43. Fenric
After securing their previous rental, getting supplies, grabbing the information Gillea had gathered while they were away, and ensuring Aria was well taken care of for their hopefully short trip, they’d left for Dunley village.
Unfortunately, now that they were in the south again, summer showed no signs of slacking.
The heat was intense, threatening to roast them all under the blazing sun in a cloudless sky.
Not even a breeze stirred to give them some relief on their long journey.
At least they weren’t walking the entire way.
As per usual, they used Hapi’s new skele-elks to pull a rented wagon and travel back to Lord Mire’s. The wagon was bursting at the seams with so many of them crowded in. Belstrom rode in front with Hapi to give people more shoulder room. Not elbow, shoulder. Belstrom’s shoulders went on for miles.
It meant Lirion was cuddled into Fenric’s side for the trip in. Was he complaining? Absolutely not.
Was he worried that he apparently enjoyed cuddling with Lirion, even with no sex involved? A little.
Day by day, it felt like Lirion slipped into the cracks of his heart. Fenric was torn between wanting to safeguard against him and pull him closer so Lirion would stay at his side always.
Fuck, what the hell did he even say? Lirion had explained how incubi worked. They didn’t tie themselves to anyone unless the person was very wealthy and could provide them with a house and such. Fenric couldn’t even afford a decent lair right now.
The realization hit, and he barely kept the thought off his face.
Shit, was he seriously thinking about asking Lirion to stay with them? Was he that far gone on this man?
Better to not ask questions when he didn’t know what to do with the answers.
When the wall of thick white fog appeared ahead of them after they crossed the dry riverbed, Fenric gave himself a mental slap and pulled his shit together. Think about potential relationships later; there was shit to do now.
Hapi slowed the carriage once they were about a hundred yards away from the foggy border, then stopped altogether. Turning in the seat, he looked at Lirion. “Still want to test it?”
“Yeah.” Lirion hopped to the ground. “I want to see what I’m dealing with.”
Fenric followed him. It wasn’t until his feet hit the dirt that he realized he’d even done so.
Fortunately, no one seemed to question this. They walked to the edge of the fog—which was just as dense as their first visit—without anyone asking what the hell Fenric was doing. Only Fenric seemed to ask that question. To which he had no easy answer.
Lirion’s head panned from side to side as he took in the endless white wall. “Well, I thought you were exaggerating, but this is worse than pea soup.”
“Isn’t it, though?”
“How far did you get last time?”
“Not far, really. We figured out a routine step that got us in to a certain degree.”
Lirion hummed and looked it over again. “I don’t think this can be dispelled. There’s a lot of magic in this fog. All right, Plan A, I’ll try to dispel part of this so we can get through. Plan B—because I’m pretty sure Plan A will fail—is I try a guiding song so we can navigate through.”
“Yeah, that’s not something in my arsenal of tricks.”
“This one is something I created, based on a much older spell I stumbled across,” Lirion explained as he pulled his lyre out of the protective case.
“I often use it as a perk so I can travel cheaper. It does have a major drawback—I have to play the song over and over otherwise the spell ends. So, reasonably, I can only do it for about an hour, as my fingers need a break by that point.”
“Good to know.”
Lirion stared straight ahead and started strumming. To Fenric’s senses, it was pretty music that seemed to possess a magical vibration, as he could almost detect it. Like wind, more felt than seen.
The fog moved and shifted in front of them, but only a small pocket, and the cleared area filled back in after only a couple of seconds.
Lirion stopped strumming with a sigh. “I figured it would do that. All right, Plan B.”
Fenric wasn’t at all upset about the first failure, but he was concerned Plan B wouldn’t work either. And they didn’t currently have a Plan C.
Lirion switched songs, and the new one had a lively little beat. Something Fenric would imagine you’d dance to, really, as it was a jig. He could see why Lirion could only play the song for an hour—it would be difficult to play much longer than that. His hand would start cramping.
Unfortunately, Plan B had even less of an impact. Lirion took three steps into the fog and was immediately ejected in the same rough manner the rest of them had been. Fenric had to scramble to catch his flying body so he didn’t crash into the ground, hurting himself and his lyre.
A growl of frustration rumbled from Lirion’s throat.
“Well, that didn’t work.”
Fenric clenched his teeth, holding back a growl.
