by Ash Stinson
“I think that’d be best,” said Raettonus.
Kimohr Raulinn placed one hand on Raettonus’ shoulder and kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you again for your help,” he said. “And I want you to know, I’m sorry.”
“Don’t mention it,” Raettonus told him. “This hasn’t been all that much trouble.”
“Oh, I’m not apologizing for this,” said Kimohr Raulinn with an amused smile.
Raettonus furrowed his brow. “Then what are you apologizing for?”
“That’ll become apparent. Just give it a little time,” said Kimohr Raulinn. His eyes glowed softly in the dying daylight filtering through the windows. “Take care of yourself, Raettonus.”
Within the time it took for Raettonus to blink, he found himself in his chambers in the Kaebha Citadel, all alone. With a heavy sigh, he threw himself upon the bed. He was still so tired from the healing. Lazily, Raettonus lifted his hand up over his head, toward the ceiling. A few small flames danced across his knuckles at his will, but fire came naturally to him, and he doubted that he’d be able to perform any magic beyond that for at least a week.
It took a lot of effort, but he managed to pull himself up from the bed to go in search of Sir Slade. It only just occurred to him as he headed out the door that he’d been gone nearly an entire day, and that Sir Slade couldn’t communicate with anyone in the citadel. When Raettonus opened the door to Slade’s room, however, he found it vacant. Frowning, he closed the door carefully and began aimlessly down the hall, wondering where Slade might’ve gone.
He came upon a soldier on patrol and asked after Slade. The soldier took a minute to think about it before telling him that he’d seen Slade in the company of Maeleht, but didn’t know where they’d gone. Raettonus thanked him curtly and began away.
Almost immediately after that, Raettonus met Brecan coming down a hallway with Sir Rhodes in tow. Raettonus looked at the walking corpse, all covered in rot, half the flesh torn from his skull. Rhodes stared back at him with one cloudy eye and one sad, mud-colored eye. Distastefully, Raettonus said, “Why’d you bring Rhodes?”
“He wanted to come when he heard Sir Slade was here,” said Brecan.
Raettonus grabbed Brecan by the horn, causing the unicorn to yelp. “You shouldn’t have told him,” said Raettonus, jerking his head around. “Rhodes goes back to Ti Tunfa. Right now.”
“Ow! I’m sorry, Raet,” said Brecan as Raettonus released him. “But—but I can’t take him back to Ti Tunfa. Not right now, anyway. There’s a big war going on. I almost didn’t make it out of Ti Tunfa to begin with.”
Raettonus scowled and grunted. “Fine,” he said. “Fine, Rhodes can stay—but I don’t want to see you anywhere near Master Slade, do you understand me?”
Rhodes nodded. “Yesh, Mashter,” he said, his words slurred by his half-decayed tongue.
“Good,” Raettonus said, turning back toward Brecan. “Master Slade’s room is the one right beside mine. Go put his things in there.”
“You’ve got it, Raet,” said Brecan, swishing his long, barbed tail. “Can Rhodes help?”
Raettonus sighed. “Were you not just listening when I told him to stay away from Master Slade?” he asked. “What makes you think that means he should be in Master Slade’s room?”
“Oh. I guess I didn’t think,” said Brecan. “Oh, but, Raet—I’m gonna need someone to help unpack things. I don’t have hands…”
Sighing again, Raettonus said. “Well, fine, then. Master Slade’s not in there right now, anyway, I guess,” he said. “He can go help you. Be quick about it though—I don’t know when he might get back.”
“Okay,” said Brecan, trotting down the hall. “Come on, Rhodes.”
Sullenly, the walking corpse that was once Sir Rhodes the Blue and Gray followed after the unicorn. He moved sluggishly, dragging one leg behind the other and teetering from side to side with every slow step. Raettonus watched the pair until they’d disappeared around a corner before continuing his search.
He found Slade, as he suspected he would, in the citadel’s courtyard. In a grassy corner of the yard, Slade sat with Dohrleht and Maeleht, showing them some hydromancy. Raettonus approached quietly, watching as Slade shaped some water into a little dragon for them and animated its wings with two fingers. Maeleht was the first one to spot Raettonus, and he exclaimed, “Raettonus! We were worried about you!”
