It soon became apparent how Hattie and Morgan had been caught. Four horses were galloping towards them, tied together with leads. Frances rode on the foremost stallion, her daub green travelling gear covered with dust. All the horses were foaming with exertion and practically stumbled to a halt.
Frances swung her feet off of her saddle and landed on the ground. She staggered, nearly tripping on shaky legs but managed to grab onto the saddle’s horn to steady herself
Hattie dismounted, stepping to her mentor. “Frances are you—”
“Stop, please. I need a moment.”
Morgan hopped off her pony and landed softly on the ground. Frances was breathing heavily, her eyes closed. She wasn’t scowling or crying. She was wiping her eyes and mouth with the corner of her cloak, but that seemed more to get the dust out of her face.
“Frances we—”
Her mentor raised an open hand. “Morgan, can you listen and just do as I say please? I’m not angry.” Frances coughed and turning around, spat on the ground. “Okay I’m a little angry, but I’m trying not to be angry at you.”
Hattie bowed her head, trying to blink back the forming tears. “It’s alright if you’re angry. We get it. We were just trying to help.”
“Help—ack.” Frances rummaged through her saddlebag and pulled out a flask of water, which she drank from hungrily. Her legs still unsteady, she trudged to the side of the Greenway and sat down, resting her back against a mossy wall. With her free hand, she gestured her two students to come whilst she continued to drink from her flask.
Morgan approached slowly, only to realize Hattie wasn’t moving. Going back for her friend, she extended a wing and gently nudged the half-troll to their teacher.
Frances had at this point, seemed to clean off a lot of the dust from her face. Her hair was still streaked with dirt, but she was now breathing a tad more evenly.
“I would ask what you were thinking, but you outlined that very clearly in your letters.”
“We’re sorry—”
“We are sorry that we left without telling you, but I don’t think you would have let us. We…” Shaking her head, Morgan curled her lips. “I mean, you are right to not let us go, but we couldn’t just sit in Athelda-Aoun.”
The harpy-troll glanced at her friend, who lifted her chin and pulled her arms behind her. “We want to help and while we knew we may not succeed, we thought it was important enough.”
Frances closed her eyes. She sat there, cross legged, breathing through her nose. Morgan and Hattie exchanged looks as their teacher seemed to go very still.
“I understand. I understood that from your letters. I also want to rescue Timur as well. So, I’m coming with you. My mother will cover for me.”
The princess staggered her mouth dropping open, “Wait, Edana will? But what about Athelda-Aoun?”
“I can’t stop either of you without fighting you and I don’t—no, I can’t fight either of you.” Frances clamped a hand over her mouth, but she couldn’t stop the broken, bitter chuckle that escaped from her lips. “I love you both too much for that.”
“You don’t have to,” Hattie croaked. She shut her eyes. “Just order us.”
Frances shook her head and let her legs sprawl out. “I did. Look at where that got us. Now if you don’t mind setting camp, I need to rest. I’ve been riding for five days with little sleep.”
Morgan blinked. “Five? But we left a week ago.”
Frances grimaced. “Packing up, finding what maps we have of Minairen and of the route there, plus talking to Aloudin and getting the layout of the palaces took more time than I thought.” Wincing at the sarcastic slant to her voice, Frances forced a breath from her mouth and pushed against the ground. Morgan and Hattie immediately took each of her hands and helped her up, both staring at the shakiness of their teacher’s grip.
“I’m sorry Hattie, Morgan. If you wish to apologize for leaving like that, I’m not ready to accept them yet.” Seeing the crestfallen gazes of her two students, Frances forced a smile onto her face and squeezed their hands. “Hey. I’m not angry at either of you. It would be hypocritical of me to be angry at you. You both heard of how I abandoned Edana to go to Vertingen. I get it.”
Hattie blinked, her shoulder sagging in relief. However, Morgan’s eyes narrowed at her teacher and her…her adoptive mother’s expression. She’d seen that smile too many times now.
