The Hob's Bargain

magic I used. I saw his gaze focus on the lowland berserker, and Nahag began to crawl toward him.
    â€œHungry,” gasped Nahag, his voice shaking. “I’m so alone.”
    Rook stepped forward, but I raised my palm and shook my head. I wasn’t sure Nahag couldn’t use the raider for something—I knew I could have. Rook met my gaze for a long moment and stopped.
    Nahag still held part of the berserker. I found it mainly because he was trying so hard to hide it. I don’t think he understood who was attacking him until I took it away.
    He looked at me as if I’d betrayed him. Then he attacked with the remnants of his magic.
    Damaged as he was, he was stronger than I, and better trained. And I was so tired. His probings hurt deep inside my head, and all I could do was keep plucking foreign essences off him like a demented cook. One at a time now, because the damage inside of me was growing.
    â€œFinish the job, Aren,” insisted my father, his face stern as he stood above my six-year-old self crying over a half-plucked goose. “Everyone has something to do here.”
    I’d dropped my staff somewhere. It was hard to fight off the visions.
    I ripped and tore until the only thing left of Nahag’s spirit was a shredded, sorry thing—all Nahag without any extra fragments. He’d quit fighting me for the last few pieces; either he was too tired or he just didn’t care anymore.
    I stopped because I didn’t know what else to do.
    We stared at each other, Nahag and I.
    I don’t know what he saw, but I saw what I’d nearly, very nearly, become. He’d been someone’s son once, who hadn’t had a friend to save him as Kith had saved my brother. He hadn’t had Caefawn to teach him.
    His cringing soul expanded abruptly within the bonds of spirit. For a brief moment it hesitated, but the fragile spirit could not hold it and the soul drifted away. The spirit lingered an instant, then was gone.
    The mage closed his eyes. I looked at Rook and nodded my head. Rook’s blade slid into the mage’s neck. I wouldn’t tell anyone the bloodmage had been dead before the knife slid home. The raiders needed all the credit they could get.
    â€œPeople,” snapped Wandel. I turned and saw the harper holding his shirt over Kith’s abdomen. “If we don’t get him sewn up, he’s going to die.”
    I felt a jolt of incredulous joy that cut through the numb exhaustion and wrongness . Kith was alive? I crawled toward them, then remembered Wandel was supposed to kill Kith. I stared stupidly at the harper, who met my gaze and frowned.
    â€œThis village needs him.” He sounded defensive.
    I smiled at him with sudden euphoria. Wandel wasn’t going to kill Kith. Not ever. He knew it, too; I could tell by the self-disgust in his voice. Neither Caefawn nor Kith was dead. At least not yet. There was an awful lot of blood on Wandel’s shirt.
    Caefawn staggered to Kith, favoring his injured knee. He sat beside the Wandel and touched Kith briefly. Without taking his eyes off Kith, he held a hand back to me. “Aren, I need your help.”
    I reached out and took his hand. He stiffened, as he had under the bloodmage’s spell.
    â€œAren?” With the explosive swiftness I’d seen in him before, he turned toward me. The horror on his face made me want to cower away from him, but my body chose that moment to quit obeying me again.
    Could he see how close I’d been to becoming something he hated? Could he see the taint left on me? I tried to pull back, but my body moved toward his gentle tug.
    He took my face in his hands, and I could feel the touch of his claws resting against my skin. He’d taken his earring back from the bloodmage and rewoven it through his ear.
    â€œWhat did he do to you?” There was fear in his voice, and something in me relaxed when I saw I didn’t disgust him. The familiar grip of his tail reassured me.
    My hand reached out and touched his jaw. His skin was smooth against my fingertips. He moved one of his hands from my face to catch my hand and flatten it against his cheek.
    Wandel said something I didn’t catch.
    â€œI can heal his wound, but I need Aren to mend his spirit. Keep the pressure on here , while I try to undo whatever the bloodmage did to her.” But I could see that it wasn’t worry for Kith that drove Caefawn.
    I’d always thought his flirtation was