A Song of Snow and Ashes by S.J. Drew
me. I'm a guard. I'm your better. You need to learn your place."
"And I suppose you're going to teach me?" he hissed.
Reese smiled unpleasantly, and the other two guards snickered. "You catch on quick."
"Of course," he sighed. "Well, if I'm going to get pulped, I might as well get in a good shot," he thought bitterly. With lightning speed, Donnan punched Reese across the jaw. It didn't take long for the ensuing fight to attract attention. A few curious people glanced down the narrow backstreet, but upon seeing the flash of guard armor, they quickly made themselves scarce.
Donnan was on the ground, curled into a ball, and getting kicked from all three guards when he heard a familiar voice.
"Excuse me," called Blake.
The guards looked up. "What do you want? Are you some kind of thief?" demanded Reese.
Blake took off his glasses and cleaned them thoughtfully. He then replaced them before replying. "No, I'm not a thief. Neither is my friend, who you seem to have quite thoroughly beaten."
His tone was quiet, but Donnan knew he was furious.
"Oh, so you're his friend." Reese cracked his knuckles. "Maybe you'd like to come help him out."
"I fully intend to help him out, but I have no intention of getting drawn into a fight with a bunch of drunken thugs thinly disguised by guard armor."
Reese and the two guards started to march angrily toward Blake. "You can't talk to us like that," he snapped.
"Are the three of you so stupid you're actually going to get into a fight with an acolyte of the Temple of Night?" Blake hissed.
The three guards stopped. "You're not really an acolyte," accused Reese, but he was clearly uncertain.
He smiled an ugly smile, then switched to the Dark language, the language of all those that followed the Dark One. "Praise to the Dark One, god of vengeance and retribution. To those that cross the Dark Order, revenge will come as swiftly and terribly as a thunderstorm." The words were harsh and guttural.
The three guards glanced at each other. "We'll be going now," said Reese. They walked back down the street. "Our business is finished," he half-laughed, giving Donnan a final kick.
Blake waited until they were gone, then rushed to the body of his friend. "Good gods, what happened?"
Donnan slowly sat up. He could taste blood in his mouth and feel it drying on his face. Every muscle in his body ached. "They wanted someone to beat up on. They found me." He speech sounded slurred and his ears were roaring.
"Good gods!" he exclaimed again, looking at his friend's face. "They were winning, I see."
"It was three to one. Bastards. Did I at least bloody up Reese's pretty face?"
"Yes, yes you did. Can you stand? I've got to get you to the temple."
"I can't go there."
"Trust me, you better. You need medical treatment."
"It's not that bad. I can sort of see out of one eye," he replied. His vision was blurry, however. "I've got no money to pay for treatment."
The acolyte shook his head. "I'll cover it."
"I must be in bad shape," he muttered, trying to stand. He managed to get to his feet, but his ears were roaring. It hurt to draw breath and his lungs felt like they were on fire. "I'm not going to make it, Blake. I feel sick."
"You better, dammit." His voice was full of concern and just a touch of panic. He put Donnan's arm over his shoulder and started to drag him forward.
"Oh, let me rest for a minute more," he mumbled vaguely. He tried to fall down, but Blake held him up. Slow realization was starting to dawn in his hazy thoughts that something was terribly wrong.
"Donnan, you listen to me," Blake ordered sternly. "We need to get you to the temple. You are in very bad shape." He started to pull him forward.
"How bad?" he murmured, determined to pay attention. The panic evident in Blake's voice was penetrating his fog of pain.
"Do you really want to know?" he asked as they slowly lurched forward.
"Do I?"
"No, but I'll tell you. Just stay awake. You got that?"
"Yeah."
"Alright, I'd say you got them really angry. Both eyes are blackened, your lip is split, and I think your nose is broken."
"Great. I'm not goin' to impress any girls now," he replied slowly.
"We'll do what we can. I'm worried about the possible concussion, and I think some of your ribs are broken."
"That's why it hurts to breathe," he muttered.
"I also think there's internal bleedin'."
"That's real bad, isn't it?"
"Yes, good, you are payin' attention," Blake replied. He hauled him five blocks until they reached a tavern. Donnan drifting in and out of consciousness. The acolyte offered money for help, and soon four strong men were carrying Donnan on a crude stretcher toward the Temple of Night.
