Chapter 22 — Departure

“And then do you think I should wear the blue dress or the green one?” Deirdre asked as she stared into her closet. She half turned her head to where Rína sat behind her, giving her a pleading look.

“You know, you turning your head like that just makes this harder.” Rína said, braiding the girl’s hair, “And won’t the two of you be outside when you ask him? Your coat will be the only thing he sees.”

“Right, right…” Deirdre said, “Ok, but how do I actually ask him, or hells, even start the conversation?”

Rína sighed, “I’m sorry, but I’m really not the right person to ask for advice about this kind of thing. Have you tried asking your sister or mom?”

“Gods no,” Deirdre practically shuddered, “My mom’s a gossip and would tell the whole village by the end of the day, and Nóra would be too busy teasing me to actually be helpful.”

“Well, I can at least tell you that you’re overthinking it. At most you two would be hanging out, not trying to convince each other's parents to sign off on a marriage.”

“Yeah… Yeah.” Deirdre nodded, “Nothing to worry about, it’ll just be us chatting… just the two of us… Gods, what the hells are we supposed to talk about? ‘Oh, hello, how are you? Have you noticed the snow is cold today?’ Ugh, this is going to be a disaster.”

Rína snorted, “I don’t know, maybe you could just chat about something you’ve already talked about?”

“Hmm,” Deirdre grumbled before turning to look Rína in the eye, “Say… You or your aunt wouldn’t happen to be able to, you know, help me out, would you?”

“Sorry, but magic can’t help you out with this,” Rína dismissed, only half believing her words, “Now come on, I’m almost done with this braid.”

“It was worth a try,” Deirdre tsked.

The two months since the solstice had been… odd. In short order the entire village concluded that Yvette was some kind of mage and that Rína was learning more than just healing from her. Most people lavished them with thanks and offers to settle in Nameless but there were just as many who were outright terrified of the two—even if it was for their own benefit, seeing dozens of people killed in an instant just wasn’t something they could move past.

The official story Yvette had not-so-subtly put forward was that they weren’t mages at all and the brigands’ trail rations had gone bad prior to their arrival—their lack of combat effectiveness and eventual deaths being the ultimate result. Weak though the story was, Yvette insisted upon it and people—at least in public—had the tact to go along with it.

In private was another story; in particular during patient visits. Suddenly, every little healthcare related action they took carried the suspicion that it was actually magical in nature. Which, fair, it was, but everyday people didn’t have the magical background to know how impossible that should have been. It was even starting to jeopardize the plausible deniability they’d been working under—the absolute last thing they needed was for word to spread of a powerful mage healing wounds and illnesses that were otherwise untreatable.

Pursuant to this, Rína still sported the now bandaged burns she received on the night of the solstice. When she and Yvette had returned to the square to treat the wounded, people inevitably saw her own injuries. The depth and severity of the stab wounds were easy enough to downplay, but the burns going down the right side of Rína’s face were obviously serious. They were of the third degree in some places and went from her lower cheek, down the side of her neck, and just touched the top of her shoulder. Yvette had still healed the actual skin within a day, but for discretion’s sake they had agreed to keep the surface of Rína’s skin looking as if it was still healing from the burns, at least until they left Nameless.

In truth, knowledge about them being mages wasn’t necessarily disastrous, it was just that it drew too much attention. Yvette had mentioned that there were other mage disciplines that could be turned towards healing, like pyromancers specialized for precision cauterization, kinetic mages specialized for surgery, water, sound, or light mages specialized for bodily inspections, etcetera. However these kinds of healing mages were rarely seen outside of cities, and their actual effectiveness paled in comparison to a Flesh Weaver. But most problematic of all, healer mages were typically kept a very close eye on, just in case they ever strayed towards ‘abominable studies of the flesh’.

“Rína!” came Nóra’s shout as she was heard running into the house.

“In here!” Rína shouted in reply.

Seconds later Nóra burst through Deirdre’s bedroom door, sparring a curious look for her sister before addressing Rína.

“Dimitra,” Nóra said quickly catching her breath, “She’s going into labor: her place.”

“Oh, shit,” Rína said, “Alright, I guess I’m off then. Oh, hey, Nóra, can you finish this off for me?” Rína asked, motioning to the last unbraided ends of Deirdre’s hair.

“Yeah, sure,” Nóra said, swapping places with Rína, “Now get going, the rest of the midwives should be on their way. Deedee, why was she putting your hair in a fancy braid?” Nóra took a sharp intake of breath, “Let. Me. Guess…”

Rína could practically hear the predatory grin of an older sibling as she ran from the house. Putting aside the two sisters, Rína tried to focus on the task ahead. All things considered, it should be rather straightforward, all Rína would have to do was go through the motions and maybe help fetch fresh towels.

