Hello again :) I have committed myself to an uploading schedule (see my profile for details), so this story should be updated every Saturday from now on. She says confidently. Thanks to everyone who has reviewed the last chapter!

Family Ties

Chapter 4

The next day was a slow day at the market. Briar sat behind his stall and brooded, barely paying attention to the activity in front of him, hardly looking up at the people going past. He stared at his hands, watching the vegetable dye tattoos bloom on his palms, lost in his thoughts.

None of the girls had tried to talk to him this morning, for which he was grateful, if a bit surprised. It was unlike them, especially Sandry, not to want to stick their noses in. Perhaps they were as shaken as he felt, after the last dream. It seemed to resound with him even now, hours later.

He sat back in his chair and let the day pass him by. He was just thinking that perhaps he could pack up early to go home and take a nap, when something caught his eye. He looked up to see the golden-haired Westerner sauntering casually past the stalls opposite. Briar's eyes widened, and he tensed himself in expectation, but the man didn't even look over at him.

Briar was angry now. What gave this wispy-looking bleater the right to follow him around and then go walking around, cheerful as you please?

Briar told the plants to guard the booth and got to his feet. He crossed the street and walked close behind the man for a few paces. The man glanced behind, greyish-green eyes narrowed, then turned back. Briar kept after him, not bothering to hide what he was doing.

Eventually the Westerner whirled on him. "Are you following me, sir?" he demanded.

Briar was not afraid. "Turnabout's fair play," he said, glaring up at the pale face. He adjusted his vision slightly, and realised suddenly that Tris' dream-mage theory was as ridiculous as it had sounded in the first place. The man didn't have so much as a spark of magic in him.

"I assure you I don't know what you're talking about," the man said coldly.

"You mean you don't remember stalking me yesterday?" Briar replied, raising his eyebrows in an expression of pure cynicism.

"I expect you have mistaken me for someone else," was the answer. Briar frowned. "I advise you to stop there, unless you want me to alert the Duke's men."

Briar was not duly affected by this threat, as he was on good terms with most of the Duke's guards and some of the harriers, and he was fairly sure Sandry could get him out of any strife he should get into with them - whether she would, of course, was a different matter altogether. Still, there didn't seem to be any point in arguing further, since the man was clearly either a madman or a liar.

And yet… there was something about him, Briar realised, the more he looked. Something familiar that went beyond the last few days. Before he could put his finger on it, though, the man had whirled around and stalked off.

He told Daja about it when he got home, and she nodded. "Well, it was a long shot," she said as the cook served them dinner. "I expect he was just trying to rob you and now trying to get away from it."

"If he was, he acts like no thief I've ever seen," Briar said, with the conviction of experience. "He's no mage, he's no labourer either. Merchant, mebbe. Tris would be able to tell."

"You're losing your touch, Briar Moss, if you can't size someone up with one look," Daja teased.

"This fellow takes more than one look," Briar said frowning. "And there's something about him… like I've seen him before."

"Maybe you have," Daja reasoned. "You met a lot of people when you were travelling with Rosethorn. Perhaps that's how he knew where to come to steal shakkans."

Briar was not completely convinced by this argument, but it was all he had to go on. He didn't know why he was worrying about it so much. It wasn't as if the man was a threat to him, after all.

"Can we try for a good night's sleep tonight?" Daja asked later. "I almost fell asleep at the forge at lunch time."

"I'm not doing it a-purpose!" Briar protested. Though secretly he was desperately hoping the same thing.

~*0*~

He stood amid the ruins of Gyonxe, amid the tide of people fleeing the city from the Yanjingi army. They moved as one, like a desperate animal, like a tidal wave of terror. "Evvy!" he shouted, struggling against the tide. "Evvy!"

With every passing moment he was sure he would find her dead, crushed by the crowd or in pieces, or flattened by the boulders that hurtled past overhead to smash into the temple walls.

"Rosethorn! Evvy!"

Someone elbowed him hard in the stomach in their frantic attempt to get past him, and he doubled over, stumbling almost flat on his face. He forced himself up - to fall now would be a death sentence - and fought his way over to the entrance. People had taken shelter in the temple, and he was forced to climb over them in places, his feet hitting flesh and bone as he scrambled.

"Evvy! Evvy!"

There was an explosion from behind him, he felt the ground roar as though it was being torn apart. He went flying and found himself tossed over the crowd and onto a pile of bodies. None of them were moving. Horrified he scrambled off them and backed away. The light of the flames that wreathed the temple came through the windows and illuminated their dead faces. Men, women and children, all piled up like so much rubbish. "Evvy… Rosethorn?" he called again, hoarsely.

Then from behind him, he felt it. That terrible, dark presence. Had it been chasing him all along? He didn't dare turn, didn't wait to see the hideous black shape of it, the glow of its eyes, he just ran. Ran away from the temple, away from the city. He found himself running along a corridor of pure darkness, and he knew he could not run forever. The thing would find him. He could feel the crunch of bone under his feet, still smell the reek of rotten and burnt flesh. He could hear it roaring along behind him, ever gaining, but he was blind in the dark and it was only a matter of time before he fell, and the creature swallowed him whole.

Fear, pure and terrible, engulfed him. And then he felt his feet slide out from under him, but he had to get away, he must… he reached up, trying to get back to his feet, but all his fingers encountered was slippery wet flesh, the stink of blood stinging his nostrils.

Briar, wake up!

He couldn't see, he couldn't breathe, he was drowning in blood and fire.

Briar! Wake up!

Notes:

New chapter next Saturday! (Friday in the U.S and the UK depending on the exact time). Also I've uploaded the first chapter to a Tortall-verse story called Opals and Fire, so go check that out, it will be updated every Thursday! Thanks for reviewing, I do appreciate it and try to reply to them all.