Rare Kinds

"I know it's going to be difficult for you but on this journey you're going to have to trust me. If you don't and at any point you do something stupid we may not be able to help you. King's Town is crowded with all kinds," he glanced at Roger, and Nick thought something unspoken passed between them. "It would be good if you both stuck with me."

For the past three nights Lent told him to trust him, which made Nick kind of nervous but nothing had happened so far. Once they had put the safe house behind them and arrived to the mainland it could have been any green, uninhabited place on his on world, which made him once again question his sanity. With every step further inland the whole incident at the safe house seemed more like a brief nightmare—almost too unreal to process. He wasn't fully convinced that any of this was happening. He had had surreal dreams before, but none of them had been this clear.

He suspected that the journey thus far, although miserable with the constant rain, seemed a momentary reprieve of what he feared was to come.

"How boring," Roger said, pulling Nick out of his thoughts.

They all sat around the fire, safe from the continuous rain in a yurt Lent had pulled from his pack. The dimensions of these people's hand bags were unbelievable.

Roger pushed his long blond hair behind his ears and reached out, warming his hands against the heat of the flame. "I suppose we'll spend most of our time in the libraries, helping you go over thousands of useless volumes…"

"We'll have to do something while we wait. I don't suppose we'll get an appointment right away…" Lent trailed off, staring at Roger if he was some puzzle he could work out if he only squinted enough.

"Why are we going?" Roger asked impatiently, "What could possibly be there that we couldn't get at the safe house?"

"Do you want to go back there?" Lent stared at Roger but thankfully he remained silent. Lent turned his attention back to Nick who was looking more confused than ever. "A long time ago, before I'd bound myself to Olecksi, I went to the research center in King's. Then they had a ritual to outline potential."

"That's what you'll have them do to me," Nick said flatly.

How many doctors had he gone through? How many years of drugs and darkness and the boy crawling out of the shadows… the pools of images? Now someone wanted him to try magic? What was he to make of this?

"It helped find a way to my calling. I think perhaps it could do the same for you," Lent said ominously, which made Nick wonder what Lent's calling really was. Were they trying to fix him or use him somehow?

Whatever they did or would do, it was more than abduction that was certain, and he sensed Lent and Roger's calling, whatever it was, wasn't what they would have chosen. They were wrapped up in something they didn't fully understand but maybe Nick was projecting. He had no idea what was going on either. He had been at a loss to find reasons not to go with them. They couldn't take him home and if he was to survive in this world he needed someone. He also wanted to know why he was here in the first place because no one seemed to know.

The Master had his own agenda, that was obvious, and he was keeping them all in the dark. Whatever his agenda might be Nick gathered it wasn't something he wanted seen through if he could help it. At least he was out of there but now he had to figure out what he could do. He didn't know anyone, he thought as he regarded Lent and Roger beside him at the fire, and he didn't trust anyone. The last people he had trusted were his parents and they had died long ago.

They were looking at him expectantly. Lent's black eyes studied him thoughtfully and Roger's vivid green stare dropped to the fire when Nick looked over.

"Can you tell me about it?" Nick asked finally. "The ritual?"

"I don't know if it's done the same way," Lent shifted his eyes and studied the fire, as if he was looking inside himself, seeing the memories in the flame. The sides of the yurt shook around them. "They had brewed a potion and bade me to drink it. Something that lulls you into a deep sleep. They laid me down on the altar and my mind was open to them."

Nick's eyebrows rose; he almost laughed but caught himself. "What did it feel like?"

"Peaceful. I did not know they were there. In fact, I had forgotten all about them. I was lost within myself and blissfully unaware of the five mages in the room."

Roger scoffed. "A bit dangerous, exposing your mind, don't you think? Wouldn't want to reveal any secrets…" He challenged, his eyes focused on Lent.

"Like I said, it was before I'd even met Olecksi. I had no secrets then," Lent paused and continued in a low voice, "I don't know if the ritual's the same and I doubt those who conducted it are still around…"

It was difficult not to believe him. Lent was too genuine, although what he described sounded ridiculous. Nick had experienced hypnosis before and it hadn't done anything, if that's what the ritual entailed. In fact it had made things worse. If the ritual Lent was talking about was anything like that Nick didn't see a chance of it improving matters. Lent didn't seem confident about it either, but it was something that would maybe answer some questions.

