War of the Animum

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War of the Animum

The Road to Ruin - Chapter Two

The sun had yet to kiss the sky by the time Alaris was ushering them all onto horses, barking orders and looking fresher than the dew on the grass. Ashur rubbed sleep from his eyes, trying not to yawn, and not at all looking forward to sharing a horse with Iblion for the duration of their journey. That he was sore all over was a charming bonus. Iblion was a taskmaster to the fullest and Ashur couldn't remember a time he'd felt the ache of honest labor. He was not cut out for this.



He'd spoken as much.



Iblion was not dissuaded. Never mind that Ashur had yet to show any talent in any of the martial or weapons arts. Iblion was determined that Ashur learn how to defend himself. By any means necessary.



“By the gods,” Ashur said with a heavy sigh. “I've never felt so sore.”



“It will only get worse. A week spent in the saddle won't help,” Iblion replied as he grabbed onto the saddle horn and hauled himself up behind Ashur.



His magic, like a constant buzz around him, pushed against Ashur weakly. Perhaps it wasn't tangible to the others, but Ashur could tell. Iblion was weakening. Whether it was due to his distance from Adair or the fact that he didn't dare return to the immortal plane, Ashur didn't know. But of the demi-deities, Iblion was the one who looked the most human.



The circles under his eyes grew darker with each passing day. The lines in his face grew more pinched. He ate when the other deities did not. He slept, when the other deities had no need to do so.



Was this extended time spent in the mortal world making him more human? Ashur was afraid to ask. But he'd read of something similar in one of Mrs. Upton's storybooks. It was the tale of an ancient deity, one punished by being banished to Lieve without the tether of an animum bond. Though this banishment was before the institution of the bond since the book had no mention of such a thing. Just that the deity had been denied his tether.



Was Adair Iblion's tether?



“I can't imagine the horse is any more thrilled,” Ashur murmured, leaning forward to pat the sturdy beast on the neck. It snuffled, tossing its head.



“Would that we had the coin for more,” Iblion agreed.



Coin, unfortunately, was in short supply.



Ashur straightened, eyes scanning their companions. Sleet and Beryl, a volatile pair if anything, were resorting to sharing a horse as well, with Alaris the only one lucky enough to have her own space. Granted, she shared it with saddlebags packed to the brim, but Ashur envied her that solitude.



Sleet was standing next to his horse, being subjected to repeated embraces by his parents, and though it was dark outside, the flush of embarrassment was easily seen in the lantern light. Ashur also didn't miss the small pouch that his father pressed into his hand.



He wondered if the Uptons had any clue what their son was actually doing with his life. If they knew he was a thief and probably a liar and definitely some kind of deviant. Did they know he was only here because he hadn't come across a better option?



Beneath Ashur, the horse lurched and he grabbed onto the saddle horn to keep from getting tossed off. Iblion expertly handled the reins, guiding them over to where Alaris was peering at a map, holding up a small gem that glowed a pale light.



“What's the route?” Iblion asked as Ashur tried to get a glimpse of the map as well. He'd seen bits and pieces of the region in books but nothing quite so detailed as what Alaris had.



“Sleet said that the coast is our best bet,” Alaris said, her tone musing, but she didn't sound convinced. “There are less likely to be raiding parties and no costly tolls.”



“Tolls?” Ashur repeated.



Alaris pointed at two spots on the map with her little finger. “Here and here. This is a mountain pass, the safest one, thus the toll. This one's a bridge and Hemsey is on the other side of it. We could stand to resupply there, but again, the tolls.”



Ashur gnawed on his bottom lip. “If we take the coast, does that mean we're not staying anywhere with a roof?”



Alaris arched a brow at him as she tucked her jewel away and rolled up the map. “Are there coins sewn into your robes that you've neglected to share?”



In other words, no.



“You might still want to consider keeping any local towns in mind,” Beryl commented as he rode up on Alaris' other side, holding the reins with Sleet facing the tail of the horse for some reason that would only make sense to Sleet.



Alaris frowned. “Why?”



