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(TRY NUMBER FOUR)
a/n: I apologize, my friends, but there will be no flash fiction today. RL work is super-lengthy right now. I'm seeing Monday as the day when I'll finally have some time to sit and write. Until then, I'm going to post all the stuff I've been trying to post all week. *crosses fingers*
Title: The Advent of Courage
Series: War of the Animum, Second Story
Rating: M/NC-17 Overall
Genre: Slash, Erotica, Fantasy
Warnings: language, character death, slash erotica, graphic violence, some light BDSM themes
Summary: Sleet learns the truth behind the attack on Tawnry and his own role in the fate of the world. However, whether or not he accepts his fate remains to be seen.
(Ch 1)(Ch 2)(Ch 3)(Ch 4)
( He had a choice; Sleet knew that. And while he didn't want anything to do with war or risking his life for others, the questions were always going to plague him. )
It was a sleepy Sleet who was creeping his way back to the temple in the early hours of the dawn. The morning was still dim, oranges and pinks stealing over the horizon. It was chilly enough that Sleet's breath came out in short, foggy wisps. The market was already waking, merchants calling out greetings to each other and regular customers, the early-risers who did their shopping before all the merchandise was even ready. Sleet ignored all of this, trying to chase away the fatigue pulling at him as he hurried across Gwartney and back to the temple.
The streets weren't crowded, making it easier to find his way, and soon he was standing before the double-gates, flung as wide open as before. He doubted they had closed for even a moment during the night. Scraping a hand over his head and fighting back a yawn, Sleet slipped onto the temple grounds, trying to recall the fastest way back to his room.
Relying on his suddenly spotty memory turned out to be unnecessary as he spied a group of horses and people gathered to the right of the gate, near a small copse of trees. The distance wasn't so great that he couldn't make out their identities. What were Raven and Tungsten doing awake so early in the morning? The sun had barely graced the sky.
Before he could even get two steps in their direction, his presence was noted by Tungsten. The mage lifted a hand, waving at him in far too cheerful of a manner. “Sleet-san!” he called loudly, causing the thief to wince. “You came back.”
He noticed that Raven didn't bother to look, busily tugging on the straps to Flurin's saddle and making sure it was in place. Karasu was perched on Raven's shoulder, cawing lightly in the cool morning air. The bird cocked its head, giving Sleet a beady-eyed look as the thief approached, but otherwise ignored him as well.
“Something like that,” Sleet said, coming to a rest besides the mage. He tipped his head to the side. “Going somewhere?”
Shooting a glance toward Raven, Tungsten nodded, reaching to secure one of his bags to the saddle. “Alaris has found another animus,” he explained, grunting as he tugged the knots a bit tighter. “We're going to get them.”
“Them?” Sleet repeated quizzically, watching Raven from the corner of his eye. The mercenary was making preparations, however, and didn't bother to offer a comment.
Tungsten made a noise of agreement in his throat. “Twins, apparently, each having their own anima.”
“And you're going along?”
Those green eyes shifted to look at him, brow furrowed in confusion. “Why wouldn't I?” Tungsten asked, turning to lean against his horse and adjust the folds of his shortened robes. “Alaris explained everything to me and I want to help. She's even offered to help me in my studies.”
“How lucky for you,” Sleet replied dryly, his mood soured by the fatigue that pulled on him. He cocked a gaze at Raven, who had reached up to stroke a few fingers across Karasu's head. The bird ruffled its fathers, shifting position on the mercenary's shoulder. “You're going, too?”
“Don't sound so surprised,” Raven said gruffly as Karasu took off from his shoulder to rise into the sky, cawing loudly. “This is my job. You should really be asking that question of yourself.”
The sound of more horses approaching filled the silence after Raven's statement and Sleet turned to see Alaris arriving, on the back of a grey stallion and holding the reins of another horse, free of a passenger. She was no longer wearing the expensive and decorated robes of last night, but something more suitable for traveling. Thick tights beneath a long-sleeved over-robe, high slits up the sides. It was belted at the waist and Sleet could just make out a dagger and a casting rod, like Tungsten's, tucked into the sash.
With a twist of her wrist, Alaris pulled on the reins, both horses coming to a halt. She eyed Sleet as she slid down from her stallion. “Mr. Underwood, you made it.”
