Polinues Marines, the would be mage.

Chapter 47.
Title: Polinues Marines, the would be mage.

Chapter Title & No.: #47. I’ll do as I damn well please.

Author: Darkling Willow

Pairing: Non.

Rating: NC - 17
Abuse, Anal, Angst, BDSM, Bi, B-Mod, Bond, Death, D/s, H/C, HJ, Humil, Language, M/F, M/M, Minor, N/C, OC, Oral, Preg, Rim, Spank, Violence, Voy, VS, WD, WIP.

Archive: Originals - misc. > Slash – Male/Male.
Feedback: Yes thank you very much. An author can only improve with criticism. Please rate if you do not want to leave a review.

Disclaimer: This is an original work of fiction. Any resemblance of places and characters to actual persons, living or dead, and places is purely coincidental.
The Author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.

Authors Notes:
For review replies, comments and thank you's go to: http://www2.adult-fanfiction.org/forum/index.php/topic/14530-polinues-marines-the-would-be-mage/

Summary: Polinues shoves his foot in his mouth, and then crams it in a little harder.

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Chapter 47. I’ll do as I damn well please.

The Cleric’s cloister was utterly silent about them, only the gentle sounds of the nightly creatures echoing through the open window at the end of the hallway outside the door. The window and the door were barred against any intrusion, the soft light of the Blue moon seeping in through the worn shutters.

Leyjen lay on his left side, watching the slightly parted lips, relishing the soft sound as Polinues’ breath whistled past them, in and out, so slowly.
Polinues lay on his right side, the scarred half of his face hidden in the pillow, only the healthy left side visible for Leyjen’s scrutiny.
The teen had his left hand tucked between their pillows, the other lay against Leyjen’s chest, twitching every now and again.
Leyjen studied the teen’s face, every detail, every line, every twitch, for long silent minutes.
The soft arch of his eyebrow, the delicate oval of his eye, the round button nose, the perfect cupid’s bow and the pale pink lips. His small cheekbone and the line of his jaw, the small dip in his cheek that bloomed into a bottomless dimple when he smiled.

Sighing Leyjen tried to blink back the tear that squeezed out of his eye and slipped into his pillow, his heart aching a little over the beauty that he saw in the young man’s face. Leyjen knew every single detail of his face, almost better than he knew his own, and yet he could find something new in it every day.
Now he had just discovered a small scar he had not noticed before. The scar was faint, only a paler line above his left eyebrow, hardly visible to the naked eye, but Leyjen found himself fascinated.

Leyjen had thought Polinues to be one of the most beautiful children he had ever seen when they had first met.
The night of the Abbey fire Leyjen had feared that he had lost Polinues forever, a fear that was reawakened when his bandages had been removed and the horrific scars revealed.
Only a few weeks later Leyjen had found himself sitting with the boy, showing him the scars in a tiny handheld mirror, and the scars had melted away leaving only the beauty that Leyjen had seen before and ever since.
Now, at seventeen summers Polinues was more beautiful than ever before, almost a grown man and Leyjen had discovered that he had long since lost all ability to resist him, if he had ever had an ability to resist the youngster.

What tore at his heart worse than the scars themselves, was other people’s reactions to them.
How the Lady Marines had not seen her son’s face since he was five summers, and when pressed on the matter the Lady usually responded,
“I have Arlathi. They’re twins, so how unalike can they be?”
Although her words held some merit, the twins were identical after all, their similarity was only skin deep.

Arlathi had been a sleazy little suck up all his life, possessed with a desperate need to always be the center of attention, and yet the moment someone higher than him showed him any notice Arlathi would adulate and grovel like a whipped dog.
Arlathi was extroverted, loud and crude in his hopeless worship of external beauty. He never wore anything but the latest fashions, and only wore his hair in the latest styles, having tantrums whenever he was refused anything.
Their parents had long since given up on the boy, and allowed him all of his extravagances.

Polinues was Arlathi’s perfect opposite.

Where Arlathi was allowed to wear civilian clothing underneath his mage’s robes, Polinues was only allowed to wear the assigned robes and trousers of his order.
Civilian clothes were only allowed at home for the holidays, and on rare occacions when he left the compound. And only until he reached the sixth stage.
Therefore Polinues hardly ever asked for fancy clothes or the latest fashions. He only asked for new things when his old things wore out or became too small.
Leyjen couldn’t remember when Polinues had last had a decent haircut, the rich brown braid was long enough to tickle the top of his ass cheeks by now.

