The Warden

Chapter 24

As soon as the words had left Masis' mouth, Lady Kyla leapt to her feet, a lupine smile on her face, hungry and anxious. Hands beating against her legs in a rapid drumming, she stood there, bouncing on the balls of her feet, blood still flashing on her cheek. No sound came from her mouth but light flashed in the feral depths of her eyes. In such giddy spirits, she made him swear an oath on all that was sacred—Werold, Wilo, Mona, Mani, and his family's name—basically everything in both heaven and earth. And then she had insisted they leave.

Despite, or maybe because of Masis' condition, Kyla had ordered him to his feet. Before seeing if he complied, she had gathered up his belongings and started off in a fast pace, throwing him a sturdy walking stick.

What have I done? Masis asked himself.

They had been walking for hours at this point under Wilo's blistering summer radiance. A bead of sweat slipped from his forehead and plopped onto the ground. Another slid into his eye, stinging. That burn was the only fleeting feeling his body registered. The rest was numb. Dead. He couldn't feel his legs and though disconcerting it was preferable to the agony he had endured when he had first gotten to his feet.

His very bones had throbbed, aching to their core. The vertebrae in his back had cracked into place as he had straightened, but not fully. He walked, hunched like a geezer bent with years, holding a hand to his back to quiet its protests. His other hand grasped at the walking stick and he leaned heavily on the length of wood, his fingers clinging to the rough grains as though his life depended on it. The very skin on his body had protested with every movement. Still he had followed her.

I think I just made a deal with Manu, herself, thought Masis. His eyes fell and his heart picked up as Lady Kyla disappeared over the next rise. Though numb, Masis' body still refused to move fast enough to keep up with his new taskmaster.

A gust of wind shocked the sweat on his face and instantly cooled his still damp clothes, now drenched with his sweat. The relief was short lived. The summer heat drew moisture from the ground, thickening the air and seasoning it with a hint of soil. It clung to him. His airways clogged with it and his mouth hung open like a dog, panting. Still he kept on.

"I could just go back and throw myself off the cliff again," Masis said, speaking to himself. "Put me out of my misery once and for all."

Masis kept shuffling along Kyla's trail.

She had insisted that she knew a place where they would be protected, a place secluded and unknown to anyone, human or wight. This place, she had said, would be a good spot for him to heal and train. She had said she knew exactly where this idyllic spot was, but she proceeded as one lost, meandering at times, abruptly changing direction at others. Sometimes when she stopped long enough for Masis to catch her, she stood with her head cocked as though listening, seconds would pass, sometimes minutes, and then she would set out again, her pace unflagging, her direction adjusted. They traveled like that for hours.

Climbing up the grassy slope, legs protesting now not with pain but exhaustion, Masis found Kyla waiting for him at the crest, seated primly while munching on some of the dried fruits from his pack. He collapsed to the ground in front of her too tired to protest about her raiding his supplies. Lying on his back, Masis blocked out the assaulting light of day by throwing an arm over his face. The cloth of his shirt sleeve exuded the pungent odor of sweat and the body's natural cologne.

"Drink."

The waterskin landed on his stomach, shocking his body enough that he gasped with surprise.

"Are you trying to kill me?" asked Masis, creakily working his body up so he could drink. Though hot and stale, the water still offered relief.