The Last Canticle: Summoner's Dirge (5 page)

Damir fell into a firing stance as if it were as natural as breathing. With his shoulders straight and his feet aligned, he lifted the bow and set the arrow from his quiver. He pulled the string back and waited.

Damir slowed his breathing and tracked the wolf that sneaked out of the bordering field. He didn’t fire at first sight. Damir waited, counted the moments, and executed his time precisely.

“Never waste an arrow, boy. Always hit on the first shot; always know on the first shot. It’ll be the difference between life and death.”

The words Damir’s father schooled into him as a child had remained fixed in the back of Damir’s mind every time he picked up his weapon.

Damir released the silver-tipped arrow. It flew across the night, moonlight glinting off the arrowhead. The arrow drove home, and the wolf let out a high-pitched yelp before falling to the ground. Damir lowered Drachenseele and jogged across the yard to the wounded animal.

The wolf lay in the grass with the arrow stuck just above her left leg, her breathing labored. Upon closer inspection, Damir could see that she wasn’t even a full breed. She wasn’t as large as a Pheorian wolf, and her snout was much shorter.

A mutt. That’s probably why she strayed so close to the farm.

Damir crouched and set his blade-bow in the grass. Gingerly, Damir pressed his hand into the wolf’s neck. “Shh,” he whispered. “It’s okay. Easy, girl.”

“Why aren’t you killing it?” Balin asked as he came to a stop behind Damir.

“I do not need to kill her to stop her,” Damir said as he reached out and took ahold of the arrow. The wolf let out a mix between a whine and a growl and tried to jerk her head up. Damir kept his hand firm and cemented the wolf’s head against the ground.

“Always hit on the first shot; always know on the first shot.”
His father had meant a killing blow, but Damir could not condemn an innocent creature. He continued to talk softly to the animal. “I’ll get you patched up in no time. But then you will go on your way and not disturb my animals again, understood? You will find your food somewhere else.”

He waited until he heard a whine from the wolf and then pulled the arrow out. Damir pressed his hand against the wound. Wet warmth pooled against his fingers where blood matted the brownish-gray fur. He tossed down the arrow and began to pet the wolf’s head.

“What are you doing?” Balin asked.

“Shh,” Damir whispered. The level of power it took to heal the wolf’s wound wasn’t as much as it had taken to heal Balin. A small blue halo engulfed his hand and vanished several seconds later.

The wolf slowly stretched her leg out and then rolled over onto her feet, testing her weight. Damir leaned back and watched as she righted herself. The wolf stared up at Damir with blackened eyes. He unwaveringly met her gaze, and after a few bated seconds, the wolf lowered her head submissively and licked his hand.

Damir chuckled faintly and scratched behind her ear. “Come. I’ll give you some food. There is leftover stew.”

“You just healed that beast. Why? How?”

Damir glanced up at Balin. “Why wouldn’t I? I didn’t want to kill her. She was just trying to survive. I merely needed to stop her from hurting my animals.”

He smiled again when the wolf nudged his hand with her head. Damir stood up, aware the wolf was hungry. “All right, all right.”

“She understands you, and you her,” Balin stated.

“Yes.” Damir didn’t meet his eyes.

They returned to the house. Damir set a bowl of cold stew down for the wolf to eat. Damir saw Balin shake his head and sit on the bed. Damir smiled over at him from where he stood in the small kitchen. “Rest. You’re tired.”

“That is all you tell me to do.”

“Because it is what you should be doing,” Damir replied and laughed.

“How can I sleep with that mangy animal in here? Her lot nearly killed me,” Balin said as he cast the wolf an uneasy stare.

“She will not hurt you,” Damir promised and added as an afterthought, “She isn’t even full Pheorian wolf. See?” He rubbed the wolf behind her ears, gesturing to minute differences. “She’s only part wolf. You shouldn’t judge by appearance alone. We should all be given a chance, no matter where we come from.”

“You are so sure she won’t rip your throat out in your sleep.”

“Yes. But if it bothers you, I can move her outside. She may enjoy it better.” Damir waited until the wolf finished her meal, and then guided her outside to the porch. He set some water out in a clean bowl and a second helping of stew. The wolf lay down beside the door, head on her paws.

“What of yourself? You must be tired,” Balin asked when Damir had finished and returned inside.

“I’m off to bed.”

