23. Teamwork

Valerios was apoplectic.

“Who… how…”

Rage worked his tongue into knots as his brain spun loose. He paced back and forth, trying - and failing - to find something calming to look at. To the north was the smouldering wreckage of the barn. To the south, the shattered remnants of Mulmais. To his east was the corpse of one of the hellhounds, and to his west was a miserable, shivering row of his companions.

At last, he managed to string together a coherent question.

“Who was on watch?” he demanded.

There were no volunteers. The only sound was the chattering of teeth and the hollow wind blowing through the wreckage.

With a frustrated grunt, Valerios stalked down the line until he came to Kazzik.

“You! Lux said you told him about these ‘hellhounds’. What devilry have you brought upon us?”

He loomed over the charred tiefling, who returned his gaze levelly through soot-lined eyes.

“I haven’t ‘brought’ anything, big guy,” he rasped. “I got word from my boss that these things might be running around Orsale Pass, but I wasn’t expecting them over this side of the mountains.”

“Aha!” Valerios cried. “So you admit to concealing vital intelligence. And why, might I ask, would your so-called ‘boss’ be sending you messages about these infernal creatures?”

Kazzik sighed wearily.

“Because she doesn’t take kindly to thieves, and wants me to find out how they got away from her. I don’t suppose you have any ideas?”

“Any id-”

Valerios practically choked on the flippant question. He reached down to tug on Kazzik’s collar, the expensive silk threatening to tear.

“You should be asking for mercy, not advice!” he spluttered. “Your scheming has brought an enemy upon us!”

Lux stepped out of the line. The hits he’d taken were starting to sink deep into his muscles, leaving dull aches all over. All he wanted to do was rest, but he knew he had to speak up.

“It’s not his fault,” he protested. “It was my watch. We saw the monsters on the ridge. We fought them off, but not before they could light up the barn like a grave lantern.”

Valerios turned, stalking over to him. He glared down at Lux, moustache twitching.

“You would defend him?” Valerios asked incredulously. “This… occultist, who refuses to explain the power he’s been concealing?”

“He saved you,” Lux said doggedly. “We stopped those things before they could do any more damage.”

“Any more damage?” Valerios exclaimed. “No. You were greatly foolish tonight, and your decision has cost us dearly. Had you alerted the whole group - alerted me - we would have been able to contain the danger before it got out of hand.” He folded his arms, sentence declared.

Lux felt his lip curl in annoyance. There wouldn’t have been any time - why couldn’t Valerios see that? And why, after all their time fighting alongside one another, did he still not trust Lux to handle things himself?

Trust has nothing to do with it. Johannes’ cryptic words from earlier that evening returned to him.

“You always think you know best,” Lux grumbled, taking a step forwards. “You couldn’t imagine someone else standing on their own without you.”

“Now, Lux,” Johannes said, tone reasonable. “All Master Valerios means is you’re not ready…”

“Ready?” Lux spat, keeping his eyes on Valerios. “I can’t help but be ready. I had to be ready in the basement lab, when that monster paralysed you. I had to be ready in the sewers, when everything was almost lost. I couldn’t wait for you, or anyone else. I had to step up. ‘Cause I made an oath to protect others.”

The mention of Vozloc’s lair brought a dangerous gleam into Valerios’ eye.

“Carefully, now…” he warned, irises flashing like silver medallions.

Lux felt the dregs of gold stirring within him and squared his shoulders.

“Or what?”

“Stop it, you two!” Caela cried, breaking formation as well. She pushed between Lux and Valerios, looking between them with imploring eyes.

“This is a pointless argument! Remember what really matters here. Neither of you are responsible for what happened to the barn.”

“Exactly,” added Shade nonchalantly. “That was the signora.”

“Really!” Freija burst out. “I made the fire go away, unlike you.”

“Oh, yes. The fire, the barn, most of the other buildings…” Shade grinned, but dodged away quickly as Freija took a threatening step forward.

“You’ll be next,” she snapped at him. “One more funny comment, and it’s tidal wave for you.”

A chorus of accusatory babble rose amongst the group, until it was pierced by a reedy voice.