"You trust them?" Nick asked, apprehensive because he didn't want to hope just yet, not too soon when it could all get dangerous again and come crashing down around them. "You really think they can help?"

"Are you beginning to believe us then?" Roger asked, giving him a sideways glance. The fire made his eyes glow like a cat's in the dark.

Nick dropped his head, staring into the fire. The rain pelted down on the yurt so hard it sounded like a hail of stones. He lay down and buried his face in the folds of his jacket and pretended to be asleep until he was.

---

The rain was worse the next day. The three of them were soaked by the time they saw an inn up ahead. The further south they went, the more open the landscape became. Rolling hills and forests had given in to fields, tilled but no farm houses to speak of. The inn stood alone, a stable connected to it, and a muddy road led away, further south. It had deep, narrow wheel tracks in it. Wagons had probably just been through earlier that day though they hadn't seen anyone along the road.

"Let's stop here," Lent said, pointing at the inn up ahead. "I think we could all use a drink."

"I don't think they'd be too happy to see me," Roger said, eyeing the inn warily. Shivering in the downpour, he backed away from them. "I'll meet you at the gate. I'm not welcome here."

"Wait," Nick said, but it Roger was already walking away. He felt something, the kind of thing that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. It was like electricity in the air; Nick looked around, feeling it but unable to see it. He shook himself, watching Roger disappear into the tree line behind them. Lent had to nudge him before he could turn away and even then he felt the pull of some unknown power like a hook in his back. Whatever it was, it was in the forest and now Roger was there too.

"Where's he going?" Nick tried to make his words as indifferent as possible.

"These outskirt settlements," Lent said, jerking his head to the inn. "They don't like vampires very much. They're likely to start a mob if they find out he's with us. Don't mention him. We'll meet at the gate like he said."

Nick followed, glancing behind to the forest where something there was sending out a very strong signal. He wondered if Lent could feel it, but when he glanced at him he seemed wholly unaware.

On the door of the inn a crude sign had been hung. Its white painted letters said: The use of magic and weapons within are prohibited. In the power of our King no unlawful creatures admitted.

"Why are you so worried when he can't die?"

"I'm worried about us," Lent said and threw open the door to the inn, "and there are worse things than dying."

The inn was warm and dry. It had the sort of homey, country charm to lull one into a false sense of security. Nick found himself irrationally suspicious of the place. Or was it rational to be suspicious? He couldn't say for sure. It was best to be suspicious about everything, he thought.

There were a couple of men at a corner table who seemed to be in a lively discussion which involved jabbing into the air in front of each other's faces and speaking with such force they were both red in the face.

"Took our kill!" One of them said and Nick felt a lot like he was having déjà vu.

He turned his head and studied the two men. They were both drunk, which was obvious. One had a quiver of arrows at his back; his bow was leaning against the wall beside their table. The other had severely neat facial hair, the kind that made Nick think that if there were any railroad tracks in the vicinity, this man was taking a break from tying damsels to them. Nick backed fearfully into Lent, noting the knives that man had strapped to himself.

"Take Branaugh and see if she can make sense of it!"

"Horse shit! You think she knows everything!"

The inn keeper, who had been frowning over at the men in the corner, brightened up when he noticed Lent and Nick had walked in. He waved them over to the bar. He was a large man, like Lent, and about the same towering height. His skin was tanned a dark brown, his face cracked with friendly wrinkles. The hair on his head was sparse on the top, revealing a tanned scalp.

"You two!" He called, scratching his bushy black beard thoughtfully. His beady eyes shifted from Lent to Nick. "Haven't seen you around."

"We're traveling to the city," Lent said and took a seat. Nick threw a look to the men arguing in the corner before he hesitantly sat down beside him.

"You'll have a tough time of it until the rain stops. It's been going on for about a week," he wiped the counter, his sleeves dragging on the trail of water his rag left behind. "Though I suppose it's bound to stop soon. What'll it be? Something strong to warm your bones?"

