The Sun Guardian

by T. S. Cleveland

  “We can’t,” she said, and before Scorch could ask why, Vivid’s voice cut at him through the air.

  “It took his body, after it took you.”

  Scorch stumbled on his weakened limbs as he faced Vivid. He was soaking wet and furious, but so was Scorch. He limped over to Vivid, his hands in fists at his sides.

  “You killed him.” Scorch meant the words to sound angry, but they came out breathless.

  “Scorch,” Kio said, touching his shoulder.

  Scorch seethed, wanting nothing more than to take him to the ground again, but Vivid’s anger closed on his face like a curtain, and he turned, disinterested in Scorch’s aggression.

  “Kio,” said Vivid. “We need to make camp, but we shouldn’t do it here.” He was speaking past Scorch, like he didn’t even exist.

  Kio agreed. “Lead the way.”

  Scorch wanted to ask Kio why she wasn’t screaming at Vivid for murdering her friend, but he didn’t have the energy. When Vivid started walking, and Kio started after him, Scorch followed. What other choice did he have?

  Focus, Damn It

  8

  They walked, by Scorch’s hazy estimation, another mile before Vivid stopped. Tall, green grasses made way for sparse clumps of dying blades and dirt. The desert was ahead of them, Scorch recalled, thinking back to the Guild maps, but they wouldn’t be crossing it yet.

  Kio threw her pack down and directed Scorch to sit, so he sat. While Kio searched through her pack, Vivid walked the perimeter of their camp clearing. It was still daylight, but he started collecting pieces of kindling for the evening. Scorch felt useless sitting there and watching, but he didn’t want to look at Vivid, let alone help him. Instead, he tried to focus on Kio as she pulled one of her ointments out of her pack.

  Scorch’s ankle felt swollen now that he was sitting, and Kio had to take off his boot, cut his trouser leg open, and peel the leather back to expose his skin. He bent over to watch her work. His ankle was puffy and bruised, with a ring of puncture holes where the tentacle had worked its needle-like suction spikes into his flesh. A pinkish fluid oozed from the holes. It hurt, but at least his ankle wasn’t broken. Scorch gave his foot a timid twist, and Kio was satisfied with its mobility. She cleaned the wound before wrapping it in bandages. Considering he’d been pinioned by a lake monster, Scorch’s ankle was tolerable. It was the bruising down his side that had him squirming uncomfortably.

  Kio trailed over his skin with a careful finger. “You have bruising on your jaw and shoulder,” she said. “Could you remove your clothes so I can check the rest of you?”

  Scorch’s eyes sought Vivid’s, but he was already stalking away, back toward the tall grass. “You might have to help me with this,” Scorch mumbled as he lifted the hem of his jerkin. After an awkward struggle with the wet leather, Scorch was laid out on the ground in nothing but his underclothes while Kio placed her cool hands over his skin. His entire side was splotched with bruises where he’d collided with the ground. She prodded at his ribs, and though he cringed and his eyes watered, Kio deemed his bones unbroken.

  “You’re lucky,” she said as she rubbed a cool cream into his side. “You could have broken your neck.”

  “I’m built pretty solid,” Scorch told her, mostly as a joke, but she nodded her head in agreement.

  “You are.”

  Even with the sun still out, Kio and Scorch started the campfire so his clothes could dry. In the meantime, Scorch remained nearly naked, perched beside the fire at Kio’s behest, and he wasn’t about to tell her that he didn’t get chilled easily. She took the opportunity to redress his stab wounds and apply an ointment to the last of the rope burn around his neck. The gash at the back of his head was healing nicely, as was everything else. A week with Kio had done him wonders, and he felt a warmth in his heart for her presence. He started to thank her several times as they sat together by the fire, but he couldn’t get out the words.

  It was Kio who started talking first.

  “Some people are weak,” she said. She had a strong jaw and a long neck, and her skin was glistening with a light sheen of sweat. She was beautiful, and the words coming from her lips were harsh. “Julian was weak. He clung to things he hoped would be strong for him. The High Priestess. Me.” Kio’s eyes were shining, but not with tears. “Vivid killed him because it was either Julian or all of us.”

  Scorch shook his head.

