by Travis Kerr
Strangely, he did not appear to have a drop of blood on him, though the thick, black leather he wore would have made it difficult to see had any existed. Ocean's Hand did not have any blood on it either. Roland suspected that the blue light that had surrounded both himself and the blade during the fight might have had something to do with it.
Malik, on the other hand, seemed covered in gore. Perhaps that was more in Roland's imagination than reality, but that was certainly the impression that his high-strung mind was receiving.
Malik had blood on him in a few splotches, all of it on the outside of his clothing. Not a bit of it was his. He had cleaned his face and hands in a small pool of water they had found in one of the open rooms they passed on their way out. He had also helped himself to a dark robe he had found there. The robe covered up the worst of the mess, at least enough that Roland hoped no one on the street whom they might pass would notice.
In their hurry it didn't take them long at all to reach the inn. Thankfully they didn't have an army of guards waiting for them, which Roland had half suspected would be the case. Tammie greeted them as they walked in.
"Hey you two," she said happily. "Your friend is waiting for you up in your room. Will you be coming down for dinner soon? I can save the booth in the corner for you if you like." She stopped when she noticed the state of Malik's clothing where it peeked out from underneath the robe he was using to conceal it. "Oh my! What happened? Are you alright?"
"Don't worry,"Malik said quickly. "It's not my blood. We had a small issue we had to deal with. We can't stay Tammie. People are going to be looking for us soon. Roland, go upstairs and get Tara. Don't tell her anything about what happened just yet. I'll do that once we're gone."
Roland hastened to comply. As much as he wanted to talk to Tammie himself, he knew that they didn't have much time before the guards would be after them. Malik would come up with something to tell the girl, he knew. He wouldn't have known what to say to her.
Malik waited until Roland was out of sight before continuing. "Listen Tammie. These people who will be after us are going to try and learn everything they can about us, and they aren't going to care much about how they get it. There were enough customers here last night that someone might talk about how much time you spent talking to Roland. There's a chance that you might be in danger if you stayed here."
The girl nodded. Malik could see she was holding back a tear.
She’s strong, he thought.
He was not certain whether her tear was for her own troubles or because of the opportunity she was losing between her and Roland, but either way she seemed determined to hold herself strong against it.
"I don't have anywhere else to go," she whispered. Malik could hear a slight quiver in her voice. She did remarkably well at disguising it. Were he not so well versed at reading people he might not have recognized it at all.
"You should go home to your mother," Malik informed her. "Your mother loves you, and I'm sure she misses you terribly. I'm sure you still love her too. You should be able to return here in a few weeks. I'm sure by then anyone investigating us will know that you were nothing more than a friendly waitress who served us at the bar, and won't trouble you further."
A look of horror crossed her face, and this time she made no effort to disguise it. "I can't go back there," she spat angrily, slamming her small fist down onto the table next to her. One or two of the few patrons in the room looked up at the sudden sound. "You don't know what that bastard did to me. And the whole time my mother denied everything I told her. She wouldn't believe me! I never want to see her again, and I certainly don't want to see him!"
"Your mother did believe you," Malik said softly. "He would have killed her if she tried to leave him, and he practically owned the police, so she had no one to turn to for help. I'm sure she was glad you were able to get away, and might have even helped to protect you from his wrath after you left. That could be why he didn't come after you. I don't know for certain. It doesn't matter either way. He can no longer hurt you, or your mother. You're free."
"What do you mean?"
"I know your mother's husband was a man named Thorin Sloan. He worked for Bloodheart, as you are well aware. Bloodheart has a reason to want me dead. I can't go into details right now, and it's probably better for you if you didn't know them anyway, but suffice it to say that he's had people looking for me for a very long time now. Sloan tried to capture me, just a little while ago. I had no other choice but to kill him, lest he kill me and Roland both."
"I hope he died a painful, suffering death," she cursed.
"No one could make him suffer as much as he deserved, but I can promise you he died painfully. He was on his knees, begging for his life. It will have to be enough. It would be best for you not to dwell on the past, but instead look toward your future. Sloan has already taken too much from you. Don't let him take your mother from you any longer, nor you from her." Malik tried his best to keep his voice low, hoping that none of the other people in the bar were able to overhear.
Thankfully the few who had looked over at Tammie's outburst had already gone back to their drinks. Generally people who started drinking at this time of the day were not the type to want to get involved in other people's business. They would have enough worries of their own already.
Tammie nodded bravely. A single tear slid down her cheek, and this time Malik felt certain it was a tear of joy. Not only was the beast who had once tormented her dead and gone forever, but she could once again be reunited with her mother, whom she had unwittingly cursed for a misunderstanding.
"What should I say to John and Silus?" she asked.
"Tell them whatever you think is appropriate. You won't have to be gone long. I don't know if that slime would have provided anything for your mother in the event of his demise. Probably not. Perhaps you can talk John into giving her a job here, or one of the businessmen they have befriended might know of a place she can gain employment. I don't think that it's something you'll need to worry about right away in any case. She has some protections under the law, even laws as unjust as those that persevere in these lands."
