by Hooke, Isaac
She glanced at the cuts in her garment, and the dried blood that had oozed from the wounds, a darker red than the crimson of her dress. Some of that blood had spilled onto the gold trim of her bodice. She also felt her disheveled hair.
“You’re right,” Abigail said. “No one will help me. You will take Sir Matthew’s place, then, and escort me until the end of the journey.”
Malem smiled broadly. “Will I now?”
“Yes,” Abigail said.
“I never told you I’d take you to your destination,” he said. “I plan to bring you back to Abe’s Wood.”
“No, I must press on,” she said. “My errand is too important. And you will escort me.”
“You don’t want me escorting you for more than a few days,” he said. “Trust me.”
She threw up her arms in frustration. “You’re the one who was pressing to escort me in the first place, and now you don’t want to do it?”
He laughed. “You put words into my mouth. As I said, I’ll bring you back to Abe’s Wood. And no more.”
“It will take less than a week,” she said. “I head to Fallow Gate. My destination is in the mountains beyond. You can drop me off at the shoulder of Mount Ademan. Four days, maximum. Surely you can spare four days in your busy schedule?”
He swallowed uneasily. “It’s not that...”
She leaned toward him. “Then what?”
He sighed. He could probably do four days. The Darkness shouldn’t return, not before then. He had at least a week until it decided to rear its ugly head.
She seemed to mistake his silence for something else. “I’ll pay you, of course.”
He smiled. “Oh?”
“Yes. Twenty silver drachmae.”
Malem laughed. “Twenty silver drachmae? That’s enough to buy a few apples. Make it two hundred. And if we stop in any villages or cities along the way, I expect you to pay for my room and board, including any stabling fees for Bounder here. This includes evening repast, and breakfast, as well as a trollop to keep my bed warm at night.”
It was Abigail’s turn to laugh. “A hundred silver drachmae, no more. And if we stop, the room and board I pay will be for myself. You meanwhile, will board in the stable with your animals. The only trollop you’ll have is your monkey.”
“Har,” Malem said.
“I’m serious,” Abigail said. “About the hundred drachmae.” She paused. “Not about the monkey.”
“Thanks for clarifying.” Malem sighed. “I’m a bit low on funds. So I’ll take it.”
“Good,” she said. She glanced at the body of Sir Matthew. “Will you help me bury him?”
Malem nodded. “As long as you’ll help me bury the others.”
She shook her head. “My journey has some urgency to it. I can’t afford to delay.”
He frowned. “But your caravan stopped at a rest area.”
“Yes, but we only intended to rest for a few hours, long enough for the horses to recover,” she said. “I certainly don’t want to stay here now, not with all these scorched wolves lying around. They’ll attract night predators for miles around.” When he didn’t answer, her expression softened. “Look, we can burn the remaining bodies before we go, if you wish. But Sir Matthew deserves the honor of a proper burial.”
“I suppose that will have to do,” he told her.
In his earlier perusal of the wagons, underneath one of them he had spotted a pair of shovels still intact, tied to some baggage, so he returned to the burned out husk of that particular vehicle and retrieved the digging implements. He tossed one to Abigail.
“By the way, there’s still some luggage under that one,” he said, pointing to the undercarriage of the wagon he’d grabbed the shovel from.
“Not mine,” she said. “Mine were on the third wagon.” She gestured to the vehicle at the rear of the group, which was little more than a charred wooden frame. “All burned away now.”
They chose a spot in the forest a little ways from the rest area and got to work.
By then, the flames had died down almost completely around them; Abigail waved a hand, and a small yet bright flame flickered into existence above the two of them, providing illumination.
He glanced at the light. “I thought you were worried about attracting night predators?”
“Too late for that now,” she said.
Malem ordered Felipe and Bounder to watch the perimeter for bandit attacks; he also kept his mind roaming the area, searching for wolves and other predators.
As he worked on the grave, a glint of metal drew his gaze to a thin band of silver jewelry around her neck that he hadn’t noticed before. It seemed almost embedded in her skin. Thin vertical strips protruded at intervals along the necklace, perpendicular to the main circle, and from the dimpling around them it was obvious they were digging in.
“You like your accessories tight, don’t you?” Malem said.
She gave him a confused look.
He pointed at his neck, and made a sliding gesture. “Seems almost like a collar, the way you wear it.”
She frowned, and returned to digging. “It is… the law.”
“The law?”
“None of us can leave, unless we don the collars,” she said.
Malem waited, but she didn’t explain more. He didn’t press the matter. He didn’t like sharing his secrets with people, either.
Abigail suddenly grimaced.
“What is it?” Malem said.
“The sweat,” Abigail said. “It’s stinging my cuts.”
“I have a healing balm,” Malem said.
“Give it to me,” she ordered.
He raised an eyebrow. “Say please.”
She frowned. “Please.”
He swung the handle of the shovel over his shoulder and recalled Bounder. When the iguanid arrived, he fetched the balm from the appropriate saddlebag and tossed it to Abigail.
“Here you go, My Lady,” he mocked.
She gave him an annoyed smile.
