But I do not care what happens to me. I only care that my son is safe and happy. All I ever wanted was for him to heal and get away from the life he fell into. The alcohol and drugs that bogged him down. Most of all, I want him to make his own life. Maybe one day he will have a child of his own.
So again, you have no idea how thankful I am he found you and your brothers. Nicholas is my entire world. Please take care of him for me. Tell him I love him and am proud of him.
Isaiah
“I told you!” that monk named Ángelo chastised, not letting the words sink in or anyone breathe. “That boy is trou…”
“Stop,” the Irenan interrupted.
“What’s wrong?” Sanctus asked.
“I ‘eard soehmet’in’ a mahment ago. I dink it is de lad.”
Nicholas stepped back. Except a stick crunched under his bare foot and cut into his skin. The sound was much louder than anything he could have possibly made earlier, and he darted his head around in a panic as his stomach fluttered and rose to his chest. The flutter soon joined his heart in his throat when he saw there was nowhere to go.
Then a grunt from just a few feet away. Possibly right next to him.
It took all he had to redirect to another set of red and gold robes, and there he turned up and caught the dark eyes of the tall Carimacan monk named Sanctus. “I’m sorry,” he spoke up quickly. Guiltily. He felt his cheeks burn, too. “I didn’t mean to spy.”
Sanctus raised a brow. “Yet you did.”
He worked not to swallow as he sought out for his daggers, but they weren’t there. Even the one his father gave him was missing. “I guess…” he replied, thinking how easily he had in fact spied, and then sought out for weapons to protect himself. He hadn’t even considered the consequences or the reasoning behind the actions. “… old habits die hard.”
Those muddy brown eyes of the monk’s flickered as he tilted his head. “That you are right about.” Then… “Come on,” he gestured, turning. “Salbatzaile has made up a bowl for you.”
Nicholas braced himself as best as possible and followed. There was still a lightheadedness going on inside him, and he didn’t want it to show. On top of that, if the monks proved untrustworthy with the information they now possessed, he needed to be ready to run.
There I go again, being the spy and rogue I no longer am.
The dark space of the new building overtook him with that, and he halted right in the doorway to adjust. It didn’t take long, and then he was staring at what turned out to be a small dining room. It contained a single low table surrounded by cushions, torches stood unlit along the walls, and the two other monks already sat around it. There was the Irenan at the left head with his red hair shaved close and the one he could only assume was Ángelo on the opposite side with sandy brown hair shaved close. That made Nicholas look Sanctus over once more just as the man reclaimed his spot and twisted.
“Come on.” Sanctus patted a cushion next to him. “We don’t bite.”
A glimmer. Nicholas returned to the Irenan monk, the gypsy coin around his neck warming against his skin.
Then another glimmer, a darker glimmer, and he was staring at Ángelo.
“Nicholas?” Sanctus pressed further.
He adjusted his sight, the coin burning hotter.
Have I become that paranoid? he asked himself as he reached for the item under his robe that had started to do some strange pulsating. He could feel its warmth seep through his strange robe.
Well you were betrayed, his inner voice replied.
Three auras blazed up, and the first was a peculiar mixture of blue and black. This was the Irenan.
That means he is a spell caster, yet… That black was throwing him off. Nicholas’ aura, as well as his father’s, held a mysterious gold streak. But he assumed the abnormality was due to their similarly mysterious blue-gold irises. The Irenan clearly didn’t have black in his blue eyes, from what Nicholas could see from the short distance.
He glanced to the second then, which was a combination of citron and black. This one was Sanctus, and now Nicholas was curious about him as well, but not just for the black. He didn’t know the aura colors yet.
At last he landed on Ángelo, whose aura was completely black. Pure black. Like an abyss. It nearly swallowed him up staring at it. It was nothing he had ever heard of before.
“He looks faint,” Ángelo spoke up.
It was true. Nicholas did feel ready to pass out as he moved his gaze unsurely away from Ángelo and back to Salbatzaile.
“Look at his hands.”
