We arrive racing into Autumn Brook a bit before noon on August Twelfth, Daffodil has remained unconscious for approximately two whole days, save a few seconds in which we were able to nurse half a pint of water down her gullet. I’m sure we look like a terrifying sight, with all that the Aasimovians are currently suffering. A driverless carriage being pulled by ghostly steeds running hell-for-leather in from the east? It’s like every cliche dire omen about horse-drawn carriages crammed into one.
We won’t be able to take the carriage straight to the apothecary, that particular street is narrow, so we park near the Keel Over, and begin gingerly removing Daffodil from the carriage, the three of us and our spells working to help prop her up as we carry her in the direction of Tiago and George, hopefully they’re home. It’s mid day, so at least Tiago should be. George might be in the records hall.
A bit unexpectedly, Harriet, Mairess Du Pon De Brook spots us from the council hall, and begins rushing our way. At least I’m pretty sure that’s who’s headed this way. Whomever it is, is too far away to see. It’s unlikely she can see exactly who we are, but I’m sure whatever eyes and ears she has about the city have informed her of the crazy carriage by now. She’s remarkably well informed. I can honestly say that she’s a masterful leader and credit to her community, despite what transpired.
As we’re barging into the apothecary, Harriet indeed appears to be the one chasing after us. She catches up as I’m calling out for Tiago, pleading for him to be home. From a store room comes an excited shout, and some thumping as Tiago trips over himself, dropping supplies to come rushing out.
He shouts, “My dear little dragonslaying friends! You’ve ret— Dios. Of course, it is always this way with you two isn’t it. Quickly now, to the sofa near the fire. How long has she been like this?”
I gulp as I try to explain for both Harriet and Tiago’s benefit, “She, she was, she was buried under her home, covered in acid. We fished her out, but her entire arm was melted off, and her thigh was entirely eaten through on that side. Before you say anything, she was conscious at first, lucid, but when that suddenly changed, we used a rare magical red potion on her to stabilize her. She was lucid for a bit, but when she passed out and began convulsing, we worked the potion down her gullet, and tried to restrain her through the pain it causes while closing wounds. We rushed her here as safely as we could in our carriage, we tried to keep her propped up evenly so that she wasn’t cramped or bent or jostled.”
Tiago remarks in shock, “Madre de dios, una salvacion en tiempo. Err, right, sorry my friends. Harriet, is this who I think it is?”
Harriet nods, responding, “It is, it’s ‘Dil. She’s roughed up but good, but it’s her. Santiago, will she recover?”
Tiago wears half a smile as he slowly nods while examining Daffodil’s pupils by propping open her eyes. Tiago explains, “I think it’s more mental shock than anything. She should snap out of it when she’s processed whatever had happened. I’m surprised it’s taking our tough old bird this long, knowing her, but it shouldn’t be much lon—“
As if on cue, Daffodil lifts suddenly, accidentally headbutting Tiago while screaming, “Is she gone!? Is the beastly woman back!?”
Daffodil hyperventilates as her mind races and her eyes dart about, taking in her scenery in a panicked, hyper-aware state. She slowly recognizes those around her as being all friends, so she lowers herself back to the sofa. It seems Daffodil isn’t up to much at the moment, so I have a lot to catch Harriet up on.
I start out, “I apologize for, well, everything, but I’d like to beg your undivided attention momentarily honorable Mairess.”
Harriet rolls her eyes and orders, “Drop the formalities young hero Shellcracker. Reggie. I knew you’d return some day, and I knew it’d be either on the trail of, or running from something horrid. That terrible air of fate swirling about you.”
I gulp and frown, nodding along to Harriet’s assumption. She’s right, it was inevitable, knowing my life. Still, I continue, “Right, yes, sorry, Harriet. We, glp. The ghost of The Brook’s past has perished. Along with them, with her, with Dawn dying, the, the spell. A cursed spell had been using her and her soul as a basis to work its way across the whole of Rayileklia, against her will, without her knowledge. I did everything, everything I could to try to stop it, I learned entirely new magics, I slew a high priest of the cult of the Bright Lord, I sought mentorship in the Hidden at the Heart of the Wilds, and further guidance with the Sisters hidden in the mist. I failed. I, I failed. I’m so sorry. I couldn’t save her. I couldn’t save them. All of them.”
Harriet looks confused, and as she gazes from me to Teuila and back, Teuila catches her eye by mouthing the word ancestors. Harriet goes pale. Harriet mumbles, “They, they disappeared, the few that claimed to see where they went said they turned to dust, but, but that was impossible. We figured hysteria at the shock of them choosing to migrate or something. Truly, truly all of them? To dust?”
I gulp as I nod while tears stream down my face. I continue, “I’m, I’m so sorry. There’s so much more to the tale, but I have to move on because there are more immediate threats to The Brook.”
