Chapter 36 - A Favor
Forest Outside Magrath, Vanstead Dukedom of Augustein Year 995
The clanging of metal against metal rang across the small clearing. Amara lept back, feet skidding along the grasses as she brought her axe up just in time to block an incoming swing of Isolde’s spear. She tightened her grip on the axe handle as the force of the blow pushed her back, barely managing to shove the weapon away and jumping to the side.
Amara raised her axe again and took a second to scan her opponent. Isolde’s shoulders were relaxed, but her hold on her spear was steady and firm. Amara rushed forward, ducking low at the last second to aim for the legs.
Before she could reach her target, however, she felt a tap on her shoulder. Blinking, Amara paused mid swing, realizing that the tip of Isolde’s spear was now lightly resting across her shoulder blades. If the woman had put real force into the movement, she would have a nasty cut across the area, right over the wounds from the Aberration attack.
Amara straightened and rubbed at her back, smiling at the other woman.
“Another point for you, it looks like.”
“Indeed.” Isolde pulled the spear away, eyes sharp as she studied her. “Your blows are stronger than before,” she commented, “but you still leave too many openings. It’s not too much of an issue against lower rank Aberrations, but anything rank C and above that exhibits some form of intelligence will prove a problem. Humans as well, of course.”
The two of them had begun sparring during training sessions, and Amara found it a welcome change of pace between chopping down trees. Sparring against Isolde was quite different from her spars with Drew or any of the other watchmen in Winrow. Those were mostly for joint practice or for fun. Isolde, meanwhile, moved with the clear intention to teach and improve. The woman seemed to never do things without purpose, Amara was quickly realizing. It made her wonder if Isolde had ever truly relaxed before, or if she was incapable of letting go enough to do so.
Amara’s eyes fell on the woman’s weapon. She’d never sparred against someone who used a spear before. It posed an entirely new challenge to deal with the weapon’s longer range, and she had to adjust how she moved to compensate. The fact that Isolde was already taller than her didn’t help.
Amara looked away and glanced up at the sky, then back at Isolde.
“Hey, you think it’s fine to start training skills?” She’d been working on her magic identification skill, and she was itching to start digging into the rest of the array. Negation especially. The thought of being completely defenseless against magic like she was against that Aberration made her stomach coil.
It took a moment for Isolde to respond, but finally, she nodded.
“Alright, I don’t see why not.” Isolde gently set her spear down and stepped closer, nodding at Amara’s bare arms. “What did you want to work on first?”
“Negation.”
Isolde smiled wryly. “I thought you might say that.” She sighed. “Unfortunately, as much as I hate to be the bearer of bad news, I recommend beginning with something else first. Negation can be quite difficult to start with. The theory behind it is a bit different from other forms of magic use, and while some do find it intuitive, those tend to be rare and far between. You’d be better off choosing another skill, getting a general feel for things, and then moving on to it.”
Amara frowned and glanced at her hand. She concentrated on her magic reserves, easily revealing the markings now and squinting down at them.
ENERGY TYPE | MAJOR
Basic Use: 100%
Output Adjustment: 0%
Precision: 0%
Chained Usage: 100%
Magic Identification: 17%
Storing: 0%
Delayed Activation: 0%
External Range: 0%
Reduction: 0%
Negation: 0%
A couple of them interested her more than others, but she figured it would be better to get a second opinion. That, and she was genuinely curious what Isolde would say.
“What would you recommend?”
“That depends on the person.” Isolde settled down atop one of the boulders, brushing some dirt off of it before sitting down. “People tend to naturally be more talented at certain skills than others. Some choose to train all skills in every affinity of theirs while others specialize. There’s quite a few options.”
“Wouldn’t specializing just limit your options, though?”
Isolde brushed a few strands of hair back. Because of its length, her long dark hair pooled behind her, falling across the stone like water. “Not necessarily. In the beginning when there isn’t time to become proficient in everything, it can be beneficial to excel at one category rather than be mediocre at many. Besides, there are ways of working within limitations. One of the newer Roses, for example, is rather notorious for having barely any proficiency in external range. Yet he’s clearly better a better fighter than the vast majority of people on Augustein.”
Amara raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t realize you knew so much about the Roses.” She herself only ever heard whispers of them in Winrow, murmurs and mentions that often made them feel more like myths than real, living people. Those words were laced with awe and often bitterness and resentment. Everyone remembered how no Rose had shown up during the Aberration attack that had killed Colm’s family. The village had been abandoned and left to fend for itself.
When she’d just woken up, there had been a brief period of time when she’d been interested in the Roses, but that had waned when she learned that all the old Roses who served the Raymoths had been executed alongside the former Sovereign. These new ones, handpicked by the new Rosevale Sovereign, had no relation to the experiments, the destroyed Raymoth house, or to her.
