Chapter Nine
Keeping Company
Clarus picked up his father’s broken body with remarkable ease. It was clear his strength, lost after a decade of unnatural sleep, was returning to him, faster than should have been possible. Vera didn’t say anything. Aesling didn’t have much to add, either. Sometimes words aren’t there, and shouldn’t be there. Sometimes grief itself is the only appropriate sound to make. She didn’t know where he was going. All she could do was follow him out the door, quietly, softly, trying not to be too self-aware of the fact that her clothing was hanging remarkably loosely around her. She was going to have to have her armor refitted. She was liable to trip over herself at this rate.
Carrying the body down the hill, Clarus was determined in his movements, in his tread. The path was littered with bodies. Guards thrown haphazardly left and right, their bodies strewn about like discarded dolls, the gashes and clawmarks of the Cavean’s demons marking the terrain, all of it spoke of a battle that had begun and ended in seconds.
The wind stung against Vera’s face. Had it always been like this? It was like her skin was more sensitive now, and she wished she had a cloak to pull taut around her. Or was it because of that creature? Had it sapped the warmth out of the sunlight somehow? She couldn’t tell.
Running up the hill were several people from the surrounding town. They were careful, frightened, but not fleeing. The Cavean must have moved on, then, Vera figured. Whereto, she didn’t want to speculate. She knew she wouldn’t like the answer, no matter what it was. But the people of the town were, at the moment, safe. After a fashion, at least. The Kingdom’s enemy was within its borders, mustering an army, and the King was dead.
The people running up the hill recognised their late ruler, and some of them his son. Clarus was certainly a striking figure, his blonde hair and chiseled jawline the kind of person who stuck in your head. An older man, a servant, didn’t understand and, clearly, didn’t question it, stepping back to let the Prince walk past. Clarus paused.
“Does the corpse-witch still live in the city?” he asked. The man seemed stunned into silence by the question. It wasn’t hard to see why. Vera hadn’t had a lot of experience with those whose business was taking care of the dead. She had always been surrounded by the people who got them there. After life winked out, Vera didn’t really deal with it much. Too many memories there. But corpse-witches, she understood, were a necessary part of small communities.
“I — My Lord, the majordomo will—”
“Dead, I’m afraid,” Prince Clarus said. Even with his father’s body in his hands, white clothes slowly soaking red, his voice was one of gentle kindness. “And there’s no time to find another.” He looked ahead, not at the horizon directly but more at the idea of one. “There’s no time for funerals yet, my good man. The corpse-witch. Please.”
“Y— Yes, Lord. By the east village gates, My Lord. Surely you oughtn’t—”
“He’s my father,” Clarus said. “I’ll carry him there. Thank you for your help.” He continued his walk down the hill. There was an air of authority around him Vera couldn’t put her finger on. Sure, the King had come off as authoritative, but, well, he’d been King for decades. That kind of leadership was not unlikely to come with age. But Clarus wore decisiveness like a cloak. He had made a decision, and now that decision was going to be carried out. It was like he didn’t move through the world, he just moved his feet and the world moved itself to accommodate him.
“He’s always been like that,” Aesling. “An unstoppable force, when he wants to be. Clarus is a man of purpose.” Vera could absolutely see it. It was intimidating. “You get used to it. At the end of the day, despite his purpose and strength, he is still a man. Don’t let the Prince in him distract you of that. Clarus is Clarus first. Prince or no.”
Vera caught up to him, feeling distinctly awkward. People were already shooting her looks, wondering who she was, although most bowed their heads in deference when they saw who Clarus was carrying. “Are you…”
“I’m afraid not,” Clarus said, and she heard, ever so subtly, a crack in his voice. It was clear he was keeping a brave face, but he was holding his father’s still-warm body. Nobody could be alright under those circumstances. “I feel guilty,” he said. Vera was about to reassure him that there was nothing he could’ve done. She tried telling herself that, but it was hard. After all, she was the only person left alive — that she knew of, anyway — who had brought the Prince back to his father. This was her fault, more so than his. “I feel guilty for being so short with that man. He was only trying to help.”
“I… Your father just…” Vera mumbled, but couldn’t get out a coherent statement. Clarus just tightened his jaw and kept walking. “I’m sure he’ll understand,” she finally said.
“I’ll have to see about compensating him,” Clarus said, more to himself than anything as he walked through the palace gates and onto the street, turning left and right for a moment before picking a direction. Vera had kept an eye on the trail on the ground. The blood, Rubicus’ blood, had followed the same path they had. He had been following the Cavean’s trail of death. But now it split off from where Clarus was going.
“Prince Clarus,” she said softly, “will you find the way yourself?” He looked at her and nodded with a gentle, if forced, smile. “I’ll join you soon,” she added. “I just need to know where they’ve headed.”
“Of course,” he said, straightening up a bit. “We mustn’t lose the trail. Clever thinking.” There was a trace of his previous enthusiasm there, still. But it was fragile, and fraying.
“I — I know,” Vera said. “I must… must make sure—”
“Yes,” Clarus said, his smile fragile but nonetheless genuine. “Go. I will see you momentarily.” With that, he turned around and strode to the town’s eastern gate. Vera stared at his back for a few seconds.
“I wish I could help him,” she mumbled.
“He is in pain,” Aesling said. “He’ll grieve. And I’ll be there for him, as I have been before. He’s strong, but no man is an island. Despite all of his…” Aesling waved her hand noncommittally in Vera’s head, “Clarus-ness, he’s a sensitive creature. Sometimes, it isn’t just the still waters whose grounds run deep.”