“Why’s that?” asked Raettonus as he drew close.
“Well no one knew where you’d gone,” Dohrleht said. “You never showed up for our lesson today.”
“I checked inside your room this morning, and you weren’t there,” said Slade. “I found your students looking for you and decided to show them some magic. They speak wonderful English, by the way. You taught them very well.”
“Thank you, Master,” said Raettonus. He looked up at the darkening sky beyond the metal spikes that enclosed the top of the citadel. “I’d like to show you something.”
“Certainly,” said Slade, standing. He turned to the young centaurs. “You two should go practice. It was very nice meeting the both of you.”
Raettonus led Slade across the shaded courtyard, through a doorway, and back into the citadel. “Your students are very bright boys,” said Slade as they walked. “The younger one told me you showed him how to magically sculpt stone.”
Raettonus nodded. “His father died just recently,” he said. “I was trying to take his mind off it.”
As they made their way through the winding, twisted hallways, they came upon a group of soldiers jostling each other at the arrow slits to get a better view outside. “Wonder what they’re looking at,” Slade said, pausing.
Raettonus shrugged and tapped the nearest soldier on the flank. “What’s going on?” he asked.
The soldier—a Zylekkhan by his lack of an accent—replied, “The general killed a cliff dragon. They’re trying to carry it in, but it’s too big to fit through the doors.”
After Raettonus relayed the message to Sir Slade, the dark-haired man clapped his hands together excitedly. “I want to see,” he said. “Can we go down and look at it?”
“If you want,” said Raettonus as they changed direction and headed the opposite way down the hall.
When they reached the front gate, they found Diahsis on the back of a ruffled-looking gryphon, directing the movement of a five-ton dragon lying sprawled across the road to the citadel. The dragon’s tongue lolled limply out of its open mouth between its fangs, and blood oozed lethargically out of holes in its throat and belly. Twenty soldiers were gathered around it, holding ropes which had been tied to different parts of it. Cradling his head in his arms, Deggho dek’Kariss stood off to one side, watching.
“You’re not going to fit that through there,” Diahsis’ gryphon mount was saying as Raettonus and Slade came up. “You’re going to need to cut it into pieces.”
“Nonsense,” said Diahsis dismissively. “It’ll fit. We just need to turn it.”
“Turn it what way? It’s not going to fit,” said the gryphon, flattening his feathered ears. He clacked his sharp beak closed violently. “Just cut it up. It’s easiest.”
Diahsis saw Raettonus and Slade and turned to wave at them. “Magician! Other man!” he said cheerily. “We killed a dragon!”
“I see that,” said Raettonus.
“Deggho helped,” said Diahsis, motioning at the goblin. “I’m a little sorry I beheaded him, now. He’s really quite good company. He wrangled a gryphon for me to ride.”
“Hi,” said the gryphon as Slade studied him curiously. “I’m Vuriin.”
Raettonus looked at the massive corpse of the dragon. “There’s no way you’re going to get that through the citadel doors. Not in one piece.”
“Thank you,” said Vuriin. “I’ve been saying that exact same thing, but he won’t listen.” He twisted his head around to look at Diahsis. “You could still keep the head as a trophy if you cut it off. If you want to use the dragon leather, it’s not li
ke cutting it into smaller pieces is going to make it any less usable, the size this thing is. You’re going to have to cut it into smaller pieces, anyway.”
“Fine, fine,” sighed the general, resting his hands on his thighs. “It’ll just be such a shame to take apart such a lovely beast. Fine, though.” He called out to the soldiers milling about. “Cut it down. Make sure you keep the head intact.” Quickly, the soldiers went about carrying out their order as Diahsis turned back toward Raettonus. “You should’ve come with us, Magician! It was a wonderful hunt. Deggho helped me catch a gryphon, and we didn’t have any injuries at all when we took down the dragon. I’m sorry to say that I didn’t land the finishing blow, however—that was Daeblau.” He looked around. “He was out here a minute ago, but he must’ve gone inside. Probably he wanted to tell his little squeeze about it all. He was quite impressive, actually. I’d be boasting too, in his place.”
“Fascinating,” Raettonus said dryly. “May we borrow Deggho for a bit?”
