Friedrich accepted the words with the barest of nods, his fear and helplessness driven out by the strength of a decision freely and firmly made. He was dead no matter what he did, so he would die doing what he had tried to do nine hundred years ago: stop Teufel.
"You must go soon," Maja said. "I know you do not want to leave your responsibilities here, or us in these times of strife, but it is the duty and honor of all the children of shadow to hear their fate, and you must go before you are too late."
"But I don't turn nineteen for another month, and then I have a whole year—"
Maja lifted her hand, silencing him. "When the weather is good and the travel easy, it takes two months to reach Sonnenstrahl. Less, of course, if you have a horse, but we cannot spare one for you. When the weather is as foul as this? It will take much, much longer, David. You must go now so that there is time aplenty should something in your journey go wrong. You never should have waited this long."
"Reimund was going to take me; we should have left weeks ago," David said.
"I know, and I am sorry, but life goes on and time slips away, and you must leave."
David nodded and rose. "Very well. I will settle things today and leave in the morning."
"You should take the sorcerer with you," she murmured softly. "He frightens people."
"He's been nothing but kind!" David protested. "He fixed the barrier. He fixed the weather long enough for us to better prepare against it! Ever since he's been able to move he's done nothing but help."
"He's different," Maja said, voice still quiet, but firm. "Different is not the way of our land, and eventually something will go very wrong and that sorcerer and you will be the ones most hurt. Leave, David. Go to Unheilvol and take him with you."
David didn't reply, just stormed out. He pulled up the hood of his cloak as he trekked across the village to his home, wincing at the cold wind that threw snow and ice into his face. The door blew out of his hands as he pushed it open, banging against the opposite wall. Heaving an aggravated sigh, David pushed it shut, then stripped off his gloves and cloak and went to the stove to thaw.
"I take it your meeting with Maja did not go well," Sasha murmured from behind him, making David jump.
He flushed, and then rolled his eyes. "She insists I leave
now—
well, in the morning—to go to Unheilvol. Says I should take you with me."
Sasha's mouth curved slightly. "Making the locals nervous, am I? But I should be going anyway, now that I am mostly healed, thanks to you. The least I can do is serve as your guard to Unheilvol."
David blinked at that, realizing Sasha was right; he hadn't scheduled the journey and requested an escort. He would have had to travel entirely alone—but then again, it hardly mattered when the barriers seemed to be down everywhere except Black Hill. Without Sasha's help, they'd be in as much danger as everyone else. Setting aside the rambling thoughts, he said, "I would appreciate the escort. The Sentinels … I don't know how you aren't afraid of them."
"I feel I've dealt with worse," Sasha said softly, eyes going distant even as he set the kettle on the stove next to a pot of stew. "The memories are locked away, but the feelings associated with them are not entirely gone. Sentinels mean nothing to me; they're only beasts." He moved away to fetch tea and the loaf of bread and cheese someone had given him in payment for help.
He was going to miss Sasha, David realized. Leaving Black Hill meant that, in a few months, Sasha would be gone forever—probably would get his memories back once he ran across another sorcerer or reached the priests of Unheilvol. Then he would sneer at his memories of an idiot village boy who presumed too much and spoke out of turn.
"I suppose I should begin packing," David said with a sigh. "Not that I have much to pack, but we will definitely need whatever foodstuffs we can muster." He nibbled on his lower lip, thinking of what he had to trade and who would be willing to part with food. What little coin he had was better saved for when he reached Two Mill, where he could replenish at actual shops.
Sasha returned to the stove to fetch the boiling water, pouring tea and then exchanging the kettle for the pot to dish out stew. "Sit, eat. I traded for plenty of food today—enough to see us decently fed for a few weeks, and by then we should reach another place to resupply, yes? Where is my map …" He finished a bite of stew, then stood up and went to his saddlebags. "That's strange," he said after a moment, standing up with a folded map in one hand. "My compass is miss … ah, I bet it was lost in the snow. I had just pulled it out to verify where I was going when that Sentinel came out of nowhere."
