15. Ignatius
fifteen
Ignatius
Iggie tried to ignore the hollow feeling in his chest as he helped Alistair prepare to depart.
Last night had seemed a fair bargain at the time—one night to forget about the past and future both while living in the moment.
Yet in the cold light of day, he found it harder than he’d expected to simply let all those conjured emotions go.
Muttering under his breath, he slammed the lid on a supply crate and turned his attention to his undead. He’d ordered them back to help pack. Though the cold didn’t faze them, the harsh elements still wore on their bones, and he bolstered them as best he could with extra duskflame.
Some of his tension eased when he spotted Marlon and Cynthia hovering protectively nearby. He was grateful they were at his side again. They were his true family…in more ways than one.
His gaze flicked to Alistair, watching his gold-armored back as he checked the cavern for anything they’d missed.
During his long, lonely years on the run, Iggie had convinced himself he didn’t need anyone.
Thoughts of intimacy had always seemed so unimportant compared to finding his next meal or a safe place to sleep.
But now that the paladin’s companionship had shown him what he was missing, he didn’t know how to restore the barriers he’d torn down.
Not that he had much of a choice. No matter how amazing last night had been, it changed nothing. Iggie was still a necromancer, a dreaded duskflame wielder. He would never belong.
“You ready?” Alistair’s voice jerked Iggie out of his thoughts, and he looked up to find the paladin standing at the mouth of the tunnel leading from their cave complex.
Iggie forced a smile. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”
Some emotion Iggie couldn’t read flickered over Alistair’s face. He made as if to step toward Iggie, then hesitated, lowering the hand he’d started to raise. “There’s no need to worry,” he said, his voice gentle. “Whatever the town’s reaction to our arrival, we’ll face it together.”
Huffing out a breath, Iggie squared his shoulders and nodded. For better or worse, Alistair was right—this was the only logical course. He just hoped the paladin knew what he was doing.
The air was bitterly cold when they emerged from the cave, the snow thick on the ground while light flurries continued to fall. At least, a few determined rays of sunlight pierced the clouds overhead. They should have no difficulty navigating back to Singer’s Rest in this.
Alistair took the lead. Iggie trudged after him, bundled up in a thick layer of cloaks and blankets.
His undead trailed at the rear, lugging the heavy crates of supplies.
They traveled mostly in silence, Iggie occasionally volunteering directions since he’d traveled the route to town enough to recognize subtle landmarks among the monotonous snowbanks.
After some searching, they confirmed that the ravine they’d sheltered in was indeed the same one Alistair had tumbled into a week earlier.
Their mad dash through the storm had left them far off course, but they were able to follow the chasm’s edge until they were back on track.
Though Iggie remained tensed for attack, his eyes scanning the horizon for any hint of shimmering azure light, nothing appeared to disturb their trek.
The sun had crept higher in the sky, nearing midday, when they finally crested a rise and spied Singer’s Rest nestled in the distance.
It was only then that the full weight of what he was about to do hit him.
He’d fled to these remote mountains to escape other people.
Now, here he was about to willingly stride into the middle of a village in broad daylight as if he wasn’t a wanted fugitive.
The last time he’d done such a thing, his parents had still been alive.
Alistair will protect me.
Huffing out a deep breath, he started down the incline. A warm hand on his bundled shoulder brought him up short, and he paused, glancing at Alistair. The paladin quickly dropped his hand and cleared his throat, looking uncomfortable.
“We should try to antagonize the town as little as possible. While I’m confident we can convince them to see reason, the less cause we give them for alarm, the smoother the process will go.”
Iggie’s gut churned. He scratched at his mop of red hair beneath his hood. “Okay…so, what do you suggest?” The paladin hesitated, glancing toward Marlon and Cynthia hovering as always at Iggie’s back, and he suddenly understood. “You want me to order my undead to remain here.”
“It’s for the best. I’m sure you can imagine how people might react if they thought an army of undead was invading their town.”
Alistair had a point—arriving with a dozen skeletons was unlikely to earn him any favor. Still, the thought of going without even Marlon and Cynthia amplified his already frayed nerves. He’d be truly alone in the middle of a hostile village, easily ambushed.
Sympathy flickered in Alistair’s golden gaze. “Look, I know you’re scared. But I meant what I said. I won’t let anything happen to you.”
For a moment, Iggie was back in that cavern, wrapped in Alistair’s arms as the paladin held him close as if he were something precious. He swallowed the lump of fear lodged in his throat. “All right. I’ll leave my undead behind.”
Alistair exhaled, appearing relieved. “Thank you.”
He started down the ridge, beckoning for Iggie to follow. Iggie did so, mentally ordering his undead to remain out of sight behind the ridge. They should be fine there, at least for a while.
Shock rippled through him when Marlon and Cynthia trundled after him anyway. He sent them a sharper command to halt, and this time they obeyed. Was it his imagination, or could he sense a hint of reluctance from them?
Deciding it was all in his head, he dismissed the oddity and hurried after Alistair.
As his oldest undead, Marlon and Cynthia were bound to decay eventually.
This could be a sign of their weakening spirit links.
Either that, or he was simply projecting unwarranted emotions onto them.
Still, a small part of him couldn’t help but wonder if more of his parents lingered within them than he realized, even after all these years.
All thoughts on the nature of his undead vanished beneath his growing dread as they neared the edge of town and found a man standing there as if waiting for them. The instant the man spotted them, he hurried forward. Well…hurried might be the wrong choice of word.
Though his step was sprightly, the man appeared to be feeling his age.
