The Last Canticle: Summoner's Dirge (18 page)

Damir nodded and turned to the farmhouse. “Then I guess I’ll leave it to you as to what we need to do. I don’t care, as long as Gaius pays.”

Balin watched him go, wishing he could call him back. He only hoped that with time, Damir would return to him.

* * * *

They packed light, taking only what was necessary. Damir packed a bag of clothes and a sack of supplies for them. Balin packed what clothes he’d gotten over the months and checked his knife to make sure it was sharp. Damir grabbed his quiver and Drachenseele and loaded it into the wagon. When the pyre finished burning, Damir collected the ashes in a porcelain jar. He tucked the jar into his sack.

Damir wasn’t sure what to do with the animals he had, so Balin decided to set them free. Returning to Canaan wasn’t an option—not only was the city in the opposite direction of where they wanted to go, but General Gaius was in the market town. Balin didn’t want to risk a run-in with the general, even for the additional money they could line their pockets with.

He opened the pens and stables, releasing the chickens and cow that Damir kept. When he finished, he returned to the packed wagon.

“Why don’t you sleep in the back? I’ll drive,” Balin said as he took his seat on the wagon.

“Fine,” Damir said dismissively and crawled into the bed of the wagon. He used Balin’s knapsack as a pillow and closed his eyes.

The wagon rocked gently as Balin started down the road. They were headed eastbound, toward the port city of Traum. There, they would see if they could barter their way onto a merchant ship or airship and head south to Terrasolis. Damir had packed all the money he had. Balin had assured him that once in Terrasolis, they could begin their plot for revenge.

BALIN GLANCED AT Damir’s restless form. His heart was like a boulder in his chest and threatened to crush the wooden seat of the wagon and send him plummeting to the center of Zoria. It was a long battle, but Damir eventually won against his waking nightmares and succumbed to exhaustion. He fell into a fitful sleep.

Balin listened quietly as Damir groaned. He wanted to reach back and run his hand down Damir’s face and chase away the nightmares. He wanted to make it all go away, but he couldn’t. He didn’t know if he would ever be given the right to touch Damir again.

When he was younger, Balin would play in the Sun Fields beyond the city walls. There he would spend countless hours on top of the sand dunes. He’d pretend he was a hero, a knight come to the rescue. He was strong and brave. He knew right from wrong and fought for justice.

How the mighty had fallen.

He had tried to regain the belief that heroes still existed among men. But even Damir had been shaken from his pedestal.

* * * *

Damir woke an hour before dusk, groggy and still tired. His energy sources were depleted, and it would take more than a few hours of restless sleep for him to gain it all back. He didn’t speak to Balin as they rode down the empty road. The silence was thick, a rope that tethered them together by the neck. The longer they sat in the emptiness, the tighter the rope grew.

“We’ll set up camp here,” Balin said as he pulled to the side along a wooded area. “Traum is still about a day out.”

Damir climbed down from the the wagon. The sky was an inky darkness that seeped over Zoria. Damir watched as the stars slowly began to spread, sweeping across the night. He still hurt. He wanted the pain, the anger, and the anguish to go away. He wanted to feel normal again, whatever normal was.

“What am I?” He didn’t know if he asked Balin or himself.

Balin looked at him from where he unloaded the food. “What?”

“She would be alive if I wasn’t whatever I am, whatever this curse is.” Damir didn’t know who he blamed anymore. His nightmares ate at his mind, left him confused.

Balin set the bag down on the ground and walked over to Damir. He reached for him, but Damir drew away before Balin could touch him. Balin’s hands fell to his sides.

Damir shook his head and whispered, “Who are
you
?”

Balin carded a hand through his hair. “It’s complicated.”

“Complicated?” Damir let out a harsh bark of laughter. He glared at Balin. “And the rest of this isn’t? I don’t even know what I am, and you’re telling me it’s
complicated?
I deserve an answer!”

“I know,” Balin snapped. “You think I’m not hurting? I never wanted things to turn out this way. This wasn’t how things were supposed to go.”

“How were they? Explain that to me!” Damir roared. Rage swelled up inside him like a fiery maelstrom that threatened to consume his soul. At the moment, all he knew was bitter hatred and sorrow.

A storm crackled and flickered on the horizon, tethered to Damir’s cumbersome heart.

