Chapter 5

CHAPTER5

Elric deftly worked the flint and demonstrated how he could, in fact, light a fire. It was small, and it took a lot longer than the split second it would have taken Athan, but Elric hadn’t forgotten how to do it despite not having practiced in a while

“See?” Elric said smugly.

Athan crouched down next to the fire and extended his hand to it. The flame rose to meet him, and he gave no indication that the heat bothered him. The perks of being a phoenix, Elric supposed.

“I believed you yesterday,” Athan said. He sat back and searched through his pack. Elric’s stomach grumbled, and he hoped Athan was looking for food. He’d even settle for the seeds and nuts from the previous evening.

“Although it would have been more impressive without the flint,” Athan said, pulling out a pot and a small bag.

“What’s the point of doing it without the flint, though?” Elric retorted. “I’m trying to light a fire, not show off.”

All right, maybe he’d wanted to prove to Athan that he hadn’t been lying about his skills.

“Sometimes you need a light and you don’t have the tools to help you,” Athan pointed out.

Elric breathed through the sudden hit of embarrassment. Athan was pointing out the practical, not making a dig at Elric’s current circumstances.

“Yes, well,” Elric said, waving his hand dismissively.

He watched as Athan poured corn kernels into a pot, covered the pot with a lid, and then, with no care at all to the heat of the flame, placed the pot directly into the fire. Only a few seconds later, little popping noises started.

“What is that?” Elric asked, startling at the sound.

“Popcorn. I learned how to make it when I was in Priyana.” Athan smiled, his features softening and making him even more handsome. “It’s very easy though. You just put the corn into the pot, cover it, wait a few minutes, and it’s done.”

“Very strange,” Elric said, eyeing the pot. “Hard kernels turn out to be edible?” He paused, then asked, “What else do you know of cooking?”

He really needed food. He still wasn’t used to being hungry all the time, and the feeling of helplessness that came with it wasn’t pleasant.

“I know how to char things.” Athan reached into the fire and shook the pot around. “But I theoretically can eat most things. Humans are a bit pickier than I am with my food.”

Elric sighed. “Of course. I’ve been having to feed myself throughout this journey, and it’s been… Well, I’ve never had to do it before these past few weeks,” he said defensively, like anyone actually would’ve expected him to know how to cook to begin with.

He’d lost weight fast, too, faster than he’d have thought possible. When he touched his chest, he could feel bones, and that was an unfamiliar feeling. He’d never been fat, but he’d never looked starved, either.

Athan pulled the pot out of the fire entirely and removed the lid, revealing puffy white popped kernels. He set the pot aside to cool.

“We could probably scrounge up some…” Athan trailed off, staring at a nearby tree.

Elric followed his gaze, frowning. He saw nothing strange, but Athan stood up, braced himself against the tree, and reached out with a flaming hand.

A shadow evaded him, dancing out of the way and becoming solid. Callan leaned against the next closest tree, waving.

“Don’t spy on us,” Athan hissed. “It’s bad enough you’re here at all.”

“I wasn’t spying. I simply didn’t want to interrupt.” Callan reached into his pockets and pulled out a bag. “I did bring food for you, Your Highness. I know how little our dear phoenix eats.”

The loud sound of Elric’s stomach grumbling had his face turning hot. He didn’t like how dependent he was on the shade to take care of him, but the cost was so small that it hardly seemed like a price at all. Memories… Who cared about a few memories in the grand scheme of things? “Thank you, Callan. We are about to try popcorn. Have you had it?”

“Not that I recall.” Callan moved around Athan, sticking carefully to the shadows created by the flame, and passed the bag on to Elric.

Athan went back to the fire and sat down, pulling the pot of popcorn closer to him. “Make sure the food is just food,” he warned Elric.

Elric blinked at him, his hand halfway into the bag. “What else would it be?” he asked, pulling out a hand pie. “Really, Athan, what do you have against Callan?”

Besides the fact that he was a shade, and the light shone against the darkness.

