The decrepit cobblestone wall straddling the dirt road between the sawmill and the town square made for an excellent, if not dangerous, place to play. The wall was around chin high for most of the adults—meaning it was just tall enough to be dangerous for the kids to play atop. The danger was what made it fun.

Jumping between the sizable gaps in the wall required a self confidence the other children simply lacked. When they reached the big four foot gap near the sawmill they would drop down, walk over then climb up to the other side, but not Gideon. He was the fastest and most sure-footed amongst the kids—and he loved taking every opportunity to prove it. They didn’t like him because he could make the jump, but he didn’t really care. What mattered was they knew he was better.

Deb warned him to stay away from the wall at least a thousand times a day.

“One of these days you’re going to slip and split that stubborn skull of yours open, then you’ll come crying to me about it. See if you don’t,” she’d said to him just that morning.

Gideon didn’t like how much she fretted over him. He was good at almost everything he ever felt like doing. Besides, there was nothing else to do. He couldn’t play horseshoes because the old geezers were always hogging the sand pit, and Eli wouldn’t let him play checkers ever since he’d been caught cutting pieces off the salt pork hanging in the window.

From the square, the road to the sawmill curved west and was obscured by the forest after only a hundred feet or so. Gideon followed the road, and once he was firmly out of sight of the square clambered up to the top of the wall.

He felt eyes on him after reaching the big gap and stopped to look around, sheepishly expecting to see Deb glaring at him from down the road. But no one was around. The road was totally empty, and the forest around him was calm and quiet like always. He was completely alone, and yet the feeling remained.

Shrugging, he turned back to face the gap and readied himself to make the jump. He’d learned how to do it from watching Nips, the canny old tomcat who prowled around the village like he owned the entire place. His way of making a long jump was to not overthink it. Nips trusted his instincts, and so did Gideon.

He sprang across the gap like a coiled-up spring being released, leaping with his foot extended far in front of him. As he did, something silent and white moved deep within the forest off to his right.

The distraction caused him to miss his mark. His foot slid against the rough hewn corner of the cobblestone, causing him to fall sideways. The blue sky overhead disappeared, and his vision filled with the road rushing up towards him just before the world went black.

When he awoke he was in his bed at home, warm and safe under the covers. Deb was sitting in her chair next to him, her angelic, beaming smile framed by locks of wavy black hair. She reached her hand out to his face and cupped his cheek, rubbing a comforting thumb against it.

Gideon began to weep.

“I’m sorry,” he cried, but it was not his voice. It was a deep adult’s voice, rough with latent anger, nothing like his own. Frightened, he sat up and reached his hand to his throat. Something cold and metallic met his fingers.

He squeezed his eyes shut, and when he opened them again Deb and the house were gone. Smoldering ashes surrounded him, and he realized he was sitting right where his bed used to be.

A hand cupped his cheek again, just like Deb had done. Turning, Gideon saw the hand belonged to the blonde woman. She was leaning down to touch his face. A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.

“You’re not real,” he told her.

Her smile widened.

----------------------------------------

Gideon awoke to see Surelin’s hand retreating from his face. He was lying in bed within a small room. The ceiling was low, and a small lit lantern hung from it just a foot or two away, off to his left. The walls of the room were bare and windowless, and the wood planks they were made of were visibly decaying. A single door was positioned on the wall off to his left, closed.

Surelin sat in a chair closeby on his right, exactly where Deb had been sitting in the dream.

“What happened…?” Gideon grumbled.

She studied him quietly for a moment before replying.

“You passed out.”

“...Oh.”

“We brought you here through the sewers. It took all of us working together to pull you up to the surface.”

He rubbed his eyes and let out a heavy sigh.

“...Where is this? And why do I feel like I’ve been drinking?”

“You’re welcome, by the way.”

“Yeah.”

Surelin reached down by her feet and lifted up a water flask, handing it over to him.

“...We’re in the basement of an abandoned dye works on the south side of the city. As for the second part of your question, you most likely feel that way because Silas fed you tonics for the pain and to help you sleep. You’ve been asleep for almost eighteen hours.”

