12. Alistair #2
Alistair nodded as he slumped to the ground beside Iggie. His golden armor seemed duller than usual as it reflected the dawnflame fire. “All I ever wanted was to make my father proud,” he whispered, his throat constricting.
Iggie hesitated a beat before resting an awkward hand on Alistair’s shoulder.
Instead of shrugging it off like he should, Alistair found himself leaning into the touch despite the bulky armor he still wore.
He had shared far more with Iggie than he meant to—something that seemed to happen disconcertingly often around the necromancer.
It took several minutes for the tightness in his chest to ease enough for him to speak. When it had, he cleared his throat and shifted to face Iggie. “What about you?”
“Me?” Iggie said, sounding surprised.
“Indeed. I’ve told you about my past—my hopes and dreams. What is it that drives you?”
“Survival,” Iggie responded at once.
Alistair blinked. “Survival?” he repeated doubtfully.
Iggie gave him a defensive look. “Not all of us have the luxury of choice, even a difficult one we don’t want to make. It’s impossible to stop and consider the future when you’re constantly on the run in the present, always looking over your shoulder and unable to fit in anywhere you go.”
A frown tugged at Alistair’s lips as he glanced past Iggie to his lurking skeletons. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but couldn’t you have just dismissed your undead and found a small village somewhere willing to take in a stranger? It might not be ideal, but…”
“But neither is sleeping in an abandoned tower while stealing supplies to survive?” Iggie barked a humorless laugh.
“Perhaps that would have worked for a time. But even if I was willing to hide that part of myself forever, my secret would have escaped eventually. Someone from the Order would’ve sensed my magic.
” A shadow flickered over Iggie’s face, his icy eyes hardening to frozen specks.
“Or something would’ve happened to set it off.
All it would’ve taken was a single glimpse of my duskflame to turn the entire town against me. ”
Alistair wished he could deny it, but he recognized the truth in the necromancer’s words. In Khordan, only practitioners of voidflame were more maligned. “Why not seek refuge in another kingdom, then—one less rigid in its orthodoxy to the Church?”
Iggie snorted. “With how tightly Khordan maintains its borders? The Order would’ve apprehended me in a heartbeat.
” His expression grew fierce. The defiant look on his delicate face sent a strange flutter through Alistair’s stomach.
“Besides, the Empire is my home, whether the Church likes it or not. I shouldn’t have to flee in order to live my life in peace. ”
“Perhaps not,” Alistair conceded. “But spending your life on the run hardly sounds much better.” He considered Iggie’s tale. “Not everyone in the Order is so quick to condemn. If you explained your situation, they might be able to find a peaceful solution.”
Iggie stared at Alistair like he was the biggest idiot in the entirety of Allaria. “You honestly believe the Order would have helped me?”
A flush heated Alistair’s neck. “I know our views on duskflame are a tad…harsh. But that doesn’t mean an exception couldn’t have been made given your unique circum—”
“Shadow and shade, are you insane?” Iggie made as if to rise before seeming to remember where they were.
He fixed the crackling fire with a dour glare and huddled near its warmth.
“You may have suffered hardships of your own, but you don’t know what it’s like to be so despised that people would sooner stick you with a knife than greet you. ”
Alistair pictured his family’s sprawling estate with its army of servants.
His fingers trailed down the gilded front of his breastplate.
“You’re right,” he said softly. Surprise widened Iggie’s eyes as Alistair continued.
“Even after my father died, I never wanted for anything. I never had to scrounge for shelter, or worry about my next meal, or fear for my own safety. I never had to survive on my own the way you have.”
He held Iggie’s gaze, marveling at how the light caught in his azure eyes and formed dancing shadows in their depths. “So, make me understand. What happened to you, Iggie?”
Iggie hesitated, his uncertainty reflected throughout his tensed body. “I…I’ve never spoken about my past with anyone before.”
“That’s okay,” Alistair replied even as he smothered his disappointment. “You don’t owe me anything you aren’t ready to give.”
“No, I want to.” Iggie bit his bottom lip. “But I don’t know if I can.”
Alistair’s heart went out to the necromancer.
His gaze strayed to the golden fire dancing across the piled logs.
