“I asked,” Heather said, placing a hand on his shoulder. “They know the risks, and I’ll sleep at night knowing you aren’t alone.”
“But...”
She leaned forward and whispered into his ear.
“O...okay,” he said, choking on his words. “That’s fair.”
She whispered again.
Angst whipped around and hugged her as tightly as he could. Emotion swelled in his chest, and he continued holding her. After several long moments, he let go, setting her back on the ground, and composed himself before facing his new companions.
“Thom.” He could barely speak around the lump in his throat. “My son’s name is Thom.”
“Angst’s father’s name,” Heather explained.
Faeoris was holding a hand up to her mouth, and Aerella smiled knowingly. The others nodded politely, not completely understanding.
“And my daughter?” Angst asked.
“When you come home to me,” she said, a hint of smile in her eyes.
“That’s fair,” he agreed too quickly, even if he didn’t feel it was. He clasped his hands together. “Okay, so, I guess we go together.”
They all just stared at him, chewing on his insult, which appeared to leave a bad taste in everyone’s mouth. Angst had been so caught up in learning his son’s name that he’d already forgotten the gaffe. Apparently, they weren’t as forgetful.
“Look, I’m sorry if that was rude. This trip will be dangerous, it’s just... I just...”
“My husband is an ass,” Heather said.
Maarja and Faeoris nodded vigorously.
“He just doesn’t want anyone getting hurt,” she continued.
“I’ve lost my friends, literally,” Angst said, walking toward them. “I’ve seen cities and castles destroyed. I’ve watched titans fall.” He began pacing. “I’ve fought dragons from stories, and dreamed of a war coming that’s almost impossible to fathom. I foolishly led my closest friends into this, and we were unprepared. The results have been catastrophic.” He looked at each of them before turning away to pace more. “You are all powerful, even more than they were, but it won’t be enough. It’s not enough to tell you that you might die. It’s more accurate to say, you might live.”
He stopped long enough to let this sink in. Heather was right, the stakes were too high to do this alone. He really did need help. They were going to face Fire, whom he’d already lost to, and Magic could still be out there. Other nations were rising up to battle each other, and most weren’t fans of Angst.
“This trip isn’t just to find my friends, or save the princess,” he said, balling his hands into tight fists. “This is for Unsel and, if we can avoid starting a war, maybe all of Ehrde.”
He sought them out again, and not one looked hesitant. Faeoris appeared hungry for battle, or maybe just battle with him. Jintorich had hopped up on Maarja’s shoulder, and both nodded at each other in anticipation. Aerella looked reserved, her face dark and sad, but resolute.
“We need to move faster than these will allow,” Angst said, pointing at the caravan. “We only have weeks...”
“No,” Wilfred said, stepping out from behind a wagon. “You are taking these wagons out of Unsel.”
“Wilfred?” Angst asked, taking a step back.
“The one and only,” he replied, trying to bow in armor that fit so poorly Angst was embarrassed for his friend. “That was a great speech, Angst,” Wilfred said, his hands behind his back as he approached. “You really are a leader, and a hero. I think many underestimate you.”
“Yeah, it kinda sucks,” Angst said.
“It’s a strategic advantage,” Maarja said with a nod.
“So is fear,” Angst said to her. “It would really be nice if some of my adversaries were afraid of me instead of wanting a piece of me.”
“That’s exactly why I’m here,” Wilfred explained, his cheeks blotchy red and a trickle of sweat dripping from his forehead. “Leadership in the castle may underestimate you, but Fulk’han and Melkier do not.”
“Finally,” Angst said. “Maybe that will keep them at bay for awhile.”
“It does, because you’re in Unsel,” Wilfred spoke slowly.
“I told you, I’m not staying in Unsel.” Angst was getting irritated. Wilfred was spending too much time selling something and not enough time explaining.
“I’m aware of this,” Wilfred said. “Please consider. They know you are dangerous and may not attack if they think you’re in Unsel.”
Angst sucked in a deep breath as it struck him. “The wagons?” he asked. “You want us to try and sneak out of Unsel, like we’re transporting goods. But why two wagons?”
