Chaos (10 page)

"Soup sounds like a wonderful idea."

Smiling shyly, David turned away to fetch the soup. After a couple of minutes, he brought Sasha a bowl filled with a dark, creamy broth, thin slices of potato, and small bits of sausage. It was warm, spicy, and Sasha had the sudden thought that he hadn't had anything so homey and good in a very long time. He ate it slowly, mostly sipping at the broth, eating the rest where he was able, and completely ignoring the spoon David had initially offered.

By the time he was full, he was exhausted and barely had the strength to hand the nearly empty bowl back to David. "Thank you," he murmured before his eyes grew too heavy to keep open.

When he opened them again, the room was dark and there was a shadowy figure on a pallet before the fire. Sasha felt a wash of guilt that he had driven David from his own bed, but acknowledged that sleeping on the floor would have done him no favors in regard to recovering.

He tried to remember how he had gotten there and was relieved when the memories came easily. Far too many hours spent wandering the mountain had finally led him to a well-worn path. It had occurred to him too late that he should have asked the woman he'd rescued for directions. Idiot.

Sasha tried to move, but hissed in pain and gave up the effort. Fire and ash, that little Sentinel had nearly gotten the better of him when the massive ones had not even touched him. Stupid to be so careless, and he deserved exactly what he had gotten. If only he had more of that tea the boy—David—had given him. Whatever herbs it contained did wonderful things for alleviating pain. 

He looked around the room, trying to see what he could in the dark and barely noticed the gleam of firelight on amber. His sword. Relief swept through him to know he had not lost it. Likely the rest of his things were about then, but even if they weren't, he at least had his sword.

Thoughts of the sword brought another memory flickering to life and Sasha lifted his hand—and froze when he realized his ring was missing.

Then another memory returned, and he relaxed slightly. That scorching Sentinel had gotten him and he had realized he would need a healer. He knew he couldn't allow anyone to see the ring and had hidden it. Once he recalled that, it was easy to shift his head enough to feel the press of it where he had tied the ring into his hair.

He needed to leave, resume his journey, though he had only the vaguest of notion about where he was going. Perhaps someone in the village would be able to help on that point, however. How long would it take him to heal enough to be on his way?

Pain flared again, but he tried it ignore it, casting his eyes around the room again, desperate for distraction. There were clothes hanging on one wall with chests of varying sizes arranged below them. The stove took up the middle of the room, and rag rugs covered much of the wooden floor. The bed, table, and two chairs made up all the furniture. Dishes and cooking utensils were neatly arranged on a series of shelves against another wall.

The room was chilly, the fire in the stove low. David must have been cold, but he slept on peacefully.  Where was he exactly? He hadn't thought he was near any villages, but it was strangely easy to become lost in the dense forest that seemed to encompass so much of the country. Something made him think that was on purpose and not merely the nature of the forest itself.

He sighed softly and wished he had a book to read.

Movement caught his eye, and turned to see David begin to toss and turn in his sleep, murmuring nonsense and crying out for someone named Reimund. Sasha frowned and called out, "David! David!"

David jerked and sat up with a cry, breathing heavily—then went still, and turned to look at him. "Oh. Is something wrong, my—Sasha?"

"You were having a nightmare," Sasha said softly. "Talking to someone called Reimund."

"Oh," David said, voice shaky. He slowly stood up and went to fetch wood for the fire. "Um. Reimund was my … he took care of me, raised me, after my parents died. He was killed by a newborn Sentinel a few days ago."

Sasha winced. "I am sorry for your loss. May he see good fortune in his next life."

"You say strange things," David said quietly as he set the kettle on and dumped a small packet of herbs into a teacup. "In your sleep, you speak in a strange language. I thought the words were just addled because of your wounds, at first, but I think they're real words, just different. Do all sorcerers know a different language?"

"I didn't know I knew two languages," Sasha said, which was sort of true, but the way his mind flickered and images tried to break free … he was well aware, sort of, that he knew two languages.

