Shadowydreamer’s Scribbles

Another from a dream.

He’d stopped sending messengers when she’d started paying them to go back up to the castle on the hill and say the message had been delievered and she’d shown them a good time beside. He may be a stubborn son of a goat, but he did eventually learn. So it was with both surprise and a sense of inevitavbility when she turned to see him darkening the barn that served as her ward. Sora pursed her lips and pushed past him out into the sunshine. His Chief of Guard was still Rasak Torren who was looking rather embarassed. Poor man, always got stuck in the middle of their greater arguments.

“Baron Keros, to what do I owe this unexpected and unwanted visit?” Sora asked, trying to resist the urge to pat blonde hair back into its braid.

He had the eyes of the bluest sky, that color of when the sun is behind a small puffy white cloud and the rest of the sky is a perfect and clear blue. They were framed by dark raven lashes and even as he towered over her, she could see them narrow in irritation. She wasn’t quite sure why he bothered. “I have need of a healer.” He replied dryly. “Why else would I come to your ward?”

“To drive me to drinking. Obviously you’ve invested in cartage recently and wish the bessini usage to rise.” Sora replied and gestured with her head for him to follow her to the small office that had been built in the barn. A few shadows lurked beyond her stone walls. The urchins and teens of the neighborhood kept an eye on her, but she didn’t think they’d challenge the baron and his men. Or at least, she hoped they wouldn’t.

“Sit.” She pointed at a chair large enough to hold his drassen frame. The mountain people only came in two sizes, large and larger. Her mother may have been drassen, but she took after her perrisi father, small and petite. Her mother had always defended the size difference with a shake of her head, a smile and “Love, you know.”

She didn’t scent the blood until he removed his outer breastplate. He was in his hunter leathers and pealed them off with no help from her or squire. Really, if anyone wanted to kill the Baron they’d just have to convince her to do it, he rarely protected himself around her. Thoughts of irritation disappeared when she saw the ragged slash across his chest. It had started oozing blood again when he’d removed his gear. Sora let out a hiss of surprise. Such a cut under the armour? She grabbed the disinfectant and sewing gear. “Angered the wrong lady of the night?” she asked, distracting from the expanse of chest. It would be rather poor form if she tried to entwine her fingers in that forest of hair and to feel the muscles of his chest twitch and flex under her hands. Though, it would probably make him seven shades of happy.

“Hardly,” he replied, staring off over her shoulder as she applied disinfectant. “We were attacked at our camp last night.”

She stopped in threading of the needle. “And there were no other healers between here and there?” She asked with a sigh and shake of her head.

“None that I trusted to see the wound.” He replied.

Well, she was still officially the court’s healer if only because he refused to replace her. That had a whole set of oaths ontop of the standard. She leaned forward to study the wound to make sure it didn’t need cleaning though she was fairly sure he would already have attended it. “Holy hell.” she muttered.

“Exactly.” He replied, with some smugness.

The wound revealed the waved and jagged knife it had been made by, the signature of the black hand clan. A group of high priced assassins no matter what they tried to call themselves. “Well, someone definitely wants rid of you.”

“Someone other than yourself,” He said wryly, tilting his head to one side.

She took some satisfaction sticking the needle into his flesh and listening to him suppress a hiss as he tried not to jerk. “I don’t want you dead.” She replied honestly. “Just to leave me alone.”

“No, you don’t.” He replied through gritted teeth.

True, she wanted him in her bedroom and under her and they both knew it. Too many mind talents to deny it, but she also didn’t want to marry him or be his pet court healer or his mistress or anything else that went with his castle and cirlet. She had way too much to do down in the city.

She tried to ignore where her hand held the wound closed as she stitched it up. Other than a twitch when she inserted the needle each time he was a statue. She wished all her patients were as stoic and well behaved.

When finished she straightened and cleared away her gear. He was still sitting in the chair when she finished. She made an irritated noise in the back of her throat. He grinned, the brat, as he stood, stepping easily and comfortably into her personal space. “Come back with me,” he urged, starting to wrap arms around her.

She was taking a step back, readying the standard argument that always happened at this point, when she felt a familar mind brush her’s. “Lorist!” she cried, and shoved pasted Keros and ran out into the yard.

He was still taller than tall, but his muscular build had shrunk into wireyness over the years. His thick hair had thinned and turned silver. His eyes were still two chunks of obsidian. “I thought I sensed him,”

The Baron’s guard were turning in shock and surprise, not knowing how the seemingly old man had gotten past them.

She didn’t quite pounce of Lorist, even though he was probably still strong enough to toss her around one handed. She did however wrap her arms around him and shared a burst of happiness to see him.

His echo was one of concern and worry. He returned the hug with distraction, but he did everything with distraction these days. She could feel him looking over her shoulder to where Keros would have come from. She could still feel Lorist’s anger and distrust, his confusion and his fear. “You should go with him,” Lorist said.

Sora was so startled she let go when she jerked back to look up at her old teacher’s face. “What?” She and the Baron said in the same shocked voice.

“War comes. You should be safe.” He said, and turned.

Sora tried to grab his hand to prevent him from leaving, but he was already smoke and leaving on the winds. “I hate it when he does that!” she growled and turned to look at the stunned baron. “And no, I’m not going with you.”

He actually growled before answering, “I expect nothing less. Why would you let a warrior protect you? Why would you hide behind walls of steel and brick? Why would you keep yourself safe when you can be in the worst slum in the city courting death by a thousand different methods!”

“I don’t need protecting!” She growled back. His idea of protecting was sitting in a solar somewhere doing needlework. “My patients here need me.” She added, attempting to reign in her temper.

He strode to her, placing hand under chin and catching it before she could jerk away, “I need you too.” He said firmly.

“As a political play, yes.” She glared up at him, daring herself not to cry. She may lust for him, but he was ice. She had once dreamed of more, but dreams tended to crumble to dust.

He shrugged one shoulder and let go of her, “I wish to protect every single being within my realm and responsibility. I did not realize that was a bad thing.”

“It’s not when you’re playing with game pieces and not people.” she replied to his back, he was turning to return to his men and horses.

He smiled over his shoulder, “Ah, but I’m not allowed to play with you. You make your own rules, remember?”

She stood and steamed as she watched the stubborn son of a goat return to his men. He easily mounted the horse that she’d have needed a ladder to climb. She turned and strode back to her ward, no interest in watching the noble party depart.

Sora did wonder if he’d left enough of the assassin to go back to its clan and exclaim why the target was hale enough to ride a horse. Knowing the baron, however, the assassin had probably only scored on him when it had a knife through its throat.

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