Rane fidgeted with his constraints. Leylin tying him up spelled trouble. Thankfully the obelisk he was stuck to curved inward, allowing him some rest. “I thought we were past restraining me. I don’t plan on running and leaving everyone behind.”

“That’s what I don’t understand.” Leylin circled the slave he’d brought along, as if sizing him up. “There’s no sentiment tying you to these people. Is it personal ambition that's driving you to save them?”

Rane laughed out loud. “Sometimes I pity you.”

“You’re free to think whatever you want about me.” Leylin thrust a hand into the slave’s chest, and it caved like it was made of loose fabric. The Oath forbade him screams and groans, then its dark nora dissipated as his body fell limp. It was over with only a few drops of blood. “Once I’ve succeeded, it won’t matter what people think of me.” Dark crimson covered the slave’s body, pushing and pulling against his skin. It’s tone shifted from gray to light brown and its hair turned black and long, just like Leylin’s.

“This is a game to you.” Rane let his head hang forward. “Their lives mean nothing.”

“On the contrary.” Leylin toyed around with the copy of himself. He lifted an arm and it followed his movements. “It’s for their lives I’m fighting. Each and every one I claim gets all of us one step closer to salvation.”

Rane shook his head and felt the tears gathering in his eyes. The man was insane. Why did he have to be the one to live through all this? He wasn’t even allowed death.

“You do have to admit that I look tantalising,” he said, and the doll copied his voice and mannerisms as he spoke. Suddenly, his face lit up. Leylin and his look alike both turned around to face the ruins of the city. “If you try to escape, one of them dies.”

“What are you gonna threaten me with once you kill all of them? I can’t help but wonder.”

“I didn’t mean the slaves.” Leylin smirked over his shoulder.

Rane scanned the ruins. It was just them. He did pick up a sound heading towards them though. A low growl, like the howling beast’s.

“This should be fun.” Leylin waved his hand and the doll stepped forward on its own.

Rane strained his eyes and managed to see the beast and its rider. A young woman with dark hair that couldn’t be much older than him. It was like he could make out some of her features, even though she never got close enough for them to be visible. “No…” He leaned forward, the ropes tightening around him. It was so familiar, her face. “Please don’t do this.”

"Sit tight and I won't have to." Leylin leaned next to him. The beast stopped moving and Leylin's copy stood.

"No, you have to run!" Rane screamed at the top of his lungs, but she didn't even turn to face him.

"They can't sense us," Leylin said. "Your family has become very troublesome ever since you vanished. Always interfering in my affairs."

Rane saw a man righting himself on the beast, next to the woman. He got the same feeling from him. That hazy recollection, like a name dancing on the tip of his tongue. “No!” Rane’s breath caught in his chest when the woman yelled. There was a quick exchange he couldn't hear, and Leylin’s copy dropped backwards.

“I wonder how they’d feel if they knew they ignored the pleas of the brother they’ve been searching so hard for.” Leylin circled around the obelisk, brushing the smooth, black surface with his fingertips. “I wonder what face they’d make.”

“They’d hate themselves.” Rane quieted down and focused on watching his siblings, engraving all that he could see into his mind. After so many years of slavery and abuse perhaps they wouldn’t even recognize him.

“Then how can you still stand?” Another yell, from the man this time.

“It’s about time for this show to end.” Leylin burned through the ropes and grabbed Rane by the arm, dragging him back to the wagon through the trees.

Rane didn’t resist. He gazed at their distant faces over his shoulder, surprised to find tears welling in his eyes. He kept staring until they were nothing but a small dot between the forest’s hulking trees. “Thank you,” he said, “for showing me.” Leylin’s expression darkened, but Rane couldn’t stop his tears even as the man’s gaze bore into him.

“Sometimes, I pity you as well.” Leylin pressed him against the rotten wood. "But I have a purpose grander than all of us."

"To revive your brother?" The words left Rane's lips before he could stop them. He coursed nora to his fingertips, but Leylin was calm.

"There's no bringing back the dead. I can only prevent more from being." Leylin shoved him up on the seat and sat beside him. "And for that, we need to be on our way once more."

Rane leaned back onto wood as the hauling beast began to march, wiping the tears from his eyes. It took him every ounce of willpower he had not to just jump from the carriage right then and run back to his family. “Don’t you ever tire of it?” he asked, mostly trying to distract himself. “Wandering around?”

