by M. D. Grimm
“We will not hold you.” Brelyn shrugged. “But I must ask, who were you tracking that they could leave you, a mage, in such a state?”
I didn’t fidget but I clasped my hands behind my back to make sure I didn’t give any tells. His eyes were killer, staring at me, interrogating me.
“Another mage.” I figured if I stuck as close to the truth as possible, they couldn’t detect a lie. I didn’t intimidate easily, but Brelyn had an undeniable presence. Plus, I was actually talking to the parents of the dialen who I brought to ecstasy on a regular basis; who I knew with striking intimacy. It was certainly awkward, for me at least. “She stole something of mine. I want it back.”
“Perhaps we can assist you,” Nunya said. “We can’t have a thief mage causing mischief so close to our camp.”
It struck me hard then—I really was talking to my mate’s parents. I was talking to creatures who would be murdered. Massacred by a power-hungry bastard with no conscience or morals—one whose only desire was for Rambujek, the ruby of war. And even as I thought of that cursed stone, I sensed a vibration in the air. It was so subtle I could have easily missed it, but it was there, a soft, muffled voice speaking to me. My eyes followed the source of the vibration, coming to rest on Brelyn. His chest, more specifically. I then noticed the leather band around his neck, one that descended into his tunic. There was a small bulge under the material, a pouch of some kind, I guessed. That was where the voice was coming from, trying to sing to me. My eyes widened.
I wasn’t very covert with my stare and both dialen noticed. Brelyn tensed and his hand moved to the short sword at his waist. Nunya took a discrete step to the side, her own hand going to a dagger belted at her waist. I closed my eyes and raised my hands in a peaceful gesture, palms facing the dialen.
“I mean you no harm. Nor do I mean to harm your tribe.” I opened my eyes, staring directly into Brelyn’s. “You must know the intimate connection mages have with the Pferun Dulleriin.” I kept my voice low, so that it didn’t carry outside the tent. “I can hear her voice, but I have no desire for her. What’s yours is yours. I will leave immediately, and you will never see me again.”
Brelyn considered me, his hand still on the hilt of his sword. The tension was thick, heavy. My mouth was dry again. Then the chief broke our staring contest and glanced at Nunya, and a look passed between them. Both took their hands off their weapons, and I let out the breath I’d been unconsciously holding. I desperately did not want to fight this tribe.
“Aishe would not have brought him here if he sensed dark intentions,” Nunya said softly to Brelyn.
The chief frowned. “Aishe’s gift is not always reliable.”
I knew the “gift” they were talking about. The name “Aishe” even meant “one who sees.” My mate told me his mother named him after she’d received visions from the Mother.
“I have no dark intentions toward your tribe,” I said. They both looked at me. “My only intention is to get what’s mine and to punish the thief. I swear upon the Mother and my magick.”
Such oaths held power in my world since swearing on the Mother, on my own magick, bound me to my words. There would be repercussions if I broke the oath: my magick would be diminished—not by much, but it could mean the difference between walking away from a battle and joining the Mother. More of the tension left. Most of it, in fact.
Nunya smiled at me. “You must eat something before you leave. You are our guest. What sort of hosts would we be if we let you leave now?”
Even as I started to resist, Brelyn nodded. “Well said, my love. You need your strength. The sickness laid you low.”
I couldn’t argue with that. I sighed inwardly, but I only smiled at them. Who was I to throw their kindness back in their faces? I was incredibly hungry.
“Aishe!” Nunya called out. But not too loudly.
I heard a strange noise outside the tent, then Aishe, his head bowed, entered. His arms were straight at his sides, his hands clenched into fists. I blinked. Had he been there the entire time? Had he been spying on us? How much had he heard? The blush of embarrassment on his face proved my suspicions true. For some reason, I wanted to laugh. I swallowed the impulse.
“Aishe,” Nunya said, as if not noticing his indiscretion. “Tell Lynor to fix something for Morgorth.”
Aishe nodded.
“And we’ll talk later,” Brelyn said, his voice hard. Aishe hunched his shoulders slightly. Oddly, though, it wasn’t in fear, so much as shame. But was it shame of doing the spying or getting caught? I suspected the latter.
