Even a dozen loaves wouldn’t be enough to feed him and Neel on their own, but he figured he could pluck wild edibles along the way. Along with the dried nuts and berries he kept as emergency rations, it would suffice.
Vir turned to leave, then paused. Rummaging through his coin bag, he retrieved twenty coppers and laid them on the counter. It was less than the loaves’ market price, but the amount would cover the baker’s cost.
Though the man may have been rude to Vir, he had a difficult time holding a grudge. Brijers were all a product of their environments. They’d never known anything else. They’d never had the opportunity to introspect. In fact, the village mentality actively discouraged that kind of behavior. Everyone inevitably ended up like everyone else, or else they’d be ostracized.
At the end of the day, they were just trying to make ends meet, and with winter on the horizon, Vir would feel bad if his theft robbed someone of a full stomach one day.
His next stop was the blacksmith, conveniently located across the street.
A single Dance shifted him from the baker right into the metalworker’s shop.
Vir’s biggest issue right now was his lack of weaponry. He’d lost both his katar and his chakrams in Daha, and while Kalari and his Talents didn’t make him defenseless, he’d feel a lot better with some iron at his hip.
Unfortunately, the Brij blacksmith made things like Ash’va hooves, fire pokers, and the like, rather than military equipment.
Vir combed the place, but there were no talwars or katars to be found. The best were some axes and a pair of long knives. He ignored the axes—while Riyan had Vir trained in a variety of weapons, he’d quickly discovered that large, unwieldy weapons didn’t fit him at all. Not to mention the axes here were all woodworking implements, and improperly weighted for battle.
He regarded the knives, running his finger along their blades. Mid-grade iron, rust free, and decently sharp. They weren’t quite long enough to be daggers, and the thick blade profile was better suited for shaving wood than it was for piercing flesh, but they’d do.
Vir estimated they’d run around fifty coppers each, and since this particular blacksmith usually stayed out of Vir’s way, he left a silver behind as adequate compensation.
After tying their leather holsters on each hip, he Danced out of the building to a nearby alley.
It was only moments later that the calm stillness of the night was broken. First by bandy howls, then by shouts.
Memories of bullies cornering Vir sprung up in his mind, but he banished them. Bandies and shouts did not equate to bullying, he knew that.
Vir pressed on, sneaking through narrow roads where he could avoid using Dance.
“No! Please! Don’t hurt me! I’ll do it. I swear I’ll do it.”
The shouts turned into whimpers and sobs, and Vir knew his initial hunch had been right. Bullying.
Maybe it was a new family who’d moved in. A rare occurrence, but not unheard of. New kids were preyed upon and ostracized, at least until the next new kid came to town. At which point, the bullied kid would be absorbed into the clique, becoming their errand boy or girl. It was a form of brainwashing. Somewhere along the line, the bullied kid would learn to behave like the ones who’d tormented them.
Why shouldn’t I bully the new kids? After all, they did it to me. I’m ‘in’ now. It’s my right.
They never thought about it, and Vir had seen it happen enough times to know how it all worked. Brief friends who eventually turned into enemies. This groveling boy would be no different. Another link in the chain, fated to repeat the endless cycle.
And so what?
Even if Camas’ gang was out bullying someone, what of it? That was none of his business. Causing a scene here was exactly what he’d taken great pains to avoid. If Hiranyan spies were present, he could land himself in some serious trouble.
Why’s this bothering me so much? I’ve killed people! What’s bullying next to that?
Vir shook it off, putting one step in front of another, leaving the sobbing boy behind.
But then the boy’s sobs turned back into screams.
Vir sighed. His steps came to a halt. It was dangerous. He’d sworn to be more careful after outing himself to Mina in Daha. But he could use this as an opportunity to bait his pursuers. To hint at the fact that he’d come here. A risky gambit to be sure, but if it paid off, it’d buy him enough time to flee to Rani.
Besides, what use was staying alive if he couldn’t stay true to who he was? What use was power if he didn’t use it to right some wrongs in the world? Especially when they happened right before his eyes?
What good was saving himself if he couldn’t proudly look himself in the mirror and see Rudvik and Apramor standing behind him, nodding in approval.
With heavy steps, he turned right back around.
“I didn’t mean anything by it!” Sajan cried as he cowered from Camas’ bandies, which took turns snapping at his ankles.
Camas’ gang had brought the boy out to a dark alley. Late at night as it was, no one would interfere. Brijers knew better. Here, they could torment him with impunity.
Blood ran down his calf—he hadn’t been fast enough to avoid them all. Sajan lost his balance and fell on his butt as the bandies circled him.
“Look, you’re doing this to yourself, Sajan,” Camas sneered. “All I’m asking is that you light a small fire. It’s not much. Just one flame, and let it burn, y’know? If the house burns down, it burns down. Not like you’re the one who did it. Right?”
“I—I’m sorry. I can’t.”
“Now, now. Don’t be unreasonable,” Camas said, kneeling beside Sajan. “Just say ‘yes,’ and all of this will stop. Right?”
“Yep.”
“Uh-huh,” his goons echoed.
“Otherwise…” Camas said, delivering a punch to Sajan’s gut, causing the smaller boy to double over in pain, “I’m going to have to hurt you until you do. So why not stop this? Don’t make me do this, Sajan. It’s all in your power.”
Sajan burst into tears. “I—I’ll do it. I’ll—W-wha—!” The boy’s eyes went wide, his expression warping to one of horror. “Aaaaaaah!”
Camas spun around on instinct, only to see half of his friend. Everything from her legs down was… gone. Consumed by the ground itself.
“H-help!” the girl whispered. A moment later, she’d vanished. Not one trace of her remained.
“What demonic sorcery is this?”
Camas whirled around. “Y-you!” he shouted, pointing at Sajan. “You’re doing this?”
Before Sajan could answer, another of Camas’ lackeys disappeared.
“What’s happening?” Camas wailed. “R-run, you idiots!”
He tore off at a sprint, but something tripped him. Something tripped all of them, sending them all to the ground.
One by one, they disappeared. Sucked into the ground.
Sajan smelled urine, and it wasn’t his own.
“P-please! Don’t take me,” Camas wailed, soiling his pants. He fell to his knees, clasping his hands together. “D-demon of the night. Please! I’ll give you anything.”
“Anything?” a voice said, but Sajan could find no source. No one was around. Only Camas and he remained.
“I-I’ll do it,” Camas whispered.
“Leave the boy alone.”
“Yes! Of course!”
“Know that the Ash Guardian has occupied this village. And know that it reaps as easily as it takes. Do not anger it, for we may just reap your soul.”