The Wielder and the Source

Chapter 26

Aldeheid watched as Kon became a diminishing speck in the west. Back-dropped by the blaze of the setting sun, it was a jewel in the savanna's crown. He leaned his head against the tree onBellyn's back and soaked in the crisp breeze. His muscled relaxed as he breathed deep, taking the savanna's essence deep into his body. This was the least tense he'd been in years. And he wondered if this strange sense of peace would last. Or if it was the calm before the storm.

Kitaya was a cape on his shoulders, the fabric spilling over his arm and fanning out on the grass beside him. He ran his hands over the material – soft as silk, light as a breeze, and fluid as water.

"I take it I make a good cape?" she asked, her voice filling his head.

"The best cape," he said, watching the cloth billow in the breeze. "How much longer before we get to the backlands?"

"The border is just ahead. Take that thing off your face."

Aldeheid cringed. She wanted him to uncover the brand on his cheek, walk around proudly with it. Because it would make him look like an outcast. That's all that populated the Backlands, outcasts, defectors, criminals, or those who refused to live under the crown of Kon. Or any of the other savanna nations.

His lips twisted into a grimace as he reached up and poked and prodded his cheek before slipping his finger under the rubbery material that covered his scar. Peeling it away was akin to shedding his clothes in front of millions. He felt exposed, naked with his brand uncovered. But he supposed it was a small thing compared to what Kitaya had to do.

Since she was a known member of the royal house, she'd have to keep her face covered whenever she wasn't on his shoulders. She'd gotten them "new" clothes. Raggedy old things that would help them blend in.

Aldeheid had only his sword, a bag with a few more pieces of clothes and a small pouch of coin. Everything of importance was packed away in the box, save for his earring. He'd missed having the weight on his ear and didn't want to give it up.

"I'm not getting you a new one if we get mugged, angel eyes," Kitaya had said.

A flash lit up Aldeheid's peripheral as she changed to normal form.

"We should get off here, and walk the rest of the way." She rifled through her bag and pulled out her mask, tying it so it hung around her neck.

They'd travelled a ways north of their intended target to avoid the battlefield from the night before. But from his vantage point, Aldeheid saw patches of scorched ground. He remembered the magic in the air stinging his exposed skin, the smells of burning grass, the shouts combined with the pounding of his heart.

"Angel eyes?" Kitaya's voice pulled him from his trance. "Everything alright?"

He tore his eyes away from the battlefield. "Yes. Uh..." He scooped up both their bags and shouldered them, hiding the shaking in his hands. "We should keep moving if we want to make it to the backlands before dusk."

Aldeheid breezed past her and slid down from Bellyn's back, landing in grass that swallowed him up to his waist. He patted Bellyn on the trunk as Kitaya hopped down. "Thanks for the ride."

The monolith made a low grumbling sound before turning to head back to Kon.

"Shall we?" Aldeheid extended his marked hand, palm up. She slid her hand in his, and for the first time, he noticed their marks met together perfectly. Magician and cape. Wielder and source. The perfect duo.

It was still surreal and comforting, knowing he had a cape of his own. That he wasn't doomed to be a worthless magician for all his days. He never wanted this feeling to go away.