“But we hurt you, right?”
Her eyebrows rising, Frances tilted her head. Her amber eyes met Morgan’s bright golden ones. Hattie watched, her throat choking up as Frances closed her eyes and nodded once.
“I’m sorry—”
Morgan let go of Frances’s hand and stepped back. “You don’t have to apologize. Take as much time as you need.” She turned, walking then running to the packs, which she started to rummage through, using one hand to wipe her eyes.
“Morgan wait—”
Frances squeezed Hattie’s arm. “Let her go. We both need time.” The half-troll tried to make her lips move, to form some kind of response, only for her teacher to shake her head. “Hattie, we’re all tired and not ready to talk about this. Let it go.” Frances’s legs almost gave out from under her. Only by holding onto her student was she able to stay upright. “Sorry, let me down. I think standing up was the wrong decision.”
Hattie helped her teacher sit down. She didn’t know why but her breathing had become labored, even though she’d done no exercise. “Frances, why aren’t you angry at us? Why are you being so understanding? Don’t you want to be angry at us? Don’t we deserve it?”
Her mentor closed her eyes and made another long exhale. “Hattie, I am angry. I am hurt. I just don’t want to be angry at you two because well,” Frances opened her eyes, a wry smile twisting her chapped lips. “I do love you both very much. Now, if you don’t mind, please let me rest. We’ll talk about this all when I wake up.”
“But—” Frances arched an eyebrow. Hattie swallowed and gave her teacher a trembling nod. Without further ado, the Stormcaller shut her eyes and lay against the Greenway wall and floor. Her first apprentice could only stand up awkwardly and stare, at least until Morgan asked her to help her set up camp.
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Frances was still sleeping, even after Morgan and Hattie had got a fire going and were sitting down beside it. Morgan was busy cleaning the dishes with magic, with Lightbreaker muttering in her head how he was beneath such menial duties. Hattie had finished her supper and was sitting, head resting on her curled up knees, one hand scratching at her scar.
“You really shouldn’t do that, Hattie,” said Morgan in an arch tone.
Groaning, the half-troll buried her face in her hands. “What have we done? I can’t believe I was so stupid.”
Not even looking at her friend, Morgan glared at Lightbreaker and gently levitated the clean plate to the side before picking up another plate and whistling a tune. “First off, we decided this together. Secondly, we also did it together.”
“Yes, but I never expected Frances to get this furious. I’ve never seen her like this. She’s so furious that she doesn't even want to talk about it. We must have really hurt her.”
Putting the plate down, Morgan stabbed Lightbreaker into its holster. Getting up, she shuffled over to Hattie and plopped herself down. “Frances does not lie. She’s just not ready after having galloped to catch up with us with all her gear. I haven’t even had time to look through all of it.”
“We forced her to come after us and join us on this crazy expedition.”
“To rescue my uncle and Frances’s love. You heard Frances, she wanted to do so too and now her mother’s given her approval.”
“We hurt her—AH!” Hattie held her ear, blinking wildly as pain shot down the tip of her ear. Shaking her head as her vision steadied, she saw Morgan with one hand up, another finger ready to flick her. Her golden eyes were filled with tears.
“I know that! But there’s nothing we can do right? We just happened to leave our mother—or the closest thing we have to one with basically suicide notes!” Sniffling, Morgan yanked her handkerchief out and dabbed at her eyes. “No fucking apology can fix what we did. Besides, at least you regret what you did.” Scrambling to her feet, Morgan curled her wings around herself. “Besides, the stupid thing is that I still don’t think I would have done anything different. I know that makes me a monster. I mean who hurts their mother and doesn’t regret doing it? I just…I can’t my uncle die. He’s my dad. He’s been my dad since my rotten father got himself killed saving my birth mother who doesn’t even want to take care of me! And I couldn’t stand seeing Frances look so helpless. I just had to do something!”
