by Ben Wolf
“I totally agree.” Aeron considered his plan if anyone were to attack. He’d learned to trust Mehta in most cases by now, but a huge part of him still hoped Mehta was wrong. “If this goes sideways, I’ll blow the Wafer whistle to get him down here.”
“Good,” Mehta said. “Just don’t get yourself killed in the process.”
Aeron nodded. “I don’t plan on it.”
With Kallie and the others still sleeping, Aeron and Mehta snuck out the back of the house and went in opposite directions. Aeron threaded between houses, other buildings, and trees along the northern border of the village, steadily creeping down to the center of the village.
Snow crunched under his boots with every step, and Aeron checked his surroundings for anything that might confirm Mehta’s suspicions. He didn’t see anyone or anything lurking in the long morning shadows of the trees, but that didn’t mean the threat was any less real.
As he progressed, he searched for Wafer through their bond, now faint and distant. Aeron could feel that Wafer was close enough to hear the Wafer whistle, but he was too far away for Aeron to urge him to come closer through the bond.
If Aeron had to call for Wafer, his arrival would frighten the villagers again, and it would certainly attract plenty of attention. If Mehta was right, the sight of Wafer arriving would quickly give away Aeron’s position.
By the time Aeron reached a position due north of the village square, he’d realized he hadn’t taken a shroom that morning. His back wasn’t hurting yet, but if a fight ensued, it would aggravate fast. He could manage it better if he were riding Wafer, but he still should’ve taken one before he’d left the house.
Aeron had no way of knowing whether or not Mehta had found a favorable position yet, but Mehta was better at sneaking around than he was, so he was probably all set and waiting for Aeron to make himself known.
With nothing to gain by waiting around, Aeron stepped out from behind a building and some trees and walked into the center of the village, totally alone.
Garrick stared down at the village from among the pine trees. Kent stood to his right, Falna stood to his left, and Lord Valdis’s men flanked the three of them, six on each side.
Down on the village’s main thoroughfare, paved with ancient cobblestones, stood Aeron. That meant Mehta had to be nearby as well.
But Aeron was just standing there, alone in the village square, scanning the surrounding trees. The villagers must’ve caught sight of them first because they’d fled the streets before Aeron even got there. That was probably what gave it away to Aeron.
Someone had been careless and exposed them, or that someone had found a way to warn the village first.
Garrick eyed Kent, but Kent matched his stare without even a hint of malice or regret. Either Kent hadn’t warned them or he was doing a killer job of bluffing.
“Friend of yours?” Falna’s words oozed like honey, but extra sweet. Sickeningly sweet.
Garrick didn’t reply. At least now that they’d reached the village, he didn’t have to respond to her harassment anymore.
“You should recognize him,” Kent said. “You nearly incinerated him in his parents’ home back in Govalia.”
“Huh.” Falna squinted. “Now that you mention it, I guess that teal armor does look familiar.”
To Garrick’s surprise, the sight of Aeron standing there didn’t infuriate him nearly as much as he’d expected. Over the last week, his rage at Aeron and Mehta had fizzled. In the end, they were all just doing what they had to do to survive—Garrick included.
By comparison, when Noraff and Phesnos had betrayed Garrick, he’d raged at them but couldn’t do anything about it. Noraff had driven a mage steel knife into Garrick’s gut and nearly killed him. Their betrayal gnawed at Garrick to this day.
But the question Kent had asked at the end of that first day of travel gnawed at Garrick more, and it had nested in his mind ever since.
What are you doing here?
The truth was, Lord Valdis’s wrath motivated Garrick more than anything else. He couldn’t fail. If he did, his reputation wouldn’t matter, because his life would be over.
And now, a few hundred feet from fulfilling his objective, Garrick was ready to put this whole debacle to an end.
“They know we’re coming. Surprise no longer matters.” He drew the phantom steel battle-axe and flail from his hips, and their dark power oozed into his hands. “Let’s go.”
