Three weeks of peace. It was enough to make Kael paranoid.
He spent his days hauling rock from the quarry, his muscles screaming, his hands hardening into calloused claws. The work was brutal, but it kept his mind off the cylinder.
mostly.
The artifact was buried under the floor of their small dwelling. He could still feel it. A low hum in the earth.
He walked back to the hut as the grey sun set. He was covered in dust, but his arm had healed. The scar was ugly—a jagged line of pink flesh surrounded by grey burn marks—but the muscle worked.
He opened the door.
Elric was sitting by the fire. The old Knight had regained some weight, but he wasn't the same. He moved slowly, stiffly. And he rarely spoke. He spent hours staring into the flames, muttering names of dead men.
Jax was pacing.
"We need to leave," Jax said the moment Kael entered.
"We have seven days left on our contract," Kael said, grabbing a bowl of stew.
"Forget the contract!" Jax hissed. "The storm is passing. The trails are clearing. If we leave now, we can beat the snow."
"And go where?" Kael asked. "Ironhold is gone. The Black Banner owns the south."
"East," Jax said. "To the Free Cities. We can sell the rock."
Kael stopped eating. He looked up. "Sell it?"
"It's worth a kingdom, Kael," Jax said, his eyes wild. "Vane wanted it. The Empire wants it. We could be rich. We could live like kings in Caelum."
"It's a weapon," Elric mumbled from the corner. "A curse."
"It's a retirement fund!" Jax snapped. "Look at us! We're digging rocks for grey-skins! We're eating sludge! I didn't sign up for this!"
"You signed up for the Vanguard," Kael said calmly. "Capture, kill, survive."
"The Vanguard is dead!" Jax shouted. "Karn is dead! Horg is dead! It's just us! And I'm done being a rat."
He lunged for the loose stone in the floor.
Kael moved.
He didn't draw his sword. He kicked the stool out from under Jax. The thief crashed to the ground.
Kael was on top of him in a second, his forearm—the scarred one—pressed against Jax's throat.
"Don't touch it," Kael warned.
"Get off me!" Jax struggled, reaching for his dagger.
Kael punched him. Hard. In the jaw.
Jax went limp for a second, then spat blood. He looked up at Kael with pure hatred.
"You're crazy," Jax wheezed. "You're keeping it for yourself. You want the power."
"I'm keeping it from killing us," Kael said. He stood up, breathing hard.
Jax scrambled back. He wiped his mouth. "Fine. Keep your cursed rock. But I'm leaving."
"You can't survive the Ash alone," Elric said scftly.
"Watch me," Jax promised. He grabbed his pack (already packed, Kael noted) and his cloak.
He paused at the door.
"You think you're saving the world, Rat?" Jax sneered. " You're just another Vane. Waiting for your turn to be the butcher."
He slammed the door.
Silence returned to the hut.
"He'll die out there," Elric said.
"Maybe," Kael said. He sat down on the spot where the artifact was buried. "Or maybe he'll sell us out to the first patrol he finds."
Elric looked at Kael. "And if he does?"
"Then I'll kill him," Kael said.
The words felt easy. Too easy.
Kael looked at his hands. They stopped shaking.
"We leave in three days," Kael decided. "Before he can bring the Hounds back."
"To the Free Cities?" Elric asked.
"No," Kael said. "To the mountains. To the only place the Black Banner won't follow."
"The Deep Waste?" Elric's eyes went wide.
"The Deep Waste," Kael confirmed. "If we're going to burn, Elric... let's burn where no one can see the smoke."