by Paul Barrett
He stared at the skeleton of his house, feeling as burned away as the smoldering timbers. He had no concept of what to do next.
A stern face appeared in front of him, blocking his view of the destruction. Numb, it took Erick a moment to recognize Brannon, and longer to realize the captain addressed him.
“What?” Erick asked, pulling himself out of his daze.
“Is that man responsible for this?” Brannon pointed at the prone, dark-clad figure.
“No, I’m responsible,” Erick said. The admission caused new tears to flow. At Brannon’s puzzled stare, Erick wiped at his gritty eyes. “He and two others were trying to kill me. I threw a lantern at one of them and missed. Blink took care of the others.”
“That man tried to kill you?”
“Yes.”
Brannon signaled for two guards to step forward. They approached as Brannon pointed to the figure. “Put him in a cell. We’ll deal with this later.”
The guards grabbed the unconscious man and carried him away.
Blink sat nearby. At some point a bandage had been applied to the familiar’s wound, stopping the trickle of blood. How are you?
It could be worse, Blink thought back.
Erick turned to Elissia and the others. Concern shone in Elissia’s soft face, while Corby stood near, expression stoic but hands shaking. Two friends. He had no home, but Blink was right. It could be worse.
“Are you okay?” Elissia asked.
“Not really.” Reluctantly, he slid his shoulders from beneath her warm hands and stood. His head swam from the sudden movement. The air, no longer warmed by the fire, rippled goosebumps across his chest.
Like that first night, a lifetime ago, most of the town had shown up and stood gathered near. Sympathy and concern marked most faces, but Erick remembered Elissia’s warning that not everyone in Draymed approved of his presence.
Fathen stood to one side, his thoughts unreadable, his five saffron-robed acolytes, including Keven, beside him. Did the priest have enough hate in him to hire assassins?
Too drained to worry about it, Erick spoke to the townspeople. “I’m tired, and I’d like to sleep now. Could you all leave, please?”
People stared at him. Expressions turned to puzzlement, but no one moved. Unsure what they wanted, Erick said, “I don’t think the house is going to burn much more, so there’s no reason to stay.”
Some of the people lowered their heads and began to walk back down the hill. Carn stepped forward, his voice loud. “We are not here to gloat in your misery, young Darvaul. We only wish to help you.”
“Thank you,” Erick said, his voice bitter. “But you’re too late.”
Fathen took two long strides until he stood by the mayor. “Perhaps we are. And on behalf of the town, I apologize. A house is only a creation of wood, easily rebuilt. Crops can be replanted and animals fostered. Consider this a chance to start anew. Your father and I disagreed in the past, and that has led to a bitter life for you, and left us a poorer town for not knowing you. It is time for us to start again, as friends.”
Fathen’s voice sounded firm and believable, but his eyes betrayed him, darting from Erick’s face to the book sacks that lay at his feet. Smugness in Keven’s scarred face showed his pleasure at the turn of events.
Sudden conviction came upon Erick that Fathen had been responsible for this night. As a priest in a powerful religion, he certainly had enough money and resources to hire killers.
“I want nothing from you,” Erick said. “I never needed anything from you before, and I sure as hell don’t now. Leave and no longer disgrace this hill with your presence.” Erick waved an arm at the acolytes, ignoring Fathen’s surprise. “And take your minions with you.”
Several people gasped in shock, but fewer than Erick expected. Elissia lifted her hand to hide a smile, and Erick took heart from that. “To the rest of you, thank you for your concern. We can be friends tomorrow. Right now, I want to stay by my home one last night, so please go away and let me sleep.” He turned to Brannon.
“Do you wish a guard to remain?” the commander asked.
Erick shook his head and waved his hand in a direction toward the sleeping priquana. “I have my own guard.”
“As you wish.” Brannon turned to the crowd. “Time to go home, citizens. There is work tomorrow, and the hour is late.”
His loud voice spurred the townspeople to action, and they filed down the hill. A few offered Erick muttered expressions of concern, which Erick barely had the strength to acknowledge. Fathen and his flock offered him dark stares, but Erick ignored them.
