6. Colt

The day was sunny as they left Ivormor. White clouds blew across a blue sky, and morning frost shimmered over the grass. To the north, the mountains looked like a painting with their capped peaks rising against the sky.

The backroad they traveled wove through green hills, and to the south, tall pines loomed upwards. A sea of purple flowers burst forth from the hillside as far as the eye could see. In the distance, a farm stood against the haze of the sun, where cows grazed in the pasture, eating what was left of the swaying grasses before it snowed.

Colt took in a deep breath of crisp noon air, hoping the night wouldn't be too cold when they slept later.

"It's beautiful out here, isn't it?" Owen asked.

"Yeah, it is." Colt smiled and looked out at the land with him. "Imagine a cottage here, with the valley before you and the mountains behind you. Sounds nice, huh?" When Owen nodded, Colt imagined living in such a place with him, and his heart thrummed with something… joy, perhaps?

Brom came up beside them. "Kind of makes you want to become a farmer, doesn't it?"

"Now let's not get carried away," Colt muttered.

"I can sit and look at it all day," Gilda chimed in. "But I don't want to tend to farm animals."

Brom smirked at her. "Oh, come on. It's not so bad."

"I suppose you've experience with it?" Gilda raised her eyebrows.

"Of course I do. I was born on a farm. "

Colt sniffed. "Is that where your cooking life started?"

Brom's shoulders slumped as he looked over at Colt. "Already? With the jokes?"

"I've noticed Colt can't help but open his mouth," Gilda said. "Especially if the attention isn't on him."

"Not true," Colt grumbled. When he noticed Owen was no longer beside him, he turned around to find him still gazing out at the cows, a troubled look in his eyes.

Colt came up to him and nudged him with his elbow. "Need a rest?"

Shaking his head, Owen said, "I was looking for Clove, but then I thought I sensed Elian."

Colt's eyes widened, and he peered around, his heart suddenly pounding in panic. "Do you still sense him?"

"No, it was gone as soon as it came."

"Let's keep walking. Keep your scarf around your face and your hood up."

"Does it matter?" Even so, Owen sighed and pulled his hood up over his head and moved his scarf up over his mouth.

"Is he close?" Colt asked.

"I don't know. I can't usually sense people from too far away. Less than a mile, maybe. But I don't see anyone around. I've sensed him before, in Emberton, and then he didn't catch up to us for weeks. Sometimes I wonder if I'm able to know when something bad is about to happen because I have cursed blood…" He looked down.

Colt's heart weakened as he gazed at Owen, seeing how bothered he was but knowing full well that Owen would rather mask his troubles. He hated hearing him speak so poorly of himself.

"What's going on?" Gilda called. "What are you two talking about?"

"The Wielder." Colt glanced at her. "Do you sense anything?"

Gilda stopped and looked up at the sky. After a long moment, she shook her head. "No, but it doesn't mean we're in the clear."

Owen suddenly broke away and rushed ahead, walking past all of them.

Colt knew he needed time alone to think about things, and he'd give him that time, as long as Owen talked to him later. But he shared Owen's frustration. Just when it felt they were one step ahead, that Wielder seemed to get dangerously close. He could ambush them at any time. The Legion had horses, and the four of them had nothing but heavy bags.

"No breaks," Colt said, following after him. "We get to Pitchvale as fast as we can."

The day passed quickly as they walked along the southern path, and when the evening sun sank against the hills, they stopped for the night and started a roaring fire. Two travelers appeared soon after sunset, an older man named Sohan and his grandson, and asked if they could share their fire. Owen obliged before Colt could tell them no. After getting a good look at the old man as they ate, Colt finally decided he was no threat.

"It's good to meet with like-minded folk on the road of Rookhold," Sohan said, warming his hands. "Take up camp on the roads of Calwick and the soldiers will kick a boot to you fast."

"That's because they have the Legion constantly up their ass down that way." Brom's face beamed in the firelight.

Sohan's laughter rolled through his chest before it hit the air. "That they do."

"Where are you from?" Colt asked the man.

"From a town in the west," Sohan answered. "We're on our way back there now."

Gilda smiled at the boy. "Accompanying your grandfather, then?"