Gentle arms slipped under Morgan’s shoulder and wrapped around her waist. The harpy-troll froze as Hattie rested her chin on her back.
“I’m sorry for flicking you.”
“You’re forgiven.” Hattie stiffened and started to pull her arms back. “I’m sorry for hugging you—”
Morgan quickly held onto Hattie’s hands. “No. Stay. It’s nice.” She could feel her friend’s steady, calm heartbeat almost against her own. “Thank you, Hattie.”
“Thank you, Morgan.”
“No, thank you.”
“No, thank you.”
Morgan twisted around to meet Hattie’s eye. “Really? Are we really going to be arguing about this?”
Hattie managed a watery giggle. “Sure. Whatever you want.”
Morgan snorted and closed her eyes, enjoying the rare embrace. Slowly, she opened her eyes and froze.
Frances had been asleep, with a blanket draped over her shoulders, but now she was awake. Her head turned away and she had one hand covering her mouth, but it did a poor job hiding her beaming grin.
“Frances?” Morgan stammered.
Hattie instantly stepped away from Morgan, releasing the harpy-troll, who very nearly whined with disappointment. “Oh, um, Frances. Are you better now?”
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Their teacher yawned and stretched out her arms. “Yes. I’m sorry I didn’t say anything. I didn’t want to interrupt. What’s for dinner?”
Morgan’s wings fluttered. “Oh no that’s fine. Um, dinner is one of the meat pies you brought. I don’t think you made it. The crust was so hard.”
“Ah, that was from the stores. I make my pies differently with a crust that’s meant to be eaten.” Frances languidly got to her feet and walked to the campfire, rolling up the blanket in her arms. “Thank you for the blanket by the way.”
“You’re welcome,” said Hattie. Meanwhile, Morgan levitated the pie that had been keeping warm near the embers to Frances, who accepted it.
Breaking it apart, the Stormcaller gestured for her two girls to sit down as she broke and bit into the pie. After swallowing a bit, Frances set the pastry down. “Alright, I’m ready to accept your apologies.”
“We’re sorry!” Hattie stammered, scrabbling onto her knees. “We didn’t want to hurt you. We were trying to do what we thought was right.”
Morgan not sure what to do, copied Hattie and got on her knees. “Yes. I um, how much did you hear of that?”
Frances crossed her arms. She maintained her smile, but there there was a wan tilt to it. “You mean the part where you said you don’t regret what you did? I heard that. I heard everything from when you flicked Hattie.”
“Oh.” Morgan bowed her head, feeling her eyes well up. “I’m sorry.”
Frances shuffled forward and extended her hands. Morgan and Hattie each took one of them, their eyes wide.
“I forgive you. Both of you,” said Frances, glancing between both of her nervous, worried girls, she found that her smile finally blossomed across her face. “I know you didn’t want to hurt me. You thought you were doing the right thing, in your own way.”
Hattie pursed her lips, looking up at Frances. “But aren’t you angry?”
She didn’t give an immediate answer. Instead, Frances’s gaze briefly rested on the ground. “I’m a little angry. It’ll take time to overcome that but I don’t want to be angry at you. I’m sorry, but I hope that’s enough.”
Hattie nodded, but Morgan couldn’t forget what they’d talked about before she’d flicked her and the panic on her friend’s face.
Steeling herself, the princess took a breath. “Are you sure, Frances? I mean, you don’t have to hide that from us. You deserve to be angry too.”
Frances’s grip on Morgan and Hattie’s hand suddenly loosened. At the same time, her face went very still. “Maybe, but I don’t want to direct it at either of you. I’d feel happier if you didn’t see that side of me.”
Morgan hung onto her teacher’s hand. “What if we didn’t mind? What if it’d make you happier to express it?”
Frances tried to pull back, but to her dismay, her students hung on. Glancing from their joined hands to their wide eyes, she swallowed. “That would hurt both of you,” she said, her tone careful.
