The ruins of Kairon Aoun had a lot of quiet, deserted corners. In any other setting they would be somewhat creepy but the sheer number of soldiers in the city leant an air of safety to the environs.
Morgan pressed herself up against the ruin of a house. The brick had not collapsed long ago, though. In fact, it had fallen very recently and the cause was striding down the street.
She’d been scared of and angry at Frances. She never thought she’d ever be actually terrified of her mother whose wand was out in front of her, carefully checking corners as she walked down to where Morgan was hiding.
She heard quiet footsteps behind her. Morgan whipped around to find Hattie, a hand pressed to her lips.
“Oh thank Galena. What the fuck is she—”
“Shh. She’s going easy on us.”
“This is easy?” Morgan stammered. She thought back to when she almost absconded with Ivy’s Sting and sighed. “Oh wow I had no chance of escaping mom, did I?”
“Well, she’s not invincible. She’s just very good. We need to hit her together. You blind her, I’ll hit her with a stunning spell,” said Hattie.
Morgan pursed her lips. “What if she predicts it?”
“Throw her rhythm off. Don’t just use one,” Hattie hissed.
“Ah. Okay I—”
“Communication is important but remember that it can be overheard!” Morgan and Hattie sprang to their feet as Frances ran around the corner and raised her wand. In a panic, Morgan had Lightbreaker create the brightest light she could think of, only to blind herself.
Blinking, rainbow-coloured spots dotting her vision, Morgan kept moving, remembering her mother’s advice. She instinctively ducked under Hattie’s counter-spell, which nearly nailed her in the shoulder. With a yelp, Morgan dived and rolled, firing a more directed beam of violet light at Frances.
Her mother had already had a shield of rubble up and blocking all the spells. That shield suddenly disintegrated rocks flying at the girls. Hattie and Morgan desperately tried to put their shields up, only for the rocks to slow about a metre from their faces.
Frances dropped the rocks, wiping sweat from her brow. “Good job girls. You survived for twenty minutes.”
Morgan groaned. Frustrated bile building in her throat, she kicked a rock with her battle claws. The metal sliced the rock in half, much to her surprise, but it was rather nice to know her weapons still worked. “Twenty minutes? That is really shit.”
Frances squeezed the harpy-troll’s shoulder gently. “It’s actually pretty good. We were all going easy on one another, but if you ever come across a mage like Berengaria or Thorgoth, I expect you both to only hold for about this long.”
“So find you, or reinforcements if we end up facing such an opponent?” Hattie asked.
“Yes.” Frances ran a head through her hair. “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to prepare you better. I…I had hoped that we would have more time, but I was being optimistic.”
“You did all you could, Frances,” said Hattie, smiling.
Morgan groaned. “Mom, just…don’t blame yourself, okay? If I didn’t have all my issues then we probably could have gotten more training in and hell we didn’t know Thorgoth had dragons.”
Frances nodded, but her returned smile was rather too wide and Morgan found herself arching an eyebrow at her mother. “Mom, you aren’t blaming yourself again, right?”
“I’m trying not to,” said Frances. She sighed. “Let’s get some water.”
“Are you trying to distract us?” Morgan asked, hands now on her hips.
Opening her mouth, Frances tried to school her expression, except she didn’t know what kind of face to make. She ended up pursing her lips, and averting her eyes at the same time.
Hattie coughed. “Morgan, maybe this isn’t the best time.”
The harpy-troll swallowed and crossed her arms. “Maybe but we may not have much time left. I just…” Morgan looked down at the dusty, broken ground of the ruins “...don’t see the point in you blaming yourself for all these little things mom.”
Frances sighed. “It’s sometimes hard not to blame myself, Morgan. Like I told you, when bad things have happened to us it’s hard to keep focused on the present and what we can do.”
“But didn’t that all happen years ago?” Morgan blurted out. “Haven’t you done so much good? Aren’t you doing good right now?”