Sleet blinked. “You were expecting me?”
She shrugged elegantly, sweeping her hair over one shoulder and lifting a hand to brush fingers through her horse's mane. “I had hoped,” Alaris corrected, something unnameable in her sharp blue gaze. It felt too much like Hephaestion was looking out at him through her.
Sleet's arms crossed his chest as he focused on the priestess, ignoring the other's. “I'm not here to be a hero,” he declared, wanting to get that straight first and foremost. “I just want answers.”
“Don't we all, Mr. Underwood,” she replied, turning away from her horse and pinning him with her own eerie stare. There was a sense of challenge to it. “If anything, you are safer with us than on your own. The enemy doesn't care for your sense of neutrality. They will try to kill you again.”
Annoyance peaked at the constant formal address, until he realized just what she had said. Sleet's brow furrowed. “Again?” he repeated, tipping his head to the side. This was the first he had heard of it.
“Idiot,” Raven snorted, moving to Tungsten's horse and fixing a few straps that the mage had connected wrongly. “Why else do you think the demons were in Tawnry? Just a little random murder and mayhem?”
Sleet bristled, shooting the mercenary a vitriolic glare that must have struck right between his shoulder blades. “It makes more sense than for a bunch of monsters to come after me in particular.”
“Unless these creatures were controlled by Balaam,” Alaris pointed out logically, lifting one hand to brush a lock of loose hair behind her dainty ears. “And if you were an animus, than yes, they would definitely be seeking your life.”
That cold feeling in Sleet's belly continued to grow, twisting and pressing in on him. Guilt mixed with a heavy dose of fear for his own life. The shame he felt, however, had nothing on the terror. Tawnry had been burned because of him? The beasts had been after him? Why hadn't anyone bothered to mention such a thing before?
As he mentally flipped, breathing coming out sharp and erratic, Alaris continued her explanation. “As it stands, both Tungsten and I are in considerable danger. It is only one of the reasons I am leaving the temple and I hope, Mr. Underwood, that you would deign to join us.”
“Sleet,” he ground out, feeling a familiar irritation rising within him. Of course, it was then that his head chose to start aching. “Stop patronizing me.”
She ducked her head and he supposed it was meant to be contrite. “I apologize, Sleet, but you have to understand. You can no longer hide on your own, now that your identity has been discovered.”
“Let the little fool do whatever he wants, Alaris,” Raven declared, throwing the statement over his shoulder as he cinched the last of Tungsten's straps and stepped toward his own horse. He climbed into the saddle, situating himself as he cast Sleet a dismissing look. “We don't need him.”
Twisting his jaw, Sleet quickly formed a scathing retort, but Alaris beat him to it. “We do,” she countered, not even bothering to look at Raven. “Because like it or not, only a god can fight another god and without their power, we can do nothing.”
“I still don't see what that has to do with wanting to kill me,” Sleet protested warily. “I'm just a human, not a god.”
Raven snorted, but didn't comment as Karasu cawed and wheeled down for a landing, dropping down onto the mercenary's shoulder.
Alaris took a deep breath, reaching out to grab the reins of her suddenly skittish horse that was likely startled by the raven's call. “Balaam wants to control everything, and to do that he needs the power of all the deities. So long as they are bonded to their animus, he cannot completely control the elements.”
Hedging, Sleet lowered his gaze in thought. He knew nothing of magic or deities or anything that
Alaris was attempting to explain. He didn't know if he could trust her words to be accurate, or if she was simply spitting lies to encourage him to come along. It was possible that the demons were seeking his life, if he took Frost's strange behavior and words into account. He distinctly recalled him saying something to the effect of 'Erebus' other'.
“Erebus,” he murmured to himself, more than to anyone else, but it was a name that seemed to stir a reaction in Alaris. Her eyes practically lit up, chasing away the calm that she was projecting.
She stepped forward, crowding him with her greater height. “Is that he?” she asked, a bit too excited and causing him to edge backwards. “Your animus?”
“I don't know,” Sleet replied, shaking his head as he tried to chase that memory of Frost and the strange look in his eyes.
“Alaris, the day is wasting,” Raven inserted gruffly, Flurin pawing the ground with impatient taps of her hooves against solid earth. “We have to leave.”
