From Ashes and Snow

Stolen Treasures.

Chapter 19: Stolen Treasures.

Kohen called to me as I knelt in front of a Legion soldier, examining the shoulder that had taken a brutal blow to her shoulder. The skin had been torn, a fleshy flap hanging uncomfortably. She watched me carefully, tears clinging to her lashes from the pain. Magic eased out of my fingers, a chill doused in silver seeping into her skin. It would numb the pain and hold the wound until we were back in Haaling where she could be tended by proper healers.

I stood, and someone took over to bind the wound. She gave me a quiet thanks as I turned away to Kohen. Dipping my chin in acknowledgment, I wove my way through the Legion soldiers who were patting down the bodies of dead bandits, gathering coin and weapons.

Kohen stood in front of the door behind where the bandit-leader had been slain. The darkness that had assuaged him earlier was gone, and he watched me approach in a calm, alert manner. He merely stepped to the side as I reached him, motioning to the room where the door had been cracked open.

I stepped inside cautiously, expecting to find bodies or more slaves. Instead, the low flickering torch-light cast illumination over the horde piled high in the room. I took in the wealth that spilled onto stone floors, jewels and pearls aplenty.

There were trinkets stolen from travellers on the road, expensive gowns and chests of gold that could be a person's entire life-savings. I eyed it all like a magpie spotting something shiny glinting in their vision, inching further into the room.

"Perhaps we could use this for the Legion?" I examined a heavy golden chain curiously. Why would a person want to wear this? It had no practical use that I could see, unless one wanted to swing it as a weapon.

Kohen said nothing as I moved through the room until I spotted something that made my blood run cold. A gauntlet had been thrown on top of a pile, bloodied but unmistakable. A Dratlan gauntlet. I moved on with a cold sort of anger burning inside of me.

Next, bruised fingers uncovered a flute. Ater's flute; a friend I had watched being murdered and did nothing to help him. Bile burned on my tongue, the guilt of my failure assuaging me.

"Some of these things are from Dratlan." Kohen's voice echoed behind me as my blood thundered in my head.

The next thing I uncovered nearly shattered me. A small jewelled knife, a gift to the Elven child we had all adored so much. Little Heslan who had kept Kendon's present with him at all times, had looked up to Kendon like he was his idol. He would have tried to fight like everyone else, and we would have tried to protect him.

Now they were all dead.

I couldn't get Heslan's face from my mind's eye, that happy face beaming up at me as I regaled him with tales, as Kendon and I bantered with each other. He had felt such simple joy at even being included in anything we did; he was the brightness in Dratlan – utterly adored by everyone.

A hand touched my shoulder lightly. "I am sorry, Aviana."

I noticed only then that my head was bowed, and I gripped his blade tight. I glanced over at Kohen, my vision hazy.

"I can feel how much you love them." He told me. "A pure, loyal love. They were lucky to have you."

"Can you see their faces?" I rasped.

Gold touched eyes examined my own. "I can see flashes. Burnt-gold hair, and a child's giggle. Laughter as you dance, guilt as you watch a friend's throat being split open."