Frazzled white hair sprung out from his scalp in a crazy mess, and his light blue robes flapped about his hunched body.
While the robes were a bit unkempt, Iggie could tell at once that they were of far better material than his own grubby ones.
“That’s Erys, the town’s mage,” Alistair murmured as the man approached.
Iggie’s unease sharpened. So, this was the runeflame bearer Alistair had mentioned. The mage looked harmless enough, though his timeless gaze seemed to pierce through to Iggie’s soul.
“Master Erys,” Alistair called, offering a stiff bow. “What are you doing here?”
Erys’ bushy eyebrows rose, his lips quirking into a grin. “I should think it obvious, my boy—I was waiting for our wayward protector to return.” His too-knowing eyes refocused on Iggie, who flinched. “Along with a guest. How delightful!”
He didn’t seem surprised by Iggie’s presence. Was he simply well-versed at schooling his reactions, or was there something else at work here? Surely, if Erys knew the full truth about Iggie, he wouldn’t be so eager to welcome a necromancer to his village.
Alistair gestured between them. “This is Ignatius. He…rescued me from the storm and offered me shelter.” Iggie caught Alistair’s faint hesitation and wondered if Erys did too. If so, he gave no sign. “Iggie, this is Master Erys,” Alistair continued. “Singer’s Rest’s Master Arcanist.”
Erys chuckled. “That’s far too grandiose a title for me, I’m afraid. I am but a humble mage, eager to do what I can to help. A pleasure to meet you…Iggie, was it?”
He stuck out his hand. Iggie eyed it for a span of heartbeats, his thoughts racing.
Even if Erys wasn’t complicit in the monster’s attack, he might sense Iggie’s duskflame.
Mages generally didn’t possess the same inherent dislike of necromancers as paladins, but he was still a citizen of Khordan.
Who knew how he might react to discovering Iggie’s magic?
Alistair cleared his throat, and Iggie blushed when he realized how long he’d been standing there staring.
He hastily shook the mage’s offered hand, and Erys beamed at him.
If Iggie’s hesitation perturbed him, he didn’t let it show.
As soon as he’d released Iggie’s hand, he clapped his palms together.
“Well, then! Best not to keep the other elders waiting.” He spun and hobbled down the street, clearly expecting them to follow.
Iggie glanced at Alistair, who shrugged. Together, they hurried to catch up. It wasn’t hard—despite his words, Erys set a leisurely pace.
“The other town leaders are already gathered?” Alistair asked.
“Oh, yes. I was expecting your arrival sometime today now that the weather’s cleared.” The mage shot Iggie a curious look. “I’m sure you have much to report.”
“It’s been an…eventful couple days,” Alistair said carefully. “I believe I’ve identified what threatens the town, at least in part. It’s—”
Erys held up a hand to cut him off. “While I look forward to hearing of your recent efforts, I think it best you wait to explain it all before the council.”
Alistair hesitated. “Perhaps we should postpone our meeting. My companion and I could use a chance to rest after our journey.”
“I’m certain you could,” Erys said, his tone sympathetic.
“But we are all eager to resolve this matter before Dawncoming so that we can focus on the festivities.” He snuck another furtive glance at Iggie.
“Besides, I have an inkling the others might not like what you have to say. Best to rip the bandage off quickly, hmm?”
That didn’t do much to bolster Iggie’s flagging confidence.
Neither did the looks they garnered from the handful of other villagers they passed.
While Erys earned friendly nods and Alistair drew hopeful, almost reverent stares, Iggie was met with nothing but guarded reservation.
No doubt they’d condemn him as readily as his old village had once they discovered who he was.
He pulled his cloak tighter about himself, shifting closer to Alistair without really thinking about it.
The paladin made no effort to draw away. For that, Iggie was grateful.
He almost stumbled when Alistair nudged his side, glaring over to find him gesturing at a pole sticking out of the ground along the road.
Iggie had been so focused on the people that he hadn’t given the rods more than a passing glance.
Focusing on them now, his eyes widened at the dazzling array of colors playing across their surfaces.
“Shadow and shade,” he whispered.
He must’ve spoken loudly enough for Erys to hear because the mage chuckled.
“Shadow and shade, indeed.” Alarm flared through Iggie when he realized his slip of the tongue, but Erys didn’t seem to care, continuing as if it was perfectly normal to hear a duskflame curse.
“These harmonite crystals are our town’s pride and joy.
Your friend here had a similar reaction when he first arrived, even if his stoic nature stopped him from showing it. ”
Alistair’s cheeks reddened, and Iggie grinned despite himself. It was hard not to like the old man regardless of their suspicions. His gaze fell upon a small group of townsfolk who’d stopped to stare, and his good humor quickly dampened beneath coiled unease.
It had been easy enough to convince himself back at the cave to go along with Alistair’s plan.
Now that they were actually here, however, he couldn’t shake the feeling that this had been a colossal mistake.
By the time they reached a squat stone building near the center of town, his nerves had blossomed into full-blown panic.
“M-maybe I should wait out here,” he suggested, a slight tremble in his voice.
Alistair frowned but before he could reply, Erys snorted. “Nonsense! Unless I miss my guess, this discussion concerns you, too. Besides, I think it would do the others good to see you with their own eyes and listen to your perspective.”
My perspective? Just how much did this mage know? Iggie sought out Alistair’s comforting amber gaze, the tight bands constricting his chest loosening when their eyes met. After a brief pause, Alistair gave a near imperceptible nod.
Good enough.
Taking a deep breath, Iggie followed Erys and Alistair through the double doors into the hall beyond, hoping he wouldn’t regret it.