clothes move. His hair stood on end. He tried to struggle.
“Just stay still.” He blinked. “This will only take…” He began to fade. His head was killing him. Such pain. “…there?” What was she talking about? He couldn’t hear her.
“Jus’ le’ ‘er go lad.” Old Grommy said. “Ta sle’p is divine!” The old man laughed. “Ye ‘ought ta ‘ave been with us alre’dy see? Now… now…”
Drunk as usual. When the old man was drinking, he became much harder to understand. And that was saying something.
Wait…can the dead get drunk? How is that possible?
“’ey! W’hen I ter….wer… ye didn’ not see ter…” Whatever the old man was saying, it was quickly lost in his garbled drunk speak.
“As opposed to his normal, easily understood tongue?” Mayla laughed.
He would have laughed if he could have. Instead…
“Sleep.” One of them commanded. The tart? His friends? He didn’t know. Didn’t care.
Don’t mind if I do.
11
When he came to this time, it was under a strange, comforting feeling. He had been dreaming. Again. A place of warm blues. Soft hands and gentle whispers keeping the pain away, healing his body.
Healing his mind?
He didn’t want to leave. Such a safe, warm place. No more fighting. Finally. Finally…no more fighting. But, like all dreams, it ended.
He kept his eyes closed as he felt the heat on his face. It was so warm. Like the sun. Probably was the sun. He also felt… a tickle. He opened his eyes at that.
The little brat had his head cradled in her lap. She was stroking his hair aside as she looked around her, keeping a vigil for any other attacks. The tickle was her hair, back to its normal strawberry red. Lengths of it kept touching his face as she looked around.
His first thought was to punch her in the face.
That can’t be right. What’s wrong with me? Oh…right. I’m a black, bleak thing. According to her.
He mentally snorted at that.
Yet here she is, tending me like I’m a babe. Bah.
“Awake?” She asked.
“Yes.”
“Those were a mated pair of catkin. Do you have them here?”
Catkin? “No.”
She continued stroked his hair, running her fingers through it. He could feel his scalp tingling. Was she using magic? “I didn’t think so. I wasn’t sure. Both males. Both magic. Both deadly. What a duel they must have had when they were paired. To be mated, there is always a fight. From what I saw, they seemed pretty deadly. I’m assuming the other was killed in the river?”
He grunted. That was a yes.
“I can’t believe…” she talked on in her own tongue for a few before looking down into his face. She blinked. A small smile touched the corners of her lips. “You like this?”
I do. Gods, more than you can imagine.
It had been a long time since anyone had touched him like that. Touched him without wanting to kill him.
“You do.” She giggled.
Giggled?
Her smile remained. “I can see it. Here.” She cupped his face in both hands, leaning down quickly to kiss his forehead.
I–
Her lips burned where they touched. Not in a painful way. Just… strange. He blinked at her. Her eyes were filled with laughter.
“You’re lucky you survived that.” Her face darkened a bit as her eyes traveled over his body. “That poison they use is very effective. When a mated pair of catkin are sent for you, you know your days are numbered. Not only are they magic, they can cancel magic. Eat it right up. And their speed? Goodness.”
“I noticed.”
She stared at him, face unreadable. “So you did. So you did.” She chewed on her lower lip, thinking, finally she just asked. “Can you use magic?”
“No. No one here can.”
She leaned closer to his face. She was still absently combing his hair back. “So you say, yet what I saw…what I saw was much faster than any normal human should have been able to react. If not magic…”
“A warrior’s trance.” He shrugged. “Warrior’s state of mind. A warrior’s place within himself. Goes by many names, some fancy, some not. In the end, it is the same thing. It costs dearly to use it, but some of us just slip in and out at will.”
And I have the massive headache to go with…wait. I don’t have a headache at all.
“Onsho spoke of something like this. He was fast…well, not as fast as Nilah but…but he was fast. Still, both of them were nothing compared to what you did. I saw. I’ve seen it twice now. I don’t understand how it’s not magic.”
He frowned in thought. The warrior’s trance was different for everyone. It was true that he had encountered few that could move faster than he could, but he had encountered them. “Not everyone can do it. Neither are they the same…same…” What words fit?
