Soul Fire

Soul Fire - Chapter 15

The following morning brought an end to formalities and the resumption of normality. The Cerds busied themselves with cleaning up the camp, bluntly refusing any help the Asillians offered. Gergan provided their only ever-present company - their escort while they resided in Cerdic lands.

"Gergan, why don't you allow us to help with putting the camp back in order? We partook of your food and drink and were responsible for some of this mess."

Dathion gestured to their discarded sleeping bags along with the bowls and cups from which they'd eaten and drunk.

"Do you think we're too weak to manage it alone?"

"No, of course not!"

"Would you let me help if we were back at your palace?"

"No, of course ..." Dathion blushed. Salidon tapped his forefinger against pursed lips and turned his eyes to the skies, while Malithas stroked his chin stubble to accentuate his sudden smirk. It was the latter who spoke.

"Fear not, Dathion. You may not be able to best the Cerds in battle, not with sword, nor wits. However, I'm sure that, given time, we could think of an alternative challenge in which you'd likely prevail."

Malithas rested his chin on his fist and furrowed his brow. Salidon extended one forefinger beside his cheek as though counting to one, then placed it back against his lips and shook his head. Gergan looked from one man to the next then flashed a toothy grin.

"I did say given time, Salidon. I never specified how much was needed."

"That's true, Malithas. Maybe Jerodai's childen will bear witness to that momentous day, long after you have passed on ... if you manage to meet them at all."

"He's a strapping lad and I have barely reached the autumn of my years. Many a maiden would jump at the chance to marry a boy with such good breeding, and I have life left in me yet."

"I have seen you fight."

Dathion waited patiently for them to finish. His enviable restraint owed much to the trauma Malithas had suffered the previous day.

Thankfully, Malithas appeared and sounded significantly better after a good night's sleep. While the Cerds tidied the camp around them he reflected on the battle. He claimed that his old bones rattling around in his armor had brought about his defeat, not the blow itself. On a more serious note, he reminded the boys of their lessons, especially the wisdom of avoiding or parrying strikes rather than relying on armor alone. Malithas stressed that he had seen more than one warrior overcome from supposedly superficial wounds. Their protective plates had prevented major injuries; however, the victims had eventually succumbed to pain and shock.

Inevitably the conversation came back to topics which Gergan was keen to continue discussing from the prior evening. Jerodai and Ellishan were excused, much to their relief, while Dathion received an invitation to join the men. They talked in hushed whispers to cloak their words, though secrecy was not a talent in which Gergan proved particularly adept.

"I do not doubt this is the heir of Asillia. The boy is of the right age and disposition. But again I ask, as I did last night: What is he?"

The very act of whispering was folly for the Cerd. Even when he softened his words, they still blared from his mouth like a herald's bugle.

"One sleep does not change my answer. He is just a boy."

Malithas's voice assumed its familiar stern tone as if the enormous barbarian were one of his students needing to be chastened. Gergan addressed Dathion directly.