Chapter 14: Truth (Patreon)

It took us the better part of the day to reach our destination, but that was more a function of excessive caution on our part than the distance we had to travel. Not sure who we could trust, we kept to the back alleys and avoided anyone we knew.

The morning’s events had left matters strained between the three of us. Each time I considered rectifying things, I would catch the questioning look in Soren’s eyes and be reminded yet again that he and I had weighty issues to discuss.

Clearing the air, I decided, could wait until later.

Thankfully, in spite of our caution—or because of it—we spotted no further Devils. It seemed Matthew’s group was the only one that had stayed on our trail. We must have lost the others at some point during the night.

It got me wondering about the player, though.

Was he the reason we’d been unable to shake the lead group? What strange player abilities had he used to track us? And, more importantly, could we expect him to find us again?

Because, of course, he would be reborn.

I shuddered at the thought. Some people believed players were immortal. Everborns, folk called them. I knew better. The Game gave them—us—finite lives. While I had no way of knowing just how many lives Matthew had, it was a fair bet he had more remaining, and if the look in his dying eyes were anything to go by, he would seek revenge.

A problem for another day.

It seemed I had more than my fair share of those. Turning my attention back to our surroundings, I saw we were still in the slums. Mesina’s authorities did not like the residents of the poor quarter leaving without good reason, and it didn’t surprise me Soren hadn’t led us elsewhere.

Even better, I realized we were still within the borders of the territory claimed by the Raccoons. As far as gangs went, the Raccoons were one of the better ones, and in the city blocks they controlled, we were safe.

Relatively safe, anyway.

The Raccoons hated the Devils nearly as much as Alon did, and nowhere else in the poor quarter would be safer for those hunted by the much larger and more powerful Devil gang.

I yawned for what felt like the tenth time. I’d not gotten any sleep last night, and come to think of it, precious little the previous one either. Now, I could barely keep my eyes open.

The injuries I’d sustained in the fight with the Devils had only made things worse. The healing potion I’d drank had done wonders for my health but nothing for my tiredness. Truly, I would give just about anything to lie down and rest my aching bones.

Would a stamina potion help? I wondered idly. So weary did I feel that I found myself seriously considering the idea.

I stumbled.

Just thinking about sleeping was causing my feet to go numb. Shaking myself alert, I turned my attention inward, hoping to distract myself through conversation with my companion.

But I sensed nothing from her except vague, ephemeral thoughts. Adalinda was sleeping.

I didn’t blame her. The celestial had had a trying day too, and she had manifested multiple times, draining her reserve of psi almost to its dregs. Still, I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of envy at how peaceful she seemed.

“We’re here,” Soren said abruptly—the first words he had spoken since he’d accepted the healing potion I’d given him to heal the gash on his face.

I looked up. My brother had come to a stop in front of a crumbling edifice in one of the slum’s more deserted streets. Unexpectedly, the building had no door, just a dark hole in a cracked and unsightly wall, a hole that by all appearances had been created by the passage of something large.

Why has Soren brought us here? I wondered.

Surely, he didn’t expect us to take refuge in the broken-down house; it looked in even worse condition than the shack that had served as our home for the last few years!

I opened my mouth, ready to interrogate my brother, but then realized he’d already disappeared from sight. I glanced at Alon behind me, who shrugged as if to say, that go or stay, it was my choice.

Sighing, I ducked my head and entered the building.

It was surprisingly dark inside. For all that the house appeared ruined from the outside, nearly no light penetrated within, which suggested some degree of care.

Someone has been maintaining the place, I thought. Or has been trying to.

Was that someone Soren?

Despite the boarded-up windows and holes, there was still enough light to see, and with minimal mishaps, I followed Soren’s dark outline through the building. Eventually, he came to a stop at another hole—this one in the floor. A large boulder barred entry through.

“Help me,” Soren called, pushing on the stone.

Alon moved to assist him, and in short order, the pair had the blockage cleared. Leaning over, I made out a flight of stairs descending into darkness.

“Welcome to my bolt hole,” Soren murmured.

