Chapter 9

CHAPTER9

Athan’s fingers lingered on Elric’s wrist, but Elric didn’t stir from his slumber. If he pushed down, he would probably make Elric’s skin blister and burn.

He could leave a brand on him. Would that make the holes inside Eric better or worse? Would he be melting and reshaping Elric, smoothing everything out, or would that leave Elric so brittle that he’d break at the faintest touch?

Elric groaned, and Athan pulled his hand away.

“If you want to reach Naran by nightfall, we should probably get out of bed,” Athan said, albeit reluctantly. He had no desire to go anywhere. If they simply stayed another day or two, or even a week, maybe he’d make even more progress with Elric. Last night had been so…

So fun. Even getting wet had been worth it in the end.

Elric blinked several times before his eyes focused—if blearily—on Athan. “It’s early,” he mumbled. “And comfortable.”

Compared to the nights Elric had spent sleeping on the ground, Athan was sure it was considerably more comfortable.

“We can stay if you want,” Athan suggested. Maybe he’d done enough already to divert Elric’s course. “There’s a beautiful lake not far from here. That would make a nice trip for us. I’d even let you drag me into the water again.”

Elric’s lips curled into a smile, but only briefly, before he shook his head. “No, we need to get to the capital as soon as possible. The longer Larkin holds the throne, the more difficult it’ll be to reclaim my kingdom.”

There it was again. That dark pulse under Elric’s chest curled out, digging deeper into Elric.

Athan sighed and sat up. He had to find the root of what was destroying Elric. It was so slow, so insidious, that it was no wonder Elric couldn’t see it.

They got dressed, had a simple breakfast, and Athan paid Lisa a little extra before they left. Whatever Elric had said about the value of things, Athan didn’t particularly care about money, and it cost him nothing to give people a few extra coins to help them out.

“You said something about hiring a carriage?” Elric asked as they walked through town.

Athan made a noncommittal sound. “What would you do if I said we had to walk the rest of the way?”

Anything to prolong this trip.

Elric frowned at him. “Then we’d walk, of course… But I’d prefer not to. A carriage would be much quicker, and it would be easier on our feet.”

It would be easier still to fly. Athan glanced up at the sky again and considered doing just that—leaving before he got himself involved even more than he already was. The addition of Callan was enough of a warning that he was potentially in over his head.

But he’d seen sparks inside Elric too, the parts that wanted to glow but had been tamped down due to the dark pulse.

“A carriage, then. Well, more of a cart. We’ll find a group of merchants already on their way.” Athan led them to the other gate of the small outpost.

He spotted a young man, half-drunk on the steps of a building. He could probably use somebody to listen to him, although he would want a few coins for more drink. The woman by the door to the tailor had a gloomy aura too, and it would be trivial to make her smile.

If Athan looked, he could find so many people who needed help, and all of them would be simpler fixes than Elric.

“Half the guards here should be Kithagan,” Elric said, somewhat quietly. “I remember negotiating that with King Eoghan. A way of ensuring the outpost stays neutral and reflects the interests of both kingdoms.”

“Did it work?” Athan asked. They finally got to the gates, which was bustling with early morning activity of people starting their day.

“I don’t know. You can’t exactly tell a Kithagan from a Phassian just by looking at them. But we’ve never had border troubles with King Eoghan.” Elric walked a little bit closer to Athan, though.

Athan wished he didn’t understand the politics of humans, but he’d become far too familiar with it all in his years living among them. Sometimes war broke out and nobody was in the wrong; other times, it happened merely because two people with large egos couldn’t stand each other.

“It’s good you were trying to stay peaceful.” Athan led them beyond the gate to the stables, where it was significantly more crowded. People stared at them, but Athan ignored them. He was used to drawing attention. He’d never been able to disguise himself in such a way that nobody recognized him.

Elric ducked his head, clearly not wanting to be seen. It would be difficult to identify the would-be king, as grimy and shabby as he was, but Callan had said there was a bounty on his head.

