Argenton and Danlen set off toward Frankle, further up the hill until it plateaued and headed into the valley. The more north they went the chillier it got, or so Danlen said. Argenton always being somewhat of a furnace inside could never tell how cold it was until he saw the ice trees growing.
"If I knew the frost had set in, I would have dressed warmer." Danlen's teeth chattered as he talked. Argenton was wearing long sleeves, but he would've been fine with short sleeves. He only wore long sleeves and long pants to protect his skin from scratches and bugs.
Danlen hugged himself. "Can you do heat transfer?" He held out a shivering hand. "Please?"
Can I? No idea. Argenton grabbed Danlen's hand and let some of his heat flow over Danlen's body. I guess I can. He released his hand because the spell was complete.
"Why can't we—"
Argenton glared at him and Danlen looked away then turned back. "No chance?"
"No chance."
The frost was getting thicker, turning into snow the further they went. Argenton could make out the gates into Frankle, frozen over with icicles hanging over the bars, and beyond that the two tall watchtowers he suddenly remembered playing in and getting in trouble for.
Also, the first time I killed someone.
A brief flashback came. He saw his little boy hands shove another boy over the watch other. The boy went down screaming, falling on the ground head first with a crack. Argenton slipped away into the shadows, never to be found out for his deeds. He was only nine.
"Tonight, I take on the father," Geldon had said when Argenton returned home. They had conspired to kill someone together. "Tell me again how exactly you charmed him up there."
Argenton frowned at the memory. It came with a string of images of him going into the city with his father at night, using his little-kid charm to trick adults and watching his father kill the people he thought betrayed him. Many had used to be in the army. Many had become baggage in the eyes of his father.
"What are you thinking?" Danlen asked.
"Memories. What else?" He noticed Danlen shivering again and hunched over, huffing. He clearly didn't train his stamina enough. When Danlen sneezed and didn't even bother with the outcome, Argenton scowled. How could this man call himself First Tier?
"Wipe your snot. It's snot a pretty sight."
Danlen chuckled as he straightened his back.
"What?" Argenton narrowed his eyes. "And don't come any closer, mucus face."
"What you said. It's funny. Snot." Danlen laughed and took out a handkerchief to wipe his nose and missed a spot.
"Oh, fimzle, do I gotta do everythin' for ye? Here, give me that." Argenton plucked the handkerchief from Danlen's fingers and shoved it into his face, wiping rigorously. Danlen always depended on him in the most childish ways. Weren't they legally Noiern adults? What was wrong with him? When the last of the snot was gone, he threw it onto the snow.
"Clean it. I don't wanna get up and close and personal with that gunk again." Argenton glared at Danlen who was laughing again. "If ye think snot's funny, probably a toddler inside."
"No, it's good. Real good." Danlen chuckled, brushing the snow from his handkerchief.
"Nothin's good about ye. Childish. Why do I like ye? Or liked." Something had to have been there enough for him to want to reciprocate the feelings, but everything was disjointed now. Ever since finding out about the block in his memory. What if he didn't get that back?
YOU ARE READING
There Lives a Beast in the Burning Heart ✓ | a novella
Fantasy[An Ozel Emla Tale] At midnight, fire mage Argenton loses memory of yesterday. It's a curse that's eating away at his sanity. All he knows is that he's a loyal soldier protecting citizens of Noier from forest beasts called Haunters. His father also...
