11. Ignatius
eleven
Ignatius
Iggie awoke to his entire body on fire. At first, all he could picture was that terrible night. The jeering crowd. The screams. The sizzle of burning flesh. And the smell, that acrid stench of charred meat that permeated everything until he thought he’d choke on it…
His eyes shot open, and he screamed, flailing to escape from the tight bonds constraining him. Someone else was there with him, shouting words he couldn’t decipher in his panic.
One of the Order!
He struck out blindly at them, his vision still filled with the flash of memory. He wouldn’t let them take him! He had to be strong and find a way to escape. It’s what his parents had wanted for him. He…he…
Hands clamped down roughly on his forearms, pinning him in place. He grew rigid, his breath coming in ragged pants. A vaguely familiar voice spoke softly to him.
“It’s all right, Ignatius. You’re safe. Whatever you think is happening, it’s in the past. You’re safe.”
Alistair.
Iggie sagged, the fight running out of him.
He wasn’t being dragged from his home and bound by coarse rope.
He lay in a cave, wrapped in heavy blankets beside a blazing fire.
Unworked stone extended all around them.
Several passages vanished into darkness.
What he’d mistaken for burning was his chilled skin coming back to life with thousands of prickling pins and needles.
Shivering, he tugged the blankets tighter around himself.
Alistair studied him, his amber eyes crinkled with concern.
Still dressed in his full armor, the paladin appeared at a loss.
Under other circumstances, Iggie might have found his hesitancy—so incongruous with the vision of a staunch defender of the Light presented by his gleaming Order breastplate—almost endearing.
That’s just the trauma talking, Iggie chided himself, shifting within his cocoon of blankets. Images of the tender moment they’d shared right before the attack flitted before his eyes, and he forcibly blinked them away with a scowl. Nothing more!
“How do you feel?” Alistair asked.
“Fine.” A shiver raced over him despite the nearby warmth. “Cold.”
Alistair nodded, fresh worry tugging down his lips. “I wasn’t sure if you’d make it when you fainted out there. The storm is dying down, but it’s got some bite left in it yet.”
How long has it been since another living being genuinely cared about what happens to me?
Swallowing the lump in his throat, Iggie glanced around him to avoid staring at Alistair’s too-kind face. “Where are we?”
“I’m not sure. When you collapsed, I kept heading in the same direction until I discovered this cave nestled in a ravine. I thought it best to rest here, considering…”
He trailed off, eying Iggie, who mustered a feeble smile. “Considering my lack of tolerance for the cold? Well, we can’t all be filled with dawnflame, can we?”
Chuckling, Alistair’s eyes flicked toward the fire. Iggie followed his gaze. When he saw the crackling golden flames, he hissed in a breath and scooted back. “What the Dark is that?”
Alistair frowned. “I was in a hurry and didn’t have access to easy kindling. I found some chopped logs in one of your crates and did what I could to get the fire going.”
Iggie stared at the dawnflame tinging the fiery logs.
Everything Alistair said made perfect sense, and Iggie certainly needed warmth however he could get it.
Yet, that didn’t stop his rising horror at the sight.
Every instinct he had screamed at him to back away.
It had been bad enough watching Alistair wielding dawnflame against that monstrosity attacking the tower.
But to see it unleashed in a simulacrum of a pyre…
A gentle hand rested on his back, and Iggie froze in place. “I’d recommend staying near the fire,” Alistair said with a hint of amusement. “Much easier to get warm that way.”
Iggie forced himself to scoot a little closer to the flames. “I suppose you have a point.”
Searching for anything to distract him, his gaze settled once more upon Alistair. The paladin stood beside him, his chestnut hair windblown and his eyes like liquid pools of honey.
Shadow and shade, Knight or not, he truly is beautiful.
Alistair cleared his throat, and Iggie realized he’d completely ignored whatever Alistair was saying. “Sorry. What was that?” he asked, his voice coming out slightly breathless.
“I said, I think we might’ve discovered what’s been terrorizing Singer’s Rest.”
It took Iggie an embarrassingly long time in his frazzled state to realize what the paladin meant. “You think that creature abducted those missing villagers you mentioned?”
Alistair shrugged. “Other than you, it’s the only unexpected thing I’ve seen out here so far. And while I might have dismissed its presence as a mere coincidence or a product of the storm, there’s also the matter of the light.”
