Warrior's Call (Dreamtide Book 2) Page 8

  “Is that so? Makes this fight...” His voice grew throaty as he pushed back against Sawyer. “Kind of dull, doesn’t it?”

  Suddenly, Sawyer dropped his arm and stepped back. His lips moved. “I-it d-does?” His voice came out a dark grumble.

  Kohaku choked in a breath. You can speak? Sawyer turned his attention toward him and tilted his head, though there wasn’t comfort nor love in his glare. The sun’s light caught the steel blade, blinding Kohaku for a moment. Again, the clang of metal made him jump away from Sawyer’s attack.

  “No. You pay attention to me, now.” Fithel stood poised against Sawyer’s attack.

  Sawyer grimaced. He pulled away and swung, again and again, Fithel blocking each one. “You...” Sawyer said. “Drunk old elf can’t beat me.”

  Fithel wavered in his movements. “Drunk?”

  “Lush,” Sawyer growled.

  “You know better than that,” Fithel said as he continued to weave away and block Sawyer’s swings. “Why I started drinking wasn’t...” He gasped a breath. “It was you. Damn it, Sawyer, snap out of it!”

  Instead, Sawyer quickened his attacks. “You’re weak.”

  “Weak?” Fithel spat. “Who’s the wretched one?” He swung low, catching the bottom of Sawyer’s tunic. Cloth fluttered to the ground. So did a handful of thin blond strands of hair.

  Fithel froze; Sawyer’s blade sat against his neck.

  “Stop this nonsense,” Fithel said severely.

  “Nonsense?” Sawyer grinned a toothy smile. “I’ll kill you.”

  Fithel lowered his sword. “Will you? After all those years together? Sawyer, don’t you understand? I love you. Always will.”

  Kohaku’s heart panged. Their relationship... what truly happened between them?

  “Please, don’t do this.” Fithel’s sword clattered to the ground. “I know it’s this spell. We can fix this. Together.”

  “Fithel?” Kohaku whispered.

  “Summoner, don’t you see? I can control this curse against him.” Fithel raised the palms of his hands. “Understand, he’s meant to be with me. Look how he’s frozen.”

  “It doesn’t work that way,” Kohaku said. “He will kill you.”

  Fithel glanced back at Sawyer and he took a sudden step back. What was once an expression of respite in Sawyer’s eyes turned to malice. Suddenly, he veered away from Fithel and swung toward him.

  Kohaku drew his sword and swung, knocking Sawyer’s from his hand. In an instant, Fithel turned back, pushing Sawyer away from him. He stumbled a few feet but regained his balance.

  “Damn it,” Fithel cursed. Swiped his sword up off the ground. With the hilt, he struck Sawyer upon the head.

  “No!” Kohaku knelt down as Sawyer fell to his back, eyes closed, drops of blood oozing down his forehead. “Why did you—”

  Fithel sheathed his sword. “It’s for his own good.” He turned his back. “Never you mind what you heard, just take him back to camp and tend to his wound.”

  Chapter Ten

  Hunter’s Proposition

  Within his skin irked an awful burning sensation. It spread through his body, down his arms, and into his fingers. And his toes. His entire body alight with the ache—this dreadful twinge he’d to used to and yet, never wanted—Sawyer rolled against the hard ground, hoping such a sensation would disappear.

  What the hell happened earlier? He remembered investigating the den and finding the suir, or the scent of. It rolled across his nostrils like a plague, infecting him incredibly to the point of... And why did his head hurt so bad?

  Sawyer reached up and massaged that point on his skull. A lump?

  It was already nighttime. Crickets chirped in the distant fields. A dense moist fog scattered around the area beyond the fence. Next to him, Kohaku slept soundly though scooted away from him, stretching the covers taut between them.

  Sawyer eased a breath and pushed up off the ground. His throat dry—he best a drink from their canteen. If he could find it.

  Near the wooden fence, the horses neighed. Their tales swooshed in the air.

  As he stood on shaky legs, a strange aura stopped him from stepping further. The atmosphere gloomy. He recognized it, though he wished he hadn’t.

  “Who’s there?” he called out, gathering a reply in the form of rustles against the ground—if he weren’t careful, he’d awaken the rest of the troops.

