CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

*~~~**~~~*

Kovey

*~~~**~~~*

22nd of Decepter, 935 PC

Kovey could think of dozens of things he’d rather be doing than walking through the cold of night atop a gray courser named Slumber. He could think of dozens of people he’d rather be traipsing along beside than the puny runt of a young man named Corbin White also. Twenty-odd years to his name and he acts like a child. Always asking questions and telling stories I don’t feel like listening to. And that damn sneeze. Hasn’t stopped sneezing and sniffling since we left the inn. Unfortunately, that was exactly where he was. The Dirt Spine was a seemingly permanent muddy trail that cut through the middle of Galahart’s Valley. North to south. He and the others had been on it since they left Thronerock hours before. The world around them had started off very flat and empty but as they traveled further north into Resk patches of trees had sprung up, more rolling hills had formed, and signs of civilization were slowly showing both along the trail and off in the distance. Small farmhouses, a roadside inn, there was even an abandoned cart sitting way off the trail that they considered searching for goods but chose against it. More aptly put, Belvedere insisted they not stumble upon an ambush. Seemed unlikely to Kovey, but he had sided with Belvedere, knowing it would be a much worse trip if he upset the one person with him that he wanted to be around.

Just then Corbin sneezed, drawing a slight glance from Slumber and thoroughly startling Kovey. He shot the young man a sharp glare, to which Corbin grinned.

“Sorry.” He wiped his nose with the palm of his hand. “Been sick for weeks. Can’t seem to shake it.” Brilliant.

Corbin was a twin. Supposedly. Kovey had seen the brothers embrace before leaving the inn and Therrin White was a gorgeous man. Flowing, black hair and an athletic build. The kind of looks that would draw attention from men and women. Corbin wore wooden glasses that clamped tight to the bridge of his nose and made his eyes look close together. Cords stretched from the frame around each ear that made them turn red and flap out further than they should. On his head was a leather bowl-shaped helmet he had told Kovey was to protect a gash in his head he had received when escaping from the Lotus weeks before. And though the cap and glasses combination made the boy look downright ridiculous to Kovey, the story had shoved the tip of a shovel into his emotions. Something told him the more time he spent around the runt, the bigger that hole was going to grow. Can’t imagine how I’d feel if ma and pa had been returned to The Creator when I was that young.

“How long will we be riding tonight?” Corbin asked.

That was a good question. For once. Corbin had already pushed the upper limits of the number of questions Kovey was interested in answering, but he was curious about when they’d be stopping also. Elgar was not the kind of leader to announce all his intentions. Instead, when he moved, everyone followed. He had just met Elgar, and while several of the other Purists he had spoken to assured him Elgar was a good leader and a better fighter, his first impressions of the man were lackluster at best. Perhaps that was because everything about the blonde came across as arrogant and disinterested. Or perhaps, it was because Elgar was a shapeshifter, like Kovey used to be. That seemed far more realistic when he admitted it to himself.

“Don’t know. Haven’t heard a word outta Elgar this whole time.”

Corbin nodded his head in agreement. “Aye. Quiet fella.” He directed his own horse, Cinnamon, closer toward Slumber and leaned toward Kovey. “Therrin traveled with him over to that little village. Coyne, I think it was. To get that little boy. Coyne, I think it is.” He stopped. Thought about the boy’s name with bewilderment on his face. “Anyway, Therein said Elgar can change his appearance with his magic.”

“Aye.” That was all Kovey had to say about that. Unfortunately, Corbin had more.

“Ain’t that incredible? Might be one of the most incredible forms of pure magic I’ve seen.”

