Chapter Eight

Sylaise had been stalking through the snow on the road and trying to ignore Ebon since they'd passed through the gate half an hour before. The cloak she had was not meant for winter winds, and she was going numb from the cold. In her misery, she'd been thinking of the room at The Painted Widow and wishing bitterly that she'd listened to her friend and stayed in the night before. The snow was nearly knee deep and she struggled as the wind, catching her cloak like a sail and pulling her sideways; she stumbled but before she could fall, a pair of strong arms caught her and the broad-shouldered man moved to her other side, breaking the gale of the wind with his body.

"So are you going to ignore me the entire night?" He looked down at her and she could make out his expression in the dark - he was worried. That surprised her.

"I'm not ignoring you," she scowled at him. Or, the thought came unbidden to her mind, was she frowning at her lie?

Ebon stared down at her, he was head and shoulders taller and once she'd thought that was the most wonderfully dashing thing about him but now it just made him big. He watched her face and she glared, suddenly afraid he might read the thoughts on her face but if he knew what she wondered, he did not give any indication. After a minute, he sighed and reached up to his neck where he undid the clasp of his heavy fur cloak then dropped it around her shoulders without a word. It was heavy, she sank deeper into the snow but it was so warm and she couldn't help the sigh of relief.

He smiled slightly, "You don't have to talk to me, but at least let me help, okay?"

She opened her mouth to argue, then watched the stinging snow blow into him; it frosted his dark hair and armor, making him look like a winter spectre with his beautiful blue eyes… she nodded and rolled her shoulders, pulling the cloak tightly around her body. "Yeah, alright… thanks."

"Sure," he nodded and turned to keep trudging up the road, "we've got another hour at least to go."

She followed and the two plodded on in silence, the only sounds the wind and the crunch of their boots on the icing snow drifts. By the time they found the ramshackle cottage Dyl had directed him to, she was shivering again and Ebon's hair was tipped with ice and snow, his armor was caked with ice and though he had not complained, as they stepped into the meager shelter, she heard his teeth chattering. She watched as he moved immediately to the old hearth and began to clear it, grumbling under his breath and Sylaise couldn't help but notice how his hands shook in the cold.

"Here," she reached over and put her hands on top of his, "just throw some wood in and I'll start it."

He glanced at her then nodded, and tossed several whole logs into the empty space; she muttered the words softly and snapped her fingers and a lively flame burst into being at the center of the wood and began to engulf the frosted fuel with vigor. Heat immediately filled the space between them and the fire and Ebon leaned in, rubbing his hands together and flexing his fingers.

"You're half frozen," she chastised him and struggled to return the cloak to his shoulders.

He shrugged and prodded the logs, shifting them to get the best burn off the wood. "I'll thaw. Thanks, for the fire."

Sylaise nodded and set the pack she'd been carrying to the side of the fireplace, looking around the dirty and barren space curiously. "It's my speciality, after all."

Ebon chuckled and rose, moving to check the space and then he crept back out into the night; he returned with an armload of wood and, with a wide grin, set something down by the firepit. She looked closely, reaching out to peel back what turned out to be a layer of rough cloth wrapped around a half dozen large, smoked and dried fish. She looked up at him with a question on her lips but he saw the expression and laughed.

"You don't think a nice bowl of hot fish stew would warm you up?" She saw he was pulling the pan out of his pack again.

"We just ate, how are you hungry again?" She caught the onion he tossed her and scowled at him.

He shrugged and held out a knife, handle first, and she took it with that same disapproving look. "You want to sleep on a cold, empty stomach, that's you. I'm planning to have a nice hot grub ready when Dyl gets here; no sense letting the night be entirely unpleasant."

She couldn't argue that point, so she started to peel the onion and cut it while he heated the pan and for a few minutes she was quiet, then as she started to drop the onion into the pan and it began to sizzle softly in the heat, she looked at him and asked the question that had plagued her for years. "Was it all a lie?"