The priestess inclined her head, a look of brief irritation crossing her features. “Raven is right. Come with us or not, Sleet. The choice is yours.” She turned, heading back to her own horse and climbing into it with a skill that Sleet would not have expected from a priestess.
Barely shooting him a passing glance, Raven flicked the reins of his horse, leading Flurin towards the wide open gates. Alaris fell into line beside him as Tungsten climbed into his own saddle with far less grace than the others. He pulled his horse up beside Sleet, something like hope glinting in his eyes.
“I think you should come,” Tungsten suggested as he absently adjusted the fall of cloth around him so that it didn't tangle his legs. “You want answers, don't you?”
Unfolding his arms, Sleet sighed, raking a hand over his hair and unfortunately, thoughts of Yaris sifting through his head. “I do,” he admitted grudgingly, moving to the last horse. “But that's the only reason.”
He reached for the saddle, pulling himself into it. The horse skittered as he settled amongst the packs and such attached, one of which he recognized as being his own. At least he had his own mount this time and didn't have to share with Raven. Small favors.
“Is it?” Tungsten asked, flicking his reins and urging his horse forward to fall behind Alaris as Sleet steered his own beside Tungsten's. There was a hint of something in his voice, something that belied his bumbling exterior.
Sleet squared his shoulders, frowning as he considered the question. Yes, he wanted answers. And yes, he wanted to find Frost. But he also wanted to get to Frost before the others. He didn't like the bloodlust he sensed in Raven's gaze. The mercenary hated Frost, there was no doubt about that.
Curling his fingers tighter around the reins, Sleet simply gave an offhanded shrug. “Yeah, it is,” he confirmed, perhaps a bit too sharply. No need to play out all his cards. He wasn't here to make friends, despite Tungsten's attempts to be amiable.
He felt those green eyes watching him, with a piercing insistence that seemed odd for Tungsten's usual demeanor. “Alaris never did explain where we were going,” Sleet said with a fake and sudden burst of remembrance. “I should ask.”
Before Tungsten could say anything further, Sleet flicked the reins and encouraged his horse – whose name he hadn't bothered to learn yet – to pick up the pace. He drew up carefully to Alaris' side, as their chosen route was suddenly narrow. He noticed that Raven had taken point, hawkishly scanning the throng for the first sign of danger. Not that there was much of that to be found on the main road of Gwartney.
Alaris was riding at a leisurely pace, no hurry in any of her movements as she held to the reins with one hand and flipped slowly through what appeared to be a book. It was tightly bound, holding thick pages and scribbled in dark black ink that sprawled in fancy loops across the paper. The tome looked old, each page yellowed and almost brittle, forcing her to handle it with great care. It was the sort of thing that Frost would have loved to steal. Rare. Priceless. Challenging.
Sleet's eyes dropped to the writing, but it was unlike any language he had ever seen before. It vaguely resembled something from the Uldalvian region, with smatterings of Esville. The flair to every letter didn't help matters at all.
“It is quite unique,” Alaris began abruptly, proving that she had been fully aware of Sleet's presence despite being completely absorbed in her reading. “The stories that would be told if only we opened our ears. Or our minds.”
His brow furrowed. “What?”
She didn't even glance at him, instead dragging a finger and manicured fingernail down the length of the page, running over inscribed lines. “The gods which we have forgotten, they are all here, described in detail. Their names. Their duties. Even going so far as to tell of their origin.”
“And how did you come across that?”
“Chance,” Alaris replied and shifted in her seat, her finger brushing across the last word on the page before tapping on a period. “And a bit of luck. It was rescued from a temple in Esville, before it was destroyed.” The book closed with a final thump and tucked carefully under her hand as she turned to smile lightly at him. “I see that you decided to join us, Sleet.”
Somehow, it felt as though she were mocking him. Though her expression remained as pleasant and guardedly hopeful, as it had been when they first met, Sleet couldn't shake the feeling that she was deriding him behind every syllable. It settled uncomfortably on his shoulders, making him bristle without any real proof as to why.
His left eye twitched. “Where are we heading?” he asked, smoothly avoiding Alaris' statement and the annoyance it caused him.
Alaris' smile widened. “Nename.”
Searching his rather sieve-like memory, Sleet blinked in surprise as he stared at the woman, not expecting her answer. “That's more than a week's journey.”
