Warrior's Call (Dreamtide Book 2) Page 2

  “Where will I find them?” He slipped the cord back around his neck.

  “You may find remnants inside mines along Anscien’s border. All you need is a small piece. They are rare, though.”

  Kohaku stared at his talisman and nodded.

  Hunger had still betrayed Sawyer. He focused in on the crushed piece of bread, unable to eat it, though his stomach rumbled. A new mission. He’d wanted this day to come. To finally be a part of Anscien’s forces again, but it differed from before.

  Kohaku tapped him on the shoulder. “You should eat.”

  “Yes.” He grabbed his mug and took a swallow of cider, wishing it would calm his apprehension.

  Chapter Two

  Lover’s Pledge

  The cool, late autumn breeze wrapped around Kohaku’s lanky body. He shivered and pulled his arms closer to his chest. It’d been too long since he’d rode out of the castle with Sawyer; it seemed like forever. The birds chirped their last song before the chill froze over the land. Red and orange leaves covered the ground, leaving trees almost bare. The few leaves left on their branches trembled with the onset of winter.

  Shortly after breakfast, they left from a back entrance to avoid the protestors. With a small pack of extra clothes and blankets tied on the back of their horses, they set off for Raifut. He wasn’t sure of the plan—were they to camp or stay at the inn till morning?—but he thought better not to ask.

  Although it was the perfect day for a voyage, nervousness set in quick. Sawyer hadn’t spoken but two words since they left the castle. No, he seemed to contemplate something. His head was lowered, mouth in a fine line, and sometimes he would scrub at his face or sigh. It was already past the noon hour.

  What’s wrong? Please tell me.

  “It’s a pleasant day,” Kohaku said to break the silence. “Don’t you think?”

  “Oh? I suppose so.” Sawyer glanced at him, then back on the reins in his hands.

  “Think we’ll make it by suppertime?”

  Sawyer sucked in his lower lip. “Should we ride faster?”

  “No. That’s not what I...” Kohaku sighed. “Is something wrong?”

  Sawyer narrowed his brow. The silence between them made Kohaku’s heart ache. There’d been so much silence lately, he was beginning to miss Sawyer’s voice. “I was just thinking... Do you enjoy living in the castle?”

  Every muscle tensed in Kohaku’s shoulders. “W-why do you ask?”

  “You’re never inside. You’re always tending to things like the garden or the livestock, which isn’t really your duty.”

  “I enjoy those things.”

  “Understandable,” Sawyer said with a nod. “But then I notice the maids and the attendants staying clear of you. The country has been in a bit of turmoil since the exchanging of the throne. I’m afraid you’re being cast out because... because...”

  “I’m a summoner?”

  Sawyer nodded again, a solemn expression on his face.

  “I am having difficulty making friends, but it really isn’t anything I’m not used to.”

  “Are you sure?”

  It was tiring hiding his disgust when the maids spoke rumors of him. He knew of their whispers and gossip: Careful. He could unleash his dragon at any time. They never cared if he could hear them or not. However, he was sure of the gossips swirling around of another evil.

  It was also arduous to be at his lover’s side when the curse consumed him. Sawyer’s veins and iris’ would boil blue. His temper would change in an instant. The wrath he’d show not just against Kohaku, but toward anyone ill-fated to be around him. The frequent attacks during the first month were enough to cause whispers of a demon living inside the castle. Coupled with suspicions of the queen and her magic, Anscien just wasn’t the same anymore.

  “Mostly,” Kohaku whispered. “I mean, I’ve never had many friends in the first place. I can’t just expect everyone to accept me after years of isolation.”

  “But they should. Or at least keep their mutterings to a limit.”

  If only they would. Kohaku had dreamed of it many times: having friends, colleagues, being invited to parties and banquets. Yet, he was used to the rumblings, the gossip, and rumors, since he were a little boy.

  “In any case, after we’re done,” Sawyer’s voice waned. “with our mission, would you like to visit your old home, again?”

  Kohaku’s stomach fluttered. “Are you... Really? I-I’ve thought of it.”

  “I figured you have.”

