32. Not a sentimental man
Not a sentimental man
A faint glow edged the hills in the east when Felix awoke the next morning, Isolde’s warm sleeping form still bundled in their – theoretically – shared blankets.
He heard a distant, muffled shuffling of feet on gravel, accompanied by hushed voices drifting through the cold dawn air.
The mage and his guards were up and about.
He slid his arms under the bedding and pulled Isolde close.
“Rise and shine, terrifying temptress,” he whispered into her ear. “That mage won’t be intimidated much longer if he sees you like this.”
She rolled over and burrowed into him, mumbling something that sounded suspiciously like “Let him rot.” Felix grinned, then unceremoniously flung the blankets off them both and got up, making a show of stretching and shaking out the bedding.
“How are you so awake so quickly? It’s not right,” Isolde grumbled as she moved into a sitting position and rubbed her eyes.
Before Felix could respond, Luella was next to them, her pack already on her back .
“They’re up. We should get ready to leave.”
Felix raised his eyebrows at her. “What about breakfast?”
She turned away from him as she spoke. “There’s nothing that needs cooking. Eat while you walk.”
“Absolutely grim times, I know,” Leif said as he joined them, Biscuit on his heels. “Breakfast on the go. Horrible.”
The mage and his guards appeared at the edge of their camp. Felix and Isolde hung back, keeping their distance. Mia stood off to the side, glowering at Caelian before smoothing her expression into a smile that didn’t reach her eyes and heading over to greet him.
“Why does Mia hate mages?” Isolde asked out of the blue, her voice quiet.
Felix shrugged. “No clue. They’re pretty easy to hate, though. The flashy robes, the smug faces.”
Isolde shook her head, smiling.
Then, to Felix’s surprise, the mage started in their direction, trailed by two mercenaries. Felix tensed, narrowing his eyes. Isolde took a hasty step backwards, bumping into him. He placed a hand on her lower back.
“Lady Isolde,” the mage began as he got nearer. “I trust you slept well?”
He certainly did not look like he’d slept well, or at all. The lines of tension on his face were obvious, and there were dark grey circles under his eyes. The mercenaries at his sides were tense as drawn bowstrings, hands hovering near their weapons.
“Well enough, thank you,” Isolde replied coolly. “Shall we set off, then? I trust you will lead the way, since you have come from the Nexus. When do you expect we will reach it?”
Caelian cleared his throat. “Ah, yes. We left the Nexus three days ago, so it stands to reason it will take us as long to return.”
Felix felt her tense. Three days. Their journey was nearly at an end. An odd sense of loss crept up on him at the prospect.
“Very good,” Isolde said after a moment, her voice clipped. “Let’s get ready to depart, then.”
Their uneasy guides waited at a distance while they finished packing up. Felix stood near Isolde, tightening the straps of his pack, when Mia appeared .
“Felix, go do something useful and let us talk,” she said and waved her hand at him dismissively.
Felix scowled. “I am doing something useful.”
Mia rolled her eyes. “Go do it somewhere else. I want to talk to Isolde without you interrupting us with your unsolicited and frankly terrible advice, if you must know. Now go, shoo.”
Isolde pinched her lips together to stop herself from laughing, then raised her eyebrows at Felix. He sighed, then shrugged. “Fine. Have fun plotting my downfall.”
“Not everything is about you!” Mia called after him as he stalked off.
He grinned, looking back over his shoulder to see the two women already deep in discussion, heads bent close together.
Garren was standing nearby. The bruise on his jaw was an impressive blotch of purples and yellows.
Felix hesitated, then glanced over to the ridge where the mage and his guards waited.
He was painfully aware of the nine new pairs of eyes on them after so many days of relative safety in isolation, and did not like it one bit.
So, he swallowed his pride and strode over to Garren.
“Mage says we’ll reach the Nexus in three days,” Felix said by way of greeting.
Garren grunted. “So I gathered. I am surprised to see you more than an arm’s length away from Lady Isolde.”
Felix clenched his jaw. There was a flash of temptation to make a crude or provocative comment. It would be easy – so easy – to rile Garren up, to be the smug bastard he expected him to be. But that wasn’t what he wanted anymore.
He briefly glanced back at Isolde. It was special, what he had with her.
It was something new, and it felt as vulnerable as spun glass.