"Compass?" David echoed, thinking of the gift still tucked away under the bed, never to be given to Reimund. It hurt still, to think about him—hurt a lot. But Reimund would have been the first to get mad at him for brooding. He would also have yelled about something going to waste.
Standing up, David went to the bed and crawled under it to get the package he had tucked away there. Pulling it out, he handed the cloth wrapped bundle to Sasha. "Here, you may as well have this, if it's a compass you need. It will just go to waste, otherwise."
"Was this for …? I could not take it."
"He wouldn't want it sitting around not being used," David said, throat getting tight. He thrust the package at Sasha, then resumed his seat and drank his tea.
Sasha stared at him a moment, then gave one of his slow, thoughtful, accepting nods. He unwrapped the old rag and scrap of fur in which David had wrapped the compass and pulled it out. The burnished bronze gleamed in the light of the stove. Sasha traced the etched cover, then thumbed it open, a smile overtaking his face. Looking up again, he said, "It's handsome, better than the one I had even. Thank you."
David flushed and looked down, smiling a bit as he set aside his tea and went back to his stew. They finished the meal in silence, and David set to work cleaning up supper while Sasha began to pack. When he was done with cleaning the dishes, David began readying the house for a long absence, putting things away, setting aside food that wouldn't keep so he could give it to others, and giving the entire room a thorough cleaning.
By the time he was done, he wished the weather was warm enough for a dip in the river. Instead, he just set a large pot of water to heat. "I set wash water to warm," he said to Sasha. "I'm going to give this food away and say goodbye to Killian."
Sasha nodded, and David gathered up the food and left, slowly trudging across the village to where Killian's house was located behind the blacksmith. He rapped on the door and smiled in greeting at Killian's mother, Gertrude, when she opened the door.
"Hello, David," she said cautiously, which hurt. Killian's family had always been friendly to him, always invited him inside to warm up, have a cup of cider … but since Reimund, since Sasha, they had been much cooler. Instead of being offered warmth and cider, he was left standing there, Gertrude clearly wishing he would say his peace and depart.
"I'm leaving tomorrow for Unheilvol," David said stiffly. "I came to give you my perishables, but since you clearly have no need of them—"
Gertrude stepped back and beckoned him. "Come in, come in, lad. Killian is out back fetching wood from the shed. He'll be here in a moment. I take it you're wanting to say goodbye? Set the food on the table, there. Thank you for giving it to us."
David nodded.
Going to the fireplace—a luxury David had always envied them—she swung out a small caldron and ladled hot cider into a mug. She handed the mug to him, and mustered a faded smile. "Drink, warm up. I'm sorry about Reimund, sweet."
"Me too," David said quietly. "Thank you for the cider."
She nodded and wiped her hands restlessly on her apron, then bustled back to the cooking area and began to put away everything he had brought her. "That strange sorcerer going with you, lad?"
"Yes. He says it's long past time he finally went home and resumed his regular duties," David said.
Gertrude nodded, but didn't reply, busy sorting things in the little pantry cabinet in one corner. The door banged open before David could think of something to fill the silence, and Killian burst in as if the winter wind were chasing him. He stacked firewood haphazardly against a wall near the fireplace, then rounded on David. "There you are! You've been spending so much time with that fancy sorcerer of yours, I thought you'd left me behind! Decided I'm good enough again?"
"Killian!" Gertrude said sharply. "If you do not stop behaving so rudely I will send you right back outside and make you stay there until I feel like letting you in again."
"Yes, Ma," Killian replied petulantly. Turning back to David, he said, "So why did you come by? Want to go checking traps with me tomorrow? Dad is going to be busy—"
"I can't," David cut in. "I came to say goodbye. I have to go to Unheilvol to hear my fate. We're leaving at first light."
Killian froze, staring at him—and then exploded in anger, lunging forward and punching David in the face. "You're running off with that stupid, pretty-faced sorcerer! I knew it! So typical, meet a pretty fancy and run away at the first chance! He's an evil, conniving sorcerer and you're a fool! I hope he leaves you stranded and alone like you deserve!" He kicked David hard in the shin, then hit him in the stomach before bolting off.
