Death

by Rosie Scott

  Kirek was far too intelligent to retaliate right away against Cyrus and the others for rebelling against her new rule; after all, Eteri was now extremely weakened. The second-greatest army in the world had just completed one of history's largest successful invasions, and it was newly split into two. Making matters worse for Kirek, she would arrive on the shores of her home just to find Chairel was still under the impression that Eteri was my ally. Tilda's last letter informed us that Chairel had already attacked with their newly reformed navy. It was in my own best interest to allow Chairel to continue thinking we were allies so they would be distracted attacking Eteri in the west while I advanced from the east.

  Intuition told me that I would one day meet Kirek again in battle, but it wouldn't be for many years. I would hold true to my promise and aid Cyrus when the time came for his own quest of vengeance. After all, he was overworking himself preparing a country still in the stages of confusion and infancy to go to war to aid me. I knew a large part of the reason Cyrus withheld from killing Kirek the same day she'd murdered Altan was that he'd known doing so would cause me to lose what little support I had from the natives of Eteri. If Kirek had died that day, Eteri would now be leaderless, forcing the Sentinels to return to their home country to repair it while leaving me without some of my greatest allies. Just a year ago, I'd been worried that I would lose Eteri and most of the Sentinels as allies. Instead, I'd been lucky to keep friendships and partnerships with most of its army even though everything else had fallen apart. Tilda had been one step ahead of us with her treachery, but between the two of us, I was the only one left standing. If it weren't for Altan's untimely death during the whole ordeal, I would have considered that a victory.

  “Ow! Shit!” The curse tugged me out of my thoughts. Just half a block away and sucking at the side of his thumb was Calder. He stood just outside of the building Maggie had told us about, for there were large windows covered up on the inside with dark blankets like heavy drapes. One of Mirrikh's satchels was on the ground at Calder's boots like he'd dropped it, but Mirrikh was nowhere in sight.

  Calder raised his eyebrows as he saw us approach. I came to stand before him and asked, “What are you doing, love?”

  Calder tugged his thumb out from his lips, where a beady ball of blood formed from a new wound. “Sticking myself with needles, apparently.”

  “I didn't know you were a user of rempka,” Cerin quipped.

  Calder chuckled and leaned down to grab the bag again, being more careful this time. “Very funny, skelly-lover. If you'd really like to know, I tried rempka once. Hated the damn stuff. Made me crazy and paranoid before I dropped like a bag of rocks.”

  “Would have made you lose your teeth and fingernails if you'd kept using it, too,” I told him. “And then maybe your life. I'm glad you stopped. As much as you smoke ferris, I'd hope you weren't looking for other ways to get high.”

  “Nah, love,” Calder reassured me. “Not anymore. I wasn't always this happy, you know. When a guy offers you something and tells you it'll make things better and your life is a pile of shit, sometimes you go for it.”

  “Do I?” I asked rhetorically.

  Calder grinned at me. “Well, I did. Don't worry, Kai. There's nothing you can say to me that Koby didn't already say. About kicked my ass when he found me passed out with the needle still in my arm.”

  “Wouldn't that have defeated the purpose?” I questioned.

  “What?” Calder asked.

  “Kicking your ass.”

  Calder laughed. “That's what I said. Koby was just upset, though. All we had was each other and he was terrified of losing me.” Calder hesitated, glanced over at Azazel, and added, “I'm sorry if saying that pains you.”

  Azazel shook his head. “It's in the past. Talking about this allows me to easily transition into why we came to find you.”

  Calder tilted his head, and though Mirrikh's bag hung heavily over one shoulder, he didn't yet move. “Oh?”

  “Nyx is throwing you a huge party,” Azazel began, “and before we go there and everyone gets rowdy and drunk, I wanted to give you something while things are quiet.”

  Calder sobered. “You don't have to give me anything.”

  “No,” Azazel agreed, “but I want to.”

  “Azazel...” Calder trailed off, his voice uncharacteristically soft. “Honestly, I would feel really awful accepting something from you considering the circumstances.”

