by Megan Derr
Two steps in and Cos's head snapped up. But too late—by the time he scrambled to his feet and took one small, stumbling step away, Roark was on him.
Literally, because Roark hadn't slowed as he'd approached, not wanting to risk Cos getting enough speed up for a chase. Roark slammed into him, getting a firm grip on one of Cos's thin forearms and a less stable grip on the front of his shirt. Roark's momentum propelled them back and Cos tripped over the uneven ground and fell, dragging Roark with him.
Roark landed hard and lost his grip on Cos's shirt, barely managing to not let go of Cos's arm. Cos struggled weakly, audibly fighting for breath. Roark scrambled for a better grip before Cos recovered himself, catching Cos's other arm and shifting his weight to more effectively pin Cos to the ground.
"Run on me, will you," Roark grumbled, somewhat satisfied as Cos continued to try to breath. Roark must have knocked the air out of him when they fell. Cos's eyes were wide, the warm honey color washed out by the moonlight. He wasn't struggling much anymore and Roark—well, he was a little disappointed.
"You've got some questions to answer," Roark said ominously, then shouted for Bralin.
Cos tensed beneath him and Roark belatedly remembered that Cos did have defenses other than physical strength. He just had to be able to cast the spell. Cos opened his mouth and Roark released his grip on Cos's arm to pull back and punch him. His fist connected with Cos's jaw—
And the next thing he knew, he was flat on his back, his head spinning.
"You okay?" Bralin asked, crouched next to him. Roark sat up slowly, hissing when his head started to throb.
"Where is he?" Roark demanded, ignoring Bralin's question. "Fuck."
"Long gone," Bralin said grimly, frowning as he turned to stare at the trees past the chicken coop. "He's a latent, Roark. Knocked you flat on your back without saying a single word."
"A latent?" Roark repeated, then swore "Why the hell did he let me catch him, then?"
A latent cast spells by instinct, without spell words or trances. They were rare—just being untrained and a wizard didn't mean a wizard was a latent.
"You surprised him?" Bralin suggested, shrugging. "It doesn't really matter now, he finished the spell. He won't be coming back."
"Fucking fantastic," Roark snarled, climbing to his fee carefully, wary of the way his back ached. That was going to be fun tomorrow. He owed Cos a good knock the next time he ran into him. If he ran into him again.
Except that Cos could easily take him down again, so it wasn't likely Roark would ever get the chance to pay him back for the knock.
And the magic explained the way Cos had managed to free himself from Roark's ropes, the way he managed to help with some of the more strenuous tasks around the farm, the way he could sing so well—
"Stop brooding about it," Bralin advised, clapping him on the shoulder. "It's definitely a protection spell, so it's not like he means you or your family any harm."
"It could be a bluff," Roark said darkly. Bralin rolled his eyes and Roark stalked away, grumbling under his breath about stupid, conniving, ingratiating mages who knew more than they should and lied in spite of the kindness they'd been shown.
*~*~*
It was an ungodly hour of the morning when Bralin dragged him from his bed. Literally—he pulled on Roark's arm until he tumbled from bed and landed in a tangle of aching limbs on the floor. Roark glared at him, cranky and sleep-hazed, but he still held off throwing things until Bralin started laughing at him.
His boot hit the back of the door closing behind Bralin with a loud thunk, and Roark glared after it for a long moment before slowly climbing to his feet. His back ached even more than it had the previous night and his head was pounding fiercely. He really was going to deck Cos if he ever saw him again.
It only took him a few minutes to pack an overnight bag—he still hadn't bothered to unpack most of the things he'd had shipped from the capital after he'd made his decision to stay. Slinging the bag over one shoulder, Roark collected his boots and wrangled them on before heading downstairs.
Despite the early hour, Amara was awake and packing food for the trip up the mountain. Roark greeted her grumpily, taking the cup of steaming coffee she offered and swallowing half of it with barely a grimace.
"Do you need any help with that?" Bralin asked smoothly, apparently in a good mood despite that he couldn't have gotten much more sleep than Roark had. Roark leveled another glare at him, edging out of the way to nurse his coffee as Amara shoved Bralin back to his breakfast.
