Awaken His Eyes: The Awakened Book One by Jason Tesar
“He was found lying facedown in the sand on the other side of that point. It was yesterday morning,” he quickly added, getting ahead of himself. “When we came upon him, he was already unconscious. His tunic was torn in many places, and he was badly burned by the sun.” The lieutenant looked out at the ocean as he remembered. “His hands and feet were cut and bruised all over. It happens when fishermen get tangled up with the reef. He also had a large wound, high up on his left leg. When he was first brought to me, I thought he was dead. But his breath could be felt under his nose. I had one of my men wash him and temporarily dress his wounds, but we were unable to get him to wake up for food or water, so I sent him into the city to be cared for.” The soldier stopped with a puzzled look on his face. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know he was important, or I would have contacted you immediately.”
Adair dismissed the man’s comments, not wanting to get sidetracked by how the lieutenant assigned value to another human being. “Did he speak at all when you had him in your custody?” Adair asked instead.
“No, my lord. He didn’t even move,” the lieutenant answered.
Adair only nodded in reply.
The silence was clearly uncomfortable for the lieutenant. “With all of the activity around here lately, my men have been volunteering to make patrols rather than waiting for me to order them,” he said, trying to make conversation.
“What do you mean?” Adair said in a stern voice, his gaze now leveled at the man.
“Oh, I beg your pardon, my lord. I didn’t mean to make light of his unfortunate circumstances.”
“No,” Adair clarified. “What do you mean by all of the activity?”
“Oh!” the lieutenant exclaimed, a look of relief washing over his face. “I just meant that you are the second person to come asking about the man today.”
Adair’s pulse quickened. “Who else have you talked to?” he asked, not bothering to hide his look of worry.
The lieutenant, who was looking more nervous by the second, put his hand on his forehead as he tried to recall the details. “Some of my patrolmen came across a young man, maybe thirty years old, walking along the beach early this morning. He said he was looking for his brother and that their boat had gone down. I told him where we sent the injured man and offered to have one of my men escort him, but he refused and ran away.”
“I need a horse!” Adair blurted out.
“I’m sorry …” the lieutenant replied, not understanding what was happening.
“Quickly. I need a horse!” Adair repeated, much louder this time.
“You can take mine. He’s outside that door,” said the lieutenant, pointing to a door by the stairs.
“Have someone notify my men down on the beach that I’ve gone back to the city.” Adair barely got the words out of his mouth before he reached the door. He threw all his weight at it and it flung open, revealing the rolling hills at the top of the cliff. Squinting at the bright sunlight, he found the horse only a few steps away and ran to it, grabbing the reins and leaping into the saddle in one swift movement. He pulled hard on the reins, turning the horse around, and kicked his heels, causing the beast to leap into motion.
“I’m sorry, my lord,” the lieutenant shouted, leaning out of the doorway. “I should have taken him myself.”
Adair’s heart was pounding as he raced southward along a narrow path that followed the top of the cliff. One specific part of the lieutenant’s story worried him the most. Adair made it a point to know everything about his informants. He knew that Bahari had a wife, but was positive that he didn’t have any other relatives.
Adair’s horse was running at a steady pace despite the winding path. It was obviously used to the terrain from being part of a patrol unit. The path eventually curved to the west and descended steeply, connecting with the western road on which Adair had just traveled by carriage only half an hour ago. It was wider and paved with flat stones, being the main thoroughfare along the west coast. The pavestones, which kept the sand from eroding into the ocean, made travel by carriage easier, but slowed the progress of a horse. Adair steered the animal to the inside shoulder of the road, where its hooves would find traction in the bare sand. The horse was able to gain speed on the unobstructed road and within minutes he reached the outskirts of the city. Whereas the trip by carriage took him all morning, already he was riding past the vineyards and farmland that surrounded Bastul. Slowly, the rural environment gave way to the urban, as houses and structures of various kinds became more frequent. Just before reaching the market district, the road forked and Adair veered to the right, taking the road that paralleled the water and ran out to the peninsula, encircling the city.
The organization of the market district with its large buildings and regulated structures ended abruptly at the housing district, which had fewer regulations and resulted in a haphazard look of odd-sized and odd-shaped dwellings, housing the bulk of the population of Bastul. Adair counted the streets as he passed them, turning left at the sixth one, then heading across the peninsula toward the bay.
The temple of Adussk was located at the other end of the district, just before the docks. It sat on a man-made island in the center of the Nescus River, with arched bridges connecting it to either shore. Adair received stares of wonder from the citizens of Bastul as he steered the horse through the western gate and over the bridge. The horse skidded to a halt in the graveled courtyard in front of the building and Adair leapt off, running as soon as his feet hit the ground. His knees were stiff from the ride, and he stumbled at first but ignored the pain as he headed up the front steps for the door. He was in too much of a hurry to knock. He pushed the door open as soon as it was within reach. There was no one to greet him at the entry, so he turned right, retracing his steps from the previous night. As he rounded the corner, he almost collided with the old nurse.
“My lord!” she screamed in shock.
“Give me the key to his room,” he demanded, his voice sounding louder than he intended in the close quarters.