More than that, it was a week's travel steadily northwards, where it got colder quickly, the land turning mountainous and bleak. Unfortunately, Sleet knew this all too well. Nename was only a few days ride southeast of his hometown and Sleet had never been fond of frigid winters spent there.
“It is. But one we must make.”
He kept his realizations to himself however, barely keeping from making a disappointed face. “These twins... you're sure they are... animus?” he questioned, stumbling a bit over the unfamiliar word.
Alaris inclined her head. “Without a doubt.”
“But how do you know?” Sleet pressed, still slightly suspicious of this woman and her ability to seemingly know things she shouldn't. “And how did you know where to find me, for that matter?”
The book was quickly tucked against her side. “Hephaestion,” Alaris answered as they edged closer to the double gates heading out of Gwartney, to the north rather than the south where Sleet had entered from. “He says that all anima can sense the animus. Their signature differs from a normal mortal's.”
Sleet's brow furrowed, his thieving instincts cringing at the thought. “Any god can track any animus?” She nodded, but something didn't quite add up. “If that were true, than you would have found me earlier.”
“Not quite,” Alaris said. Tungsten appeared at her other side, idly dropping in on their conversation with interested ears, though he had probably heard most of it the night before. “Until the animus and the anima resonate, the signature lies dormant.”
“But you can't find Frost?”
She shook her head, both she and Sleet noticing that Raven had dropped back as well, until he was within hearing range. “I didn't say that I couldn't. The goal right now isn't to find Frost and Balaam, but to find the others before he does.”
A small sound left Sleet's mouth before he could stop it, partially disgust and partially irritation. “What makes you so certain Frost's involved?” he asked, purposefully ignoring Raven's personal tale.
Alaris' lip twitched as she glanced at him from the corner of her eye, almost as though she were hiding some secret. “What makes you so certain he isn't?”
“I think I know him better than you do.”
Raven chose that moment to comment, a mocking snort echoing from ahead of them. “Two years of fucking a man doesn't mean you know him,” he remarked shortly. Karasu cawed in agreement, sounding almost as if the crow were laughing at Sleet.
Astride his horse, Sleet absolutely froze, body going still with a mix of anger and irritation as he felt his face go bloodless. Like he needed Raven to blast his business to everybody, including Tungsten and Alaris, who didn't know a thing. He felt an incredible urge to leap from his horse and tackle Raven, bearing him down to the ground rather violently. His fingers gripped the reins so tightly that the leather squeaked in his hold. A scathing retort danced on the tip of his tongue.
“Mr. Thiest,” Alaris suddenly cut in, her voice pleasant but somehow razor-sharp and edged with reproach, “Perhaps scouting ahead would be beneficial to our travels?” It wasn't so much a suggestion as it was a command, leaving Sleet to wonder why Raven obeyed her.
Raven shifted in the saddle, tossing her a nettled glare before shifting back around with a huff and carrying on ahead of them. Karasu took off from his shoulder with a piercing 'caw', wheeling ahead of his master, no doubt seeing what the mercenary could not.
Despite his disappearing immediate presence, Sleet's ire did not fade. He glared hot daggers at the mercenary's back, wishing that he were actually capable of doing some damage. It didn't help that curious eyes were now watching him from the side, the look on Tungsten's face something Sleet didn't care to interpret.
Beside the thief, Alaris pulled out her book once more, opening it up to the proper page, the one she had been on before. Sleet recognized the illustration on one side of it, that of a blue-scaled dragon sweeping high across the skies. Its glittering emerald-gem eyes seemed full of wisdom, just like Hephaestion's blue gaze had been.
“We have a long journey ahead of us,” she began offhandedly, seemingly instantly absorbing herself in the book. “We should all make the most of it and try to get along.”
Feeling as if he had just been chastised like a child, Sleet squared his shoulders and pulled away from the priestess, distancing himself from her knowing looks and tone. Tungsten's eyes followed him, having kept his comments to himself, and Sleet later noticed that he and Alaris settled into a boring discussion of the fifteen deities and their duties. He only vaguely listened, nothing of interest floating his direction.
This was going to be one hell of a journey. Frost better damn well appreciate him.