The boy stared at her, wide-eyed and blushing, before shrinking back.

"Forgive him." Sohan smiled weakly. "Torin is unable to speak. Misfortune brought him to a terrible fate years ago."

"We all know a bit about misfortune," Owen said, smiling gently at the boy. "You're welcome here."

Torin's lips tugged up.

Colt eyed Owen, marveling at how he always made people feel so comfortable. Was it part of his Essence?

"Ah, well, misfortune seems to be everywhere lately," Sohan said. "The Legion has taken hold of the region's local guard in the west. I'm not looking forward to being back there."

In the firelight, Gilda narrowed her eyes. "What does the Legion want in western Avathon?"

"They're sending in some Wielders with new glowing Cores." His eyes twinkled in the firelight. "The Legion seems restless as of late, as if they"re on the lookout for something."

Colt caught Owen's eyes. They both knew too well about the advanced glowing Cores. Owen had destroyed Elian's Core with his dagger. Such Cores had been a product of Milarc's science, and now Avathon was following in their steps with the newly improved device.

Sohan suddenly laughed, making them all jump. "I didn't mean to dampen the mood, but I will give you some friendly advice to watch your backs even on the backroads. There have been disappearances lately, the work of Hunters. They have become a large group that the Legion is unable to find." Torin shivered, and the man threw a shawl over his shoulders. "I'll bid you goodnight, and we'll be on our way by early morning." The older man made his way down the road of Rookhold several yards with Torin before laying a pallet out for them.

Colt glanced at each of his companions as they huddled around the fire. He knew the presence of the Legion had grown in Milarc. Being pursued by Core Wielders was more than enough proof of that. But he hadn't known what to expect of the Legion after coming into Avathon again after eight years.

"We'll have to be on our guard at all times," he said. "The Legion spreading into the west means they're aiming to take control of the northern regions, too."

"They're looking for more than just Astrans," Owen muttered.

Shadowborns.

Colt thought of Mordren and narrowed his eyes. Often called the dormant one, Mordren had once been a god who had brought malice and hatred to the world. Or so it was said. Colt didn't know what to believe. It all sounded asinine to him. He wanted to say it was all folly, as he'd said for years before meeting Owen. But he had witnessed the effects of the Cleansing ritual Owen went through that proved he was Shadowborn, and could no longer deny that it was real.

"We have Hunters to worry about too, as Sohan mentioned," Owen said. "I also overheard someone talking about them at the brothel."

"Yes, I heard them come up quite a few times in Ivormor," Brom said. "I think they'll be the least of our worries while the Wielders are looking for us."

"Do you sense the Wielder anymore?" Colt asked.

Owen shook his head. "No. I haven't since this morning."

"Good." Gilda laid out her pallet in the grass. "Keep your bags packed and nearby in case we need to leave quickly."

"All ready to go," Colt said, giving a thumbs up.

As Gilda fell asleep, Colt, Owen, and Brom settled around the fire.

Sitting at the base of the tree they camped under, Colt whittled a piece of sturdy wood he found on the ground, shaving it down smooth with his pocket knife. Beside him, Owen fiddled with the hilt of his dagger on his belt as he looked out over the moonlit valley.

"I'll be honest, Owen," Brom started, pausing as he drank from his waterskin. "I've been curious about that dagger our entire trip. Is it a family heirloom?"

"How did you know?" Owen asked.

"Daggers are a common item to leave to your family in Avathon, mostly within families. It usually means you had an ancestor who had great wealth."

"Really?" Owen's voice lit up.

Colt made a sour face, then smirked. "Owen, don't listen to him. He's pulling your leg."

"Am not." Brom chuckled, then winked, and Owen shook his head, falling for the man's tricks.

Clearing his throat, Brom nodded at it. "It intrigued me, is all. When it glowed before in that cave. Where did you get it?"

"It belonged to my father, but that's all I know about it," Owen replied.

"Was he Avathonian?"

"Yes."

Brom smiled and rummaged around his bag. "My family heirloom is a little different." He held out a small silver key in the palm of his hand. "My oldest sister entrusted this to me before she left our village. The house this key belongs to was in our family for a long time, and all the land with it. Now it sits vacant."

Colt eyed him. "Where did she go?"

