Wolf in the Fold - Chapter Four
Apr. 16th, 2012 06:06 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dracoqueen22a/n: What is this? Could it be an update? Why, I think it is. Some year late, I know. But at last, an update! I've edited this myself but if there's any grammatical errors you find, feel free to let me know. And I'm so, so sorry about the wait. I keep putting way too much on my plate.
Title: Wolf in the Fold
Series: War of the Animum, Fourth Story
Warnings: language, character death, slash erotica, graphic violence
Summary: Questions stack upon questions as Sleet and his barely-allied group of companions head further north, seeking out the last animus before Balaam can find them.
(Ch 1)(Ch 2)(Ch 3)
She knew.
This thought ran through Malach’s head over and over, every time he so much as glanced at the woman. She kept looking at him expectantly, her brown eyes piercing, her looks superior. As though she were just waiting for him to shout the truth to the heavens. Truths he had been protecting for so long they would emerge from his mouth with the dust and cobwebs of well-hidden secrets.
She knew. Suddenly, Malach found it hard to breathe.
“We should kill them,” Dror muttered, his eyes narrowed with displeasure the moment he caught Malach looking at their prisoners yet again. “This is foolish.”
“We are not murderers,” Malach countered, forcing himself to look away from the woman and her strange companions. “We are a civilized people, Dror. Your father would choose to do the same thing were he in our place.”
Dror frowned, his brow wrinkling like an overripe mango. “Father would see them for the threat they are. It is your curiosity that allows them to live. It is foolish.”
“Why do you want their blood so badly?” Malach demanded, trying to ignore the itchy feeling between his shoulder blades. As though that woman were staring at him with her knowing eyes.
“You cannot feel it?” Dror said and he whipped around to face Malach, drawing to a halt while the rest of their tribesmen continued along without them. “They have a strange smell. One of blood and death. It all but swallows them. They bring nothing but bad omen.”
Malach licked his lips nervously, head turned to watch the strangers as they passed. They looked tattered and fatigued, on the end of their ropes, but Dror was right. They carried an eerie sensation, an eerie smell. It made shivers dance across Malach’s skin and crawl up his spine. He didn’t like it.
“It is still not our decision to make,” Malach replied, forcing himself to act like the warrior he was, paying no heed to the cowardice attempting to seep into his actions. “It is to be the chieftain’s and you know it.”
Dror squared his jaw, eyes shifting past Malach to glare at their captives. “That does not make it any less risky,” he said, and without further ado, stalked off, moving to the head of their party to speak with Leyan, no doubt.
Malach sighed and shook his head, turning to fall back into step with the rest of the warriors. His hand fell to the sword belted at his side, fingers curling around the familiar hilt as though it would serve as some comfort.
He knew that Dror didn’t want to admit the simplest reason. Fear. Dror was afraid of what these strangers might bring to the Kurai. Malach understood because he felt the same fear. The Kurai had little contact with the rest of Lieve over the past few decades and Dror – like his Chieftain father – wanted to keep it that way. Some traditions were meant to be kept and abided.
And some meant to be broken.
A cold shudder traced its way down Malach’s spine, churning in his belly, threatening to dispel his hastily eaten breakfast this morning. He closed his eyes, sucked in a short breath, and concentrated until the last echoes of that unwelcome thought were banished from his memory. It had no business intruding, whispering seductively into his consciousness like some weaver of dreams.
“Malach!”
Dror’s voice cut through his concentration, making Malach startle. He blinked hazily, forcing his body into motion. Dror required him at the head of the party and the last thing Malach needed was to be caught staring off into space again. He didn’t need the suspicious stares.
His shoulder blades itched again and Malach turned his head, managing to catch eyes with the brunette female. She was watching him again, with that eerie, knowing stare.
She knew. Malach couldn’t shake that sensation.
He tore his gaze away and hurried to catch up to Dror before his uncle grew more annoyed.
o0o0o It was dawn by the time Sleet realized they were approaching the end of Shadowglade. The trees were further apart, the brush less thick. He hadn’t thought the forest to be so thick, but then, he wouldn’t put it past the Kurai to have wandered in circles to confuse their captives.
His feet were hurting, repeatedly cut and pricked by walking over various stones, twigs, and pinecones. Sometime during the night, the man carrying him had not been amused by Sleet’s light dozing and had promptly plopped him on the ground, forcing him to walk. The abrupt switch from hanging to standing had made his head spin, but Sleet ignored it, partially glad to be moving on his own volition. He quickly learned to mourn the loss of his boots. The ground was not forgiving to his are feet.
A strong hand on Sleet’s elbow kept him from wandering off, not that he could with the cluster of captors surrounding him and his companions. Sleet was exhausted, shaky, his body acting as though he were coming down from some drugged high. He called it an aftereffect of the chimaera’s venom.
Early morning light streamed down weakly through the trees, and ahead of them, Sleet could see the vegetation growing thinner. The odd, enclosed feeling of Shadowglade began to fade until they stepped into fresh, morning air, only a few scattered trees in sight to give the illusion of forest.
And then he saw it.
Sleet’s mouth dropped. He’d seen a lot in his short life, had wandered all over Corynth even. But he’d never seen anything like this.
It was a city carved from stone, carved right into the mountain actually. Great hunks of stone loomed over the entire city like a giant ceiling, shielding the buildings below and creating a ledge of sorts. And the buildings themselves? They looked as though they had been carved into the side of the mountain itself, their windows facing the open air but the bulk of their construction hidden by the sandstone which was streaked with ruddy colors of the sunset.
Sleet knew he wasn’t the only one gaping, from the sound of Tungsten’s wonderment and Ashur’s surprise. Raven was stoic as always, like Iblion, but even Alaris was impressed. It was hard not to be.
The city was beautiful.
Almost immediately as it came into sight, their captors started jabbering to each other in their own tongue again. There was a disagreement between the obvious leader and the man with gold eyes, Sleet surmised. It resolved itself quickly, however, and the leader stalked off with annoyance gleaming in his eyes, taking a few subordinates with him.
The rest of the men and the gold-eyed man rounded up their captives, marching them down the sloping path toward the city.
Sleet looked at Alaris, but she didn't seem concerned by the events. Raven looked angry, but then, he always looked angry. Sleet wondered if he should be worried for his safety. What he knew of the Kurai amounted to children's tales and rumors. Would they really flay the flesh from his bones to flavor their soup? By the gods, he'd thought the Kurai nothing more than myth!