“I do itch for some action every now and then.” Leylin bit his lower lip and tilted his head. “That’s why we’re going hunting.”

“I thought the hauling beast could find corpses by itself.”

“I have bigger prey in my sights,” Leylin said. “One you will feast on all by yourself. But for that, I need to prepare. That little tantrum you threw caused me to lose quite a bit of strength.”

Rane hugged his knees and laid back. Leylin claimed lives wherever he went, citing a grand purpose the details of which he never shared. He couldn’t make sense of the man, no matter how much he tried. At one point, he simply stopped caring. The plan was simple. Let Leylin get complacent, and look for a chance to save everyone and reunite with his family. That meant vigilance, watching Leylin’s every move.

For now, the man seemed calm once more. He lifted the reins with his right hand and the hauling beast turned slightly, leading them to an entirely new direction. Rane didn’t ask where they were headed. He kept recalling his sibling’s features almost compulsively, afraid that if he stopped they’d be lost in the mists of his mind again. Even when he tried to stop and lay down to rest, this irrational fear wouldn’t allow it.

It was during one of those sleepless nights when Rane saw Leylin stir. He braced himself for another one of the man’s madness driven outbursts, but then he noticed a faint light shining in the distance. A lantern dangling to the wind past the veil of soft rain. It limned two stallions, their thick muscles beading under the light, then a carriage and a dozen bodies tottering on either side. What could they be but slaves? Who’d choose to traverse this cursed wilderness on their own will? In either case, Rane silently prayed that the other party would somehow skirt past Leylin and the agony he had in store.

“Finally,” Leylin said, denying his wish before it even formed. A green flame lit between his fingers and he let it dance in the breeze. The hauling beast grunted through its harness.

The lantern’s flame flickered as the horses trotted towards them, as if drawn to the respite this meeting offered with a burst of strength. They got close enough for Rane to make out the slave’s individual faces. Dry lips, dark eyes and features worn out by the sun. Blood from oathbrands mixed with the rainwater. Tied behind and dragged through the mud were gibbets, nasty metal things with people hidden in their innards, laying so thin and still that Rane couldn’t tell if they were living. The stallions fumed with hot steam as the coachman pulled up to Leylin’s side, a blob of a man, with greasy hair and an ever greasier smile.

“Sire!” The man gave an awkward bow from where he stood, making his chin and stomach fold onto themselves. “It’s been many moons since we last did business, and I just want to say–”

“Save the pleasantries,” Leylin cut him off. “How many this time?”

The slaver smiled, and Rane saw his white teeth through the night. “Twenty men, strong and tame… Oathsworn, from the far north. Two of them could lift good old yodd,” he patted on the horse’s back and it gave a satisfied neigh,” and four could handle the carriage.” He paused for a moment, drawing a raspy breath. His eyes crossed Rane’s and passed his oathbrand before he shifted them away. “Of course, for a man of your tastes I guess that doesn’t matter.” He turned his head with difficulty, motioning to the gibbets past his grim entourage. “I’ve three unbranded as well. Pirates of the deep fogs, they claim. They have skill in navigation even in these parts, so I’m to believe them, but they’re an unruly bunch. I’ll let you have ‘em for cheaps.”

Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

Leylin hopped off the box seat and onto the wet soil. Rane glanced at the cage behind him and the slaves inside it. Two of them were already pulling the rusty lock, sounds drowned by the rain. “Go with him,” Elen said in a whisper, accompanied by a pleading gaze.

“Blights,” Rane cursed under his breath. He planted one foot onto the mud and followed after Leylin. If they were to escape now, he’d give them the time to run as far as their legs could carry them. He walked closer to the slaver, who was muffling his pants next to his wares with his back turned. Perhaps a bit too close, as the odour of sweat, rosemary and spices invaded his nostrils. Some people, not even the rainwater could clean.

“These three can read and write as well! Ten golds.” The slaver made a show of leaning onto one of the lined up men with all his weight. The slave stood strong and puffed out his chest. He even wore a fake grin on his face for Leylin.

Rane pursed his lips. If only the slave knew who he was coaxing to own him, he’d have pissed himself, then and there. After suffering through hardship, people always held this fleeting belief that things would get better. Fleeting, because reality would soon remind them; there is always a grimmer fate.

