Free The Last Garrison (Dungeons & Dragons Novel) by Matthew Beard

advice.
    At first, Pyla had complained about his absences, recognizing as Nergei did that the sword and bow Padlur carried were their best weapons against whatever dangers the mountain might have held, but even those objections faded fast. The mountain did not seem threatening, and even as their distance from the safety of Haven increased, there didn’t seem to be any worse waiting for them. At night, their fire heldback the darkness, and while they heard the howls of wolves upon the heights and the sound of other beasts moving in the trees, nothing approached. Nergei hadn’t necessarily slept well, but that had more to do with the hard ground and the cold air than any fear, and that too puzzled him.
    He found himself walking during the day, hanging behind Luzhon, afraid to speak to her, thinking,
I am not afraid, I am not afraid
. Repeating it not as an affirmation but in unending wonder, and where did his new confidence come from?
    The fire he felt in the clearing with the kenku, he had thought had left him after he had burned through the bird man, after he had set the tall grasses to smoldering, but he was once again able to feel it, something heating up within his blood. It wasn’t anywhere near the level it had been when the flames had arced from his hands, but it had only diminished, and if he concentrated it was there to be felt.
    As he walked, he focused on that feeling, focused on isolating some part of it, because it was more than one thing. It was a heat, yes, but it was also an icy shiver, was also a darkness floating in the hollows of his chest. Always before, Nergei had felt constrained, trapped by his circumstances, but his new feelings felt reckless, dangerous, made him feel reckless and dangerous, too.
    Control
, he thought.
I must remain in control of myself
.
    He thought that, but still he teased at the feelings, like a loose tooth better left alone, like a scab that demanded to be picked. There was the taste of acid under his tongue, never felt before, and lights that could be made to dance before his eyes, blinding sparks.
    It was in one of those states, halfway down the mountain, that Nergei found himself when Luzhon spoke to him for the first time on the trek. He had been chasing some sound in his footsteps—something barely there, but that might be able to be amplified, if he could just feel it more, a thunder perhaps—when his concentration was broken by a smell, or rather a scent: Luzhon, beside him.
    He looked up, a guilty flush on his face, as if he’d been caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to be doing, and perhaps it was that, because there was a curious look on the girl’s face.
    “What are you doing, Nergei?” she asked, matching her stride to his, and just like that, the feelings were gone.
    Not gone
, thought Nergei.
Just harder to find, with Luzhon standing there
.
    “What do you mean?” he asked, trying to blank his face of his concentration, to its previous determination.
    “You’re soaked with sweat,” she said, cocking her head at him.
    “I’m just tired,” he stammered, lying at first, but then, as soon as he said it, feeling truly exhausted. He hadn’t realized that chasing the hints of magic had been so tiring, not with the exhilaration there to mask it.
    Exhilaration, and also fear, for so long had his master forbidden him to explore the magic he himself practiced, and—before—Nergei had always obeyed him.
    “Maybe we’ll stop soon,” said Luzhon, smiling. “You’re not the only one.” She adjusted her own pack, hiking it up her shoulders, its weight at least as heavy as Nergei’s, if not heavier. Her green eyes glowed in the lowering light, and Nergei marveled at the muscles in her arms, pushing at the sleeves of her travel clothes. She was stronger than he was, by perhaps a significant margin, and it was a welcome reminder that even if the kenku had not interrupted Kohel’s unwanted advances, chances were that Luzhon could have done so