He glanced from the corner of his eye at Beryl, who looked twitchy. His gaze was distant, his mouth pinched in a thin line. He didn't have the look of a hunted man, as any proper thief would if he knew he was in immediate danger. Whether that spoke of a personal experience with the Kurai or that Beryl was too dumb to be worried, Sleet didn't know. And he wasn't about to ask.
'They aren't cannibals,' Erebus said. 'If that's your main concern.'
So they won't kill me?
'I didn't say that. Just that they won't eat you after you're dead.' Erebus paused, and Sleet got the impression of a wicked smile. 'Or while you're alive for that matter.'
Sleet shuddered and refused to respond to that. He strongly suspected Erebus was freaking him out on purpose. Just to watch him squirm. So Sleet concentrated on putting one unbooted foot in front of the other, the rocky ground digging into his poor flesh.
The path sloped downward, the forest itself having been perched at a higher elevation, but the entrance to the Kurai's home apparently located at the base of the huge cliff face. There wasn't much activity in the limited open space between forest and rock, but every once and awhile, Sleet could see faces peering out from the window-like openings in the cliff face. A half-dozen armed guards appeared to be patrolling the base of the mountain, mostly concealed by high stands of thick, golden grasses.
Unease crept over Sleet as they headed toward a large opening in the cliff, the rock gaping like a maw, hungry and enclosing. He wasn't claustrophobic by any means, but the fact he couldn't be reassured of his safety made Sleet reluctant to enter the Kurai's home. Unfortunately, he didn't have a choice.
A sharp spear prodded him in the back and Sleet followed the others, stepping out of bright sunlight, into the cool and dim confines of the underground tunnel. It took several moments for his eyes to adjust to the torch-lit corridor. The air had a smoky quality to it, that made Sleet's nose twitch and his throat adopt a tickle. The quarters were more confined, causing the entire party to draw closer together. Sleet's arms kept brushing Beryl's.
No one spoke; the silent procession continued. They took a tunnel to the left, the floor sloping steadily upward, a gentle rise that didn't tax on Sleet's fatigue. They passed other Kurai, who watched the strangers with wide eyes and no small amount of suspicion. It made Sleet's skin crawl. And no matter how hard he tried to keep track of the route they had taken there were too many twists, turns, and doors for him to remember.
Frost probably could have done it, but Sleet was no master thief, no matter how much he declared otherwise. And he doubted Beryl could do it either.
Finally, they stopped at one door, larger than all the others, deeply buried within the cliff face. It was bracketed by torches and there were symbols carved into the stone around the frame. An animal's skull hung above the doorway, empty eyesockets staring back at Sleet. Lovely.
The silver-haired Kurai lifted a hand, knocking loudly on the door, though he didn't wait for a response as he lifted the latch and pushed it open. He stepped aside, gesturing with one arm. Sleet and his companions were prodded inside, Alaris leading the way, chin held high.
They entered a room, a meeting hall of some sort, large enough to comfortably hold a hundred men and women. The floor was spattered with animal skins, and tapestries decorated the walls, covered in brightly-colored shapes as opposed to depicting some kind of scene. At the far end was a small table, which at max could seat maybe six people. Presently, however, there was only two occupants. An older man, clean shaven with grey-streaked hair, sat in the central chair. Another man stood behind him, perched at his left side, his long beard braided while his head was otherwise bare.
“You stand before Chieftain Adlai,” the gold-eyed stranger said from behind them. “Show him proper respect, strangers.”
Sleet wasn't sure what he meant by that. Did he expect them to kneel or something? Whatever. He'd just watch and see.
No one prodded him in the back so Sleet remained standing, just to the right of Alaris. He was overly aware of Raven's presence behind him, over a head taller and much more ominous. Tungsten stood on Alaris' left with Asher beside him and Iblion behind both of them. Beryl stood on Sleet's other side.
In front of them, Chieftain Adlai rose slowly, his sharp brown eyes raking over the assorted companions. “Why 'ave you come?” he demanded, his accent thick, words a bit difficult to understand, nothing like the clear and concise speech of the gold-eyed man.
Sleet looked at Alaris, letting her take the lead. So did everyone else. Alaris, for her part, didn't seem discomfited by the focus.
“We are looking for someone,” she said without a flinch or twitch. “We were lead to believe he – or perhaps she – is in the area.”
“Someone?” The chieftain arched a brow, clasping his hands behind his back as he circled around the table. “Or something? Thieves?”
Alaris shook her head. “No. We seek nothing but this person. They are imperative to our quest.”
Adlai tilted his head to the side, glancing past them as though seeking clarification of her words. “Malach!” he barked.
“Sir.” The gold-eyed stranger – Malach, Sleet assumed – came to the forefront, dipping his head in a shallow bow. He spoke again, but this time it was in the Kurai's own language, one full of consonants more than vowels, the words halting and full of sharp tones, yet lyrical in it's own way.
The two – chieftain and Malach – carried on a brief conversation before Malach nodded sharply and turned toward the companions.
“What is the nature of your quest?” he demanded as he looked at them, eyes narrowed, body language stiff and reserved. But, Sleet noticed, he avoided Alaris' eyes.
Don't say it, Sleet thought.
“To save the world,” Alaris answered.
Sleet groaned, shoulders slumping. Could she have picked anything more ridiculous to say? Like the chieftain and his people would believe that their ragtag group planned on somehow saving the entire world. Alaris had singlehandedly made them all look like an assortment of cracked pots. Not to mention even more suspicious than before.
Malach certainly didn't look like he believed them as he turned toward the chieftain and relayed the information in their native tongue. Sleet watched as a mix of fury and disbelief washed over Adlai's face, his eyes narrowing. He snapped a response back to Malach, that Sleet wouldn't be surprised if it translated to: off with their heads!
“We have heard rumors,” Malach said carefully. “Traders have brought word of demons sweeping across the land. Is this true?”
It was Sleet's turn to be surprised. Did they actually believe Alaris?
“Yes,” the priestess answered. “And I am certain it won't be long before they find their way to this place, no matter how guarded you think it is.”
Chieftain Adlai bristled. Apparently, he'd understood at least part of what Alaris had said. “A threat?” he growled in his thick tongue. “Spies?”
“No,” Alaris said. “Not spies. We have no intention of betraying you. We only bring information.”
Adlai barked out a noise of disbelief. “Information? What use have outsiders in warning the Kurai?”
Malach stirred, saying something to his chieftain, which caused Adlai's eyes to narrow. He snapped back, harsh, a rebuke perhaps and Malach tipped his head. Acquiescing.
“What do you know of these demons?” Adlai demanded, abandoning his earlier question. “Speak quickly and the Kurai might let you live.”
