Chapter 10

The bottom half of Merritt’s shirt was pressed against Remis’ wound. He flinched with every step; the terrible pain of the injury fresh every time his foot met the ground again was only slightly numbed by his state of shock. Merritt hovered at his side, occasionally stretching his arms out in case Remis wavered.

“They’ve no patrol. No one watching their city’s borders,” Percy hissed.

Dirt slowly turned to gravel as they walked further into town. If anyone lived in these buildings on the city”s outskirts, not one of them had come out to see what the commotion was about. Remis had only spotted a few candles burning in windows so far, suggesting the populace here was minimal.

“They weren’t expecting anyone to be traveling during dragonis season,” Merritt amended.

That didn’t explain why no one stood guard for the city. Sure, they weren’t watching for wayward travelers, but without the guard, the citizens could easily be plucked from the streets like grapes from the vine.

Merritt tugged at the jagged edge of his shirt where it no longer covered his torso. His lean abdominal muscles were exposed to the frigid atmosphere between the unbuttoned lapels of his coat. He curled his fingers into a fist and hissed, drawing Remis” attention. Red welts, white-filled blisters, and shining pink skin were all that made up his palms. Remis felt the blood drain from his face and Merritt straightened realizing he’d been caught.

“I’m alright, though I imagine that those weapons are meant to be handled with thick gloves. I’ll remember that next time.” Merritt kept his face pointed forward, his features held forcefully in a blank expression.

Hopefully there would not be a next time.

“Thank you,” Remis said. That was enough to gain a reaction from Merritt, whose cheeks flushed the same terrible pink as his palms. The words needed to be said. Remis couldn’t let another pain-filled moment go by where his friend didn’t know just how appreciative he was. “You two saved my life. Without you, I’d likely have died not long after the highwaymen.”

“Don’t mention it.” Merritt tried to wave the notion off, though he flashed one of his bright toothy grins. “Or mention it a lot. Worship me as a god if you must.” Percy and Remis couldn’t help but chuckle though it went dry and dusty on Remis’ lips as he caught sight of Merritt’s burns again.

His humility knew no bounds.

The further they went into Olden the closer the buildings began to cluster. More windows held flickering flames, and occasionally they could hear signs of life. Music drifted from one home, a dog barked behind another’s closed door, and eventually, they spotted the first carriage careening down the rocky road.

Two rather large and muscular horses pulled the carriage, much finer than the one Remis’ father had sent them in. The outside had been painted a blue so light it looked more off-white under the pale moonlight. Gold accents were painted along the curved edges and in a pretty spot of trim across the sides, not to mention the gold handles on the doors.

When the driver caught sight of them making their way down the road he pulled the reins tight and called out. His words were caught in the wind and then carried over their shoulders, but it sounded as if the man had shouted, “Who goes there?”

Remis wrinkled his nose. Did Olden always greet its guests with such suspicion? He growled to himself and glanced at the blood-soaked cloth before stepping with purpose before his friends. Using his good arm, he gave the carriage a wave as it skidded to a halt a few feet before them.

A man with waves of thick blond hair and startling bright blue eyes poked his head out the carriage window. “Was it you who warded off the dragonis? You who manned the fire cannon?” There were permanent lines between his brows giving the impression that he was often scowling. Though his mouth was tense, it still arched subtly up into the slightest of smiles.

“Yes.” Remis nodded. “Our apologies for imposing. Didn’t quite make it out unscathed.” Thanks to the guardless borders. He motioned to his shoulder and the red fabric.

“If you could point us in the direction of a physician that would be wonderful,” Percy said, though Remis thought he’d already implied that. It never hurt to be extra clear about what was needed, especially when one was bleeding out.

“Our family has a brilliant physician who could assist you,” the man exclaimed. “Move over,” he mumbled to someone inside the carriage before throwing the door open to reveal his rounded shape. “Come, let us get you out of the cold.”

Turning toward his friends, they exchanged a look that ultimately ended with a shrug of Merritt”s shoulders. They needed help. Surely, this man could offer that. “I do have business that requires tending tonight,” the man sniffed at their hesitance. “Please either let me assist you, as you’ve done something of value for our city, or keep moving.”

Remis already felt weak and occasionally dizzy. Panic bubbled at the thought of being left to the streets until they stumbled further into someone or something that might help. He was the first to move toward the carriage. It was a lumbering task to pull himself inside it only using his good hand and avoiding letting his blood drip out onto the fine interior. His friends climbed in after him. Percy took a seat, curling into himself away from the two strangers, while Merritt settled with a charming, albeit tense, smile. The door to the carriage snicked shut.

