20. Alistair
twenty
Alistair
Alistair held Iggie as the necromancer’s sobs subsided into wet sniffles and he haltingly related what he’d witnessed through Julian’s eyes. When Iggie got to the failed ritual, his voice trembling, Alistair tightened his grip around the necromancer’s shuddering back.
Merciful Light, what had he been thinking encouraging Iggie to delve into the most recent memories of a blood-soaked corpse? He wished he could absorb Iggie’s pain—siphon it out of him and bury it deep with his own.
Iggie’s haunted blue eyes flicked to the nearby corpse, and Alistair rose, helping Iggie to his feet. “Come, let us continue this conversation elsewhere.”
He started toward the front door, pausing when Iggie shook his head.
“Not yet. We should discuss what I saw while it’s still fresh in my mind.
Besides, I need a minute before I go out there.
” He licked his lips, and Alistair noticed just how parched they appeared after all his tears.
“I-I don’t want them to see me like this. ”
Alistair grimaced when he realized Iggie meant the townsfolk. The necromancer didn’t want to give them the satisfaction of seeing him weak. If only they realized what Iggie was willing to suffer in order to protect them.
Reining in his anger, Alistair nodded and led Iggie to the empty bedroom they’d found during their search.
An odd blush colored Iggie’s cheeks when he saw the bed, and he opted to sit against the wall instead.
Alistair followed suit, offering a hand to Iggie, who took it with a grateful smile.
Alistair’s stomach summersaulted at the shared touch.
This is a bad idea. You should be distancing yourself from Iggie, not growing closer. None of this will last, remember? But no matter how much Alistair recognized the truth in those thoughts, after what Iggie had just experienced, he didn’t have the heart to let go. Not yet.
“Unfortunately, Julian didn’t know much about the ritual itself,” Iggie offered into the silence. “I got the distinct impression that was more Matrim’s department. Julian trusted him, right up until the very end.” His bottom lip quivered. “He…he loved him.”
Outrage ricocheted through Alistair’s chest, and he tightened his grip on Iggie’s hand.
“Not that the Light-blinded idiot deserved it. If what you say is true, Matrim was a selfish, arrogant fool. Even a failed apprentice should know better than to mess with the kind of magic he attempted, let alone put so many other innocents at risk. All these pointless deaths lie at his feet, and for what—because he wanted others to respect him? He deserves this to be his legacy. In the end, he was the real monster threatening Singer’s Rest.”
He’d expected Iggie to share his indignation. After all, Alistair’s reaction came only secondhand. Iggie had literally lived through Matrim’s betrayal of his beloved’s trust. Instead, Iggie’s shoulders sagged as he bowed his head.
Alistair scooted closer, his armor scraping against the stone floor. He tried to wrap an arm around Iggie’s shoulders, but Iggie resisted, jerking away from his touch. Alistair slowly lowered his arm. “If I said something wrong, I apologize. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
Iggie wouldn’t meet his eyes, wouldn’t even look at him. “We’re the same,” he whispered.
Confusion furrowed Alistair’s brow. “Who? You and Julian?”
Iggie shook his head. “No, me and Matrim. We’re exactly the same.”
“Are you trying to tell me you’ve also engaged in ritualistic sacrifice using ill-gotten magic?”
He’d meant it as a joke, but the sudden tension vibrating through Iggie suggested it might not have been in the best of taste.
“Of course not!” Iggie yanked his hand free of Alistair’s grasp and leaped to his feet, pacing the length of the narrow room beside the bed. “But I might as well have. I’ve lost control, killed people with my magic, too. What makes me any better than Matrim?”
Alistair frowned. “That’s not exactly a fair comparison. You were a child, acting in self-defense. Merciful Light, you didn’t know what you were doing!”
“So?” Iggie’s back tensed, his shoulders hunching as if beneath a great weight. “That’s no excuse—not really. Matrim had his reasons for what he did, same as me. He never intended to hurt anyone either. But that didn’t stop things from working out that way.”
Helplessness permeated Alistair at the defeat he heard in Iggie’s voice. He stood and tried to move toward Iggie, pausing and holding up his hands in surrender when the necromancer once again scooted warily back. “It was an accident. It doesn’t make you evil.”
Iggie barked a humorless laugh. His eyes, when they finally met Alistair’s, were frozen chips of ice.
“Oh, yeah?” He jerked a finger toward the wall separating them from the main room.