Beryl pointed one gloved hand upward. Alaris followed his gaze and Ashur looked up, too. It was still dark, but he couldn't see the stars, most likely because they were obscured by thick clouds.



“Snowstorms on our way to Toran. Intense thunderstorms while we are here. Who knows what else might mete out punishment on our journey?” Beryl said, tightening first one glove and then the other. He'd also somehow acquired a thick cloak and wintery clothing.



Ashur didn't want to think about how the thief had afforded such purchases. Unless, of course, he'd raided Sleet's closet. Considering they were about the same size, it wasn't beyond the realm of plausibility. Ashur himself was wearing some of Sleet's eldest brother's clothing. And boots.



“There are a few settlements,” Sleet offered with a shrug. “They aren't much, but they are better than nothing. So long as you're not picky.”



Alaris rolled up her map, tucking it away in a saddlebag. “We'll have to play it by ear. We can't afford any unnecessary delays. We were lucky enough for the week-long respite as it is.”



“Lucky is one word you could use,” Sleet muttered, but Ashur didn't think Alaris heard it. She was paying too much attention to the landscape ahead of them.



“We should get going,” Alaris said. “We haven't time to waste. Is everyone ready?”



A chorus of muttered affirmatives met her question with Ashur adding his own. Ready wasn't quite the word he'd use but it would suffice for now.



Alaris rode in front, guiding them away from the Upton farm. Ashur did not look back, at the relative safety of the farmhouse, because he'd promised himself that he would be strong, for Adair's sake if not his own.

 

o0o0o

Horseback remained as not fun and uncomfortable as Sleet remembered it to be, and after two days of hard riding accompanied by sleeping on the hard ground, he was not happy. Alaris pushed them as fast as their bodies could take: early to rise, late to sleep, as fast across the rocky ground as their horses could manage. That the weather had started to behave as strangely as Lieve itself didn't make it any easier.



Snowstorms. Windstorms. Thunderstorms. And now this.



This being temperatures so hot that Sleet's underclothes were soaked, he'd long since removed his outer tunic and sweat dripped in rivulets down his face. It was the middle of winter in the north and it was hot enough to roast corn out here. This was made worse by the steamy air rising from the ground as last nights snowfall quickly melted and evaporated in the menacing sun.



Their pace slowed to a crawl. The horses, overburdened, exhausted and now subject to extreme temperatures were in a worse condition than their human riders. Alaris knew it, too. The slower the horses became, despite her prodding, the tighter her mouth drew into a frown.



They would have to stop and rest, find shade and water, and hope that the blistering heat passed them by as quickly as the snow had.



“This is insane,” Beryl muttered, hunching as far forward on the horse to get away from Sleet as possible.



Sleet couldn't be offended. He was leaning as far back as he could. Body heat didn't make the ambient temperature any better. Where their thighs touched was a sweaty, sticky mess already and he feared that they might be glued to the saddle after all.



“The whole world's gone to the pot,” Sleet agreed, swiping sweat out of his eyes before the salt burned them. Again. “What did you expect?”



The balance has been disrupted, Erebus said, sounding perfectly at ease because of course, he would. He was in some immortal dimension where the temperature wasn't a few shades off being the ninth floor of Tartarus. Such is a consequence of Balaam's actions.



Sleet ignored him.



“I expect that Alaris will gain some sense,” Beryl said, shoulders hunched as his tunic stuck to him in sticky clumps. “These horses are going to collapse and then we'll be walking to Darthen.”



Sleet considered his aching ass and wondered if walking would be preferable. At least he had boots that fit now since he'd raided his closet before they left. Though it irked him that his clothes from years ago still fit.



“Alaris.”



Sleet turned his head, watching as Iblion rode up to the priestess' side, a drooping Ashur draped against his back.



“We must stop,” Iblion said and he looked the worse for wear. His battle armor was heavy and trapped the heat, too difficult to pull off from horseback. Ashur fared little better in his thick robes which he seemed reluctant to remove.



Alaris' gaze flicked around their group, fingers tight as they gripped the reins. “And if the heat continues well into tomorrow?”



