Tales of the Vangen: The Dead King of Danic (Book 3)

Chapter 32: Faces in the Smoke

"I suppose this dump will have to do for tonight." Keela eyed the rundown homestead, lip curling in noticeable disgust. "If you would, Cinnis?"

Brand studied the battered and chipped piece of wood serving as the door, focusing on the rusted iron hinges. He tried to delicately pull them apart, but the metal squealed and shattered apart the moment he touched it with his magick.

The door clonked onto the stones and fell inwards, kicking up motes of thick dust within.

Keela wrinkled her nose as she took a step closer. "Either the family who owned this place is long dead, or abandoned it a while ago." She eyed the forest they'd crawled through for the past two days, the trail of mud they'd trudged through for the last half hour. "I'm hoping for the latter. Aye, Cinnis?"

Brand swallowed, too tired to do more than nod his stiff head in agreement. In those two days he'd done nothing but walk, climb, and clamor his way through gods awful hillocks, treacherous valleys, and more than once he'd been forced off the road to hide behind a tree and avoid the countless patrolling horsemen. Whether rebels or loyalists didn't seem to matter. She was avoiding both of them.

"Well, let's not waste any time. Wouldn't want you keeling over any minute now," Keela said, looking put out over his lack of enthusiasm for her game. Not that there was anything fun weighing the odds between mold and a family of corpses. It was merely the prize at the end if he was wrong.

To Brand's benefit at least, the family who'd owned the place had seen fit to pack up and go elsewhere. The air inside was stale and musty, wood daubed walls peppered with various degrees of fungus and rot. The ground at least was dry, and the stone fireplace within had somehow survived the test of time.

"We should get a fire going. Clean it up while I hunt us some dinner. Feeling particular about anything?" Keela flashed him a side eyed grin. "Boar? Deer? Ooh, or maybe you'd prefer elk?"

Brand's stomach groaned out the answer before he could. He forgot he'd also forgone eating during their two day hike, surviving off of melted snow and sheer determination. In the past his mother had scolded him for missing meals, back when his sole focus had been on becoming the family scion.

He swallowed past a lump in his throat. She was the reason he was here in the first place, after all. Once he helped Keela with her task he'd finally find his mother again, and they could be a family once more. All he had to do was stay on the path. Nothing else mattered.

"Well?" Keela asked, her voice taking on a sing-song tone. "Don't keep me waiting, Cinnis."

"Deer will be fine," Brand said hastily. Although a Byzantian stuffed fruit tart with roasted raisins sounded just as delightful.

The witch shrugged and sauntered out of the abandoned house, the hem of her blue robe trailing over the doorframe. For a moment, Brand's eyes lingered on the curve of her thigh poking out from beneath, then she was gone.

"What in the Seven Hells have I done," Brand cursed beneath his breath, invoking a place of damnation he didn't even believe in. Damn the Vangen, but they loved their phrases. After a year of serving under them, he'd picked up the nasty habit as well.

He shook his head and tried to focus on the task at hand. The stone fireplace was, by all accounts, still reasonably intact. Leaves, sticks, and other debris lay scattered like a massive bird's nest within it, rusty bits of metal poking out like hedgehog needles.

With a quick snap of his fingers, Brand morphed his staff into a rake and started scraping it out. He tossed the rusty off to one side, scouring them clean for good measure. Even dead metal was still his to command, despite time's endless march.