“One is for the sword,” Wilfred explained. He jerked a thumb toward Maarja. “The other is for her.”
“Will she fit?” Angst asked.
“Barely,” Maarja said. She looked like someone had tried pulling out one of her teeth.
“If you are successful, if Melkier and the Fulk’han think you’re still in Unsel,” Wilfred said, “it may keep them at bay.”
“They aren’t attacking Unsel because they’re afraid of you, Angst,” Faeoris said proudly. “And me.”
“And us,” Maarja said, peering at the Berfemmian.
Angst felt like defending himself from that brief glare of icy daggers shooting back and forth between the women.
“But we’re in a hurry!” Angst whined.
“It will only set you back a couple of days,” Wilfred said.
“We only have twenty-one!” Angst snapped.
“Now you have nineteen,” Wilfred said sternly, crossing his arms.
“That’s two whole days!” Angst said.
“You’re going on the mission to save five people,” Wilfred explained. “This diversion may help save all of Unsel.”
Angst looked at his new crew, who waited for his final say. He looked at Heather, who nodded. They were in such a hurry, not only to save Tori and his friends, but he wanted to hurry back and learn his daughter’s name. But if Wilfred was right, and lives could be saved, it was worth the effort. Angst sighed deeply.
“Fine,” Angst said reluctantly. “Is that all? Did you want us to drag an anchor behind us or anything?”
“Would you?” Wilfred said with a winning smile.
“What about you?” Angst asked approaching his old friend. “I suppose you need a royal escort back.”
“No,” Wilfred answered. “I’m taking your advice and meeting with the wielders later today.”
Angst eyed his obese friend up and down—the man was overweight enough to make him feel thin. Layers of expensive armor hung over him like bad drapes. It was like he’d purposefully chosen mismatched sets from the training grounds. Wilfred didn’t look intimidating or inspiring, he looked trapped. Angst had no taste, and sought Faeoris, who nodded in confirmation.
Angst moved close and patted Wilfred’s back. “We’ll do this your way, old friend,” he said. “But will you take some more advice?”
“Of course,” Wilfred said, frowning curiously.
“Don’t visit the wielders. Not yet,” he said. “Seek out Teedle. He’s the best armorer in Unsel. And Rahvin, the queen’s seamstress. Ask them to clean you up. Tell them I sent you.”
“I don’t really think it’s necessary,” Wilfred said haughtily.
Faeoris draped a long arm over Wilfred’s shoulder and spun him around. He looked up into her large eyes and went pale, taking a deep breath.
“You would look so heroic in armor that’s more...fitting of your prowess, Wilfred,” she said, her eyes seductive and voice thick. “So very handsome.”
“Oh,” Wilfred said, letting only a little air escape. “Do you really think so?”
“Like a leader,” she said.
“I can do that,” he said, his voice gruff.
Faeoris kissed him on the cheek, and the man shuddered.
Angst choked down a chuckle. There was a long, awkward moment while everyone stared at Wilfred as he at
tempted to compose himself. It apparently wasn’t easy with Faeoris leaning over him like that, but she finally freed Wilfred from her hold. Angst felt for his friend, but this was for the best.
“Uh, so, before leaving, you’ll need to change clothes.” Wilfred coughed awkwardly. “To be, well, less conspicuous.”
“What?” Faeoris snapped, making him wince.
“Into something less, um, noticeable,” Wilfred said, his gaze flicking to her bare midriff and thigh-high boots, and everything else. “There are traveling clothes in the back of the wagons.”
“This just keeps getting better,” Angst said, taking a deep breath.
Aerella didn’t need to change and sat in the front of the larger wagon. She remained in her long blue dress, looking tired and older than she had at the infirmary. The Meldusian donned toddler’s clothes and an ugly knit hat that hid his eyebrows and long ears. He took the seat beside Aerella and bounced up and down several times, like a child who had just won a prize. Maarja crawled into a ball under the wagon canopy, the wood creaking, but not so loud as her own indignant grunts.
