She shouldered open the door to Dorius’ guest room without a knock or warning call, the broken-horned Laon close behind.
“Val!?” cried Dorius, his eyes tight with tension and his face shifting in dawning horror at the sight of her and Bastian’s form slung on her shoulder. He was underneath her before she could even get all the way within the door, tangling her up.
“Get back!” she ordered, her voice shaking. She rushed to Dorius’ bed and laid Bastian down, brushing his red locks back from his forehead, guilt gripping her heart at the singed ends that fractured brittly in her fingers. His skin was already scattered with blooming bruises from his time with the Citrine Prince. A split lip was crusty with blood and mud, and the arch of his nose had a peculiar angle that was likely a break, blood staining his chin below. Dorius climbed into the bed next to him, his golden skin a clammy pale color with stress, and he busied himself unbinding Bastian’s hands.
Val drew the gag from Bastian’s mouth and cupped his face with her hand. He groaned and his eyes rolled with pain at something that ached with her touch. She raised her head and looked at the broken-horned Laon. “Do your kind have surgeons or bone setters?” she asked him.
The Laon shook his head, charm on one horn rattling, and gave no immediate reply. Val didn’t have time to understand what they did or did not have, no more cryptic riddles. “Get something! Someone! I command it!” she cried, almost frenzied with emotion. The Laon ducked out and she turned back to Bastian.
“Val what happened?” asked Dorius quietly. He had Bastian’s hands in his own, rubbing his wrists to help return the circulation now he was unbound. Patches of Bastian’s usually pale skin was bright red on his hands and arms, as well as places on his back and side where his peasant rags had crumpled up and been exposed to radiance from her beacon. His clothing was singed and twisted in places, and the hair from the back of his head was seared off, especially around one patch of skin at the base on his neck that glowed angry red.
Val stared in horror, and collapsed to the floor at the base of the bed, hiding her face in her arms. “This is my fault,” she whispered.
“What happened?” repeated Dorius, “I saw the night sky light up and heard that creature? What happened Val?”
Val drew a shaking breath, she didn’t have the strength to leave the cage she made with her arms and horns over her head.
“The Citrine Prince went mad with jealousy or desperation or something,” muttered Bastian, his eyes were squeezed shut and he moved with visceral trepidation. He got a hand underneath him and groaned as he rolled slightly to reposition himself, “Couldn’t stand the sight of a Fae entering the gate when he could not. Fucking maniac…”
Dorius drew back to give him space, and Bastian inched his sore body up the bed to prop himself upright on the headboard.
“His guard found me quick enough, dragged me over for a jolly questioning,” continued Bastian, his sarcasm uncowed by the beating. He raised a hand and touched his nose, wincing as he prodded the bridge, “Not sure what he thought he’d learn, I just told him rules might be different for Fae and he was wasting his time. Seem’d to think Val served me, or I’d given her some trick that I owed him.”
“Did he learn of me?” Dorius’ voice was low.
Bastian raised an eyebrow and croaked a laugh, “Hah, I’m not that weak willed that I’d turn you over in only a few hours.”
“What happened next?”
“Give me a moment will you,” muttered Bastian, “I think my nose is fucking broken.”
Val heard Dorius climb from the bed, and drag over the chair she had sat in mere hours earlier. There was a sharp rap on the door, Dorius called an affirmation to enter before Val could even react. She spun halfheartedly on the ground in an attempt at alertness, suddenly realizing she no longer had her axe.
It was only the broken-horned Laon, and behind him, Lee’to. She gasped quietly, hands coming to her mouth, and rushed in. Desperately she gestured to Val with her hands, drawing Dorius’ eyes to watch the exchange in curiosity despite the circumstances.
Val was too exhausted for this, “I don’t understand.”
Lee’to gestured to the broken-horned Laon, who looked between her and Val, hesitant. He seemed deeply uncomfortable with the situation, but apparently was unable or unwilling to speak his mind.
“You must command them, Val,” suggested Dorius, studying the two new Laons.
“Command them to do what? You command them,” she replied, seeking solitude in her arms again. The maid immediately turned to Dorius, expectant hope in her eyes.
“You consider that close enough to a transfer of command?” asked Dorius, watching Lee’to thoughtfully. She nodded eagerly, the broken-horned Laon seemed much less certain.
“Do what you can to aid my friend. You have discretion in your action, do as best you think will help,” tried Dorius, the maid gestured to the soldier as well, and following her indication Dorius added, “You too.”