“Speed? Quality? Grace?” She added helpfully. He sighed, nodding. Those were as good as any words he could find.
“No different than art. Everyone can make art if they are trained, yet not everyone is a master craftsman at it.”
She nodded at this. She looked up sharply as a caw cried out in the distance. He felt a strange sense of something…reaching…out from her. Seeking. When it returned, she relaxed.
It sounds like madness but I think that was her magic searching out for danger. What is this young thing?
He would have backed away if he could have but…damn it all…her lap, her fingers, it was so comforting. Healing. Something inside him longed for this. Longed to be home.
Home?
What was home to an orphan such as he?
“I take it you excel at this…warrior thing?”
“Yes.”
She tilted her head as she looked into his eyes. “A master at death. Is that why you are alone and your friends are gone?” He felt his face start to get heavy. Literally. A frown was forming and he knew it. “You were better than they and so, you are alone? So alone.”
He pushed her hands away, sitting up. Yes. Yes that was the truth. They always seemed to fall. Always seemed to die. Always left him alone. In the end.
In the end I’m always alone. In the end I’m alone. Cold. Alone.
So alone…
“Because they are weak, you are alone.”
He spun on her, fist raised, snarl on his lips. She turned her cheek slightly, waiting for the blow. A blow he did not deliver.
The little bitch deserves it! Why can’t I…
She watched him, her eyes told him she knew he wanted to hit her. Expected it. When he did not, something flickered there. Some inner knowledge that just looked unsettling on one so young.
How old are you, tart? There is far more in those eyes of yours, far more in this feeling around you. How old?
He stood up, limping a short distance to the river’s edge. He dropped to his knees to dunk his head into the water. It was cold. Ice cold. That wasn’t…
“Hello there.” The little sprite whispered. Its voice was ice, freezing his brain as it ran through his head.
He couldn’t move. He was completely frozen. The naked little creature held him effortlessly. Humans had lost their touch with magic, so had most humanoids. Apparently, this little sprite was still capable of magic.
Damn.
He instantly regained his calm. If this creature wanted, it could easily end him.
“I won’t do that!” It giggled as it swirled its little hands through his hair. “I followed the catkin to Gennifer. I wanted to see how it was going.” The creature pulled back, placing its hands on its hips as it stared at him. “I see it goes… well enough.” Moving in very close, the little creature reached out and touched his eye.
It didn’t hurt but, well, it’s not often one has a small human like hand on their eyeball.
“Protect her brute. Know that nature’s children are with her. With the girl. We will help her. Here.” The sprite pushed the little ha
nd into his eye. Magic was being used here, otherwise he knew this would be excruciating.
The world flared white, then he was free.
He pulled his head from the water, coughing. The tart was holding the catkin’s spear, examining it. She looked up as she heard his cough. She hurried towards him.
Great. I still need a drink.
Looking carefully for the little sprite, he cupped water to his mouth a few times while he could.
There! He pulled back just as it reached for him. The little sprite frowned, spun a few times, slowed down, locked his eyes and began motioning him down.
Why the hells not?
He dunked his head back into the water. It grew icy cold around him again. The sprite smiled. “That was a gift from the Source.”
I don’t want any–
“Doesn’t matter what you want brute, the Source has chosen and you will be her guide.” The little sprite twirled in the water, glittering like the fish that swarmed around it. “You and she shall make it, we are all counting on you. And, if you shall fail her, we shall seek vengeance.”
Do your worst runt! I’ve had just about–
“Help her and help yourself brute. When have you ever heard a water sprite lie? Eh? Exactly.” With a smile, the little sprite planted a strange little kiss on his stunned face. “That’s from me! For luck.” Then it was gone. Quick as that. A silver flash, then nothing.
Was it…female? Male?
He lifted his head slowly, the water bringing his hair over his eyes. He stayed like that, looking at his dark reflection, thinking on what had happened in such short time.
“They cancel magic.” The tart held the spear tip down in front of his face. “Why couldn’t they stop you?”
“It’s not–”
“Magic I know. You don’t do magic. I know.” The spear vanished
The Source Page 10