CHAPTER FORTY
*~~~**~~~*
Jameson Wicket
*~~~**~~~*
25th of Decepter, 935 PC
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Yormir’s nose had pulled them about a thousands yards off course, toward a scent he said they couldn’t ignore. They followed a river none of them knew the name of through the light snow and bad omens to get to a wall of trees at the bottom of a long hillside. There were times when Wicket wouldn’t trust Yormir’s judgment for any amount of Leos in the world but those times usually had to do with women and booze. When his eyes were orange as a flame and his beard was tied in nervous knots, Wicket knew not to question him. It helped that Lace wanted to go too. He and Wicket had argued enough already that morning – about everything, right down to how Wicket laced up his boots!
“Right over there,” Yormir said, pointing through the trees and up the hillside. As crowded as the bottom of the hill was, the trees on the slope looked like someone had let the leftover seeds blow away with the wind. A tree here, another way over there. They stood so far apart they’d have to shout to hear each other.
Lace drew his shiny greatsword like he’d done it so many times he couldn’t help but do it perfectly. “Let’s go.” The look he gave his brother left no wiggle room. Iris had a look like that. Used it on Wicket anytime she wanted something. Not at first, but once she got his claws in him, she sure did.
Camila pulled her bow from her back. It was a pretty thing with its green grip and burgundy limbs that had gold circles up and down them. She could use it too. Though, Wicket sure didn’t want her to have to.
“Now, hold on,” Wicket said.
Lace turned around the way an annoyed man might when he’d reached his limit. “There’s no time to waste. There might be Purists that need saved or Lotus that need killed.”
“A group like us… reckon we oughta be able to do this smarter than just runnin’ into a battle that wasn’t lookin’ for us,” Wicket said. Yormir gave an approving nod to that one. Wicket joined him once he saw The Old Wolf doing it.
Camila and Ashe heard the logic too but Lace’s head was too full of rocks to care that the rest of them weren’t invincible. “I’m going. Come on, Ashe.”
“Lace, wait,” Ashe said. “At least let me make it easier on us. In case there are eyes we don’t see.”
Lace waved an arm at Yormir. “We’ve got a man who can smell what we can’t see.”
“Please.” It was clear Ashe had used this kind of coaxing on his brother before with how perfectly pitiful the tilt of his head was.
The warrior flicked the tip of his sword at his brother. “Make it quick.”
Ashe made his way toward the treeline and studied the hillside closely before he took a deep breath and closed his eyes. A moment later his fingertip was swirling through the air slowly. Wicket had done something similar a few times when he was trying to add up big numbers in his head but he figured there was a lot more going on in Ashe’s mind than some miscalculations. Ashe swiped at his arms like an artist scoops paint from a palette. He was moving faster now, never leaving the place he stood but reaching left and right, up and down. If he kept going like this, he was bound to break out in a sweat. A first for him on the trip, always found a way to slip to the back of the pack when something needed done.
“Magic?” Yormir whispered when nothing came of Ashe’s swirling and swiping.
“I think so.”
“Is he gonna be alright?”
“I think so.”
Lace didn’t look concerned. In fact, he wasn’t even watching. Of course, he’d probably seen the crazed artist at work hundreds of times before. All he wanted to do was kill. Wicket could feel the hatred coming out of him. Three hells, he could almost see it if he squinted his eyes.
Yormir sniffed the air as they waited for Ashe to finish.
“What do ya smell Old Wolf?” Wicket asked.
“Still just blood and… well, other things that come out of people. Lots of it.” Some of the stranger words to ever make Wicket feel more comfortable.
Ashe opened his eyes, looking prouder than a peacock. “Done,” he said, pointing to the hillside.
“Fuckin’ good lords above,” Yormir said, almost shouting the stronger end of the sentence before remembering there might be Lotus around. “What in the three hells have ya done, lad?”
“Provided cover…” Ashe said. Happy to have contributed in a way that didn’t require a crossbow. He and Yormir had practiced a bit that morning and realized pretty quickly it wasn’t any better for him than a sword. It was strapped to his back anyway. Better to miss your target from long range, they’d all agreed. Even Lace.
