Chapter 10

Allora disappeared around the other side of the wagon and Mitchell lost sight of her. He didn’t know why, but he wanted to go after her and apologize. He reminded himself that he didn’t owe her an apology. Still, the desire was there, nonetheless. He suppressed it. He tried to ignore the pain he felt at her words as well. He hadn’t asked for any of this. But the way she’d looked at him with such disdain and disgust bothered him. It shouldn’t matter what she thought of him, he told himself. Yet, it did. 

Whether he openly admitted it or not, she was perhaps the fiercest, most amazing woman he’d ever met. After all those hours in the cage, he had come to rely on her strength. She had never cowered before them, had never given them the satisfaction of appearing weak. Her example had given him the strength to do the same despite being absolutely terrified.   

He sat back down in a huff and squinted as a blast of hot air blew sand in his face. It had been so long since he’d felt anything cool that he was beginning to forget what the word even meant. He was so exhausted he couldn’t think clearly. Every time he tried to follow a train of thought, it would evaporate away. He never got to any conclusions or decisions, and this soured his mood even further. He needed to sleep, and he wanted to wake up back where things made sense. 

He was lost in his own musings when Revos sat across from him in the spot Allora had been in moments before. Mitchell looked up to see the big creature glaring at him. Under normal circumstances, it might have been intimidating. He did look like something that had stepped out of Dante’s Inferno, after all. But Mitchell had grown somewhat accustomed to his presence over the last several days, which just went to show that people could adapt to almost anything, given enough time. 

“What are you looking at?” Mitchell asked. 

“A petulant child,” Revos said. 

“Fuck you,” Mitchell shot back. 

The creature arched an eyebrow but didn’t respond. He didn’t respond for so long that Mitchell began to grow uncomfortable under his golden stare. 

“That girl has been through the nine hells and back. She carries the weight of an entire kingdom on her shoulders. She does not deserve to be spoken to like that. What happened to you and how you were brought here were not her fault.” 

“Then whose fault was it?”

“It was mine,” he said flatly. 

Mitchell hadn’t been expecting that. 

Revos took a large breath and glanced over at where Lethelin still sat silently, ever watchful. Then he continued. 

“Ivaran’s men ambushed me in the market ten days after I sent Lora to your realm. They tracked her to me. I don’t know how. She carries a charm with her that is supposed to block her from scrying, but somehow Milandris has been finding ways around it.” 

“Why didn’t you magic your way out of it? You handled Ivaran easily enough.” 

Revos looked offended. 

“Ivaran barely has enough magic to light a campfire. In a straight duel, I would have boiled the blood from his body before he could scream. But a strike to the back of the head while one is chatting up a silk merchant’s lovely daughter will knock out an arcanist as easily as a stable boy. When I came to, I was back in my tower with the manacles on and as helpless as a babe. I was told to reveal where Allora had gone, or they would kill me. As you can see, I am still alive.”

“You’re not a very loyal friend,” Mitchell said.

“I am a survivor. I make no apologies for that. I am quite fond of Lora, but I am more fond of myself.” 

“So you sold her out. And me.” 

“And I would do it again,” Revos said and gave him a flat look. 

“With friends like these…” Mitchell said, and let it trail off. 

Revos cocked his head. 

“What does that mean?” 

“It’s an expression from my world. With friends like these, who needs enemies?” 

“Ah,” Revos said. “I understand. Quite. But Lora knew the kind of person I was when she came to me. I am many things, but heroic is not one of them. We thought her safe in Iletish but we were mistaken.” 

Mitchell was quiet, not sure what to say. 

“Whether you return or not, you owe her an apology. She has lost more and suffered more than you can imagine.” 

“If you were so fond of her, you should have fought a little harder to protect her.” 

“I am a survivor,” Revos shrugged.

“Whatever,” Mitchell said. “I’m going to get some sleep.” 

Mitchell went to the back of the wagon and retrieved one of the bedrolls that had, only that morning, belonged to their captors. Laying down with a strip of cloth over his eyes, he tried to make sense of everything. Before he got very far, he fell into a dreamless sleep.

Mitchell awoke to darkness. As his thoughts began to clear, he tried to figure out what had awoken him. The camp was mostly quiet, with Revos snoring softly. Then he heard it again. A sniffle. 

He turned his head slowly and saw Allora sitting cross-legged and staring down at her sword that was back in the scabbard and lying on the ground in front of her knees. Her hand was clutched tightly around something, and she was speaking in a low voice. The language spell had worn off long ago, and he was back to not understanding a word she said. 

Even covered in dust and grime from days on the road, she was almost ethereally beautiful in the moonlight. Her violet eyes glistened with unshed tears. It hurt Mitchell somewhere inside to see her in so much pain. That feeling was made worse because he knew he was the cause. 

“No,” he told himself for the hundredth time. “This is not your fight and these are not your problems.” 

Mitchell knew he would have to be insane to even consider it. This was a place of swords and sorcery. What could he do? How was he supposed to stop an invading army? Was he supposed to bury them under Excel spreadsheets? Maybe he could beat Milandris in a singing competition with his vast knowledge of 90s grunge bands. A dance-off was all well and good in Marvel movies, but he doubted the guy who wanted to kill him would be stopped by Mitchell’s enthusiastic twerking. 

Mitchell wasn’t a white knight, he wasn’t a hero, and as much as he might want to help her he wasn’t even qualified to take care of the giant lizard pulling their wagon, let alone save a kingdom. He belonged back on Earth, with his friends and family, his boring but stable job, and Tinder dating. No magic, no monsters, no one trying to kill him. And no beautiful bad-ass elfin sorceresses who asked him to be a king and save a kingdom. 

He realized then that Allora’s whispers had stopped. He refocused his eyes and saw she was looking at him. She didn’t speak and neither did he. Her moist eyes bored into his, unblinking and pleading. Mitchell turned away from her and tried to go back to sleep.