Chapter 14

Remis woke to the smell of warm syrup and sweet cakes with an erection far more severe than he’d remembered having before. His room was light, but he refused to open his eyes yet, still clinging to the last of the dream he’d had.

He dreamt of long brown hair and pale green eyes. Somehow, he could still feel the warmth of the woman’s skin beneath his fingers, the brush of her lips on his, and the scrape of her teeth against his neck. It had been one of those dreams where nothing had made sense, save for his wanting. And he did want. He wanted to hold onto whoever she was with such ferocity he’d forgotten momentarily about everything else.

Yawning, he stretched only to recoil when his arm brushed against a form next to him. Remis stilled. His heart stuttered in his chest. Had his dream been real? Or was there some other woman in his bed? Either option would be great to rid himself of the demanding need between his legs.

Light momentarily blinded him as he cracked an eye open and then forced the other open as well. Sleep clung to his lashes in small, crusted clumps that he rubbed at with the back of his fists. His vision cleared only to reveal a tiled ceiling and unfamiliar blue walls.

Remis sat up and the blankets fell away from his torso. The person next to him rolled over and groaned. A mess of dirty blond hair stuck up at weird angles and the shine of drool dampened Merritt’s cheek. Remis frowned down at his friend, both relieved and annoyed to see him there.

The events of the evening before came charging back to the forefront of his mind, as did the terrible pain in his shoulder. Remis was in Warlord Vigor’s room at the inn. Yesterday had been a blur of highwaymen and near-death experiences. That same anxious knowledge that he was being hunted lingered. It was what got him out of bed.

When he stood, he felt the constriction of clothes that didn’t quite fit him. The length of the clothing was nearly right, except perhaps the legs were a little long and the torso was almost too short, but the waist dug in uncomfortably. After locking every window and door inside the warlord’s suite they’d found spare clothing, Remis guessed the ones that were close enough to fit belonged to the son. Valen was near enough in height but was more slender and the sides of his pants dug into his hips. He tucked his straining cock into the waistband with a wince. The trousers, shirt, and waistcoat were nicer than what Remis ought to have borrowed but everything else in the dresser drawers was far more outrageous than the last.

The suite itself was a half-decent recreation of their lavish home. It had the same white flooring and everywhere he turned his eyes were quick to catch some glimmer of gold. When they’d arrived, the innkeeper had quickly taken them back to the suite but commented on how more often than not the rooms were used for Warlord Vigor’s discretions, thus making their stay here safe and secure. They’d all assumed that Warlord Vigor’s discretions were a fancy way of saying lovers. They’d flipped a coin to decide who got to sleep on the couch and who had to take the bed. Percy won.

This morning Percy was also the first to awaken. He waved from the table where he ate breakfast next to two other plates sitting covered and waiting. Remis’ stomach growled with a predator’s strength. The sound was loud enough to surprise him.

“I could sleep for another day and a half,” Merritt mumbled against his pillow before he sat upright, and Valen’s shirt strained further against his bulky form.

“Best not to do that. When I talked to the innkeeper, he said we’re only allowed to stay until half past noon. So you have enough time to eat breakfast.” Only half of what was said was easily discernible between Percy’s racing bites. His cheeks poked out like a chipmunk before the statement was truly complete.

Apparently the warlord’s hospitality only ran so far. Remis was thankful for the medical care and the few hours of rest; it was more than he thought he’d get.

He didn’t need to look outside to know that it was nearly noon now. The sun was peeking in around the curtains in startling bright streaks of light. He knew if he opened the curtain he’d find Olden busy with activity under a pretty blue sky. He’d been robbed, attacked, and hunted then would continue his harrowing trek and somehow the world was still going. There were so few who cared if he lived or died or how his life unfolded.

Led by his ravenous hunger, he found himself sitting at the table. Percy gave him a showman’s smile before pulling the lid of his plate away for him. Steam rose to greet Remis’ nose and he inhaled the sweet aroma. Thick round breakfast cakes were coated in glistening syrup and sprinkled with powdered sugar. Colorful berries were clustered all around the edges of the plate.

By the time Merritt pulled himself out of bed and they’d all eaten, the innkeeper was knocking on the door. He was a polite man, non-threatening, but stern, and Remis wasn’t one to push when their welcome had clearly run out. So without a carriage, a horse, or any of the supplies they’d previously packed, the three of them stepped out onto the busy Olden street.

Frost had melted in the windowpanes that glistened under the warmth of the sun, though even the sun couldn’t ward off the bitter chill in the air. Remis pulled his borrowed cloak against him. His hand moved to touch the coins still waiting in his pocket. It wouldn’t be enough to get them everything they needed, but hopefully it would get them at least to Croughton where his father’s accommodations waited.

“What now?” Percy looked down the road. He’d managed to find a bag to sling over his shoulder where his book and both Remis and Merritt’s salves were stored. Remis had been surprised to see how far his wound had come in only hours. The stitches were ugly, the skin still pink and bruised, but most of the pain had dissolved. A witch’s magic at work? Or was the medicinal salve making him numb to both the pain and intelligence?

