Strength of Fate - 9. Chapter Nine

It began with a breeze. Gentle, warm, fragrant.

A rush of sound hit his ears. Birdsong, the rustle of long grass in the wind, the rise and fall of distant conversation. He couldn’t determine the words, but their tone was jovial, peppered with laughter. Everything was harsh at first, however after drowning in a sea of silence, the contrast of any sound was painful.

With effort, Nathan opened his eyes warily, not wanting to overwhelm his senses any further. He was dumbfounded to find himself in his bedroom. Sunlight filled the space, but from his vantage point, he couldn’t catch a glimpse of much else. He risked moving his head to the right, toward the source of the light. Brohm sat in a chair nearby, sleeping, his head slumped forward. A smile grew upon Nathan’s face. It was always a pleasure to catch the big man in a state of vulnerable repose. He savoured it, enjoying the tug of emotion it brought.

The large window facing north toward the mountains was open. Another breeze rippled the thin curtains. Nathan frowned in confusion. It was the dead of winter. Questioning the warm breeze brought his last memory back to the surface. He abruptly sat up in shock, swinging his legs around and planting them on the floor. There was dizziness, but it was short-lived. He tried to speak, but only a croak emerged. He cleared his throat and tried again.

“Brohm,” he said hoarsely.

A pitcher of water sat on the bedside table. He filled a cup and drank. Brohm emerged from his nap, rubbing his eyes before realizing Nathan was up. He sat erect, stunned.

“Nathan?”

“How long have I been sleeping?” Nathan asked before pouring another cup of water. His voice was clearing up.

Brohm put a hand to his forehead as though he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. “You’re talking?”

Nathan grew concerned. “How long have I been out?”

The big man sat on the bed beside him and held him close. “It’s late spring. I can’t believe you’re talking.”

“What happened to me?”

“What do you remember?”

“Shaw’s office, the fight with those guys in white . . .”

Brohm’s mouth hung open. “Nothing after?”

“No. I—”

“I mean, reckon that makes sense. You’ve been awake, but completely out of it.”

“What do you mean?”

Brohm gathered his thoughts before speaking. “You’d fallen unconscious but woke up soon after. You were so angry, completely out of control. They had to tie you down to a bed so you wouldn’t hurt yourself. The worst was over a couple of weeks later, but you wouldn’t talk. It was like you didn’t care or something. You could walk around, feed yourself, all that stuff. But you weren’t . . . you.”

Nathan caught a shine in Brohm’s eyes, waiting for him to continue.

“There were times I thought you were trying to break out of whatever held you, but it never lasted long. You just fell back to staring at a wall.” Brohm hugged him, tightly this time. “I can’t believe you’re back.”

Try as he might, Nathan had no memory of any of this. Perhaps it was for the best.

“And it was caused by that bite?” he asked, breaking the embrace to look at his arm. The scar was old, but there were still clearly defined marks where the sharp teeth had dug in. He touched it, feeling the texture of the wound. The pain he remembered felt like a dream.

“Yuh, that’s what they said.”

Distant laughter rose from the common area below.

“What’s going on down there?” Nathan asked.

Brohm chuckled. “Reckon there’s lots to fill you in on. The guildhouse has been popular. Shaw wasn’t kidding when he said one was needed in Millsfield. As soon as word spread, jobs came in fast. Guild members have swarmed the place.”

Nathan rose and opened the wardrobe to get dressed.

Brohm roughly made the bed as he continued. “Iain’s still a prick, but the coin coming through this place made him a bit more tolerable.”

“We’re doing well, then?” Nathan asked.

Brohm presented a toothy grin and nodded. “Oh yuh, money’s not a problem.”

They headed downstairs, the noise growing louder as they reached the main floor. Someone was playing a guitar, poorly but with gusto. Nathan found the common area filled with members—a couple dozen at least. The tables were a mess of plates and cups. Brohm led him to the kitchen and opened the door.

“Look who’s back!” he announced.

Leah spun from her work to find Nathan following Brohm through the door.

“Boss?!”

She broke into a run, colliding with Nathan in an attempt to hug him, but instead nearly bowling him over. They both laughed.

“You’re talking?” she asked.

“I am,” he replied.

Edgard flashed a grin and delivered a friendly slap on the back. “Welcome back, m’boy. It’s good to see life in those eyes again instead of just staring into space.”