Harriet veritably scowls as she demands, “You what!? What could possibly be more important than—!?”
I interrupt, “You’re all in danger, from at least three sources. The Bright Lord? The Celestial Emperor is going to march on Aasimovia any day now. I know for a fact that something apocalyptic is happening with dragons along the Spine of the World, that I’m afraid may follow our manxome foe’s path down here. Thirdly, there is some sort of danger posed by vampires that the Sisters were too cagey to fill me in on yet. Well, fourthly, I’m positive I sensed two different sets of quakes.”
Harriet looks confused about my last statement, so I explain after drawing a ragged breath, “I, well, an hour, maybe even less before we got to, please forgive me for using its name, to Noirdivinhoz, I felt the telltale vibrations of earthshaking within a few dozen miles. When we got there, the entire canyon that led down into the temple had rubble and a rockslide caved down into it, and melted into place with potent acid. The same acid that melted Daffodil’s home, and nearly her as well. The acid was apparently belched by some woman in black veiled garb. The second quake I felt coming from northeast, around um, if I was about five miles west of Noirdivinhoz when I felt it, at almost a perfectly northeastern angle.”
Harriet suddenly grips, and shakes Daffodil. She hysterically orders, “Dil, Dil dear, focus, this is important, did this woman know where the entrance to the Felcaves were? Daffodil honey, my old friend, did she know!?”
Daffodil frowns as she mutters, “I heard you the first time, no need to rant like a teenage wahini. I’m not deaf. But how am I supposed to know what she knew or where she went after she melted my home atop me, taking my arm with it?”
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Harriet flubs, somewhat apologetically, “Ah, erp, erm, right, yes, of course. How could you know. I’m sorry dear friend. I’m still upset, worried for your safety. Worried more now with news of more earthmoving. For you, for all of us.”
I get around to my ask, “Harriet, I know this is going to seem utterly insane, absolutely crazy, but I want you to try to get word out to evacuate all of Aasimovia towards Jeegoobotstan, stopping at the edge of the Jaggedfen Bog until after we slay the hydra. We’re going to try to plead with Tim to ferry our carriage across Lake Siempre to beat all Aasimovians into the bog by going up through The Gap, checking on some dragon activity along the way.”
Harriet rolls her eyes and scoffs incredulously, “Okay, I may have been a tad hysterical, but we’re not evacuating our whole country because an adventurer gets some heebie jeebies. The loss of Noirdivinhoz is lamentable, but with the ancestors having already been taken from us, its purpose could no longer be served anyway. I’m quite grateful for all the dire warnings dear Shellcrackers, but perhaps you should just rest. Maybe we’ll all be able to plan for events with clearer heads on the morrow. You all look fairly rough. Even you young miss Clocktok, I didn’t expect to see our new Fae friend, the self-proclaimed urban bounty hunter riding back into town with the likes of these two.”
Tiktik blushes, but as she’s about to explain, Harriet continues, “Look, we’ll take stock of our situations, and gather information, and make well-informed decisions in the coming weeks, with the aid of the entire council. Please, stay a while in The Brook, we consider you our strongest allies. I’m, I’m sorry for what transpired previously. I can’t tell you why I did it, only —.”
I shake my head at Harriet. I know why. She was being coerced. Someone with, glp, glowing eyes. I pat her shoulder as I apologize, “I’m sorry for having put you in the situation where that happened, whoever that was, whatever they demanded of you, whyever they demanded it of you. I can’t stay though Harriet. I’m not exaggerating when I say I’m dying, and very soon, if we don’t find dragons, specifically powerful dragonforces to siphon, quickly. Tiago and George already know. I won’t live the rest of the season. I expect I’ll drop dead in early September.”
Everyone’s eyes flash wide at the finality of my statement, and Tiago sputters, “But, but how could, I mean, how did you know that we suspected, but, err, but how, why? Why must you be taken from us? When I’ve already lost A—.” A lump catches in Tiago’s throat as tears well in his eyes.
I’m Tiago’s last living reminder of Aces, and now even Aces’ body isn’t out there anymore, doing whatever Aasimovian ancestors do when they’re reanimated. I explain, “You were talking about it with George while I was nursing a migraine in an alley nearby on the day we were being, um, asked to depart on.”
Harriet blushes with chagrin about having ordered us to leave. Tiago sputters once again, “But, but the street was so crowded, and loud, I could barely hear George, and he me! How d—. Huff. Of course. It’s you magical little adventurers. Why am I even surprised? Dear young friend, please, come, let me embrace you and offer my sympathy.”
I step into Tiago’s warm embrace. He’s an octogenarian, and he’s spent his entire life in the service of helping, healing, and loving his community. His husband is a decade or two younger, which Harriet apparently teases them about. He’s kind, and empathetic, but I feel like I’m the one that feels so bad for him, even though I’m the one dying. He’s such a wonderful person, and one of his oldest friends was stolen from him at a time when he, to his own regret, disbelieved his friend’s final warnings and wishes.