Balin glared at Damir. “I was trying to move on. I thought I had. I never planned for Gaius to come and…”

“Move on? From what? Murder? Forty-six people, Balin! Forty-six innocent lives, cut short by your hands. And now Elina is dead!”

Balin drew in a breath through his nose. He shook his head. “They were
not
innocent, nor do you understand what you’re talking about!”

“Then explain it to me. Explain to me how taking a person’s life is okay, how any of this is!”

“I can’t make what happened go away, Damir. I wish I could, and I swear I’ll do anything to try to make it better, but I can’t make it go away.”

Damir felt a new wave of tears slam into him. He shook his head. He wasn’t strong like Balin. He wanted to be stronger. He knew he needed to be. But all he felt at the moment was weak and pitiful.

“An assassin,” Balin said with a sigh.

“What?” As quickly as the roiling storm began, it fizzled out. Damir was exhausted and threadbare, his mind and soul stretched so thin he was sure a single light breeze could blow them away.

“I’m…I
was
an assassin. They called me Shadowwalker.” He held Damir’s gaze. “I’ve been one since I was a boy. When you found me, I was supposed to be on my way to my last job in the city. I was going to retire after that. I was tired of that life. Then my airship crashed, and you found me. I was so mesmerized by you and Elina that I decided not to finish the job. I just wanted to live out the rest of my life with you.”

“How many people have you killed?”

Balin swallowed thickly. “Sixty-three.”

Damir closed his eyes and turned his head away. Sixty-three lives snuffed out. He’d asked for the truth, and now that he had it, he didn’t know how to swallow it.

“I’m going to sleep. I’m exhausted,” Damir finally muttered and turned away.

Damir no longer knew where his life was meant to go. All he wanted to do was sleep and try to forget that he had ever met Balin.

Chapter Fourteen

The Port City of Traum

Damir could see her. She danced among the rocks in the water. Water splashed around her. Clouds swirled above her head. Her hands glided over jagged volcanic rocks along the shore. Brilliantly colored fish skirted around her feet. They rose up, swam in the sky. Water molecules followed the fish, trailing behind their metallic fins and into the stars. Elina smiled—beautiful and angelic, a burst of sunlight in the dark world.

He reached for her, but his hand could never seem to stretch far enough. Her buttercream dress clung to her slim legs. Nimbly, her feet slid over black stone, dipping into the cold depths. Her body bowed and twirled, waltzed to the song of the sea and nefl. Her long silvery hair caught the sun. Her lips parted wide, and her eyes sparkled.

He said her name. He said it over and over, screamed it, howled it, ripped it from his throat, but she never heard. She never turned to look at him. Never heard his warning—never saw the wave. Red, titanic, all-consuming. She vanished into the carmine surf made up of cochineal and dried bone.

Damir woke with a start. His body was slick with sweat, which quickly chilled in the early morning. Balin was nowhere to be seen, and for a moment, Damir wondered if Balin had abandoned him.

Did it matter?

He drew his knees up to his chest and stabbed his fingers through his wild hair. His chest ached from the memory of Elina and isolation from Balin. Damir yearned to be wrapped in Balin’s arms, but every time he looked at the man, he saw the downward stroke of a blade. Rationally, he knew he was as much to blame as Balin was for Elina’s death, but lately, he wasn’t thinking rationally.

Balin appeared in the tree line. Damir watched as he returned to their makeshift camp and began to pack things up. Neither said anything, the silence a gulf that stretched between them and doubled with time. Balin broke the silence first.

“It’s getting late. We’re almost to Traum. If we leave now, we should get there before noon. There’s a stream about half a mile into the woods if you want to go rinse up,” Balin said as he grabbed an apple from the bag holding their food supplies. He tossed the apple to Damir.

“Okay.” Damir bit into the apple. He froze as soon as his gaze landed on the tender crimson flesh. He dropped the apple on the ground and walked off into the forest.

BALIN WATCHED DAMIR go. He had spent half the night listening to the man whimper and groan in his sleep. Dark circles had formed under Damir’s eyes, and his normally sun-kissed skin had taken on a sallow pallor. He wanted to reach out and draw Damir into the protection of his embrace, but the glare that Damir sent him always kept him at bay.