Something precious and rare and real. He was desperate to keep it safe, away from the influence and scrutiny of others.
It was under no circumstances something he wanted to cheapen or ridicule, just to get a rise out of Garren.
And there were more important things to think about.
He cleared his throat. “Look, Garren, we may not be friends, but I do respect you.”
Garren startled, but quickly collected himself and simply raised his eyebrows .
“Why should that matter to me?” he said with a scowl.
Felix didn’t back down. “You can think whatever you want of me; I don’t care.
But, like it or not, we’re on the same side.
We want the same thing – to keep her safe.
Keep her alive. Can we agree on that at least?
” He made a point of turning his head slightly toward the group of newcomers.
“Since the situation is a little different now?”
Garren’s glare was stony. A long, silent moment passed before he finally gave a single nod.
“We can agree on that.”
Felix held his gaze for a heartbeat longer, then nodded back. “Good. That’s all.”
***
Morning light brightened the sky as they left the campsite behind. A faint breeze carried the smell of lightning and minerals. In the distance, the jagged peaks of the Veilcrag Mountains loomed. There was still that haze of blue and purple in the air, distorting the view of distant objects.
Mia chatted with Caelian, coaxing him into timid half-smiles, but even her most heaping doses of charm could not get the mage to stop throwing fearful looks at Isolde or exchanging nervous glances with his guards.
Luella did not scout but stayed close, scanning the mercenaries ahead of them as much as she did the surrounding terrain.
Leif trudged in the centre of the group, Biscuit trotting around his ankles, sometimes veering off to sniff the strange, twisted shrubs.
The mercenaries were good, Felix concluded after observing them for a while.
Disciplined, experienced. Their leader was a wiry-looking, bearded man; his second a middle-aged woman with short-cropped hair, built like a brick wall.
They did not bother introducing themselves, but their behaviour was convincingly casual.
To anyone who had not spent their entire life amongst people like them, that was.
Felix saw the little tells; the looks they shared with each other, the hands never far from weapon hilts.
The way they positioned themselves, never all in front or behind.
Spread out, ready for a fight at all times.
He hadn’t been this on edge since their time in the Crovan village.
Halfway through the second morning, they passed through a steep gully filled with loose scree.
It was slow going; they had to pick their way across carefully so as not to slip and fall.
Isolde was quiet, a small frown creasing her forehead.
Up ahead, the mage slipped and cursed. Felix looked up just in time to see Caelian raise his hands to cast.
The mage had simply meant to clear the way for himself, most likely. But he was too close, the surge of magic too sudden. Isolde screamed, “Don’t!” her arms flailing, but it was too late.
Felix could have sworn he felt it, a jerk of force through the air. The mage shrieked in pain and stumbled. Blue light wreathed Isolde. The mercenaries drew their weapons as one.
“Alternate orders!” their leader shouted.
Felix had a pretty good idea what those would entail. He spun, weapons drawn, keeping his back to Isolde. He spotted Luella up at the top of the gully, bow at the ready, and Garren’s voice was shouting, “Stay behind me, my lady!”
It was an awful place and equally awful odds for a skirmish, but he’d been in worse situations.
Two mercenaries came at him, one of them the short-haired woman.
Felix grinned at them and held his hands out, aiming to confuse.
They attacked as one, swords coming in from two sides.
Soldier tactics, then. He ducked and rushed forward instead, sliding under the woman’s blade.
His dagger bit deep into her neck before she even registered he had moved. She gurgled, eyes wide, and collapsed.
Felix turned on the second mercenary, who swung at him in a rage. He sidestepped, spinning out of his reach, and buried his axe in the man’s back as he stumbled past. The mercenary fell gasping to the ground.
Up on the ledge, Luella tried to get to Leif and Mia, letting arrows fly as she went.
A shout rang out from behind. Felix whipped around just in time to see Garren take a sword in the ribs, blood spurting from the wound.
He staggered, his weapon slipping from his fingers.
Isolde screamed. Her hands flew up, and in the blink of an eye the two swordsmen who had been about to finish Garren off were blasted off their feet and landed nearby with a dull thud.
Leif cried out as someone wrestled him to the ground. Mia was overpowered just as quickly. Felix’s eyes darted around. Two down, two probably down, two busy. That left three.
The bearded leader advanced on him, sword drawn. Felix adjusted the grip on his axe and stalked forward to meet him.