She’ll be just fine, Malik told himself. Just as long as no one realizes that Sloan was her stepfather anyway.
He hoped no one would. If they did her association with Sloan's killer might cause her all sorts of trouble, and neither he nor Roland were likely to be anywhere close enough to help.
Tara and Roland came back from the room, carrying all the supplies they had stored there. Most of the things that Tara had bought for their journey were being kept elsewhere, with the horse she had bought to carry them. It was only their personal travel packs and the few things Roland had bought that were in the room.
"Malik told you we had to leave?" Roland asked Tammie, though he was fairly certain of the answer. The girl nodded. "I'm sorry we couldn't stay. I don't know how much he told you, but with everything that happened, I'm not sure when we'll be able to come back."
"He told me enough," she answered, the sadness evident in her eyes. "He suggested I go home to see my mother for a while. She's probably going to need me, and I know how much I've missed her."
"I thought you couldn't go back?"
"Your friend told me that you took care of that for me today. I can go home now. I'll be back here someday soon, I'm sure. The next time you come to the city you will probably be able to find me here. Thank you for everything Roland."
Roland looked questioningly at his companion, but as usual Malik stayed mute. Whatever information he had to give would only be learned when he thought it appropriate to tell them. He must have told Tammie something that the others were not yet aware of, yet he felt she needed to know. Roland would accept that decision for now, he decided, but once they were safe again Malik would have much to explain.
I won’t take his silence forever.
"Don't worry Roland. I'm sure we'll meet again someday," she said. "Maybe then we'll have the chance to have that night we couldn'
t have now." She kissed him lightly on the cheek, her lips barely brushing his skin. "Don't forget me while you're away."
"I don't know when I'll return, or even if I'll ever be able to return. I don't know what will happen between now and then either. All I can say for certain is that no matter what happens, I'll never forget you," he promised.
"I won't forget you either," she vowed.
Malik tilted his head in a way that Roland understood as a clear sign. It was time for them to leave.
Without waiting for an answer Malik turned and headed out. Roland and Tara followed without another word. There was nothing more to say to Tammie, he knew. Anything more was just delaying the inevitable.
"Tara, I'm going to need you to go back to the stables and try to purchase an additional three horses. Pay whatever you need to. We don't have time for you to haggle. We will need to travel as quickly as possible. Leave by the south gate and start down southern trade road. Roland and I will be leaving through the same crack in the wall that we used to get into the city, and meet you a few miles down the road. You know the campsite you should meet us at. No one knows about you yet, so you shouldn't have any trouble going through the gate."
"What happened to you two today?" Tara demanded.
"I made a foolish, rookie mistake, and underestimated someone. I saw something that I felt needed to be dealt with, and so I used my true name to get myself in close to my target. I thought I would have to deal with only a couple of guards, and I could eliminate the mark without anyone left alive to pass on that I ever existed.
"I was so stupid," Malik clenched his fists in frustration. "He had over two dozen soldiers waiting for us, and there was more besides. I don't have time to explain everything. The point is some of those men escaped. I’m feel certain that word will soon reach Bloodheart that I'm still alive and that I'm in his city. They might even have a description of what Roland and I look like. We need to get out of here now."
"I know you've burned Bloodheart in the past, and a few other mages as well, but that isn't a reason for him to want you dead so badly," Tara said, obviously confused about whatever was going on. Roland had thought she would have known more than he did, but it seemed he was wrong in that belief.
"It's not who I am that he'll be after, but who I was. Look, we really don't have time for me to explain right now."
"You'll need to explain yourself later on," Tara informed Malik with a turbulent look.
Roland could tell that she was extremely angry with Malik, but she understood the stakes even better than he did. He recalled the name that Malik had said to the guard at the door. He called himself Raiste Goldstone. Something about that name troubled Roland. Something about it was disturbingly familiar, but with everything that had happened so recently he was having trouble putting his finger on it.
He considered this more as he silently followed Malik, or Raiste it would seem, through the city. Although they kept a fast pace, Roland wished it could be faster. He would break into a run if he didn't know without a doubt that it would cause them to be noticed by everyone they passed.
Walk, don’t run. Walk don’t run. People will take notice if you run.
That was already too likely to happen for his liking. People would stop what they were doing to stare at him as he passed, eying Ocean's Hand warily. For now it was only because a blade like his was so unusual that it was a bit of a novelty. Soon, however, word would spread of the battle with Sloan and his men, and the weapon he carried could not be mistaken for anything else.
Considering how dangerous it was to stand out for people like his companions, he almost regretted purchasing such an outlandish weapon. Almost, but not quite.
The more he thought about it, the more he found he couldn't regret it in the slightest.
If I had fought with any other weapon, most likely I’d already be dead. How could I possibly wish for any other blade?
He looked up and saw Trick flying at a distance above them. The dragonling was doing an admirable job of keeping himself hidden, however Roland had been watching for the small creature, and so was able to catch the occasional glimpse every now and then.
