Strength of Fate - 8. Chapter Eight

The next morning, while still in bed, Nathan and Brohm discussed the situation with Cormac. To Nathan’s surprise, Brohm was receptive to a meeting. The big man was willing to give Cormac a chance—to seriously consider what the monk could offer them—but couldn’t provide any guarantee he’d follow through with suggestions to change.

They appropriated Iain’s office to speak with Cormac privately. After what Leah heard the night before, Nathan didn’t want a repeat of the wrong words heard by the wrong person.

“Okay, Cormac,” Nathan said. “What can you do for us?”

“The first thing I must insist on is to keep an open mind. ’Tis important that you want to change. Whitter, I sense within you a true want. Sid, you still have your doubts, yes?”

“Reckon so. I don’t get what you can do to help us. We’re not complete idiots. We know the difference between right and wrong.”

“Of course, however I sense that your ability to do the wrong thing is too easy. You don’t consider the consequences.”

“We’re only trying to protect ourselves.”

Cormac nodded. “Very well, however your methods have been a violent route.”

“Violence solves problems,” Brohm said matter-of-factly.

“I’m here to tell you that violence isn’t the solution to your problems.” Cormac raised a finger to emphasize his words. “Violence creates problems.”

Brohm sighed. “Listen, I wanna agree with you. We’ve already talked about this. We’re tired of it. But killing works to shut people up for good.”

Nathan couldn’t believe Brohm was speaking so frankly to a man that, just the night before, he didn’t trust at all. After such a bold statement, he expected Cormac to recoil in horror. Instead, he offered a gentle smile.

“What’s important is you want to change. ’Tis something that won’t come easy, but if you allow me to help you, ’tis possible.” Cormac turned his attention to Nathan. “The second issue is the string of lies that trail behind you.”

Nathan nodded, unsure how to respond.

Cormac continued. “You can easily find yourself caught in your own web of lies. Once trapped, you fall back to your violent ways as a means of escape. They go hand in hand. To stop one will aid you in stopping the other.”

“But is it possible to permanently free ourselves?” Nathan asked.

“Depending on the complexity of your web, ’tis possible freedom would be out of your grasp. You may need to face the consequences to free yourselves—”

Brohm visibly tensed. “Nope, that’s not gonna happen. It can’t.”

For the first time, Cormac’s sureness unsteadied, and looked to Nathan for another answer.

“He’s right,” Nathan said. “That’d be a death sentence. There’s no way around it.”

“Perhaps I could understand your plight better if you told me the details. In confidence, of course.”

Nathan felt Brohm glaring at him.

“A new rule,” Nathan said. “If you plan on asking for details again, walk away now. Our past is ours alone.”

Silent tension filled the small office as the monk considered the two men before him.

“Very well. ’Tis a rule I can abide by,” Cormac said with a bow of the head. “Perhaps in your case, your story—while false—can become the truth. Repeat it enough, and it will be accepted as fact without question.”

“That was the plan,” Brohm said.

“However, be sure you understand if your story has the slightest flaw, it will be picked at until it falls apart. This is why I made the earlier suggestion.”

“Yeah, we understand that. It’s a risk we take,” Nathan said.

“Very well,” Cormac said. “We shall never speak of your true past again.”

Brohm noticeably relaxed. Cormac was about to continue, only to be interrupted by a knock at the door. Nathan opened it to find Leah.

“Sorry to bug you, boss,” she said. “There’s a team of workmen outside, led by someone named Hobb. He said you were expecting him.”

Nathan and Brohm explained to Cormac that they’d have to continue their conversation another day, then entered the common area to find the burly foreman bundled up in fur and wearing giant boots.

“Hey, there they be,” Hobb said, extending a hand out in greeting.

Nathan, fearful of the man’s iron grip, nervously shook his hand. Hobb must’ve noticed Nathan’s pained expression before, as his grasp was firm but painless this time. Brohm, however, saw this as his second chance to win their hand-shaking contest, and locked hands with the foreman. It didn’t take long before Brohm’s eyes widened as they shook.

“Okay, you win,” Brohm said with a distressed chuckle.

