by Rosie Scott
“Silas did not agree with my interest in necromancy or my support of you. After you left the inn in Sera, he told me he lied to you to get you to run from me. He felt it was in my best interest if you ran far away from me.”
“He wasn't incorrect,” Cerin replied, sounding self-reflective.
“I don't care what is in my best interest. I went six years without you. I wasn't willing to do that again.” My sobs had calmed, but my voice was still thick with emotion. I was aware that I was revealing quite a bit of myself to Cerin, but I had to let it out. And perhaps being open and honest with him would allow us to establish trust with one another. “So I told him this, and in the middle of planning to get you out, he told me he had to leave. That our paths were separated, now. He left. I didn't ask him to.”
There was a silence which went on for so long I felt embarrassed for having admitted any of that to Cerin, as if it had elicited no response. “Kai...” he finally said, letting the word trail off into the cold air. I closed my eyes, letting the sound of my name on his voice nestle softly into my memories, for it was a beautiful thing to hear. “...at what point in my life have I ever done anything good enough to be worthy of such loyalty from you?”
I opened my eyes again, letting my gaze set onto the snow. “You were my only friend in school, Cerin. You were friendly and sweet and humble and interesting. I would risk my life to keep you from harm.”
It was more than that, of course. I had never been more romantically interested in someone, and I was sure that our travels together were slowly helping to push me over the crest to tumble down a hill into love. It didn't hurt that I wanted it so badly. Cerin was gorgeous and talented and one of the easiest people to talk to. Even as a child, he'd known exactly what to say to make me feel better, even though I had such little concerns in my rich upbringing compared to him, since he had grown up poor and was a long way from his home. He had never cared about our different circumstances. He'd just always been there.
“I have never known someone so willing to risk their lives for those they care for,” Cerin mused. His tone spoke of admiration for me. “You faced your own death to try to save Bjorn.”
A sharp pain sliced across my gut. “Yes, and I risked all of your lives for it, too. Now he's dead, and so are innocent Serans, and here we are, freezing our asses off as criminals.”
“We risked our lives for you and Bjorn. You did not force us to do anything,” Cerin replied. “The only person responsible for Bjorn's death is your father—Sirius,” he corrected. He knew I'd been avoiding calling Sirius my father ever since learning he had once tried to have me assassinated.
“I noticed you have said nothing about the innocent civilians,” I said. “This is why I fear you leaving.”
“I will say what I feel when it comes to that, then,” Cerin murmured. “You were under the influence of two very powerful drugs that night—rage born from mourning, and an influx of leeched energy. The innocent casualties were as a result of this. Had you been in your right mind, none of them would be dead. I don't see this as a flaw of character, Kai. It is a side effect of your immense power and the emotions you were jerked through that night. If anything, grow from it. Use it as a reason to further hone your skills of controlling your power. Do not blame yourself for murder when that is not what you committed.”
“Did my actions make you think less of me?” I asked.
“You saved me from being executed that night,” he replied, his voice soft. “What do you think?”
“I think I was just doing my duty of keeping you safe,” I retorted. “You came to Sera for me. I wasn't going to let you die there.”
“All of this talk of our actions in Sera brings me to something I wanted to talk to you about.”
“Oh?” I glanced over to him, curious. It was a rare thing for Cerin to bring up a subject himself, so I knew that whatever it was, it had to be important.
“Yes...my actions, in particular. I was rash in leaving. I believed Silas when he said you were arranging for my arrest so you and the others could make it out of Sera alive and with no record. So, then...I didn't believe you when you came back, and when you explained everything, I didn't know who to believe.”
“That's understandable. A lot was happening,” I sympathized.
“Well...the reason I bring this up, is I keep thinking about how if I hadn't left, Bjorn...” he trailed off again, unwilling to speak further.
“If you hadn't left, you wouldn't have gotten caught and Bjorn wouldn't be dead,” I finished for him. He said nothing. “Cerin...the whole thing was a chain of events from the reactions of so many people to so many events. Do not blame yourself for Bjorn's death. You could easily blame Silas, for lying to you. But then, if it weren't for him, I would be serving your sentence in the dungeons.”
“Is that why he offered to bring the guards to me?” Cerin asked.
“Yes. To save me. And then he ended up bringing no guards at all. So despite our disagreements, Silas ended up giving you a chance and saving me. We did what we could with the circumstances. You did what you thought you had to at the time.”
I heard the necromancer expel a long exhale. “I suppose we all did,” he agreed. “I am so sorry for your loss, Kai. I haven't gotten a chance to say it yet, but I know Bjorn meant a lot to you. He came and talked to me, in the dungeon. Thanked me for saving your life. I didn't know what he meant, but he was so grateful to me it was humbling.”
“He heard me plead for you in Sirius's court. I told them you saved my life, and you did in the wyvern's cave near Whispermere.”
“I saved Theron's life, not yours. I could only hope to repay that favor to you.”
“You really are one for semantics,” I teased lightly, remembering his words from long ago.
“No, it's the truth. You were unconscious. You would have woken up eventually.”
I managed a chuckle. “You are only proving my point.”
