“Forgive me,” he whispered as the shoemaker’s eyes closed and Elias tried his best to lower him gently to the ground. “Take care of Henrik. I know you will. But he thinks you are the soft-hearted one, but it is him,” Elias added as though Johan’s limp body might hear him. He knew what he risked in continuing with his plan, but he’d already passed the point of return.
Determined, he set off running back towards the shop to finish what he’d started.
What he found was surreal. The mouths of the men in the window opened and closed like goldfish. They were screaming and yelling inside, but the magic he’d imbued the building with had muted their shouts, making them appear almost comical, like mimes from a fair.
The sickeningly familiar, soulless eyes of the slaver who’d urinated on Elias represented everything that he soughtvengeance for. The man, for a moment, looked like just a man. Not evil. But frightened, terrified even. And Elias almost hesitated. But then he saw the moment recognition flickered across the slaver’s face, and the menacing stare that took over his features told Elias everything he needed to know. Given the chance, he would kill Elias. Kill him, and Henrik, and any elf who dared expect more from this life than to be a mere belonging. A replaceable part in a factory.
Good, that look in your eyes will make this easier,Elias thought.
Gathering every last drop of strength he possessed, tainting magic and twisting it into something it should never have become, Elias willed magic to form globes of hot blue fire in the palm of each hand. Fire not to create like it might in a forge. No, fire to destroy. Fire tokill.
Elias had once explained to Johan that elvish magic was inherently good. He’d discovered that it could be manipulated, though. It turned out, if their souls were as battered, bruised, and hacked to pieces as Elias’ was, they could bring forth those flames meant for the forge and use them for what Elias considered justice instead.
Elias launched the flames through the open upstairs window, where the drapes immediately caught fire. Fiery tongues spread quickly, eating through the wood even faster than Elias had anticipated.
The upstairs was engulfed in what felt like a matter of minutes, and Elias was relieved that the magic he’d infused into the building earlier had worked, preventing the spread of the fire into the neighbouring shops. He’d grown fond of the baker and his wife, and Elias had no intention of making their lives any harder than they already were.
Hypnotised, Elias couldn’t look away as the fire swept through the building, filling the place with smoke and devouring everything and everyone in its path.
Smoke made it difficult for Elias to see inside, but he dared not blink. The scorching heat coming from the building had sweat beading along Elias’ brow.
Like the shop was angry with him, it spat hot ash out, littering Elias’ skin with burn marks and dirt. But he didn’t look away. Didn’t move a muscle.
It wasn’t until Elias spotted a flayed hand slipping down the window as the final man met his end that he finally collapsed from exhaustion onto the pavement.
He’d expected relief. But the great, chest-heaving sobs that escaped him as he choked on the smoke were a fierce storm of anger, grief, and worst of all… guilt. Not for the men inside, no. Guilt for destroying the only home he and the men he loved had ever felt safe in. Like a mantra, he’d told himself repeatedly that it would be worth it. The cost was worth it. It had to be. And it was. Wasn’t it?
Part of him wished that they had suffered for as long as he had, but the closure of revenge would have to suffice. The horrific nature of their death Elias’ compensation for the quickness of it.
Elias knew that he should run, that it was only a matter of minutes until people would be out in the street to see the spectacle he’d caused, but he was glued to the spot.
It was selfish of him to do this, selfish of him to prioritise his own closure over the home and shop that Johan had grown up in.
But Elias decided this would be his life’s most selfish act; he hadn’t had many, after all. Years in slavery had stripped him of his autonomy, but this decision, this choice, the good and the bad of it, were all his to make.
His arms burned from where the hot ash had landed on him and singed holes in his clothes. Elias coughed from the smoke until his eyes watered, then he closed them. And that was the last thing he remembered.
Nineteen
Johan
J
ohan didn’t even have time to be angry when he came to. Light that didn’t belong in the dead of night danced behind his eyelids, and he opened them to find a blazing fire on the main street.
He knew instantly what Elias had done.
Heart racing until he feared it might stop entirely, Johan leaped to his feet, abandoned his belongings, and ran down the embankment. Dread and fear filled his stomach like a bitter, poisonous concoction, and when he got close enough to spot the slumped, lifeless form of his love on the street, he had to swallow down the vomit which rose in his throat.
No. No you don’t get to leave us behind.
Covering his mouth with his shirt to avoid breathing in the thick smoke that billowed from the place, which just hours earlier had been home, Johan rushed to Elias’ side and scooped him up into his arms.
The heavens opened up, and Johan battled his way through the torrential downpour, slipping several times in the mud as hemade his way back to where he’d left their belongings. Thunder cracked overhead as Johan laid Elias’ limp form on the damp ground. He put his ear to Elias’ mouth and stared at his chest, willing it to rise.
Johan nearly collapsed onto the ground with relief when he felt the warm puff of air against his cheek. He shook Elias by the shoulders but got no response.
Giving himself just enough time to catch his breath, Johan gathered all he could into a bag to carry on his back and cradled Elias in his arms before setting off back towards the forest. Back towards Henrik, who Johan prayed would know what to do.
