DarkFyre Ch. 12

He was right, of course.

Only why then did it feel so wrong, to even think of leaving Silmaria behind? She would be safer, yes. The journey would be arduous and full of danger and hardship. He could spare her all of that. He recognized the wisdom and kindness in Galin's offer. Even though very idea left a sour taste in his mouth and a hard lump in his gut, he had to do right by her. In an otherwise impossible situation, this might be his one chance.

"You're right," he relented at last.

"Good man," Galin replied. He rose and took the nearby torch from the wall, and nodded to him. "Come on, then, let's see what supplies and provisions we can get for you. You'll be needing them for the long road ahead, and thanks to our arse faced 'Lord Commander', I won't be leaving the sodding house anytime soon."

***

"Who is it?"

"Rael, son of Edwin."

Silmaria opened the door to let him in, glaring at him as she rubbed sleep from her eyes. It was the middle of the night, and she'd fallen asleep almost an hour ago, waiting for him to return. "You're an ass. My Lord. I was worried sick."

"I'm sorry," he said softly. Silmaria blinked and looked at him again. Something was off about him. Something different. There was a palpable air of sullenness about him.

"What happened? Why were you gone so long?" she asked, unnerved by his reserved demeanor. Her annoyance was quickly being replaced by uncertainty.

"Galin and I discussed many things," he explained, stepping deeper into the room. He stood there, staring down at her, his eyes glinting silver pools in the dim light of a few low burning candles. His face was set, determined, but clearly unhappy. "He insisted it's not safe to stay in the city. In all of the Dale, really. And, after thinking about it and talking it over, I agree with him."

Silmaria swallowed softly, suddenly full of nervousness. "So what does that mean?"

"It means," Rael scrubbed an agitated hand through his thick copper locks. "That I have to leave here. I'm traveling south, away from DarkFyre Dale, to a place far out of the assassins reach. Somewhere I can knowledge I seek. Somewhere someone or something can tell me who these people are, so I can bring them to justice. I don't have any other sensible choice at this point."

Silmaria listened with a growing queasy, aching feeling in the pit of her stomach. "'We', you mean. 'We' are leaving. Right?"

Rael stared down at her for a long moment. He had a heavy pack slung on his back, full of supplies. He was serious. But then, he so often was.

The Nobleman stepped forward and reached down to take her delicate hands into his much larger ones. She could feel callouses on his fingers and palms, built from years of gripping the sword. It was only the second time he'd ever taken her hand in his. It felt good, but she didn't want this, didn't want to hear what she knew he would say. She pulled her hands away.

"I can't take you," he said softly, and she could see the reluctance and the pain in his eyes and that only made it worse. "It's going to be a long journey. A very dangerous, very hard one. I can't put you through that."

She vehemently shook her head. There were tears in her eyes, then they were spilling down her face. Damn him! Damn him for doing this to her!

"I'll be okay. I'm strong. I can make it. I won't slow you down, I promise I won't," she said, immediately hating the pathetic pleading sound of her own voice, but completely unable to stop it.

"It's not about slowing me down," Rael told her. "It's just too dangerous. Traveling across the Dale in the winter and braving the passes will be bad enough. But then the wilds along the rest of the journey, too? And I may very well be hunted every step of the way. I can't put you through that. I won't. I'll leave you with Galin. He's a good man, if a bit rough around the edges. He'll make sure you're well cared for. He gave me his word."

"I don't care about his word!" Silmaria protested heatedly. She stared up at him, her face caught between a look of desperate pleading and a biting glare. Damn him all over again for being so tall, that she had to crane her head back so, just to meet his eyes! "I want to go with you. We've gotten this far together. I can keep up! I can help!"

"Silmaria... I can't," he said, and his voice was heavy indeed. "I'm responsible for all of this. For the House burning, and putting you through all this danger. For all of your friends and family dying. All those good people...it's all my fault. You were right about that. It's too much, Silmaria. I won't let you be yet more blood on my hands."

Silmaria glared up at him, her hands balled into fists as she seethed with defiance until she was physically shaking with it. Then all at once, her resolve and anger crumbled, and her shakes became barely restrained sobs. Her lower lip trembled. She leapt forward unexpectedly and pressed herself against him, her small hands gripping the front of his wool shirt as she pressed her face into his chest.

"I don't care about what happened before! I don't blame you. Not anymore. Don't you understand? You're all I have left! All I have left of him! Of my life. Of anything that makes any sense! Please. Do whatever you must, go wherever you must, only take me with you," she cried. "Don't leave me behind. You promised! Please...please don't leave me alone. You promised."

Rael stared at her as she sobbed quietly against him, utterly torn. Every scrap of logic in him said he must leave her. He had no choice. She would be in more danger than he could imagine if she stayed with him. With Galin, she would be safe, stable, well cared for and be able to start moving on with her life. It was the best thing, for both of them, to part ways now. He knew that!

Yet, as he stared down at her, pressed in close, her tear streaked face pressed to his broad chest...

The Nobleman wrapped the small girl in his arms, pulling her in closer to squeeze her tight as he muttered crossly into her ear, "Damn you, and all stubborn, thick skulled, iron willed women everywhere."

***

"Message for you, my Lord," Said Galin's Manservant, Leon, in a voice that spoke of boredom, resigned patience and quite-a-lot-of-better-things-to-do, thank you.

Galin looked up from the old tome he'd been pouring over. Or, at least appeared to be pouring over. It was a collection of old customs and rituals practiced by followers of the old gods in ages gone by, the closest thing he had in his study to writings on magic. It had been a gift from Edwin many years ago, back when his dear departed friend had gone through that all too brief phase of trying to encourage Galin to become learned, or educated, or some such sodding nonsense.

He was keenly reminded, now, why he'd never bothered trying to read it in the first place.

"Hand it over, then," Galin grumbled. He slammed the book shut, not bothering to mark his page since he honestly couldn't remember the last five to seven pages he'd read in the first place.

The folded up message was a sheet of low quality parchment folded up and held shut with a dollop of blue wax with no seal or insignia to speak of. He flicked the paper open and glanced inside.

In Rael's neat, tight hand, was the simple message: The Cat is with me. She wouldn't stop mewling when I tried to go.

Galin sighed, crumbled the note into a ball, and tossed it into the nearby fire.

"Well, bollocks."

***

Bollocks, indeed.

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