Sweat beaded on Cita's forehead and dripped down his back. He forced the shovel blade into the stubble-covered soil. He scooped the load up and tossed it aside. The shallow ditch enclosing every bit of blood-splattered ground was almost complete. Cita paused, resting his protesting ankle, and watched several guards closing the ring.
Bilal and Nathaniel wielded shovels nearby.
"I thought for a moment we wouldn't need to fire the field when Lord Blaah rode up," Nathaniel joked. He wiped the sweat from his brow. He looked over to where Michael brushed his tethered stallion. "I don't recall the last time he was quite so livid."
Cita nodded. "He was pretty … colorful," he panted, "when he tore … Michael a new one."
"A new what?" Nathaniel asked.
*Do you miss it? Being punished?*
Cita's eyes darted around. The bright sunlight was unshadowed. He shivered and bent his back to work again in a silence broken by his continued gasps for breath.
Nathaniel glanced at Bilal and shouldered his shovel. "That should do it."
He whistled, signaling the guards digging to break off.
They gathered at the supply wagon and returned the shovels. Waterskins were passed around.
Cita took a quick swallow of the warm water and grimaced.
**Eww. That should be cold and citrusy. You shouldn't drink anything that tastes like … dead animal.** The youth kicked the wagon wheel. **Weren't we going home?**
"Home?" Cita echoed.
The guard next to him edged away.
Bilal and Nathaniel spoke next to the wagon. They gestured at some sealed jugs and the gory depression in the field. Then they each grabbed two containers before Nathaniel turned to the guards.
"Grab something to eat, but quickly, and then switch out with the sentries so they can eat. Bilal and I will apply the blessed oil."
The guards shifted, but none protested.
Cita frowned at them and looked at Bilal's confident profile.
*Such faith! He's like the rest of them, you know. But you're too naïve — you'll never see the betrayal coming.*
Cita shook his head. "I liked it better when you SHUT UP!"
Heads turned. The guards sidled away. Nathaniel glared at Bilal, exasperation writ large on his face.
Malicious laughter sparked at the edge of hearing. Cita fingered his long dagger, but stilled when he noticed the golden eyes watching without watching.
"Breathe. It's cool. We're fine," Cita murmured. He released the dagger.
Nathaniel sighed and gathered the guards again. "Once we're done, those not on sentry duty will watch the circle as we fire it off. If it escapes the firebreak, I'm not sure we'll be able to stop it." He met everyone's eyes individually.
Cita paused. He watched Bilal and Nathaniel walking away. He turned to the guards getting bread and cheese from the wagon.
**You don't fit. Not here.** The youth, standing at Cita's flank, shrugged.
*You'll never fit.* The shadow hovered behind Cita, out of sight. But he felt it breathing down his neck. He trembled and walked toward the wagon.
There was another jug. There was plenty of bread and cheese. His stomach growled.
Cita grabbed the jug and hastened after Bilal and Nathaniel. He caught up as they reached the shallow ditch.
Bilal grinned at him but said nothing.
The slushy ball of anxiety nestled in Cita's stomach thawed a bit, and he smiled back. Together, they set the jugs down and broke the wax seals.
"So, my thought is, we walk to the center and work our way outward, spreading the oil until we reach the firebreak." Nathaniel pointed into the hollow as he spoke.
"It would be better to seal the outer edges first," Bilal countered. "The town priests blessed the oil, correct? If we work inward, the blessing should seal any evil within. Otherwise, it would be no different from using unblessed oil."
"That would leave us coated with oil, as well as the ground. Do you want to stand around a massive bonfire like a seasoned roast?" Nathaniel retorted.
Bilal recoiled as if struck, flaring his wing wide.
*What makes scars that run like wax, hmm?* the shadow snickered. *If you survive, that is. Most don't, you know.*
Cita winced and his vision hazed red. He shook his head.
Bilal and Nathaniel stood facing each other, muscles bunched as if ready to fight.
"We could do both," Cita offered. "If we first go around the perimeter, it would seal the circle. From inside, we could work from the center outward, and then step over the outer ring. We might get some oil on us, but not much."