Ebon was separating the rings of onion as she sliced it, but he paused and studied her face before he shook his head, "I never lied to you, Syl. Except when I told you it would all be alright… and I didn't mean to, then."

She looked at his eyes, they were fixed on her and she couldn't hold the intense gaze; his face was calm, and she saw the way he tried to hide a frown. Her own frown softened slightly, "Oh, I-" she looked down and cut another slice of the onions, "I didn't expect that."

For a few minutes, the only sounds in the little hovel were the crackling fire and the sound of onions sizzling; Sylaise had finished cutting the onion and didn't know what to do with her hands so she held them out towards the fire to warm herself while Ebon laid a fish in the pan and pushed it further into the fire. He rose and began to unpack the sleeping rolls, laying furs out around the hearth and moved towards the door.

"Don't go!" She twisted sharply to watch him, suddenly anxious to be left alone.

He stopped and looked at her with surprise, "I was going to see about getting the door back in place is all."

"Oh," she chewed her lip and felt silly. "Sorry, I guess I… thank you."

Ebon raised an eyebrow, then set about trying to lash the old beams back to a frame that was equally rotted. "For the door? Sure. I'd rather not freeze and, well, a secure door is… secure."

She giggled softly at his awkward reply, then blushed when he looked at her and ducked her head. "No, well yes. But that's not what I meant, Ebon."

"What'd you mean?" He grunted and she watched him brace his weight on the frozen wood, pulling the twine tight before knotting it.

"You didn't have to help us, but you did; even after I wanted to kill you." She watched him closely but Ebon kept working on the door and only shrugged slightly - he was using his teeth to hold the cord taut as he tied it so she took the opportunity to speak her mind. "I've been angry at you for a long time, Ebon; and maybe I had it all wrong but I can't just… not be mad. And I don't want you to act like we can just go back to how it was so-"

"I don't," he cut her off, dropping the twine as he cut the cord and stepped back to assess his handiwork. She stammered slightly, and he looked at her with a serious expression. "You have every right to hate me, I don't blame you for that - and I'm sorry about the guards in town. I'm bad at bluffing, I couldn't think of anything else to say."

"I was a half-orc, you idiot," she shot back without thought. "You should've called me your sister."

He looked surprised by the derision in her voice, then nodded and stooped to pick up the coil of twine from the floor, shoulders slumped. "Oh. Right."

Sylaise bit her lip and watched as he quietly returned to the fire and turned the fish over. He sat cross legged on the furs and stared at the fire; she looked away, ashamed of her callousness. "I didn't mean-"

"You did," Ebon said flatly and didn't look at her. "You have a lot of things you want to but aren't saying, I get it. Me too. The important one is that I'm sorry; I loved you but I stole from you, and I left without even telling you why. I was young and I was stupid, and I regret it, Syl; but I can't undo it. So it's alright, you don't have to forgive me or like me. Let's just wait for the others."

Sylaise shifted, scooting closer to the fire to get a better look at his face. He had gotten better at hiding his thoughts, when they'd met he'd been an open book but now he just looked tired. And far older than she knew he was. "You loved me?"

His eyes darted to her face and the guarded expression eased slightly when he saw the dumbfounded little smile on her lips. "Yeah," he looked bemused, "I'd never felt like that before. And I was the idiot who ruined it."

She saw his regret before he turned back to the fire, she sat back and pulled her knees up to her chest, hugging them as she pondered. She was still thinking while Ebon flipped the fish again when the door behind them creaked open and like a flash, the young man leapt up and whirled, drawing a sword from his belt so quickly that it flashed red like he'd conjured a handful of flames to wield. She spun, rising to her knees and brought her hands together as she summoned static between her fingers but froze, the arcane words on her lips turning into a cry of surprise as she saw the newcomer.

"Oh!" She scrambled to her feet and ran forward, throwing her arms around the little goblin in relief. "Dag, what happened?"

With-Two-Daggers stumbled under the weight of her pack, and his badger cloak was coated with a thick layer of ice and frost. He was unharmed but looked haggard and did not answer immediately; when she sat back, she saw that he was staring past her with a grim expression on his face. She looked up at Ebon, who was looking right back with wide eyes - and she saw the boy who had stolen her heart and horse, and felt a twist in her chest like a blade.