“That’s what Sid told me. I have no memory of any of it.”

Leah offered him a puzzled look. “How can that be?”

Nathan shrugged. “I’m just glad it’s over.”

Edgard jerked a thumb toward the kitchen. “You hungry? Got plenty of roast beef left from lunch.”

Nathan nodded. “Sounds good. Though, do you mind if I eat back here? It’s a little too loud for me out there.”

The stout man smiled. “Of course. It’s always nice to have extra company in the kitchen. Take a seat at the prep table, and I’ll fix you a plate.”

He did so with Brohm and an excited Leah in tow.

“This guy,” she said, poking Brohm’s belly. “Don’t let him go! He kept watch over you the entire time.”

“He did?” Nathan asked.

Brohm playfully swatted away Leah’s hand.

“He loves you, you know,” she mock-whispered in Nathan’s ear.

Brohm blushed as he pulled her away to give Nathan some space. “That’s enough, m’lady.”

Leah acquainted Nathan with guildhouse news, but his attention remained on Brohm. He caught his eye, and the big man gave him the crooked smile he adored.

 

 

◆ ◆ ◆

 

 

The guildhouse hummed with activity over the following days. With the money they were making, it was possible to pay for labourers to perform minor repairs and upgrades to the guildhouse. Nathan walked the grounds, idly watching the men work from afar. Being out of the loop for so long, he felt disconnected from everything going on around him. Brohm insisted he relax, despite the fact he’d been doing nothing for months, and he felt useless with everyone around him busy with work.

As he rounded a corner of the guildhouse, sunlight glinting off the blade of a scythe caught his attention. He didn’t know if they hired someone to take care of the grounds, but the sight of the tool was a perfect excuse to test his stamina.

The grass at the front of the guildhouse was well-maintained, but was growing unruly along the building’s flanks and backyard. Using the length of the trimmed grass as a guide, he worked the scythe to cut a clean edge along the building. The smell of the grass invigorated him and brought a smile to his face. He could feel weakness in his muscles, but that was to be expected. The repeated movement of working the tool felt wonderful, and he was soon covered with a sheen of sweat. Periodically, he would stop to look back at his work, trying his best to produce a four-metre-wide column of cut grass between the field and the edge of the building. Nodding with approval, he continued onward.

As he approached the back, the strikes of hammer on metal broke his trance. He poked his head around the corner to find the completed addition built over the winter. Zoe’s smithy. He’d not seen her since he’d awoken from his long sleep. He dropped the scythe and wiped his brow, approaching the workshop. Peering in, he found her working on a piece of metal but couldn’t tell what it was. Her back was toward him, and he didn’t want to interrupt her work, so he waited patiently. It was a good excuse to take a break. After a few minutes of hammering the metal, she used tongs to carry it into a bucket of water. Violent steam rose as the metal cooled.

Nathan drew near. “Hey, Zoe.”

She jumped at his voice and turned toward him.

“Sorry,” he said. “Didn’t mean to spook you.”

She wore an elusive smile. “You’ve been a ghost for a while. I guess you spooking me is appropriate.”

Nathan scoffed at her joke. “I hadn’t seen you these past few days. You been busy?”

“Busy enough. I saw you before, but you were crowded by the rest of the gang, so I figured I’d wait until the dust settled—to say ‘welcome back’ when you could actually hear me.”

Nathan nodded and gestured around himself. “You happy with the smithy?”

She put down the tongs. “Yeah. I’ve never worked in one built new, so it took time to break it in, so to speak. But being able to have everything where I want it? That’s nice.”

“Great. So what’re you working—”

“How’s the arm?” she asked.

Nathan gave her a bemused smile, realizing she had no interest in talking about her work. He lifted his sleeve to show the marks. “It’s better, I guess.”

“Has anyone filled you in on what’s happening with those creatures that attacked us?”

Nathan shook his head. “What do you mean?”

“Ever since the warmer weather started, there’ve been more reports of sightings around Millsfield. They’re more active at night, so attacks are rare, but no one has any idea where they’re coming from.”

Nathan’s face reddened in frustration. “Sid didn’t mention anything about this.”

“I think he’s just trying to keep things easy for you.”

He scanned their surroundings to make sure no one was within earshot. “To be honest, I’m getting tired of being treated like a child.”

“I respect that, but you have to admit everything you’ve been through is pretty messed up.” She gave him a quick once-over. “You seem fine, though, so maybe it’s time to stand up for yourself.”