Remis sat directly across from a younger, much thinner, version of the gentleman who’d offered his help. Likely his son? If not, the young man had to be of some sort of relation. He had the same thick blond hair, cut short, and brushed away from his face in the same fashion Remis preferred. He sat with his hands folded in his lap and his leg crossed over his knee. The leg of his pants was high enough from his position that it revealed the fine, polished leather and gold buckles of the stranger’s boots.

Gold, as it would seem, was everywhere upon these men. Their carriage shone with the fine details of it. They glittered like the midday sun with the rings upon their hands. The older of the two wore several thick chains around his neck and a gaudy ruby pendant. The younger had forgone the necklaces but sported two slender gold hoops in his ears.

It was the young man who watched Remis with quiet curiosity. He couldn’t be much older than Remis, if at all. Twenty-five? Twenty-four even?

Clearing his throat, Remis tried his best to give a genuine smile. He was thankful to be well on his way to help. “My name is Nikremis Lexmore. This is Percy Scout and Merritt Densmore.” He pointed to his friends.

The older of the two nodded but said nothing. Finally, the younger man spoke. “I’m Valen Brendal.” He extended his hand but grimaced when Remis reached out with bloodied fingers. Valen forced the grimace into a smile but slowly lowered his hand back into his lap. “This is my father, Vigor Brendal.”

“Vigor Brendal?” Merritt sat forward. “As in Warlord Vigor Brendal?”

That would explain the copious amount of jewelry and gold.

Vigor sat taller in his seat. “You’ve done us a wonderful thing on this night,” he began as the carriage jostled forward, “You’ve not only saved yourselves but protected our fine city. When we saw the fire in the sky we came right away.”

Not soon enough to keep Remis from his aching shoulder or Merritt from his blistered hands. Their timing had been near perfect that the actual terrible fighting of it was over.

“Where is your patrol?” Percy asked, not disguising his annoyance.

The warlord blinked slowly. “No one wants to be on patrol.”

Remis did his best not to scowl at his answer. No one wanted to be on patrol? It was a very honored position throughout all of Augustine. Not to mention the warlords paid a healthy sum of money to those who worked it. Most of the lower class tripped over themselves trying to get into the rotation and earn enough extra to elevate their family amongst society. He couldn’t fathom a city where no one wanted to work the job.

“As my father was saying, we would like to extend our thanks and welcome you into our home. We have a wonderful physician on staff who can take care of your injuries and then we can have a carriage ready to take the three of you over to the inn for the night. Your stay will be on us, of course.”“ Valen remained pleasant despite the way his father’s face had fallen at the mention of the patrol.

One of Remis’ hands fell to brush against his pocket, the only small bit of coin they had left. If the warlord wanted to cover their care and put them up in the inn overnight, then there wouldn’t be a word of complaint on his end. They all desperately needed this.

“That is most gracious of you,” Remis mumbled.

Now that the excitement of it all was fading his entire body felt sore. His shoulder, his legs, and those damn blisters on his feet made him want to curl up in bed and sleep for days.

“Where are the three of you coming from? What brings you to Olden?” Valen asked while looking out the window in such a way that it didn’t appear he cared much for the answer. What is so important that you’d risk your lives during dragonis season, was the unasked question.

Merritt”s hands rested palm up, exposing his blisters. He stared down at his hands before answering. “Left Breock at dusk. Ran into some highwayman and walked the rest of the way here.”

“Highwaymen?” Valen sucked in a breath. “They must be desperate.”

They weren’t the only ones.

Merritt didn’t expand upon their reason for their travels and Valen didn’t press. One more thing to be thankful for. He couldn’t imagine what these men would think of them if they knew their true reason; that Remis didn’t want word getting out to anyone else who might have the same ambitions as them.

The rest of the ride was done in silence. Both the warlord and his son were content to leave their conversation at that while Remis and his friends slouched into their seats, exhaustion sinking into their bones.

It wasn’t long before they came to a stop behind a five-story manor. Gravel ran in an arcing drive behind the building and stopped at the bottom of the back steps. Someone pulled the door open, and the warlord rose first.

“Servant’s entrance,” Valen explained, “We both have some business to attend to but I’ll walk you in and get you acquainted with the physician.” He stepped out and waited with his hands clasped behind his back until the three had managed to step out.

The moment his feet touched the rocky drive, a shiver passed over him and the huntress mark on his hand pulsed. He let his fingers curl into his palm until his nails dug into the fabric tied there.

From here, Remis could get a good look at the warlord’s home. He’d never met the warlord that held his own territory. Nor had he ever seen a warlord’s house since their own warlord lived in the next city over, opposite the direction they had to travel today. Remis knew they were wealthy; the families that had helped Emperor Grandith claim the country were each rewarded with riches and land. Now they lorded over their slivers of Augustine like kings.

