9. Ignatius
nine
Ignatius
Before Iggie knew it, two more days had elapsed. Though the blizzard still raged outside, the winds had begun to calm. Another day or two, and the storm should pass, freeing them from their imprisonment in the tower. To his surprise, however, he found himself anticipating that moment less and less.
Alistair had turned out to be surprisingly pleasant company once he’d let himself relax. No doubt the paladin’s full belly helped. Now that he’d started eating his meals and spent more time chatting with Iggie, he’d proven to be far from the overzealous crusader Iggie had feared.
Sure, he remained largely ignorant on numerous issues, and there were some topics they skirted around by unspoken mutual agreement.
But the paladin also seemed open to having his preexisting views challenged and proved eager to learn more about Iggie’s magic in a way Iggie never would have expected from a Knight trained to revile all duskflame wielders as dangerous.
He asked Iggie question after question and, for the most part, Iggie was happy to oblige.
Though he strayed away from speaking of his family or his brutal early years on the run, he told Alistair about some of his more recent adventures, including a mishap in the town where he’d acquired Pierre that involved hiding in an empty stew cauldron while Marlon and Cynthia pretended to be drunk patrons.
By the time he got to the unsuspecting cook dumping a pot of boiled potatoes on him, they were both in tears from laughing so hard.
If Alistair still judged him for raising the dead, he succeeded at keeping it to himself, for which Iggie was grateful.
The paladin, for his part, spoke of his own time growing up, reminiscing on his fondest memories of his father and their estate. Despite his father’s strict rules and stern attitude, it sounded like there’d been happiness for Alistair there as well, along with pride in his training.
Iggie noticed, however, that he rarely spoke of his father’s passing or his decision to join the Order.
He saw the distant look as well that would sometimes appear in Alistair’s amber eyes, dulling their bright shine.
It echoed Iggie’s own melancholy, though he didn’t dare draw attention to it. Some things were better left unsaid.
For the most part, however, their conversations remained light, offering a diverting means to pass the time.
Iggie had forgotten how nice it was to have someone to talk with rather than at.
Other than the occasional brief conversation when he risked visiting a village for supplies, it had been years since he’d talked to anyone at all—certainly longer since he’d spoken about anything that mattered.
At times, he’d be chattering away only to realize it had been several minutes since he let Alistair slip a word in edgewise.
Thankfully, the paladin never seemed to mind.
Alistair had this air about him, like he’d protect Iggie from anything that tried to do him harm.
It compelled Iggie to open up despite the walls he’d constructed over the years to keep people out.
Which was absurd—the last person he should ever want to rely on was a Dark-cursed paladin of the Order.
Still, he’d take these quiet conversations while he could.
Soon enough, they’d come to an end along with the falling snow.
That was how Iggie ended up in the sitting room with Alistair as night fell once more, having a heated discussion about the merits of an old children’s fable.
“It’s not that complicated of a story,” Alistair argued. “It’s a basic parable that highlights the dangers of consorting with evil.”
Iggie balked. “That is a gross oversimplification! It’s a classic love story couched in tragedy. How else do you explain the ending?” Alistair hesitated, and Iggie narrowed his eyes. “You don’t even remember it, do you?”
“It was a long time ago!” Alistair said, throwing up his hands. “I haven’t thought about it in years. All I remember is my father telling me the moral.”
Iggie rolled his eyes. “I see. Well, far be it from me to argue with your father.”
He started to rise from his chair, thinking he might go sneak a nighttime snack from Pierre, when Alistair interrupted him, sounding uncertain. “Wait! I, uh, wouldn’t mind hearing the story again, though, if you remember it. Maybe a refresher would help us settle this debate.”
“It’s hardly a debate when you’re this wrong.” Alistair snorted, and Iggie flashed a grin of his own. With a dramatic sigh, he sank back into his seat. “But if you insist…”
“Do you have the book stashed in that chest of yours?”
