Black Stone Heart (The Obsidian Path Book 1)

by Michael R. Fletcher

“To steal something.”

  “I figured that much.”

  “The wizards took something from me,” I said. “I want it back.”

  Once again Tien glanced back and forth between Shalayn and I. “This true?” she directed at Shalayn.

  “I’d give it fair odds of being true. If it’s a lie, it’s the most insane one ever told.”

  Back to me. “What did the wizards take?”

  “That,” I said, “is not for discussion.”

  “Interesting. Well, if you won’t tell me what we’re stealing, there’s more risk for me. If the risk is higher, the price is higher.” She put a hand on Shalayn’s. “You know I’m sorry about what happened. I didn’t plan that. It just…”

  Shalayn slid her hand away. “Great. Fine.”

  Tien looked hurt, disappointed. Shalayn, on the other hand, looked angrier than I’d ever seen.

  “What if you didn’t have to come,” I said to Tien, hoping to distract them. “We only need help getting to the top of the tower. After that, we don’t need you.”

  Tien had eyes only for Shalayn. “Really?”

  “Hopefully,” said Shalayn, ignoring the other woman’s attention.

  “Which tower?”

  Shalayn described the location of the tower as I took a moment to examine the other patrons in the coffee house. They ignored us. For the first time in weeks, no one shot looks of hate at me. It was like we didn’t exist. It was nice.

  “We don’t know which wizard owns it,” continued Shalayn. “For all we know, it’s abandoned or hasn’t been used in decades.”

  “I know the tower,” said Tien. “No one owns it. The Guild uses it as a depot of sorts.” She eyed me. “There is something you want in there?”

  “Yes.”

  “In that tower specifically.”

  “Yes.”

  “Interesting. I’ll help you.”

  Shalayn rapped a knuckle on the table top. “We can’t afford your normal rates.”

  “And yet here you are. I’m going to help you for free.”

  “Why?” I asked.

  “Because,” she glanced at me with an evil grin, “there just so happens to be something in that tower that I want.” She looked all too pleased with herself.

  “And that is?” I asked.

  Tien leered at me. “You show me yours and I’ll show you mine.” She stretched, languid and sinuous. She was small and lithe, but softer than Shalayn. “Otherwise, no questions.”

  That sounded fair to me, but Shalayn looked less convinced.

  “Is it dangerous?” she asked.

  “Everything in that tower is dangerous. If you can get in and get out with whatever the cute stained-soul wants,” she nodded at me, “then grabbing something for me will be easy.” She grinned at the two of us, pug nose wrinkling. “I think you’re going to die in there, but I’ve been wrong before.” She tilted her head toward Shalayn. “Once.”

  Shalayn’s blue eyes hardened to chips of ice. “No wizard lives there?”

  “Nope.”

  “There goes the ‘slip in the unlocked roof door the last wizard forgot to lock the last time he was up there having drinks’ plan,” said Shalayn.

  “Shalayn my dear,” said Tien, “not everyone is a drunk.”

  “Everyone I know is,” answered Shalayn.

  “Sure, but you only hobnob with the dregs of society.”

  “Thanks,” I said.

  “If you had any idea what being seen with the likes of you is doing to Shalayn’s reputation, you’d leave now and never come back. At least if you cared for her, you would.”

  Shalayn ignored Tien’s words. “What are we getting for you?”

  “A trinket. A bauble. It’s a gold ring with some stuff engraved on it.” Leaning forward, Tien drew swirling lines on the table top with a fingertip. She left behind glowing red traces and I remembered then that she was a wizard. It had been easy to forget. The lines were letters and words and teased at my memory. I couldn’t understand them, but felt like I should. It wasn’t a human language.

  “Bring me the ring with this written on it,” said Tien, leaning back, “and I’ll consider us even.” She eyed the two of us. “It’s magic,” she added. “Obviously. If Shalayn touches it, the ring will destroy her.” She looked to the other woman, eyes softening. “Don’t touch it, Shal. Please don’t touch it.”

  Shal?

  “So only I can touch it,” I said. “I’ll be safe?”