No, the light cast darkness, as one could not survive without the other.

The thoughts didn’t distract him from the fact that Callan would want something for this favor, though. Even something as small as food would require payment, but Elric was resigned to that fact.

He tried not to think about how much he’d already paid Callan. It didn’t make a difference, and he never missed the payment once it had been exchanged.

“I told you, he’s two-faced. And terrible in bed.” Athan met Callan’s eyes directly, the disgust plain in his features. He really disliked Callan, but Elric wasn’t willing to drop his currently strongest ally just for the phoenix.

Besides, Callan had been a coward, but he hadn’t been two-faced. He’d been very clear about the price of his help, and as far as Elric could tell, he’d abided by their agreement.

Callan smiled at Athan, apparently unperturbed by Athan’s revulsion. “You’d hold that against me? How good somebody is in bed is hardly a good way to judge their character.”

Athan looked back to Elric, and Elric felt uncomfortable under his scrutiny. He focused instead on the food, eating a bit more quickly than was absolutely proper.

“Thank you for the dinner, Callan,” Elric said politely, finally slowing down when he’d gotten halfway through the pie. He started to pull out another hand pie but ended up sliding it back into the sack. He’d save that one for the morning, as hard as it would be to ignore its presence. “I’d appreciate it if we could all be adults.”

Callan laughed and sidled up behind Elric, placing one hand on his shoulder. “Of course, of course. I’m happy to play nice. I am so very fond of our dear phoenix.”

“Fine.” Athan extended the pot of popcorn to Elric. “It’s cool enough to eat now.”

Elric took the pot gingerly, expecting it to still be scalding hot. Once he realized it really was safe, he tentatively tried a bit of the popcorn.

“This is a bit bland,” Elric said after swallowing. He set the pot back down next to the fire.

Callan burst out laughing. “The food I bring is better, dear phoenix.”

“There’s a spice pack in my bag. You can sprinkle some over the popcorn if you need it,” Athan said, not quite hiding his annoyance.

Elric didn’t know if it had to do with his dismissal of the supposed treat or Callan’s presence, but it didn’t matter. “Oh, I couldn’t go through your belongings,” Elric demurred while he looked into the bag Callan had brought instead. Along with the food, there were other things in the sack. Elric brought out a deck of cards, looking over them and frowning. “Where did you get these, Callan?”

For a second, even Callan looked surprised. “I… Hmm. It must have been in the sack itself.”

Elric stared at the deck of cards in fascination, shuffling through the individual cards. “I recognize the design,” he murmured. “These are from an artisan shop in Alzaria. My father had a set like this commissioned once.”

He missed his father now more than ever. None of this would’ve happened if his father had still been alive. He never would’ve allowed Larkin to become king, or to marry a dragon.

Callan closed the distance between himself and Elric and leaned in, peering over his shoulder to look at the cards themselves. “They are very beautiful. Did you play a lot with your father?”

There was the feeling of a slight tug, a moment where he couldn’t breathe, and Elric struggled to breathe. This was far from the first time the shade had taken a memory from him as payment for some small favor—it was their deal, so he could hardly be upset—but it never failed to disturb him. It was like he was being strangled, choking on air, something that made it oh-so-clear to him that he was losing something.

He never knew just what he’d lost, of course, and he had to trust Callan’s word. A small, unimportant memory, Callan had told him when he’d rescued Elric from the cell at the castle. You won’t miss it.

Obviously, since it was gone once Callan had taken it, yet Elric mourned the loss of each in a way he couldn’t quite put into words. It was hard to properly grieve something he couldn’t remember, though, and it was growing easier to… set the feeling aside.

It didn’t stop the gnawing sensation, right beneath his breast—the place Callan always pointed to…

Athan shot up and pushed Callan away. “What did you do?” Athan snapped. “Don’t touch him!”