“You must forgive him,” Nunya said, after Aishe left. “You are quite the curiosity around here. And Aishe can’t stop talking about you.” Her eyes twinkled.
I shrugged. “I don’t hold it against him.” How could I? He was just a kid.
Nunya smiled. I could see she’d given her beaming smile to her children. “Thank you.”
***
The meal was amazing: succulent meat, fluffy rolls, crisp vegetables, and strong wine. It was a struggle not to wolf it all down, but I managed to practice some manners, since I ate with Nunya and Brelyn. They conversed mostly with themselves, I just listened. Most of their talk was about their children. Eulun, Wyn, Fray—Aishe’s brothers. Then there was Amyla and Aishe himself. Despite not growing up in a particularly happy and healthy home, I could still see and observe the happiness of others, and understand it to some extent. I could hear the love and adoration in their voices as they spoke of their children, the product of their love.
Envy was an evil little beast that gnawed in my gut. I shoved more food into my mouth, telling myself to be grateful Aishe had been brought up in such an environment. It was because of him I understood love and trust, and could give and take both in equal measure. And Brelyn and Nunya made it possible for him to show me.
I truly owed them a debt I could never repay.
Once I finished my meal, I knew I had to leave. “Thank you for everything.”
I traded grips with Brelyn, his grip strong but controlled. I met his eyes, never flinching. I held out my hand to Nunya but she smiled, shook her head, and wrapped her soft arms around my shoulders. I froze. Her touch was light, but firm. Her scent filled my nose and I suddenly thought of flowery meadows, the bright sun, and a calm, babbling brook.
“Thank you,” she whispered close to my ear. “Thank you for saving my baby.”
My arms shook as I finally wrapped them loosely around her waist. I had to squeeze my eyes tightly shut to keep my emotions under control. Her voice had trembled, ever so slightly, when she’d said “my baby.” Her youngest son, nearly an adult, and she still saw him as her baby.
It was suddenly hard to breathe. My chest felt constricted as I pulled away, and her eyes shone when she met mine again. I nodded mutely, still struggling. I left their tent, striding purposefully toward the outskirts of the camp, and I barely resisted the urge to run. Anger, mixed with grief, mixed with sadness, sat on my chest like dead weight, where it squashed my lungs. I panted, trying to get more air, unsuccessful. I staggered at the tree line, shooting my hand out to grip a trunk. Then my legs collapsed, and I fell to my knees, my hands keeping me from falling on my face. Sweat formed, my stomach began to rebel against the food I’d eaten.
By the Mother, was this a panic attack?
I fought the nausea, bowing my head. I forced my mind to magick, to all the things I knew: spells, cyrses, enchantments, potions. I thought about technique, channeling elemental magick, my training with Master Ulezander. I thought about Geheimnis, my fortress home, one I’d built with my own sweat and blood. I thought of the enchantments I’d created inside her, the deadly vines on the outside walls, the stone gargoyles that patrolled the skies around her. I thought of my dark forest, Vorgoroth, and the wichtln that called the place home. Calming, I managed to sit back on my heels, facing the sky. Okay, mage. Get it together!
The dialen had given me a canteen of water and now I took a couple of sips. This was not
beyond my control. It couldn’t be. I had to get home.
“Are you all right?”
I jerked, nearly choked. Tapping the canteen top back in place, then hooking it to my belt, I glanced over my shoulder. Aishe. Of course.
“Fine.” I stood, turned.
He frowned heavily. “You were just going to leave. No goodbyes. Nothing.”
I raised an eyebrow. I suddenly, acutely remembered a conversation I’d overheard between Aishe and another dialen, months ago, when I first met him. He’d spoken of his love for me, about the first time we’d ever met. I’d been thrown by that revelation, never able to recover that memory of our supposed first meeting. Apparently, this was what he had been talking about.
I could only stare for a moment, stunned. Why hadn’t he ever told me? I was pissed he’d kept this a secret from me, but he had to have a reason. He always had a reason for everything he did.
“Aishe,” I said gently. “I need to leave. I have business to take care of. You overheard enough, you know that.”
He blushed a little but met my eyes while his own held the stubbornness of youth. “But you’re not fully healed,” he said, insistent. “I saw you collapse. You’ll relapse. What if you’re alone when you do?”