So close. So fucking close to having his mother’s jewelry box and more of her treasures in his hands, but he was being thwarted by a bunch of slimy finfolk and their frustrating magic.
He wanted to shout. Draw a sword and charge into the fog.
To stab and impale some physical adversary, but all there was in front of him was fucking fog.
Lirion turned to him with a grimace and a smile rolled into one. “Apologies. If I can’t think of a way in, are you going to toss me aside?”
A small amount of his frustration subsided and he managed to unlock his jaw to reply, “Not on your life.” The response was so immediate, Fenric’s cheeks burned with heat.
Fuck, could he make it any more obvious how he felt for this man?
Clearing his throat, he muttered, “We’ll figure out another way. ”
“Hm, yes, let me study it a bit longer.”
It was late enough in the day that making camp wasn’t a bad idea. Fenric turned and called to everyone waiting, “He wants to think for a while. Set up camp?”
“A sensible suggestion, to be sure,” Rain responded. “Let’s retreat a bit, as I do not fancy sleeping near the fog. We’ll stay close enough to be in shouting range if you need us. Join us whenever you wish.”
Fenric waved them on. He liked that Rain didn’t expect him to leave Lirion’s side. Standing here was standing near danger, so it was better to have someone to help safeguard the bard while he studied the problem.
Hapi turned the wagon around, and they retreated a good two dozen paces. Fenric let them handle everything as they set up camp along the road, turning back to Lirion.
Lirion stared at the fog hard, brows beetled together.
“I do not think we’re looking at magical fog, per se, so much as a type of ward.
This smacks of it. In that case, luring someone who has the right clearance for the ward and using them as a guide through it would be the most surefire method.
” He paused and scratched his scalp. “Not sure how to do that, offhand.”
Neither was Fenric.
Lirion turned his head, and the way he looked at Fenric was piercing, as if he wanted to see right through to the back of his skull. “Is the stolen jewelry rare? I mean, other than the fact it all belonged to your mother?”
Ah. Shit. Fenric hadn’t told him everything, but that was mostly because this was hard to talk about.
Still, he was asking Lirion to put himself in danger for this job, and yes, that was the bargain, but it felt wrong to send the man blindly in.
Lirion had been upfront about his sister, right? Fenric should reciprocate.
Lirion’s tone gentled. “I’m not saying we should give up because the task ahead of us is so difficult.”
Fenric shook his head slowly. He knew that wasn’t what Lirion meant.
But the danger was extreme. Much like rescuing Lirion’s sister.
At least that had been for a living person.
Would this group take the same risks for jewels?
Particularly, something Fenric wasn’t willing to split up and sell?
Normally, Fenric would look at this job, weigh the obvious risks, and then walk away.
Yet, this was different. Not because of what the prize at the end was, but because of who those shiny trinkets had once belonged to.
And he wasn’t the only one who would risk everything to have them.
Fenric swallowed hard and cleared his throat before he finally spoke. “My mother…my mother was a saintess.”
Lirion nearly fell forward, having to catch himself on Fenric’s shoulder. His jaw hit the dirt hard enough to bounce off it. “What?!”
“Hard to imagine, right? With her son being a wanted rogue.” Fenric let out a low sigh, eyes staring forward.
Really, his mind was going back to memories part of him didn’t want to remember.
“She served from eight until fourteen, the standard ages for a saintess. After, of course, she was given the usual payments and trinkets. She stayed out of politics, didn’t try to stay in the social circles, just retired, then later had me.
But when I was barely an adult, Lance and his group of heroes wanted something from her; I don’t know what.
They waited until I was away to attack. She either didn’t have it or refused to give it to them, and they murdered her for it. ”
Lirion wrapped his arms around Fenric’s waist and pulled him into a tight embrace. Fenric wasn’t expecting the gesture, but a hug sounded good just then. He sank into it, letting his head rest on Lirion’s shoulder, absorbing the comfort this man offered.
“I’m so sorry,” Lirion murmured against his ear. “The heroes are assholes. I’m not surprised Lance murdered her, but I wish he hadn’t.”
“Me too,” Fenric said into Lirion’s shoulder. He didn’t look up as he gave Lirion the last piece of the explanation. “They auctioned off most of the valuables they stole from my mother. One of them is in Lord Mire’s possession.”
“Fuck. All right, it makes sense why you’re so adamant about getting in. If this were just a job, you’d have walked away by now.”