Fairytales Slashed, Volume 2

by Megan Derr

  Roark nearly scoffed, but he held it back, heaving himself up from his chair to go fetch them all fresh glasses of Amara's home-brewed beer.

  "He'll probably be back once he calms down a little," Bralin said reassuringly. It was a talent of his—one Roark didn't share—to be able to keep people calm and tell them unpleasant things very nicely.

  "I hope so," Amara said fretfully, accepting the glass from Roark with an absent thanks. "He's not very good at taking care of himself."

  "If you can spare Roark for a few days, we'll look for him," Bralin offered. Roark set a glass in front of Bralin a trifle too hard, making the beer fizzle up and over the sides of the glass. "I'd like to go up to the fortress as well, to make sure there are no lingering enchantments."

  "Of course," Amara said, her face still lined with worry. She turned to Roark, narrowing her eyes suspiciously. "You didn't say anything that would've made him run off like this, did you?"

  "What? No!" Roark snapped, annoyed further when Bralin started to laugh.

  "She's got you pegged, doesn't she?" Bralin teased, smiling at Amara. "He didn't, really. This time, anyway."

  Amara nodded and let it drop, apparently more willing to take Bralin's word for it than Roark's. She settled at the table finally, looking tired and worn as she fiddled with her glass of beer. Roark scowled, resisting the urge to ask her if she was all right—he wouldn't now, not with Bralin present. She would most certainly lie in front of.

  "You came from the capital, yes?" Amara asked, her expression clearing as she focused on Bralin again. "Can you tell us the news?"

  Bralin paused in thought before launching into a tale of intrigue and politics involving a duke's daughter, the ambassador from Venir, and a small flock of chickens. Roark mostly ignored him, content to let Bralin distract Amara from Cos's rabbiting act and the rest of the worry and woe she harbored. Instead, he focused on Cos.

  They hadn't told Amara that Cos was a wizard—Roark thought it better to conceal that, and the spells on the fields, until after they caught Cos and got a proper explanation for it all. Bralin thought the spells on the fields were nurturing, growing spells, and not at all harmful. Roark had only reluctantly conceded that Bralin knew more about magic and spells than he did, but only because the crops looked green and healthy.

  Perhaps it was a cover, to distract them from whatever Cos was really up to? Roark didn't know. He just wanted to catch the bastard and get some answers out of him; about why he'd lied, what he was up to, and what the hell had happened at that damn fortress.

  "...Roark?" Bralin asked, and Roark tuned back in, letting his fury simmer in the back of his mind rather than focusing on it.

  "What?" Roark asked, cringing at how grumpy he sounded.

  "I was saying you could entertain me while Amara takes Harro for a walk," Bralin said, obviously amused as he flashed Roark a toothy grin.

  "Yeah, sure," Roark said.

  Amara murmured her good-byes as she collected Harro from his bassinet. She was probably going to look around some for Cos herself, though with Harro she wouldn't get too far.

  "It's not safe," Roark grumbled after she'd left. He didn't make any move to go after her, though. Despite Cos's magical powers, Roark didn't think he'd do Amara any harm, especially not when she was with Harro. Cos seemed to adore Roark's nephew, even if he still wouldn't venture inside the house to visit him.

  Why Cos kept to the stables was another question to get an answer for, now that Roark had no reason to be nice asking.

  "Ignoring me is not a good way to keep me entertained," Bralin said, distracting Roark as he kicked him under the table.

  "We could head up to the fortress tonight," Roark said abruptly. "If your horse is rested enough."

  "Nah," Bralin dismissed, his smile widening. "I think it's better to stick close tonight."

  "Why?" Roark asked, scowling. They could make it at least halfway there today.

  "Because your stable hand will probably come back," Bralin said confidently, tracing a finger through the condensation on his beer glass. "He left the protection spell on this house half-finished, and as sloppy as his work is, he'll have to be close to complete it."

  "Why didn't you say so sooner?" Roark demanded, irritated. "How close? He's never been in the house."

  "Probably..." Bralin trailed off, looking thoughtful. "As close as the stable, or closer."