“Tell that to the abomination of my own I just raised out there. Tell that to your Order or to anyone else in town.” He raised hands crackling with black wisps of duskflame and stared at them, grimacing.
“Tell that to the people I murdered. Maybe you’re right—maybe Matrim was a monster. But so am I.”
In all the battles he’d fought and hardships he’d experienced, Alistair had never felt so powerless, not even following the death of his father. Then, he’d at least had a plan of action. He’d known what to do, even if it hurt, and that certainty had helped him work through his grief.
What was he supposed to do now, faced with a necromancer’s lonely pain?
“Light take everyone else!” he growled, surprising even himself with the ferocity behind his words.
Iggie looked up sharply, his face radiating surprise.
Perhaps it was the necromancer’s shock, but this time when Alistair strode forward, Iggie didn’t retreat, allowing Alistair to embrace him.
Exhaling, Alistair buried his face in Iggie’s neck.
“You are no more a monster than I am,” he said, his murmured words caressing Iggie’s skin.
Even as the voice of reason screamed at him to step back, he traced the ridges of Iggie’s back with his fingers.
“Perhaps I judged Matrim too harshly—I don’t know him beyond this single foolish act.
But I’ve seen enough of you by now to know that you are a good person.
You care about others, Iggie. Singer’s Rest might not see that yet, but I do. ”
Iggie’s body remained rigid several moments longer before he sighed and relaxed into Alistair’s touch. “Thank you. For believing in me even when I don’t believe in myself.”
Swallowing the sudden lump in his throat, Alistair forced a jovial tone. “Of course. These days, I may have more faith in you than I do my own Church.”
He suppressed a wince at the unintended bitterness that crept into his voice, but Iggie only chuckled. The two of them stood there, holding on to one another until Iggie finally stepped back. Reluctantly, Alistair let him go.
“Now what?” Iggie asked. “My minor breakdown aside, we need a plan.”
Alistair hesitated. The beginnings of one had been percolating on the edges of his mind, but it risked foisting more discomfort onto Iggie. What are you more concerned about, his father’s stern voice whispered in his head. Saving Singer’s Rest…or the hurt feelings of one outcast necromancer?
“Think you saw enough of where Matrim performed the ritual in that vision of yours to help us find their hideout?” he asked. His stomach sank when Iggie shook his head.
“Not really.” Iggie sucked on his bottom lip, his face scrunched with thought. “Most of what I got were just impressions, along with flashes of disjointed images. I can sort of picture the cave they used, but there must be hundreds like it hidden in the hills around here. Sorry.”
“That’s all right.” Unable to bring himself to meet Iggie’s eyes, he added, “In that case, maybe you need to dig deeper, see if you can prompt the memory of Julian traveling there to the surface. But that will require you to attempt another spirit link. If you’re not up for—”
“I’ll do it.”
Exactly the response that Alistair had expected.
Despite the necromancer’s confident reply, Alistair didn’t miss the way Iggie’s eyes tightened and his skin paled.
He might put on a brave face, but he didn’t want to relive Julian’s memories again any more than Alistair wanted to make him. Yet, it remained their best lead.
“Perhaps it would help if we traveled outside town,” Alistair suggested, shoving down his flicker of guilt. “The snowy landscape might put Julian in the right frame of mind.”
Iggie shrugged, and together, they headed for the door. The mission must come first, Alistair told himself as he followed Iggie and Julian’s corpse outside. Before anything…or anyone.
It was a good thing Julian had lived near the edge of town—even covered up by a spare cloak, Julian’s animated skeleton wouldn’t have been able to blend in if they’d had to stride through the town square.
As it was, Alistair still snuck nervous glances every which way, expecting at any moment to run into an angry mob of villagers.
He didn’t allow himself to relax until Singer’s Rest had vanished behind a ridge.
Raising his hands, Iggie faced his undead and closed his eyes.
Both their cloaks flapped around their bodies as dark duskflame coated them in a black slick, standing out in stark contrast to the white snow.
As the seconds piled up, Iggie’s jaw tightened, his muscles trembling with exertion while a vein throbbed in his forehead.
A spike of pride shot through Alistair at Iggie’s obvious resolve—something he’d never expected to feel for a necromancer performing a spell.
At last, Iggie let out a frustrated huff. “Shadow and shade, this is like sifting for a specific needle in a Dark-cursed pile of them! Julian’s memories are all jumbled together, making it nearly impossible to pull any of them to the surface, let alone the one we need.”
“What about simply commanding Julian to take us to the cave?” Alistair asked.