Dusk Falling (Book 1) (36 page)

The boy’s claws slashed out, arcing a trail of cooling blood; he could not stop them in time once he recognized who it was that had crept up behind him.

The only thing that saved Yukarim was his own arm length.

The dark claw connected with Yukarim’s cheekbone, carving twin lines up and across the bridge of his nose. The force knocked him back and the mage fell clutching his bloodied face.

“Yu-Yukarim…” The boy breathed, never once having used the Bren’s name prior.

The mage’s eyes teared from the stinging pain. It was shock that kept him from getting to his feet. When he looked up his pain seemed suddenly less substantial. The Elfkin was pale, his expression horrified. From as close as Yukarim was, he could see the claws that were his hands tremble. The boy took a step back.

“No, don’t. It’s okay.” Yukarim managed to say, tasting blood as it ran in thick rivulets over his lips.

More space was added between them- physically and mentally.

“It wasn’t your fault. I shouldn’t have startled you like that. It’s just a scratch.” Yukarim tried to reason. “I’m fine. T-tell me what happened here.”

The boy’s amber eyes fled to the body at his feet then back to Yukarim. Something was reflected there and the mage suddenly realized it was a goodbye.

“Wait, please don’t go.”

But it was too late, the young Elfkin was gone, vanishing into the forest surrounding them.

Taking some time to gather himself, Yukarim made his way back to the cabin. Once inside, he set about wiping the blood from his face. The cuts were straight not ragged but they wouldn’t stop bleeding. With a cold compress held over half his face, Yukarim resigned himself to wait.

The house felt a lot colder, less like a place he wanted to be right then. The strewn scrolls, the books and the work he had prepared on his findings seemed so much less important. He wondered if the work was even plausible anymore. If it couldn’t come to some use in helping an afflicted child then what use was it for the world? Doubts swirled in his mind until he realized he was behaving selfishly; the only thing that mattered right then was the boy he considered a brother.

~ ~ ~

The boy kept running and did not stop. He could run for a long time using only Elven stamina, not including the runes of power that had been burned into his flesh. His footfalls did not falter, his breathing remained steady. He had already made good distance.

It was time for him to leave, he rationed, trouble would only follow his path and that day was all the proof he needed to that accord. It was not safe for him to remain in one place for too long and now he’d visited that grief on…

His brows knit. He wanted to apologize for what he did, for what happened but…

Slowing, his eyes caught sight of tiny bell-like blood red flowers. He never cared much for plants before nor would he have even acknowledged them if it was not for the passion displayed by a simple mage-scholar who had shared his life with a stranger. Sharp mind recalled the penned image on a loose sheet of napyrus paper. It had to be a rare plant. Yukarim would like it.

Stopping himself from that line of thought, he resigned himself a final check to make sure his friend had gotten home safely. Then he would leave the mountains forever.

What he sensed almost made his knees buckle where he stood. Pivoting, the Elfkin ran back in the direction of the cabin, pushing his legs passed their endurance. He drew on all the power runes he possessed, drew until his nerves screamed.

He was still too far away.

Suddenly the boy pitched forward, tumbling a yard or two before coming to a stop. Blood ran through his ears and felt like a cyclone in his head. Vision blurred, he tried to push to his feet and move on but could not get his legs to bear his weight. At first, he believed it due to the misuse of the power runes but then an image flew into mind, rocking him back onto his seat.

He could see the Bren mage Yukarim.

He could hear his voice.

He could hear other voices, other people, gathered around.

“A half-Elf of Jrahda blood? No, I have seen no such being.” Yukarim was saying, standing firm on the porch of his small cabin
.

“You live here alone?”

“Not that it is of any concern of yours but yes. No one has come this way in over a year.” The mage was lying and he knew it
.

“Our companion was found dead, are you saying you-”

“I’m sorry for your loss but I have no idea who this boy is of whom you speak so if you don’t mind…”

“Boy? I never said it was a boy we were looking for.”

The mage’s eyes flickered. He had just stepped into a bated trap
.

And the fight began
.