“I’m already on it, but first I need to finish cutting the grass,” he said, thumbing out the doorway.

“Have fun.”

He headed out, beholden to the northern view. The long grass swayed gently, brushing against the treeline covering the ravine beyond, and crowned by the ice-peaked mountain range. It hadn’t been a year since he and Brohm had travelled through the pass of those mountains, trying to escape what seemed like the world snapping at their heels. He took a deep, slow, cleansing breath and closed his eyes, feeling the sun on his skin. He’d never felt such safety before, hiding from the world with a name and face alien to him. But if he were being honest, a minuscule part of himself missed the chaos of his old life.

“Hey,” Zoe called out.

Nathan pulled back from his thoughts and turned to find her wearing the faintest smile.

“Welcome back, Whitter.”

 

 

◆ ◆ ◆

 

 

Evening had fallen by the time Nathan completed the work to his satisfaction. His body ached, however the gratification of a job well done was more important than any pain he felt. Just as he finished raking the grass cuttings into a pile, Brohm arrived.

“I said to take it easy, yuh?” the big man said with a smirk.

“I was bored,” Nathan said. “Anyway, it needed doing and it felt good.”

Brohm surveyed the area and nodded. “Well, if it feels good, then I reckon it’s okay.”

Nathan gathered the tools and rested them against the side of the guildhouse. “Zoe mentioned the goblings are getting pretty bad. Why didn’t you tell me?”

Brohm shrugged. “Not much anyone can do aside from killing ’em when they spot ’em. It’s not like you were in a position to deal with it.”

Nathan let out a curt sigh. “I’m not some invalid who needs to be taken care of.”

“But days ago, you were!” An edge crept into Brohm’s voice. “It’s been five months. You can’t expect me to treat you like normal just like that.”

Nathan stared at the ground. He felt a fool. “You’re right. I’m sorry.” He placed a hand on Brohm’s shoulder and squeezed it. “I don’t think I even properly thanked you for watching over me all that time.”

Brohm’s expression softened. “You don’t have to.”

“But I do,” he said, looking into his eyes. “I know I keep repeating myself, but I can’t understand what I did in this life to deserve you.”

Brohm pulled him into a hug. “That goes both ways, l’il buddy.”

They held each other for a time, enjoying the simple pleasure of it. Then Nathan turned back to the northern view, accompanied by the whiff of cut grass. Sunlight shining this late in the day drew hard shadows, exposing fresh details in the mountain range. He could stand there for hours and still discover new features. Brohm, uninterested in the view, looked at Nathan from the corner of his eye. A curious frown crossed his face as he watched.

“Sorry for not telling you about the goblings,” he said. “It wasn’t on my mind. Anyway, it’s not like it’s our responsibility, yuh?”

“I guess since we were first to find them here, I feel somewhat responsible to find the source. I mean, we’re a part of the guild. It’s what we do.”

Brohm shrugged. “Dunno. Reckon dealing with that is bigger than just the two of us.”

“Hey, you two.” Leah approached, carrying a basket covered by a blanket. “I considered you might enjoy some time together outside. So I packed a picnic for your dinner.”

Nathan couldn’t help but laugh. “Leah, you’re so thoughtful.”

“It’s nothing special. I just whipped up a few sandwiches, grabbed a few apples, and Edgard baked some sugared biscuits earlier today, so I snuck in a bunch of those, too.”

Brohm let out a mirthful grunt of approval. “Thanks, Leah.”

She passed the basket to them with a beaming smile. “Enjoy your evening.”

Brohm watched her skip away. “I’ve never met anyone like her before. You?”

Nathan shook his head, smiling. “She’s definitely special.”

“You wanna sit here?” Brohm asked, gesturing to the freshly cut lawn.

“I have a better idea.”

Nathan took his hand and led him away from the guildhouse into the field of long grass. After a fair distance, Nathan set down the blanket to flatten the grass and sat down.

Brohm, a smirk on his face, peered around before sinking below the green horizon to join him. “Kinda private, yuh?”

Nathan winked. “That’s the idea.”

They ate in silence, enjoying each other’s company and the protective surroundings, even if it was just grass. Hidden from the world, it felt like they could’ve been anywhere. Maybe out on the road, in the middle of nowhere. All that mattered to Nathan was they were together, alone, away from the noise of the guildhouse.