Elric looked up, startled by Athan’s vehemence. “What is wrong with you, Athan?” he demanded, his attention no longer on the cards. “You suspect him of treachery at every turn, when he’s done nothing wrong. We’re only talking about…” He frowned. What had they been talking about? His gaze fell to the cards in his hands. It must’ve been something to do with those, but he couldn’t remember what. He dismissed it, though. It couldn’t have been important. It was about cards, after all, and Callan had promised to only take small memories. “Oh, it doesn’t matter.”

Callan held up his hands in mock surrender, even as he licked his lips. “The phoenix is quite impulsive. Hot-headed, even. A good match for a dragon, but fairly useless against anything else.”

Athan clenched his hands. “I can still burn you, shade.”

“Not without burning everything else in the vicinity, too,” Callan answered, still smiling. “As long as there’s something… somebody… around to cast a shadow, I’ll still be here.”

They were both terribly frustrating as they spoke in riddles, and Elric was annoyed by how they stayed at each other’s throats. Finally deciding to ignore their bickering, he said, “We should play. It’ll be a better way to pass the time than listening to the two of you fight.” He found a reasonably large rock near the fire and sat down, grateful to not have his ass directly against the damp ground. “Do the two of you know how to play Kithagan Sweep?”

Callan nodded. “I’ve played a time or two. Although not much lately, so I’m very… rusty.”

Athan made a disgusted noise, but he went to sit next to Elric. “It’s the same game as Scoba, isn’t it? Just… your country’s version of it. You draw cards, exchange cards, and hope your random set of cards is worth more arbitrary points than what the other players have.”

“That’s the gist of it, yes. But you can’t win through luck alone. You have to predict what your opponent might do and learn to read their expressions and body language. It’s a game about people more than cards.” Elric began shuffling the deck.

The design looked familiar, but he couldn’t quite place it. They were a nice set of cards though, and even this simple act of shuffling reminded him of how he’d played the game countless times with…

It would come to him.

Or it wouldn’t.

Elric swallowed hard, wishing Callan had chosen to take some other memory that wasn’t so… immediate. He preferred being entirely unaware about what the memories pertained to.

“I’ll play, but Callan will cheat,” Athan said, sitting down on one side of Elric. “He’ll read your cards through the shadows.”

Callan made a sound of mock protest. “I would never. I have no need to cheat. I earn everything honestly.”

But he did slide through the shadows to take a spot farther away from the fire, where he wasn’t quite as well illuminated.

Elric frowned at him. “It can be a fun game, if everyone plays it by skill and not through deceit.”

He wondered if Athan could tell what Callan was doing. He eyed the phoenix askance, but it wasn’t like he was going to ask.

“Well, I’ll deal the cards,” he said. “I’ll trust that no one cheats.”

Even the act of dealing was familiar and left Elric with a strange nostalgia in his chest, for all that he couldn’t place exactly why. He set the required five cards in front of everybody, then took a look at his own cards.

They were, naturally, horrible. At best, he had a pair of two swords, which wasn’t worth much at all when they weren’t even in sequence. But the other cards he had were sort of in sequence, with just one missing in between… A lucky trade, or a good bluff, was all he needed.

“Of course, a game like this is no fun without any stakes,” Callan mentioned, sorting his own cards. “Normally people bet money, but I think His Highness is low on funds. Perhaps we could trade with—”

Elric glared at Callan, annoyed at the reminder that the only coin he had was that which had been given to him for the low, low price of a memory… which felt like a larger cost each time.

“A story,” Athan interrupted before Elric could utter a sharp retort. “The loser needs to tell a story. A true one.” He gazed steadily at Callan. Elric frowned at that, looking between the two of them. “Or you return the one you stole.”

He froze when Athan called Callan out, though, and unease roiled through his stomach. “...pardon?” he asked, a little weakly. “Athan…”

Athan wasn’t meant to know about that price, and it left Elric feeling vulnerable and small, something he didn’t enjoy at all.

Callan laughed though, a deep rumble that left Elric feeling cold even in his spot right next to the fire. “I accept. But that only works if I lose, my dear phoenix. Maybe you’ll be the one forced to give up a story instead.” Then his dark, inky eyes met Elric’s. “What story will you tell, Your Highness?”