He took a drink before responding. “You’ve been sitting here with me the whole time?”

“Um…no,” she replied, sounding embarrassed. “I just came down to check on you.”

“Oh," he smiled. "Thanks.”

She nodded. “In all honesty, I needed a break. Edwin is…he’s not taking the news about the succession very well.”

If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

“What do you mean?”

“...I mean he’s angry. At me. And Grandmother.” She shook her head. “I’d rather not talk about it right now, if you don’t mind.”

“Sure. I guess since I’m still here my head’s alright.”

“Silas said you received a very serious concussion and need bed rest.”

“But my skull isn't split open? It fucking felt like it.”

“Apparently not,” she said, then gave him a small smile. “Hopefully that blow to the head wiped all those awful jokes from your brain.”

“Ha-ha,” he replied flatly. “So why were you touching me when I woke up?”

“W-what?” she stammered.

“Don’t ‘what’ me. You had your hand on my face, I know what I saw.”

“I don’t—excuse me! It’s not what you’re thinking. I was just checking on your head.”

“Well, I don’t really mind. You can touch me whenever you want.”

“...No, I’m not going to respond to that,” she said disdainfully. “You’re trying to goad a reaction out of me. I won’t give you what you want.”

He smirked at her, and she rolled her eyes.

“If you’ve got the energy to be ridiculous then you must feel fine."

“Yeah, my head doesn’t hurt too bad, actually. I guess it’s the tonics.”

She shook her head slowly. “I’m just glad we didn’t lose you as well.”

A brief, awkward silence fell between them at the mention of their fallen comrades.

“So," Surelin began. "How would you say I did against Ennio…?”

“You fucked him up.”

A delighted smile quickly spread across her face.

“But if he’d been a better sword fighter he would’ve taken advantage of your hesitation to kill him. You should be thanking your lucky stars that he was inexperienced.”

Her smile faded almost as quickly as it appeared. “...I know. Even when it was happening I understood what I needed to do, but I still just....”

Gideon gave her a worried frown.

“Surelin, sometimes a person just needs to die. One of these days you may find yourself wishing you’d killed him.”

She looked down by her feet with a glum expression.

“He really tripped you up with that feint, huh.”

“...I suppose.”

“We can work on that. I’ll show you a few ways to deal with that sort of thing.”

Her eyes shot back up to his face. “Does that mean my training isn’t over after all?”

“Yup. You could obviously still use some help.”

A faint smile touched her lips. "...Okay."

Another silence fell between them, this time a happier one. Soon after, a quiet knock sounded at the door, and Silas walked in, placing both hands into his overcoat’s pockets.

“Ah, there you are, princess. The Dowager Queen has been looking for you.”

“I’m aware,” Surelin said succinctly.

He shrugged and walked over to Gideon.

“It seems our only surviving casualty is finally awake. How do you feel?”

“Drunk, kinda.”

“Hm. That won't last, unfortunately. You’ll most likely experience a fair amount of discomfort once the tonic wears off. Now, let me see.…”

Silas leaned over the bed to peer at Gideon’s forehead, prodding at the wound with his fingers. There was a strange, hard to pin down detachment about Silas, an attitude that was not uncommon amongst the other doctors Gideon had met.

“Does it hurt when I do this?”

“Little bit.”

“Mhm.”

“Is my skull really okay?”

“If I were you, I would be more worried about what little matter exists underneath. You can receive a serious brain injury even without having the bone punctured. Have you received other head wounds before?”

“...Well, yeah.”

“Serious ones? Like this one? Worse?”

“Close to this, yeah.”

“Hm,” he grunted, then stood back up and placed his hands back into his pockets. “Is anything else wrong, then? Anything you feel like I should know?”

“I had really vivid dreams.”

Silas scoffed. “Dream interpretation is not my area of expertise. Go talk to a diviner or a priest for that.”

“Can you please be a little kinder to him?” Surelin said, frowning.

“Aha. You like the brooding, mysterious type. How interesting.”

She was clearly offended, and Gideon leveled an angry glare on him. Silas either didn’t notice their reactions or chose to ignore them.

“Now that I’ve got you both here, perhaps you can help fulfill the Dowager Queen’s end of our bargain.”