Yesterday, Alistair had stumbled upon Iggie’s trunk full of books. Iggie might have spent the majority of his life on the run, but the battered trunk had been his companion for most of that time, his collection gradually growing as he stashed those he deemed worth rereading later.
It turned out Alistair also used to read a lot as a kid, but that habit had fallen off when his father pushed him to devote all his free time to his training.
Apparently, his father had considered reading beneath a paladin’s attention when there were battle drills to run, weapons to learn, and muscles to exercise.
It sounded like a dull existence to Iggie, but what did he know about a normal childhood?
Better an over-domineering parent and a joyless home than no parents or home at all.
“I think it’s in one of the collections,” Iggie said. “But I don’t need it. I know the tale well enough to capture the gist by heart.”
“Really?” The paladin sounded doubtful.
“Yes. It was one of my favorites as a kid. I must’ve read it a hundred times.”
“And you swear you won’t embellish it?”
A playful scowl twisted Iggie’s lips. “Do you want me to tell the story or not?”
“Yes. Sorry. Go ahead.”
Iggie waited a moment longer to see if Alistair would interrupt again, but the paladin simply made himself comfortable, fixing Iggie with an expectant stare.
Iggie cleared his throat. “Right. The Infernal’s Bargain.
Once upon a time, there was a man who lived with his beloved on a small farm.
They spent every day working together, and their love grew and grew until one day, war came to their valley.
The man was conscripted into the king’s army while his beloved was left behind to tend to their farm, heartbroken with worry. ”
“For two long years, the man watched countless allies and enemies alike die on battlefield after battlefield. The only thing that kept him sane through those blood-soaked days and nights was the thought of someday seeing his beloved again. Though the man suffered many close calls, the gods seemed to have blessed him, and he always escaped unscathed. When the war finally ended, he returned home, eager to reunite with his love. Yet, the gods have ever been cruel, and while he was away, his beloved had perished in an accident. For all her fear of losing him, tragedy had struck in reverse.”
Iggie paused, glancing over at Alistair.
He expected to see the man falling asleep or perhaps struggling to disguise his boredom.
Instead, he found the paladin’s golden eyes wide and riveted on him.
When he noticed Iggie watching, he huffed and made an impatient gesture for him to continue.
Iggie fought a small smile as he returned to the story.
“Stricken with grief, the man cried out to the heavens for deliverance, and to his shock, the heavens answered. What arrived, however, was no Celestial, but an Infernal cloaked in the skin of a man. It told him that it could raise his beloved from the dead and reunite them, but only if he pledged his eternal soul to serve the Infernal in the afterlife. The man didn’t hesitate before agreeing—anything to bring his beloved back. ”
Alistair shook his head. “Never trust an Infernal.”
Ignoring him, Iggie continued. “True to his word, the Infernal returned the man’s beloved to life, and they were reunited.
When she asked her husband what had happened, he lied and told her that a Celestial had seen fit to bless them.
Though this seemed to sadden his beloved, her melancholy soon turned to joy as they resumed their lives together.
They lived happily on their farm for many years until they grew old and gray.
To the man’s dismay, his beloved began to pull away from him, becoming increasingly distant. ”
“I’d pull away too after what he did,” Alistair muttered.
“Quiet,” Iggie snapped. “Let me finish the story before you pass judgment.”
Alistair made a shushing motion across his lips, and Iggie bit back a chuckle.
“Knowing what would happen to him once he died, the man was determined to make the most of what little time they had left. He confronted his beloved, and in the resulting argument, revealed the bargain he had struck. He expected her to weep or perhaps to rage. Instead, she laughed and laughed. He demanded to know what was so funny, and she told him that, when an accident left her body broken and bleeding, an Infernal had come to her, too. The Infernal told her that it had its eye on her husband on the battlefield and that he would surely die if left on his own. However, if she pledged her soul to it before she died, then it would ensure the man survived. Unable to bear the thought of her husband suffering, she did as the Infernal asked.”