  “If I’m right about the ring, and…” Tien shrugged. “You should be.”

  I eyed the wizard with distrust and she flashed a sweet smile dripping innocence.

  “Bring me any other ring,” she continued, “and I’ll boil his stained blood.”

  While Shalayn rolled her eyes at the threat, I found myself grinding my teeth. Rage bubbled up from somewhere deep and dark. Wizards should know their place. They were servants, tolerated at best.

  Shalayn reached over and squeezed my hand. Hard. “Sounds fair,” she said.

  Tien either didn’t notice or didn’t care. “Come back tomorrow. I’ll have something that will get you to the roof and through the door you’ll find up there.”

  “Tomorrow, then,” said Shalayn. “Come.” She used her grip on my hand to pull me away from the table.

  “Sweetie,” I heard Tien whisper as we left, “you orchestrate your own failures.” She watched us leave, eyes sad.

  Once on the street Shalayn released me and walked away. I hurried to catch up.

  “Are you going to be able to work with Tien?” she demanded. “Will this be a problem?”

  “No problem.” Much as I loathed wizards, I knew I had no other options.

  “Why do you hate them?”

  “I don’t know. I can’t remember. But if a piece of my memory is in that tower, does it not stand to reason that wizards broke me. They stole who I was.”

  She walked fast, hips swinging. “You don’t know that.”

  “I don’t,” I admitted. “But I think I’m right. And if I am, does that not give me some reason to hate?”

  She stopped abruptly and I narrowly avoided running into her.

  “You see how people look at you?”

  I nodded. Even now, everyone eyed me as they passed. Sometimes I caught whispered words. Darker. Ebony soul. Stained.

  “Is it fair that they hate everyone who has dark skin? They haven’t met you. They don’t know you, yet they loathe you. Your hate is no better.”

  She strode away, and once again I was forced to rush after her. Was she right? Did my hatred of wizards make no more sense than the hate of these pale people who didn’t know me?

  As I caught up with her she said, “Hating all wizards for the actions of one or two is madness. If a woman breaks your heart, do you hate all women?”

  The mention of a broken heart silenced me. That, and the fact she wasn’t wrong. Maybe my hate was unreasonable. And yet, I couldn’t get past it. Wizards took something from me. They took my life and my history. They broke me. They would pay.

  “How much will you change when you have your memories back?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know.” I thought about it. I needed to be more honest with her. “This tower doesn’t hold all of me,” I said, unable to remember how much I’d told her while drunk. “There are more pieces out there.”

  She said nothing, but I saw the measured look, understood it.

  She worried she wouldn’t like the me I’d become. But what if I didn’t like that me, either?

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “You’re right.”

  “Of course I am.”

  “That’s what I just—”

  She cut me off with a raised hand. “I saw the way you looked at Tien. Like skinny little women with small tits, do you?”

  Did I? I didn’t know how to answer. Since entering Taramlae I’d seen thousands of women and, while they all seemed to hate me on sight, they also all looked good. I’d been alone in the north for a l
ong time. I didn’t think I had a preference, but there was that shadow of a memory. A slim girl with black hair, pale skin, and dark eyes, large and bright with humour.

  Shalayn laughed at me. “I’m just messing with you. Tien flirts with everyone. It’s how she keeps people off balance and distracted. It guarantees men underestimate her.”

  And not women? I kept the thought to myself. Shalayn and the wizard shared some past. The details were none of my business.

  Was I jealous? Did that contribute to my dislike of Tien? Maybe.

  One thing I knew for certain: I didn’t trust her.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Back at the Dripping Bucket, Shalayn selected a table in the darkest corner and collapsed into a chair, back to the wall. She scratched at the table top with a blunt fingernail, eyes narrowed in thought.

  We’d completed the long walk in silence, and I had no idea if it was a comfortable one. Judging by the look on her face, I thought not.

  I sat across from her, felt the eyes in the room on my back. She looked up from the table and flashed a quick grin. I felt a little better. Shalayn waved two fingers at the innkeeper and a moment later two mugs arrived. He must have been distracted because he forgot to drop mine and splash me with beer.