“I was,” Elric stated quietly. “I wanted only the best for Kithage. I don’t understand why my mother…” He stopped talking, but that darkness pulsed even more strongly, tendrils threatening to spread like flowering vines. “Regardless, I will bring peace back to my kingdom once I regain my throne.”

Athan glanced around. “Is there no peace now? I haven’t heard of any fighting breaking out anywhere.” He bumped his shoulder against Elric’s. “It’s possible things aren’t as bad as you fear.”

“There is a dragon as king’s consort,” Elric said savagely, his lips curling up into a sneer. “A traitor sits on the throne. He should’ve been executed, not crowned.”

“From what I know of dragons,” Athan started, averting his gaze from the dark pulse inside Elric, “it’s unlikely this one wants to rule. They generally have a single-minded obsession over things they treasure, and barely pay attention to anything else.”

The last dragon Athan had met… His lips twitched in amusement. That was probably a funny story too, even if it had ended in a lot of bloodshed. How was Athan supposed to know the dragon was simply collecting broken items, with no desire to ever fix them?

“Well, he can’t continue to live,” Elric said matter-of-factly. “He’s stupid enough to do what my brother says, and we’d never be safe from them trying to retake the crown. It would certainly lead to civil war.”

Athan didn’t point out that Elric was the one trying to incite civil war, instead turning his attention to two merchants chatting by a group of carts.

“Good morning, sir, madam,” Athan greeted respectfully. Their eyes widened when they turned to face him. “I was hoping my companion and I could join your small group. You are headed to Naran, correct?”

“Yes!” the woman answered almost immediately. Then she shook her head and looked to her companion. “Ah, if it’s okay with you?”

“Y-yeah, of course. Um, I hadn’t expected… That is, if our carts are good enough for you. We’re very humbled…” the second merchant mumbled.

“No, please,” Athan held up his hands, wishing he could dim his own flame a little more. Not everybody reacted like this, but there were enough to make him uncomfortable. “We’ll pay, of course. And I’m content to walk alongside you. My companion’s had a long journey though, and we’re eager to finish our trip.”

Despite how awed they were by him, they were still merchants, and Athan haggled with them to make them feel better about the final price they charged him.

“They would have let us ride for free,” Elric mumbled once Athan returned to him. “If you’d asked.”

“But I didn’t want to ride for free. We’re supposed to pay for things, aren’t we? Exchange money for the value of goods and services?” Athan smiled at Elric, enjoying the annoyed pout Elric gave him in return.

“How long did they say it would be before they departed?” Elric asked after a moment, glancing at the wagon the merchants were standing by.

“Shortly,” Athan replied. “We’ll easily make it there by nightfall with them, though, even if we’re delayed a little. And you’ll have a chance to rest your feet.”

Elric did not seem to share his amusement about that, either, and he glowered at him.

Athan missed the good mood he’d caught Elric in the previous evening, when he’d had hope for the would-be king.

Another ten minutes and they did depart, with Elric sitting on the back of a cart loaded with goods. The two horses pulling the cart eyed Athan a bit warily but seemed to realize he wasn’t a threat to them. He made sure to keep enough distance from the animals as he walked alongside the caravan.

The journey was pleasant enough. Elric mostly kept to himself, but Athan chatted with the other merchants, who were happy to talk about themselves. A few tried to ask Athan about his own history, but Athan deflected easily and focused on keeping a cheerful mood going.

The talking made the first leg of the trip pass quickly. They stopped for lunch when the sun was at its highest, a break for animals and humans both.

Athan circled back to Elric, who had wandered a little bit away from everybody and was resting against a tree next to the creek. He was nibbling on some of the nuts and berries Athan had given to him earlier during the day.

“Was this a first for you?” Athan asked. “Riding on a bumpy cart?”

Elric glanced up at Athan, pursing his lips. “Of course it is. I’ve never walked great distances before, and I’ve always traveled in a fine carriage—or at least on horseback. This is…” He grimaced before deciding on, “Different.”