Remis thought his own home was grand, if not extravagant, but this…this building wasn’t a home, it was an altar made to worship man. The outside was plain but not in a boring way. The paint on the shutters looked fresh and the knob was an expensive gold to match the carriage. A few steps led up to the already open door which revealed colorful tile. He had to remind himself to shut his mouth for fear an insect might just fly right in as he gaped.

They entered a mud room of sorts with coats hung near the exit. Several closed doors to their right and a long hallway to their left.

“Follow me,” Valen said, walking quickly down the darkened hall. Whatever business these men had to attend to, it would appear by the pace Valen had set, that they were running late. Remis wasn’t particularly tall for a man, so in Valen’s wake, he took two steps for Valen’s one. The man’s long lanky body easily ate up the distance.

Percy was all out scowling now and holding his book so tightly his fingers were beginning to dimple the cover. Merritt had taken up position in the back, likely for the very reason that Percy might need an extra nudge to keep going.

Their journey through the home only further proved how massive it was. They took another left and wandered what felt like the entire length of the house before Valen finally stopped and rapped a knuckle against a door. A slender woman answered after a minute of long silence. Her eyes were red-rimmed with sleep and she pulled a robe tighter around herself. There was no polite greeting as she peered at the men outside her door. She waited.

“Sorry for the call at this late hour.” Valen shifted under the scrutiny of her gaze. “We have a few guests who need tending, if you might.” She opened the door wider. Remis assumed this was meant as an invitation inside. Valen turned back to the three and exhaled with a smile. “Thank you once again for your assistance on our city”s border. Once you’ve been treated, head back out the way you came and a carriage will be waiting to take you to the inn. Tell them that the warlord sent you. I’m confident that Ellie here will treat you well enough.”

The three nodded, committing the name to memory, and allowing their host room to walk around them. With hurried steps, he left them to the woman who had still yet to speak. Remis offered her his most charming smile, the one that had rarely failed him when it came to women. She didn’t smile back.

Her room, they found as they stepped inside, was full of shelves stocked with tonics, herbs, and other assortments of dark-colored glass bottles. Everything was arranged in neat rows without so much as a speck of dust. Remis gave pause when he scanned the room and saw larger glass jars clustered together, all of them hosting an arrangement of horrifying contents. Eyes of many different colors with nerves still attached floated in clear liquid next to what appeared to be intestines or another pinkish organ that was wound in circles to the very top of the container. Clusters of ribbon-tied hair and small piles of what might have been nail clippings were next. He stopped letting his gaze wander when he noticed what looked like pickled fingers.

“Are you a bloody witch?” Percy asked, the frustration on his face replaced with horror and disgust.

Witch. The word had risen in the back of his mind only for him to shrug it off, but Percy had said it out loud. Given it substance.

The oddities she hosted in this room certainly gave the impression that she was more than an ordinary physician. The Empire’s stance on witches hadn’t changed much since most of them were either killed or forced into hiding during the decade that Grandith Augustine, the father of our current emperor, had hunted them down. Witches were powerful, if not the most powerful beings, within our country”s borders. They were rumored to have talents that went against all understanding. Witches who could control animals, riffle through someone’s mind, or even boil a man”s blood within his veins. Such vengeful creatures that it was said one had put a curse on Grandith himself and that is where his hatred rose from. Either way, Augustine did not take kindly to witches anymore.

The only bit of magic that wasn’t thought to be corrupt was that of the lesser mages. Entirely elementally based and easily drawn forth from the earth. Any man could accomplish it if they dared to try. Though some men, like Remis, were naturally more attuned to nature and the world’s magic than others, the possibility remained an option for all.

Despite his interest in magestry, he still felt weary at the thought of being so close to a witch. The curse on his hand was warm, nearly hot, and pulsed in time with his beating heart. He squinted at the woman who only frowned at Percy as she pointed him to the seat next to a metal table.

“You can’t just go about accusing people of being witches,” Merritt whispered in a hiss.

Percy’s voice was low but not quiet enough to prevent Ellie from hearing them. “Have you ever met a physician that had eyeballs in a jar before? Or one that collected hair?”

The cloth Remis held to his shoulder was drenched with blood now. He wasn’t sure it was doing much of anything, but he was grateful for the seat when the room felt as if it was a moment away from spinning.

Ellie cradled her supplies, cloth and bandages, and a small jar of salve. She set it upon the table and turned her angry eyes toward Percy. “Do not speak of what you know nothing about. If you want to be helpful, there is a jar of burn cream in the corner behind you for your friend.” Then she turned back to Remis. “I wake in the dead of night for you pathetic lot and this is the thanks I get.” She sighed. “Let’s see what we’re dealing with.”

