A Sellsword's Wrath

by Jacob Peppers

  “It’s fine,” Adina said, looking at the front of her shirt that was now covered in liquor, clinging to her breasts in a way that Aaron found distracting.

  “Yeah,” he said, unable to peel his eyes away, “It’s fine. Just … be more careful, will you?”

  “Of course, Mr. Envelar, of course” Leomin said, stumbling back on unsteady feet, “Careful is the word, as you say. It always proves most … wise to be careful.” Then he stumbled another step back and sat down heavily, propping his head against a tree trunk. In another moment, the man was snoring.

  Aaron watched him with annoyance and more than a little fascination. “Oh my,” Owen said, moving forward with the same urgency most men would have shown if they’d just seen someone stabbed, “are you alright?” He brought out a kerchief from his pocket and began rubbing at the front of Aaron’s shirt.

  Aaron grunted, catching his hand, “It’s fine, Owen, really.”

  “I think I saw a stream not far from here,” Adina said, standing and rooting in her pack for a change of clothes. “I’m going to go get cleaned up.” She turned to look at Aaron then and something in her eyes made his pulse quicken. “I can show you where it is, if you’d like.”

  Aaron nodded slowly, unable to help himself. “Alright.” He turned back to Owen, “You’ll be okay here, with him?”

  Owen glanced between the two of them for a moment then coughed politely. He looked at the Parnen for a moment then back to Aaron, a shy smile on his face. “I think we will be fine. I’ll make sure he doesn’t roll into the fire.”

  Aaron nodded, “Thanks,” he said, “we won’t be long.”

  He glanced at Adina, and she raised an eyebrow as if to ask whether or not he was sure about the time it would take.

  Aaron cleared his throat and drew a change of clothes from his own pack, grabbing his cloak and sword from where they lay by the fire. “Ready when you are.”

  She nodded, smiling, and started off into the woods.

  The stream was no more than fifteen minutes away from their camp. It was a small forest stream, the water not deep enough for swimming but deep enough to wade in. Adina stopped at the water’s edge, turning to him. The moonlight seemed to glisten in her hair, and her eyes danced. He drew closer to her so that they were only a few feet away. She met his eyes, unflinching and unafraid. “What you were saying before at the camp. You’re wrong, you know. You’re not a monster.”

  “Adina….” He started, but she stepped forward, putting a finger to his lips.

  “No,” she said, “I’ve listened to you speak on it enough, now it’s time that you listened to me. You’re not a monster, Aaron, no matter what you may think. You forget, I grew up in my father’s kingdom, in my father’s castle. I’ve been betrayed by my own nobles, and I’ve a brother who has murdered three of my siblings already and will murder the rest if he has his way. I understand something about monsters, and I know you’re not one.”

  “But Adina,” he said, thinking of the slavers, of the blood on his hands, the blood that he could almost see there no matter how many times he washed them. “The things I’ve done….”

  “Are no more than that,” she said, her voice low and soft, “nothing more than things you’ve done. And speaking of things you’ve done, what about saving my life? You’ve done that too. What about saving Gryle?” She shook her head, “No, Aaron. You’re not evil, no matter what you think. You’ve made mistakes but what of it? If there’s one thing I’ve learned about life, it’s that no one gets through it without scars. But it’s those scars, Aaron, that make us who we are.”

  “It’s more than that, Adina,” he said, “the thing, I was talking about before?” He hesitated, not wanting to tell her the truth about what he was, about what he was becoming, but knowing he had to anyway. Better her reject the truth than accept the lie. “Have you ever heard of the Seven Virtues? Of Aaron Caltriss and Boyce Kevlane and all the rest?”

  “Of course,” she said, clearly puzzled by the abrupt change in topic, “everyone’s heard the tales. Seven virtues an old king and his wizard made to create the perfect warrior. What were they … strength, intelligence, speed…”

  “Compassion,” Aaron said.

  “Yes, that’s right. Compassion … I forget the others.”