  Taking a few steps away toward the horses, he tried again. “Show yourself.”

  “It’s strange,” the recognizable voice echoed through the slight breeze.

  Sawyer turned swiftly, spotting the red streamers and painted white face he remembered from the night before standing on the opposite side of the fence. “You.”

  “Shh.” Shusen tipped his head toward the sleeping company feet away. “You’ll awaken them.”

  And where was the night watch? Sleeping on the job as usual. “So be it, if it helps to find your motive.” Sawyer stomped up to him, seeking his sword at his side, but his hand met nothing but his pant leg.

  “Motive? What makes you believe I have some motive?”

  “You’re here again, aren’t you? Last night, you had awoken my curse. Spoke of my father—”

  “Kladus? Yes, he’d be happy with his work if he were still breathing.”

  “How do you know all this?” Sawyer clenched his fist at his side, wishing he’d his sword.

  Shusen stilled. With the mask on his face, Sawyer couldn’t tell his expression—smiling nor frowning—and damn it, if only he could, he would know right away his purpose. “You wish to learn true control over this affliction, is that right?”

  Sawyer swallowed. Best he not give the truth away.

  “I can see it in your eyes, Sawyer Guinne. The curse that eats you up every day and threatens to destroy everything you know and love. You want it gone, but it’s not possible. So why not learn to control it for good?” Shusen explained. “I can help you with your desires.”

  “How?” Sawyer blinked away the burn—the spell spawning up through him, now.

  Shusen held up a palm. “You must travel east of Jinchun to Frehs Hollow, the caverns along the Wyst river. Meet me there and I will show you the truth.”

  A shiver ran through Sawyer as he fought away the anger and disbelief. These were the same caverns Sawyer had proposed to Kohaku to find his agate stone. How could the caverns hold the gift to Sawyer’s own problems? If this man truly knew how to calm his blight, why couldn’t he simply tell him now?

  “Perhaps you’re lying.” Sawyer curled his lip.

  “And if I’m not, perhaps you’ll never learn the truth.”

  Sawyer huffed. To leave Kohaku here. To leave everyone, everything, only to follow this man to Maker knows where... Yet, the twinge slashing through his skin... He needed to learn how to control it, or next time his sword may cut down his lover for good.

  “Very well. East of the Wyst river, you say? Near the bay?”

  Shusen nodded, then backed away from the fence. “I’ll expect you soon.”

  “Wait!” Sawyer reached out for him but was met by air. “Could you not tell me anything else? Something, anything, how is it you knew about me?”

  Shusen stood, his back turned. “I had studied with your father years ago,” he whispered, then disappeared into the fog.

  Studied with my father? Sawyer leaned against the fence, wondering what he’d meant by that. If he truly practiced magic with Kladus, did it mean Shusen was a sorcerer like his father? It was unmistakable Shusen was strange, indeed. And there was no law against magic here in Qeoca—matter of fact, there weren’t rules against much that Sawyer knew of.

  He pulled away from the fence and stepped quietly toward his bedding and where Kohaku lay. To leave his lover there... To seek out assistance from an outsider, possibly a dangerous one... Sawyer had tried several methods suggested by the queen and by other magic users, but nothing helped to severe the ties nor control this blight. If he so desired, he’d thought of
ending his life to protect his lover’s, but there was no hope in that either for he didn’t want to miss a minute with Kohaku.

  He stalled and glanced back over his shoulder. Jinchun was a two-day ride, he figured, though he didn’t know the country well enough and would need direction. If he rode hard and true, could he make it faster?

  A rustling of bedsheets had him turning back to stare upon Kohaku. Then at his own empty bed area. The gleam of moisture on his sword twinkled in his eye, and he swooped down to pick it up.

  Kohaku would never forgive him for this...

  Sheathing his sword, he returned to the horses, finding his among the group and untied her from the fence. Forgive me, for I must go and learn proper control.

  Another rustle sounded from the inside of the captain’s tent. Sawyer led the horse away from the campsite before Fithel could awaken and spot his leaving. He already had enough hell to pay. He didn’t need an argument now, not when such an important task was at hand.

