Pure of Heart (the New Age Saga Book 2) Read online

  “I don’t suppose either one of you thought to bring a ladder?” he asked the two men, trying to make light of the situation.

  “Sorry Sire, left it with my horse,” Windel commented back, his voice strained.

  Serix only shook his head. “I’m a mage, what do I need a ladder for?”

  The red armored warrior before them suddenly roared, arms outstretched, axes held high. The goblins around him burst into an answering bellow.

  “Think he’d settle for a round of poker?” Windel turned and asked him.

  The mage chuckled. “Seems more of a mud-wrestling fan.”

  He shook his head, eyeing the creature before them. “You two want to wrestle that, go right on ahead. I’ll just sit back here and watch.”

  “Enough petty jokes,” the orc roared. “War promised this moment come. War will enjoy cleaving bodies in two, proudly mount heads on spikes—,”

  “Blah blah blah,” he interrupted, stepping forward, his Guardians resisting his attempts to push them aside. “I’ve heard all this bullshit before. I’m right here you fucking idiot. You want me? Come get me!”

  The Guardians raised their voices in defiance and he brought up his shield and readied his sword. “For Lancaster!” he bellowed, charging the large orc. His men took up the rallying cry and followed quickly behind.

  Chapter 8

  Ferrets

  I

  While John fought for his life on a distant battlefield to the north, Tristan sat by himself, looking over the Jagre Plains, lost in the grief of what had been done to him. For an unknown reason, Merlin had led them back to the spot where they’d been kidnapped, more than likely because that’s where there pack horses had been left. Whether they’d continue by horse or on those enormous beasts, he neither cared nor wished to speculate.

  During the battle, he had picked up on the name Griffin, and that turned out to be exactly what those things were called. Whether he’d gleaned it from Merlin’s mind or recalled it from the recesses of his memory—didn’t really seem to matter. Another beast of legend had come to life, and yet his heart didn’t care to think on that either.

  He watched the sun as it began to lower towards the horizon and thought back over what life had been like just a mere week before. The boring life that he’d led, the happiness he’d felt with his future wife by his side; he didn’t feel like he’d ever be that person again. Something had been stripped from his soul, his inner sanctum violated, and his body unclean. He was rubbing at his arms even now, as if covered in some grime that would never come off.

  In the foreground was a river, which, if followed north, would take him back to Crystal Cove and his home. Though part of him wanted to do just that, get up and start walking, another felt that it was the one place he couldn’t bear to return. How could he look upon his brother’s face after what had just happened? Ashamed, he began to rise, when he felt a hand touch him on the shoulder.

  Recoiling, he jerked from its touch, his flight reaction pushing him yards away before he turned to see Willow crouched down, her fingers extended, a worried look on her face. He couldn’t stop scrambling, feet digging into the ground.

  He was unclean, not fit to touch.

  “Leave me alone,” he muttered, fear oozing along his voice. She couldn’t touch him, not like this.

  “Tristan,” her voice pleaded.

  He knew she was hurting too, but he couldn’t deal with that right now. He had enough to work through, including this itching feeling that his clothes were filled with the plague. He shook his head violently and got to his feet. Running, he stripped all of his clothes off and flung them as far as he could. Head down, he dove into the nearby stream, immersing his body in its cold welcoming hands.

  The itching immediately felt soothed and he remained under as long as his lungs could bear. Finally rising to the surface, he put his feet down and slowly slid his shoulders free. He was filled with this uncontrollable urge to scrub every inch of his body, his fingers digging into his hair, almost pulling it out at the roots. Hands rubbed at his arms, a chill rising up his spine, as he tried to force that evil witch’s touch off of him.

  He screamed in agony, the water barely helping get rid of the filth he felt inside as well as out. Grief over what had happened, what had almost happened, the violation of his mind; it was all just too much. He cried out again, tears ripping forth from his soul as he worked to purify what had been done to him.

  As his fingers dug into his skin, his eyes fleetingly glanced at the nearby embankment and he could see Kylee hugging Willow and dragging her away in fresh tears. His mind pushed it away, unable to handle more than what already burdened it. A figure was standing to his left and he saw the mage, the infernal mage that had started all of this. The fighting, the numerous times he’d almost been killed, the death of Melissa, all of it due to that fuc—

  “Here’s some soap, I think it’ll help,” Merlin told him softly, his eyes saddened, his sympathy sincere. An object was in his hands and he lobbed it into the water.

  His eyes followed it as it landed near him, and without thinking about it, his left hand snatched it up and started rubbing it all over his body. Even immersed in water, where the soap would be useless, he scrubbed himself raw, his crotch burning from the immense pressure behind his thrusts. He had no words, nothing but tears, and the mage watched him quietly, letting him continue to clean what had been dirtied.

  “Jared, Reyna, and I are going to the nearby village of Guoldi to stock up on supplies,” Merlin told him softly, concerned eyes trained on his scrubbing hands.

  And?

  “And I need you to do me a favor while I’m gone,” the mage told him.

  Fat chance. You did this to me.