“Incredible,” muttered Kovey. It was incredible. Best thing to ever happen to me. Now, I’m a pathetic, fat fool whose most vivid memory is of himself crying in front of his friends and running away like a child. It had been a bit since Kovey wallowed in his own pity. He had worked hard on adjusting to his new life. Learning to accept himself after years of being whoever he fancied more than himself, which was damn near everyone, had taken time. And effort. A lot of effort. Relax. I’m over it. That was a long time ago. Things change. I changed. For the better. For the better. He had convinced himself of that notion before. When he was sitting in his house alone, finding hobbies and projects that didn’t need shapeshifting or magic. But now, riding toward Iron Helm and the city’s Iron Palance, built into a mountainside, filled with Lotus and northerners that weren’t too shabby with bows and blades. Now, magic would be a real nice thing to have up his sleeve. Getting overwhelmed by Lotus? Change yourself to look like one and slip into the shadows. Disappear. Abandon these lunatics that are fighting for something that wouldn’t even affect me anymore.

He glanced up from Slumber’s mane. The light of Elgar’s torch was shining on Belvedere, Velvetine was cast in a dark shadow from Elgar’s body in front of her. Belvedere was reaching across the space between her own horse and Velvetine’s. The young sister was pulling something out of the drug addict’s hair. She laughed as Velvetine mumbled something he couldn’t hear. Even from behind, as only half Belvedere’s face could be seen as she looked across as her sister, her smile was infectious, her aura bright and warm. Guess it would have to be to shine enough light on that mess beside her. He had always considered the idea of getting butterflies to be a pathetic way to describe how one felt about another, but at that moment he had to admit, something was fluttering around his round stomach. It’s good to see her again. Real good.

Corbin broke his concentration. “I’m an Illusionist too. But all I can do is change the appearance of objects. And only little things, no bigger than a brick is how I usually explain it. Doesn’t seem like something too useful on this journey. In fact, I probably shouldn’t be here at all. Can’t swing a sword for the life of me.” He laughed quietly. “Can’t swing a sword for the life of me. Seems like that’s exactly why you swing a sword, doesn’t it?” Damn near the only reason, I’d say. Unless you’re one of them fancy fencers. Corbin continued his hell bent effort to drive Kovey insane before they reached the halfway point of their journey. “Figure I wouldn’t be here at all if Therrin wasn’t so important to Mr. Sampson. Weird how much he likes Therrin.”

“Better he likes him than don’t. Sampson’s not one you want coming for ya.”

The runt looked scared. “Do you think Therrin is in danger?”

“I think we’re all in danger, kid.”

Corbin nodded his head as he considered that fact.

And for a brief moment, there was silence. Wonderfully soothing silence. It didn’t last.

“What do you do?” Corbin asked.

Damn kid, don't know the first thing about tact. “Eat. A lot.”

*~~~**~~~*

His hands rested on his rotund stomach, he watched his breath float into the cold morning air. The Candlebury River could be heard racing behind him. If he wasn’t terrified it may be peaceful, calming even. But, as it was, he had drawn the short straw. Him, Kovey Walber, the empty Purist. He swallowed hard, exhaled. Nervous was hardly descriptive enough to describe the state of mind he had fallen into. He looked around. The others were crouched behind their own trees nearby. What in the three hells am I doing here? All the courage he intended to muster while staying in Thronerock was still in Thronerock, forgotten and left behind during the chaotic shuffling around of leaving a tenday earlier than scheduled. There’s a million other places along the river to camp for awhile, why here? They had ridden for miles, trotting through the mud, galloping through the slightly drier stretches. Just to reach a small clearing Elgar was aware of. To stay on pace, the blonde had said. Stupid Elgar. His back was stiff, his feet were swollen, and his belly empty. What he really wanted to do was kick his boots off, eat some food, and lay down. Not this.

The knots on the bumpy root he was sitting on hardly helped as they rammed themselves into his tailbone. Why am I here? I could have just slid into the crowds of commoners the Lotus don’t care about. There’s no way to prove I ever had magic. Well, if someone I screwed in the past came after me they may be able to. Lords know there’s plenty of those folks.

“Are you done crying about it Walber? Get going,” whispered Elgar. He rubbed his bare hands together to warm them then blew warm breath into them. Kovey’s first impressions were quickly becoming his true feelings for the shapeshifter. Shut up arsehole. You go. You’re the leader.

