“You got away cheaply,” Hayes snapped, anger flaring from seemingly nowhere. “You cheated him and you damn well know it. You’re lucky Akiri was here. I just might have let him gut you.”
The angry blood vessels beneath Dema’s cheeks blossomed like red vines. “Unless you want to end up back in the streets, I’d watch my tongue if I were you.” Dema stopped himself short of saying anything he might live to regret and sighed, his entire body relaxing as the fight went out of him. “Sorry, old friend. You’re right. I know you are. It’s just instinct. To look for the best deal for me and mine. Of course I cheated him. But how was I to know what would happen? It’s not as though I intended for anyone to drown. It was just a bit of old net.”
“But that’s the thing, you never intend anything,” Hayes told him. “And yet time after time, you get yourself neck deep in trouble. I’ll be honest, I’ve had enough. Once we return home, I’m done.”
“Oh, come on. You know you don’t mean that.”
“You keep thinking that, right up until the moment you’re on your own.”
They rode on a while in silence. Akiri kept an eye on the road behind them, but after an hour it was obvious that Ushton had given up – assuming he’d come around from the punch. Hayes refused to ride beside Dema and walked a good distance from the wagon.
The atmosphere between the men didn’t thaw over the next few days even as the temperature continued to rise. The boy wasn’t used to the heat and spent much of the day sweating and constantly saying that he was thirsty. A life in the cold mountain climate hadn’t prepared him for what were relatively normal temperatures for this time of year anywhere else. It was only going to get worse the further they traveled; the marshlands were notoriously hot and humid, with the kind of thick, heavy moisture that got into your lungs and made breathing a challenge. They were heading towards a strange place known as the Fire Hills, less than a week’s travel beyond their destination, where rather than chill as they climbed , the hills grew warmer. Lava flows and hot springs covered the terrain for miles. Nothing grew, and the black rocky ground was so hot in places it could burn the boots right off one’s feet. The region was akin to walking into a blazing Underworld.
Every time they camped, Akiri tried not to eavesdrop as Dema attempted to mend his relationship with his man. His entreaties fell on deaf ears for the first few days, but eventually the tension between the two of them lessened.
“Dema’s a snake,” Hayes said when they were alone. Akiri was gathering up kindling for the campfire. “But the truth is, without him, I would have ended up dead.”
“How so?”
“He gave me a job when I had nowhere else to turn. I was lost. I earned my scratch working for a local thug in Varania, hurting people, collecting debts, that sort of thing. It wasn’t a good life. I may be big, but I don’t like to hurt people. But at the time…” He shrugged. “Anyway, Dema came to town selling blades. Junk mostly. But he had a few decent daggers and a few swords worth buying. He met us at a warehouse the boss owned so we could pick through his inventory, when a rival gang attacked us. Some upstart from down south who called himself Adder. Silly name if you ask me. But he had lots of gold and lots of men. More than we could handle, for sure. Me and Dema were the only ones who got out alive.” He looked in the direction where Dema and Seyla were gathered by the fire a short distance away. “He bought my life. Marched right up to their headquarters and struck a bargain. I thought they’d kill him for sure. But somehow, he talked them into letting us leave the city. I’ve been with him ever since.”
“Are you going to leave him?”
Hayes lowered his head and blew out a heavy breath. “I doubt it. I should. I’ve saved him more than enough times to have paid off any debt I owe. But he would end up dead, and it would be on my hands. He’s a crook, but he’s a good man, if that makes any sense?”
“It does,” Akiri said. He had met many shady characters since leaving Acharia. Some with hearts as black as pitch. But others were simply victims of their circumstances. Where once life was black and white, he had discovered that it comes in many hues of grey. Not all villains are evil. And not all heroes good. “Tell me, what would you do if you left?”
“I’ve saved enough to live out my life without the need to work. It wouldn’t be luxury, but I don’t need much.”
“Then perhaps you could convince him it’s time to retire,” Akiri suggested.
“Oh, believe me, I’ve tried. More times than I can count. Especially now that traveling is difficult for him.”
“Maybe he’ll listen this time.”
Hayes, despite is gruff demeanor, obviously had great affection for the old trader. “Maybe.”
Akiri recalled his own conflicted emotions when Cammaric had turned his sword in and left the Dul’Buhar, and remembered with an almost physical intensity the regret he’d felt over his absence. Without thinking, he reached out to Kyra, and at once the salty taste of fresh blood was on his tongue.
She had made her kill. A ram. He felt the exhilaration of her racing heart and the elation that accompanied the kill. It was joy in its purest form. And it was his privilege to share this with her.
As close as he had been to Cammaric, nothing could compare to the bond he shared with the dragon. It was so strange to feel this way about something non-human, and yet so right.
He’d seen how soldiers could become attached to their beasts – horses, war dogs, and the like, but nothing like this. A dog could love its master, yes, but Kyra was elemental. He could no more force her to love him than he could change the wind or cause the sun to rise. And yet their bond was unbreakable. The Dul’Buhar in him worried that it would make him vulnerable. The man who needed nothing from life aside from his duty was isolated from the pains caring had to offer. But his life had changed. He was no longer Dul’Buhar. He didn’t know what he was, or where he belonged, but he knew that wherever it was, Kyra was at his side.