Well, at least he was polite enough not to say miserable, even though Athan was sure that was what Elric had meant.

Athan smiled and sat down next to him, taking care not to get his feet anywhere near the water. “I hate it. The bumpiness, not being in control of the speed or the direction. The animals that don’t know what to make of me. I’m not threatening, but I’m not normal either. I think the only time I’ve ridden carts or carriages was…” Athan trailed off, frowning.

“Was?” Elric prompted.

Athan held up a hand to him, listening. There was something hovering at the edges—a soft thud of a footstep. He half expected to find Callan, but whatever was off lacked the distinct foulness. Athan stood up quickly and turned, listening for that sound again.

Nothing.

But… he saw a small thread of something.

“Get back to the carts,” Athan hissed to Elric. “Tell everybody to get moving.”

Elric started to protest, but Athan gave him an unyielding look. The prince at least seemed to take some caution from his words, because while he tried to appear casual, he got up and began to head back to the others.

Only to be stopped by a man appearing out of nowhere, knife pointed directly at Elric’s throat.

The man was large, too large to have managed to sneak through the wooded area like this without making noise or drawing attention, which meant he had to have access to some sort of magic.

If he had something that made him undetectable even to a phoenix, he was truly dangerous.

“Go on, phoenix,” the man said gruffly, taking a step toward Elric. Compared to the too-thin prince, he looked especially bulky and muscular. “This doesn’t concern you.”

“You’re here, threatening a friend. Of course it concerns me,” Athan said, wishing he could pull Elric behind himself. It would be… maybe not easy, but definitely simpler, if he could use his own magic to take down the man, but Athan didn’t want to risk damaging Elric in the process.

“A friend?” The man barked out a laugh. “Do you know who your friend is?”

Elric grimaced, but despite the situation he stood tall… and took a few steps back. “You speak as if you know me.”

Annoyance flickered across the man’s face, and he lunged at Elric. Elric gasped and tried to evade, but it was clear he wasn’t as fast as the man.

Athan didn’t have much time to think. He couldn’t use his flames to do anything, not without hurting Elric, so he did the only other thing he could think of. He dashed forward and lifted up his arm to take the full force of the attack.

Elric gasped, crying out, “Athan!”

Athan hissed in pain, but he smiled through it. Fuck. It had been a long time since he’d injured himself last. The knife slid through his skin, and the edge began to warp and melt.

The man yelped and let go of the knife, stumbling back a few feet. “What the fuck?”

“Are you sure you want to fight me?” Athan asked, pulling the deformed blade out of his body. Some metal dripped off and landed on the forest floor.

This had helped, though. He could feel the remnants of magic on the blade, burnt off by his flame, and he traced the spell back. Not to the man who had attacked them, but to another spot just to the side. Athan let a spark drop to the spell lines and follow it back, until it found the source and devoured the spell.

Two more men appeared, no longer cloaked by magic.

Elric froze, his eyes snapping to the face of one of the men. “Armand?” he asked in disbelief. He recognized the man, clearly, and it shook him. “Call this man off at once. You know who I am. This is treason.”

Armand pulled out his sword. Sweat trickled down his forehead as he held it up, his eyes darting between Athan and Elric. “You are not the king of Kithage. You are the one who’s been convicted of treason in absentia. Come with us quietly, and the true king will show you mercy.”

“You serve me,” Elric hissed, his eyes going between the men. “You say I was convicted of treason? By the boy who usurped the throne with the aid of his dragon?”

There was so much venom there, so much hatred, that Athan could see that rust flake away on some of the edges of Elric’s soul.

“You don’t have to do this,” Athan said, shaking his arm. Where the blood splattered, little wisps of smoke rose up. “Whatever you want, I’m sure it’s not worth tangling with us.”