Might? That was hardly reassuring. Sleet glanced at Alaris, but she didn't seem concerned. Her gaze did, however, keep wandering to Malach, who almost appeared as though he were trying to hide from her. Interesting. Was he their missing animus?
“I know that they seek only destruction. I know that they cannot be reasoned with,” Alaris replied confidently, tilting her chin upward. “I know that while they are mindless beasts, they have a purpose. They are beast with a master.”
“What is the name of this master?” Malach asked.
Here, Alaris hesitated. A wise decision in Sleet's opinion. This was bigger than a mere brief explanation could cover.
“One whose goals culminate in world domination, no matter what he may destroy or who he will kill to achieve them,” Alaris finally answered, vague enough that it didn't even touch upon Balaam and Frost and all of the intricacies.
Adlai snorted. “And you think one of the Kurai will help?” He snorted again, making a dismissive motion with his hand. “Arrogant.” It was clear he didn't believe Alaris in the slightest.
Frankly, if Sleet hadn't met Erebus for himself and watched Tawnry get destroyed by a bunch of angry demons, he wouldn't have believed her either.
“Not the Kurai entirely. But one amongst your people may be able to help,” Alaris corrected, but she was already losing the battle. Sleet could see it.
Chieftain Adlai had closed his mind, and already cared little for the events beyond the borders of his people.
“Children's tales,” Adlai grunted, dropping back down in his chair with a heavy noise. He ignored Malach, who was leaning toward him with intention to speak. “I no more believe your story than I did the traders.”
Alaris took a step forward, beseeching, and the tension in the room rose another notch. Bad move, Sleet thought. The Kurai could easily take that as aggression.
“You won't believe it a children's story when the demons destroy your home!” Alaris argued, losing some of her patience, her words sharp and clipped.
Adlai straightened, eyes narrowing. “A threat?”
The soldiers lining the wall behind Sleet and his companions snapped into alertness. Sleet's skin crawled with the sensation of having arrows aimed at his back. He cast a glance at Alaris, but she stood firm.
Alaris tilted her chin. “A premonition. The very same thing that led me here, will lead the monsters here as well. There is no escape.”
Commotion at the doorway behind them all took some of the steam out of Alaris' dire statement, and nearly everyone turned to see what was happening. Sleet, trying to peer around Raven's bulk, could just make out another one of the Kurai trying to push himself inside, past the soldiers who were being less than helpful.
He was babbling in the Kurai's language which made it impossible to tell what he was saying, though Sleet did catch what sounded like two names: Malach and Adlai.
The Chieftain was on his feet in a moment, bellowing to someone, his voice echoing through the chamber and making Sleet wince. Silence fell immediately but the smaller Kurai was let inside, looking smug as he pushed his way through the prisoners until he stood in front of the chieftain. He looked young, too, and covered in sweat, as though he had run a long distance. He spoke quickly and as Sleet watched, Chieftain Adlai's face went from angry to wary to alarm all in the space of a few sentences.
Malach, too, had visibly paled.
Adlai burst into motion, more than Sleet thought the old man capable, as his hand flung out, smacking the messenger across the face and sending him sprawling. Sleet flinched, edging toward Raven, even as Adlai bellowed across the room. All Sleet recognized was Malach's name again and he definitely understood the furious point of a finger in their general direction.
Beside him, he could sense Raven bristling with all sorts of defensive indignation. If that was a command to see to their deaths, then Sleet had no doubt Raven would fight tooth and nail before submitting. That thought was almost comforting, despite how much he despised the big brute.
And in the resulting melee, it would be easy enough for a thief to make himself scarce.
Coward, Erebus sounded disgusted. Do you always think of your own hide first?
Sleet arched a brow. 'Did you forget the part where I'm a thief and trust no one?'
Erebus made a noise and promptly cut himself off from the conversation. It was an eerie sensation, because it made him almost absent from Sleet's mind. He felt like there was an empty space in his head now, thoughts bouncing around inside it like they had nowhere to go. It was an unusual, off balance feeling, and Sleet didn't like it.
Well, whatever. Let the parasite sulk then. Maybe if he whined to Aesir long enough, the big boss would reassign Erebus and Sleet would be free of this war nonsense.
Malach nodded at whatever the chieftain said and then turned sharply, striding toward Sleet and his companions. His face still retained that pale, disturbed cast. He said something to the soldiers behind Sleet, and said soldiers started forward, not lowering his weapons.
“What's going on?” Raven demanded, frame tight with tension.
Malach glanced at him. “If you fight, we will kill you. Come peacefully and you will only be detained.”
Alaris placed a calming hand on Raven's arm. “Until when?”
“Until Chieftain Adlai has time to listen to rest of your farfetched tale,” Malach replied curtly, but he seemed skittish. He wouldn't come anywhere near Alaris, preferring instead to hover as far from her as he possibly could.
Raven growled. “Alaris--”
She shook her head. “We will go peacefully.”
For once, Sleet was in perfect agreement with Raven. He didn't know what in the seven hells Alaris was thinking and he really wasn't interested in being caged in whatever the Kurai called a prison. He was a thief. He didn't do well behind bars.
Nevertheless, they were once again herded through the winding corridors of Reiran, ringed by an armed Kurai escort and led by Malach. It was impossible to sense direction without visible windows to gauge where they were in the first place. The only impression Sleet could make was that they were going downward.
He'd never known himself to be afraid of tight spaces or going underground before but right now, he didn't like heading downward. He didn't like not knowing what would serve as a Kurai prison and he didn't like how low their chances of escape were. He especially didn't like how easily Alaris kept thrusting them into worse situations.
The Kurai were utterly silent as they marched their prisoners downward at a fast clip. Not even Malach had anything to say to Sleet and his companions.
They passed countless doors and hallways and while some were marked with symbols, obviously in the Kurai language, it was impossible to tell where they led. Sleet couldn't even identify if any of them led to the freedom of outside. The air within Reirain was warm and heavy, thick with smoke from the lanterns and a heavy incense. It tickled his throat, though no one else seemed to have a problem with it.
Finally, after what seemed like an hour of walking, they stopped in front of a thick door, bolted into the stone walls. Malach rapped on it with the hilt of his sword and barked a command. From the other side, Sleet could hear the sound of people trading comments and the rattle of a lever being lifted. The door opened with a raspy scrape and beyond it was the dungeon. Sleet's skin crawled.