  "He likely won't come back until after dark," Roark said grouchily, spinning his nearly empty glass between his hands. "And he'll skulk around like an inept sneak thief."

  Bralin snorted. "Then he'll be easy to catch. Do you think he'll try and hide in the stable, since he's comfortable there?"

  "Maybe, but you should lie in wait out front, just in case," Roark said, hoping Cos did approach the stable and not the front. He wanted to be the one who caught the sneaky brat. "Why the hell is he casting protection spells on the house? Are you sure it's a protection spell?"

  "Yes, Roark," Bralin said with exaggerated patience. He stole Roark's glass and drained the last of the liquid inside before adding, "It is my job to know that sort of thing, you know."

  "Yeah, yeah," Roark groused, sitting back in his chair with a scowl. He waited a moment, indecisive, and then stood up. "I'm going out to the stables," he said to Bralin's questioning look. "Maybe he left something behind that will give me a clue."

  "A clue to what?" Bralin asked, following Roark out.

  "To anything," Roark replied shortly, glowering at the back door as he pushed through it.

  Bralin was suspiciously quiet as they trekked over to the stable, but Roark didn't push his luck by provoking him; probably he was thinking something stupid that would only add to Roark's headache.

  The sun was glaringly bright overhead, giving him an additional reason to glower. Amara's farm was firmly in the southern reaches of the kingdom, giving it lots of sun and long summers ideal for farming. It was just one more thing Roark disliked—he much preferred the cooler, milder temperatures of the capital, even if he would never admit it. Amara already felt guilty enough that he was staying to help her out.

  "I'm going up," Roark said, nodding towards the ladder to the hay loft where Cos slept now that Roark's mare lived in the third stall. Bralin made some stifled noise, but didn't follow him, instead making a show of inspecting the shelves of stable tools lining the wall next to him when Roark turned to glare at him.

  The hay loft appeared unlived in at first glance, but Cos was so timid he probably thought that leaving any sort of sign he was sleeping in the stables would get him scolded.

  Except that didn't mesh—Cos was timid, but he'd been conniving enough to lie and say he couldn't talk about what had happened at the fortress. Unless he was too timid to talk about it? But Roark refused to believe that; Cos could've spoken to Amara at least. She was friendly and motherly to him.

  "Nothing out of the ordinary down here," Bralin said, sounding too cheerful by half. Roark thought about dumping hay on his head, but in the end decided against it, distracted by a bit of color in the far corner.

  Thumping through the hay was a little difficult, but Roark ignored it, working his way across the loft determinedly.

  Cos's few possessions were stacked neatly in the corner. A spare set of clothes were folded, creases perfect despite how obviously dirty they were. Next to that were a few bits of food—two apples and a chunk of bread—wrapped loosely in a handkerchief, but that was it. There were no hidden spells, no secret journals, no incriminating bits of evidence.

  Roark dug around a moment more, but he didn't find anything but more hay and a few bugs that skittered away when Roark uncovered them. Frustrated and even more annoyed, Roark stomped his way back across the loft and made his way down the ladder.

  Bralin was waiting, a small smile curving the corners of his lips as he studied a hoof pick.

  "Nothing up there, I expect?" he asked without looking up at Roark.

  "No," Roark said shortly, skipping the last two ru
ngs of the ladder and landing on the floor of the stable with a thump. "What do you mean, you expect?"

  "I have a theory," Bralin said, putting the hoof pick back into its place on the shelf. "But you're more interested in finding someone to blame for Kiran's death than in figuring out what's wrong with your stable hand."

  "He's not a stable hand," Roark said irritably, ignoring Bralin's other words. He wasn't looking to lay the blame on Cos—Cos had deceived him—them—and Roark wanted to know why. Stalking from the stable, Roark stopped short, then wondered how much trouble he'd get if he buried his fist in Lehan's smirking face.

  Lehan looked surprised to see him, and the widening of his eyes when Bralin followed Roark out of the stable was funny.

  "Honestly, Roark, you've only gotten worse—" Bralin cut off abruptly, shooting Roark a curious look when he caught sight of Lehan.

