***
The next day, Azrael and Glint had breakfast together in the same spot under the staircase that had become Glint’s favourite. The platter the warrior received, with its many decorations and heaps of different flavours, contrasted spectacularly with his counterpart’s measly portion of oats and fruit, old from their weary look. It seemed the people in charge of the place did not appreciate the necromancer’s absence while Glint worked for days to rid their village of its infestation. From the glares, Glint also thought they didn’t like how peculiar Azrael looked in his black clothes and pale complexion. Glint had felt a strange presence from the man since he met him, and it was only after he had heard of his partner’s origin that he could place that feeling and describe it: Azrael acted exactly the way that people from Brittania were viewed around here, elegant and confidant to a fault. Almost spoony, in fact.
However, Azrael still had his good points. When Glint got annoyed by the difference between the meals and got up to have a word with Gared about it, Azrael put a hand on his shoulder and grinned merrily. A spoonful of oats filled his mouth as he tried to say, “They’re really quite good.”
That seemed to take old Gared off guard, Glint thought as he looked over to the barkeep and his wife, who looked guilty. Apparently they’d thought the necromancer would presume himself too good for oats and demand something of them in haughty voice. A few more minutes into the meal, they brought Azrael some more food. Of course when the man smiled at the old lady in that way of his, she wasn’t able to keep herself from smiling back.
It was still rather early when Glint and Azrael went out to hunt the last few wolverines. The sunlight blinded Azrael a bit as they walked out the door and into the fresh smell of morning breeze. Glint snorted at him, and then leaned over and whispered, “These people are terrified of Ability users, Azrael.”
Azrael stiffened, but when Glint glanced to his left he noticed that instead of shock or indignation, the man’s face reflected only resignation. “That happens sometimes,” he murmured.
“But why? Are people so badly treated by guilds? Or is it independent Ability users? For crying out loud, where I grew up, people learnt the basics!” Glint kept his voice low during the entire outburst, and Azrael only listened, until he was done.
“What you are talking about, Glint, is the distribution of news. It’s a very serious problem nowadays because of the way we live our life. In fact, a man of northern Ya’ab’s Grand Cross guild wrote a book about it. Duke Alester, he’s called. Quite the scholarly fellow he is, or so I’ve heard.”
By now the two were out of town, and could speak more freely. The snow had gotten less thick in the past few days, but what remained of it had turned into either dirty mush or, in places, hard slippery ice. Thus the two stepped carefully along the path Glint habitually took when hunting. He had gotten to know the forests quite well. They passed over some tracks and Azrael went still.
“What is that?” he asked, pointing at the footprints in the snow, but looking at a large pile of dung which clearly belonged to the same creature. It was old, but Glint knew it to be one of the creatures he hadn’t killed yet.
“Wolverine tracks,” he answered, paying no heed to the man and walking over to the dung heap, looking it over curiously to see what this wolverine liked to eat exactly. This forest was segmented rather well, with some wildlife and tree types existing largely in specific parts. Seeing the bones of a certain type of squirrels, he reached a decision.
“North,” he said. “We’ll find the thing north. Once they find a meal they like, they stick to it, usually.” He moved to veer off from the tracks and head more directly towards the part of the forest he thought the wolverine was in, but Azrael stopped him.
“Wait!” he exclaimed, startling Glint a little. The man walked over and sat on a tree stump, then jumping up with a yelp and brushing it of snow before relaxing on it again. During all this, he maintained a serious face, worrying Glint a little. “Tell me more about what you’ve been doing here while I was gone,” he said.
“Umm... Killing wolverines?”
“Those tracks wouldn’t match any wolverine I know of,” shot Azrael back, gesturing at the footprints.
“Well, these beasts are disfigured, Azrael,” Glint started to explain “I thought you knew. I don’t know exactly what happened to them, but they keep growing bigger and more ferocious with time. It starts off with just one body part but it goes on and on until, I guess, they’d turn into bears or something. I haven’t met one that far along yet, thank Pyro.”
Azrael put his now signature white comb through his slightly wavy hair thoughtfully. Glint had noticed the man carried it with him everywhere. “Fascinating,” he remarked, but then seemed to leave his more childish curiosity behind. “I congratulate you on dealing with them so well. An animal like that would be about as fast and strong as you yourself may be.”
“As long as one body part’s larger than the rest, I could use that against them. They move awkwardly, you know. It was a little hard without the armour though.” At that, Azrael looked surprised and slightly impressed. Glint felt humbled at the expression, even though he knew that he actually deserved it. “What now?” he asked, wondering what the necromancer wanted to do now that he’d found out more about the beasts they were hunting.
“Now, we go exterminate all of the wolverines we can find.”
“All of them?” asked Glint, surprised. They were only contracted to kill fifty of them, and wouldn’t get paid more for going any further than that.
Azrael gave him something akin to a look of pity. “Indeed, young Glint,” he started in his teacher voice, the one he knew Glint hated. The warrior glared at his companion but kept silent. “What you don’t realize is that these things are infinitely more dangerous than you think. I daresay that two of them could probably kill everyone in the village, if they really wanted to.” Before Glint could say anything about them already having killed some villagers from other places, Azrael continued, scratching at the stump he was sitting on absentmindedly, “Now, it usually wouldn’t be a problem if it were another animal, or if the... disease,” he paused at that, as if unsure of what to call the beast’s curse. “Yes, if the disease simply made them bigger, it would be fine. Giant pets for the guilds or monsters for some of the arenas, what have you. I am more concerned about their temperament. You mentioned that they become aggressive as they transform?”
At that Glint began to think things through, crossing his arms. Under the right conditions, one of the wolverines might attack the village, out of hunger or to expand its territory. “Yeah, they do get really angry, like they’re being tortured and want to take it out on someone,” he elaborated.
Seeing that Glint wasn’t happy about the extra task, Azrael added, “I think the animals would be grateful themselves, you know. Being disfigured in the way that you explained to me cannot be a painless ordeal.”
Glint just grunted. He was starting to understand that Azrael was going to be getting them to do many unpaid good deeds during their journey.
The Final Life Page 29