"She left to join the Alliance, when they were still together. Some… twenty years back. I was only fourteen. I often wish I had gone with her." Brom poked the fire with a stick, his face shadowed by more than the light. "She was killed in the Battle at Thorn Hill."

A pang shot across Colt's chest as he cut his eyes over, his hands freezing on his woodwork. The battle between the Alliance and Legion was what had wiped the Alliance out for good. "How did you find out?" he asked.

"She was on the region's list of fatalities. I found out about her death only a few months after she had left."

Something registered in Owen's eyes, and he looked sharply at Brom before he stated more than asked, "She was Astran?"

Brom nodded. "She was."

Colt looked down at his piece of wood.

So that's why Brom is sticking around.

"I'm sorry, Brom," Owen said.

Brom shook his head. "Don't be. I made the wrong choice when I didn't go with my sister, but I can go with you now and help in any way you need me to."

"Thank you," Owen said. "It means a lot to me that you came."

Colt couldn't help but smile as he continued shaving his piece of wood, but then he frowned as he wondered why Brom hadn't mentioned his sister before. Perhaps after all that happened lately, Brom took Owen being Astran as a sign to join them.

"I should get some sleep now, before I take second watch. Night, Owen, O'Malley." Brom laid on his pallet and pulled his blanket over him.

When Owen moved to sit at the base of the tree beside Colt, he unrolled one of the new animal skins they'd purchased in Ivormor and pulled it over them both.

"It's very cold tonight," Owen said, shivering.

"Need me to keep you warm?" Colt grabbed Owen's hand beneath the blanket and squeezed it gently.

"Yes." When Owen laid his head over onto his shoulder, Colt tensed. He glanced over at Brom and Gilda, but they were facing the other way.

Despite his growing desire for Owen, he wasn't sure what their companions would think. By now, Brom and Gilda knew how inseparable Colt and Owen had become, and he was sure they had their own suspicions.

Ah, who fucking cares?

He moved his arm so that Owen could lean into his side, and Owen smiled up at him.

"Are you going to be able to sleep like that while I take first watch?" Colt asked.

"Yes. Unless you want me to move."

"No, you're fine. You need my body heat to keep you warm."

Owen chuckled, and Colt felt his arm loop around his waist. "I haven't seen Clove again since that night she led us to the cabin. I wish I knew what she was up to."

"I'm sure she's still around," Colt whispered against Owen's soft hair. His eyes cut up, and he glanced into the darkness. That Wielder was out there somewhere, too. Colt knew Owen could feel it. It was only a matter of time before the man caught up with them. And when he did, what would happen?

It dawned on Colt, seeping deeply into his mind and settling into his bones, what was at stake for them if the Wielder caught them.

I killed a man on the council in Milarc. I could be imprisoned for life, or possibly killed. But Owen… he would be killed without a doubt. They won't spare him.

Colt held Owen tighter, making him look up, looking half asleep already.

"What's wrong?" Owen asked.

"Earlier today," Colt said. "You seemed upset, bothered. I just… you can talk to me, if you want."

Owen sat up more and smiled sleepily. "I was upset about sensing the Wielder, but sometimes I think I sense ill omens, as if something could happen unless we take action to do something about it. Does that make sense?"

"Yeah, it does." Colt looked over at the dying fire. "I'd think that's a good thing, for you to be able to do that. I know you think you're cursed, but you're not. Other people have said that, and we've all believed it. The Legion's our enemy, Owen. We can't trust them, so don"t believe them when they say your blood is cursed."

The dim light showed Owen's soft smile. He pulled Colt's hand up and kissed it, then said, "Thank you. It… helps to talk about this. I've never really had anyone to talk to about this before. Amias, I love him, but he didn't like talking about it with me."

Colt nodded. "There may be times that I… don't want to talk about something right away. I know you're the same. But at times like this, when it's calm, at night…" He paused and glanced up at the dark sky. "It's easier to get out. And with you, especially."

Owen laughed softly and moved back against his side. "I'm glad I have you, Colt."

"I'm glad I have you, Owen."

Talking with Owen before sleeping made Colt feel lighter, as if he"d just gotten out his frustrations and let them go into the night air. It made him feel content, and he smiled.