“It will still do us no good to cause the horses to collapse,” Iblion said and as if on cue, his beast stumbled beneath him, nearly pitching his riders forward.



“Very well. Perhaps it will be better to travel at night anyway.” Alaris raised higher in the saddle. “Where do you propose we stop?” She began digging in her pouch, probably for her outdated map.



Grassland stretched for miles around, the landscape rising and falling in rolling hills. It made the plain appear endless but Sleet knew this land.



“There'll be trees over the next rise,” Sleet offered, gesturing ahead of them. “The road dips sharply and cuts around the forest, but there's a river and shade to be found there. The forest stretches back toward the mountains.” And it had been growing steadily outward for the past decade. One could look and see evidence of the road's gradual shift around the forest.



Alaris frowned, peering at her map. “I don't see it.”



“Who has time to sketch in every little detail? It's there,” Sleet said with a huff.



“I hardly count a forest as a little detail,” Alaris muttered but she rolled up the aging parchment and shoved it in her bag. “But we will see. Will that suffice, Iblion?”



The demi-deity frowned, eyes narrowing. “It should.”



Friction crackled between them. Sleet wondered if the heat was to blame or Iblion's increasingly bad mood and energy. The deity did not look well, even Sleet had noticed. Dark circles, wan appearance, a twitch in his left brow... clearly distance from the immortal plane was weakening him, especially without Adair around.



He has no tether, Erebus offered. We can't even explain how he's staying corporeal in the first place. If he would strengthen his ties to Ashur, perhaps that would help.



'I didn't ask for an explanation,' Sleet replied. 'Though you might want to pass that on to Alaris.' He paused, intending to end the conversation, but curiosity got the best of him. 'What will happen to him, you think?'



I don't know, Erebus admitted. There is no precedence.



Well, that was good news. Not.



Sleet frowned, lapsing into silence. The heat sapped away even his energy to bicker. He just wanted to get to some shade, drink some water, and perhaps sleep the rest of the week away. He knew his skin had burned, could feel the tightening around his nose and cheeks. That wasn't going to be fun to deal with either.



Their horses trudged over the next rise and Sleet grinned, smug, as the copse of trees came into view. It was a narrow stand that broadened as it curved back toward the mountain range. He knew a river wound threw it, following the dips of the land. It was shallow and sluggish, but better than nothing.



Their pace noticeably increased as the forest came into sight and Sleet sighed in relief the moment they stepped off the road and into the shade.



“Thank Asherah,” Beryl breathed, and Sleet wanted to echo him.



He slid off the horse, willing to walk beside it now that they weren't directly under the sun. His thighs and back protested the motion. Sleet stretched his arms over his head and twisted his torso from side to side, back cracking in relief.



“That's disgusting,” Ashur commented with a pinched look.



Sleet rolled his neck toward the lone twin. “Your point?”



“You have no respect for anyone, do you?” Ashur asked, the disgust in his tone plainly evident. Such a shame that. And Sleet had just begun to like Adair when Frost whisked him away.



“I give respect where it's due,” Sleet retorted, and made it a point to show Ashur his back. It was nice to know that in Raven's absence, someone else was picking up the slack. “I'm going to scout ahead.”



He didn't give anyone the opportunity to convince him otherwise. He plunged into the forest surrounding the narrow, overgrown path. It would be faster to walk through the wood than follow the sinuous road, he reasoned. And there was the added bonus of distance from his traveling companions who watched him as though he were a traitor in the making.



He didn't need any more proof of Frost's words right now.

 

o0o0o

Beryl watched Sleet go, part of him itching to join the other thief if only to be free of this horse and Sleet's companions. He wasn't inclined to traveling with normal people and it wasn't the joyride people claimed it could be. He itched for the darkness and damp of Kurnugia, for the world to return to the normal paradigm.



His gaze traveled to Ashur who was staring after Sleet with distaste. The friction between Sleet and Raven had been tangible, but it seemed the pasty civilian didn't much like Sleet either. Could this work in his favor?



Frost was a walking contradiction. He wanted Beryl to bring him Sleet somehow. But he couldn't just take him. It had to be willingly. How the fuck could someone be kidnapped willingly?



