AllFreeNovel
Share Us
From above, Oliver spotted a large, central longhouse surrounded by smaller, sod-roofed dwellings, the whole of it connected with well-trammeled paths. He could see no sign of habitation: no smoke curling up from chimney holes, no children playing in the street; could hear no bark of dogs nor shouts of alarm as the two drakes landed in the yard outside the longhouse.
Oliver held to his reins a moment after Percy folded his wings, scanning the area for threats.
Náli, though, slid down off Valgrind’s back. “Mattias!” he shouted, voice echoing off the timbered fronts of the houses. “Matti!” He let out a shocked cry, and darted around the side of the longhouse.
“Wait!” Oliver jumped to the ground – Percy snorted and made a drake-like sound of protest – and dashed after the Corpse Lord, reaching for a knife that wasn’t there on his hip. “Bollocks.”
Around the front of the longhouse lay the crumpled shape of a man in familiar gray tunic and brown leather armor. He faced away from Oliver’s approach, on his side, long, single braid coiled in the dirt.
Náli choked out his name – “Matti” – and knelt by his head, cupped his face.
As Oliver rounded his booted feet, Mattias groaned. He was alive, at least. Oliver moved to stand at Náli’s side and saw Mattias blink his eyes open and squint up at them, blearily. The front of his tunic was clean, free of blood or any obvious rents. He looked at Náli first, and then, as Náli exclaimed gladly and petted his brow, at Oliver. His glazed eyes sprang open. “Your – your Lordship? How–”
Náli spoke over him. “Where are you wounded? Where is he?” He lifted his head and snapped it side to side, searching for the emperor, hair flashing in the hazy sunlight. To Mattias again, gripping the shoulder of his tunic with white-knuckled fervor: “How bad is it?”
Mattias winced, but sat up, Náli clinging to him and fussing over him. “I’m fine. He didn’t…” He touched the back of his head and then examined his fingers, as if expecting to find blood.
Náli shifted around so he could take his face in both hands and hold him still. “Matti,what happened?”
Oliver thought someone out to be on the lookout for this Immortal Emperor Unchallenged character, and had just turned to do so himself when Mattias’s words snared his attention.
“It’s all right, love.”
Love? Oliver whipped back around in time to see the faintest, gentlest smile touch Mattias’s lips.
When hadlovehappened?
“I was looking right at him,” Mattias went on, Mattias who now called Náliloveinstead ofmy lord, “and then there was this sharp pain in the back of my head, and everything went black.”
Oliver again surveyed their surroundings. The doors to several dwellings stood ajar; one swayed on its hinges as a gusty breeze shot down the path. The gates of animal pens were chained back, the yards with the split-rail fences overgrown with weeds. Not so much as a solitary chicken pecked at the ground. Spiders had colonized the windows, and the stretched-thin hide used in place of glass had yellowed and cracked, gone brittle without regular care.
It was a place abandoned, and Oliver was grateful for the looming presence of the drakes behind them.
When he looked, Mattias had gotten to his feet, rubbing at the back of his head, still. Náli held his arm and looked up with him with an unmistakeable sort of worry. A pining child no longer: Náli’s gaze was that of a concerned lover. They’d consummated things, then. Oliver found himself wildly curious about the current political situation in the Fault Lands.
“You didn’t see where he went?” Náli asked, finally turning away from his Guard – Oliver checked, and yes, Mattias still wore the skull badge of Dead Guard Captain, so not everything had changed between them – to search their immediate area.
“No,” Mattias said, dropping his hand with another wince. “On account of being unconscious.”
Náli made a fretful clucking sound, like a nurse fussing over a child, but strode away from the longhouse, head swiveling back and forth as he searched. He walked to the nearest home, pushed the door inward, stuck his head inside, then turned back to them. “He’s had plenty of time to find a good vantage point. He could be anywhere.”
“Perhaps he left this plane once you fled,” Mattias suggested. “He wasn’t interested in me, after all.”
“Well, he wasn’t truly interested in me, either, he was – wait. What do you meanfled?”
Oliver walked toward the door of the longhouse and attempted to read the runes carved into the lintel. They’d been done with hammer and chisel, and looked fresh, the wood still pale where each line had been gouged. The language, though, was very old. An archaic set of runes that he couldn’t quite read. He could interpret individual words – “dragon,” “wolf,” – but not the meaning of the sentence.
“You took off with Valgrind–”
“I wascarried away. The beast snatched me up and carried me up into the air! What was I to do?”
“Well,” Mattias said in a subdued tone. “You might have flown back down to check on me.”
“I–! Was–! I had to get Oliver!”
The door was built of worn-smooth wooden boards held together with two cross-pieces, top and bottom. In place of a more modern doorknob, he found a rudimentary latch that could have proved a liability should the villagers want to keep whoever was inside from coming out. He lifted it, and stepped inside.
“How did you know Oliver was here?” Mattias asked, and Oliver grimaced in sympathy. Poor Náli – he’d finally landed his lover, and now could enjoy lovers’ spats.