As for their personalities, the twins were polar opposites.
Polinues had all his life been introverted, inquisitive and decisive, but also caring and he had a soft heart when it came to those less fortunate than him.
But those scars had caused a change in Polinues’ personality.

Ever since his first year at the Temples the hoods of his robes had been fitted with a system of buttons and laces that held the hood in place, no matter what Polinues was doing or how the weather was.
And on their first visit back to the Castle Marines after his initiation Polinues had been presented with a lightweight cowl that his mother ordered him to wear at all times.
Hardly anyone at the Castle had seen Polinues’ face in twelve years.
Leyjen could count the people, beside himself, on one hand, Cooksie, Hiram, Thelaura, Lanja and Brigale.
If anyone else saw him with his head uncovered there would be a big show of dramatics, or shouted curses and warding signs sent after the teen.
Those reactions hurt Leyjen almost as badly as they hurt Polinues.

Leyjen had first noticed that this had caused a change in his personality when Polinues was about eleven, and it had been growing steadily worse over the years.
Polinues had become taciturn, his decisiveness had turned to solid determination, and at times he came across as cold hearted and cynical.
Only those who knew him well could see the tenderness and care which he showed the ill and the dying, when he worked in the Healing Halls. Or the love which he showed his younger sisters when they were at Castle Marines.
Leyjen had also noticed that as he grew up Polinues had become more and more sarcastic.

It had not helped things either when Leyjen had begun training Polinues as a mage, in secret, a few years ago.
Polinues had insisted on quitting the Temples, in spite of his father, and the two of them take off together, to study their magick and be together.
It had taken over six months of constant fighting to make the boy understand that they could never do that.
Leyjen was not allowed to reveal the real reason for this urgent secrecy, but in the end he had been able to convince the boy that they must remain in secret.
It helped his cause, that Polinues had almost immediately gravitated towards the teachings of the NightMagi, which was Leyjen’s order.
The NightMagi had been banished many ages ago, and therefore those who practiced Night Magick had to do so in absolute secret.


Now it was nearing Lammas, and Polinues had gone through his Turning in the moon before, entering the fourth stage of his studies.
His new piercing, a gleaming steel ring in his left eyebrow, had healed perfectly and Polinues had gotten used to it within the first week.

Leyjen smiled softly as Polinues licked his lips quickly, and spoke,
“You’re staring, Leyjen”
Leyjen didn’t answer, Polinues cracked his eye open and spoke again, when he noticed the soft look in Leyjen’s eyes.

“What? Why are you staring at me?”

“No reason.”

With a grunt, Polinues rubbed his eye, and repeated himself.
“Why are you staring at me, Leyjen? I can’t sleep when you stare like that.”

“No reason, really. I’m just thinking.”

“About?”

“You. How beautiful you are. My Ilithil.” Leyjen brushed his fingers over Polinues’ cheek, pushing a lock of hair behind his ear.

“What does that mean?”

“What? Ilithil?”

“Yes.”

“Nothing really. It’s just an endearment. It just means ‘beautiful’ or something like that.” Leyjen avoided the fog grey eye, doing his best to sound convincing.

Polinues sighed and pushed Leyjen’s hand away from his face.
“Don’t tell me then.”

Leyjen chuckled, and brushed a fingertip lightly over the faint scar he had been so fascinated by.
“How did you get this scar above your eyebrow? I don’t remember seeing it before.”

Polinues huffed, touching the scar as if to remember it.
“Oh, that one. I wasn’t more than maybe three summers or something. Arlathi pushed me into a table. You know the grand dining table? The one they use as a high table at big feasts? We were fighting, and I ran into the grand hall to try and hide. Arlathi came after me, and I think I shot some sort of spell at him. It scared the shit out of both of us, but I ran towards the back of the hall to flee. Arlathi came up behind me and shoved me so I knocked my head on the edge under the table. It knocked me out, and Arlathi just left me there. I think Thelaura was the one to find me, bleeding like a stuck pig and crying. She had quite the shock, the poor thing.”

“I can imagine. Thelaura’s always been a rather sensitive girl.”

Polinues hummed in agreement, and they lay quiet for a few moments, Polinues staring intently into the warmth of Leyjen’s amber eyes.