“Oh dear, my barn!”

Lux turned from the rabble to see their elderly hosts standing aghast in front of the ruins of the barn. All thought of internal conflict was dashed as the party hurried over to the hunch-backed couple.

“Oh, dearie me,” Zila was muttering, wringing her hands. Beside her, a withered old man raised his flat cap and rubbed his liver-spotted head.

“Blow me down the mountain,” Sten rasped. “Must’ve been two months’ supplies in there.”

He peered over a pair of half-moon spectacles, taking in the flattened town further down the hillside.

“Well, I’ll be,” he said, rubbing his dome even more fiercely.

Caela was first on the spot for explanations, although she looked sorely in need of one herself.

“There was a fire…” she said weakly, hair whipping about her face. “We were asleep… I’m so sorry…”

“Oh, dearie me,” Zila repeated, hobbling through the snow. “Are you all quite alright?”

Caela nodded jerkily, tucking her hands under her armpits. “We’re all here. But…”

Once again, they assessed the collapsed roof, under which presumably lay the drowned remains of the supplies, their cart, and their mule.

“That’ll take some fixing,” Sten commented. “We’ll have to send word down the mountain, and it’ll take some luck getting the carpenters to come up Orsale Pass in this weather.”

He turned to Zila, reaffixing his cap with a grim expression.

“I’m sorry, my dear, but it looks like we’ll have to leave Mulmais behind.”

Caela opened her mouth to offer faint platitudes, but was stopped by a polite cough.

“Oh!” said Zila. “Johannes?”

The wizard picked his way through the drift, and clutched the elderly couple’s hands in his. Despite the circumstances, his expression was the brightest of everyone present.

“There’s no need for that,” he assured them. He looked over his shoulder, a sparkle behind his lenses.

“We have several who are strong of arm, and plenty others with tricks up their sleeves. I’m sure we can have your barn fixed up in no time. You just wait - once the detritus is cleared, you’ll see that most of the goods can be recovered with a little drying out.”

His bold claim was met with dubious looks. Lux’s heart broke for the unfortunate couple, but a few boat repairs did not make him a qualified carpenter.

“Of course, we all feel this way…” Shade said, with unconvincing sympathy. “However, this detour has meant we are already behind schedule, so our hands are tied.” He shrugged.

Johannes stroked his beard, giving the other man an appraising look.

“Aha, but that is where you are mistaken, Master Shade. I make it two weeks until full moon, and we need no more than ten days to cross the top and descend to Ciria’s Palm via Orsale Pass.”

He stood before them, hands spread imploringly.

“Four days is all I ask. If we are not finished by then, we can leave. Is this amenable?”

Lux looked around the exhausted, shivering faces of his party, and then at the elderly couple. He sighed.

“I could accept that.”

But you owe me, he thought. You owe me answers, Wizard.

—

There was nothing more to be done that night. Unwilling to ask any more from Sten and Zila, the group agreed to shack up in one of the more intact houses in Mulmais - one of the few to be spared by Freija’s wave. Some set up their tents, eager to reclaim the last few hours of sleep they were owed. Others, like Lux, milled around the exterior, waiting to see the sun’s fingers creeping over the ridge.

Lux kept his distance from the others, giving himself up to introspection. He thought about appealing to his guide, though the nearest body of water was rapidly freezing at the bottom of the bowl, and in this weather he’d be lucky to emerge without frostbite. He was surprised, then, when someone else lent him a sympathetic ear.

Quiet footsteps crunched through the snow before Kazzik slid down the exterior wall to sit beside him. Lux didn’t even look round, waiting for him to say something. More remonstrations, perhaps, or questioning why they had to stay here. Instead, the tiefling was content to remain silent for a few minutes, the twitching plume of his tail tracing lines in the snow.

“Thanks,” he said at last.

“What?” That had not been what Lux was expecting. He turned to look at Kazzik, who looked considerably neater than he had after the fire. Had he already changed clothes? The singed holes in his waistcoat were gone, at least.

“I thought someone should say it,” Kazzik clarified. “You tried your best, even if the others don’t appreciate it.”