“I realize it’s been months, but it still feels like everything that happened in Croydon was just a few days ago,” Nathan mused.

With his mouth full, Brohm just nodded.

Nathan continued. “What happened between us on the way there? You were keeping your distance from me . . . like you were afraid of me. Why?”

Brohm swallowed, looking down at his half-eaten sandwich. “That letter from Shaw really scared me.”

“I never got an answer about what it said. Shaw said something about knowing the truth?”

The big man sighed. “The letter said you might not be yourself ’cause of the bite on your arm, that you might try to kill me. It said you needed to go to Croydon for healers to look you over. But I couldn’t tell you anything because it might’ve sped up the disease, or whatever you wanna call it.”

Nathan shook his head. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

“I know, but I didn’t wanna take any chances, yuh? Anyway, they were right. He told you the truth, and minutes later you went all wobbly.” He gazed into Nathan’s eyes. “As bad as it was between us, I’m glad I didn’t say anything. The idea of you attacking me, me having to defend myself . . . it reminded me of that cursed swamp we trudged through. I didn’t want that ever again, didn’t want either of us getting hurt. That was running through my head all those days on the road.”

Nathan let his words sink in. “You’re right. As bad as it was, you made the right call.”

They finished their meal in silence, each seemingly lost in their own thoughts. Nathan wanted to take back the conversation he’d initiated. All he yearned for was to enjoy this time with Brohm, and instead he was ruining it. He reached out and placed a hand on Brohm’s thigh. In return, the big man imparted an oddly shy smile.

“Even though we were together on that trip, it felt like we were apart,” Nathan said.

Brohm’s hand covered his. “I know you said it only felt like a few days for you, but it’s been months for me. I’ve . . .” he trailed off, his face blushing.

Nathan giggled. “What? Tell me.”

Brohm gave his crooked grin. “Even though you were here, it wasn’t really you.” He gestured to Nathan’s hand on his leg. “I missed this. I missed you.”

Nathan took the invitation and crawled over to him, gently pushing him onto his back. They held each other. No words were spoken. None were needed. Nathan’s head rested on Brohm’s chest, rising and falling like ocean waves. The rhythmic beat of his heart soothed him. The breeze returned, hypnotically swaying the grass around them.

He didn’t want this moment to end. It was perfection.

“I love you, Nathan.” Brohm’s voice was discreet, as though not wanting to spoil anything, but still needing to state the fact.

Nathan rose to hold Brohm’s cheek. “The gods know I love you, too.”

They kissed slowly, deeply, for an unknowable measure of time. The embrace tightened, fingers digging, their need growing. Brohm broke the kiss and pawed at Nathan’s shirt to remove it. With no grace, they pulled and tugged themselves free of their clothing. Brohm climbed atop him, his bulk holding him firm to the ground. And for hours into the late evening, they were one.

 

 

◆ ◆ ◆

 

 

It was the middle of the night when Nathan woke from a half-remembered dream. Fleeting images of a magickal gateway surrounded by ethereal blue light. Red and purple sunkissed clouds overlooked mountainous, rust-coloured bluffs. It was beautiful, yet his heart filled with sorrow at its memory. He couldn’t fathom why.

Brohm slept soundly at his side, one arm loosely holding him. Nathan’s body ached from the exertion of the day, his muscles tense. He gently unwrapped himself from Brohm, then paced around the room, stretching his arms to ease the tension.

A symphony of night insects drifted in from the open window, and he sauntered toward it. The cool night air felt good on his skin. Peering outside revealed a clear sky twinkling with stars, the moon nearly full, illuminating the landscape with its bluish light.

He continued to stretch his muscles when the insects’ song suddenly stopped in unison. Instead of silence, he heard what sounded like a flag whipping in the wind. Shivers ran down Nathan’s spine. He’d heard that once before.

Resting his palms on the window sill, he craned his neck to look up at the sky. A gliding winged shape circled in a wide arc, silhouetted against the stars. Nathan rushed to Brohm, shaking him. The big man snorted awake, groaning at the intrusion.

“Wake up,” Nathan said as loudly as he dared.

Brohm lifted himself up on one arm, grunting his disapproval again.

“There’s something outside,” Nathan continued. “I think it might be that daemon. The one that took me.”

“Was a dream,” he mumbled. It was clear he hadn’t fully woken up yet.

