“I’ll stoke up the fire before I leave,” whispered Emir, stretching the fine stretch of a man who’d enjoyed an evening reading matters that he had no right to be privy to.
“She’ll be alright?” Erroh asked.
“She’s a tough girl.”
“What if I need to get you?”
“I’ll be with Aireys all night, so I won’t be too far away,” Emir said and held his hand out to pat the back of the ferocious Alpha. Emir had no skill at reassuring people. Especially fire breathing Alphas. Still, Erroh was a good soul. He went against his instincts and patted him on the back. Son of Magnus. Fuk.
“Thank you,” muttered Erroh. He would not believe she was through the worst, until she opened her eyes and spoke clearly. Whatever magical remedy Emir had used on her had taken away some of the pain and most of her sobriety.
“I’ll be at the Sickle for a time. I’ll tell Jeremiah you’re asleep and not to be disturbed,” whispered the healer. The mayor had taken it as an affront that guests were accosted while theoretically still in Keri territory, and was unyielding in his pursuit of finding their attackers, not even considering the thought that it would be safer for the town to draw as little attention to itself as possible.
“I appreciate it,” Erroh whispered.
“He’ll get the full story eventually though,” warned Emir.
“The longer it takes the harder it will be to track the Riders and less chance the Regulators will leave fresh tracks back here,” said Erroh moving his fingers back to her hair and running a few strands gently through his raw fingers.
“You’re going to spend the night sitting beside her aren’t you?” Emir said stoking the flames with a poker. The fresh heat surged out but was quickly lost in the chill. It was a small matter. The embers were soothing to stare upon.
“Aireys and I may stop by before we retire for the night,” Emir said and caught his own smile swiftly. He was still getting used to the idea of Aireys being more than just a friend. There must have been something in the air that night. Aireys had pulled him from the melee after flooring his attacker with a deceivingly vicious left hook. That sudden show of delicious violence was likely what won his drunken heart. Looking up at the girl a full foot taller in heels, Emir had to admit there never appeared to be a more unlikely partnership yet it mattered little to her. She had led him from the tavern, through the rain in unusual silence and tended to his minor injuries in her house. The opportunity to leave just never seemed to arise. The night continued, fuelled by a fresh bottle of wine and witty conversation. Listening to the rain against the roof in a cosy room decorated in paintings he’d never felt more at ease. He spoke of bitter things, which made her laugh and shake her head as though his cynicism was a simple veneer to cover his true feelings. A stained easel stood proudly in the corner and she roused him from his wretchedness by talking passionately about her painting. He had never wanted to leave and she had not asked him to. Offering him a bed in the spare bedroom, she took him by the hand and led him upstairs where fighting disappointment that the night had ended, Emir thanked her with a kiss that dear friends often shared. It had been a fine kiss just wide of the cheek. Perhaps closer to the lips. In truth, upon the lips. When he hesitated in pulling away he knew things were about to become awkward. When he felt her tongue, he knew things were about to become very interesting. Removing each other’s clothes had felt like the natural thing to do. After many hours of breath-taking furrowing, he had expected the gentle push off in the blazing sunny morning and a few silences at the card table the following night. He had not expected a magnificent breakfast and certainly not the lunch she dropped in later at his surgery while he stitched up another subdued citizen. She had seemed a little embarrassed and unsure what else to do, holding the basket with far too many delicacies. He had never seen her lost for words so he had kissed her and asked if she would meet in the evening. This pleased her greatly. Then Lea and her arrow slowed down their progress somewhat.
“You’re certain she’ll be fine?” Erroh asked one last time for safety.
Emir buttoned up his jacket and opened up his brand new, annoying door. They hadn’t even painted it yet.
“She’ll be fine. If you won’t join us for an evening’s entertainment at least try to get some rest,” he suggested before disappearing out into the night. The wind caught the door and slammed itself shut causing the building to shake and Lea to wake with a start.
