Chapter Nine #3
“Everferd is one of Nyllmas’s larger cities,” Sikras said. “I wager we’ll find crowds a’plenty there. Surely we can spare a moment for a song before we acquire this wizard fellow’s scroll, right, Helspira?” Sikras faced her but flinched at the sight of her expression.
He’d recognize that look anywhere: wide, unfocused eyes burdened with unnatural horror. Subtly quivering lips. Fingers digging into the palms with so much force, one’s nailbeds turned white. Guilt. Sikras could’ve written the damned book on the subject. “Are you all right?”
Her head snapped toward him, and she nodded far longer than what one would consider normal. “Yes. Of course. Just ... Just thinking about the scroll.”
Oh, a lie. How curious. She would need far more practice to sell such falsehoods to Sikras Nikabod, but he would rather know an awful liar than a good one. He said nothing, only ensnared her in a devious, knowing smirk.
As if she felt the scrutiny of his gaze, Helspira cleared her throat and stood. “I’m going to soak in the sky until dinner’s done. Excuse me, gentlemen.” She bent into a playful, halfhearted curtsy before putting several yards between herself and the others, carving out a spot to sit in the field.
Time slowed to a snail’s pace waiting for the damned rabbit to cook.
Sikras cursed himself for not packing Rack and Ruin.
He and Benjamin could’ve enjoyed two games or more by the time the meat started smelling palatable.
No doubt, his nose was being more generous than his tongue would be.
Given that they had neglected to pack any seasoning beyond salt, the meal promised to be as appetizing as a picnic on a viscera-strewn battle ground.
If Sikras had any sense at all, he would’ve had that shavugin fetch some wild herbs before severing the spell that animated it.
Immune to burning heat, Benjamin poked the browned meat, ripped off a chunk, plopped it onto one of the small wooden plates he pulled from the pack, and handed it to Sikras. “Here,” he whispered.
“Why are we whispering?” Sikras whispered back, about to take a bite, before Benjamin smacked him on the arm. “Blood and bone! What was that for?”
Benjamin made an exaggerated gesture toward Helspira. “What’s wrong with you? Ladies first.”
Scoffing, Sikras rubbed his arm. “How do you hit that hard without any muscles?”
“One of life’s greatest mysteries. Now offer the lady some food.”
“All right, all right. Forgive me for not fine tuning my social prowess.” Sikras stood, dusted himself off, and smoothed out his tunic. “Four years of isolation tends to erode one’s manners.”
“Well, try to remember them. For me. And for you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means I like her, and she could be good for you.”
Sikras wrinkled his nose. “I’m not following.”
“Dionus help me; you are rusty.” Benjamin laughed and gave him a pat on the shoulder. “Just give her the food.”
Squinting, Sikras scrutinized Benjamin, scouring for additional information. It was decidedly hard to read a man who had no face. After several backward steps, he abandoned the effort and redirected his focus to Helspira.
“I think I’ll retire to the tent for the evening,” Benjamin called out to the pair. “Eating is strictly performative for me, anyway. You two can fight over who gets the privilege of sleeping next to me, but go easy on him, Hels. He’s fragile.”
Sikras freed a playful huff and tipped an imaginary hat. “Goodnight, Benjamin.”
As Benjamin disappeared into the canvas tent’s interior, Helspira sat upright, knees to her chest. “So, he can’t feel. He can’t eat. Can he actually sleep, or ...?”
“He doesn’t require rest in the same way you or I do, no. But I like to think the quiet affords him some benefit. Mental respite, perhaps?” Sikras handed her the plate.
“Thank you.” Steam wafted off Helspira’s meal like a sentient fog, coiling upward, until it vanished into the sky. She took a bite, mouth still full, as she uttered, “Have you two always been this close?”
Sikras returned to the fire, helped himself to a portion of rabbit, cursed only a few times for burning his fingers, and returned to sit beside Helspira.
“I’m not proud to admit I originally sought his company to make introductions with his sister, but he wriggled his way into my heart.