  “But I can’t just leave—”

  Sawyer steered his horse close and stopped. “Both of us. We’ll take a vacation there. Fix it up. Build a stable for the horses.” His cobalt eyes sparkled in the afternoon sun. He leaned in, barely able to plant a kiss on Kohaku’s lips. “All I want is for you to be happy.”

  “I am happy,” Kohaku whispered.

  “Happier.” Sawyer pulled away. “I want you to smile. To laugh. To dance.”

  Kohaku chuckled. “I haven’t danced in years.”

  “Haven’t had a reason?” Sawyer grinned. “Now you do.”

  Kohaku’s cheeks grew hot. “Should we have a housewarming, then?” He kicked his horse into a slow trot.

  “We could. Invite the fairies and the dwarves, if you wish.”

  “I could see it now.” In his mind’s eye, he envisioned the entire forest lit up in sparkling lamps near his old childhood home. The swarm of fairies coming in from countries surrounding them, and drunken dwarves making merry. Friendly mages casting swirls of magic. The fantastic lutes playing happy melodies. “I don’t know. It sounds all too unreal.”

  “We could make it happen.” Sawyer trotted along beside him. “Spare no expense, you’ll have the biggest house warming this country has ever seen!”

  Kohaku chuckled as Sawyer raised his arms in the air, his face bright with excitement. There was the cheerful hunter he knew and loved from when they met again two months ago in Raifut. And of course, still a little hard-headed.

  A party that big would be the talk of the kingdom for years to come.

  A chattering of voices broke Kohaku away from his cheerful visions. Hoof-beats stomped on the ground, coming closer. A group of bandits rode quickly past them, coins and wares jangling at their sides.

  Kohaku glanced back. “Where do you think they’re coming from?”

  “We have no business with them,” Sawyer said. “Pay no mind.”

  With a huff, Kohaku turned back to the road ahead. Still another few hours until they reached Raifut. “We should hurry.” He kicked his horse into a gallop.

  As expected, they approached Raifut just as the evening sun had set. A small crowd of protesters, complete with torches and pitchforks, stood in the middle of the road hollering at them as they passed by. “Look, it’s the Queen’s dogs!” “You should be ashamed of yourselves. Supporting a witch!”

  Kohaku grumbled, face red hot, wanting nothing more than to yell at them back. He’d never witnessed the actual protests, had only heard them from beyond the castle walls. But that was his Queen they were spouting nonsense about! The one who born him as a summoner. Yet, he kept quiet, following Sawyer’s lead to kick their horses into a faster trot. They went into the grass around the group, Sawyer kicking at two daredevils who taunted him.

  “Out of the way!” He commanded.

  “She’s a witch!” One protester exclaimed. “And look, they follow her every whim.” Another voice came from the crowd. “They must be under her spell!”

  Deeper inside the city, they passed a throng of onlookers standing outside the tavern “The Rooster’s Crow”; the din of the crowd spoke of a bet going on. Next to the pub, the inn was silent. They tied their horses to a wooden rail near a bail of hay, but Kohaku stood and watched the scene outside the pub.

  The battle of strength was just beginning. Two grubby old men stared down at each other, waiting to make a move. They had to be drunk, Kohaku thought, and the crowd too to be making such a racket.

 
“Come on.” Sawyer motioned him inside.

  Kohaku stepped toward him but stopped. Could it be? Between the crowd, lit up by the vanishing sun, he spotted a horse tied at the pub. The saddle branded by the Anscien insignia—a common sign of their troops.

  “Look there. Do you think it’s a guard?”

  “Could be.”

  “Why don’t they stop the fight?”

  “I’m sure they will soon. Come inside. It’s no concern of ours.”

  Kohaku sighed, turned around, and followed Sawyer inside the inn. He’d never taken an interest or gander at the many businesses while living in Raifut—went nowhere but the market—but it was exactly as he expected.

  The scent of alcohol wafted over from the pub; the door connecting both places propped open. The rowdy customers inside cheered and sung a pleasant tune along with the lutest. There was one lone attendant at the rounded counter of the inn, writing something in ink on a scroll.

