The Custodian, Ch2, Part 1

authorofthings (57)in #fiction • 7 years ago (edited)

The Custodian

Ch 2, Part 1

His aide seemed nervous when telling him that all was ready for the trip. Gallard didn’t blame him. Nobody willingly went to Ash Mountain, not if they planned on coming back. He thanked him, smiling. “I’m going alone, Jadyr. I trust you can handle my affairs with care while I’m gone.” The young man sighed, though his face remained controlled, bowed and left without a word.

Gallard waited until he knew for sure he was alone before mounting Argul. He’d known this horse since the day he was born, having to put down the mare after all the tears in her. He’d felt bad for him that night and stayed with him, nursing him like a babe, squeezing a rag dipped in first milk into his mouth. Every chance he had after that, he’d go to the stables and watch him, and if he knew for certain he was alone, he’d talk to him. Argul would lean his face into him, his eyes on him as he spoke, his whole posture strangely still and patient. He had felt at peace in those moments.

Now Argul paced, frustrated, or likely just sensing the worry on him. He sighed and mounted, pulling on the reins just hard enough to let the beast know that he was going on a run after all. Argul still loved to run, even as age was slowly seeping into his bones. The horse found a more even trail yet he still jolted with each quick step. The air felt too cold as it slapped against his skin, and he’d wished the Council would maybe send them a darn transporter after all. Something he’d adamantly fought against for all the cycles he’d been the Custodian.

It was both painful and oddly right that his son was imprisoned in that awful cavern for the same crime he’d committed when he was his age. Only so much had changed since, he couldn’t think of one bit of magic that could help him now, not even as the Custodian. Eleven days was not enough time to do anything, not even if he could get out of the city and seek help from Cy. It was simply too little time to arrange for anything that didn’t hinge on the kid wanting to run, and trusting him to help him do so, and he couldn’t picture Calton agreeing to that.

He opened his eyes, taking in the still familiar landscape. His stomach lurched when he saw the smoke and the dead brush, and he let go, retching over the side of the horse. He pulled Argul to a stop and hopped off, landing awkwardly, forgetting to bend his knees to absorb the fall. He cursed under his breath, massaging the sharp ache out of his right knee. He tied him quickly, patted the velvety soft hair above Argul’s nose and and steeled himself for the conversation he wished he didn’t need to have.

The old guardian did not look him in the face, keeping his head low, as befitted his rank. For the first time in as long as he could remember, he was glad to be wearing this stupid uniform. The Ash Mountain guardian would do what he told him to do without question; he shouldn’t have worried, not about that.

Gallard followed him into the cavern, the all too familiar chill and wetness of it closing in on him, making him want to run the other way. The old man turned on the torch, as if noticing his discomfort. He must have been nearly blind, if the darkness didn’t bother him. Or maybe his eyes changed somehow for having lived underground for so long, changed to allow him to see without the benefit of light. Gallard watched the man shuffle his feet quickly, efficiently forward, stepping over various sharp rocks, as if he knew precisely where each stone was, and for a small moment, he felt pity for him. He couldn’t imagine anybody not going completely insane after a few days in this place. But of course he was still sane, as far as he knew, and he’d spent over seven hundred of his days in this wet, dank cave. He shook his head, clearing the memories. He couldn’t handle them today, not with Calton here.

“Here it is.” The old man pointed at the glass door to a cell. He didn’t think it was the same cell he’d been kept in, but he assumed they all looked the same from the outside and, once he’d been shoved in, he didn’t leave the cell again, not until his Whisper Guardian had bought his freedom….

He nodded to the old man and told him to open the door so he could interrogate the prisoner. He kept his voice calm, business-like, not giving anything away. The door swished open, revealing a dark cell bathed in a strange, bluish light. It seemed colder in the cell, cold enough for him to feel a shiver run down his back. “These prisoners need to still be alive for their trial and the Ceremony. Make their cells warmer once I’ve left. That’s an order,” he snapped at the guardian and walked in, the old man trailing behind him.

The kid was on his cot, face down, bound wrists swollen and raw. He did not stir, but he didn’t think he was asleep. Didn’t think anyone could sleep like that.

Gallard moved to the far wall and crossed his arms over his chest as he waited while the guardian adjusted the straps on the arms of the chair and then prodded at the kid to get up. The boy slowly slid up the wall and glared at him.

“I need you over by that chair.” The old man shoved the kid in the back. Gallard squeezed his arms tighter around himself. The kid stood by the chair, not looking at it, keeping himself straight and still.

Gallard remembered the fear he’d felt of that damn thing, even the first time, before the guardian had ever touched him, and he cringed, thankful that the old man was occupied with the kid’s bindings. He sighed in relief when the ties finally came off the boy’s wrists. Calton let the old man strap him in without a word, his face a careful mask of not caring. Maybe he didn’t. Maybe he’d already given up.

“Do you need me to bring the serums or maybe something else?” the croaky old voice asked, sounding almost eager, and he had to keep himself from wincing, knowing that this man would enjoy hurting Cal. He certainly enjoyed it plenty with him all those cycles ago.

“No,” he snapped at him sharply. “But I do need privacy. Leave us.” He didn’t face the man, just waited for the sound of the door closing, not moving from where he was. He waited for a few minutes after that and finally walked around the kid and looked him full in the face. The boy looked back at him evenly, not hiding, a waiting look on his face.

Gallard quickly scanned what he could see of him to make sure he wasn’t hurting anywhere but his hands, but the boy seemed fine, if not for how cold he looked. He could see raised bumps on his bare chest and arms. He pulled his jacket off and took a step toward him. The kid took a sharp breath and pressed himself farther into the back of the chair, afraid. Gallard stopped, feeling as stupid as he ever had for not seeing that coming. Of course Calton would be afraid of him. It was his fault he was here in the first place. His fault he would be dead, as the kid saw it. His fault, too, that he had been forced to face his best friend with a sword….

“I just wanted to put this over you, is all. You’re freezing.” He looked at the boy’s face, asking permission.

The kid didn’t move.

“Is that alright?” He lifted the jacket in front of the kid, showing him that it was just a large piece of cloth, not something that would hurt him.

Calton finally nodded and he draped the jacket carefully over him, doing his best not to touch him beyond that, and took a step back.

“Are you here for my last words?” Calton’s voice was calm, no anger in it. He didn’t quite know how to go about telling him what he needed to tell him, but he felt it’d be easier if the kid screamed at him or tried to fight him somehow. The calmness scared him.

“No. Well, that too, but…. I need to tell you something first and I’m not sure how to do it,” Gallard said, deciding in that moment that he had to be honest with him. That he owed him that after everything, no matter how this turned out.

Calton nodded slowly, not saying a word. He was craning his neck to look up at him, so Gallard crouched, his face almost at eye level with the kid. The boy’s eyes followed him and held his gaze. He seemed surprisingly relaxed for where he was and under different circumstances, it would have made him proud, not worried.

He pointed to the restraints, catching a small movement in the kid’s jaw as he did. Not so calm then. “I’m not going to hurt you, Calton, I swear I’m not. I am not here to interrogate you, is what I’m saying, and I need you to believe me on this.”

Calton narrowed his eyes at him. “I don’t believe you. Not on this. Not on anything.”

“I know,” he started. Then stopped, shook his head, not looking at the boy. “There isn’t a way for this to work if you won’t listen to what I need to say. What can I do so you’d listen?” He kept his voice soft, swallowing his guilt for now.

“I’ll listen. I just won’t believe you.”

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Here are links to previous chapters of this story, in order:
Chapter 1, Part 1
Chapter 1, Part 2

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