Though he tried to pay attention to his surroundings, his mind kept wandering back to the battle, and to everything that had happened when he fought. That, however, was the last thing Roland wanted to think about. Instead he distracted himself by trying to puzzle together the mystery of his companion's true identity.
Malik had told Tara before they had left her that he had used his true name. That meant that Raiste Goldstone was his real name. Sloan had said while he begged for his life that Raiste had a bounty on his head of ten thousand gold pieces. Double that, in fact, should he be captured and brought before Bloodheart alive. However, the weaselly man had also indicated that it had something to do with Raiste's childhood, and his father in particular. Raiste had even mentioned something about a dragon.
With startling clarity he recalled the tale his companion had told him the morning of the day before, just after they had entered the city. He had talked about how a mage with the last name of Goldstone had tried to change the established order between the powerful rule of the mages and those who could not use such strong magic, both human and non-human alike. The other mages had sent a dragon to burn down the man's home, and kill him and all of his family.
Raiste's story had also mentioned that some believed that Goldstone's two children, a boy and a girl, had escaped that night. Could his companion really be the long lost son of Fallon Goldstone? The thought seemed ridiculous, and yet Roland clearly remembered what had happened to him during the battle with Sloan's soldiers.
Some extremely powerful magic had been cast on him, he felt certain. It would make sense that, if Raiste was truly the son of one of the great mages, he would possess magic every bit as powerful as that which his father had wielded. Certainly it seemed like the magic that had been used had been that powerful.
It would also explain why Raiste hated the mages so fiercely. They had killed his father, destroyed his home, and had tried to kill him and his sister. Roland did not know the name of that hidden sister, but if Raiste had survived that night perhaps his sister had as well. Did Raiste have her spirited away somewhere, to stay hidden until such time as her brother could defeat the great mages, and restore her father's home and honor? Could she also have magic as powerful as her brother's seemed to be? Would she come out of hiding to help them in this war that Raiste seemed bent on beginning?
Because by killing Sloan, a man who worked directly for Bloodheart, he had quite clearly and loudly declared war against them. Of that Roland was certain. By killing several of his soldiers and helping Raiste kill Sloan, Roland had inadvertently declared himself as Raiste's ally against them. While he didn't agree with the way the mages ran their world, he did not feel ready to go to war with them over it. Even with the magic that his companion had shown, he couldn't see how they could defeat one of the great mages, let alone all of them.
That's what it would take to end a war with the mages, he believed. Defeating one would only bring the full power of all the mages together against them. There was no way they could win.
Now, it seemed, he had no other choice but to fight them, run, or die. Raiste, it seemed, felt the same way. For now at least his answer was to run.
In all likelihood the mages would have come after Raiste either way, now that they knew for sure he was alive. The mages had broken their own rules when they attacked Raiste's father the way they had, if his companions tale was true. Roland believed it was. He could understand why they would want such a thing kept secret. Raiste was living proof of what they had done.
Raiste quickened his pace once the two of them reached the old city. Roland felt as if he could feel eyes watching him from the dark interiors of the buildings around him. He couldn't see anyone, but he was certain that at least some of those buildings were inhabited, likely by those that did not have any other homes, or by those men who were wanted by th
e city guard, thieves and murderers and the like. Now they watched Roland and Raiste as they passed, as if they sensed one of their own.
After what seemed like an eternity they reached the hole in the wall. The sheet of metal that covered it did so poorly, but it appeared as if the gap hadn't been discovered yet, for which Roland was thankful. While he suspected that Sloan had deserved the death he was given, he could not say that about the guards that he had been forced to kill. Those men had wives, children, brothers and sisters who would miss them, and many of those men had only been doing their duty. Many of them might not have known that the true evil was the man they were working for.
As badly as he felt about killing those men, he also realized that he had been given no other alternative. He had been given a choice between killing them or being killed himself. He respected the lives of others, strange when considering the two companions he had fallen in with, but his sense of self-preservation was far greater. He would be forced to kill again, he knew without doubt. Ocean's Hand would act like a beacon to Bloodheart's men, who he knew would soon be hunting him if they were not already doing so.
Trick flew down to land on his customary perch on Raiste's shoulder, chirping rapidly in the man's ear. Roland couldn't be certain, he never truly understood the dragonling, but to his untrained ear it sounded as if the small animal was scolding him. If the creature understood why they were fleeing the city it was perfectly justified. Roland would scream at the man himself if he thought for even a moment that it would be of any use.
Slipping through the gap they made their way south along the wall, following the same path they had made themselves the day before. In another few days the narrow trail they followed would almost certainly be invisible once again, Roland suspected. The land reclaimed itself quickly if left to its own devices, and the few smugglers who used this route would surely prefer to keep it that way.
With the trail already made for them they reached the ancient road they had traveled before quickly. Of course, Roland already knew that they wouldn't be traveling along that easy road this time. He doubted it would have been such an easy road anyway with the horses that Raiste had asked Tara to get for them. His companion had already mentioned that the road was unusable by animals pulling a wagon. A horse could manage it well enough if it was being led, but he knew that Raiste planned on riding the horses at a fast pace once they met with Tara again.