  “What did Tien call the tower?” she asked,

  “A depot, of sorts, I believe.” I watched her down half her pint in a single go. “Maybe we should take it easy tonight. If Tien comes through for us, we’re going to need to be sharp tomorrow. Not hungover to rat shit.”

  “We are likely going to die tomorrow.” Shalayn took another drink. “I’m not missing out on one last chance to enjoy a few drinks.”

  I wasn’t sure if that was wisdom or insanity. I downed my pint, finishing as she finished hers. She ordered two more, and a platter of cheese and sausages.

  “What would wizards store in a depot?” she asked.

  “Things they don’t want, or can’t use?”

  “Stuff that’s too dangerous to be left lying around.”

  “We put grain in depots,” I pointed out. My god, I loved those blue eyes. “Are you worried this thing we’re getting for Tien might be more trouble than it’s worth? You think maybe it’s too dangerous?” I realized I had absolutely no problem with the idea of betraying the wizard, but cared very much how Shalayn felt about the idea.

  “Nope.”

  “Well, then…” I understood. “Me. You think I might be dangerous once I know who I am.”

  She nodded.

  I took her hand. “I promise, I will never be a danger to you. I would never hurt you.” I meant it.

  Her expression never changed. “You don’t know that. You can’t.”

  “Look, I might be dangerous to the wizards, though I can’t really imagine how. But I don’t believe I’m a bad person. I can’t believe I’m evil.” I touched my chest over my heart. “This me, this is who I am. I’ll still be me, but with more memories.” I struggled to explain. “This me is constant. He doesn’t get replaced, he just remembers more of his past.”

  “Our memories define us.”

  I didn’t know how to argue with that, wasn’t even sure if it was true. I wanted to tell her I was falling in love with her, but some part of me hesitated. The truth was, no matter how I felt about her, I barely knew her. She kept surprising me. She walked, armed and armoured, through a city where the populace went unarmed. She was chummy with thieves and wizards, and knew where they took their morning coffee. The entire city hated me for the colour of my skin, and yet she didn’t care. She killed and regretted it. And most damning of all, here she was planning to break into a wizard’s tower—suicide if Tien was to be believed—to steal something for a man she barely knew. I’d wondered if she was a thrill-seeker, drawn to danger. Now, I wondered if maybe she was suicidal. If the wizards broke me apart and scattered me around the world, there had to be a reason. It surely wasn’t because they loved me.

  Why would Shalayn involve herself? Clearly, the reasonable course of action would be to walk away. Hell, she should probably go to the wizards and report me. Yet here she was, getting drunk with me. Again. Did she feel for me what I was beginning to feel for her? Why? Who did she think I was?

  Why do women love bad boys and dangerous men? She’d asked that, though as a rhetorical question. Was that it? Was she with me because she thought I was dangerous? Was Tien right, was Shalayn orchestrating her next failure?

  I watched her inhale a second pint and flag the innkeeper. Popping a chunk of sausage into her mouth, she asked him to bring us a bottle of whiskey and leave it on the table.

  She certainly seemed to have something of a self-destructive streak. Was this an elaborate suicide?

  The innkeeper arrived with the whiskey. After blowing the dust off the bottle, he peeled the wax from the top and worked free the cork. Setting the bottle on the table, he placed a small steel cup in front of each of us. Looking like he wanted to spit in mine, he somehow resisted the urge. Likely because Shalayn would kill him.

  We watched him waddle back to the bar. Someone said something as he arrived and both darted glances in our direction.

  “Would they hate me less if I wasn’t with you?” I asked.

  “Probably. But then they might also just drag you into the alley behind the bar and murder you too.”

  “I need a drink.”

  Shalayn poured us each a healthy measure. Lifting the cup, she said, “To tomorrow. May we drink so much, and fuck so hard, we don’t care if we die.” She winked at me. “Life to the full!” And downed the whiskey.

  “To the full,” I said, tossing mine down my throat. It was golden fire, caramel and dark chocolate, and warmed me to my balls. I had no memory of ever eating caramel or dark chocolate. “This whiskey is too good to drink like that.”

