Chapter 32 The Cave #2
Pouncing on the relic, he whispered a prayer of thanks to the goddess of truth that it hadn’t been buried under the rockslide. The relics he’d brought with him had all been lost, likely in his mad escape to the outside.
But where the big Cryptic had been Luc’s doom, maybe it could also be his salvation.
Placing the relic—a claw the length of his forearm—on a rock, Rolan took out his dagger and drove its point through.
The claw cracked, bleeding blue smoke, then vanished.
Blinding blue cords of Arcana wove into the steel, making it burn as bright as iron-forged metal.
Rolan had to look away, his eyes watering.
Then he breathed in, pulling Arcana through the steel and into his arm.
The strength of that energy sent him reeling, to smack flat on his back. He lay spread eagle for a few moments, sucking for air that did not come. His entire being glowed blue, Arcana sinking into his organs, wrapping around his bones, infusing his brain.
Then, finally, his lungs inflated and he gasped.
The dark forest went from night to day as his sight transformed into that of a nocturnal predator. The pain in his knee vanished. He sat up, his skin tingling, faint blue wisps trailing from his skin as he moved.
He needed to work fast. He had no idea how long the Arcana would last, and he had no more relics to use after this one ran out.
He’d only get one shot at saving Luc’s life.
Gripping the first boulder with both hands, he heaved.
It was heavy, but not nearly as heavy as it had been before. He managed to roll it aside, his veins standing out in bright blue lines. If he had a mirror handy, he knew he’d see his own eyes shining with that same light, like he’d seen Luc’s eyes glow before.
Setting his jaw, Rolan moved to the next boulder.
Stone by stone, he worked through the pile, shifting rocks bigger than wagons as if they were pebbles. He’d never experienced power like this before. The relics from the young Cryptics were jokes compared to this. The strength of a sparrow compared to the strength of a bull.
He heaved the last rocks aside, feeling no signs that his strength was flagging, and gave a shout of triumph.
“Luc! Luc, can you hear me?”
The cave didn’t look nearly so dark now with his Arcanic vision. He walked inside, his own blue glow illuminating the walls.
“Rolan?”
Without his enhanced hearing Rolan might not have heard the Arcanist’s voice at all. It was less than a whisper, a slight stirring of breath.
Rolan turned and saw Luc slumped on the ground.
“Oh, my boy,” Luc sighed, taking in Rolan’s illuminated form and brightly lit eyes. “What have you done?”
“I’ve saved your life,” Rolan said grimly.
He lifted Luc up, supporting him easily, and helped him limp deeper into the cave. There he carefully sat him by the cache, then took truth salve from his own belt.
“You’re hurt bad,” he said.
“Badly,” Luc muttered.
“That too.” Rolan lit a fire. This time his hands did not tremble, and the torch he held up flooded the cave with a much warmer light than the one surrounding him like a blue bubble. “Let me help you.”
“You shouldn’t… have used…”
“Would you rather I left you to die?” asked Rolan. “Just hush and let me finish saving your life. You know, everyone tells me how stubborn I am, but what about you?”
Luc groaned.
“Was that him, then?” Rolan asked. “The giant cryptic?”
“No,” Luc said. “He was big. Not that big, though.”
With a shudder, Rolan opened the truth salve and scooped out a handful, smearing it thickly over the gouges in Luc’s chest and side. The Arcanist would need stitches and a lot of rest.
Luc groaned and shut his eyes, letting his head fall back against the cave wall. “Why are you here, boy?”
“To warn you,” Rolan said. “To prove to your stubborn hide that you need me. Hoff is the one who set your house on fire. It was him and this fence, Cabbot. They’re working together to drive you away… or worse.”
Luc grunted, his eyes still closed.
“Don’t tell me you already knew!” Rolan burst out.
“I didn’t know. But does it matter? There will be more behind them, and more after that.” Luc gave a sharp, bitter laugh. “They’ll always hate the Arcanist, no matter who bears the title. It’s what they do, and it’s what I deserve.”
Rolan’s head snapped up. “You don’t deserve any such thing! You risk your life every day to keep them safe, and all they give you in return is suspicion and hate! It’s not fair!”
“Isn’t it?” Luc’s eyes opened just enough for him to peer down at his own hand, which he opened and closed as if he were pumping a heart. “You don’t know anything about me, boy.”
“Yes, I do! I know you’re a great fighter, and that you loved your family before you lost them, and that you believe in honor and all that even though it seems stupid at times.
I know you’re a good person, better than just about anybody else in Crisanth, and I know that I want to—” He choked down the words, feeling suddenly foolish.
I want to be like you, is what he’d almost said.
But Luc was gazing at him as if he could read Rolan’s thoughts… and didn’t like what he saw.
“You don’t know anything about me,” he said again.
Rolan opened his mouth to argue, but at that moment, his body went weak. The Arcana drained out of him, and he sank trembling to the floor. His vision began to blur, and the last thing he saw was Luc gazing at him with soft, sad eyes.
“After the power,” whispered the Arcanist, “comes the secret.”