Here it was even darker. From peering around Raven's bulk, Sleet could see what amounted to six cells, three on each side. One torch was set at the end of the hall, and two more near the main door, but there were none for the individual cells. Apparently suffering in a barely lit environment was part of the Kurai's punishment.
As Malach issued commands, they were parceled out among the cells. Ashur and Iblion were shoved into one, with Tungsten taking up residence across from them. Raven was also given one of his own, and Alaris as well. Sleet and Beryl found themselves sharing space on Raven's other side, and across from them was an empty cell.
They didn't have much. A bucket in one corner and two pallets of cloth covered straw on the floor served as the only available furnishings.
“How long do you expect us to wait?” Alaris asked, her voice carrying an odd echo here in this chilly, dank prison.
Malach, who had shooed out the rest of the guards save for one, turned away from the exit and back toward her. “Food will be sent. You are alive. Consider that blessing enough.”
He left with that pronouncement, leaving them alone in the dim, save for a single guard that stood at attention. Though Sleet could hardly see the need for a guard. Where could they go? How in the world could they escape through these bars? Then again they did have some... offworldly help they could call upon. If his anima would ever get over his snit.
Raven made a noise of irritation and Sleet heard a dull thump as the mercenary dropped onto his straw pallet. “Well, that worked out perfectly. I'm relieved that we didn't fight back.”
Alaris sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “As confident as you are in your abilities, I don't think you are capable of taking down the Kurai's entire armed forces.”
Raven's snorted defiantly but didn't comment.
Tungsten, who was in the cell furthest from Sleet and out of sight, offered up a tentative, “Is this part of the plan, Alaris-san?”
“She doesn't have a plan,” Beryl said as he flopped down on his own pallet, folding his arms behind his head. “Any fool could see that.”
Sleet leaned against the bars, trying to peer through the dim and examine the rest of the prison. It was all shaped of stone, save for the bars themselves which were metal and notched securely into the stone wall and ceiling. There was barely a handsbreadth between the bars. Neither he nor Beryl were small enough to squeeze between them.
“It's impossible to truly plan,” Alaris said with an audible sigh. “I don't know how the animum is going to react. I don't know why the Kurai didn't kill us on sight. And I don't know what it is that has them so on edge.”
Iblion came into view from the cell on Alaris' other side, leaning against the bars. “Malach is the animum.”
“Yes.”
“This could be problematic,” Iblion mused. “But I can see where he knows something. He was very skittish around you, Alaris.”
Sleet idly tested the solidity of the bars of his cell. They didn't so much as budge. Go figure. “There's no escaping these,” he informed them, though they'd probably already drawn their own conclusions. “What the fuck are we going to do next?”
“What else can we do?” Alaris asked, dropping back into the shadows of her cell and lowering herself gently onto her pallet. “We wait. Adlai will ask to speak to us again. I intend to repeat my earlier statements and then give him incontrovertible truth.”
Iblion's fingers rapped on the bars. “You will ask us to reveal ourselves as animum.”
“Yes.”
“Risky,” Raven rumbled. “What little I know of the Kurai is that they are very, very superstitious. That might backfire, end up in them demanding our deaths.”
“Then we'll have to fight our way free. If it comes to that.” Alaris sounded tired. “Until then, we wait. So get some sleep. That's all we can do right now.”
Sleet didn't like this. Not one bit. They didn't have a plan. They were trapped underground. He was sharing a cell with Beryl. He didn't have any shoes.
He turned away from the bars and dropped down onto the pallet Beryl hadn't claimed. The other thief was staring up at the ceiling, but he didn't look like he was about to start sleeping. He did, however, look as skittish as Sleet felt.
With nothing to say to Beryl, Sleet curled on his side and stared at the wall. The stone was rough, like it had been hacked into the rock rather than smoothly hewn like the rest of Reiran. It was also cold to the touch. He wasn't really tired but there was nothing else to do.
You could practice. All at once, Erebus' presence returned, though with a tangible, chilly distance.
'Oh, you're back,' Sleet replied, completely lacking enthusiasm. 'Practice what?'
There was a moment's pause, as though Erebus was gathering his patience. Accessing the abilities our bond gives you so that you can call on them instinctively rather than only when your back is to the wall.
Sleet sat up, leaning against the wall with his legs crossed in front of him. 'The better to defeat Balaam, I assume.'
You could stand to be prepared.
Rolling his eyes, Sleet tipped his head back against the wall. 'Since I have nothing better to do than why don't you show me?'
We'll start with something easy. We'll start with the flame.
'Flame?'
Hold out your hand, palm up.
Sleet frowned. He had no intentions of looking like a fool. He glanced at Beryl, but the blond thief had turned, facing the wall. Only Alaris could see into his cell. Alaris and the Kurai guard, but he seemed almost asleep on his feet, obviously unconcerned for the prisoners.
Just do it.
Setting his jaw, Sleet lifted his left hand, palm upward. 'Now what?'
Focus.
Hmph. Easier said than done. Focus on what?
You should be able to feel the power within you. The potential for something. Maybe it's a squirm in your belly. An itch along your spine. A pressure in your ribcage.
Unaccustomed to any sort of meditation, Sleet struggled to understand Erebus' words. How in the world was he supposed to find the power inside of him. His belly clenched, but then, he was hungry. His back itched, but he was pressed against a cold, rock wall with clothes in desperate need of a scrubbing. His chest felt tight, but the air here was thick.
Sleet glared at his palm, fingers twitching. Nothing happened. He tried to will something into happening. What was he supposed to be accessing here?
He tried to remember the battle against the chimaera. It was the first time he'd touched upon his so-called power. He remembered the chains sprouting out of thin air. He remembered Erebus sweeping down like black death. And he remembered fire, a sickly green flame.
Hmm. Fire.
A heat gathered in his palm which was itching. Tingling really.
Sleet tilted his head. He twitched his fingers. Fire?
With a rolling surge of power, almost tangible in the cold air, Sleet watched poison-green flame sprout to life on his hand, licking over his fingers though he couldn't feel it. His eyes widened and he clamped down on a startled shout. He shook his hand, but the flame didn't dissipate. That was a bit alarming.
Now concentrate on turning it off.
Off? Sleet didn't know how he turned it on.
He closed his fingers and formed a fist. The flames vanished. Was that conscious? He wasn't sure but it worked.
Hmm. Adequate. Now do it again.
Sleet groaned, resisting the urge to bang his head against the wall. 'You're going to make me do this for hours, aren't you?'
Erebus sounded smug. For as long as it takes. After all, you're the one who'd rather live. And learning how to access your abilities is a good way to start.
By the pits. It was going to be a long night.