It’s no exaggeration to say Benjamin’s the only thing keeping me sane these days. ”
“I think anyone who loses their spouse is allowed to go a little insane,” she said with a smile. The sympathy in her eye shifted to irritation. “I’ve known some who went insane for far less.”
“And just like that”—Sikras grinned, scooting closer—“we’ve another story that begs telling. This wouldn’t have anything to do with your acquaintance of an acquaintance, would it?”
“For someone who failed their wizardry apprenticeship, you’re pretty perceptive.”
“Studying people is easier than studying books. What was his name again?”
Helspira squeezed her lips into a tight line before letting out a sigh. “Cecil. He belonged to the same order of wizards as Theodore before he ...”
“Went insane?”
“I think. I don’t know.” With meat in one hand and the bunching fabric of her scarlet scarf in the other, Helspira looked down. “By Chthonian standards, I suppose Cecil’s behavior was normal. You expect that kind of thing from demons, imps, harpies, diavoli, goblins, fiends ... But not humans.”
“With respect to your experiences in both Chthonia and Nyllmas, I can say with great certainty that insanity is plentiful amongst humans. We can be downright monstrous when—”
Monstrous.
He stopped suddenly, their conversation in Saelihn’s castle flooding his mind. In the hall, beside the painting. Helspira had spoken of meeting monsters outside her native Chthonia. With each passing millisecond of clarity, he stiffened. “Cecil’s the one responsible for your eye.”
Gaze fixated on the grass, Helspira nodded.
“It’s fine. It was my own fault. I was na?ve.
I mean, when word got out that the Red Sentinel had hired a demon, Cecil sort of just .
.. appeared. I should’ve found it strange that he wished to court me when every other human seemed fit to avoid me entirely. ”
“Just so I’m clear on the timeline”—Sikras ticked off occurrences with his fingers—“you fled the living nightmare that is Chthonia. You found sanctuary in Nyllmas. Fell in love with a wizard. And he ripped out your eye?”
“That’s the long and short of it,” she said with a casual laugh and a shrug. “Apparently demon eyes are a rare material component, and he needed one for a spell.”
Sikras dipped his head back in a dramatic groan. “Material component casters? Ugh. They’re the worst. Cowards too afraid to draw from their own body’s energy. They’re an embarrassment to wizardry.”
Wiping a trail of juice from her chin, Helspira smiled. “Careful who you say that to tomorrow. Theodore uses material components as well, and we can’t afford to offend him if we want that scroll of his.”
“I’ll try to be on my best behavior. And, for what it’s worth, I’m sorry. I don’t know you well, but I know enough to believe you deserved far more kindness than life gave you.”
Helspira nonchalantly swallowed another mouthful of food. “It’s all right. That was twelve long months ago. If I’m honest, the most frustrating thing is that Cecil was so intelligent, so determined, so driven. He could’ve been anything. And he settled on being Siaphara’s biggest asshole.”
“A common trait among most material component casters. Want me to kill him?”
A coughing fit ensued as Helspira choked on either her food or her own saliva. Understandably so. Perhaps offering to slaughter her ex with the same indifference one might use to discuss the weather could be perceived as mildly unsettling.
“I’m sorry. Did I hear you correctly?” she managed between coughs.
“Yeah, no, you’re right. I overstepped. Clearly if you wanted him dead, you’d have done it already.
However”—Sikras pointed his index finger skyward and smiled—“should you ever decide one day he’d make a fine corpse, and you’re feeling generous, I wouldn’t mind giving whatever’s left of him a solid kick. ”
Her coughs turned to laughter, and she favored him with a strained smile. “I appreciate the offer, but revenge isn’t in my nature. It may be in my blood, but I never was a proper demon.”
Contemplation stole Sikras’s smile. Though her face was barely visible in the pale moon’s glow, he searched it with a fascination he hadn’t felt since he had first met Vessik twenty-some years ago. “How do you do it?”
“Do what?”