Beryl's hands tightened around the reins. He chewed on his bottom lip. He needed Frost to return Kurnugia to rights. Otherwise it would fall to Riordan and in time, it would become nothing more than a den of scum. At least now there was an order to the madness. They policed their own, weeding out the truly heinous. Even for a clan of criminals, there were rules, laws that no one dared break because the underlord would mete out punishment swiftly and without appeal.



He was sorely tempted to turn this damn horse around and forget Sleet, forget Frost, forget this insane endeavor to defeat a god and deal with Riordan on his own. It would have to be assassination of course, and he would have to sway several key members of the cabinet to put their bids behind him. Leadership was far from what Beryl wanted, but it was better in the long run than having Riordan as underlord.



These were his options. Bring Frost back or take on the task of unseating Riordan himself, fighting an uphill battle against criminals who still had their own ideas about who should be their lord.



The frustration ate at him.



His eyes traveled to Ashur once again. Of anyone in this group, he was the most likely to be of use. Alaris wrinkled her nose at anything slightly above the law. Iblion was a demi-deity so he wouldn't be willing to bend the rules. But Ashur? He didn't like Sleet and with good reason. Hadn't Tungsten said that his brother had been taken?



It had potential. He only had to separate Ashur from his godly guardian first. An enormous task in unto itself.



Fortunately, it seemed Fate had her hand in Beryl's pot. The next rise gave way to a campsite off the beaten path, a firepit ready for use and surrounded by logs in various states of decay. Sleet had already arrived, lounging against one of the logs, which came as no surprise to Beryl. He could have been gathering firewood or something useful, though in all likelihood they wouldn't need a fire tonight. Not with the oppressive heat.



“There's a river around here somewhere,” Sleet said, jerking a thumb over his shoulder. “I heard it but didn't find it.”



Alaris dismounted, her eyebrow twitching. “Would it be too much trouble for you to go look for it or would that be asking for too much?”



“I'll go,” Ashur volunteered to the surprise of everyone. His face was flushed from the heat and he looked as though he needed a bedroll more than anything else.



Opportunity knocked; Beryl certainly wasn't going to ignore it.



“I'll come with you,” Beryl said, dismounting as well and handing off the reins to Sleet. “I'm sure I have more experience anyway.”



“I can do it,” Ashur insisted.



Beryl shrugged. “I'm not saying you can't. I'm just saying we don't know what's in these woods and you've got city boy written all over you.”



“He's right,” Alaris said, her frown easing. “Better to do anything in pairs.” She pulled several water canteens out of her saddlebags. “Fill as many as you can. If this heat persists, we might die of dehydration before we make it to Darthen.”



Beryl tipped his fingers to his forehead. “Yes, milady.”He caught the canteens one-handed, following them up with a grin.



Ashur rolled his eyes and gathered up the rest of the canteens from their party, until his arms were overfull. If anything were to attack them, it would be up to Beryl, which was fortunate since he sadly had more fighting experience than Ashur. But he didn't need the brat for a fight. He needed the brat for a purpose that was yet unknown.



He had to come up with a plan and soon.



He and Ashur plunged into the forest to the tune of Alaris bitching out Sleet and said thief responding with sarcastic wit. If Iblion had anything to offer, Beryl didn't hear it. By Aesir! If he hadn't known Sleet to be thoroughly in Frost's court, he'd have called all that tension sexual. Though the idea of that made him shudder.



He liked women well enough just that not that particular woman.



“I'm not stupid, you know.”



Beryl blinked, turning to look at Ashur. “Did I say you were?” he asked, not sure he liked the kid's belligerent tone.



“You didn't have to.” Ashur picked his way across the ground, off-balance thanks to the armload of canteens. “What do you want?”



“Want?”



“I can't think of a single reason you would volunteer to accompany me otherwise,” Ashur said, his gaze on the floor but his tone cutting. “So I've come to the conclusion that you want something.”



Smart boy. But then, considering his lack of athletic ability, intelligence was probably his talent. What else would he have to work with?