(Next Chapter).
a/n: I apologize, my friends, but there will be no flash fiction today. RL work is super-lengthy right now. I'm seeing Monday as the day when I'll finally have some time to sit and write. Until then, I'm going to post all the stuff I've been trying to post all week. *crosses fingers*
Title: The Advent of Courage
Series: War of the Animum, Second Story
Rating: M/NC-17 Overall
Genre: Slash, Erotica, Fantasy
Warnings: language, character death, slash erotica, graphic violence, some light BDSM themes
Summary: Sleet learns the truth behind the attack on Tawnry and his own role in the fate of the world. However, whether or not he accepts his fate remains to be seen.
(Ch 1)(Ch 2)(Ch 3)(Ch 4)
---------------------------
Chapter Four
--------------------------
Chapter Four
--------------------------
( He had a choice; Sleet knew that. And while he didn't want anything to do with war or risking his life for others, the questions were always going to plague him. )
It was a sleepy Sleet who was creeping his way back to the temple in the early hours of the dawn. The morning was still dim, oranges and pinks stealing over the horizon. It was chilly enough that Sleet's breath came out in short, foggy wisps. The market was already waking, merchants calling out greetings to each other and regular customers, the early-risers who did their shopping before all the merchandise was even ready. Sleet ignored all of this, trying to chase away the fatigue pulling at him as he hurried across Gwartney and back to the temple.
The streets weren't crowded, making it easier to find his way, and soon he was standing before the double-gates, flung as wide open as before. He doubted they had closed for even a moment during the night. Scraping a hand over his head and fighting back a yawn, Sleet slipped onto the temple grounds, trying to recall the fastest way back to his room.
Relying on his suddenly spotty memory turned out to be unnecessary as he spied a group of horses and people gathered to the right of the gate, near a small copse of trees. The distance wasn't so great that he couldn't make out their identities. What were Raven and Tungsten doing awake so early in the morning? The sun had barely graced the sky.
Before he could even get two steps in their direction, his presence was noted by Tungsten. The mage lifted a hand, waving at him in far too cheerful of a manner. “Sleet-san!” he called loudly, causing the thief to wince. “You came back.”
He noticed that Raven didn't bother to look, busily tugging on the straps to Flurin's saddle and making sure it was in place. Karasu was perched on Raven's shoulder, cawing lightly in the cool morning air. The bird cocked its head, giving Sleet a beady-eyed look as the thief approached, but otherwise ignored him as well.
“Something like that,” Sleet said, coming to a rest besides the mage. He tipped his head to the side. “Going somewhere?”
Shooting a glance toward Raven, Tungsten nodded, reaching to secure one of his bags to the saddle. “Alaris has found another animus,” he explained, grunting as he tugged the knots a bit tighter. “We're going to get them.”
“Them?” Sleet repeated quizzically, watching Raven from the corner of his eye. The mercenary was making preparations, however, and didn't bother to offer a comment.
Tungsten made a noise of agreement in his throat. “Twins, apparently, each having their own anima.”
“And you're going along?”
Those green eyes shifted to look at him, brow furrowed in confusion. “Why wouldn't I?” Tungsten asked, turning to lean against his horse and adjust the folds of his shortened robes. “Alaris explained everything to me and I want to help. She's even offered to help me in my studies.”
“How lucky for you,” Sleet replied dryly, his mood soured by the fatigue that pulled on him. He cocked a gaze at Raven, who had reached up to stroke a few fingers across Karasu's head. The bird ruffled its fathers, shifting position on the mercenary's shoulder. “You're going, too?”
“Don't sound so surprised,” Raven said gruffly as Karasu took off from his shoulder to rise into the sky, cawing loudly. “This is my job. You should really be asking that question of yourself.”
The sound of more horses approaching filled the silence after Raven's statement and Sleet turned to see Alaris arriving, on the back of a grey stallion and holding the reins of another horse, free of a passenger. She was no longer wearing the expensive and decorated robes of last night, but something more suitable for traveling. Thick tights beneath a long-sleeved over-robe, high slits up the sides. It was belted at the waist and Sleet could just make out a dagger and a casting rod, like Tungsten's, tucked into the sash.
With a twist of her wrist, Alaris pulled on the reins, both horses coming to a halt. She eyed Sleet as she slid down from her stallion. “Mr. Underwood, you made it.”
Sleet blinked. “You were expecting me?”