  “Scorch,” Kio continued, “he did what he had to do. And then he did what he didn’t have to do. When you were pulled into the water, he didn’t hesitate. He jumped in after you before I’d even realized.”

  It had just happened, but the memory of being underwater felt a lifetime away. Julian’s dead eyes felt a lifetime away. “Does saving my life make up for taking Julian’s?”

  “You’re strong. Maybe Vivid thinks your life is worth more.”

  Scorch frowned at her. He had expected tears and sadness from her, not insensitive logic. But that wasn’t fair. He didn’t know Kio, after all. She was still unpredictable, so early in their friendship. And it did feel like friendship, the relationship budding between them. Scorch hardly knew what to do with the idea of it, except hold it close to his heart and make no mention of it. Friendships were too rare to ruin with the title.

  “My life’s worth no more than anyone else’s,” he said.

  Kio hummed softly to herself, and Scorch thought she hadn’t heard him, but then she said, “Just because you feel that way, doesn’t mean everyone does.”

  She made him remain stripped until the ointment dried on his skin, and by that time, his clothes had dried enough by the fire to put back on. He wished for his clean, crisp shirts as the damp jerkin settled against his chest, but he tried to be thankful that not everything he owned was ruined. He hadn’t been holding his satchel when he’d been dragged into the water, and his sword had remained fastened to his belt for the excursion. Of course, that made him curse himself an idiot for not remembering the weapon at his side when his life had been at stake. He was supposed to be a Guardian of the Guild, and more and more it seemed that if he made it through his guardianship at all, it would be a miracle. What would he say to Master McClintock when he asked for his report of events? “Well, I almost died every other day, and I forgot how to use a sword. It’s the pointy end, right?”

  He tried to drown his pathetic thoughts in his canteen, but the water only made him hydrated. Scorch didn’t want to be hydrated. He wanted whiskey. He hated Ebbins for taking his pack with the flask of Guild-brewed whiskey inside, the insidious bastard. If he had a drink of whiskey, maybe he would be able to stop thinking about dead eyes, and worse, amethyst ones.

  Vivid didn’t reappear until nightfall. Scorch didn’t ask him where he’d been, because he knew he wouldn’t get an answer, and besides, it was obvious. Three rabbits swung from Vivid’s fist, already skinned. He ignored Scorch and Kio, skewering the rabbits and setting them out to roast over the fire.

  “Excuse me,” Kio said, standing up and stretching her arms over her head. “I need to freshen up.” She grabbed a few things from her pack, but left the medicinals lying on the rock beside Scorch. He tried to catch her eye and silently plead with her not to leave, but she only smiled kindly at him and trotted off into the grass. Scorch tried not to begrudge her for it, but it was difficult, because now he was left all alone with Vivid.

  There were amazingly few things to look at now that night had cloaked their campsite. Scorch didn’t like staring at the fire for too long, and he had already studied his hands to death. He’d cleaned his sword, looked at the stars, and watched the rabbits cook. Really, there was nowhere left to look but at Vivid. But one did not just look at someone like Vivid. Scorch set his head in his hands and stole glances when he thought Vivid wouldn’t notice.

  Vivid’s hair had dried a little wildly after the dip in the lake, and he was having a harder time than usual keeping that thick strand tucked behind his ear. It kept escaping to hang over his face, and so
Scorch could tell every time he exhaled because the hair floated away from his lips with every puff of air, and then he would tuck it back behind his ear with his right hand. When Vivid moved to turn the skewers over the fire, he did so with his right hand. When he reached for his canteen, which sat to the left of him, he reached for it with his right hand. Vivid was ignoring his left arm almost as much as he was ignoring Scorch, and once Scorch realized that, it took him no time to figure out why. He picked up the ointment Kio had used on his wounds earlier, which she kept gathered inside a small wooden box with a latched lid, and journeyed around the fire.

  Unsurprisingly, Vivid acted as though Scorch wasn’t there, even when he sat down right beside him.

  “You’re hurt.”

