Journey onto the Storm (BOOK 2)

Chapter 22

NEVEN

Ding.

Neven cleaned off the rest of the flour from between his fingers at the sound of the poundcakes rising finish inside the runic oven. Water swirled through his skin and tickled at his magick, but he dried them off with a towel when it gave another cursory click. He took out a service plate from the bottom cupboard to put it on the counter, but took out a smaller one for a special recipient before heading to the oven. A layer of ice protected his hands shielded with the towel as he tugged out the tray of small poundcakes — one last gift from his late mother. He frowned down at the fluffy, cream-filled pockets of love before setting it on the counter, drawing out the flames from the runes. Using his knee to close it, he returned to the counter. It was empty within the private officer quarters that only he, Maria, and Kemal ever used. His crescent blade and glaive sat on the rack, with Kemal's and Maria's missing from their usual sections.

Seeing Kayal... to see if there is still a song left in his soul. Neven clutched the towel with a sigh, shaking his head when a breath of wind slipped from the open window to tangle with his feathers. It depressurized the warm headache in his temples, but never took away the pain in his heart. Can I really do naught else? He raised his head at a familiar flutter and a distant, echoing giggle. In a flurry of memory, he was back home, on Euros. Yuven and Fenrer, barely older than ten, swelled with ancient pain but full of a child's light. He smiled when the shade of Yuven turned to him with a rare, excited smile while he held out a magelight, finding it within himself.

Hm... Neven put the towel off to the side to clean and set his arms on the counter, left in the low pitch of the past, then set a cooling blanket into the remnants of shimmering heat before setting his hands back on the lacquer finish of the wood. A smooth, soft touch of something found, and the tree it came from. He ran his fingers over the knots and ridge, and the gentle heat of autumn. Gold, oranges, purples, an expansion of colours past the endless frozen wastes. It drove a thin knife of loss into his heart, even what was yet to come.

'He only has until his twenties, Nev.'

A cruel passage made him weak.

No.

He placed the poundcakes onto the large plate to bring to the Trainee section of the lodge, but set another onto the smaller dish. It warmed the bottom when he brought it into his hands before leaving the private house behind. Sunlight spread through the heavy canopy shielding Asairai from the worst of the elements the sky rained down upon them. Fluffy swaths of white painted what little he spotted through the speckled leaves before his route took him through the harbor. Bells tolled with the sound of harps from the Elvkin chapel. Another piece of homesickness to strike at him, though he squished his nose when the sharp scent of fish impeded it. He entered the Infirmary the Storm Warden chirurgeons used at the gracious hosting of the Elvkin. He shuffled past the entry area, where a young chirurgeon sat and wrote down needed medicinal supplies. One hand on the door, he took a breath and entered.

Julis, Kemal, and Maria all stood around Kayal with varying expressions of dismay, but turned at his approach.

"I brought a little something," he whispered and motioned at the poundcake, setting it on the table beside Kayal. "He hasn't changed, has he?"

Maria ran a hand through her hair, twisting the small braid. "Not a bit, I still have things I could try — but I think it'd be best if we sent him back to Euros for further treatment. We can't do much here," she reported. "We're lacking supplies as it is, and if what you say about the cult is true..."

"We'll find them," Kemal muttered.

"We've sent teams of Storm Wardens to find them," Neven pointed out. "Every single one of those teams disappeared. Kayal is the only survivor of these ambushes to date." It stuck to his throat like clumps of hard snow, and he stuck his tongue between his teeth to chew on it. "All our leads brought us to dead ends. I thought that those ruins would hold something substantial, but..." He sat on the chair in front of Kayal before eyeing Maria, who folded her arms. "He is still eating and sleeping, at least?"