Hobb barked a laugh and gave Brohm a hearty smack on the back. “We’re ready t’ start workin’. Show me where y’want this smithy.”

When Zoe heard the news the team had arrived, she excitedly donned her coat and ran outside to meet them. She bonded with Hobb immediately, sharing stories and trading smithing techniques. It was the first time Nathan witnessed her happiness, and was finally clear to him this was her passion.

As they had no insight on where to build the smithy, Nathan and Brohm left them to it. Zoe suggested they build at the rear of the guildhouse, and soon Hobb and his crew were shovelling snow away and digging into the earth to start the foundation. Nathan didn’t envy the hard work ahead of them.

Later that afternoon, the job board they’d commissioned arrived, built by the carpenter, Gareth. At six metres in length, it was heavy and unwieldy to unload from the cart, but they’d managed to get it inside with the help of one of Hobb’s workmen.

“I’ll get the hammer,” Brohm said, then turned to Nathan. “Nails are in the second-floor storage room. Can you get them?”

Nathan nodded and headed upstairs. He stopped at the window near the top of the landing that overlooked the backyard, and watched the smithy crew work. Despite being the middle of winter, the day was unusually warm. The sun beating down added to the warmth, and most of the men had stripped their coats, including Hobb. The giant of a man wore a thin shirt, soaked with sweat, revealing his well-built stature. Nathan stood transfixed by the sight, a slight grin drawn on his face.

Brohm climbed the stairs to find Nathan standing by the window. “Hey, did you find—”

Nathan jumped. “Huh, what?”

“Reckon I just caught you with your hand in the cookie jar. What’re you looking at?”

Nathan felt his face redden. “Nothing . . .”

Brohm peered out the window while Nathan rushed to the small storage room. It was an unorganized mess, but he soon found a wooden box of nails sitting on a low shelf. Brohm stood waiting for him in the doorway.

“I don’t think he’d be interested in you,” he said.

Nathan knew exactly what he was talking about, but decided to play dumb. “What’re you talking about?”

“Hobb.”

Nathan shrugged. “Okay, so . . . he caught my eye. I like big guys.”

“Is that the reason you like me?”

“What?”

“I might not be as big and strong as Hobb, but I’m still bigger than most.”

Nathan smirked. “You’re jealous?”

“Damn right I am!”

Nathan put the box of nails aside and approached him. “Don’t be. You never have to prove yourself to me.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

Nathan sighed. “Okay, fine. Yes, when I first saw you, the attraction was purely physical. But getting to know you, it’s so much more.”

The statement helped to defuse the situation, but Nathan could still identify the lingering remnants of his jealousy. He held Brohm’s cheek and gazed into his emerald eyes.

“I love who you are, not just what you look like. I only have room for one man in my heart, and it’s you. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Brohm wore the crooked smile he loved so much, and Nathan couldn’t resist embracing his friend. Brohm hugged him tightly.

“But you’re cute when you’re jealous,” Nathan whispered in his ear.

“Shut up!” Brohm said with a chuckle, playfully shoving Nathan away and nearly knocking him off his feet.

 

 

 

 

◆ ◆ ◆

 

 

 

 

That evening, the guildhouse was a hubbub of activity for the first time. Hobb and his crew ate heartily, and Edgard was more than happy to keep the hot food coming. Kegs of ale were cracked open, and soon the crowd was cheering and singing into the evening. Nathan and Brohm watched from their table, enjoying their own cups of ale. Hobb caught their eye and motioned to join in the fun, but Brohm shook his head with a smile. Seeming not to take that as an answer, Hobb approached and joined their table.

“I hope y’don’t mind ’em,” he said. “They enjoy their drink.”

“Not at all,” Nathan said. “As long as you don’t break anything.”

Hobb chuckled. “If that happens, they deal wit’ me.”

“How’s the foundation coming?” Brohm asked.

“Slow. Ground’s frozen. But once that’s done, the building’ll be up right quick.”

“How long, you reckon?”

Hobb shrugged. “Week, maybe two.”

Nathan leaned forward to speak privately, but given the raucous crowd, realized it was unneeded. “Have you heard any reports of strange creatures attacking livestock?”

“Creatures?” Hobb asked.