  Vivid was unresponsive. In a horrendous example of self-preservation, Scorch reached out his hand and pressed it against Vivid’s left shoulder. Scorch thought his hand would instantly be knocked away, or that he would be punched in the face, but instead, Vivid’s body shuddered before becoming completely still. Scorch could feel the tension buzzing beneath his palm. Feeling slightly entranced, like he was being allowed the privilege to touch a wild animal, Scorch let his hand remain for a few seconds, and when he took it away, he did it slowly. His hand was bloody. He cocked an eyebrow at Vivid, holding up his palm.

  “Why didn’t you let Kio take a look at that?” he asked.

  Vivid’s body was stiff from the touch, and it took him a long time to answer, but after turning over the skewers again and tapping his fingers against his knee one or twenty times, he turned to face Scorch. The firelight cast half of him in gold, while the other half was blanketed in shadow.

  “I don’t need your sympathy,” spat Vivid.

  Scorch laughed. “You don’t have it. But you do have a wound. And if you’re injured, you could get sloppy. And if you’re sloppy, you’re putting me at risk.” He tossed the ointment in the air between them and caught it with a wink. “Now take off your leathers so I can help you or I’ll have Kio do it when she gets back.”

  Vivid’s eyes narrowed, but after glaring at Scorch for several heated seconds, he moved his hand to his back and began unbuckling the straps to his cuirass. Scorch watched his finger skirting across the metal buckles, half a dozen down his spine. As each one came undone, the leather of his top fell open. It seemed an inconvenient process, having to unbuckle oneself from behind, but Vivid had no trouble, even one-handed, and soon the garment was hanging loosely across his back. Unfortunately, his back was away from the fire, so Scorch couldn’t make out much more than a strip of pale skin and a knobby spine. Vivid eased the leather from his wounded shoulder, keeping his other arm entirely in its sleeve. Only the necessary expanse of skin was revealed to Scorch in the firelight. He stared. He couldn’t stop himself.

  Vivid’s shoulder was angular and sharp and corded with lean, finely sculpted muscle, just as Scorch had imagined. There was a puncture wound, which had stained the skin red and was still leaking blood, but that wasn’t what made Scorch’s jaw drop. The wound Vivid had sustained in the water was not the only wound on his body. Down his elegant neck and prominent collarbone, across his sharp shoulder and along his preview of pectorals, Vivid’s skin was riddled with scars. They were silver with age, some raised in gruesome ridges, some smooth and barely there, but they were many, and Scorch was sure that if Vivid’s back was turned to the light, he would see them there, as well. He wanted to peel off the rest of Vivid’s clothes and search for more secrets, but he refrained, for he had already come close to death once that day.

  Vivid’s body was rigid. It was clear he was uncomfortable being so exposed. Scorch gave his head a little shake and tried to ignore all the conflicting signals his body was sending him. He shifted a bit, cleared his throat, and opened the ointment box. Vivid caught his eye—demanded it really—and glared at him, as if daring him to mention the scars, but Scorch had decided the moment he saw them that he would say nothing and ask nothing. Being revealed that small portion of flesh already felt like an extravagant gift.

  He dipped his finger into the little wooden box. “This will make it feel better,” Scorch said, before dabbing the ointment on the wound. It looked identical to the punctures in Scorch’s ankle, but bigger. “I have to rub it in,” he warned.

  “I don’t need you to talk me through it,” Vivid grumbled edgily. Scorch glanced up at him. He was watching Scorch’s finger closely.

  “Right,” Scorch said. He began spreading the ointment over the wound and in the reddened flesh around it in slow, careful circles. The campfire was far too hot, but Vivid’s skin was cold, probably from walking around in soaking wet clothes all day. Scorch tried to stay focused on his task, dipping his finger for more ointment and continuing his thorough circles. The pads of his fingers traced over a raised, silver scar and Vivid inhaled sharply. Both Vivid and Scorch pretended like he hadn’t.

  “What happened under the water?” Scorch asked. He had to get up to hunt for a fresh bandage in Kio’s pack, and when he turned back to Vivid, the image struck him: Vivid’s cuirass hanging off one shoulder, his hair falling rebelliously over one eye. Scorch hurried back to his side with the wrappings.

  “I killed it,” Vivid answered.

  Scorch wiped the excess ointment on his trousers and brought the bandage up to Vivid’s shoulder. He pressed it gently against the wound. “How?”