Kovey wiped his hands on his pants. “Give me a minute. I haven’t done this in a while.,”

The men looked each other in the eye annoyedly. When the arrogant prick wasn’t disguised as one of the many different faces he had cataloged in his mind, he was a blonde stud with beautiful blue puddles for eyes. Kovey would have loved to stomp around in them. His hair hung to his shoulder and his physique made Kovey jealous, almost as badly as his shapeshifting.

“Yeah, fuck off Elgar.” Velvetine Ambrose was chewing on a twig and looking at the blonde with contempt. There was grass in her stringy white hair that may have made her look sweet had she put it there purposely. Kovey had known her for years and couldn’t think of a time he appreciated her foul-mouth more than in that moment. She moved on from the conversation quickly, picking at dry blood on her old ragged jacket and looking at her sister. She mouthed something to the other woman and then looked disappointed, shoulders slouched. He spotted the scar that ran from her jawline to her collarbone on the left side of her face. What a terrible night that was. She dislodged something in her throat with a disgusting growl of a sound and then spit it in the slushy mud at her feet.

Belvedere moved stealthily from her tree to Kovey’s and crouched in front of him. She grabbed his beefy, dry hand and said, “If you get into trouble I will protect you. The ten cogs will protect you.” Elgar laughed. He turned his head to look at the prick but Belvedere’s hand caught his cheek and chin, bringing his eyes back to hers. “You’ll be fine.”

“Let’s just all go together,” he said.

Elgar hissed at him. “We ain’t all walking out there. If it’s a trap, it’s better we don’t all die at once.”

Belvedere waved a hand at Elgar then stared into Kovey’s eyes. “Just like old times. Last I checked, arrows still pierce flesh… just don’t miss.”

“Yes, I know Bel. Thank you,” he said. “Just haven’t done this in a while.”

“Lords! We know. Just get goin’,” Elgar said. “There’s only one of them.”

“And if there isn’t?” Kovey asked.

“Like I said, that’s why we're not all-” Elgar was cut off.

“Then we’ve got you covered,” Belvedere said sweetly. You can do this, you used to kill people without a bit of hesitation. Just let your mind go to that place again.

Velvetine had changed her tune from before. “Alright Kove, it’s time to go. I wanna eat and we ain’t setting up camp until you kill this son of a bitch.” He nodded and climbed to his feet.

He pulled the bow off his back. It was an older Kovey, given to him by his father when he became a man. The limbs had creaked like old bones when he was practicing with it the night before. “Let me use your shield,” he said to Elgar.

“Then you can’t fire the bow,” Elgar said, disgusted with the man. “Just get your fat ass going.”

Kovey scowled at the man and then turned toward the clearing and spotted his target. A couple hundred feet away was a man leaning against a fallen log. He was facing the river, back to Kovey. His head and shoulders were sticking up above the log. The infamous green gambeson of the Lotus Army was clear as day, even in the dimming light of the setting sun. This should be simple enough. A perfect way to get your fighting legs back under you. He had hung up his weapons after his magic had run dry. He figured depression and sharp blades were a bad combination.

“Good luck,” Corbin whispered. He wiped his nose and nodded at Kovey with a dopey smile.

“Thanks Corbin.”

Kovey’s first step was met with a light crunch of ice beneath his boot. As was his second. Great start. The figure across the clearing didn’t move. If he doesn’t hear my footsteps he will surely hear my heart racing. Step by step Kovey made his way further across the clearing, past the disheveled fire pit and it’s stone seats, past the old merchant cart that looked empty and abandoned. Suddenly, it occurred to him that he had not yet nocked an arrow. He reached over his shoulder and grabbed the feathery end of one of his father’s old silvertips.

He was within twenty feet of the man before he knew it. The sound of the racing river grew louder, making it quite clear why the man had not heard anything behind him. He continued his menacing stalk as he raised his bow and took aim. He swung to the right to get a better view of the man. His eyes were locked on his target firmly, until they weren’t. His foot caught a rock, he stumbled. If the ground wasn’t slick he may have stayed on his feet, but he slipped, his arms flailed to catch himself, the arrow flew off into the distance. Cold mud splattered on his face as he hit the ground. His hands stung slightly on the ice. Godsdamn. Get up. Get up. His desperate slipping and scrambling made him feel like a pig wallowing in the mud. He shot a glance at the man as he stood. He hadn’t moved an inch. A second arrow was nocked and aimed.