Leyjen started to drift off towards sleep, but jerked awake when Polinues asked,
“Why haven’t I given you a nickname? I used to imitate everything you did, so why didn’t I give you a name.”

“You did once. A long time ago.”

“I did? When? I don’t remember doing that. What was it?”

“Remember when I showed you your scars for the first time? You gave me a nickname then.”

“Well, what was it?”

“Darangere.”

The look of surprise on Polinues’ face was so comical that Leyjen couldn’t help but snicker, the boy only ignored him, asking,
“Seriously? Darangere? Gods, I was stupid when I was a kid. The Shadow Maker. One of the Aaenda Lords. Fuck, I might as well have named you for the Wraith Dragon.”

“Darangere is not a Lord of the Aaenda. And don’t talk so freely about the Wraith.”

“What do you mean, Darangere is not a Lord of the Aaenda? It says so in the Books of Lore.”

“Well, that’s wrong.”

“Oh, really? And how would you know? Who is he if he isn’t a god?”

“Darangere is one of the Aaenda, stupid, but he’s not one of their Lords. Plus it’s not a bad name to have. I quite like it. It made me sad when you stopped using it.”

“How can you like being named for the Shadow Maker?”

“You make it sound like such a horrible thing.”

“Seriously? He’s a god of death, and you don’t mind me giving you his name.”

“No, I don’t. Darangere is the god of unnamed children that die. He takes the souls of babies that die an unnatural death, before they are dedicated to their rightful god, and keeps them as flowers in his garden. When they bloom Darangere turns them into shadows. They are the shadows who watch over you at night, the shadows that lead lost people, especially children, away from danger, the shadows that stay with their grieving families until they are able to let go. Darangere gives those souls purpose, a purpose they were born to fulfill. I think it’s a rather noble name.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right, as always.”

“He nearly claimed you. But you were not meant to die, and for that I am glad.”

“What do you mean?” Polinues looked at Leyjen with alarm and Leyjen wanted to bite his tongue out.

Sighing he stroked Polinues’ cheek as he continued,
“Noone ever told you? When you and Arlathi were born, you came out feet first. The umbilical cord wrapped around your neck and strangled you. You were technically stillborn, but Arlin, the hedge witch that delivered you, managed to get you breathing within a couple of minutes. But then again, they did get confused and probably believe that it happened to Arlathi.”
Leyjen smiled, a sad glint in his amber eyes.

Polinues stared back, silent for long moments, before he looked away and answered,
“Noone told me. And I don’t remember anyone talking about it happening to Arlathi either. But I remember that Arlin used to say that I walked part in shadow, part in light. I never understood what she meant, and then Father turned her out before I had grown the sense to ask her. I asked Cooksie once but she just warded herself and begged me not to ask about such nonsense.”

“Cooksie’s always been a superstitious old fool. But she was right there, you shouldn’t ask common people about stuff like that. You could have just gone to the village and asked Arlin yourself, she would have been more than happy to tell you.”

“I didn’t even know she lived in the village. But then again, I’ve never remembered when I’ve had time at home. I always remember it at the most inconvenient times, like when I’m about to go to bed, or just before I come home, or as I’m leaving. But now I’m asking you, do you know what she meant?”

“It’s a silly superstition, really, although it has some merit. All it means really is that you died as you were born, but someone brought you back to life, and therefore you were a flower of Darangere before you were ever truly alive. People like that are said to see and know more than they should. Meaning the shadows, or ghosts or other people’s minds or intentions. I remember when you were a kid, you were sometimes found sitting by yourself, talking to the dogs, or paintings, sometimes even bare walls. Most of the servants and your family put it down to your general weirdness, but those of us who believe in such things, and believe that you are the youngest son, well, we believed you were actually seeing more than the rest of us.”

“The blue lady.” Polinues breathed the words out, half turned over on to his back, staring up at the ceiling.

“Who?”

“Nothing. I always thought she was just my imaginary friend, but now… When I was little, before I came to the Temples, I think even before I ever met you, I had this friend… she was tall, with beautiful deep red hair, and the most beautiful blue dress. It was a simple dress, a maids dress, but I always thought it was so beautiful, because it was so blue. And her eyes were so beautiful, deep purple like the Peolin Sea at dusk… I had wandered into your room, and found her there, sitting in a chair, looking out of the windows, like she was watching for someone. She came to me sometimes, telling me stories and telling me not to be afraid when I felt bad. I always thought I had made her up, but now I wonder… I stopped seeing her after I came to the Temples.”