Angst placed his sword in the hold of the second wagon and removed his armor. He reluctantly took off his cloak and rested it gently on the weapon. He slipped into dark oversized pants, an itchy shirt, and someone else’s boots.
“Wait,” Heather said, scooping up Scar and handing the pup to him.
“But you’ll need him, and Kala...” Angst said, looking around for the kid.
“We’re surrounded by powerful wielders. We’ll be fine,” she said then whispered, “And Kala said you need to take Scar with.”
“Of course.” How could the girl possibly know that? He was in no position to argue with his wife, though, so he gently set the pup in the back. Scar immediately made a bed of his cloak, turning around several times until it was the perfect nest before plopping down. The dog yawned, its tail wagging lazily.
He sighed before facing Heather. “Please give Thom and whatshername my love,” he said, hugging her.
She hugged him back weakly, but chuckled at his joke.
“I hate everything,” he said, looking down at his uncomfortable clothes.
“Tell me about it,” she said, pulling away.
Heather had always enjoyed his self-mocking humor, but now barely acknowledged it. Leaving under these conditions made his heart ache.
Angst took the driver’s seat behind a team of horses that looked as slow as waking up on a Saturday morning. Faeoris plopped down next to him, struggling with a flowery cotton dress that covered more of her than either of them liked. She tugged and pulled at the loose waist as if trapped. He couldn’t help but smile at the shiny boots that showed beneath the hem.
“Not a word,” she said sharply.
“Maybe a few?” he mocked, but retreated at her fierce gaze. “I’ll save them.”
They started off at a snail’s pace. Angst turned back to wave goodbye to Heather and Wilfred. His friend waved, but Heather didn’t. After several long moments, he turned back again, but they’d already gone.
10
Their first day on the road was far, far less than eventful. Angst would’ve preferred sorting papers in the castle cellar to the arduous ride. Well, not really, but almost. Faeoris was so disgruntled at “being forced to wear this ugly dress,” she spoke of little else. Her only relief was that her essent, Marisha, couldn’t see her. The seamstress deserved some sort of award if the dress made it past the border. It was already losing the battle, with several small tears appearing along the hems. By everyday Unsel standards, she actually looked pretty in her trappings, but even the barest suggestion of this was met with a glare that almost threw him from their wagon.
“Are you upset at the clothes,” Angst asked carefully, “or is there something else?”
“I don’t understand your marriage and mating,” Faeoris said.
“Neither do I,” Angst said with a sigh. “Sometimes I just want to be done with it.”
“Does that mean we can have the sex now?” she prodded.
“No!” he said, more firmly than he’d intended, before noticing her mischievous grin.
“Heather is a great woman,” Faeoris said with a haughty sniff. “She said you shouldn’t have been diddling the mermaid.”
“I wasn’t diddling!” he said.
“She said to keep you from diddling anyone else.” Faeoris’s face was stern. “What is diddling?”
“The sex!” Angst snapped.
“Oh,” she replied, and paused to think, pursing her lips. “How did you and the mermaid...when she didn’t have a...”
“We didn’t diddle,” he said, unable to hold back his exasperation. “There was no diddling.”
“Good,” she said, crossing her arms. One judgmental eyebrow raised high enough to lift morality itself. “Let’s keep it that way, hero.”
Somewhere between his frustration at their slow pace and her frustration of everything, he decided to finish their first day early. At the mere hint of sunset, Angst drove the mounts down an unkempt path so they would be away from spying eyes. After twenty minutes or so, they stopped at a small clearing that had been used as a camp in the past. Before he could even step off the wagon, Faeoris pulled the dress over her head and threw it to the dirt. Angst was surprised, and slightly disappointed, that she didn’t rip off her armored top as well.
“I hate wearing so many clothes!” she proclaimed, stretching her long muscular arms outward. She hopped off the wagon, landing on the poor dress, and stared at him.
“As do I,” Maarja said, removing layers of furs until there was barely enough to cover her breasts and crotch.
“I say, be yourself.” Angst looked at both half-naked women. “Do what makes you happy.”
