Chapter 23

The sunny new day did nothing to brighten Snow’s mood. Despite his trip to the stream, he was still filthy and there was no hiding it on a day like this. His boots had managed to pick up more mud and his coat still bore bloodstains despite his attempts to wash the collar in the stream. Now it was dirty AND wet, clinging to his neck and constantly sending a chill down his stiff back. At least his hands didn’t burn anymore.

There were spells of concealment that might have made it easier to sneak into the nearby village, but Snow was short a few ingredients – most of all a mirror (not that he would want to look in one right about now). The thought of what he looked like made him run his fingers through his hair again to be sure no stray bits of moss or leaves were clinging to him as he walked towards the nearby stone bridge brimming with carts.

Bellane was bigger and more bustling than sleepy Folfern. It straddled the narrow Golden River, named for the yellow lilies that swamped its banks every spring from its beginning as a tributary of the great Soras, until it faded into tidal flats near the shore. Snow always thought it should have been called the Wheel Way since its banks seemed to gain a new watermill wheel with each year.

He took a moment to look at a new one that stood turning at a steady pace in the midday sun. It was likely grinding grain from the miles of wheat fields that stretched along the north and west of the village. There were no yellow flowers at this time of year, but Snow feared they would have less space to bloom if this village continued to grow. Every year it felt like the village doubled in size. Soon it will be a small town pressing its influence on the surrounding province.

Snow had decided to enter by foot over one of the village’s many stone bridges. He had left Pheobe by an abandoned farmhouse a mile behind so he could blend in with the rush of commerce happening along the waterway and the market center. It wasn’t the size of Erbin’s market, but there were enough people coming and going about their daily business that Snow could pass for just another body so long as he kept his head down. That wasn’t as easy with the wafting smell of fresh bread weaving through the streets, making his stomach growl.

All he needed were supplies and something for Lia to wear, but the latter would require a good story.

It wasn’t common for men to shop for women’s clothing in these parts – not without some tragedy associated with the ask. There were very few tailors out here since most homesteading women knew how to make their own garments. All he would find in the local store would be bolts of cloth and his skill with a needle was limited to repairs. The thought of simply taking something from a clothesline was tempting, but with his luck, surely it wouldn’t fit her right.

Snow ducked into the local tavern to warm himself by the hearth fire as he thought over what he’d say. It was a quiet place at this hour with a handful of men chatting calmly at a few tables. Most looked like cart drivers waiting to go on their next run. None gave him a look except the barkeep, who clearly didn’t like the look of a dirty stranger taking advantage of his fire without a pint in hand.

“Can I help you?” the bartender spoke up loud enough to reach Snow, drawing the attention of a few more eyes.

Snow winced and then straightened up. He didn’t want to leave the warmth of the fire, but he didn’t want to be sent out like an unwelcome vagabond.

“Yes,” he said as he made his way over to the bar. “Something warm if you please.” Snow then pulled out a coin to lay on the bar. The sight of it made the bartender’s face soften.

“We have fresh bread in the back,” he offered.

“And a pint,” Snow added, just to be sure he appeared the average sort despite his clothes.

A discreet look over his shoulder told him that everyone had turned their back to him again. Snow allowed himself a little tired slouch until the bartender came back with a delicious looking roll baked with cheese and a sloppy pint threatening to turn it into a soggy mess.

After a few bites, Snow felt like his faculties were coming back to him. The ale wasn’t even all that bad either though he only took a few sips to keep the bread from sticking in his throat. He soon took the plate and mug back to a seat by the fire and returned to his troublesome story-crafting that had to explain why Lia wasn’t here, couldn’t sew, and didn’t have another woman helping her.

The more Snow tried to come up with something, the more the clothesline idea sounded better and better.

Right,.. a young woman, traveling the roads alone, was beset by bandits who didn’t kill her, but stole her goods and her clothes. Who’s going to believe that coming from me?

Snow was so caught up in his thoughts that he almost didn’t hear a new group of men enter the tavern. He paused to listen for the casual scuff of chairs or a warm greeting from the bartender, but as a few seconds passed without either sound, Snow itched to look behind.

“Can I help you, gentlemen?” the bartender finally asked.

One voice started to speak, but then another spoke over him loudly, “Drinks and meals for the three of us.”

It was Titus.

Snow sat tense for a moment without breathing. He was still hunched towards the fire with his ale on a nearby stool, but he was ready and listening for the moment he heard the men’s feet moving towards him.

“Have a seat,” the bartender replied, unaware of what was about to happen.

The sound of boots started to make their way closer to him, and Snow reached into his long coat to take hold of his sword.

Suddenly there was the sound of chairs being tugged across the floor and Snow nearly jumped as one was set down next to him on his right. He expected to see Titus’s worn boots, but instead a pair of black ones came into view as the stranger sat down beside him.

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“Cold night, huh?” the man asked. Snow lifted his head enough to see large hands and the pommel of a large sword as the stranger took off his gloves and stretched his fingers towards the flames. They were large, worn hands, naturally swollen around the knuckles with a few scars.

“It was,” Snow replied.

The man took in a long breath and let it out before saying, “normally, I wouldn’t waste time doing this, but Titus seems to think you’d be open to reason… or at least civil enough to a hear a man out before trying to kill him.”