Nick shook his head and water went everywhere. He brought a hand to his face, scratching his fingers through his stubble. He needed a shave desperately and wondered what passed for razors around here.

"Well?" Lent said impatiently, rubbing his hands together to keep them warm.

"I don't know…" Nick said, remembering the effects of the whiskey and winced. "Something not so volatile."

The inn keeper laughed and slapped the counter so hard the glasses and clay mugs around him jumped. "I'll tell you what you need. Weather like this has bound to have you folks chilled to the bone. I'll serve you something from my own distillery," he said happily and then nudged Lent's bent arm with a fist. "Took some recipe ideas from your people, elf, you're bound to enjoy it."

Lent and Nick exchanged a look and Lent whispered, "Oh shit…"

But the red liquid, once set down before them, looked surprising normal and a lot like wine, though Nick had never tasted wine. He took the glass in his hand and brought it to his nose. A sweet, honey and flowery type smell emanated from it. Lent sighed in relief. Maybe Tangarians had their own dreaded version of whiskey.

"It's harmless," Lent assured him, though he himself looked apprehensive. "Just take it slow."

"Name's Balruit, by the way," the inn keeper nodded to them both. "Will you be needing a room for the night? I don't have any made up so I won't charge you."

"Not sure," Lent said, taking a sip from his glass. He made a face but was quick to correct it when he saw the inn keeper watching for his reaction to the drink. "I'll let you know how we feel after this."

The inn keeper nodded knowingly and with a tense smile he went to join what was now a shouting match in the corner.

"Should we stay? The rain has been going on for days." Nick turned, watching the three men out of the corner of his eye. He couldn't hear what they were talking about now. The inn keeper was gesturing to them to keep their voices down.

"I don't want to delay this much longer, but Roger doesn't do well in cold weather like this."

"He should have come with us," Nick said but was soon after disturbed by his words. He turned away from Lent mostly to hide his expression from view, and tried to seem casual. It really hadn't come out like he meant it. "In case something happens," he explained.

"I think you've had enough of that stuff," Lent said and gestured for him to put it down.

"I've hardly had a drink," Nick said and took a sip before Lent could take it away from him. The warm liquid pooled in this belly. It had gone down surprisingly easy, and already he was feeling a bit fuzzy around the edges, but warm—very warm. "What do you suppose he'll occupy himself with until we meet him?"

"I'd rather not know."

"We'd probably do better in your yurt than here then, if we're to stick together."

Lent gave him a long look, turning in his stool to face him. "I don't understand you," he whispered. "If I were in your position I would have already tried to escape."

Nick couldn't imagine what he should be planning since he had no idea where he was and any idea how to fend for himself, feeling so displaced. He gave Lent a smile, masking those feelings and said, "Maybe I'm waiting to see what you can do for me."

"Cunning," Lent teased, tossing back his drink with practice ease, and returned the smile easily. He then cast a look around to the two men in the corner, now arguing vehemently with the inn keeper. It looked a harmless enough quarrel now, and before long the men stood and staggered on their feet waving the inn keeper away sluggishly.

"We'll take our chances, Balruit," one of them said gruffly as they may their way to the door.

"Go on then," the inn keeper said, shoving them out into the rain, and shut the door on them. He made his way back to the bar and set a bottle down on the counter next to Nick. "On the house. You can stay as long as you like. The storm will pass."

"What's up with those two?" Lent asked, jerking his head to the exit.

"Drunk and stupid, like most of my patrons."

Balruit set about wiping the counter again, rolling his sleeves up to only have them fall down again once he dipped a dingy looking rag in a bucket. He slapped the rag on the counter, muttering a curse under his breath. Nick and Lent flinched as some of the water splashed in their direction.

"Sorry. Some of the imperial foresters come in here from time to time. Those were raving about something they'd found in the forest… portal of some kind. They're drunk, pay no attention to them. Probably mad as well. I'd over-served them." He changed pace, leaning on the counter, his elbow squishing in the rag. "What's your business in King's Town? If you don't mind me asking… the festival?"

"The festival?" Lent questioned, casting a furtive glance to his companion.