She jerked against the white holding binds. “It’s alright my beo,” he whispered stroking her hair as she fought the blur of painkilling syrup. He knelt down so she could meet his eyes.
“Erroh?” she croaked in an unrecognisable voice. She tried to move her arms again and discovered her legs were also bound. Her eyes began to clear and Erroh finally began to relax. No fever left at all.
“The binds are to keep you still, while sleeping,” he whispered and lay his hand on hers.
“They really hurt,” she whispered and his heart melted.
“If you hurt yourself again, Emir will kill me,” he said and began to unwrap the restraints. She lifted herself up onto her elbows and then suddenly whipped her arms in to cover her exposed breasts. Erroh diverted his eyes though he grinned. She was far more alert than she had been for days.
She sat up gingerly, held a sheet against her skin, and draped her magnificent legs down the slab.
“I don’t remember very much,” she said in that same croaky voice. He passed her a glass of water, which she took and sipped slowly. She did everything slowly. She looked so delicate and exposed. Her frame looked like it would shatter under any strain. She was so beautiful.
“Anything stronger?” she joked, coughing the rawness from her voice while blinking the sleep and weariness from her eyes.
“Now you’re talking like me,” he whispered and resisted the urge to tear her stitching with a passionate hug.
“I really must be badly injured so,” she smiled reaching out and tugging weakly at his hair.
“Seeing as you’re awake now, I thought I would finally take all the pleasure of your body,” he informed her.
“Well you’ve certainly prepared my outfit for such a disappointing experience,” she said before exhaling deeply and Erroh could see the pain in her face.
“My Alphaline hero,” she whispered and he fell silent.
How could he tell her that his heart was broken at the thought of her in such a state? How could he say he would forgo his oath and live a safe life with her and her alone? How could he put all his love for her into simple words and expect them to mean a fraction of what he truly felt? How could he tell her he only saved her because he couldn’t be without her?
He couldn’t.
“You’re good at catching dinner, so it seemed like a waste,” he whispered and she laughed as if this was exactly what she expected him to say.
A few white candles flickered as they burned away the last remnants of the dark. Erroh thought about the deadly race to get her to safety and he suddenly wanted to reach out and take hold of her but he knew she would snap in two if he did. As if to reaffirm his worry, she coughed weakly.
“I feel like shit,” she said sipping the water and wiping her mouth.
“You’ve certainly looked better,” he said lightly before taking a shallow breath and exhaling slowly. He took her hand and kissed it. Too close my dear. Let’s never come this close to doom ever again.
“My head is spinning. I think I’ll lie back down,” she said quietly, gently pushing some of her hair behind her ear and still somehow managing to be stunning this close to death.
“I have to tie you back down,” he said.
“I’ll be fine. Let Emir be mad at me,” she said and lay down in the bedding of stone and thin blanket. A bed fit for a queen. “This beats the cold mud,” she muttered as he propped her up with a pillow.
“Will you climb up and hold me until I fall asleep?” she asked drowsily.
“As you wish,” he said and
ignoring discomfort held her broken form.
“I thought you were going to leave me to die on the road,” she whispered.
He hushed her to silence. Silly female. As if he would ever leave her behind again.
“You should have,” she added nuzzling against his shoulder. She kissed his neck and relaxed her head on his arm.
“But I’m glad you didn’t,” she sighed dreamily.
“I’ll never leave you Lea.”
“So I’m stuck with you?” she asked as her eyes opened and closed battling sleep.
“Aye, you’re stuck with me for the now,” he said.
“I’ll keep you until the morning at least. For now you make a grand pillow,” she said.
“There are worse fates,” he whispered.
“You should go play some cards,” she whispered weakly.
“I won’t leave you,” he reminded her gently but sleep had already taken hold.
