A Touch Of Darkness

34 || Coward

Fiesi, wake up.

A gentle tug ripples along the current of Fiesi's flame, disturbing the cords tethering him in sleep. The first thing to greet him is the breeze pinching his cheeks. The second is a pulsing throb in his temples.

He groans. No. Go away.

Frustration splits across his skull in the form of a noisy squawk. You moron. Would you rather I let you die?

Let you die. The words roll around his mind, clashing with a recent echo of the same thread. Do it. Let me die.

Nathan's voice. The disconnected memory is enough to bring it all flooding back. The knife burning in his hand, elevated over Nathan's exposed neck. The boy's desperate little black eyes swirling with pain, and terror, and finally an odd sort of peace. Fiesi had been about to do it, hadn't he?

No. He froze. The knife flickered and spluttered, dying out, the will that shaped it fractured by a few quiet words.

A hollow chuckle tumbles from his lips. "Stars, Rigel. This isn't how it was supposed to go."

"Tell me, how was all this supposed to go?"

If the startling presence of the girl's voice isn't enough to drag him fully into waking, the fury that hisses and spits within it does the trick. Fiesi's eyes split open.

His own blood glares back at him. An ugly red streak, decorating the curve of the girl's gleaming blade. She's wiped off the worst of it, but still it glints wickedly, eager to draw more. Cormé weapons, forever shouting the violent acts they hunger for. They've never quite mastered the idea of peaceful death.

Reaching for his flame, he tries to lift a hand, but finds his wrist chafing against coarse material. Both his hands are tied securely to his sides, the lash of rope tight around his middle. It doesn't budge when he yanks at it.

Great. Trapped. The blue flickers cupped in his palm fizzle out, pointless when he has no real way of directing them.

He raises his head a fraction. Instantly, the sword jerks, and he flattens himself against the ground once more. His heart has started to race. He hisses in a breath, cursing his own fear.

"For starters, I was hoping to avoid being knocked out," he says, fighting to keep his smile showing.

Perhaps you should not have let it happen then, Rigel chips in.

Fiesi sends the bird a mental shove.

"You stabbing me was admittedly not on my agenda," he adds when she doesn't reply, "but I suppose it was unavoidable, what with you soldiers and your bloodlust. Besides, what's the point of magic healing when you never get to show it off?"

She shifts on her knees at his left side. He tilts his head the slightest amount to look at her. Pretty, he can admit, blonde and slim with a pleasant shine to her rosy skin. He can see why Nathan has taken a fancy to her. Too bad she ruins her features by screwing them into a scowl.

"I do wonder about the limits of that magic healing." She leans in closer, brushing the flat of her sword over his chin. He flinches at its cool surface. "What would happen if, say, I cut your head off? Would your fire string your neck back together?"

He tries for a chuckle. "I dare say I've never tried."

"Would you like me to try for you?"

The edge touches his neck, just briefly, before it retracts, but it's enough. A gasp shoves its way out of Fiesi's throat. He clenches his jaw, hating his own weakness.