Tamer knelt down on the ground. There were red splotches on the dried leaves. He kept up his pace, following the trail of blood. He had caught glimpses of Enki running ahead, shoulders hunched forward and claws whipping about him.

The twin moons shed enough light to let him see the forest without the need for a torch. He took out one of his scimitars when he saw the alchemist passing a tree. He controlled himself from firing a bolt of fire at him. The result could be disastrous with so much foliage around.

As he ran, he mulled over how Enki had freed himself and what he had could have used to carve an alchemical sigil on his wrist. Eryx had placed enough spells on him to keep him restrained. Did the distance between a caster and the spell weaken the strength of the magic? He didn’t know the answer. Tamer wasn’t a mage.

Enki paused to drop something on the grass before resuming speed. He assumed it would be spiders. Sure enough, the overgrown critters came after him. He crushed them with his foot. Enki stopped running and faced him.

The alchemist’s hand was dripping with blood, more symbols drawn on his skin. They transformed to pincers. Tamer heard the ripping of clothes and when he looked down at Enki’s feet, he noticed they had also become bent claws. He watched as the mutation continued.

Enki’s hairline pulled back, his face flattened. The two claws on his back remained unmoving. His eyes turned black like those of a Homunculus and his mouth mutated to mandibles.

“What did you do?” he asked.

“I used the last of my strength for this.” Enki waved his pincers over his form. “You like it?”

Tamer was repulsed by his transformation. He shifted to his fighting stance, staying on guard. When Enki attacked, he blocked the pincers with his swords.

 “My master overestimated you,” Enki said.

He made a swipe at the alchemist’s head but his scimitars were intercepted.

“That girl is your saviour?” he said. “Don’t make me laugh. Your precious Aurion stands no chance against us.”

Fuming, Tamer flicked a knife at him. Enki swatted it away with his claws.

“Aurion will never fall,” Tamer said.

Enki jumped up high, moving from one tree to the next. He used the shadows to hide himself. Tamer scanned the trees, searching for the man.  

“You’re weak,” said the alchemist, his deadpan voice resonating in the wind. “Perhaps it is too late.”

 “Too late for what?”

The man jeered at him.

Black webs flew to him, trapping him in a net. Tamer used his scimitar to cut it but the threads were thick and sticky. Just as he managed to slip free, Enki pounced on him. He fell on the ground, his scimitar tumbling from his grasp. Enki trapped his left hand with his claws and his right hand with his transfigured foot.

“Pathetic,” Enki spat.

His mouth enlarged, exposing sharp yellow canines that dribbled with saliva. Tamer flinched as putrid breath blew to his face.

“Now, die.”

As Enki dipped his head to maul his face, Tamer freed his right hand and punched him on the nose. Enki hissed at him. He hit him again on the forehead, using brutal strength to stop the spider mutant from impaling him. When Enki inched back and released his other hand, dizzy from the hits, Tamer head-butted him.

“Get off me,” he said, pushing Enki away.

Tamer seized his sword as he stood up, hacked at his opponent without hesitation. The blade slid against fabric and flesh, scraping muscles and bones in its deadly swing. Enki’s cries spilled through the forest air.

He saw Enki clutching at his torso, his claws drenched in blood. The alchemist staggered back, staring at him with an equal measure of fear and hate before running off.

Tamer followed in hot pursuit. He caught up with his wounded opponent, leapt on him and tried to restrain him. They rolled down a slope. In his haste to trap Enki, Tamer hadn’t paid attention to the terrain.

Stones grazed his back, dirt struck his hands and legs and roots snagged at his clothes. He grabbed onto the edge of the slope, his feet hanging from a cliff. Enki had his hands curled around his legs, pulling him under. An empty darkness met with his eyes, a thick fog that prevented him from guessing the height of the cliff.

If he lost his grip, it would be a long long fall. There was no way he would survive that. Tamer hauled in a deep breath, the muscles in his arms going lax from supporting his weight and Enki’s. Panic eclipsed his anger—the kind of panic that arose when one was an inch away from death. He could try to climb up and save Enki or he could kick him and let him die.

Tamer was spared from making a decision when Enki said, “We’ll meet again. Remember that.”

The weight on his legs lessened when the alchemist dropped down the cliff, his hands held out as though he welcomed death.

He scrambled up, lying flat on solid ground and breathing heavy. Sitting up, he peered down the dark pit. Through the parting of the fog, he saw a shadowy silhouette of a spider crawling down the face of the cliff.