“Her eyes were purple? She was a ghost. I knew her once. Her name was Shirnin and she was my mother.”
Leyjen choked, biting back tears at the old memory. Polinues turned around again, brushing a hand over Leyjen’s hair.

“Do you see spirits too?” the teen asked, innocence sweetening his voice so that Leyjen’s heart bled.

“Yes. I have always seen a little more than I should, but Darangere never claimed me, as he did you. I’m just different.”
They lay quiet for long minutes, the sounds of the night faint through the shuttered window, Polinues studying Leyjen’s face this time, Leyjen staring up into the ceiling.

When Polinues spoke it startled Leyjen slightly, for he thought the boy had fallen asleep again.
“Who are you?”

“What? Have you forgotten who I am? I’m Leyjen Shaoir, your friend and mentor.”

“Stupid! I don’t mean that…”

“Then what do you mean?”

“What are you?”
Leyjen stared back into the inquisitive grey eye of his lover, unable to speak.

Polinues took his silence as stubbornness, and continued,
“I know you’re not a Vampyr. I know enough about Vampyr lore to understand that much. But I’ve seen you. Your real form. When your eyes become pools of liquid amber, and your hair becomes so much redder, your skin becomes so pale, but at the same time it is like you are filled with a dark light, shining out of you… There is no chance that you are a vampire. So, next logical guess would be a Vampyr, but you can stay out in the sun just like me. Sacred grounds do not disturb you, and you drink and eat like a human.”

“The Vampyr can eat and drink…” Leyjen tried to interrupt, but Polinues plowed on without listening,

“No, they can’t. They can drink like humans, but food they can only eat very little of before they become sick. And they prefer wine over anything else, water makes them weaker. Like I said I know enough about the Vampyr to know you’re not one of them.”

“You know too much for your own good, you little shit.” Leyjen muttered, anger at his own frustration lining his voice, Polinues misunderstanding the irritation,

“I want to know. I have given myself to you, heart, body, and soul, so I think I’m entitled to an answer. But if you’re going to be a prick about it, I might as well leave.”

Leyjen grabbed the teen’s arm, meaning to stop him, but Polinues did not move to leave.
Leyjen looked Polinues in the eye, his warm amber scanning the other’s cold grey, searching both souls for a way out of this question.
He did not find one.

Sighing, Leyjen averted his eyes, and asked softly,
“Who do you think I am?”

“Aaenda.” Came the simple answer, startling Leyjen so bad that he looked into the teen’s eye far too fast, his heart quickening frightfully hard.

“How did you find out…” Leyjen gasped before he could stop himself.

“I didn’t really. I’ve just suspected, ever since I first saw you in your real form, and the more I learned about them, the stronger my suspicion has become. So, you really are one of the Aaenda? A lord of the Aaenda.” Polinues smiled dreamily, Leyjen shaking his head slowly, avoiding eye contact.

“No. I’m not a lord of the Aaenda. But I am one of them.”

“What is your charge? Do you have charge?”

“No. I don’t have a field of worship. But I have a charge. You.”

“Huh? What do you mean?”

“I mean, I was entrusted with your protection.” Leyjen leaned over, planting a demanding kiss on the teen’s lips, to try and stem the flood of questions. Polinues wasn’t having any of that, and pushed the older man off, a hard edge to his voice.

“What the Wraith do you mean that I am your charge? I’m not some fucking maiden in distress that needs to be saved all the time. What the fuck do I need protecting from?”

“Please, Polinues, don’t do this. I was sworn to secrecy. I wasn’t even allowed to tell you what I just told you. So don’t make me tell you more. I’m already neck deep in trouble for what I told you and the guys when we went to Kalpartown.”

Polinues sat up and twisting around, pinned Leyjen’s arms to the bed, and straddling the elder cleric, sat down on his diaphragm.
“Spill. Or I’ll sit on you until you choke.” Polinues threatened, half in jest and half in all seriousness.

Leyjen relaxed his muscles for a few breaths, before he bucked into the boy, and managed to throw him off-balance enough to twist them around and pin him to the bed.

Leyjen leaned over the trapped teen, and kissed him softly on the lips, Polinues responded hungrily, but as soon as Leyjen broke the kiss, Polinues asked again,
“What is it that you’re supposed to be protecting me from? What do the Vampyr want with me?”