"Oh, no, not again," he snapped. He was standing on a beach, and the waves were lapping at his feet. It was cold, and there was a storm coming in off the ocean. The thick, black clouds were quickly blotting out the sunlight. "What in darkness is going on here?" he yelled to the world in general. He stared at the incoming storm, debating whether or not he should bother running. With the high wind it didn't take long for the dark clouds to cover the sky. He took a few steps back from the increasingly larger waves.
"Are you going to run again?" came a strange voice from behind him.
He whirled around. There was a black, human-shaped figure standing there. It seemed to be made of Darkness, and there was no way to tell what its gender was, but the voice sounded vaguely male. "Who in darkness are you?"
"Are you going to run again?" it repeated.
"Well, that would be the smart thing to do," he snapped in irritation. The waves were still growing in size.
"Sure. Run. Just like you did before. From the avalanche. From the twister. And now from the hurricane," it taunted.
"How did you know about that?"
"I know. And I know you can't run from the hurricane. You know it too."
"Well, what am I supposed to do? Stand here and just get clobbered by another storm?" he demanded.
"No, that would be stupid."
"Then what do you suggest?" He glanced behind him and saw the storm was moving toward the beach at an unnaturally swift pace.
"Control it."
"What? No one can do that. What in darkness do you know anyway? What are you?" Donnan snapped, steadily backing away from the beach, but avoiding the strange shadowy figure. It didn't even seem to be three-dimensional.
"I know more than you. I know what I am. Soon you will too." Then it laughed, and seemed to sink into the shadows.
The roar of the storm filled his ears. He whirled around and saw a wave towering over him. "Oh, gods damn it," he muttered. The storm surge crashed down on top of him, enveloping him in salty water and darkness.
"Nooo!" he screamed, and sat bolt upright. He was damp with sweat, and panting heavily.
"Aahh!" Blake shouted in surprise. "You're awake. Thank the gods."
He shook his head, fighting down panic, and took a mental inventory. He realized he was in clean clothes, lying on a bed in Blake's room.
"Are you alright? Gods, you're pale." He was sitting in a chair near the bed. Next to the bed was a small table with an oil lamp burning on low.
He looked up and realized that he could see out of both eyes. He felt exhausted, but wasn't in pain. "Am I in the Temple of Night?"
Blake nodded. "I got you here as fast as I could. I was right about the concussion and internal bleedin'. It seems one of your broken ribs punctured a lung. And that's only your more severe injuries. But maybe I shouldn't say too much just now."
He just stared at his friend for a few moments. "And I'm fine now?"
"Absolutely. Every thing's been healed, down to the split lip." He handed him a small hand mirror. "See for yourself. I can't even tell your nose got broken."
Donnan took the offered mirror and held it up. "You're right. Damn, you wouldn't even know I was in a fight." Suddenly a strange, shadowy image in the mirror caught his eye. He stared at it, but then it was gone. He quickly handed the mirror back to Blake. "I need to go home. I need to go to work. What time is it?"
"Relax. It's a couple of hours before dawn. You can stay here and just borrow some of my clothes for tomorrow. I'll wake you up in time to get to work."
"I'm not sure I want to stay here."
"It'll be fine. The other priests won't bother us at all."
"Did I take your room?" Donnan asked.
"Well, my bed, at any rate. I don't mind. Just know that you owe me," he replied with a smile.
He frowned. "That's a good point. How much do I owe you?"
"I'm mostly kiddin'. Just because I'm a Dark priest doesn't mean I can't help my friends out. Anyway, it's not me you owe the most to."
"Who is it?"
"The Dark One."
"What?"
"Well, see, that's how we get our powers. We ask the Dark One. Sometimes It answers. Sometimes not. I prayed that you would recover, and It gave me the power to heal you."
"Great, so you got the Dark One to heal me. That's wonderful. There's a nice thing to live with."
"Dammit, Donnan, don't be ungrateful," he snapped. "You were going to die without treatment. Do you understand me? You were going to die. Your lung was punctured. You were drowning in your own blood."
Stunned, his jaw dropped open. "I was really dying?" he stuttered in a small voice.