As Garrick took his first step toward the village, Falna crooned, “Ooooh, I like a decisive man.”
It took everything within him not to whirl around and whip the flail at her stupid, blonde head. Instead, he took another step, then another.
Steel sang behind him, as did the crackling of flames—Falna’s arcane steel sword igniting, no doubt. But Garrick was leading them, not Falna, and not Kent. He was out ahead, bringing the fight to the village, to his former partners—his former friends.
As Garrick, Kent, Falna, and Lord Valdis’s men descended into the village, Aeron stood his ground in the center of the cobblestone street, watching their approach. Then Aeron put his wyvern tooth whistle to his mouth and blew.
If Mehta showed up, it would be three against fifteen, with one of those three being a wyvern.
From an outsider’s perspective, Garrick, Kent, and the others looked to have the advantage. But Garrick had squared off against both Aeron and Mehta before, and he’d fought alongside them, too. Garrick had the numbers, but numbers alone didn’t ensure victory, and he wasn’t entirely sure how much he could count on Kent to help, either.
He stopped about twenty feet from Aeron, and Kent, Falna, and Lord Valdis’s soldiers caught up to him soon after. Each of the soldiers held weapons of their own choosing—swords, lances, spears, and two of them wielded axes.
At the same time, Wafer swooped down and buffeted the cobblestone street with his massive wings. He touched down next to Aeron, who mounted Wafer in a quick, fluid motion.
Wafer released a low, threatening hiss and locked his golden eyes onto Garrick.
Nice to see you again, too, you scaly brute, Garrick mused. Then again, Wafer had never liked him, so his reaction didn’t surprise Garrick.
“My name is Falna,” she called out. This time her voice didn’t have its usual patronizing tone. “Where’s the girl?”
“Long gone,” Aeron replied, scowling, mostly alternating between Falna and Kent more than at Garrick. “You’re about six days too late.”
Even though it was an obvious lie, part of Garrick hoped it wasn’t. An even larger part of him hoped Falna would believe it, give up, and return to Lord Valdis as he once had: as a failure.
But he already knew Aeron would never entrust his sister to anyone else, not after what had happened. He’d do everything within his power to keep her safe, even if it was as dumb as facing down a dark lord and his personal guards to do it.
Instead, Falna just laughed. “No chance of that being true. I saw how you fought for her. You tried to stop me from taking her once, but I’m prepared to offer you a choice this time.”
Garrick watched Aeron’s face. It stayed stone still, hard and somber. As they’d traveled together, Aeron’s confidence always increased whenever he faced challenges atop Wafer. That was true now, as well.
“Hand her over, and I’ll let you leave, free and clear,” Falna offered. “I can’t speak for what Garrick intends to do with you, but my only mission is to bring back the girl. Give her to me, and I’ll take these soldiers and go.”
Aeron looked at Kent. “You agreed to this?”
“Consider me a neutral party,” Kent replied.
“Not good enough.” Aeron shook his head. “You can’t just turn to stone whenever things get too hard. You were neutral last time. You gotta make a choice.”
“I already have, Aeron,” Kent said. “I am only here to ensure that no harm comes to Garrick. I swore that I would help protect him.”
“Protecting him means you’re siding with
him,” Aeron said. “Against me. I thought we were friends.”
Wafer snorted, and his ire shifted from Garrick to Kent.
“We are.” Kent held up his hands as if to reassure Aeron—and possibly Wafer, too. “I promise everything will be explained once—”
“My offer has an expiration,” Falna added. “Bring out the girl now, and—”
“Save your breath,” Aeron interrupted. “She’s not here, and I’m not telling you where she went, so you can take your offer, wrap it in rancid dog meat, and choke on it like the whore you are.”
Falna paused for a moment. Her expression shifted to one Garrick had seen countless times on the faces of other women.
Her mouth opened slightly. Her eyes narrowed just enough to be menacing. Her head tilted to the side. And one corner of her mouth curled up, almost as if she were amused.
It was one part shock, one part offended, and one hundred percent rage.
