The artifact. It tugged on my awareness, silently questioning the worthiness of my bloodline as it steadily moved away.
I bolted upright, relieved at the restored magic flooding my veins when I summoned my trousers, sword, and bag and hurried out of the room to pound on the next door.
Within moments, Tyrin threw open the door, half-dressed, axe in hand. His wild gaze searched the hallway for threats before settling back on me. “What troubles you, m’lord?”
“The artifact is on the move.”
His eyes darkened with understanding, and he nodded. “I will be ready to travel momentarily.”
Leaving Tyrin to prepare, I crossed the hall and knocked on Jameson’s door.
Silence.
I knocked again, regretting that I had not secured a second key. Tyrin appeared by my side, concern etched into his weathered features at the slow and labored shuffling sounds that came from within the room.
When the door opened, Jameson was barely upright. He sagged against the frame. The robe provided by the innkeeper’s son hung off him like a sail on a broken mast, unable to conceal the damage beneath. Bruises mottled his left cheek and throat, disappearing past his collar with the promise of more. A scab bisected his right eyebrow, and the hollows of his face demanded more food and sleep.
He blinked at me, then at the hallway, then back at me. “Lord Arioch.” His voice was weak with exhaustion. “We’re safe, right?”
“We are.”
His brow furrowed. “Is everything okay? Is it time to go? Give me a min, and I…” He pushed away from the door, and his legs wobbled.
“Easy.” I reached out and steadied him by one bony elbow. The brownie who had treated his injuries warned us that the magical salve would sap his energy to fight infection and heal, but the results were far more severe than I had expected. Reality settled like lead in my gut. He was in no condition to keep pace, and every moment I delayed, the artifact moved farther from my reach.
The memories of my ancestors had taught me that some difficult decisions were necessary, and I recognized this one as unavoidable.
“Tyrin and I must leave for a time.”
Tyrin tensed beside me, the corners of his lips pulling tight.He did not wish to leave the boy. Neither did I, but it was the only option.
“You will remain here to recover,” I hurried to add. “Rest and heal so that you might accompany us upon our return.”
He swallowed. “You’re… leaving me behind?”
“Only temporarily.”
“But you promised. You said if I came with you, you’d protect me.”
“And I shall. The innkeeper will be paid handsomely to watch over you in our absence. You will be provided with meals and lodging. See that you eat properly and regain your strength.”
“But I… I can help. I’m powerful.” He held out a hand, and electricity sparked across his fingertips before promptly fizzling out.
“You are exhausted. We will need to move quickly, and I fear you will not be able to keep up.”
“I can.” He straightened, jaw clenched. “I’m fine. Stronger than I look.” Sweat beaded across his worryingly pale forehead, betraying the lie.
“Be that as it may, you will need to be fully recovered for our trip home.”
Something akin to yearning flickered within his gaze at the word, causing me to wonder how long it had been since he had a proper dwelling.
“And what if you don’t come back?” he asked, anxiety thick in his voice.
Failure was not an option, yet there was wisdom in forming a contingency plan.
I released his elbow, lifting my hands to hover on either side of his head. “May I show you the way to my manor?”
His eyes flickered back and forth between my hands, and he leaned away with obvious distrust. “Like on a map?”