"Do you need to fetch your horse?" Roark asked, managing a half-hearted thank you when Amara handed him a plate of eggs and bacon, a thick wedge of buttered bread on the side of the plate.
"Did already," Bralin said, smirking infuriatingly. He knew how much his morning manners grated on Roark.
"Did you sleep at all?" Roark asked grumpily, keeping most of the sting from his words only because Amara was still in the room.
"Some," was Bralin's cheerful reply. "If we ride hard, we can make it up there by late afternoon, right?"
Roark favored Bralin with a disgusted look and then proceeded to ignore him, preferring to focus on his breakfast. Amara consolingly heaped both their plates with more food, at least, though she was another who didn't mind being awake at early in the morning.
Roark vastly preferred not having to deal with anyone for a few hours after he woke up, which he was able to pull off most of the time. He usually didn't work with any of the farm hands and Cos was consistently quiet.
Scowling abruptly when he realized the direction his thoughts had wandered in, Roark dropped his plate in the sink with a clatter, gritting his teeth as he stalked outside to get his horse ready for riding. Cos was gone, good riddance, and Roark wouldn't miss him at all, no matter that he'd been the least obnoxious company on the farm.
*~*~*
They reached the fortress as Bralin had predicted, in the late afternoon. Roark had spent the entire trip getting into a fouler and fouler mood. His temper was fueled mostly by the worsening ache in his back, his mind's incessant need to think about Cos and dissect his every action over the last few months, and Bralin's incessant need to whistle cheerfully.
The fortress was much the same as it had been the previous time Roark had visited Kiran's grave a month before. The grass around the ruined building was still growing taller, the main part of the building was still a wreck, and the tower still stood.
The only new addition was a thick swath of bramble bushes growing thick and tall around the base of the tower.
Roark gave them a dark look before he dismounted. Was a month long enough for those bushes to grow that much? He set about settling his horse and setting up a rudimentary campsite, gritting his teeth as Bralin did the same, continuing with his obnoxious whistling.
"So do you want the good news or the bad news?" Bralin asked, studying the ruins intently as they approached. The thick bramble bushes had to be a hardy sort of plant, Roark noted sourly, as they grew even in the stone ruins on the north side of the tower.
"Good news," Roark said. He could use some cheering up. Even if he was sure he didn't really want to know what Bralin counted as bad news.
"The old wizard is definitely dead," Bralin said, squinting up at the tower curiously.
"Old wizard?" Roark repeated, a sinking feeling forming in the pit of his stomach. Had he let a new wizard move in without so much as noticing?
"Yeah," Bralin said, grinning cheerfully. "Your new wizard is sitting pretty in his tower, probably hiding away from you after the way you assaulted him last night."
"Cos?" Roark asked, disbelieving, except it was Bralin's job to know that sort of thing. "Wait, you mean he's up there right now?"
"Yep," Bralin said, smirking slightly and looking smug enough that Roark considered hitting him.
"What's the bad news then?" Roark asked, moving closer to the tower and glowering at the top of it.
"He grew thorny plants to keep you out," Br
alin said, gesturing to the brambles. "Those do not look like they'd be fun to run into."
"You can take them out," Roark said, making a statement of it rather than a question. Bralin was one of the best curse breakers the King's army employed, no matter what Roark said about his abilities. "And get us up there."
"The first definitely," Bralin said, frowning at the bushes. "The second... well, spell building isn't my specialty, but I might be able to make a ladder or something."
How had Cos gotten up there? Roark scowled at the top of the tower—he'd magicked his way up, of course. And he probably hadn't left town completely because whatever sinister plan he was executing wasn't complete yet.
The fortress was ideal, too—Cos hadn't known Bralin and Roark were coming this way and none of the villagers would have made the trek either. So it was secluded enough he wouldn't be discovered but it was close enough to the village he could work on his plans.
"Can you do a ladder spell? Or something else?" Roark asked impatiently after a moment. Bralin wasn't really doing anything, just standing there, arms crossed and a thoughtful look creasing his face.