She shrugged elegantly, sweeping her hair over one shoulder and lifting a hand to brush fingers through her horse's mane. “I had hoped,” Alaris corrected, something unnameable in her sharp blue gaze. It felt too much like Hephaestion was looking out at him through her.
Sleet's arms crossed his chest as he focused on the priestess, ignoring the other's. “I'm not here to be a hero,” he declared, wanting to get that straight first and foremost. “I just want answers.”
“Don't we all, Mr. Underwood,” she replied, turning away from her horse and pinning him with her own eerie stare. There was a sense of challenge to it. “If anything, you are safer with us than on your own. The enemy doesn't care for your sense of neutrality. They will try to kill you again.”
Annoyance peaked at the constant formal address, until he realized just what she had said. Sleet's brow furrowed. “Again?” he repeated, tipping his head to the side. This was the first he had heard of it.
“Idiot,” Raven snorted, moving to Tungsten's horse and fixing a few straps that the mage had connected wrongly. “Why else do you think the demons were in Tawnry? Just a little random murder and mayhem?”
Sleet bristled, shooting the mercenary a vitriolic glare that must have struck right between his shoulder blades. “It makes more sense than for a bunch of monsters to come after me in particular.”
“Unless these creatures were controlled by Balaam,” Alaris pointed out logically, lifting one hand to brush a lock of loose hair behind her dainty ears. “And if you were an animus, than yes, they would definitely be seeking your life.”
That cold feeling in Sleet's belly continued to grow, twisting and pressing in on him. Guilt mixed with a heavy dose of fear for his own life. The shame he felt, however, had nothing on the terror. Tawnry had been burned because of him? The beasts had been after him? Why hadn't anyone bothered to mention such a thing before?
As he mentally flipped, breathing coming out sharp and erratic, Alaris continued her explanation. “As it stands, both Tungsten and I are in considerable danger. It is only one of the reasons I am leaving the temple and I hope, Mr. Underwood, that you would deign to join us.”
“Sleet,” he ground out, feeling a familiar irritation rising within him. Of course, it was then that his head chose to start aching. “Stop patronizing me.”
She ducked her head and he supposed it was meant to be contrite. “I apologize, Sleet, but you have to understand. You can no longer hide on your own, now that your identity has been discovered.”
“Let the little fool do whatever he wants, Alaris,” Raven declared, throwing the statement over his shoulder as he cinched the last of Tungsten's straps and stepped toward his own horse. He climbed into the saddle, situating himself as he cast Sleet a dismissing look. “We don't need him.”
Twisting his jaw, Sleet quickly formed a scathing retort, but Alaris beat him to it. “We do,” she countered, not even bothering to look at Raven. “Because like it or not, only a god can fight another god and without their power, we can do nothing.”
“I still don't see what that has to do with wanting to kill me,” Sleet protested warily. “I'm just a human, not a god.”
Raven snorted, but didn't comment as Karasu cawed and wheeled down for a landing, dropping down onto the mercenary's shoulder.
Alaris took a deep breath, reaching out to grab the reins of her suddenly skittish horse that was likely startled by the raven's call. “Balaam wants to control everything, and to do that he needs the power of all the deities. So long as they are bonded to their animus, he cannot completely control the elements.”
Hedging, Sleet lowered his gaze in thought. He knew nothing of magic or deities or anything that
Alaris was attempting to explain. He didn't know if he could trust her words to be accurate, or if she was simply spitting lies to encourage him to come along. It was possible that the demons were seeking his life, if he took Frost's strange behavior and words into account. He distinctly recalled him saying something to the effect of 'Erebus' other'.
“Erebus,” he murmured to himself, more than to anyone else, but it was a name that seemed to stir a reaction in Alaris. Her eyes practically lit up, chasing away the calm that she was projecting.
She stepped forward, crowding him with her greater height. “Is that he?” she asked, a bit too excited and causing him to edge backwards. “Your animus?”
“I don't know,” Sleet replied, shaking his head as he tried to chase that memory of Frost and the strange look in his eyes.
“Alaris, the day is wasting,” Raven inserted gruffly, Flurin pawing the ground with impatient taps of her hooves against solid earth. “We have to leave.”
