I feel the fire.
The dance, the celebration, the harmony.
The music ignites my blood, the dance infects my soul. Their hands lace with mine, their faces blur before my vision. We are dancing, celebrating, laughing, weeping.
The Suntree is drenched in blood. It drips from the leaves. We are running, the dancers are running, I am running. The wind is roaring, howling, screaming. It rips at my clothes, it rips at the Suntree. Lightning scorches across the sky, the clouds heaving, the world ending.
Blood is raining down. Blood and fire. The city is burning, I hear it screaming, I see its flames. Behind me the ground shatters. Nothingness, emptyness, only nothingness. The Suntree is falling. Into the darkness, the death, the hunger. It rises behind me.
I stumble. The ground gives way beneath my feet. I'm falling, screaming. The nothingness consumes me. It rises around me, embraces me, swallows me whole. The darkness is rising, and I am falling.
I jerked awake, my chest heavy with the sensation of falling, and my head was pounding. I struggled to rise, my hands shaking so badly I could hardly command them to do anything, and finally managed to free myself. Trembling I shrank into the corner, pulling up my legs as a barricade between me and the rest of the world.
Gradually my breathing slowed, as the world returned to normal, but sleep still remained far away. After several long minutes I mustered enough energy to move, and I came out of my corner. Fumblingly I crawled out of bed, and ran my fingers through my tousled hair, as I snatched up a shawl. Pulling the wrapper around me, I stealthily pushed open my bedroom door.
My unshod feet made no sound against the matted floor, and I flitted through the upstairs corridors like a white ghost, making my way downstairs. The hallways were cold, chill winter air seeping through the windows, and settling like an invisible mist over the floor. Cold billowed down the stairs as I descended, the stone floor of the entrance hall freezing against my feet. The rooms were all still and silent, the fires burned down into low cinders.
Finally my wandering came to and end, and I settled in front of the sitting room fire, now little more than charred pieces of wood, dead coals, and a few dull glowing embers. My feet were cold, and I gathered them up underneath me, curling up on one of the sofas near the fire. Shivering I snuggled deeper into the shawl I had brought, trapping in my body heat.
"What are you doing out of bed in the wee hours of the morning?"
It was Lady Briarwood's voice, and I glanced over my shoulder. She had come softly into the room, escorted by one of her undead thralls who was holding a torch for her, and she quietly shut the door as she spoke.
"I hope you weren't trying to get into some kind of trouble, my dear." She murmured, keeping her back to me, and I could sense a whiff of menace in her voice.
"Of course not!"
"You know how Silas and I feel about those meddlesome tendencies of yours..."
"No I couldn't sleep!" I exclaimed, eager to defend myself. "I would never sneak off without your permission."
"I'm glad to hear it." Lady Briarwood replied, crossing the room, and sinking down next to me on the sofa. "It was not an easy lesson to teach you, I should hate to see you forget it."
Gently she reached out, touching my chin and turning my face so that she could examine it. Her eyes looked black in the flickering torchlight, liquid and brilliant. I felt a swell of devotion rise in my chest.
"Why couldn't you sleep, my dear?"
"I--" Her fingers brushed across my cheek, and I faltered. "I had a bad dream."
"And what was this dream?"
"It was like..." I paused searching for words, and she smiled encouragingly, inviting me to continue. "We--these people-- were dancing under the Suntree. We were all dancing, and then the sky opened, and all this, fire, came pouring out of the sky. The city was burning, and then the ground underneath the Suntree shattered. There was this, this nothingness underneath. The tree fell in, and then this darkness rose out of the hole, I tried to run...But the ground fell out from underneath me, and I fell in..."
"And then?"
"I woke up then."
"Indeed..." This one word was uttered such a strange tone, I quickly glanced at Delilah's face, startled. She was looking into the fire, and as she spoke her eyes glittered. It was a fierce expression, difficult to understand, and a fleeting smile accompanied the sparkle. But there was a dark ambition in that brief flash, and a dark triumph, as if she knew, or was bent on making, some use of what I'd told her. Then the flash was gone, and she was looking thoughtfully down into the fire, smiling gently.
"That is a strange dream. Let us hope you aren't troubled by any more."
Her eyes had come back to me, and she brushed the hair out of my face, examining me thoughtfully. Suddenly she pulled me to her, gathering me into her side, and winding her arms around me. I shivered and leaned my head against her shoulder.