David stared after him, stunned and hurt in ways that had nothing to do with Killian's blows. "I—what—I'm going to hear my fate, not running away with Sasha! What in the name of shadows was that all about?"
Gertrude clucked, torn between defending her hurt son and amusement at … something, clearly, but David had no idea what. "David, lad, you must be the only one in the village who
hasn't
noticed my son is a bit sun-dazed by you."
"What?" David asked, feeling his face go hot. "He is not!"
"Oh, yes, he is," Gertrude said, bracing her hands on her hips. "He's been a right terror ever since that sorcerer started moving about. Never has anything nice to say and more than a few crude things that are angering his father to no end. That sorcerer is handsome, educated, and seems in no hurry to leave your bed—"
"It's not like that!" David said.
Gertrude snorted at that and finally went back to kneading the dough that had gone untouched since David's arrival. "That's your age showing, then. Get on with you; Killian won't be coming back. He'll be here when you get back, though. You two can work it out then."
"Tell him I said goodbye and I'll miss him—a lot," David said. "Goodbye, Gertrude. Thank you." He fled, face still flushed as he walked home. The smell of tea washed over him as he stepped inside, comforting and familiar, momentarily making him forget his embarrassment.
But the sight of Sasha in only breeches and stockings, still sorting out the rest of his clothes, brought everything Killian and Gertrude had said slamming back to the forefront of his mind. Because, of course, he and Sasha hadn't done anything. Sasha was a sorcerer, and David nothing. He was a plain, simple village boy exactly like dozens of others. Sasha was beautiful, older, brave enough to travel alone, and strong enough to cast a protective barrier or stop the snow. Even the Sentinels did not frighten Sasha.
He would
never
think of David as anything, except maybe the boy who had taken care of him while he was bedridden. That didn't stop David from thinking about things he barely even understood. Things the older men whispered about, things he'd seen once or twice—kisses and once he'd caught Helga and Rufus in the village stable doing much more—but never had a chance to do.
Things that apparently Killian … ugh, that was just too weird a thought. Killian was his friend, maybe his best friend, but David didn't want to kiss him or anything. No, if he was going to kiss somebody, he wanted it to be somebody like Sasha. Older, knowledgeable, somebody who knew how to get something done and wouldn't say reckless, careless things that got other people hurt. Someone steady and reliable.
But he was pretty certain people like that didn't want anything to do with a young fool like him.
"You look like you've been scorched down to the bone," Sasha said.
David shook himself. "Not really. Killian is mad I'm leaving."
Sasha gave him one of those half-smiles that made it so hard not to stare at him, pulling his shirt on as he said, "Jealous you're travelling, I would imagine. Probably thinks you'll find something or someone who'll make you want to stay with them and never come back here. That's the usual fear of those left behind, that they'll be forgotten. Too often, though, the Killians of the world are correct: people leave little villages and never return. Life is bigger and brighter in large cities. It takes a long time for some people to realize that doesn't always mean better."
"I plan on coming back," David said.
"You are going to learn your fate," Sasha reminded him gently. "You don't necessarily know what you'll be doing."
David flinched and fell silent.
He looked up when a hand cupped the back of his head, fingers gently combing through his hair for a brief moment. "Fires warm and calm you," Sasha said, smiling gently when David looked up. Strangely, the words did make him feel calmer and warmer. They were so close he could scarcely breathe, was afraid he would give away the silly thoughts always lurking at the back of his mind. "Whatever guides your steps, David—fate, chaos, a little of both—what comes will come and rarely can it be faced until it does come. Live in today, not in tomorrow."
"I'll try," David said.
Sasha nodded. "Wash up, and then I think it's time for bed, so we can leave bright and early tomorrow. A pity I've lost my horse, but I suppose as bad as the weather has been, it would be of little use to us. Hopefully we can obtain a couple once we reach Oak Hill."
"Should be able to," David said, and he moved to obey, stripping off and washing quickly, shivering until he managed to pull on warm clothes. He added a bit more wood to the fire and carefully closed the stove up, then locked the door, checked the fur covering the window, and blew out the lamps before he finally crawled into bed beside Sasha.