Erick turned to Elissia to find her in whispered conversation with Corby. After a moment, he ran toward town. Elissia returned to Erick.
“What’s going on?” Erick asked.
“Someone just tried to kill you. You don’t think you can stay here alone, do you?”
“Come along, Elissia,” Beatru said, standing beside her husband.
“I’m staying here,” Elissia said.
“No, you’re not,” Beatru said. “I’ll not allow it.”
“And how is that?” Elissia clenched her fists.
Beatru and her niece glared at each other across the yard, Elissia’s fists at her side, Beatru’s meaty arms across her ample chest. Neither moved, but Erick feared Beatru might charge across the yard and snatch her much smaller niece.
Elissia’s uncle, a bulky man with graying hair and several missing teeth, leaned in and whispered to his wife. Her face hardened.
“Suit yourself,” she snapped, although Erick couldn’t tell if she addressed Elissia or her husband. Beatru turned and walked away, but not before offering Erick a glare that wished him ill.
“You don’t have to stay,” Erick told Elissia.
“Yes, I do,” she said.
Erick, drained of emotion, stared at the remains of his house. Elissia sat on one side and Blink on the other, offering wordless comfort. The night wind blew, and Erick shivered. Elissia put an arm around him. After a moment’s resistance, he laid his head on her shoulder. The close contact intoxicated him. Her clean smell, like fresh flowers, settled against him, relief from the stink of char and ash. Her hand rubbing his arm sent jolts of sensation through him. Hesitant, he leaned in and kissed her. She returned the kiss; her breath tasted like cinnamon, and the kiss went from his mouth to toes, hitting every nerve on the way. He shuddered. He pressed his mouth harder against her. Overcome by loss and desire, and almost before he realized it, he used his weight to push her back to the ground. She went down, and he rolled himself on top and pressed against her, his head faint and body alight as he wished her chest was as bare as his.
Elissia moved beneath him. A moment of pain broke through his fired nerves, and suddenly he lay on his back, air rushing from his lungs and his head thudding against the ground. Blink rustled his wings in agitation but made no move to attack Elissia, who sat beside Erick, shaking her head. “Not now. Not like this.”
He sucked in a lungful of air. What had she done? He had to outweigh her by twenty pounds at least. Was she that strong? “I thought you wanted to,” he croaked out.
“No, you want to. And only because you’re upset and think it will make you feel better. It might, for a bit, but then what? You’re not ready.”
Not ready? Did she think of him as some little boy who couldn’t finish? “Maybe you’re not ready,” he retorted, fighting the thudding pain in his head, neck, and groin.
“I’m not. Not yet. Maybe not ever.”
What did she mean by that? He sat up and rubbed the back of his head. “It’s all too confusing.” He lifted his knees and put his head against them so she wouldn’t see his tears.
Welcome to life, Elissia thought, hiding her confusion with silence. His hunched shoulders told her he was crying, although he tried to suppress it. A pang of sympathy hit her that he thought he had to hide his misery, given such circumstances. She still couldn’t fathom why he cared what she thought, why he cared what
any of them thought. She looked at Blink, who only stared at his master.
She rested her arm across his shoulders. He tensed, but then relaxed and seemed to almost fold in on himself. She shook her head. He had no experience with people and reacted only on instinct. When confronted with compassion, he had responded with the same impulse that afflicted most boys. Erick wasn’t the first amorous man-child she had fended off, or even the most dangerous, but he was the first that made her hesitate.
She flushed at the memory of his body atop her, his eagerness. There was an innocence to his lust, so unlike the frantic attempts of the boys at home. There they viewed her as a prize, something to win to get to her father. Her chastity had become a challenge in a place where such virtue held scant value. Erick hadn’t been raised that way; he only reacted to what he thought she had offered.
Beatru might think her niece wanton, and done her best to spread the idea to the whole town, but Elissia saw no point to sex without the love that was supposed to exist behind it. She knew what a loveless relationship had done to her mother and had vowed not to let it happen to her. Another reason to return home and change things.