"Shut up a minute," Bralin ordered sharply, and Roark subsided into silence, alternating his glare between the top of the tower and Bralin.
"There," Bralin said quietly. The thorny bramble bushes crumbled to ash, catching on the wind and blowing towards the cemetery grove on the far side of the fortress.
"Now how do we get up?" Roark demanded, even as he wondered if Cos would even let them climb up.
"No idea," Bralin said with a grimace, running his hands through his hair restlessly. "I could make a ladder, but that would completely tap me out—if he tried anything funny at the top, I wouldn't be able to deal with it."
"So what, we have to wait him out?" Roark asked, none too pleased with that option either.
"Unless you can get him to let us up," Bralin countered, giving him a sour look. Roark ignored it—he had every right to be as pissy as he liked. Bralin's words niggled at him though, and Roark stared up at the tower, trying to think what it reminded him of.
"Hair," Roark muttered, getting a confused look from Bralin. Roark didn't explained, just asked, "Does he know we're down here?"
"Maybe," Bralin said, shrugging easily. "I don't know how in tune he is with his spells, but if he is at all, then he knew I took this one out. What's your plan?"
"Not much of one," Roark said, feeling almost cheerful about it.
"What is it?" Bralin asked, but Roark ignored him to take a quick circuit around the base of the tower. The windows all looked equally dark, with no sign of movement at any of them.
Roark stopped where he had started from, continuing to ignore Bralin's questioning looks. Instead, he cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted up at the window above them, "Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair!"
"You've gone crazy," Bralin decided, shaking his head. "Your wizard hit you too hard and your brains got scrambled."
"He's not my wizard," Roark said, eyes on the tower. He was about to give up and go with the 'wait Cos out' plan when a shock of gold hair popped out of the window above them. Roark glowered, though he was pretty sure the effect was lost over the distance, and made a hurry-up gesture up at Cos.
Cos disappeared back into the tower. Roark frowned—perhaps they should climb the tower tonight, so Cos couldn't complete escape them.
"It would be hard to get to the top if he doesn't want us to," Bralin said with a grimace, staring up at the window Cos had appeared so briefly in. "He could just let us climb up most of the way and then knock us to the ground. If it didn't kill us, we'd be too injured to try again."
"Or pursue if he ran," Roark agreed grimly. "Can you knock the tower down?"
"Not without killing him. If I did have the power, which—" Bralin paused, squinting at the tower. "I might. It's not protected at all, and the foundations are already crumbling."
"Why not protect the tower?" Roark demanded, displeased because that made no sense—Cos could and had laid protection spells before—why not protect himself?
Bralin didn't answer, turning back to the window above them once more. Roark followed his gaze, only growing more confounded as he watched a dark-colored, cloth ladder snake down the side of the tower.
"What the hell is he doing?" Bralin asked, sounding as dumbfounded as Roark felt. What was Cos up to?
"I think he wants us to climb," Bralin said finally, as the ladder touched the ground. Roark squinted up again, but there was no more sign of Cos at the top than there had been a moment previously.
Roark stepped forward, muttering under his breath as he hooked a hand in the ladder and tugged. It didn't fall, but would Cos cut the ladder when he was partway up? But why give them a way up in the first place? Surely not as an invitation to join him. Maybe he thought he was trapped and this was his way of surrendering.
In any case, Roark wasn't going to get any answers staring at the ladder.
"Catch me if I fall," Roark ordered Bralin, tugging on the ladder again. It wasn't simple cloth, but silk, smooth and slippery against his hands.
"Roark, don't be an idiot," Bralin began, but then shut up, staring up at the tower again.
"Stay down here. Catch me if I fall," Roark said slowly, as though explaining himself to a child. "When I reach the top, then you follow."
"Fine, but if he kills you, it's your own damn fault," Bralin said cheerfully, smiling a little as he stepped back. Cos still didn't peer out again, so Roark shrugged and started to climb.