The whites of Percy’s eyes shone as they widened but he took a tentative step toward the shelf the physician was speaking of. Several jars clinked as he shuffled them about examining the bottles.

Remis carefully pulled the wadded, blood-soaked cloth away from his body. Bits of the fabric clung to his shoulder and pulled at the ragged flesh around the wound. He closed his eyes, breathing through the throbbing pain. It helped to concentrate on a different pain, the more worrisome pain. He forced his thoughts to focus only on the gathering of heat in his palm. He closed his hand into a fist and dug his nails into the fabric wrapped around it that was now crimson-soaked from holding the other bandage.

Ellie’s nimble fingers poked and prodded, needling his discomfort before she began wiping away the blood. He groaned when she pulled at the skin and groaned some more when he felt the needle go in and then back out again. Colors danced behind his eyelids as he squeezed his eyes shut tighter. He didn’t want to see the needle or the blood.

“A warning might have been nice,” he said through clenched teeth.

“A warning wouldn’t have changed anything. It would still hurt.” There was no empathy in Ellie’s voice. His injury was just another problem she needed to solve before moving on. After a few moments, she pulled the thread tight, closing the jagged flesh. “What happened?”

He cracked an eye open, watching her quietly as she picked up some sort of salve. “Dragonis attack. Saved by my friends.” Remis gave a slight nod toward the pair as Percy worked to cover Merritt’s burns in the ointment. “The warlord said that the city doesn’t have a patrol currently.”

“He said no one wants to work,” Merritt added. “In Warlord Erskine’s territory, people fight over a chance at the job.”

Ellie arched a brow, pausing her work. “The patrol is striking. Warlord Vigor drastically lowered the pay about six months ago. It’s hardly enough to make a living from, much less be enough to risk your life for.”

Instantly, Remis thought of the gold and all the other fine materials the warlord surrounded himself with. It didn’t appear as if the man was hurting for coin.

“Why lower their pay? It’s a respectable job, a necessary one even,” Merritt asked.

The woman’s sigh filled the room. Remis swore he saw one of the jarred fingers twitch. “Greed, I suppose. It doesn’t affect him or his family much. They”re having their own flame cannons added to their home this next week. Vigor only laughed at the strike saying it’s only hurting them.” Remis winced as she applied the salve with brutal efficiency. Its sickly medicinal scent stung his nose as she continued. “He isn’t wrong. No one protects the borders and the dragonis pick off the peasants who live on the outskirts, the very people who would want the job. It doesn’t affect him at all but it affects them greatly. I’m actually quite impressed they’ve continued the strike for this long, but I doubt it will last. Eventually, they’ll be desperate enough to save their homes and their families.”

Greed Remis was familiar with. It was a disease that started as innocently as ambition. If a person wasn’t careful, that desire for success could be corrupted. They’d get what they’d always wanted only to realize it wasn’t enough. There would always be more and more after that. Greed could not be satisfied and it ruined all that it touched.

She placed the lid on the salve and then held it out to Remis. He took it with his marked hand, and she glanced down at the wrap. “Keep this, reapply twice a day. You’ll likely have a terrible scar. Beast tore through muscle too. Give it a few days rest and then you’ll need to stretch and rotate your shoulder daily to keep it from getting stiff. Would you like me to look at your hand, as well?”

He forced his breathing to remain calm. In and out, in and out, controlled, even when his unease rose. “No, it’s not a new wound, already almost healed, but thank you.”

She shrugged and turned to Merritt. “I suggest wearing thick gloves if you’re meant to do anything with your hands, but when you’re not, leave them exposed to the open air. Don’t burst any of the blisters purposefully but if it happens on its own, use a small scoop of the salve I’m sending with your friend and wrap it up for the day.”

Already the agony in his shoulder was giving way to a much simpler and easier to handle tenderness. His skin tingled slightly before his shoulder started a descent into blissful numbness. If anything though, the pain from the dragonis had only been passed on to the pain in his hand. The huntress mark was fully ablaze now and he fought the need to cradle his hand against himself.

“Could you hold this?” Remis passed the salve off to Percy. He tried opening and closing his hand but the movement only made it worse. A fire burning through his flesh.

This can’t be a good sign.

The thought came and the scar-like eye on his hand sent a shock through his entire body. He imagined the sensation that had him jumping up from the seat and clutching his hand to his heart was akin to being struck with a bolt of lightning.

A wave of warning came next. A voice dark and strange descending upon his mind.

She’s coming. She’s coming. She’s coming.

Run.