And another reason to not let feelings complicate matters. She liked Erick a great deal but, strange and exotic as he seemed at first, he was not much different than the other boys, just more naïve.
She mourned Erick’s loss of his home, but now he had no reason to stay here. He could help her by acting as her majority holder, allowing her to travel legally and return home. While they traveled, she could work on getting him to help with removing her father from power.
Her plea to Denech crossed her mind, her request that her fate be changed. Had this horrible event been because of her hasty prayer?
Of course not, she chided herself at her foolishness. The gods never answered prayers, certainly not the prayers of one who seldom talked to them. If they did, she would still be at home, with Marcus at her side, and her father would be living out of a gutter.
She sighed, rested her head on his shoulder and listened to his muffled sobs. A soft smile touched her lips. Now perhaps she could use the promise of what he wanted to get him to leave with her.
As soon as the thought formed, she frowned and banished it, disturbed it had so easily popped into her head again. That was her father’s way, the way she’d left behind. She wanted to go home, to return to Marcus, but she wouldn’t become her father to do it. She sighed.
“You’re right,” she said. “It’s very confusing.”
Sometime later, a noise attracted Erick’s attention. He raised his head and wiped at his eyes. Elissia removed her arm from his shoulder and stood. The cool air touched his bare back, and he shivered as he watched Corby trudge up the hill. He wore a dark blue tunic and brown pants and lugged two large patchwork quilts. Balanced on the quilts were a sword and a staff of dark, polished wood, each end capped with an iron ball.
“I’m back,” Corby said as he set his load on the ground.
“What are you doing?” Erick asked.
“I brought blankets and weapons. I’m going to stay and help protect you, in case there’s another attack. Can’t promise how competent I’ll be, but I’ll try.”
“I don’t need you to stay here. I’ve got the priquana to protect me.”
“Maybe,” Corby said, running a hand through his hair, which Erick noticed was not oiled and stuck up more than usual. “But they seem too slow to be useful in a fight. You saved my life, so how do you think we’d feel if we stayed at home and something happened to you?”
Erick knew they were friends, but they didn’t realize the risk. If they did, their resolve might change. “I-”
“Don’t bother,” Elissia said. “We’re not going anywhere, so just accept it.”
A lump rose in Erick’s throat. “Thank you,” he said in a choked voice. “It could be dangerous.”
“Possibly,” Elissia agreed. “But at least it will be exciting.”
“If we were smart, we’d go inside,” Corby said. “But if you want to spend a last night by your destroyed house for vague sentimental reasons, who are we to stop you?”
As Elissia gave Corby a death stare, Erick said, “I don’t think we’d be any safer in town. For all I know, Fathen hired these men to kill me.”
Elissia turned her glare on Erick. “That’s crazy. Fathen dislikes you, but he doesn’t hate you enough to have you assassinated.”
“How do you know?”
“I can tell. Trust me. I’ve known people with a reason to kill, and your simple existence isn’t enough. If it were, he would have hired someone long ago to murder your whole family.”
Erick frowned. Assuming Elissia was right, where had the killers came from and who sent them? Did it have anything to do with his father and the Teloc Sapah? He sighed. More unanswered questions. He didn’t know how many mysteries he could take.
Corby held out a short sword. “Here, put this on.”
“I don’t know how to use that.”
Corby’s dark eyebrows rose, but his hand didn’t move. “It’s simple. Stick the pointed end into anything you want to hurt. Take it. I brought these also. They belong to my older brother since mine would be too small.”
He rummaged between the blankets with his free hand and pulled out a blue tunic with a pair of soft, brown leather shoes folded inside. “He would kill me if he knew I took them, but he’s on night watch.”
Erick took the clothing and sword, surprised at how much the weapon weighed. He slipped into the shirt; it fit poorly, being too broad in the shoulders and chest and too long at the waist, but it would have to do until he found a way to get better. The shoes came closer but chafed at his heels. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” Corby said.
