Chapter 29: Tale 3, Ch 8: The Negotiation

Jesson landed with a grunt beside Cory. Jesson cringed in pain from the fall, and looked at Cory as the Prophet got to his feet.

“Cory, you stupid—” Jesson began, but Cory quickly dragged the man into the shadow of another tent.

“Jesson, what the blast do you think you’re doing?” Cory accused as he crouched down and held his hand over Jesson’s mouth. “And how did you get out?” Cory removed his hand, cautiously.

Jesson bit at the hand and nearly nipped Cory’s fingers.

Cory smacked him and said, “Don’t be stupid, Jesson, answer me.”

Jesson shook himself and glared at Cory. “A few cuts can’t hold me down,” Jesson said, and grunted in pain, as if the cuts were disagreeing with that statement. “I was trying to avenge my family.”

“Revenge? You idiot, what would that accomplish?” Cory asked, scanning the area and finding no sentries around.

“It would let me die in peace! Do you think those judges are going to let me live?”

“Can you please stop being angry for ten seconds so you can think straight?” Cory said in a biting whisper.

“I’m thinking clear as crystal.”

“Soaked in blood, maybe. You’re hurt, you’re tired, and you’re desperate. Can’t you realize what will happen to your people if you kill Meln?”

The stubborn soldier didn’t flinch.

“I know you’re angry with him,” Cory said. “You’re both angry with each other. But he’s moved on, I told you that. He wants to make amends.”

“I can never forgive him,” Jesson said.

“Then think about your people. You kill him, they’ll get ticked. Then they’ll probably attack more settlements. It’ll be Middleton all over again, is that what you want?”

Jesson began muttering again, “Vick Sonofange, Kiln Sonofel, Mave Sonof—”

“Stop mumbling and listen to me,” Cory said, and slapped Jesson again.

“Ow.”

“Why do you keep listing off random names?”

“They’re not random. They’re the people I’ve killed,” Jesson said through snarling teeth. “Their names bore into me and I hate it. I hate their names and that I can’t forget them. I hate that I had to kill them.”

Cory froze. He felt a hateful sense of empathy with Jesson Mills. They both had blood on their hands, and it ached them both.

“You can cope with it, Jesson. You don’t have to add to your list,” Cory said.

“I wish that were true, Cory. But justice has to be done. Both he and I will die,” Jesson vowed.

“But you’ve done so much for your people. Do you really want to sacrifice all you could accomplish just to satisfy something that both the Uniteds and the Sonofs want to forget about? They want to move on, Jesson.”

“Move on? I’ve tried to stop our people from slaughtering the Sonofs for years. If I can kill Meln, it will satisfy the warmongers. If I die, it will satisfy the Sonof warmongers,” Jesson said, sounding sure and sane, as if Cory were the crazed one without a clue.

Cory felt like he’d been hit in the face. “But… what about the experiment?” Cory asked, sitting up and looking around as if something were staring at him.

“What experiment?” Jesson tried to get up, and fell back down in pain.

“Tane said you were on your way to do some important experiment. She’s desperate for you to do it.”

“I wasn’t going to do an experiment. I was just delivering a shipment of sulfur and charcoal,” Jesson said.

It hit Cory like cold water in his face.

“Plus that box of other stuff even the command wouldn’t tell me about. Now help me up,” Jesson said.

Cory couldn’t move. “But… Tane said you were going to…” Cory began.

“She must have been confused, blow to the head and all. So will you—”

“Could someone please tell me why the soldier Grick is lying on my tent floor?” Meln asked as he suddenly walked out of his tent. He looked around for a few seconds with his arms crossed as Cory and Jesson froze. Then, knowing exactly where they were, Meln turned his head slowly and looked down to stare at the two men. “I heard everything else. But you didn’t explain that.”

The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

Cory jumped to his feet. “Meln, don’t think that—” Cory tried to say, but Meln put his hand up to stop him.

“It’s alright, Cory. Let Jesson explain,” Meln said.

Jesson swallowed and grunted as he sat up. “After I killed you,” Jesson said, knowing full well Meln already knew of the attempted assassination, “I was going to bring him to Tane to have them both leave here safely.”

“Honorable,” Meln replied. Just then, a dozen Sonofs, including Mish, rushed to Meln’s side. Half of them directed their spears and short swords at Jesson.

“What’s going on?” Mish asked, standing ready at Meln’s side.

“The captain and I were just discussing politics. He has proposed an idea that I haven’t thought of yet,” Meln said casually, and walked over to Jesson. The captain looked confused as Meln offered his hand. “Help me lift him, Cory.”

Cory and Meln slowly hoisted Jesson until he was leaning on Meln. Cory could tell that Jesson hated being so near the man he wanted to kill. Cory hid the knife he’d taken from the captain in his pant leg, so Jesson looked hopeless, but curious as well.

“You heard everything?” Jesson asked as he was brought toward Meln’s tent.