  Merlin flinched, but continued as he reached into that bag of his hanging at his side. His hands withdrew a brown and white ferret, the creature barely looking alive, mouth opened, eyes squinted shut, a slight squeal issuing forth as he laid it quietly on the ground. “I can’t take her with me, she’s barely hanging on as it is.”

  You want me to babysit your pet rat? Whatever. Just leave me the hell alone. If you’d just done that to begin with—

  The anger was rolling through his bones, his feet now getting scrubbed, as his mind tried to control this irresistible urge to tear his skin off and start cleaning it from underneath. Tears streaked down his face as he once again soaped his hair, fingers pulling clumps of it free with the ferociousness of his grip.

  “I found her in the keep and I couldn’t leave her behind. She’s just had a traumatic experience and I think she just needs someone to be close to, someone that would understand,” the mage explained, but he still didn’t see why he should care. “In the old world, before the Phoenix, when people experienced abuse like you just have, they would go to support groups to talk about it with people that knew exactly how they felt. I know you won’t talk to me, and right now you can’t talk to Willow, but you have to talk to somebody. If you keep it in, if you don’t give it air, it will fester and drive you insane. Don’t do it for me, or this quest, or for anything in the world other than your fiancé, who loves you dearly, and is over there crying right now because she is powerless to do anything to help you. She’s got demons of her own, but she has her sister to talk to. What happened to you can’t be undone and no one here will understand, but try talking to my little friend here, you might start feeling better. And no, tearing your skin off is a very bad idea. Just soak for a while, take care of my little friend, and we’ll be back as soon as we can.”

  The mage turned and walked away, leaving the trembling ferret on the embankment behind.

  How could he talk about it? What good would it do? His mind had been invaded, his body controlled by an evil witch and forced to perform a disgusting act while he had been powerless to stop it. He could still feel her hips grinding on him, her tongue probing his mouth, her hands on his chest. No matter how much he scrubbed, he could not be free of her evil touch. Even her death did no
t seem comfort enough.

  And yet, even that seemed another violation of his soul.

  He had murdered a helpless woman and a sick part of him had enjoyed it. She had been frozen in place, supposedly by their friendly telepath, while he had walked up to her and plunged a sword in her gut, right where the unborn fetus had been festering, yearning to be born. He had relished yanking his sword upward, feeling the blood spout out of her flesh and run down his arm. He had felt joy when he heard her dying breath and watched the light fade from her eyes. What kind of monster enjoys something horrid like that? What had he become?

  He knew that he didn’t regret it, as the witch deserved everything she got, but a part of him, the innocent boy that’d he’d been not too long ago, had died the moment that blade had entered her flesh. His childhood was stripped away and what was left was a grieving tortured shell full of anger and rage at the world, barely held in check by the flaming death of his friend.

  The itching had been replaced by a terrible raw burning and he knew that if he pushed it much further, he’d break open the skin and start to bleed. Forcing his fingers open, he let go of the soap, and watched it pop out of the water and begin to float downstream. Taking a few steps forward, he approached the side of the river, careful to keep his shoulders below the water, despite how crouched he’d become.

  His eyes fell on the shivering ferret, and he watched the poor creature tremble uncontrollably. Before he knew it, he began talking, his soul pouring forth in a flood of words that could not be spoken to any other. Grief rolled out of him for what he’d lost, anger filled his words at what had been done, and sorrow filled his heart for what he’d become. Though he knew that there was no way the ferret understood what he was saying, he continued to talk until it had all been said, and nothing was left but the pain wrecking his heart.

  Reaching out, he touched the trembling creature and when his fingers brushed the fur, it suddenly stopped shivering and allowed him to stroke it. Crying, he petted the ferret and slowly made his way out of the water. To his left was a stack of clothes, and he somehow knew that Merlin had placed it there for when he finally emerged. It wasn’t in his heart to be thankful, but he reached over silently and began dressing himself once more.

  As he sat there by the river, listening to the stream rush past, he reached out and picked up his new companion and laid her in his lap. He began talking again, unable to find the perfect expressions for his soul, but talking nonetheless. Whatever else had been wrong about this new existence of his, Merlin had been right, he was feeling better having someone to talk too. He was nowhere near ready to be near anyone else, but at least the insane urge to scrub himself raw had passed.

  He felt a slight nip on his fingers and he smiled weakly on the little creature in his lap. “She was right, you know, it was our fault that she died. If we’d just left her alone, refused to let her come along, she’d still be up there in that cave combing her hair and flashing that constant smirk. Merlin’s not totally to blame, he was gone by the time we left, and I’m just as responsible as he is for what happened to her.”

  “As much as I hated having her in my mind, constantly trying to flirt with me, I’d give anything just to have her back here, smirking at me once more,” he whispered quietly to the creature, his fingers silently stroking its fur.

  The shivering had stopped and he somehow felt that maybe he’d been understood after all. “I wish I could have helped her, done something more to get to her and save her,” he commented, staring off across the grasslands beyond, lost in thought.

  You did everything you could, a soft voice whispered in his head and he suddenly jerked back to himself.

  No, it couldn’t be.