“I’ve noticed how you shy away from my dawnflame and close up whenever I mention your past. Clearly, whatever happened has weighed on you for a long time.
It might do you some good to finally get it off your chest.” He smiled.
“If it helps, don’t think of me as a paladin of the Order.
Tonight, I’m just a regular person, same as you. ”
Iggie snorted at that, but Alistair could tell his words helped soothe the necromancer’s nerves. Even still, surprise coursed through him when Iggie hesitantly began to speak.
“When I was a boy, I found a dead bird in the woods near our village. Though the sight turned my stomach, something about it called out to me, sent this faint thrum vibrating through my veins. I had no idea what I was doing, but somehow, I harnessed those vibrations and channeled them into the bird’s corpse. ”
A sad smile played over Iggie’s lips, sending an answering ache through Alistair’s chest. “Thus, did I harness duskflame for the first time. I used to spend hours searching for dead animals so I could resurrect them, playing with their skeletons in a macabre imitation of how other kids might play with puppets.” His smile slowly faded.
“I didn’t realize then how much danger I was in. Not yet.”
“When my parents found out what I could do, they were terrified. Not of me,” he said in response to Alistair’s immediate frown. “But for me. They begged me not to use my powers anymore and insisted I keep my gift a secret. I…I didn’t listen.”
Alistair loathed the shame he heard in Iggie’s voice. “You were only a child. You didn’t know any better.”
“Well, I should have!” Iggie tossed his head as if he could shake off his pain like water.
“It doesn’t matter. Fair or not, what happened next was my fault.
Too enamored with my gift, I ignored my parents’ warnings and continued to practice my magic.
Eventually, someone from the village saw me.
It didn’t take long for the secret to spread after that.
My parents locked me inside and tried to reason with the other villagers that I wasn’t a danger to them.
I didn’t really understand what was happening or how serious it was. Not until the Knights arrived.”
Alistair hissed in a breath. “The Order dispatched multiple Knights for a single child?” It sounded ludicrous to him, almost inconceivable. And yet…
He thought of the open disdain with which he and the other recruits had discussed duskflame wielders during their training.
The disgust and fear that had lurked in the eyes of the veteran paladins when they recounted the horrors they’d witnessed in the line of duty. His father’s wasted, withered body.
For the first time, he wondered what those witches in Darton had thought when the Knights came for them.
Had they really threatened innocents as part of some diabolical plot?
Or had they been like Iggie, simply looking for someplace they might fit in?
Had the curse that claimed his father been vengeful cruelty… or panicked self-defense?
Questions for which he’d likely never find a satisfactory answer. Alistair forced them aside, returning his attention to Iggie. The necromancer’s gaze was distant and unfocused as he stared into the crackling dawnflame. A mask of agony contorted his face.
“I think the local priest sent for them. I never found out for sure. There were two of them that came—terrifying giants with their heavy swords and lustrous armor. None of the other villagers tried to stop them or even to argue. They all just stood aside and trusted in the Order to do what was best. What was right.”
A solitary tear wavered down Iggie’s grief-stricken face.
Alistair trembled, fighting down the urge to shift closer.
He didn’t know if Iggie would welcome comfort right now, especially not from him.
Despite what he’d said about setting aside his mantle of paladin for the night, he remained a member of the Order, their sins partially his to bear as well.
He didn’t want to hear what came next, but he knew he had to. Bracing himself, he sat back and listened as Iggie continued, his voice cracking beneath the weight of his emotion.
“My parents were the only ones willing to stand up to the Order. They didn’t understand my magic any better than the rest of the village, but that didn’t stop them from loving me anyway.
They…” Iggie’s voice wavered, and he took a deep gulp of air.
“They tried to defend me. To give me time to run. But they were no match for Order-trained paladins. The Knights declared them heretics corrupted by duskflame sorcery. They tied them to makeshift pyres and…and…”
Iggie’s self-control finally shattered, and he buried his face in his hands.
Sobs racked his back. Alistair felt numb, a hollow sickness pervading him to his core.
No wonder Iggie had seemed so fearful of dawnflame if that was how he’d seen it used.
Merciful Light, how could anyone do something so vile, let alone a Knight?
To burn a boy’s parents right in front of him for the mere act of defending their child…