Frances felt an almost ticklish sensation. It wasn’t quite a feeling but it did run up her arms to her shoulders and made her feel rather odd. She’d felt it before, and if she remembered correctly, it’d been around her adoptive daughter.
“Well, yes…”
“Then why aren’t you just happy with yourself?” Morgan asked.
Frances stared at Morgan. It was a very good question. This wasn’t like the time almost two years ago when she’d had a breakdown in front of Timur. She’d realised then that as much as she tried to cover it up, to act strong and to put on a front, she was frustrated with the war and with herself. She’d never fully accepted her own trauma, her own pain and she knew it would haunt her.
The past few months, though…
Frances swallowed, shaking her head, but that strange feeling didn’t go away. “That’s…Um, I’ll try to answer that, but let’s get a bit more comfortable first.
----------------------------------------
The trio found a comfortable spot by an artillery battery of four cannon of all things.
“Where are the crew?” wondered Morgan as they sat down outside of the short, rough wall that had been built up to screen the weapons.
Frances looked around. “There’s no gunpowder or cannonballs here. So they’re probably either working to bring in ammunition into the designated magazines.” She pointed out toward the plain before the city. “That or they’re examining and pre-designating targets in preparation for the upcoming assault.”
“Ah.” Morgan plopped herself down by the barricade and crossed her feet. “Well then. Get on with it.”
For a moment, Frances wrestled between giving her daughter a reproving look or sighing. She ended up doing both before sitting down between Morgan and Hattie.
“It’s not that simple, Morgan. Besides, why now—”
Morgan crossed her arms. “Because like you said, mom, we don’t have time.”
Frances managed a small smile. “I’m happy, Morgan. I’m engaged to your uncle. I have you and Hattie. I barely have any nightmares.”
“But you still aren’t happy with yourself, are you Frances?”
Frances turned to Hattie, whose dark-blue eyes gazed back at her with a steady finality that she couldn’t look away from.
“No. I still sometimes feel like nothing’s changed and that I can’t accept what happened to me.” Her eyes falling to her open hands, Frances wondered how large, how different her palms and fingers were from when she was a child. She didn’t remember much but she remembered how thin her arms and fingers had been and how devoid of flesh her hands had seemed to be. “Sometimes it feels strange and weird that I am admired and happy. It’s why I’ve come to accept that I may never be able to love myself fully.”
Morgan groaned, wringing her fingers together, wings clutched tightly to her sides. “But why? I just—I don’t get it mom. You’re like…perfect to me and I bet Edana and Timur think you are as well.”
Smiling, and tearing up just a bit, Frances squeezed her adoptive daughter’s shoulder. “And that means the world to me, Morgan. But…I…I can’t stop hating what happened to me. Despite everything good that has happened. I know it’s silly, but it holds me back just a bit.”
Morgan sighed. A resigned scowl twisted her lips, though, her eyes glinted with frustration.
“Holds you back from what, Frances?” Hattie said suddenly, whipping Frances’s head around. “Isn’t it alright to feel bad sometimes. To hate and to dislike bad things?”
“Um, yes.” Frances’s eyes widened and she found herself frowning not at anybody in particular, but at herself. “In fact…I think I told you something like that. So why should that hold me back?”
“Exactly—wait, you agree with us?” Morgan stammered.
Frances let a chuckle escape her deep thoughts. “Yeah, I do, I’m just sure what to do about it. It’s not easy to forget and let go of what happened.”
“That’s not what we’re asking you to do, Frances,” said Hattie. Resting Silver Star across her knees, Frances’s first apprentice steepled her fingers. “I don’t think any of us can forget what happened to us. We’re asking why you won’t forgive yourself.”
The questions rattled around in Frances’s mind like some cat trying to escape a cage. It clawed at the back of her mind, sending chills up her spine. “I don’t blame myself for what happened. At least now I don’t. It was my parents fault,” she said, wondering why the words sounded honest and yet not quite true.
