CHAPTER TWO
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Alaric Sampson
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10th of Decepter, 935 PC
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Alaric sat on a log in Howler’s Wood scowling at the dry mud on his worn boots and pants and thinking about what his father had always told him – If you look like a commoner, you’ll be treated like a commoner. Well, he certainly looked like a commoner these days but even the most ordinary farmer received better treatment than Alaric Sampson and his magical brethren. Gone were the beautiful crimson robes he’d worn during his time in the High Chamber, as was the status and power that came with such a position. In fact, very little of what Alaric had once been still existed. All because one young woman had fooled the world into thinking things could be better. A desire for revenge burned so intensely inside him that to call it hatred was an understatement. He not only wanted Iris dead, he wanted everything that could remind the world of what she’d become erased from existence. And if The Creator possessed even an ounce of the sympathy that was spoken of in her book then he would accomplish that goal before he died.
A terrible thump, thump, thump beat against his fingertips as he rubbed his chest. The pink, puffy scars could not be felt beneath his leather armor, but they were there. They were always there, making life more painful and difficult, reminding him of what she’d done to him, and worst of all, wasting his magic drop by drop. Before Iris, he conserved his finite magic like a stingy rich man and his wealth. Now, it dripped from his soul slowly, constantly, like a barrel of ale with a broken tap. Until one day, when the barrel would run dry and his chest would tear open at the horrid pink seams. The only good thing about it all was the constant warmth that came with his magic holding his skin and bones together. He’d become so used to the warm sensation he hardly remembered what life was like without it. Or perhaps he simply wanted to forget those better times.
“Mum would have said you have a thorn in your heart.”
Alaric didn’t bother lifting his head. “I’m fine, Therrin, just thinking.”
Therrin White was the best thing to happen to Alaric in years. The healer’s magic could seep into the fabric of a body and suffocate nearly any ailment until it felt like it had never been there in the first place. That was nature’s way after all – the body heals itself. Except for scars. He touched his chest again. All Alaric could use the healer for was temporary relief, not a way to rewrite fate entirely.
“Mum had a saying for everything. Said them all the time and I still can’t remember them. Wish I could. Should have paid more attention I suppose.” This time Alaric glanced at him. Therrin’s shoulders sagged. His face was clean-shaven and not by choice, making him appear even younger than he was. The young man couldn’t have had more than twenty years to his name, half as many as Alaric. Looking at him was like looking into the past. There had been a time when Alaric’s hair was just as brown and just as styled by the wind. Now, Alaric’s hair was shorter than it had ever been and sprinkled with more salt than he’d put on any meal. Their soft blue eyes were similar as well, though Therrin’s could only see the good in people and Alaric’s… well… Alaric’s eyes had learned to suspect anything good as a guise full of ulterior motives.
“When do you think they’ll be back?” Therrin asked him.
“Patience. Stealing a child isn’t easy. Especially not the way we must do it.”
The reality of their task erased Therrin’s smile. “Right.” A pause. “Want some cheese?” He held out half a wheel of brie de meux with his dagger lying atop it. Alaric rejected the offer, choosing instead to open up one of his beloved hard candies. The bite of the cinnamon tingled his mouth with flavor as the wax paper wrapper floated across the forest floor alongside a restless batch of dry leaves.
“I’ll take some cheese,” Diedro Pyvelle said. “And they’ll come to you. Those sayings you think you forgot, I mean.” He sat on the cold ground with his back to a tree. His legs were stretched long and his ankles were crossed casually. He was flipping his dagger into the air, catching the blade between his finger and thumb over and over again. If Therrin was Alaric’s medicine, Diedro was his sword. And a very bloody one at that. Diedro possessed magical reflexes that would make a cat jealous. Sitting in the woods while others did the dirty work for him had to be rather boring for the mercenary, but sending a man that looked like Diedro into a small village did more harm than good.
Therrin handed him the wheel of cheese. “Have as much as you’d like.”
“Remind me to never let you handle the rations,” Diedro said.
They came from two different worlds, these men of his. Diedro came from lands where a man could go days without anything more than crumbs as he wondered if he’d ever see his family again while Therrin came from a home where he needed only to raise a hand and a servant would rush a silver platter to his lap.
Diedro said, “You live long enough you’ll come across situations that’ll make you remember what your mum and dad would have said. All those things she used to say. They’re in there somewhere.” He pointed the tip of his blade, a thin slice of cheese lying on it, at Therrin’s head.
“You think so?” the healer asked hopefully.
The mercenary nodded his bald head inside his gray hood then he pulled the slice of cheese off the blade with his tongue and chewed away at it.