“It’s not that,” muttered Lux. “They know I try. They’re just worried about me. Think I can’t handle things gettin’ messy. Like they did, back…”

“…back in San Aria,” Kazzik finished softly. “Was it that bad?”

“It was supposed to be the best moment of my life.” The words burst from Lux, and more spilled forth behind them. “I unlocked my potential. Rose was so proud.” He could still see his beaming face, every time he closed his eyes. “And now he’s dead.”

Lux felt his throat constrict.

“He was my coach, my idol, my big brother. He was like me, but stronger, smarter, better at talking. I wanted so much to be like him.”

“I…” He hesitated. He hadn’t said this out loud to any of the others yet. Even Caela. But Kazzik watched him, solemn and sympathetic. “I was going to ask him to make an oath,” he choked out. “One like mine. He was always talking about becoming a hero, so I thought it would help him. But I never got the chance.”

He laughed bitterly. “Ain’t that the most tragic thing you’ve ever heard?”

Kazzik tilted his head owlishly.

“There were two lives lost that day,” he said gently. “Why does Rose’s hurt you so much more?”

“You wouldn’t understand,” Lux replied. “Hellebore was gone before anyone could blink, but I… I should’ve been there for Rose.”

He dropped his head.

“It’s my fault he’s gone.”

“Yes,” Kazzik breathed.

Lux felt the word sink into him, taking root deep inside.

“I was weak.”

“Yes.”

Kazzik’s eyes were huge, filling up Lux’s tear-stained vision.

“This ‘hero’ thing, it’s a meat grinder,” he purred. “Rose got himself caught up in it, until he was wishing for a death worthy of a ballad. He wouldn’t protect himself, and you didn’t have the power to protect him. You broke your promise, Lux. But it doesn’t have to be like that.”

Lux struggled for the words. “You don’t understand. I made an oath.”

“Don’t get me wrong!” Kazzik replied, leaning back, hands held high in mock defence. “I love promises.” His tone became once more confidential as he leaned back in. “But what’s the value in a promise, when you don’t have the power to keep it?”

Lux frowned. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying,” Kazzik murmured, “that you need a friend. Someone who has the motivation and ability to help you.”

He paused, as if weighing a careful decision.

“There are a few things you should know, Lux. About me, and my Mistress.”

Lux gave Kazzik a sidelong glance. A picture was beginning to form. He thought back to what Kazzik had said about the hellhounds - and what he hadn’t said.

“This ‘mistress’ of yours ain’t just some old lady, is she?”

“No,” Kazzik said heavily. “Her name is Mirazh, the Lady Of Smoke. She’s unbelievably powerful, Lux, and I don’t mean politically.”

He twisted the signet ring on his finger.

“The things you’ve seen me do? They all came from her. But that’s only a fraction of what she can grant.”

He met Lux’s gaze, completely serious.

“If you want it, you need only ask.”

Lux stared at him. The air between them crackled with the potency of the implication.

“Why me?” Lux asked. “Why are you telling me, and no one else?”

“We-ll,” Kazzik said slowly. “I wouldn’t say no-one knows about me and Mirazh…”

Lux leaned forward despite himself. “Who?” he asked.

There was an infinitesimal pause.

“Caela,” Kazzik said. “She knows a little. I’m not sure why she hasn’t told you, but I’m sure she has her reasons.”

Another pause. Lux’s head spun. Why wouldn’t Caela tell him? Was this something else she didn’t think he could handle?

“And what would the Lady want, for such a generous offer?” he asked evenly.

Kazzik blinked innocently. “What does any person of wealth and taste want?” he asked. “Loyalty, of course.”

He extended an elegant hand, the signet ring glinting in the pre-dawn light. “What do you say? Will you accept a helping hand?”

Lux looked at the hand, and at Kazzik’s eager expression.

Wind howled across the edge of the crater, ruffling Kazzik’s dark hair and his own brown curls. The light deep inside him felt cooler, distant, like coals banked down after a blaze. Stronger, he thought. He tightened his bruised knuckles into a fist, and slowly relaxed them.

Then, with a sigh, he reached out and patted Kazzik once on the shoulder.