The boy forced his legs to obey though he could barely see. The vision of what transpired superseded his own eyes, the moving images floated over top of the trees he faced. It made his head swim. Crashing into a tree, the boy found himself once again on the ground. This time with a split lip.

Still the vision continued to play out in front of his eyes.

“If your intent is to kill him, you’ll have to go through me first.”

“As you wish.”

“No! Don’t!” The Elfkin cried out. He screamed in frustration and un-understanding. “Hold! Just hold on a little longer. I’ll be there, I promise.” Eyes doing the strangest thing, leaking down his dirty cheeks, he ran haphazardly with one arm stretched before him.

The cabin burned at his back, the fire was fierce. His opponents were neither fighting fair nor giving him the chance to mount an offensive. They came as a group, swords drawn whilst their sorcerer awaited an opening Yukarim could not block
.

Yukarim could see the futility of it all but he would not give up. The only thing he could think of was to buy his brother a little more time- to stall these foul men here and put as much distance in between them as possible. “Keep running.”

Blocking a sword thrust with his blade, he launched a fire spell of his own over top
.

“Idiot! Fool! What are you doing? Why? Why… for me?!” Branches clawed at him, raking their fingers down his face and arms. Stumbling down an embankment, the boy fell hard to his knees.

The vision had found a reason for him to not rise again.

Minutes passed like hours, the vision faded and left him. When he got to his feet, he had found a new reason.

Revenge.

Eyes burning like embers, breath coming in short bursts, teeth bared in a cold-blooded snarl, he ran no longer. He walked, gathering his strength as he did so for when he came upon
them
he would annihilate them all.

He did not run. There was no need to. They would not be getting away from him, not for what they did.

And when he was done with them, he would never open himself up to such pain again. It was not worth it-
he
was not worth it.

~ ~ ~

They made camp under a grove of willow. Aya was inconsolable and would not speak. Serrtin, Agemeer and SkyRift gave her space, not knowing what else they could do to comfort her.

“Do you think Genlo will come back?” Agemeer asked.

“I hope not. That… that,” Serrtin growled, making a fist. “After all this time to find out something like this…”

“But the Seal spell, he’ll have to return,”

“Fine.” Serrtin replied icily. “Then when I get my hands on-”

“No,” Aya called softly. “Don’t do anything.”

“Aya,” Agemeer said, coming to his feet.

“He’ll come back and I will hear what he knows about my brother.”

Close to an hour went by and Serrtin became antsy to get moving once again. SkyRift too wanted to wait no longer. He was going to suggest he go look for the trethen, feeling he might be best able to talk him into returning.

But then Genlo reappeared of his own volition. His closed expression, so tame and tired, was one they’d never witnessed. Serrtin kept her hands to herself though she would have liked to ring him dry. The Jrahda-trethen bypassed them and made his way over to where Aya sat. When she looked up at him, his amber eyes slid away. “It was all my fault. I should’ve… I could’ve done something to-” He turned his body to the side of the mage, not quite facing her but not completely shut away. “I did not kill him but it might as well have been me. I-I wasn’t there…”

“I don’t understand.”

“I saw what was happening but couldn’t get there fast enough to save his life. It’s my fault. He died because he tried to protect me.”

Aya swallowed a lump. So, it was true. Yukarim was dead. Her brother passed beyond to a place she could not follow. Not yet in any case. She did not want to believe it but now it was irrefutable. She didn’t want to believe Genlo could be the cause either. “Tell me,” She said, voice husky. “All you know.”

So he did. It was almost as painful to say as it was to hear. Genlo had lived with the guilt for almost two years and though he told no one of it, the past haunted his dreams.

If only he had left earlier, if only he had not stayed long enough to form a bond that would lead Yukarim to sacrifice himself…

Even Serrtin’s tough demeanor faltered upon hearing the tale. Agemeer eyes were closed, his ears flat to the sides- if it were possible, he would have wept. SkyRift listened attentively, feeling remorse for the situation but
relieved to have heard what had transpired firsthand. He had been told only what he needed to know and it had not put the Jrahda-trethen in the most prevalent of lights. Knowing the truth would make the journey all the more difficult for its end.

