by Azalea Moone
He hopped off the horse and led them both to the fence where Sawyer’s horse was tied. After securing them there, he stepped up the stairs. Hand bracing for the sword at his side, he pushed open the door.
“Kohaku!” he hollered.
“Excuse me, sir.” A small woman dressed in custom Jinchun attire answered with a gripe. “Could you please keep your voice down here?” The strong, earthy scent of the suir threatened to choke him, but he swallowed it down.
“Apologies, ma’am.” Fithel stepped inside and up to the podium. “But I’m looking for a man—”
“Aren’t we all?” She fluttered her long lashes, cheeks drawing red.
Fithel flirted with the thought of flashing the whore a full-toothed smile and playing along with the game, but he hadn’t time to fool around. “Perhaps you’ve seen him. Long, red hair. Leather armor. He came through not too long ago.”
“I have, sir. He’s visiting with the master as we speak.”
“The master?” Something niggled at the back of Fithel’s mind. It wasn’t Sawyer this woman spoke of, then it could only be the man who stole Sawyer’s trust. “May I see him?”
“Oh, no.” She kept her head down, shuffling through scrolls on the pedestal. “The master doesn’t enjoy being disturbed during his ceremonies.”
Fithel’s heart skipped. He stomped closer. “A ceremony? Ma’am, if I don’t see him then I fear this ritual might do more harm than good.”
“Nonsense, sir. I’m sure this gentleman you seek will thoroughly benefit from what the master gives. I know I have many times...” Her voice faltered. She suddenly whipped into a squeaky laugh. “So sorry. It’s just... you speak as if you’re pure. Have you not experience with the master’s treatments?”
“Of course, I haven’t.” Fithel groaned, then darted for the nearest door to his left. It opened up to reveal a staircase, but just as he began skipping steps up to the second floor, the woman hollered back for him.
He wasn’t bound to stop. This ritual sounded troublesome, and to think he sent Kohaku in here alone. Even the scent of the harsh drug was enough to make him furrow his nose. Luckily, he’d not experienced so much reaction to it like humans did. Something such as this didn’t do much for an elf.
The second set of footsteps, much tinier than his own, warned him of the woman giving chase. He reached the second floor and scanned the long hallway of closed doors. It certainly wasn’t like any brothel he’d ever been to—where were the topless whores and their companions? It was way too quiet, and he even wondered if there was anyone inside the rooms.
He’d no other choice but to try all the doors. He stepped up to the first one despite the persistent hollers for him to “stop.” He jiggled the doorknob until it creaked open. Met with darkness, he found nothing of interest so pulled it shut and tried the next door.
The woman’s voice behind him grew louder. He quickened his pace, pushing the door open and closing it when he found nothing but emptiness. He moved to the third door down the hallway.
It creaked open with a light push, revealing a palely lit room and gasping breaths.
The shrieks and footsteps behind him ceased. Then scattered back down the stairs as he stepped inside. Two figures were close to the wall—two men pressed up against each other. The first he couldn’t make out, but he knew that long red, tangled mane of hair and the sinewy body pushed against the wood.
“Kohaku!”
Suddenly, the other man stepped away, letting Kohaku sink to the floor. “Well, if it isn’t the inebriated elf. Should’ve stayed outside.”
“What did you do to him?” Fithel swung his sword at his side, readying himself for a fight.
The old man turned to face him—though he didn’t recognize the face, Fithel could only imagine this was the owner of the brothel. And perhaps the man who knew where Sawyer was. “It’s none of your concern, elf. Now put away your sword!”
Fithel tightened his grip. “Where’s Sawyer?”
The spoken name made Kohaku hiccup, “S-Sawyer?”
“Are you sure you wish to see him? He’s not the man he was before.”
“He’s here?” Kohaku asked, trying to pick himself off the floor. Somehow, he traded his armor for a fine silk kimono, and it slipped loosely around his shoulders. Tears were streaking down his flushed cheeks.
Fithel had thought to help him but kept his sights on the older man. “Where is he?”