Elric swallowed back the unease and sat up straighter. “That’s for you to find out at the end of the game, and not before—if I lose. Which is doubtful. I’ll have you know, I’m very, very good at Sweep.”

“Then let’s play.” Athan placed a card face down next to the draw pile and took a new one.

Elric considered his own cards. He could pick up the card Athan had discarded or take from the draw pile. This early in the game, it was unlikely anything valuable had been in Athan’s hand.

It would be very hard to read either of these two, given how tense Athan was and how intent Callan was on provoking the phoenix.

But Elric had been training for this his entire life.

Well, maybe not for card games, but it wouldn’t be the first time he was in the presence of actively hostile people and needed to figure out exactly how to get what he wanted out of the situation.

He gave up his two useless cards and drew the one Athan had tossed along with another from the draw pile. He managed, somehow, to keep his expression steady when he saw what he received—Athan had given up the King of Coins.

Elric wouldn’t have done something like that so early into the game, not when there was still a chance of pulling a high value set out of the king.

It really was a nice design, using the Kithagan colors and subtly honoring the royal family…

“I think the last time I played cards was with a young card shark, at a very illegal gaming house,” Athan said, pulling him out of his thoughts. “He insisted he could win one of my feathers.”

Callan snorted. “You’re only supposed to tell the story when you lose.” To Elric’s surprise, Callan dropped his entire hand into the discard and drew a new one.

“I’m only supposed to tell a true story once I’ve lost.” Athan traded two cards for new ones, ignoring the ones Callan had discarded. “But I’m free to talk and distract you while I figure out my play.”

Callan laughed again, not as dark as before, and shockingly, Athan smiled in response.

It was strange, when there was so much animosity between the shade and the phoenix, and Elric felt a prickling of jealousy in response. They had been together, had known each other intimately. Even though it had obviously ended poorly, they were still able to laugh and smile with one another in the end.

He wouldn’t have that choice, were he to see people who had betrayed him again. He’d never be able to play nice because the past was too dark for him.

“Did he win?” Elric asked, feeling like he was breaking into a private moment but not wanting to be left out, either.

“In all of this life, I’ve only ever parted with three feathers,” Athan declared. “And that young card shark did not receive one. He did, however, receive something else, something more substantial.” Athan winked at Elric, making it very clear what he meant.

Elric blushed despite himself. He wasn’t as prudish as most of his peers, but he still wasn’t comfortable with the way non-Kithagans threw their sexuality around. Athan was lovely to look at, though, and Elric doubted he’d have any trouble seducing even citizens of Kithage into his bed if he tried hard enough.

“Was he disappointed?” he asked, still feeling a little sour about the way the two of them were interacting but trying to set that aside.

“He stole all of my money and also my good boots before disappearing into the night, so… I suppose he was.” Athan shrugged. “I can’t help everybody.”

“Some people are beyond helping,” Callan remarked. “Now, are we showing our cards or does the Kithage version of this game require even more stalling?”

This was meant to be fun, Elric reminded himself. But he was nervous. He didn’t want to tell stories to these two. Those things were meant to be kept private, much like… much like his memories, of which Callan had consumed many during their journey to reach the phoenix. “People talk while playing,” Elric said. “And it isn’t as though we’re playing for coin.”

But they were playing for something more intimate—stories, or the return of a memory that had left him feeling that clawing sensation in his chest and left him unable to breathe. What would it feel like to get it back?

“Callan hasn’t even looked at his cards,” Athan pointed out. “If he isn’t cheating, he doesn’t know whether he has a winning hand or not. Since there’s no way to raise the stakes, let’s simply play best three out of five rounds. And for this round, I’m willing to show my cards.”

Elric looked down at his hand again. It sounded like Athan was confident, and Callan truly hadn’t looked at his cards. It would be interesting to see what that random draw had included though, and if it was best three out of five, he could afford to lose just the one to get a better feel for what kind of players these two were.