“Then what are you so unhappy about?”
Her arms now crossed, Frances tried to summon her thoughts. She tried to define in words, or at least in some coherent sense how she felt about herself. Only she felt nothing and everything at once. Happiness, regret, shame and joy, feeling right but also kind of wrong. Sensations and whispers of ideas hissed in her head, not loud enough to pin down.
“I’m not entirely sure,” said Frances. She stood up, rubbing her temples with both hands. “Girls…I think you’re right, but I also think I need some time alone.”
Hattie rose, whilst Morgan lifted herself up into the air with her wings. “Mom, please—”
Frances raised her hand, managing to smile. “Morgan, Hattie, I know you love me. I know you are worried, but I’m—while I’m not entirely fine I think I need to come to this answer myself.”
“But—”
“Frances—”
“Girls, please, I think you’re both right. But I need some time to sort my thoughts out alright?” Reaching out, Frances touched her girl’s elbows, squeezing them gently. “You’ve actually helped me a lot and I’m not just going to rely on myself.”
“You aren’t?” Hattie asked, blinking.
Stolen novel; please report.
“No, I’m going to talk to Timur about this tonight. Promise.” Frances raised her hand and extended her pinkie finger. Having been taught this Otherworlder gesture, Morgan and Hattie extended their hands only to bump fists.
“You first—”
“No you—”
Sighing, Frances just managed to wrap her pinkie around that of her charges. “There. Satisfied?”
Her daughter and apprentice exchanged a glance and slow nods.
“Yeah, I suppose so. Sorry we were so pushy, mom,” said Morgan.
“We’re just worried. You seem very preoccupied of late and well, Thorgoth is coming here,” said Hattie.
Her heart aching, Frances embraced her two girls. “It’s alright. Thank you for worrying about me. It means a lot.”
And the three stayed like that, until the artillery crew came back to awkwardly kill the moment.
----------------------------------------
Frances dearly wished she was back in her study or her room in Athelda-aoun as she paced back and forth. Instead she was in a room she was still unfamiliar with. Many pages of the transcripts from Alan’s diary and the notes she made were still laid out in a corner of the hut she and Timur now shared, but were now weighted down by an assortment of stones or rubble serving as paperweights. More papers were stuck to the wall by way of pins driven into several rough wooden planks.
Morgan and Hattie had helped with that actually but after trying their best to read the rather dense notes, Frances had dismissed her obviously tired students. They were now instead having a sleepover with John, Diana and some of the other older students from the Athelda-Aoun Academy who had volunteered to help with the defense as support personnel.
Frances, taking deep breaths, tried to stay calm. She knew something had changed with herself.
What though and when did this happen? It wasn’t like she was particularly happier than before. Anytime she thought back to what her parents had done to her…
Frances shivered at the long memory. It was like a faded, long-forgotten dream but it still stung. She still felt the anger, and the shame that she used to, so that couldn’t be it.
There had been a few—actually several major changes in her life. Her engagement to Timur. Her adoption of Morgan and more-or-less adoption of Hattie. That brought a smile to her face. It was good to take care of someone and to help them by sharing her experiences.
So no, she knew it wasn’t that she’d forgotten about her past. Frances knew the scars ran deep and the more she’d talked about it with Hattie and Morgan, the more she remembered.
Although, it wasn’t nearly as difficult or painful as she’d expected.
Frances came to a halt, smile gone. Her brow knitting together, she swallowed and gently touched her cheek.
She remembered now, long ago, her birth mother had kissed her there. She’d been loved. Something had changed then too. Her hazy memories of long ago remembered disappointment that she’d started to feel, before her mother had met Dan. Little things had happened after that. Pushes, shoves, slaps across her face and…then came the beatings.
Shaking her head, Frances pinched her arm to bring herself back to the present and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. Her feet were starting to protest her standing and pacing for so long and so she walked to the corner and sat down.
