As Frances and Timur continued on their search, they passed by Hattie and several of the other half-human half-Alavari orphans. Hattie merely glanced at them, but the others waved at Frances and Timur, who waved back and watched them scamper into a nearby mansion to explore.
“Timur, I know this is a bit off topic, but did we plan a place where the orphans will have a home?” Frances asked.
The pair had reached the edge of the city. Most of the houses here were less damaged, but they also tended to be far too large.
“I haven’t thought about it, but…you know what? One of these mansions would probably work quite well,” said Timur.
“I agree, and we can even use one of these for a school,” said Frances.
Her prince bobbed his head. “Oooh good idea. I suppose that will be the next thing we’ll search for.”
“Assuming we find a house,” said Frances, feeling just a bit frustrated with the endeavour. Walking by another walled mansion, the young mage noticed the road shot off right toward the cavern wall. “Huh?”
“Huh indeed,” said Timur, frowning.
The path slowly ramped upwards where a low stone wall sat. The gate had long rotted away, but Frances could still see holes where the hinges would have been. Behind it looked to be windows cut into the wall, about three stories of them.
No words were needed. The pair walked up the ramp and into the front yard. Dusty soil beds flanked the path into the strange house.
“A garden. Rather small isn’t it?” Timur asked.
“Yeah, I wonder what for.” Frances narrowed her eyes at the house’s door. “How is the door still here?” Reaching forward, she pressed her hand against the door and yelped as something stung her. For a moment, Frances thought she had gotten a splinter but there was nothing on her palm.
“Hmm, give me a moment, Frances. It looks like some kind of security magic.” Timur pulled out his wand and tapped on the door. He muttered several words of power, each snapping out with a greater and greater force. After the final word, the prince tapped the door again and it swung open. “Aha! Good thing it’s been so long. That would have been a very strong spell.”
“I wonder who cast it,” said Frances. She opened the door completely and blinked.
The inside was incredibly dusty, but Frances got a good view of the front hall. To her surprise there wasn’t any plaster covering the stonework. It seemed to have been painted a off-white ivory colour once upon a time, but she could still see the hoe and toolmarks on the walls of the house.
Before she knew it, Frances stepped inside, Ivy’s Sting in her hand. Set into the ceiling were a number of clear quartz crystals. Frances pointed her wand at them and filled them with her magic.
The house lit up, and Frances, Timur right behind her, started down the hall.
The ground floor was where the kitchen and a dining room were. The sorry remnants of a table and cloth lay disintegrated on the floor of the dining room, which was nevertheless large enough to house a family and had a small fireplace for heating. The kitchen’s cupboards were cut into the stone and even now, were filled with glass jars of long petrified foodstuffs. The main thing Frances found herself drawn to was a well-sized stone oven with a hole on the top where one could put a frying pan or wok. A passageway to the pantry shot off from the kitchen and while Frances was sure it probably needed to be cleaned out, she chanced a quick glance and found it to be very large, dark and more importantly, cool.
“Cozy,” said Timur. His wide eyes taking it in.
Frances nodded and made her way up the stairs. They were again cut from the stone of the cavern, but covered with heavy granite blocks. As she emerged she found herself in another hallway. There she found the stairs opened up to a study lit by the floor windows. Rickety chairs, far too fragile to sit on, and books long crumpled to dust and useless pages sat on shelves in the walls. The study had doors leading off of it that probably hid a bedroom or two. As Frances and Timur turned around, she saw an ajar door.
A closer examination led Frances to find a bathroom cut deep into the cavern, featuring of all things, a very primitive kind of toilet and tiled sink fed by a simple flue that delivered water.
Timur experimentally yanked the dusty latch that fed the flue and started as freezing cold water shot down and splashed him.
“Huh, I didn’t expect that. I wonder if the bath works.”
Frances, wondering the same thing herself, went over to the bathtub, which was actually more of a bathing pool. It could easily fit both herself and Timur in even if they stuck their legs out. This time the water didn’t pour out of the flue when she opened the latch, much to her disappointment. She quite liked the bath’s design however. While covered in dust, the shaded blue tiles that simulated the ocean waves was quite lovely.
“Timur, I’m really liking this place,” said Frances.
“Me too. It’s got a really nice design.”
“But who owned this? It’s rather well-sized for us since this is a goblin city.”
“Hmm, maybe we’ll find a clue in the master bedroom,” said Timur.
