Quickburned

Falling

Five years and a day or so ago...

"Alright, so mebbe it was a stupid plan," Caleb allowed. He stood shoulder to shoulder, Shade on his left and Nine Embers on his right, and all of them bound at the wrist and across the torso. Caleb licked the blood from his lip and spat it out into the sand of the square.

"Think we talked long enough?" Nine asked in a casual sort of way, but Caleb caught the flicker of his eyes in the direction of the town temple, over his shoulder.

Shade huffed, replying in coded kind. "Maybe. Just because you boys can't be still for longer than five minutes at a time—"

"Shut it." One of Mezir's minions, holding their leash, nudged Shade hard enough to stagger her into Caleb. The fellow didn't know it but he ought to have been mighty glad Shade didn't have her knife to hand.

Mezir took his sweet time coming out after them, dragging Caleb's sister along with him. Hana's face was red, and from the casual, satiated way Mezir was manhandling her, he'd bet the delay was another injustice against his sister's virtue he'd have cause to kill the man for. Hana was yelling insults around a gag, too muffled to make out anything but the furious tone.

"Well, I was inclined to treat with you in good faith, young Rattler, till this girl kicked up a ruckus about you. Seems you're not being exactly straight with me, eh, Caleb?"

"An' we're all such good, honest, down home sorta folk hereabouts, ain't we," he said, exaggerating his natural drawl a bit, staring at Hana. Calm. Got to stay calm, got to work us out of this.

Mezir laughed, heaven bless him, though his general brother glowered unhappily behind him, still favoring his side. Caleb wished he'd had a bit better aim, paid better attention to Proud Fang's shooting lessons. Or been a mite less furious when he'd pulled trigger.

"I suppose not," Mezir said after he stopped wheezing laughter. He dragged Hana in closer to him, and Caleb's wrists burned against the cord binding them to pull her away, to save her. She was looking straight at him. Shade tensed at his side.

"But," Mezir started again, "I don't appreciate ruckus. Almost as much as I don't like my business being disrupted. So I'm gonna take out the rubbish, and then we'll try this talk again, clear?"

The meaning didn't hit Caleb until Mezir had wrapped hands around Hana's head and shoulders, and then he was standing there, poleaxed. Surely not. Surely the man weren't so callous. Caleb might start a fight, but he didn't...

Mezir snapped her neck.

"Pity," Mezir said, and let go. "She was a doll."

The sound of breaking bone echoed in Caleb's soul.

Hana's body dropped to the ground.

What was left of Caleb's heart hit his boot heels a half second after.

"You—Bastard—"

His vision went red and neither the rope around his chest or the blade pressed against his ribs stopped him surging forward and smashing head-first into Mezir's face. The cord around his wrists snapped free, burnt to cinders by the warlord's dragonsblood flaring up.

One of the minions yanked him back, too late. They dragged him back and kept his leash short but Caleb had no eyes for anyone but Mezir.

"Boss," Shade murmured beside him. "Boss, calm down, none of us are gonna get out of this if you don't—"

He didn't respond, couldn't, over the roaring in his ears. He was straining at the rope, a wild dog, just waiting for an opening. There was blood on his face; blood on Mezir's to match his newly flattened nose, but it wasn't enough. Not enough to pay for what he'd done to Hana, to Sainen, to Jack and the rest of his family—families. Bond and blood alike.