And it was more alarming to Garrick than seeing her wreathed in fire, with blackened skin around the edges of her burning red eyes, like she’d looked back in the pub in Etrijan.
“You’ve got a lot of nerve, talking to a lady like that,” she said in a voice forced to calmness.
“I don’t talk to ladies like that,” Aeron fired back. “But fire-worshiping, fanatical, maggot-brained idiots? Yeah. That’s how I talk to them.”
Garrick couldn’t help but smirk.
Falna cursed Aeron loudly and openly. Then she ordered, “Four of you, search the town. Kill anyone who resists. The rest, kill the boy and his lizard.”
Chapter Six
When the soldiers started toward Aeron and Wafer, Mehta wondered once more why he’d chosen to keep using the knives he’d taken from his days as a Xyonate. He could’ve used any number of larger, longer weapons instead, but he didn’t.
He emerged from the shadow of one of the buildings into the town square with the knives brandished. The time for sneaking around was done; he had to help Aeron.
The moment he stepped into the open, Garrick pointed at him and called, “There’s the other one. He’s quick, so watch out.”
Four of the soldiers broke away from Aeron and Wafer and started toward Mehta.
Yet again, Mehta was facing down multiple opponents, each with longer-ranged weapons than his knives. Perhaps, if such encounters were to continue happening, he ought to pick up an alternate type of weapon—something with a bit more reach.
But as he considered it, he relished in how natural the knives felt in his hands. They were a part of him, a lethal extension of his physical form, and he had mastered their use in every conceivable way.
He would prove that to himself again today.
As the first of the soldiers approached their position, Mehta’s thirst awakened within. The soldiers’ blood called to him to set it free, to spill it across the cobblestone street.
And he would gladly oblige.
A soldier wielding a spear reached Mehta first.
The soldier tensed to lunge, and Mehta hurled one of his knives at his face. The throw went lower than he’d planned, but the knife still plunged into the soldier’s throat.
The soldier’s spear still lunged, but it was a half-hearted, wide-eyed attempt and easily avoided. He let go of the spear with one hand to clutch at the knife in his throat, and Mehta grabbed the spear shaft and yanked it toward him.
The soldier stumbled forward, and Mehta drove his other knife into the soldier’s armpit, where there was no armor but rather a nest of veins and arteries. Then Mehta yanked both his knives from the soldier’s body, and the soldier dropped to the street, writhing in a quickly growing pool of blood.
Mehta’s thirst drank in the soldier’s death and cried out for more. He hadn’t sifted anyone since battling Lord Valdis’s soldiers at Valdis Keep. Over the week since then, Mehta’s thirst had partnered with his paranoia to vex him all the more.
The arrival of Garrick, Kent, and the soldiers had both satisfied and stanched his paranoia—he’d been right all along. And now, sifting one of these soldiers had fed his thirst.
But as always, the thirst returned, this time stronger as it begged for more blood. At least there were several more soldiers around to sate it.
…except that the other soldiers had stopped their approach as Mehta sifted their comrade in quick, brutal fashion.
Mehta didn’t blame them. He, too, had faced Xyonates before, and it had cost him something every time.
Instead of pursuing him, the three other soldiers turned toward Aeron and Wafer. Their rationale made little sense to Mehta; how much better could they possibly fare against an airborne warrior riding a flying, carnivorous beast?
Rather than pursuing them into the battle, Mehta opted to follow the four soldiers who’d ventured into the village to search for Kallie. None of them had headed toward Mehta’s family home yet, but the village was small. They’d find it eventually.
Unless he stopped them first.
Aeron and Wafer will have to manage on their own.
He followed the nearest one into the village.
As Mehta vanished into the surrounding buildings, and as the soldiers moved to engage Aeron and Wafer, Kent stayed where he was. Neither Falna nor Garrick had moved, either.
Then Falna turned and glared at them both, in turn. “What are you waiting for?”
