Aris worked astoundingly quickly.

Over the span of three hours, Raizia's apartment was transformed. The clothes that had once littered every free surface had been collected, washed, and hung to dry. The dishes that had been piling up in the sink were scrubbed, dried, and put away neatly in their cupboards.  The bed was made, all surfaces dusted, and a collection of wood stacked by the fireplace.

Aris did all of this without saying a word—except to occasionally ask Raizia where she kept her  brushes or other cleaning supplies.

Raizia watched him with mild fascination as he scrubbed the floors. He wore a grey tunic with short sleeves; she watched the cords of muscle ripple down his arms as he moved the brush back and forth. He's definitely a soldier, she thought. The rigid precision of his movements, the layers of muscle, the ability to keep his mouth shut—all the qualities of a good soldier. The only thing that didn't add up was the wealth. Soldiers were usually plucked from the poor; the rich had no need to sacrifice their own lives when they had others who would sacrifice it all for "honor."

Maybe he's higher up in the service... a commander, perhaps.

As she was thinking this, Aris looked up suddenly, catching her staring. Raizia felt a blush rise on her cheeks, but she turned away so he couldn't see it. "There's some ash still there," she lied. "Keep scrubbing."

As he went back to his task, she looked down at her hand, where her finger used to be. She had tried, several times now, to cast a spell, but it hadn't worked. Magick needed a conduit, and for her, it had always been that finger. With it gone, she still had magick within her, but she couldn't access it. She was useless.

In addition, Raizia was seriously regretting binding Aris into her service. She had realized, over the past several hours, that she didn't really need him—nor want him—around. He wasn't a sorcerer; he wouldn't be able to help with any of her spells. And while having an extra helping hand to do her laundry and dishes was helpful, she didn't necessarily think it outweighed the risks. Here was a man who was wealthy, strong, and likely some high-ranking official in the military, and she was forcing him to do menial labor. It made sense for him to do some penitence for his misdeeds, but if she kept him in her service too long, he would become resentful, and people who became resentful did stupid things. It made sense to release him from their bind as soon as possible.

The problem was, without her magick, she couldn't undo the binding spell. Which meant Aris would be forced to help her until she got her magick back. Which could be a very long time.

Zaidi might know how to fix it, she thought to herself. Although the old woman now spent most of her time creating herbal brews, she had once been a practiced sorcerer.

"You can stop," Raizia said suddenly, grabbing her cloak. "And come with me. We're going to the market."

Aris found himself quite uncomfortable as he walked through the winding streets this afternoon.

He had been to the market many times before when he lived outside the city walls, and he was used to be stared at occasionally for his height or his soldier's uniform. But typically it was a passing glance that quickly fell away. With the necromancer at his side, the stares were relentless.

People openly gawked at her and shirked away—and therefore him by association. He did his best to pretend he wasn't with her, but that was difficult as she was leading him to the sorcerer's corner of the market, an area he had very rarely frequented.

He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. For the past several hours, he had done his best to staunchly ignore her, trying to get through all the tasks she had set in front of him in as short amount of time as possible. Now he took a moment to examine her. She was short—but that said, everyone seemed short to him. Her skin was excruciatingly pale; he had a feeling that if she spent more time in the sun it would deepen to olive, but now, it was so pale it seemed to glow. It was in stark contrast to her dark raven hair and coal-colored eyes.

He had a feeling that if she hadn't gone down the path of dark magick, she would be considered beautiful. But now, with her scowl and downcast eyes, she was more of an oddity. A freak. A fright.

Dark magick corrupts, his brother would say during his sermons. Never forget that.

Never forget that, Aris repeated silently.

Raizia turned suddenly, veering down a different path. It was just as crowded as the one they had just been on, but for some reason, now Aris' skin was prickling. It was a something he had developed as a soldier, the ability to sense when something bad was about to happen. It wasn't magick, just experience. Something about this particular crowd didn't seem right.

It took him a moment to realize where the danger was, but then he saw it: a man in a dark cloak, his face hidden. But in his hand was a dagger. And unlike everyone else who was moving away from the necromancer, he was moving towards her.

"Raizia!" Aris yelled.

The necromancer paused to glance back at Aris, but it was at that exact moment that the cloaked man attacked. He lunged forward, driving the knife into Raizia's stomach. Raizia screamed, and the man pulled the knife out—it was slick with red blood.

