Chapter 28: Ch28 Cornered
Two weeks on.
The square was teeming with life, the sound of laughter filling the air as sunlight streamed down in blinding sheets. Two children weaved through the throng, dodging legs and threatening to knock over a merchant’s stand of apples.
"Mind it, you little scamps!" the man snarled, waving his fist and yet smiling all the same.
The girl, breathlessly laughing, bumped into a solid shape. She stumbled—only to be caught by a steadying hand on her shoulder.
"Careful there," a calm voice said.
She blinked up at Luther. His silver-sky hair was tousled, his sharp eyes softened by the faintest of smiles.
"Your guys might get into trouble if you’re not careful," he teased.
The two children—her older brother trailing behind—snickered. "Okay, Mister Luther!" they chorused before running off again, their laughter vanishing into the crowd.
Luther chuckled under his breath, raising a hand in a lazy wave.
For a second, he stood there, soaking up the rhythm of the square. Merchants shouted their wares, the smell of bread drifting out of the bakery, and a bard strummed a tune by the fountain. Life here was. simple. Peaceful. He yawned, his stiff joints cracking as he stretched his arms overhead.
"Finally," he growled, rolling his shoulders. "Two weeks locked up in that damn bed. I thought I was gonna grow roots."
The words were honey on his tongue, even though they were followed by a groan. His body was twisted, his back hurting, but the chill in his lungs made him feel alive.
He rested his head, remembering Mari and Jobin waiting outside his door. The memory brought a grin to his mouth.
’Don’t you dare get up,’" Luther mimicked in Mari’s annoyed tone, and then dropped back into Jobin’s gravelly growl. "’If you so much as sneeze, boy, I’ll tie you back down myself.’"
He huffed and shook his head. "Those two."
But his smile weakened as his thoughts strayed.
The cloaked mage. The one Mariana had taken.
He remembered clearly: the acrid smell of burnt magic, the ropes glowing as they tightened with every struggle. The mage had glared through his hood, teeth bared.
"You think this binds me?!" the man had spat, voice sharp as broken glass. "Pathetic trick, witch."
Mariana had only smiled, tilting her head with dangerous sweetness. "You’ll talk soon enough."
"Talk?" The mage gave a harsh laugh that rasped in Luther’s ears. "Why would I waste words on insects?" His eyes turned to Luther then, dark with contempt. "Yes... you specifically. Just a kid clinging to borrowed power."
Luther had raised an eyebrow. "Whoa. Bug, yeah. That’s a new one. I get ’brat’ typically. At least attempt to make it consistent."
The mage sneered. "Sneer away, lad. You won’t live long enough for your mockery to matter."
Something in Mariana’s face shifted. The saucy curve of her lips went flat and thin. Her fingers cramped—and the radiating ropes constricted.
The mage gasped, choking as the bands sank deep into his flesh, his words throttled into croaks.
Luther’s eyes widened. "Oi, Master! I thought interrogation was all about gathering information, not breaking his neck!"
"Whoops," Mariana said breezily, watching as the mage convulsed. Her tone was so nonchalant it was chilling. "Must’ve held too tight."
"’Whoops’?" Luther repeated, stunned. "That’s what you use when you drop a plate of food, not when you’re strangling someone!
The mage tried to scream, and the voice gagged in his throat. One last crackle of the ropes, and his form relaxed, dead.
Mariana rubbed her hands. "Problem solved."
"Problem solved?!" Luther glared at the body. "He literally just called me a bug and now he’s dead. You can’t tell me you didn’t kill him just because of that!"
Her lips trembled. "Maybe.".
"Unbelievable..."
Luther growled, rubbing his face. "Remind me never to crack bug jokes in front of you."
But she hadn’t joked about the rest. Amid boasts and threats, the mage had already let leak out enough: they’d been dispatched to kill Luther and the others if ever they left the forest. Mariana admitted to having killed four more before they’d even managed to get near.
Even now, walking through the square, the memory clung to him like smoke.
He was not surprised, though. Not really.
"This world..." He kicked a loose stone out along the cobblestones. "This is still a book. And the protagonist’s path? Never easy."
He said it out loud as if goading fate itself. Aithur, Liliana—of course peril would follow them. It always did. What was a hero’s story without ambushes and assassins?
But the idea that comforted him—what lightened his chest—was uncomplicated:
It wasn’t my road.
Not anymore.
He came to a sudden stop in the middle of the square. And then, with the complete absence of shame only Luther could, he threw up his arms and twirled around in a small circle, doing a goofy dance.
Mine neither! Mine neither!" he grumbled to himself, tapping his feet on the cobblestones in a beat nobody else could detect. The curious glances of a pair of passing merchants did not bother him.
Freedom. That’s how it tasted.
He stopped his fool dance outside a hotel, corner of his mouth quivering when one of the clerks raised an inquiring eyebrow.
"Mister Luther!" he shouted with a great grin. "What’s making you so cheerful today?"
Luther tilted his head, grinning still, but only shrugged with dramatic secrecy. "Trade secret."
He began to continue on down the road—
And halted abruptly.
The wheels’ rumble skidded to a halt. The sunny smile of the clerk faltered as a carriage halted right in front of them. Its colors glowed in the sunlight—blue and black, extremely polished, the kind of dignified carriage that didn’t belong in a modest town square like this.
The clerk hurried to greet the driver, bowing in respect. "Welcome, sirs!"
But Luther’s stomach dropped. His heart dropped with a heavy thud that seemed to echo in his ears.
".No. No, no, no." His voice was so low, it was not even really statements, but more of a prayer. "They’ve already gone. They must have gone. Tell me they went."
He turned around, trying to blend in the crowd of people, but too late.
The hotel doors opened.
Two figures stepped out.
Liliana, sunlight dancing in her hair, her face radiant with a loveliness that defied the circles beneath her eyes. Aithur, ever-tall and confident, standing just behind her, his eyes scanning the street like a hawk.
And then, Aithur saw him.
The boy’s lips curled into a half-smile. He raised his hand in a loose wave, voice calling out clearly.
"Hey, brat."
The world stopped going round for a moment around Luther. His shoulders stiffened, his head spinning a thousand miles per second. The crowd continued to move, laughter and chatter swirling, but to him—everything was centered on that one greeting.
He could feel it already. His so-called liberty crumbling at the seams.
This bloody book.