Garrick’s eyes met Kent’s, then he grunted, drew his phantom steel weapons, and started forward.
Kent still didn’t move. He’d already decided he wouldn’t engage Aeron in battle, and Mehta had left the vicinity, so there wasn’t much else for him to do.
“Is there a problem?” Falna glowered at him with her hands on her armored hips.
“None whatsoever,” Kent replied.
“Then get out there.”
“Ladies first.” Kent motioned toward the battle with his hand.
She drew one of her arcane steel swords. It ignited with fire and blazed so hot that Kent could feel its warmth even from several steps away. “You’re good-looking, and I like you, but if you don’t get out there and wreak some havoc, we’re gonna have a repeat of the first time we met.”
It wasn’t even a hard choice for Kent. He refused to fight Aeron, and he refused to help Falna locate Kallie.
He’d also promised to protect Garrick, but with the majority of Lord Valdis’s soldiers facing down Aeron as well, Garrick would be fine. Plus, if Kent could defeat Falna, then he would be protecting Garrick in the long run as well.
So he squared himself with Falna and said, “I assure you, it will not be a repeat.”
“I should’ve known your heart wasn’t in it.” She frowned, then her lips curled up into a menacing smiled as she stalked closer to him. “And here I thought something was beginning to kindle between us.”
“On the contrary, I have long preferred to keep a reasonable distance from you, both physically and metaphorically,” Kent said.
“Aw…” Falna twirled the sword in her right hand, and as she did, she took some of its fire into her left. It burned in her palm as a mix of orange and blue flames. “You should’ve stayed on our side. I would’ve loved to keep you warm at night.”
“Based on our previous encounter, you could say I have been burned one too many times already.” Kent retrieved a stone from one of his pouches. Given the cobblestone street, he had ample resources to draw from for this confrontation. “And I am afraid your desires will go unfulfilled across multiple fronts today.”
Falna sighed, still grinning. “Such a waste. Well, suit yourself, handsome.”
Then her eyes glowed red, ignited with fire, and she hurled a fireball at him with her left hand.
Rather than engaging his magic, Kent simply dodged the fireball. It scorched past him, sizzled through the air, and hit the center of a pine tree behind him. Its branches burst into flames and hissed as snow evaporated into clouds of white steam.
But it could’ve hit someone’s home just as easily, and if that pi
ne tree continued to burn unhindered, it might topple onto one of three wooden domiciles nearby.
Kent couldn’t let Falna throw fire recklessly. Someone would get hurt—or she might ignite the building where Mehta and Aeron had stashed Kallie, whichever one it was.
Kent flooded the stone in his hand with magic and summoned the cobblestones from the street to do his bidding. And this time, his hand wasn’t horribly and freshly burned. This time, the fight would go differently.
Stones all around them lifted from the street and floated toward Kent.
Falna grinned, looking especially insidious with the charred skin all around her burning eyes. “I know you’re old, but it’s a bit archaic even for you, to stone a woman just because she doesn’t agree with you.”
“I would never advocate for stoning any woman unless she had committed a heinous crime.” Kent brought his hands together, and the stones formed a multi-layered shield in front of him. “Kidnapping a young woman to be used as a cult sacrifice certainly qualifies.”
Falna cackled and flung more fire at him.
His rock shield caught it all, but Falna kept blasting, pouring vast amounts of her magic into the attack. Within seconds, tongues of fire flickered between the rocks, and the shield turned brilliant red-orange as the stones began to melt.
Kent had survived the Crimson Flame’s fire magic before, but he’d never encountered any this strong—she seemed even stronger than when they’d battled back at Aeron’s house in Govaliston.
He continued feeding the shield with new cobblestones from the back to reinforce it as the fire kept melting the front. All the while, he slowly walked back to try to maintain his distance from Falna.
Globs of melted rock oozed from the shield and hissed as they hit the damp earth and stones where the street had once been. The idea that he’d torn up the street only to poorly repave it with the same molten stones teased at his sensibilities, but now was not the time to consider city planning.