“You’ve witnessed the worst the world has to offer, and you’re still driven to save it. Why?”
Her smile was so genuine, so pure. “Nobody knows how important compassion is more than those who’ve lived a life without it.
Nyllmas isn’t perfect, but it’s a paradise compared to Chthonia.
There are ideas here, hopes, dreams, aspirations, art, culture, love.
I mean, I haven’t really experienced those things yet, because people are still skittish around demons, but I’d love to someday.
When people like Vessik try to turn a sanctuary like Nyllmas into even a sliver of the wasteland that Chthonia is”—she shook her head, drawing a slow breath in through her nostrils—“I can’t let that happen. Not to this place.”
“Good.” Ignoring the sting of hearing Vessik’s name, Sikras propped his arms onto his knees and followed a shooting star as it streaked across the sky. “Nyllmas will rejoice knowing it has a real hero in its corner. I was afraid it might come down to me. What a fucking disaster that would be.”
Her laughter echoed through the expanding darkness, the flickering glow of invading lightning moths sparking behind her in small golden bursts. “Queen Saelihn doesn’t suffer fools. If she believes in you, it must be for a good reason.”
“Saelihn is a dear friend. A friend who threatens incarceration for tax evasion, but a friend nevertheless.”
Helspira only smiled as she turned her gaze skyward.
Something about the way she stared at the stars caused a stir in Sikras’s chest, somehow soothing yet unsettling him. Clearing his throat, he stood. “I suppose I’ll get some rest for tomorrow. You’re sure you don’t want my bedroll?”
Helspira shook her head. “I prefer the sky’s company. Pio Chamila is so far below the surface. Gnarled stalactites are hardly a substitute for stars.”
Stargazing, Sikras arched a brow. The illuminated specks seemed just as inconsequential as the lightning moths that surrounded them.
“Every time I look at them,” Helspira continued, “it feels like the first time. I suppose that sounds ridiculous to someone who’s seen the stars every day.”
Sikras scrubbed the back of his neck. “Not ridiculous, no. Besides, after watching you look at them, I’m beginning to suspect I haven’t been doing it right.”
Darkness veiled her, but the tone of her voice made it easy to imagine her beaming features. “There’s only so many ways to look at something,” she said with a quiet giggle. “You just ... look. If you stare long enough, it’s easy to see how beautiful it is.”
A cloud parted from the moon’s path, spreading a silver glow over Helspira, as she watched the sky with wide, shining eyes. Sikras studied her, from the subtle twitch of her smiling lips to the way the overhead auroras reflected in her enamored stare.
She was right. When one stared long enough, it was easy to see how—
No, no. Nope. Not going there. He swiped his nose, dusted the dirt from his knees and straightened the laces of his vest. “All right, I’m off to lay uncomfortably close to my undead brother-in-law, and I shall see you come morning.”
“If it makes you feel better,” she called out after him, “you can tell Ben you won the right to sleep beside him in a game of arm wrestling.”
He hastened his steps toward the tent. “I may be a good liar, but he’d never believe me. My upper body strength leaves a lot to be desired.”
Another laugh. It was so genuine. Melodic. “Goodnight, Catseye.”
“Goodnight, Helspira.”
He paused outside the tent, heartrate slowing, as he eased into a calmer state.
Nothing was wrong with appreciating another person, and that’s all it was.
Appreciation. It meant nothing, was nothing, just a passing observation.
A totally normal, totally human observation.
Besides, Helspira was worthy of some admiration.
Anyone who still believed the world was worth saving after all she had been through was a rare find, indeed.
She reminded him a great deal of the old Vessik in that regard.
Unfortunately, Vessik’s boundless empathy went forever unrewarded by the gods, and it was very likely Helspira would suffer the same discourtesy.
It may have been too late for Vessik, but it wasn’t too late for her.
If the gods wouldn’t favor Helspira for her kindness, Sikras would do it himself.
Tomorrow. Out of good, old-fashioned appreciation, and definitely not anything else.