The taller soldier Laon seemed deeply conflicted at the order, but after some communication by the handmaid Laon with her gestures again, he gave a curt head nod and disappeared from the room.
Lee’to then came to the bed, and examined Bastian’s injuries with a gentle hand, eliciting a hiss of pain as she tucked the pillows underneath him to help support him. She then gave Dorius a nod and exited the room presumably to gather some supplies.
“What in the Watcher’s name happened to Val?” asked Dorius to Bastian as if she weren’t at the end of the bed. Bastian’s face turned pensive, all he could see was the hunch of her shoulders and tangle of her horns and arms at the end of his bed. Her hair had fallen free of the hairpins in places, and was spilling out in rivulets of black. Black ash streaked down her face and arms, trails carved in it from sweat or tears or both leaving ink black marks.
“I’m not entirely sure,” he managed after a moment.
“And so the Prince beat the snot out of you, what then?” urged Dorius, keen to get the rest of the story from Bastian.
Bastian grimaced at the framing, but continued. “They left me tied to a tent pole for a bit while they ran around trying to break the gate in, stupidly went for axes instead of trying to make a battering ram from all the cut logs. There was a moment where they seemed to start a fight with the pilgrims, but the yelling settled down. Next thing I know the bells were ringing again and a soldier came and fetched me.” He finished his story looking across to Val then, “I uh… I think it’d be better if Val told what happened next.”
Dorius caught his meaning
“Val,” ordered Dorius. Val did not react, but her horns gave the slightest twitch giving away that she had heard.
Lee’to returned to the room then, a tidy bundle of clean bandages, ointments, and scissors in her hands. She gave Dorius and Val a quick bow of acknowledgement, then hurried to Bastian’s side. The broken-horned Laon was not far behind, with a tub of clean water, which he brought to the bedside for Lee’to to use.
“Wait here,” Dorius was quick to add as the soldier seemed to want to slink from the room, which caused an odd start from the tall Laon, and he took a position in the corner awkwardly.
Lee’to cut Bastian’s clothing from him with the scissors, revealing swelling and blossoming bruises on his torso. She gave him a few educated prods, Bastian hissing in pain to most and flinching away from her at one in particular with a yelp. It seemed she was not a doctor, but caring for wounds was not outside of her capabilities. She then indicated clearly that she wanted to turn him, and with some effort and groans from Bastian, they got him on his side steadied with pillows and she began the process of laying moistened bandages on his burns to cool them. There was a gap in the work long enough then for Dorius to turn his attention back to Val.
“Val, speak now,” he commanded, frustrated with this version of her. Most of his panic from when they had first returned had subsided, now it was obvious Bastian was weak but little permanent harm was done.
Bastian passed him a sharp glance that warned him to be gentle with her, “Let her gather herself.”
Val did not move. So Bastian hesitantly continued. “I was dragged out to a confrontation between Val and the Snake. Her axe was covered in blood and there was a dead guard on the ground and another wailing. The Prince was rabid with fury, and threatened me when none of his guards would approach her. I’m not sure what she did, but a moment later the sky was lit with white fire,” his eyes grew wide and awed, “it drove them all back and brought us escape through the wall.”
Dorius was silent.
“I could barely control it,” added Val from within her arms.
“You saved their lives,” insisted Bastian, “The Prince was never going to back down until you plowed through his guard and maybe him as well.”
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“And you are hurt!” Val lifted her head to look at him along the bed, hands holding her horns.
Bastian shrugged, “I was already hurt.” He flinched as the handmaid Laon parted his hair to begin work on the burns on the back of his head and neck.
Val grew silent again. Dorius studied her face with a frown of concern. “That explains the ash. Val, this would normally not be enough to shake you like this? What did you do?”
Val turned from them both. The night had exhausted everything from her, and she was too tired to show her usual patience.
“I called it, I just called it out of my palm. I didn’t know it would be so big and fierce,” she said. Dorius opened his mouth as if to say something but she continued without noticing. “It drew me out with it, into the sky. I thought it would take all of me when I could not still it.”
“And the cries in the night? Was that related” asked Dorius.
Val blanched, finally looking over at him, the fear and agony still lingering, “No. That was something else.”
Dorius and Bastian looked at her shocked, her expression or tone of voice must have surprised them. “You couldn’t hear the pain?” she asked.
