Raziel through the halls. The stairs were harder to negotiate. And slower too. For some godforsaken reason, they'd put Raziel on the third floor, and Dietrich said they were going all the way down to the basement. Who set up meetings to be held in a basement?

They had to stop at each landing for Raziel to catch his breath. By the time they'd finally made it to the bottom, he was sweating and shaking. He tried to hide it, but he had to hold tight onto Dietrich for support, and there really was no way for the old dwarf not to know or notice. But if he did, Dietrich made no mention of it.

The stairs ended in a small room with just one set of heavy, double doors. Dietrich gave Raziel a few moments to catch his breath and then knocked. A moment later, one of the doors swung open to reveal a guard in armor with a sword on his belt. He nodded to Dietrich and stepped aside.

"Very well, this is where I'll leave you for now. I'll return for you once your talk is over," Dietrich said, putting a warm hand on his shoulder. Raziel didn't know if it was magic or not, but some strength seemed to return to him at the touch.

"Uh, okay," Raziel said. Dietrich nodded to him and to the guard and began to make his slow way back up the stairs.

"You can wait over there," the guard said pointing to a corner of the room that had a bench. Miles was sitting on the bench. When he caught sight of Raziel, he sat straighter and immediately looked away. That struck Raziel as odd, but he had to concentrate on not falling before he made it to the bench.

It felt wonderful to sit, to be able to lean against a wall and not have to worry about his own balance, even if he was still trembling like a leaf in the wind. The room was rectangular and basically unfurnished. Steady light like sunlight came from crystals set into the walls. One guard stood at the entrance, but there was another guard for each of the other four doors in the room. The guards shared three characteristics. They all wore armor, carried weapons, and they all looked bored. The doors they stood by had glass windows in them, but they were small, and Raziel couldn't see into them from the bench.

There was something about the feeling of the room he didn't like. It wasn't the musty smell, though that didn't help. It wasn't the droning silence either. He could tell the guards felt it too. The irritation of this place was clear on their faces. All the while, Miles kept looking at him sidelong, and it ate at Raziel's already raw nerves.

"What?" he said finally, his voice coming out harsher than he intended. Miles flinched away. Raziel pushed the palms of his hands into his eyes.

"Sorry," he said, annoyed at himself.

"What? What do you have to be sorry for? I'm the one who should be sorry."

Miles didn't say more at first. The silence was even more uncomfortable now, but Raziel could see the words bubbling up in him trying to escape. Raziel would have asked him what was wrong with him, but he couldn't find a way to do so without sounding cruel. When Miles' words finally did overflow, they all came in a rush.

"I don't think I can be sorry enough that you lost your dad's book. It wasn't on purpose. You have to know that. And then I didn't mean to leave you behind when the eggbeast was chasing us. I'm so sorry. I just panicked. It was an accident. Both times. I always panic and do stupid things. I can't help it but I'm still so sor-"

"Miles, shut up," Raziel interrupted. Miles stopped suddenly, and the silence between them was deafening. Raziel was angry. He could feel the emotion swelling inside him, giving him strength, stability. He finally stopped shaking, but when he started to speak again, he didn't know what was going to come out of his mouth.

"I'm not mad at you. I don't care that you ran away from the eggbeast. And if you hadn't pulled me away from the circle, I'd probably be dead. Just forget about it."

"But I didn't mean for you to-"

Raziel slammed his hand down on the bench between them. The cast struck the wood like a hammer; Miles flinched away from the sound. Pain shot up Raziel's arm, but he didn't wince. The pain, like the anger, centered him. He fixed Miles with a glare. Miles shrank away, clearly desperate to look away but afraid to break eye contact.

"You didn't lose my book. I did. And you won't take that away from me. But you did what you did. It wasn't an accident. You and I both made choices. You chose to come along. You chose to leave me behind. You chose to pull me away. And I chose to bring you along in the first place."

"I didn't want you to lose your book. I didn't chose that. I just wanted to help. I wanted to make up for leaving you behind."

There was something small and desperate in Miles' tone. Raziel hated it, hated seeing his friend like this. His anger melted. It left him empty and exhausted. He could see that Miles needed something from him. He just didn't have much left to give.

"If you don't like that you ran away, don't run away next time."

Miles stared like Raziel had stabbed him. He opened his mouth, closed it. He kept doing that, looking like a fish trying to breathe air. Raziel held him there with his eyes for a long moment. He didn't look away until Miles gave a shaky nod.

After that, the silence between them was more awkward than ever, but Raziel didn't care. He was too tired. The brief energy he'd felt had fled. He wanted to be back in his bed. Now all he could think about was what he'd said to Miles and what he'd have to say to Duriel, and neither thought was very comfortable.