20. Colt

Colt

The next day, after Colt worked on crafting the emberstone knife, he ate lunch with Owen and Brom before he made his way to the training yard for more practice. He used one of the padded dummies to slash and hack at, but he felt as if he was doing a lousy job.

When he saw a man with dark hair eyeing him from nearby, he hesitated. "Can I help you?" Colt asked, his voice coming out much more rudely than he'd intended. He was too used to people thinking he was up to no good.

"Just watching," the man said. He strolled up to him, and Colt could see the gray hairs in the man's beard. He wasn't old by any means, but he also wasn't Colt's age either. "You have a good arm there. And you swing the sword with confidence. If you would like, I can show you a few more moves."

At first, Colt hesitated. Was this soldier really going to help him? Didn't the man know he was part of Owen's little group, and that they were responsible for opening the Gate? But then Colt thought of the men he used to watch train in Luthien. He needed all the help and skill he could get.

"Name's Uriah." The man greeted him.

"Colt." Colt nodded at him, relaxing.

A couple of men loitering nearby snickered. "He looks like a horse," one of them muttered .

Colt smirked. It wasn't the first time he'd heard that comment. He was used to it. In fact, so many people had poked fun at his name growing up, he usually went along with it himself.

"Let's begin with some basics," Uriah said.

For the first half of the hour, Uriah taught Colt two different stances while holding the sword. It was repetitive, but Colt understood why. While he had sparred openly with Brom before, this was much different, as Uriah was teaching him moves he'd been taught by trained officials. Moves that Colt had seen soldiers do before and often wished he could do. And now here he was being trained by one.

The group of loitering men grew, watching Colt and Uriah as they became the spectacle of the afternoon. Did these other men have nothing better to do with their time than watch a rogue and a soldier practice? Their idle chatter and laughter broke Colt's focus. This seemed to be his weak area, as Brom had told him many times that distractions would get him killed.

Colt couldn't help that he was aware of everything around him. He guessed that's what came from growing up on the streets, watching out for shady people and then later on having to watch his back for Core Wielders and Hunters.

After two hours, they stopped to break for the day, as the sunlight was waning and he heard a few men mention supper as they dispersed from the training yard.

"You're a quick learner," Uriah told Colt, smiling. "The others seemed intrigued."

Is that what it was?

Colt ladled a cup of water from the well in the courtyard and downed it quickly. "I don't have much of a choice but to learn." He collected another cupful of water and sipped it more slowly .

As he glanced at Uriah, Colt noticed the man's dark eyes and graying hair bore a resemblance to Amias, and it felt like years since he'd seen his old friend. "Come back in the morning. We'll continue training."

"You don't have to do that," Colt said.

"With what's coming, it would be good to have one more man who's able to fight."

Colt hesitated. No one had ever needed him for anything like this, and certainly no one with authority had ever relied on Colt for his help. His heart pounded as he thought of the soldier who had chased him and Rowan along the rooftops before falling to his death. He'd been young and foolish then. Cavalier about the value of life. Now he, and every soldier in the fort, would be fighting for their lives when Mordren arrived. He vowed that he would be ready to play his part.

"Meet me after breakfast. I have some coffee I can bring you." Uriah smiled at him before leaving.

Coffee? Isn't that what the elite drink?

He'd heard of it but had never tried it. Either way, he looked forward to more training. For now, he was eager to get back to Owen.

When he came back to their room, he found only Brom there, going through their clean laundry.

"Here." Brom handed Colt two of his trousers and shirts.

"What about our coats?" Colt asked.

"Apparently they needed more care and time." Brom smiled smugly. "I believe it, with the muck we've accrued over the past few weeks. Did you get some training in?"

"Right, I did." Colt folded his shirts and laid them on the bed. "You should too."

"Couldn't hurt. "

Colt looked around the room. "Where's Owen?"

"Elian and Harlan wanted to speak with him."

"Alone?"

"Yes, alone." Brom caught his eye. "He'll be alright, Colt. You both could use some time apart."

Colt threw him a dirty look. "Why do you say that?"

"Because you're inseparable. And at times, I wonder if you can even spend more than a couple hours without him."

"Well, I just did."

"And now here you are asking about him."

Colt sighed and looked over to see a few pieces of armor lying on the bed. "These yours?"