“Yes,” Meln said with a smile. “And I’d always hoped you were a wise man. I always knew it, I guess. Let us talk about things for a moment, shall we?”

It was an actual request because Meln stopped in front of his tent flap and waited for Jesson to respond.

Jesson looked around and thought about it for a few seconds, biting his lip. He realized that he wasn’t being threatened, the weapons had been lowered, and that he could easily say no. But he wanted a chance to sit down with his enemy, as he’d never done with any of the other members on his list. Jesson nodded his head.

“Good,” Meln said, and took a step.

“Just one thing,” Jesson said, and they stopped. “Can you please take care of Grick? He shouldn’t be involved in this.”

“Not a problem. Mish, please take the best care you can when you bring Mr. Matten back to his tent. He may need further care,” Meln said.

Mish nodded, and she and several others quickly collected a tower shield and escorted Grick out of Meln’s tent. Then Meln and Jesson went inside.

“Oh, and could you bring some breakfast for the captain and me?” Meln asked.

“Meln, do you think I should join you inside?” Cory asked.

“No, Cory,” Jesson said. “This is a private matter, I’m afraid.”

Cory licked his lips, every muscle and thought urging him that he needed to interfere in this matter to make sure that neither killed each other. But after all he’d been through, he realized that the best thing might be to just let the people sort things out for themselves. It was risky, but he thought that a peace made without the help of the Prophets might last longer.

“Okay,” Cory said. “I should go talk to Tane anyway.”

He felt a raging fire inside of him. Things were out of control. People weren’t acting as he expected them to, and where he was supposed to find death he found peace and where he was supposed to make peace he found death. Cory kicked over a chair outside Meln’s tent as he left, tired of things switching back and forth.

He knew one of the causes, and clenched his teeth to fight back his anger.

Cory decided to wade out this rage by absorbing the scenery. He ate breakfast on a wet rock overlooking the river far below. A light breeze did wonders to help him. Yet still his inner conflict continued. He looked inside his pocket and saw the bracer. The Sonofs apparently didn’t realize he’d taken it.

It was Tane’s only salvation, her only way to peace. Cory thought of how it was his fault she was trapped, his duty to help her. And thinking on how he’d stolen it unnoticed made him remember all the people she’d killed with it.

From this spot, Cory could see the bridge, a dot in the distance. He knew there were graves there. If he’d only acted on the behalf of the Sonofs, who had a right to defend themselves from people who didn’t care about killing them, then there’d be a lot fewer of them. Had he acted, either way, something better would have happened. But he knew that no matter what any of the decisions he could have made, his conscience would have driven him insane. He felt frozen and angry all over.

“Bring more blankets! He’s starting to seizure!” Cory heard Lael call from behind him.

Cory turned around and saw a few Sonofs as the others broke camp, running frantically, calling for doctors. He knew this could only mean one thing.

He stood up to help, but knew he was no doctor. The only people who could help now were… Cory looked inside his pocket again and, fingering the bracer cautiously, made a decision he hated to make.

He was done standing still, and wouldn’t watch as another man died.

Cory ran to Tane’s tent as fast as he could. “Grick’s dying!” he shouted as he burst inside.

Tane was packing away the tent’s furnishings, Mish monitoring her.

“I should imagine that’s why people are yelling for doctors for the wounded soldier,” Tane said without looking up from folding her cot. It clamped shut loudly.

“You have to help him,” Cory said.

Tane stopped, and turned around to glare at Cory. “And how will I do that? You failed to do as I asked again, Cory. Don’t expect me to do favors for you just so—”

“You can transport him back to where the Golds are.” Cory pulled out the bracer and held it out to her. “You know where they are and can do it.”

Tane stared at her bracer for an annoying few seconds.

“Cory, I won’t let you do that,” Mish said, taking a step between Cory and Tane, watching Tane closely. “She’ll simply transport herself as well.”

“Shift,” Tane said coldly. “Lead on, Cory. If I can fix one mess you’ve made, I’ll do it.” Tane took a few steps forward, but Mish stopped her.

“You stay right there,” Mish said. “Cory, I’m not going to—”

“His pulse is going. Have we any more Kana Leaves?” someone shouted outside, sounding as if death was inevitable.

Cory had no time to explain. “I’ll take care of it, Mish,” Cory said, and grabbed Tane by the arm. He ran, nearly pulling Tane behind him, to the low tent where Grick was. The guards and Mish chased after him, shouting. Cory ignored them and rushed on.

Someone was about to die because of what he’d done. He would do anything, anything, to stop it.

They entered the tent and Cory nearly threw Tane at the cot where Grick lay, convulsing and under the care of a few sorrowful Sonofs.

“Put it on and bring him to the Golds,” Cory ordered as he held out the bracer.

Immediately, Cory also brandished his dagger, pointing its glowing edge at Tane’s throat.