The priestess inclined her head, a look of brief irritation crossing her features. “Raven is right. Come with us or not, Sleet. The choice is yours.” She turned, heading back to her own horse and climbing into it with a skill that Sleet would not have expected from a priestess.
Barely shooting him a passing glance, Raven flicked the reins of his horse, leading Flurin towards the wide open gates. Alaris fell into line beside him as Tungsten climbed into his own saddle with far less grace than the others. He pulled his horse up beside Sleet, something like hope glinting in his eyes.
“I think you should come,” Tungsten suggested as he absently adjusted the fall of cloth around him so that it didn't tangle his legs. “You want answers, don't you?”
Unfolding his arms, Sleet sighed, raking a hand over his hair and unfortunately, thoughts of Yaris sifting through his head. “I do,” he admitted grudgingly, moving to the last horse. “But that's the only reason.”
He reached for the saddle, pulling himself into it. The horse skittered as he settled amongst the packs and such attached, one of which he recognized as being his own. At least he had his own mount this time and didn't have to share with Raven. Small favors.
“Is it?” Tungsten asked, flicking his reins and urging his horse forward to fall behind Alaris as Sleet steered his own beside Tungsten's. There was a hint of something in his voice, something that belied his bumbling exterior.
Sleet squared his shoulders, frowning as he considered the question. Yes, he wanted answers. And yes, he wanted to find Frost. But he also wanted to get to Frost before the others. He didn't like the bloodlust he sensed in Raven's gaze. The mercenary hated Frost, there was no doubt about that.
Curling his fingers tighter around the reins, Sleet simply gave an offhanded shrug. “Yeah, it is,” he confirmed, perhaps a bit too sharply. No need to play out all his cards. He wasn't here to make friends, despite Tungsten's attempts to be amiable.
He felt those green eyes watching him, with a piercing insistence that seemed odd for Tungsten's usual demeanor. “Alaris never did explain where we were going,” Sleet said with a fake and sudden burst of remembrance. “I should ask.”
Before Tungsten could say anything further, Sleet flicked the reins and encouraged his horse – whose name he hadn't bothered to learn yet – to pick up the pace. He drew up carefully to Alaris' side, as their chosen route was suddenly narrow. He noticed that Raven had taken point, hawkishly scanning the throng for the first sign of danger. Not that there was much of that to be found on the main road of Gwartney.
Alaris was riding at a leisurely pace, no hurry in any of her movements as she held to the reins with one hand and flipped slowly through what appeared to be a book. It was tightly bound, holding thick pages and scribbled in dark black ink that sprawled in fancy loops across the paper. The tome looked old, each page yellowed and almost brittle, forcing her to handle it with great care. It was the sort of thing that Frost would have loved to steal. Rare. Priceless. Challenging.
Sleet's eyes dropped to the writing, but it was unlike any language he had ever seen before. It vaguely resembled something from the Uldalvian region, with smatterings of Esville. The flair to every letter didn't help matters at all.
“It is quite unique,” Alaris began abruptly, proving that she had been fully aware of Sleet's presence despite being completely absorbed in her reading. “The stories that would be told if only we opened our ears. Or our minds.”
His brow furrowed. “What?”
She didn't even glance at him, instead dragging a finger and manicured fingernail down the length of the page, running over inscribed lines. “The gods which we have forgotten, they are all here, described in detail. Their names. Their duties. Even going so far as to tell of their origin.”
“And how did you come across that?”
“Chance,” Alaris replied and shifted in her seat, her finger brushing across the last word on the page before tapping on a period. “And a bit of luck. It was rescued from a temple in Esville, before it was destroyed.” The book closed with a final thump and tucked carefully under her hand as she turned to smile lightly at him. “I see that you decided to join us, Sleet.”
Somehow, it felt as though she were mocking him. Though her expression remained as pleasant and guardedly hopeful, as it had been when they first met, Sleet couldn't shake the feeling that she was deriding him behind every syllable. It settled uncomfortably on his shoulders, making him bristle without any real proof as to why.
His left eye twitched. “Where are we heading?” he asked, smoothly avoiding Alaris' statement and the annoyance it caused him.
Alaris' smile widened. “Nename.”
Searching his rather sieve-like memory, Sleet blinked in surprise as he stared at the woman, not expecting her answer. “That's more than a week's journey.”