“I heard a beast roar, a terrible sound, but that of a creature,” explained Dorius.
Val shuddered despite herself, “You couldn’t hear it then. I have never felt such sadness or fear until I heard that cry,” and she grew silent staring at the ground.
“What do you mean ‘take all of you’?” asked Bastian, lost in her earlier comment. Val didn’t have the energy to explain, and just made a gesture with her hand spreading her fingers to mimic a poof of smoke.
Dorius and Bastian exchanged a glance. It had been many years since they had seen something shake her this much, as teens she had returned from a contract unusually quiet and surly. Questioning Hart, they had been told that the crew had returned one quarter the size it had left, the caravan had run into a particularly wild band of Fae on the trip south beyond the Pentarchy’s borders. It was clear Val had been instrumental in saving the lives of those who lived, for they treated her with a new-found quiet respect when most would keep clear, or take amusement from jeering at her till the novelty of a target that did not react was lost. Bastian had caught one of the survivors one night after drinking and coaxed the story from him, who told of a bloody battle and Val left standing, a shattered jaw bone hanging from one chin horn, and a severed head pierced through the eye on a head horn, blood covering her heaving ashen form, the smell of burning flesh in the air and a wall of flame keeping the survivors safe with the caravan.
They had been children like her, unsure how to comfort or speak of the matter with her directly. With time, and without their intervention, she had learned to harden her heart to it, and her unshakable demeanor continued to win a grudging, respectful disregard from the mercenaries. It was not that bloodshed did not shake her, like any she often needed a moment to collect herself after, but in the heat of the moment very little disturbed her cool. This shaken inability to regulate her own emotions was entirely out of character.
Dorius seemed to draw some conclusion, “You are relieved of your duties for tonight Val. Laon,” he looked at the broken-horned one in the corner, “Guard the door.”
Val only sunk deeper into herself in reaction to the dismissal, but did not protest.
The handmaid gestured some communication to the soldier Laon before he exited, who frowned and for the first time spoke, “She says she will need to shave your head to treat the burns.”
Bastian grunted, and pulled on one loose curl that was fraying black and twisted at the ends, “Eh, shave the whole lot.”
It seemed she did not need the instruction translated back to her, and the soldier Laon exited the room while Lee’to arranged some scraps of cloth to catch his hair and began to trim Bastian’s head with the same scissors she had used on his clothing.
“So,” began Bastian, “As much as I enjoy being the center of attention, what happened here?”
Dorius recounted the meeting with the Vigilant, telling most of the details but leaving off his supposed blood relation to the Dragoness and the exact nature of the quarry, instead just leaving the explanation for why and what help was sought as cryptic Vigilant behavior which did not seem to arouse any suspicion on Bastian’s part. Bastian nodded thoughtfully along, and they discussed some ideas for making their exit the next day and returning to Kal’Fall to meet up with their retainer, especially Elias and Anette, and investigate news of his cousins, while waiting for this guide from the mountains. Val at some point in the discussion moved to a corner where she sat, arms braced on her knees and head hanging with the weight of her horns. Lee’to came and went with supplies as she needed them, her only disturbance of their discussion being to bundle some bandages and mimic shoving it up her own nose to indicate she was ready to treat Bastian’s broken nose. He scrunched his face in apprehension, winced when the movement was obviously painful, and let her do her work with a squawk of pain as she reset his nose and left one nostril stuffed with padding to keep the shape. Eventually, they were left to sleep, Bastian taking the bed, Dorius slumped at the end from his chair, and Val across the threshold of the door.
---
As the first rays of dawn streamed through the guest room window, Val woke first. The night of fitful sleep had been sufficient to return her depleted emotional reserves, and she was shamed and regretful, remembering her attitude from the night before and Dorius’ dismissal.
She sat up from her rest on the floor. Sleeping on the floor wasn’t the worst part of her sleep, human beds were usually too small for her and the floor was usually where she ended up, but typically she made at least some support for her neck and horns from a pillow. She was still dressed in the robes from the night before, but there were splatters of rusty blood and black soot all over them now, and the gorgeous wolf pelt had been seared nearly bald. Her hands and forearms were similar, with the occasional streak of dried sweat winding between the ash. Unlike Bastian, she had no burns despite being so much closer to the beacon. It seemed her own flames could not burn her.