"Where's Dyl?" Ebon's voice cracked with the emotion he was failing to hold back, and she recognized the fear.

With-Two-Daggers gently pried himself out of her arms and shrugged off her pack, stepping around Sylaise to face the tall man with a weary calm. "Bad men at the gate, attacking the guards and Dyl goes up. Up the wall and roof, chasing the man with the crossbow while I go running. Run, they says, so I run. Run until I can't run, then walk until I smell smoke and find my Eyes-Like-Jewels. You keep her safe, like promised but your friend didn't be following me."

Ebon looked distraught, he sheathed his sword and nodded mutely and looked around like a lost puppy. His eyes landed on Dyl's pack and his face went slack, then he clenched his jaw in determination and reached for it. The other two did not need to look at each other, or speak a word, they acted in unison. The goblin hurled himself over the pack and swatted at Ebon's hands, Sylaise threw her hands up and began to murmur and chant, and the battered door grew dense and thickened, wedging itself into the frame so she was sure he could not open it.

"What are you doing?" He cried, and she glanced back to see he was trying to grab the pack still but With-Two-Daggers would not let him have it. "I have to go back! I have to find Dyl."

Sylaise watched but did not speak, the goblin pushed the grasping hands away and looked up at the boy. "No, you be staying here with us. Waiting, like promised."

Ebon was not convinced and roughly shoved the smaller man aside, With-Two-Daggers caught his wrist in a tight grip with both hands and pulled him around so they were face-to-face, or as near it as the goblin could manage, and gave the boy a disapproving look that caused him to pause.

"I speaking sense, you be listening or big trouble," the goblin warned sternly.

Ebon wavered, Sylaise could see him struggling with some strong emotion, and he shook his head insistently. "You don't understand, I have to go back. They need me."

"Do they?" She had her back pressed to the door when he turned to look at her. "Does Dyl need anyone?"

He laughed at her, his expression was without any amusement. "You don't understand, I have to go back."

She hesitated at the inflection he put into the words; this was not a desire, it was a compulsion, a necessity, and that gave her pause. She wondered what drove him to return to his companion, and felt a jealous spark somewhere in her chest. She ignored that feeling and met his eyes with a resolute set to her jaw. "We're leaving because of you, Ebon. Whatever's going on, Dyl wanted you out of the town. I'm sorry, but Dyl said we leave and I'm not going against them so quick after they spared our lives."

Ebon's jaw clenched, she imagined she could hear his teeth grinding but knew it was likely the fire crackling. He glared at her and whatever kindness had been in his eyes before was gone, there was an icy hate now and if she hadn't been standing against the door, she'd have backed away from him. She wanted to wilt, to cower, but forced herself to hold his gaze and raised her chin slightly in defiance of his anger. For a long moment, nobody moved or spoke, then there was the tell-tale scrape of metal on stone as With-Two-Daggers pulled the pan out of the fire and sniffed at the fish with appreciation.

"Good, we staying. Now sit and eat. Keeping the fire hot, good good." The goblin chattered with his usual fatherly tone and Sylaise watched as Ebon slowly slumped back and sat on the furs, back to the fire and stared at the floor sullenly. 

"If Dyl gets here, the door will open for them. But only them, alright?" She chewed her lip and looked at the two men, hoping this would be good enough.

"Yeah, fine." Ebon seemed to retreat within himself, his face was impassive and his voice was indifferent. He didn't look at her as he answered.

She came forward then and sat on the other side of the goblin and took her portion of the meal gratefully when it was served. The trio ate in near silence then Ebon curled up in his cloak, shut his eyes and seemed to go to sleep though Sylaise watched him for some time before she let herself doze off. When they all woke the next morning, and the wind outside was howling through every crack, stealing the heat from the nearly dead fire; on the hearth sat a cold pan with a portion of fish now frosted and dry. The door was still sealed.