Yet even now she could tell the difference. A year ago, recollecting those memories would have probably brought tears streaming down her cheeks. For whatever reason, she felt drained, tired but only a bit sad.
The door creaked open and the sitting mage turned to see Timur enter. “Hey Frances.”
“Hello my love. How was your meeting with your sister?”
“It was more catching up and her apologising than meeting to be honest.” Timur chuckled at the look on Frances’s face. “I know right? Titania was apologising. She probably blames herself for me getting caught.”
“That’s silly of her,” said Frances, shaking her head a little.
“That’s what I told her and she knows, but she’s worried and you know what I prefer that to before.” Putting his bag down, Timur sat down beside Frances. “So, do you want to talk about it, my fiance?”
Frances giggled, unable to stop the smile that burst across her lips. Resting her head against Timur’s shoulder, she wrapped her hands around her love’s arm. “Just…trying to find the words.”
“Hmm, how are you feeling?” her prince asked.
“Confused and a little surprised.” She pursed her lips. “Timur, have you noticed anything different about me?”
Her love turned his head, black eyes looking intently right at her. No anger or confusion was present, just the focus and curiosity that was partly why she fell in love with the trogre.
“Yes, but I’m not sure. You seem…happier? But that’s not quite it.”
Bobbing her head, Frances exclaimed, “That’s what I was thinking! Sometime after I started taking care of Morgan, I started to feel less…frustrated? Annoyed at myself? I’m not sure. I like the change, but it’s so bizarre.”
“Is it a change in how you feel about your birth parents?” Timur asked.
Frances pursed her lips and scowled as she remembered her mother and Dan. “No. I…I still hate what they did to me.”
“Maybe it’s that you have a lot more to look forward to or busy yourself with.” Timur blinked and rolled his eyes, lightly smacking his forehead. “Then again, that should actually stress you out.”
“I know, though…I think taking care of Morgan did help. I mean, she’s a lot, don’t get me wrong, but I’m glad I agreed with you to take care of her,” said Frances.
“You have done the dragon’s share of the work in that. I need to step it up. How about I start tutoring Morgan in her academics to give you more time to focus on magic? And help out more around the house?”
“Mataia, you were involuntarily indisposed.” Frances kissed Timur’s cheek. “But if we survive this, thank you.”
Touching his forehead to hers, Timur closed his eyes. “You don’t know how much it means to me that you adopted Morgan. I’m so glad you two now love each other and that you helped each other. Though…if I may ask, how is Morgan helping you? I was worried she would be too wild for you.”
“That’s a good question.” Frances’s brow knit together, just a little. Recollections of the last months flowed through her mind. She recalled teaching her newfound daughter, arguing with her, but also raising her and holding her as she cried.
That had been sad and even now Frances’s heart ached to remember her daughter in so much pain. And yet, there was another emotion she now felt.
“I…Huh,” she murmured.
“Frances?”
“She helped me to start forgiving myself,” said Frances.
“Huh?”
Frances met Timur’s gaze. “I think that to help Morgan, I had to share the parts of myself that I felt ashamed of and that showed me there was…nothing to be ashamed of. I was hurt, just like she was and despite it all, she still looked up to me, because of how I was hurt and because of who I was.” She shook her head. “Sorry, I’m not making any sense.”
Timur scratched his chin. “Well, no it kind of does. Though, why didn’t you feel that when you helped, Hattie?”
“When I helped Hattie, I felt like I was correcting my mistake, making up for what I did wrong. I proved to myself that I could teach, that I could mentor. But…I killed her father. In a sense, I was trying to make up for what I did.” Frances nodded to herself. “But with Morgan, I didn’t have to take care of her. I mean, if I hadn’t had experience teaching Hattie I don’t think I would have dared to help Morgan.”
“Mm hmm. The experience was different as was the purpose. That changed it and changed you,” said Timur. He pursed his lips. “Love and kindness really such powerful forces aren’t they?”
