Chapter 25

  Try as I might, sleep wouldn’t come. The one, blissful escape from the pain searing my body, was just out of reach, kept at bay by the very thing I was seeking to escape. After more than a few hours of fighting to drift off, and more than a little frustrated with the whole of the situation, I gave up trying, and decided the least I could do, was relieve Emma from watch. She had insisted on taking my watch, given my…situation, but as it stood, that seemed pointless.

  “You may as well go to bed,” I grumbled as I sat up, moving closer towards the fire where she sat. She was starring lazily into the dancing flames, poking at them occasionally with a stick by her side. For a moment, she looked like an innocent child. No care in the world, lost in dreams shown to her by the flames. When she looked at me, even with the pain going through me, I couldn’t help but smile.

  “And why’s that Mr. Jones?” She asked, poking again at the fire. A piece of wood crackled, sending sparks into the air to dance along with the smoke that lazily rose into the sky. We had a pile of dried wood near enough to keep the fire going but had gathered some fresher sticks during our travels. She’d thrown a few of those on the fire, and the moisture inside was fighting back against the consuming flames.

  “I can’t sleep. So figure there’s no need for the both of us to stay awake. I’ll cover the rest of your watch, and I’ll wake Clint when it’s time for his, and maybe I’ll try sleepin’ again then.”

  “Is the pain truly that bad?” she asked. I nodded in confirmation. “I could try to help ease the pain some.” She offered softly. She looked past me, towards the wagon. She had her special water pitcher packed away there. The one with the soul-silver base, that let her infuse water with her mana. It helped with healing, and she’d been using it the past few days to help ease my pain. But, sadly, my pain exceeded what comfort even that could provide.

  “Appreciate it,” I said curtly, wrapping my blanket around my shoulders as I fought a shiver. It wasn’t cold by any means, but my body struggled. “But ain’t nothing you can do to help now. All we can do is hurry to Lincoln, so I can ascend in peace, and be freed of this pain.”

  “You’re a stubborn fool,” she said with a shake of her head, “no sane man would suffer as you have, for so long.”

  “To be fair,” I offered, trying my best to force some sort of positive emotion past my pain and sorrow and anger. Humor and sarcasm were my go-to options in such times. “You didn’t tell me the process would feel like I was bein’ flayed alive. If you had, I may have second-guessed starting the whole process till we reached Lincoln.”

  Emma laughed at that, a musical blessing to my ears. “I highly doubt that Mr. Jones,” she said, poking the fire once more. She left her stick in the coals of the fire, and continued, “you and I both know you’re not the waiting type. Especially when it comes to getting what you want. And what you want, is pretty obvious.”

  “Oh?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. “And what’s that?”

  “To be stronger,” she said simply. “At your very core, the things you want are crystal clear. It’s what makes you, honestly, trustworthy. You’re simple.”

  I felt my anger rise, but Emma cut me off before I could protest.

  “Simple isn’t bad.” She said, “it’s actually refreshing. You want to be stronger, and past that, you want to avenge Randal. It’s not the most ambitious goal, but it’s one I can respect. One I can understand. And you’ve been true enough with me an Clint about that. At the same time,” she rolled the stick in the fire, this way and that, “being simple also makes you predictable.”

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  “Being predictable ain’t a good thing,” I grumbled. “Makes it easier for people to get the drop on you.”

  “Ain’t no one trying to get the drop on you right now,” Emma countered, “and this ain’t in a way like that anyways. It just means the moment you learned of a way to get stronger; you were going to put all your energy into making it happen, as soon as possible. You’re impatient with your time, which also makes you efficient with it. You couldn’t sit and twiddle your thumbs on the trip. You tried to use the time in the best way possible, to reach your goals. And,” her voice dropped, “if not for my meddling and confrontation with Mr. Grayson, you may have accomplished them already.”

  “Yeah, well” I shifted, trying, and failing, to get somewhat comfortable. All my body knew right now was pain, “we’ve already had this spat about that. Ain’t no good beatin’ a dead horse.” My voice was sour, but it wasn’t bitter towards her. I’d resigned myself to the pain, and I’d made peace, of sorts, with the situation. There wasn’t anything else I could, and I was powerless to change anything about my current situation. I hated that fact, but I knew it was the truth. Instead, I decided to change the topic.

  “If you ain’t going to get some sleep,” I said, noting she’d not moved from her spot. “Least you could do is keep me company then. It’s no secret I’m in pain. I’d welcome an escape, if even temporary, from thinking about how much it hurts to live right now.” I motioned towards her, “so, would you mind telling me a little more about yourself? If I’m being honest, I really don’t know all that much about you.”

  She smiled coyly at me, as she drew the stick from the fire. A good two inches of the wood glowed brightly now, shining with crimson light in the darkness of the night. It reminded me of my own fire mana. Emma flicked her wrist this way and that, lazily tracing shapes in the air, the glowing tip moving so quickly that for the briefest of moments, it seemed the shapes were solidified in the air, and not the product of a single, burning stick.

  “That’s rich coming from a man I know almost nothing about myself.” Emma said, pointing the stick towards me. “You, at the very least, know who I am. But you and I both know, you’ve not even graced me with your actual name.” She pursed her lips together, thoughtfully. “If you’d be so kind as to tell me a little more about yourself, then, well,” she placed the stick back in the fire, and stood, moving closer towards me. “I’d be willing to tell you a little more about myself.”

  I watched her as she moved within an arms length of me, before she sat back down, her legs crossed, her hands moving behind her as she looked up at the stars in the sky. My eyes looked at her, catching on her pale skin, noting her neckline lit by the flames, pale flesh descending down into darkness. A slight floral scent played across my nose, flitting too and fro amongst the smells of the burning fire.

  “I’m interested in knowing you better,” she said, not looking my way, “and that means, knowing the real you, and not just your mysterious alias.”

  Her words hung in the air, as she continued gazing upwards. I pulled my eyes away from her, and starred for a long moment into the fire, silence between us save for the crackling flames. When I felt my eyes getting pulled into the flames, felt my memories moving back towards my past, towards my parents, and the flames that had consumed them, I pulled away. I followed the smoke upwards, the sky above, and looked for a long, silent moment, at the stars and moon. So bright and large and unfathomable above us, making me, and this moment, feel so small, so insignificant, indeed.

  “Very well,” I said, after who knew how long. “I’ll play your game.”

  She laughed, the sound making me turn to look at her. She was no longer leaning back, and instead had turned her body to face me, her eyes watching me with interest. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She said, her smirk betraying her words.

  I shook my head and looked back at the sky. “Lying isn’t very proper for a lady of your standing,” I said, feeling my lips twitch in a smile, even with the pain running through my veins. “But I suppose I’m not one to talk in that regard.” I took a deep breath and let out a heavy sigh. “If, you must know… my real name, is Alexander.”

  “Alexander.” She said the name softly, no more than a whisper. “Alexander what?” She pressed.

  I took another deep breath. “Alexander Davenport.”