“I doubt you have a better hand than I do,” Elric said. With the King of Coins, that had gotten him a nice set of high value coin cards. Not the best he could’ve had, but not the worst hand either.

“Then the two of you will have to fight it out, because I concede this round,” Callan said, denying Elric the opportunity to see his hand.

“Never willing to show your hand,” Athan said, flipping over his cards. “Are you sure you know how to play?”

“I’m simply biding my time.” Callan motioned to Elric. “Go on, Your Highness. Show us whether you have beaten our dear phoenix.”

Elric showed his own hand, smirking. “As you can see, I’ve won here.”

But the victory felt hollow, because he could tell that if Athan had kept his King of Coins… or maybe he was overthinking it, and it was only after Athan had exchanged cards that he’d ended up with a hand that could have easily trounced Elric if not for that missing king.

Why had the phoenix sacrificed the card? He couldn’t have known Elric would pick up from the discard pile. He couldn’t have known that it would serve Elric’s hand.

Callan scooped up all the cards and began to shuffle. “One point for his highness, then. Hopefully the next few rounds won’t be so easy for him.”

“So you are cheating,” Athan accused, but his lips were twitching. “I’ll keep playing like this if you don’t play fair.”

Elric looked between the two. Athan was so hostile toward Callan that he was surprised to see this near amusement, especially if the phoenix was accusing the shade of cheating.

He didn’t like it, either. Elric was supposed to be the center of attention. They were supposed to help him, not go off with each other at the end of this.

Why was he so jealous? It wasn’t as though any of this meant anything. It was all just the means to an end.

“Fine, fine.” Callan dealt the cards easily, each one illuminated by the light of the fire. “Why don’t I distract us this time? I should tell the story of the time I helped a little old lady cross the street.”

“Was she still a little old lady when she reached the other side?” Athan asked, his voice neutral, as he sorted through his cards.

Elric’s own hand wasn’t any better or worse than last time. The direction of the game had changed; it was Elric’s turn to go first, and Athan would be allowed to choose from Elric’s discarded cards.

Elric wasn’t going to make it as easy for Athan as he had for Elric, though, and he discarded his worst cards in hopes of getting something better.

He did not, in fact, get something better, but he bit his lip as if attempting to contain his glee.

“She was exactly who she wanted to be when she reached the other side,” Callan said, scowling at his cards. Which might mean he was unhappy with them, or he, like Elric, was pretending to have a different hand than he really did.

It turned out he’d been bluffing, but Elric had decided to concede before showing off just how bad his hand really was. Athan won that round.

“Best three out of five doesn’t work with three people,” Elric pointed out when Athan dealt the next round. “What if everybody wins one round, and then two different people win the remaining two rounds?”

“We’ll know who the loser is, at least, if not the winner of it all,” Athan pointed out. “Or we’ll simply play to four rounds.”

Elric nodded, pursing his lips. He dreaded the idea of losing this and having to be the one to share some story, and he realized that part of the reason was that then, it would be brought to Callan’s attention. Then it might be the last time he ever knew of the story. It would be lost, as though he’d consigned it to the flames before him.

He dealt the cards that time, and while he didn’t physically relax, he felt a bit better when he saw what was in his own hand. He should be able to win, or at least bluff his way into it.

Normally he would avoid the cards Callan discarded, but this time… the way Callan was goading Athan—another story about somebody he’d crossed paths with—it felt like Callan was trying to hide something.

The light of the fire danced across the discard pile, flickering oddly, almost like the shadow and the flame were fighting for space.

Elric took his worst card and traded it for the one at the top of the discard pile.

It was, by all rights, a bad card. Callan had been right to get rid of it.

But it was exactly the card Elric needed.

Elric didn’t even pretend he was disappointed by the card because they would both see through that. He kept his expression completely blank instead and turned his attention back to the conversation. As it turned out, it didn’t matter that he hadn’t been able to contain his satisfaction, because neither of them was paying him any attention.

