Free CHOSEN by Jolea M. Harrison Page B

hardly a whisper. He hadn’t any strength and Maralt eased him over to his bed. “There’s danger to you as well, more than you think.”
    “I understand.”
    Gradyn rolled his eyes closed at that; the usual response to any claims of perception. “I’m not talking about physical danger, though there will probably be that too. It’s the threat to your soul that concerns me more. You have to be careful.”
    “I will be,” Maralt said, hoping to ease Gradyn’s anxiety. His face was a sickly shade of white. “Tell me what I should do and I’ll do it.”
    Gradyn nodded and indicated he wanted to stand. Maralt wasn’t sure he could, but helped him up and then held him steady until he could manage on his own.
    “You mustn’t tell Carryn of this,” Gradyn said. “Doing so could alter what she sees, or even alert the other side to our plans. I’ll explain it to her when the need comes. I’m going to show you how to give a part of yourself to Dynan and Dain. It’s the same thing Alurn has done with me, but Maralt, you mustn’t ever do it again. It weakens you, the core of who you are. Twice is more than a man ought to manage, but you’re young yet. You’ll have time to recover. Hopefully. Once it’s done, I don’t think you can reverse it either. I don’t know for certain. I’ve never tried.”
    “Dynan and Dain Telaerin are going to have a part of me with them for the rest of their lives?” Maralt said, stunned by the idea of it and a little concerned too.
    “Yes.”
    “Will it change them?”
    “A better question would be; will it change you, which is yes, probably, for a time at least. I don’t think it’s enough to change them, except to give them strength and us a better chance of seeing them through this.”
    “All right,” Maralt said. The High Bishop approached with his hand held out, touching Maralt’s face with two fingers to his temple to teach him what to do. “I’m ready.”
     
    ~*~

 
     
    Chapter 7

    High Commander Gloik left the King’s office and Ambrose Telaerin smiled after him in case the Commander glanced back. He resisted the urge to flop into his chair, turning instead to look out at the rising sun as light painted the eastern horizon red. Even the gray sea rolled a shade of magenta.
    “It’s going to snow again,” he said to the windowpane. There were mountains of the stuff already built up along the walks and roads. Winters in Rianamar were a thing of legend.
    Ambrose rubbed his eyes to ease his weariness. He’d been up half the night dealing with a crisis that shouldn’t have been considered one. A Murian patrol ship crossed the boundary into Cobalt territory. The latest incursion was a case of a poorly trained pilot misreading his coordinates. Nothing more. A number of military commanders didn’t agree with his assessment, but in the end they did as Ambrose said. It was getting to that agreement that he sometimes found annoying. He didn’t have limitless power as King even though the covenant said he did.
    The sound of someone’s thumping approach made him turn from the window. Roth Perquin, Brendin Moch and Melgan Lon hardly paused at the door before coming in.
    “There’s a problem,” Brendin said, while Roth was communicating through his comboard, tapping the face of it in rapid succession.
    Melgan tapped a comboard he held, his expression more dour than usual, and he reached across the black dreywood desk to synch the device with the comterm embedded in the surface. He touched a final control to complete the file transfer, set the comboard down, folded his arms and stood back.
    The image of a detention cell flickered into view. White cushioned walls and white padded floors reflected light back to the imager and cast a glare across the screen before it was filtered out. For a moment they were looking at an empty room.
    Ambrose was about to ask what this was all about, when he heard a low mutter, followed by a man coming into view. His hair was neatly