  “Charisma, for one,” Aaron said, “the others are perception and adaptability. Anyway,” he said, waving a hand, “the point is, Adina ….” Hesitating again, scared of what she would say, of what she would think. A funny thing, really. He could face down men bent on killing him, could even deal with whatever was coming after them now—both things caused fear, sure, but it was a known fear, one he understood. An old acquaintance. One you wouldn’t invite to dinner exactly, but, then, you wouldn’t be all that surprised when he showed up, either. No, this was a new worry, a new fear. It wasn’t something he’d done much of in his life, worrying about what other people thought, but it seemed to him that, at that moment, it was all that mattered.

  “The thing is … well. They’re not just fairy tales, Adina. Not just stories that parents tell their children before bed. The Virtues are real.” He held out his hand and, on cue, Co appeared hovering above it, a magenta ball of light floating in the air. “And I have one.”

  Adina let out a startled yelp and took a step back. Then, when nothing happened, she eased closer, her eyes wide in surprise. “I can’t … Aaron … it’s … it’s beautiful.”

  “Thank you,” Co said, and Adina jumped again, her hand shooting to her mouth.

  “Oh gods watch over us, it can talk!”

  “She, dear,” Co admonished, but Aaron could hear the amusement in her tone, “she can talk.”

  “Oh,” Adina said, “I’m … sorry about that. Ma’am?”

  Co laughed then, bouncing up and down in the air. “Oh, Co will do,” she said.

  “Or firefly or lightning bug,” Aaron added, “She loves those.”

  Adina laughed then, something of wonder and amazement in her face and, in that moment, Aaron thought he could see what she’d looked like as a child. The innocence she’d had before the world did what it does best and stripped it away. “It’s amazing,” Adina said shaking her head, “You’re amazing. Both of you.”

  “Well, thank you,” Co said, as if it was her due, “I do like to think—”

  “Adina,” Aaron said, hating that he had to take it a step further, to make her understand. “You still don’t get it.”

  But, if she heard, Adina wasn’t paying any attention. “So which one?” She said, “Which are you?”

  “I am the Virtue of Compassion,” Co answered.

  Adina glanced between the ball of light and Aaron’s face then let out a laugh, “Compassion? And you’re with him?”

  “Yes, well,” Co said, “let us say it’s a work in progress.”

  Adina laughed again and Co joined her. Aaron frowned, “If there’s a joke, I don’t see it.”

  “Oh, come on, Aaron,” Adina said, “surely you have to see the humor in it. You, of all people, are the one that gets the Virtue of Compassion? The Virtue of Grunting and Cursing a lot sure, but compassion?” She laughed again, “It’s just not the one I would have guessed, that’s all.”

  “Well,” Aaron said sourly amid their laughter, “you’re not any more surprised than I was, I guarantee you that.”

  “But … how?” Adina said finally, “how did it happen?”

  “Your brother,” Aaron said. “When I showed up and took care of those holding him, he was still alive. Barely. When he … when he died, Co passed on to me. The only thing I can figure is she’s lazy and didn’t feel like searching around for a better option.”

  “Eladen, was bonded with the Virtue of Compassion?” Adina said, then she slapped a hand to her forehead, “Of course. That would explain how, years ago, he started acting so differently. He was always kind, sure, always concerned with other people’s feelings, but even I noticed a dramatic difference in the way he treated everyone. In th
e way he spent so much time focused on bettering the lives of the commoners despite the fact that it was the nobles who held all the power. It all makes sense now.”

  Co bobbed slowly forward, coming to rest only inches from Adina’s face where, even now, a tear traced its way down her cheek. “Your brother was a good man, and he taught me much. I have never met one finer than him, and I doubt very much that I ever shall. Know that, when I was bonded to him, I knew your brother, knew him as well as he knew himself. He loved you, Adina. He spent much time worrying for you, for all of Telrear. He rarely slept for his worry.”

  Adina swallowed, wiping at her face, “Thank you, for that, Co. It means a lot.”

  Co bobbed once, as if in agreement, then came back to float above Aaron’s shoulder.

  “So you see the problem, Adina. As much as I would want to … as much as I like you, I can’t … we can’t.”

  Adina frowned at him, “Why?”