A rustle drew his attention to Sanctus, who was rising to his feet again.
“Why don’t you calm down and I will take you to bed.”
“Stay back!” Nicholas shot up a hand, and the dark room lit up with the light of his blue-gold fire.
Sanctus paused and held up his palms in surrender, but no fear crossed his dark features. “I am not going to hurt you, Nicholas.”
His eyes darted from Sanctus to the Irenan monk to Ángelo once more, those auras burning bright… Or rather dark. They were darker than normal. And he tightened his hold on his gypsy coin, which seemed to blaze with fire of its own.
“That is Salbatzaile.”
Nicholas only glanced at Sanctus through his peripheral vision, glowing hand still up between them.
“And that…” He motioned to the sandy-haired monk across the table. “… is Ángelo. You already know my name.”
His knees gave out before he knew what hit him and his legs collapsed, sending him onto the stones of the path just outside the doorway.
“Sanctus…”
Nicholas looked up at the sound of Salbatzaile’s voice just in time to catch Sanctus stride slowly across the threshold, and then he bent down to his level and got onto one knee.
“Let me help you,” Sanctus begged as he slipped his gentle hands under his arms and lifted.
They rose together, and Nicholas let Sanctus hold him up. His energy was waning fast, and he simply didn’t have it in him to fight.
“I swear you are safe here.”
“I want to go home,” Nicholas practically slurred as what he realized was a garden blurred. “I don’t want to be here anymore.”
“I’m afraid that is not possible right now,” Sanctus answered as he braced him against his side a bit more. “Your father stated it is too dangerous for you to return.”
“You have to wonder why?” Ángelo intruded skeptically.
“Ángelo!” Salbatzaile hissed. “‘e’s joehst a lad!”
“Come along.” And Sanctus guided him around. “Back to bed with you. Salbatzaile says you are severely drained and weak. You won’t be yourself for some time.”
He shook his head as he dropped his chin to his chest. This was most absolutely not how his trip was supposed to play out, and then he burst into a sob and sagged completely into Sanctus’ hold.
Harboring a Fugitive (Sanctus)
The boy burst into a sob, a spark of pain escaping into Sanctus’ senses, and he sagged. It wasn’t enough for the monk to feel completely as he twisted to catch him, however. Just enough to pick up loneliness and regret. There was some guilt woven in as well. Then fear seeped through.
This was the second indication of any type of emotion. A second reminder that the boy truly had a heart. He couldn’t believe he ever thought otherwise.
Then the emotion was gone. Just like that.
What is wrong with me? Sanctus couldn’t help but question. He was used to being overwhelmed and needing Salbatzaile to calm him. But this wasn’t about him, so he heaved the boy back onto his feet. “Hey,” he directed. “Now none of that.”
Nicholas’ sob erupted into a debilitating gasp, and he curled into Sanctus before the monk knew what was happening. They both went back down to the stones.
“Everythin’ all right, Sanctus?” came his wise brother’s voice, along with the promised calm.
He cupped
the boy’s head into his chest and hugged him close, that thin frame trembling in his grasp.
“Do ye need ‘elp?”
“He just needs a moment,” he finally replied, dropping his own head onto Nicholas’. “Just let it out,” he whispered. “Don’t hold it in.”
Nicholas gasped further, clutched at the monk’s kasaya, and wiped his face on it. Then he inhaled deep, cleared his throat, and sob some more.
“It’s all right,” Sanctus’ continued to whisper as he proceeded to let his own tears spill. He wished so much to know what was wrong, what happened to harm the boy so deeply.
And then Nicholas stopped sobbing and shifted to breathing heavily against him.
“Ready to head back to your room now?” Sanctus ventured.
“No,” Nicholas croaked. “I want to go home. I want to be with my father.”
“You love him,” Sanctus replied, understanding. He felt the same for his sister, who had been gone for a millennium and a half.
Nicholas nodded. “I shouldn’t have left. I made a horrible mistake, and now he is paying for it.”
