“We have come this far together,” Aidan continued, “and we will remain together until we reach destination.” Looking at Kaijin and Zarya in turn, he added in a sharp tone, “Does Aidan make himself clear?” The anger in his voice amplified his already-intimidating physical features, and no one seemed to dare argue with him.
Aidan released Kaijin. He pointed ahead and ordered, “Now, let us continue.”
* * *
Kaijin trailed several paces behind Zarya, and Aidan walked only a few steps behind him. Nester led the way as the majority of their travel passed in silence.
Kaijin stared blankly at Zarya’s back. He was no longer charmed by her beauty, and he bore his gaze into her like daggers. She dared call me a ‘monster’. The word stung every fiber of his being every time he heard it.
“Am I really a monster because I use magic, Miele?” She responded with a series of audible shrieks, and warmth eclipsed the bitterness. He smiled, but only briefly, before he heard Aidan’s breathing behind him. Kaijin walked to one side of the path to allow the giant to pass. When he didn’t, however, Kaijin glanced over his shoulder at him.
Scowling, Aidan walked uncomfortably close to Kaijin.
Kaijin felt trapped. He wanted to run. He wanted to destroy the world. He hated feeling so helpless. He clenched his teeth, staving off the urge to lash out at his comrades.
The rage confused him. Miele reacted to his distress by swooping down and resting on his shoulder. She rubbed her furry body against him and screeched softly. Kaijin frowned. “They don’t understand, Miele. They’ll never understand.”
XI
Shades of grey surrounded Kaijin.
His companions were gone. The ground was blanketed in a thick mist, obscuring his feet. The air was soft and warm, yet filled with tension. “Nester!” Kaijin’s voice was muffled in the endless void. “Aidan? Zarya? Miele? Where are you?”
His calls went unanswered.
Kaijin took a deep breath and clutched the fiery charm around his neck. Am I dead? How did this happen? He held his haversack a moment before opening it and pulling out the orb. The artifact was ice cold to the touch, and it had lost its beautiful luster and mesmerizing colors. Instead, it had turned black.
“No,” Kaijin muttered, “This can’t be happening!” The sound of footsteps behind him broke his thoughts, and he stuffed the lifeless orb back into his haversack and turned around.
“Kaijin,” said a woman’s voice—his mother’s.
Her voice was filled with love and compassion. Kaijin could smell her scent—apples, cinnamon, pinewood—reminders of home.
There was age in her dark eyes, though her bronze skin was hardly wrinkled. Flowing locks of auburn hair, streaked with grey, framed her strong, angular features, and the frayed edges of her flowing white gown rippled in the passing wind. A gentle, loving smile graced her full lips.
Kaijin blinked once. “M ... Mother?”
She took his hand. “Kaijin, I love you.”
Kaijin’s teeth gripped his bottom lip. He felt his eyes burning. “Mother, how did you get here? Am I dead? Please, Mother. Please tell me I’ve not gone mad.”
She shook her head slowly and smiled. “I am here, Kaijin.” She pulled him in to a warm embrace.
Kaijin froze in her arms. He knew her scent, felt the softness of her bosom and the warmth and love she always emanated. “It’s been so long,” he mumbled, holding back the burning tears that threatened to fall from his eyes. “I can’t believe you’re alive! I thought ... I thought ... Where’s Father and Rorick? Are they here, too?”
She abruptly pulled away from the embrace, frowning.
Kaijin tilted his head, alarmed by the sudden change. “What’s wrong, Mother?”
She held up her hands, which shook, dripping blood.
Kaijin gasped. “Mother! You’re hurt!”
“Why?” she whispered. “Kaijin, how could you ...”
“What? What are you talking abou—” He felt something warm and sticky on his own hands. A coppery scent stung his senses. He slowly dropped his gaze, and he gasped. “Blood? H–how can this be? What has happened?” He looked to his mother, frantic.
“I never wanted ... to believe your father,” she said weakly. “He said you were ... misguided—a mentally strange child. There’s ... there’s nothing wrong with you.... I just wish ... you would ... stop playing with fire....” She gave a death rattle, and her body collapsed to the ground.