Embarrassment wanted him to prove a point, it encouraged him to release the arrow. The silvertip plunged into the man’s skull and came out the other side. No blood splattered, the head jerk, then tipped forward, the upper body slid to the left a bit behind the force of the impact. Kovey gave his comrades a punch into the sky and waved them over.

“Well done,” Elgar said as he approached. There was a grin on his face as he slapped Kovey on the shoulder. “Haven’t laughed that hard in a while.” He made his way to the dead Lotus.

Velvetine sneered and shook her head as she walked by in silence but her sister stopped, Corbin by her side.

“It happens, Kovey. Either way, thank you,” she said with her head tilted sympathetically. Kovey nodded embarrassingly as she walked away.

Corbin opened his mouth, but Kovey shook his head and walked away.

A half-empty bottle of whiskey sat beside the dead Lotus, his hands were on his lap. One was open to the sky, the other held a picture of what Kovey assumed was the man’s family. The infamous green gambeson was covered in dry mud and what looked like black vomit or spit. His discolored skin hugged the bones in his face tightly as if someone had left him in the sun to dry out. You shot an arrow through a dead man's skull. He shook his head at himself.

Velvetine said, “He must have felt it coming, found a nice little place to let that nasty filth dry him up.” She looked at Kovey. “Good thing we don’t die when we run dry.” He nodded. At least not physically.

“At least it was a good shot, Walber.” Elgar said as he approached the body. “Be sure, not dead. That’s what Alaric always says.” He ripped the arrow from the Lotus’ head with a hard yank and tossed it to the hero. He knelt in front of the man. Look at him, cataloging every detail so he can pull the man’s appearance from memory at the drop of a hat. You should be doing that, not that arrogant ass. Kovey figured Elgar would be hard pressed to replicate the man’s true appearance based on the condition of the body, but if necessary he could always act as though he was suffering from the deterioration Lotus faced as they approached death.

Elgar stood and backed away. A second later he looked like what the Lotus may have looked like when he was alive. Short black hair, the beginnings of a goatee, and a scar just beneath his right eye. His face was fuller than the dead man's given that he was still alive, but even then there were some oddities as Elgar’s imagination tried to fill in the gaps.

Velvetine was next. She took the picture, examined it briefly, then tore it up and tossed it in the man’s face. Next, she took a golden pin in the shape of a lotus flower off the gambeson and tossed it to Elgar. “You might need this.”

Seeing the pin made Kovey feel better about shooting an already dead body. Good. He deserved that then.

When Velvetine reached into the man’s coat pocket she said, “There she is.” In her palm were three purple crystals, smooth faces met at crisp edges. As crystalline as they looked, the Purists knew they were actually full of the Lotus Queen’s magical concoction.

“Hand that over, Vel,” Belvedere said nervously. Yes, get that stuff out of her hands. After his well had run dry, Kovey had wrestled with the prospect of trying lotus magic, but he eventually decided against it after learning more about the ramifications. He wasn’t convinced Velvetine was as cautious.

“Relax, I know better than to fuck with this shit,” Velvetine said.

Elgar extended his hand. “Give them here, I’ll smash them.”

Velvetine barely acknowledged the man as she crushed the capsules between her fingers. White powder sprinkled the top of the wet mud beneath her as the smell of a lotus flower drifted into the air.

“They say it’s delicious,” Velvetine said with a wry smile. “Too deadly for me though. I prefer to survive my addiction.”

*~~~**~~~*

The campsite was nothing more than a small clearing and even calling it that was a stretch. Dead branches and autumn leaves covered every inch of the space except a large mud patch near the riverbank. The one satisfying feature of the site were the fallen trees that lined much of the perimeter, as if placed there on purpose by those who used the area regularly. Kovey leaned against one of the logs and took his boots off. He looked across the campsite. Elgar was standing by the river, looking at the dead Lotus. He was eating some of the rations they had agreed to save for desperate times. More desperate than things were that night.

