Chapter 50: No Deal

The grey-haired man didn’t answer. He just shifted weight, placing himself little more directly between Mirebeast and Danny, boots crunching snow, back straight despite blood on chin, despite bent spine from hitting rock.

The thin prisoner looked at Danny, eyes full of resentment, then back at grey-haired man, like old man was insane, like old man had lost war in head long ago.

"You said it yourself. We can’t beat it. You said it back at the gate. Some monsters can’t be killed. Some mountains can’t be moved. You said retreat is also strategy."

He pointed toward Danny again, hand steadier now that he had made up his mind, decision made him calm, made him cruel in calm way.

"Give him to it, and maybe it’ll let us go. Maybe it’s all it wants. One life is cheaper than three. That’s logic! That’s numbers! One is less than three! Even child knows!"

Danny’s fists tightened until knuckles turned white, until nails broke skin again, same cuts opening again. Blood warm in cold, freezing as it left. His nails dug into skin, same spot as before, same crescents.

So that’s it.

After everything — after escaping wolves, after surviving Ravenfall, after being told he was safe, after being told he would go to Fort Haven, after old man saved him twice...

He still wanted me dead. It was always going to be him. Someone always wanted to trade him for something. Mother, father, wolves, now this stick man. Always a trade. Always him as coin.

The grey-haired man stepped forward, boots crunching on snow, bent sword catching weak blue light, catching snowflakes that died on steel.

"Enough."

Single word carried more weight than shout, more than roar of beast. Thin prisoner froze, foot half up, mid-step backward.

"He’s coming with me," the grey-haired man said. His voice cold, quiet, but no room for argument in it, like order from empire that no longer exists, like old sergeant voice. "He is coming back to Fort Haven. Alive. Both of you, but him first. No one is being traded. No one is sacrifice."

The thin prisoner swallowed hard. Throat bobbed, tears finally falling, freezing halfway down cheek, leaving shiny tracks.

"But—"

"I said enough."

Words not loud, but they cut through wind, cut through clicking, cut through fear.

The Mirebeast suddenly moved.

Its claws dug into stone road, scraping deep grooves into it, ancient imperial stone screaming like metal, like road was hurt. Mountain shook, sending shower of loose snow down from rocks above, covering them white, covering old man’s shoulders, covering Danny’s hair.

Three of them froze instantly. Even prisoner stopped breathing, stopped swallowing.

Creature lowered its body, six limbs bending, coiling like spring, like spider about to jump, joints popping loud, bark plates grinding. Massive head tilted forward, vertical slit opening wider, wider, teeth spiraling inside throat, red eyes bright like forge, like coals being fanned.

Its red eyes burned brighter than before, glowing with hungry light, light that lit snow red, light that painted road red.

It was ready to attack again. Waiting was over. Patience of mountain ended, deal time ended.

The thin prisoner stared at it, whole body shaking uncontrollably now, legs giving, knees clicking. Then his gaze snapped to Danny, wide with pure, animal fear, fear that eats logic, eats morals.

Fear filled his face, but underneath it Danny saw something else, something old, something human and ugly, something he had seen in Ravenfall, in eyes of men who took extra bread.

And Danny finally understood.

Man wasn’t thinking about saving them anymore. Wasn’t thinking about Fort Haven, or patrol, or doing right thing, or empire, or honor.

He was thinking about saving himself. Only himself. And if that meant pushing boy into monster’s mouth with own hands, grabbing boy and throwing, he would do it, and tell himself it was necessary after, and sleep fine.

The thin prisoner slowly backed away, feet slipping on ice, hands up slightly, as if to protect himself, as if to surrender to monster, as if surrender was option.

"I don’t want to die," he whispered, voice small, childlike, not thin prisoner voice but boy voice. "I didn’t survive the mines to die here. I didn’t carry rocks for five years to die on this mountain. I didn’t eat rats to die on snow. I don’t want to die on this mountain. I want to see flat land again. I want to see my girl."

The grey-haired man raised his sword, even though blade bent and arm burned and Echo almost gone, raised it like it could still cut mountain, like will alone could straighten steel.

"Neither does he," he said, nodding toward Danny, not looking back, keeping eyes on beast and on man who would betray.

The thin prisoner said nothing. He just kept staring at Mirebeast, then at boy, breath fast, shallow, fog coming fast then gone, fog not keeping up with heart.

For moment, only sound on mountain was clicking coming from Mirebeast’s throat and howling wind through rocks, through broken gate, through teeth of monster.

Click...

Then thin prisoner whispered, voice barely audible over wind, but every word clear, every word final, every word like stone dropped in water —

"Then let him die for us. It’s better than all of us dying. It’s better. It’s math. One death is kinder than three."

Danny’s eyes hardened. Fear in his chest turned into something else, something hot and heavy, something that wasn’t fear anymore but anger, old anger, survival anger, the anger that made him run in forest. He didn’t step back. He stared right at prisoner, fists up now, small but up, ready to hit if thin man grabbed.

The grey-haired man’s grip tightened around ruined sword until leather creaked, until blood from hand made leather dark, until shaking stopped from grip alone.

"No."

The thin prisoner stared at him, mouth open, waiting for more, waiting for old man to change mind, to be reasonable, to be adult who understands numbers.

Answer was final. There would be no deal. No trade. No math where boy equals meat.

The grey-haired man stepped fully between him and Danny, back to boy, face to monster and man who would sacrifice him, sword up, body broken but standing, old mountain between two small hills.

"If someone has to die here..."

His eyes narrowed, and faint blue light in them flared one last time, stubborn and bright, refusing to die quietly, like candle in storm that won’t go out.

"...it won’t be the boy."

The Mirebeast suddenly roared. Deep, earth-shaking roar that sent snow flying off mountain and made all three of them cover ears, made rock fall from above, made old imperial gate further down road tremble.

Mountain shook.

And thin prisoner realized that grey-haired man had made his choice, and monster had made its choice too.