I have had all I can take
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(884) backdated to june 17th



In the weeks that had followed the end of the war, Ezekiel had retreated further and further from the goings-on of Inferni. He had been given a rather severe wound along his side, where his ribs had once been broken. They had broken again, but knit faster this time. The skin had finally begun to knit and scab over. That had proven he was ready for travel, and only further convinced him that the time had come. So gradually, over the days, he went through what he had and took things from one place to another. Nearly all of his books were taken to the Mansion, save those few he could not bear to part with. His medical supplies were gone through, sorted, and carefully repacked.

“Are you going north?”

The voice startled him. Ezekiel spun and was surprised to see a set of red eyes watching him. Enkiel was the only person in Inferni capable of sneaking up on him. A sigh escaped the Aquila, who gestured for the healer to enter his home.

“I don’t know yet.”

“You do not need to lie to me, Ezekiel.”

Amber eyes narrowed under his straw colored hair. Enkiel settled onto the floor, naked save for his medicinal bag and the never-ending stare of the eye upon his arm. He looked like his father, Ezekiel realized suddenly, and wondered if Enkiel could remember what his mother looked like. The de le Poer could not.

“I think so, yes,” he admitted finally.

“Will you take me to Freetown?”

The question was so unexpected that Ezekiel froze, his head shooting up in confusion. There was no doubt in the dark eyes of the jackal.

“Where will you go? Home?”

“I have no home,” Enkiel said sharply, his voice rising. “I have only ever had an oath, and without you, I am no longer bound to Inferni.”

It was an archaic idea, but they were archaic themselves—visions of long-dead prophets and gods that faded into old memory and older scripture. Ezekiel smiled, honestly, and it was a sad smile as it had never been seen before.

“Then I will do you that last favor and release you from your bond. Are you to find the Vienna woman, then? Return to your dark continent?”

A mirthless smile crept onto Enkiel’s face. “I fear I may be too savage for those lands.”

The mirrored smile on the golden coyote’s face melted. He breathed out smoke and doubt. “We’re all savage, cousin. What did you say they called that eater of hearts?”

“Ammit.”

“I think your land is rightly savage for you, Prince of Strife.”

“Our gods and beasts are not half the number of yours. I have seen your books of names.”

“I’m not going to look for monsters, Enkiel.”

“No,” the jackal said, and his red eyes gleamed in the firelight. They were a terrible shade, the dark color of pooled blood. “But you will find them. Your kind always does.”

“My kind?”

“Hunters. You are like your father,” he added, and focused his gaze on Ezekiel’s face. Did he see Gabriel there? The Aquila often wondered this, and hoped it was so. Even after all he had done, he loved his father as he loved God. He still loved his sister, after everything. “You were born to burn out the wicked.”

Only then did Ezekiel’s face fall. He lifted one hand, now dotted by fresh scars, and touched the lines under his left eye. “I think they struck first, Enkiel. I’m just doing what I need to do to survive.”

“Routine and prejudice distort vision. Each man thinks his own horizon is the limit of the world,” the jackal recited. “That is carved on the walls of a great temple in my land. I think you do well to remember that, Ezekiel de le Poer.”

For a long time, the fair-haired coyote watched his cousin. It still amazed him, how such a small amount of blood had made them so different. One would not think Enkiel of the Lykoi line if not for the red eyes, but even he barely showed this—only his eyes, his red muzzle, these faint signs proved a lineage thinning with each passing generation. Slowly, and without force, a humorless smile cut across his mouth and turned it wolfish.

“If you would survive the north, I’d take you with me.”

The jackal did not react loudly, but he never did—the subtle twitch in his face was enough to show Ezekiel the option had not occurred to him. Ezekiel pressed on.

“Summer is not so bad. By winter we would press south; I can’t expect Viggo to trudge through that kind of snow. Besides,” the blonde’s smile turned savage. “I’ve always wanted to see that sea on the other end of the world my father spoke of.”

They regarded each other in momentary silence, and finally, the jackal smiled. It was a peculiar thing on his face.

“I will need a horse.”

The firelight flickered against the wall, and Ezekiel saw their shadows flicker and twist with the echoes of what they had been and were in truth. He often wondered if this was his curse, as was his father’s blind faith, and looked back to the flames.

“Gather your things. Three days.”


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