  “Old man,” she said, mocking.

  “You have no idea.”

  She poured another round.

  Hours later we stumbled upstairs, half tripping over each other we were so intertwined. I clawed at the straps of her armour and was defeated. Once inside the room, she undid the buckles with the speed and agility of a master. Kicking the leather aside, she tackled me. Bouncing off the edge of the bed, we ended up on the floor.

  Shalayn tore her shirt off me, bit my neck, and swirled her tongue around my ear.

  At some point we made it onto the bed and her knees were hooked over my shoulders. Hands planted flat on the headboard, she kept panting “Harder, fucking harder.”

  Morning came about a week sooner than I was ready for. I peeled my face off her pale and freckled ass, which I’d been using as a pillow, and gave it a half-hearted slap.

  “Fuck off,” she muttered.

  Looking at that ass, the curve, the line where ass met leg, half of me wanted another go. The other half wanted to die. Anything to escape the hellish putrescent shitstorm ravaging my skull.

  “Whiskey,” she said.

  I kissed one ass cheek and bit the other. Then I shuffled downstairs, relying on the walls for support, and fetched us two whiskeys each. The innkeeper was too tired to hate me.

  This was mad. No one could maintain this pace. I hadn’t even recovered from the previous evening’s festivities before we commenced on a second night of debauchery. Sure, I was grinning like an idiot. I felt spent, mauled. And yeah, the sex got better and better as we learned each other’s bodies. But a couple more nights like this would end me.

  What a way to go.

  Four whiskeys in hand, it took me six times as long to make it back up the stairs as it had to come down.

  Was I some kind of distraction for Shalayn, a diversion from something she didn’t want to think about? She’d been sober on the caravan ride south, but our two days in Taramlae had been a drunken tornado.

  Opening the door, I stood half in the hall, examining the room. The place was a dump and we hadn’t done it any favours. Sleeping on her side now, back to me, Shalayn’s naked curves drew my eye.

  “Shut the
damned door,” she said.

  Two hours later I sat on the edge of the bed watching Shalayn strap on her armour. Her blue eyes were rimmed red with exhaustion. She grinned evilly at me, and I wanted to tell her to strip off the armour and forget Tien.

  “Maybe we can see your wizard friend tomorrow,” I suggested.

  “Friend.” She laughed without humour. “No. Tien will…” She scowled, focussing on the straps of her leather skirt.

  Interesting.

  Miraculously, I pulled on my pants without falling over and stood there blinking stupidly at her.

  “Where’s your shirt?” she asked.

  We discovered it under the bed with a pair of lace panties neither of us recognized.

  We found Tien in the same coffee shop drinking the same sludgy coffee. It rained during the night and the shallow steps leading into the basement cafe had become a cascading waterfall. The customers plodded through it like this was a regular occurrence, not even worth noticing.

  Tien watched our approach, green eyes narrowing when she spotted me. It wasn’t the look of loathing I got from most folk, but it certainly wasn’t welcoming. More like she had a different, entirely personal, reason for disliking me.

  “You two look like puked up dog turds,” Tien said as we arrived.

  “We had some drinks,” said Shalayn. “A little celebrating.” She leaned heavily on the table like without it she might topple to the floor.

  “You’re ready to do this?” asked Tien, eyeing us with some doubt.

  “Yes,” I lied.

  Shalayn nodded and then looked regretful.

  Tien slid a ring across the table to Shalayn. “Put that in your pocket and don’t put it on your finger until you’re at the base of the tower.”

  Shalayn pocketed the ring. “What is it?”

  “There’s a levitation spell with enough juice in it to get the two of you to the top of the tower.”

  “Two?” I asked. “And one ring?”

  “It creates a field-effect, but she’ll have to carry you.”

  “I could carry her,” I suggested. Though the days of decent food filled me out a bit, I remained bone thin. Years of near starvation wouldn’t be erased that fast.

  “No,” said Tien. “It’ll only work for her. Suck up your manly pride and deal with it.”