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Heir of Storms
Chapter 22

Chapter 22

Under the dim light of dawn, Valentin abandoned the longhouse and made the journey to a nearby cliffside to clear his head. He faced the sea in front of him, but it was fully obscured by the morning fog bank, leaving but the distant crashing and rumbling below. The calls of sea birds blared through the low grumble of the water, likely happily picking apart and devouring any life unfortunate enough to be rammed against the rock cliffs and left stranded on the beaches below.

It was his first true moments where he felt not only alone to himself but in relative safety. However, he could not shake how truly foreign this new part of the country felt to him. Ortus was partially blocked by the towering reaches of the Auric Mountains. The land was coated in trees and covered in rocky soil. Even the steadfast waters of the sea that he used to watch the tranquil movements of were violent and turbulent in this secluded village.

For now, he felt comfort simply sitting silently in the solitude of the morning and to pretend that the day would not continue from this point. It would be some time until life began to stir within the village.

Rays of light eventually rose above the mountaintops and bathed the world in light. Valentin could see people stirring around the longhouse. The smells of cooking food stirred his stomach but could not convince the boy to rise from his spot.

As morning brightened, so did his mind. Uncertain circumstances created an uncertain path forward for the wayward boy. For now, he was under Morna’s “protection”. And, if Bassett’s words were to be believed, she was one of the nicer mercenaries to encounter. He could not imagine worse than what he had. Perhaps death, or was it?

He looked down at his body, a supposed vessel that could harness unnatural power and inflict it upon the world. There was naught a scrap of power he could feel dancing within his veins. Where was it? How could it be extracted and made manifest? These truths were hidden from those who had yet to participate in the Bloodstone Ceremony. Even attempting the techniques as an unfavored was enough to inflict serious injury or death upon oneself.

Now, even though he was favored, his mind was still not enlightened. All he really could describe himself was useless. If Uncle Gilles had given him a single lesson during their escape, he would have been able to support his uncle against their assailants. If he had known how to defend himself, he may not have suffered as much as he did.

He stretched out his hand towards the sea. He imagined bolts of lightning shooting from his fingertips and into the great horizon. But they did not reveal themselves, not even the smallest of spark that could serve as inspiration shot between his fingers.

Eyes closed, he turned his mind inward to find inspiration with the vast black mindscape. He probed for flickers of light that would lead him to enlightenment. Something, anything that would validate what the Bloodstone proclaimed about him. But, as much as he thought, as much as he focused through gritted teeth and furrowed brow, he could not find the power inside of himself. He could not focus on what he did not know. He would need to find a teacher, preferably one that was not named Morna.

“There you are, I’ve been looking for you,” a familiar voice cut the isolation.

“Oh, hello Bassett,” Valentin greeted with a wary tone, uncertain of how long Bassett had been there.

The boy sat next to him and looked over the mist. “You weren’t around when I woke up. Is everything alright? Darri snore too loud?”

When Valentin awoke, he had found that the group of children had slowly grown closer together and formed a pile of body heat. Valentin had remained on the fringes, sleeping alone. He had initially moved closer to stay warm but something felt off inside of him. He was an intruder, siphoning heat away from the poor by way of his own ineptitude. It was better to leave, to find fresh are away from the smell of sweat and dirt.

“I’m fine, I just wanted to enjoy the morning. It’s different from the waters I’m used to.” Valentin tucked his knees closer to his chin.

“It’s violent during the short days. The storms are the holiest times for us.”

Minutes passed while the two boys sat together on the cliffs. Valentin found himself transfixed to the noises of the ocean down below. Clouds accumulated far off into the distance and had a threatening darkness to them. He wiped the dew from his fingers and exhaled warmth into his hands, puffs of steam escaping his mouth. He was quickly taken aback by the appearance of the tiny clouds; it rarely got cold enough for that in Orsulie.

“Morna wants to meet with you,” Bassett cut the silence with words that neither found welcome.

“The feeling is not mutual,” Valentin grumbled, dispelling the idea from his mind. “You can tell her that I politely reject the request.”

“I’m happy that you are expressing your displeasure so openly, Master Valentin. I just want to remind you who will be on the receiving end of Morna’s displeasure if I return with that answer.” Bassett emphatically gestured toward himself to punctuate his point. “If that is something you’re alright with, then I’ll go in your stead. Pact and all.”

“I’ll go.” Valentin reluctantly stood up and Bassett joined him. “Did she tell you what she wanted?”

“She didn’t say,” Bassett admitted apologetically. Somehow, he managed to bring a disarming smile to his face. He slapped Valentin on the shoulder encouragingly. “Don’t look so nervous, I’ll be there with you.”

Valentin followed Bassett’s lead away from the sea. The march down from the cliffside was exceedingly short. Valentin could have sworn that it took much longer to get up there in the morning. Before he knew it, they were already entering the longhouse and his mind wasn’t prepared for the confrontation.