Hattie set her jaw and nodded. “We can take it.”
“That’s not the problem. I know you can, but I don’t want to hurt you.” Now trying to get up, Frances found she just couldn’t retreat. She could rip her hands from her students grip, but she found herself arrested. Morgan and Hattie’s moist eyes filled her gaze, as did their accepting smiles, bunched with worry.
“But it would it make you feel better to tell us how you are angry, Frances,” said Morgan.
Hattie squeezed her mentor’s hand. “We don’t want you to just hold it in. We want you to be happy too.”
Frances’s vision blurred. Happy? But how could she be happy? Being angry wouldn’t make her happy with herself. Even if it would make her feel better to share her feelings, but how could she? She didn’t know why Hattie and Morgan wanted her to be their parent, but that was who she’d become. She couldn’t afford to be angry at her charges when the one time she had she’d almost driven Morgan out of Athelda-Aoun. That and if she got angry then would she just be acting like her own birth mother?
“I can’t.”
Groaning, Hattie shifted her grip, one hand holding into her teacher’s arm. “Frances, you don’t need to be perfect. We both know you’re worried for us. You can tell us!”
Biting her lip, Frances shook her head and closed her eyes. She couldn’t she just needed to out wait Hattie and Morgan. Oh she loved how her students were trying to help, but it wasn’t their responsibility. This was her problem, her issues, her weirdness that she had to manage.
Morgan stared at her mentor. She could see the tears leaking down her cheeks, feel the rapid, frightened heartbeat pounding against her fingers. She didn’t want to talk, so how could they help? There had to be something that Frances had taught her that might help. Her…mom, had comforted her so many times and helped her unravel so much of her trauma. There had to be something she knew.
The princess swallowed. “Frances, those feelings are a part of you, aren’t they?”
Frances’s eyes slowly opened to stare at Morgan, her mouth half-open. “What do you mean?” she croaked.
Not quite sure what she was saying, her mind on all those tearful conversations, Morgan continued to speak, words tumbling out of her mouth. “Well, you love us. Because you love us, you’re angry at us for hurting you. If you didn’t love us you wouldn’t be angry. Are you trying to say you shouldn’t love us?”
Frances shook her head, eyes wide now. “Of course not!”
Morgan’s lips spread wide into a desperate grin. “Then shouldn’t you be happy you can get angry at us? And that we don’t mind? Isn’t this a good thing? Doesn’t this show that you are an amazing mom?”
Once again, Frances went very, very still. This time, her mouth was hanging wide open and her shoulders went slack. No longer did she try to escape Hattie and Morgan’s hold on her. She wouldn’t have had to try very hard. Hattie was staring at her friend,
I think she’s got you there, Frances. Ivy’s Sting whispered in Frances’s suddenly all-too-clear mind.
Ivy? You…you think so? But I could mess this up so much.
You won’t let yourself. I know you. And Morgan and Hattie want to help you. They ran away, partly to help you. Trust them, trust their love as they have trusted you.
Breathing deep, Frances nodded and wiped her eyes with her forearm. “Alright. Alright just give me a moment. Let’s all sit down and get comfortable first.”
Numb fingers letting go of their teacher Morgan and Hattie sat down one on each side of their teacher. Frances crossed her legs underneath herself, clasping her hands, her gaze falling to the fire.
You can do this, Frances.
I…I’ll try.
Exhaling, Frances swallowed, and allowed some of that choked up bitterness held in her throat to release. Her hands forming fists, she pulled her arms closer to herself.
“I’m not that angry at you. I know why you ran away. But I don’t think you understand it wasn’t easy to say no to you. I wanted to say yes. I wanted to join you, but I couldn’t at that time and so I had to tell you to stay.” Frances glanced between her two students, blinking back tears. Her breathing short and harried. “Then you just left. You didn’t tell me or even call me after you left. You left notes of all things. Why couldn’t you tell me how much you cared earlier? Why did you tell me then, when it hurt the most?”
