Solivagant

Chapter Three

Deep breaths. In, out. In . . . out. This was not the time to panic. He had surprised the Valkir; the man was just suspicious.

Asher stared at the assassin, close enough to see the traces of stubble on his chin. The man was younger than he had initially thought, only in his late twenties or so. He also noticed they shared the same stormy gray eyes, which he found disturbing for some reason.

"I will let you explain yourself now," he said, his voice dangerously calm. "And do not try to yell or run, else you won't live to see the morning."

Asher nodded, not bothering to hide his fear. The Valkir made a subtle motion with his hand, and Asher was once again able to speak.

"Why were you following me?" the man asked.

"On my honor, I swear I wasn't. I had a nightmare and came outside to get some fresh air. I live in that house," Asher finished weakly, indicating Henry's house with a jerk of his head.

"Is that so?" Something flashed through the Valkir's eyes. Surprise? "What was your dream of?"

"I--" Asher stopped himself. He had a bad feeling about the way the man was looking at him. Had he said something wrong?

"Magic," he blurted. The instant the words left his mouth, he regretted them. That may have been the worst excuse he could've used. But instinct told him to lie. "I dreamed a magic-user attacked Aleran."

The Valkir raised an eyebrow but said nothing. He looked behind him once, and his expression changed. Impatient.

"I truly don't have the time for this," the man muttered to himself. He waved his arm, and the force holding Asher dissipated. Asher stumbled back, caught off guard. "Go. I have other matters to take care of. Don't let me catch you near me again." The threat didn't have much anger behind it; the Valkir wasn't even looking at the boy. With a swish of his cloak, he began to walk back into the fog. Just before he was consumed by the mist, he turned his head.

"Few know it, but not all magic is evil. We know how to control it."

"In . . . in that case, perhaps my fears have been misplaced." Asher said carefully, wondering why the man would bother telling him such a thing.

"Indeed." And with that, the Valkir was gone, leaving Asher with only his troubled thoughts.

<><><>

"Asher!"

The thin veil of sleep was whisked away from Asher's mind like a paper in the wind. He opened his eyes. He was still sitting outside, facing the empty street. The fog had not lifted--if anything, it had only gotten thicker.

"What are you doing out here, boy?" Henry was standing just outside the front door; Asher could see Wade peering over his father's shoulder. Nobody else was in sight. "We were worried you had been kidnapped!"

"Er--" Asher stammered, looking around. Though he couldn't see the sky, the creamy white color of the fog told him the sun had fully risen. The air was still freezing, and his face and skin were numb from the cold. "I had a nightmare and went outside to calm myself. I suppose I fell asleep."

In truth, he had been keeping vigil over the house, terrified the Valkir had found out what he was and decided to attack him in his sleep. Or worse, Henry and Wade. At some point, however, exhaustion must have overwhelmed him.

"Get back inside and clean yourself up. When you've finished, come meet Wade and I at the forge."

"Yes, sir."

The blacksmith set down the path. Wade followed somewhat reluctantly, giving Asher a concerned look. Asher gave him a reassuring smile--or tried to: his face, stiff with the cold, didn't seem to be working correctly.