Chapter 15: Chapter 15: Conflict

Chapter 15: Conflict

Nathaniel:

As we call it a night, Givontair goes to check on the burn wound on Erik's arm. He uses mana to check if the skin has taken on the flesh. I watch him, transfixed. 

He did tell me that he didn't have much mana left in him. Yet, he doesn't let that stop him. Soon, he is done, and tucking Erik into the bed. There are two beds in the room. One is a child sized one, and the other one a double bed. 

I stare at the double bed, trying to take its measurements. Is it soft, or so old, it has been reduced to a rough bedding? Will Givontair ask me to share with him? As if he has read my thoughts, he comes to me, and takes my hand in his. 

"Come on, we are leaving tomorrow," he tugs me up, and lets me lean on him. Erik is looking at us with curiosity. As much as I want to know Givontair better, I know I can't with the kid in the same room. 

The two of us get under the covers, and Givontair lies on his back. Slowly, he tugs me, so I am laying over him. For someone who is not all that muscular, it is still comfortable to rest my head on his chest. As I drift off, I feel his fingers weaving in and out of my hair. I snuggle closer in his warmth, and let him put me to sleep. 

I am awoken, a couple of hours later, by whimpers. So, I look up at Givontair's face, yet, he seems to still be asleep. The only other source of the whimpers could be Erik. 

Untangling myself from the dragon shifter, I make my way to the child's bed. Erik is tossing and turning, his cheeks wet from tears. I sit by his side, and place a hand on his chest. His heartbeat is erratic. The poor boy is lost in his nightmare.

Shaking him, I do my best to recall all I know about Erik. He is a part of a caravan. They traveled together with his mother. He never mentioned his father. 

Erik wakes up, and then wipes at his cheeks. 

"Sorry for waking you," he says. I place my hand on his forehead, and check for a fever. He has spent too much time in Portius, to exclude the possibility that his nightmares aren't the product of his health condition.

"Think nothing of it. Do you want to speak about it?" I ask. He looks at the double bed, where Givontair is still giving out soft puffs of air, deeply asleep.  

"You won't understand," the boy tells me. I sigh. 

"Perhaps, if I tell you about my nightmare, you might wish to share yours?" I suggest. He bites his lower lip, but then nods. I clear my throat, and speak, careful not to wake Givontair. 

"When I was fifteen, Ajax the Bold came to my village. It was such a small village, that it didn't even have a name. It was made up from five houses in total. A Wanderer family, a pair of feline shifters, two elven families, and my own family," Eric nods. I am glad that he doesn't bombard me with questions. It is still an open wound for me. 

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"So, he demanded a tribute. Give me what you hold dear, he said. The problem was, that what the adults of the village held dear, was the lives of their children," I take in a breath, a lump stuck in my throat. 

"The parents didn't want to give their children away?" Erik asks. I nod. 

"They called in the army. Maybe things wouldn't have escalated, if Ajax was just told that he can't have the children of the village. Yet, we attacked him. My mother saw how hopeless this was, and she and I ran. When we came back to the village, months after we heard the rumor that Ajax has flown away, there was nothing but ash there. I can still remember the pain in my hands, from all the graves I dug together with my mother. Some nights, I am still there. With a shovel, digging. Knowing, full well, that I might have ended up dead, as well." 

Erik gives me a hard stare. Then, he shudders. 

"I got my wound because I struggled too much while the bandits were marking us with pokers," Erik says, and I have no words for that. "I cut off the marking myself, when I reached the ruins outside Portius. I will never be a slave. I was ready to die, but then Givontair came and saved me." 

I pull the boy in my arms. Holding him tightly, I try to come up with something I can say to him. His nightmare is something he will never forget. 

"So, you dream that you are branded again?" I ask him. 

"No, I dreamed that my mother is branded. They did it on her arm. I have never heard anyone scream like her, before. Mother was always such a sunny person. And yet, they made her cry," Erik sniffs then, and grabs a fistful of my shirt. "I want to change things. To put an end to the slavery." 

"You will need a proper name for that, or proper power," I don't want to discourage him, but that is the truth of the world. 

"I heard you speaking with Givontair. He said that you are a necromancer. Does someone have to be born as one, to be a necromancer?" I don't like Erik's question. I let go of him, and stare into his eyes. 

"Look here, Erik. Being a necromancer closes many doors before you. You can never be a healer. Any elemental magic you do, will have to be watched, so that no acidic mana slips into it. You don't know what you are asking of me," the boy looks at me, as if I have broken his conviction. 

"I still want to learn," Erik says. "And I bet I can find a way to be a healer, even if my mana is acidic. I will be a good necromancer, and a capable healer. Just like you and Giv." 

"Well, you better start with the lessons now," I hear Givontair say from the bed. I look at him. He is propped up on his side, and his blue eyes are shining in the dark. Another reminder that he is not a human. "But we will first find your mother. After that, the two of you may travel with Nathaniel and me. Now, both of you lay with me. I will guard your minds from the nightmares." 

I scoop up Erik, and bring him to the bed. After I place him in the middle, Givontair hugs him. I lay on the boy's other side, and place an arm around him and my dragon. No one wakes for a second time that night, before the rooster greets the morning. 

 

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