"I am going to miss having you near me," Lady Briarwood murmured regretfully. "I'll be quite lonely without you, my dear."
I slowly relaxed, the tension draining out of my body as we sat in front of the fire. Lady Briarwood's undead attendant built up the flames, stirring the coals, and adding a new log. Bathed in the renewed firelight we sat, with me curled up next to Delilah, soaking in the heat. Already the nightmare was growing distant, fading into a few shattered images, that paled in comparison with the reality of sitting here.
At last Lady Briarwood stirred, straightening up, and unwinding her arm from around my shoulders. I was colder without her, and I once more pulled my shawl close around me. Outside the night was less dark, still black, but more of a blue black as opposed to pure darkness. It must be nearly six in the morning. In the summer months the sun would be rising now, but as winter continued to deepen, the sun continued to rise later and set sooner.
Life was beginning to stir within the castle. I could hear footsteps crossing the hall, passing swiftly back and forth, and under the door I could see the flicker of light. Through the sitting room window glittered torches, like tiny scattered stars, being lit in the courtyard. The time for the Briarwood's departure had come.
Delilah rose, crossing the room to glance out of the window. I shrank closer to the fire, shivering, suddenly quite cold again. Professor Anders entered a moment later, advancing forward with a bow.
"All preparations are made ready, my lady. Lord Briarwood inquires whether you are ready to depart yet."
"Yes, I am quite ready, thank you Anders."
The Professor bowed as she swept past him, a gesture that she hardly noticed, and Delilah flung back the doors to the sitting room, sweeping into the entrance hall. Silently Anders followed, and I rose too, keeping to out of the way and unnoticed. Lord Briarwood was standing in the center of the hall, and as Delilah entered, she went to him.
Outside, at the bottom of the castle steps, illuminated by flickering torches in the pre-dawn blackness was a sleek travel carriage. Several guards flanked it, mounted on single steeds. They were very fine spirited animals, champing and fretting, eager to begin the journey. The carriage horses were a bit more steady, waiting patiently in their harness, their breath steaming in the winter chill. A young man of nineteen or so was perched on the driver's box, rubbing his fingers with the reigns lying loose in his lap, occasionally casting a glance at the other horses and their riders.
"Well my darling?" Silas said, looking down at his wife as she came up to him.
"I've made up my mind to the journey." She replied. "I'm quite ready to go as soon as you say we must."
"Come then, before the sun rises."
Lord Briarwood quickly descended the castle steps, his muscular form fading into the shadows, leaving Lady Briarwood alone in the hall, for Anders had already retreated back upstairs. She hesitated for a moment, glancing around the hall, then held out her hand to me.
"Come and give me a farewell kiss, my dear." She said, and I obeyed. Quickly I kissed her on the cheek, a gesture that she bent to receive, and embraced her for a moment.
"Stay out of trouble." Delilah said, laying her hands on my shoulders, then her face softened and she added "I'm going to miss you."
Her hands dropped away, and she quickly followed after her husband, melting into the courtyard. With a quick step she mounted into the carriage, the footman shutting the door behind her and mounting onto his perch. The coachman cracked his whip, urging the horses into a trot, and the guards followed after, vanishing into the surrounding shadows.
The castle felt dull and lifeless without Lord and Lady Briarwood to give it vigor, not that the castle had ever been very lively even with them here. Compared to when my mother and father ruled it was as bustling as a graveyard. But the Briarwood's sway over this castle had affected it completely, and it felt utterly desolate without them.
It was not a pleasant place to live in. Haunted as it was by dead things, devoid of all life that had once occupied it, silent and lonely. In this silent place the sitting room had been my refuge, Delilah's tenderness my solace, her musical lessons my entertainment. Now I had no one. Anna Ripley and the Professor were the only two other living beings in this castle, and neither of them cared about me.
Ripley spent all of her time alone these days, appearing only briefly at meals, and spending the rest of her time locked in her room, broken only by visits to the garden where she set off more explosions. At meals she was abstracted, eating hurriedly in silence, deeply absorbed in her private thoughts. The experiments in the garden were more frequent now that the Briarwoods were gone, and after every one she always came in swearing profusely, clearly frustrated about something. She was completely unaware of what went on around her, wrapped up in this project that devoured all of her attention.