Enki is alive.

Tamer made his way back to the forest, disappointed with himself. He sensed the voice stirring in his mind, mocking him for his failure. Ignoring it, he made sure Mecha hadn’t fallen out of his pocket.

It was an hour later when he stepped into Helima’s hideout. He went to the back of the house. There was a large barrel with a tap fixed on the bottom. He spent a few minutes washing his hands and face.

When he strolled to the front of the cottage, he overheard scraps of conversations from the open window. Tamer kicked off his shoes, glaring at the one with a hole. He would need a cobbler to fix it once he reached Nazim. As he pushed in the door, it made a loud creaking noise, announcing his return. He unbuckled the belt slung around his torso and took off his scimitars.

Clara looked at him. “Where is Enki?”

“He escaped.”

“How?”

 “He crawled down a cliff.” He watched her facial expression change from that of alarm to incredulity.

“Don’t look so doubtful, dear. Enki is a spider.” Helima waved her hand coolly.

Tamer dropped the belt on the couch. After taking a seat, he pulled the tray of food to his side and dropped a handful of biscuits on his plate. He was on his sixth biscuit when Clara spoke again.

“What happens now?” she asked, levelling her eyes with his.

He could detect the hidden meaning behind her words. She was more concerned about Amarant than their current predicament. Clara had left the question vague to avoid exposing important details.  

He could ask himself the same question. He had failed to recapture Enki and the only person he could pin that blame on was himself. Nerium would help them. Putting his trust on their guild master felt like a gamble but he had no other choice. He would search for a telemagi and inquire about his guild in Nazim.

A telemagi and a cobbler.

“Excuse me,” Azmand said, jerking him from his thoughts. The man left the table and went to the kitchen.

Releasing a weary sigh, Tamer said. “We’ll find him. Enki said we’ll meet again soon.”

 “Where is Idris?” Helima asked.

The food tasted bitter and dry in his mouth. He pushed it down his throat, took a sip from his glass of milk. Something scraped his chest, damaging the walls he’d kept steady for more than a decade. He sucked in a sharp gulp of air.

One.

Two.

Three steady breaths.

 “Gone,” he said.

A shadow scudded over Helima’s eyes. She clenched her fists, the napkin between her fingers crumpling like a discarded piece of paper. The black witch stomped out of the living room, her heels clicking on the floor.

Tamer heard the clattering of a spoon. Clara bent down to pick it up. He noticed her plate had been left untouched.

“Eat,” he said. “It’s not poisoned.”

“I know.” She stirred her tea with the spoon. “What was that about?”

Tamer took another sip. “She liked Idris.”

“Who is he?”

He slammed the glass on the table. The liquid spilled over the rim, white droplets spraying on the tablecloth. He was aware of her acute gaze pinned on him. She was urging him to speak, to spill out the guilt he’d kept stashed beneath the walls. The very same walls that were now cracked and dented.

“Idris was my mentor. He took me in after I left the palace.”

Two weeks before he had left Amarant for a mission, Idris had fallen ill. The mission had kept him side-tracked. By the time he returned, Idris was gone. He had been too late to say farewell. Too late to pay his respects to the man who had raised him.

If only he had aborted his mission, he would have stayed by Idris’ side during his last moments. Amarant had been an unwelcome reminder of his mentor’s death. He could see Idris teaching the children in the training grounds and he could hear his laughter whenever he sat in the main hall. Suffocated by sorrow, Tamer had walked out of Amarant without a word to Rai and Eryx.  He had gone back to the streets Idris had plucked him from.

That had been one year ago.

“It wasn’t your fault,” Clara said. “None of it is.”

There was something about those emerald depths that told him she understood him. That she could see through his soul. That she could ease his guilt and grief and shame—if he let her. He liked the notion of that.  

Helima’s head poked out of the gap in the door, diverting his attention. With a click of her tongue, she said to Clara, “Come.”

He caught the unwillingness in Clara’s movements. She didn’t trust Helima. He nodded at her and she left. Alone in the room, he studied the furniture. Nothing had changed. It was still the same as it had been the first time had had visited Helima.

After finishing his meal, he decided to clean his weapons outside. He sat on the steps at the porch, unsheathing his knives. Azmand came to stand behind him.

“Here. I saw you cleaning them.” The man placed a metallic box next to him.