“I’d say,” Wicket said. The hillside was now covered in cedar trees smashed together so tight the sun was blocked out behind them. Thick undergrowth lined a tunnel cutting through them.
“Happy now?” Lace said, walking by in a rush, sword in hand. Nothing would stop him this time. He had to have practiced his walk. No one’s shoulders moved like his without practice.
Camila walked up to Ashe, eyes glistening with admiration. “It looks amazing.”
Ashe shrugged. “Have you heard of the Fountains of Ashe?” Who hadn’t heard of the Fountains of Ashe? An unsolved mystery since they popped out of… “That's a real masterpiece.”
“You made the Fountains of Ashe?” Camila asked. She had a way of speaking with her whole face. He used to use that against her when they’d play ruckus but she’d used it against him the other night. Tricked him out of six Leos with those sneaky expressions.
“Can we please get going?” Lace said to them from the mouth of the tunnel.
“I’ll tell you all about it another time,” Ashe said. “The bull’s horns are looking more dangerous than usual.”
Wicket frowned as they both rushed off to catch up with Lace. There was a time when Camila would have stuck to his side. Thick as thieves they’d been, playing tricks on people in the pub, playing with Cora when she got old enough to walk. He wanted to call her back to him, make her stay with him so he could protect her. And not just for Alaric’s sake. He loved that girl like a daughter. He’d just forgotten until they were sitting by the fire playing cards again. He let her go though. Like all fathers eventually do. Sometimes ya have to be willing to see the truth through a blurry wall of jealousy. She didn’t want to spend time with me anymore. That’s just the way of it all. I’ll be going through it again with Cora soon enough if I live that long. Might as well get the practice in. Besides, Lace could protect her from a hundred Lotus all before Wicket huffed and puffed his way up the damn hill.
“Come on old man,” Yormir said, smacking Wicket on the back. “Gotta keep up.”
Ashe hadn’t missed a single detail. Rough and jagged bark, perfectly shaped leaves, no two branches alike. At least not upon first glance. Everything was exactly like any forest Wicket had ever walked through.
The trees came to an end just below the crest of the hill. Lace stopped and looked at Yormir. “Smell anything?” Those two words sent so much jealousy through Wicket he almost growled at the man.
The Old Wolf sniffed a few times. “Blood. Lots of it. Just over the hill.”
“Camila, you should stay here and provide cover,” Lace said. “The rest of us will check out what’s happened.”
“I can do that,” she said.
“Come on, Ashe.” Lace’s firm hand tucked his brother in tight behind him as they stepped out of the treeline. They only took a few steps before they stopped at the top of the hill. “Well then.”
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Wicket’s jealousy was replaced with curiosity. The others must have felt the same because they all rushed up beside Lace. In the narrow valley below were three of the small Lotus ships like the ones he and Yormir had watched the night before. Only these were crashed and burning. One was lying halfway in the river that cut the valley in two, like it was clawing at the dirt so it didn’t fall in and drown. The other two might have hit in the air and fell to their deaths by the way they were crunched up against each other. Bodies lay everywhere, all of them in the green gambesons Iris thought were so fitting. She called them iconic, whatever that meant.
Lace took off down the hill.
Yormir looked at Ashe. “Doesn’t realize the rest of ain’t so eager to fight, does he?”
“I know he’s intense, but he means well. Hates Lotus more than anything in the world.”
“We all do,” Yormir said. “But he’s just lookin’ for trouble.”
Wicket started down the hill.“Come on, we better catch up in case he finds it.”
*~~~**~~~*
Yormir was right, there was a lot of blood. Ten Lotus lay dead all over the snow-dusted ground. Intimidating but not threatening. Some of them had charred skin and gambeson but most of them were just shattered and broken from falling out of the sky. There wasn’t a pulse amongst them but Lace still made a point of putting his sword through each of their necks. A bit of overkill if Wicket had ever seen it but he didn’t mind. Alaric always told him, be sure, not dead.