Nick was barely paying attention. He had turned toward the door, the drink held so loosely in his hand he might drop it. He was stuck on the word portal. Was that the feeling in the air outside? So sharp he had barely noticed the rain pelting down on him? Lent nudged him suddenly and he had to jerk to keep from dropping his drink on the floor. He turned around on the stool, facing Balruit.

"He was saying about the festival," Lent said in an earnest voice.

"Celebration of the Victorious Dead! It's a grand thing. Lots of boozing and partying nowadays. Nothing like how it used to be, am I right?" Balruit directed that question to Lent as if he would know better.

Lent nodded, "Not at all like it originated. But I suppose you men like it better that way: stuff ritual and get right to the drinking."

"Keeps me in business…" he conceded with a contented sigh. Nick wondered how since he didn't charge them for the drinks. "I'm going to get some rest. Give a yell if you need anything or if someone else comes by. It's been a long day."

With that he trudged through a door behind the counter and left them alone.

"Portal?" Nick said, staring at the door Balruit had disappeared behind.

"Is that what's worrying you?" Lent sighed and stretched his arms. "I haven't seen one myself, but Mohan mentioned the one they saw in Grey."

"I thought he was on the run." He had remembered the Master mentioning him, and that he had run off with someone important.

"We spoke briefly before I found Roger that night. He never mentioned leaving or taking Laët with him, but he told me about the circle in the sky… I imagine that's what they're talking about."

"It sounds important," Nick insisted, suddenly anxious and half out of his seat. He tapped his foot on the floor, itching to go outside for a reason he couldn't identify.

Lent gave him a sharp look, one that stilled his foot immediately. "If it was meant to be important to me then the Master would have set a task."

"It seemed to worry them." But Nick might as well have been speaking to a wall.

Lent's mouth formed a thin line and he didn't say anything for a moment. He tried to smile but to Nick it looked more like a scowl. "We don't have time for that," Lent rushed out lowly, "…and I'm sure the Master has someone dealing with things of that nature. It's not my job so I'll stay out of it, thank you."

Nick poured himself more drink and offered some to Lent as a peace offering. "It's not bad," he said absently, topping off Lent's glass. "I've never had anything like it."

Lent's face softened and he nodded. "No, I don't suppose you have," he studied him for a moment and then said, "You're surprisingly calm of late."

"I'm sure it won't last, but this isn't quite what I expected." Nick took another drink and stared at the glass, feeling a bit more drunk than he'd like to be. "I have no gauge for what passes for normalcy… I don't know what I expected…" Nick trailed off, the fireplace catching his eye. Tiny sparks flew up and danced around it, floating in the air. "You don't see that do you?"

Lent whipped his head around to look, "See what?"

"Nothing," Nick amended quickly but was terrified though his voice sounded eerily calm to his ears. Nick stood and walked to one of the floating lights and grabbed it in his hand.

"You're not going loopy on me are you?" Lent's eyes widened, watching him from his stool, now frozen there with his mouth open his drink held tightly in his hand. When he finally got his mouth to work his voice was so low Nick could barely hear it. "What's that you're doing?"

"I don't know," he said and clenched his fist.

The light blended into his skin and he felt its warmth, a certain power build within. He turned to Lent and opened his hand. It was empty. Something strange was happening here or maybe it was him, but when he looked up at Lent's shocked face he had to admit he had never had a shared hallucination. He hadn't had any hallucinations lately; not since the safe house. He had been used to seeing things almost every other day. It was due to happen, he thought, but what he had felt in the air outside made him anxious. Almost as if there was something he needed to do. Something he needed to see.

"We should meet Roger," he said but he was really thinking about the forest and whatever it had been calling to him.

"I'm not eager to return to him," Lent turned back to the bar and hunched over his glass, suddenly irritable. "Whatever it was you did, you'd better not do it again unless you want trouble here."

Nick examined his palm, noting with wonder that the light had dissipated. "Do you really think they can help me at the research center?"

"It's worth a try," Lent said into his drink. "We're close now. We'll meet up with Roger in a couple of days. Might as well take our time. We'll do better without his grumbling."