“I don’t want these memories anymore.” Genlo said, almost to himself.

“Yukarim wouldn’t like to hear that.” Aya said, black bangs hiding her eyes. “I think I understand why he did what he did. Though Yukarim didn’t know why the Verca were after you, he could sense their intent. He always was protective over those he cared about. Especially so for family, which I think Yukarim thought of you as.” She looked up and smiled at him. “I am glad Yukarim met you.”

Her tears still ran but they were clean tears, possessing a healing sorrow and a pride in her dear brother that nothing could ever replace.

The Black Swamp came into view over the next hill, its dark-colored leaves and deep shadows giving it an ominous look.

Tomorrow they would head in. Evening meal was prepared though no one had much of an appetite. Aya took first watch, lowering her mental shields in meditation, a practice she hadn’t been taking part of in an unforgivable amount of time. She apologized profusely to her Grandmother’s spirit. Then to Yukarim’s.

With her senses opened, she experimented with stretching over the lands much as she imagined Genlo had when he picked up on SkyRift’s trailing them. She did not have much success beyond a square five yards but contained within she could feel the whereabouts of her companions as easily as seeing them with her eyes. SkyRift was tightly under wraps, his mind shields as perfect as she could see without testing them. The dragon was asleep and Aya did not want to accidentally wake him by brushing against the shield so she backed off. Serrtin and Agemeer would not have even felt the brush should she have chosen to.

The mage ‘looked around’ some more, coming up upon a wall that slammed into place on her mental ‘nose’. Hard. That would be Genlo.

About to retrace back to herself then out toward Asab-Hevey (the Province they were leaving) Aya paused when she felt the wall slowly dissipate in on itself. The barrier retreated until it was no longer detectable, enticing Aya to follow its intriguing retreat. At least to a safe distance, she’d seen before what happened to those who
followed trails better left untread- Aral’s death was an unpleasant memory in itself without having witnessed firsthand how a person can die from over unknown distances.

She opened her eyes. Genlo sat on the lowest branch of a tree limbs sprawled in youthful carelessness. He did not look at her but the fact his barriers were so low even she could break them showed a trust that he was beginning to relearn how to give.

He kept the mage company on her watch that night and never said a single word.

Chapter 27

Aya awoke to find SkyRift in his Elven form sitting beside her. He took a sip from a water skin, eyes focused off ahead with interest. The mage’s ears pricked when she heard the sounds of a fight, the voice of Serrtin. She should have given pause when SkyRift appeared so relaxed but Hunter instinct kicked in when she thought her partner was in trouble.

Serrtin and Genlo were thirty feet away, battling sword to shadowclaw. Aya immediately came to the conclusion the pair had a falling out, an altercation that reminded them of their mutual bitter feelings.

The mage clamped down on the Seal spell just as Serrtin swung her sword in a horizontal backslash. Genlo’s form froze up but was saved from being severed in half by natural Elven athleticism. His claws unsubstantiated and were gone; Serrtin saw it and luckily halted the passage of her next move. The brush with sudden death left him breathless but not enough to keep him from shouting. “
What the hell was that for?! You almost got me sliced in two
!”

“Wha…?”

“We were only practicing, Aya. Don’t worry. I though it was a good idea to keep up our forms.” Serrtin explained, burying the tip of her flamberge in the ground. Then she did something even more remarkable than admitting to practicing with the Jrahda-trethen. She offered her hand and pulled Genlo to his feet.

She
never
did that for just anyone. If you were a respected friend, she would help you rise after a fall- like she would for Aya; a fighting equal, someone who’s skill alone garnered respect, that person she would offer a hand to. No weakling of unimportance would gain such from the likes of Serrtin. It was with that Aya realized that Serrtin no longer judged the Jrahda-trethen in the same light. She thought of him as an ally. Knowing this almost made his next comment bearable.

“Now that the slumbering princess is awake, let’s head on.”