Wicket bent down and plucked a golden Lotus pin from one of the bodies. Lace looked disgusted with him but there was no way of knowing if it might come in handy someday. And it felt like he was picking up a little piece of Iris. He made the mistake of looking into the dead woman’s eyes. A strong sense to run away snuck up on him like a ghost trying to scare him in the night. She reminded him too much of all the people he’d held tight with his charm – blank eyes, no fighting back or standing up for themselves, just lifeless slabs of meat he made do and say whatever he wanted.
“It looks like they killed each other,” Camila said, kneeling by one of the corpses Lace had already double checked.
Wicket could have used one of Yormir’s sarcastic jabs at such an obvious comment but the tracker had already picked up a new scent. The Old Wolf raised his finger to his lips then pointed at the ship that was too hesitant to get all the way into the water. Lace was at his side instantly, moving with stealth that made a man his size even more unfair to deal with. Wicket used an open palm to keep Ashe and Camila where they were before he followed the others, bow raised, arrow nocked. Stay alert. No accidents. The whole thing felt like an accident waiting to happen though.
If he didn’t know better he would have thought some great sea monster had bit the ship in half. Long, splintered ends poked at the water like stiff, creepy fingers and the whole thing was slanted, still wanting to launch itself into the sky.
Suddenly, a pitiful cough from within stopped Wicket and Yormir in their tracks but Lace moved with one intention and one intention only. Wicket chased after him, grabbing his shoulder before he reached the calm water. The man’s shoulders were so broad Wicket was surprised he could tug on them hard enough to turn Lace around. “Wait,” Wicket said.
Lace flung his hand away with a thrust of his arm. “No.”
Wicket grabbed him again. “I reckon Alaric put me in-” When did the ground get so close? And how’d his ass get so wet? It all made more sense when he saw Lace standing over him, sword at his throat.
“I’m not listening to-” Lace was smiling at Wicket like a witless idiot before he ever finished his words.
A familiar feeling started swelling in Wicket’s belly. A bad one. One he thought he’d gotten a grip on way back when. He wanted to walk Lace right into the fucking river to see if his thick skin could keep the water out of his lungs. But instead he just held him there, staring up at him angrily. He was too embarrassed to look at Camila. Fuck what Ashe thought but he didn’t want Camila thinking of him as a villain. “Check the ship,” he said to Yormir, trying to sound calm but making everyone much more tense.
Faithful ol’ Yormir. Never heard an order he wouldn’t take. Not from Wicket anyway. He lifted the shortsword he still wasn’t comfortable with and crept through the shallow water slowly. He reckoned The Old Wolf landed somewhere between brave and cautious. Which is probably why he yelled into the ship before he looked in. “Anyone in there?!” There was some kind of answer but no one but Yormir could hear it. He still didn’t move.
“Come on,” Wicket said, bringing Lace with him. “You protect me at all costs.” Not many shields that could think better than a man.
“Yes, sir,” Lace said agreeably. They were simple words but making the cunt say them put a wry smile on Wicket’s face.
The smell of shit and burned flesh hit him before they ever rounded the corner of the ship. If there was ever a man that should be dead but wasn’t, it was the Lotus propped up against the back wall. Two others laid face down in the watery slop that had washed up from the river. They weren’t so lucky. Shadows hid most of the man’s body, making his glowing fingernails stand out even more. Wicket had heard a man breathe like this before, after he had broken ribs on both sides of his body when his horse fell on him. Poor fella didn’t live much longer after those pitiful cries for help.
“Please don’t hurt me,” the young man said.
“Put your hands behind your back,” Yormir said. Seemed funny being on the other side of that command for once.
The Lotus said, “I can’t move them.”
“Put ‘em behind your back!” Yormir shouted, sounding desperate. Wicket remembered his words from their conversation in the forest. I ain’t killin’ anyone unless I don’t got no other choice.
The Lotus strained every muscle in the arm that still worked. “I’m trying.” It fell into his lap, limp as a cock after a good romp. He let his head rest against the wall.
“I’ve got it,” Wicket said. “He ain’t no threat.” He lowered The Old Wolf’s sword. “Go on. Get Lace out of here.”
Wicket walked into the ship, releasing his grip on Lace in case he needed it elsewhere. He doubted he would though. Bring a man close enough to the brink of death and he’ll take any hand that offers him help. At least he hoped that was true.