Roger hadn't been as bad as Lent said he'd be. He had often gone on ahead of them when they walked, but when they stopped at night to sleep in the yurt Roger wouldn't stop complaining about the weather. Nick had to admit it was annoying but definitely a step up from the snarling monster Roger had become when he had dropped the blood on the floor. Just the memory of it had kept him up most nights since they'd left, his eyes fixed on Roger as he sat near the fire, waiting for the monster to come back.

Lent was so patient with Roger it bordered on saintly, but as soon as Roger was out of earshot he would let out such a tensed sigh as if he had been holding the urge to punch the shit out of him. As far as looks went Nick would bet on Lent in a heartbeat.

"You don't seem to like him much." At those words Lent snorted into his drink.

"And you do?"

"I don't know what to think," Nick slurred, now confident that he was completely sloshed from the wine or whatever it had been that the inn keeper had given them. "He's dangerous. I know that."

"You have some sense then. The potion I gave you should keep him at bay for about another couple of days. It's a shame its effects are weakened because of the rain. I should have thought of that. When it's gone you'll have to use some cunning to keep him away from you. I don't know what it is but he's fascinated by you, whatever you are seems to draw him in."

Nick shuddered, weaving in his footsteps until he got back to his seat. "I don't know what to say to that."

Roger was drawn to him? For what reason? Nick couldn't imagine what was so fascinating about himself. Most of the people he had ever come in contact with back home wrote him off as crazy and gave him a wide berth, not that he minded in the least. He had a good idea of how he seemed to people. But he was sure he didn't want to get eaten. Oh, he could barely think; what was this stuff? He blinked at the glass in his hand, seeing two of them.

"I wish I could help beyond the potion. I've dealt with Roger before. He's quite stubborn."

"I've noticed."

"The inn keeper seems very trusting to leave us alone here, but I don't surmise any mischief. I suppose Roger will be causing trouble on the other end of the road, to keep the locals off our back."

Nick thought briefly of reminding Lent where Roger had disappeared to, that he had seen him go into the tree line, but decided against it. "Why should they care about us?"

"They'd be curious and want to know about us. It's important that we maintain that we are travelers and that is all, unless you want to see villager militia hunt us down before we have a chance to reach King's Town."

"I take it not many people enjoy the Master's influence," Nick found himself saying, the wine pulling the words out of his mouth.

"In this realm he's Olecksi Andreschi. They don't know him like we do," he said cryptically. He downed the rest of his drink and set it down hard on the counter. "You don't know him like I do." The rain slowed outside, a bout of thunder rumbled through the beams overhead. "It'd be best not to mention him for that'd be a good reason to kill us, just knowing that we've been involved with him. These outskirts people can be nice and hospitable, but as soon as someone mentions government or politicians our welcome will run out quickly."

Nick didn't want anything to do with the Master ever again. Lent said other things, a great number of things but Nick gave up listening. He hiccoughed and laid his head down on his arms, resting on the counter. The room melted away and he was drawn into a deep sleep.

-----

When he awoke Lent was groaning beside him as if he hadn't moved all night, holding the edges of his head and groaning. The inn had sprung to life around them. Many patrons surrounded the tables and lined up next to them at the bar. Balruit, the inn keeper, was shouting to people behind them.

"Now, tell us who he was, if you know his name!" his voice boomed over the crowd.

"Nameless fiend. Blond, he was, eyes like snake poison," one man said. He was standing so close to Nick that his wild arm movements jostled him to the floor. Nick stood with care, his head pounding and his equilibrium was way off. What had been in that wine?

"He killed two of us last night and then disappeared when the rains stopped! Hard to track now!" The man continued in a hoarse voice. "Branaugh and Merigold! Ripped their throats out by that thing, that portal!"

Several people gasped, but they couldn't have known exactly what he was talking about, could they? Nick saw a woman holding an infant in her arms, tears streaming down her face. Her stare was making him uncomfortable.

"What is this thing?" she said, cradling the baby's head to her shoulder. "Some kind of evil work going on in the forest! What will happen to us?"

Nick didn't know what to say to her but then Lent grabbed onto his arm and pulled him to the door. "We'd better go," he said quickly and pushed a path to the door but the inn keeper's loud voice halted his efforts.