“Just because they asked for it—” Athan was saying, only for Callan to interrupt harshly.

“Better than giving something they don’t ask for and don’t need.”

Elric blinked, unsure of where that had come from. He’d thought he’d been keeping up with the conversation, but even then, it made no sense. A lot of what they said made no sense anyway, though, like they had some secret language Elric simply did not know.

“Are the two of you bickering again?” he asked in annoyance. “Can’t we even play a simple card game in peace?”

They really couldn’t win in his eyes, apparently. Either they bickered, which was irritating, or they got along too well, which was even more bothersome.

“Very well. Show us what you believe to be your winning hand, Your Highness,” Callan said, sitting back. “I am certain it isn’t as good as you’re pretending.”

Athan snorted. “He isn’t pretending right now. You aren’t as good at reading people as you want to believe.”

Elric eyed them both for a moment. This was why the Sweep game took skill. It was all about saying and doing the right things and trying to get others to trip up.

“Do you want to concede?” Elric asked Callan. “Or are you that certain I’m lying?”

“I am very certain that you will both owe me a story after this round is done,” Callan said, smirking. He fanned out his cards. “Do you want to risk being the sole loser, Your Highness? If you concede now, only Athan will need to tell me a tale.”

“I think you’ll owe me something you’ve taken from me,” Elric said evenly, looking Callan squarely in the eyes. “But as you wish.” He showed his hand, triumphant. He was getting out of telling the story.

He was getting a memory back.

Why did that seem so important all of a sudden?

Moreover, how had Athan even known to make that part of the bet? How did Athan know about the memories to begin with?

Well. If they had a history, it made sense… which made Elric wonder if Callan had ever taken a memory from Athan.

Callan stared at the cards, openly confused. “What? That’s…”

“Hmm? Is there a problem?” Athan leaned closer. “That’s a much better hand than mine.” He revealed his own cards, which were barely worth any points at all.

Callan’s cards, once flipped, showed a very good hand… one that still fell short.

Athan laughed and clapped Elric’s shoulder. “That was a very good show. I guess you were right about your skills at the game. Now… whose story do you want to hear first? Callan’s or mine?”

Elric considered, looking between the two of them. “It depends. Is Callan going to lie?”

“I keep my word,” Callan snapped in a surprising show of temper. Then, seeming to realize his outburst, he straightened his posture. “My story will be true.”

Elric arched his brow. “Why are you so cranky all of a sudden? Are you that poor of a loser?”

“It has been quite some time since I’ve lost, it’s true,” Callan said, a lot more smoothly than before. “Hopefully I won’t need to get used to this feeling.”

Elric didn’t want to get used to the feeling of losing, either. He’d lost everything when his brother had claimed the throne. Even the ability to play simple games like this with the nobility had been stolen from him because of his fool brother’s surprising ambition.

It had to be the dragon. Larkin had never cared about ruling before…

“There was a man once who had everything,” Callan began, sliding through the shadows to appear directly next to Elric. He plucked one of Elric’s cards out of his hand and balanced it on just one finger. “A beautiful wife. Two adoring sons, both handsome and… well, maybe clever is an exaggeration.”

Elric didn’t like the way this story was going. It was too familiar to him. But he didn’t say anything, for all that his jaw tightened.

“He trained his older son to take over the family business, and although he was stern, he was kind too. When it was simply the two of them, the father would dote on his eldest son, showing him how to enjoy life while still ruling.”

“You’re supposed to tell a true story,” Athan interrupted, but there wasn’t much rebuke in his voice. “You’re supposed to tell the story you stole.”

“I’m getting there,” Callan rebuffed. “The father would spend his free hours with his son. One of their favorite pastimes included… playing cards.” He dropped the card onto Elric’s lap.

Elric took up the card, gazing at it for a moment. The King of Swords. It nagged at him, as though there was something more to it, but he couldn’t place it. He listened to Callan, even though part of him raged to tell the shade to simply shut up and he didn’t know why.