A torrent of tears coursed down her face. Frances tried to stem them with her handkerchief as she forced herself to just stare at the base of the fire. The feelings stung in her throat, forcing her to cough while she tried to breathe more calmly. And yet, it did seem easier.
Hattie, unable to look at her teacher, shut her eyes, her lip pressing tightly together. “We didn’t want you to stop us. We’re sorry.”
Drawing her sleeve across her eyes so hard it stung, Frances quickly rested her hand on Hattie’s downcast shoulder. “Hattie, it’s fine.”
“No it’s not fine!” Morgan croaked, drawing Frances and Hattie’s attention. The harpy-troll ran her hand through her hair, grabbing the ends of her locks. “It was stupid, we know that, you know that. We can go now, but we shouldn’t have done it this way.” Morgan cringed, turning to meet Frances’s wide-eyed gaze. “We…we hurt you and that just wasn’t fair, after all you’ve done for us.”
“That’s alright, Morgan, and Hattie. Mistakes happen. And you did what you could to fix them.”
Hattie blinked, while Morgan squawked. “We did?”
“Yes, I mean, you did just encourage me to try to be honest with what I was feeling.” Frances wasn’t sure why, but she was smiling despite how tired and swollen her eyes felt. “I forgive you, both of you.”
Hattie sniffled, wiped her eyes and almost fell onto Frances as she wrapped her arms around her teacher. Morgan was a second later, her wings covering them both. Frances, unable to help but giggle weakly, pulled her two girls close. She didn’t care that they were soaking her robes. She was just happy, so happy that she had found her girls and they didn’t mind her sharing her hurt.
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After breakfast, Frances requested her students to take off one of the packs on the horses. Once it was on the ground, she started to unpack it, talking as she did.
“There was one other reason I needed more time to pack. I had to prepare your equipment. Morgan, stand over here please, back to me, arms up.”
The princess did as she was told, listening to the clinking of metal and shuffle of cloth. She arched an eyebrow at Hattie, who was studying Frances intently over her shoulder.
“Hm, I didn’t think this through. Okay, Morgan can you turn around?”
The harpy-troll did so and found Frances levitating a cuirass burnished to an almost mirror-like sheen with and angled ridge down the centre. Also floating in the air were battle claws. These were steel tipped gloves that could be fastened over a harpy’s claws to make their natural weapons even more deadly. Completing the set of armor were steel bracers and a cushioned pot helmet shaped to form a protective brim.
“Wait, are these all for me?” Morgan stammered.
Frances beamed. “Mhmm. Remember when Blazey took your measurements?”
Morgan frowned.“I think I had a nightmare the previous night but… yeah I think I do. I can’t remember why.”
“It was for these. I had ordered the set of armor to provide you with adequate combat gear in case…well, in case Athelda-Aoun was ever attacked. Hattie, can you give me a hand?”
Hattie nodded, her tone serene, which just a note of eagerness. “Certainly.”
The harpy-troll waved her hands, her stare still affixed to the armor. “Wait Frances, I can’t accept this. Besides, this is supposed to be a stealth mission right? This would give us away!”
“We need at least two weeks to get to Minairen. If we ever need to fight, you’ll have no time to put your armor on.” Frances pursed her lips, her shoulders falling. “I’m sorry this looks a bit plain, I was going to request some engraving and gold gilding more appropriate to your status, as your uncle would have wished, but we ran out of time.”
“Engraving? Gold gild? Woah that would be cool—” Morgan shook her head. “Wait, Frances, this is amazing.” She grabbed the cuirass, hefting it and blinking at how easy it was to do so. “This is amazing. It’s so light. I…” She blinked several times, trying to smile so wide that her mom wouldn’t mistake her earlier hesitation. “I love it. I really do.”