As water seeped through Kovey’s cotton pants and drenched his arse he once again asked himself what he was doing there. This time, without his mind panicking over his certain death, he was able to remember. Redemption. Making myself a better man, my promise to myself, remember? His promise; don’t die wishing you were the man you once were. Living by that mentality was simple when he was at the market and tipped a vendor generously or helped an old woman with her cart. Sleeping on the ground and marching toward the northern region of Morne was another story. There was one consolation though. If he just managed to do something nice for someone soon he wouldn’t have too much time to screw it up after that.

A raspy, gruff voice stirred him from his pondering. “You want some of this shit, Kove?” Velvetine was crouching at a small fire in the middle of the campsite. She was turning a makeshift spit with her long, boney fingers. “Better eat now, rain’s gonna put this baby out soon.”

“Of course Walber will eat. He’s got to fill up that fat stomach with something.” Elgar called from the riverbank. His mouth was open as he chewed away at the dried meat. Despite looking like an uncivilized idiot while he ate, Kovey had to admit the arrogant blonde was handsome, a prick, but handsome.

Kovey gave him a friendly gesture and told Velvetine to toss him some of the meat she had finished cooking. “What’s wrong Elgar? Is your rich little belly too good for some squirrel?”

“You could say that,” Elgar said. He was smiling through his disgusting chewing. “I’d rather be rich and picky than poor and empty anyday.” Empty, a simple word, one that couldn’t hurt the feelings of a toddler, but it felt like a punch in the gut to Kovey. Even harder than it had in the inn, when Velvetine had used it. Nobody’s afraid to remind me of my poor circumstances are they?

Elgar shifted his torturous personality to Velvetine as he walked toward the fire pit. “How long ya been clean, Ambrose?”

“When did we leave Thronerock?” the woman asked. Elgar chuckled.

“Really though Vel?” Kovey asked. Ain’t staying clean if she’s always bringing up drugs. He had spit the red pill out that Velvetine had convinced him to try. Red Fox she had called it. He wanted to try it, he really did. There was no denying it. But somehow, just in the knick of time, he had managed to resist. He looked at his secret sweetheart. Bel ain’t exactly a good influence though. Her pockets are probably filled to the brim with goodies. She’d never force them upon me now that she knows I’m clean though.

“Don’t worry your round little face, Kove. I know you’re doing your redemption bullshit,” the woman said. “I won't invite you to the party.” We’ll see.

Belvedere and Corbin came wandering into the campsite. Corbin thanked the woman and made his way directly toward Kovey. He carried a dingy brown pouch with him. “Hey Kovey, you want some berries?” He wiped his nose on his sleeve as he sat down on the ground beside his elder.

“What kind?” It didn’t matter but he thought he'd ask.

“Blue.” He dropped the pouch in Kovey’s open hand.

“Thanks kid.” Diggin’ that hole, slowly but surely.

“Belvedere’s magic makes me feel better about our chances,” Corbin said.

“Our biggest enemies are right here kid,” Kovey whispered as he nodded at Elgar and Velvetine discreetly. Elgar had turned to the river and Velvetine was distracted by her sister’s optimistic chatter. “If you want to survive, stay one step ahead of them. Or better yet, just do their thinking for them.”

Corbin made a face that told Kovey the runt was scared of the two thorn bushes.

“Relax, no one here will hurt you on purpose. Just don’t get caught up in their shit.” Remember that yourself.

Kovey adjusted himself and looked at the sky. Nothing new; dark clouds, brisk winds, and rain on the horizon. It was just a standard day in the Kingdom of Morne. He pulled his cloak tighter around his neck.

The runt had not gotten the point that Kovey wanted to relax. Nothing new. “Is she dangerous?”

“Who?”

“The Lotus Queen’s mother,” Corbin said as he chewed on a mouthful of blueberries. Kovey had no idea.