It wasn't easy—the silk and his sweaty palms didn't give him the best traction and he lost his footing a dozen times. Roark did his best to ignore it and pushed on, hooking his hands in the junctures of each silk "rung" before hoisting himself up further.
It also didn't help that the ladder wasn't secured at the bottom. It kept twisting about with his movements and the wind, making it doubly hard to climb. Roark just kept an eye on the tower window above him, not willing to look and see how far he had to fall.
Cos continued to hide and Roark wondered what precisely was wrong with the man. At least now he could wrangle answers from him—Amara wasn't around to stop him. Neither, Roark suspected, would she want to if he told her what Cos actually was.
The window had a wide ledge to it, thankfully, and Roark pulled himself over it gracelessly, immediately searching out Cos.
He was standing just to the left of the window, and as soon as Roark cleared the ledge, he placed a hand on the stone sill, making the silk ladder scuttle up the side of the tower and roll into a tight ball.
"Wha—" Roark began, turning towards Cos angrily. Cos backed up a few steps, tripping over and nearly landing in the chair behind him.
"I don't—" Cos began, straightening himself carefully, using the back of the chair to support himself. "I don't know him."
"You know me," Roark said menacingly, moving closer slowly, as though the slow speed would keep Cos from bolting.
"You're not—" Cos began, but didn't finish, moving quickly to put the chair between Roark and himself. As though that would help.
"I'm not what?" Roark asked dangerously, pleased when Cos flinched. He took another step closer—and Cos didn't move. His eyes were wide and frightened, but he wasn't slouching away or hunching down, trying to avoid Roark.
"You're not going to hurt me," Cos said quietly, even as he looked less than certain on that point. "Or you shouldn't, yet."
"Let's get to the part where I should," Roark suggested, ignoring the niggling feeling of doubt telling him to calm down and use his brain for once. Cos flinched again, his wide honey-gold eyes darting away, towards the center of the tower room.
Roark followed his gaze, his eyebrows creeping up as he took in the room. It was large, spanning the whole of the tower. It was also obviously a woman's room.
Taking up most of the east wall was a massive four-poster bed, complete with moth-eaten, sheer pink curtains. The bedcovers—also pink—were neatly tuck
ed into place, the edges that dangled towards the floor frayed and the colors worn.
Next to that was a massive oak wardrobe. The gold handles and hinges were tarnished and there was a coat of dust on the top. There was a ragged black curtain strong across a portion of the north way, stopping a foot or so above the ground to reveal the rusting claw feet of an old tub.
A cluttered sitting area was clustered around the fireplace on the far wall; two dusty faded chairs of a deep blue were placed with a sofa of the same color around a rickety looking coffee table.
"What the hell is this place?" Roark asked, forgetting for a moment that he was supposed to be intimidating Cos into giving him answers. Moving further into the strange, faded room, Roark frowned at the worn and faded furnishings. No one had lived here for a very long time—longer than the months the wizard had been dead.
"This was my mother's room," Cos said, his quiet voice drawing Roark's attention back.
"Your mother," Roark repeated, narrowing his eyes at Cos suspiciously. "What, did she get special privileges for having a useful son?"
Cos gave him a startled look and Roark stalked back towards him as Cos shook his head.
"No," Cos said, releasing his stranglehold on the back of the chair. He nervously pushed his hair out of his face. "She was—they were married."
"Your mother was married to the wizard," Roark repeated flatly. "And she lived in this tower."
Cos nodded, fidgeting for a moment before clenching his hands into fists and holding them still. Roark walked over to where Cos was standing, somewhat surprised when his approach didn't send Cos skittering back. Grabbing Cos's shoulders, Roark pushed him into moving, unsurprised when Cos didn't put up any protest at being manhandled across the tower to the dusty sofa.
"Explain," Roark said shortly, shoving Cos down onto the sofa none-too-gently. Cos settled where he landed without fuss, blinking a few times at Roark. "Was she from the village? The first he took?"
"No," Cos said quietly, tucking his hair behind his ear. "She lived here before he did. A witch—she was held by a witch in this tower, until my—until he came along and freed her."
