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6

A PRAYER TO THE KIND GOD

I rested my hand on my master’s headless, bloody shoulder. “I’m sorry,” I whispered, “for wasting the day on the hill.” If I hadn’t, I could have been by his side when he needed me.

“Come,” Tearloch said. “Bring the woman.” When I looked up, he was already headed down the gully.

“I’m not leaving,” I said, to whomever was listening.

“Aye, you are,” said the giant, almost gently. “More villains will be coming. You’re not safe here.”

“I will not leave him like this.”

He grunted, whistled, then waved Tearloch back. Without ceremony, he bent and gathered Demius’ body and started for the door. “Bring his head,” he said to no one in particular.

“Sweetie, we need to hurry! He’s not far ahead!” Tearloch muttered other things as he stomped back to the fire, his frustration lit by the orange glow of dying embers. After a brief glare at his friend’s back, he took a cloth from his pocket, wrapped it around the head, and picked it up with glove-covered hands. “Anything of value, get it now.” He gestured toward the house with a nod.

“There should be a ceremony. A remembrance.”

“It will be up to you to remember him. And the shack will serve as his pyre.”

An invisible weight slammed into my chest. “My home!” And my library!

“No protection at all. Not when so many will take this route to Sunbasin. Blue Dragon or no, someone will disregard the laws when they find you alone. Besides, do you truly wish to spend the last days of your short life mourning over his body?”

He was right. Death might come at any moment. So what use was a library?

He nodded at the fire behind us. “We’ll need a torch.”

With the aid of glow stones still awake in the house, the men had found the old man’s bed. Other than the cloth over his face and the blood on his robes, my master appeared to be whole again with his head resting in its favorite nest of pillows, back atop his shoulders. I thought of the key and remembered it was around my own neck. No need to extract it from the bloody folds.

The horned man stuffed one of the blankets beneath the bed and reached for my quick-made torch, but I pulled it beyond his reach. “I’ll do it.”

He nodded and stepped back. “Everfolk deserve better.”

There was much I had planned to say to Demius. Now, I’d never have the chance.

Tearloch sighed loudly. “Come, do your duty. We must go.”

Without waiting, they left me to it. I closed my eyes and pretended the old man could still hear me. “Thank you. I planned to tell you that, in the morning. To thank you for protecting me all these years. For teaching me…everything.” I thought about the blue dragon. “I suppose I will join you soon enough.” I apologized one last time, pushed the lit wood beneath the bed, and held it until the blanket caught. “May the Kind God make you whole.”

It was a phrase that always displeased the man, but he was beyond complaining now.

The key felt overly warm where it lay against my skin, and I wondered at the luck—that the first time the old man left it in my care happened to be the first time it wasn’t safe in his…

I scanned the other rooms as I made my way to the door. Everything I thought had been important in my life meant nothing now. Food for the fire. Cushions for comfort. Nothing was worth the weight of carrying it away.

Though I struggled to think clearly, to remember clearly, there were only five things I felt important enough to take along. First, my favorite likeness of Demius, which I’d drawn while he’d been engrossed in one of his tomes. For all I knew, he didn’t know it existed. And though I considered it a remarkable rendering of the man, he'd have burned it.

“Better to stave off vanity,” he would have said.

It wasn’t pride that urged me to roll the parchment and stuff it in my stocking. It only mattered that I didn’t forget the old man’s face. Even now, it was difficult to recall what Viggo looked like, and he’d been standing in front of me only eight days ago.

The only valuables we kept for dire need was a tiny pouch with even tinier jewels which had been traded for water by thirsty travelers. Four of them. Not particularly pretty. Not worth much. Crumbs, really, compared to those the Semels would have taken with them, compared with those in the crown hidden in the satchel outside, but I’d be a fool to leave them behind.

The three items I dropped into my deep pockets included my favorite glow stone, a full, tightly woven sack of dragonspice—it was unthinkable to travel the canyon without it—and a sharp dagger in its sheath.

As I watched, the hallway filled with smoke and fire licked at the doorway of the bedchamber, daring me to linger and be consumed along with my master. “Stay,” it hissed. “Stay. Isn’t death coming for you anyway?” Its hot breath in my face made my decision easy.

Out the front door, I watched the man and his beast-friend hurrying down the ravine. They would waste no more time on me. The choice to follow was mine again.

But I had one duty left—to help Demius’ murderer find death before death found me. And the quickest way to locate him was to follow those who knew him best, who wanted to find the man nearly as badly as I did.

* * *

No need to rush.

After all, it was my home, my life catching fire. I stood at the edge of the gully and let the heat wash over me, let the essence of all I'd known kiss me goodbye. When I remembered little things I might have spared, I reminded myself that death was coming for me as well. No time to wallow in sentiment.

Through the undulating heat of rising flames and smoke, I tried to see the hold on the hillside. Even the white of the bratach was swallowed in the maw of deepest night, and without it, the keep might have picked up its skirts and walked away for all I could tell.

Demius would have laughed at the image. I chuckled now just remembering the dry scrape of his laughter in my mind.

"Farewell, old friend."

A fast wind rushed down the slope, swirled the flames into a funnel, then came to spin around me. "Hurry!"

Chills rushed up my spine. I blamed my imagination and emotions, but I wasn't fool enough to deny the warning. I pulled the strap of the satchel over my chest and ran into the dark gully I knew so well. Thankfully, the thirsty rock had made quick work of the flashwaters, and the footing was dry.

I didn't need the glow stone in my pocket to see where to place my feet. Thanks to a near-daily routine, I knew each hazard with my eyes closed and which curves would slow down Tearloch and his friends. An upper path would take me down the red mountain much faster than sticking to the gorge. And maybe, if I ran swiftly, I could even reach the junction of three routes before my true prey.

Perhaps I could end him before his friends could stop me.

The junction had always marked the boundary of my world. When I was small, Demius insisted that monsters waited for us beyond the canyon. When I stopped believing in monsters, he told me about the Prospectors. When I began to question that story, he gave me the books to prove it.

Later, I tried to use reason, begging him to take me to one of the cities I’d read about or else what was the purpose of educating me at all? What use were the histories of our race if the only people I met were travelers who happened through our tiny branch of a massive canyon?

Now…now I didn’t need anyone’s permission…

I ran a little faster, dragging my fingers along the rock walls, like playing a song on a harp that my fingers knew without thought. I slowed at the narrowing of the path that brought me dangerously close to a sudden drop. I heard the murmur of voices below and was careful not to disrupt the dirt and rocks as I stepped around the curve. Then I left them behind.

A few minutes later, I had another choice to make where the walls below me grew close and narrowed the road to the width of a wagon. If I had enough speed, I could jump to the path that ran along the south wall and gain even more time. I didn’t make the jump often, but enough.

I could take out a glow stone and double check the distance. But in the darkness, with shadows, my eyes couldn't be trusted. The wise move would be to keep to the north wall and not risk breaking a leg, or worse. But my blood rushed like flashwaters through my veins, and I couldn’t stop myself.

I closed my eyes and trusted, then remembered the heavy pack on my back that would make a difference. But it was too late. Three more steps. My fingers found the sharp corner that should be the last touch point…

And I leapt.