“What fucking bargain?” Gideon growled.

“Well believe it or not, I’m not much of a practicing doctor. I’m more of a researcher, but I agreed to work with you all in return for information on the Lake Men.”

“The Lake Men,” Surelin said flatly.

“Yes, that's what I said. I’m investigating the link between them and the narcotic colloquially known as Kaan's Testes.”

A look of disgust passed over Surelin. “Please don’t be crude.”

Silas gave her a shrug. “I understand how it sounds, but that is its name. When I’ve completed my work I’ll give it a new name that can be spoken in mixed company. Actually, how does Siladine sound to you? I've thought up many variants using my name—”

Gideon interrupted him. “What do you want from us?”

“...I understand you’ve had at least two interactions with people using Ka—uh, the narcotic. Can you tell me about them? What they looked like, what they did, and so on.”

“We saw the first one at the arena in Kenan,” Surelin said quickly. “It was an Easterner, a man. He seemed to be possessed by an angry demon.”

“He was very strong,” Gideon added. “I’ve never fought anyone as strong as him. I still managed to kill him, though.”

“Yes, I see. Of course, the narcotic most likely does not actually increase physical strength, it merely creates the false impression of it.”

“Really?” Gideon asked.

“Of course. Its effect on the mind does appear to be quite extreme. I’m surprised you managed to defeat someone under its influence. If that's all, let's move on to the second interaction.”

Surelin looked at Gideon, thinking.

“The second time was weirder,” Gideon said. “When I first saw the two of them they were walking around naked for some reason.”

Silas’s eyebrows lifted with surprise. “Indeed? Continue, please.”

“I wrestled with one of them,” Surelin said. “I can confirm that he was very strong.”

“Were they Easterners? Or Lake Men?” Silas asked.

Gideon and Surelin shook their heads simultaneously.

“No, they were Losoans,” Surelin replied.

“So what’s the fucking link, then?” Gideon asked impatiently.

“...My working theory is that the Lake Men brought the drug with them when they migrated to Western Lothringia several years ago. Strangely, they do not seem to partake of it for combat. I believe it serves a religious function for them, along with the ritual burning of corpses.”

“What? Then how are other people using it?”

“They acquired it from the Lake Men somehow, clearly. Through trade perhaps, or as spoils of war. In truth, the greatest obstacle associated with researching the narcotic is just how difficult it is to acquire. I’ve yet to acquire a sample for myself. The Dowager Queen is working to acquire one on my behalf, per our agreement.”

An exasperated sigh suddenly exploded from Gideon. This guy loves to hear himself talk.

“...And what is the agreement?” Surelin asked.

“I will serve as doctor and surgeon for your little…movement. In return, the Dowager Queen will bend her network towards supporting my research efforts. Whatever information is found will be shared equally between us, though I will take all official credit.”

A brief moment of silence fell before Gideon spoke up.

“Great. Well, if that’s everything then feel free to leave.”

Silas gave him a careless smirk. “How rude! I’ll come back to check on you in the morning. I recommend you remain in bed until then.”

“Can’t wait to see you again,” Gideon said sarcastically as Silas turned to leave.

Once he was gone, Surelin let out an angry sigh.

“I don’t like him,” she said.

“Yeah, neither do I.”

She stood up. “I need to go speak to Grandmother. Will you be okay here?”

“Sure. I feel like sleeping again, anyway.”

“Okay,” she smiled. “Gideon, I’m glad you’re feeling better. I was very worried about you.”

He smiled back. “I’m glad too.”

A bit of shyness entered her smile as she walked around his bed to leave the room.

“Get the light?” he asked.

Surelin approached the lantern and blew out its flame. Darkness filled the room.

“Good night, Gideon.”

“Night.”

He listened to the sound of the door closing behind her, then settled back into a more comfortable position for sleep. Their conversation had been brief, but it had set his mind at ease. And the pain in his forehead was manageable—nothing like it was after rolling into the sewer.

A sense of peace passed over him as he began to drift off to sleep.

No more dreams about Deb, he told himself. The dead need to stay in the past. Where they belong.