  Aaron ran a hand through his hair, “I just told you. I have one of the Virtues. I’m bonded to her.”

  “So?”

  “Damnit, Adina, I don’t want to hurt you,” he said, “don’t you get it? Those men I killed, those slavers? I don’t remember it. Something’s happening. With me, with Co. I just … when I saw they took you, I got so angry. I killed those men, Adina,” he said, “I killed them badly. I remember enough to know that. I enjoyed it. Don’t you see? I am a monster.”

  “No,” Adina said, coming up and grabbing his hands in hers, stepping close and holding his gaze in her own. “You’re not a monster, Aaron. What you did, you saved us. Me and Leomin and Owen. You did that. Just as you saved me and Gryle by getting us out of Avarest when Belgarin’s men were chasing us. Whatever is happening, you don’t have to face it alone.”

  “Adina…”

  “No. Whatever is happening to you, Aaron, you won’t face it alone. We will figure it out together. You didn’t abandon me, and I won’t abandon you. You got it?”

  Aaron nodded slowly, overcome by the intensity in her eyes, her words. “I got it.”

  “Good,” she said. “I’d hate to have to try to knock some sense into that thick skull of yours. Now,” she glanced at the stream gurgling softly behind them then back at Aaron and Co floating over his shoulder. “Co, I wonder … would you mind terribly….”

  “I think I’ll go check back at camp,” Co said, “see how Leomin and Owen are doing.” Then she was gone, a magenta ball of light streaking through the darkness, growing dimmer as she went until, in another moment, she was gone. Aaron watched her vanish then turned back to find Adina standing naked before him, her skin smooth and silky and pearlescent in the moonlight.

  “Gods,” He said, “but you are beautiful.”

  She smiled, cocking her head slightly, her long dark hair falling over her shoulders, “You talk about the gods an awful lot for someone who doesn’t believe in them.”

  He studied her, standing there. The most beautiful thing he’d ever seen, so vulnerable and so strong all at the same time, and he smiled, “I’m starting to.”

  She smiled then stepped forward, pulling his cloak off and tossing it on the ground, then his shirt and the rest of it. She studied him, whistling appreciatively, and he felt his face heat in the darkness. “Sword fighting does all that, does it?” She said.

  “The scars, anyway,” Aaron said, then he pulled her to him, their lips met, and for the first time in a long time, he wasn’t worried about the things he’d done, wasn’t scared of what he was or what he was becoming. His only thoughts were of her, of the heat of her pressed against him, of her smooth flesh against his own, the way her hair glided over his fingers as he ran his hand through it. He felt like a man who had finally set down a heavy burden, knowing he would have to pick it up again, but knowing, too, that that would be okay. That he could do it now, could carry it so long as he was required to. So long as there were moments like this in the world it wasn’t all bad—it couldn’t be all bad.

  “Come on,” she said, a moonlight nymph of impossible beauty and grace standing there in the darkness. “Follow me.” She turned and made her way into the water, and Aaron did the only thing he could do. He followed her.

  For a time, they left the world behind them. Left all their troubles and all their worries, their only thoughts of flesh and heat and the rhythm they made together so that nothing else existed at all but the two of them. So focused were they on one another that they did not notice the shadow that shifted by a nearby tree. Shifted and waited and watched before, finally, floating away back into the darkness.

  CHAPTER

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  They arrived at Perennia two days later. Aaron, like the others, was weary from the road. That, coupled with the fact that he and Adina would sneak away at any free moment had left him little time for sleep. Not that he was complaining.

  “Are you as tired as I am?” Adina asked beside him as they made their way through the city gate. The guards looked at them with frowns that seemed the sole property of men who spent long hours guarding buildings or gates, but they did not stop them.

  “Tired, sure,” Aaron said, “the kind of tired I could get used to though.”

  She grinned at that, blushing in the sunlight, and he glanced at Leomin and Owen riding behind them, neither speaking. If either man had noticed his and Adina’s nightly meetings, they had made no comment. In fact, neither of the two had said much of anything the past couple of nights, the majority of the talk belonging to Aaron and Adina but that was understandable, really. Weeks spent in the wilderness had a way of working on a man, making him feel disconnected, alone, making him really understand just how small he was and just how big the world is.

