Jovan's Gaze. Aaron Ph.D. Dov
all of this before. "You and Jeannine, you talk like I am planning on taking the keep as my home. I go there once every year, sometimes twice, and sometimes not at all."
"How many times this year?" He asked.
"This is my second," I muttered.
"Oh?" He knew better.
"Alright, third," I conceded. "The first time, all I did was pass by. I saw it on the horizon, nothing more."
"So why did you go at all?" Erik's question was rather pointed, but I was in no mood to answer it.
"I am heading home," I said dismissively, lifting myself off the ground, and brushing myself off.
I grabbed my pack, closing up the back of it. I fastened my sword back onto my belt. I had no reason to fear much of anything from here all the way home, but still, after so many years of surviving in this ruined land, I was not about to get killed for being foolish and lazy. The sword's weight felt reassuring on my waist, the pommel familiar in my hand.
Erik stood up, his age betrayed in the way he had to roll to one side and use the momentum to lift himself from the ground. As a younger man, I clearly recalled how he would leap to his feet without effort, ready to go and smiling at his own prowess. Now getting up was harder, the scars of battle competing with the scars of aging. I helped him under one arm, and he accepted it without complaint. Once, he would have batted my hand away.
"I want you to take a break," he said as he brushed dirt off his pants. "I want you to stay in the village for a few months."
I shook my head. "That is not what I do."
He smirked, raising a bushy eyebrow barely seen behind his mane of gray-streaked red hair.
"I get paid to do this, Erik," I protested. "Not everyone is lucky enough to have what you do. I need to feed myself, and the mill only pays Jeannine with food. That does not pay for anything else I need."
Erik shook his head. "One of the few advantages to the exodus is that nobody wants for a place to live, and none of the nobles are around to collect taxes on the land. You do not need anything beyond food and clothing, and you have both."
I waved him off. "I want to live, not just exist."
"Oh," he said with a knowing-nod. "I see. Yes, I understand. You want more. How much more?"
I stopped, held still for a moment. Since the war, the plagues, and the exodus they caused, there were few greater accusations than to be called greedy. Lust for power and dominance was exactly what had brought us to ruin, Esis and Krona both. To be asked "how much more do you want?" was really to be asked "do you wish to be like the people who did this to our land?"
Erik took my silence as leave to continue speaking.
"I think you like the thrill of it, Jovan." He said accusingly.
I stepped back a step, looking northward in the direction of the keep.
"I think the war was not enough for you," he said, "and you want more. You are like some fool inching toward a flame to see how close he can come before he gets burned."
Without thinking, I rubbed my hand, the memory of the not-burn tingling my skin. I shook it off, and the dust on my coat with it. "Nonsense."
He smirked again. "Really?"
I nodded slightly. "Really, Erik."
His nod was decisive. "Excellent. Then I am sure you will be happy to help me in the village for the next few months. I have a long list of repairs and it is going to be a long winter, so you can help me. The cold slows me down these days, and I can always use a good worker. I will see to it that you get paid, and Jeannine can stop bothering me."
"Ah," I said with a knowing nod. "This is her talking."
"No, this is my idea. I want you to stay close for a while." His smirk was brief. "It is just good fortune that it will please my daughter."
"Trying to get those marriage bands around our wrists?" I retorted.
Erik stepped in then, grasping my arm with his powerful hand.
"Hey, Jovan, I am serious about this." His look was partially grim, partially concerned. "This is not about you making Jeannine an honest woman. Right now, truth be told, you are in no position to ask her. I want you around because you need to be away from places like this."
He looked about him, but we both knew to what he was referring. He wanted me away from Skyreach Keep.
He continued. "The villagers are starting to avoid you. I know all about the last time you went to the tavern, and started telling your stories. By the time you finished telling them, the only person left to hear it was Gern, and he was not pleased to see all of his customers walking out on him."
"What are you trying to say?" I asked, trying to pull away, but held fast by Erik's grip.
"Nothing you do not already know," he replied. "Nothing you have not already said to yourself. Nothing Jeannine has not already said, either. More and more, people do not want you around. They are afraid that the places you go are twisting you. If they knew how often you went to the keep, they would drive you from the town."
I shook my head. "You would not let them."
"Oh?" His eyes narrowed. "Are you sure? I am one of the few people willing to give you this chance. Even Jeannine has her limits, patient as she is."
My jaw clenched at that. Though our time together was hardly the dizzying, young love of years past, we had grown to accept each others company and warmth. I did not relish a day in our village without her smile or embrace.
Erik could see that thought in me, as though he read it upon a page. "So take this chance. Stay around the village, help me do my work, and maybe by the time the deep snows melt away in the spring, the people around you will actually want to be around you."
I swallowed hard. I was not at all certain that I could avoid the sojourns I so relished, but Erik's tone was enough to make me take stock of what the alternative was.
I simply nodded. In the back of my mind, I even agreed with him. We headed south, towards home.
***
"Hold!" He whispered with a fierceness that stopped me in mid-stride. "Listen."
I did not ask what was wrong. I was not so foolish as that. I listened, as commanded. He had no authority over me, not since the earliest days of my service, but his instincts were screaming for his attention, and I knew well enough to listen to their cries. The journey from the river to this small forest had been a silent two days, with barely a dozen words exchanged. Now though, our eyes spoke back and forth across the distance between us, leaving behind the strained silence that had come since the argument at the river.
I turned my head left then right, slowly and steadily. I listened, picking up every sound around me. As I had been trained by the Royal Guard, I imagined myself at the center of an arena, every obstacle around me, every tree and rock, every bird and man, all of it, as adversaries. In my mind's eye I saw myself from above, as though I were a small figure upon a war planning table. My ears and eyes filled in the spaces around me, as I pinpointed the trees and rocks, and the sounds which had called Erik's attention.
Growling. I could hear it on all sides, now. It was a low, quiet growl. The growl came from many throats, perhaps as many as fifty. Most of the growls were behind us, but several came from my left and right, and a few more in front of us. I heard the rustling of fur, and the scraping sound of claws against rocks, and to my left, against a fallen tree. The growls were not more than fifty feet away.
"Wolves." Erik's voice was low, rumbling. I knew the tone. He was putting his mind