Summoning all the skills acquired over the tough years on the road, Erroh released himself from her loving embrace without waking her. He stepped onto the ceramic floor and tested the strain on his own stitches. Satisfied it was going to hurt for a while he sat by the fire and thought dark thoughts, for that is what a young Alphaline was inclined to do after blood has been spilled. It was a justified kill on his part but more than that, he imagined Magnus grinning. His father had declared that whenever Erroh mated for life he would sacrifice everything for her. At the time, Erroh had argued such a thing was a weakness in his character. Magnus had laughed heartily and Erroh had felt like a little cub. Fair enough, Dad. All this love for a girl he had known only a handful of months. Not even mentioning that he still hadn’t tasted the true gifts she had to offer as well. That too would likely make Magnus laugh. His arm began to itch so he took his ragged shirt off and placed it neatly beside his stool. He reached over and retrieved Vengeance from its scabbard. He watched the twinkling reflections of the burning amber in the razor sharp blade. It was beautiful.
He placed the sword carefully against the old blackened steel grate, leaving the tip to play in the flames. He tried to remind himself that his victim had merited such a fate but guilt was difficult to be rid of. He’d relished vanquishing the man but what madness had made him charge him down without seeking cover? What type of person had such a bloodlust? Magnus? Elise? Was this how it started? Was this the first step to becoming a warmongering legend like his father? He wasn’t his father. For one thing, he lacked the same brilliant mind for war. When Magnus’s army marched, the entire world held its breath. When Erroh marched, it was more like a shuffle. He could be no legend. He could be no king.
Erroh checked the blade. It was the hissing of burning steel, which he hated the most. Not to mention the bubbling of skin. Oh, he hated that as well. The tip trembled in front of his eyes. He hated this process but in a way, he loved it. Some fiends needed to be remembered. He glanced over to make sure she was asleep for this part of the ritual. She would find her own way to handle the taking of a life.
He would see to it.
Picking the spot to tattoo himself he took a deep breath and hesitated. The tip wavered precariously over the carefully chosen spot. He could feel its sharp heat. He wondered how many lives had this Rider taken? How many females had fallen in the flames? He released his breath and slowly took the blade away. Somehow, the men before who had fallen to Erroh’s steady hand were better than this brute.
Some enemies did not deserve to be remembered.
Hunting the Devil
“This rain will be the death of me,” muttered Quig, buttoning up his grey long-coat and tightening the scarf around his neck. Erroh sat on top of the wall alongside and chewed his apple. This was not rain. This was just low cloud. Lea sat under a branch of a tree enjoying her first day of freedom since her injury. Emir had cut off her medicine a few days before, insisting that nothing good would come from additional dosages and now that the last of the headaches, chills, and grinding muscle pains of withdrawal had ceased its assault, she was ready to face the world once more, albeit in the rain.
“I think Erroh could offer a few pointers,” suggested Emir facing Quig in the sparring circle. He held a wooden sword in his hand and a shield in the other. Lea’s attack had stripped them of the belief that their town was safe and though such a revelation brought little reassurance, holding a blade somehow made it easier. Wooden or not.
“I’m only good with a poker,” said Erroh slicing another piece of apple with a little knife. He offered a piece to Lea and then to Aireys who watched intently as her boys battered each other senseless. She wore a lazy contented grin on her face despite the heavy feeling in the air.
“I’ll take any instruction from a poker-waving wanderer at the moment,” the healer suggested lightly.
They heard the gentle clipping of three sets of horseshoes on cobblestone and instead of offering a witty retort, Erroh cursed instead. A fine curse with the right amount of profanity and crudeness and just loud enough that Jeremiah atop his steed could hear it as well. Erroh understood that the Holy Mayor was attempting to procure justice but every day his insistent prying increased. Erroh’s suggestion to “leave things as they lay,” hadn’t been acknowledged, let alone discussed. So every day with all the good intentions that would likely see the town burned to the ground, he sent out his loyal Regulators to scour the land in search of their accosters. However, not before a few “further enquiries,” in the hope of learning any details which would help, no matter how insignificant they may be. Erroh’s skill in deception had increased with each bout of practice. Today was no different.