He also had the sense that the language he spoke in his sleep was the normal one and the one he spoke at present was foreign. But his head was so addled, as David had aptly put it, that he wasn't certain what he knew.

The kettle whistled and David quickly fixed Sasha's tea. Handing it to him, he asked, "Are you hungry at all?"

"No," Sasha said. "Thank you for the tea. It helps a great deal."

David smiled shyly. "It's Maja that came up with the combination. She's the village healer. Normally you'd be with her, but she's got a houseful of sick kids and a woman having troubles with the baby she carries. She didn't want you getting sick, or not having enough quiet to heal. I don't—my place is empty, except for me."

Without thinking, Sasha reached out to touch David's cheek and said, "No place is empty where warm memories burn. The body is gone, but the soul lives on. He also left you behind, David, and I promise that was enough to ensure he died happy. Be at peace."

Tears fell down David's cheek. "You—you're not like any sorcerer I've even seen or encountered. Nothing at all. Who are you?"

"Sasha, only that," Sasha said softly, the sorrow of a lost memory blooming in his chest, stinging his own eyes. He slowly withdrew his hand and focused on drinking his tea. When he finished, he handed it back and said, "Thank you. I appreciate all that you have done and are doing for me. I will have to find a way to reimburse you."

"I am honored to be of help to a sorcerer," David replied.

"Yet I think you are scared of the likes of me," Sasha said, "and you keep saying that I am strange for my kind. By the way you hold yourself and always keep a certain distance away, I would wager that you have been hurt by one of my kind in the past."

David flinched. "Nothing less than I deserved, lord. I do not mean—"

Sasha reached out, snagged his hand, and held it gently. "You need not be afraid of me, please. It was only an observation, not a reprimand. I am sorry for the pain others have caused you."

"I—" David broke off and just nodded. Turning away, he returned the cup to the table and fussed with the stove a little more.

"What time is it?" Sasha asked.

David looked out a window covered with a dark fur, then said, "Few hours from dawn, yet. You should go back to sleep if you're able."

"You as well," Sasha said. "Not the floor; there's plenty of room in the bed." When David began to shake his head and protest, he added, "I insist. We'll both sleep better—and be there should the other have problems. It will help my pain and your nightmares. Come."

After another moment of hesitation, David gave a slow nod, clearly uncomfortable but not willing to disobey him. He slid into the bed and settled at the very edge of it, tension pouring off of him.

Sasha reached out with one hand and rested his fingers against David's cheek again, saying  softly, "Be calm." Warmth flowed through him and poured into David. He could feel it when the calming spell took effect. David gave a soft sigh and was asleep within minutes. Sasha slowly withdrew his hand and let out a sigh of his own.

He reached up to touch his chest, tracing the lines of the spider web he could not see well in the dark room. Would his memories ever return? Was there anyone who could break the curse?

A memory flickered, a face in shadow and impossible to see well, but Sasha had the impression it was somber, yet friendly. Then it was gone again, leaving his head aching. He sighed again and let his hand fall. Pointless to worry about it because he was stuck with is lapses in memory indefinitely. He'd waste less energy if he stopped fretting about it and just accepted.

Soft, murmuring noises drew his attention, and he glanced over at Davis. The barest hints of firelight cast a soft glow across his face. He really was beautiful, and Sasha could not think very highly of a village that let such a lovely, sweet boy sleep alone. He was old enough for someone to want to stake a claim. If he were younger, and not in the middle of his strange quest, Sasha would definitely have suggested a few ways he could express his gratitude for David's help.

He couldn't remember his age, but he knew he was too old for a pretty thing like David. He was also injured, cursed, and impersonating the enemy to bring down a greater enemy. Summed up so neatly, it sounded distressingly like a bad adventure story told to children.

Sighing again, Sasha settled more comfortably and closed his eyes, listening to the soft, steady sound of David's breathing until he finally drifted back to sleep.

He woke to the sound of voices and dragged his eyes open only with effort. A faint, gray morning haze was slipping into the room through cracks in the door and the edges of the window. There was a warm weight along his right side, and Sasha turned his head to see that sometime in the night, David had shifted to curl up alongside him.