Tiktik and Teuila are riding my thought waves, and Tiktik appears sadder and sadder throughout the entire conversation, realizing how deeply we’ve been impacted by, or impacted those in our travels. I draw a ragged breath and nod to our normally cheerful companion.
I apologize as I attempt to take my leave, “I, well. I’ve delivered my warnings. I want you to live long, safe, healthy, happy, prosperous lives. How you achieve that isn’t up to me. I won’t make demands or force my will on anyone. You know that Harriet. Such has never been my intention, despite what appeared to happen with the plains Colossi. You are right though, we, at least I, need to rest. I will take stock of things though. I’ll leave you with a copy of our lists before we figure out our departure method and time. Good luck. I truly do love all of you. I hope you remain safe.”
There are several objections as I turn to leave, but I have to gulp back a sob and stride away quickly. These people don’t need an extra burden to bear right now. They’ll be nursing such heavy aches now that they realize what has truly transpired. Teuila and Tiktik stay behind for a while longer yet, since they both have conversation topics in need of being addressed. Leaving the two wonderful women at the apothecary momentarily, despite Teuila’s wishes that I don’t leave her sight for even a second, I swiftly march to the Keel Over, not at all excited at the prospect of seeing the woman who hates me once more. Keeley Johnston.
As I enter the swinging double doors, Keeley catches sight of me, and spits while rolling her eyes and muttering, “Figures it’d be you that somehow drives a carriage up with no horses to hitch.” She sarcastically derides me, “Will you be needing your suite again, our dragon-slaying majesty?”
I grimace as I try to fight back a pout. I don’t want to deal with this right now. I fish out a handful of coins and several gems and just wordlessly drop them on the bar’s countertop within her reach. I’m barely taller than the bar, so it’s probably a bit humorous seeing someone have to reach up, above their wild, unruly red hair, to plop down a pile of wealth.
I mumble, “I’m fairly certain I’ll only be here the one night. Harriet might request or order us to stay longer, but I do not have time to spend longer than a day in The Brook. Keep whatever value you want for the night, and for allowing us to park our carriage, I don’t care. I’m dying soon enough anyway. End of this season or beginning of next anyway.”
I massage my temples and crush my eyelids tight while working the balls of my knuckles along my eyesockets before adding, “The room is for three though, we’ll be sharing the bed, and we don’t hanky panky, or use the chamberp— okay, actually, our newest friend probably uses a chamber pot, but we’ll take care of it magically, literally. Just please lay off. I don’t know how to save you all from what’s coming. I’m sick of failing everyone.”
Keeley eyes me suspiciously as she digs only a few coins out from the pile of wealth. She turns to a cabinet full of keys to fish out the primary suite key at the top of the stairs. I flash a half sad, slightly exasperated smile as I accept it, attempting to take it wordlessly. Keeley however maintains her grip on it. She also manages to catch my wrist in her large, firm hands. She’s a wall of a woman, and she’s honestly a good person, but I truly can’t deal with her vitriol at the moment.
Keeley begins, “Listen ‘ere—“
I finish for her, “Me liddle shid, yes, I know. I’m serious Keeley, it has been a bad couple of months. People have died. I did my best, I fought the forces of magic itself, and lost. More are going to die, and there’s nothing I can do about it. Yet. I promise to put my entire life, what remains of it, into trying to prevent further calamities.”
Shaking my head and sighing, I apologetically explain, “I’m sorry, but I’m not in the mood. I’m frankly as disrespectful as I’ve ever been right now, because I can’t drum up the energy to care while fighting off the sadness. I want you to live, I really, truly do. Keeping Teuila alive and sane is the best chance of that happening, and when I die, she might snap. So I’m going to try to live through this as long as possible. Which means resting without feeling like hell. I’m sorry for being disrespectful. Good night.”
Keeley snarls at me, but relents, releasing the key. She however doesn’t release my wrist, which she guides towards the countertop so she can brush the excess wealth into my hand to take back the extra money. She’s got the most angry, violent way of being a good patron of anyone I’ve ever met, but it’s like I’m the only person that draws her ire. Whatever, it’s not like I haven’t done things to deserve people being pissed off at me. Ugh, I can’t let myself think about this right now.
Despite the few people in the tavern area being wise enough not to butt in, there are several coughs and nervous chuckles from the assembled. To make matters more embarrassing for myself, I begin bleeding from my nose at an inopportune moment while ascending the tavern’s staircase to its rooms. Just enough blood drips upon the edge of a stair as I step upon it. I begin to transfer my weight to a foot that’s only partially perched on a blood-slicked corner. My danger wraps warn me, but I already know. I’m going down, and it’s going to hurt. Hello darkness, yet again. Should I call you my old friend?