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Rína slammed the door behind her, her knuckles turning white as her hand was still a vice around the doorknob. She thought that she would be fine, two months had passed after all, but no… definitely not.

Leaning back against the door, Rína tried to focus on her breathing, but her heaving chest continued unabated. It had been going well but then Dimitra’s first screams came and… it felt like a door had been flung open in her mind.

The sounds of her own frantic breaths made for a twisted harmony with the muffled cries still coming from behind the door. Rína closed her eyes and tried to shut it all out, but—

She was back in the forest—

Amidst the hallway of Dimitra’s home, the smell of—

Burning flesh as her own stabbed body was—

Bleeding a regular amount from the birth that had—

Melted off his bones and—

Mixed with the activity of the midwives as—

He screamed and—

She screamed and—

“Ah, excuse me dear,” came an elderly woman’s voice.

Rína forced her eyes open, the haze of her mind making her take a moment to fully recognize the woman. Rína nodded a second later, stepping out of the midwife’s way.

Dimitra’s cries interlaced with wimpers flooded out from the doorway as the older woman entered into the room. Rína averted gaze from the interior of the room. She already knew that Yvette was there giving direction to the rest of the assembled midwives, but…

If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

Rína gulped hard through her bone dry mouth.

She needed to be somewhere else.

Right now.

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It was evening, half a day later, when Rína heard Yvette’s footsteps crunching through the snow.

“I thought I might find you here,” Yvette said, rounding the corner of the wagon with a cup of tea in each hand.

“Yeah… sorry about running out there, I just kinda… I had to go. Is Dimitra alright?” Rína said, sitting atop the wagon’s driver’s bench that she had cleared of snow. The wagon still sat immobile in the last vestiges of winter’s snow, but the bench itself could make for a meditative perch when the need arose.

“She and the babe are recovering and are as well as can be expected,” Yvette said, taking a seat beside Rína, “I kept my threads in their bodies though, just to monitor their conditions and ensure they could sleep soundly.” Yvette said as she passed Rína one of the cups of tea.

“That’s good to hear. Oh, no thanks, I already have one,” Rína said before looking down at the practically untouched cup she had made for herself hours ago—silently admonishing herself, she accepted the new one.

Rína’s eyes fell, “I thought you said you were going to block the worst of her pain?”

“And I did.” Yvette grimaced, “It took an effort of will for me to not simply block it all, but even if I employed chemical painkillers—”

“No one’s heard of a painless birth,” Rína continued, “and we’ve already attracted too much attention; I know.”

Yvette nodded, taking a sip of her tea, “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No?” Rína gave a gallow’s humor chuckle, “But I kind of feel like that’s not what you’re supposed to do in situations like this.”

“Well, you could always bottle up the emotions for a few centuries, not that I can recommend that particular course of action.” Yvette said, putting her arm around Rína in a side hug.

As always Yvette’s hugs were like being wrapped in slightly padded steel, but nonetheless, Rína found herself leaning into the hug.

Rína began, “I just assumed I was over it once the nightmares stopped, but I guess not,” Rína stared into the distance, “How do you deal with it? The killing, I mean.”

Yvette sighed, “As callous as it sounds, you can become accustomed to it in time. But in general, I try to focus on comparing the world with and without the deaths. If you hadn’t killed that ice mage, what would have happened?”

“I’d be dead,” Rína gulped, “I’m not saying I regret what I did, it’s just the actual act of killing someone—killing a living breathing—” Rína stopped herself. Sighing, she gave Yvette a dirty look, “Alright, go ahead and say it.”

Yvette shook her head in dismissal, “I wasn’t going to say anything.”

“Yeah, but you were thinking it,” Rína accused, “Come on, I know you want to say it.”

Yvette gave a hollow chuckle, “‘See the Soul, not the Flesh’. That mage probably still lives in the Deep Astral—for a certain definition of living, anyway.”

“So what? I didn’t kill him, I just evicted him from the land of the living?” Rína quirked an eyebrow, “I somehow doubt that’d hold up as a legal defense.”

Yvette chuckled, “I have heard more bizarre legal arguments succeed,” she said before her tone turned serious, “Please do not mistake me for making light of taking a life. Self defense or not, I believe a life should only be taken with due cause and consideration. That it has affected you so is a good sign, I think.”

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“Are you sure we can’t convince you to stay?” The new village head said. He was a middle aged man wearing relatively fine clothing, similar to his late predecessor. Rína had only seen him in passing a few times and hadn’t even caught his name, but he seemed to have the trust and respect of most of the other Nameless—‘Nameless’ of course also being the demonym for the village.

“The offer is appreciated as always, but we must decline and continue on to Westreach.” Yvette said from the driver’s bench, both to the Nameless head and the assembled group present to wish them farewell.

“And if some more trouble comes our way?” He said, “Trouble that hasn’t been eating, uh, spoiled rations?”

