Chapter 24 - Plans and Purpose
Magrath, Vanstead Dukedom of Augustein Year 995
Faint, hazy moonlight streamed through the thin opening in the curtains. Amara traced the blue glow with her eyes as she settled deeper into the bed. The mattress was, as expected, impressively soft, enough that she wasn’t entirely sure she’d be able to fall asleep on it. Every time she moved, her limbs would sink into the material and she’d find herself trapped in it. She kept shifting around in an attempt to get in a more comfortable position.
Isolde, by comparison, looked completely at home. She sat with her back against the headboard combing her hair, gazing absentmindedly towards the glowing embers in the fireplace.
“Amara,” she suddenly said. Amara paused her shifting and glanced in the woman’s direction, though Isolde didn’t turn her way. “Do you mind if I ask you a question?”
“Shoot.”
Isolde chuckled slightly before continuing. “Do you recall our conversation on the road? Well, it made me think.” Her eyes darted briefly over to Amara, at her currently bare arms. She’d hung the gloves on the chair, where they rested limply.
“I won’t ask for more details about the… experiments. I imagine it’s a difficult topic for you. However, I was curious. You claimed to simply be traveling around. Forgive me if this is too blunt, but I couldn’t help but be curious. Do you not wish for revenge?”
That made Amara pause. She turned in Isolde’s direction, but the woman’s face betrayed no particular emotion.
“...revenge on who?” she finally asked. Isolde hummed, gesturing vaguely.
“On whoever was responsible. The experiment conductors, or perhaps the ones who ordered them.”
Amara leaned back in the bed, sinking further into the mattress. The blankets were very smooth, and she found herself disliking how easily they slid around. There was no grip to them, nothing to cling to.
“Like I said, revenge on who?” She stretched her arms, resting her head back on them. “The whole facility went up in flames,” she said bluntly. “None of the magicians’re still alive.” She paused, then added with a thin smile, “and with that coup, none of the Raymoths’re alive either. There’s no one to go after. It’s just me.”
Amara felt Isolde’s gaze on her, but she ignored it.
“Would you want revenge?” Isolde asked. “If there was an option, would you take it?”
Amara smiled to herself as she stared up at the ceiling. In the darkness, their smooth, grey surface could almost be mistaken for the facility, or if not that, then the thick smoke that had brought it crashing down.
“That’s obvious, isn’t it? Of course I would.” She chuckled, and she felt the sound rumble deep in her chest. “You know, back when I first woke up, I thought about it sometimes. Used to wish one of the magicians had lived, just so I’d be able to go after them and do something with my life.” She shrugged. “Not that I’m not happy they’re all dead. Good fucking riddance.”
“But it would’ve given you a sense of purpose.”
“Yep.” Amara sighed and shifted again. “Well, what’s done is done. Since I’m somehow still kicking, I figured I better make the most of my life while I can. Get strong, see the world, leave a mark, all of that.”
There was no response, and Amara glanced in Isolde’s direction. The woman had set her comb down and was still sitting against the headboard, expression partially covered by her long hair, but the parts that were visible were in deep contemplation.
“I see,” she finally said. Amara grinned.
“What, here I am pouring my heart out and you’re not gonna say anything else?”
Isolde finally turned her direction, and in that brief turn, half obscured by shadow, Amara thought of Edith again even as the woman’s appearance had continued to diverge from it. She briefly wondered if she’d ever manage to completely divorce the two images from each other, or if the memories of the facility would continue to cling to her for the rest of her life.
“I don’t believe it’s my place to comment,” Isolde said simply. “Especially when you’ve given me the courtesy of not questioning my actions much.”
Amara’s eyes darted to the covered mirror, then back at Isolde. She studied the woman’s expression, acutely aware of her doing the same back. Finally, she smiled, the expression wide and tugging at the corners of her mouth.
“You’re a strange person,” she said. Isolde chuckled, and the sound rang out in the still room.
“I could say the same of you.”
—
When Amara woke up the next morning, Isolde was already seated at the table sipping a cup of tea that she assumed the woman had grabbed from the restaurant downstairs. She nodded at her, and Amara noted what looked like a map of Magrath was laid out in front of her.