“What do you think it is?”



“I don't know.” Ashur frowned, cutting a look at Beryl. “Because I still don't get why you're with us. Just for Frost? That doesn't make any sense.”



Beryl shrugged. “It's the truth. Frost might just be some god's host to you, but he's important to Kurnugia and the council.”



“Important,” Ashur repeated in a flat tone. “For a group of what I imagine to be thieves and liars and murderers? I doubt it.”



Oh, ho. Was Ashur growing some backbone? Good for him.



“Believe what you will, it makes no difference to me. But it seems our goals align. I want Frost back, you want Balaam defeated,” Beryl replied and then paused, listening for the river Sleet had heard.



There was a trickling of water, but it was faint. He turned toward the mountains that loomed over the forest. Perhaps it was a spring. Underbrush crackled as Ashur followed him.



“I don't care about Balaam,” Ashur replied, and his tone was soft, almost scared. “Adair was the one who wanted to join this stupid quest.”



Beryl fought down a smile. “Your brother?”



“Yes. Frost showed up in Nename. Killed Fenrir and took Adair.” Ashur inhaled sharply. “Iblion can tell that he's alive, but nothing else. Why Frost took him, we don't know.”



Beryl weighed his options and decided it was the worth the risk. “Frost wants Sleet,” he said. “Maybe that's why.”



Ashur drew to a halt, staring at Beryl. “He's had numerous chances to snatch Sleet. Why didn't he take them?”



“I don't know.” Beryl shrugged again, affecting nonchalance as he kept up the pace, forcing Ashur to start walking again. “But Frost has always been obsessed with Sleet, much to my annoyance. It stands to reason he still is.”



“But Balaam would kill him,” Ashur protested.



“He hasn't yet,” Beryl pointed out. He hadn't exactly been here from the beginning but Sleet wasn't a skilled fighter and he was resistant to Erebus. Either luck had kept him alive, or design. Beryl was favoring the latter.



Frost wanted Sleet but he would bet all of his funds that Balaam needed Sleet for some reason. Perhaps the same reason he'd taken Adair. Only Adair wasn't proving cooperative.



This was suddenly making sense and Beryl wasn't sure he liked the sound of it. Part of him warred with telling Ashur what he'd reasoned. Another, more rational side of him knew he'd better keep that kernel to himself. For now.



“Taking Adair was probably opportunity. And now he has a hostage he knows he can use against you,” Beryl said.



Ashur gave him a sour look. “You sound like you know what he's doing.”



“That's what I'd do,” Beryl replied and frowned as the ground grew soft beneath his feet. Either it had rained or water was nearby. “I think like a criminal because, by your definition, I am one. Comes with the territory.”



Ashur muttered something under his breath but then raised his voice. “Fine. Say you're right. What would be the next step?”



“To give up what I don't want in favor of what I do.” The sound of water grew louder, less a trickle and more a soft rushing noise.



He pushed through a thick blackberry bush, grimacing at the thorns as they snagged on his clothing, and all but crowed in success as a stream came into view. It wasn't deep, not enough for bathing or swimming, but the current was swift enough that the water should be drinkable. At least, in this, Sleet was right.



“You mean a trade.”



Beryl looked at the boy, gesturing for him to hand over some of the canteens. “Trade is for merchants. An exchange would be more likely except that I'd want to make sure I'm getting the better end of the deal.”



Ashur frowned, but didn't comment, as though ruminating on what Beryl had told him. They filled the canteens in silence, Beryl crouching carefully on the stream edge as Ashur kept hold of the canteens.



He hoped he had planted a seed, one that would encourage Ashur to come to him rather than the other way around. Perhaps Ashur wouldn't see it as treachery, but as getting his due. Either way, getting Sleet to Frost would be a lot easier if he had help. He would have asked Raven as the mercenary seemed more than willing to be rid of the other thief, but alas, Raven had been left behind.



Now, if this worked, all that remained would be figuring out how to contact Frost. Because Beryl certainly didn't know how to do it and didn't want to rely on either chance or Frost's strange and magnetic draw to Sleet.

****

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