They both nodded, apparently not getting his joke. Angst couldn’t help but smile. Sure, Maarja was frighteningly tall, but she was beautiful. And Faeoris was frighteningly powerful, but she was also stunning. His grin subsided as the two alpha females eyed each other up and down in the way only women do. He could almost hear their hackles rise.
“Aerella and I can make a fire,” Jintorich squeaked, interrupting the stare-down.
“I’ll just go ahead and keep wearing my clothes,” Aerella said in a strained voice.
“Shame,” Angst said. “I was about to break out the port.”
“I’ll return with dinner,” Maarja said, sternly. She grabbed a spear from the back of the wagon.
“There’s plenty of dried meat in storage,” Jintorich said.
“I’m hunting,” Maarja snapped before running off into the woods, surprisingly silent despite her size.
“Angst,” Faeoris said, her voice hungry. “Do you want to?”
Angst glanced at Jintorich and Aerella uncomfortably. Aerella’s eyebrows raised, but she said nothing.
“I don’t think we should...” he began. “Um, do what?”
“Sealtian,” she said over her shoulder. “Would you like to?”
“Yes.” He let out a deep breath. “That’s the cold bath I’m looking for. Let me check on Scar first. He’s been in the back all day.”
Fortunately, she hadn’t said sex, because Angst certainly hadn’t been hoping she would. They were friends, just good friends, there had to be boundaries. Boundaries made of giant brick walls fortified by steel and covered in flame. Angst thought about shopping for vegetables and filing papers and everything else boring as he sought Scar. The pup was still curled up on his cloak, his tail wagging as if on demand. He didn’t seem anxious to leave. How was that even possible? Angst had peed four times that day, and Scar hadn’t.
“Do you need to go for a walk?” Angst asked politely, not sure if he was understood.
Scar’s tail continued to wag, but the pup’s only reply was a yawn.
“Come on,” Angst said, reaching out. “I don’t want you going on my cloak. That was a gift from Tori.”
The dog yipped, his hairs bristling.
Angst jer
ked his hand back. “Fine, stay here,” Angst said gruffly. “Just don’t pee.”
Scar’s ears lowered, apparently his loving companion preferred the solitude of this wagon over a walk with him. Angst shrugged and gently pulled his sword from under the surprisingly heavy dog. A blue glow surrounded Chryslaenor in anticipation of their upcoming exercises. The blade was more excited than he was, and sung loudly in his mind. It would be their first time doing sealtian together.
Sealtian was a series of forms and movements that flowed together like a slow dance. Every master of the blade knew most of them. Hector had taught him some when he was younger, but they were boring, or he was too easily distracted. Shortly after their meeting, Faeoris had challenged him to go through the sealtian. How could he possibly have turned her down? He didn’t know all the movements, and didn’t know as many as Faeoris, but he knew how to cheat. Angst had emulated her movements by sensing the movement of her bones. When she lifted an arm, so did he. When she leaned to one side, he mirrored her. Something about the sealtian had helped him come to terms with Dulgirgraut, which had taught Faeoris and Angst the forms she didn’t already know. It became a true bonding with the sword, and an intimate moment of discovery with his new friend.
Angst soon found Faeoris in her short shorts, high boots, and flattering top, already glistening as she stretched. Rather than getting caught staring again, Angst started stretching too. Faeoris' movements flowed like water down an icy mountainside. Each of his jerky motions sounded like he was pulling on an old rope while standing on a pile of brittle sticks. He’d never been able to touch his toes, but tried in vain, hoping she would stop so he could.
Fortunately, he was better at sealtian than stretching. His joints creaked and popped through the first set of movements, and he was embarrassed to be grunting and sweating by the fifth. Faeoris didn’t care, she didn’t judge, and he appreciated her even more for her lack of attention. This wasn’t like practicing with Hector, who called out his every wrong move. He wasn’t on display, and this realization helped him relax. When he stopped worrying and let the sword become an extension of himself, he was able to step through each movement without forcing them. The sealtian went pretty well, and Angst remembered all of them, including those movements that were once lost. When they finished, Chryslaenor glowed and sparkled to several oohs from Faeoris. He rested the foci on its tip, and his hands on his knees.
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