“I don’t understand,” Vera said quietly as she turned around to find the trail again. Where the Cavean was headed wasn’t hard to follow. The marks on the buildings, and the bodies, were enough to infer the creature’s general direction. But Rubicus’ trail of blood was harder to glean. He’d clearly staunched the flow somehow, but Vera still saw the occasional bloody handprint on a wall or doorframe along the way. And she noticed the direction changing along the way. Not fleeing, not lost. Deliberately, Rubicus had stopped following the Cavean.
She followed the road to a building. She didn’t recognise it, but she knew the symbols by the door. Not many mercenaries could read, so buildings like these made themselves universally known by simple markings. A horse, a drawn carriage or a sword, with a half empty circle beside, could indicate a need. A full circle was an offer. She knocked on the door. There was a shuffling on the other side, but no answer.
“Do you mind?” Aesling asked. Vera stepped backwards, and felt the woman slip into her boots effortlessly. She heard Aesling’s voice come out of her mouth when she spoke. “If I were demonspawn — or worse — I would not’ve knocked,” she shouted. “We only want to ask some questions!”
After a moment, the door opened with a grumble, and Aesling retreated again, with a little mental bow. “What?!” the woman asked, opening the door only a fraction.
“My friend was here,” Vera said. Do you know where he went?”
“There wasn’t nobody here,” the woman said, and started closing the door. Vera quickly put her foot in the gap and was very glad for the reinforced tips, or she might’ve lost a toe. It would’ve been an ignoble way to get maimed, for sure.
“His handprint,” she said, pointing, “is literally still on the door.” She could tell the woman wanted to argue, but sometimes proof is too obvious to ignore. The woman squinted her eyes shut and groaned.
“Ol’ Rube just needed some supplies and a horse,” she said. “He paid his dues.”
“I know,” Vera said. Rubicus had always been extremely particular about paying dues to the various supply houses around the country. Clearly, it had paid off. “Where did he go?”
The woman glared at Vera suspiciously. “What’s it to you? He doesn’t need some trollop to badger him with nothing right now.”
“He’s got a hole in his chest the sise of an orange,” Vera said. “He’ll not stop, because he’s a stubborn bastard, but maybe he’ll let a friend bandage him before he kills himself.” The woman’s expression softened as she looked Vera up and down.
“Fair enough,” she said, chewing her tongue. “He said he’s headed south, he said. Told me to send any of his company that-a-way too.”
“Why didn’t you say that to me first, then?” Vera tightened her jaw. She wanted to take a stand in defiance, but, well, she was used to not being taken all that seriously.
“A girl like you? You ain’t company material,” the woman scoffed. “But maybe you ain’t all bad, yeah? Maybe he needs a young leaf to take care of him.” And with that, the woman shut the door. Vera scowled.
“Well that was unpleasant,” Aesling said.
“Rubicus is like a father to me,” Vera said as she retraced her steps, moving to the eastern gates. “That’s…”
“Yuck,” Ash said with understanding. “I understand. How did you come to be in his company?”
“Him and his company took me in after the death of my family. I had nobody else, and they treated me with kindness and gave me a purpose,” Vera said. “They are my family.” She slowed down. “And now they’re gone.” She tried not to think about how that made her responsible for them. For what happened.
“Not gone,” Aesling said. “Not yet. Not if we hurry. Who are the other two?” It was clear Ash was trying to distract her. Vera let her. “I noticed you paying particular attention to the man and woman they took.”
“Flaveo is… well, if Rubicus is like a father, Flaveo is as his brother. He taught me how to cook, and he’s a gifted speaker and magecraft. Caerella is… I’ve always looked up to her.”
“I’m not surprised,” Aesling said. “She was certainly imposing.”
“What did that creature do to her?”
“I don’t know,” Ash said, “but we will find a way to save her. Save them.”
“I hope you’re right,” Vera said. She slowed down as she approached the door to the corpse-witch’s cabin. If it wasn’t for the small crowd outside, she wouldn’t have known this was the building. She shoved past people and opened the door without waiting or knocking. The room inside was dark. The windows were covered, and every possible surface, even the walls, were filled with objects. Vases and urns. Wards and symbols. A lot of books. Immediately, Vera saw Clarus, his bright eyes like a beacon. He stood by his father’s body, which had been laid to rest on a table. A woman, no older than thirty at the most, was bent over the King. She looked up in annoyance, but Clarus held up a hand.
“She is with me,” he said, then turned to Vera. “Thank you for coming back. Have you found your friend?” Vera shook her head.
“No, but I know his heading.” She didn’t want to say more yet. This wasn’t the time for making plans. Despite the Prince’s intentions to mourn later, grief still hung thick in the air, sickeningly sweet, like the incense the witch had lit.
“He’ll keep for two weeks,” the witch said. “After that, the rot will set in, and the funeral will be an unpleasant affair.” She stood up. “I can also speed it up. Have him embalmed and done by week’s end. It’ll not be pretty before then, but it’ll be fast, it’ll be clean, and it won’t smell as much.” Clarus seemed conflicted. He looked at Vera for guidance. Aesling asked. Vera answered.
“My love,” Aesling said out loud, “you will need time to grieve, by his bedside. That body may not be your father anymore, but that is still his face. It will help you mourn him.”
“But then we’ll only have two weeks,” he said.
“So,” Ash said resolutely, “you’ll have to save the world before then.”
Absolutely loved this story!