Free Rythe Falls by Craig R. Saunders Page A

lungs, breathing shallow and careful. He could feel something bubbling deep in his chest, and thought it probably wasn't phlegm. But he resist the urge to try to cough out the sickness, until the fit until it passed.
                  Time for coughing later. He knew he needed to save what little breath he could to talk with Caeus. He'd been putting it off, maybe.
                  No maybe about it.
                  He'd known Renir was unhappy. Knew they were all unhappy. Warriors all, caged? It was never going to end well. You could no more cage a warrior than a Jemandril. Try it, and first chance the caged beast got, you'd lose a hand. Even Shorn, Bourninund and Wen, down in town in their inn, in their cups? They wouldn't be held back much longer.
                  Drun understood. If battle didn't come to them, they'd seek it out. A fighting man, a man with war in his blood? He couldn't sit idle that long. The fight within such men needed to come out somehow, lest it destroy them.
                  Somewhere along the road, the need to fight had gotten into Renir. That demon that some men held at bay was growing in him. Renir was sold to war, now. No turning that around.
                  Just got to let him run.
                  Come on, old man. Knock. Get this done.
                  With a shallow breath, Drun stilled his heart and calmed his soul until he felt peace wash through him. Then, and only then, did Drun reach out and knock on the thick wood to Caeus' room. When the red wizard beckoned, he steeled himself a second time and pushed the door open.
     
    *
     
     
     
     
     
     
    Chapter Twelve
     
    Drun Sard closed the door behind him perhaps ten minutes later. The wizard had not appeared angry, but Drun knew that the wizard had been holding his thoughts and feelings - if he had such - deep inside. Both men still of body and expression, talking...but perhaps only one had been listening.
                  'That went well,' he muttered to himself, but it appeared that those few words atop the talk with Caeus were more than he could handle. He began to cough, tried to stop and found that he could not. His lungs burned. With each hacking, rasping cough more blood flowed down the priest's mostly-white beard, and then dripped onto his robe. Eventually, pale, clasping his sides, the fit passed and he stared down at the amount of blood on his person.
                  Even in the darkness of the hallway, it was dark. Life blood.
                  Won't be long , he thought. He could have quite happily died right there in the cool hall (felt like his lungs were burning, maybe, but at least the chill Sturman air was refreshing). But it wasn't time to die. Too much to do. So much to do.
                  The priest left the blood where it was and forced his shaking legs to carry him back to his rooms. Night here, day in Lianthre, and it was high time he found out how his other brothers and their charge, the girl child who saw all, were fairing.
                  Maybe he could die later.
                  Drun's pains were beginning to get so death itself wasn't such a terrible prospect at all.
     
    *
     
    Caeus did not hear Drun's pains, nor his wracking cough, because when Drun closed the door to Caeus' room, Caeus wasn't there anymore.
                  He was at the foot of Renir's bed, once again. Watching the man who would be king sleep. The man groaned and muttered while he slept, obviously dreaming, though Caeus would not intrude in the man's dreams...such a thing would be...impolite.
                  Red light brightened the room for a moment. While Drun's golden eyes brought forth warmth and peace, the red light that bled from Caeus' awful eyes was both cold and full of wrath.
                  But with a blink, it was gone, and a soft smile