Page 19 of The Necromancer's Prisoner

“Are there any windows in this Light-blinded place?” Alistair demanded.

The paladin searched the room before his eyes landed on a thick shutter sealed tight against the storm. Rushing over to it, he wrenched the wood aside with a burst of strength from his dawnflame. Iggie didn’t protest, moving in what felt like slow motion to stand beside him. A rush of wind and snow buffeted them as Alistair shielded his eyes to peer outside.

“I can’t see anything. Not with the darkness and snow. Merciful Light, if only there were…”

Alistair trailed off as light suddenly flickered outside. Not the comfortable glow of a fire, however, nor the blazing golden brilliance of dawnflame.Thislight shimmered in shifting waves of ethereal blues. And unless Iggie was very much mistaken, the glow enveloped something massive and lumbering that was pressed right up against the side of the tower.

ten

Alistair

AlistairfelthisOrdertraining trying to take charge and gratefully gave in to the familiar detached calm. It allowed him to compartmentalize what was happening so he could focus on resolving the current situation as efficiently as possible. It also helped him drown out the flurry of emotions still churning in his chest from that moment of shared connection with Iggie.

Never have I been so glad for an imminent crisis.

“My arms and armor, now!” He spun from the window and strode toward the stairs leading down to the main hall. “Whatever is out there, I’ll need every advantage I can to fight it.”

He’d reached the top of the stairs before he realized Iggie hadn’t responded. Frowning, he turned back and found Iggie still standing frozen by the window with a stricken look plastered over his face. Frustration rippled through Alistair.

“There’s no time to waste! We don’t want to be up here if the tower collapses. We need to confront whatever’s out there while there’s still something left to save.”

As if to punctuate his words, another tremor rocked the tower. Alistair kept his balance thanks to his training, but Iggie stumbled and ended up splayed against the far wall. He remained there, head bowed, still refusing to respond.

Letting out a low growl, Alistair stalked across the chamber, swerving past the table and chairs. He spun Iggie around with a rough hand on his shoulder. “For Light’s sake, Iggie, we need to…”

He trailed off when he got a good look at Iggie’s trembling face. The necromancer’s azure eyes stared into the distance, wide with panic. “W-whatisthat thing?” he whispered.

Concern flooded Alistair, but now wasnotthe time for comfort. He needed to get Iggie moving. He settled for resting a hand on Iggie’s shoulder. Iggie startled at his touch, blinking as he raised his eyes to lock on Alistair’s.

“Iggie, listen to me. I won’t let anything happen to us—toeitherof us. But I need you to help me. I can’t fight that creature out there without my gear. Now, show me where you hid it so I can save us before it’s too late.Please.”

The floor quaked again beneath them. Cracks spidered along the walls while broken bits of stone and dust crumbled from the ceiling. This time, Iggie caught himself on Alistair’s chest, and Alistair’s heartbeat quickened at the feel of Iggie pressed against him. The faint aroma of faded lavender and dried cloves drifted on the air.

A blush colored Iggie’s cheeks as he looked up. Swallowing, he nodded and gestured toward the stairs leading to his bedroom. “Your equipment is upstairs. In a chest under my bed.”

Alistair reluctantly pulled away and ran across the room. He took the stairs two at a time, glad to find the door at the top unlocked so he didn’t have to waste time breaking it down.

An eclectic mix of decorations filled the necromancer’s bedchamber, much like the rest of the tower. It didn’t take Alistair long to spy Iggie’s bed amid the clutter. It was nicer than Alistair’s cot, though not by much. Alistair unceremoniously shoved it aside. As Iggie had said, a wide, flat chest sat beneath. Ripping it open, he exhaled a relieved breath when he found his missing armor and sword gleaming at him.

He wasted no time donning his armor, tugging the breastplate into place and fiddling with the straps. Normally, he could manage the feat on his own after years of practice, but with each passing second weighing on him, he kept fumbling the knots.

Footsteps echoed on the stone behind him. “Need a hand?” Alistair tensed as Iggie’s slender hands reached around him. “I’ve never worn armor before. I have no idea how to—”

“It’s all right,” Alistair said dropping his own hands and willing himself to stillness. “I’ll direct you. See that strap dangling there?” He shifted his arm so that the leather waggled.

“Yeah.”

“Thread it through the loop on my side and tighten the buckle.”

Iggie managed the feat after a couple tries, his unpracticed fingers fumbling even worse than Alistair’s nerves. Still, even an untrained hand made donning the cumbersome armor easier. Alistair continued barking orders as Iggie positioned his leg and arm plates and fastened on his pauldrons.

As he worked, Iggie’s fingers occasionally brushed Alistair’s undershirt. Each time they did, a rush of warmth pulsed through Alistair that had nothing to do with his dawnflame. More shudders continued to rattle the tower, and Alistair forced himself to concentrate on the task at hand. Protecting them both came first.

Since when did you decide a necromancer was worthy of your protection?

Iggie stepped back, and Alistair shoved the thought aside, flexing his arms and legs. He nodded his approval. “This will do. Thank you.”

Redness crept over Iggie’s face as he nodded, fixing his gaze on the trembling floor. Watching the play of breath in Iggie’s frail chest beneath his robes, Alistair found it difficult to believe he’d ever thought this frightened boy capable of cold-blooded murder.