“What were you doing anyway?” the bard inquired, drinking from the decanter again before passing it over to Kaleo. The boy took it, hesitating briefly before taking a good long drink and handing it back. He made a face, unaccustomed to the taste of liquor, but took it well.
“Just playing a game,” the boy shrugged. “The point is to remove clothing but Serai already hates them so we changed the rules and put clothing on instead. She was losing. Describe them to me, the people you see. I don’t think you really want me digging through your head for dream remnants.”
Reven arched a questioning brow at his apprentice.
“I can walk dreams,” Kaleo dismissed. “Describe them.”
Reven did so, down to the horrid details of their pale faces and the bloodied wounds that took their lives. He left out the part about seeing Kaleo. The boy sighed and began explaining as best he could, answering all the interruptions Reven threw back. Some things the boy did not know by age alone. Other things he was unclear of. The tirsai children in the dream were the children of the Phoenix Empress - Gannon Oenel’s nieces and nephew; Reven's nieces and nephew. The centaur was the missing prince’s guardian though all the boy knew about that arrangement was that it had to do with centaur honor and a life debt owed to the fallen prince. Reven, he gleaned while listening to Kaleo, was older than Liam’s original estimation at one-hundred-twenty-one summers rather than the paltry seventy the thief-taker claimed. Liam, Reven was learning, knew too much.
“…suppose you’re seeing what happened after he - - you left us. You promised to come back but, well, we know what happened after,” Kaleo shrugged. “They’re safe though, as far as I know. The girls and Navid are with my Aunt Maeve in Tierra Vida and Aeron is somewhere in Kormaine. I… I wrote to Navid. I told him that I found you. I sent it a few days ago when you sent me to find all those stupid fruits. I didn’t want him to worry and, honestly, he deserves to know. Losing you was devastating to him. He felt like he failed you.”
“Who else did you tell?” Reven dared after a long silence. Kaleo’s face sank.
“No one,” he answered softly. Reven arched a brow. “No one, I swear. No one would believe me anyway. Everyone thinks you’re… well, they think Gannon’s dead. They’re not wrong. Not really.”
That hurt to hear though Reven understood it. He was not the man Kaleo described, the prince of a fallen nation, husband, father, skilled diplomat - he was none of those things. He was a bard barely worth his salt. He watched Kaleo retreat in on himself some and sighed.
“Gannon,” Reven said gruffly, clearing his throat. “Was … was he a good father?”
The question surprised Kaleo. Reven saw it on his face, saw it in the sheen on the boy’s large eyes. He snorted, ducking his head almost shyly and nodded. “Still is…”
Silence fell between them again before Kaleo sniffled and cleared his own throat. “Whose house is this?”
Reven chortled. “Mine. Luca’s people are fixing it for me.”
“Yours? You bought this old thing? Lara would probably say its cursed,” Kaleo snorted. Reven shut his eyes and shook his head. Lara, he knew, was an urchin girl Kaleo had been loitering bout the city with. Many people had told him in case the boy took it into his head to run off with a pretty face. Reven smiled finally, feeling an odd weight lifted.
“Tell me more about Aeron,” the bard said, now eager to learn of his family and past. Kaleo smirked.
“He’s a lot like you, actually…” the boy began.
Chapter Sixteen
No one spoke, exhaustion and defeat bearing down on the small band of Kormandi survivors. They could not stay in one spot for long, constantly moving lest they be found again. They left the catacombs licking their wounds with no direction and no real leadership. Demyan was a king in title only. The Baron had been the one calling the shots, but he did not make it. Aeron glanced around the tiny room they hid in, focusing on the would-be king. Demyan rested with his back against a cracked wall, his head wrapped in thin bandages that were created out of torn sheets given to them by the home’s owners. His arm was in a makeshift sling, the bones broken and his breathing a little ragged from cracked ribs. Aeron winced on his friend’s behalf, feeling the acute pain of his own injuries. They dared not use any magic for fear of being tracked.
The few citizens that remained, remained in boarded up farm houses or wooden homes in small villages that were found between cities. Anything from Tatengel to Sapphire City was barely more than the size of a hamlet in Aeron’s view. The cities of the Phoenix Empire - of the tirsai peoples in general - were much larger, more elaborate spreads than anything he had seen in Kormaine thus far. The only truly impressive thing about Kormaine was the Sapphire Tower.
“We will need to move soon,” Nadya said, breaking his thought process. She sat beside him, her wrist wrapped in bandages. It was swollen and bruised, most likely broken from what Aeron could tell. “We are putting these people at risk.”
“We need to rest too,” Aeron said. “If we get caught again like we are now, we don’t stand a chance.”
Nadya sighed but could not argue with Aeron’s logic. The fallen prince struggled to keep his head, to focus on the moment and stay strong. Of their small group, he was the only one with experience dealing with the demons. It was experience he never wanted to relive. He remembered running through the halls of the palace with his sisters, trying desperately to keep them safe while searching for his parents or his uncle - anyone. He remembered listening to soldiers scream in agony