NINE
CHAPTER NINE
The town of Hart’s Cross was little more than a crossroads that occasionally doubled as a trading post for the few souls who stumbled across its dilapidated buildings and poorly maintained streets. It was a stark contrast from where they’d come. It was the poor cousin to the river towns, but every bit as much true business was conducted in places like this. A savvy merchant could unload an entire stock for good coin and pick up interesting wares for the return journey, saving themselves weeks of travel if they were lucky.
The streets were far from crowded, but the last business of the day and the promise of a long road ahead had a few deals still being thrashed out. It didn’t take long to find the tavern; all they had to do was follow the drunken revelry. A mean fiddler had whipped the crowd up into a storm of foot-stamping and bad singing. Akiri watched as men and women from all over the north bartered hard as they attempted to move their wares.
“The end of our particular road, my friend,” said Dema. From here you will need to ask around, but don’t be surprised if no one admits to knowing the name Yarrow. The closer you get to him, the more frightened those in his shadow will be.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Akiri said. “Won’t you be staying?”
“Not for all the gold in Mishna’s halls.” He cast a wary eye around the town. “I have a friend who owns a lodge, no more than half a day’s ride from here. And my home is only a couple of days further along the road. You know that you and the boy are welcome to join us.”
Akiri thought about asking Dema to watch after the boy while he settled this whole affair, but as though he were a mind reader, Hayes warned him against it. “You don’t want to put him in Dema’s hands; he’s a child himself.” It was hard to argue with that logic, but still he needed to find somewhere to put Seyla.
“Thank you, but no,” Akiri told the merchant. “The sooner I finish this business the better. But perhaps our paths will cross again.”
“If you need lodging, ask for Ferdin. He rents out rooms that a
re much more comfortable than those at the inn. Cheaper, too. Tell him you’re a friend of Hayes.”
Akiri raised an eyebrow. “Not a friend of yours?”
Dema gave an embarrassed smile. “He hates me. Loves Hayes, though,” he said.
“I wonder why that could be?” Hayes chimed in.
“That’s by the by,” Dema said, still smiling.
“I think I can guess,” Seyla piped up.
Akiri laughed at that. “I’m sure you can.” He nodded respectfully to both Dema and Hayes. “Farewell and safe journey.” He lifted Seyla down from the wagon and the two started toward the tavern.
As they walked, something struck Akiri as off. He tried to confirm his suspicions without giving himself away. He was right: while the traders seemed to be going about their business normally – or as best as he could tell, given that nothing seemed to actually change hands – the other market goers and townsfolk were walking around with vacant expressions and slumped shoulders. He didn’t say anything to the boy, but he did not like the look of this. Not one bit.
“Are we going to find the man who killed my father?” Seyla asked.
“No,” Akiri told him. The lad’s face fell. “First, I must find somewhere for you to stay. Then I will go find him.”
“But I can help you,” he insisted.
Akiri stopped short. He locked eyes with the boy and put his hands on Seyla’s shoulders. “I need you to listen to me. You’ve already made things more difficult by leaving the monastery. I cannot do what must be done unless I know you are safe. But you must do as you are told.”
This time, rather than tears, Seyla’s jaw tightened and his hands curled into fists. “You are not my father.”
“No. I am not,” Akiri agreed. “Your father is dead. As is your mother and your sister.” He paused, but the boy’s expression remained defiant. “Your father was my friend and sword brother. I do not expect you to understand this. But know that to me it is a very special bond. One forged in blood and battle. If I could, I would bring him back. But I must accept that he is gone – as must you. The only thing I can do now is avenge his death. If you obey, I swear that I will kill the one responsible for murdering your family. But if you do not, I will fail, and their death will go unanswered.”
A flash of anger struck Seyla’s eyes. “You could have saved him.” His tone was accusing. “You could have saved him and you didn’t.”
Akiri was momentarily dumbstruck. He had wondered after having seen his father fall to Akiri’s sword if this would need to be addressed. But even after long hours of consideration, he had come up with no words that would explain what had happened. At least none that would console a child. “You are wrong. Your father was beyond my aid.”
“But father said that you could overcome anything. He told me that there was nothing you couldn’t do.”
Akiri sighed. “Those were stories, nothing more. Told by a loving father to delight his son. I am not immortal. And I cannot conquer death. No one can.”
“But he said the gods watched over you. That you were special. You could ask for their help.”
Akiri hesitated. Cammaric had been a devout follower. The man believed. And of course, Akiri had mocked him mercilessly for it, but only ever in good spirits. They were brothers of the blade. So telling his boy that his father had wasted his life worshiping beings who were undeserving of praise was out of the question. He considered his next words carefully. “The gods do not unravel death for mortal beings. That’s not the way of things. Your father was as devout a man as ever I met, and he knew this to be true. But they do smile on those who mete out justice and punish the wicked. And if you let me, that is what I will do.”
“But I want to help,” he replied.