"Maybe our travelers know of him, as they've probably came from that direction," Balruit said and locked his gaze onto Lent. "The road's dangerous now, with what we've heard this morning. You can afford to be delayed. Tell us," he said, narrowing his eyes at them both as he made his way around the counter. "Do you know anything about this killer?"

"What killer?" Nick said, shaking his arm out of Lent's grasp. He had a hunch they were talking about Roger.

"The green eyed monster what ripped out Branaugh's throat!" One man shouted, drawing a dagger from his side. Nick immediately backed away, throwing up his hands in a defensive gesture. The woman holding the infant was now crying in earnest; this Branaugh was obviously something to her.

"I have no idea what or who you're talking about," he said, trying to keep his tone indifferent but his hands were shaking.

"There'll be no weapons here!" Shouted Balruit over the ruckus. "Alan, sheath your dagger. We're only after information."

The crowd looked murderous and fearful but the man called Alan put away his dagger just the same. He eyed Lent suspiciously, "What's your business, elf? Don't see many Tangarians this far north."

"I imagine you think we have something to do with this? Doesn't sound as if your murderer fits our description, does it?" Lent asked, surveying the crowd of angry villagers. Nick was impressed; Lent was calm in the face of this murderous crowd.

"They don't," Balruit said, stepping out from the group, addressing them while looking at Lent. "In any case they were here all night, drunk on my Elder Wine." He puffed out his chest and couldn't seem to help a little prideful smile at the potency of his beverages.

"We're on our way to King's Town. We only stopped because of the storm. We don't know what's happened but perhaps we'd better be going." Lent said and shoved at Nick, pushing him to the door.

"Good idea," Nick said, his eyes still on the one Balruit had called Alan. The man's hand was still on the hilt of his dagger, his eyes boring into Nick's face.

"Thank you for your kindness," Lent said to Balruit and he nodded at them as Lent ushered Nick out of the inn. "Perhaps we should start running before they decide to kill us anyway."

"That'd probably just give them a reason to suspect us. Anyway, I don't think I could run after last night…" he trailed off, feeling something just over his shoulder. He turned his head and scanned the tree line.

"Me neither… strong stuff, Elder Wine. Should have known. " Lent pointed down the road. "To the gate. To Roger, the green eyed monster," he said with a grin it seemed he didn't feel. "We'll have to walk through the village, but hopefully most of them will stay at the inn to discuss who'll be leading the hunting party. I imagine they'll try to come up with some sort of plan to flush him out."

"He killed them…" Nick said, just now comprehending the words of the townspeople. "Roger killed those people."

"He kills lots of people," Lent said with a shrug as they took the road further south.

Nick looked at him sideways, his steps slowing to a full stop. He wondered what it was that made Lent so sure Roger could be trusted. He had just murdered two people, ripped their throats out from several accounts. Why did he even do it? Was he even provoked? Had it been their blood he was after? Nick swallowed hard, thinking that at any moment in the future he could be next.

"Okay…" Nick took a shuddering breath and felt sick.

Lent ignored him and kept walking, caught up in making up for Nick's side of the conversation. "If Roger has any sense left he'll lose them and the villagers will give up once they know he's gone."

"He found the portal?" Nick said and had to shout because Lent was now too far away for normal conversation. "That's where they said their friends had been killed."

"It's a good thing he killed them there. Hallowed ground now. They'll leave the bodies there I think and leave the place alone," Lent said and turned to look at him, surprised that Nick was still in the spot where he had left him. He walked closer so he could say it right to his face, "You'll find that these people on the outskirts are very superstitious. The old ways demand that a body killed by an unnatural creature must be left untouched and the ground below declared unsafe. They won't go near the portal now."

Nick couldn't disagree with that; Roger was definitely an unnatural creature. Deadly. Dangerous. Nick swallowed hard. He couldn't seem to move his feet. Nick glanced down at them with a frown.

"What's the purpose of the portal, do you think?" Nick wondered aloud, feeling the incredible pull from the forest. He knew what it was now and was compelled to follow the energy in the air. "I know you said you don't care but aren't you curious?"