“Take this one; you can’t sleep on the floor. It’s obviously not comfortable if you were up,” Balin offered.

What had woken him hadn’t been how uncomfortable the floor was—though it was uncomfortable—but rather a calling he could not answer.

“You need the bed,” Damir said dismissively.

“Then we shall share it,” Balin said as he stood up.

Damir’s pulse quickened at the prospect of sharing a bed with Balin. Sleeping would be the last thing he’d be able to do. Balin determinedly guided Damir to the bed and shepherded him in so he was pressed against the wall.

DAMIR PROTESTED, BUT Balin brushed off each objection and fell into bed beside him. He purposely ignored the warmth that gathered in his stomach as he felt Damir’s body settle against his. They fit perfectly together, as if they had been designed for each other. Balin had the urge to wrap his arms around Damir’s narrow waist, and it took all his strength to keep his hands to himself.

“What of yourself?” Damir asked, snapping Balin from his wandering thoughts.

Balin pushed up on his elbows and looked at Damir, who kept his gaze trained on the wall across from him. “What of what?”

“How did you get here? What were you doing in the forest?” Damir asked, finally turning to look at him.

Balin thought carefully before he spoke. There were many things he could tell Damir. None of them would be favorable. So he chose to pick out the bits of truth he knew would suffice. “I was traveling to the capital on a merchant airship. It went down during a storm a few days ago. My crew and I landed in the mountains. I was the only one to make it out.”

He couldn’t tell what Damir was thinking. His warm blue eyes glowed with a sincere sadness that Balin didn’t understand. The man seemed to empathize with the world, even when the world was shit.

“Are you an angel?” Balin asked before he could take it back.

Damir’s eyes grew wide for a second before a smile spread across his face. Electricity raced up Balin’s veins, delivering powerful volts to his dead heart in an effort to kick it back to life. Yes, Damir was an angel, even if the man denied it. Only angels could smile like that, could make him feel this way.

“No, I’m not an angel.” Damir laughed, and the sound was heavenly against Balin’s ear.

You could fool me
. Balin nodded, unconvinced. He settled down beside Damir and stared up at the ceiling. He was acutely aware of Damir beside him. The shallow breaths the man took resonated in Balin’s mind. His arm accidentally brushed Damir’s, and warmth spread from where flesh rubbed against flesh.

“How many men?” Damir asked softly.

The question pulled Balin back to reality.

“Ten,” he lied.

What had come of the men from the
Windbreaker?
Had they survived the crash? He would never know their fate. Perhaps that was for the best.

Damir shifted so that he faced him. “I’m sorry. Were they your friends?”

“No,” Balin answered, “but they were all good, brave men.”

“They are with Lar now. Take comfort in that,” Damir whispered.

If that was an attempt to comfort Balin, it was lost on him.

Balin whispered harshly, “Lar? Take comfort in the Child-God’s doing? Those men lost their lives, and I’m supposed to be grateful for it?”

Damir blinked slowly. Shock materialized across his face. “No, of course not. That isn’t…that’s not what I meant. I merely meant to take comfort that they are no longer in pain and that they are all in nefl with the Child-God.”

“Better place? That is a fairy tale. There is no better place out there, and only a fool believes in such daydreams,” Balin snapped.
Nefl
and
peace
were words for free men.

He put more faith in malltod existing than nefl. Balin refused to believe in the idea that there was paradise waiting for him when his life was over. Zoria was a refuge for the vile and wicked, and any Child-God that allowed such wretchedness to exist was not a god he wanted to believe in.

Damir flinched like he’d been struck. He shook his head and grabbed Balin’s hand with both of his. “No, that isn’t true. You mustn’t think that. You mustn’t give yourself into that darkness. Believing is half the battle.”

Balin let out a harsh bark of laughter, but Damir held tight to his hand, refusing to let him go so that he could sink into the abyss of blight. Balin’s laughter sobered up. He stared down at Damir, amazed at the sincerity that sparkled in his clear eyes.

“You do not jest? Believe? In what? A ghost? A dream? I have better things to do with my time than blindly follow a stone idol.”

Damir strengthened his hold on Balin. “I refuse to think that. While we may not understand why horrible things happen, we have to believe that there is a purpose for all of this. I trust in the afterlife, and I know that when my time comes, I’ll find solace.”