The lady struggled in her apron for the right key.
“Here’s the one,” she said.
Adair snatched it from her hand and ran down the hallway. Coming to the door of Bahari’s room, he jammed the key into the lock and twisted it, expecting to hear a click. When nothing happened, he pushed on the door, but it didn’t move. Without waiting for the woman, he jumped back a few steps and kicked at the door with all of his weight. The lock broke and the door swung open on its hinges, crashing into the wall with a loud thud. There, on top of the bed, lay Bahari, unflinching.
Adair rushed over to him, but it was obvious that he was too late. Bahari’s skin was pale beneath his sunburn. Adair bent down and put his ear to the man’s mouth, listening for breath.
“What is the matter …?” the old lady began as she entered the room, but trailed off as she caught sight of Bahari’s dead body. “Oh my! I just checked on him not more than twenty minutes ago.”
Adair stood up and looked at the woman. “Has anyone been in here?”
“No, my lord. Only me!”
“Did you give your keys to anyone after you checked on him?” he asked, trying to calm himself.
“No, my lord. I always keep the keys right here,” she replied with a pat to the front pocket of her apron.
Adair looked back to the body. As his mind raced to find a solution, something caught his eye. Other than being devoid of life, Bahari’s body looked strange, and Adair stepped back, trying to figure out what was wrong. He realized, after a few seconds of inspection, that there was something wrong about the way his head looked in relation to his body.
“His neck is broken,” he said, more to himself than to the old woman. “That rules out death by natural causes.” One thing is sure—the people who caused Bahari to end up in this infirmary were dedicated enough to make sure he didn’t come out alive. He looked back at the woman. “Someone was in here, and I want to know who.”
“I swear, my lord. I check
Adair tried to think his way through the problem, starting with the way in. He had to kick down the door, so she didn’t forget to lock it. He looked around the room and his gaze settled on the window—the only other way into the room. It was small, but the shutters were open. He walked over to it and looked out, seeing that the ground was only a short jump away. Someone would still be able to climb through if they were determined.
He briefly considered jumping out of the window and searching for the intruder, but they would be impossible to track once outside of the temple grounds. The city was too big and the population too large. If someone wanted to hide in this city, there were plenty of places to do it.
“I’ll need a moment alone with him,” he told the woman, who now had tears in her eyes.
“Certainly, my lord,” she replied with a sniffle and started to walk out.
“Oh, wait. I need to see the arrow that you pulled from his leg,” he added. It was the only clue that he had to go on.
“Yes, my lord. I will get it for you,” she said, and left Adair alone with Bahari’s body.
He sat down on the bed and grasped Bahari’s cold hand. “The gods have not smiled on you today, Bahari,” he said aloud. Pausing to find the words, he continued. “I will find the one who did this and I will make it right. You needn’t worry about your wife; she will be taken care of. I will see to that. May you find the peace in death that escaped you in life.”
After a few minutes the old woman returned and handed the arrow to Adair. He fingered the tip of the arrowhead before turning the weapon over in his hands. The construction of it showed skill, but nothing unusual caught his attention.
“Thank you,” he said to the woman, tucking the arrow in his belt.
“Shall I notify his family, my lord?”
“No, that won’t be necessary. I’ll take care of it,” replied Adair. He rose to his feet and excused himself, a feeling of defeat replacing his prior sense of urgency.
CHAPTER 5
The sun was touching the western horizon, turning the dark blue of the ocean a fiery orange as Adair entered the courtyard of his mansion, situated in the hills overlooking Bastul. All was quiet except for the voices of his son, Kael, and Ajani, the youngest of the servants. Ajani was only slightly older than Kael, but much taller. The two were throwing makeshift spears at a nearby tree, and from the look of determination on their faces, it was a competition.
“Hello, boys,” Adair said as he walked up behind them.
“Hello, Father,” Kael answered without looking. The boy was holding a spear above his shoulder, readying himself for his next throw.
“I don’t wish to disturb such a fierce competition, but I was hoping that you might know where I could find Saba?”
“He’s gone until tomorrow,” Kael answered.
Adair nodded. “Well, please continue,” he replied with a wave of his hand. As he continued toward the main entrance of the house, he found Maeryn to the right of the stairs, sitting on a rock ledge that surrounded a broad-leaved tree. She was pruning a flowering bush with her back turned to him. Adair suddenly had a mischievous idea.
“Those flowers just don’t stand a chance at looking beautiful when you are next to them,” he whispered in her ear.
Maeryn jumped at the unexpected sound, spinning around.
Adair couldn’t help the huge smile of that took control of his face.
Maeryn’s startled expression quickly melted. She sprang to her feet and threw her arms around him. “Where have you been? Is something the matter? You left so early!”
Adair rubbed at his forehead. “There is always something the matter. Never a moment’s rest for me.”
For an instant, a flicker of some emotion crossed Maeryn’s face. Adair had a talent for reading people. It was one of the skills that allowed him to rise so quickly through the ranks to his current position of authority. But sometimes his wife was a complete mystery to him, and now was one of those times. He knew he should ask her what was wrong, but it had been a long day, and he wasn’t in the mood for an emotional conversation. “Kael said that Saba will be gone until tomorrow?” he asked instead.