Leyjen growled and let himself fall back onto the bed, with an irritated sigh.
“I don’t know really.”

“What? You expect me to believe that you’re sent to protect me from something that you don’t even know what is. You think I’m stupid enough to believe that you told the whole truth in Kalpartown? Come on, Leyjen, this is me you’re talking to.”

“All I was told was that when I turned ten your mother would give birth to two boys at the same time, and that one of those boys would become the greatest mage of our times, but he would end up in the Temples to study for the Clergy. I was told I had to go to the Temples to study, and when this boy would be born I had to join the Clergy and become his mentor. Your father took care of most of that for me, so it was an easy task to make up some bullshit vision dream when you were born, and he fell for it. I was also told that I had to keep you safe no matter what, because you will be a part of some great battle one day that will alter the course of our history, or some bullshit like that. All I know for sure is that you are destined for greatness.”

“Greatness, huh? Well, I don’t want it. I don’t need protection from anything, except maybe my brother. And Brigale comes in pretty handy for that. I just want to be left alone, and be with you, and leave the world to its troubles.”

“That is not your decision, Polinues. Your path was mapped out for you by the Gods. Even if you have some say in how you tread it, you have no power over where it leads. You will become one of the greatest, if not the greatest archmage of all times, so there will be no leaving the world to its troubles. As the Gods demand so must you follow.”
Leyjen raised himself up on his elbow, looking down at the boy, trying to look stern.

But as most other times he tried to pull that look on Polinues, the teen snickered, and bunched his eyebrows together, frowning comically, and in a silly voice mimicked Leyjen,
“As the Gods command you, so must you do. Hell, Leyjen, the Gods don’t give a crap about me. And I don’t care about them. I’ll do as I damn well please. Archmage or not, I’ll make my own destiny.”

Leyjen got angry at those words, and raising his voice demanded,
“Oh, really? So, you’ll do as you damn well please, and let the world fall down around you? You will throw away any chance this world has of ever being right again, just because saving it doesn’t fit into your own self-centered, egotistical plans? Just because it doesn’t stroke your ego to save the rest of humanity, you’ll just let them all die?”

“Why not? What the fuck has humanity ever done for me, other than ridicule me and fear me? Because of something that I don’t even have any control over? Huh, answer me that? If the Gods meant for me to become some amazing hero leader, why did they then fuck my face up so badly that humanity can’t even look at me? I say screw them all. They don’t give a shit about me, so why should I care?”

“Have you forgotten the vision you were given on the Beltane? Have you forgotten how you felt because you failed in your vision? Don’t you think that turning away from your destiny will be an even bigger failure?”

“Then I won’t fail. I’ll kill that knight, but I won’t do it for humanity. I don’t give a shit about them. I’ll do it to save my own life. That’s the only reason.”

Leyjen rose out of the bed as Polinues spoke, his face a hard mask of anger.
Pulling on his trousers he raged on,
“I can’t believe I’ve failed this miserably. I can’t believe that is your decision, that you’ve become that jaded. I mean, I knew I wasn’t handling some things right, but this is far worse than ever before. I’ve taken enough crap for allowing myself to become this close to you, for letting my feelings for you cloud my judgment. I put my own life at risk protecting you. I risk my life by loving you, the way I do. But no, none of that matters because it doesn’t fit your will. You really are worse than Arlathi, you’re just better at hiding it than he is.”

Polinues sat in the bed, staring at his mentor, a look of pure shock on his face.
The teen tried to respond, but Leyjen pulled his nightshirt over his head as he stormed out of the room and slammed the door behind himself.
Polinues moved mechanically as he slipped out of the bed and dressed himself.
He was finishing the final laces of his robe when Leyjen reentered the room, his face blushing a faint pink, and growled,
“This is my room. Get out of here. I don’t even want to look at you right now.”
Polinues opened his mouth to speak but the glare he received from Leyjen made him hang his head and saunter out of the room.

Polinues wandered through the marble hallways of the Temples, with his mind spinning in confusion, ignoring the few novices and Healers that were about, they ignored him in return.
Polinues slipped unnoticed out of a side door off the Grand Hall, entering the Flower Garden, the warm late summer night greeting him with a soft fog, so thick that he couldn’t see more than a few feet infront of himself.
Polinues smirked at the thought that he could be swallowed up by the darkness, claimed by Darangere as the one who got away, and his feet pulled him through familiar paths without the teen even thinking about it.
When the old stable loomed out of the mist infront of him, Polinues was a little startled, but without a second thought he slipped in through the bottom half of the stable doors, and made his way in almost complete darkness to the stalls at the far back of the stable.