Said master bedroom had the remains of both a bed and closets full of rotten scraps of clothing. Only a few things had survived: a bronze mirror and some metal and glass claspings. There was also a clue as to the identity of the occupants in a badly discolored portrait of a female goblin and a lanky male human. They both were sitting in the garden of the house they were in, hands clasped. The goblin had a staff, the human had a sword at his waist.
“Okay, that is weird,” said Timur, his eyes wide.
“Right, other species were enslaved by the goblins during those days, right? They wouldn’t be married to one another,” said Frances.
“Yes. And usually, even in the rare cases a slave married their master, they would never be equal. In this case, the pair are positioned as if they’re equal, and clasping hands too.” Timur pulled out his wand. “Give me a moment, I’m going to cast some preservation spells. This is really valuable.”
Frances giggled. “Take your time dear.” She set off to the guest bedroom which was unfortunately in a similar decrepit state to the main bedroom. The third room on the floor turned out to be some kind of cleaning room and it had it’s own window, along with a far less ornate pool clearly meant for washing clothing.
Ducking out, Frances rejoined Timur, who’d very carefully moved the portrait out of the master bedroom.
“Timur?”
Her prince gently put the portrait down and dusted his hands. “Well, we are going to be staying here after all. Doesn’t seem like a good idea to have that in the room.” Timur blinked and winced. “I mean, unless you don’t want to—”
Frances chuckled. “No! I think this is the best we’ve found. There’s a lot of work to be done, but I think this is it. But maybe we should check out the last floor?”
Timur grinned. “Sounds good.”
The last floor had another common area lit by the outward facing windows and two spare bedrooms. However, at the end of the third floor, near the steps, was a heavy metal door. It was badly rusted and it took some magic and a bit of effort for Frances and Timur to get it open.
They followed a fairly narrow passageway, short enough that it forced Timur to duck a bit. At the end, was another door.
The room behind this door was instantly recognizable to Frances. It was a mage’s workshop and the dry, lightless conditions had preserved the contents surprisingly well. A heavy rusted brass cauldron, a surprisingly well-preserved work table, and row upon row of potions, their contents long expired.
“Well, would this workroom do?” Timur asked teasingly. He already knew the answer. Frances’s eyes were darting around as if picking up the potential of the room, and the beginnings of an eager smile were spreading across her lips.
Frances nodded, grabbing Timur’s hand. “It’s perfect.”
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Not for the first time Frances wished she could hold her friends hands, especially that of her cousin’s. Ayax’s hands were balled into fists with Elizabeth trying to caress them with her hands.
“First of all, Ayax, Elizabeth, thank whatever gods are there that you’re both alive. I…I can’t even imagine what you were going through,” Frances stammered.
“Weren’t you nearly killed by Thorgoth a few months ago?” Ginger asked.
Martin groaned, even as the other girls chuckled. “Dear! This is not a competition.”
Frances snorted. “Well I was. I only wish it was as romantic as me carrying Timur out of Thorgoth’s clutches.”
Timur, quietly sitting behind Frances, stroked his chin. “Hmm, that would be pretty romantic.”
“You mean you carrying Frances?” Elizabeth asked, brown eyes wide.
“I mean her carrying me,” said Timur. He arched an eyebrow. “What. It would be nice to be carried for once.”
Frances stared at her much taller boyfriend and despite herself, burst into a fit of giggles. She understood what Timur meant, she really did but the image of her carrying her tall lanky boyfriend was too funny.
“Add a rose in Timur’s mouth and a few explosions and it’s a veritable action movie,” cackled Elizabeth.
“Oh stop! Please!” Frances sniffled, wiping her eyes. “Weren’t we supposed to…to talk about Ayax and what happened at Lehrbeck?”
The troll sighed. “I was hoping you’d forget. Not that anybody is going to now. You know… they’re calling me Blackgale now. Ayax Blackgale. Apparently the knights we killed were some of Earl Darius’s best.
The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.
“Blackgale…it’s got a nice ring to it,” said Frances.
“Maybe cuz, but I don’t know what came over me.” Ayax balled her hands into fists. “Please, do you have any idea what’s going on? The more I think about it, the more I realize what happened in Lehrbeck was really strange and insanely dangerous.”
Frances frowned. “It sounds like a mage trance, but it’s not like any I’ve heard of. Most mage trances tend to be completely uncontrollable. Yours seemed directed.”
