CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

First Night

Their first night sleeping outside was uncomfortable, and that was of great relief to Gareth. The shelter they'd had in the previous town had caused Gareth's mind to wander too much, and he'd stayed up far too late, just listening to Fydelis breathe.

Traveling with the Knights of the Faith, their first nights into a campaign were fraught with the difficulty of finding a place to camp that could accommodate so many soldiers and their horses. Then there was the matter of getting used to sleeping on the hard, cold ground after having slept in a fairly warm bed. While their lives in the barracks were not days of comfort and leisure, the first night away always made Gareth appreciate all that he had there.

They had stopped roughly two miles from their first destination. Across the flat terrain, Gareth could see the faint glow of lanterns that lit the streets there. It was already well past sundown, but the continual burning of so many torches indicated a town that was far too active at night to be prudent.

"Sinners, gamblers, and whores."

Fydelis's breath so close to Gareth's ear caused him to startle, and he had to press his hand into the dirt to keep from falling forward as he crouched near the edge of their campsite. He frowned over his shoulder at the impish smile.

"Well, that's what you were thinking, weren't you?" Fydelis folded his arms, cocking his chin as he raised an eyebrow.

"Is that not why I have been brought here?" Gareth stood up, wiping his hands on his breeches. It had been so long since he'd gone without wearing his vestments that he felt somewhat exposed, especially when being blatantly scrutinized by his demonic traveling companion. In the firelight, Fydelis's skin took on a golden glow, and the red of his eyes was visible as they were illuminated by the flames. But now, standing as he was with the campfire at his back, a red-gold halo shimmered around his head, and he appeared nearly angelic.

"You have been brought here to collect a soul."

"And how, exactly, will I do that?"

"With this." Fydelis turned and went to his pack, rummaging in it only briefly before he pulled something out and presented it to Gareth.

Gareth frowned down at Fydelis's outstretched hand. In it, he held what looked like a large, silver medallion with a chain, bearing a black jewel. Gareth accepted the item and felt a shudder course through him when he held it. He looked down at the stone, his stomach hardening around an overwhelming sense of dread and despair. Dark shapes swirled inside, and the longer he stared, the louder the wails of agony began to grow in his head.

"Don't stare at it!" Fydelis hissed, clapping his hand over the stone.

"What is this accursed thing? How am I to manage it?"

"It's partially a scrying lens, and partially a prison."

"What?" Gareth looked up into Fydelis's face before looking back down at the hand laid across the top of his own.

Almost hesitantly, Fydelis lifted his hand. "What you see inside are remnants— ghosts of the damned. They power the stone, which draws to it other souls— those marked for collection. With the proper tuning, the gem will also show you the one whom you seek."

"You mean, you don't know?"

Fydelis shrugged, "Don't know, don't care. You have a job to do, and I am here to make certain it gets done." He turned and headed back towards the campfire, shivering dramatically.

"Am I to wear this evil thing then?"

"Yes, but not tonight. Tonight you need sleep, and the dreams it brings may not be restful." Fydelis crossed his ankles, then sunk gracefully down into a seated position near the flames.

Gareth scowled at the medallion, then back at Fydelis. He couldn't complain, really. This was all part of the bargain he'd sworn to fulfill.

"How many souls am I to collect?" Gareth asked, returning to the fire. Although he wanted to sit close to Fydelis, better judgment suggested he do otherwise.

"One soul for every two lives saved— except for the children. The children are worth a little more than the adults, so one soul each."

"That's… twenty people I have to kill?"

"Umhm." Fydelis bobbed his head, poking a stick into the fire.

"Not all in the same place, either." Gareth sighed, raking his fingers across his scalp. "That could take some time."

"Indeed," Fydelis answered as though he wasn't really listening.

"And you'll be with me?"

Fydelis stopped prodding the flames and met Gareth's eyes across the campfire. "The whole time."

"Well, at least that's something," Gareth murmured softly, meaning to keep it to himself, but apparently Fydelis's ears were more sensitive than he'd considered. The demon's human eyes narrowed.

"That's what, exactly?"

"That's… good. I won't be alone." He glanced at his sword and shield, resting against a log near the tent they would share tonight.

"I thought you preferred solitude. All that praying and such." Fydelis waved his hand dismissively and went back to poking at the burning logs with his stick.

"There was a time when I never felt alone," Gareth said wistfully. "A time when I felt my prayers were heard." He watched Fydelis out of the edge of his vision and saw how restless he seemed to become, shifting as though his seat was suddenly uncomfortable.

"Let me guess— Your guardian, Fidelity?"

"Yes. I suppose it was."

"He was weak… if he ever existed at all." Although there was bitterness in his tone, the last part seemed like an afterthought.

Gareth watched him, paying close attention to how his features belied his tone. Fydelis had not yet mastered his human facade to the point of lying convincingly. "So tell me, demon? What was it that brought you to this point?"

