Head Above the Clouds
Ciall agus suaimhneas
The words sounded hollow in his ears now and he wished that he could have said anything else. But standing there outside the transport circle, waiting to be brought to Amnor with news of an impending invasion, there just didn't seem to be time to say anything else.
And so he had decided to wait. Gripping his hand in farewell, he had pushed everything but the most pressing concerns aside. He had ignored the pain that he saw in Chareos' eyes at the betrayal they had both known was coming. Later, when the initial panic had passed, he would sit and talk with the Warlord, and they would work out what would happen from thereon in. Later they would find a way to walk the middle ground as they always had in the past. Later, everything would make sense.
Only when later came, Chareos was dead.
Ciall agus suaimhneas
It bit hard into him. He still couldn't believe that Chareos had been so stupid as to wander off without an escort. It was so unlike him. Fraoch he would have accepted it of. Hell, Fraoch he would even expect it of, but not Chareos. Not the calm, composed tactitian who had led Armengar these past few years. Not the man who had sat in this office and talked Cosaint through the trials of his first command.
"Dammit Chareos, you weren't meant to die!"
The words rang off the walls, and then died to silence. There was no-one there to answer.
"What do I do now Chareos? There was so much we were to discuss, and now I must start again."
Fumbling in a pouch on his belt, he pulled out a carefully folded letter and spread it out on the desk. If he'd been hoping for some guidance, that intention fell by the wayside as his eyes were drawn back to the same passage.
I still have the damn office, and no upstart Fraoch is going to take that lovely view away from me. It is the one thing I would ask to keep when the day comes that I step down as overall leader.
The view was indeed lovely. Outside the window and beyond the walls the sun caught off the sea, setting the ripples sparkling peacefully. Gazing out, one could almost forget that the lower half of the island was over-run by unliving and that everywhere else on the plateau the business of war was being conducted.
Yet if Chareos truly kept the office, there was no sign of his ownership. There was no feeling of the man in this room, and his few possessions left scattered about did nothing to call his calm power to mind.
What now Cosaint? What now? Surely you aren't waiting for the spirit of a dead man to tell you what to do Aonarach? Surely not that.
Stiffening slightly, he carefully refolded the letter and stowed it once more in it's pouch. Then casting his eyes once more around the office he left and closed the door behind him.
*****
The beds in the newly reopened hospitals were all full and everywhere the sound of healers mumbling mantras to channel their power could be heard. The smell of blood was thick in the air, but thankfully there was no hint of putresence...yet.
Sweeping his eyes over the room, Cosaint finally found what he was looking for. His characteristic hat discarded and perspiration marring his brow, the High Healer stood bent over a young woman, adjusting the bandages on her head and checking her eyes.
Moving over to stand behind him, Cosaint waited until Midir staightened up before speaking.
"I thought I told you to go get some rest."
A slightly waspish expression crossed the Slaineathoir's face as he turned.
"I did get some rest. I must have slept for a good three hours, but then a new group came in from Sorrow Pass. What would you have me do?"
"Let someone else deal with it maybe? It's not as if your students and peers can't work without you you know."
Seeing a rebuttal forming on the Healer's lips, Cosaint cut across him.
"How much you got left in you anyway?"
The resignation on the Healer's face answered that question long before his response.
"I can still bandage the wounded until others get to them, and I can still triage."
"Yes, you can...now. But if you keep this up you aren't going to be much use to anyone. C'mon, work with me here Midir. You know your limits, now admit to them. No-one expects you to keep all of Amnor on their feet by yourself. At least come take a walk with me. There are no emergencies right now; nothing the others can't deal with."
Half leading, half dragging the Slaineathoir outside, they stepped into the cold wind. Bit by bit, Cosaint watched the colour return to Midir's cheeks.
"Better?" he enquired.
"Yup, just give me a few more minutes and I'll be ready to go back in"
Biting off an expletive, Cosaint turned to face his closest friend. "I don't believe you. Will you just stop and listen to yourself for a second? C'mon - what has always made you a great Healer is that you know when not to work. Don't make me force the issue here."
"Speaking of which, what on earth were you and Mactire talking about when you were talking about people casting spells on you and scanning you pattern?"
The sudden about turn caught Cosaint completely off guard, and for a few seconds he could only look blankly at his friend.
"Are you trying to change the subject on me here Midir?"
"What, me?" a broad grin spread over his face, and his voice dripped with mock sincerity. "No, it just occurred to me that you haven't told me much about the Parliament yet. Or maybe I'm just exercising my right to be worried about you for a change. I mean, it's hardly fair if you get to do all the stressing now, is it?"
Shaking his head, Cosaint failed utterly to stop a like grin spreading across his face.
"Dammit Midir, some day I'm going to work out how to stay angry at you. Right then, in brief - you remember when I returned here mid way through Sathairn to give some updates and help the students prepare bandages..."
*****
Lenia seemed very concerned. Admittedly, she'd had a trying day, and her experience with a suspected charm spell earlier that afternoon had left her feeling more than a little upset. Still, she seemed to be overly curious as to Cosaint's whereabouts earlier and having spent so much time around Healers he recognised bed-side manner when he was subjected to it.
"I just went back to Amnor for a while Lenia. We are kind of busy there at the moment."
"And you don't have any problems with your memory? You aren't missing any time? You weren't hit over the head or anything?"