“What do you know?” Armand shouted. His face had gone completely red. “We’ve been disgraced! Cast out, forbidden from ever stepping foot in Alzaria ever again! But if we bring in the traitor—”

“Make a new life. Start fresh, in a place nobody knows you.” Athan looked at Armand, properly. He saw how raw Armand’s edges were, and the festering resentment that was warping him. Smoothing him out would be hard work, but Athan couldn’t see an easy path to that. Armand didn’t want to be better. Armand’s core was that resentment, the belief he was owed better.

Athan glanced back at Elric. They should have been the same, Elric and Armand. But Elric was full of holes, and rusted, and there was something underneath all the layers of caked filth that he couldn’t see in Armand.

“I don’t want a new life!” Armand growled. “And if you knew anything about Elric, you wouldn’t be getting in our way.”

Elric stood frozen near the tree, the leaves and branches casting shadows over them. Athan fervently hoped Callan wouldn’t appear here; though his help might be useful, he would take what he thought he was owed from Elric’s mind and leave more of those gaping holes behind.

“Thought phoenixes were supposed to be good people,” the third man finally threw in. “Can’t be, if you’re protecting him.”

“I protect whomever I want,” Athan shot back. He glanced down at his arm again. It wasn’t healing as fast as he was expecting. It must have been the spell on the blade, meant only to deal with another human and yet somehow cutting through some of his own magic.

“Clearly we’re at an impasse,” Elric said curtly. “We want to be on our way. We’ve already left Kithage, and that means the laws of Kithage do not apply here. You have no way of capturing me, not while Athan is at my side. I suggest, Armand, that you be on your way.”

“Do you know what this fucker did?” Armand shouted, turning his full attention to Athan. “Why he’s wanted?”

“A dispute about rulership,” Athan answered, although he could already see it had to be more than that.

Elric grimaced, but he didn’t speak up.

The men burst into cruel laughter. “Sure. Why’s the crown prince need to send a bunch of men to lead his non-inheriting younger brother to a dragon’s den, then? He ordered us to make sure his brother got trapped on that mountain. The dragon will take care of the rest, he said.”

Athan wished they were lying. But as ugly as these men were, they were speaking with clarity of truth.

When he looked back to Elric, he saw the rust spindle out across him, claiming even more of him.

But before Elric could fabricate a response, the one called Armand charged forward with his sword out. “Dead or alive!” he called out, and one of the other two men followed him. The one whose knife had been melted drew a crossbow from across his back.

Elric drew his own short sword, which looked heavy in his hand. His face was set in ugly determination as he parried the first blow that came down on him.

“Stop,” Athan shouted. “Just stop!” He rushed forward again, trying to somehow divert the attention of the men. They’d decided he wasn’t a threat, or maybe they didn’t care anymore. Their resentment was too strong.

The ground burned beneath his feet. He tried to grab Armand, but the third man got in the way. Athan grappled with him, fighting the fires inside of himself that were threatening to burst out.

Elric cried out in pain, and suddenly the entire area around Athan burst into flame.

The man Athan had been grappling with screamed, fire jumping to his clothes and hair, his skin blistering.

“No!” Athan called the flame back to himself, desperately trying to tamp it down, but his emotions were running too high. Even the flames around him were refusing to listen, dashing toward the other two men.

Elric cried out again, his blade clattering to the ground—but at least Armand’s had slipped from his hand, too. They were both screaming, too, heat radiating from Athan uncontrollably now.

From farther behind them came the sound of an arrow letting loose, but Athan was too busy trying to control his flames to move. The arrow embedded itself into his shoulder from behind, and he howled in pain.

There was so much screaming.

If Athan stayed here, he was going to destroy everything. He grimaced through the pain, and, heedless of his clothes, let himself fall into his true form. His wing oozed with blood, but the damage wasn’t enough to keep him out of the air.

He just had to get far enough away that he could rest and find his calm again.

The wounds kept him from flying too high, but he found a small, rocky outcropping not too far away.

As soon as he landed, he collapsed into himself.

Elric… Please don’t die, he thought before he closed his eyes.