Cerin finally huffed in humor. “Well, you can consider my debt paid to you, but I will think otherwise.”
“Deal,” I agreed. The necromancer and I sat in silence for a few minutes, our eyes on the grasslands. Tomorrow, we would be exiting the last of the Seran Forest on our way south to Nahara. There would be no more forests on our way to the border, so our trek would become more perilous. We had nearly two moons of travel ahead of us until reaching our destination, and all of it would be within full view of the skies. To say I wasn't looking forward to the trek would have been an understatement.
Movement in my peripheral vision called my attention back to Cerin's shivers. Without a word, I scooted closer to him, and offered him the blanket. He took it from me, pulling it around himself to where we were both beneath it and sharing our heat. I smiled internally at my little victory, reveling in our closeness.
I must have fallen asleep, for the next thing I knew the sun had broken into the sky to our left, its light starting to glow above the trees of the Seran Forest. Cerin's body was warm beneath my left ear, making me realize I'd fallen asleep on him. His chest rose and fell softly with sleep. The poor man would have all sorts of aches and pains when he woke due to his position.
I heard rousing behind me, and waited until I saw Nyx walk in front of us to acknowledge it. The Alderi raised her eyebrows at me, before wiggling them at Cerin and I. Because he was still asleep, I knew the movement was only meant for me. It was the first time Nyx had really been her usual, fun self around me since what happened in Sera. As my eyes caught on the ruined skin along her right jawline, I was reminded why she'd been so withdrawn.
“Wakey, wakey, lovebirds,” she greeted, bending down to start putting our things back into knapsacks, preparing to be on the road once more.
Cerin stirred beneath me, and I lifted off of him. His fatigued face also showed embarrassment for having been caught by Nyx in such a situation. Before leaving the warmth of our shared blanket, I put a hand to his chest, and recited a spell in my head, transferring some of my excess e
nergy to him. I knew he hadn't gotten enough sleep, and I had without fully needing it. I had more than enough to spare.
“Thank you,” he murmured, just before I stood.
I directed my attention to Nyx, starting to help her gather our things. “How is your burn?” I asked her, unable to keep the shame from my voice.
She did not look over at me, instead focusing on her task. “The pain is slowly fading, but the itch is pretty bad. Theron's salve is working, I think.”
Nyx had not allowed me to heal her burn during the escape from Sera, so the damage had been done. By the time we stopped running and focused on healing, her skin had already started repairing itself on her face and arms, and as was common, it was healing via a scar that was bumpier than the previous perfect skin. Between my healing spells and Theron's salves, we were doing as best as we could to get her back to normal, but it was probable that Nyx would have scars for life. The fact that my actions had given them to her weighed heavily on my conscience.
“We were late to heal it, but hopefully it will heal smoothly,” I commented.
Nyx's black eyes found mine as she leaned over a knapsack, shoving her folded tent within. “You tried to heal it. The decision to wait was mine. I would rather be scarred than dead.”
“I would rather you be neither. I am sorry—”
My best friend shrugged off my apology. “Carry any more weight and you'll bring us all down with you,” she said.
I sighed. “I wouldn't carry much weight at all if you'd just let me apologize for hurting you.”
Nyx raised her eyebrows at me. “You did. Apology accepted, though it was unnecessary. Happy?”
I smiled softly at her. “Yeah, happy. I guess.”
She reached over and grabbed me in a side hug. “Good. Now, don't worry about my scar.”
“Some men might like it,” I mused teasingly.
She chuckled as she backed away. “Yeah, that's one way of looking at it.”
Rummaging sounded from what was left of the campsite, where Theron slowly peeked out of his tent, his eyes glazed with sleep. “Morning. You all waiting for me?”
“Nah, we were just going to leave you here before long,” Nyx replied in jest.
“I suppose so,” the ranger replied, starting to come out of his tent to get prepared for the day. “Ah, you've already cleaned up the camp.”
“All but your things, lazy ass,” Nyx retorted.
Theron chuckled softly. “Yes, well, if someone would have been so kind as to wake me up, it would have been appreciated.” Turning to me, he went on, “We are out of forest until Nahara, Kai.”
“I'm aware,” I replied begrudgingly, looking toward the ground we had yet to cover. The light-hearted conversation had allowed me to be in denial of the danger I was in, if only for a few moments. Now reminded of it again, a sharp anxiety filled my gut.
Theron stared out of the forest, in the midst of packing up his tent. “Within the fortnight, if we were to continue southwest and cross the southern Caravaneer Road, we would be able to visit the village of Kilgor.” His brown eyes came to meet mine, because he knew why the village would be of interest to me.
Kilgor. It was tempting to visit the place named after my late biological father, Arturian Kilgor. I knew little about the village, or why it was named after him. Perhaps he had helped to found it, or completed some of his studies there. Regardless, it would be a chance to try to learn more about him.
“Is it a far detour?” I asked. I wanted to learn more about my biological father if possible, but not if it would put my friends and I in danger.
“Not at all. We're already headed south. We could just start moving a little bit west as well, and as long as we hit Caravaneer Road, there are signs for it.” Theron looked thoughtful. “I've been there. It's a nice little village. It's close enough to the road that the people there do well for themselves in trade. They have an inn. I think it'd be safer to stay a night there than to camp in the plains.”