Alaric stood when his horse, Hans, let out a loud breath and stamped around restlessly. His back was stiff as a board, perhaps stiffer, as he walked to the majestic animal cautiously, eyes scanning the forest, hands ready to use his magic. The other horses stood quietly, picking around at the ground for what little grass had survived the change of seasons but Hans shook his head back and forth anxiously. Alaric ran his hand along his young stallion’s mane, whispering into his ear. “It’s alright, young fella. We’ll be galloping again soon.”
Hans was not the ideal horse for a man whose body felt like it had been torn apart and put back together, but the beast could outrun any other horse in the resistance group’s stables and getting away from trouble quickly was of the utmost importance to Alaric. Besides, when Hans did get out of control, he was capable of taming the beast with his magic. A few drops of magic could seize the horse’s legs and set the pace at which they moved whenever necessary. And in the process, develop a bond between them that Hans had grown to respect.
Alaric stood there petting Hans and listening to a chorus of melodies that filled the forest around them; the babbling brook, the rustling of leaves, the chirping of birds, then, the blabbering of a young man who often undervalued the enjoyment of quiet company.
“So, you were part of The Hounds of Haldar?” Therrin asked Diedro, making Alaric grit his teeth. Alaric moved out from behind Hans to make sure his healer didn’t end up needing his own magic.
Diedro’s dagger now stood wedged in the frozen earth. The cheese was back in Therrin’s hands. Surprisingly, the mercenary was even more relaxed than before. “Aye. Six years.”
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“Mum always said The Hounds were the greatest collection of swords in the world.”
“True enough. You don’t become a Hound by knitting sweaters. But ya have to be a real son of a bitch to join up with those fellas,” Diedro said.
Therrin tried to untangle the message Diedro had sent. “So, you aren’t proud of being a Hound?”
Alaric interrupted the potentially fatal conversation. “What did I tell you about bringing up people’s past?”
Therrin looked embarrassed as he quoted Alaric, “Always let someone else piss off the wrong person.”
“He’s fine,” Diedro said, lowering his hood. His skin was remarkably untainted by the dangers of his work. “I ain’t proud of what I was, but I ain’t ashamed of it either. Just the kind of work I was destined to do, I guess.”
“I know all about that,” Therein said. “Fought like a man being dragged to the gallows when my father told me I had to study herbs and medicine. Told him a fella like me doesn’t need any of that to clean up a cut, but call me Sally if I didn’t end up loving it.”
“Consider yourself lucky. The path laid before us ain’t so smooth for everyone.”
“Oh, I do.” Therrin sniffed the air. “What’s that smell?” he asked, folding a thin slice of cheese and shoving it in his mouth. A strong breeze had swept a mouth-watering aroma through the trees.
“Roasted pig,” Alaric said. His stomach gave a well-timed grumble. “Something tells me Elgar got his fair share of that.” Something else tells me he won’t be bringing any back for us. A change of heart, or rather stomach, sent his hand reaching for Therrin’s cheese.
“I’d give anything for some of that,” Therrin said.
Diedro spoke with his mouth full. “You got rich boy habits. Been eatin’ since we left Thronerock.” The healer shrugged – rich boy was an accurate way to describe Therrin’s upbringing and he knew it; extravagant estate, servants, tutors. Everything the boy knew had been acquired from the wealth his father had earned from selling his own magical healing ability. Unfortunately for the White family, eliminating Purist healers had been one of Iris’ first priorities after she had unleashed her creation on the empire. In the end, the man’s magic had been every bit as costly as it had been profitable. How Therrin and his brother had escaped the Lotus Army’s clutches Alaric was unsure, but he was glad to have found them.
Diedro said, “That boy you was with all the time at the inn. He your brother?”
“My twin, actually.”
“Ya don’t say. Ain’t twin’s supposed-”
Therrin raised a hand. “I know. I know. We look nothing alike.”
“Damn right. You went and took all the handsome. That boy looks like he’s spent most of his life on the wrong end of a hammer.”
Alaric couldn’t help but agree. Therrin was suave and debonair but those would be the last two words he’d use to describe his twin’s awkward personality.
“Mum always said Corbin was more of a beauty on the inside kind of fella.”
Diedro laughed the way someone who’d lost their sense of humor may laugh; deep, short, and without a smile.
A twig snapped on the raised earth above them. Diedro’s dagger was out of the dirt and full of deadly intentions before Alaric had ever looked at the noise. All tensions melted quickly when Alaric’s brother’s full head of strikingly blonde hair appeared, followed by a fit body and a handsome face that knew exactly how handsome it was. Jameson Wicket wandered up beside him, led by a round belly and looking like he’d lost his dog the day before. Jameson led a slim woman, whose eyes were glazed over and useless, by the wrist. The sight of the boy who clung to her other hand brought a smile to Alaric’s face. I will learn her secrets soon enough.