  Away from the hills and onto the road, he reached the thick fog covering the valley below and shielding the gorgeous green fields from view. Such a bitter morning to be leaving—he kicked his horse to a fast gallop, a teardrop escaping down his cheek.

  It was cold. Too cold. Kohaku tensed at the chill running through his body; he reached out for the blankets, wondering why it’d grown so incredibly icy. He splayed his hand across the ground, expecting Sawyer’s warm body but meeting grass.

  His eyes popped open, and he sat straight up. All around him, a thick fog covered the area, hiding the rest of the troops, the tent, and the horses from view. But not Sawyer, for his lover was gone.

  Kohaku struggled to his feet. “Sawyer!” he called into the distance.

  A rustling of bedsheets followed; he’d wakened the troops with his loud voice.

  “S-Sawyer?”

  If he’d gone to use the bushes, why wasn’t he answering back?

  Kohaku went taut. This wasn’t like him at all, but he hadn’t been normal since yesterday before they found the suir. Damn it all!

  “What is it?” one of the men asked.

  “It’s Sawyer.” Kohaku wandered across the moist grass to where he remembered the horses to be. If he wasn’t close, then he was already far away. “He’s gone.”

  Fabric flapped in the wind. Footsteps in the grass sounded from behind him. “What do you mean, he’s gone?” Fithel asked.

  “It’s what I mean,” Kohaku said as he approached the horses and their silhouettes came into view in the fog. He counted the horses, one for him, Fithel, and the co-captain. Yet, one was missing... Sawyer’s. “Look, he took his horse.”

  Fithel stomped up to the two sleeping guards leaning back against the tree where the horses were tied. “You two!” He kicked dirt into their faces, and immediately they straightened. “Did you see Sawyer leave last night?”

  One of them jumped up from his spot. “No, sir!” He saluted his commander.

  Fithel grumbled as he glanced down to the other guard, who lazily stood on weary feet. “And you?”

  “S-sir... I heard...”

  It was strange the guard seemed more sleepy than he should. True, they were to stay awake through the night, keeping watch in case anything happens. Yet, with the way this guard’s eyelids drooped and the paleness of his skin, it just wasn’t right.

  “There were footsteps late last night,” the guard said, shaking his head as if to ward away the peculiar tiredness. “The shadow came and... I heard... Sawyer.”

  “You mean—”

  “Was it the same man from the night before?” Kohaku muttered, earning him a wide-eyed glance from Fithel.

  “The man in the painted white mask?” The guard nodded. “Yes, and Sawyer was with him. They spoke...” The guard narrowed his brow. “About going to Jinchun.”

  “Jinchun?” Kohaku couldn’t stop the quiver from rising through his legs. “Why the hell would Sawyer go with him?”

  Fithel grabbed the guard by his collar, jerking him close. “What else did you hear?”

  “N-nothing, sir. I... slept—”

  “You fell asleep after that?” Fithel snarled. “You should have told us!”

  “I’m sorry, sir,” the guard whimpered, shivering underneath Fithel’s grasp. His lips trembled. “P-please, sir. Forgive me. I was placed under a spell... Yes! That man placed a spell on me causing me to sleep. Please!”

  Fithel raised his head, standing tall in front of the cowering guard. “You disobeyed my orders, Bren. There is no forgiveness.” He dropped the guard back to the ground and yanked his sword from its sheath. There was no time for the guard to beg; Fithel drew back and swung hard, piercing the man straight through his thin armor.

  The other guard cowered when Fithel aimed at him.

  “Stop!” Kohaku ordered, though his heartbeat hammered. “That’s enough. We have more important matters to deal with.”

  Fithel curled his nose, then glanced back to the horses. “Damn!” He turned on heel and swiftly approached his now awoken troops. “Listen men, we have a change in plans. Up and at ‘em you lazy swine!” He kicked and swatted at overhanging legs and arms, even stepping on splayed out fingers and causing the men to whimper and moan. “Edwyn, you will continue to lead the troops toward Jinchun, but Kohaku and I will ride out this morning toward the port city.”

  “Sir?”

  “You heard me. We’re leaving, now. Riding fast as we can to reach Sawyer before he does something rash. You will lead the troops through the hills, taking the safest route to Jinchun as not to attract any more company to our business.”

