Black Halo

Denaos.

Still, he told himself, he can’t know much. What could he know? He doesn’t understand how scrying works.

But he could have learned. He could have found out, watched the wizard in his meditations long enough to have discerned that he was sniffing about the island, that he was pulling down more and more seagulls for purposes beyond getting covered in bird stool.

His heart started to beat quicker. How much did the rogue know? Was he aware of the tome’s location? Was he aware that the boy knew? Had he surmised the boy’s plan, to delay their discovery until he could bring himself up to his full strength and find it himself?

He must know; he’s not an idiot, Dreadaeleon told himself. Maybe I should just tell him. He can be persuaded to keep a secret …

No, fool! He reprimanded himself with a mental snarl. Tell him, and he’ll tell Lenk. Lenk will get it and what will you have done? Tattled like a child? They’ll be the great heroes again, adored by her, and you’ll be nothing more than a whiny little brat who had to go running to the men again.

He paused, frowning. Maybe I’m overreacting. They can’t possibly see me like that.

But when have they not? The irritation came flooding back into him with a scowl. They treat you like a match, sparking you and throwing you away at their convenience. You set the fires and they enjoy the warmth. It’s time you proved that your fires shouldn’t be ignored so lightly. You’ve conquered bigger obstacles with magic before. You can do this.

Right, he told himself. I can do this. He grimaced. Right?

‘You’re hiding something,’ Denaos said, angling the accusation like a knife.

‘What makes you so sure?’ the boy replied as smooth as he could manage.

‘You just froze while I was talking you, likely disappearing into some bizarre stream of thought that you’d rather I was not privy to.’ The rogue sniffed. ‘Also, your piss is on fire.’

The smoke filled his nostrils before Dreadaeleon could even think of a reply. He stared down with twofold horror: once to see the stream renewed and twice to see the yellow taint ending in a small blaze that smouldered angrily on the ground. His cry, too, came twice as he leapt backward and sprayed fiery soil across the earth.

‘Good Gods, how do you explain this?’ Denaos leapt from the errant stream.

‘It’s … it’s perfectly natural,’ Dreadaeleon stammered. ‘Well, all right, not natural, but not uncommon. Sometimes fluids get crossed when a wizard channels them through his body, resulting in urine that explodes when exposed to air. Nothing to worry about.’ He nodded sternly, placed his hands on his hips, then looked up at the rogue. ‘So, uh, what do I do?’

‘How should I know what to do about your fluids?’ Denaos said, cringing away. ‘How often does this happen?’

‘Not enough that I know what to do,’ the boy shrieked, gesturing wildly. ‘How do I stop it? What do I do?’

‘Well, don’t point it at me!’ Denaos angled himself sharply behind the wizard, seizing him by the shoulders and directing him toward a nearby bush. ‘There! Just … just close your eyes and think of Muraska. It’ll wear itself out.’

Damn, damn, damn, Dreadaeleon scolded himself mentally. This! This is what happens when I don’t rest! I knew this was going to happen. Well, not this, specifically, but something like this! Oh, I’m so bad at this … His hands twitched about his loincloth, fearful to touch and aim the suddenly lethal spewer. Well … no, it’s fine. Denaos can keep a secret, right? He’ll make me pay for it later, but for now, all that matters is that no one sees-

‘What’s going on?’ a familiarly feminine voice lilted to his ears.

He nearly broke his neck as he contorted it to see over his shoulder. Asper stood, hands on bare hips, her expression a blend of concern and irritation that drifted between the wizard and the tall man standing between them. Dreadaeleon felt his blood run cold, even as he felt a sudden, fiery spurt.

Damn, damn, damn, damn, DAMN!

‘Watch my back,’ he whispered his plea to Denaos.

‘Better than your front, surely,’ the rogue muttered in reply.

‘Is there something going on here that I should be informed about?’ Asper demanded again, crinkling her nose as she witnessed Dreadaeleon’s activity. ‘Or is this actually as foul as it appears?’

‘Foul?’ Denaos mimicked her indignant stance. ‘What’s foul about it?’

‘He appears to be urinating on a burning bush,’ she replied, fixing him with a suspicious stare. ‘Why?’

‘Dry season.’

‘And Dreadaeleon is …’

‘Performing his humanitarian duty by putting it out.’ The rogue sighed dramatically. ‘Listen, this is rather a personal aspect of a man’s life, so is there something we can help you with?’

‘Lenk has something to say to us,’ she said. ‘He has a hard time climbing the rings with his injury, so I went out to find you.’

‘Well, injured or not, he’ll have to come to us,’ Denaos said with a shrug. ‘Dread’s going to be a while.’ At her confused stare, he nodded sagely. ‘It was a very dry season.’ Following that, he thrust his own curious stare at her. ‘Interesting that you should come this far just to find us, though … Almost out of character, isn’t it?’

Even over the crackle of the blazing bush, Dreadaeleon could hear the accusation intoned in Denaos’ voice. He lofted a brow, then lofted it higher as he heard Asper’s feet slide aggressively across the sand and her hand clap on the rogue’s naked back. An instant of remembered pain flashed through his mind, memories of the rogue’s arm around the priestess, the sensation of impotent fury that followed.

He hid his scowl, strained to stifle himself and hear the harsh whispers emanating between her clenched teeth.

‘You say nothing of what happened,’ she snarled to him, pulling him closer. ‘Nothing.’

‘Ashamed?’ Denaos muttered in reply.

‘Secretive,’ she growled. ‘You know the difference.’

‘I don’t know why it matters so much.’

‘No, you don’t.’

By the time he heard her break away from him, listened to hear feet tramping down the sandy hill, the blood boiled in his ears with enough fury to render him deaf to all else, save the thunder in his own head.

You fool! You FOOL! What was she doing while you were scenting out the tome? What was he doing while you were preparing to save them all? Of course, why wouldn’t they? Filthy, god-fearing animals acting in decidedly filthy mannerisms …

‘She’s gone now,’ Denaos said, glancing down the hill. ‘How’s the progress over there?’

Maybe it’s not like that … Maybe she’s talking about something else. Let’s remain calm here. It’s the fumes that are making me like this … burning urine can’t be good for the sinuses.

‘Really, though,’ the rogue continued without his reply, ‘I’m not sure why it needed to be a secret. Chances are she’d be impressed that you could pull off something like this.’

She doesn’t need to know anything, he muttered inwardly. She doesn’t need to know that you can’t even control yourself while he … He felt his teeth threaten to crack under the strain of their clenching. She knows all about his bodily functions, doesn’t she? No … no, stop thinking like that, old man. He’s a cad … a liar … a rat.

He probably seduced her, tricked her … I’m still the better man.

The stream sputtered and died out, leaving a fire that gave no heat that Dreadaeleon could feel. His head throbbed, but he didn’t mind. His fingers ached, but he didn’t feel them. All feeling poured into his stare as he felt the crimson light flicker behind his eyes.