  "Why are you here today, Lehan?" Roark growled. Lehan dropped by too often for Roark's liking, usually timing it so that he could get Amara alone without Roark running him off. Amara didn't always tell him, but Gaima usually did, which had raised Roark's estimation of her intelligence.

  "I didn't know you had visitors," Lehan said, directing his smarmy little smile at Bralin. Roark didn't introduce them—the last thing he wanted was for Lehan to know Bralin was a curse breaker. He'd invite himself along on the trip up to the fortress, to seem like he was being proactive about the already passed threat from the wizard.

  "Just the one," Roark said shortly, wishing that Ejoc was here; he had a knack for running Lehan off without seeming rude about it.

  "Is Amara around?" Lehan asked after a long moment when Roark just stared at him menacingly and contemplated breaking his nose.

  "She's having a nap with Harro," Roark lied, daring Lehan to suggest waking them. "What do you want?"

  "Nothing much," Lehan said, trying one of his charming smiles on for size. "I'm just checking in on her. I know she's having a hard time dealing with her husband's death and..." Lehan spread his hands, tilting his head slightly, as though to indicate that he was the only thing that could help Amara through her grief.

  Roark took a few slow steps closer, straightening to his full height to glare at Lehan. "Kiran was ten times the man you think you are. Nothing you can offer—" Roark paused to sneer, eyeing Lehan's neat, expensive clothes and fashionably cut hair scornfully. "—will help her grief."

  Lehan turned a bright, angry red, shooting a glare at Bralin for his poorly muffled laughter.

  "He's only been dead a few months, for god's sake," Roark snapped when Lehan didn't back down. "Leave her alone, or I'll break your face."

  "You're not her keeper," Lehan spat, much less composed despite how he struggled to appear that way. "Who she sees is up to her."

  "Let me make this clear," Roark said slowly, dangerously. He took a step closer and jabbed Lehan in the chest hard, making him stumble back a step. "If I see you on this farm again, I will break your face. Possibly something else, if I'm in a bad mood."

  "He's always in a bad mood," Bralin spoke up cheerfully.

  Lehan scoffed, and Roark was sorely tempted to give him a sneak peek at the damage Roark was willing to inflict, except Lehan took that moment to back down. Stepping away from Roark, he composed his features into a cool look and, ignoring Bralin's laughter, headed back the way he came without a word.

  "Man, they don't knock the aggression out of you at all here, do they?" Bralin asked, snickering as Lehan rounded the corner of the farm house, hopefully on his way back to town.

  "I farm," Roark muttered, which only made Bralin laugh again. "So what's your damn theory?"

  "Theory? Oh, right, that," Bralin said, grinning in his maddeningly cheerful way.

  Roark rolled his eyes, but at least Bralin had stopped laughing at him. Hopefully he wouldn't mention Roark's threats to Amara either; she'd expressly forbidden him from doing that after Lehan's first visit.

  "Your stable boy admitted he was at the fortress, right?" Bralin asked. Roark nodded shortly, pushing his hair out of his face and heading for the chicken coop. Bralin followed, continuing to talk as he walked. "From the glimpse I got, he's pretty powerful." Bralin grimaced a little. "Much more than I am, but that's pretty much given."

  Roark nodded, not surprised. Curse breakers were technically wizards, but usually they were low-level wizards who couldn't do more than a few small spells or unravel the spells of other wizards.

  "Great—"

  Bralin shot him a quelling look. "Hold on, I'm not finished. He's strong, but his spells are inefficient and clumsy. They work, but only because he's feeding them so much power. It has to be exhausting, but he probably doesn't know any better. I don't think he's had any schooling."

  "Okay, and?" Roark grumbled, because that had very little to do with anything.

  "If he's had no schooling, he's been living under a rock for the last decade. The king and council decreed that all mages have to have a minimum of schooling, to make sure they can control their magic well enough that it doesn't destroy them. There are mage scouts everywhere." Bralin paused as they reached the chicken pen, staying on one side of the wire as Roark fetched the bucket of feed.

  "So he had Cos for a while?" Roark interpreted. "You're not serious. Why the hell would the wizard keep Cos around for ten years or more?"