  “What do you want to do?” Aaron said.

  Adina glanced at her own clothes and at Aaron’s frowning, “Isabelle can be somewhat … influenced by appearances.”

  “She should love you then.”

  She smiled, tucking a strand of loose hair behind her ear, “While I appreciate the compliment, I think that we need a bath.”

  Aaron grinned back, “Sounds good to me.”

  “I mean,” she said, her blush deepening, “a bath where the focus is on washing not on … well, anything else. No matter how … diverting.”

  Aaron nodded, “Diverting, huh?”

  She winked, “Very.”

  “Alright,” he said, “A bath it is. Though, I’ll admit, I was just getting used to the smell of dirt and grass.”

  “No doubt,” she said, and Aaron saw a mischievous glint in her eyes that he liked. Liked very much. “And to a certain type of bath too. Anyway, we need to get cleaned up, and we need some new clothes too.” She frowned, thinking, “What gold we have, coupled with that we got from the slavers, should be enough to get us what we need.”

  “Should be?” Aaron asked, “gods woman we’ve got enough gold to live comfortably for a year in the Downs.”

  “Yes,” Adina sad, “I believe you. The problem, of course, is that we’re not in the Downs. Isabelle will expect a certain level of … sophistication. Anything less, and I doubt we’ll make it past the castle door, let alone into a private audience with her.”

  “Seriously?” Aaron said, “You’re her sister.”

  “Yes,” Adina said, “but I will be her well-dressed sister. Not too well dressed, mind, not enough to be seen as competition to her, not enough to cast her in a poor light. Only enough that she can claim me without feeling as if she’s losing face.”

  Aaron sighed, “Nobles and their games.”

  She met his eyes, “Yes, nobles and their games. But this is a game we have to play, and one we must not just play but win if we’re to have any hope of convincing Isabelle to ally with Ellemont against Belgarin.” They’d spoken about this on the road, deciding that Isabelle’s army would not be enough to stand against Belgarin, that they would need Ellemont’s as well. Adina had seemed hopeful enough, but Aaron couldn’t help remembering what Festa had said. A craven, he’
d called him.

  “Anyway,” Adina said, “Isabelle might hate my older brother, but she has little love for Ellemont either. It will take some convincing to get her to see reason, and I would like us all to look our best. Besides, it’s late in the day. I would prefer to show up in the morning when Isabelle—and we—are fresh.”

  “An inn, then.”

  “Yes. And a bath.”

  Aaron glanced over at her, raising an eyebrow, “You keep saying that.”

  CHAPTER

  TWENTY-NINE

  Aaron relaxed in the warm water of a bath the inn’s serving girl had prepared and, despite what he’d said to Adina, he was glad for the moment to rub some of the soreness out of his muscles. Remembering the cause of some of that soreness was fun enough, but he was just as ready to lose it just the same.

  She loves you, you know. The gods alone know why, but she does.

  Aaron sighed, “Can’t you let a man enjoy a simple bath, firefly? Besides, it doesn’t seem exactly proper, you hanging around while I’m naked. What would Aliandra think?”

  Nothing much, is my guess, Co said in an obviously satisfied tone, she’s had occasion to see such things before, more often than most. I do not expect she would be unduly alarmed … or impressed.

  “Damn, firefly. Well, the water’s cold anyway.”

  “That,” Co said, speaking aloud and coming to hover inches from his face, “is not what you were thinking a moment ago.”

  He frowned, “Never mind what I was thinking a moment ago. A man’s thoughts are his own, firefly. Or should be, at least.”

  “I only say this, Aaron. I like you—truly, I do, though even I do not understand the reason. You are an insufferable, disagreeable, man, and possibly the most overtly hostile person I have ever met.”

  “Eh … thanks?”

  “My point” Co went on as if he hadn’t spoken, “is that, despite all of your flaws—and, believe me, there are many—I enjoy your company. It seems that the princess does too, though in a very different way.”