"Yes. I'm going to help the soldiers on the wall tonight. I've gotten to know a few of them. Nice men."

"I'm surprised you don't want to cook instead."

Brom chuckled. "I spoke with the cook yesterday. He made it clear he runs his own kitchen and needs no help from the likes of me. Besides, I'm needed elsewhere."

Colt raised an eyebrow, about to say something sarcastic back, but when he saw Brom's face fall, he tightened his jaw. He lowered his voice as he asked, "How you holding up?"

For a moment, as Brom looked over the pieces of armor, he was quiet. Then he said, "I'm not sure I was… in love with Gilda. But I did love her, and she loved all of us. And I was content with that."

"Owen is always going to feel the burden of her death on his shoulders."

Brom blew out a heavy sigh through his nose. "I know the weight of such a burden myself."

Colt pulled up his necklace and glanced at the glowing crystal reacting to Owen's Essence, or soul, whichever this strange element could detect. Then he sighed and asked, "Wanna go eat?"

"You read my mind."

They made their way to the mess hall, where they grabbed their trays of food and found Owen sitting at a table with Elian and Harlan. Which was an interesting sight, as Owen looked tired, and Elian looked annoyed. But Harlan seemed interested in whatever it was that Owen was talking about.

"Mind if we join?" Colt asked as he and Brom reached their table with their food.

"Have a seat." Harlan gestured for a chair, and Colt and Brom sat on either side of Owen. "We were just discussing what would be the best tactical approach to destroy an evil god."

"Oh, is that all?" Brom remarked.

"I think the best thing we can do is let Mordren come straight for me," Owen replied. "That way, no one has to get hurt."

Colt's brow lowered, and he narrowed his eyes. "Wait, what? Fight him head on?"

"Yes." Owen avoided his gaze.

"My men can be used as a diversion, or even a distraction," Harlan said. "They can allow you to make the strike."

"But I have this feeling… that even a thousand soldiers won't hinder him." Owen kept his eyes on Harlan, and Colt's heart sank. "I don't want anyone else getting hurt. There's a heaviness with his presence. Every hour that passes, the heavier that feeling becomes, as if I'm holding a chain and someone is adding a new link. When he's here, I'll know for sure."

This silenced them all, and even Brom was out of jokes and looked perturbed.

"We can't let you fight him alone," Elian said .

"And I can't allow anyone else to die," Owen protested. "It's my fault that Mordren is here, it's my fight. I need everyone out of the way."

"I can't do that," Harlan said.

"Why not?" Owen's voice rose, his face contorting in anger.

"Because my men don't run and hide. We took a vow to protect this country and its citizens from threats. No, Owen, we won't retreat. We will fight. We should be discussing strategy instead of carrying on with this useless quarrel!"

Colt narrowed his eyes as he looked from Owen to Harlan. The man's eyes were fixed, his face determined and the confidence dripping from his voice. In a way, it seemed to encourage Owen, but Colt knew it also frustrated him. He understood why Owen didn't want anyone in the way, but Colt also didn't want him to do this alone.

"Everyone… will die," Owen said. "I'm warning you."

Harlan sat back, his face straight as he said, "Then we will die with honor."

A moment passed by in silence, and Colt was ready to break it, but then a guard came running into the mess hall and called for Harlan.

In the early night air of the fort's courtyard, a group of men surrounded the messenger who had been sent to deliver the news of Mordren to Luthien. The messenger was injured, with giant gouges in his right shoulder.

"Give him room to breathe!" someone said, and the messenger dismounted from his horse, grunting in pain.

"What happened?" asked Harlan.

"I was forced to turn back…" the messenger said, "by a man who transformed into a bird. He told me the fort is marked in blood. I saw an army of soldiers… they looked inhuman. "

"When will they reach the fort?" asked Harlan.

"No more than a two-day march."

Colt glanced at Owen and Brom. Then his eyes drifted to Elian, who stared hard at the messenger. "I will go to Luthien," Elian said, turning to face Harlan. "I will tell them Mordren comes with an army, and that the fort needs aid."

Harlan regarded him with hard eyes. "I need you here, with your Core."

"Luthien must be warned, if they haven't been already. I'm better suited for the road because of my Core." Elian looked at them all before he said, "I will ride tonight."