Blake leaned back in the chair. "Well, you wouldn't have expired within a few minutes, but you probably would have been dead by dawn without treatment. Assumin' I could find out about a Healer who could help you, I
"And I suppose you're going to teach me?" he hissed.
Reese smiled unpleasantly, and the other two guards snickered. "You catch on quick."
"Of course," he sighed. "Well, if I'm going to get pulped, I might as well get in a good shot," he thought bitterly. With lightning speed, Donnan punched Reese across the jaw. It didn't take long for the ensuing fight to attract attention. A few curious people glanced down the narrow backstreet, but upon seeing the flash of guard armor, they quickly made themselves scarce.
Donnan was on the ground, curled into a ball, and getting kicked from all three guards when he heard a familiar voice.
"Excuse me," called Blake.
The guards looked up. "What do you want? Are you some kind of thief?" demanded Reese.
Blake took off his glasses and cleaned them thoughtfully. He then replaced them before replying. "No, I'm not a thief. Neither is my friend, who you seem to have quite thoroughly beaten."
His tone was quiet, but Donnan knew he was furious.
"Oh, so you're his friend." Reese cracked his knuckles. "Maybe you'd like to come help him out."
"I fully intend to help him out, but I have no intention of getting drawn into a fight with a bunch of drunken thugs thinly disguised by guard armor."
Reese and the two guards started to march angrily toward Blake. "You can't talk to us like that," he snapped.
"Are the three of you so stupid you're actually going to get into a fight with an acolyte of the Temple of Night?" Blake hissed.
The three guards stopped. "You're not really an acolyte," accused Reese, but he was clearly uncertain.
He smiled an ugly smile, then switched to the Dark language, the language of all those that followed the Dark One. "Praise to the Dark One, god of vengeance and retribution. To those that cross the Dark Order, revenge will come as swiftly and terribly as a thunderstorm." The words were harsh and guttural.
The three guards glanced at each other. "We'll be going now," said Reese. They walked back down the street. "Our business is finished," he half-laughed, giving Donnan a final kick.
Blake waited until they were gone, then rushed to the body of his friend. "Good gods, what happened?"
Donnan slowly sat up. He could taste blood in his mouth and feel it drying on his face. Every muscle in his body ached. "They wanted someone to beat up on. They found me." He speech sounded slurred and his ears were roaring.
"Good gods!" he exclaimed again, looking at his friend's face. "They were winning, I see."
"It was three to one. Bastards. Did I at least bloody up Reese's pretty face?"
"Yes, yes you did. Can you stand? I've got to get you to the temple."
"I can't go there."
"Trust me, you better. You need medical treatment."
"It's not that bad. I can sort of see out of one eye," he replied. His vision was blurry, however. "I've got no money to pay for treatment."
The acolyte shook his head. "I'll cover it."
"I must be in bad shape," he muttered, trying to stand. He managed to get to his feet, but his ears were roaring. It hurt to draw breath and his lungs felt like they were on fire. "I'm not going to make it, Blake. I feel sick."
"You better, dammit." His voice was full of concern and just a touch of panic. He put Donnan's arm over his shoulder and started to drag him forward.
"Oh, let me rest for a minute more," he mumbled vaguely. He tried to fall down, but Blake held him up. Slow realization was starting to dawn in his hazy thoughts that something was terribly wrong.
"Donnan, you listen to me," Blake ordered sternly. "We need to get you to the temple. You are in very bad shape." He started to pull him forward.
"How bad?" he murmured, determined to pay attention. The panic evident in Blake's voice was penetrating his fog of pain.
"Do you really want to know?" he asked as they slowly lurched forward.
"Do I?"
"No, but I'll tell you. Just stay awake. You got that?"
"Yeah."
"Alright, I'd say you got them really angry. Both eyes are blackened, your lip is split, and I think your nose is broken."
"Great. I'm not goin' to impress any girls now," he replied slowly.
"We'll do what we can. I'm worried about the possible concussion, and I think some of your ribs are broken."
"That's why it hurts to breathe," he muttered.
"I also think there's internal bleedin'."
"That's real bad, isn't it?"