“Not animals, not human. They’re short, pale green skin, lots of teeth and sharp claws.”

Hobb stared at them incredulously. “Sounds like nightmares. You seen these?”

Nathan nodded. “Not far from here, other side of town. They slaughtered cattle, and attacked us when we went to investigate.” He pulled up his sleeve to show his bandaged arm. “One of them bit me.”

“You kill ’em, I hope?”

Brohm grunted in affirmation.

“First I hear o’ this, but I don’t really get involved in guild stuff beyond smithing.”

“We reckon it best to keep it secret for now,” Brohm said. “We’ve sent a report to Shaw. Asked for his advice.”

“Good. Sorry I couldn’t be more help.” He jerked a thumb at the crowd. “You sure you don’t wanna join me and th’ boys?”

“We’re good,” Brohm said.

“Alright, your loss.”

Hobb returned to his crew, joining in a song already in progress. Soon after, a man entered through the front door. At first, Nathan thought him to be one of Hobb’s men, but judging by his attire and rucksack, was more likely a traveller. Nathan crossed the room to meet him, only then noticing the turquoise guild pin on his jacket.

“Welcome to the house,” he said.

“Hey, I’m Ollie.”

“Whitter.”

“As soon as I heard about this place, I headed out straight away.”

“Oh yeah, why’s that?”

Ollie pulled the heavy rucksack from his shoulders. “I like to work at new guildhouses. The vacancy means more work for me.” He pointed at the noisy men. “But it looks like I have competition.”

“Nope,” Nathan said. “These guys are builders, not guild members. You’re our first.”

Ollie beamed at his good luck.

Nathan continued. “As you can see, the job board is empty. For good reason, though. We just raised it today. Work is still slow here, but it’s good to have you.”

Ollie extended a hand, and he shook it.

“You must be tired,” Nathan said. “I’ll show you to your quarters.”

“Actually, if it’s all the same to you, I’m starved. Whatever you have cooking smells damn good.”

“Sure. Why don’t you join my partner and I,” Nathan said, gesturing toward their table.

Ollie brought his belongings, unbelted his scabbard, and sat with them. After brief introductions with Brohm, Leah came to their table.

“What can I get for you?” she asked Ollie.

“Whatever you got, and lots of it, please.”

She smiled and disappeared into the kitchen.

“So, Ollie, you seem a bit young for this kind of work,” Brohm said.

Ollie rubbed his stubble-free cheeks. “I’m older than I look. I’ve been doing this for six years now, and learned a lot.”

Brohm chuckled. “Were you in nappies when you started?”

Ollie rolled his eyes. “I’m twenty-seven.”

Both Nathan and Brohm stared, unconvinced.

“Yeah, that’s the expression I usually get.” Using his fingers, Ollie framed his face like a portrait painting. “But the ladies love this mug of mine, so I don’t complain.”

Brohm burst out laughing.

“It’s you two running the place?” Ollie asked.

Nathan nodded.

“Interesting. You two don’t seem like guildhouse bosses.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Brohm asked.

Before Ollie could reply, Leah arrived with a plate heaping with mutton, potatoes and carrots, and a small loaf of bread with butter.

“This should sate that appetite of yours,” she said.

“Thank you, ma’am. Much appreciated,” he said with a smile.

She giggled. “Please, call me Leah.”

He rose and bowed his head. “Thank you, Lady Leah, for bringing me this delicious bounty.” He gently took her hand and kissed it.

She blinked, face flushed, unable to speak a moment. Nathan and Brohm exchanged glances.

“Thank you,” Leah finally managed to sputter through a smile. She left the table, only to return a bashful glimpse over her shoulder before rushing back into the kitchen.

Ollie tucked into his meal, moaning in delight, oblivious to Nathan and Brohm’s stare.

“She can really turn the ordinary into something special.”

“She serves the food,” Brohm said. “Edgard cooks it.”

“Well, my compliments to your chef. I’ll be sure to shake his hand as soon as we meet.”

Nathan couldn’t figure him out. As bombastic as his comments were, they seemed genuine at the same time. He couldn’t decide if he liked him, or wanted to punch him in the face.

“Wanna fill us in what you said earlier?” Brohm asked.