Kaijin gaped. Memories of his mother’s death flooded his mind. “Mother!” he yelled, rushing to her side. “Mother! Please, wake up! Please, don’t leave me again!”
But there was no response.
Grey smoke began to rise from her body, and Kaijin heard the greedy crackling of fire. The smell seared his nostrils, and the flames devouring her became visible. The heat intensified as the fire consumed her body—but strangely, as the flesh melted away from the bones beneath, Kaijin smelled not flesh, but burning pine.
Confused and frightened, Kaijin cried out to his mother again and again, until his grief finally spent. He collapsed atop his mother’s smoldering corpse.
* * *
Kaijin awoke in a cold sweat, gasping for air. He found himself staring at a grey, starless sky, where he heard Miele’s light shrieking and fluttering of her wings.
“Can’t sleep, aye?”
Kaijin flinched in surprise, then turned toward Nester, who was sprawled out comfortably across the fire from him, sorting a small pile of gold and silver pieces. The campfire crackled and popped softly as it consumed the last of the pinewood.
Nester peered at Kaijin over the top of the dancing flames and grinned.
Kaijin rubbed the sleep from his eyes. Aidan lay to his left, curled up like a large cat, sleeping soundly with his head pillowed on his enormous hands. Zarya lay huddled alone beneath a willow tree outside of the flickering ring of firelight. She slept upright, her head leaning against the trunk.
“You’ve a few ’ours yet before th’ sun comes up,” Nester continued. “Might as well get some more winks in. I’m on watch, now, so you’ll be safe, I guarantee! Nothin’ gets past these peepers!”
Kaijin frowned. He couldn’t remember the last time he had trouble sleeping, and when he did, he usually knew why. That night, however, felt different, and Kaijin was left bewildered. “I think I had a bad dream,” he said slowly.
Nester chuckled, placing a gold piece atop one of the stacks in front of him. “Bad dream? I’ll tell you what gives me bad dreams—watchin’ my Aunt Netta and Aunt Nini sing!” He rolled his eyes. “First, they always gotta dress up in these gaudy pink dresses an’ do their ’air in this crazy style that looks like a bird’s nest. Then comes th’ singin’! Neither of them can carry a tune if it ’ad ’andles! They both sound like they’re chokin’ on frogs, they do. Why, one time, they sang this song that nearly ...”
Ignoring the brownie’s gabble, Kaijin focused on Zarya. His scowl returned as he recalled the day’s events. How can someone so peaceful—so beautiful—be so spiteful? His gaze shifted to the campfire. Maybe Nester was right. I should be more careful. Things aren’t what they seem.
Nester stirred the fire with a stick as he hummed a merry tune to himself.
The flames blazed up for a moment, entrancing Kaijin, and he lost himself in thoughts about his nightmare. The campfire gave a pop of pine pitch before dying down again. Kaijin blinked from his trance, and then he sighed. I’m not a murderer.
“No, you are worse than a murderer,” said a voice from the flames to Kaijin’s mind. “You are a mage.”
Kaijin clenched his teeth and tore his gaze from the campfire. He retrieved the orb from his haversack and examined it. Its color and beauty had returned—if, indeed, they had ever left—and it once again felt warm in his hands. Mesmerized by the swirling flames under its glassy surface, Kaijin wondered, How does such a simple object hold such awesome power?
“Better keep that thing ’idden,” Nester said sudd
enly, snapping Kaijin out of his reverie. “If we ever run into bandits and th’ like, you’d best believe that’ll be th’ first thing they’ll prig.”
“I’m not worried, Nester.” Kaijin shook his head. “They will be in for a rude awakening when the orb ends up burning their fingers off.”
Nester smirked, adding two more gold pieces to another stack. “’Ey! I like that, I do! Th’ sods’ll think twice about messin’ with us, aye?”
“I’d prefer that no one touches it, though.” Kaijin ran his thumbs along the orb’s smooth, transparent shell.
Nester’s smirk faded. “’Ey, now, you’re not plannin’ on keepin’ that thing for yourself, are you? It belongs to both of us, remember?”
Kaijin tensed at the brownie’s words. “Right.” He reluctantly stuffed the orb back into the haversack.
“You gave us quite a scare, earlier, you did, mate.”