“You can tell the measure of a man by how he plays cards, the father would say. A cheat in cards is a cheat in life. A man you can’t read is a dangerous man. A man you can fool—he is a valuable tool. Keep him close, and keep him happy, and he will work hard for you.”

This sounded… not familiar, per se, but it still pulled at him. Why was this so strange? Why was his mind rebelling against Callan telling the story? It was like his brain was trying to reject the words, like they were sand held too tightly in a fist.

He glanced at Athan, trying to figure out what was going on. He didn’t know why he was turning to the phoenix, but something made him look at Athan with pleading.

Callan caressed Elric’s cheek with a cool hand, and Elric flinched away with a hissed, “Don’t touch me.”

“No? But I thought you wanted it back.” Callan placed the tips of his fingers against Elric’s ear. “It might hurt.”

“Do it,” Athan hissed. “That one’s important.”

The words did seem important, but Elric couldn’t cling to them. He felt it almost… dripping into his ear, something uncomfortable and disgusting that he automatically wanted to reject. “Yes,” he said. “Do it, Callan. I command it.”

Callan laughed, the sound echoing out into the fields around them. “As you wish, Your Highness.”

The next breath brought with it a gush of ice-cold liquid in his ear, filling him, going deeper and deeper inside than should have been possible. The cold erupted behind his eyes, sharp needles of pain that were worse than anything Elric had ever experienced before. He doubled over, crying out against the sensation.

His vision blurred too, a tide of tears flowing out.

He’d thought giving memories away was painful, but it was nothing compared to this.

He saw… He saw his father.

Alive and well, smiling at him as he explained the value of each of the cards. They’d played together, and they’d discussed politics and their subjects and even life. All the small smiles his father had given him as they’d played, all the plans they laid out…

Every time Elric had confessed his doubts and fears to the one person he’d ever trusted with either.

“You lied to me,” Elric said hoarsely as he stared up at Callan, shivering as the cold continued to pulse through his head. “You said they’d be small memories. Pointless ones. That one was important! What did I do for you to take that one from me? Get food from you?”

Callan got up, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “It was a small one. You still knew the sentiment. You still remembered your father. You can still play cards.” His grin widened. “And what I am giving you, Your Highness, is your ambition. Do not forget that.”

The pain Elric felt behind his eyes made it impossible to lash out. He wanted to punch Callan. That was his father. The only thing he had left of the man were memories, and he could build no more!

The flame in the firepit suddenly shot up, growing so bright as to illuminate the entire clearing, and driving all shadows away.

“Leave,” Athan demanded, standing tall. The light of the flame caught on Athan’s red hair, making it look like it was on fire. “You’ve done enough.”

Callan glanced around and, with a sigh, walked like a normal person to stand next to Athan. “It won’t change anything. You can’t fix this. You can’t fix him.”

Athan grabbed Callan’s wrist, and whatever he did made Callan wince. “Not everybody is like you. And this memory proves it. Why take it, if it didn’t matter?”

Elric didn’t understand anything anymore. All he knew was that whatever was in his ear was digging in even more insistently, and the pain was spreading. He stumbled over the rock he’d been sitting on—and into the flames.

At least it would be warm, he thought as he fell. Maybe it would make his teeth stop chattering.

But before his skin touched the fire, it went out completely, plunging them into darkness. He landed against rock and ash, warm to the touch but not hot enough to burn.

“Elric!” Athan rushed over to him. “Are you all right?”

Even in this darkness, Athan’s eyes glowed like coals over heat.

“I’m… I’m fine,” he said. Lied. Because he wasn’t fine. But royalty didn’t admit that. He was still a king, damn it all! He tried to get up, but the pain in his ear was just so great he could barely stand it. It felt like something was pulsing inside of him, trying to slip deeper inside while his body fought off the invasion.

“Hold on. I’ll fix… I’ll help.”

Athan grabbed Elric’s arms, and even through the fabric of his clothes, Athan’s heat seeped through, driving off some of the searing cold pain.

It was something.

It wasn’t enough.