He dispatched Bounder back to the guard position on the perimeter and then watched Abigail open the jar. She set it down, gripped her bodice by the middle, and for a moment he thought she was going to remove her entire dress. When she noticed his eyes upon her, she changed her mind.
Instead, she knelt, dipped her fingers in the jar, and pressed them through the tears in her dress to smooth the ointment over her wounds. She made faces at the pain the application caused.
Slightly disappointed, Malem returned his attention to digging the grave. He hit a small root and spent a few moments breaking it away before continuing the hole.
“It’s grim work, grave digging,” he commented.
She merely shrugged.
“Isn’t there some work of fire you can use?” he pressed. “A flame drill or something?”
“No,” she said, without looking up.
When she was still judiciously applying the ointment a moment later, he glanced at her and said: “Hey, try not to use it all up, all right?”
She shrugged. “You can buy a new one with the money I’m paying you.”
“Yeah, about that.” He stabbed the tip of his shovel into the solid ground nearby and rested his chin on the end of the handle, first covering it with his hands. “I’d like an advance.”
She reached inside her dress and removed a small pouch from a hidden pocket. She tossed it to him.
He released the shovel and caught it; the jingle of coins reached his ears. Opening it up, he counted twenty drachmae.
“Twenty?” he said. “The same amount you originally offered me.”
“So?”
“That’s all you have, isn’t it?” he said.
“No,” she said. “I’d be stupid to give you all my road money.”
“You don’t have enough to pay me the remaining eighty, do you?” he pressed.
She seemed about to contest him, but then looked at her feet. “No. I admit it. But I’ll get more when we reach our destination!”
> He eyed her doubtfully. “From a bank?”
“Something like that,” she agreed.
Malem was about to toss the money back, but something stopped him. Because the truth was, he didn’t really have anything planned for the next few days anyway, other than running from the Darkness. And even twenty drachmae was far more than he possessed in the world at the moment. Besides, by helping her, at least he’d forget his predicament, if only for a short while.
She slid her hands behind her back and began squirming, obviously trying to get at a particularly hard to reach wound. Finally she gave up.
“Here.” She offed him the unguent. “There’s a bite on my upper back. I can’t reach it.”
He smirked. “You’re actually trusting me to lay my lowly Breaker hands on your highborn hide?”
“Try anything, I’ll light your balls on fire,” she said.
He suppressed a cocky grin as he accepted the jar. “Thanks for the warning. By the way, you’re not going to turn into a werewolf from all these wolf bites at some point, are you?”
She smiled patiently. “Hardly.”
“Good. Because the last thing we need is a fire wolf running around these parts.” He waited, but when she didn’t laugh, he added: “It was a joke.”
“I don’t get Breaker humor,” she said.
He sighed. “No one does.” He went around behind her and found the wound in question. He applied balm to the broken skin, and she flinched. When he had the damage covered, he took a little more unguent and spread the cooling liquid around the outlying area, reaching through the rip in her dress to spread it across her smooth skin. He could almost feel an intangible electricity passing back and forth between his fingertips and her back as he did so, and he couldn’t help a sudden arousal.
“That’s good enough,” she said, pulling away from him.
“Sometimes it helps the healing process to cover the area around the wound,” he lied.
“Uh huh,” she said, unimpressed.
He pocketed the jar and the two returned to finish the grave. There were more roots they had to break through, though most were small, thankfully. Still, Malem felt a little ashamed about that, considering he had chosen the dig spot. He was the seasoned outdoorsman after all, and he should have known better.
“What’s a dire wolf doing this far east anyway?” he said.
“The war has reached the western edge of the Midweald,” she said. “The wolf and its brothers were driven here by the fighting, no doubt. That, and starvation: the huntsmen of the defending army slaughter all the elk and wild boar to feed their ranks.”
“Why didn’t the wolves give up though?” Malem said. “Why did they keep attacking you? Wolves don’t act like that. And what about the dire wolf? I’ve never seen a beast strike so relentlessly. It was on fire. It knew it was going to die. And still it kept— on— attacking.” He drew out the latter words for emphasis.
She shrugged. “Hunger can drive even the strongest insane.”
Malem continued digging, and he shook his head as he pondered her words. “The war. They’ve been fighting for five years.”
“And they will fight for another five,” she said. “Maybe longer. I hate to say it, but the defenders are slowly losing ground against Lord Vorgon. If they’re not careful, Vorgon will eventually crown himself king of the known world. All will kneel before him in terror, and these lands will teem with monsters from nightmares. Already most of the west has fallen, and evil beasts roam the empty cities.”
He shook his head. “I can’t believe the world will fall to a Balor. A creature from the underworld.”
“If good men and women do nothing, it will.” She gazed at him for a moment, her expression unreadable. “You should fight.”
He shook his head. “I’m not much of a fighter. Never was.”
“You’re wrong,” she said. “You can make a difference. I’ve never seen a Breaker with your skill. An ordinary man of that discipline can control animals. But you... you’re different. You can Break monsters.”
“I’m not sure I’d consider a dire wolf a monster,” Malem said.