“Now we barter for a couple horses?” The faster they could get through the woods the better. Though he was well aware of his need to get to Croughton, he felt a hazy sort of loss, now that they no longer had the luxury he’d grown up in. He hadn’t had to fend for himself in such a way even though his father had taught him how to haggle on behalf of a business.

“And put two men on one horse?” Percy asked.

“We don’t have enough money to get more than two, possibly not even that. So either we ride together or we walk.” Remis shrugged.

Wandering up and down the road, it took a while to find anyone with a horse who dared to stop and talk to them. Even then, only one person didn’t laugh when they asked to purchase their horses. After another failed attempt Merritt stopped to lean against a building, shadowing himself in an alley.

“This isn”t working.” Merritt pinched the bridge of his nose. “We need to try something else. Remis, what…what can you do with your abilities?”

Remis felt both his friend’s stares, eager and hopeful. It was his turn to be the hero but what if he wasn’t capable? He stepped closer into the alleyway letting the shadows cover his face. This was a subject they didn’t often broach. They knew he practiced magic and that he longed to go to school to be trained to hone his abilities, but it was still so culturally taboo they’d always skirted around the specifics.

“Only things that are elementally based. Wind. Water. Earth. Fire, if it already exists. And all of it takes a great deal of concentration.”

“So what? You can shoot water from your hands or call down rain?” Merritt pressed.

“No.” He shook his head. “No, I can’t produce the elements, I can only bend them to my will and again…only with immense concentration. I can tell the water to rise in a wave or flow in a certain direction if it’s not too much. Fire must already exist for me to tell it to do anything.”

Remis scrubbed at his face. This was exactly why he needed to attend school in the fall. With help, he might be a mage who could bend the elements with little thought, someone who could be something more than a charming heir to a business he didn’t want.

Merritt was nodding now, pacing up and down. People passed them on the street sending weary glances but never stopping to question them. Merritt ran a hand down the straining buttons of his shirt and came to an abrupt stop. “Isn’t there a body of water near here? The Mitus River?”

The fuzzy recollection of the map lingered and was pulled from the back of his mind. It was all blurry words and terribly illustrated treelines, but there was water that cut through the empire, rivers, and tributaries that fed into lakes.

“I think so. Yes.” Remis kept his eyes closed, willing his fogged memory to clear, but the words and images remained a blur to him.

“If we were to make a raft could you use your abilities to speed us down the river toward Croughton?” Merritt had that gleam in his eyes now. The healthy joy that came with every solution he might conjure up. If hope was a person, it would be him. Merritt was a fountain of it, an ever-flowing river of ideas and resolutions. Nothing was beyond him because he simply wouldn’t allow it to be. Everything had an answer. Every problem had a fix.

Admittedly, Remis thought this could potentially have the makings of a good idea. If he could sit in the quiet peace of flowing water, he could encourage the river to carry them along. It would be faster, much faster, but during dragonis season there would always still be risk.

“Do you know how to make a raft?” Remis asked.

Percy perked at the question. When Merritt shrugged and said, “How hard can it be?” Percy jumped in and said, “I know how to make a raft.”

It was his turn to watch his friend now. Though Percy seemed unaware or uncaring of the speculation he and Merritt wore. His thin lips split into a grin.

“Remember when I read all those books about tsunamis and natural disasters?”

Remis scratched at his chin. “Yes, you were convinced the next rainfall would cause a flood. Kept rambling about preparing?”

“Yes! Well, part of those preparations was teaching myself how to make a raft using only materials I could find and not purchase…assuming my home was flooding and I didn’t have access to my father”s coin.”

Desperation made it easier to see this plan working. The three of them, never having made a raft before, could put one together, and Remis could use his connection to the magic of this world and send them promptly to where they needed to be. Less time spent traveling meant fewer chances of an encounter with the dragonis and hopefully greater distance between himself and the witch.

Remis shook his head and laughed. “Are we crazy for this?”

“I think we’d be crazy not to try this. Keeps our coin and we won’t be walking through miles and miles of dragonis haunted woods.” Merritt started laughing too.

Perhaps they’d all lost a little bit of their mind yesterday as the three of them held their stomachs, chuckled, and considered the absurdity of it all.

What other choice did they have? No one wanted to sell them horses, at least not for the price they could offer. They certainly couldn’t afford a carriage and no wagons were traveling through the woods during the dragonis season.

It was refreshing to have some semblance of a plan instead of wandering aimlessly in hopes that something or someone might help them. Building a raft was actionable. Using his gifts was productive.

So with renewed determination, Remis stepped from the alleyway with his friends beside him and set off to find the river.

No one was keen to sell a horse but the first person they’d met had been happy to tell them all about the river, the Mitus River as they’d guessed. Remis tried to scribble the name onto the mental map he carried so that at least one small spec of information might be helpful.