What game is she playing here Cosaint? She's asked you this already, and now having wandered off to talk to some people she seems to want to ask you again. Were it not for the fact that you are surrounded by Lions right now...
"No, nothing like that. Though it is kind of hard to keep track of time in the infirmary."
There. A flicker of her eyes to someone behind him. Cosaint turned his head just in time to see Bison place his hand on his back.
Calm, there's nothing to fear from him.
"By the power of magic, sleep"
The world went black.
"Maybe you could try peeling of some of his skin? Then you'd know if he's Voor."
Willing himself to keep his eyes shut, Cosaint took stock of his situation. He was sitting slumped in a chair and the sounds around him indicated that he was back inside the tavern again. Madra's voice clearly stood out behind him and that other one...Hengist? Well, hopefully that meant he was among friends, but why on earth would they cast a sleep spell on him and drag him inside?
A slight hush fell on those immediately near him though the general hubbub of the tavern continued and a large hand was placed firmly on his shoulder.
Breath even Cosaint. True, Deor's exercises were never quite this bizarre, but the principle remains the same. Don't give anything away until you find out something for yourself.
"He's human" the voice of the Prince Bishop rang out "and there's no sign of anything wrong."
Audible sounds of relief did nothing to allay Cosaint's confusion, but there was no time to think about it because then Madra was shaking him "awake".
*****
"So, they thought that you had tried to trick the Lions into attacking one another?" Disbelief and amusement seemed to be warring on Midir's face.
"Laugh all you want Midir, it's just lucky Lenia believes in doing things the subtle way. Had ARSE found me first I might have been fighting for my life. But yes, apparently somebody who looked very like me met the Queen and her troops at the transport circle and informed them that Mog and his contingent had been replaced by Voor."
"It was kind of dark at the time" offered Midir, "we needn't assume you have a doppelganger running around."
"True. What worries me most though is that Cildara says that while the guy didn't dress like me, he was wearing my pendant. Features may blur in the dark, but given the amount of white on this," he fingered the clay necklace, "I'd expect any Armengarian to be able to recognise it."
Silence greeted that fact.
Finally, Cosaint spoke again.
"So how is young Tadhg doing?"
Midir paused briefly as if considering something else, before responding.
"He's enthusiastic. I don't think I've ever seen a young healer so eager to help. And he is all abuzz about the Order of Suileamhain."
Midir stopped walking abruptly then and waited for Cosaint to face him before he continued.
"Are you sure you're doing the right thing there? I'd always said that I would sign up again if the need arose. I prefer this solution infinitely, but are you sure this is the answer for you?"
Long moments passed.
"No. No I'm not. But what else can I do? I can't sit at home wondering if the healers are going to return; if you are going to return. Caoimhe was right all those months ago - I can save lives if I return to the field."
"But that's not the half of it is it?"
Cosaint bit his top lip and looked at Midir appraisingly.
"Remind me to stop lying to you. No, that's not the half of it. I've made peace with my own vows Midir, but I made a promise to Chareos just before he died. I promised him I'd keep the Healers safe. If we had enough time to train them to work on their own..."
"He meant alot to you didn't he?"
Cosaint turned away and when he spoke again, his voice shook slightly.
"He believed in me Midir. I don't know if I can explain how much that means. You, well you're my friend and we've worked together for years. Deor raised me and is like a father, or at least what I assume a father should be like. But Chareos? I clashed heads with him so many times, I almost had myself believing that he hated the sight of me. Then at the Gathering of Nations when Crow told me how highly the Warlord spoke of me I could scarce believe it. But it was there to be seen all along. He believed I could make a difference."
Turning back, he composed his face but his eyes shone slightly with moisture.
"And we will. The Order of Suaileamhain will save lives, and hopefully set an example. We will show the world that those who just want to save lives aren't soft or weak. And maybe we can teach those younger than us a better way of doing things. Maybe."
"Maybe? You seemed very sure just before you went to talk to Fraoch."
"I'm not sure of anything right now Midir. I'm not sure I'm doing the right thing. I'm not sure I every have been. But when I'm talking to everyone else I have to be. Not now though. We are in this together, and I'll play it straight down the line with you. I'm not sure how this will work out."
A sharp laugh under his breath and Cosaint regarded Midir once more.
"There I was supposedly getting you to take it easy, and now I've dumped all my worries on you. Sometimes I think you were sent just to send all my plans awry."
If Midir noticed how forced Cosaint's smile seemed, he chose not to comment.
*****
Ciall agus suaimhneas.
But there was no peace to be had just then, as Cosaint fumbled back through the various documents he had amassed during the last year. Sheyna Darkleaf, Peter Swift, Fiachra McAnCliamh - they all seemed eager to help him fulfill his promise, but still he couldn't escape those last few words to Chareos.
Finally selecting the document he was looking for, he laid it down beside the letter from Chareos in the soft pool of candlelight.
Sifting quickly through the pages, his eyes fastened on a passage near the back.
One would lead us and our prison would become our home instead of our home being a prison.
And there in Chareos' letter, the reply to his own observations
I would be flattered to think of it as me but I agree with your view, we should wait and see.
Again and again he read it, as his eyes misted over.
"I think I know now Chareos," he whispered. "We can no longer wait and see, but I think I know."
In a prison guarded by unliving jailers, he wept.
by Fergal O Brien