“You don’t appear to be interested in retribution, do you my friends?” the Holy Mayor asked pleasantly, though his exasperated eyes focused upon Lea. Emir had protected her behind the cold walls of his office but now, in the open air, she was fresh blood for questioning. She looked away and found a piece of bark to be incredibly interested in. It was brown.
“It was a hunting accident sir,” Erroh said and spat an apple pip away. It was the third time he’d suggested such a thing and he knew Jeremiah saw through the lie.
“Perhaps it would be best not to go hunting the devil, lest you find him,” said Emir in fluent holy speak. On occasion he’d read some of Jeremiah’s book as well.
“The devil is everywhere,” replied Jeremiah, preparing a sermon in his mind.
“Yet your sheep can’t seem to find him. Nor should they try,” interrupted Quig. Emir laughed louder than was necessary. His eyes challenged the mayor. Perhaps it was the affection for Aireys or perhaps it was his distaste of anything involving leadership.
“The Primary does not share your fears. So why should you?” the Holy Mayor asked.
It was Aireys who spoke and her words were cutting. “You think the Primary is all knowing? You think her all compassionate? You think this town matters to her a thousand miles from her city gates? You think this town could survive any attack? You think we could defend ourselves if any brutes lay siege upon us? Your Regulators will lead doom to us all. You have lost your head Mayor,” she said angrily, each question louder than the last and he offered nothing more but a weak smile. He looked to the heavens and ordered his three men to ride out into the wastes, and in beaten silence he turned his own beast around and returned home to seek guidance in prayer.
“Is it really all as bad as we fear?” Quig asked tugging at his beard absently as the Mayor disappeared.
“I think we’re all going to die, especially me,” Emir said feigning a grin. Nobody disagreed. He tossed Erroh a sparring sword. His eyes were pleading even if his manner was casual while Aireys’s eyes narrowed to slits. Though nobody had brazenly come out and said anything, after the disagreement with Stefan, it was apparent Alphas now walked among them. Some said they could survive a brace of arrows. Others said at least double that. A small number decided that they bled like everyone else. Aireys wished to see just how skilled their kind were.
“If you start losin
g just kick him in the leg,” Lea suggested helpfully and Erroh shot her a betrayed glance. After stretching a few times he grabbed a second sword and did his flashy spinning technique thing with both blades.
“Well that’s terrifying,” muttered Emir. Nobody disagreed either.
Both Quig and Emir took turns being knocked to the wet ground but what impressed Erroh most was how eagerly they returned to battle. In Emir’s case, it was to save face in front of his lady and for Quig it was the sheer challenge of it. He even laughed a few times as he was tripped and sent flying while trying to kick at Erroh’s injured leg. Though he wasn’t built for grace, he was certainly built for power. Quig’s massive frame was capable of crushing the life out of him if Erroh let him get too close. There were certainly worse opponents and Erroh soon found himself enjoying the skirmishes.
Lea marvelled at Erroh’s fierce speed and wondered how far she had come, that she could face his ferociousness and hold her own. Her shoulder ached but the exhibition took her mind off it. Her fingers twitched and her eyes counted combinations and she saw the fight slower than the world turned and she craved to be part of the violence something fierce. A strange thought occurred to her: that she was turning into a warmonger like her mate. Like her father. Like almost every other Alpha, scribed for greatness in the annals of Samara. She thought about the sound of a wet arrow hitting the back of a helmet and she wondered if she had come too far?
“We could always leave the town and find a sanctuary?” suggested Emir, holding up his hand while he got his breath back.
Quig took the opportunity to grab some water and regret his current life choices. He didn’t hate Emir’s suggestion. “I hear the weather is nice in the Spark,” he said. He’d always wanted to travel the road like so many wanderers. Perhaps search for his lost lineage. It was a fool’s thought. He would likely never leave Keri.
Spark City Page 32