“Very well, I shall retrieve him. Though do not fear if he’s different than you remember.” The older man stepped toward a second door.
“Don’t move!” Fithel jerked—he’d catch the bastard if he tried to escape. “Summon him now!”
The man laughed. “Yes, of course.”
With a snap of his fingers, a thick puff of smoke appeared next to him. It fluttered in the air, creating the shape of a figure. The form of a man. Glistening blue iris’ void of emotion, and glowing veins that could only be the familiar effects of Sawyer’s affliction. Then, the armor, different from what he’d normally worn—a tight, black leather with metal plates across his chest, arms, and knees. And the glistening sword, such a curiosity, held in his mechanical hand.
“Sawyer?” Kohaku was the first to cry his name.
Strange how he’d never been able to hold a sword with that hand since the accident.
Fithel didn’t move nor flinch. The old man was right, this wasn’t Sawyer as he always knew him, curse or not. Sawyer stared at him with a sneer.
“Stay back,” Fithel warned just as Kohaku tried to crawl to Sawyer. “It’s not truly him.” Damn it, just as he feared. Sawyer had been brainwashed; the old man brought out the curse.
Just as he thrust his sword toward the old man, Sawyer jumped and swung to protect him. The old man disappeared through the other door—a balcony. The cold storm winds whipped the door open further, suffocating the candle and filling the room with fresh air. Rain plunked on the wooden rails outside.
Kohaku wrapped his arms around himself tighter, but Fithel held his ground. “I don’t want to fight you, Sawyer.”
Narrowing his brows, Sawyer swung his sword, and Fithel dodged the attempt. He turned away from Kohaku lest the summoner was struck, then blocked the next blow. Metal screeched against metal; he pressed against the sword tight—Sawyer had grown stronger with age, but he wasn’t this persistent during their last battle together days ago.
At last, Sawyer loosened his hold, letting Fithel back away from him. “Sawyer!” He lowered his sword in an attempt to make peace. “Stop this! Have you lost your senses?”
Sawyer stepped up to him, a smile on his lips, the glowing cobalt veins brighter than ever. Fithel straightened his spine, ready for his friend—his ex-lover to speak—but then was met by the flickering of the sword’s blade coming toward him.
He fended off the attack again, side-stepping away. This wouldn’t work, speaking in friendly terms wouldn’t work to pacify a madman. He knew this after their endless battles at the castle when the spell would strike. But this time, it was different. Sawyer attacked with higher precision than before, as if he knew what he was doing. Violence with a purpose.
Fithel cursed under his breath. So that man had figured out how to control the affliction given to Sawyer by his father. That son-of-a-bitch!
“Watch out!” Kohaku’s voice called to him as he spotted the flash of the blade coming towards him again.
He held out his sword; the horrid shriek of metal on metal ringing in his ears.
“Stop this!” Kohaku screamed. “Sawyer. Please.” He was up on his knees, grasping hold of Sawyer’s leg.
Something passed through Sawyer’s eyes just then, a realization or irritation, Fithel wasn’t sure what. He pulled away his sword from Fithel, thrusting it toward Kohaku.
“No!”
Ping! The rain beat against the balcony outside, louder now in the utter silence. Fithel had thought he’d closed his eyes to the scatter of blood against the floor. But as he focused closer, h
e saw Kohaku with his hand gripping the talisman tight around his neck. Shimmering red scale armor covered his body. A beautiful glowing red long sword with a black hilt in his hand. This was his dragon’s armor; a shield only provided for him. If he hadn’t called upon his savior just then, he could have been dead.
The tip of Sawyer’s sword stopped at his heart where the thick chest-piece covered the attempted blow. Sawyer’s jaw dropped, and he groaned, pulled back his sword, then darted for the outside door.
“Wait!” Kohaku tried to jump to his feet but staggered.
Fithel caught him before he could fall. “Slow down. You’re still under the effects of the drug.”
“But we need to catch him.” Kohaku attempted to pick himself up again, only to fall lax into Fithel’s arms. “They’re getting away.”