  “Circumstances of decades ago,” Azazel argued lightly.

  “Regardless,” Calder insisted. “I have tried to make things up to you in my own way, and you always reject me. The last thing I want is for you to offer me something. It would be even more unbalanced.”

  “Cal,” I murmured. “I understand your hesitation, but this isn't a gift you want to reject. Azazel's already put a lot of time and effort into it.”

  “We put time and effort into it,” Azazel corrected, tilting his head toward me. “Kai helped me with this.”

  Calder frowned and exhaled heavily through his nostrils. “Okay. Fine.”

  Azazel pulled up the flap of his satchel and took out rolled parchment. Much like the artwork he'd gifted me of Jakan and Anto, the scroll had a string tied around the middle. Calder reached out for it, but his eyes were on Azazel's as he said, “You drew me something?”

  “I did.”

  “I still haven't seen your other sketches,” Calder said, hesitating to open the scroll.

  “You think it will be terrible?” Azazel questioned, somewhat in jest.

  “No.” Calder scoffed, and though he'd meant it to be playful, it came out jilted. “Nothing you do is terrible, Azazel. Everything you ever set your mind to, you do impeccably. I've always been jealous of that.”

  “I think you over-exaggerate,” Azazel replied.

  “Do I?” Calder argued lightly. “You'd never even picked up a bow before I escaped the underground, and the first time I make it back you're touted as the best archer of Hazarmaveth. But you weren't—you were the best fucking archer I'd ever seen. And I've been around the world and met some skilled marksmen. Now you're saving soldiers from the brink of death with your alchemy and leading armies when you were never anything but alone. Everything you do comes naturally to you. I don't understand how you do it. I'd guarantee that whatever you've drawn here will be the best rendition of whatever it is, because that's how you do things. You practice and practice and practice until you're the best at something and then move on to gain a new skill and do it all over again. And here I am, bumbling through life like an idiot.”

  All of us were quiet a moment. Raw pain bled through to prevalence on Calder's voice, and it hadn't been expected. Azazel finally said, “I feel like I should apologize, but I don't know what for.”

  “No.” Calder held out a hand, closed his eyes, and laughed awkwardly. “You have nothing to apologize for. If anything, I apologize. Like I said long ago in Monte, Azazel, you remind me of the parts of myself I still dislike. Not just because of what happened between us underground, but because being around you brings all those thoughts of self-reflection and insecurities back into my head. The more time passes, the more reasons I find to be jealous of you. Yet, you never seem to think you're good at anything, and it boggles my mind to the point of irritation.”

  “I can see why you left me behind in the underground,” Azazel replied softly.

  Calder opened his eyes again and met Azazel's gaze. He swallowed hard and said, “I didn't leave you behind because I was jealous of you. Jealousy was the reason I never wanted to befriend you. But yes, in a terrible way, perhaps that led to me being willing to leave you without looking back. It's not your fault for being smarter and better than I am at most things. It's my fault for being a confused man with a history of abuse and a head full of nagging insecurities.” He waved a periwinkle hand in a circle by the side of his hood.

  After some silence, Calder laughed humorlessly, embarrassed. “And hell, there I go again. Messing up a perf
ectly nice conversation with random rambles. I was a terrible person, Azazel. I'm trying not to be a terrible person anymore. I fail sometimes. I'm sorry.”

  “You're not a terrible person,” Azazel replied. “You're hurt. Traumatized, even. We all are. You can't expect a man to go through what we did and come out unscathed.”

  Calder was quiet a moment as he considered Azazel's words, before he huffed and said, “Other than your anger toward me, you did.”

  “I didn't,” Azazel argued lightly. “I will never know physical intimacy again because I'm uncomfortable with it.”

  Calder's eyes broke away from Azazel's gaze, and he said, “Hell, Azazel, I'm sorry. I didn't know. I should've figured, but I didn't know.”

  “You should've figured?” Azazel questioned, seeking clarification.