Elgar apparently did. “No.” He was walking toward the fire. When he was beside he spit into it, his saliva darkened by the meat he had eaten, then pulled a smoke stick from his pocket and lit it in on the flame. .

“That’s good. So it-” Corbin was interrupted when Elgar continued.

“She’s not dangerous at all. But bringing her back to Thronerock. That’s dangerous. She’s worth more to Iris than purging pure magic according to Wicket.” He sat on the log opposite Kovey and Corbin and took a drag from his smoke stick, holding it between his finger and thumb with such casual suavity that Kovey could tell Corbin was impressed. Kovey may have been too. Slightly.

“Why?” Corbin asked.

Elgar’s response wasn’t what Kovey had expected. “Cause they don’t get along and the older broad knows something Iris doesn’t want her piping off about.” He took another long drag, letting the smoke pour from his mouth slowly. “Alaric’s hoping the mom will tell him what she knows. Figure she will one way or another. Alaric don’t take too kindly to the word no.”

“I wouldn’t care if she was my mom or not. I’d kill the bitch if I were The Lotus Queen,” Velvetine said then took a chomp out of a piece of squirrel. “Too much on the line in my opinion.”

Elgar nodded in agreement.

Belvedere did not. “Apparently even The Lotus Queen has limits. Takes a while to get there, I must admit.”

Elgar had either not heard the woman or didn’t care. “If I had it my why I’d just off a commoner, change into him whenever I had to go out on the town, and wait for my magic to wear off. This whole purge thing ain’t much of my concern. But instead my brother’s got us galivanting around the empire like idiots.” He looked at Kovey. “Don’t know what in the three hells you’re doing here. You have it made, Walber.”

Belvedere, chimed in with her sugarcoating. “We are doing something bigger than ourselves. And if you ask me, that’s the only way to live.” Then why sell drugs? Just for your sister’s sake?

Elgar scoffed. “That’s sweet Belvedere, but it’s idiotic. We have what, one month, maybe two, before we’re all dead? Just say fuck it and enjoy yourself.” He glanced at Velvetine. “Let this forest fire burn to the ground while you pamper yourself.”

“Then why are you here, arsehole?” Velvetine asked, still crouched by the fire.

“You try being Alaric’s younger brother,” Elgar said. “If you think it’s hard for you to tell him no, imagine him having enough leverage over you to lift the king’s castle.”

Kovey couldn’t help himself. “What’s he got on you rich boy? Did you sleep with an ugly whore?”

“I’d never,” Elgar said with a grin on his face. “But sorry fat man, my secrets die with me.” He picked up his golden bow and walked toward the treeline without another word.

When he was out of earshot Velvetine whispered, “That rat bastard is going to get us all killed.”

The wet leaves made a familiar squishing sound beneath Corbin as he shifted uncomfortably.

“He will come through, Vel. Sampson put him in charge for a reason.” Belvedere took a bite of the squirrel her sister had given her, she put her fingers over her mouth as she chewed.

Kovey had a different opinion. “Sampson put him in charge because they’re brothers.”

“Exactly,” Velvetine said.

The younger Ambrose was getting frustrated by the cynicism. “I’d appreciate it if you two would stop making little Corbin even more nervous.” She smiled at the young man.

When the woman looked away the runt leaned toward Kovey and whispered, “How old does she think I am?”

“Elgar is a brilliant Illusionist and masterful with his bow. He may be unconventional and a bit rough to rub up against but I believe in him.” A bit rough to rub up against. Belvedere, you’re too sweet for your own good.

Velvetine stood and walked toward the riverbank, clearly tired of her sister’s delusions.

“You’re right Bel. We should support him,” Kovey said in an attempt to earn any good grace with her he could.

The white-haired angel smiled and followed after her sister, leaving Kovey with Corbin. And to his surprise, the young man was beginning to look like decent company. He looked at the young man just as Corbin sneezed into the pouch of blueberries.

“Oops,” he said and looked at Kovey, snot on his upper lip.