Siege (The Pack/Team Crafted)

Chapter Ten

“So you're half Nguŷen?” Lachlan glanced up. Jason nodded.

“I am. The culture has always interested me, hence the masks and such. Though, I do see where most people would consider it borderline Satanic.” The blue-eyed mage wandered over to the Asumén weapons. “Not quite as bad as Asumé, though… Speaking of, aren't you five supposed to have an Asumén with you?”

Jason had healed their bruises and wounds without second thought, and now was purely questioning them. Seto had fled earlier, Jason letting him leave without reprimanding him too much.

“Uh…” Vik was the one who spoke up. Rob hadn’t said much, sitting with Preston, who had also been quiet. Mitch had been studying the place, especially the weapons and bright, animalistic Nguŷen masks, rainbows of feathers framing the sides. “We thought that Seto was him. He betrayed us in the woods. I guess he went with his tribe.”

“I see.” With a smile, Jason glanced back at him. “What was his name?”

“Jerome Aceti.” Rob answered this time, somewhat distracted. Preston was finally seeming to properly come to, Rob murmuring an explanation to him

Jason dipped his head, sliding off in a flash of his cloak. He beckoned the others from the shadows as he moved to a dark room that branched off from the main.

“Have any of you ever seen or heard of crystal waters?”

Preston had. It was a type of enchanted water, usually fed by a spring, that powerful mages could use to see anyone in the world that they knew the name of, so long as they had a bit of their DNA.

Yet again, it was Preston who happened to have some of that.

With a cloth, Jason wiped the necromancer’s duel-bladed sword down, then fed the bloodied edge into a jar he had taken from a crystal spring. After whispering Jerome's name, the clear waters started to ripple with colors.

Lachlan swallowed hard.

Blood dribbled down Jerome's chin, the headdress on his head streaked with blood from the fingers of his tribe. He gave a young lady a smile, which made her swoon and reach for him, but he ducked away. A goblet was in his hands, scarlet staining the rim.

“Holy shit,” Mitch breathed.

“He was destined to become the leader of his tribe since he was born,” Jason shrugged. “It didn't require much insight from Uversia. According to his own culture, the Hawk’s Blessing is enough. I'm surprised he isn't wearing the feather in his hair. Most do.”

“You follow Uversia?” Lachlan asked, surprised. The mage’s eyes slid over to him. “Of course I do. I perform fasts and display masks too. It is as best as I can practice from the mainland,” he replied coolly. “I didn't believe in my father’s religion, though I appreciated my mother's and followed it best I could. I still do.”

“I've never met someone from the mainland who follows Nguŷen,” Lachlan confessed. Jason smiled.

“That doesn't surprise me.” His gaze shifted to the others. “You may leave. This isn't as important as whatever you're planning.”

Slowly, Rob dipped his head and rushed out, Vik on his heels. Mitch shrugged and followed, practically dragging Preston away from the mage as he went.

“Your friends are interesting.” As Jason wandered over to the door, the ball of crystal waters faded back into it's original, clear state. His fingers twisted around the knob, locking the door. “It's really too bad.”

“What's too bad?” Lachlan asked hesitantly. Sad eyes met his own.

“They'll be on their own now.”

The Nguŷen scout didn't have a chance to react. Blinding blue light was the last thing he saw.

+

“So Jerome's Chiefton, now.” Vik shifted his gaze to Mitch. He knew what the implications were, but Rob voiced them anyways.

“He isn't going to come with us. Not happily, anyways.”

“I don't think he wanted to come willingly in the first place,” Mitch shrugged. “He's too… Too loyal, I suppose.”

“Only loyal to his tribe,” Vik pointed out. “No one else.”

“I suppose so. Frankly, I think it's funny. He's so different from them all.” The assassin had started pacing. Vik could tell something was weighing on his mind. “Now, how do we convince him to come with us? He's pure firepower.”

And a perfect weapon to turn against us.

Vik did not trust the apprentice. His whole life, he had lived on the edge, learning how to read people like a book. He picked things up that no one else could, no one else even bothered to.

Mitch had a way of knowing things, Vik had noticed. He was self-aware to an extreme. Sure, even Lachlan seemed to know things he shouldn't, but the way Mitch presented was different.

Much different.

And while he couldn't ever place his finger exactly on what it was that set him off, he knew it well enough. It was just off-putting enough to make him weary.

“We have to force him. There’s no way around it,” Preston mumbled from his corner of the room. He hadn’t said much.

“But how? Now he has a whole tribe of warriors at his back. They'll fight to the death for him,” Rob pointed out.

“So we trick him into doing it willingly,” Vik suggested. Mitch met his eyes.

A shiver trailed down his spine.

“With what?”

“I… I don't know yet. We have to find something.”

Preston spoke again, his voice unsteady and slow. “He would do anything to defend his people, wouldn't he? He gets to be selfless now… But Asumén warriors don't. Maybe we could convince him that he needs to come with us to protect his tribe.”

“I think that's the first intelligent thing you've said,” Rob snorted.

“Lay off,” Mitch snapped back, turning to Preston. “You have a point, necro. Get up.”

Shakily, the mancer rose to his feet. He tucked his robes around him, straightening them with trembling fingers. “Yes?”

“Stay here with Vik. Rob and I will go into town and get horses. You tell Jason and fetch Lachlan, then meet up with us at… The gem vendor on the edge of town. Okay?”

Preston nodded. “Okay.”

He's going to be alone with Rob… But Rob is a better fighter than I am, and Preston is too close to Mitch to trust them alone together.

Rob stood, grabbing his crossbow. “Let's go, assassin,” he grunted, starting out. Mitch nodded, following him out. Vik noticed how he walked on his toes, never letting his heels touch the ground.

Why is he so on edge? Does he know I'm watching him? Something occurred to him. And if he does… What would he do to me?