  "To use Cos's power?" Bralin suggested. "He's got the right type of power for it. He can use it, and other people can borrow if he lets them. Which, if no one taught him how to block, the wizard could easily do. Also, he might not have initially been lying about the spell keeping him from talking about it. The dead wizard's spells could've taken a few weeks to dissipate after he died, especially the ones he had in place longest."

  "So why keep lying about it?" Roark asked irritably. But if Bralin was right, Cos probably hadn't thought he could have told most of it, not if he was trying to hide that he was a wizard.

  Roark threw the chicken feed at the chickens with more force than was necessary, ignoring the clucks and scrabbling the chickens made in their rush to be first to eat.

  "You really do need someone to give you a good thrashing," Bralin said cheerfully, then snickered and added, "Or a good lay."

  "Volunteering?" Roark asked, a little amused at Bralin's assessment. "I could beat you up until I feel better."

  "I think I'd be dead far before then," Bralin said easily, which wasn't a no. "Go find a soldier to pick on." That was, unfortunately. "Or a sturdy whore."

  "Shut up, Bralin," Roark ordered, putting the bucket back where he'd gotten it. "Let's go scope out a good spot for you to hide tonight."

  *

  *

  *

  Part Five

  The moon was fat and bright in the sky, just past full. It cast a pale wash of light over the ground, lighting the swath of yard that stretched between the farm house and the stable.

  Roark was tucked into a shadowed corner of the stable wall, a large mug of coffee settled into the ground beside him. He'd stopped drinking it as soon as it had gotten cool enough he could actually taste it. Amara could brew the finest beer in the kingdom, but her coffee was horrible.

  It was a few hours past dusk, and Roark was hoping Cos would show up soon. He was tired and only long practice working overnight patrol shifts after getting his ass handed to him in training sessions was keeping him from dozing off.

  At least he could be fairly certain Cos would come this way. There was more shelter and better places to hide. Add to that the stable being Cos's little haven and Cos's complete lack of forethought—obviously whatever his plans were, he hadn't thought through to the point where a curse breaker could show up to help—and Roark was sure he'd picked the better spot to watch from.

  Shifting very slightly to relieve the leg that was falling asleep on him, Roark ran his gaze over the expanse of yard he was keeping an eye on. There was no sign of movement yet, but he knew the minute he shifted to properly relieve his aching ass or to really scratch the bug b
ite on his left calf, Cos would appear, notice him, and bolt again.

  So he stayed still, kept watching, and ignored the persistent discomforts. He was going to catch Cos, not let him get away with a rookie mistake like alerting Cos to his presence prematurely.

  It was an age later when he finally caught a flicker of movement out of the corner of his eye. A shadow crept slowly across the field of his vision, getting closer to the house but giving the dark shadows of the chicken coop and the oak tree a wide berth. Roark frowned—wouldn't it make more sense to cling to those shadows rather than avoid them?

  He didn't move yet—the shadow was getting closer, but there was still enough of a gap between them that Roark wouldn't be able to catch up if Cos bolted again. So Roark waited, keeping still while his patience strained at its bounds. The shadowy figure crept closer and closer, slowly crossing the yard between the chicken coop and the house.

  It was Cos, Roark was sure of it. The shadowy figure hesitating on the lawn had Cos's build, height, and irritating way of moving without any confidence. It also had Cos's bright gold hair, Roark noted as Cos finally got close enough for Roark to get a good look at him.

  He was a short twenty foot dash away, but Roark still didn't move, watching alertly, stone-still as Cos glanced around warily. He stared at the house for a long moment and then at the stable, before finally stumbling a few steps closer to the house.

  Still Roark waited, watching Cos intently. Wizards spoke their spells, so Roark would wait until Cos was completely distracted by casting to make his move. Cos glanced around again, but apparently he saw nothing out of the ordinary. He dropped to his knees, ducking his head a little—probably to better concentrate on his spell—and Roark waited another few seconds.

  He climbed to his feet slowly, letting most of his weight rest against the stable. Cos didn't so much as twitch, and Roark debated how to approach Cos for half a second before throwing himself into an all-out run.