“Then why do you think it sounds like a mage trance?” Elizabeth asked.
“Because mage trances are often triggered by strong emotion and lead to a upswelling of magic. You remember when you first met Martin and I, Elizabeth? When we were ambushed at Westfall Pass? I fell into a mage trance and rained lightning down on our enemies, but unlike at Kwent, I had no control of what I was doing.”
Martin bobbed his head. “I remember! Elizabeth knocked the wand from your hand and you both fainted. That…that does sound similar to what happened to Ayax. You both thought that the people you cared for died. But Ayax was able to direct hers.”
“It wasn’t quite like that. It was more that I was guided by my rage, and grief,” said Ayax, bowing her head. “If Elizabeth hadn’t spoken up, I would have beaten Leila to death. I mean…maybe that wasn’t a bad thing but…”
“It would have been a cruel way to kill her,” said Frances. She turned to her boyfriend. “Timur, if you don’t mind, have you heard of any Alavari stories, you know… myths or legends that might explain what’s happening to Ayax? I have some thoughts of my own, but I feel like we need to talk to Edana, or maybe Dwynalina.”
“Dwynalina might be better, Frances. She specializes in magic used to strengthen and empower living beings after all,” said Timur.
Ayax’s eyes widened. “Can you—”
“Of course. I’ll ask her today. It’s likely you’ll have to make a trip here, though. She’ll probably want to examine you in person,” said Timur.
“That’s fine. Whatever’s necessary,” said Ayax. She took a deep breath. “Thank you, Your Highness.”
“Eh, it’s nothing,” said Timur sheepishly.
The conversation drawled on, into catching each other up on what had happened. Through all of this, Frances found she couldn’t wait until she could see her friends again for real.
If there was one thing she was very glad for, though, it was that her friends were accepting Timur for who he was.
She told him that that night, as they lay beside each other in their shared home.
“I’m glad too, Frances. Your friends are very welcoming,” he said. Timur reached over to caress her cheek. “Thank you for sharing them, for sharing your life with me. Even if it’s just a bit of it.”
Frances knew he meant every word. It wasn’t something she could read from his mind. She could see it in how he smiled, in how happiness seemed to lift his face and bring a hop to his step.
How she wished his happiness could last forever. For his happiness had become hers and hers had become his.
She shuffled closer to her boyfriend, her hands reaching for his shirt. “Timur, how tired are you right now?”
“For you milady? Never,” said Timur, winking.
Frances giggled. “I want to go as far as I can tonight. Maybe…maybe…” she swallowed and cast a very special spell on herself.
Timur’s smile faded, and he gawked at her. “Are you sure?’
Frances took a deep breath. Did she want to take that step?
She wasn’t sure. But here, now, with nobody chasing them, lying on the ground in the home she shared with the person she trusted her body and heart with, she felt something warm, and oddly alien.
She felt safe.
“I want to try. Just…let’s just take it slowly. Please?” she whispered.
Timur shuffled closer to kiss her forehead. “Mataia, you have my word.”
Frances tilted her head at the last moment and met his lips, her hands reaching to pull his shirt off, as his hands reached for her dress’s buttons.
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Frances smiled contentedly as Timur snored. It kept her up, but it was just as well. She wanted to enjoy resting in the trogre’s embrace for just a little longer.
They had taken that last step together and it was momentous. Wiping her eyes, Frances looked up at the ceiling of her new home.
It felt good of course. Timur was amazing. She knew that he hadn’t quite reached the heights of satisfaction she had, but she knew he appreciated her effort. Everything they’d practiced and experimented and misstepped from their first aborted kiss felt like a long journey. Tonight had been the end to that journey.
And yet, it wasn’t just that.
Maybe it was a pattern or quirk of their relationship, but while tonight had been great, Frances knew Timur wanted more and she wanted too. Not just in a lovemaking sense, but in the sense that they wanted to know each other better, to grow closer, to have more fun together. She just knew that they were going to talk about this in breakfast tomorrow, in the privacy of their house, and that Timur was going to tease her, and she was going to tease him back.
They would go on more dates, maybe argue and disagree, and yes, they would make love to one another.
So yes, Frances knew she’d turned a corner, but it was only so that she could suddenly see the road ahead of her and Timur was beside her for every step.
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Three days later…
It was the middle of the night. Martin and Ginger were cuddling in their bedrolls when their wooden tokens started to vibrate.