“Go right ahead,” said Diahsis. “Maybe after you’re done with him, you could sew his head back on? It’s been inconveniencing him all day, having to carry it.”
“We’ll see,” said Raettonus, leading Slade away by the hand toward Deggho.
Deggho turned his head toward Raettonus and Slade, smiling an uncertain smile. “See, Magician?” he said as they got close. “I told you that the Tahlehsons would be interested in my ability to hunt dragons.”
Slade looked at Deggho with wide, curious eyes before taking a step toward him and reaching out one hand. The goblin flinched away. “I’ve never seen anything like this,” said Slade breathlessly. “It’s like he’s alive.”
“What is he doing?” asked Deggho, anxiety evident, as Slade grabbed his shoulder gingerly.
“Examining you,” Raettonus said. “Don’t worry, it shouldn’t take long.”
Deggho furrowed his brow and frowned deeply. “I don’t want to be examined,” he muttered.
“That’s too bad,” said Raettonus. “It’s happening anyway.”
Deggho sighed, but gave himself over to Slade for examination. They went inside to get out of the way of the soldiers who were scrambling about arranging where to cut the dragon and how to go about it.
They made their way to an empty room, and Slade began looking Deggho over and asking him questions while Raettonus translated for him. Finally, Slade finished and turned to Raettonus. “He’s like me,” he said. “He’s died, but he’s been perfectly restored to life.”
“Except for the decapitation,” agreed Raettonus with a nod. “I wonder though… Why don’t his eyes glow like yours do?”
Slade didn’t have an answer for that.
“You should’ve gone dragon hunting with us, Raettonus,” said Deggho after Slade was done studying him. “It was fun. General Diahsis is a lot friendlier than you’d think.”
“I’m sure,” said Raettonus dryly.
“We’re going to hunt faeries tomorrow,” said the goblin, shifting his decapitated head around in his hands until he found a comfortable way to hold it. “You should come with us.”
“I’ll pass.”
Deggho frowned. “Oh, I see,” he said, sounding slightly wounded. “Well—how about you come join us for dinner? Diahsis is going to have that dragon cooked and have a big feast in the grand dining hall—you know, that one on the floor where they used to keep me. He’s having it all cleaned up and everything. Will you join us?”
Raettonus arched one thin eyebrow. “You’re going to a feast? Can you even eat?”
“Well, no—of course not,” said Deggho sheepishly. “But…it’s been a long time since I’ve been to any feasts. I never really liked food much, anyway, but I do like the revelry. Will you come?”
“What’s he saying?” asked Slade.
“He’s asking us to come to a feast tonight,” Raettonus told his master.
Slade brightened. “Oh, that sounds like fun!” he exclaimed. “You’re telling him yes, right?”
“If you wish, Master,” said Raettonus, turning back to Deggho. “We’ll go, I guess.”
“Diahsis will be glad to hear that,” said the goblin. “I should go see him—I’m supposed to help him plan the faerie hunt tomorrow. I’ll see you and your friend later, Magician.” With a slight bow of his shoulders, Deggho retreated from the room, leaving Slade and Raettonus alone.
“So, where were you all today?” asked Slade as they headed toward the door.
“I was with Kimohr Raulinn, actually,” Raettonus said.
“Is he really a god?” Slade asked. They entered a long hallway with arrow slits carved into one wall. Orange light filtered in through the slits, illuminating the hall in dusky strips. “It’s hard to believe, but he told me he was. It was like sitting down with Odin, or some such.”
“More like Loki,” grunted Raettonus as they started up a dark staircase. “But, yes, he is a god—here, at least.”
Slade frowned. He seemed on the edge of saying something, but decided against it and instead kept silent for a while. Finally, he said, “One of your students, Maeleht, said he’d teach me to speak their language—Kaerikeena, I think he called it.”
“Kaerikyna,” said Raettonus. “I don’t know that it would be such a good idea. That’s the centaurian language. You should learn common Zylekkhan instead. It’s more widely used. I’d…I’d teach you if you want, Master.”
Slade smiled. “That would be lovely, Rae. I’m sure you’ll be a good teacher,” he said, his eyes glowing a soft blue in the quiet dimness of the stone stairwell.