Before Alon or I could ask him what he meant by that—I’d not known about this place, and from Alon’s expression, neither had he—Soren made his way into the basement and lit the candles lining the walls. Soon, warm, welcoming light spilled out.

Questions can wait for later, I decided, drawn by the promise of shelter. Slipping into the room myself, I took a moment to study Soren’s refuge.

It was sparsely furnished, empty except for the three thin mattresses placed at the back of the room. The floor was clean and swept, but in one corner I spied a pile of broken barrels and pieces of glass, leading me to believe the basement had been a cellar in a past life.

As a refuge, it was far from perfect, but under the circumstances, it would do nicely.

Soren and Alon lay down on the mattresses, choosing ones on opposite ends, I noted. I dearly wanted to rest myself, but I decided I’d had enough of their unspoken hostility. It was time to resolve things.

“Can we please talk?” I asked, crossing my arms.

Sitting up, Alon hunched his shoulders. “Why? So, you can scold me again?” he asked surlily.

I tugged at my hair but refrained from shaking my head. “No, so we can clear the air. We need to work together.” Crouching beside him, I laid a hand on his knee. “And that means being able to trust each other.”

Alon sighed, then hung his head. “I’m sorry,” he said hollowly. “I shouldn’t have led us into that courtyard.” He looked up with a dejected expression. “And I’m sorry you got hurt.”

I held his face in my hands and laughed lightly. “I know you meant well. We’ve been friends for too long for me to believe otherwise. But from now on, let’s… communicate better.” My gaze slid to Soren. “That applies equally to all of us.”

“She’s right,” Soren said, feeling the weight of my stare. “We will only get through this if we work as a team.”

I gave him a pleased smile.

Alon gently removed my hands. “I understand, but staying alive will require hard choices.” He paused. “And sometimes that will mean taking the fight to the Devils. Are you two prepared for that?”

My smile faded, and Soren’s expression turned serious. The axeman was right. We’d killed and, what’s more, we would likely have to kill again before everything was said and done, but that didn’t make the situation any less frightening.

“I am,” I said firmly in unison with Soren.

Alon nodded. “Good. I’m glad that’s settled.” Lying back down, he asked plaintively, “Can I get some rest now? I don’t think I can feel my arms anymore… or my legs.”

“Of course.” Backing away, I massaged my own sore shoulders. Sleep called to me, too, but I could feel Soren’s watchful gaze upon me. Unfortunately, my rest would have to wait.

There was one more conversation to be had first.

Beckoning my brother to follow, I strode to the farthest corner of the basement. Soren came without protest, almost as if he’d been anticipating the request. Turning around, I faced him.

Soren’s gaze was fixed on me, his expression shuttered and his face more closed than I’d ever recalled seeing. Anxiously, I tried to decipher what lay behind the mask he wore.

My brother didn’t look angry, not exactly, more… pensive.

“We should talk,” I began.

“We should,” he replied, giving nothing away.

“Is everything alright, brother?” I whispered, trying not to disturb Alon who, remarkably, was already snoring.

“What do you think, El?” Soren asked, throwing the question back at me in a tone scarily devoid of emotion.

I squeezed my eyes shut for a moment, then decided there was nothing for it but to approach the matter head-on. “You’re angry,” I stated.

He didn’t respond immediately and when he did, it was with a frightening intensity that belied his previous calm. “Of course, I am. I was sick. Bedridden for days, and what did I find when I woke up? Devils on our doorstep. Not only have you and Alon somehow managed to draw the attention of the Butcher himself, but in the interim, my friend has turned suicidal, my sister has acquired a monster for a pet, and worst of all, she’s become… she’s become…”

He stopped. Breathing in deeply, he exhaled carefully before continuing. “And all of this, all of this has passed without one single word of explanation.” He stared at me, almost pleadingly. “What happened last night, El?”

I shrank back. Soren hadn’t shouted, but I could feel the hurt and rebuke in his words.

“What did you and Alon do?” he repeated.

I stayed silent, not sure what to say or even where to begin.

“When did you become a player?” Soren asked softly.

I swallowed. This I knew was the crux of the matter for both of us. How did I tell him? Would he understand? But fear held my tongue. Fear of what he would think, of what he would say.