Leylin touched the slave’s chest and the man collapsed. No screams, no anguish, no resistance. The other slaves suddenly lost their smiles. “Tally it up,” Leylin told the slaver before moving onto the next man in line. He placed a palm onto the ashfen’s chest in the same motion, and this one did piss himself. Thankfully, that proved the end of it. Leylin left the man struggling for air through panicked breaths and moved onto the next one in line.

“Hey,” Rane called out to the slaver with his voice lowered.

The man looked at him as if he’d just seen a rotten fish. His massive body cast a shadow from the lanternlight as each drop of water curved to escape his gut and find the ground. “What do you want?” The accent he used to wear –human and noble– had vanished.

“To be bought,” Rane said.

“You want to be bought?” The slaver raised an eyebrow. “First time hearing that one.” He glanced at Leylin as another body fell to the mud. “But I can see the reason, I can. Then again, why should I buy ya?”

“I’m worth a lot.” That earned the slaver’s attention, but also his doubts.

“You’re scrawny,” he said, lifting one of Rane’s arm for an inspection. “What else can ya do?”

“This,” Rane whispered, then snuck glances at Leylin. He pretended to cover his palm and formed some ice on it. “He doesn’t know.”

“By the arbiter’s own word,” the slaver hissed. “You might well could be worth two hundred golds.” He shed the goading and fancy words and reverted to roadspeak entirely. That was a good sign.

“Please,” Rane faked fear some more. He burned with the need to look back at the carriage and see if the slaves had made it out, but he didn’t want to risk alerting the slaver to his plans. “I’ll be obedient and all, I swear.”

The slaver mumbled something under his breath as trepidation and greed fought for control. Rane egged him on in his mind. His thirst for gold had driven him to barter with lives already. Why not indulge once more?

“Be quiet then,” the man said with a set jaw. “Imma try.” He took a few moments to compose himself, and to fabricate that smile he wore. “Sire!” he hollered and moved towards the light. Only then did Rane allow himself a gander at the cage. His heart fluttered. Rali was helping them through the bars one by one. They’d managed to break free, but he needed to earn more time. He followed after the wobbling mass that was the slaver and almost bumped into his back once it stopped. Leaning to the side, he saw that Leylin had worked through the entire line of oathbound slaves, leaving over half of them coiled in the mud, in that unnatural twist dead bodies take. The slaver wiggled his head, uncurling a swollen finger from his fist for each of them. “That’s thirteen you’ve taken, Sire.”

Even through the gilded accent’s return, Rane could sense his fear. He just hoped the man would stick to his earlier decision.

“Yes,” Leylin stood and hitched up his long jacket, untouched by the rain. Darkness circled his feet and a line of blood streaked across his face, eye to chin. “A hundred and thirty for all?” He reached into his pocket for a pouch.

“Before we discuss payments, may I inquire about your reasons for killing ‘em?” He paused for a moment, and waved his hands. “No offence of course! You buy them, they’re yours to do with as you please. It’s just… I don’t understand it.”

Leylin finished fishing for his pouch regardless. “A hundred and fourty,” he said and tossed the pouch over. “Ten gold for an unanswered question, and for you to never ask it again.”

“Of course, of course!” The slaver caught the pouch with both hands. If the ten pieces of shiny metal weren’t enough to convince him, the sharp and threatening change in Leylin’s tone was sure to do the trick. The man squeezed the leather pouch in one palm, as if trying to gauge its contents. “Before we part ways to drier land, I have one final ask.” The slaver pushed Rane forward. “How much for this lad? I know he ain’t much use on the field, but we exchanged some syllables and I took a liking to ‘im.”

“Keep your slimy hands off,” Leylin said coldly. “Not for sale.”

“B-But I haven’t given a price for the boy yet,” the slaver said, fingers tightening around Rane’s shoulder possessively. Potential profit drowned even his sense of danger, it’d seem. “Hundred golds. Just because I don’t want to see him in the sand.”

Leylin flashed forward, raising the man by the head before Rane could blink and throwing him against one of the slaves still standing. “The price could be your life,” Leylin said. “Still interested?”

“N-No, Sire.” The slaver fought to stand, grasping his back. “I’m sorry.”

“Tie the bodies together,” Leylin said. “I need to feed my borash.”

The slaver didn’t need to be told twice. He hurried to his feet, rushing to the other side of his carriage. Leylin gazed at Rane instead, then back at his own wagon. Somehow Rane knew he could cut through the darkness and the rain and the lies to see what had transpired.