He was so damn cute. His words did a lot to banish the last dregs of the panic attack. Shit, he even put a strange, warm fuzzy feeling under my heart. On impulse, I reached over and ruffled his hair. It was smooth, silky. “I’m a mage, lad. Don’t forget that.” Then I turned and walked down the trail.
“I can help!” he yelled, running after me.
I frowned. By Creation’s Light, he was determined. “How?”
“Do you even know where you’re going?”
I rolled my eyes. “Your parents gave me directions to the field.”
I saw his shoulders start to slump, then he straightened them. “I can still help. I owe you.”
I held up a hand. “No, you don’t. Your tribe has done enough—”
“My tribe doesn’t owe you.” He glared. “I do. You saved my life, remember? Let me repay you.”
I sighed. He wanted to prove himself to me, that was obvious enough, but I had no idea where Drasyln was and I couldn’t risk his life. He had to stay safe, and safe was with his tribe—for now, anyway.
I shook my head, refusing to allow my knowledge to grip me again. “You would only be a burden,” I said, hating myself for my words. “You can’t do anything against a mage, and that’s who I’m hunting.”
“But I know the forest. That field.”
“Then how did you attract the attention of that trulbar?” I raised an eyebrow again.
Aishe blushed harder but didn’t look away. “Everyone makes mistakes. I still know this territory better than you.”
I realized I was not going to dissuade him, and if I left he would follow me. If I tried to lose him, he would try to track me, which would put him in too much danger.
“You really think your parents will allow you to go?”
Aishe’s intense gaze faltered and he shuffled his big feet. “Sure, they would.”
I resisted a snort. “Go ask them.”
Aishe’s eyes widened.
“Go ask them,” I said again, pointing back to the camp. “If they say yes, you can come. If they say no, you stay, and you swear not to follow me. Deal?”
Aishe looked like he wanted to argue: the obstinate tilt of his chin, his narrowed eyes—I’d seen that look before. Rebellion. Impatience simmering, I gripped the front of his tunic and lifted him a few inches off the ground. Aishe gasped and gripped my arm. I used a bit of magick to give me more strength. We were now eye-level and I allowed a bit of the dark inside me to come into my eyes, my voice turned cold. I felt Aishe tremble.
“Listen well, Aishe of the Ravena tribe. You are an untrained child who trips over his own damn feet and runs into trees. I am going after a mage who stole something of great magickal importance. She is a competent, dangerous mage with a quick temper and a love for destruction. I am humoring you, right now, instead of blasting you back to your tribe. Do you understand?”
Aishe shuddered, his face paling, his eyes growing larger. He nodded timidly. I set him back on his feet, and then I let him go. He stood there for a moment in silence before suddenly some of the fear left his eyes and his stance. He tilted his head, narrowing his eyes.
“You’re worried about me.”
Some of my cold attitude faltered. “What?”
Aishe seemed to grasp that thread of thought and yanked at it. “You’re worried about me, that’s why you don’t want me to go. You want me to stay here and be safe.”
I was speechless. Then I kicked myself mentally. Of course, his gift. Dammit.
He smiled a little, his eyes bright. “But, don’t you know? I’m safe with you.”
It was interesting, and infuriating, how similar this young lad Aishe was to the Aishe I knew—an adult in his prime. Those words were nearly the same my Aishe had said, in that cave, after I’d rescued him from Kayl. He saw right through me.
“Fine,” I said softly, my voice hard. “I’m worried about you. I’m worried about all of you. Shouldn’t that tell you to stay with your tribe?”
He stared in silence for a moment before speaking. “I’ll take your deal. Please stay, I’ll be right back.”
Before I could speak, he ran off, stumbling a few times, clumsy as a newborn colt. But, somehow, it was endearing and incredibly adorable. Sighing heavily, rolling my eyes skyward, I slumped against a tree, crossing my arms over my chest. It didn’t matter what age he was, Aishe had me wrapped around his little finger. So I waited. And waited. I looked up at the sun, knowing I was wasting time.
Aishe eventually came loping back, a quiver strapped to his back, a small bow in his hand. Two daggers hung sheathed at his waist. He had a supply pack in the other hand. I struggled not to gape. His parents had seriously let him go? Instantly suspicious, I pushed away from the tree, my arms still crossed.