"I cannot afford to be curious about them," Lent said curtly, clearly disturbed by Nick's silent refusal to follow him. "Don't speak about it. I have nothing to say on the matter. What's wrong with you? Keep up."

Nick looked back at the tree line. "I have to see." His feet wanted to go there. What was going on here? Since when did his feet have a mind of their own?

"Absolutely not," Lent's heavy hand dropped on his shoulder and Nick whipped around, suddenly determined to argue.

"You said yourself. Hallowed ground. They're looking for Roger not the portal." Nick's feet finally obeyed him when he backed away quickly to keep Lent from grabbing him again. He turned and took off for the tree line, feeling the pull in the air, feeling it like a firm grip on his bones, dragging his body toward the forest.

"Nick, do not do this!"

He could hear Lent racing after him but couldn't stop himself. It was all consuming now, his thoughts on the energy building within the trees. He could hear the townspeople filing out of the inn, a few of them were shouting, their voices now so far away he couldn't tell what they were saying. Oh my god, were they chasing after him too?

He picked up the pace but once he got within the trees he was at a loss of where to go. He stopped and whipped around, trying to feel the energy in the air, but then he saw Lent bounding after him, chased by a large group of angry townspeople.

Yes, they were chasing him. "Fuck."

He chose a random direction, away from the path they had taken through the forest to get to the inn. Nick was beginning to tire but he pushed himself, running as fast as he could, arms up to keep low tree limbs from slapping him in the face.

----

Roger saw the crowd of people from his place in the tree. He'd figured they'd launch a hunting party eventually, but didn't think they'd start this early. He had barely begun to enjoy the day. Now that it had stopped raining, he had abandoned the bodies below to get as close to the sun as he could get.

He had pulled a couple of arrows from his arm but he could feel splinters of wood still in there, jabbing into him with every move of his right arm. The wounds had closed so he'd have to cut himself open and dig them out before he went crazy.

It was somewhat easy to keep his mind off it; he had the portal to look at below. It was a puzzling thing—almost as mesmerizing as it was terrifying—and this one was much bigger than the one Laët had shown him and Mohan in Grey. Mohan had dismissed it immediately as "not his problem" but even he could hardly take his eyes off it.

This one was twenty-five feet high though the trees stretched high over it. It circled wide in blue light and within it was as black as oil, swirling like dark sinister water. What did it mean? Why had it come? This was only the second he had seen that had seemed to open all on its own. Nothing had come out, but those people below, the redheaded woman and that man, had tried to go inside. Had they been crazy? If so they were dead now. Even Roger knew it was a bad idea to go traipsing into something that looked like that.

Of course, if they hadn't tried to kill him he might not have tried to detach their heads, but that had been their decision. He looked down at them, scowling. The redhead's face was buried in the underbrush, her body facing the wrong direction. He had used his fingers like claws to rip out her throat and had barely enough time to have a little taste before he had caught an arrow in his back. There had been others, more people, but once Roger had stomped over to the bastard who shot him in the back and lifted him off the ground, they had fled. Good for them… but now he couldn't leave until he knew they weren't watching.

The man had begged him, even as he had slid a knife in between Roger's ribs. Please, he had said, please don't. Roger had ripped him apart and threw the pieces of him around he was so angry. Another change of clothes ruined and he still had pieces of arrow stuck in him. Godsdammit! And now the whole town was after him, but they wouldn't come to the portal, he knew that. He wondered idly if mobs of townspeople still carried pitchforks. Naturally, on a beautiful sunny day as this they probably wouldn't bother with torches.

That was when he saw Nicholas suddenly appear below him and he did look like he'd seen better days. Roger really wished he would shave that ridiculous patchy beard. He leapt down from the tree and landed on his feet near Nicholas, which should have been impressive but he wasn't paying attention. His eyes were on the portal.

He was whispering something, mumbling under his breath. His brown eyes fixed on the substance swirling within the portal. Roger tried to get closer to hear what he was saying but he got a whiff of something not at all pleasant and gagged. Was that Nicholas? It was horrible! He took a few staggering steps back as the smell was all but overwhelming and brought a hand to his mouth. It was the same smell that had always been in the background on their journey here, but now that Nicholas had dried off a bit it and it had stopped raining, the smell was stronger and definitely coming from him.