“Closer to Arcvale, the Roses are quite a bit more well known,” Isolde explained. “In the capital they’re a bit like celebrities, even.” She turned to Amara. “Regardless, it’s useful to have some knowledge of them and, at least, their techniques.”
“Hm, I guess you’re right. I hadn’t thought of it like that.” Amara glanced back down at her markings. During the conversation they’d begun to fade again, and she refocused, the numbers lighting back up.
“Well if it’s up to me and negation’s off the table for now, how about starting with external range?” Though she’d been consistently building more strength to deal with the recoil of her blasts, it wouldn’t be an issue at all if she didn’t always have to use them through touch. Even a single inch away from her would be an improvement.
Isolde nodded and stood again, taking a moment to smooth her clothes. “Not a bad choice at all.” Turning around, she reached into her bag, rummaging around a bit before pulling out another ore and tossing it to Amara, who caught it with one hand and squinted down at the label.
#YJAS75484055
CLASS: 3 | GRADE: D | ENERGY
Activation: 2
Maximum Output: 7
Available Magic: 28
Amara raised an eyebrow and glanced up. “This is one of the better ones you grabbed, right? You sure I should be using it to practice?”
Isolde waved dismissively. “None of these ore are quality enough to merit saving. I don’t use energy magic very often myself, so I have no special use for it either.”
Amara smiled. “So if it was a motion type, you wouldn’t give it to me.”
The other woman made a noise that sounded like a snort disguised as a cough. She shook her head and gestured at Amara’s markings.
“That’s enough delay. We’d best begin while the sun is still up.”
—
In hindsight, delivering wood to the southern end of Magrath after a day of training probably hadn’t been the smartest idea. When she was mainly sparring and building strength, it hadn’t mattered too much. Sore muscles barely registered to her beyond her movements being a little more stiff than usual. Now that she was actively training her magic, however, it was a different story.
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Amara frowned as another piece of wood fell to the ground with a clatter. She bent down to pick it up again, carefully balancing it on top of the rest of the ones in her arms.
Usually when people thought of magic costs, it was the long term, permanent ones, and for good reason. Everyone knew someone who’d either died of magic overuse or was suffering from the consequences of it. It was a special kind of fear, to know that the same thing that for many provided power and privilege could also take those things away.
Amara turned the corner, and one of the pieces nearly hit the side of the building. She shifted the pile over so she could see better and continued walking down the street, ignoring the glances cast in her direction. She probably made for an odd sight, she thought amusedly. A random traveler with dirt covered clothes, skin gleaming with sweat and lugging around blocks of wood.
As extreme as Joan’s magic side effects seemed to Amara, the woman had always emphasized that she had it better than most. For many, magic overuse was a downward spiral that worsened at a faster and faster rate until it was too late to pull yourself out of.
Back in Winrow, there had been a watchman who had a major perception magic affinity. He served as a scout, and he’d always happily share stories of the things he saw to her when she asked. He would describe the exhilarating feeling of perceiving vast distances, to be able to make out the most miniscule of details. When he used his magic, he said, it was like seeing a different world, one that was crisper and with more vibrant colors and depth. He always had the best descriptions for things.
Perhaps it was because of that feeling of power, of exhilaration, that he took it so hard when the first long term consequences of magic use appeared. To go from perceiving so much of the world to slowly losing your vision, Amara imagined, must have been devastating. She stopped seeing him around, and she later learned from quiet conversations whispered between Leila and Joan that the man had died. In an effort to get his old feeling of grandness back, he’d used his magic even more frequently, thus speeding up the depletion until he lost all of his senses and finally, once his reserves finally ran out, his life.
There was really no telling who would and wouldn’t spiral. Joan had emphasized that many times to her, as though she was scared Amara might judge people for it. It was like an addiction, and the lack of knowledge of who would and wouldn’t fall to it only made people all the more wary of using magic carelessly.
Amara turned another corner, slowing her pace as she soon came across the little home. Of course, just as she was a few feet away, another piece slipped, and she crouched down to pick it back up again. Before she did, she took a second to flex her fingers, clenching and unclenching them.
Since the end of their training that day, she could tangibly feel the lack of energy in her limbs. This, she knew, was a short term cost that would soon fade away until the day it passed from temporary to permanent. She shook her head and straightened, shifting the wooden pieces again.
Striding forward, she waited until she felt a bit of her strength return, then raised a fist and knocked against the door.
—
The guards stuck out starkly against the buildings. Amara watched them pass by, the group marching down the road in the direction of the mines. She frowned, watching the ripple of their black uniforms as they walked. It was an awfully dull shade, she thought. It was like both the watchmen and the guards were allergic to colors.
She shook her head and was about to leave, but a different sight caught her eye. She turned around.