As he was about to drive it into her a second time, Aris launched into action. He pushed through the remaining people and grabbed the man by his wrist. The assailant seemed surprised to meet resistance, and narrowed his eyes at Aris. With his free hand, he reached into his back pocket, clearly reaching for another knife. But Aris was too quick.

Automatically, Aris reached for the dagger he kept in a sheath on his thigh. Without even thinking, he spun the man around and slid the dagger across his throat, killing him instantly. As his body fell to the ground, Aris spun around, looking for Raizia. She was on the ground as well, her hands holding her stomach, blood leaking through her fingers.

The crowd of people in the market had stepped back. Most of them were staring. None of them were doing anything.

"Pick me up," Raizia groaned. "Get me home."

Aris did as she said. He scooped her up in his arms and started running out of the market.

Raizia cried in pain as they jostled along. Aris did his best to get her away from the crowds and get her home as quickly as possible, but there was so much blood. Her hands couldn't keep it in. It pooled on her stomach, staining her hands, splashing onto Aris' shirt and dripping onto the dirt beneath them.

"Stop," Raizia finally gasped. They were out of the market, on a quiet street without another soul in sight, but they were nowhere near to Raizia's apartment. "Put me down," the sorcerer commanded. "We're not... going to make it... to my place."

Aris stumbled to a stop, bent over, and laid Raizia down on a patch of grass. He had thought she looked pale before, but she looked even worse now, like a ghost made solid.

Aris didn't know why his heart was pounding so fast, why he cared so much that his captor had been injured, but he couldn't help it. "Raizia," he said, "you can't die, right? If you die... you just come back, right?"

"I don't... come back the same..." Raizia said through gasps. "I'd rather... not die today..."

I don't come back the same. Aris had no clue what that meant. But the I'd rather not die today was loud and clear. "What can I do?"

"Just... give me a moment... to try to heal myself. Take... off my glove... left hand."

Aris followed her command, removing the black glove and revealing her hand, prominently missing its middle finger.

Raizia closed her eyes. Aris watched as she limply pressed her left hand to her stomach. She murmured an incantation, eyes fluttering, but nothing happened.

Tears formed at the edges of Raizia's eyes. "Shit," she whispered.

Aris could tell her energy was leaving her. He went into action, pressing down on her stomach himself, trying to hold back the blood.

Raizia screamed in pain, and with a jolt of energy, she grabbed onto Aris' wrists. As she did, an odd look fell across her face.

"Let me... try one more... thing," she said. Her breathing was fast now. Her skin was glistening with sweat.

Aris didn't know what else to do. She would surely die any second now. But he just said, "Sure. Do what you need to do."

Raizia held onto Aris' wrists. "Don't... be afraid..." she whispered, and then, again, she started her chant.

Initially as she whispered the ancient words, nothing happened. But then Aris felt his wrists burn. He looked down. His hands were glowing now, white light. And with it, he could feel the sorcerer's power flowing through his, like a river of eels sparking light.

The sensation was so foreign, so terrifying, but he didn't dare let go. He let the necromancer's magick flow through him. And he saw, in the end, that it was working. The flow of blood was slowing.

Finally, the light died away, and Aris tentatively lifted his hands off her. The place where there had been a jagged tear in her skin was now knit back together, with just a faint scar remaining.

"What..." Aris murmured, looking down at his hands. "How...?"

Raizia slowly sat up, wincing as she did so. She cradled her head in her hands. "I used you as a conduit," she said. "My magick won't come out of me. But for some reason, I could get it to flow through you." She sighed. "I'm glad that worked."

"Yeah..." Aris said, still staring at his hands. "Who was that man? Did you know him?"

Raizia shook her head. "No. Probably just some zealot stirred up by the church. Thinking he's doing an act of the gods by killing me." She looked at Aris suddenly, eyes squinting. "Wait a minute—you killed him, didn't you?"

Aris clenched his jaw. "Bad habit," he muttered.

Raizia looked at him thoughtfully but didn't comment. "Help me up," was all she said, which Aris did.

"Do you want me to help you home?" he asked.

"No. I want to go to the market."

Aris frowned. "After all of this? Don't you think you should rest?"

"I'm down like two liters of blood," Raizia said. "Rest isn't going to help for a while. I need to see Zaidi."

"And if there's another crazy person there who tries to kill you?"

For the first time, Aris saw the necromancer crack a smile. She pointed at his tunic, and when he glanced down, he saw that it was stained with blood. His hands, too, were sticky with drying blood. He realized suddenly that they both must look like absolute nightmares.

Raizia grinned. "I don't think they're going to cross us."

Novella Word Count So Far: 8071