“What the fuck happened?” Lace asked behind him. They were always confused when Wicket let them go, like they’d lost a few minutes of their lives. Suppose they did.
“Come with me big fella,” Yormir said.
Lace said, “Fuck off.”
A struggle behind him turned Wicket around. Yormir had put himself between Wicket and Lace, one arm extended so his hand was on the angry warrior’s chest.
“Lace! Get the fuck out of here!” Wicket yelled.
Lace swiped Yormir’s arm away and shoved him hard all in the same motion. The Old Wolf knocked into Wicket, sending them both back a step. “You’re going to get us all killed,” Lace said to Wicket. “You’re nothing but a court jester. Go ahead, make love to your fucking Lotus cunt.” He looked at the Lotus. “Kill him and I might let you live.” He turned on his heel and stalked out of the wreckage with that walk of his.
“Thought you weren’t riskin’ your life out here,” Wicket said to Yormir.
“I said I ain’t riskin’ my life just for you to catch a glimpse of her. Fightin’ that prick for ya is another story.” He slapped Wicket’s shoulder and walked away.
And then it was just the two of them. Wicket and one of the seeds he’d helped plant years before, all grown up and blossomed. A shame it looked like someone had stomped all over it. The boy’s ankle was shattered and his hand was mangled and ruined. The skin on the side of his neck was charred and crispy but it wasn’t too deep of a wound. A man could survive any one of the injuries this poor boy had. All of them together though and he was at the front of the line to meet The Creator.
Wicket crouched and put his hand on the Lotus’ boot. “What’s your name, young man?” He needed it for the last words he reckoned he better say for the lad. Least he could do since he had a hand in messing up this boy’s life. Besides, it's always easier when someone else introduces you to someone important and The Creator was about as important as they get.
The Lotus mumbled something.
“What’s that?”
Their eyes met as the Lotus managed to bring his head forward from the wall. Well, one of his eyes met Wicket’s. It was too hard to tell if the other one was still in its socket behind all the dry blood and mud caked to his face. “My name is Kit Spader.”
*~~~**~~~*
Wicket let himself cool down for a few hours before he approached Camila at the water’s edge. Neither spoke for several seconds. Which was good because he still wasn’t sure what to say.
“I reckon I’d appreciate it if ya didn’t tell your father what I did,” Wicket finally said. The last thing he wanted was Alaric coming down hard on him for sparing a Lotus’ life.
She fiddled with the rock in her hand. “I’m not a child. I wouldn’t tattle on you.”
He rubbed the back of his neck and bit at the corner of his lip. “Right. Of course not. I just…”
“You’re afraid of him. I know that. Everyone is.”
Didn’t seem like something a little girl’s hero would admit out loud and she wasn’t enough of a little girl to trick with fancy words so he didn’t say anything at all.
“I think you made the right choice,” she said.
“Ya think so? Because Lace and Yormir ain’t so sure.” He rubbed his neck again. “Three hells, I’d say they don’t agree at all.”
“Not every Lotus wants to kill Purists or purge magic. Some of them are just ordinary people.” Her chin bumped her chest. “Like me.”
Camila was like Cora. Which is to say, a commoner. One that would have had the luxury of lying in the same bed of roses as Purists if Iris hadn’t turned the empire on its head. She’d never have to bow down to people that weren’t worth bowing down to but she’d never know what it was like to have magic in your soul. She’d always have that trickle of jealousy and insecurity dripping on her ego.
“Camila, you ain’t ordinary.”
“How could I not be? Commoner, ordinary. Almost the same word.”
“Don’t you remember what I told ya when you was little?” She shook her head. Probably because he’d just thought of what he was about to tell her. “There’s a star in the sky for every person in the world. Most of ‘em don’t do nothing but stand around. Just like the people they’re connected to. But a few go streaking across the sky making everyone that sees ‘em smile. It ain’t magic that makes ‘em do it either. It’s whatever you got inside you. Now, if you’re tellin’ me a shootin’ star is ordinary then we ain’t seeing the world the same way.”
Silence.
“You never said that to me when I was little.”
“Did to.”
“Did not. But I’m glad you said it now.” She smiled.