Deeds of Their Past - 22. Chapter Twenty-two

Sleep had taken Nathan, however he’d been unable to recall when. He found himself on his side, Brohm holding him close with an arm wrapped protectively against his chest. He couldn’t deny feeling Brohm’s manhood pushing against the small of his back, and wished they were in a warm bed instead of an abandoned cave.

It was then he realized a glowing blue representation of the cavern was discernible. Although quite dim, every crevasse was perfectly lit, and rubbing his eyes did nothing to alter the hallucination.

“Brohm, wake up.”

The big man grunted and groaned, shifting slightly, yet remained asleep. Nathan fought against the hefty arm holding him down, and turned to shake him awake.

“Brohm!”

“W-wha?”

Yawning, Brohm suddenly sat up straight upon seeing the blue emanations.

“I can . . . I can see!” he said with excitement.

“So it’s not just me?” Nathan examined the wall closely, poking at the small blue dots growing there, and luminescent goo remained on his finger.

“You reckon it’s poisonous?” Brohm asked.

“I’ve no idea, but at this point, does it really matter? Let’s get dressed.”

Nathan quickly gathered his belongings, and although his clothes were still cold and damp, he didn’t care. They set on their way, heading away from the stream. The blue glow continued unabated, and despite the passage snaking its way left and right irregularly, it only offered a single route with no offshoots.

“Do you hear that?” Brohm asked, grabbing Nathan’s shoulder to stop him, and cupped a hand to his ear.

Like a distant dream, Nathan thought he could hear the crash of waves upon a shore.

“The sea.”

Nathan rushed ahead with hope swelling in his chest, yet as quickly as it came, the sight ahead unceremoniously ripped it from his being. The blue light was dimming, however glancing back, they found the walls still glowing strong. Sharing a worried look, they stepped forward until reaching a tight corner. Beyond was inky blackness, halting their progress.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Brohm cried, collapsing to his knees.

“The sound of the sea is clearer,” Nathan said. “This has to be the way out.”

“But it’s so dark. I—”

“You’ve fought this every time. You can do it again.”

Brohm regarded him with a distraught frown, yet underneath, even in the dim light, Nathan caught sight of his spark of determination.

“I’ll lead,” he continued, offering a hand. “All you need to do is hold onto my pack, okay?”

Brohm gazed down the dark corridor, and then back to Nathan. At last, he took his hand and pulled himself up. “Alright, let’s get this over with.”

Using the sound of the waves for guidance, Nathan edged his way into the dark passageway. After each step, he probed ahead for broken ground or overhead obstacles. Sometimes stepping forward would result in a tug on the straps of his rucksack from Brohm’s grip holding him back. The slow progress was exhausting, but his confidence bolstered each time the sea crashed just a little bit louder.

“I see something,” Brohm said as they rounded another corner.

Nathan glanced up. Slivers of white light slashed across the rock wall, and a fresh breeze cooled his sweat-streaked face. With a clear path before them, they both scrambled toward the light.

Shielding their sensitive eyes from the glare, they emerged from the cavern to find themselves on a precarious narrow path, leading up a sheer cliff. Below, the tremulous sea roiled, deafening them with the crash of the tide. Sticking close to the wall, they climbed up the jagged ledge, and upon reaching the top, recognized the spires of Tornel Keep in the distance. Both men looked on incredulously.

“That cave was a back door,” Brohm said.

“A huge security problem, if you ask me,” Nathan added.

“Yuh, but if we wanted to get more of those coins, it a hells of a lot easier to go that way.”

“Go back in there? After everything that’s happened, you’re the last guy I would’ve expected to make that suggestion.”

Brohm shrugged. “Well, it’s a lot of coin.”

The hike through the tall grass proved an easy task, and by late morning, they arrived at the courtyard. While Brohm went to check on the horses, Nathan sat on the colonnade steps to check the contents of his heavy rucksack.

A sudden flapping sound, perhaps a large flag in a strong wind, caught his attention. However peering up the courtyard walls revealed nothing out of the ordinary, and there were certainly no standards flying from the barren flagpoles. The sun beamed down on his face and warmed his damp clothes. He closed his eyes and smiled, feeling good after being cold for so long. Upon returning, Brohm found Nathan had pulled everything out to take inventory, and was munching on a biscuit.

“The food survived?” he asked.

Nathan nodded and handed him the small sack.

“I’m starving!” the big man managed to say before cramming his mouth full.

Nathan laughed, choking on the dry bread and took a swig from his waterskin. They ate in silence, listening to the distant birds singing, and the ever-present crash of the sea. It was then Brohm noticed the sizable pile of coins on the top step.

“Whoa, we took a lot more than I thought,” he said.

“Yeah. If we get out of this mess, that should hold us for quite some time.”

“What do y’mean if? All we need to do is give Morgana the amulet.”

“We don’t even know if that’s the one she’s looking for.”