Bassett led Valentin to one of the rooms that lined the left side of the longhouse. As opposed to the majority of the village that slept on the floor, people of a certain level of importance had rooms that they could use. The longhouse in Roucotte had no permanent residents and the side rooms had been repurposed for feasts and gatherings. The side walls had been removed and a dedicated kitchen had been installed.

Bassett entered the room first with Valentin close behind. The room had a much cozier atmosphere than any of the sleeping piles from the main longhouse. There was a straw filled mattress as well as pillows and blankets of wool dyed in a multitude of colors. A platter of bread, cheese, and dried fruits sat between two cushions in the middle of the room.

The sole cold spot of the room stemmed from the occupant. She smiled at the entrants with the same sweet grin that made his blood curdle and his teeth itch.

“I have brought Valentin, Morna,” Bassett announced to the woman.

“Thank you, Bassett,” Morna answered tenderly. She waved her hand to dismiss him. “You may go now.”

Bassett gave a sidelong glance to his pact mate. Valentin walked the concerned boy and sat at the other cushion. He looked over his shoulder at Bassett and produced for him a somber and brave smile. He did not need to be punished with Valentin. The torture did not need to be a shared one.

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“I will see you later, Bassett.”

The other boy quickly exited the room leaving Valentin alone with Morna. Now that the two were together, Morna began to dine on the platter of food between them. Valentin initially resisted the urge to eat but quickly gave in and ate as well. He received a gentle smile from his dining partner in response.

“I’m sorry that I had to leave you with those dirty children but we had to arrive separately and stay apart for the first night,” Morna explained. “Neither of us need a rumor floating around that I brought home a stray. Now that that’s taken care of, you will stay here until Ferron returns. Perhaps beyond that,” she added the last part slyly.

“I did not mind my evening with Bassett. We’ve gotten along quite well since yesterday morning,” Valentin replied. “If it is safer to be with him, then I should stay closer to him.”

“Now, now, you won’t need to stoop so low as to huddle with the refugees,” Morna reassured, ignoring any of Valentin’s subtlety. “You will spend much time with him during the days. If you didn’t get along, I would have had to find someone else. Those displaced children are ideal since most will try to avoid them. Let me know if they give you trouble.” Morna’s face had darkened slightly but quickly returned to its normal cheer when she dug back into her meal.

Valentin tried to eat his food as though he were all by himself. He just had to make it through the meal and he could be on his way. He felt the smile directed at him, burning through his shirt. The expression was still as unsettling as it was indecipherable. He was still not yet ready to try to make sense of it. For now, all he could do was endure.

“Oh,” the woman began, excitement crossed her face before reaching behind her. “Since there is not much to do during the short days here, I’ve been picking up basket weaving.”

She revealed a wicker basket and handed it to Valentin. The handle and the basket itself were functional and sturdy, that was perhaps the only compliment that he could provide to the actual craftsmanship of the work. It was uneven and lumpy in some areas. The fibers used were overly dried and brittle in others and there were small holes within it.

“What do you think of it?” Morna asked with expectant eyes.

“Well,” Valentin hesitated, playing the difficult balancing act between honesty and tact. “For a novice, it is quite good. However, I don’t think you could sell it for the materials that you spent to make it.”

“Do you know how to weave baskets, Valentin?” She asked with a pout.

“I do, my eldest sister Louise taught me how. Of course she is much better than I am,” Valentin explained, uncertain why he was offering a glimpse into his personal life to this woman.

Louise was good at all manner of crafts whether that was basket weaving, embroidery, cooking, or even carpentry. Marion herself was a skilled craftswomen and it seemed that her eldest daughter had inherited those skills best. This extended to growing wine grapes and vegetables. For an inexplicable reason, whatever plants Louise had been tasked with always grew the largest or had the most flavor, much to her younger sister’s frustration. However, Louise had a humble personality and always complimented the efforts of her younger siblings.

Unfortunately for Louise, she lacked the traits that her father wished for: business and political acumen. Valentin doubted that any of the children truly possessed the conniving spirit that Roland had been trying to cultivate. Louise was too kind hearted and generous, Jeanne too strong willed and unorthodox, and Valentin was himself.

A hand reached across and planted itself on Valentin’s leg. A wave of apprehension washed over him. He felt a rapid beating in his chest. The hand slowly traveled up his leg before reaching his knee and departing back to the other side of the room. A small playful giggle entered the room and with it came a nervous chill.

“So nervous. You’re allowed to breathe.” Playful words danced towards Valentin but bounced ineffectively off of him. All Valentin truly felt was the piercing gaze and bared teeth.

“I’m not nervous,” Valentin argued and tried to silently breathe to regain his composure.

“You were raised to be honest,” Morna observed. “It’s adorable to watch you lie. I was wondering if you’d show me how to weave a basket.”

