Pure
Chapter 1: The Payment

“Please forgive me, Caevah, my love. I do this for our people. My heart and loyalty will belong only to you, forever.” Finten’s whisper was fervent, even if it was barely a breath on his lips.

A hand squeezed his shoulder. He opened his eyes and looked up into Conall’s weathered face. He was leaning over Finten with a steaming mug in his hand. He wordlessly held it out to Finten and Finten shook his head.

“No. I deserve to feel every ounce of the pain.”

Conall sighed and lowered himself to sit on the cold stone floor in front of Finten. “Finten, she would want you to drink it.”

Finten looked away, his hands clenching into fists. “How do you know what she would have wanted? She’s dead. It was my job to protect her and I failed. Don’t tell me what she would have wanted.”

“I’m sorry.” Conall’s voice was soft.

They had this conversation every year, but the loathing Finten felt towards himself never diminished. He had failed his beloved, the one he had sworn to protect, serve and love all his days. He had rashly thought that he could bring down the mighty White Wyrm, Hadeaon, so instead of staying at home and protecting Caevah’s lands, like he had sworn to do, Finten had brought the fight to Hadeaon’s door. He’d left his wife, his people, his land and while he was gone, Caevah and the twins that had been growing in her belly, were murdered by Hadeaon’s agents.

The dormitory door pushed open and Gusan slipped inside, shutting the door quietly behind himself. “They’re coming.”

Finten rose to his feet.

Conall rose as well, blocking Finten’s path. “At least let us go with you this time, please, Finten.”

FInten shook his head. “No, you all suffer enough for my failure. I’ll go alone.” He moved to step around Conall, but Conall put his hand on Finten’s shoulder again.

“Finten, you don’t have to bear the weight of this alone. We swore our loyalty to Caevah and to you. Let us go with you. This is our people and land too, we can help you pay for its water and earth.”

Finten looked at Conall, then glanced around the room at the other four men in the room. Gusan was still standing by the door, his eyes on Finten; Luaren, Ehir, and Devlyn were in their bunks pretending they weren’t listening to every word that Finten and Conall were saying.

There had been thirteen of them once, a proud and mighty band of Tarasque, pledged to serve and protect Caevah and her land. There were only six of them left. My fault, FInten’s mind reminded him. He shook his head, shrugged Conall’s hand off his shoulder and moved towards the door. “You’ll stay here till you’re summoned for the presentation, and that’s an order.”

“We don’t have to obey you, Finten. You aren’t the lord of the land anymore. We might just decide to come with you anyway.” Ehir’s quiet voice didn’t hold the conviction of his words.

Finten froze, his shoulder’s tightened. Ehir was right, he didn’t deserve their obedience or their loyalty.

“But we will,” Conall said sharply. “We swore to obey you and we will.”

The door was pushed open. Killian, the captain of Hadeaon’s guard, was in the doorway with four of his men. “It’s time, Finten.”

Finten nodded mutely and went to the door. He paused before passing through and half turned back to his men. Tarasque men, like him; half human, half wyrm. Men who had come to him and his wife as wild boys and pledged themselves to Caevah and her land, men who had never failed to follow where he led, men who had fought and bled beside him and now suffered daily at his side because of Finten’s failure. “Please. Stay here.”

There was a chorus of unhappy assent from them.

FInten’s shoulder’s relaxed. “Thank you.”

Finten stepped through the doorway and the four soldiers arranged themselves around him. He obediently followed Killian down the hall, up stairs, through the kitchens and eventually into the witch’s workroom. It had once been Caevah’s healing room.

Caevah had opened the doors of their manor to the people every morning for two hours, six days a week. They could bring any of their sick or injured to her and she would work her hearth magic to speed their healing. Some had even brought their animals when they were ailing. Caevah never turned anyone away.

The witch, Alvie, was there waiting with two of her acolytes, all dressed in long white robes, a crimson sash at the waist. She smirked at Finten. “Hello, filth. I see you’ve come to make the payment alone again.”

“Hello, traitor.” Finten answered without heat.

Alvie’s face twitched.

Finten pulled off his shirt, dropped it on the floor, and began unbuckling his belt without being told.

Thirteen years ago Alvie had been one of Caevah’s acolytes but Alvie’s methods had been too harsh for Caevah, so she had dismissed her. A little over a year later Alvie returned, and she seemed to have had a change of attitude. Caevah decided to give her a chance to earn her position back, but before that could happen Alvie showed her true colors.

Finten wasn’t sure if Alvie had been the one to kill Caevah, or if she had merely gotten Hadeaon’s men into the manor so they could kill her.

Finten slipped his trousers off and dropped them on top of his shirt. His hands were shaking now. He didn’t bother to hide it. He went to the sturdy wooden table in the center of the room and laid his upper half across it, slipping his hands into the leather bindings that were bolted to the table. Killian’s men secured his wrists.

Alvie came to his side and ran her fingers over his ruined skin. She laughed. “What a pitiful harvest you offer, this year.”

Finten said nothing.

Alvie began her chant and the fire of her wild magic ripped into Finten’s back. He clenched his jaw, but a groan still slipped out. The pain steadily increased until it felt like he was being torn apart. Because I am being torn apart, some distant part of his mind reminded him. He was distantly aware that he was screaming, but that really didn’t matter. What mattered was trying to remain conscious for as long as he could. He deserved to feel this pain. He had left his Caevah alone, and she had been brutally murdered.

Finten held on to consciousness as long as he could, but eventually his exhausted body gave in and he fell into blessed darkness.