Nathan rushed back to the window and looked again. The shape was gone. He leaned out farther, desperately scanning the sky. A brief flutter passed by, and the inky shape appeared again.

“You hear that? It’s out there now,” Nathan said.

“I heard something,” Brohm replied, rising to join him.

Nathan pointed at the spot gliding steadily across the sky.

“What is that?” Brohm asked.

As though in response, the shape suddenly dived into the wooded ravine beyond the grass. Its shape was unmistakable—Nathan knew it was the daemon. They both held their breath, waiting for it to emerge from the treeline. The silence held until the insects considered it safe enough to continue their song.

“What should we do?” Nathan asked.

Brohm padded to the wardrobe and donned his trousers. “We’re gonna kill that thing. Consider it payback for trying to kill me last time.”

“You can’t kill it,” Nathan said. “Trust me. I saw Helmsley’s men rush that thing and their blades just bounced off its skin.”

The big man let out a deep sigh. “What you reckon we do?”

Nathan considered their options. There weren’t many. “What if we try . . . talking to it?”

“Are you nuts?” he roared.

Nathan shushed him. “You gotta understand that thing isn’t what I expected. I never told you this, but after it took me, we had a . . . conversation.”

Brohm stared at him incredulously as Nathan continued.

“It told me Helmsley had a hold over it somehow, and the only way to be free was to do his bidding. Its job was to find me. After that, it was free. That’s when it killed Helmsley for trying to attack. I know this sounds crazy, but I think it felt sorry for me. It even apologized for hurting you.”

Brohm laughed humourlessly. “You’re right. That does sound crazy.”

Returning to the window, Nathan peered outside. Nothing had changed.

“So what’re we gonna do?” Brohm asked.

Nathan began dressing as he spoke. “I don’t know about you, but if there’s a daemon living in our backyard, I wanna resolve it.”

With a lantern in hand, they snuck out of their bedroom and headed toward the stairs. Brohm’s boots clomped on the wooden floor.

“Tread lightly,” Nathan hissed.

“I’m trying,” he grumbled under his breath.

They reached the common area without causing a commotion, and Brohm reached for his sword belt.

“I’m telling you, trying to attack it isn’t going to work,” Nathan said.

“Yuh, maybe so, but I’ll still feel better wearing it,” Brohm said, tightening it around his waist. “Anyway, you’ve got your dagger.”

Nathan’s hand touched the blade’s scabbard, realizing he’d strapped it on while dressing without a thought. He offered Brohm a lame smile.

“Just keep your sword sheathed, okay?” he said. “I don’t want to give this thing any excuse to attack.”

Brohm opened the front door leading outside. “This is crazy.”

They forded the river of grass behind the building, heading closer to the ravine. Nathan held the lit lantern, though it was shuttered so as not to bring them any undue attention. Both nervously kept an eye on the skies above and the trees ahead. Their weapons remained sheathed, but neither could stop themselves from resting a hand on the hilt.

The dark treeline loomed ahead of them, and Nathan opened the front shutters to light their way, but it did little to help. He led them while Brohm watched their rear. Very soon, the ground dipped, and they carefully treaded their way downward, deeper into the wood.

From their position, it was hard to know where the daemon had entered from above. No broken holes in the thick canopy yielded any clues. Even with the lantern’s light shielded, their night vision was ruined. All they could perceive remained within a small radius of light ahead of them. Pitch blackness lay beyond.

They skidded down the steep ravine until reaching the bottom. A shallow stream greeted them, peppered with small rocks breaking its surface. They turned in all directions, attempting to pierce the darkness with the lantern, but it was no good.

“I’m going to douse the flame,” Nathan whispered.

Brohm grunted furtively in acknowledgement, positioning himself to stand back to back with Nathan. They stood in the dark, waiting for their night vision to return, ears perked for any sound deemed unnatural. Nathan admitted to himself he was unsure about the plan, and now, standing in the gloam of night, he considered they’d made the wrong decision.

“You’re right,” he whispered to Brohm, “this is crazy.”

A heavy crack to his left made him spin in that direction. Brohm pulled his sword free and stood at his side. In the distance, two red orbs glowed in the dark, moving in unison. Hulking footfalls crunched through fallen branches.

“Nathan,” a voice called out, deep and reverberant.

Nathan knew the voice. It was impossible to mistake it for anything else. He wanted to run, but his legs refused to move.