****
a/n: I hope that the next update isn't as lengthy. I've written the next two chapters, but I have to do some editing on the previous series as I realized while writing that I've mixed up two of my animum. *headdesk* Once I get that sorted I'm sure the muses will come back with a bang.
Feedback is welcome and appreciated!
Title: Wolf in the Fold
Series: War of the Animum, Fourth Story
Warnings: language, character death, slash erotica, graphic violence
Summary: Questions stack upon questions as Sleet and his barely-allied group of companions head further north, seeking out the last animus before Balaam can find them.
(Ch 1)(Ch 2)(Ch 3)
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Chapter Four
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Chapter Four
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She knew.
This thought ran through Malach’s head over and over, every time he so much as glanced at the woman. She kept looking at him expectantly, her brown eyes piercing, her looks superior. As though she were just waiting for him to shout the truth to the heavens. Truths he had been protecting for so long they would emerge from his mouth with the dust and cobwebs of well-hidden secrets.
She knew. Suddenly, Malach found it hard to breathe.
“We should kill them,” Dror muttered, his eyes narrowed with displeasure the moment he caught Malach looking at their prisoners yet again. “This is foolish.”
“We are not murderers,” Malach countered, forcing himself to look away from the woman and her strange companions. “We are a civilized people, Dror. Your father would choose to do the same thing were he in our place.”
Dror frowned, his brow wrinkling like an overripe mango. “Father would see them for the threat they are. It is your curiosity that allows them to live. It is foolish.”
“Why do you want their blood so badly?” Malach demanded, trying to ignore the itchy feeling between his shoulder blades. As though that woman were staring at him with her knowing eyes.
“You cannot feel it?” Dror said and he whipped around to face Malach, drawing to a halt while the rest of their tribesmen continued along without them. “They have a strange smell. One of blood and death. It all but swallows them. They bring nothing but bad omen.”
Malach licked his lips nervously, head turned to watch the strangers as they passed. They looked tattered and fatigued, on the end of their ropes, but Dror was right. They carried an eerie sensation, an eerie smell. It made shivers dance across Malach’s skin and crawl up his spine. He didn’t like it.
“It is still not our decision to make,” Malach replied, forcing himself to act like the warrior he was, paying no heed to the cowardice attempting to seep into his actions. “It is to be the chieftain’s and you know it.”
Dror squared his jaw, eyes shifting past Malach to glare at their captives. “That does not make it any less risky,” he said, and without further ado, stalked off, moving to the head of their party to speak with Leyan, no doubt.
Malach sighed and shook his head, turning to fall back into step with the rest of the warriors. His hand fell to the sword belted at his side, fingers curling around the familiar hilt as though it would serve as some comfort.
He knew that Dror didn’t want to admit the simplest reason. Fear. Dror was afraid of what these strangers might bring to the Kurai. Malach understood because he felt the same fear. The Kurai had little contact with the rest of Lieve over the past few decades and Dror – like his Chieftain father – wanted to keep it that way. Some traditions were meant to be kept and abided.
And some meant to be broken.
A cold shudder traced its way down Malach’s spine, churning in his belly, threatening to dispel his hastily eaten breakfast this morning. He closed his eyes, sucked in a short breath, and concentrated until the last echoes of that unwelcome thought were banished from his memory. It had no business intruding, whispering seductively into his consciousness like some weaver of dreams.
“Malach!”
Dror’s voice cut through his concentration, making Malach startle. He blinked hazily, forcing his body into motion. Dror required him at the head of the party and the last thing Malach needed was to be caught staring off into space again. He didn’t need the suspicious stares.
His shoulder blades itched again and Malach turned his head, managing to catch eyes with the brunette female. She was watching him again, with that eerie, knowing stare.
She knew. Malach couldn’t shake that sensation.
He tore his gaze away and hurried to catch up to Dror before his uncle grew more annoyed.
His feet were hurting, repeatedly cut and pricked by walking over various stones, twigs, and pinecones. Sometime during the night, the man carrying him had not been amused by Sleet’s light dozing and had promptly plopped him on the ground, forcing him to walk. The abrupt switch from hanging to standing had made his head spin, but Sleet ignored it, partially glad to be moving on his own volition. He quickly learned to mourn the loss of his boots. The ground was not forgiving to his are feet.
A strong hand on Sleet’s elbow kept him from wandering off, not that he could with the cluster of captors surrounding him and his companions. Sleet was exhausted, shaky, his body acting as though he were coming down from some drugged high. He called it an aftereffect of the chimaera’s venom.
Early morning light streamed down weakly through the trees, and ahead of them, Sleet could see the vegetation growing thinner. The odd, enclosed feeling of Shadowglade began to fade until they stepped into fresh, morning air, only a few scattered trees in sight to give the illusion of forest.
And then he saw it.
Sleet’s mouth dropped. He’d seen a lot in his short life, had wandered all over Corynth even. But he’d never seen anything like this.
It was a city carved from stone, carved right into the mountain actually. Great hunks of stone loomed over the entire city like a giant ceiling, shielding the buildings below and creating a ledge of sorts. And the buildings themselves? They looked as though they had been carved into the side of the mountain itself, their windows facing the open air but the bulk of their construction hidden by the sandstone which was streaked with ruddy colors of the sunset.
Sleet knew he wasn’t the only one gaping, from the sound of Tungsten’s wonderment and Ashur’s surprise. Raven was stoic as always, like Iblion, but even Alaris was impressed. It was hard not to be.
The city was beautiful.
Almost immediately as it came into sight, their captors started jabbering to each other in their own tongue again. There was a disagreement between the obvious leader and the man with gold eyes, Sleet surmised. It resolved itself quickly, however, and the leader stalked off with annoyance gleaming in his eyes, taking a few subordinates with him.
The rest of the men and the gold-eyed man rounded up their captives, marching them down the sloping path toward the city.
Sleet looked at Alaris, but she didn't seem concerned by the events. Raven looked angry, but then, he always looked angry. Sleet wondered if he should be worried for his safety. What he knew of the Kurai amounted to children's tales and rumors. Would they really flay the flesh from his bones to flavor their soup? By the gods, he'd thought the Kurai nothing more than myth!
He glanced from the corner of his eye at Beryl, who looked twitchy. His gaze was distant, his mouth pinched in a thin line. He didn't have the look of a hunted man, as any proper thief would if he knew he was in immediate danger. Whether that spoke of a personal experience with the Kurai or that Beryl was too dumb to be worried, Sleet didn't know. And he wasn't about to ask.