Erick buckled the sword around his waist. He cinched the belt tight to help draw in the shirt, and the sword rested awkwardly on his hip. He would never actually use it, but to say so would probably start an argument, and he wanted to avoid that. He also wondered where Corby got it, being a scholar, but decided not to ask. Probably something else he stole from his brother.
“I assumed you didn’t need one,” Corby said to Elissia, pointing at Erick’s sword.
Elissia shook her head. “Way too unwieldy. I prefer these.” She reached into her boots and produced two daggers with tapered blades and flat handles made of shiny steel that gleamed under the moonlight.
A sudden image of a knife glinting in his bedroom hit Erick, and he shivered. “Where did you get those?” he asked, unnerved. He half expected to see more deadly shadows moving toward him.
“They were a gift from Marcus.”
Who’s Marcus? Erick almost asked, but decided he didn’t want to know. Probably a suitor, someone she cared about a great deal. It explained why she had rebuffed him earlier. Too tired to feel jealous, he also suspected he didn’t have the right. Did he expect she would just be waiting for him, unloved, ready to swoon over the mysterious Necromancer when he emerged?
He stared at the pile of smoldering embers that had been his house. He had lost much, but not everything. He and Blink were still alive, and he was no longer alone. Elissia might never be more than a friend, but he could accept that.
His sadness drifted away, replaced by a vague fear about the future. Elissia’s words returned to him; neither he nor Draymed were safe as long as he remained here. Someone in the town had sent assassins. Or worse, the assassins were connected to the Inconnu and his father’s tampering with the Teloc Sapah.
What were you trying to do, Father? Erick thought, staring toward the ocean.
“Why don’t you get some rest?” Elissia asked. “We’ll watch tonight.”
“I should wake the priquana and bring them here, to help in case something happens.”
“Can you keep them at a distance?” Corby asked as he picked up the iron-shod staff. “I suspect that mine and Elissia’s sensibilities are more delicate than yours.”
“What?”
&n
bsp; Elissia smiled. “He means they stink, but you’re probably used to it and don’t notice.”
“You’re right; I don’t. I’ll keep them close by. That way, if something happens, I can call them to help.” He opened his rescued herb box and grabbed one of the five dark iron needles lined against a wall of the case, held by tiny loops tacked to the wood.
He stepped away from the others, pricked his ring finger, and recited the incantation that woke his servants. When they drew within thirty feet, he shouted out, “Quana, alar.” The creatures dutifully stopped and waited.
“Do you have to do that every morning?” Elissia asked when Erick returned to the group, sucking on his finger.
Erick pulled his finger from his mouth. “No. They sleep like we do, although ‘sleep’ isn’t the right word. I only have to use the ritual if I must wake them before their time.”
“Why?”
“The Elonsha fades over time and has to replenish. When they’re dormant, their souls return to the Heaven of Caros.”
Elissia shook her head. “It’s a strange thing.”
“You don’t know the half of it,” Corby said. “I’ll tell you about it while Erick sleeps.”
“It’s going to get cold. We should go see if any of the outbuildings are still standing,” Erick said through a yawn even as his legs folded and he sat on the ground. Blink sidled beside him.
“We’ll be fine here.” Corby grabbed one of the quilts and wrapped it around Erick and Blink.
“Thank-” Erick fell into sleep before he could finish the sentence.
Erick started awake in the darkness. Thin fog covered the ground, glistening blue from the moonlight.
The quilt lay damp on the ground. Erick had curled in on himself, hands wrapped around his knees, sword pommel jammed into his side. Blink snored gently, his face barely visible above his enfolding wings.
Elissia and Corby lay on either side of Erick and Blink, Elissia wrapped in a dark green cloak, Corby covered by the other patchwork quilt.
Moving slowly to not disturb the others, Erick stretched to work out the stiffness of sleeping on the ground. His arms and shoulders ached, and he struggled not to groan. His side throbbed where the sword hilt had dug in, and a fatigue headache pounded against him; his eyes felt like orbs of salt.