“How could you betray mum and dad so?” he asked, his voice so cold I shivered.

“Tell me, El!” he demanded. “Please.”

Tears rimmed my eyes.  The day had been one chaotic mess of ups and downs and highs and lows. From seeing Soren on his death bed to healing him. From seeing Alon tortured to freeing him. From fearfully taking up the Class stone to the wondrous binding with Adalinda.

This was a mistake, I realized belatedly. I was in no condition to have this particular conversation. Not now.

The day had claimed a heavy toll, and I was both emotionally and physically drained. Better if I had waited another day.

But it was too late to back down now. Soren was before me. Angry. Hurting. And waiting for my answer.

He was my brother, and he deserved the truth.

“I… I… I had no choice,” I said softly.

“There is always a choice, El. You know that as well as I do. You could have—”

“—let you die?” I interrupted harshly, my fear abruptly giving way to anger. “Because that was the alternative.”

He fell silent for a moment. “Perhaps, you should start from the beginning.”

So I did.

I told Soren everything he wanted to know—from my decision to raid the Devils’ lair to how Alon had been caught and tortured, from what we’d found in the Black Sewers to Cantos’ threats.

“I had to save you, Soren,” I said, concluding my tale. “I was not going to lose you, not without a fight.” Stepping forward, I reached out to him.

He kept his arms crossed, rebuffing me. “But still, El. Taking on the Devils? That was madness! Why do such a thing?”

I threw up my arms. “I told you, they were the only ones with the potion we needed!” I stared at him. “I did what I had to save you. Would you have done any less?”

Soren sighed, his anger deflating. “I wouldn’t have,” he admitted. “You know that. But you’re different, sis. My life is not worth nearly as much as yours.”

My brows creased. “It is. It is absolutely worth as much.” I squeezed his arms. “We are family—and that includes Alon. I will always do whatever is necessary to protect you.” I glanced at the sleeping axeman. “He would too, you know.”

“I know,” Soren said quietly. “I just wish… I just wish there had been another way. That you could have thought it through before—”

“There was no other way,” I growled. “And we didn’t have time! You were on the brink of death.” Stepping away, I paced the floor angrily. “We did the best we could under the circumstances. And look. Here you are. Still alive and still breathing.”

“But incredibly sore,” he said, deadpan.

As jokes went, it was a shoddy attempt, but I understood.

All might not be forgiven, or even resolved between us, but what I had done—the choices I’d made—had not broken us, and my brother had not forsaken me.

We were still family.

Relief sang through me, and for a second, tears threatened to overwhelm me, but I choked them back. “Pain is good,” I said, through a watery smiling. “Pain means you’re alive.”

He tilted his head to the side. “Not all pain, sis,” he said solemnly. “And I am not ever going to be comfortable with you putting yourselves in danger for my sake.”

I arched one eyebrow. “Are you suggesting I’m any less capable than you are?”

He grinned wryly. “Never.”

“Remember what mum and dad always used to say?” I asked suddenly.

“‘Family above all else,’” he said, his smile fading.

I nodded. “I will always hold to that, no matter what.”

“As will I,” Soren said gravely. “I’m sorry for questioning your choices. That was wrong of—”

A loud snore interrupted him.

Our heads swiveled in Alon’s direction. “Damn, if he isn’t loud,” Soren marveled.

I chuckled, feeling the last of the tension between us dissipate. Already, the challenges we faced didn’t feel so insurmountable anymore.

“We’re going to have to keep tabs on him, you know,” Soren said, turning serious again. “We can’t let him act so recklessly again. Today, we got lucky. The next time...”

“I understand why he did it, though,” I said, staring sadly at Alon. “After what Cantos’ men did, there is a darkness in him.” I looked away. “But you’re right. We have to be careful his anger doesn’t lead him astray.”

Soren’s expression grew pained. “I hate that he had to suffer that… and on my behalf.” Seeing my sharp look, he shook himself. “But enough of that. I won’t question his sacrifice—or yours. I understand why you two did what you did, and I’m grateful. I truly am.”

He paused. “But what I still can’t wrap my head around is you becoming a player.”