Even so, total indifference was better than animosity. Ripley cared nothing about me, beyond the inconvenience of my presence. Anders was different. In a spiteful way he cared very much about me, and even went out of his way to cause me some pain, to inflict some punishments that he felt I deserved. With the Briarwoods gone we were locked in a bitter rivalry, from which Anna was completely excluded, and which was mutually vicious on both sides. I hated him, and now that I was at last free to oppose him, I openly displayed my venom, doing everything in my power to hurt him in any way I could.
But the balance of power was far more heavily shifted in the Professor's favor than mine. His influence was far greater, and he had a far greater ability to hurt me. I could annoy him constantly, inconvenience him at every opportunity, and because of Mother's training I was even able to cause some physical damage, but the advantage was clearly on his side. I was maddening to him, using every tiny annoyance to hurt him, chewing loudly when he was at the table, making noise while he was trying to write, standing just slightly in his way when he had to pass me. But his skill with magic made it easy for him to hurt me far more than any slight inconvenience I gave him.
And he did hurt me. With Delilah gone Anders was once again my antagonistic guardian, and I spent all of my waking hours tethered to him, making our rivalry constant, and ongoing. Every day I was chained to him for hours, sitting in a corner of his study, watching him as he went about his business. Most of the time was spent in writing, sending letters to various people, or merely copying notes into ledgers of assorted sizes that he kept in his desk.
Several letters he received during our time together were similar, and he was careful to never read them in my presence, always locking them in a hidden compartment in his desk. I had no way to read what was within the letters, but I made the stealthily observations I could. He was very quick to hide them, but gradually I perceived that they were all written on very good paper, sealed on the outside with red wax. Clearly they were letters from somebody important.
Days had been passed in this fashion, without any sign of change, and I had lost interest in the Professor's mysterious correspondent by this point. There was never an opportunity to read the letters, and I had memorized their outer appearance. When one of the servants entered, bearing another of these letters, I hardly noticed. Anders took it, and waved the thing away impatiently, once again locking the letter away in a drawer. At that moment a rumbling explosion ran through the castle walls, shaking in the stones of the surrounding hallways.
"What now..." The Professor grumbled angrily looking up at the ceiling as if he expected it to fall. Then he cast a surly glance at me, adding, "Not some of your troublemaking associates I suppose? I assume they would have told you if they were going to attack."
I nodded my head. The truth was that I had stopped writing Archibald. As soon as Silas left I couldn't find it in myself to continue, so I had no real way of knowing if it might not indeed be an attack on the castle. But the explosion had sounded closer than that, and from what I knew of the city, I guessed most people had given up on thoughts of overthrowing the Briarwoods long ago. There just wasn't enough hope to keep people fighting anymore.
"Go and see what that is will you." The Professor snapped at the servant who was still standing at his side.
But before the creature could do his bidding Anna burst into the room. She angrily flung the door open, half supporting herself against the wall, and breathing hard. Her sleeve on one side was scorched, the arm underneath badly burned, and she had that hand clamped under her other arm.
"Anders," She ground out through clenched teeth, her voice grimly composed. "I need your assistance if you please, as soon as possible."
The Professor hastily rose, looking bewildered, and Ripley crossed the room to his desk. As she passed me I saw that her shirt was stained with blood underneath the left arm, spreading outward from the hand she had hidden in her armpit. The entirety of her left side was soaked with blood that was such a vivid crimson, it looked staged and fake, and I could see the stain rapidly spreading down her leg.
"It was cauterized to a certain extent." She hissed as she brought her right hand out from under her arm. "But it's still bad."
I felt my stomach curl into a knot as she brought her hand out, and gagged instinctively. Anna cast me a resentful look, but said nothing, and stoically waited for Anders to do something. Her hand was gone. There was nothing left but a bloody burned stump, some trailing strings of left over flesh, and part of the white shattered bone exposed. It was a sickening spectacle.
Strangely enough Anna hardly reacted at all, beyond the obvious physical pain it caused her. While I could see clearly that the stump was painful, it was difficult to tell if she even mourned the entire loss of a limb. She looked down at her own mangled arm completely unaffected by any aversion to the sight, as detached as she would have been if the wound belonged to someone else, and she even watched the bleeding with a kind of sterile curiosity.
The professor reached out and shrinkingly clasped her arm, and Ripley flinched as his fingers touched the tender skin, letting out a sour hiss, as if she was annoyed at herself for showing the pain. Wrapping his hands completely around her wound, Anders drew in a long deep breath. I could almost feel the air warping as he drew it in, as if he was pulling the air around him into himself, leaving a hollow negative space. Then, shifting his hands so that there was a small hole between them, he breathed on Ripley's arm through the gap in his hands.
