Outside, the snow fell in sheets. The lights burning on Joachim’s large estate were beacons of warmth glowing dimly in the frigid curtain the winter storm had drawn across the world. Outside, the temperature had dropped precipitously as wave after wave of thick, dark bottomed clouds rolled over the Korse Mountains and moved in a solid lumbering line on the Valleys.
Niam inhaled the cold night air. The falling snow seemed to have scrubbed it clean. Now that his stomach was empty, he felt loads better. Not for the first time over the past month, he entertained the fantasy of just running away.
He had to admit, however, that he had muscles now. He was never going to be able to wield a sword like Davin or even Maerillus. Yet Niam found under Joachim and Kine’s tutelage that he did have an aptitude for thin bladed swords and the long staff.
Kine even told him that given enough years and training, he might be considered mediocre one day. Which was, of course, Kine’s way of offering support and encouragement. Joachim followed that with the advice that, “You’re only able to rise above mediocre if you live past your first sword fight.”
Watching Davin fight was like watching mythological warrior. His gift had begun altering his natural fighting abilities even without tapping into his powers. Niam supposed this was similar to his own prophetic dreams and his ability to sense and see spellwork without thinking . . . or Maerillus’s ability to remain hard to see or hear without thinking about it.
As Niam stood there allowing the cold air to push him to his endurance point, he wondered what the three of them might be able to do when they had time to practice and explore their endowments.
Presently, though, Niam’s everything hurt.
Slowly, he closed the door behind himself and limped back to the sitting room. When he arrived, Kirse was drawing two red cranberry honey cakes from his traveling pack. “These are for you and Jolan,” he said, sitting them down in front of Joachim and Gaius.
Gaius rubbed his hands together enthusiastically. “One of my favorites,” he said. “And I thought you were beginning to sour on us.”
Kirse grabbed his bags with a grunt, and looked at Niam and his friends. “Eat something light. Drink water. Take a day off,” was all he said.
Niam’s stomach began quivering again. “No problem there,” he said as the physician left without another word.
As Joachim and Gaius cut up their gift, the Count looked up at them. “Bedtime gentlemen. You’ve got a busy day tomorrow.”
“I thought Kirse said we needed a day to rest,” Niam spluttered.
“You rest after you die,” Joachim told him bluntly. “And you make the person who kills you pay for it before you go.”
“Trust me, I will,” Niam said morosely.
Joachim and Gaius laughed hard over that, and the three of them gathered themselves up and warily made their way gingerly to their rooms.