Jameson slid halfway down the embankment to a tree he could hold onto then helped the woman get down safely. The boy slid to the bottom on his rear end, dead leaves crunching loudly as they clumped into a mass between his feet and legs.
Elgar remained where he was, chewing on what Alaric could only assume was roasted pig and pulling a smoke stick from his pocket. He noticed Alaric glaring. “What would you have me do? Pass up a chance to eat something other than dried meat and berries?”
“Did you bring extra?” Therrin asked. His shoulders slouched when Elgar shook his head.
Diedro took Mrs. Hallstone from Jameson and led her toward Alaric. If not for the magical charm gripping her mind, she’d surely have screamed in terror at her circumstances. She was tall for a woman, capable of looking Alaric in the eye with ease. The lines on her face and jaw were well-defined and sharp, giving her entire presence a sense of confidence and strength. If the clothes on her back and the hunter’s gear on her waist were any indication then she knew her way around the forest. A shame she’s not a Purist. I’d enlist her services too.
Alaric ran through the technicalities necessary to convince the boy he wasn’t being taken against his mother’s will. “Hello, Mrs. Hallstone.” She stared blankly as he put his hand on her shoulder. “I can’t thank you enough for letting Maddy come along with us.”
“I can’t imagine better people to have him learn from,” she said.
Maddy was less sure, tucking himself tighter to his mother’s leg. The boy had eleven years to his name according to Tripelthin – Alaric’s advisor and gatherer of secrets. Plenty enough to be a bit more courageous in Alaric’s opinion. His attempt to reassure the boy with a smile failed miserably. He’d never been great at easing his own children’s nerves either but at least they’d had his wife to turn to. Maddy would be surrounded by men and women who didn’t deserve to be part of society, let alone in charge of a child.
“Even still, your cooperation is admirable,” Alaric said. “Most would hide their children from such a tall task. You must think very highly of your son.”
“Oh, I do,” Mrs. Hallstone said, putting her hand on the boy’s head. “And he wants to help. He’s just a bit shy. I’m sure he will come out of his shell when he sees what heroes you all are.”
Therrin approached, his bag slung over his shoulder and his cheese packed away. “I’ll coax him out of his shell, ma’am. I’ve got a brother that used to be shy before I helped him. Now, you can’t pay him to stop talking.” Mrs. Hallstone smiled but more importantly, Maddy grinned at Therrin. The healer knelt and pulled the boy to him, licking his thumb and wiping away a smudge of dirt off Maddy’s cheek. “It’ll be me and you. Good pals. Would you like that?” Maddy lifted his head to his mother who nodded happily then mimicked her happiness toward Therrin.
“Therrin is a healer,” Alaric said. “He will clean up any cuts or bruises we get along the way.”
This brought a worried look back to the boy’s face but Therrin quickly righted the ship. “We won’t have to worry about that. Not us. We’ll leave the tough stuff to the others.”
Jameson gave Alaric an annoyed glance, clearly agitated with how much magic he was using.
“We really must be going,” Alaric said. “Again, thank you so much for your help, Mrs. Hallstone.”
“Of course,” the woman said. She knelt in front of Maddy and pushed his long bangs out of his eyes so she could kiss his forehead. “Do exactly as you’re told and stay out of trouble. Only use your magic if you’re told to. Understand?” Maddy nodded, tears swelling. If only Jameson’s magic could bring tears to the mother’s eyes.
When the two were done embracing, Therrin led the newest member of the resistance toward the horses. Elgar stood there waiting, blowing smoke like a chimney.
Diedro walked up behind the woman slowly, quietly, waiting for the right moment. Whether she heard him or not mattered very little, she couldn’t run if she wanted to, but he was a man of habit.
When the last glimpses of Maddy disappeared behind the trees, Diedro wrapped his hand around Mrs. Hallstone’s mouth.
Jameson made an uncomfortable face at Alaric. “Do we have to?”
Alaric had asked Tripelthin the same question before they left Thronerock, only to be given a similar silence that told him they couldn’t afford loose ends.
The charmer released his grip on Mrs. Hallstone. Her eyes widened in confusion before she began to scream into the dry, calloused hand around her mouth.
“I’m sorry,” Alaric said, staring the frightened woman in the eyes. “Truly, I am. But we can’t take any chances and you’re a liability now.” He nodded at the mercenary and walked away.
Jameson trailed him somberly.