“Did you sleep well?” she asked. Amara scratched her head, aware of what a mess her hair probably was.
“Dunno how you sleep on stuff this soft,” she said, poking at the mattress. “Honestly, floor would be better.”
Isolde smiled. “I’ll ask the front desk for some extra blankets and pillows tonight, if you’d like.”
“Yeah that’d be nice.” Amara got out of bed in a smooth jump, stretching her arms and feeling her joints crack. “Well? What’re the plans for today?”
Isolde hummed, one of her fingers tracing the lines of the map. “With the amount of ore I retrieved from the Penrith mines, I believe there’s enough to last about a week if we’re careful with the use.” She tapped a section of the map covered in forest. “This seems like a decently isolated area to train.”
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Amara felt a grin spreading across her features. “You don’t mind me using up some of your ore?” she joked. Isolde smiled.
“Well, you’ll be helping me get more,” she said. She tapped the map. “Speaking of which, I’d like to explore the rest of the town. From what I saw when we passed by, the mine entrances here are likely covered with a boulder when there are no workers around. It should still be possible to enter them, but considering there should be a few different shops that sell ore—”
“—might as well check them out and see if they’re easier to break into,” Amara finished for her. “Sounds good to me.” She walked over to the curtains, yanking them open and allowing sharp rays of sunlight to beam inside. She blinked a little as her eyes adjusted to the light, but she was glad to see that while it was still fairly cloudy, the sun, at least, was actually visible today. A decent day for exploring.
“Anything else cool about Magrath?” she asked, walking over to sit across from Isolde, her own eyes roaming the map.
“Well, there’s the Alardice manor,” Isolde remarked. “Rygar Alardice is the lord that manages both Magrath and the nearby lands.” She hummed in thought. “We’ll have to be more careful with our… ventures here. We’ll have to worry about both watchmen and Lord Alardice’s personal guard discovering us.”
Amara remembered the tattooed man mentioning a ‘Lord Alardice.’ She glanced back out the window. She was fairly certain the Alardice family also managed Winrow’s land. The name sounded familiar enough, probably from Joan or Leila or even Colm mentioning it at some point. For a village as small as Winrow, though, they didn’t have much direct contact with their managing lords, so it didn’t really come up outside of tax collection. And even in that case, most people thought of it as giving taxes to the Valisters, who presided over the entire Vanstead dukedom. The minor lords only governed chunks of land for them, but everyone knew who they ultimately answered to.
“When’re we heading out?” Amara asked. Isolde carefully set down her teacup, and it hit the table with a light clink.
“As soon as you’d like,” she said.
Amara turned to grab her bag and the axe. “Let’s go now, then,” she said. Isolde raised an eyebrow.
“Are you not going to eat breakfast?”
“Nah,” Amara said as she adjusted the bag’s straps. She turned to Isolde, grinning. “Let’s head out.”
—
Amara whistled to herself as she and Isolde strode outside, eyes scanning the streets now that they were lit by morning light, or as lit as they could be, given that it was still fairly overcast.
Because of the use of stone in much of the architecture and the streets, there was a constant gleam as they walked. More than once Amara would catch a flash of light in her peripheral vision and spin around, only to find nothing but a glittering stone. She fiddled with the gloves as they walked, pulling at the fabric in an attempt to get it to loosen quicker.
“It seems a majority of the stores are located on the southern end of the town,” Isolde noted. She smiled and waved as they passed by an elderly couple, the gesture so practiced that it made Amara raise an eyebrow. Isolde kept talking.
“South is also where the Alardice manor is located, so we should take care to avoid standing out if we can. Once we look inside a few of the stores, we can head to the forest to train.”
Amara shot her a thumbs up. She’d strapped her axe to her belt, where it hung awkwardly and was in constant danger of hitting her legs as she walked. She’d have to figure out a better way to carry it, assuming it lasted.