“Hello?” Martin asked, beating Ginger by a split-second.
“Martin, Ginger, where is the Lightning Battalion?” Jessica hissed.
“Where are we? We moved to rejoin Elizabeth, Ayax and Lady Igraine at Atra’s rest,” said Martin.
Ginger fumbled with her device as she pulled a shirt on. She had a feeling she was going to need to be fully clothed soon. “Speaking of which, where are you? And why haven’t you checked in—”
“No time. I figured out what Earl Darius is after. We killed his daughter Nellia at Lehrbeck and he’s wanted revenge ever since. I also figured out his strategy,” Jessica growled.
“Which is?” Martin asked.
“He’s going to keep pressing the battalion until you are forced to fight a battle over territory you can’t lose like Leipmont or Kwent.”
“Damn. Thank you, Jessica. I’ll get the extraction team ready,” said Ginger.
Jessica chuckled dryly. “No need, we’re legging it to your camp. Everybody’s accounted for, but we couldn’t quite make our escape quiet. Sorry about that.”
Martin glanced at Ginger who couldn’t help but chuckle at his exasperated expression. “Elaborate.”
There was a suspicious pause, and all the pair could hear was the sound of galloping horse hooves.
“Noff and I blew up their gunpowder stores,” said Jessica.
Ginger whistled at that, pulled on pants and tossed Martin’s shirt to him. The knight grabbed his shirt and started wriggling into it. “Why did Noff and you blow up the gunpowder stores? Not that I don’t appreciate it. You’ve really dealt quite the blow to Darius. I just want to know why.”
“Earl Darius was trying to get Columbae into his tent, I wanted to make a distraction. We succeeded,” said Jessica.
Martin and Ginger grimaced and laughed at the same time. The resultant sound came out a bit like a squawk.
“Ah, well then, great job Jessica. I knew you’d do great,” said Ginger.
“You did not!” growled the Otherworlder.
“Eh, maybe not, but you, Noff and Columbae did a very good job. Thanks Jessica,” said Ginger.
“Get back safely,” Martin added.
Jessica spluttered and the couple could just hear her mutter. “Thanks.” Before she hung up.
Martin stood up and helped his fiance up. “Well, let’s get to work.”
Ginger smirked. “Let’s get to work indeed.”
----------------------------------------
Elizabeth crossed her arms as she examined Ginger and Martin’s expressions. “You already have a plan don’t you?”
The redheaded teen nodded. “Yeah. We think we ought to attack them and try to inflict more damage.”
Elizabeth’s jaw dropped open and she shook her head, wincing at the pain. “Sorry what?”
Ginger pointed at the map. “We are at Atra’s Rest, which is a good defensive position and Earl Darius is a few days march away at Raursa Village. Now normally we would defend, but given what we’ve learned about his strategy and our current position, I think attacking is our best bet.”
Martin nodded. “Jessica blew up Earl Darius’s gunpowder on her way out, so his troops have nothing or at least near nothing. We also are not in the best position if we defend. I mean, Ayax is not in any condition to fight, right?”
Elizabeth grimaced, her eyes shooting toward the table. “She’s mobile again, but she’s pretty tired. No magic anytime soon I think.”
“Hey, Liz. Snap out of it. Because of Ayax, you’re here, and we need your input,” said Ginger.
“Right, sorry.” Elizabeth closed her eyes. “I like the idea, but I’m worried. We are heavily outnumbered. Even if we take Lady Igraine’s rangers, it’s what, three thousand five hundred against nine thousand five hundred. This isn’t like Erlenberg.”
“No, but we both think that we’d rather pick the battle we need to fight rather than get pinned against Leipmont and destroyed,” said Martin. He drew his finger along the road to Darius’s camp. “If it makes you feel better about it Liz, we’re going to have a rearguard that will screen our retreat if the attack goes badly.”
Elizabeth nodded. “Alright, let’s do it, but I’ll lead the rearguard.” She pointed at her bandaged head. “That way, I’ll be out of the way of the major fighting, but can steady our soldiers if things go bad.”
“That was what I was thinking, though, I thought you’d insist on leading the attack,” said Marin.
“I would have, but…even if I can’t die, my life here isn’t something I can just throw away cheaply,” said Elizabeth, her voice quiet.
Martin and Ginger exchanged a knowing glance. “Of course, Liz,” said Ginger, smiling warmly.
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From outside of Athelda-aoun, Frances examined the wall she and Hattie, and the others had helped to reinforce.