  “I’d like a room,” Sawyer said to the attendant, the bag of coin jangled as it hit the counter. “By order of the Queen.”

  The attendant glanced him over with a raised brow. He made a displeased huff, then motioned him upstairs. “Door two is empty. One bed, if you don’t mind sleeping together.”

  “Not at all.”

  “Well, then. Name, please?”

  “Mr. Guinne,” Sawyer answered, and the attendant shrugged before jotting his name messily on the scroll.

  “See your own bags in.” The attendant folded up the papers and stuffed them underneath the counter. “We lost our boy to disease last month.”

  “Such a shame,” Kohaku added.

  The attendant folded his hands upon the counter top. “Are you kidding? Brat was as undisciplined as could be. Good thing he’s gone.”

  Kohaku lowered his head. Maybe this was why he’d hardly gone anywhere during the year he’d lived in Raifut. Thinking back now, he met no friendly folk in the village. Except for when Sawyer offered to pay for his goods at the market...

  “I’ll get our bags if you want to go up to the room,” Sawyer said.

  Kohaku nodded. He passed by the empty tables in the middle of the inn and up the stairs. The door to their room was already open. A dirty and stained, handwoven yellow rug stretched out along the floor and underneath the bed. Candles atop a small dresser lit up the room in a flickering red-orange light. And the bed itself was nothing as spectacular as the one he was so used to sleeping in for the past month—barely big enough, with earthy-green sheets, and a pillow. Was that really a pillow, or a folded up blanket stuffed in a wheat sack?

  He walked toward the window at the back of the room. The cool draft leaked in from the seal. They’d have to fix that tonight, he feared, lest they catch a cold.

  “Comfortable yet?” Sawyer snickered.

  “Would it be better to camp, instead?”

  Sawyer dropped their extra blankets on the bed. “It’s not that bad. See?” He stepped over to the only decent thing in the room—a splendid painting of a ship at sea hung on the wall, but suddenly bent down, grabbing his shoulder. “...Damn.”

  “What is it?” Kohaku asked, warily.

  “Nothing. Nothing...”

  “No, I know that look.” He swallowed. It’d only been three days since the last attack. With no rhyme or reason, the Kladus’ malediction would suddenly bring out the worst in Sawyer. “Don’t tell me—”

  “I’ve been controlling it all day. Maybe I’m just tired.”

  Kohaku took a breath, not of relief. “Should you lie down, then? I could fetch us something from the pub if you’re hungry.”

  “No. I haven’t much appetite today.” Sawyer stripped off the old blankets and spread theirs atop the mattress. “But you can go for yourself if you like.”

  Sawyer patted the bed hard, then fell onto his stomach, creating a puff of dust spreading throughout the room. A chuckle came from his lips, but then he winced and quieted down. On the back of his neck, his veins glowed blue with the curse already working its way through his body. Soon, they would extend down his chest to his abs, across his shoulders, and through his arms. This scourge was something Kohaku care not to contend with in such unfamiliar surroundings.

  “I-I’m fine for now.” Kohaku stepped back toward the window. Someone would need to be here for Sawyer, just in case. “Maybe I’ll go downstairs later, though.”

  “Okay.” Sawyer glanced at him and flashed a reassuring smile. “I figure we’ll get an early start at dawn.”

  “Good idea.”

  “Need all the sleep I can.” Sawyer laid his head on the pillow. “Come lie next to me?”

  “Soon...”

  Outside, the fight between the drunkards was still gaining the attention of passersby. The music and din from the pub rumbled throughout their room. He’d have difficulty sleeping under such conditions.

  He stifled a yawn, but napping would have to wait until all quieted down: the drunks and his worries.

  Chapter Three

  Old Friends

  Sawyer awoke to a fierce shiver running through him. The chill in the air intense from the draft coming through the window. The room was black; the pub downstairs quiet.

  Next to him, Kohaku lay soundly sleeping. Sawyer pulled the blankets closer and scooted next to him, seeking his warmth. Affection... The past month had been rough on them both. If not for his curse, he was sure they’d be closer than this. Kohaku always seemed so far, even now lying nearby, still felt miles away.