Kaijin sighed. “Must we talk about that?”
“But it was amazin’, it was! Your eyes started glowin’ all fiery orange, and you ’ad all this flare burnin’ around you like you were possessed or somethin!’ Didn’t it ’urt?”
“Nester—”
“Oh, an’ that poor Zarya! ’Ow could you almost ’it ’er like that?”
Nester’s question took Kaijin by surprise. He frowned. “Well ... what does it matter? She should not have said those things.”
Nester scowled in return. “What kind of man are you, to wanna ’it a lady? And a pretty one, at that?”
“She wasn’t acting very ‘ladylike’ to me, saying what she said and doing what she did. She obviously has no clue about me.”
“And you, obviously, ’ave no clue about women.”
“What in the hells do you know about women?”
“More ’n you, apparently.”
Kaijin huffed. “I’ve got my dignity. I’m not going to stand there and let her tell lies about me. She’s liable to get me killed. She knows I’m a mage. What’s stopping her from turning me in?”
Nester shook his head. “She won’t do that.”
“You sound so sure of yourself,” Kaijin said flatly.
“Trust me, mate.” Nester smiled reassuringly and then added some silver pieces to one of the stacks.
Kaijin’s hard gaze drifted to the priestess. “She called me a monster.”
“Eh.” The brownie shrugged. “Sometimes people say things they don’t really mean.”
“I think she meant every word.”
“Look, think positive, will ya? I think she was just ... a wee bit flustered after all that fiddlin’ you showed off earlier.”
“But I’m a mage, Nester.”
“And a soddin’ good one, at that!”
“Why should I even be concerned about what she thinks?”
Nester groaned. “Oy! For soddin’ sake! ’Ow daft can you be, Kaijin?”
Kaijin looked at him blankly and kept silent.
Nester shook his head. “Bah. Never mind. You’ll figure it out one of these days—I ’ope.” He paused to add the remaining gold and silver pieces to the stacks. “Thirty-nine gold and twenty-four silver.” He whistled. “Not too bad.”
“Where did you get all that from?”
Nester gave a nervous laugh. “Ah, well, y’see, I was doin’ some, ah, charitable work of my own back in Faywald. No ’arm done, aye!”
“You stole all that?”
“Nay!” Nester promptly looked around and then lowered his voice. “What did I tell you before? It ain’t considered priggin’ if no one sees you do it. An’ I assure you, mate—no one saw me do nothin’.”
Kaijin crossed his arms, unconvinced.
“Oh, by the way, this is our li’l secret, aye?” Nester added. “Zarya wouldn’t understand. And Aidan ...” Nester’s expression turned sour. “Knowin’ ’im, ’e’ll make me donate it to some soddin’ orphanage or somethin’. I worked too ’ard to get all this. Besides, th’ kids got enough money as it is! So, ah, you can keep secrets, right, Kaijin?”
“Are you sure you really want to tell me your secrets, Nester?” Kaijin said. “I’m a mage—apparently I can’t be trusted.”
“’Ogwash. You an’ I’ve been through a lot together in this short time. You ain’t gave me any reason to not trust you.”
Strangely enough, the brownie’s words brought a small sense of comfort to Kaijin. Uncrossing his arms, Kaijin managed a weak smile. “All right. My lips are sealed.”
Nester beamed. “Great! See? You an’ I were destined to be together, we were!”
Kaijin cringed. “I think not. And I would advise you to put all that away before—”
As if Nester was reading his thoughts, the brownie scooped up his stacks of coins and carefully and quickly placed them in his pouch. With that small bit of reassurance, Kaijin shifted himself more comfortably in his spot, closed his eyes, and drifted back to sleep.
XII
Omari snaked his way down a brush-tangled path. He did not wish to recall the perilous encounter he had survived only hours before, but he still heard the screams of his convoy, saw the flash of blades drawn from the shadows, smelled the blood. He squinted at the night sky, hoping to locate Celestra’s Tear between the clouds, to determine his direction. But the gods did not favor him, and he continued walking blindly through the forest. He was alone, but he was confident enough in his powers that he was not completely helpless—not yet, anyway.
A trilling sound interrupted his train of thought, and he smiled to the presence keeping to the shadows beside him.