'They aren't cannibals,' Erebus said. 'If that's your main concern.'
So they won't kill me?
'I didn't say that. Just that they won't eat you after you're dead.' Erebus paused, and Sleet got the impression of a wicked smile. 'Or while you're alive for that matter.'
Sleet shuddered and refused to respond to that. He strongly suspected Erebus was freaking him out on purpose. Just to watch him squirm. So Sleet concentrated on putting one unbooted foot in front of the other, the rocky ground digging into his poor flesh.
The path sloped downward, the forest itself having been perched at a higher elevation, but the entrance to the Kurai's home apparently located at the base of the huge cliff face. There wasn't much activity in the limited open space between forest and rock, but every once and awhile, Sleet could see faces peering out from the window-like openings in the cliff face. A half-dozen armed guards appeared to be patrolling the base of the mountain, mostly concealed by high stands of thick, golden grasses.
Unease crept over Sleet as they headed toward a large opening in the cliff, the rock gaping like a maw, hungry and enclosing. He wasn't claustrophobic by any means, but the fact he couldn't be reassured of his safety made Sleet reluctant to enter the Kurai's home. Unfortunately, he didn't have a choice.
A sharp spear prodded him in the back and Sleet followed the others, stepping out of bright sunlight, into the cool and dim confines of the underground tunnel. It took several moments for his eyes to adjust to the torch-lit corridor. The air had a smoky quality to it, that made Sleet's nose twitch and his throat adopt a tickle. The quarters were more confined, causing the entire party to draw closer together. Sleet's arms kept brushing Beryl's.
No one spoke; the silent procession continued. They took a tunnel to the left, the floor sloping steadily upward, a gentle rise that didn't tax on Sleet's fatigue. They passed other Kurai, who watched the strangers with wide eyes and no small amount of suspicion. It made Sleet's skin crawl. And no matter how hard he tried to keep track of the route they had taken there were too many twists, turns, and doors for him to remember.
Frost probably could have done it, but Sleet was no master thief, no matter how much he declared otherwise. And he doubted Beryl could do it either.
Finally, they stopped at one door, larger than all the others, deeply buried within the cliff face. It was bracketed by torches and there were symbols carved into the stone around the frame. An animal's skull hung above the doorway, empty eyesockets staring back at Sleet. Lovely.
The silver-haired Kurai lifted a hand, knocking loudly on the door, though he didn't wait for a response as he lifted the latch and pushed it open. He stepped aside, gesturing with one arm. Sleet and his companions were prodded inside, Alaris leading the way, chin held high.
They entered a room, a meeting hall of some sort, large enough to comfortably hold a hundred men and women. The floor was spattered with animal skins, and tapestries decorated the walls, covered in brightly-colored shapes as opposed to depicting some kind of scene. At the far end was a small table, which at max could seat maybe six people. Presently, however, there was only two occupants. An older man, clean shaven with grey-streaked hair, sat in the central chair. Another man stood behind him, perched at his left side, his long beard braided while his head was otherwise bare.
“You stand before Chieftain Adlai,” the gold-eyed stranger said from behind them. “Show him proper respect, strangers.”
Sleet wasn't sure what he meant by that. Did he expect them to kneel or something? Whatever. He'd just watch and see.
No one prodded him in the back so Sleet remained standing, just to the right of Alaris. He was overly aware of Raven's presence behind him, over a head taller and much more ominous. Tungsten stood on Alaris' left with Asher beside him and Iblion behind both of them. Beryl stood on Sleet's other side.
In front of them, Chieftain Adlai rose slowly, his sharp brown eyes raking over the assorted companions. “Why 'ave you come?” he demanded, his accent thick, words a bit difficult to understand, nothing like the clear and concise speech of the gold-eyed man.
Sleet looked at Alaris, letting her take the lead. So did everyone else. Alaris, for her part, didn't seem discomfited by the focus.
“We are looking for someone,” she said without a flinch or twitch. “We were lead to believe he – or perhaps she – is in the area.”
“Someone?” The chieftain arched a brow, clasping his hands behind his back as he circled around the table. “Or something? Thieves?”
Alaris shook her head. “No. We seek nothing but this person. They are imperative to our quest.”
Adlai tilted his head to the side, glancing past them as though seeking clarification of her words. “Malach!” he barked.
“Sir.” The gold-eyed stranger – Malach, Sleet assumed – came to the forefront, dipping his head in a shallow bow. He spoke again, but this time it was in the Kurai's own language, one full of consonants more than vowels, the words halting and full of sharp tones, yet lyrical in it's own way.
The two – chieftain and Malach – carried on a brief conversation before Malach nodded sharply and turned toward the companions.
“What is the nature of your quest?” he demanded as he looked at them, eyes narrowed, body language stiff and reserved. But, Sleet noticed, he avoided Alaris' eyes.
Don't say it, Sleet thought.
“To save the world,” Alaris answered.
Sleet groaned, shoulders slumping. Could she have picked anything more ridiculous to say? Like the chieftain and his people would believe that their ragtag group planned on somehow saving the entire world. Alaris had singlehandedly made them all look like an assortment of cracked pots. Not to mention even more suspicious than before.
Malach certainly didn't look like he believed them as he turned toward the chieftain and relayed the information in their native tongue. Sleet watched as a mix of fury and disbelief washed over Adlai's face, his eyes narrowing. He snapped a response back to Malach, that Sleet wouldn't be surprised if it translated to: off with their heads!
“We have heard rumors,” Malach said carefully. “Traders have brought word of demons sweeping across the land. Is this true?”
It was Sleet's turn to be surprised. Did they actually believe Alaris?
“Yes,” the priestess answered. “And I am certain it won't be long before they find their way to this place, no matter how guarded you think it is.”
Chieftain Adlai bristled. Apparently, he'd understood at least part of what Alaris had said. “A threat?” he growled in his thick tongue. “Spies?”
“No,” Alaris said. “Not spies. We have no intention of betraying you. We only bring information.”
Adlai barked out a noise of disbelief. “Information? What use have outsiders in warning the Kurai?”
Malach stirred, saying something to his chieftain, which caused Adlai's eyes to narrow. He snapped back, harsh, a rebuke perhaps and Malach tipped his head. Acquiescing.
“What do you know of these demons?” Adlai demanded, abandoning his earlier question. “Speak quickly and the Kurai might let you live.”
Might? That was hardly reassuring. Sleet glanced at Alaris, but she didn't seem concerned. Her gaze did, however, keep wandering to Malach, who almost appeared as though he were trying to hide from her. Interesting. Was he their missing animus?