Brohm slumped his shoulders. “Y’know, sometimes you’re a real downer.”

“I just . . . don’t want to get my hopes up. Sorry, I didn’t mean to bring you down.”

The big man sighed, pulling out the coins from his pocket and added them to the pile. “Well, I reckon if things don’t work out, having this coin’ll help either way.”

“You never fail to find the best side of a bad situation,” Nathan said. “An admirable trait.”

Brohm beamed him a smile. “Say, I was wondering, how’d you know you were gonna slip in that stream?”

Nathan found himself thrown off-guard at the sudden memory. “I, uh, dreamt about it.”

“You mean the nightmares you’ve been having.”

Nathan nodded.

“There was something else though. Something you were afraid of.”

Nathan nodded again.

“What was it?”

“I don’t want to talk about it, Brohm.”

“Why not? After all, it didn’t happen.”

“Sure, but that doesn’t mean I want to recount it.”

Brohm pursed his lips, not hiding the fact that he wanted to know more. “How bad could it be—”

Nathan huffed and blurted it out. “In my dream, there was a daemon down there.”

“A daemon?”

“That was the second time I saw it. The first time was at your farmhouse.”

“At the farmhouse? What do you mean?”

“I had a vision of it, and I swear I was awake when it happened too.”

“But it had to be a dream. Daemons aren’t real,” Brohm said in an attempt to convince himself.

“Now you understand my concern. And to top it all, it keeps telling me I’m getting closer to it.”

It was clear Brohm didn’t like where the conversation was going, and he stood up, dusting his hands clean. “There’s a few empty saddlebags that should be able to hold all this coin. I’ll be right back. No more talk of daemons, yuh?”

“Hey, you wanted to know.”

“And now I’m regretting it.”

Nathan chuckled, watching him head toward the stables. More specifically, he marvelled how his trousers hugged his behind so perfectly. Once he was out of sight, Nathan lay back on the steps and closed his eyes, soaking in the sun, conceiving the prospect of simpler times where he didn’t have to watch his back. He tried to imagine spending his life with Brohm, but realized he wasn’t sure if the big man was the type to settle down.

Another flapping sound interrupted his daydream, followed by an earthshaking thump. He opened his eyes to find the daemon on the other side of the courtyard. Frozen in fear, he blinked, unable to believe what he beheld. The beast, crouched from landing with wings spread wide, stood to its full height of nearly three metres. Nathan tried to yell for help, but found his voice caught in his throat.

“I have been looking everywhere for you,” it rumbled, lumbering toward him with certain menace. Powerful muscle flexed under thick inky black skin.

Nathan finally found his wits and scrambled up the steps. He pulled his dagger, feeling woefully underpowered against such a monster.

“BROHM!”

It laughed at his attempt to defend himself, its smile revealing a series of sharp teeth. “That weapon will not be necessary. And I should say, rather pointless. Whether you like it or not, you are coming with me.”

It reached out and easily swiped the dagger out of his grip, flying well out of reach. Nathan turned to run, but the beast grabbed an arm and roughly yanked him off his feet.

“Nathan!”

Brohm arrived from the stables, dropping the saddlebags and yanked his sword from its scabbard.

The daemon casually glanced over at him. “Your knight in shining armour, I presume?”

“I’ll do what I have to,” Brohm warned. “Let him go!”

It let out a curiously mirthful laugh.

“Where are you taking me?” Nathan asked.

“If you must know, Lord Helmsley said you had unfinished business. He is waiting for our arrival at Brockford.”

“Helmsley? No!” Brohm said.

“He said you have been naughty,” it continued, wagging a finger mockingly. “Shall we depart?”

“I won’t let you take him,” Brohm bellowed, charging the beast with sword in both hands.

It took the impact directly, but the blade bounced and skidded off its black hide. Brohm, baffled by the outcome, attempted again. This time, the daemon knocked the sword aside, caught Brohm in its clawed hand and dashed him against the stone steps headfirst.

“No!” Nathan cried.

His friend lay motionless, sprawled awkwardly, blood pooling from an unseen wound on his head.

“Time to go,” it said, pulling him close to its body.

Nathan tried to fight its grip, but even with one hand holding him, it was a futile effort. Wings spread out, the beast leapt up the side of the building, digging claws and talons into the stone wall. It leapt again, high in the air, reaching the peak of the keep. Continuing its momentum with a heavy gait, it ran past the edge and strong wings pulled them up into the air.

Nathan stared back the entire time, watching Brohm’s lifeless prone body, hoping to see him stir before falling out of sight. He never budged. Tears streaked down his cheek, and his heart ached. Filled with anger. Sadness. Regret.

And then emptiness.

With one breath, he gave in to his fate. He stopped resisting. He didn’t care anymore. Closing the door on his emotions was best. Just like before. It was always better that way, and he’d been a fool to think otherwise.