Fydelis pulled his knees into his chest. "Faith, in its own way, brought me to this point. I, too, felt abandoned by the one I believed in." He closed his eyes and let out a bitter laugh. "And now… now I see that it was all my own doing, for he never left me. I lost my faith in him."

"That is a sad tale, truly, but was it worth the price of your soul?"

Another laugh. "If I'd had one to start with, perhaps. Why the sudden interest?" Fydelis rested his chin on his knee.

"We will be traveling together for quite some time it seems. I feel it is unfair of me to judge you just as I see you now."

"Would knowing what I was make it easier on you?"

Gareth shrugged, not knowing the answer himself.

Fydelis twisted his mouth. "I think not." He got up from the fireside then, heading towards their tent. "I'm bored. Time to go to sleep."

Gareth watched him go, sensing that he'd hit a nerve, which was not a difficult assumption to make. The demon often fled like a child when things got too uncomfortable for him. What a pair they made— one running and one praying every time discomfort reared its head. He glanced down again at the medallion in his hand. Through the course of holding it, he'd become accustomed to its weight. Would he join these tormented shadows within when his time was near? Would it be his traveling companion, Fydelis, who would collect his soul?

"Creator, please forgive me." Gareth sighed and tucked the medallion's chain through his belt, then got up to arrange their belongings before he also turned in for the night.

 

***

Fydelis lay awake inside the tent, listening to Gareth puttering around just outside. Why did he tempt fate in such reckless ways?

"Precious. I delight in your torment, my darling Fydelis."

"Go away. I need some sleep," Fydelis muttered to the Sunderer's voice filling his head. "You owe me that after the last time." The last several times, in fact. However, during his most recent torture, the Sunderer had been particularly brutal, and not alone. There were plenty of dark-spawn that took great delight in the thought of breaking an angel. He'd even invited Strife, though the demigod did little more than watch. The Sunderer had placed Fydelis in that form— the one of his former self, then sat on his throne, Strife at his side, watching as six of his minions took him apart. At one point, three of them had him at once and Fydelis felt his body and psyche snap. This sort of breaking was not as detrimental as it would have been for humans, but it did mean that Fydelis's mind would have to shut down for a while. It was a small but scarring reprieve from suffering, and that was never any fun for the Sunderer.

Afterwords, Fydelis had awoken in the early morning hours with Gareth holding him and trying his best to soothe Fydelis as he screamed silently in his arms.

"I owe you nothing. You'd best remember that." The voice slithered cold through his brain, causing his body to shiver.

"How could I possibly forget?" Fydelis sighed as the presence faded from his head. A few moments later, Gareth lifted the tent flap from outside and crawled in beside Fydelis. He was moving carefully, slowly, so as not to disturb Fydelis's assumed sleep. Fydelis watched him, only learning after Gareth met his gaze just how burning his own gaze had been.

"You are not asleep?"

"Trying to put it off," Fydelis said with a little shrug.

"Your dreams, if that is what they are, are not pleasant." Gareth was sitting up and he pulled his tunic off over his head.

Fydelis closed his eyes, breathing in the scent of him. Sweat, smoke from their campfire, and Gareth's own personal smell mingled together in the darkness to create a heady intoxicant. "Tonight, he'll let us both get some sleep, I think."

"He? Oh, your master…"

"He… takes me when I sleep. Although you remember that he doesn't always wait until I'm sleeping."

"Mm," Gareth grunted in affirmation. "I'm sorry. It must be terrible for you."

Fydelis offered a dark laugh. "You've no idea." He watched Gareth get settled, lying on his back a few inches away.

"What does he… what happens to you?"

"Do you really want to know?"

Gareth's eyes shined in the dark as he turned his head to face Fydelis. "Yes. It might… It might help me understand a few things, perhaps what sort of things await me when my quest is done."

The thought sent ice surging through Fydelis's veins. "No. I pray not. He, the Sunderer… dismantles me. He ravages me like a captured prize— controls and uses me like a whore." In the darkness, Gareth gasped, and Fydelis wondered if he'd said too much. Probably.

"He would not do that to you, I think. I am privileged to be his favorite for the time being," Fydelis added, perhaps as a reassurance to them both. If the Sunderer did intend to replace him with Gareth, Fydelis would refuse his freedom, despite earning it. Even if Gareth had coldly rejected his Guardian, Fidelity, that form of torment was too much. It was something he'd not even wish upon his worst enemy.

"I am sorry," Gareth said softly. "I had no idea your burden was so great. And this all because of your misplaced faith in another?"

"No. Not misplaced. I'll never admit to that. It was my own foolishness that caused me to become Regret."

Gareth's warm hand found his and offered a reassuring squeeze. It was a small gesture, but it caused Fydelis's heart to ache. This might be the most he could expect from Gareth, but for now, it would have to be enough.