Divided Lands

Chapter 13

Dammit, why was it still freezing? The morning before had been blazing hot. It seemed to Nalza like the wave of frigid air and rain from the previous night had soaked clear through his skin and seeped into his bones. He just couldn’t shake it. He turned beneath his covers and groaned at how damp and cold the sheets were. 

“Great, you’re up! I thought you might have died or something.” 

Jon’s voice was distant and fuzzy, as if his words came from underwater. Nalza hoisted himself up on his elbow and shook the excess water from his ears. He blinked until the hotel room came into sharper focus; the curtains were drawn, so he couldn’t make out what time it was. The wooden walls of the room glowed bright orange from the light of a fire lit in a fireplace in the corner.

“Why’s it so cold?” he groaned in a very typical ‘morning voice’. 

“I personally think it’s boiling in here.” Jon frowned. As if to prove it, he had all of the sheets on his bed crumpled into a pile on the floor and was stripped down to his undershirt. 

He yawned and stretched out on the mattress. “I was just going to leave the fire on until you stopped shivering, but I fell asleep.” 

“Wait, what time is it, then?” Nalza asked. His brain reeled with dully, achy pain that washed over his skull in waves. He touched his scalp and winced as he touched the tender lump on the side of the head where the drunk man had nailed him the previous night.

“My guess is a few minutes past noon. Maybe a little later. I dunno.” Jon shrugged.

Nalza rubbed his palms together hoping that the friction would help warm get warm. It didn’t. “Noon? That’s impossible. I haven’t been sleeping that long.”

“Hmm. Well, believe it or not you’ve been out cold for nearly fifteen hours.” Jon chortled. “Guess that soused guy last night struck you harder than we both thought, eh?”

“I’ll be sure to think twice before I walk into town with the wrong ear shape and skin color again.” Nalza grumbled.

Jon shook his head, grinning. “Man, when they sent you down south they had to consider it a death sentence. Whatever sort of law enforcement you people have up there would be more than surprised to find out you’re still alive. You wouldn’t be without me, you know.”

“Gee, I’ve only known you a day and I can already tell you’re the modest type.” Nalza grumbled. 

“I was only being playful.” Jon shook his head. “It’s true, though. You can’t deny that you should probably be dead right now.”

“Yeah.” Nalza said with a faint smile. He watched the orange light from the fire flicker on the walls. The curtains were completely drawn, and not a shred of light came in from the outside world.

Jon frowned, disappointed, and crossed his arms. “Yesterday you were so sarcastic about everything it was just about sickening. What happened to all the fight in you, kid?”

“I left it back at that village.” Nalza scoffed. He gathered up some of his dusty gray hair into his hands and pulled at it, feeling how dry and brittle it had grown from not being washed in a few days.

“You know, you had me worried there for a second after we got up to the room. You wouldn’t answer any of my questions, and then you were just out.” Jon smirked. “I’m really good at getting rid of a body, but I don’t always like to. How do you feel?” 

“Like I was hit by a steam engine.” Nalza groaned. “In midwinter, too. There’s no way it’s spring here—and there’s no way you’re hot. It feels practically subarctic in here.” 

Jon reached across the small space between the beds to rest his hand on Nalza’s forehead, but the elf flinched away as he got closer. 

“You can’t be serious.” Jon rolled his eyes. “You think I’d knock you in the head ‘just because’ after bringing you all this way?”

Nalza lowered his head and twisted a strand of his hair around his finger. “No, I know you wouldn’t. It’s just…reflexes, you know? Especially after having the living daylights beaten out of me last night.”

“Yeah, I understand.” Jon sighed. He felt Nalza’s forehead with the back of his hand and frowned. “You know, we aren’t all like that. Believe it or not, some humans are sort of nice.” 

“That man didn’t even wait for me to say anything.” Nalza shivered at the contrast between Jon’s cold hand and his hot forehead. “He just came at me as soon as…”

“As soon as he saw what you were?” Jon raised his eyebrows. He sprang to his feet and made his way to the dresser across from the beds. He began rummaging through the drawers, stopping occasionally to wipe the sweat from his brow. “Yeah, we humans are always looking for excuses to be asses. That’s why you have to be careful.”

Jon began rummaging through drawers until he pulled out a hastily folded white shirt and pair of brown pants. “Change into these. They’re mine, so I doubt they’ll fit you very well at all, but they’re dry and it’s the best we can do right now.”

He sat down on the edge of the bed, grabbed the bottom of the lacy shirt that clung tightly to Nalza’s wet skin, and tried to pry it off.

“What the Hell are you doing?” Nalza yelped. He scrambled onto his toes and backed up against the headboard. “I can do that myself!”

“I was just going to check your ribs, that’s all.” Jon recoiled, holding his hands up and shaking his head. He grinned. “Looks to me like they’re fine, though. Just be careful when you try to change.”

Nalza let all of the air out of his lungs and slid back down into the bed, his fingers pressed against his face to balance out the pressure and pain blossoming behind his head. 

“Heh, that got you moving.” Jon chuckled. He grabbed his cloak, threw it on, drew the hood as tight as he could get it, and picked up the sack of money he had stolen from the drunk man last night and threw it into his pack. “Listen, I’m going to head out on the streets and see what dirt I can dig up about this Warlord and that raid. Want me to bring you something back? We have rich, violent, drunk peoples’ money, after all.”

“Oh, wait!” Nalza bolted upright and threw the clammy sheets off of his legs. The thought of being left alone in a strange city full of people who wouldn’t hesitate to kill him on sight made his chest tighten. “If you’ll wait for me I can be ready in just a few moments.”

“It’s broad daylight out there and the streets are probably filled with people. This is a city, not some tiny little town.” Jon snorted. “It’s hard for you to hide from prying eyes in the middle of the in a deserted street. Face it. You stand out.”

Nalza looked down at the indigo skin on his arms. He glanced at Jon—at the rugged and yet still completely normal looking peach tone of his biceps—and sighed. 

“It’s not that. If anything, it’s your shameless sarcasm.” Jon ruffled Nalza’s hair. 

“Oh, sure.” Nalza tightened the muscles in his back and clenched his jaw.

“See what I mean? And besides, you’re feverish and you’ll probably only get worse. Now, I know you don’t want to push yourself and end up stuck in this hostile city for the rest of the week.” Jon moved to the door and procured the room key from his cloak. “Move to my bed once you get changed, will you? It’s dryer.” 

Defeated, Nalza nodded. “Thanks for not killing me the second you met me.”

“Huh?” Jon asked. 

“I know you wanted to.” Nalza looked down.

Jon snorted and rolled his eyes in a playful way. “Sure did. Almost put my dagger right through your throat.”

He shut the door behind him, locked it, and checked twice to make sure it absolutely without a doubt would not budge. 

He rested his forehead on the hard, splintered wood. Jon really wished he had been lying.