It was about an hour”s walk from Olden which they’d used as an opportunity to gather supplies for their raft. They dragged several lightweight tree limbs leaving several crooked lines of broken brush behind them. Percy had taken to using his small knife to cut thin strips off of several of the long tree trunks. There was a fibrous layer between the good wood and the outer bark that Percy happily gathered as a means for rope.

Sweat dripped off the tip of Remis’ nose as he pulled the fully crafted raft toward the edge of the Mitus River. The day was cold but under their cloaks, they”d grown uncomfortably warm after dragging so many bits of wood together. They’d removed any knots and protruding branches using their weapons like axes.

He walked knee-deep into the river, the current a lazy pull against him, while Merritt and Percy pushed the raft from behind. The water felt like a thousand pinpricks against their skin. Icy fingers lapped against their clothes and soaked through to their prickled flesh. They paused to watch the wood bob against the coursing water. When it stayed afloat, they threw their arms over their heads in celebration.

“Percy, you”re brilliant!” Remis shouted.

The day was well on its way to ending and they’d only have a few safe hours before the sun went down and the threat of the dragonis returned, but the damn thing floated. The final test would be to fit all their weight on it and not capsize. They’d purposefully taken longer and built a larger raft, thinking that if it held them all they could make up for lost time with Remis’ gifts.

Percy tossed his bag into the middle of the wood first. The glass jars inside clinked loudly together and the raft itself swayed from the movement. His friend’s excitement only dimmed momentarily as he shot both Remis and Merritt a dark look.

“If this fails and my book is damaged, just know, I’ll be absolutely furious.”

Remis expected nothing else from Percy. Both he and Merritt knew better than to laugh, though it was hard to fight the urge to smile. They made it this far; perhaps the three of them could make it through anything together. With Percy’s brains, Merritt’s unwavering hope, and Remis’…well, he’d have to think on what his strengths might be because so far all he’d been good at was getting them into sticky situations.

One last narrowed look was pointed at Remis and Merritt before Percy clambered onto their makeshift boat. Water sloshed at the edges. The raft dipped with his weight and promptly bounced back above the surface. An echo of Percy’s triumphant shout bounced through the trees sending birds into flight.

Gaze centered on Percy’s pack, Merritt pulled himself onto the raft, quickly dragging his feet from the water and freezing the moment he was fully on board. The skin on Percy’s knuckles was pulled taut and pale as he gripped the tree limbs underneath him. The wood bobbed. Their raft righted.

It was his turn next. His stomach filled with knots. If this didn’t work they’d be out of options and stuck an hour outside of the city. He’d messed everything up so far and had been the entire reason for every terrible situation they’d endured. He didn”t want to be the person who weighed too much and sank the whole damn thing. Not to mention the wrath of Percy that would befall him if the book was ruined.

He was torn between jumping on as quickly as he could or going at an excruciatingly slow pace. Getting dunked in this water would be unbearable should he fail, like a thousand knives being plunged all over his body. More cold sweat beaded on his neck as he tried to find some middle ground and pulled himself up. His weight rocked the entire thing. His heart lurched up into his throat. Everything settled.

Remis stayed still, caught in a position somewhere between sitting and lying down.

Then they were floating, the raft gently following the river’s current.

“Fuck yes,” Merritt whispered.

They each took turns adjusting how they sat, letting their movements play out over the top of the water before settling again. The sun beat down on them, shining off the river’s surface, and warmed their skin despite the winter air. What wind there had been died down and left the three of them to float along with the flow of the river.

Remis found it was easier to breathe now that they’d successfully gotten on board. The worry that held his lungs in its tight fist had loosened. Now all he had to do was connect to nature’s magic. That same giddy thrill rushed through him that was always present when he practiced the art.

“Do you need anything?” Merritt asked.

Remis shook his head. “Just silence.” He crossed his legs in front of him, closed his eyes, and let his conscious drift toward that ever-present pull. The steady stream of water below them was an extension of him, familiar as the rush of blood through his veins.

Using magic was much the same as using one of his own limbs. It was a clumsy effort as though he was a child learning to walk and make small exact motions with his fingers. That’s partially why schooling was so important to him. He wanted to do as the great mages could. It needed to be as simple and easy as breathing, done naturally without thought.

He followed that extension of himself into the depths of the rivers. There, he could feel the brush of life within the currents. Fish swimming along brushed against his mental bond and the finer movements of beetles skimmed against the surface. Plants held firm to rocks and the muck they’d been able to root themselves to.

Remis called the water to bend to his will to find the raft that coasted along and guide it forward. The urgency that had settled in his bones was impressed upon the river, calling the ebb and flow to gradually gain speed.

Wind ruffled the hair he’d already pushed from his face. A dark strand curled over his forehead, and he ignored it as the handmade vessel moved at an almost impressive speed.

Breathing was somehow easier when he connected himself to the magic of this world. What worries bound him to his body lessened as he became one with his surroundings. Here he could forget about the dark shadow when they’d fled the warlord’s home. He could forget about the mark that scarred his palm.

The three men aboard their raft moved in silence down the Mitus River and watched as the sun crept closer and closer to the horizon. For when darkness came, so would the dragonis.