Snow slowly sat back with straight shoulders, but still didn’t look the man in the face. This had become a chess match, and he refused to look intimidated.

“What’s the point if you don’t intend to let me decline?”

Clearly, this was the voice of authority he had heard in the bar at Folfern, and Snow knew this conversation only had one likely ending. Quietly, he began sorting out his exit.

“Well, I’d be lying if I said I would accept it, but maybe we don’t need to make a mess of things. I heard you don’t care for dramatic messes.”

“That all depends on the situation.”

“Here’s the situation,” the man leaned a little closer as if to whisper, “I know what you do. I know you call it a little service, and maybe it is, but we can’t afford you offering that service to someone else.”

“Like bakers and millers? To poor farmers who lost their wife?” Snow’s voice dripped with contempt. “Do you have any idea why I do my little service when I could just as easily amass an army of undead to march across all of Emral?”

There was tense silence as the man seemed unsure.

Snow leaned slightly and copied the man’s whisper, “I can, you know. I could have conquered these lands ten times over by now. But instead… all I do is gently raise loved ones for a day to make a few coins.”

He then decided to turn and face the man. This would be the last test, he told himself. If he looked in the man’s eyes and found nothing there – no emotion or realization, then he would scorch this tavern and everyone in it.

But what he found were steady dark eyes under mussed dark hair in a long face that had seen a fair amount of sun and hard weather. The Savior’s look was not a glare, but one of quiet awe, as if some realization was just dawning on him. It lasted for a few heartbeats before the man found his voice again.

“Why?”

Good. The man had some brains, Snow thought.

“Because that’s what I chose to do with a power I never asked for.”

Snow risked the slightest side glance to see Titus sitting with the other man at a table behind them. Both were on the edge of their seats as if they expected something to happen at any moment. Titus looked on with what was obviously concern while the other man across from him glared at Snow with hate-fueled intensity.

The magician then looked back to the man next to him, who seemed to be working it out that what Snow did with his power was purely a matter of choice. That while he expected payment for his services, he didn’t need to resort to such a trade when he had all the ability to take what he wanted from this world. It was a risky gambit, Snow admitted, but perhaps Titus’s argument had made more of an impact than he was willing to admit. Perhaps there was a part of him that wanted to believe some of these idiots were just idiots and not cruel men clawing for whatever power they can get their hands on.

Snow still had a hidden hand on his sword as he waited for whatever was about to come next. He imagined it going one of two ways. Either the man would agree that Snow was best left alone, or he would still only see the possibility of devastation and try to capture him… for the good of the land.

At length the man replied. “We need you.”

“For what?” Snow asked. “Some war? I don’t believe in idle rumors, nor would I take sides if there were any truth to it.”

“You’d let innocent people be slaughtered?”

“You’re content to slaughter innocent vampires,” Snow shot back.

“No vampire is innocent,” the man replied with utter surety. Snow knew then that Titus had said very little about Lia. It opened more questions in Snow’s mind, but there was no way to answer them here with this savior.

“I’m not coming with you, and I warn you against trying to make me.”

The man sighed. “I was afraid you’d say that.” He then lunged and struck Snow with a solid right fist before grabbing him with both hands on the front of his coat. There was a scuffle of chairs behind them and despite the ringing in his head, Snow knew the others were coming to jump on him.

“Wait!” Titus called out, but it was already too late. Kern was rushing towards Snow with an open silver collar, but both saviors seemed to have forgotten that Snow was still a magician. Snow took hold of Axl’s forearms and set his sleeves ablaze. The blinding fire and scalding heat made Axl release him with a pained yell. The savior pulled back to pat out the fire. That gave Snow time enough to draw his sword on Kern.

The bloom of fire had made Kern stop in his tracks, keeping him out of reach of Snow’s sword. A quick glance towards Axl and Snow saw that the man almost had those flame patted out, meaning he would have to deal with all three of them soon.

“Cut off his escape, Titus!” Kern ordered. Snow glanced back to see Titus still standing at the table. He made no move to stand between Snow and the exit. Kern looked back and barked his order again. Snow looked to the spilled ale and called up two-inch frozen shards of it to send them flying at Kern. The man braced and turned his side towards the onslaught, catching four of them in his arm and shoulder, but it wasn’t enough to bring him down.

In that instant, Snow knew it was either run now or set the whole building ablaze.

He ran.

Behind him he could hear Kern screaming at Titus, cursing him for being a coward. The vitriol was accompanied by urgent footfalls coming after him.

In a few beats, Snow was back out in the sunlight of day, but he knew the chase would not end there. A new melee would erupt in the streets if he didn’t find a way to lose them. Silently, he apologized to the people of Bellane before lifting up a massive section of the hard packed road and throwing the outhouse-sized mass at the tavern doorway.

Kern and Axl had made it to the threshold just in time to see the boulder of dirt flying at them. When it crashed into the tavern, the whole front wall caved in causing half the ceiling to splinter and drop partly towards the ground floor. Screams rang out everywhere inside and out.

In the street, Snow briefly looked around at the shocked faces before sheathing his sword. This was it. This was the end of his little trade and a small part of him was glad it was over. He had worked so long and hard to be a mild-mannered magician that little villages could trust, but no one will have him after this story makes it rounds.

Snow turned and ran for the bridge without a look back.