Ollie looked up from his food, observed their expression, and finally realized something was wrong.

“Huh?”

“You said we weren’t like other guildhouse bosses,” Nathan said. “Care to elaborate?”

He smiled. “Sure. You guys seem too laid-back to run a guildhouse. I guess you could call it a compliment. I’ve worked for lots of guys, and they’re always trying to assert their authority right from the start. All business, not friendly in the least. I know we’ve just barely met, but I get a good vibe from you two.”

“Do you often serenade your servers?” Nathan asked.

“Well, you have to admit it’s a thankless job. I try my best to be grateful to those around me, and be sure they know it.”

“We can’t fault you on that,” Nathan said, “but you embarrassed her.”

“Maybe a little, but I’m sure I made her day.”

“You’re sure about that?”

“The ladies love me, remember?”

Nathan’s urge to smack Ollie bloomed considerably. “Just keep the theatrics to a minimum. Are you an actor or a guildsman?”

Ollie shrugged. “Why not both?”

“And keep your hands to yourself, yuh?” Brohm said. “Otherwise you’ll be dealing with me.”

“I always ask permission first,” Ollie replied with a wink.

To make his point clear, Brohm chugged the rest of his ale and slammed the tankard on the table. “I’m off to bed. You coming?” he asked Nathan.

“You go ahead. I’ll make sure our guest has settled in nicely.” His voice dripped with sarcasm.

Brohm gave him a knowing nod. “Sleep tight, Ollie.”

Ollie saluted with his fork. “Likewise.”

Nathan sipped at his ale, casually watching Ollie in an attempt to understand him.

“You certainly speak your mind,” he said.

“It’s a curse I willingly bear,” Ollie said between mouthfuls. “I try to be as truthful as I can. The world has enough liars.”

“That mouth of yours must get you in trouble, though. There’s a difference between being truthful and being arrogant.”

“I can take care of myself if things get rough,” Ollie said, gesturing at his scabbard leaning against the table.

“But if you kept your mouth shut at the right moment—”

“Then those needing to know something wouldn’t learn,” Ollie said, locking eyes with Nathan.

“But you’re just a kid. How can you be right all the time?”

“I never said I was always right, but it doesn’t take much wisdom to see the truth in things.”

Nathan sipped his ale again. “I take it back. You’re not a kid.”

Ollie smiled. “Nope. I just look like one.”

“You mustn’t have many friends.”

“I’ll admit it’s one reason I change guildhouses often. People can’t stand me for long. You see? The truth can hurt me, too.”

“But I can’t understand why you need to speak your mind, when all it does is push people away.”

Ollie chewed and swallowed, thinking a moment before speaking. “It’s who I am. Just need to find someone who appreciates it, I guess.”

“I admit there’s something refreshing about it, but then, you haven’t spoken ill of me yet.”

Ollie cocked an eyebrow. “Don’t worry. I’m sure you’ll be at the receiving end of the truth soon enough.”

 

 

 

 

◆ ◆ ◆

 

 

 

 

The winter days passed uncounted. New guild members arrived sporadically, bringing with them stories to while the evening hours away. To Nathan’s relief, none were as smug as Ollie.

Cormac continued his private conversations with both of them, but the worth of their talks remained a mystery to Brohm. That worried Nathan, knowing if Brohm considered it a waste of time, he’d have no interest in continuing. Nathan hoped this session would prove different.

“Let’s start from the beginning,” Cormac said to Brohm. “What do you want in your life?”

The big man scratched the back of his head, opened his mouth to reply, but shrugged instead. “What kinda question is that?”

“’Tis a question with no wrong answer.”

Brohm sighed heavily. “I just want to . . .”

Cormac sat patiently in silence, letting him formulate an answer. Nathan urged him to speak by taking his hand. They shared a glance, and Nathan recognized fear in his eyes.

“I just wanna feel safe,” Brohm mumbled.

“You feel unsafe here?” Cormac asked.

Brohm nodded. “Dunno why. Reckon all this talk has me thinking.”

“About what?” Nathan asked.

“Just . . . everything. I’ve done more these past months than any time before. So much has changed. I’m not who I was.”