I nodded. “Okay. We'll head there.”
Two
Our quick pace ensured our arrival in Kilgor in a matter of days rather than weeks. We had not yet come across any trouble from Sera, but the fog of anxiety born out of intuition in my gut told me we would not make it to Nahara before having to put up a fight. I tried not to worry about things over which I held no control; we would deal with our pursuers when the time came.
Kilgor was large for a village, holding stone and wooden buildings that were well built, many of them two stories or more. It had enabled us to see the village even before coming across the sign for it along Caravaneer Road. The road split toward the town, the ground leading to the front gate of Kilgor sunken in from the weight of many trade caravans. Despite the wooden wall that surrounded the village, there were no soldiers waiting at the gate, like there always were in Sera. While I was sure Kilgor had its own guard of sorts, it must have been safe enough here that it was unnecessary to have them stand watch at all times. I was thankful for that; I didn't plan on using my real name for the rest of our time in Chairel, and I wanted to blend in as much as possible in the slight case I could be recognized this far from Sera.
Once within the gate, the town opened up to us, buildings rising above us on either side of the main road. In front of all of them, small merchant stalls were set up, where traders sold all varieties of goods that could be imported or exported via the road just outside. The populace here was more varied than Sera; here, many of the human traders were of darker complexions, with dark hair and caramel skin. The few times I had seen Naharan tourists or magical service seekers in Sera, that is how they appeared. As we walked by them, thick accents from them wafted by my ears.
Kilgor was probably self-sustaining, and richer in terms of villages. They clearly did well in trade, and behind the various shops, I spotted small corrals for animals and gardens that were currently clear due to the snow, so they raised their own food as well. The people who appeared to live here were well dressed and clean cut, save for the farmers whose thick clothing bore the stains from mud and manure.
A building of three stories rose to our left, the sign hanging off of the corner entrance giving away the fact that it was Kilgor's most popular inn. Through the windows, it looked warm and inviting; customers were in the midst of being served dinner, and watched the hustle and bustle of the outdoors from over steaming mugs. I knew that the others were tired and looked forward to sleeping out of the cold, but for now, my attention was focused ahead.
I passed the inn, walking into what was a roundabout of the main road. In the center of it all was a statue that rose above our heads, chiseled perfectly from smooth, gray stone. The stone brought its subject to life. The subject? My biological father.
Arturian Kilgor was standing upright and with confidence, both hands rose above his head in a V. His left palm faced the heavens, and above it, he was wielding fire. The artist of the statue had connected the stone of the fireball with the stone of my father's left hand via a wire that must have been stronger than its thin shape would have one believe. From a distance, it could very well seem like the statue had a hovering ball of flame.
Within my father's right hand was an open book, from which his strong and curious face read. Though the statue was not painted, I knew the wild hair that waved back from his young face was a deep red, like my own. The cloak he was depicted in was a different fashion from my own, its collar high enough around his neck that it would have hit his ears, had it been a few inches smaller in diameter. I wondered if that was the fashion all those decades ago. Or perhaps he wore something unique due to his scientific and studious view of magic.
The man solidified into history and stone before me fascinated me, particularly now I knew of our connection. He looked so confident, so intelligent. I wondered if he would have loved me and have been proud of me had we ever met. My eyes heated with the sudden emotion of longing. What I wouldn't give just to meet him.
“Arturian Kilgor,” Nyx read
aloud, from the statue's base. “Tamer of Magic. Founder of Kilgor, established 324.” She paused. “If he's the one who founded this town, there has to be someone or something here that can teach us more about him.”
“Would the Kilgorian Historical Society be such the place?” Theron questioned. I turned to see him motioning toward a small, one story log cabin of a building, standing just on the other side of the roundabout from the statue's back.
“I would compliment you on seeing that, if it wasn't for the fact that the rest of us are blind for missing it,” Nyx mused with a huff.
We made our way past the statue, and I was the first to reach the door. I was pretty certain that the others were letting me lead the way, given this was personal for me. As soon as I was within the door, the air became much warmer and thicker, thanks to a small fire kept in a fireplace to the left of the entrance. Ahead, tables and displays were set up along the walls and in small displays between, holding objects and documents beneath clear glass. Portraits of my father by various artists and during different events lined the walls.
An elderly woman stood from a rocking chair near the corner of the room, leaving the chair to sway faintly in her absence. She gave us a friendly smile as she walked up to the front counter.
“Forgive me, my reaction times aren't what they used to be,” she greeted, as if she thought we might have been standing there for awhile.
“We just walked in, don't worry,” I replied, glancing around at the displays. “I am assuming you have historical pieces here having to do with Arturian Kilgor?”
“Oh, we specialize in the like, my dear,” the woman replied. She took note of my bright red hair and my array of silver rings. “Are you a fire mage?”
“Ah—no, not yet,” I replied, feeling horrible for having to lie. “My dream is to study magic.”
The woman nodded and smiled. “Well, I can already tell what element you'll wield, dear. Arturian had that same shade. He studied that, did you know?”
