Terror Three - Windtouched

“Go away, girl,” one of the thugs says.

I’m not calling him a thug to be insulting or anything, that’s what he is.

[Gael - Of the North Quarter]

Initiate Dockworker

Initiate Thug

I eye him and his two buddies up. They all have two classes, nothing above Initiate. That makes them... kinda really weak. They all look adult too, though one of them is young enough that he might just be an older teen.

I’m beginning to wonder if everyone is this weak here. Mom wouldn’t be too happy if I reached adulthood and was only at Initiate. It would be a bad showing.

Actually, I’m not sure she would be displeased so much as disappointed. I have a good Mom, the sort who probably wouldn’t mind if I decided to change careers one morning.

“Hey, kid, did you hear me?” Geal asks.

“Hey, Geal, look at her clothes,” the other older guy says. He gestures at my cloak and the clothes beneath.

They’re nothing special, just some plain riding skirts split down the middle and a clean blouse. I suppose they do have some embroidery. Iris and edelweiss and lavender, all carefully sewn into the edges and hems with silver thread.

Oh, right, this is probably really expensive. He thinks I’m rich.

Well, that or the man knows enough about flowers to recognize the patterns, then happens to know what each sort of flower means. I can barely keep track of that myself, so I’m thinking this random thug doesn’t know.

“I literally just need to know where the Temple of Darkness is,” I say. “You guys can go back to... uh.” I tilt to the side to see past the thugs. It looks like they’d been kicking the snot out of someone.

Kind of awful, but I’m not here to police this city.

Geal shifts from foot to foot, then shakes his head. “Go away, girl.”

I shrug. “Alright.”

“Geal! She’s rich.”

“You want the whole city guard all riled up because we hurt some noble’s get?” Geal hisses back.

Oh hey, he’s not stupid.

“No need to hurt her,” Geal’s buddy says. He steps past and grins at me before a knife slips out of the dirty cuff of his shirt. “How about it, girl? Care to be a little charitable?”

“No thanks, my gold is for me to spend.”

I think I’ve made a mistake. There’s a flash in their eyes, and I can almost taste the greed in the air.

What was it? Do I look too weak? No, it had to be the mention of gold.

Of course. Gold is worth a lot, and these guys probably don’t see anything bigger than Mortimer-minted silver coins passing around.

“Gentlemen, I think you’re about to make a very big mistake.”

I can see the thug with the knife hesitating. I’m stronger than he is, just out of sheer level. I have fewer classes, but that’s not too impressive.

I can feel my lips twisting up, and I allow raw emotion to flood my core. Disgust. It’s what comes easiest in a situation like this, and I don’t see why I should wrack myself to feel something more for three idiots like this.

Running is an option, they’re not even circling around me yet.

But why?

“Is she crying?” one of them asks.

I can’t be bothered to keep track of them, it’s hard enough to concentrate on the magic rolling around inside me. Not that I can’t control it, I’m just trying to keep the amount I use low. These three aren’t worth more effort than...

Taking a deep breath, I recall my lessons. I’m maybe a bit stressed if I’m slipping this much.

Darkness gives power, but without control it’s worth nothing. It’s too easy to fall past disgust and into loathing.

I run through the list of spells I know. It’s hardly exhaustive, but it’s pretty long. Mom never hid the spellbooks away from me, and there was never anything stopping me from learning more. My lips murmur the spell’s name, even as disgust roils up in me and makes me feel just a little nauseous.

“Gentlemen,” I say as I feel Dark magic infusing my body. “Go away if you don’t want to assist me.”

The thug with the knife reaches for me.

He grabs my arm, and my hood slips back a little. I suppose they notice the glow.

“Magic!” Geal says.

I expect him to run away, but instead he swings a meaty fist forward.

So he wants to take out the threat as quickly as possible? It’s not a bad idea against some kinds of magic users.

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I let myself fall, dragging the knife-thug towards me.

He stabs, and I feel the jab of something in my side but it doesn’t go anywhere. Physics is still a thing though, and the blow does lift me a little. I can be as invulnerable as a city wall, but I still only weigh as much as the average fourteen year old.

“Gentlemen, say hello to my little friends,” I say while I spin in the knife-thug’s grip.

My friends leap out of my cloak.

To the thugs they probably look like black blurs, moving too fast to react to.

I know them better. My little friends were each made a while ago, monsters no bigger than a closed fist. Some are shaped like wasps, others like spiders with sharpened fangs, all in the light-absorbing black that nearly all monsters have.

Knife guy gasps as a wasp buries its stinger into his abdomen.

That can’t be pleasant.

The moment he lets go of me I twist back, shift all of my weight around, and shove my closed fist into his jaw. Black tendrils of magic burst around the impact. Wasteful. I can do better.

Knife guy slumps back, and my friends fling themselves off of him and to the others with a thought.

“Hey!” Geal screams.

I can’t avoid his shove.

I bump into an alley wall then... watch Geal run away, a couple of my friends buzzing after him before I recall them.

Turning, I look to the last thug, but he’s running away too, hands over his head and shirt pulled up to keep his face safe from the sting of my friends.

I whistle, and the little swarm breaks up and flies back.

Taking a moment, I adjust my clothes and make sure that all of my friends return to their little hidey-holes tucked up against me where they’ll be nice and snug. These friends are the disposable sorts, but I don’t think it’ll be easy to find tar in a city like this, so it’s best that I don’t be wasteful.

The lump the others had been kicking coughs.

Oh, shoot, was I seen?

As the pile of clothes shifts back, I can see that that won’t be a problem.

It’s a girl. Maybe my age, maybe a bit younger. It’s hard to tell, she’s all skin and bones and her clothes look like potato sacs. Her eyes are covered by a grimy bandage.

Actually, I don’t think I need to mention the dirtiness of any one part of her, she’s entirely filthy. Her hair is matted and tangled, and her clothes are stained and covered in soot. She looks like a mess.

The beating probably didn’t help.

“Are you okay?” I ask.

She smiles. A huge, happy grin. She’s missing a tooth and her lips are bloody, but it doesn’t detract from her smile any.

I can, literally, feel the joy radiating off of her.

A Joy mage?

“I’m okay, miss,” she says. “Thank you.”

“Uh, yeah, no problem,” I reply. “You wouldn’t happen to know where the Temple of Darkness is?”

I feel bad after saying it. The disgust is leaving me already, and the feelings leave me kind of empty. I’m aware, academically, that I should either feel bad for the girl and her situation, or maybe I should be disgusted by the way she’s dressed, but I can’t manage that right now.

The girl’s smile twitches. “I do.”

“Oh, cool. Can you tell me where it is, and do you need help?”

“Ah, I should be okay? They didn’t hit me too hard. If someone dies here the guard get angry about it. They didn’t want to have to carry me to the Roughs either, so I can still walk.”

I nod. “If you can lead me to the temple, I can pay you a little.”

She perks up, then pushes off the ground to climb to her feet. It looks painful, but she doesn’t so much as wince.

“Can you see?“ I ask.

“I know my way around.”

Somehow, she looks worse standing up than sitting down. I move over to her, but before I can reach out, she shakes her head and raises a hand. “Geal and his friends thought that Miss was wearing a nice dress. I’m filthy, I wouldn’t want to get you dirty.”

“Oh,” I said. “Thank you? What’s your name?”

This entire thing was really awkward.

“My name’s Felix.” She grins. “Just a normal beggar from the Roughs.”

[Felix - The Blind Joy]

Novice Windtouched

“What’s your name, miss?”

“My name? Oh, I’m--”

***