“They’re long gone,” Rane said, “and they split up.” He didn’t know how the man would react, nor what new torture his treason would incur. Not that he cared any more. This was the game he’d been taught to play after all. The value of his life was his card, and Leylin’s the pain he could cause. If Rane could take the pain, he’d always win. And he’d been hurt plenty. “So, what now?” Rane asked. “Are you going to buy new lives to torment and end?” He issued it like a challenge.

“No,” Leylin replied, staring at Rane once more. There was an ocean in those eyes, and nothing else. Even in Sydell’s manic gaze he could dig for a bit of reason or cause, but Leylin’s eyes held nothing but cold. That was where the unnerving reality of the man lay, in that lack of curiosity and the aloof demeanour. He’d seen hatred in all its shapes and tasted every form of spite, yet Leylin’s gaze made him wish for the sick spark of pleasure in a torturer’s eye. At least there was reason there, a touch of humanity. “I have enough souls now.” Leylin dragged the bound up corpses with one hand. He slid the other over Rane’s wet hair in a tired pat as he walked past. “You did well.”

“That’s it?” Rane turned to follow. With the slaves gone, he’d suddenly grown an appetite for confrontation. All the time enduring Leylin’s tortuous lessons came back with a vengeance. Being denied– Being patronised like this annoyed him. How would he win the game if he wasn’t given a chance to play? “Even after I disobeyed you and helped them escape?”

“What do you want me to say?”

“Anything!” With no need to worry over anyone being punished on his behalf, Rane just wanted to hurt the bastard. Find a soft spot and prod it until blood showed. “Did it anger you, having them run away right under your nose?”

“We’re close to a city. I was gonna let them go tonight regardless. Most would have managed to reach it.” Leylin gave him a sideways glance full of pity. “If you didn’t pester me about it, I’d have let you think you helped them.”

Rane was left slack jawed. “No,” he hissed. “You lie.”

That did get a clenched fist out of him, but he reigned in the anger well. “I carry each of them with me, you know.” Leylin placed a hand over his chest. “Their emotions and their burdens are what gives me strength. I could have chosen ones with magic born of hope or longing, but I didn’t. Why do you think that is?”

Rane paused. “You’re punishing yourself.”

“Not punishment.” Leylin looked down at his hands. Eyes wide open and jaws clenched in silent agony twisted on his palm. “I wouldn’t punish myself for doing the right thing. I do it to feel the weight of each life, and its significance. That way I won’t ever lose track of my purpose in this damned world.”

“No purpose could justify all that you’ve done,” Rane said.

“You’ll glimpse it soon.” Leylin cast his gaze –through the rain and the night– on the horizon. “The ancient order of things that has always bound us.”

Rane felt a cold shiver. It was the first time he’d heard Leylin speak this way. Almost reverently. He couldn’t understand what the man meant, and it scared him.

“Come.” Leylin climbed onto the seat and offered Rane a hand. “We have to go.”

“No,” Rane said. With the slaves gone, there was no reason to obey. “I’ll be in the back,” he said, circling around to the now empty cage. Well, almost empty. As Rane climbed up through the ruined bars, he saw Shill sitting on the wet wood. “Shill? Why are you still here?”

The ashfen smiled, wrinkled lines extending from the corners of his eyes. “Look at me, Rane. I’m old and withered. Even if the others can survive the wilderness, I’d only be slowing them down.”

The wagon creaked as it began to move through the forest.

“But staying here–” Rane lowered his voice. “It could be dangerous. There’s a city nearby. If you leave now, you could still make it!”

Shill shook his head. “My Oath’s end is nigh, Rane. Not more than three fortnights before the Gods claim me.” He looked up at the roof of the wagon with reverence, like the pantheon of his gods hid between the grainy wooden lines. “I’ve spent half a life copying the sacred texts, so trust me when I tell you this. The Aspects and all that lies above, they don’t look kindly upon liars when granting entrance to their domain. I promised to leave with you, and that’s what I’ll do.”

“Shill…” Rane felt himself tearing up. Even if he didn’t share in the man’s faith, he was moved. He wiped his eyes with his arm and sat beside him. “I’ll keep you company then. Until your time comes.”

“I appreciate it.” Shill turned his head to look at Leylin’s back. “I only hope to spend my time in peace.”

“Don’t worry,” Rane placed a hand on his shoulder. “I think we’re reaching the end of this journey.”