“I still feel your presence,” the voice continued.

The orbs approached closer, holding Nathan’s gaze. He was terrified. Unable to take a breath.

Brohm pulled him away. “Forget this. Let’s go!” he howled.

“No,” the voice commanded. It was powerful, yet pleading. The red, burning eyes stopped moving forward. “I have come to you in search of aid.”

Brohm stood motionless, but his hand still held Nathan’s shoulder. After what felt like an eternity, Nathan took a breath of sweet, cool air.

“May I approach?” the voice asked.

Nathan squatted down and reached blindly for the lantern. He struck a spark to light the oiled wick, illuminating the ravine in a weak light. At its edge stood the daemon, nearly three metres tall. Lantern light reflected off its black, muscular form. It stepped forward, and both Nathan and Brohm scuttled back in reflex. Seeing this, the daemon raised its hands, palms outward, as a sign of peace. It hunched down in an attempt to lessen its threatening presence.

“I appreciate that the unpleasantness of our previous meeting has harmed your trust in my word.” It glanced at Brohm and then addressed Nathan again. “It pleases me to see your knight still lives. I had believed my actions had ended his life.”

Nathan could only hold his breath.

“But please believe me,” the daemon pleaded, “I wish you both no harm.”

“What d’you want?” Brohm demanded, his sword still drawn. “Why’d you come here?”

It pointed at Nathan. “This human and I have a connection, brought about by a spelled ring he wore from the late Lord Helmsley. As bizarre as it may be, Nathan is the only man I can trust.”

Brohm stepped forward, trying to shield Nathan. “Well, that’s too bad. He doesn’t trust you.”

Nathan opened his mouth to say otherwise, but then shut it abruptly. He didn’t want Brohm to think the daemon had a hold over him, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t trust it.

The daemon’s eyes remained on Nathan. “I see you have shielded your appearance to hide your real self—”

Nathan jumped forward to interrupt it. “Don’t say anything. It might break the . . .”

He trailed off, not wanting to complete the sentence. The witch, Morgana, stated the magick hiding their appearance could be broken by merely talking about it. She’d been vague on the rules, so Nathan and Brohm agreed to never speak of it, ever.

A guttural laugh emanated from deep within the daemon’s chest. “Yes, I see your concern. A strange design. Fragile.”

Nathan touched his face absentmindedly. “So you recognize us? You can see past the mask?”

“Indeed,” it replied.

“Where have you been all this time?” Nathan asked.

“I hid amongst the vast, empty tracts of land. I admit our connection kept me near to you. It is a strange pull. Somehow reassuring.”

Nathan found this knowledge unsettling, but kept silent while the daemon continued.

“Then the lands grew cold. Snow began to accumulate. I found this unappealing and travelled south, remaining there for a time. Now, I return to you. The pull beckons.”

Brohm had lowered his guard, but the sword remained in hand. “So what kinda help you need?”

The daemon peered at the canopy above. “I am trapped in this realm, unwelcome by its denizens. I wish to return home.”

Nathan stepped to Brohm’s side, giving him a bewildered glance before addressing the daemon. “You make it sound like a simple ask. What would we know about opening a doorway to the hells?”

Brohm scoffed. “Better question: why would we?”

The daemon’s eyes, glowing red, had no pupils. Despite that, it was obvious its gaze shifted between the two men, as though searching for an answer that would satisfy them. Its chest grew as it took a deep breath, letting it out as a sigh.

“I am aware of your concept of trade. I regret to inform you that I have nothing to bestow in return for your aid. But I have heard your kind do offer services freely in times of need.” It bowed before them. “I am in need. I humbly request your assistance.”

Neither of them knew how to respond to such a deferential act from such a frightening beast. Nathan took one tentative step forward.

“But we don’t know how to help you. Do you know what’s involved in opening a portal?”

The daemon returned to sitting on its haunches, shaking its head. “I do not.”

Nathan looked back to Brohm. The tip of his sword was now resting on the forest floor, forgotten. The big man shrugged his shoulders.

The daemon spoke again. “Aside from my own desire to return home, I believe there is a reason that would benefit you and your kind. Due to my presence here, I have witnessed small tears in the fabric of your realm. From these tears, iratxos come.”

“Iratxos? What are those?” Nathan asked nervously.

“They skulk in the shadows. I have tried to cull them, but there are many.”

Brohm raised a hand. “Wait. You talking about green things with lots of teeth.”