  “Melissa?” he blurted out, eyes darting around him trying to see if the magician had somehow survived, and had snuck up on him from behind. Kylee and Willow were sitting downstream, heads together, lost in their conversation, and he could see Token back at the campsite fiddling around with dinner, but nothing of the source of that voice.

  Kore strode into view carrying a large furry object over his shoulder. He watched as Kylee suddenly leapt to her feet and charged across the field to the returning orc. Willow got up, shot him a quick glance of concern, and then darted after her. Seems like another reunion was about to take place.

  Too bad he had imagined his.

  I’m sorry I couldn’t stop what she did to you, the voice said again and he closed his eyes, sure that it was the guilt in his soul speaking with her voice. After everything that had happened, how could he not be disturbed enough to be talking to himself?

  “There was nothing that you could’ve done, nothing anyone could’ve done, to prevent what happened. I was not strong enough, and I should’ve been. As many times as Merlin’s said it, how often Melissa flaunted it, I knew deep inside that leaving myself open and unable to defend myself would eventually lead to something horrible happening. I just couldn’t imagine it’d be as bad as how I’m feeling right now,” he responded, his voice cracking as he broke out into fresh sobs.

  Try feeling your flesh being burned off, your body being cooked from the inside, and your brain leaking out in quick bursts of steam, the voice argued and he flinched at the vehemence behind the words. Where the hell had that come from?

  He couldn’t think straight, the past day replaying in his head over and over. His body flinched with the breeze as he once again felt her nails on him. Every dry gulp made him remember her tongue. The burning from his scrubbing reminded him of every second he’d been under that witch’s control. How could he continue on this quest? He was not fit to go on like this.

  One foot in front of the other, one day at a time. That’s what they say, but its total crap. I mean, who comes up with this shit? Of course you’re going to take it one day at a time, what’s the alternative, shooting yourself in the head? Try surviving that and see how more screwed up you become, Melissa’s voice spoke once more.

  How could his subconscious mimic her so easily?

  He felt tiny paws on his chest and looked down to see the ferret sniffing at his nose. Then it licked him lightly on the lips, touched its nose to his, and went back to curling on his lap. At least I finally got to kiss you.

  “Okay, what the hell?” he blurted out, shifting and feeling the ferret’s nails dig into his skin as it struggled to stay in place.

  Quit wiggling around, my body is still recovering here. Merlin healed what he could but I can still feel the flames licking me and my insides cooking. He said to look after me and talk, not throw me around and yell, the voice snarked again and he instantly knew that it was the damn ferret invading his head.

  And it sounded exactly like Melissa.

  Your lap is pretty comfy, but you are still a bit daft in the brain, Melissa told him and he could hear that familiar smirk in her tone of voice. He reached down and stroked the ferret, not daring to hope, but unable to help it.

  “You’re alive?”

  If you don’t mind, I’d like to keep that between us at the moment, I’m just not ready to be around the others.

  He could sympathize with that feeling as he looked to the group clustered around Tuskar, the wolf hopping happily within Kylee’s arms. So much happiness was not something he needed to be around right now. He was content to stay right where he was.

  “But how?” he asked her, stroking her fur lightly.

  While we were in the cells I split myself. It was quite painful and though there were essentially two of me, we shared everything that the other felt and experienced. As a ferret, I was able to slip free of the cell and work my way out of the dungeon, but the part of me that remained behind was shackled, thrown on a pyre and burned. I felt every agonizing moment of it and when Merlin arrived, he heard my screams and rushed into the keep to get me. Throwing me in that sack of his didn’t cut my connection to my other self, but at least I survived; if that’s what you call this.

  You know, they talk about what it would be like to be at your own fu
neral. I just want to say, that’s crap too. I don’t recommend it.

  He felt extremely content that one of the horrors he’d thought would be dwelling within his soul, had been nudged loose and freed. He had the memories of that blaze forever etched in his mind, but the sorrow that accompanied it was now gone. “You understood everything I said earlier, didn’t you?”

  The ferret turned its head and winked at him.

  “That includes watching me bathe as well right?” He didn’t need to ask. “That part about wishing that we’d—.”

  Don’t worry about it. I know how much you love her. But I do think it’s time you get up and tell her that. She had a horrible experience herself and what you really need right now is each other.

  He sighed and looked to where Willow stood, her arms across her chest, her swollen eyes staring at him. He hated how much she was right. But how could he put it into words?

  Start with one, the rest will come, Melissa said softly and he was suddenly grateful she was there.

  Picking her up, he placed her around his neck and slowly began to walk towards his awaiting fiancé, her eyes watching him with concern, her own tears gushing forth once more as she ran into his arms and they embraced at last.

  II

  John felt the axe come down on his shield and he raised his sword to parry the other as it swept for his head. Dodging beneath the creature’s humongous legs, he rolled and struck the armor from behind. His sword didn’t do anything but bounce right off, jarring his arm.

  A streak of white fire struck the orc in the chest, and he took a step backwards, nearly falling on him. Guardians streamed about, each trying to take advantage of the lull in the giant’s swings, yet the orc recovered quickly, and he watched in horror as the axe whipped around and cleaved three of his men in two.