The old stable had not been used as a stable for a few decades. A new, larger one had been built closer to the temples, and the old stable now served as a storage for old and broken things, the four stalls at the back, that still remained usable, were used whenever an animal fell sick or was about to die.
That particular night only one old draught horse was kept there. Its partner had died during the winter, and now Dwarkin lay on the dry straw, waiting for death to claim him.

Polinues talked quietly to the animal as he slipped inside the stall, and knelt down by the horse’s head, stroking it firmly on the neck.

“Hello, Dwarkin. How are you tonight, my friend? You doing alright? Can’t sleep? I can’t sleep either. Leyjen got angry at me for no reason, and threw me out of bed. He accused me of being selfish and uncaring. You don’t think I’m uncaring do you, Dwarkin, do you? No, I didn’t think so. You know what it’s like, love, what it’s like to be so different.” Polinues spoke in a low, soothing tone, kissing the horse’s neck and stroking its muzzle softly.

The horse nudged his side, looking for sugarcubes, that the teen sometimes snuck to the animal, but this night Polinues hadn’t brought anything.

“I’m sorry, my friend, but I forgot. I’ll bring some tomorrow, I promise. Are you cold? Poor thing, you’re sweating, maybe you’ve got a fever. Have you had anything to drink or eat today? I bet that stupid stable hand forgot you again today. Here’s a blanket, let me get you some water. There you are.”

Polinues talked constantly as he found another blanket, and wrapped around the laying animal, then picked up an old cast iron pot, filling it with water from the pump at the back of the stable and placed it close to the horse, so it could drink.
The sandy horse only drank a little, before turning away from the pot, and resting its head on the floor, Polinues watched with sadness as the horse’s eyes went dull, and the teen knew that the animal was only waiting for death.
He stroked the horse’s shoulders and withers, talking in a soothing voice, not really knowing whether he was soothing the animal or himself.

Leyjen’s words had stung, deeper than Polinues had let on.
It had taken the walk to the stable to realize just how wrong he had been, and how juvenile he had just acted.
Polinues had known his entire life that he was different. Not because of his scars, or because of his magick, but because of the immense power he had.
He had discovered that he had magick in him when he was only three summers.
Just how great that magick was had dawned on him when he was turning eleven, and now at seventeen summers Polinues had realized that his destiny had never been in his hands to begin with.
He had not been given this magick to use for his own selfish means, but for the good of humanity, no matter how much humanity despised him.
And that was the part that stung him the most, to be expected to save the very people who shouted curses and warding signs after him, threatening to stone him if he came too close.

Suddenly Dwarkin raised its head and looked to the doors of the stable, snorting loudly.
Polinues rose to this feet, silently, straining his ears for the sound that had caught the horse’s attention. He heard nothing, but Dwarkin whinnied and to Polinues’ amazement started to struggle to its feet.
The teen tried to stop the horse, but something had the old horse spooked, for it rose to its feet with great effort, and scratched at the floor infront of the stall’s gate.

A creak by the doors of the stable had Polinues’ heart racing, and swallowing thickly, he called out in a timid voice,
“Who’s there?”

Polinues sushed the frightened animal as he slipped out of the stall, afraid that the horse might hurt him if he stayed inside with it, the horse moved restlessly around the small stall, neighing and snorting.

Polinues had not heard any sound, except for the single creak moments before, but his heart was racing, and he had the eerie feeling that he was not alone any more.

He tiptoed a few paces away from the stall, looking about in the darkness, and whispered,
“Leyjen? Is that you? Come out, you’re scaring me.”

When noone answered he tried another name,
“Jorad?”

Remembering how his cousin liked to tease him, before he remembered that Jorad had passed away the previous night from the blood poisoning he’d been fighting for the passed two moons.

A scuttling sound to his left made him twirl around, realization dawning on him with icy sweat.
Someone, or something, was stalking him.

With his heart pounding in his throat, Polinues eyed the door, more than 60 paces away, and as he began running towards it, the horse going wild in its stall behind him, the small lantern that hung by the door was extinguished, plunging the stable into complete darkness.

Polinues screamed as he banged his hip and thigh into something solid that sliced through his robes and skin and he toppled over hard.