“Thanks, Kaz. I’ll think about what you said.”

The tiefling’s expression didn’t change as he returned his hand to his waistcoat pocket.

“That’s all I ask.”

—

Lux didn’t speak to Kazzik for a while afterwards - there was simply too much work to do. As soon as the sun broke over the ridge, they began the rebuilding efforts.

Despite Johannes’ assurances that only four days would be needed, Lux had been doubtful. As the group dived into dividing up tasks and starting work, though, he found himself genuinely impressed.

It was the work of no more than a moment for Johannes to lay the foundations, carving out the earth with pure concentration. Then came the frame: salvaged wood from the village, which Shade and Caela scouted out for Lux and Valerios to carry back. The two men didn’t say more than the basics as they hoisted each beam in place, but there were no more arguments.

Something in the project seemed to do the party good. The work was tough, with long hours of exertion breathing in the thin atmosphere. Lux sensed that he wasn’t the only one still bursting with questions, but there was simply not enough energy left at the end of each day to converse - or argue. Lux was used to running his mouth to fill an awkward silence, but this time, the mood was of comfortable cooperation, with no words needing to be exchanged.

The work was made even more oddly silent by the lack of hammering and sawing noises. They merely lifted each plank into place, and Kazzik would magically fasten it to the frame, running a finger over the seam until it sizzled out of existence. Valerios was initially sceptical of the new joins, but was convinced once they proved to bear his weight.

After three solid days, the new barn was almost complete. On the morning of the fourth, Freija stepped forwards and reached into her satchel of wonders. Her job had, so far, been to whisk away the falling snow, which the others had always reacted to with slight trepidation. Perhaps it was this reaction that prompted her to form the relocated snow into cute renditions of animals - woolly lambs and sheep, fluffy kittens with frosted whiskers.

Now, though, she scattered grey seeds before her, and whispered a new incantation. Before their eyes, thick blades of grass sprouted from the frozen earth, weaving into the mismatched planks. The grass knotted itself into thick walls, filling the gaps and covering the roof in a green and yellow canopy.

Freija turned, striking a pose a little self-consciously.

“Ta-da!”

Their final task was to fill the empty building, which meant discovering how much of their hosts’ supplies were recoverable. Sifting through shredded grain bags and crates of smashed glassware was no one’s idea of fun. They were fairly devastated to find the remains of their cart - and the remains of the animal driving it. Nevertheless, all told, they were able to fill a sizeable corner of the barn with usable goods.

There wasn’t any official discussion, but amidst the reconstruction Caela had laid out ten days’ worth of supplies for each member of the party. It was hard to tell which items belonged to them, and which had belonged to the villagers, but on balance it seemed prudent to not take any more than they needed.

As Lux finished strapping on his pack, readying to leave, he caught sight of Johannes, speaking to Zila. She’d come to see them off, and had been greatly moved at the sight of their best-effort imitation of a barn.

As Lux approached, he caught the tail end of their conversation. Johannes was stooped to talk to Zila, expression serious, while she smiled up at him.

“-nderstand, it’s for the best,” Zila said kindly. “You don’t need to worry about us.” She patted his arm. Spotting Lux’s arrival, she gave him a small wave, stepping away from Johannes.

“Goodbye, Mister Lux,” she cooed. “Don’t you worry about all the trouble. I suspect Mulmais might even become a tourist attraction because of it! ‘Come See The Impossible Lake’. Fancy that?”

Lux took one last look at Mulmais. After four days, the water had fully frozen into a glassy rink, sealing the remnants of the destroyed town. The faded tavern sign stuck crookedly out of the ice, like the prow of a wrecked ship. It was, he considered, a completely fantastical sight. He’d have been endlessly curious about its origins, had he not indirectly caused it.

Waving goodbye to the tiny woman, he took Johannes’ arm in his grip - not hard enough to hurt the old man, but firm enough to mean business.

Johannes gave him an insightful glance from behind his glasses. “Questions, Master Lux?” he asked with a glimmer.

“A few,” Lux agreed. “And I think it’s time we started sharing answers.”

He steered the silver-bearded man to the circle of travellers, in various stages of readiness.