Tamer unlocked it. Inside was a clean piece of cloth, paper towels, a bottle of oil, wax polish and a lanzi mat. He picked up a leaf of paper towel and wiped the short knives clean.

Azmand leaned on the railing. “I heard what you said about Idris. Did they kill him? Is that what happened?”

He doused some oil on the cloth. “No. Idris was sick.”

“You have my deepest condolences,” Azmand said, reverting to Shimian tongue. “He was a good man.”

Tamer nodded. He tried to divert his thoughts from focusing on his mentor again, the man who had kept faith in him even when he had no faith in himself. Instead, he polished the blades on his scimitars. His fingers traced the ancient symbols, feeling the aetherial energy trapped within.

“He gave those to you before you left,” Azmand pointed at the blades. A sad smile formed on his face.

Setting the scimitars on the mat, Tamer stood up. He swept his eyes over the harzfilia garden, the bird nests balanced on the trees and the big black sky stretched above them. He forced his mind to think of the ragars. He received no response from them. They were still asleep.

“I told him they were too big for you. You were so little,” Azmand said. “The truth is, I was jealous.”

Tamer ground his teeth.  “Stop.”

 “I’m sorry, man.”

With Enki gone, they had no need to stay at Helima’s place any longer. He wanted to leave for Nazim as soon as Clara was ready. A headache spiralled in his temple. He felt a surge of fatigue slinking over his body. Chasing Enki had left him lethargic.

Azmand released a strained exhale. He held up his arms to chest-level. They were shaking.

“What is it?” Tamer asked.

Drawing up his sleeves with faltering movements, Azmand showed him his hands. There were black veins writhing on his skin, thickening and descending to his fingers. He remembered asking Helima about the marks when he had been little. She’d told him Azmand had been afflicted with a strange disease that no Healer could cure.

“It’s getting worse,” Azmand said. His face knotted in pain. He pushed past Tamer and disappeared into the forest.

Tamer pitied his old friend. Sighing, he donned his weapons and went back inside. He sank into the couch, plopping his legs on the table. When his eyelids slammed shut, he didn’t bother prying them open.

Someone tickled his ankle, startling him from his short nap. He saw Clara sitting on the table, a ball of cotton in her hand. She wiped at the burn on his throbbing foot. The cotton felt cool.

The feel of her gentle fingers on his ankle was even more soothing.

He pretended to sleep for a little longer. Silvery laughter filled the room. Tamer peeped through one eye. She was staring at him, her lips widening into a beguiling smile, her eyes crinkling with amusement.

“You’re awake,” she said.

Tamer smiled at her. Clara’s gaze dropped to his foot. She lowered her head, her long hair shielding her face. He fought the urge to tip her chin up. He was drawn to her. The connection between them was undeniable. He could pretend to be blind to it, convince himself that they were too different but he couldn’t ignore the masculine instincts she awakened within him.

“How long was I out?” he asked.

“About one hour.” She picked up a small vial. “Helima gave me this balm. She said I could keep it for free.”

 “Where is she?”

“She went inside that room.”

“Did she stand in front of the door?”

“Yes.” Clara fixed him with a curious stare. “Why do you ask?”

He shuffled to his feet. “We need to leave now. Don’t use the door.”

“Why not?”Clara slipped the vial into her pocket.  

“She put a hex on the door to stop us from leaving,” he replied.

Clara gave an unladylike snort. “You don’t have the payment, do you?”

He shushed her. “Lower your voice.”

Tamer drew the curtains aside and vaulted over the window. He picked up their boots, tucking them on the crook of his arm. Clara tiptoed to the window, lifted up a leg and stepped on the sill.

A pair of blades darted past the window, hitting the wooden poles on the porch. A door was slammed open and in stepped one very annoyed black witch.

“Where do you think you’re going?” she demanded.

Tamer grabbed Clara’s hand, pulling her outside. They ducked as another set of blades were thrown at them.

“You insolent boy! Get back here!”

Handing Clara her shoes, he said, “Run.”

They rushed off into the forest, using the trees as a cover. Sharp knives were thrown at them but they leapt and stooped, dodging the deadly attacks.

 “Is she trying to kill us?” Clara asked, panting.

“Oh yes, she is,” he replied.

Helima’s threats faded as they moved farther from the cottage. They didn’t stop to wear their boots or take a rest. Not until the sleeping ragars came into view. Tamer dropped to his knees, his bare toes digging into the blue soil. He threw his head at the heavens and laughed.

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