Inked

23

Where better for a shadow to hide than among other shadows? Dustfinger had let his horse loose into the surrounding forest but knew that, should he summon it, the old animal would return to him, ready to serve in return for a sweet carrot. 

He had found a soft spot of moss along the castle wall to sit on. Most of the time he leaned against the rough stone, watching for anything that could mean danger to Mo or to their mission, but on occasion -- when a couple of soldiers passed by to inspect the perimeter, when a gardener came to have lunch, when a messenger needed a quiet place to relieve himself before continuing on his long journey -- Dustfinger would slink into the darkest and deepest shadows, which were not hard to find thanks to the abundant foliage and tall palace walls. 

So far there had been no excitement. Mo was safely inside the castle walls, training with other men who had spontaneously signed up to fight. But there was an itch in his gut. He had had it on the day the robbers left the camp, but he had concluded it was only nerves. No one else would believe him -- he hardly believed himself, as he was never nervous -- but he had convinced himself that it was because this time he had been leaving Roxane after such a nice, long reunion.

However, absolutely none of that made sense considering his present situation, leaning against Argenta Castle, alert for any out-of-place rustle of leaves or shout from the courtyard. Everything was going just fine; he had no reason to worry about anything. Yet the feeling was still there, that odd tug at his insides, not quite hunger, not quite queasiness. He had felt like this right before...right before confronting the boy about his use of dark magic.

"Damn that boy," Dustfinger muttered. "I warned him, didn't I? I warned him." Dustfinger stood up and began pacing the length of the castle wall. The feeling wasn't as strong as it had been last time, which probably meant it came from farther away. Well, of course. He's back in Ombra, isn't he? Cursing a second time, Dustfinger reached deep inside himself to the well of dark magic he had acquired after his run-in with Death, the power he had never let himself use before. It took a moment, but eventually he felt something stirring within him. Taking a deep breath, he sent the darkness out of the forest, towards the camp at Ombra, hoping he stopped the boy in time. 

It was not until he had returned to his spot against the castle wall that Dustfinger began to wonder if the dark magic had not been Farid at all. That girl that had been with him -- she seemed like the sort to willingly use such powerful and evil magic. And Farid was never one to disobey Dustfinger. He still worshiped him, even after a year apart. 

His mind suddenly whirring with panicked conclusions, Dustfinger rose and began pacing again. He needed to warn Silvertongue. If she had been searching for him... No. No! I will not let some girl ruin this for us. Closing his eyes, Dustfinger whispered the familiar words that brought the flames to him, eager to do his bidding. He sent them into the ground, beneath the castle walls and onto the training grounds for the soldiers. They found Mo and spelled out a message in tiny letters of flame that went up in smoke as soon as they were formed. 

The message was short, only two words. The first was a simple code word they had decided on in case such a thing ever happened. The second was to prevent Silvertongue from panicking. 

Out on the grounds, practicing marching in formation and staring straight forward -- two tasks Mo was plenty good at --  Mo spared a glance down at the movement by his feet and read the orange words quickly.

 Capricorn. Maybe.