Wednesday Briefs: Broken Path, Starless Tail Chapter 23

 

“I don’t know, it’s your mission.”

He was too tired and too frustrated to be indignant. Well, too indignant. “What do you mean, you don’t know? Aren’t you supposed to be my guide?” He’d taken that to mean that Parallax was sending him someone that would know where to find the star that had been taken from him, but he was getting more and more of an idea that Valrinda was more along for the ride.

Not that he wasn’t a wealth of knowledge about the world that Beckett found himself in. He’d have had no idea where to go or how to find the road, how to trade to get money, his new clothes and stuff. Not to mention he’d probably have been killed by one beast or another. There were probably smaller things that didn’t come near a dragon but would consider a human a tasty snack.

“I feel like we’ve had this conversation before.” Valrinda curled around him, tucking a wing near his feet.

“Maybe. I’m just… lost.” Maybe it was what that asshole had said. “How in the hell am I supposed to find a star? What if it isn’t here?” He’d had that vision, or whatever it was, but what had it really shown him?

“I believe in you.” Valrinda laid his head down, creating a circle around him where he was nestled in the hay.

It really was the worst bed. Loud, stiff, and a lot of little pieces were stabbing him through the towel he’d put over it. His feet ached, but at least he was clean, and didn’t have to worry about something coming out the darkness to attack them.

 

Valrinda’s roar and the jerk of his wing from around Beckett sent him tumbling off the pile of hay onto the hard packed dirt. “Wha—?” Beckett jackknifed up and whipped his head around, trying to see in the dark stable. There were no lights coming in through the thick glass windows, so sunrise was still far off and the magic light that had been up in the corner was gone or blocked by Valrinda.

He could hear scuffling, the harsh sounds of something breathing in a sharp whistle, and then metal on metal. Or… metal on scales? Was Valrinda being attacked. “What’s happening?”

“Stay there!”

It wasn’t like Beckett had a choice. He couldn’t see what was going on or help Valrinda if he didn’t have the ability to move without killing himself in the pitch black. Why the fuck had he thought he didn’t have to worry about something attacking them. Of course that jinxed them.

Slowly creeping backward in a crouch, feeling his way and hoping he wouldn’t run into something he didn’t expect, Beckett tried to find the corner of the big stall he’d been sharing with Valrinda. His fingers brushed the rough wood, and he slid alongside it after he found the short wall that bordered their area. It felt like flimsy protection, but it was all he had. Maybe he should have gotten a room like the innkeeper had suggested so at least he’d had a door with a lock.

Or maybe he’d be hurt, captured, or dead if he was the target of the attack. Beckett smacked himself on the forehead and leaned into the corner. He had to wake up and get smart. Who knew they were there? The wisps, but he didn’t believe they would send someone to attack them. They could have done it themselves at any point, including when Beckett had been alone while Valrinda was flying above them. So who else? Just the innkeeper.

“Val—” Wind whistled in front of him, and Beckett jerked back and smacked his head on the wall.

“No!” The shout cut him off, then a crash echoed through the stable. The walls shook and light from the lamps on the street shone in through the ragged hole in the wall. Valrinda was gone, and so was whoever or whatever was attacking him.

All except for a pale white arm on the ground at Beckett’s feet, the hand clutching a metal spike and elbow joint glistening white and red as it dripped in the dirt.

Beckett’s mouth dropped open and he heaved. Bile burned up his throat, and he turned, vomit spewing as he clung to the wall.

That spike wasn’t clean; it looked like the attacked had stabbed Valrinda. Was that why he shouted? Was he dying right then, out in the street all by himself while Beckett puked his guts out like a wimp? Damn it. Beckett dragged the back of his hand over his mouth, swallowing convulsively, and gingerly stepped over the nasty mess in the stall. Snagging his gear, he crept toward the hole in the wall.

His chest rose in short, sharp bursts. He tried to listen, but Beckett couldn’t hear anything over the blood pounding in his ears. Glancing around, he spotted a sharp stabbing tool thing for picking up stuff out of stalls hanging on the wall that hadn’t fallen down. “Better than nothing,” he muttered. He grabbed it in two hands, trying to figure out how to hold it, then approached the hole again.

Jaw clenched, knuckles white, Beckett jumped out of the hole in the wall and into the street… “Ah!” he barked.

At nothing.

No attacker with matching milky white flesh missing an arm and dripping blood. No Valrinda sprawled out dead or waiting for him to come out so they could find a safe place to hide.

Not another being appeared on the street, despite all the noise of the fight and the wood board scattered everywhere from a giant dragon and something else bursting through a wall. The lights flickered white gold against the velvet blue of the night sky, but Beckett didn’t see Valrinda flying over the city either.

He was all alone.