Promise the Sky

Chapter 60

Chapter 60

Keenan

 

 

 

Will doesn't know what to do. I'm pretty sure I'm about to be murdered in the gutter, if my heart doesn't give out first, but there's still a part of me that loves seeing the expression on his face.

"Keenan?" He breathes, too terrified to break the silence. There's something about the silence of mists, and the silence following screams, that is stronger than even my magic could create.

I struggle against the strong grip on my mouth, shouting something muffled. But it isn't Will that replies.

"Be quiet boy. I promised your father I'd keep you alive."

The familiar voice prompts my cooperation instantly, and I struggle to turn, trying to look up, trying to be sure it's Celyn, the man we spent the entire day searching for. I mumble something incomprehensible again, but more controlled, and eventually he consents, shifting his grip just a little lower, allowing me the power of speech, if not movement.

"Let me call him over here," I command, whispering a hasty, "William!" before Celyn can reply.

"Keenan?" He asks again, "Are you dead?"

"No I'm not dead," I hiss, "It's Celyn. Just get over here."

Will throws a final worried look over his shoulder before rushing forward. By the time he has settled himself at my side, Celyn has freed me and Will's nervousness has been replaced by a smirk.

"Thought I heard you scream, squire," he breathes tauntingly.

"Very funny, William."

"Be quiet." Celyn's words are curt, cutting us off.

"Can I ask a question?" Will huffs, fidgeting in the deep shadow at my side. He turns to Celyn, whose silhouette I can just about make out, peering nervously up and down the street. "What is going on here?"

Celyn turns back to face us, but in the dark and the mist it's impossible to make out the expression on his face. The tone of his voice, however, is quite obviously different to the cheery local that greeted us. He's not about to take fools lightly, but as is becoming increasingly more common with Will lately, he's not looking likely to be one.

"It's not your business," he says.

"If it's likely to kill us," I reply, "it's our business."

Will nods once, folding his arms. "Keenan wants to know about this war of yours," he says.

"The truth," I add, just in case.

Celyn's still peering nervously down the street. We have probably a third of his attention, if that. It puts me on edge. The mist continues to swirl through the open spaces, slowing covering over the path we cut through it, disguising that small slice of open space. There is nothing it cannot devour.

"Dragons get fat and petulant in times of peace," he says, "and the same goes for the men of their city. They are simply searching for violence."

"That doesn't really sound like the truth to me," Will replies, "maybe my ears have clogged with mist, but I could have sworn Keenan asked for the truth, isn't that right, squire?"