With an impatient jerk, Anna ripped her arm away, looking down at what was left. Most of the stump had healed, leaving lumpy twisted scar tissue, but the burns were still fresh and irritated. Once again the Professor reached out to take her arm, but Ripley pulled away, giving him a forbidding look.
"I deal with burns all the time," She said coldly. "This is nothing. Give me some bandages, and I can take care of it myself."
Doubtfully Anders gave her the supplies he had, and she threw herself in a chair by the fire, setting the roll of linen on one of the two small tables in the room, within arms reach of her. Out of a pocket somewhere she drew a small flask, which was filled with some kind of personal salve that she kept with her. Applying this to herself, she began to bind her arm, very neatly, and with obvious experience.
"The experiment went badly then, I take it?" Anders said sarcastically, crossing his arms. Anna made no reply, and finished binding her arm mechanically, then sat staring blindly down into the fire for a moment.
"DAMMIT!!!" She burst out suddenly, seizing the leftover roll of bandage and flinging it across the room. Being nothing more than a roll of soft fabric, it didn't have quite the destructive effect intended, and only bounced harmlessly against the wall. Not satisfied with this lack luster conclusion, Ripley started out of her chair and upended the table with a loud crash.
"I'm so close!!!" She exclaimed angrily. "I can feel it! I'm almost there, it's on the tip of my tongue, I just can't grasp it! How the hell am I supposed to harness the explosion, without making it ineffective?!? It's fucking maddening!"
She subsided, breathing heavily, and she reached up to run her hand through her hair, before realizing that her hand was gone. Remembering it she swore again, kicking at the table furiously.
"Are you really as close as all that?" The Professor said skeptically. "You just blew your own arm off."
"That was nothing. Experiments are hazardous, I'm aquatinted with the dangers, and fully resigned to the possible consequences. This was a stupid mistake. I was careless." She said, brushing his comment aside impatiently. "And I am almost there. I have all the mechanisms, everything works smoothly, but this final problem just will not go away! I need a final piece, something thats missing."
Turning back to his desk, Anders drew out the letter he had received. He broke the seal, thumbing though the pages, and plucked out one. I caught a brief glimpse of several sketches and some writing, then he rolled it up and tossed it to Ripley.
"You can take a look at that, and see if it helps." He said carelessly as she unrolled it. "There are some descriptions in it, eye witness accounts, you might possibly find something useful. In all likely-hood it's just rubbish like the last ones..."
The Professor's voice trailed away, looking doubtfully at Anna. She had frozen, staring at the paper. There was a half smile lingering at the corner of her mouth, and she had gone very white, her eyes eagerly devouring the paper's contents. She looked as shocked as if she had just read the secret to immortality.
"That's brilliant..." She breathed. "Why didn't I think of that? He's fucking brilliant..."
"Found something then?"
Ripley made no answer, and only laughed haltingly, as if she were still in shock. Moving clumsily, without the dominant hand at her disposal, she rolled up the parchment again, still laughing helplessly. Forgetful of Anders and everything else around her, she rose from her seat, blindly making her way out of the room. Once again leaving the Professor and I alone, with no sound breaking the silence but the crackling of the fire.
That evening Ripley didn't come in to supper. She had been locked in her room ever since the incident that morning, and when the Professor sent up a servant to ask if she would be coming down, she sent it back with a shard of jagged scrap metal imbedded in the side of its neck. Clearly she couldn't be bothered with mundane concerns like eating.
It was a very tense meal without her there, and I had taken great satisfaction in clattering my silverware as much as I could possibly manage, only to take the tiniest imaginable bite at the end of it. By the end of the meal I could tell that retribution was coming, for the Professor's hands were shaking. In a fearless kind of way I wanted him to. I was daring him to try it, and see how little of a difference it would make. But we were interrupted before the tussle could truly begin.
It was a sharp crack, sudden and startling, that echoed out over the castle grounds. The other explosions set off by Ripley had all been deeper, while this was higher pitched, and more refined. I jumped as I heard it, startled by the unexpected sound. The sound died away almost instantly, and I heard laughter after it.
Moments later Anna burst into the room, flinging the doors wide, an uncontrollable smile lighting up her face.