“Well that is all in the past now.” Those were the only words he could say, and he wished someone had said them to him long ago before he spent so many lonely nights crying over mistakes. “It is also not what your father desires for you. So please, let me take you back to your room so you can recover.”
Nicholas sucked in a deep breath and held it.
“What do you say?” Sanctus resumed. “Give this place a try. Whatever you came here for, we will gladly help you find.”
Nicholas released the air, and his stomach grumbled loudly. The echo within was noticeable.
“We can take some food with us, if you like.”
Nicholas shook his head. “No.”
A sigh escaped.
“If I am to give this place a try, I should eat with you and your brothers. It is what my father would have wanted.”
“Don’t believe him.”
Sanctus shifted his attention enough to find Brida just a few feet off the path, right by the wall and out of sight. Yet his senses revealed she still didn’t know he could see her. She was simply willing him to hear her.
“Father would have sent him to bed no matter how much he begged. No matter what excuses he gave.”
Why does she insist on these one-sided conversations? It must hurt her to not get a response back.
“Let ‘im join oehs,” Salbatzaile answered, for some strange reason ignoring the spirit’s plea. It wasn’t like the request was unsupported.
“All right.”
And Nicholas moved first, rising to his feet unsteadily with quite some determination behind it. Sanctus looked up to see him offering a hand even though he was swaying. “I took you down,” he explained. “I will help you up.”
With a nod, Sanctus accepted the offer. But he mostly stood on his own. “Thank you.”
Nicholas shrugged. “No big deal.” And he swayed right into him.
Sanctus was prepared for that, and he directed the boy as quickly as possible into the dining room before there could be a protest. For some reason, he sensed there would be one. Then he helped him across the threshold as Brida shook her head. “You will be back in bed after this, though,” he resumed. “You understand that?”
There was a motion of the head, like Nicholas was nodding while taking in the building. Not much surrounded them, however. It was just a table, cushions, and unlit torches.
He lowered the boy to the spot next to his and helped steady him, then took his own spot.
“Sanctus…”
He turned to Salbatzaile. A bowl was extended out to him, and then his wise brother gestured to the boy.
Nicholas appeared to have gone off somewhere in his mind, and his sister stared at him pityingly from the next cushion over.
So he took the soup and handed it over. “Here,” he began. He hoped it was perceived as a peace offering after the ordeal outside and all he overheard beforehand. “Eat.”
There was a puffing of the chest as Nicholas’ watery eyes met him. He was still silently crying. But he didn’t say no to the meal. “Thank you.” A brief smile crossed Nicholas’ features with that.
“So,” Salbatzaile noticeably ventured just as the boy raised the liquid to his dry lips, “I ‘eard ye stowed away on Dagger’s ship.”
“Pretty risky feat if you ask me,” Ángelo added. “He holds strict ideals about thievery.”
“It was a last-minute decision.” Nicholas took another sip, his hands – mostly his right – trembled violently as he forced himself to hold the bowl up high enough.
“May I enquire as to why?” Salbatzaile continued.
Nicholas set the bowl down with a frown that ripped Sanctus’ heart open afresh, and then those bizarre blue-gold eyes fell on the scar that still rested across his wrist. It was a ghastly sight no matter how small it appeared.
We’ll have to heal that once the major damage is gone. I’ll ask about the other scars, too.
“Plans changed,” Nicholas finally replied.
“Are ye avoidin’ answerin’ de question?” Salbatzaile continued as he leaned into the table, ultimately sliding his bowl away with his arms.
“Brother, please,” Sanctus begged, giving Salbatzaile a look he was sure expressed it all. “He is unwell. I can only imagine the last time he ate a good meal.”
Salbatzaile raised a hand, his face stern. “I oehnderstand, but we moehst know why ‘e ‘as been ooehtlawed,” And then he dropped his hand and waited for a response.
None came. Nicholas just looked down at his bowl with the most lost expression ever.
“We don’t need to be ‘arborin’ a fugitive,” Salbatzaile resumed.