Remembering the strange light he’d seen while rescuing Alistair after his escape attempt, Iggie nodded.
“Now that you mention it, the glow from that creature looks a lot like what I saw out in the storm.” He shuddered as he pictured the monster ripping apart his undead.
His bundle of spirit links felt emptier than usual with so many connections snuffed out.
“So, does that mean you’ll need to face it again—figure out what it is and what it wants? ”
“More than that,” Alistair replied, his voice grim. “It means I need to slay it.”
Iggie’s heart skipped a beat as fear squeezed his chest. “You saw that thing! Nothing you or I did had any effect on it. You can’t possibly hope to defeat a monster like that alone!”
Alistair’s face hardened. Gone was the caring man of a moment before.
In his place stood a battle-hardened Knight of the Order prepared to pass righteous judgment on his foes.
“The Order sent me here to eliminate the threat to Singer’s Rest. Other complications aside, I intend to do whatever it takes to complete my mission and protect those in need. ”
Complications. Was that how Alistair viewed him—some troublesome problem to resolve in the course of performing his holy duty?
And if so, did he see Iggie as another victim to save…
or a threat to vanquish? The thought that Alistair might have only opened up to him as he had in order to keep a close eye on a potential enemy sent a hollow ache gnawing through him.
He’s a paladin. You don’t honestly expect him to care about you…do you?
Iggie sat up, letting out a low groan as he stretched his exhausted body. Alistair moved to help, but Iggie waved him off. “You’ve done enough already,” he said stiffly. “Thank you for saving me—consider your duty fulfilled.”
A slight furrow appeared in Alistair’s brow. “Of course. If there’s anything else I can—”
“I said I’m fine!” Iggie snapped. “All I need is some space to relax.”
Hurt flashed across Alistair’s face, causing immediate guilt to squirm in Iggie’s gut. Before he could muster an apology, the paladin rose and strode toward a passage that looked like it led deeper into the cave.
“Very well. I’m going to do a bit of exploring and make sure this cavern is safe to rest in until the storm dies down. With the supplies you scavenged, we have enough food, water, and wood to last a few days. So long as you keep the dawnflame fire supplied with fresh logs, it should keep burning.”
Then, Alistair was gone, holding his glowing sword aloft to light his path down the tunnel until he vanished from view around a bend.
Iggie sighed and ran a hand through his damp hair.
Could he have been any more of a jerk to the man who just saved his life?
Regardless of Alistair’s motives, he’d been cordial enough so far.
The least Iggie could do was return the favor as long as they remained trapped together.
After that, Alistair would be off to finish his quest, and Iggie would…
Unease rippled through him when he realized he had no idea what to do next.
Even without an active blizzard, it would be suicidal to attempt the mountain passes this time of year, and it’d be months yet before they thawed enough for safe travel.
Thanks to that abomination, he’d lost his only refuge.
Glancing around the cave, he wondered if this was to be his home for the foreseeable future.
Shadow and shade, what a dreary thought.
Then, an even worse thought occurred to him—what if this was all part of Alistair’s master plan?
So far, the paladin seemed to believe him about the missing villagers, and he hadn’t left Iggie to freeze to death in the snow when he had the chance.
But how far would his protection of Iggie extend?
What if Alistair returned to the village and they demanded his head anyway?
What of Alistair’s oaths to the Order? Would he really be content letting Iggie go, or would he consider it his responsibility to take Iggie into custody?
For the briefest of moments, Iggie entertained the notion of staging an ambush for the paladin’s return.
He could arm his remaining undead with makeshift weapons and position them around the mouth of the passage Alistair had taken.
If enough of them caught the paladin by surprise, they might be able to overwhelm his ability to heal before he could counterattack. And then…
And then I’d truly be the monster he accused me of being when we met.
Iggie let out a deep sigh. Even if he knew for certain Alistair would turn on him, he doubted he had what it took to commit cold-blooded murder. Not after—
As he always did, Iggie shoved the painful memories aside. Never before had they felt so raw—so close to the surface. Perhaps it was his near-death experience or his ongoing proximity to a member of the Order.
Regardless, he wouldn’t betray Alistair. Nor would he abandon him here, even if he found the strength to brave the cold again. He’d see this partnership of theirs through…no matter how poorly he saw it ending for him.