“Do you miss who you were?” Cormac asked.

Brohm thought a moment, and then looked to Nathan. “No, reckon not. I was a bad guy, but didn’t care. Then I met you. Everything changed. I started caring what I did to others.” He took a breath. “Gods, I feel sick to my stomach.”

“What you’re feeling is regret,” Cormac said. “’Tis part of your journey to redemption.”

Brohm’s voice quavered. “But the things I’ve done. Dunno if I deserve it.”

Nathan sat in stunned silence. Brohm’s words mirrored his own feelings.

“True redemption doesn’t come easily,” Cormac said, “but if you come to terms with what you’ve done, and realize the pain you’ve caused, ’tis a step toward bettering yourself.”

“I don’t know how to do that,” Brohm said. “Reckon my death is the only way to say sorry for everyone I’ve hurt, but I don’t wanna die.”

Cormac shook his head. “Death, ’tis the easy way out—you’d be relieved of the burden of remorse. By living, you are forced to come to terms with your actions.”

Brohm nodded, blinking at the tears in his eyes. Cormac turned his attention to Nathan.

“You’ve been quiet,” he said. “Speak your mind.”

“Everything Brohm said relates to how I feel,” Nathan said. “I’ve felt guilty for some time now. I tried to atone by helping someone I hurt, and—”

Brohm gripped his arm. “No.”

Cormac didn’t intervene. He simply waited, ever patient.

“I tried to help him,” Nathan continued. “But he got too close to the truth, almost got the authorities involved.”

Brohm shook his arm. “Stop.”

“I had to kill him to keep our secret safe.”

Brohm let out a sigh of resignation.

“’Tis a deed that occurred recently?” Cormac asked.

Nathan nodded.

“Do you regret it?”

“Of course I do!”

“Had this occurred a year prior, would you’ve regretted it?”

Nathan finally understood what Cormac was doing. His silence answered the question.

“You see? You’re a better person now, even though you killed that man.”

“But we never got caught,” Brohm said. “How can we be better men if we weren’t punished for it?”

“Would rotting in a cell or being hanged lessen your guilt? Would it make you a better man?”

Brohm considered his questions before speaking. “Reckon not.”

“Understand, I don’t condone murderers running amok, but I also don’t think locking men up does them any good. That you feel guilt for your actions? ’Tis its own form of punishment.”

Nathan scoffed. “That’s a strange way of putting it, but I guess you’re right.”

Cormac turned to Brohm. “I’m pleased you can confide in me, but I realize you still don’t trust me. As I learn more of your past, I understand why putting your trust in someone is so difficult. ’Tis your way of protecting yourselves. Continue to be wary, but don’t close yourself off completely. Without trust, you cannot grow.”

“You make it sound so simple,” Brohm said, “but it’s not.”

A knock at the door interrupted them again, and Leah popped her head in with an apologetic grimace.

“Sorry. There’s a courier here.”

Nathan didn’t want the conversation to stop between Cormac and Brohm, so he insisted they continue while he dealt with the courier. A woman stood at the entrance of the guildhouse, her cheeks red from the cold weather. In her hand was a wax-sealed letter.

“Greetings, sir,” she said. “I’m to deliver this message to Sid.”

Nathan caught sight of the turquoise pin on her cloak. “Sure, I’ll take it to him.”

“I’m sorry, sir. I must deliver this to him directly.”

“My name is Whitter. We’re partners at this guildhouse, and we’re expecting word from Shaw at Croydon. Is that from him?”

“I can’t disclose its contents. I have orders to personally hand this to Sid.”

Nathan huffed. “Fine. I’ll get him.”

He fetched Brohm, and the courier took him aside to speak privately. When Nathan tried to join the conversation, the courier held up her hand.

“Sir, please stand away,” she said.

“This is crazy,” Brohm said. “I’m just going to show him the message after I read it.”

“I’m afraid not, sir. Once you’ve read it, I’ve been ordered to destroy it.”

“What?” Nathan said. “What could it possibly say that only he can know?”

“I’m not privy to that information, sir. I have my orders. Please don’t make this any harder than it needs to be.”

Nathan rolled his eyes. “Fine, do whatever you need to do. He’s just gonna tell me what it says afterward.”