Spotting the tub of water Lee’to had left, she rose and washed her hands, staining the water black. Bastian and Dorius were both exhausted, and did not stir at the sound of her gentle splashes. She wet some of the spare rags, and scrubbed her face and horns. Dismayed at how messy her hair felt, she removed the hairpins Lee’to had so carefully placed the day before, and sat on the chaise by the window to untangle her hair. Freed from any bindings, it fell to her hips. She ran her fingers through it to loosen any snags, smelling the fire still from the soot that had settled there, then began to plait while gazing out the window on a silent watch.
“You should wear your hair out more often.”
Val started and looked over at the bed. Bastian was watching her with intense gold eyes. Lee’to had shaved his chestnut locks to the skin, and his face was deformed from swelling. Most of his bruises were beginning to turn color as well, he’d be an ugly purple and blue shortly. His nose was still stuffed with padding in one nostril and other bandages covered his burns on his arms, and around his torso. Similar vibrant bruising covered his gut and sides.
Val snorted, but did not stop her plaiting, her hands working with ease.
“Feeling better?” he asked tentatively.
“I could ask the same of you.” Val was quiet so as not to disturb Dorius.
Bastian tested his nose, seeming for a moment as if he wanted to remove the padding, but thought better of it after touching the bridge with one hand and wincing.
“I certainly won’t forget the Snake's hospitality any time soon,” he replied with a grimace, and sat a little taller, careful not to tug on the blanket too sharply where Dorius rested.
Val turned to look out the window again.
“Did the Vigilants give you that robe?” he asked.
Val looked down at herself, the neat folds have all been crushed and creased from her exertion and the wolf pelt was nothing more than a scrap of fire-tinged leather, but the shoulder piece still gleamed from fresh polish. “I think the Laons had a hand in making it.”
Bastian sniffed but did not immediately respond. There was a pregnant silence for a moment, as each waited for the other to speak first. Val had greater patience, and Bastian broke it.
“What did you mean when you said you couldn’t control the magic?” asked Bastian, looking at his hands.
Val hummed, hands repeating the same motion over and over again as she worked her way down the braid.
“Sometimes it feels like a vibrating string, or the surface of a child’s drum. I can just give a beat when I want to call it, then place my hand on it and silence,” she mimed the motion with one hand, curling the end of her plait around the fingers of the other. “Sometimes, it slips through, like music playing and you just sort of tap your foot along without even realizing it. Last night, it was something else, a great torrent of power that spilled out of me once I created the opening, and I was not sure I could stop it once it started.”
She clenched her fist, and remembered with visceral clarity the feeling of it bursting forth between her fingers when she had shut her hand. How in that moment, she had realized vividly that she could not turn it off. Her voice grew low, so low she noticed Bastian sit forward a little to listen. “I could feel it draining me as it traveled through me, like a river eating at the edges of its bank as it flows. I think I would have died if it continued uncontained.”
“How’d you stop it?” It was Dorius, he had not moved from his repose at the end of the bed, but his eyes were open and he was listening with great curiosity.
Val tilted her head, looking out the window. It was not possible to see the bell tower from their view, it was so close to almost being above them from the guest wing’s position relative to the Chapel.
“The bell players I think have a sense of what occurs around them, and they play their magic accordingly. I think they heard me, and they showed me the way with their bells.”
“Carillonists,” corrected Dorius idly, he leaned on his elbow, long fingers to his lips. “What did you make of the Snake Prince?”
Val sighed, done with one long plait, and began to wrap it around the base of her horn and pin it in place. “Bastian’s right. He’d gone quite mad. I threatened him with six Laons and killed two of his guard, and he would have sacrificed the rest if he could. I feared it would have been worse if I didn’t try something grand to intimidate them.”
“And the creature?” Dorius tapped his lip thoughtfully staring into space.
Val hesitated, trying to remember what he and Bastian had discussed the night before, whether he had gone into detail of their mission from the Vigilant’s or not. It was not her place to determine what information he chose to share with Bastian or when. Bastian caught her hesitancy, and his brows knitted.
“There is something in the mountains that I disturbed with the magic,” she finally settled on, “It was sad and terrible and cast a black shadow on the stars overhead.”
Dorius was silent in thought, then sat up, “I am eager to meet up with Elias and get his opinion on things.”
Bastian cast Val a dark look that implied he had more to say, but was uncomfortable with Dorius listening now. Val refused to react, and turned her head to continue working on her next plait.