“I know that they seek only destruction. I know that they cannot be reasoned with,” Alaris replied confidently, tilting her chin upward. “I know that while they are mindless beasts, they have a purpose. They are beast with a master.”
“What is the name of this master?” Malach asked.
Here, Alaris hesitated. A wise decision in Sleet's opinion. This was bigger than a mere brief explanation could cover.
“One whose goals culminate in world domination, no matter what he may destroy or who he will kill to achieve them,” Alaris finally answered, vague enough that it didn't even touch upon Balaam and Frost and all of the intricacies.
Adlai snorted. “And you think one of the Kurai will help?” He snorted again, making a dismissive motion with his hand. “Arrogant.” It was clear he didn't believe Alaris in the slightest.
Frankly, if Sleet hadn't met Erebus for himself and watched Tawnry get destroyed by a bunch of angry demons, he wouldn't have believed her either.
“Not the Kurai entirely. But one amongst your people may be able to help,” Alaris corrected, but she was already losing the battle. Sleet could see it.
Chieftain Adlai had closed his mind, and already cared little for the events beyond the borders of his people.
“Children's tales,” Adlai grunted, dropping back down in his chair with a heavy noise. He ignored Malach, who was leaning toward him with intention to speak. “I no more believe your story than I did the traders.”
Alaris took a step forward, beseeching, and the tension in the room rose another notch. Bad move, Sleet thought. The Kurai could easily take that as aggression.
“You won't believe it a children's story when the demons destroy your home!” Alaris argued, losing some of her patience, her words sharp and clipped.
Adlai straightened, eyes narrowing. “A threat?”
The soldiers lining the wall behind Sleet and his companions snapped into alertness. Sleet's skin crawled with the sensation of having arrows aimed at his back. He cast a glance at Alaris, but she stood firm.
Alaris tilted her chin. “A premonition. The very same thing that led me here, will lead the monsters here as well. There is no escape.”
Commotion at the doorway behind them all took some of the steam out of Alaris' dire statement, and nearly everyone turned to see what was happening. Sleet, trying to peer around Raven's bulk, could just make out another one of the Kurai trying to push himself inside, past the soldiers who were being less than helpful.
He was babbling in the Kurai's language which made it impossible to tell what he was saying, though Sleet did catch what sounded like two names: Malach and Adlai.
The Chieftain was on his feet in a moment, bellowing to someone, his voice echoing through the chamber and making Sleet wince. Silence fell immediately but the smaller Kurai was let inside, looking smug as he pushed his way through the prisoners until he stood in front of the chieftain. He looked young, too, and covered in sweat, as though he had run a long distance. He spoke quickly and as Sleet watched, Chieftain Adlai's face went from angry to wary to alarm all in the space of a few sentences.
Malach, too, had visibly paled.
Adlai burst into motion, more than Sleet thought the old man capable, as his hand flung out, smacking the messenger across the face and sending him sprawling. Sleet flinched, edging toward Raven, even as Adlai bellowed across the room. All Sleet recognized was Malach's name again and he definitely understood the furious point of a finger in their general direction.
Beside him, he could sense Raven bristling with all sorts of defensive indignation. If that was a command to see to their deaths, then Sleet had no doubt Raven would fight tooth and nail before submitting. That thought was almost comforting, despite how much he despised the big brute.
And in the resulting melee, it would be easy enough for a thief to make himself scarce.
Coward, Erebus sounded disgusted. Do you always think of your own hide first?
Sleet arched a brow. 'Did you forget the part where I'm a thief and trust no one?'
Erebus made a noise and promptly cut himself off from the conversation. It was an eerie sensation, because it made him almost absent from Sleet's mind. He felt like there was an empty space in his head now, thoughts bouncing around inside it like they had nowhere to go. It was an unusual, off balance feeling, and Sleet didn't like it.
Well, whatever. Let the parasite sulk then. Maybe if he whined to Aesir long enough, the big boss would reassign Erebus and Sleet would be free of this war nonsense.
Malach nodded at whatever the chieftain said and then turned sharply, striding toward Sleet and his companions. His face still retained that pale, disturbed cast. He said something to the soldiers behind Sleet, and said soldiers started forward, not lowering his weapons.
“What's going on?” Raven demanded, frame tight with tension.
Malach glanced at him. “If you fight, we will kill you. Come peacefully and you will only be detained.”
Alaris placed a calming hand on Raven's arm. “Until when?”
“Until Chieftain Adlai has time to listen to rest of your farfetched tale,” Malach replied curtly, but he seemed skittish. He wouldn't come anywhere near Alaris, preferring instead to hover as far from her as he possibly could.
Raven growled. “Alaris--”
She shook her head. “We will go peacefully.”
For once, Sleet was in perfect agreement with Raven. He didn't know what in the seven hells Alaris was thinking and he really wasn't interested in being caged in whatever the Kurai called a prison. He was a thief. He didn't do well behind bars.
Nevertheless, they were once again herded through the winding corridors of Reiran, ringed by an armed Kurai escort and led by Malach. It was impossible to sense direction without visible windows to gauge where they were in the first place. The only impression Sleet could make was that they were going downward.
He'd never known himself to be afraid of tight spaces or going underground before but right now, he didn't like heading downward. He didn't like not knowing what would serve as a Kurai prison and he didn't like how low their chances of escape were. He especially didn't like how easily Alaris kept thrusting them into worse situations.
The Kurai were utterly silent as they marched their prisoners downward at a fast clip. Not even Malach had anything to say to Sleet and his companions.
They passed countless doors and hallways and while some were marked with symbols, obviously in the Kurai language, it was impossible to tell where they led. Sleet couldn't even identify if any of them led to the freedom of outside. The air within Reirain was warm and heavy, thick with smoke from the lanterns and a heavy incense. It tickled his throat, though no one else seemed to have a problem with it.
Finally, after what seemed like an hour of walking, they stopped in front of a thick door, bolted into the stone walls. Malach rapped on it with the hilt of his sword and barked a command. From the other side, Sleet could hear the sound of people trading comments and the rattle of a lever being lifted. The door opened with a raspy scrape and beyond it was the dungeon. Sleet's skin crawled.
Here it was even darker. From peering around Raven's bulk, Sleet could see what amounted to six cells, three on each side. One torch was set at the end of the hall, and two more near the main door, but there were none for the individual cells. Apparently suffering in a barely lit environment was part of the Kurai's punishment.