“They are and not just in magic.” Pulling her fiance closer, Frances once again kissed him, this time meeting his lips. “Timur, thank you again for persuading me to take care of Morgan.”
“Much of that was Renia, but I’ll gladly take credit.” Running the knuckles of his fingers along her chin, her prince’s free hand wrapped around her hip. “Frances…”
Whispering the pregnancy prevention spell under her breath, Frances swallowed to clear her throat. “Lock the door. Morgan and Hattie are having a sleepover.”
Timur pulled out his wand, waving it at the door as Frances fumbled with the buttons to her robes. Their lips pressed against each other’s skin again, and again as they exchanged fiercer and fiercer kisses. Pressing their bodies closer and closer to one another, the pair swept toward the bed, as if they were carrying one another.
Needless to say, the rest of their night was long and spent quite well.
----------------------------------------
The last day before Thorgoth and his army’s expected arrival was spent in frenzied preparation.
What flammable material left in the lower areas of the city or near any of the magazines was stripped away. Trenches and tunnels were reinforced. Food was stockpiled.
Boots pattering against the floor of the trenches, Frances was running through the city with Morgan, Hattie. They were trying to familiarize themselves with the different bastions and positions in the city. In such a battle situation after all, just knowing where things were would be key. That and they wanted to idiot-proof the trenches to prevent blind corners or obvious construction mistakes.
Accompanying them were two venerable and slightly cranky ladies.
“I still think we’re involving too many people in this battle,” said Anriel. The half-goblin half-troll ranger fingered the hilt of her sword and tapped on the packed earth sides of the trench. “That and we should have bricked these up. The sides might cave in.”
The silver-haired mage accompanying her tapped her staff against the walls of the trench. “I don’t believe we have the time to. At least we have a network of trenches to move people around.”
“Don’t we want more people to fight the dragon?” Morgan asked.
“Ideally we would have more people experienced in fighting dragons, not more people that can potentially be panicked by them,” said Dwynalina. Dusting off the end of her staff, she smiled knowingly at the two young girls. “In battles, the most deaths occur during the rout, not in the actual conflict. The more soldiers that may rout, the more dangerous it is.”
“So…the best we can do to counter those dragons are Anriel’s arrows, our cannons and our mages, right?”
“Correct. Our musketeers will be accurate enough in close range, but it’s hard to predict how well they will do.” Anriel flashed Dwynalina a smirk. “We didn’t have those in our time.”
“And neither did we have an opportunity to test them against Telkandra. So really we have no idea how well muskets will do,” said Frances. Shaking her head to try to get herself out of that dark mood, she turned a corner and nearly ran right into a trio of mages. “Sorry!” Frances asked, backing up so the soldiers and mages could pass.
The eldest of them, a human woman walking with a limp, smiled. “We’re fine, thanks—” her eyes widened with recognition as she steadied herself using her cane. “Frances?”
Frances blinked. “Master Spinera?” Her jaw dropping open, Frances found the two other mages, a woman with a six-fingered hand and a bald man with a malformed left arm mirroring her expression. “Master Kellyanne, Master Ulric!” Frances raised her arms, and froze. She had seen Kellyanne a few times, even exchanged a few letters and mage calls with Spinera and Ulric. Yet now that she thought about it, she hadn’t seen them in person since she left Salpheron.
What were they thinking? Did they even recognize her? Should she have done more—
Her train of thoughts were banished from her head as Spinera returned Frances’s offered embrace. “It is good to finally meet you again, Frances Stormcaller.”
“It’s good to meet you too, Master Spinera. I’m sorry I didn’t write more,” said Frances, embracing Master Kellyanne next. The Vice-head of the White Order actually sniffled a bit, before letting her go.
“Little Frances has grown up so much,” said Ulric, ruffling Frances’s hair, before embracing her. “We’re all very proud of you.”
“And don’t worry about not writing more. You were clearly rather preoccupied,” said Kellyanne.
