Wren
Ch. 26
Rich was in bed trying to sleep. It had been several days since the Ox burned down. He wasn’t sure how many. He’d stopped trying to keep track. He had tried quitting drinking. It had seemed like the perfect opportunity to. But he couldn’t see it through. The vomiting and the headache were more than he could handle, and even if it weren’t for that he likely couldn’t carry out whatever tasks Wren had lined up for him. Brandon had been taking it upon himself to check in on Rich from time to time. They were both worried about him. He hadn’t left the house since he got home the night the Ox burned down. He wasn’t drinking his normal mead, but brandy. And only enough of it to stave off withdrawal.
Brandon was making some food when Rich came down the stairs, leaving his room for the first time in at least a day.
“Are you feeling any better?” Brandon asked. He knew that wasn’t the right question to ask, but it was as close as he could get.
“No,” Rich answered groggily, “Let’s go somewhere.”
“You want to go out somewhere in this state?”
“No, but I need a change of scenery. I’m definitely not getting any better just sitting around here.”
“Let’s eat, and then we can go.” Brandon was uncomfortable with how parental he was being, but he didn’t know what else to do. Rich needed him, and he couldn’t in good conscience leave him like this.
“Okay.” Rich sat down at the table. Brandon placed a plate in front of him then took a seat himself. “What did you make?”
“Fried catfish.”
“Thanks.”
They both started eating. There was a long silence.
“So I guess I can’t avoid asking forever.”
“What?”
“The Ox burned down. Why, though? What happened there that night?”
“Wren burned it down.”
“Is that where you got the injury too?”
“What injury?”
“Don’t play dumb. I can tell you’re a little bit older. What did they do?”
“They stabbed me in the hand.”
“You should have gone to a temple for that.”
“I don’t like doing that. I’d rather give up my own life than someone else’s. Theirs isn’t mine to take.”
“No, but it is theirs to give, and they chose to give it to heal anyone who needs healing. Besides, you—” Brandon paused, “nevermind.”
“No, what?”
“You brought the guy you stabbed to a temple for healing.”
“That was different.”
“Whatever, it’s not worth arguing right now. I’d rather just focus on keeping you alive in the immediate.”
“Fine.”
Neither of them talked for a while. Eventually Brandon broke the silence.
“So where were you thinking we could go?”
“I don’t know. Somewhere that isn’t here.”
“How about Beau Isle?”
“Okay. Let’s hope nobody dumped manure into the river today.” Rich let out a light laugh for the first time since the Ox burned down.
“You noticed that too? It was really bad, wasn’t it?”
“Yeah.”
They finished eating and Brandon took the dishes over to a basin of water he had set up in the kitchen. Rich was ready to go right then, but Brandon insisted he at least change his clothes first. Once that was done, they headed out. It was not a long walk from Rich’s house to the river, they arrived in about half an hour. They had to rent a boat to get from the shore to the island, but Rich had no problem paying for it. They toured the island without speaking for a bit, but after a while Brandon asked a question.
“So are you feeling any better now that you’re out of the house?”
“You know, I thought I would,” Rich paused to take a sip from his hip flask. It was almost large enough to be a canteen, “but I don’t feel better. I just feel shitty in a different place.”
“Well it’s a change of scenery at least. And I’m glad you put in the effort to go somewhere.”
“Seems like a lot of effort to achieve not much of anything.”
“Oh I wouldn’t say it’s nothing,” said a voice not belonging to either of them. They both looked at the source, but only Rich recognized it as Wren. They looked different than their other meetings, this time taking the form of a young man, about the age Rich would be if not for Alex. But Rich would recognize his sword anywhere.
“And you would be?” asked Brandon, breaking the silence first, and offering his hand for a handshake.
“I’m Wren,” they replied. They tried to meet Brandon’s offered hand, but he withdrew it when he heard the name.
“What do you want?” said Rich, knowing that there was no possible answer that wouldn’t make his situation worse.
“The one that escaped, it’s here.”
“And you want him to do something about it, with the state he’s in?” Brandon interjected.
“I want it done. If you’re volunteering, that’s fine. I just need it dead sooner rather than later.”
“Fine. I’m probably in better shape to do that than Rich right now anyway.”
“I don’t care. The target is—”
“Brandon, no! This is my—” Rich cut Wren off, before being cut off himself, finding the point of his own sword at his throat.
“Do not interrupt me when I am speaking. The target looks exactly like I do right now.”
“How will we tell if it’s you or the target?”
“I’ve got the sword. But if it’s really that hard for you to tell…” Wren changed their hair from blond to brown.
“Where on the island will we find it?”
“I don’t know, but it better not leave this island. Burn all the boats if you have to, but if this thing gets off the island alive I’m going to have to find a different pawn.” Once Wren was finished speaking, they left in an instant.
“I assume they don’t always look like that?” Brandon asked
“No, normally they’re in the same form they had in the bar. Or at least one matching the description Mags gave me.”
“Ah. So what now?”
“I guess we go find this guy. Wren said it’ll recognize me, so let’s hope we see it before it sees me.”
“Let’s go then.”