"Fucking finally!!!" She crowed, flinging a sheaf of papers, covered in cramped sketches and hasty writing, onto the table. After it she threw down a metal devise that thudded on the table. The device was obviously a close copy of the sketches, similar to then in shape, although the proportions were different. Ripley was turning over plates and dishes on the table, apparently looking for one to suit some purpose she had in mind, and I took her distraction as an opportunity to get a closer look at her project.
It was roughly L shaped, with the short part carved to fit neatly into the hand. At the angle of the L there were four hollow chambers, that would spin if I made them, and looking inside I could see that they were coated in some kind of very fine black dust. The long branch of the L was formed by a fifth hollow tube, and it too was coated with this same dust.
"Stupid girl, be careful with that!" Anna exclaimed sharply, jerking the devise out of my hand. Casting me a disapproving look, she examined her creation carefully, as if afraid that I might have broken it. Satisfied that her project hadn't been harmed, she brought out a weighted leather pouch, that thudded loudly against the tabletop when she set it down, and from this pouch she drew out four round beads about the size of marbles. Holding the devise against her stomach with her maimed hand, she dropped the balls into the four hollow chambers with the other, making the whole show look surprisingly dextrous despite her missing hand. Then she clicked the chambers, so that they rested securely between the long and short branches of the imaginary L, and no longer spun freely.
"At last, a completed, functioning, gun." She said, displaying it as she spoke. After admiring her work for another moment, she seized a vase from the mantelpiece that dominated one wall of the dining room. Turning sharply on her heel, she grinned at us triumphantly, hissing exultantly, "Come, and see!"
In a moment she had vanished from the room, and the Professor quickly followed, with me trailing cautiously behind. Flinging back the double doors to the courtyard, Anna strode down the wide front steps, and paused on the bottom step to set down the vase she had seized. She paused to consider the placement, then took off again, apparently satisfied.
"Come!" She called over her shoulder, beckoning impatiently. At last she stopped at a distance of some 30 yards, turning sharply on her heel, and looking across the courtyard at the vase, glimmering in the winter dusk. "Come and stand behind me."
Anders obeyed her, and I faded off into the shadows, skirting the edge of the courtyard and lurking near the gate. I had long since learned that it was rarely safe for me to stand too close to the Professor, and mostly skirted him warily these days. With the Professor finally behind her, Anna squared her shoulders, breathing in an sharp breath of anticipation.
It was a very swift, fluid movement, almost too quick to take in completely. She raised her gun, the fingers of her hand fitting perfectly into the carven spaces for them, and the index finger wrapped around a switch piece that was molded to fit her finger. Stretching out her arm, perfectly straight, her eyes narrowed down the length of the barrel.
In the half a second of tense silence, I saw her eyes narrow, as she took aim, then she pulled the switch, and the device went off. There was a flash of white flame and smoke, the gun let off a loud cracking explosion, and at the same moment the vase at the other end of the courtyard suddenly shattered. Pieces of glass went flying in all directions, the bottom of the vase sitting in the same spot on the castle steps, like a jagged crown made of painted glass.
"Well?" Anna demanded of the Professor impatiently. "Is this not the greatest achievement of our kind thus far?"
Anders had no answer. He was just as stunned as I was, staring at the shattered vase in the distance. It looked as if it had just broken instantaneously, with no visible cause that I could see, while Anna was standing almost a hundred feet away.
"It is...Impressive..." He said at last, unable to find any other words.
"Impressive?!?" Ripley scoffed, tossing her head, and beginning to pace excitedly. "Do you have any idea what this invention could mean?! How much it could accomplish? This is a weapon unlike anything used before, unlike anything we've ever dreamed of! This could change everything about the way our wars are fought! In the right hands, this could change the world..."
Her voice trailed away, and she stood lost in thought, gazing up at the darkening sky above the wall top. Winter stillness fell heavy over the courtyard as she stood calculating. Then her gaze refocused, her attention coming back to the courtyard, and she tossed her head to clear it.
"You've seen what I wanted to show you." She said to Anders, her voice suddenly quite cold, and almost suspicious. "I have nothing more to say."
Forgetting the Professor, and the broken vase, she crossed the courtyard again. Scaling the steps of the castle, she vanished within the darkness of the foyer, and shut the door behind her. Anders was left standing alone in the cold, and I faded back into the shadows of the gate, unwilling to recall his attention to me yet. But the Professor had forgotten me completely, and he made his way back across the courtyard without giving a second thought to me. I wasn't within sight of him, which made me non-existent.