“No, Percival, we are not lost. I know exactly where we are going.”
Less-excited trills responded nervously.
“What? Confound it, I am your master. How dare you doubt my sense of direction!” Omari felt the weight of Percival’s body, and then Percival’s tiny claws clung to Omari’s robes as the weasel effortlessly climbed him and settled on his shoulder. Percival wrapped his long, slender tail around the back of Omari’s neck, and he softly trilled.
The vibrations tickled Omari’s shoulder, and he flinched. “After all we went through earlier, and you are worried about whether or not I am going the right way?”
A passing wind whistled between the trees, echoing ghostly sounds. Omari halted to listen. “Confounded forest,” he grumbled. An uneasy coldness in the air brushed over his face, causing a brief shiver to travel down his spine.
Clutching a handful of his robes closer to his body, Omari took another step and stumbled. Percival’s claws grazed his skin as the weasel held on for dear life. Something sharp tugged the bottom of his robes, and he heard the sounds of cloth ripping.
“Confound it!” Omari looked behind him. He couldn’t see the ground in the darkness. He grasped his long, thin quarterstaff and pulled it from the leather thong that kept it secured to his back. The weapon lay lightly in Omari’s hands, and he used it to poke at the unseen hazard. The solid object was rounded, with a rough surface. He thumped at the thing and heard a hollow sound. Nothing but a small log.
Percival trilled nervously and loosened his claws from Omari’s robes.
Omari was just continuing his trek when he felt something smacking at his lower shin. He realized his sandal latchet had come undone. As he knelt down to re-tie it, he heard faint splashes of water nearby. Relief spread through him as he realized he had found a possible path to civilization.
Percival, with his nose raised and twitching, scented the air, hopped off Omari’s shoulder, and scampered ahead.
Omari continued, following the sounds while he used his staff to locate small hazards along the path. As the rushing of the stream grew louder, Omari walked faster, until he came up to a large clearing, through which a stream raced. Soft, white light reflected off the water’s surface. Omari looked up and saw portions of the quarter-moon struggling to break from the clouds. Kneeling at the bank, Omari peered at the water. In the dim light, he could barely make out his own wavering reflection. He was tired from the day’s non-stop tr
avel. He dipped his hands into the cold stream and drank.
Percival slunk to the water’s edge and sat beside Omari. The moonlight reflected a dull shine on his tawny fur. He briefly scanned the water with beady eyes, and then his head snapped to the side, as though he heard something. He quickly skittered away from the bank and disappeared in a nearby patch of bramble.
Omari flinched as he heard a high-pitched shrill. “Percival! What is going—” He stopped in mid-sentence, watching the weasel emerge from the tangled brush, carrying a small, dead mouse in his mouth. He lay beside Omari with the carcass and hungrily tore into it.
Omari made a face. “Ugh, must you eat that thing in front of me? I swear, for as long as we have been together, I have yet to get used to your eating habits.”
Percival glanced up from his half-eaten meal and sniffed, focused on something beyond the stream.
The weasel’s sudden movement startled Omari. He watched his familiar zip across rocks to the other side of the stream and bolt off into a curtain of underbrush. Omari blinked and quickly stood. “Percival! Where did you go?” He felt a soothing sensation ease his mind in response. Percival wasn’t far, and Omari attuned himself to his familiar’s location by focusing on his thoughts.
Percival stood atop a grassy hill that sat beyond the veil of underbrush. The hill dropped slightly, and a small precipice extended from it, overlooking a forest ravine below.
He crawled down to the precipice and approached its edge carefully. Standing upright on his hind legs, he surveyed the ravine. He focused on a small flicker of firelight, and he detected the scent of burning wood. He trilled excitedly.
Withdrawing from Percival’s mind, Omari took a nervous breath. Then, trying desperately to keep his gaze focused ahead, he carefully hopped from rock to rock across the stream and tracked Percival through the patches of shadows until he eventually found his furry friend. Omari approached cautiously as he scanned the dark lands around them. He, too, eventually spied the faint, flickering firelight below. “We should be careful. They may be the same bandits that attacked us earlier.”
Enflamed (Book 2) Page 12