  Calder exhaled so hard it whistled between his teeth. “You've been quite the hot topic of conversation amongst my soldiers ever since we showed up in Hammerton. I've heard about how many you've rejected. Just figured you were picky.”

  “Perhaps now that you know,” I began, “you could tell them to lay off.”

  Calder nodded jerkily as he caught my gaze. “I will. I wish you'd told me sooner, Azazel. I would've stopped it already. It's become like a game to them to see who wins your affections. I just thought it was all in good fun.”

  “To them, it is,” Azazel conceded. “I don't explain myself to Alderi women because it invites mockery.”

  “It is for the best,” Calder agreed. He sighed shakily. “I'm glad we talked like this. Being free and on the surface has been good for you. You used to be a bundle of anger. Years ago, half of the words just said between us wouldn't have happened at all. You would have spit in my face or insulted me before ignoring me.”

  Calder meant to lighten the mood, but Azazel only nodded toward the artwork which still wasn't opened. “Being on the surface has been like starting anew,” Azazel said. “Surely you'd agree. I'm giving you this gift because I hope you'll like it, but I also hope it will make up for some of my past transgressions.”

  Calder started delicately untied the string around the scroll as he rambled, “There are no past transgressions of yours. You never wronged me.” Keeping the string held in a hand, he unrolled the parchment.

  I couldn't see the sketch from here, but I knew what Calder saw. Azazel had memorialized Koby looking happy and free while on the quarterdeck of the Galleon Stallion using his memories of Koby's appearance and my own memories of Calder's doomed ship. As usual, Azazel's skill and detail made the sketch immaculate. I hadn't known Koby for long, but throughout Azazel's work on the sketch it had reminded me of his face and appearance. Azazel had drawn Koby as he'd remembered him, looking hopeful and friendly and warm.

  Calder stared at the sketch for a long while until the parchment started to shake. His eyes glistened, and he blinked furiously to keep himself from giving into emotion. He pulled one hand up to his face and pinched the bridge of his nose.

  “Gods.” The word was thick and barely discernible.

  “I did my best to capture both his appearance and personality,” Azazel said softly.

  Calder dropped the hand from his face and immediately walked up to Azazel, pulling him into a hug. Calder squeezed Azazel so hard I heard him grunt, but he returned the embrace.

  “Thank you.” Calder's voice was so thick with emotion he laughed with embarrassment, and then added, “I was right. You are as talented at art as you are at everything else. It looks just like Koby. I nearly had a heart attack; I didn't think I'd ever see him again.”

  “That's exactly what Kai said when I gave her the sketch of Jakan and Anto,” Azazel said, smiling over at me as Calder pulled back.

  “I'd like to see theirs as well,” Calder told me. “I miss them both.”

  “I have it back at my house,” I informed him. “Come over anytime to look at it.”

  Calder nodded. “Azazel—thank you. This means the world to me.”

  “I'm glad you like it,” Azazel replied. “I also meant to apologize.”

  “For what?” Calder asked, perplexed.

  “I said some things underground about you and Koby that I'd like to recant,” Azazel said.

  “The things I punched you for,” Calder mused, and Azazel nodded. “It's in the past, as you said. But I appreciate the apology.”

  Azazel hesitated. “I never told you I was sorry to hear about Koby's death, but I was. He was good to me. The first time I experienced sunshine, I thought of him. It reminded me of his personality. I hope that makes sense.”

  Calder swallowed hard and looked away. “It does.”

  “Kai told me in Thanati that she was only there because it was your idea to take the underground,” Azazel continued. “At the time, my anger at you clouded my judgment. But as much as it hurt when you left me behind, I only know freedom because you took the chance to come back and risk everything. I know you're still damaged by what happened to you there, but that makes it only more admirable to me that you returned. Thank you for taking that chance.”

  Calder met Azazel's gaze again, appearing absolutely overwhelmed with emotion. “That means so much coming from you. Why are you saying all of this now?”