“A crude description, but yes, those are iratxos.”

Nathan pulled up his sleeve to show the scar on his arm. “One of those things bit me.”

Suddenly, the daemon rose and leapt toward him, closing the gap between them with frightening speed. Nathan stumbled back in reflex, tripping over his own feet in the process. Before he could roll back to safety, he was caught by giant clawed hands. The point of Brohm’s sword snapped up, trained on the daemon.

“Let him go!” Brohm bellowed.

It immediately complied, gently setting Nathan down on his feet. “My apologies. I forget that my actions, when misunderstood, cause fear among humans.”

“You forgot?” Brohm’s voice had its familiar edge. “You forgot you’re a monster?”

If it was pained by Brohm’s slight, it showed no reaction. “I was only concerned for your friend. The bite of the iratxo can be deadly.” It turned its attention back to Nathan. “May I inspect the wound?”

While Nathan held out his arm, Brohm continued his tirade. “So you’re the one to blame for these things attacking people? And Nathan was all messed up for five months ’cause of that bite.”

The daemon spoke while examining Nathan’s arm. “I understand your anger, but please remember that my being here was not by choice. It was one of your own kind who brought me here.”

Brohm didn’t have a snappy quip in response, so he rolled his eyes instead.

“As it healed, did you ever feel pain in your arm or around your chest?” it asked Nathan.

“No,” he lied, swallowing a lump in his throat.

“Very good. Then you were able to fight the toxin.”

“Of course he’s okay,” Brohm said. “If someone’s poisoned, they’d be dead by now.”

“The toxin of the iratxo is quite slow to react and has multiple stages.”

Nathan pulled down his sleeve, feeling faint at the prospect he may not be alright. The daemon sat down again, looking back and forth between them.

“If you are unwilling to aid me in returning home, consider your fellow humans. The tears in your realm will continue until I return to where I belong.”

Brohm let out a sigh. “Look, you make a good argument, yuh? But . . .”

Nathan finished Brohm’s sentence. “We don’t know how to help you get home. We don’t know anyone who has knowledge to open portals to the hells. Gods, it would be ridiculous if we did.”

“Would you be willing to enquire?” it asked.

Brohm chuckled. “I don’t think you understand what you’re asking for. These aren’t normal questions someone asks. If the wrong people hear, reckon we’d get in trouble.”

It nodded. “I understand your hesitancy.”

“Give us time to think about it,” Nathan said. “But how do we find you if we figure something out?”

“I can return to this spot each night.”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea to land here every night. What if we leave some kind of signal instead?”

“What do you propose?”

Brohm chimed in. “What if we leave a lantern in the window?”

“Yeah. The top floor window, rear of the building,” Nathan said. “If you see it lit, it means we have news. Otherwise, just fly by.”

“This is an agreeable arrangement. Very well. Until the next we meet, I bid you goodnight,” it said, rising to its full height.

“Wait,” Nathan said. “What’s your name?”

The daemon smiled to reveal terrifically sharp teeth. “You would not be able to pronounce it.”

“Well, we need to call you something. We can’t just call you daemon.”

“It is as acceptable a name as any,” it said.

“Hold on! You took the body of Helmsley’s alchemist, Theodrik. He knew how to open portals. He’s the one who brought you here. Is he . . . trapped inside you?” Nathan cringed at the prospect. “Is it possible you have his knowledge?”

The daemon shook its head. “The human alchemist, Theodrik, was destroyed in the process of summoning me. But you may use that name if you wish.”

“Theodrik the daemon, huh?” Brohm said. “Sure, why not. Don’t reckon this night can get any weirder—”

The snap of a branch from behind interrupted him. Nathan shone the lantern in that direction. They couldn’t discern anything, but from the sound of the scrambling, they’d frightened whoever was there.

“It would appear you have company,” the daemon stated. “We shall meet again.” It leaped in the air, massive leathery wings outstretched, beating bursts of air onto them.

Nathan and Brohm gave chase, using exposed tree roots for purchase to scale the ravine. Despite the head start, whoever was ahead was less adept at climbing, and they were catching up. The man reached the plateau and ran headlong into the grass toward the guildhouse. Nathan, being the more agile of the two, left Brohm behind. He dropped the lantern at the edge of the ravine and closed the distance on his prey. The man knew he was losing the race, spitting out breathless, panicked cries. It only took mere moments until Nathan was close enough to tackle him.