“What do you think, Aloudin?” Frances asked.
The orc captain frowned. “I would feel better if we could add a ditch, but I don’t think anybody’s getting over this anytime soon.” For after several days of work, with the help of the mages in their group and the newly arrived garrison troops from Kwent, they had replaced the gate and rebuilt the battlements. The garrison troops from Kwent had also brought a small cannon which they’d mounted on the battlement.
“I agree. Let’s go see if Timur agrees.” Frances paused and glanced at Hattie, who looked away. “Actually, I need to go. Tell Timur I’ll see him later.”
“Alright,” said Aloudin, waving Frances off as she ran to the half-troll.
“Hattie, are you ready for our lesson?” Frances asked.
“Don’t you want to go see your prince,” Hattie growled, still averting her gaze.
“Yes.” Frances winced and wiped the sweat from her eyes. She hadn’t meant to sound so short. “But we do have a lesson and I keep my promises.”
Hattie finally faced Frances, a defiant tilt to her chin. “Then why don’t you teach me your lightning spell?”
Frances narrowed her eyes. She was getting a distinct case of deja vu. “It’s too dangerous.”
“You couldn’t have been more than my age when you invented it and killed my father with it!” hissed the half-troll.
Frances bit back her initial retort and forced herself to exhale.
“Hattie, what’s going on? I thought we had an understanding. You wanted to become stronger, and so I agreed to teach you.”
Hattie grimaced. “Yeah, so why don’t you teach me your strongest spell?”
“Because it can kill you if you cast it wrong. My cousin, Ayax, an incredibly talented mage, took months to learn it and she still can’t cast it at the strength that I do.”
“Ayax…you mean Ayax Blackgale?”
Frances blinked. “Blackgale?”
“That’s just what she’s called now. Your cousin, Ayax,” said Hattie. She grimaced. “So I’m not ready?”
Frances wondered when had she mentioned her cousin’s new nickname, but she couldn’t remember ever saying it. Shaking her head, she said, “Not yet. I think eventually you will be, but not quite yet. You’re thirteen, right?”
Hattie stiffened and a flash of something Frances couldn’t recognize passed over her freckled face. “I’m fourteen. Why does that matter? It never did before.”
Frances hesitated. “I was just thinking of a way to estimate when you’d be ready. I think if you just turned fourteen, you’d be ready to start learning the fundamentals in a little over half a year. How long have you been training at the Academy for Magic?”
Hattie stammered, “Wait…but I’ve only been at the academy for a few months. Are you sure?”
Frances nodded, relaxing slightly at the eagerness in the troll’s voice. “Yes. You are quite talented, Hattie. I just want to make sure that you are safe.”
“Oh.” Hattie bowed her head again, hiding her expression behind her hair. “I…I understand.”
It wasn’t an apology, but while Frances would have appreciated one, she didn’t need one and she had never asked.
“Good. Now, shall we go?” Frances asked. Her tone was a bit curt but she kept a small smile on her face.
Hattie nodded.
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“Hattie, how familiar are you with the different types of magic?” Frances asked.
Hattie frowned. “You mean song magic and Words of Power?”
Frances nodded. “Yes, as well as true song magic.”
“I thought that was a myth,” said Hattie, frown gone, a new expression of curiosity taking over. Frances had seen it only briefly before, so she was quite glad that her newest student was interested.
“We suspect it did exist, we just don’t know how to replicate it.” Frances smiled. “So, what do you know about these types of magic?”
“Well, we speak Words of Power, or we sing lyrics, and in song magic one does both,” said Hattie.
“Mm hmm. Most mages, though, have a preference for one or the other and nobody’s been able to do both. As to why I’m bringing this up, I believe that you should focus more on song magic rather than Words of Power. You seem to be able to channel more power when you sing,” said Frances.
“Oh.” Hattie swallowed. “Is there any other kind of magic I’m good at?”
Frances paused, thinking back to what she’d observed of the half-troll. She hadn’t had much time to do so, only having had a few one on one lessons, which made things difficult.
“I cannot be sure. I’ve only taught you for a bit after all. But I did notice that you are able to lift very heavy loads and can quite cast complex spells. You did help set up those traps after all,” said Frances.
“But you don’t know if I am good at say fire magic or lightning magic?” Hattie asked.
Frances pursed her lips. “Well, we can try to find that out today. Shall we?”