“Yuh. Do they seriously think they can keep something between us?”

The courier, growing impatient, shrugged in reply. Brohm led her upstairs to one of the empty rooms, passing Zoe on the stairs.

“What’s going on?” she asked.

Nathan explained the situation to her, and she found it just as odd. A few moments later, the courier descended the staircase, letter in hand. Brohm stopped halfway down and caught Nathan’s eye. There was no question something was wrong. The courier stepped toward the hearth.

“Wait a minute,” Nathan said, reaching out to stop her.

“Sir, please don’t interfere!”

Before he could do anything, she tossed the letter into the roaring fire. Nathan raised his arms in anger.

“I don’t understand. Why the secrecy? Why couldn’t I read it?”

She turned to face him, clearly at wits end. “I don’t know how many times I need to repeat myself. I know as much as you. Goodbye.”

She spun on a heel and left before another word could be spoken. Nathan stared at Brohm in disbelief.

“We need to pack our bags and head to Croydon,” Brohm said. “Shaw needs us.”

“What. Now?”

Brohm nodded grimly and headed upstairs, and Nathan rushed to catch up.

“What did the message say?”

“There’ve been other run-ins with those things. As far as they can tell, they’re coming from the south.”

“Did they say how many?”

“It didn’t go into detail. Shaw wants to brief us in person.”

“But what are we supposed to do about it?”

Brohm shrugged. “It didn’t say.”

They reached their bedroom and fell to the task of packing travel apparel into rucksacks.

“I still don’t understand why the courier had such strict instructions,” Nathan muttered.

“That’s one thing he was clear about in the letter. No one can know.”

“What about the guildhouse? One of us should stay behind to make sure things run smoothly.”

“Things’re quiet,” Brohm said with a shrug, “and there’s enough men here to take care of any jobs that come in.”

“This doesn’t make sense. Both of us leaving makes things complicated. The message was sent to you—strictly you. Why do I need to go?”

Brohm hesitated a moment before replying. “It said Shaw wanted to see us.”

“If that’s the case, why couldn’t I read it?”

“Nathan—”

“Did it say something else?”

“Stop!” Brohm’s booming voice filled the room. He let out a curt breath and continued roughly thrusting clothes into his rucksack. “Don’t argue with me, okay?” he said sternly.

Nathan stopped packing and watched him with trepidation. Brohm gave him a sidelong glance in return.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to yell,” he muttered. “I just . . . I’m not in the mood to ride in the cold.”

He fumbled while tightening the straps of his sack and hefted it onto his shoulder, vacating the bedroom without another word.

 

 

 

 

◆ ◆ ◆

 

 

 

 

They hit the road in short time, pushing their mounts hard in hopes they’d reach the traveller’s inn near the Helmsley Keep road before the end of the day. Nathan knew it was an impossible task, but Brohm remained determined. That blind determination did nothing to aid them, of course. Night had fallen by the time they finally reached the inn, and both men were exhausted.

Brohm said little and kept his distance from Nathan, blaming it on fatigue when asked. Even once in bed, Brohm gently pushed him away when he tried to get close. This continued the following days. A hard day’s ride, a meal where little was spoken, and then an attempt to sleep. Brohm dispensed the same excuse for being distant, and each night, Nathan felt his heart crushed that much more.

By the fourth evening, Nathan couldn’t take it anymore. It was an hour after they laid down to rest, but he couldn’t sleep. Their room, lit by moonlight streaming through the window, was enough to perceive Brohm’s sleeping form. Nathan wanted so badly to hold him, to be held by him, to feel his touch, his warmth. Yes, the big man lay beside him, but he might as well have been across an ocean. Nathan couldn’t hold back his emotions any longer and fell to racking sobs, covering his mouth to silence himself, but that didn’t stop Brohm from waking.

“What’s wrong?” the big man asked as he turned toward him. For the first time in days, his voice held compassion.

“I’d ask you the same thing,” Nathan blurted. “We’ve been travelling together for days, but gods, I’ve never felt so alone.”

Brohm was at a loss for words, but the guilt on his face spoke volumes. This hurt Nathan more than ever.