That left me alone, out in the rapidly descending winter dusk. All the guards, that were meant to be keeping watch, were huddled over the fire in the guardhouse. Like me, they guessed that the likelihood of an attack on the castle was remote. I was by myself, lurking under the shadow of the gate, glorying in my brief freedom.
Only that sense of freedom could have made it seem like an inviting evening. The clouds had all lifted, releasing the trapped heat from underneath them, and it was bitterly cold. Most of the stars were pale and remote, hardly to be picked out against the inky blackness of the darkening night. The new moon was nowhere to be seen, dark and shrouded.
The sound of someone hammering against the gate, loud and out of place in the utter silence, woke me from my reverie. With a start I recalled my surroundings, and I shivered. I was cold, numb, and chilled to the bone. Alone in the dark.
"Who's there?" I murmured, cautiously moving up to the gate, and pressing my hands against it.
"Cas?" It was Ivan's voice, but he sounded agitated, and his voice was shaking as if he were out of breath. "Thank Pelor it's you...Come outside, right now, I need to talk to you...please..."
"Of course..." I stammered, confusion adding to the lump of dread in my stomach. Forcing the gate with all my strength, I managed to open it a crack. Squeezing through the tiny gap, I found myself alone with Ivan in the shadow of the gate, shivering as the night's chill soaked into me.
He was breathing hard, gasping for air as if he had run all the way here, leaning against the gate for support. The simple clothes he wore were torn, and there were tiny scratches across his face. I had seen scratches like them before, for I had born similar ones on more than one occasion, and I knew that they meant he had been running through the woods very fast without any regard for what he ran through. He had no coat, and he was shivering uncontrollably, but not with cold.
"Ivan, what on earth is the matter? What's wrong?" I exclaimed upon taking in all this. He made no answer, standing mute and shivering, still gasping for air. Gently I took him by the arms, assuming a false air of disapproval, hoping vaguely that it would cheer him.
"Stupid boy, you didn't even wear a coat! You'll catch your death of cold, wandering around in the dark like that, come inside at once and get warm."
"N-no, I-I can't. I--" He broke off, too agitated, or too out of breath to continue.
"They're all gone, nobody will care..." I said persuasively, trying to draw him through the gate. "Come inside, crazy idiot, and get warm! You'll feel better."
"No, Cas! Listen to me!" He snapped, jerking his hands away. I shrank back, hurt and more than a little frightened by his savage words, for he had never spoken to me so harshly. Even when he had been angry with me, that had been concern on my behalf, this was different. The knot of dread in my midsection grew tighter.
"I can't come inside, I just need..." His voice trailed away, and he drooped against the gate.
"Ivan?" I murmured, touching his arm again, and forcing him to look at me.
"They k-killed...Father Rynoll is dead..."
Dead...I stumbled, falling to my knees in the middle of the muddy road. The Father, dead...Ivan wilted back into the gate, his slouching form only propped up by its solid mass supporting him. Tears stung my eyes, and I could feel the back of my throat burning, but for the first time in the years I'd known him, I was stronger than Ivan. I had already lost, many, many loved ones. And my family, my new family, were still safe. I could survive this. He was utterly overcome, while I still had, if not the focus to throw off grief entirely, than enough to act, to question, to understand.
"How?" I demanded coldly, careful to keep my voice devoid of emotion. "What happened."
"I-I don't-"
"You'll have to face it Ivan, you'll feel better when you do. What happened?"
"Nothing..." He replied, shaking his head hopelessly. "We did nothing. They just, attacked because they wanted to."
"Who?"
"Count Tyleeri's men I think...They were all drunk, passing around bottles and laughing, hacking up the pews for fun, throwing rocks through the windows. And they just, killed him for no reason. Just for fun..." His voice died away again, and I knew that only my resolve would force him to continue.
"How did you escape?" I prodded.
"I wasn't there...I should have been there. I should have known...Somehow...He sent me to minister to a family in the city, and I didn't know until I came back."
"And did they see you?" I said at last. "Are they looking for you?"
"I--I don't, I don't know..."
"Ivan, are they looking for you?" I said again, rising from the ground, seizing him by the shoulders, and forcing him to look at me. "Talk to me Ivan."
