Page 83 of The Last One
The Renrian squints at Jadon, then steps back to open the door wider. “For her.”
Jadon helps me cross the threshold into the cottage.
I look back at the Renrian, placing a hand over my pounding heart. “Thank you…” The words barely make it past my lips as the world goes black.
“Kai, can you hear me?” Jadon’s voice sounds fuzzy and far away.
I open my eyes to find him seated next to me on the floor where I’m propped up on a sea of brocaded pillows. I shift on the pillows and hiss a breath as pain radiates from my injured leg—now wrapped tightly with bright-white gauze—and tendrils throughout my body.
The old man studies me from across the room. Behind him, a kettle bubbles over a fire blazing bright in the stone hearth. Shadows of the flame flicker across the dark ceiling beams. In the pantry, steel cookware with silver-tacked leather handles gleam as bright as the glass and ceramic dishware on the shelves. Jadon’s sword leans against the front door.
“Where are the girls?” I croak.
“Camping outside,” Jadon says, concern furrowing his brow as he leans closer. Despite the shadows of the cabin, the warm blue of his eyes twinkles. “How do you feel?”
How do I feel? I feel like I’ve touched the rim of death. If it weren’t for him—
He’swhy I’m here. Those were Jadon’s hands holding me and guiding me through the woods. Those were his arms clenched around me, keeping me from falling. Those soft eyes, assuring me that he’s got me. Remembering all that makes heat flood through me. Heat that I welcome, heat that doesn’t hurt.
Even with that cut on his cheek, Jadon still looks as though he rode a star to join us mere mortals in a cottage. Me? I feel and taste like a pit of dirty water skimmed with furry mold after a storm of skunks and bears drowned in its depths.
No matter. I lift a heavy arm to touch Jadon’s face in gratitude. “You saved me,” I say, my words thick and syrupy.
“Actually,Isaved you,” the Renrian interrupts.
Jadon clears his throat and stands. The air chills without him close.
“Sir, we’re very grateful,” Jadon says. “Even if you did run from us.”
“Do you mean I overreacted?” the Renrian asks, placing his hand over his heart in mock disbelief. “Do you mean that I, an old man, should have stood there and allowed you, a young man, a much bigger man, wielding a great sword that was already dripping with gore and violence, to attack me? Are you saying that I shouldn’t have run fromthat?”
I shift my gaze from the old man’s face to the ouroboros staff set against a workbench. “We didn’t expect to find anything good out in those woods,” I say. “Please understand that we’d just survived a burnu attack. We’re grateful for your help back at the dell, too.”
The old man respectfully nods his head and says, “Of course.” He then lifts a silver brow at Jadon. “See how easy it is to have good manners?”
“We’re trying to reach Pethorp,” Jadon says, his cheeks red. “Are we close?”
The old man waggles his hand. “Closer than you are farther.”
Jadon grumbles, but I can only laugh. This is familiar and so welcome after the days I’ve had. “You are Renrian, yes?” I ask, my voice as coarse as gravel.
Our host nods again. “Since the day I was born.”
“My memory is somewhat foggy.” I carefully shift to a more upright position, shoving several pillows behind me. “Please forgive me if I’m incorrect, but Renrians are shothis, yes?”
“I’ve met Renrians before,” Jadon cuts in, “but I don’t know that term—”
“Shothi?”The old man’s tone is one of outrage. “Respectfully, Renrians are no meresages.While we are scholars who know countless spells because we’ve read about them, we do more thanreadabout anything. We create spells, potions, and tonics because we arealchemists, too.My potions and tonics do more than paralyze limbs or grow hair,” the Renrian continues, “though they do that, too. My brews and elixirs change people and objects from blah to bold. Ashothi,” he scoffs.“Really.”
His violet eyes glow bright as he gestures to his staff leaning against the wall. “Warruin, my staff, has changed the course of history. Why… Do you not recall the Battle of Riddy Vale, during the Great War? The Dashmala warriors were closing in on that vale of men inhabited mostly by women, children, and the aged? There were a few healthy soldiers left, but nowhere near the numbers needed to defeat the Dashmala.”
Jadon opens his mouth to speak but changes his mind once I give him the slightest shake of my head. We can’t afford to offend our long-winded host, not with my grave injuries. The old man wants to talk? Let him talk. And then let him offer food and water and continue to treat my injuries while he blathers on about battles and wars.
The old man lifts his hands and stares out across the room as if witnessing the battle. “And there I was, with countless defenseless people around me, and I lifted Warruin, and I held her out over the vale, and I made that valley resemble a fiery chasm of rock and lava.”
He sweeps a hand over that fiery valley he’s envisioning. “And as the Dashmala—who, to this day, hate me—as they reached the outskirts of Riddy Vale, they saw desolation, the end of the world.” The old man juts his chin and points to himself. “That chasm appeared due to a simple spell and the tilt of my head. I alter the looks of things and the behavior of things, making them more powerful than what they truly are. They becomeenchanted. Because I dothat,too.” He smirks. “Ashothi. Dearest, I amall the things.”
I dip my head. “Okay.”