Giggling, Frances stepped aside and gestured to her companions. “Girls, ladies, these three were some of my teachers at Salpheron. Kellyanne helped me choose Alanna, Spinera got me started into the spellcrafting research and Ulric helped me finalize my lightning spell. Masters, these are my girls, Morgan Greyhammer and Hattie Longarch. You also probably have heard of Archmage Dwynalina the Violet Queen and Anriel the Dragonslayer?”
“Charmed,” said Kellyanne as the White Order mages and the Alavari all shook hands. “We’re very glad to have you helping us, Archmage Dwynalina.”
Her arms crossed, Morgan sized Ulric up. “Do you any embarrassing stories about Frances, sir?”
Ulric snorted. “Honestly your mom was just too adorable for me to embarrass her. We had way too much fun together. There was that incident with Lightbreaker, though. Bloody wand knocked her out.”
Morgan’s eyes widened and she yanked said named wand from her sheath. “You didn’t tell me that!”
It never came up, said Lightbreaker.
Ulric stared at the wand for a moment before narrowing his eyes. “Hold on, you never even apologized for it. At least I took Frances out for cookies and milk afterwards!”
Frances her cheeks slightly red, stammered, “Ulric—”
“No, hold on, Master Ulric’s right, mom. It’s been seven years and you never thought to say sorry?” Morgan squawked at her wand.
I…apologize for rummaging through your memories, Frances, and causing you to faint in the process.
Glancing at Hattie who shrugged, Frances smiled sheepishly. “Thank you, Lightbreaker. I accept your apology.”
Ulric raised his good hand and made a fist. Morgan, grinned and bumped her fist against his. “I think we’re going to get along great sir.”
“Indeed!” cackled Ulric.
Spinera, Kellyanne exchanged wide-eyed glances with Frances and Hattie.
“What have we unleashed,” whispered Kellyanne.
“Untold horrors,” said Hattie in a flat tone, smiling just wanly enough that she looked a little mischievous.
Frances snapped her fingers. “Speaking of which, Masters, would you be willing to spar with Morgan and Hattie? I’ve done my best to prepare them, but I would appreciate your assessment.”
Morgan and Hattie froze. Their gazes turning to Frances, they shook their heads slowly as grins appeared on Frances’s former teachers.
“Gladly, Frances,” said Spinera in a prim and proper tone, while the expression on her face could only be described as positively gleeful.
“Ohh, may I join them? I always wanted to experience the White Order’s finest in action,” said Dwynalina.
“Don’t hurt them too much, dear,” said Anriel, hiding a giggle behind her hand.
“Don’t worry, I’ll be with you,” said Frances reassuringly as she followed her teachers shuffling her students off to a training area. “I won’t let them bully you too much.”
“Mom!” Morgan wailed. And she would whine a bit more as she and Hattie went up against the four mages.
To the pair’s credit, though, neither gave up. They put their hardest into the spar.
Edana, following the sound of explosions, found Frances watching her charges on the training field. Her charges were hunkering down behind a wall of rock Hattie had thrown up to shelter against the barrage thrown by the four mages.
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“Well this is nostalgic,” said Edana.
Frances stopped nibbling at the edge of her thumb. “I hope it’s enough,” she whispered.
Looping an arm over her shoulder, Edana gave her daughter a one-armed hug. “You’re doing your best, Frances. It will have to be enough.”
Frances swallowed. “It’s tomorrow, isn’t it?”
“Yes, my dear student. How are you feeling?”
Frances took a deep breath. “Worried but I’m actually alright and I can actually say that. Because worst comes to worst…I…I know that if I die and return to Earth, I’m not going to regret it. I’m going to miss you all, but I’m not afraid any more.” Slightly moist amber eyes met emerald eyes and the world fell away. Just mother and daughter, standing by each other.
“Mom, whatever happens, thank you.”
“You are most welcome, my daughter. Thank you.”