Peter Brett - The Warded Man

“Why?” Leesha asked, her voice cracking slightly. The disappointment in her tone cut the young Jongleur like a knife.

“You know why,” Rojer replied somberly.

“Why?” Leesha demanded again. “For me? For my honor? Tell me, Rojer. Tell me you killed in my name!”

“They had to pay,” Rojer said tightly. “They had to pay for what they did. It was unforgivable.”

Leesha laughed out loud, though there was no humor in the sound. “Don’t you think I know that?” she shouted. “Do you think I saved myself for twenty-seven years to give my flower to a gang of thugs?”

Silence hung in the cave for a long moment. A peal of thunder cut the air.

“Saved yourself …” Rojer echoed.

“Yes, corespawn you!” Leesha shrieked, angry tears streaking her face. “I was a virgin! Does even that justify giving men to the corelings?”

“Giving?” the Warded Man echoed.

Leesha whirled on him. “Of course giving!” she shouted. “I’m sure your friends the demons were overjoyed at your little present. Nothing pleases them more than having humans to kill. With so few of us left, we’re a rare treat!”

The Warded Man’s eyes widened, reflecting the firelight. It was a more human expression than Leesha had ever seen on his face, and the sight made her momentarily forget her anger. He looked utterly terrified, and backed away from them, all the way to the cave mouth.

Just then, a coreling threw itself against the wardnet, filling the cave with a flash of silver light. The Warded Man whirled and screamed at the demon, a sound unlike anything Leesha had ever heard, but one she recognized all the same. It was a vocalization of what she had felt inside when she had been pinned, that terrible evening on the road.

The Warded Man snatched up one of his spears, hurling it out into the rain. There was an explosion of magic as it struck the demon, blasting it into the mud.

“Damn you!” the Warded Man roared, ripping off his robes and leaping out into the downpour. “I swore I would give you nothing! Nothing at all!” He pounced on a wood demon from behind, crushing it to him. The massive ward on his chest flared, and the coreling burst into flame, despite the pouring rain. He kicked away as the creature flailed about.

“Fight me!” the Warded Man demanded of the others, planting his feet in the mud. Corelings leapt to oblige, slashing and biting, but the man fought like a demon himself, and they were flung away like autumn leaves against the wind.

From the rear of the cave, Twilight Dancer whinnied and pulled at his hobble, trained to fight by his master’s side. Rojer moved to calm the animal, looking to Leesha in confusion.

“He can’t fight them all,” Leesha said. “Not in the mud.” Already, many of the man’s wards were splattered with muck.

“He means to die,” she said.

“What should we do?” Rojer asked.

“Your fiddle!” Leesha cried. “Drive them away!”

Rojer shook his head. “The wind and thunder would drown me out,” he said.

“We can’t just let him kill himself!” Leesha screamed at him.

“You’re right,” Rojer agreed. He strode over to the Warded Man’s weapons, taking a light spear and the warded shield. Realizing what he meant to do, Leesha moved to stop him, but he stepped out of the cave before she could reach him, rushing to the Warded Man’s side.

A flame demon spat fire at Rojer, but it fizzled in the rain and fell short. The coreling leapt at him, but he lifted the warded shield and the creature was deflected. His concentration in front, he didn’t see the other flame demon behind him until it was too late. The coreling sprang, but the Warded Man snatched the three-foot-tall demon right out of the air, hurling it away, its flesh sizzling at his touch. “Get inside!” the man ordered.

“Not without you!” Rojer shot back. His red hair was soaked and matted to his face, and he squinted in the wind and pelting rain, but he faced the Warded Man squarely, not backing down an inch.

Two wood demons leapt for them, but the Warded Man dropped to the mud, sweeping Rojer’s legs from under him. The slashing claws missed as the Jongleur fell, and the Warded Man’s fists drove the creatures back. Other corelings were gathering, though, attracted by the flashes of light and the sounds of battle. Too many to fight.

The Warded Man looked at Rojer, lying in the mud, and the madness left his eyes. He held out a hand, and the Jongleur took it. The two of them darted back into the cave.

“What were you thinking?” Leesha demanded, tying off the last of the bandages. “Both of you!”

Rojer and the Warded Man, bundled in blankets by the fire, said nothing as she berated them. After a time, she trailed off, preparing a hot broth with herbs and vegetables and handing it to them wordlessly.

“Thank you,” Rojer said quietly, the first words he had spoken since returning to the cave.

“I’m still angry with you,” Leesha said, not meeting his eyes.

“You lied to me.”

“I didn’t,” Rojer protested.

“You kept things from me,” Leesha said. “It’s no different.”

Rojer looked at her for a time. “Why did you leave Cutter’s Hollow?” he asked.

“What?” Leesha asked. “Don’t change the subject.”

“If these people mean so much to you that you’re willing to risk anything, endure anything, to get home,” Rojer pressed, “why did you leave?”

“My studies …” Leesha began.

Rojer shook his head. “I know something about running away from problems, Leesha,” he said. “There’s more to it than that.”

“I don’t see that it’s any of your business,” Leesha said.

“Then why am I waiting out a rainstorm in a cave surrounded by corelings in the middle of nowhere?” Rojer asked.

Leesha looked at him for long moments, then sighed, her will for the fight fading. “I suppose you’ll be hearing about it soon enough,” Leesha said. “The people of Cutter’s Hollow have never been very good at keeping secrets.”

She told them everything. She didn’t mean to, but the cold and damp cave became a Tender’s confessional of sorts, and once she began, the words overflowed; her mother, Gared, the rumors, her flight to Bruna, her life as an outcast. The Warded Man leaned forward and opened his mouth at the mention of Bruna’s liquid demonfire, but he closed it again and sat back, choosing not to interrupt.

“So that’s it,” Leesha said. “I’d hoped to stay in Angiers, but it seems the Creator has another plan.”

“You deserve better,” the Warded Man said.

Leesha nodded, looking at him. “Why did you go out there?” she asked quietly, pointing her chin toward the cave mouth.

The Warded Man slumped, staring at his knees. “I broke a promise,” he said.

“That’s all?”

He looked up at her, and for once, she didn’t see the tattoos lining his face, only his eyes, piercing her. “I swore I would never give them anything,” he said. “Not even to save my own life. But instead, I’ve given them everything that made me human.”

“You didn’t give them anything,” Rojer said. “I was the one that took the circle.” Leesha’s hands tightened on her bowl, but she said nothing.

The Warded Man shook his head. “I facilitated it,” he said. “I knew how you felt. Giving them to you was the same as giving them to the corelings.”

“They would have continued to prey on the road,” Rojer said. “The world is better without them.”

The Warded Man nodded. “But that’s no excuse for giving them to demons,” he said. “I could as easily have taken the circle—killed them even—face-to-face, in the light of day.”

“So you went out there tonight out of guilt,” Leesha said. “Why all the times before? Why this war on corelings?”