A look that made Valentin feel small pierced him. The body across from him pushed the platter to the side and crawled across the gap between the two. She prowled behind Valentin’s back. Two arms like snakes slithered under his arms and wrapped around his stomach, pulling him towards the terror behind him. Warmth pressed into his back and puffs of hot air spread onto his neck.

He felt his abdomen constricted under the weight of the arms around him. The wound that he had received from Charlon’s boot had not yet healed. Shots of pain set his mind ablaze. Valentin wiggled in an attempt to alleviate the pressure on the wound but the struggle only made it worse. Through gritted teeth, Valentin twisted and moved his wounded ribs away from the constricted grasp of the arms. A soft throb persisted and flared slightly whenever he inhaled. Tears had accumulated in his eyes and his breathing had gotten ragged.

He felt the soft outline of features brush against the back of his head. Breath caressed the back of his neck.

“I’ll show you how to make a basket,” he agreed, hoping it would cause the moment to end.

“I’m glad to hear. Isn’t this so peaceful?” The voice behind him sighed contentedly.

No. Actions used by his mother and Jeanne to comfort him were now perversely usurped by another. The emotion that welled inside him was similarly a twisted sense of familiarity that set him abuzz with unease. Yet, somehow, some semblance of comfort remained. Valentin wished nothing more than to loosen his body and allow himself to stop thinking or fighting or trying. The desire to be held peacefully for a time seemed tempting. His heart yearned for the respite advertised by the other party. However, joy would never rest at the end of this embrace and he had to continue to fight.

“Won’t people be suspicious if I am here too long?” Valentin asked hopefully.

“There are numerous stories I can tell to the overly nosy villager. You just need to avoid the foreign witch and her flame-blooded guard dog,” a scowling mouth spat behind him. “Why couldn’t Ferron have taken her with him?”

“A witch?” Valentin asked with surprise.

“Yes, Jaela Volo. She claims she is a seer and can see the future in her blood,” Morna explained with a voice of deep contempt. “Though she hasn’t once used that ability since Ferron saved her during our Eastern campaign three cycles ago. What was the purpose of going through all that trouble killing her pursuers if all she does is saunter around camp and give unasked for advice and proverbs? She gives Ferron advice that he takes with the same weight as his most faithful deggan. Worse yet, her accent isn’t even cute, not like yours.”

The sweetness that returned to her voice after the venomous tirade unsettled Valentin. He placed a hand on her arm in an attempt to remove it.

He was released from the grasp of the woman who stood up behind him. “Just talking about her has spoiled my mood. Just remember to stay away from her, I’ve heard she can perform spells with blood that is not hers. And an abandoned child would be an ideal choice.”

“What does she look like?”

“When you see a person that looks out of place, then you’ll know. Just follow the glares of the villagers.” She stood up and rustled through some cloth before revealing a ratty tunic and cloak and handed it to the boy. “Before I forget, you’ll need to wear this during the day. Fortunately, all anyone here does during the short days is drink. I doubt you were noticed. You just need to avoid arousing Guin’s suspicions for a time. I doubt he really pays attention to how many kids there are but you can’t be too careful.”

He uncomfortably disrobed before Morna and quickly donned the tunic. “Who’s Guin?”

“Oh, just the son of one of the Elders. Will be one when his mom dies. I feel bad for the poor folk that will have to serve the shit for brains. He’s in charge of Faur rations this year and was tasked with giving the refugee kids work to do in exchange for food. He travels around with a local warrior that people call Cnap. Unpleasant man to behold.” Morna responded with a disinterested voice.

As Valentin made his way towards the entryway, his hand was roughly grabbed. He was pulled back into the center of the room. She looked at him with cold, stern eyes that made him feel like her was about to be ripped to shreds.

“I know you left the longhouse by yourself this morning,” Morna accused with a growl. None of her previous sweetness remained.

“I-“

“No explanations,” Morna said, denying anything Valentin was about to stutter out. “For someone who is on the run, you quite quickly left my protection. You should know that, last night, some scouts stumbled across a couple sets of unknown footprints on their way back from a hunting trip.”

Valentin’s blood turned to ice. His mind immediately travelled to the worst case scenario. Intruders already appeared at his flawed sanctuary, threatening to capture him for unknown purposes. He sucked his teeth uncomfortably, leftover food slipped through the gaps.

“You understand, don’t you?” Morna demanded. “Nobody else here cares about you. The villagers will sell information about you without hesitation. Deggan Hubert is far less kind than I am. I am the only one that you can rely upon, Valentin. You will come when I call for you and you will do as I say. Do you understand?”

His heart wouldn’t slow its beating. A rat. He was a rat that had to choose between that cat that would toy with him or the one that would eat him.

Valentin nodded, his desire to live winning the day.

“Good,” Morna said, releasing her iron grip on Valentin’s forearm. “Now you may leave.”