Bloodline of a Tempest

Chapter 8

'Do you have any idea what you've just done?' Lorn was shouting obscenities but Nema was focused on Demian's figure, dangerously hunched over the neck of his horse. He was about to fall and this idiot Lorn did nothing but scream at her.

'Let go,' Nema growled at him, trying to take the reins out of Lorn's arms. But he didn't budge, keeping both of their horses in a steady gait.

'He'll fall down,' Nema said again, when Demian swayed. At this point he wasn't holding the reins even with his right hand. His dark hair covered his face and each time his horse tried to cross one of the many obstacles trough the woods it looked like its rider would topple down.

'He won't fall.' Lorn said. Despite his conviction Nema's heart skipped a beat every time Demian swayed. She had no idea what was wrong with him. He fought, and he fought bravely but none of the men came even close enough to wound him.

'What's wrong with him?' Nema asked Lorn. His blackest stare was still fixed upon her.

'Kid, I swear upon all the living fires of Aurum that I've never met such an idiot like you.'

Lorn's words couldn't hurt her. 'What's wrong with him?' She asked again, calmly.

'We barely escaped, there were hundreds of them after us,' Lorn's eyes kept flashing, 'and you decide it's a good idea to go back and release the illusionist.'

Nema shrugged. 'They kept him in a cage.' She countered. 'I just tossed him my dagger.' She couldn't ignore the pleads of the men; she couldn't ignore the desperation in his eyes.

'Maybe there was a reason they kept him in a cage,' Lorn snapped.

After he sold her to the smugglers his insensitivity didn't surprise her any more. Instead Nema grinned. 'Isn't that what they say about fire-feeders?'

Lorn's eyes flashed.

'What's wrong with Damien?'

The silence lasted a long time. 'He shouldn't use his powers,' Lorn finally said.

'Why?' Nema recognized this part of the woods. They were heading towards their camp.

'It could kill him,' Lorn said simply.

The fire-feeders showed little emotions but it was cold, even for their kind, to say such a thing with so little interest.

'You don't care?' Nema asked in a low voice.

'No,' Lorn whispered dramatically, 'the sooner he dies the sooner my punishment ends.'

'Oh,' her eyes widened, 'I thought you were friends.'

Lorn gave her a cold look. 'We are not.'

No one said a word until they reached the castle. Demian didn't fall off his horse and when two men rushed to help him unsaddle she was surprised to see Lorn half-carry him somewhere behind the castle.

Nema had nowhere to go but to the room she escaped from what now seemed ages ago. The rest of the fire-feeders were just as unimpressed with her return as they were with her general existence. She never met such a strange lot.

Loud footsteps woke her up. When Nema opened her eyes she saw Demian standing next to the fire-place. She must have slept for hours.

'Are you all right?' She asked him. He looked pale even in the dark.

'I'm fine,' Demian said. His black hair wasn't tied with a ribbon and now he seemed like some desperate prince meditating upon the ruin of his world. 'We'll have to leave soon,' he said.

'Leave?'

'What we've done won't go unpunished,' Demian said. 'Men like Grin don't forget the broken deals. Come, the food is ready.'