“They said I could go,” he said, almost singing it.
“Hmmm,” I said as he stopped in front of me. I let him see my suspicion. He looked hurt.
“Honest, they said I could come.”
“And?”
“And what?”
Narrowing my eyes, I began to move past him. “I’m going to ask them myself.”
“Wait! Aren’t we wasting daylight?” He gripped my arm, tugging me back.
I stopped, looked down at his hand. He released me instantly. I met his reluctant gaze. By the Mother and the Hunter, save me from naïve children.
“What aren’t you telling me, Aishe?”
He squirmed under my stare. It stunned me again how untrained he really was. I could never make my Aishe squirm...outside of the bedroom, that is. This time it came at me more acutely than ever before: he was a child.
“They told me I could go but—” he huffed a breath “—I was to treat you like my commander. If you told me to run and hide, I’d run and hide. If you told me to go back home I’d...go back home. I do what you tell me to do.” He paused. “And...if you didn’t want me to come, I wouldn’t come. The choice was yours.”
He sounded miserable. I smiled. I could tell him to go, and he would have to go. It was the wiser choice. It was the logical choice. But the words that came out of my mouth were the complete opposite of my logic.
“Good. Let’s go then, soldier.”
Chapter Five
We were silent as we walked. I didn’t want to say anything incriminating, and I was sure he was intimidated. He kept glancing at me and I could feel his interest. I stared straight ahead, not at all happy with the situation. I shouldn’t spend too much time alone with him. So why the fuck had I said he could come along? Did I like torturing myself?
No, I had to find out why the Mother wrote I should travel to the past. This was a piece of the puzzle between Aishe and me, one I hadn’t even known was missing. A piece only he’d known about, one only he rememb
ered. Why hadn’t he told me? Why had the Mother written this for Aishe and me? So he would fall in love with me, pursue me?
Again, I remembered the first time I’d met Aishe, that day in Happy Valley. He told me he needed a mage to help him face Kayl. He told me he pursued me, to ask for my assistance. Of all the mages—friendlier, helpful mages—in all the world, he had come after the only known dark mage. Something must have happened here, in this time, to cause such devotion in him, but what? Maybe now I would get my answer. I had to see where this was going, didn’t I?
The Mother had a reason for all she did. I had to trust her. I had to trust my mate.
Unable to stop myself, I looked at him, met his gaze. He smiled. “What’s it like?” he asked. “To be a mage? To do magick?”
I looked away, shrugged. “It is what it is. Has its ups and down like anything.”
“Yeah, but,” he frowned, “you do magick. You create things, right? You...control storms and shoot fire, right?”
I snorted. “Sometimes.”
I could tell he wanted me to elaborate, but I didn’t. He fidgeted as he walked, fingering his bow. I didn’t think I would ever get over what a child he was.
“Do you know how to use that thing?” I asked, jerking my head at the bow.
“Of course!” he said with such vehemence I immediately knew he lied. I stopped, crossed my arms over my chest. He stopped as well, confused.
“Prove it.”
His eyes widened. “Pardon?”
I raised an eyebrow. “I said, ‘prove it’.”
He gulped. Turning away, his shaky hand grabbed an arrow out of the quiver and nocked it...or tried to. He seemed to struggle with it, and I was sure most of it had to do with the fact I watched him. He finally got the bow ready, lifting it. Though I wasn’t an archery master, I’d seen my Aishe shoot enough arrows to know this Aishe’s stance and posture were all wrong. I said nothing, though. He panted, breathing much too hard, then he let loose the arrow. It didn’t so much as fly but fall, and shot straight into the ground.
Aishe hunched his shoulders and even though his white hair obscured his face, I could see it was blood red with humiliation. Saying nothing, I walked past him, knowing he’d follow. It was hard not to hug him; my arms actually ached to hold and comfort him. I clenched my hands into fists to prevent that. I needed to keep my contact with him at a minimum. Then I frowned. Or did I? Aishe kept this part of his past secret from me for a reason. He’d fallen in love with me here, hadn’t he? So...how much should I reveal to the kid Aishe? What exactly happened in this time? I glanced behind me. He shuffled along, his head still lowered. He looked so defeated. I couldn’t stand it anymore.