“Then you are a fool.”

“It’s a fool who believes in his anger and not his happiness,” Damir whispered.

Balin dropped his gaze to their clasped hands. Damir’s palms were rough from toiling in the stables. They were calloused like his but radiated so much more warmth.

“Sometimes all a man has is his anger,” Balin murmured.

“There must be light before there can be darkness.”

Damir smiled at him, and Balin wanted to believe, believe in the light that was eclipsed by his memories.

“Let’s sleep,” Balin whispered in response.

Damir nodded and pulled the covers close. He turned his head to face Balin. Damir reached up and gently twisted a lock of Balin’s hair with his finger. A shock wave rolled down Balin’s spine at the touch.

“You’re the first man I’ve ever seen with hair the color of raven feathers.”

Balin wrapped his hand around Damir’s, halting his twisting finger but not pulling the appendage away. Damir’s breath caught, and he froze like a frightened fawn. Balin could still feel the heaviness of life in the air, but it all seemed to be a little better when he stared into those eyes.

“I could say the same about your eyes. I’ve never seen a pair so beautiful before. They’re the color of the Oculus Caelum.”

“Oculus Caelum? That’s the gulf that borders the northern hemisphere of Terrasolis, right?” Damir’s eyes lit up with infectious excitement.

“It is,” Balin said, still holding Damir’s hand hostage. “I’ve seen the Oculus Caelum many times, and even its magnificence pales in comparison to your eyes.”

Damir inched closer but seemed to catch himself and moved away, looking past Balin with a private smile. Balin found he enjoyed watching Damir glow with bashful pride. Damir lowered his eyes and slowly took his hand away.

“I’ve always wanted to see the Oculus Caelum and so much more,” he whispered. “I’ve wanted to travel the world, to see what I’ve read in books.”

“And why haven’t you?”

“You see why. I could not step beyond my farm without being ostracized. I am different from the rest of the world.”

“You go to Canaan, do you not?” Balin stared at him skeptically.

“I do, but I hide my markings well. Only Elina and you know of this. If anyone were to find out, I fear what they’d do. Not to me, but to Elina and our home. She could not survive without me.” Worry creased Damir’s brows.

“Your secret is safe with me,” Balin assured him.

“Thank you.”

Damir closed his eyes. Balin did not return to sleep until he was sure Damir had drifted off, and even then, he found he would much rather watch Damir slumber than sleep himself.

Chapter Five

The Road to Canaan

The wagon rocked back and forth as they traveled down the dirt road toward Canaan. Damir had bundled himself up just as he’d told Balin he would. A scarf was wrapped around his neck to hide the lines around his throat. He had pulled on a tawny cloak but left the hood down as they traveled. Elina sat directly behind them in the rear of the wagon with the newest member of their steadily growing family.

“Can we have lunch at the Gooseneck today?” Elina asked. Her hand rested on top of the wolf’s head.

“If I get everything done, we can,” Damir said.

He had been rather quiet since they’d set out. It had been a fortnight since Balin woke from his plight in the woods, and every night, they had shared the bed together. While Damir always made a fuss and had assured Balin the floor was fine, the truth was, he savored every moment he spent with the mysterious man. Damir had yet to learn anything new about Balin beyond what he’d learned the first day, but despite that, he found himself drawn to Balin. There was a mystique around the man that pulled Damir in and held him hostage.

Now Balin would be leaving, and the road to Canaan was one paved of dirt and sorrow.

Damir couldn’t ask Balin to stay. The man had a life, and there was no reason for him to remain on their tiny farm. If Damir asked him to stay with them, it would be for selfish reasons. Damir couldn’t do that, even if it did break his heart to see the man go.

“Where will you go, Balin?” Elina asked.

“I was heading to Civitatem Aurum, so I shall see if an airship is heading there,” Balin replied.

Damir could feel Balin’s sidelong gaze on him as he drove the wagon. He had remained quiet since they’d set out, and he knew he kept himself tightly closed off, but he was having trouble shedding the regret that burrowed inside his gut.

“Are you all right?” Balin asked softly.

“Fine,” Damir answered a little too quickly, his focus never wavering from the road. Before they reached Canaan, the path became flexuous, and bandits were known to crowd in the flanking trees. The blade-bow that Damir wielded was kept just within reach behind him, alongside his quiver of arrows.