“Talk to me,” he pleaded. “This all started with that damned letter. What did it say?”

Unable to hold his gaze, Brohm rose from the bed and leaned against the windowsill, peering out the window. He kept his silence. Nathan—fighting against the need to stand beside him—remained seated on the bed.

“I know the letter said something about me. But what?”

Brohm’s head dropped. “I can’t tell you.”

“How important is it you keep this from me? I don’t understand why you’re acting this way.”

“We’ll reach Croydon tomorrow. Then you’ll understand.”

“What’s the difference between you telling me now, and tomorrow?”

Brohm turned around. Moonlight—its cold, dead colour—highlighted his shape. A dark, hulking silhouette.

“Do you trust me?”

Nathan wiped his eyes. “Of course I do. Don’t you trust me?”

Silence answered.

“Brohm?”

“If you trust me, don’t ask questions. Not until we reach Croydon.”

“Don’t you trust me?” Nathan repeated.

Brohm turned back to the window, his shoulders heaving as he tried to hold back tears.

 

 

 

 

◆ ◆ ◆

 

 

 

 

Neither man slept, and both were relieved to glimpse the first rays of sunlight overtaking the endless night. They left with haste and without words, wanting the journey to be behind them.

As the day wore on, closing in on their destination, Nathan grew anxious. His mind filled with terrible notions of what could be wrong. Worse yet, presuming Brohm would leave him for untold reasons left his stomach in knots.

Cresting a hill revealed Croydon on the horizon, and Brohm called out to hasten their pace. Nathan felt compelled to slow down, fighting the urge to turn around. His concern surrounding the letter from Shaw—and Brohm’s reaction to it—felt unimportant. Pulling the reins, he brought his mount to a standstill. Brohm continued a few moments before realizing he was alone, then turned his horse to look back.

“What’re you doing?” he called back at Nathan. “Come on!”

Nathan knew he had to continue, but every muscle in his body refused to comply. Brohm drew near, his brows knitted in apprehension.

“You okay?” he asked.

Nathan’s stare stood transfixed on the horizon, at Croydon. Try as he might, he couldn’t look away.

“I’m afraid.”

Brohm bit his lip, uncertainty growing on his face. He manoeuvred his horse parallel to Nathan’s and took hold of both sets of reins.

“We’ll go together the rest of the way. Nice and slow, yuh?”

Nathan didn’t answer. Even if he wanted to reply, he wouldn’t have been able to. His tongue felt thick, like a foreign lump of flesh in his mouth.

With Brohm in control, both horses trotted toward town. Upon reaching the guild headquarters, Brohm helped Nathan dismount, and led him to the main office. He greeted the receptionist who, as usual, found himself surrounded by a mountain of paperwork.

“Can you let Mr. Shaw know Sid and Whitter are here to see him?” Brohm said.

At the mention of their names, the receptionist stiffened a moment. His eyes darted between both of them before painting on a smile to cover his surprise.

“Certainly. Please take a seat.”

Nathan shivered before following Brohm to the bench.

“Did you see that?” he whispered as they sat down.

Brohm gave him a confused look before shaking his head. “What?”

“That guy. When you said our names, he acted weird—”

“Mr. Shaw will see you now,” the receptionist said, motioning for them to approach.

His wooden smile remained intact, and Brohm imparted Nathan a subtle nod in appreciation for his concern. They entered Shaw’s office, finding him at his desk.

“Take a seat,” he said flatly.

The unsettling judgement given by the receptionist was stronger still from Shaw. Reluctantly, they sat in chairs opposite his desk.

“I got the letter and followed your instructions,” Brohm said. “But we need answers. You said Whitter’s life is in danger, and you’d be able to help him.”

Nathan turned to Brohm. “What?”

“You’ve been bit by a gobling, correct?” Shaw asked Nathan.

“Yeah, I was bit by one of those creatures,” he said. “A gobling?”

“That’s what we’re calling them. Your description matched. You say you killed five of them?”

“Yuh, that’s right,” Brohm said.

“You were lucky. Folks in the south reported larger mobs of them. We’ve had a few sightings outside Croydon. Have you seen any more since then? Any reports from citizens in Millsfield?”