Just as Isolde had said, the number of people grew the further south they walked. The street widened until multiple carriages could pass through at the same time, and Amara noted the hydrangeas growing along the sidewalk, adding a flare of color to the otherwise fairly muted streets.
The buildings grew so close together that there was often no space between them at all or only narrow, shadowy alleyways. A newspaper boy ran around the streets handing rolled issues to passersby, though a good chunk of people simply walked past him. The residents of Magrath seemed to be in a constant state of hurry, to Amara. She watched the boy huff and cross over to their side of the street, just in front of an open square. He once again waved his arms around in an attempt to get attention, his expression drawn in a barely concealed scowl that reminded her of Colm.
Amara stepped forward, one hand reaching into her coin bag.
“Here, kid.” She flicked the coin at him, and he caught it one handed in an impressive display of reflexes. The boy blinked a few times, scrutinizing the coin, which made Amara smile to herself. Apparently he was satisfied, because he reached into his bag to pull out an issue.
Before he could, however, the sound of yelling drew both their attention away.
Amara’s head snapped around, eyes focusing in on the square. Beside an island of hydrangeas and swaying grasses, a crowd had gathered around. Amara strode forward on instinct, pushing her way through the crowd to get a better look.
Just in front of the island, a man was lying on the ground wearing what Amara recognized as similar clothes to the ones she’d seen on the miners. There was still dirt and dust lingering on his clothes, and he coughed, hacking and struggling to stand.
Before he could, he was shoved down by a second man. Amara’s eyes snapped to him. He appeared to be in his mid thirties, with shaggy, messy hair that kept falling in front of his face. A long scar ran diagonally across his nose, and visible wrinkles gave his face a hard, stern look. A cigarette dangled from his mouth, and he pulled it out, exhaling a cloud of smoke.
“Do me a favor and stay down,” he said, sounding almost exasperated. He flicked the cigarette at the miner, who flinched back. The man scoffed and turned to one of the others standing nearby. All of them wore the same dark uniform, one Amara didn’t recognize as belonging to the watchmen. Dark gloves accompanied the uniform, and she assumed they were Lord Alardice’s personal guards. The man with the cigarette, then, she assumed was the head guard.
“So? Get on with it. What’s so important you couldn’t let the watchmen deal with it?” the man said. One of the other guards cleared his throat and stepped forward.
“Sir, he was found stealing ore rations from the mines.” The guard pulled out a slip of paper, fumbling slightly as he opened it, and read down the list. Amara noted the way the miner slowly inched back, hands shaking with fear.
“Our search found several Class 2 energy magic ores stashed away in his home. A majority were E and D grade, but there were a few C grade.”
“C grade? And you only just found out about it?”
The guard cleared his throat. “We believe the other miners may have been accomplices, sir. At the very least, they were likely aware of the thefts.”
The man groaned, rubbing his head. The miner scooted further back, his hands bracing on the ground as though preparing to get up and run. The moment his hand moved, however, the head guard unsheathed a sword in one swift motion, holding the blade up to the laborer’s neck without looking. The man froze, swallowing, and Amara found her own muscles tense as she noted the way the blade gleamed.
“Oh great, so we’re looking at a week-long investigation, multiple arrests, and some capital punishments. Wonderful.” The man pressed the blade closer to the miner’s neck, laughing coldly. “You lot never get it through your thick skulls, do you? How stu—”
His voice suddenly cut off, his eyes snapping upwards. Amara furrowed her brow, pulling her eyes away from the miner to follow his gaze.
“You gotta be fucking kidding me,” the man muttered.
Up in the sky, amidst the swirling grey clouds, a small dark speck drifted in the wind. Only instead of falling or being pulled away by the breeze, it hung suspended, motionless, looming over the square.
Suddenly, in a flash of light accompanied by a shrill, piercing screech, the speck exploded and a blast of wind nearly knocked Amara over. She just barely managed to stay on her feet, though most of the others in the crowd weren’t so lucky. Her eyes snapped around the square, where splatters of scattered dark liquid quivered against the stone street.
From the bubbling substance, the lurching, hulking silhouettes of Aberrations rose. Amara yanked out her axe just as the square erupted into panic.