“Shit.” He walked over to the apple and picked it up. The polished flesh reflected the early morning sun. His fingers tightened around the apple, and then with a great surge of force, he hurled it at the flanking trees. He finished shoving the rest of their supplies into the the wagon and fed the horse.

When Damir returned, they climbed onto the wagon and continued down the road. Even though Damir sat right beside Balin, he felt a world apart.

* * * *

Brine was heavy in the air. It stuck to their skin as they rode into Traum. They had traded off halfway to the city, Damir taking the reins so Balin could rest. The harbor dominated Traum; it spilled over the stunted buildings and cracked cobblestones. Presiding in the distance, a few miles out of Traum on a high hill, was the stocky gloom of Drury-Everest Manor.

Traum was built on uneven land and half-a-trolic dreams that were forgotten on the passing eastbound breeze. Urine and fish guts were the perfume of choice for the street corners. One could see choppy gray waters from the dip of the main road. On the eastern side of Traum, where the city cleaned up enough for politicians and lords to rub elbows, sat the air stadium and train station. The air stadium was half the size of Canaan’s, ships being the preferred mode of travel in Traum.

“Now what?” Damir asked as they moved down the street. Men spilled out from the tavern they passed, fists and curses flung with drunken accuracy. Soldiers walked down the sidewalk. Their armor jangled and clinked as they moved.

“We’ll check the merchant ships and see if any are heading south for Terrasolis. Maybe we can find work on one of them in exchange for passage.”

Damir clucked his tongue and continued driving down to the harbor. Balin glanced over at Damir as a shiver ran through the other man. It grew colder the closer they drew toward the waterfront. Balin had to resist the urge to pull Damir against him. Damir brought the wagon to a stop, and Balin swung off.

“Wait here,” Balin told Damir. “I’ll see if I can find anything out.”

“I can go with you,” Damir said.

“Just wait here,” Balin ordered. The truth was he wanted to think. It felt like his energy had been sucked from him, and he was living a half life. As much as he wanted to comfort Damir, to aid him in his mission, the hatred that radiated from the man drained Balin. Space wouldn’t heal the wounds, but it would definitely give Balin a chance to breathe.

Damir opened his mouth as if to argue, but Balin walked off toward the wharf before he could. Perhaps it was cowardice to run away. Balin never claimed to be brave.

This is why I never did relationships
. They were messy and weak. But Balin couldn’t walk away completely. He couldn’t turn his back on Damir. Because even with his heart ripped from his chest, Balin wanted to do all he could to bring a smile back to Damir’s lips.

I am a fool. A stupid, ill-gotten, fool. But…I’d rather be a fool than live without him.

DAMIR SIGHED AND leaned against the wagon, watching the ebb and flow of the dreary sea. The wedge that separated him from Balin was tearing them farther and farther apart. He needed to pull it away, to fill the space again, but all he could think of was Elina’s slight form spinning in the sun.

His throat tightened with repressed anguish. He turned to a shabby-looking pier and walked down it. The planks were old and weathered, each step drawing a creak. A schooner floated beside the pier. Men shouted at each other from the deck. Damir stopped at the edge of the pier and stared down into the bay. He wrapped his arms around himself, tucking his hands beneath his armpits to warm them.

There were moments when the image of Elina’s crumpled body and Balin’s silent desperation slipped past him, glided through his hands, and fell to the earth. He was sky-bound, free of his inhibition and restraints, given a pair of wings and lucidity. He understood the universe, felt its pulse next to his own, and carried it on his back.

What am I?
Damir didn’t know. General Gaius had called him an Anima Stella, but he didn’t understand what that was. He didn’t understand anything. Was being this thing why Elina had died? Was being an Anima Stella why he had this gift, this curse? He’d trade it in without a second thought if he could just reverse time.

I never asked for this, never wanted this. I should have gone with him. I should have tossed aside my pride and agenda and just gone with General Gaius. If I hadn’t been so stubborn, Elina would be here.

The numbing thought nearly sent him plummeting into the water’s chilled depths. He was more to blame for Elina’s demise than Balin. He had been the one to set in motion General Gaius’s ploys and tricks.

Elina, I’m sorry…so sorry
. Damir stared down at his fractured reflection in the jostled surface of the bay. It was grim, bleak. A vagrant stared back at him. It had his eyes and mouth but not his soul.