Sitting beside Yvette, Rína spoke up, “I mean, it’ll probably be a while before the population of ‘trouble’ bounces back, you know? Worst case: you guys could join up with another town or village.”

“True, but I doubt anyone would be willing to leave their homes,” the village head said before sighing, “Well I don’t want to hold you two up any longer. I guess all that’s left for me to do is wish the two of you safe travels.”

“Thanks, and take care,” Rína waved goodbye as Yvette set the wagon in motion.

Though she had already said her goodbyes to each person individually, Rína continued to wave to the assembled group behind the village head. Dimitra and Nikolaos were there with their two week old son, waving farewell. And Dimitra, Nóra, and Alexis were all shouting their well wishes, too, as well as a number of other Nameless Rína had become friendly with.

A bittersweet ache creeped up on Rína as she lost sight of the people and soon the village as a whole. It was nice to get back on the road, but that did mean that she was once again leaving friendships behind.

A vision came to Rína of her leaving one abandoned friendship after another as she and Yvette traveled. It was harrowing to think about. Would it just be a matter of time before she stopped seeing the point in connecting with people? Before she became as closed off to others as Yvette was?

Rína had to think that wasn’t the case—it couldn’t be the case. As far as she was concerned, a friendship was only abandoned if you never intended to see the person again, which certainly wasn’t the case for Rína. It was more like she was leaving behind breadcrumbs for her to trace back and reconnect with people along the way. Breadcrumbs that would lead all the way back to Leighton.

It had been half a year since she’d left, and Rína couldn’t help but think about what had changed. The town was probably about the same, but as for what had happened to Eva, the Andreous, and Felix? She had no idea.

The steep cliff faces of the pass cast their shadows onto the wagon as the two women left the valley. Seemingly taking that as a cue, Yvette sighed in relief.

“I believe we have somewhat of a backlog of items to attend to,” Yvette said, looking at Rína, “starting with those burns.”

“I was actually kind of thinking about keeping them,” Rína said as she peeled off the faux bandages, “Well, as scars that is, not as half healed burns. Is that an option?”

“Of course,” Yvette said, “If I may ask, why the change of heart?”

“I don’t know, I guess part of it is that I’ve just gotten used to seeing them in the mirror,” Rína scowled, “but mostly it’s that, well, it feels kind of wrong to just erase the evidence of what happened, you know?”

Yvette raised an eyebrow, “Given those who died on the night of the solstice, there is little risk of the event being forgotten.” She continued in her professorial tone, “Do you perhaps intend to have the scars as trophies?”

Rína gave Yvette a look of mild annoyance, already feeling like she was being herded towards some answer, “I guess evidence isn’t right, and a trophy is definitely wrong, too, it’s just…” she trailed off, chewing her lip.

Rína fell into silence as she thought it over. She couldn’t really put her finger on why wanted to keep the burns as scars, but it just felt right, or maybe it was just that the inverse felt wrong? She wasn’t sure.

“It is natural for our experiences to shape who we are.” Yvette eventually said.

“Yeah, but how is that relevant?” Rína scowled, catching on, “‘Appearance as self portrait’, right?”

Yvette shrugged, “It is no coincidence that nearly all Flesh Weavers practice it, though whether or not it’s the cause of your feelings, only you can say. However, you certainly do not need to give me an answer—it is just something well worth thinking about for your own sake—and I can start work on the changes right now if you would like.”

“Hm,” Rína mulled, “Ah, yes please and thank you…” she said, immediately feeling a slight tingle coming from her cheek and neck.

“Now that brings us to the next item, which incidentally is a literal item,” Yvette smirked as from her coat she produced a wide, oversized bracelet, “It is a cross between a present and a teaching aide,” she said, handing it to Rína.

“Thanks,” Rína raised an eyebrow, inspecting the band. It was seven or eight centimeters wide, about a centimeter thick, and seemingly made of old leather, though Rína wasn’t naive enough to think that was all it was. “What’s it for?”

Yvette gave a wide, knowing smile, “It allows apprentices to build their first spell structures.”

Rína’s eyes went wide, the old leather turning to solid gold in her mind.

“Oh, fuck yes!” Rína burst into a cackle, “But how is a bracelet gonna do that?”

“It is actually an armlet to be worn around the bicep,” Yvette said, “And, well, why don’t you take a more… comprehensive… view of it?”

Rína furrowed her brow as she turned the bracelet—armlet—over in her hands. As far as she could tell it was just an ordinary loop of leather. Unless her eyes were playing tricks on her… Rína shook her head; her eyes weren’t the only sight she had. At once she projected her aura towards the armlet, careful to avoid the burns Yvette was still working, but immediately frowned, cocking her head.

“Hey, Yvette…” Rína said.

“Yes, Rína?”

“Why does this thing have a soul?”