Bilal did not reply, but nodded and moved to the inside edge of the firebreak with his jugs.
Nathaniel nodded and did the same.
They moved in opposite directions around the circle, pouring a steady stream of oil as they went.
"Where's the class monitor when we need one?" Cita sighed and picked up his jug. He stepped to where the others had started their circle and knelt.
"I was right." He carefully closed the gap and hurried after Bilal, keeping outside the ring for now.
*****
Legs stretched toward the fire, Cita sat on the ground leaning against one of the saddles. The blaze leapt into the afternoon sky but stayed low and controlled. Still, the heat was incredible, and it soothed his bones. Others stood or sat around the fire, posted at intervals.
'I don't need to watch them. But these flames …'
The fire danced.
'They have secrets.'
"This isn't good. If Lord Blaah finds out you can't sense the Infected anymore …"
Bilal cut Nathaniel off. "If I cannot detect the Infected, I am of no use to him, and he will ban me from his lands." His voice was cold as winter. "It will not be the first time I was unwelcome somewhere."
"Bilal," Nathaniel began. He huffed and tried again. "Before this morning, yeah, banishment was the worse you faced. Now? Michael is pissed about his stallion and will take it to his father if we have to put it down. Plus, he's over there petting him! If we get the heir Infected —"
"It will be as the Lady Staryu wills," Bilal said. "And you have not worried about your lord's temper yet. Why start now?"
"That's it? We're flirting with execution and you'll trust the goddess?" Nathaniel sighed. "Fine. That's just fine. I guess we'll have a nice welcome home party in hell when this is all settled." Nathaniel stomped away, crushing the dried stubble under his boots.
**I don't think you were supposed to hear that, either. Do they think you're deaf?** The youth sat next to Cita, basking in the heat.
"Do you think Lord Blaah would kill us if Nocturne is Infected?" Cita whispered. "Or Michael?"
The youth laughed, his lip curling in derision.
**Sure as shooting, he'll do what he wants. Then it sucks to be us peons.**
Bilal came to stand behind Cita and handed him some bread and cheese. Cita accepted it with a murmured thanks. They watched the fire silently for a time.
**Do it. You know you want to.** The youth smirked at Cita.
"Bilal ..." Cita hesitated. "Am I the only one bitten by the Infected who didn't … become one of them?"
"Hmm?" Bilal shrugged. "Perhaps. As I said before, we do not know what causes the Infection to spread. There is a tale. A huntsman's favorite hound strayed from the kennel one night. He was not worried; she always returned for breakfast. At dawn, she came home with a black ferret at her side — one of the Infected. The pack emerged to greet their strayed leader, and the ferret sprang on a pup, blinding it. The pack fell on the Infected, tearing both ferret and hound to shreds. Then they turned on the pup. Before lunch, the entire pack succumbed.
"The stories vary on what happened to the huntsman. Some say he died from the grief of losing his beloved pack. Some insist he drank himself to death. Others claim he, too, was tainted and slew his wife before he was killed.
"If the tale has truth at its roots, the taint may spread through an injury from one of the Infected, or by injuring one. Or it could spread through simple association with one of the Infected."
"That's why we're watching the stallion — Nocturne?" Cita asked, glancing toward Michael keeping vigil over his restless mount.
"Yes," Bilal responded shortly, looking at the beast fighting its tether. "I suspect we will know for certain soon." He whispered, "Jas povtorno nema da uspeam."
'I will not fail again.'
Cita looked up at Bilal's stony face and followed his gaze to where Nathaniel approached Michael. Cita turned back at the fire, lost in the flames again.
**Flames aren't complicated. But they do have secrets,** the youth commented.
"Cita … why are you staring at the fire?"
**Tell him that it keeps the shadow away. I dare you.** The youth laughed.
"I'm not sure," Cita answered at last. "It feels like … if I stay here, and watch it … it will stay, too." Cita pretended he didn't see Bilal's troubled look. The flames danced against the afternoon sky. 'I wish it could stay like this forever.'