"What is that?!" Roger groaned and fell back against a tree.

Nicholas ignored him; his arms outstretched and he became still as a statue as he stared at the thing in front of him. Roger couldn't get any closer but he wanted to pull him away, yank him back from it. What was he doing? But as he watched his face it seemed he wasn't even in there, as if he was out of his body completely. His fingers curled in, as if he was grabbing the edges of the portal from a distance. The ground underneath them shook and Roger's head turned to look at the portal.

"Nick! The whole fucking town is after us now!" Came a shout from nearby.

Lent had somehow entered the scene but stood stock-still, seeing the portal wavering before them. Roger waved him over but Lent looked him up and down, noting his bloody clothes and shook his head. He grabbed Nicholas from behind but couldn't seem to move him. Were his feet rooted to the ground?

"Help me!" he screamed at Roger. Roger took a deep breath and rushed over, pulling on Nicholas' arms but he wouldn't budge. Then they were both thrown back and Roger's head hit a tree. He didn't see where Lent landed but when he looked up Nicholas was a flickering in and out so quickly he was a blurry figure, arms outstretched.

"What's he doing?!" Roger yelled. His ears were ringing and somehow a fierce wind had picked up, rushing leaves around in the air. Trees bowed around them and Lent crawled over and punched Roger in the face.

"Grab him!" Lent shouted. "Grab onto him before he disappears again!"

"No, look!"

Roger grabbed Lent's face and turned it toward the portal. Nicholas brought his hands together and the portal convulsed, throwing a splash of the black substance outward, but it was all sucked within as the whole thing began to spin and get smaller and smaller. In the space of a few seconds the thing had closed up until it was just a jagged tear hanging by itself in the air, no taller than Roger himself. The leaves that had been kicked up by the wind fell to the ground just as Nicholas dropped to the forest floor.

And then everything was quiet again except for the shouting mob of townspeople just beyond what was left of the portal.

Roger turned a wide-eyed stare to Lent. He felt shaky and he hadn't felt that in a long time. Lent remained expressionless and pushed off the ground to go check on Nicholas. Roger turned his eyes to the man lying motionless on the ground, wondering if he knew what had just happened. Roger didn't even know what had just happened.

"What just happened?"

"We've got to get out of here," Lent said and hoisted Nicholas off the ground. He slapped his face. "Wake up!"

"Oi!" Roger protested and jumped to his feet, rushing to Nicholas' side. "No need to manhandle an unconscious man."

"No," Lent snapped, "I suppose you know what to do?"

Roger shrugged and had no retort. Lent pushed Nicholas into his arms and Roger had to turn his head away from the smell as he held him at arm's length.

"Why do you smell like this?" he asked Nicholas' unconscious body and took a deep breath so he could bring him closer to get a better hold of him.

"The mob is still out there!" Lent said, shaking his fist in Roger's direction. "Damn you!"

"Not really all my fault, friend, but if we've got to get out of here let's just do it before they try to kill us."

"I wish I had left you there! Let the Master deal with you, find something else for you to do. It's not been four days and you've already fucked us up!"

"I told you it wasn't all my fault! Can you imagine what would have happened if those people had gone inside!" Roger jerked his head to the dead weight in his arms. "And what about him? What was all that he just did?"

Lent didn't seem to have anything to say to that though it was clear he was still angry. He gave Roger one more hard glare before he turned away and started walking off.

"Wait!" Roger shouted, throwing one of Nicholas' limp arms over his shoulder and one of his arms around the unconscious man's waist. "I've got dead weight!"

"Fuck off," he said but waited anyway.

Roger ended up having to throw Nicholas over his shoulder. He felt at any moment he was going to throw up. His breaths were short to keep from taking in any of the horrible smell that seemed to emanate from Nicholas' pores.

"I take it the smell is your doing?"

When Lent spoke it was low and dangerous, "I wish only that I could do more."

The road was the other way, but that way was closed to them now. They'd have to wait until the cover of darkness to reach the gate and hopefully, as they made their way through the forest, the mob of angry townspeople wouldn't find them.