Brohm shook his head.

“Good. As I said, we’re pretty sure they’re coming from the south. We assume they don’t like the cold weather. But if we don’t figure out the source soon, this whole area could be overrun come summer.”

Nathan raised a hand, shaking it to get his attention. “You said my life’s in danger? How?”

Shaw stared at Nathan for an uncomfortably long moment. “The bite you sustained has effects beyond a bad scar. We’re still trying to understand it, but for nearly everyone who’s been bitten, their sanity becomes . . . suspect.”

Nathan’s mind reeled. If he were honest with himself, he hadn’t felt right since they departed on their journey, but he assumed it was caused by Brohm’s sullen mood.

“But why the secrecy?” he asked, anger edging into his voice. “Why was it so important I be left in the dark?”

Brohm, guilt-ridden, stared at his feet.

Shaw sighed. “I apologize to both of you. If it’s any consolation, Sid was given few details in case the truth was revealed.”

“What truth?” Nathan cried.

A quick rap at the door caught their attention, and four men wearing white linen entered the office. Their size nearly matched Brohm’s.

Nathan couldn’t take it anymore. “Will someone please tell me what’s going on?”

Shaw raised his hands in an attempt to placate him. “We just need to hold you for observation.”

“What? No! You can’t hold me here.”

Brohm swiftly rose to his feet to shield Nathan from the new arrivals. “Hey, listen. He’s fine. Reckon we just—”

“Sid, do you care about your partner?” Shaw asked. “Because if you do, you need to trust us.”

“I barely know you,” Brohm said. “No, we’re leaving.”

He turned to grab Nathan and escort him out, but meaty hands seized Brohm first. He was swift to react, spinning with a readied fist toward whomever had touched him. The wallop downed the man. Two others fell upon Brohm, forcing him to the ground before he could react. A litany of curses spewed from Brohm’s mouth as his arms were held behind his back.

Nathan jumped to action. Pulling his dagger free, he leaped atop one of Brohm’s assailants and held the blade against his throat.

“You let him go, then we’re walking out of here.”

Shaw stood wide-eyed at the scene before him. “Everyone just relax. Do as he says.”

The two men restraining Brohm released their hold, but Nathan’s dagger remained on the man’s throat until they were clear.

Shaw advanced with his hands up. “Sid, Whitter, I beg you to reconsider. Those afflicted have murdered others in madness. Their loved ones, their children. Whitter, seeing you react this way has me worried.”

Brohm stood beside Nathan. “No, that’s normal for him. We protect each other, no matter what.”

“Would you consider staying in Croyden for a few days, just in case? Please, we just don’t want anyone to get needlessly hurt.”

Nathan shook from the adrenaline in his veins. The events of the last few days were crashing down on him, and he found himself furious.

“No!” he screamed. “We’re leaving!”

He grabbed Brohm by the arm and stormed past Shaw and the four men. Upon crossing the threshold to the waiting area, the receptionist—who’d been listening in—immediately jumped back and stumbled against the far wall.

Shaw’s voice echoed from behind. “Please. Reconsider.”

To Nathan’s surprise, he felt resistance from Brohm. At first trying to slow him, and then pulling free of his grip. Nathan turned to find everyone crowding the doorway, staring at him.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

Brohm gestured at Nathan’s face. “You’re all sweaty, pale. You okay?”

Nathan’s vision doubled for a moment, and he blinked it away. He gazed at his hands. They were clammy, white. He looked back at the group, concern written on their faces. A surge of vertigo slammed into him, and his legs turned to jelly. Brohm leaped forward and managed to catch his fall. He was speaking, but Nathan couldn’t decipher the words. His ears felt full of cotton.

His vision blurred and doubled again, but no amount of blinking helped to clear it. Brohm’s voice rose to panic, and Nathan felt himself being shaken. Four faceless men loomed above, failing to move Brohm aside as he held Nathan tight.

Nathan couldn’t understand what he was seeing. His vision shrank, its edges eaten by an ever-growing black void. The indistinct voices melted away. He fought against his closing eyelids, but the effort was more than he could give.

Everything turned dark and silent, and his awareness fell into a deep abyss.