"Th--they saw me--" He whispered, his speech stumbling and broken. "I--I ran. I don't remember. I was...They were shouting, and I ran...I just, I think they chased me for a bit, they didn't want me to get away. I couldn't fight them, it was too late. He was already...Already dead..." Suddenly Ivan dropped, falling into a limp heap against the gate.
I sank down with him, propping him up as best as I could. He made no resistance as I moved him, passively allowing me to warm his hands, and tuck them between his curled up legs and his stomach. My own hands were numb with cold, but I did my best to warm him anyway.
"Now I want you to stay right here," I instructed him sternly, once this was done. "I'm going to leave you for a minute, can you wait here for me to come back?"
Dumbly Ivan nodded, paying almost no heed to what I said, but as I drew away he released my hand somewhat reluctantly. It was a small gesture, but it heartened me. At least he found enough comfort or security in my presence, to endeavor to retain it, and feel the lack of it when I left him.
Slithering back through the gate, I set off across the courtyard, moving as swiftly and silently as possible. Passing into the foyer, I flitted around the edges of the silent hall, gracefully scaling the grand staircase. I reached my room, swiftly let myself it, shut the door behind me, and paused with my back to the door.
One thing was clear to me at this moment. Ivan had to leave the valley. Maybe Father Rynoll's killers were looking for him, or maybe they had abandoned the hunt as soon as it required any kind of real effort. I didn't know. But I could see that Ivan shouldn't stay here. There was no place for him in the castle: surrounded by these people that hated me, even if I wished to have him. And he couldn't return to the temple, both because he might be hunted, but more importantly because there were too many memories there. It would serve him better if he left the valley entirely, before anybody could miss him.
Even as I made the decision on his behalf, I wanted to unmake it. Five years he'd been a dear friend to me, what would I do without him? But it was for the best. It was what was best for him, and that mattered more than my own personal desires.
My resolve hardened, and I stepped away from my bedroom door, moving to gather together the scanty provisions I could give him. I seized a winter cloak, throwing it over my arm, and a dusty leather satchel that was lying forgotten at the bottom of my wardrobe. Last of all, I gathered up the few scanty gold pieces I had, the last remnants of my pocket money from years and years ago, and tied them together in a handkerchief.
With these few supplies, I stealthily made my way back downstairs. In the dining room I paused, scavenging from the leftover meal some of the less perishable items, and I stuffed them into the satchel I had brought to serve as a makeshift travel pack. Finally I abandoned the dinning room, crossing the entrance hall and courtyard with the same silent speed that I had before. Ivan was sitting in the exact same spot against the gate, face buried in his knees, still shivering violently.
"Now listen up," I said, shaking him out of his stupor none to gently, and rubbing him vigorously to get him warm again. "Here's a cloak, you put it on right now. I've got food, and a little money, take them...That's right...Now you listen carefully to what I'm going to say. Are you listening?"
Once again Ivan nodded dumbly, still shivering, and I felt my heart warm as he gathered his cloak closer around him. That was good, very good. It was all the answer I would get, but it was enough to convey that he was listening, and understood what I was saying.
"I want you to get out of the valley." I said sternly, my tone inflexible, and uncompromising. "Get over the fords, and head for Swiftshore, you'll be safe there. Don't worry about me, don't think about the Father, don't think about all the people in the city. I'll be all right, and I'm sure Keeper Yennin and Archibald will look out for the people, but you've got to take care of yourself. Go now, while you still can. Understand me?"
Another dumb nod. I seized Ivan's arms, and drew him to his feet, tucking his cloak in closer around him, and checking to make sure his travel pack was securely fastened. With this done, I kissed him farewell on the cheek.
"Travel during the day, it's safer." I instructed him. "Keep away from everybody, and don't ever travel after the sun goes down. They'll only find you sooner if you do."
Ivan didn't say anything, but he gave my hand a weak squeeze, that meant 'Thank you, Cas.' I sniffed, half laughing at the drops on my cheeks.
"Stay safe." I said, trying to be brisk. "I would hate for you to get killed...Dressing up for your funeral would be more trouble than you're worth..."
A last short hug, our breath steaming out into the cold, then Ivan drew away. I shrank back into the shadows, and watched his retreating figure, until at last the night shadows swallowed him. As he disappeared, I suddenly became aware of myself again, standing out here in the cold. I was chilled to the bone, alone in the dark...