SFD – Something completely different

The caked earth parted in gentle troughs beneath his touch.  He twitched his fingers, closing the marks of his presence and jerked his hand back.  Even so little effort left him numb and aching to his elbow and he could still feel the desperate hunger of the earth through his leather shoes.  He shook his hand, as if he could fling away the tingling pain like water from his fingertips, and rose, stepping back into the shadow of the rocks.

***

Outside of the longhouse, he scuffed one leather sole against the smooth stone path and smirked as Cael spun, his wings snapping half open, catching the faint torchlight through the windows like a web of gossamer.  Cael had the better darksight, but Teran could still coax enough from the earth to silence his footfalls.  The irritated scowl on Cael’s face when he recognized Teran and shrugged his wings back tight against his back gave Teran a warm tingle of juvenile pleasure.

As he strode past the air guardian, Teran slapped the lean, muscled arm still cradling a crossbow.  “Good eye, old man.  You almost noticed me coming that time.”

The older warrior’s silver eyes narrowed dangerously, and Teran grinned then sauntered up the stone steps to the heavy, wooden door.  As his hand touched the latch, Cael’s whispery voice floated toward him out of the darkness.

“Timor is looking for you.”

The words licked at the back of Teran’s neck with an icy tongue, and his grin stiffened.  “Well,” he forced lazy arrogance into his tone, “I imagine he’ll find me, then.”

“He usually does,” came the breathy reply.  Teran pushed the door open, no longer trying to smile.

Torches flickered lethargically in iron sconces, casting meager light in the large chamber.  Inside the door, Soli crouched on a bench, bare toes curling around its edge, using a boar brush to sweep dust from a pair of leather shoes, twin to Teran’s own.  His eyes darted up at Teran’s entrance and then quickly and pointedly returned to his task.  From the shadowy corner, Chalyb’s rusty voice rose over the incessant sound of Soli’s brushing.

“Timor is looking for you.”

Muscles jumped in Teran’s jaw.  “I’ve heard,” he ground out, shrugging out of his cloak and tossing it onto a peg.  He shoved his shoes off roughly, leaving them, dusty, beneath another bench, ignoring Soli’s soft gasp.  Barefoot, he crossed the slatted wooden floor, feeling the pull of the earth, even through the six inches of timber resting atop it.

Teran strode into the warm heat of the kitchen.  The hearth fires still glowed, though, like the torches, their light was anemic.  A tray of loaves drew Teran’s attention, but as he reached for one, a strong hand snatched his wrist and held it, inches from the crusty surface, still warm from the oven.  Teran snarled softly and turned his face toward his captor whose thick fingers were warm where they touched his bare skin.

“Ig…” Teran warned.

Wide copper eyes met his.  “Timor.”

“I know.”  Teran forced a smile.  “I just need a bite for my belly first.”

“Timor said straight away.”

The warmth in the fingers against his wrist was becoming unpleasant and Teran tried to ease himself free without success.  Igni’s grip did not tighten, but remained implacably firm.  And hot.  Teran hissed.

“You’re burning me, Ig,” he said gently, trying to twist his arm in the large man’s grip.

Igni looked down at his own hand, then glanced at the nearest hearth.  The room brightened and a wave of heat broke across Teran’s face as the fire flared and the grip on his wrist cooled.

“You shouldn’t do that, Ig,” Teran said softly.

Ig nodded slowly, “Timor said straight away.”

Teran sighed.  “I get that, Ig.  I’ll go.  Let me go.”

“Don’t reckon I should do that.”

“Why not?”

“Timor said straight away.”

Teran let his breath out in a hiss.  “Right,” he said sharply.  “By all means.  Take me to Timor.  But let’s be on with it before you roast my bloody arm.”

The fingers were already warming again on his skin.  Ig glanced down again, then toward the fire, but Teran threw out his free hand.  “No, no, no!”  The copper eyes slowly tracked back to Teran’s face.  “It’s all right, Ig.  It’s fine.  Just… Take me to to Timor.”

Ig blinked once, slowly, his thick lips twisting into an moue of regret.  “If I don’t take you, I reckon I’ll be next.”

Teran laid his free hand atop the one on his wrist, the skin beneath his palm growing warmer by the moment.  “I know,” he said softly.  “I’ll go.  You can take me.  Let me go and I’ll come along willingly.”

Ig stared into Teran’s eyes for a long moment, and Teran struggled to keep the pain from his face as hot spots under Ig’s fingertips became unbearable.

“You’re not lying.”

“No, Ig.  I don’t lie to you.”

“You did once.”  There was no judgment in the tone, simply a statement of fact, but Teran winced.

“Yes, once” he said softly.  “But never again.”

Ig nodded and abruptly Teran’s arm was free.  He grimaced and tucked his wrist against his ribs, tugging his sleeve down before Ig could see the red weals. He sighed heavily, cast a last longing look at the loaves of bread, and squared his shoulders.

“All right, Ig.  Take me to Timor.”

• 
• 
• 
• 
• 
• 
• 

Like