More than that, it was a week's travel steadily northwards, where it got colder quickly, the land turning mountainous and bleak. Unfortunately, Sleet knew this all too well. Nename was only a few days ride southeast of his hometown and Sleet had never been fond of frigid winters spent there.
“It is. But one we must make.”
He kept his realizations to himself however, barely keeping from making a disappointed face. “These twins... you're sure they are... animus?” he questioned, stumbling a bit over the unfamiliar word.
Alaris inclined her head. “Without a doubt.”
“But how do you know?” Sleet pressed, still slightly suspicious of this woman and her ability to seemingly know things she shouldn't. “And how did you know where to find me, for that matter?”
The book was quickly tucked against her side. “Hephaestion,” Alaris answered as they edged closer to the double gates heading out of Gwartney, to the north rather than the south where Sleet had entered from. “He says that all anima can sense the animus. Their signature differs from a normal mortal's.”
Sleet's brow furrowed, his thieving instincts cringing at the thought. “Any god can track any animus?” She nodded, but something didn't quite add up. “If that were true, than you would have found me earlier.”
“Not quite,” Alaris said. Tungsten appeared at her other side, idly dropping in on their conversation with interested ears, though he had probably heard most of it the night before. “Until the animus and the anima resonate, the signature lies dormant.”
“But you can't find Frost?”
She shook her head, both she and Sleet noticing that Raven had dropped back as well, until he was within hearing range. “I didn't say that I couldn't. The goal right now isn't to find Frost and Balaam, but to find the others before he does.”
A small sound left Sleet's mouth before he could stop it, partially disgust and partially irritation. “What makes you so certain Frost's involved?” he asked, purposefully ignoring Raven's personal tale.
Alaris' lip twitched as she glanced at him from the corner of her eye, almost as though she were hiding some secret. “What makes you so certain he isn't?”
“I think I know him better than you do.”
Raven chose that moment to comment, a mocking snort echoing from ahead of them. “Two years of fucking a man doesn't mean you know him,” he remarked shortly. Karasu cawed in agreement, sounding almost as if the crow were laughing at Sleet.
Astride his horse, Sleet absolutely froze, body going still with a mix of anger and irritation as he felt his face go bloodless. Like he needed Raven to blast his business to everybody, including Tungsten and Alaris, who didn't know a thing. He felt an incredible urge to leap from his horse and tackle Raven, bearing him down to the ground rather violently. His fingers gripped the reins so tightly that the leather squeaked in his hold. A scathing retort danced on the tip of his tongue.
“Mr. Thiest,” Alaris suddenly cut in, her voice pleasant but somehow razor-sharp and edged with reproach, “Perhaps scouting ahead would be beneficial to our travels?” It wasn't so much a suggestion as it was a command, leaving Sleet to wonder why Raven obeyed her.
Raven shifted in the saddle, tossing her a nettled glare before shifting back around with a huff and carrying on ahead of them. Karasu took off from his shoulder with a piercing 'caw', wheeling ahead of his master, no doubt seeing what the mercenary could not.
Despite his disappearing immediate presence, Sleet's ire did not fade. He glared hot daggers at the mercenary's back, wishing that he were actually capable of doing some damage. It didn't help that curious eyes were now watching him from the side, the look on Tungsten's face something Sleet didn't care to interpret.
Beside the thief, Alaris pulled out her book once more, opening it up to the proper page, the one she had been on before. Sleet recognized the illustration on one side of it, that of a blue-scaled dragon sweeping high across the skies. Its glittering emerald-gem eyes seemed full of wisdom, just like Hephaestion's blue gaze had been.
“We have a long journey ahead of us,” she began offhandedly, seemingly instantly absorbing herself in the book. “We should all make the most of it and try to get along.”
Feeling as if he had just been chastised like a child, Sleet squared his shoulders and pulled away from the priestess, distancing himself from her knowing looks and tone. Tungsten's eyes followed him, having kept his comments to himself, and Sleet later noticed that he and Alaris settled into a boring discussion of the fifteen deities and their duties. He only vaguely listened, nothing of interest floating his direction.
This was going to be one hell of a journey. Frost better damn well appreciate him.
* * *
a/n: I promise I'll get back to Wolf in the Fold soon. It's on my urgent to do list. Until then, I hope you enjoyed.(Next Chapter).