  “Yes, sir,” Edwyn said with a bow.

  “Is it safe to leave the troops behind?” Kohaku asked, gathering up their bedding.

  “It’s fine. I’m more worried about Sawyer than the troops at this point.” Fithel stomped back toward the tent. “I’ll fetch some supplies and we’ll be on the way.”

  Kohaku tied their bedding together and hauled it over his shoulder to his horse. It would be a tough ride with the fog disguising everything under its cover. If they kept to the road, perhaps they’d reach a different village and could ask for directions. If there was time, that was.

  “Ready,” Fithel said nearby, unraveling the horse’s reins from the fence. “You?”

  Kohaku nodded. There wasn’t much they’d brought out, anyway. He hopped up on the horse, letting Fithel join him at his side.

  “Stay close so we don’t lose each other in the fog.”

  “Yes.”

  Fithel kicked his horse to a gallop, taking the lead. The path led downhill into the thick, ominous fog. The road would usually be busy this time of the morning with voyagers and workers, but it was just as empty as the rest of the countryside seemed to be. And the further they traveled, the more Kohaku’s heart panged.

  He couldn’t imagine why Sawyer had gone so suddenly; why he’d follow some stranger into the unknown. As far as Kohaku knew, this man could try to manipulate or worse yet, kill him. Kohaku’s throat burned the more he thought of it—no. They’d find Sawyer before it would happen. Then what?

  Sawyer had been desperate to find a cure or a fix to his malediction for some time. There had to be something they could try, but not by this strange painted-faced man. No. This certainly had to be a trick.

  Noticing he was lagging, Kohaku reined his horse into a faster gallop behind Fithel. At least Fithel went with him for support, even though Kohaku knew barely anything of Sawyer’s past relationship with the elf. Was it a rocky one, like the way they acted now?

  Their journey took them past a tiny village; roads empty and houses still quiet for the morning. Back out into the countryside, the fog cleared, giving way to cloudless skies and the gorgeous span of bean fields. Along the road, brush surrounded them, leading into a thick forest of tall trees.

  He’d wished that Fithel would ask for directions, but he supposed the elf knew more about this country than he did. Hopefully, they could make it to Sawyer befo
re any trouble befell him.

  Racing fast down the dirt road, Fithel fought with his worries. He sucked in his bottom lip—so Sawyer didn’t believe he could help him with the curse? No, he wouldn’t, not since the day Sawyer had left him did he ever believe a word Fithel said.

  It didn’t help that he was drunk more than usual… Ah hell, who was he kidding? He drowned in the drink to soothe his breaking heart. Had done so ever since Sawyer left his side years ago. Once Sawyer returned with Kohaku at his side, the drinking got even worse.

  Still, Fithel had hoped he could be of some assistance. He never thought Sawyer would succumb to the pressure of the spell like this.

  Fithel lowered his head, avoiding an overhanging branch as he led the way through the brush and forest. Behind him, the continuous thumping of hooves against the ground told him Kohaku was keeping up just fine. Maybe if he trailed off the path, he’d stray away and Fithel would have the first opportunity to catch up to Sawyer.

  But why should he do that?

  Fithel glanced behind his shoulder. The red-haired summoner’s body was poised with determination. So he weren’t. It meant one thing: Kohaku truly cared for Sawyer, the same Sawyer truly cared for him.

  Chapter Eleven

  The Stone

  Mid-day, Sawyer sat on a log near the bank of a stream as his mare stepped into the water to drink. Stretching his legs, he let out a breath to will his body to relax. He needed this time to rest. So did his horse.

  How much further to Jinchun?

  Relaxation was impossible, not with his body so tense. Ever since Shusen approached him this morning, he couldn’t shake away the twinge of Kladus’ spell running through his veins. Even as he stretched, he pulled his legs back and tried to rub away the trembling of his knees.

  His stomach rumbled. He could fish, if there were any in the stream, or pick berries from a plant. He picked himself up and staggered into the cool water. A few steps upstream, he found a tadpole, much too small to make a decent meal. Then a grouping of minnows wiggled around the soles of his boots. Sawyer dipped his hands into the water, slurping up a handful, then explored the bushes.