"Yes, good, you are payin' attention," Blake replied. He hauled him five blocks until they reached a tavern. Donnan drifting in and out of consciousness. The acolyte offered money for help, and soon four strong men were carrying Donnan on a crude stretcher toward the Temple of Night.
"Oh, no, not again," he snapped. He was standing on a beach, and the waves were lapping at his feet. It was cold, and there was a storm coming in off the ocean. The thick, black clouds were quickly blotting out the sunlight. "What in darkness is going on here?" he yelled to the world in general. He stared at the incoming storm, debating whether or not he should bother running. With the high wind it didn't take long for the dark clouds to cover the sky. He took a few steps back from the increasingly larger waves.
"Are you going to run again?" came a strange voice from behind him.
He whirled around. There was a black, human-shaped figure standing there. It seemed to be made of Darkness, and there was no way to tell what its gender was, but the voice sounded vaguely male. "Who in darkness are you?"
"Are you going to run again?" it repeated.
"Well, that would be the smart thing to do," he snapped in irritation. The waves were still growing in size.
"Sure. Run. Just like you did before. From the avalanche. From the twister. And now from the hurricane," it taunted.
"How did you know about that?"
"I know. And I know you can't run from the hurricane. You know it too."
"Well, what am I supposed to do? Stand here and just get clobbered by another storm?" he demanded.
"No, that would be stupid."
"Then what do you suggest?" He glanced behind him and saw the storm was moving toward the beach at an unnaturally swift pace.
"Control it."
"What? No one can do that. What in darkness do you know anyway? What are you?" Donnan snapped, steadily backing away from the beach, but avoiding the strange shadowy figure. It didn't even seem to be three-dimensional.
"I know more than you. I know what I am. Soon you will too." Then it laughed, and seemed to sink into the shadows.
The roar of the storm filled his ears. He whirled around and saw a wave towering over him. "Oh, gods damn it," he muttered. The storm surge crashed down on top of him, enveloping him in salty water and darkness.
"Nooo!" he screamed, and sat bolt upright. He was damp with sweat, and panting heavily.
"Aahh!" Blake shouted in surprise. "You're awake. Thank the gods."
He shook his head, fighting down panic, and took a mental inventory. He realized he was in clean clothes, lying on a bed in Blake's room.
"Are you alright? Gods, you're pale." He was sitting in a chair near the bed. Next to the bed was a small table with an oil lamp burning on low.
He looked up and realized that he could see out of both eyes. He felt exhausted, but wasn't in pain. "Am I in the Temple of Night?"
Blake nodded. "I got you here as fast as I could. I was right about the concussion and internal bleedin'. It seems one of your broken ribs punctured a lung. And that's only your more severe injuries. But maybe I shouldn't say too much just now."
He just stared at his friend for a few moments. "And I'm fine now?"
"Absolutely. Every thing's been healed, down to the split lip." He handed him a small hand mirror. "See for yourself. I can't even tell your nose got broken."
"Relax. It's a couple of hours before dawn. You can stay here and just borrow some of my clothes for tomorrow. I'll wake you up in time to get to work."
"I'm not sure I want to stay here."
"It'll be fine. The other priests won't bother us at all."
"Did I take your room?" Donnan asked.
"Well, my bed, at any rate. I don't mind. Just know that you owe me," he replied with a smile.
He frowned. "That's a good point. How much do I owe you?"
"I'm mostly kiddin'. Just because I'm a Dark priest doesn't mean I can't help my friends out. Anyway, it's not me you owe the most to."
"Who is it?"
"The Dark One."
"What?"
"Well, see, that's how we get our powers. We ask the Dark One. Sometimes It answers. Sometimes not. I prayed that you would recover, and It gave me the power to heal you."
"Great, so you got the Dark One to heal me. That's wonderful. There's a nice thing to live with."
"Dammit, Donnan, don't be ungrateful," he snapped. "You were going to die without treatment. Do you understand me? You were going to die. Your lung was punctured. You were drowning in your own blood."
Stunned, his jaw dropped open. "I was really dying?" he stuttered in a small voice.
Blake leaned back in the chair. "Well, you wouldn't have expired within a few minutes, but you probably would have been dead by dawn without treatment. Assumin' I could find out about a Healer who could help you, I