  “It's long past due,” Azazel replied. “I should have told you this when you followed through to support us here.” He hesitated, smiled charmingly, and added, “Besides, if we'll be living in Chairel together for many years, we have to get along.”

  Calder reached out to squeeze Azazel's upper arm in a friendly gesture. “I think we're getting along just fine. Thanks to you, this is already one of the more memorable birthdays I've ever had.”

  “How old are you?” I asked.

  Calder huffed. “Does it matter?” He proceeded to tie the artwork back into a roll with its string before putting it away in his own satchel. “I was born in the even year of 200, love. Take the current year and subtract. That's always how I've figured it out. Once I hit one hundred I stopped caring.” He glanced down the street toward the western gate of Hallmar and asked, “Would you guys like to tag along? Mirrikh has an elaborate set-up just outside the wall. It'll be the first time he attempts to create dragon-kin.”

  My eyebrows raised. “Ah, so that's why he was excited to show you today.”

  Calder nodded. “As far as we know, no dragon-kin have ever existed before, so we don't even know if it'll work. We also don't know how large they'll get if they transform correctly, hence why he's trying it outside of the wall.”

  “We'll tag along,” Cerin told him. “If nothing else, this'll be a historic event.”

  “If Mirrikh succeeds, definitely,” Calder agreed, leading the way through the cobblestone streets.

  Hallmar's western gate faced the Chairel border, but what once had been a view of hundreds of miles of unscathed grasslands between the border and the Cel Forest now paved the way to the web of rivers I'd created with my earthquake in late-428. I'd named them the Heliot Rivers after Cerin's surname since he already considered them his. We'd spent a few late nights next to the river together over the past year. The Heliot Rivers had become a place for people to fish from while avoiding the high traffic of the nearby Hallmar Harbor. The rivers were within view of the city, but they were in Chairel's territory. I hoped that one day a new settlement could spring up along the river to take advantage of the waterway while allowing Fremont and Chairel to trade and interact from a close distance.

  For now, handfuls of people were along the river. Some fished, and others relaxed with friends or lovers. Farther north, two Alderi were fornicating in public in the water itself. A dwarven fisher nearby watched them a little too intently, paying no mind to his fishing pole as a hungry fish ate all his bait. Few others were in the water at all. The late Red Moon weather kept it much too chilly for most, but it had been full of swimmers in High Star.

  Along the outer Hallmar wall to the right of the gate, Mirrikh had set up a temporary stall with which to inject the aspiring beastmen
with the blood of their kin. In Tenesea, ramshackle booths had existed for such a purpose to give some semblance of order to the event while allowing them to be easily rebuilt if transformations became too chaotic. Here, Mirrikh had simply set up a chair on the grasslands far away from anything else to allow for extra room to transform in case the dragon-kin required it. The scientist himself prepared to administer the injections, standing at a table and surrounded by bottles of blood.

  Mirrikh glanced up as he heard our approach. I hadn't seen him in quite a few days, so it surprised me to find he was calm. Most of his personalities were eccentric.

  “Alastor, you made it,” he greeted Calder, putting a clean dish on the table before him. Though calm, Mirrikh's voice was still whispery and mysterious. “I thought you'd gotten caught up in your party.”

  “Caught up with friends, is all,” Calder replied, jerking a thumb toward us.

  “Kai,” Mirrikh greeted with a smile, before his dark eyes moved over to Cerin. “And the pale one. You've come to watch?”

  “We have,” I replied, watching him continue to work. “Do you mind if I ask you some questions?”

  Mirrikh grinned with pride. “About my work?”

  “Yes.”

  “I don't mind a bit. I enjoy talking about it.” Mirrikh grabbed an enclosed glass bottle of blood out of a small box full of ice at his feet. The bottle was labeled with a name I assumed belonged to one of the hopeful beastmen. “Ask away.”

  “First of all,” I started, “you're calm today.”

  Mirrikh extracted half of a syringe full of dragon blood from a larger bottle on the table before draining it into the clean dish. “This is my normal personality,” he explained. “This is as close as I get to who I was before they broke my mind.”