Iscariot

I know my lady is around

Two days. It was two days since Mika had gone missing. Damien was nearly frantic, Sam trying his best to keep his brother calm. The mind reader wrapped his cloak tighter around his broad shoulders, the wind rustling the fallen leaves as he walked alone down the side of the road.

There had been no word from Erik and James, not since the night before when James summoned Sam and he had summoned Erik, the two exchanging information at the designated time before returning. All he'd learned was that James was frustrated and tense seeing the state of Lilith while Erik had been quiet and withdrawn.

They'd only gone half the distance. Despite being a full incubus, Erik wasn't used to flying, he couldn't handle it like Sam. And even harder, the incubus wasn't expecting what he saw as they traveled the Royal Road. His thoughts were laden with guilt, the plight of the slaves evident even along the upper-class route. The elegant inn the two brothers stopped at for the night still used slaves behind the scenes, the fields were still full of them harvesting the last of the crops as the brothers moved past.

Damien spared Erik the details when he solemnly asked about the North Road. It was a route more traveled by commoners and lower, merchants and slave caravans transporting their merchandise quickly through the land. The thoughts, the despair, the numbness of those minds...

Izroul. Damien stopped as he heard the summons. It meant Sam had found another caravan ahead and needed him to listen for any sign of Mika while the brute searched. Damien let the magic take him, Sam pulling him down the road to the next group. Multiple wagons creaked along under the bright noon sun.

Three caravans were converging as they traveled the road: goods, money, slaves. One was empty, only the drivers and guards traveling with their wagons for the border. They were cheerful for the coming business, enough so that one was humming with pleasant thoughts of Raestrao's kingdom as they passed. The middle was busy, focused on their deadline and chartered with exact instructions and delivery schedule. But the last was packed with demons, a slave transport. Farmhands were being moved to another region, wedged tightly within and less valuable than the livestock traveling with them.

Damien signaled to Sam. His brother was cloaked as well, approaching the caravan guards for news and any other information he could try to pull from either their lips or into their thoughts. Sam blended in with the mercenaries: acting cocky, his speech just as rough and vulgar.

If questioned, Damien would admit to being his slave, otherwise, he could be picked up as a runaway. He bore no mark but that didn't matter here. Even if he were free, there was a risk they would take him, purely because he was alone.

Crude laughter, crude thoughts, and the crunching of the leaves beneath the guards' feet were all Damien heard. Instead, he turned his focus to the wagons' cargo digging through the despair for any sign, any thought, any feeling, that could lead him to Mika. Vowing over and over to find her, he sought that beautiful voice among the many in his mind. His biggest fear was her silence. That she might already be traumatized, injured, or even worse by Shadow, preventing her thoughts from reaching him.

Damien also searched for signs of wraiths, thoughts of wraiths, anything that might connect them. Sam had warned that the shades stayed away from sunlight, more prone to come out at night. They could be invisible to their prey if you weren't cautious, constantly watching for the rare signs that were swallowed by normal shadows. He subtly peered beneath the wagons, studied the shadows of the guards. His eyes watered from the dust kicked up by their passage.

Nothing. Nothing at all. His own despair threatened. Every minute they didn't find her was another minute something terrible could be happening to her. Damien knew how bad it could be. He'd seen it first-hand with his mother and the other slaves at his father's castle.