“I’m sure it is something ridiculous,” Sanctus blurted with a dismissive wave, startling even himself. But then he went with it. “I don’t think he is a threat to anyone. He did save a ragdoll for a little girl he never met in his life.” Yet I hadn’t sensed her, either, at the time. And what he was going to add next, to indicate he had sensed the boy’s true emotions, stayed within him.
“That may be so,” Ángelo responded, a finger pointing accusingly at him, “but you also stated that he threw the local boys across the room with magic. A blasting spell that may have been a bit overdone.”
Brida snorted. “Those boys really flew, too.”
“And we all saw the five daggers,” Ángelo finished, though his eyes darted to the spirit uncomfortably. “And the gypsy coin.”
Nicholas finally sighed, and Sanctus’ hand shot to his back protectively.
“You have no reason to defend yourself, Nicholas. I will not let anything…”
He shook his head. Of course he shook his head. “They are right. They need to know.” And with that he braced himself. “When I say plans changed, I originally set about the process of renouncing my title to the rogues…”
Sanctus scrunched his forehead as he leaned forward to take this boy in more carefully. Had I heard that correctly?
“…and afterward…”
“Rogues?” Ángelo interrupted.
Sanctus slipped back into his cushion, barely catching Nicholas’ attention drift around the table before landing on his bowl again. The boy then reached up his left sleeve, accidently bumping Sanctus’ side, and scratched. He did not, however, raise his head again.
“I was King of the Rogues since I was twelve.”
Sanctus blinked, gaze seamlessly darting hither-tither as he took those words in. They were definitely not what he had expected from the son of a healer. From a gypsy, though…
“Are ye seriooehs?” Salbatzaile exclaimed, only slightly shifting his posture.
“Not as ridiculous as you thought now, is it, Sanctus?”
Salbatzaile’s glare was just noticeable in his peripheral. Nicholas’ nod more so.
“Well dat explains de daggers…” Salbatzaile resumed withou
t much pause. “Pahssibly de coin as well.”
Sanctus breathed in, wondering if he had made a mistake and endangered his brothers. Maybe I wasn’t supposed to help him. That is why I didn’t sense him. Then he returned his attention to Nicholas with eyes that wanted to see that same helpless boy he had spent three days caring over. That boy was touching the rim of his bowl as if unsure about picking it up and taking another drink, adding to the guilt that was clear on his face.
“… which are in me room, by de way,” Salbatzaile finished from a sentence Sanctus missed.
Nicholas sighed once more. “That’s fine. I will just want one of them back, though. The one with the hilt of vines.”
The daggers, Sanctus realized as a stream of emotion escaped once more just to disappear again. There was much more loneliness with it this time around, so Sanctus let his hand drift to Nicholas’ back again. He hated himself for pulling away so easily when he hadn’t heard the entire story. “Sentimental value?” he interjected, praying it wasn’t something else. Something more horrible.
“Yes. It was Seraphina’s.”
“I’m guessing that is your stepmother,” he replied, relaxing some.
“Yes,” the tears that been held back spilled as Sanctus’ own eyes felt on the verge of filling. They trailed down the boy’s pale cheeks. “Father gave it to me for my thirteenth birthday and I always carry it even though I don’t use it.”
“Speakin’ o’ yer fat’er,” Salbatzaile redirected. “Ye said plans changed. Is dat why ye didn’t tell ‘im ye were leavin’?”
Nicholas nodded as he swiped at his eyes. “Rusty ratted me out earlier that day. He was my right-hand man, but I hadn’t told him my plans. They happened fast. I just woke up and decided I was done, but then everything fell apart. I didn’t expect to never say goodbye.”
Sanctus inhaled as he watched more tears spill down Nicholas’ cheeks. He could now see where this tale was going.
“I never expected to have to run for my life. To use spells I barely understood to walk through a wall and...”
“Ye walked drough de wall?”
Even Sanctus paused at that.
“… Well I merged with my father’s protection shield first, but yeah. Then I cast a cloaking charm.”
Rogue Beyond the Wall Page 10