  Vivid kept his eyes trained on Scorch as he began wrapping the bandage in place. To secure it, Scorch had to reach his arm around Vivid’s back, winding the wrappings under the arm of his wounded shoulder and over his neck. He did the best he could, trying not to touch more of Vivid than he absolutely had to, but it still felt like an awful lot of touching to Scorch.

  “That’s three times now, you know,” he pointed out.

  “Three mistakes,” Vivid corrected.

  Scorch tied off the wrapping and sat back to appraise his work. Scarlet dots were already presenting through the clean bandage, but not a lot, not enough to worry about. “You could dry your clothes by the fire,” Scorch offered nonchalantly, but when Vivid’s eyebrow twitched, he shrugged his shoulders and added, “Or not.”

  He watched Vivid slip the cuirass back on, wanting to help but knowing that help would be unwelcome. Vivid handled the buckles up his back with ease and soon he was completely covered once again. Only now, Scorch knew what his naked shoulder looked like. He knew what was hidden beneath that tight leather, that there was a wound still bleeding because of Scorch. For Scorch.

  When Vivid moved to turn the rabbits, Scorch beat him to it. “I understand why you had to kill him,” he said as he watched the rabbits rotating slowly over the flames. They would be done soon.

  Vivid didn’t answer, but Scorch hadn’t expected him to. They sat in silence until a rustling of grass cued them to Kio’s reappearance.

  “Don’t forget to chew your Dream Moss,” Vivid said before Kio was close enough to hear. “I don’t feel like dealing with you tonight.”

  Scorch vigorously chewed an ivory stem that night with a full stomach and an aching side, and though his nerves felt shot, and his mind was willing his thoughts to race in a thousand directions, eventually he drifted to sleep.

  He dreamed, and his dream made his pulse race, but he didn’t wake up gasping in terror. It wasn’t that kind of dream.

  ****

  Vivid woke Scorch before the sun had risen and he sat up with a groan. Kio was already awake. He thought about complaining, but there was just enough light to interpret the look on Vivid’s face, and it was not a look to be greeted with anything but patience. So he waited, and after a stretch of silent brooding, Vivid used his words. His voice sounded raspy with exhaustion and Scorch wondered how much sleep he had gotten, if any.

  “We need to reach the desert at sunrise,” he explained. He eyed Scorch’s foot, where the bandage was peeking through the tear in his trouser leg. “Can you walk?”

  Scorch nodded, and when Vivid kept staring at him, he si
ghed and got to his feet. There was soreness in his ankle, but it was only flesh deep. He did not, as a whole, feel his best, but he tested his weight, walking the span of their tiny campsite, and determined, “I can walk.”

  “Good. We won’t be stopping,” Vivid said. “Our priority will be reaching the edge of the desert before the sun sets.”

  “I’m all for making good time,” Scorch said, stretching his tender, sleep-stiff body, “but why can’t we be in the desert at night? Wouldn’t it be cooler to travel when the sun goes down?”

  “When the sun goes down, we don’t want to be anywhere near the desert.” Vivid rolled his left shoulder, testing its mobility, and Scorch watched his face closely for signs of pain. He saw none. Of course, he saw none. Vivid’s entire body was a closed-off, intangible entity. Scorch couldn’t believe he’d touched his skin only hours before. It didn’t feel like something real. Maybe it hadn’t been.

  “It might be helpful to know what unspeakable dangers we’ll be facing this time,” Scorch said softly. He wasn’t trying to antagonize. Julian was dead and Vivid had killed him, but Vivid had also saved Scorch. After last night, Scorch was wrestling with a multitude of feelings, but none of them was an urge to blame, not anymore. Scorch probably still should have been angry at Vivid for what he’d done. He just wasn’t. But he did want answers. “What’s the next test, Vivid?” he asked.

  “Focus.”

  “Focus,” Scorch repeated.

  Vivid might have rolled his eyes; it was still too dark to tell. “If you’re going to bombard me with questions, do it while we’re walking.” He lifted his head to the sky, where a few stars were still shining, and started a path to the east.

  Scorch glanced at Kio, who shrugged, and they set off behind Vivid. The ground beneath their feet was dusty, the grass brown and dry. It wouldn’t be long before they reached the beginning of the desert.