Purpose Kills

Chapter Fifteen

   A cool breeze whipped through Desarae's hair, much to her annoyance. Oliver didn't mind at all, his crow-black hair slightly ruffled but staying out of his eyes. He smirked at her as she violently pawed the hair that had managed to get in her mouth for what seemed like the tenth time this half-hour. They'd been making their way north for days, and had hardly spoken to each other beyond commands aimed at each other or flung insults. She had made sure it stayed that way, any attempt at conversation he tried to make was shut down every time. He seemed to accept it relatively fast, and they'd lapsed into companionable silence for most of the trip. Sometimes it was hard to keep the silence.

  They kept their horses at a brisk gallop for a while, aimed towards a northern village which had smoke curling from the chimneys. The squat cottages were made of stone and wood, and looked cozy. They'd made it outside that infernal desert that held her and her legion captive for years. The terrain had turned into grassy plains, rolling hills. The north was the wealthier end of the empire, which wasn't all that surprising. They had a lot to offer, and the south was mostly made up of desert. Not to mention it was closest to the core of the war that continued to wage for days. The thought of the war sobered her a little, her face slipping deeper into that unamused, cold mask. Oliver noticed.

  "Thinking of that bloody war again, Des?" He asked from his horse, looking over at her as they eased into a walk. She glanced over at him, debating speaking. She made up her mind, keeping her lips pressed tight and turning away from him to look back at the road ahead of them. They were nearing the village they were to stay the night in. She felt him scowl at her from where he still looked at her. The first small sign of frustration he had shown in a while. "Look," He continued, pursing his lips for a second, "You get a distant look when you talk about the war. Or when someone mentions it. It's obvious you're thinking about it, since you refuse to talk to me." Desarae swallowed, shutting her eyes before turning back to him. 

  "Yes, Oliver, I am thinking about the war. It brought me my legion, and it has taken them away. I intend to get them back and end this, sooner rather than later. But first, we're going to have to get rid of the Shades- and their master," She murmured, shaking her head at him. She looked down at the scars on her palms, where they made crossroads several times with the natural lines in her palms.

  "You know, you say legion. You never call them your friends. Why is that?" He inquired. He liked prodding into her life, trying to learn more about her, she guessed. Her face must've revealed that she wasn't going to answer him, so he raised an eyebrow pointedly. She sighed, a frown tightening her lips.

  "They told us that we shouldn't have friends. The commanders especially. They were either your soldiers, or your weaknesses. If you were smart, you took what they said to heart. You followed it," She explained, her hands toying with the reins. He rolled his eyes at her.

  "You would all do so much better if you trusted in each other more," Oliver rumbled, smiling wryly at her. She looked forward, to the people who now gathered outside of their homes. One woman spotted Des, her face going as white as a sheet. A babe was in her arms, fat and slumbering. She looked away quickly, and Oliver smiled easily as they halted a good distance away. The people were still slightly tense, and their eyes were pinned on Oliver. Avoiding meeting her golden gaze, afraid of what she might bring to their home.

  "We would request lodgings for the night," He called out, his smile warm, "As you all probably have noticed, I am traveling with Commander Caeryx. She means you absolutely no harm, and will be very grateful for your help. We just wish to stay the night." Her name held more sway to people in the south, who knew her quite well. Knew all the commanders well. The northerners less so, but these people relaxed a bit when they realized she just wanted to stay that night. A woman stepped forward and smiled at them, her hands in front of her. She had long black hair that brushed her waist, shot with a few strands of grey. Her eyes were a murky brown, though they had a certain light to them that made them capturing. Her skin was deeply tanned, like the sun had bestowed a blistering kiss upon her brow.

  "Oliver, I see you've brought a friend with you this time, it's been almost two years since your last visit," She said, her voice soft. Desarae knew she'd seen something light in his eyes when she'd mentioned the name of the village, just couldn't understand it. Now she did. Her gaze flicked to him, her brows lifting. He merely grinned at her, then bowed deeply at the waist in his saddle.

  "I apologize, Kyra, the guild has kept me away," He explained, his grin turning apologetic. Desarae slowly dismounted from Bijesan, who looked as if he was too tired to put up much of a fight as two young boys took him away. Oliver slid off beside her, and someone else took his horse away as well. The woman- Kyra- came over and wrapped Oliver in a hug. She was almost as tall as him, which was a surprise. She finally looked over at Desarae, who crossed her arms and inclined her head to her.

  "She's pretty. Your... lover, perhaps?" Kyra asked, glancing at Oliver with a small smirk. He held up his hands when Des immediately protested, her words coming out as a stutter. Oliver chuckled softly and smirked over at her, to which she responded by giving him a small shove. Her cheeks had heated, and she crossed her arms and looked away. 

  "We're traveling together," Oliver explained, nodding at Desarae, who was still intent on looking away.

  "Well, I hope you don't mind sharing a room, we only have one available space for guests." Kyra smiled easily at them, then turned on her heel. She didn't motion for them to follow, only moved through the squat village. Oliver followed quickly, striking up another conversation in a different language with her. Des walked after, stares on her back as she retreated with the pair.