As Malach issued commands, they were parceled out among the cells. Ashur and Iblion were shoved into one, with Tungsten taking up residence across from them. Raven was also given one of his own, and Alaris as well. Sleet and Beryl found themselves sharing space on Raven's other side, and across from them was an empty cell.
They didn't have much. A bucket in one corner and two pallets of cloth covered straw on the floor served as the only available furnishings.
“How long do you expect us to wait?” Alaris asked, her voice carrying an odd echo here in this chilly, dank prison.
Malach, who had shooed out the rest of the guards save for one, turned away from the exit and back toward her. “Food will be sent. You are alive. Consider that blessing enough.”
He left with that pronouncement, leaving them alone in the dim, save for a single guard that stood at attention. Though Sleet could hardly see the need for a guard. Where could they go? How in the world could they escape through these bars? Then again they did have some... offworldly help they could call upon. If his anima would ever get over his snit.
Raven made a noise of irritation and Sleet heard a dull thump as the mercenary dropped onto his straw pallet. “Well, that worked out perfectly. I'm relieved that we didn't fight back.”
Alaris sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “As confident as you are in your abilities, I don't think you are capable of taking down the Kurai's entire armed forces.”
Raven's snorted defiantly but didn't comment.
Tungsten, who was in the cell furthest from Sleet and out of sight, offered up a tentative, “Is this part of the plan, Alaris-san?”
“She doesn't have a plan,” Beryl said as he flopped down on his own pallet, folding his arms behind his head. “Any fool could see that.”
Sleet leaned against the bars, trying to peer through the dim and examine the rest of the prison. It was all shaped of stone, save for the bars themselves which were metal and notched securely into the stone wall and ceiling. There was barely a handsbreadth between the bars. Neither he nor Beryl were small enough to squeeze between them.
“It's impossible to truly plan,” Alaris said with an audible sigh. “I don't know how the animum is going to react. I don't know why the Kurai didn't kill us on sight. And I don't know what it is that has them so on edge.”
Iblion came into view from the cell on Alaris' other side, leaning against the bars. “Malach is the animum.”
“Yes.”
“This could be problematic,” Iblion mused. “But I can see where he knows something. He was very skittish around you, Alaris.”
Sleet idly tested the solidity of the bars of his cell. They didn't so much as budge. Go figure. “There's no escaping these,” he informed them, though they'd probably already drawn their own conclusions. “What the fuck are we going to do next?”
“What else can we do?” Alaris asked, dropping back into the shadows of her cell and lowering herself gently onto her pallet. “We wait. Adlai will ask to speak to us again. I intend to repeat my earlier statements and then give him incontrovertible truth.”
Iblion's fingers rapped on the bars. “You will ask us to reveal ourselves as animum.”
“Yes.”
“Risky,” Raven rumbled. “What little I know of the Kurai is that they are very, very superstitious. That might backfire, end up in them demanding our deaths.”
“Then we'll have to fight our way free. If it comes to that.” Alaris sounded tired. “Until then, we wait. So get some sleep. That's all we can do right now.”
Sleet didn't like this. Not one bit. They didn't have a plan. They were trapped underground. He was sharing a cell with Beryl. He didn't have any shoes.
He turned away from the bars and dropped down onto the pallet Beryl hadn't claimed. The other thief was staring up at the ceiling, but he didn't look like he was about to start sleeping. He did, however, look as skittish as Sleet felt.
With nothing to say to Beryl, Sleet curled on his side and stared at the wall. The stone was rough, like it had been hacked into the rock rather than smoothly hewn like the rest of Reiran. It was also cold to the touch. He wasn't really tired but there was nothing else to do.
You could practice. All at once, Erebus' presence returned, though with a tangible, chilly distance.
'Oh, you're back,' Sleet replied, completely lacking enthusiasm. 'Practice what?'
There was a moment's pause, as though Erebus was gathering his patience. Accessing the abilities our bond gives you so that you can call on them instinctively rather than only when your back is to the wall.
Sleet sat up, leaning against the wall with his legs crossed in front of him. 'The better to defeat Balaam, I assume.'
You could stand to be prepared.
Rolling his eyes, Sleet tipped his head back against the wall. 'Since I have nothing better to do than why don't you show me?'
We'll start with something easy. We'll start with the flame.
'Flame?'
Hold out your hand, palm up.
Sleet frowned. He had no intentions of looking like a fool. He glanced at Beryl, but the blond thief had turned, facing the wall. Only Alaris could see into his cell. Alaris and the Kurai guard, but he seemed almost asleep on his feet, obviously unconcerned for the prisoners.
Just do it.
Setting his jaw, Sleet lifted his left hand, palm upward. 'Now what?'
Focus.
Hmph. Easier said than done. Focus on what?
You should be able to feel the power within you. The potential for something. Maybe it's a squirm in your belly. An itch along your spine. A pressure in your ribcage.
Unaccustomed to any sort of meditation, Sleet struggled to understand Erebus' words. How in the world was he supposed to find the power inside of him. His belly clenched, but then, he was hungry. His back itched, but he was pressed against a cold, rock wall with clothes in desperate need of a scrubbing. His chest felt tight, but the air here was thick.
Sleet glared at his palm, fingers twitching. Nothing happened. He tried to will something into happening. What was he supposed to be accessing here?
He tried to remember the battle against the chimaera. It was the first time he'd touched upon his so-called power. He remembered the chains sprouting out of thin air. He remembered Erebus sweeping down like black death. And he remembered fire, a sickly green flame.
Hmm. Fire.
A heat gathered in his palm which was itching. Tingling really.
Sleet tilted his head. He twitched his fingers. Fire?
With a rolling surge of power, almost tangible in the cold air, Sleet watched poison-green flame sprout to life on his hand, licking over his fingers though he couldn't feel it. His eyes widened and he clamped down on a startled shout. He shook his hand, but the flame didn't dissipate. That was a bit alarming.
Now concentrate on turning it off.
Off? Sleet didn't know how he turned it on.
He closed his fingers and formed a fist. The flames vanished. Was that conscious? He wasn't sure but it worked.
Hmm. Adequate. Now do it again.
Sleet groaned, resisting the urge to bang his head against the wall. 'You're going to make me do this for hours, aren't you?'
Erebus sounded smug. For as long as it takes. After all, you're the one who'd rather live. And learning how to access your abilities is a good way to start.
By the pits. It was going to be a long night.
a/n: I hope that the next update isn't as lengthy. I've written the next two chapters, but I have to do some editing on the previous series as I realized while writing that I've mixed up two of my animum. *headdesk* Once I get that sorted I'm sure the muses will come back with a bang.
Feedback is welcome and appreciated!