Fithel lowered his head. “We’ll let them.”
“What are you saying?” Kohaku’s eyes were moist, lips trembling. “If we let Sawyer go now, we might never recover him.”
“But he knew. I saw it. As soon as he attacked you, he knew what he’d done was wrong.” Fithel yanked Kohaku to his feet, then unwrapped himself away once the summoner’s quivering ceased. “You cannot fight in your condition. We’ll wait for the rest of the troops to arrive.”
“Is that a good idea?” Kohaku steadied himself, using the sword for balance against the floor. “We let them go to fight another day?”
It wasn’t the best plan, but the only one Fithel could muster. Given any more time, and Sawyer could lose himself completely to the curse. They didn’t have long, but they at least needed to wait for Kohaku’s spell to be undone—however long that would take.
“Come. We’ll go back to the tavern and figure out what’s next,” Fithel said, turning away from Kohaku. A glistening red light sparkled behind him—Kohaku had undone his dragon’s magic. “I’ll buy you drink.”
Chapter Fourteen
Emperor’s Palace
Kohaku still wasn’t fully well by the time they arrived at the tavern they been to earlier that morning. His vision remained blurry. His body ached something awful. And worse of all, the constant burning through his thighs and rear made him want to scream, especially when riding the horse. Keeping his dragon’s armor against his body shielded him from even more dangers, though it was difficult to move in.
He couldn’t believe that damn old man had tried what he did, to place a knob full of the suir there of all places... Kohaku groaned to himself. How could Fithel let him walk into a situation like that?
Once they were inside the quiet tavern, he ran his fingers through his wet, messy hair and settled on a stool by the bar. The bartender, on full automation like he’d never been a human at all, only glanced at them once with disinterest then went back to work.
Fithel tapped on the countertop. “Drinks.”
The bartender bent down to retrieve a bottle on instinct.
“Well, what is your plan, then?” Kohaku asked, apprehensively. If the next idea was to send him on some fanatical adventure to catch that old man, then Fithel had another thing coming.
Fithel gave him a side-long glance, then took a sip from the mug the bartender set down in front of him just then. Kohaku was offered his own, but could barely consider a drink at this time... It could calm his nerves, though. He thumbed across the cool handle.
“Did that man give you his name?” Fithel said at last.
Kohaku shook his head, still reluctant to drink. “He muttered something, but I...”
Fithel wiped the foam from his lips, and Kohaku’s heart panged. “I’m sure that was him, the old man who... Well, I don’t know what he tried to do to you, but—”
“And you sent me up there alone to deal with it. What the hell were you trying to accomplish?” Kohaku slammed his hand upon the countertop. “I could’ve been myself killed or worse!”
“Raped?”
Kohaku’s face went flush, hot with anger. “I’d rather had a sword in my back.” He grabbed the mug and took a long swig. It was surprisingly good, a bitter mix of spice and nut that caught in the throat on the first swallow. “Did you do it for revenge?”
“Revenge?” Fithel turned to face him fully. “Settling of scores is not my priority, no. Though, Sawyer had chosen you over me despite my love for him. I will admit I’m not fond of you, summoner.”
“Then, why?”
“You’re a soldier in Anscien’s army, you shall act as such. That was your first investigation, albeit not a successful one at all.”
Kohaku focused back on the countertop. “Is that how it is, then?”
With a huff, Fithel took a big gulp of his ale, letting the silence invade them again. The bartender continued to scrub and wipe, oblivious to their conversation or even to them being there.
“I was kidnapped...” Fithel whispered, setting down his empty mug. “From my Elvin kinfolk at age eleven. We were a meager bunch; we couldn’t fend for ourselves. Bandits ordered the adults to give up their sons, therefore my cousins and I were put to work by a crew of miners.” Fithel crossed his hands upon the countertop, keeping his head lowered. Once long ears nudged out from underneath his light-brown hair, scars where the tips were severed at one time.“ Never thought I’d get out of there until the mines ran dry. That’s when I’d heard King Herman of Anscien was in search of the strongest soldiers in the northern lands. The miners gathered the toughest slaves, but I wasn’t one of them.