Loud enough for everyone to hear, Lux asked:

“Mr Johannes, how long did you live here?”

There were some noises of surprise, the others abandoning their packing to listen.

“I knew it!” Freija whispered to Caela, who shushed her.

Johannes wet his fingertip and smoothed out his whiskers.

“Very good, my boy, quite perceptive of you. I’m afraid I’ve so far failed to give you all the relevant facts, but I promise there is a rationale behind my decision.”

He extricated himself from Lux’s grip and began pacing, retrieving his pipe as he went.

“I was born in this humble town, growing up with my dear grandparents. Not Sten and Zila, you understand - they are old friends of mine. Yes, Mulmais was not always the ‘ghost town’ you described it as, Master Shade.”

Ignoring Shade’s unimpressed look, Johannes carried on. “It was once an important stop for weary travellers taking the mountain paths.”

“Until,” he continued, pipe halting on the way to his lips, “There was a problem. Unexplainable deaths - or rather, deaths that could only be attributed to the activity of a certain organisation. I, and many others, were forced to leave.”

“I’m so sorry,” Caela said, stepping closer. “That’s awful. What happened?”

“I should probably not give too many details,” Johannes said warily. Seeing the reactions of his companions, he continued, an edge of steel entering his voice:

“It is not a matter of trust. This organisation was very diligent in smothering any uncomfortable truths about Mulmais, and would not hesitate in silencing you. When we arrive in Aegiswood, I will need to keep my history very quiet indeed.”

Caela took his hand in hers, looking solemnly up at him.

“Thank you, Johannes. I know it’s hard to trust us, but you should know - you can tell us anything. We’ll be there for you.”

Somehow, Lux didn’t feel the words were solely meant for Johannes.

—

Leaving the impossible lake behind, they climbed to meet the cloud bank, the views opening up as they rose out of the shelter of Mulmais. Feeling like he was about to trespass in the domain of the gods, Lux found himself muttering a mental prayer before stepping into the fog.

He’d half expected the clouds to feel as fluffy as they looked, but in the end it wasn’t any different to the sea fog he was used to back home. The visibility immediately dropped to almost nothing, water condensing on every surface and melding with the sweat of their exertion.

They spent an hour trekking blind, often having to feel ahead with their hands for hazards. Eventually, the mist grew thin, and they emerged into blinding sunlight.

Lux staggered up the rocky tor, feeling his head spin. Perhaps it was sky-sickness, or perhaps it was the feeling of being inverted. Above him, the sky was an ocean of azure. Below, hugging the mountain’s every contour, was a field of white, the pale sun picking out every detail of the rolling clouds. They stretched on, almost as far as he could see.

Shade, in the lead, paused with his hands on his hips. “Didn’t I tell you all it would be worth it?” he asked, smugly. “Ah, how I’ve missed this view.”

His companions were too distracted by the panorama to give him credit, and even the assassin was hushed into silence at what they noticed floating in the far distance.

Once, when Lux had been very small, a whale had swum into the bay. It was an event to be recounted for years to come. Upon seeing the creature’s iconic tail fin crest the waves, he’d jumped from his father’s boat and dived underwater to get a better look. He remembered it like it was yesterday: the faint image of the impossibly-large animal, its form picked out in white highlights amongst the infinite blue.

Here, atop the highest peak he’d climbed, he saw that sight again.

At first he thought it was a daytime moon, a crescent sketched in white chalk. That was until the shape moved, beating its colossal tail fin to soar across the horizon. From its magnificently curving chin trailed a pair of whiskers, floating weightlessly in its wake. It was impossible to judge scale above the clouds - the creature might’ve been hundreds of miles away. Lux couldn’t begin to imagine closing the impossible distance and seeing its titanic form up close.

All seven members of their entourage were struck dumb as six filamentous curtains billowed from the creature’s torso, spreading like the fins of a carp, or perhaps a butterfly’s wings. They watched the moon whale sweep a ponderous arc across the heavens, before turning away from them and vanishing into a point in the distance.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Lux breathed. “Maybe there was a reason to come all this way after all.” 

24. Nothing Like Him >>