“Yes. He left just after dinner. I think he was going to visit a friend. Anyway, he said he should be back before sundown. Are you hungry? I’ll have something prepared.”
Adair smiled. “That would be great.” Maeryn obviously suspected that something was wrong, but dinner would be a good distraction. Besides, he couldn’t tell her what had happened anyway. Especially when he wasn’t sure exactly what had happened himself, or how dangerous the situation might be. Whoever attacked Bahari out at sea was thorough enough to search the beach for survivors, and it wasn’t safe to involve Maeryn at this point.
~
It was midnight, and there was a slight chill in the breeze coming off the ocean. Adair had been unable to fall asleep and had wasted away the last few hours watching the curtains at the balcony dance in the breeze. Only minutes ago, he decided that the arrowhead wasn’t going to lead him anywhere. Saba was the only one who would be able to make some sense of it and turn it into a usable clue. Unable to bear the boredom any longer, Adair rose from his bed, dressed, and grabbed a cloak before heading toward the guest quarters in the east wing of the mansion. In Saba’s room he found a scrap of parchment in one of the desk drawers and laid it on the desk next to a burning candle. Pulling a quill from its inkpot, he began to write.
Saba,
Something terrible has happened to an acquaintance of mine. I am looking into the matter, but have been unsuccessful in finding any useful information to this point. The only clue that I have thus far is this arrowhead. I leave it in your possession to find out what you can about the people who made it. I have been unable to find any meaning in it and would therefore be grateful for any information that would aid me in my searching.
Gratefully,
Adair
After blowing on the ink to speed its drying, Adair rolled the parchment and tied it with a thread. He slid the broken arrow inside the tube of parchment and left the message on Saba’s writing desk before blowing out the candle and leaving the room.
~
Even in the early morning hours, the streets of Bastul were busy, though to a lesser degree than during the day. The majority of the traffic belonged to merchants, wheeling their carts down to the docks to be ready for business as soon as the sun came up. Groups of men clustered in the shadows nursing bottles of wine, occasionally shouting at the passersby, offering some meaningless challenge before collapsing from the exertion of raising their voices.
Through it all, no one noticed the silent, cloaked figure who walked briskly through the alleys, keeping to the shadows so as not to attract attention. Adair was heading for the shipping district, just as the merchants, but for an entirely different reason. He would have preferred to take a direct route but thought it best to stay out of sight. It is not often that someone of his position goes skulking around in the early hours of the morning.
Or rather, it is not often noticed, he thought.
Three blocks from the ocean, he came upon a series of small stone buildings that made up the majority of inns and pubs in the city. Adair peered around the corner and could see a few people hanging around in the street. They were either waiting to be the first customers of the day, or else they were the last ones of the night. Adair glanced behind to make sure that nobody had followed him, and when he was assured, he ducked down the back alley. All of the business owners’ living quarters faced away from the main street and toward the alley, so Adair walked softly until he found the building he was looking for.
He walked to the appropriate door and knocked softly. When no one answered, he tried again, a little louder this time. The thick wooden door finally opened just a crack, orange candlelight spilling from the opening. Adair pulled back his hood just enoug
After closing the door, the man put a finger to his lips and turned to walk through a low doorway at the back of the house. Once inside the back room he shut this door behind them as well and offered Adair a seat at a small wooden table. The table wasn’t the only thing that was small. In fact, it fit the rest of the room perfectly.
“What’s the occasion?” the man asked, rubbing sleep from his eyes.
“Why don’t you offer me something to drink, Gursha?” Adair suggested as he took off his cloak and draped it over the chair before sitting down.
“Sorry,” the large man muttered before walking out of the room.
While he waited, Adair glanced around. The table was obviously where Gursha ate his meals, but the walls were lined with shelves stuffed with an assortment of knick-knacks that didn’t appear to be kitchen-related. Before he was able to come to any conclusions, Gursha returned, carrying a bottle of wine and two dirty glasses. He set them down on the table and slumped into his chair with a look of exhaustion. Adair waited for Gursha to pour him some wine, but the man was clearly flustered with this meeting and overlooked it completely. Adair wasn’t used to meeting his informants in their own homes, so he felt a little out of place, but obviously not as much as Gursha.
“Thanks,” Adair said, pouring himself a glass instead. “I can see that you don’t prefer to meet in your home, but I can assure you … it will be worth your time.”
A greedy smile spread across Gursha’s wide face and then quickly retreated, replaced by a forced look of seriousness. Usually, Adair didn’t pay any of his informants. There were other methods of extracting information from people. Some were happy to tell all just to escape the punishment that they justly deserved. Others found themselves in trouble so often that they would do just about anything to have friends in high places. Adair had found that Gursha was a unique case. He ran the pub next door and was a legitimate businessman. But there was a way to get to anyone, and Adair had a special way of knowing people better than they knew themselves. The truth was that the Dockside couldn’t survive on its own. Adair always timed his meetings perfectly to coincide with Gursha’s financial troubles. The pub owner had long ago come to terms with the necessity of the secondary income Adair provided and had also become accustomed to it.