“And you will. You will help me by staying safe and alive. I know you are brave. But the dangers I will face are real. And I cannot protect you if you are with me.” Akiri hardened his tone ever so slightly. “Or do you not want your father’s death avenged?”
After a long moment, Seyla lowered his eyes. “Yes… but… I don’t want to be alone.”
Akiri smiled. “You won’t be. I promise.” When the boy did not look up he lifted his chin. “So we are agreed?”
Seyla nodded. “Yes. But what will happen after you kill the one who did this. Will you leave me?”
Realization struck him – Akiri had assumed that he would be with Julla. But that was now in question. Seyla was in need of a family to care for him. The pleading look in the boy’s eyes caused his stomach to knot. “I will not lie to you. Once you are safe, I will leave. But you will not be alone. I will see that you are with people who will love and care for you.”
“But I could come with you.”
“When you are older, perhaps. But for now, my road takes me places you cannot go.” The boy looked crestfallen. He softened his voice. “I loved your father too much to deny his son a childhood. And with me, yours would be lost. Your father left the Dul’Buhar so that you could have a normal life. And I will not dishonor him by denying it to you.”
“What if I want to be a warrior? You could teach me. Wouldn’t that honor him?”
Akiri smiled. “If you want to become a warrior, you will. But there is more to life than blood and steel. And plenty of time for you to decide. When you come of age, the choice will be yours to make. And I will be there. Until then, you must live the life for which your father sacrificed his to give you. Do you understand?”
Gradually, Seyla nodded. “I think so.”
Akiri stood and took Seyla’s hand. “Good. Now we need to find you somewhere to stay.”
He asked around for Ferdin and was pointed towards one of two taverns, where the mention of Hayes secured them a decent room for an equally decent price.
After they’d made themselves comfortable, they headed back out to familiarize themselves with the small town. It didn’t take long for them to walk every street. Twice. The solution to his dilemma wasn’t immediately forthcoming. There was neither a temple nor an orphanage where he could leave Seyla while he hunted down Yarrow. The townsfolk were a taciturn lot; they barely offered a few muttered words and a perfunctory shake of the head to ward off further questions. None were willing to speak of the evils that had so obviously beset their town. But the merchants were loose-lipped and happy enough to tell him that everything bad could be traced back to somewhere deep in the marsh. A wool dealer and a spice trader even claimed to have seen the walking dead out there on the marshes. They offered the information up like they expected him to disabuse them of the fantasy and tell them all was right with their world. He didn’t.
They walked to the edge of town. At the last house, they stopped and simply looked out at the landscape. It was obvious where the marsh began. The musky smell of decaying foliage and brackish water filled Akiri’s nostrils. From what Dema had told him, it went on for miles and was always hot, regardless of the season. He could not imagine a more appropriate place for forbidden magic.
He lost track of how long they stood there, side by side, looking out towards the marshes, just watching. Nothing moved. Beside him, Seyla grew restless. He was about to take the boy back to the room when a woman’s scream cut through the air.
A second scream sounded, full of nerve-shredded terror.
They came from out in the marshes somewhere, carried on the wind.
There was a moment of confusion. He heard people running behind him, followed by doors slamming and bars being rammed down into place, but he didn’t turn around. He strained to see deeper into the marshes, where curls of hot mist were rising, trying to make out anything that could possibly have been a woman in trouble.
“We should do something,” Seyla said, his hand slipping easily into Akiri’s.
He turned to look back toward the market, where the merchants and travelers were standing around, confused. The locals moved with purpose. Knives were drawn and cudgels snatched up from wagons. Several men inched closer to Akiri, no doubt aware that h
e had the look of a warrior. But Akiri wasn’t about to be caught in the open with the boy. “Follow me,” he told Seyla, and raced toward the tavern. The door was already bolted from the inside, and half a dozen people were banging frantically and pleading to be let in.
The door opened just as Akiri arrived. A hand shot out and pressed against his chest before he could enter. It was Ferdin, the tavern owner. He looked at Akiri, seemingly trapped in indecision, then nodded sharply. “Quickly. Before it’s too late.”
“What’s happening?” Akiri demanded.
People were huddled in the corner clutching at one another. Ferdin refused to meet Akiri’s eyes.
“Answer me.”
“He’s coming,” he replied.
There was more banging at the door and desperate cries of people begging to be let in. But when Akiri moved to open it, Ferdin put himself between Akiri and the door and held his arms wide. “It’s too late for them. Didn’t you hear me? The master has come. If you open that door, you’ll doom us all.”
Akiri looked down at Seyla, then spat a curse. He led the boy through the tavern and into the room they had rented. There were no windows, and the wall planks looked sturdy enough. Not that he had a better alternative.
“Stay put. Whatever you hear, do not leave this room. I’ll be back.”
The boy nodded and took a seat on the bed.
By the time he returned to the common room, Akiri could see that more than half of the people hiding out in the tavern were rocking back and forth, arms wrapped around their knees, chanting prayers to whichever god looked over cowards and fools. Ferdin was on his knees, head bowed, while screams from outside found a way in through the walls.
Akiri: Dragonbane Page 14