“And so I broke off my chains and snuck into line. We were traded for a paltry sum, then marched to the castle. One look at us and King Herman knew... we weren’t strong, nor even human. Nevertheless, he used us as pawns for the dragons while the knights exchanged blows with the summoners.”
Kohaku gripped the handle of his mug tight. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing—this story, a life’s story of a poor elf, was probably only ever told to Sawyer once before.
“We lost almost half of our men on one night. A dozen elves with bows and arrows could never best a frost dragon in flight.” Fithel sighed.“ Though the summoner was captured, I knew my job wasn’t over. And so I lived to fight again. Venom poisoned another dozen or so men, but thankfully we beheaded the summoner.
“Soon I realized that I was the only one left of my comrades, and the decision was made. Magic, dragons, and their summoners, all of it should be put to rest for good. I’d destroy every dragon and summoner I came across. I’d cut each one down; I’d see to it each one was gone from this world, just like they killed my companions. I fought to the top, and each time I executed another summoner, the more I felt alive. Especially with Sawyer beside me...”
Fithel glanced at him just then, there was the lost pain of each man he’d seen killed, and mislaid pleasure of murdering those with magic sparkling in his eyes. But there was also sadness. Grief in watching the one he loved be taken away from him.
“And so, it is not you I dislike, summoner. It is your kind. Every one of you left.”
“Two.” Kohaku corrected him. “There are only two left in this world, Taryn and I.”
“And the queen.” Fithel ran a finger through the mug, gathering the last sip on his skin. “I’m... I apologize for putting you through such an incident.”
An apology? Kohaku stared at Fithel, unable to believe what he’d said. Though he still hadn’t all the tales of Fithel and Sawyer’s relationship together, nor exactly what the elf had been through in life, one thing was for certain. They’d never be friends, but at least they could work together now to save Sawyer.
He nodded as acceptance, then took another sip from his mug.
“But I will say something now that might frustrate you. We’re in service to our kingdom, so we will search out the emperor and let him know what’s happened to his country,” Fithel said, finally putting his mug back on the countertop.
“What of Sawyer?”
Fithel shook his head. “It’s not our primary duty to rescue him. Our responsibility was to come to Qeoca and request for the emp
eror’s help in the matters happening in Anscien right now.”
“We leave Sawyer of his own accord?” Impossible! If they left him alone too much longer, who knows what could happen to him. But with the determination in Fithel’s posture, Kohaku sucked in his lower lip and turned away. “Fine. There is at least one thing I would like to do before leaving.”
“That is?”
Kohaku glanced at the bartender who continued to scrub as if he wasn’t listening to their conversation. Still, he kept his voice down. “Burn that damn place down to the ground.”
Fithel caught the seriousness in Kohaku’s eyes. He never wanted to remember what happened at the brothel, again. And if he burned whatever suir was there, then that was one center of distribution gone from this world.
“Understood. But after the rains let up.”
Their first aim was to seek the emperor’s palace when they left the tavern. The rains had calmed into a gentle downpour as they rode along the quiet streets of Jinchun. All around the town were merchants and taverns and apocathary shops, all boarded up as if the residents had left them to rot a long time ago.
Any passersby were just as drugged as the bartender at the tavern, weaving slowly across the road—women with children at their side just as pallid as the men. An awful sight to see, Kohaku had always wondered what his mother’s native land was like but he could never imagine this.
He kept to himself during the ride, wishing to the Maker for this to be over soon without fail. Hoping they’d find Sawyer alive and well once they finished their duty. Eager to get back home to the castle... The castle... Matter of fact, he’d once thought castle life was too tedious for him. Spending days on end sheltered from the wild was uninteresting, so he’d use his time to care for the animals and the gardens.
Yet now, he was almost missing his time there. Hand in hand with Sawyer, eating next to each other at the long table, and comfortably sleeping side-by-side in their warm bed. He never expected this journey would play so heavily upon his heart.