They stepped out onto the landing and began down a long, arching hallway filled with dusk-colored light and the smell of blood drifting up through the arrow slits. Slade paused at one to look out, and Raettonus paused with him. Down below, the soldiers were hacking through the dragon’s limbs, spilling its stale blood all across the sand. Their shouts were muffled by the distance, but Raettonus could still hear them calling to one another and joking. For a long while, Slade watched the centaurian soldiers, listening to their language, which was so alien to him.
“How did you manage?” he asked quietly, after the sun had set completely. The sky was growing dark, and down below soldiers were coming out with torches. “You must have been so scared when you came here, all alone and not knowing the language…surrounded by all these strange creatures…”
“I suppose I didn’t think of it that way,” mumbled Raettonus. “After you died, I was all alone anyway, so…” He leaned against the wall and crossed his arms over his chest. The smell of the dragon’s blood was still thick in the air; Raettonus wondered if it wouldn’t attract ‘gryphs and unicorns.
Raettonus couldn’t see the expression, but he was certain Slade was staring off, smiling sadly. He’d seen him look that way a thousand times before. When he was little, he’d always wondered what made Sir Slade so sad. When he was older, he’d understood.
“Of course,” said Slade quietly. “I forgot. You’re never afraid—not you. Do you remember that time—oh, it would’ve been about three years after you came to live with me—when some yeomen came and tried to run me out of my castle?”
“Not really,” muttered Raettonus. There had been many times like that. To Raettonus, they’d all become one contemptuous blur.
“When they came up to our walls, you wanted to fight them,” said Slade. “You grabbed up a short sword and you started carrying it around with you, and you wanted to fight them back. When I went out to talk with them, you wouldn’t stay inside, so I let you come with me. It wasn’t going so well, and their leader was an angry man. He pushed me, and you rushed forward with that little sword of yours, and you took a swing at him. You got halfway through his hand, and then the impact knocked the sword out of your grasp.”
“I remember that, a little,” said Raettonus. “You beat me ragged for that.”
Slade nodded. “Even after that, you said you weren’t sorry that you hurt him,” he said, his smile fadi
ng away at the corners of his mouth. Raettonus looked at him, and it was one of the few times he had seen Slade without his insincere smile; his genuine sadness was heavy in every feature. “You did the wrong thing, but you were fearless doing it. I wish that counted for more than it does in the long run, fearlessness.”
The light had all died away and the hallway was dark, save for a faint golden glow about Raettonus, and for Slade’s eyes, which cast his face in blue. “Master,” said Raettonus tentatively. “I—”
“Never mind,” said Slade, straightening and walking away from the window. He put his smile back on, but it was the last expression in the world Raettonus wanted to see. “I suppose we should dress for the feast, right? I’ve never had dragon before. I wonder what it’s like. Come on, let’s not dawdle or we’ll be late.”
“Yes, Master,” said Raettonus reluctantly, and he lit a tiny fire in his hand to give them some light as they made their way back to their chambers.
After a time spent in silence, Raettonus said, “I kept a lot of your clothes, all these years. Um, Brecan returned with them just this afternoon. They should be in your room by now.”
“That’s good. Thank you, Raettonus,” said Slade. “I’m very interested to meet your unicorn friend.”
“Well, you’ll probably get a chance to tonight,” Raettonus said. They reached a landing with torches burning on the walls, and he extinguished the flame in his palm. “Brecan would sooner die than miss a feast.”
Slade chuckled. “He sounds delightful,” he said, running a hand through his dark hair and gazing upwards as they walked, toward the drab ceiling. “When I was a page, I knew a girl who claimed she’d seen unicorns before. She said she’d gone out early one morning to the apple orchard to sit beneath a tree and work on her needlepoint, but that she fell asleep. She woke up, she told me, and saw a unicorn coming toward her through the morning fog. It got frightened and ran off, but that wasn’t the last one she saw in that apple orchard, she said. She swore on a Bible that it was the honest truth, and may God strike her down if she was lying. I always thought she was pulling my leg though. She always told me I was naïve, and it wasn’t going to end well for me if I didn’t wise up some day.” He bit his lower lip. “We were…we were engaged to marry, she and I. Our parents made the betrothal, but I did love her all the same.”