  The warmth didn’t help much to soothe his worries. Sawyer sighed a breath and eased out of bed. What time was it? He peered out the window, hoping to spot the moon, but found a dark, cloudy sky. Tiny snowflakes fluttered to the ground, surrounding the guard’s horse still tied to the post outside the pub.

  Sawyer furrowed his brow. A guard this late at night?

  He fixed his tunic, then wandered down the stairs, through the now dimly lit inn, and across the way to the pub. It was all but dead now with only a few patrons left. The bartender paid him no mind as he entered through the connecting doorway.

  Sat at the shadowed part of the bar was a familiar figure. He stepped closer in awe. Kept the man in sight: the dirty blond hair pulled back over cut and healed ears, the clean and hemmed tunic, and the knapsack at the man’s side with Anscien’s insignia embroidered on.

  “Fithel?” Sawyer scooted into a seat next to him. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

  “Aye, same to you.” Fithel eyed him, cheeks reddened with a fierce buzz. “We’re camped for the night before we set off to Qeoca. Care to have a drink with me?”

  The bartender, a callow lad still tender in age, set down a mug of ale in front of him, then toddled away.

  “And wha’ are you doin’ in Raifut?” Fithel asked, his voice slurred with his drunkenness.

  “You haven’t heard? Our queen sent us here to investigate the bartering of drugs from Qeoca.” Sawyer tapped a finger on the countertop next to the mug.

  “Us?” He swayed in his seat. “Who’s us?”

  Sawyer had seen him drunk plenty of times before, but now feared he would fall on his face if he attempted to stand. “Kohaku and I. Why haven’t you gone to bed yet?”

  “Don’t need to. And I have heard the tales,” Fithel hiccupped. “This mysterious drug is coming in from Qeoca. Why do you suppose we’re traveling there? Yes, we’ve been sent by our majesty to speak to the emperor, but we have reports of the whereabouts of the person responsible. I’d like to find him and wring his neck.”

  “Have you reported this to the queen?”

  Fithel shook his head and took another gulp from his mug. “Will do when we arrest the bastard and bring him into Anscien for prosecution. Now drink. Let’s bring in this gorgeous morning together.”

  Pushing away the mug, Sawyer turned to examine his former knight commander. “This isn’t like you, Fithel.” He leaned in and whispered, “What’s happened?”

  Fithel’s cheeks blushed even red
der than before. He turned his head away. “Don’t know what you mean.”

  “You do. Drinking at three in the morn, failing to report your findings, and staying away from the castle for weeks. You know as well as I missions of such importance require frequent reports—”

  “Ah, but that was Herman’s old necessity. Queen Adaline is much more forgiving.”

  Sawyer sighed a furious breath. Clenched his jaw. So Fithel spoke the truth. Their queen hadn’t a care for early reports lest it of major importance, but the way Fithel seized the handle of his mug until his knuckles went white, worried Sawyer even more. “What is it, then?”

  “It’s nothing.”

  Sawyer slapped the countertop. “Come on, Fithel, this is not nothing.”

  Fithel straightened and turned to him with a condemning glare. “Don’t you ever raise your voice to me. I’m your commander, damn it! Haven’t you learned this—”

  “Not for two years have I followed your charge. But as a friend, this concerns me, Fithel.” Sawyer swallowed hard. “Speak up. What’s troubling you?”

  Fithel’s lips drew into a fine line. He brushed his hair away from his nose, then narrowed his brows. Tension drew up around them, like a great black cloud coming in to consume them both. Fithel tipped his head and ran his tongue across his dried upper lip.

  In that instant, Sawyer wasn’t sure what to expect from him. If necessary, he would pin him to the counter, slap him to wake his senses, but that would only infuriate the elf further. Or would a cool mug of ale in the face awaken him?

  Fithel’s eyes glistened in the flickering candles. Suddenly, his shoulders drooped, and he turned back to the bar. “You’re right. Something’s wrong.”

  Sawyer leaned in, softening his tone. “What is it?”

  Fithel shook his head.

  “Fithel?”

  “I cannot tell you, Sawyer.” Fithel sighed. “Just know that it hurts to think about it.”