Emotions caught in his throat:  longing and loneliness and resignation. He let himself enjoy the view, the warmth, for a few seconds more. Then the voices beyond the door grew louder, sharper, and then suddenly they stopped and someone banged on the door.

David jerked and sat up, wide-eyed and disoriented. He groaned as the banging came again and stumbled out of bed, nearly falling to the floor. Reaching the door, he yanked it open, nearly falling again when someone small and quick darted in followed by a larger, broader figure.

"What's wrong, Killian?" David asked, taking in the tense expressions on their face. Killian scowled, but at a look from the other man—clearly his father, to judge by the similarities in their features—remained silent. "Sigmund?" David asked, when the silence stretched on.

Heaving a sigh, grim-faced, Sigmund said, "Killian and I went out early, before dawn, to check the traps. The weather has been bad lately, even worse than usual, but it let up enough earlier that we decided to do what we could before we got stuck inside again. Only when we reached the first trap, we saw one of the barrier crystals had been broken. We checked another two before we acknowledged that the barrier is gone."

"That—that isn't possible—" David said, voice trembling.

Sasha frowned. "How did the barrier break?" He wanted badly to ask what they were even talking about, but knew that would give his cover away entirely.

They all turned to look at him, and Sigmund dipped his head respectfully. "My lord, we do not know. I have never heard of such a thing happening. Even in the old tales of the darkest days, when my Lord Teufel first cast the Great Seal and created the Sentinels, the barriers were there and held strong. But if they truly have fallen, then we are vulnerable to the Sentinels."

"I see," Sasha said. "Take me to see the broken crystals."

David shook his head. "My lord, you're not—"

"I am the only one in this village who might stand a chance of repairing it," Sasha said sharply. "The well-being of one man does not overrule the safety of an entire village. Help me up. Take me to the crystals."

Though clearly still reluctant, David nodded and helped him get out of bed and dressed.

By the time he was dressed, armed, and had finished a cup of tea, Sasha wanted only to go back to bed. His stomach felt as though it was on fire, but the stitches were holding and hopefully the tea would take effect soon.

"Let's go," he said and followed them outside—where they were met by a world of white. The snow was falling so heavily that it was impossible to see, impossible to go anywhere without immediately losing all sense of direction. Worse, a sharp wind cut through the air, sending the snow in a hundred different directions. Occasional bits of ice struck Sasha's face, leaving a faint, lingering sting.

Sigmund swore loudly, angrily, but Sasha could hear the fear he was trying to hide from the younger two. "We can't trek out there with the weather like this, and we will never see the Sentinels coming. We won't know they're here until too late. They'll just pick us off in the dark and probably have fun doing it. Light-takers!"

Power and the remnants of memories prickled along Sasha's skin. The air was so cold that breathing it hurt, and already he was covered in white. Stepping away from David's house, deeper into the snow where they wouldn't be able to see him, he reached up and freed the ring that he had woven into his hair. He pulled off his gloves to slide it into place on the ring finger of his right hand, felt the heat of powerful magic. He pulled the gloves back and closed his eyes, trusting things he could feel, but not remember. He  focused on what he needed and cast the spell. 
"Snow and ice, a world gone white, a blizzard spun out of control. Dragon of the Winter Storms, take back the power that is yours and bestow clear skies upon us."

As the last of his words were carried away by the howling wind, a momentary stillness fell. Then Sasha heard the faintest, barest roar in the back of his mind, and the snow seemed to burst with bright, white light for the span of a single breath.

Slowly, the winds calmed and the snow eased. Bit by bit, the storm abated, until the air was filled only with dingy morning light and brisk cold. Sasha let out a breath, ignoring the wave of exhaustion that washed over him, and gestured. "Let us go quickly to the crystals."

Sigmund stared at him a moment longer, but finally shook himself and moved stiffly away from the house. "I did not know sorcerers could control the weather, my lord."

"They can't," Sasha replied. "No mortal can. I only asked nicely for divine assistance."