The man let out another cry of fear before finally forming coherent words. “P-please, please! Don’t hurt me,” he managed through ragged gasps.

“Cormac?” Nathan cried.

Brohm had to practically drag the old monk back to the relative privacy of the ravine. They had to be sure no one else from the guildhouse might hear the outcome, whatever that might be. Nathan hadn’t decided yet.

The monk muttered in broken sentences, mostly platitudes spoken by someone thinking they were about to be murdered. Once they reached the treeline, Brohm shoved the man to the ground. Despite not having the lantern, the moon provided enough light to read his expression.

“Please, Whitter, Sid. I won’t speak a word to anyone. ’Tis a promise I made to you before and intend to keep,” he said, groveling at their feet.

“Gods damn it, Cormac,” Nathan said. “Why’d you have to stick your nose where it didn’t belong?”

“I heard you two from my bedroom. I was curious what you were up to in the dead of night. I assumed you were heading to Millsfield, but when I saw you walking beyond the house . . .”

“He knows too much,” Brohm grumbled. “He knows too much about everything—about us.”

Cormac shuffled closer on his knees. “I tried my best to earn your trust—”

“Yuh, well, Whitter might trust you. But me?” Brohm shook his head.

Nathan gently nudged Brohm aside and crouched down to face the monk directly. “What did you see? What did you hear?”

Cormac nervously glanced between the two men, unsure how to respond.

“Answer him,” Brohm growled.

“I saw something. ’Twas big. Some sort of . . . monster? You were talking, but I couldn’t distinguish the words.”

“That’s it?” Nathan asked.

Cormac nodded rapidly. “But, what was that thing? How—”

Brohm kicked the monk in the ribs. “You never know when to fucking stop asking questions, do you?”

Cormac grunted as he fell to his side, hands held up pathetically in defence. Nathan immediately positioned himself to stop Brohm from continuing the assault on the old man.

“Let me take care of this,” he whispered to Brohm.

“No!” Brohm yelled. He didn’t seem to care who heard them now. “I’m tired of this guy. I don’t trust him.” He turned his attention back to Cormac. “Why are you so damn chummy with us?”

Cormac suddenly broke down in tears, sobbing. Brohm let out a frustrated sigh, but Nathan was concerned. These weren’t cries of pain. After a few moments, Cormac managed to speak, albeit with a shaky voice.

“I haven’t been completely honest with you two.” He took a deep, shuddering breath to steady himself. “I’m helping you seek redemption because . . . I need to believe it’s possible. If you can be redeemed, then I can, too.”

“Why? What’d you do?” Brohm asked.

Cormac wiped his eyes and replied gravely. “I’ve committed a cardinal sin: murder.”

“What?” Nathan blurted out.

“It was an accident, but . . . I murdered a fellow monk.”

“How?” Nathan asked.

Cormac fell to sobbing again, but Brohm wasn’t moved to compassion.

“Okay. So, you killed someone. How does talking to us make it better?”

When Cormac didn’t answer, Nathan spoke. “Guys, it’s the middle of the night. Can’t say how much sleep we’re gonna get at this point, but let’s deal with this in the morning.”

“No way,” Brohm said. “What if he talks?”

Nathan gestured to the pitiful display before them. “He’s not going to talk. Are you, Cormac?”

The monk settled enough to grant a slow shake of his head in response.

“There, you see?” Nathan said. “Let’s go.”

He took Brohm by the arm to lead him back to the house. The big man came willingly, leaving the monk behind. No words were spoken while they walked side by side through the long grass. Nathan couldn’t fathom what they were going to do next, and he assumed Brohm felt the same.

They returned to their bedroom and undressed. Brohm flopped forward onto the bed, face-planting into the pillow. He let out a frustrated moan. Nathan murmured in agreement, sidled up beside him, and wrapped an arm across his back.

Brohm turned his head to face him. “Just when things were almost normal . . .”

“I know,” Nathan nearly whispered. “Why’s it gotta be so hard?”

His mind raced at everything they’d learned in such a short time. He took a few deep breaths to try and relax, to clear his head, but he knew it wouldn’t be that easy. He focused his thoughts on Brohm, their hidden refuge in the grass, the warm sunlight, their brief time together when all was at peace. The memory was delicate, but he held onto it tightly, replaying the moment until sleep finally took hold.