Frances, the edges of her eyes crinkling, brightened up. “Oh, I’m very glad. I also enchanted your armor to draw on your magic to strengthen it. It works similar to my armored mage robes, but on a less extreme level.”
Her gaze shooting to the armor, Morgan drew Lightbreaker and tapped the cold metal, putting just a bit of magic into her wand. Swirls of blue magic swam across the metal forming various Words of Power. At the same time, the cuirass itself hummed sonorously in her grasp. “Oh, so that’s why the steel is so thin.”
“Yes, but do be careful. If you run out of magic, the steel will lose that protection.”
The pitching-up of Frances’s voice finally tore Morgan’s eyes from the armor. “Oh! So it’s not like your mage armor? It has no shields?”
Her chin dropping slightly, Frances sighed. “I’m afraid not. The armour only strengthens what’s covered by the steel. That does include your bracers, greaves, helmet and battle claws. It does draw less power and will last longer in battle.”
“Ah.” A thought made Morgan purse her lips. Suddenly, her eyes widened. “Hold on, doesn’t that mean I could cut through enemy armor with my claws?”
Frances opened her mouth, closed it, crossed her arms and tilted her chin. Her brow settling into a frown, she glanced at the claws floating in her magic. “I don’t know. Why don’t you put the whole set on and test it out? You’ll need to fly around a bit to get used to them.”
“Got it. Thanks mom.” Morgan flinched, blinking as the words left her lips. Her mentor’s eyes widened slightly, but the pieces of armor she was levitating shook, wobbling and spinning.
“You’re welcome, dear,” Frances stammered as her lips curled into a smile. “Okay, let’s get these on you.”
It took a bit of help from Frances and Hattie, but Morgan found that her armor fit her almost perfectly. There were some spots that would need adjustment, but she could move all her limbs/ When she leapt into the air to hover, she realized she could actually do it quite easily.
“Oh this is so cool!”
Hattie giggled. “I’m glad. Want to test out those claws?”
Chuckling Frances placed a soft hand on her first apprentice’s shoulder. “Not so fast, Hattie. I have something for you too.”
The half-troll’s mouth formed an ‘o’ before it pressed together in a thin line. “I um, but you already kitted me out.”
“If it helps, think of this as less of a gift and more of a responsibility.” Frances rummaged through her packs before she drew out a long staff capped with silver on both ends and a guard in the centre. Morgan blinked. The staff looked ornate and also rather familiar. She knew she’d seen her mentor with it. Now that she had more time to look at it, she also realized there were a number of carefully repaired cracks lining the staff.
Hattie stepped back, her hands dropping to her side. “Wait, that’s Silver Star, a Named Staff. You’re not—but I thought it was being repaired.”
Frances stepped forward, lifting the staff toward her student. “Its repairs were recently completed and now that Silver is confident enough, it wants to get back into the fight against Thorgoth. It requested me to take it along and given that I wield Ivy’s Sting and Lightbreaker has chosen Morgan, that leaves you.”
Hattie shook her head, eyes affixed on the staff. “But I’m not worthy.”
Reaching out, Frances took her student’s hand and pressed it to the staff. Her voice firm, she continued to smile, but it’d twisted into one with a bit of an edge. “It’s not about being worthy, Hattie. It’s about need. We are going to need every bit of help to rescue Timur and get out alive. If we are going to succeed and return home, we need you to wield Silver Star.’
“I…” Hattie took a deep breath. “Are you sure, Silver Star?”
Unlike Ivy’s Sting, Silver Star’s more masculine tone had quite a bit of a drawl. Its ‘voice’ was quiet and almost reedy, yet firm.
I am certain. My sister-wand Ivy told me of your quest. I can no longer leave her in danger when I can contribute. Silver Star hummed to itself. If you are so uncertain of your worthiness, open your mind to me dear one and let me determine that for myself.
Hattie glanced at Frances, who nodded. Taking a deep breath, the half-troll held the staff in both hands and closed her eyes.