Abigail lowered her shovel. “You saw its size. That was a monster. A lower level perhaps, but still a monster. And you tamed it.”
Malem chuckled softly. “I’d hardly call that taming. I merely froze it.”
“Even so, that’s more than an ordinary Breaker could ever do,” Abigail told him. “So like I said, you should fight.”
Malem lowered his eyes, concentrated on the grave he was digging. “I don’t participate in the wars of men.”
“I’m surprised you’ve been able to avoid the draft for so long,” Abigail said. “You are of the appropriate age.”
“I’m a citizen of no land,” Malem said. “My home is the wilderness. As far as the town registries go, I don’t even exist.”
Abigail gave him a considering look. “So you’re a bandit, then.”
Malem returned her look coldly. “Bandit? No. I’m not the sort of person to prey upon my own kind.”
“So why don’t you participate in the war?” Abigail said. “Not helping is the same as preying upon your own kind.”
“I can’t.” He paused, gazing into the trees. “If I went to the front lines, many men would die because of me. It might be one week. It might be two. It might be six months. But eventually, they would die.”
She gave him a confused look. “Why?”
He merely shook his head.
Thankfully she didn’t press the matter. She would let him keep his secrets, just as he allowed Abigail hers.
With the grave complete, the pair went to the body of Sir Matthew. Malem was going to suggest stripping him of his armor first, to reduce his weight, but was surprised when Abigail simply knelt and hoisted her end with no apparent difficultly at all.
Strong woman.
Then again, she had probably relied upon some sort of magic to temporarily boost her strength. She was a fire mage, after all.
Between them, they carried the body of Sir Matthew to the site and then gently lowered him inside.
“It seems a pity to waste that armor,” Malem said. “Even though it’s two sizes too small for me, we could still sell it for a profit in the city.”
She gave him a steely look. “We bury him with his armor.”
He shrugged. “All right.”
They proceeded to cover him with dirt.
When that was done, Abigail marked the grave with a small cairn of stones. She made a gesture and a ring of flame promptly surrounded the earth where the fighter rested.
Malem stepped back nervously, but the fire retreated as quickly as it came.
Abigail noticed his questioning look.
“A trap,” she said. “Against looters.”
They piled the remaining bodies into the lead wagon at the rest area, which had survived the flames mostly intact—save for the canvas, which had seared away—and then tossed pieces torn from the burned husks of the other vehicles on top until they had formed a pyre.
Abigail lifted her hands.
“Wait.” Malem went forward and searched the baggage of the undercarriage.
“Speaking of looters...” she commented.
He ignored her and continued searching. “They won’t need this stuff anymore.” There wasn’t anything of value in the baggage however, except for a few silks he could have probably resold at some point—hardly worth the trouble of weighing down his iguanid.
“Can we go yet?” she snapped.
He chuckled reflexively at her tone. “Yes, My Lady,” he mocked.
As soon as he stepped back Abigail launched several fireballs at the wagon, igniting it in an obvious rage.
“Well, that was overkill,” he commented.
She gave him a cool look and for a moment he thought she might release one of those fireballs at him. But then she smoothed her frazzled hair, produced a new bonnet from somewhere inside her dress and placed it on her head.
&n
bsp; He recalled Bounder and Felipe. At first the monkey assumed its customary position on his shoulder, but the flames frightened Felipe, and the animal opted instead to crawl into his collar and stick its head out.
“Cute,” Abigail said.
Malem instructed Bounder to kneel, then he helped Abigail into the saddle. The seat wasn’t really designed to hold a passenger, so once she was in place, Malem had to squeeze in front of her to fit.
As the iguanid stood again, Abigail wrapped her arms around his hips. He could feel her warm breath on his neck, and her breasts pressing into his back. Definitely a good feeling.
“Well?” she said.
He turned Bounder around and spurred him onto the small trail that led from the rest area to the main road.
The floating ball of fire followed them, continuing to provide illumination overhead.
“Put out your flame,” Malem said.
“But—” she protested.
“Do it.”
The flame went out, casting the land in darkness.
He activated his night vision and turned onto the main road, where he had Bounder switch to a gallop. He bestowed his sight to both animals.
“How can you navigate in this?” she said, her lips close to his ear, allowing him to hear her above the thumping footfalls. He liked the sound of her voice so close.
He swiveled his head slightly toward her so that she could hear him in turn. “I can see.”
And so he rode on, relishing in the press of her body against his.
It’s going to be a good night.
6
They rode until morning, and Malem paused beside a small river that passed near the road so that he, Abigail and the animals could drink. He shared some of the leftover hare meat he had salted earlier with Abigail. Bounder and Felipe gave him longing looks, and he tossed them the final pieces. Bounder swallowed the meat and then returned to the river.
Abigail watched the lizard drink. “You know, if you have friends among the Tempests, you really should tell me. I have contacts in the Defenders. Between the two of us, we might be able to arrange an audience between the two sides. The Defenders could certainly use the martensite steel and composite horse bows of the Tempests, along with the strong arms to wield them. And we share a common enemy: once Vorgon conquers these lands, he’ll head south next.”