A few blocks away, she could just barely make out Levent’s messy white hair. The man was in his servant’s uniform as usual, and he was pulling two large, full burlap sacks behind him. He’d pause every now and then, then yank at them with renewed vigor. Even from this distance, Amara could see the way he was gritting his teeth. Her eyes narrowed. He kept favoring his right arm, she noticed, and whenever he accidentally used too much strength, there was a small, but nonetheless present wince. Her eyes shifted over to the man’s left arm and shoulder, but she couldn’t see any visible bandages or wounds.
A few passersby crossed by, but none of them gave the man a second glance. Some even sped up as they walked. Coming to a decision, Amara ran over, waving energetically.
“Hey, Levent!” she called. The man jumped and whipped around just as she approached, and she narrowly avoided crashing into him.
“Woah there, it’s just me,” she said, raising her hands in mock surrender. She grinned. “What’re you doing?”
The tension faded from his posture, and Levent’s shoulders slumped back down. He sighed and rubbed at his forehead, muttering something under his breath about how he shouldn’t have told her his name, before he straightened again and frowned at her.
“Good evening,” he said stiffly. He bent down to grab one of the sacks he’d dropped in his surprise. Amara stepped in front of it, cutting him off.
“Nope, that’s not an answer.” She pointed at herself. “Look, here’s an example. I was just training. And you?”
The irritation faded away into something resembling surprise. Levent furrowed his brow.
“Training?”
“Yep. I’m learning how to use skills.”
“Huh.” Levent stepped over to the other sack and grabbed it—with his right arm, Amara noted. “...Are you trying to get into the Academy or something?”
“Nah, it’s just general practice.” She cocked her head to the side, grin widening. “You still haven’t answered the question, by the way.” She vaguely wondered what a conversation between him and Isolde would look like, given how prone both of them seemed to be to dodging questions. Then again, the woman had barely acknowledged him during their trip into the mines, so maybe it wouldn’t actually be that interesting.
Levent sighed. “I’m delivering these to the manor,” he finally relented.
“The Alardice manor?”
He snorted. “Do you see another manor around here?”
Almost immediately after he spoke, his jaw clamped shut again and he turned away. Amara watched him from the corner of her eye as she bent down to grab the other sack, pulling it up and swinging it over her shoulder. It was fairly heavy, but not so heavy that she couldn’t deal with it. She could hear faint clattering sounds whenever it shifted, but it was hard to tell exactly what was inside.
“Okay, let’s go.”
Levent blinked, realizing that she’d taken the bag, and scowled. “Put that down,” he said, his voice tinged with irritation. Amara laughed.
“Nope.”
Levent looked like he was considering yanking the sack out of her hands, so she shifted it out of reach and adjusted her grip on the cloth.
“Look, just let me help out. This is obviously taking too long by yourself. Plus, you’re injured.” She nodded her head at his arm, and his hand flew up to his shoulder unconsciously. So it was the shoulder after all.
Levent had a weird look on his face, and at least part of it Amara recognized as unease, so she added, “Don’t worry, it’s not that obvious. I’m just good at picking this sort of thing up.”
Levent frowned, but he did look at least a little placated.
“...You’re injured too,” he muttered. Amara raised an eyebrow, and the servant continued, pointing at her back. “During the attack. Glenn mentioned it.”
“Oh, these?” She patted over the bandages. “These’re basically healed. Monica did wonders.” Why don’t you go to her? was the unspoken question. It remained unanswered.
Levent stared at her, and she met his gaze without flinching. She was in no rush, after all.
Finally, after a long silence had passed, the man sighed.
“You’re not taking no for an answer, are you.”
She grinned. “Nope! But hey, if it bugs you that much, just think of it as a favor. Now come on before the sun sets.” She was already turning around and continuing forward as she finished her sentence, and after a few seconds’ pause, she heard another sigh and then footsteps behind her. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw Levent trudging a few steps back. He’d also moved his sack onto his right shoulder and was carefully avoiding putting any weight on the other side, which seemed mostly successful save for a few winces. Amara slowed her pace until the two of them were walking side by side.
“So, you usually do errands and stuff?”
Levent pursed his lips. “Something like that.”
“Sounds annoying.”
Levent snorted, but he quickly masked it with a cough. He cleared his throat. “I’m used to it,” he said.
Amara hummed. The buildings around them grew further away from each other, the street narrowing to match the quieter area. In the dying light, their shadows trailed long and thin.
“You’ve been here for three years, right?” she suddenly asked.
Levent’s head whipped around. “How the fuck do you know that?” He seemed to process what he’d said a few seconds after the words left his mouth, but it was already too late to backtrack. Amara grinned.
“You know, that suits you a whole lot more than whatever reserved act you’ve got going on.”
Levent scowled.
“You,” he grit out, “are one of the most annoying people I’ve ever had to deal with.”
Amara just shrugged with her unoccupied shoulder. “Cool,” she said simply.
She slowed her pace as they reached the edge of town and the path inclined into a familiar hill. Buildings gave way to swaying grasses and rustling trees. She squinted up ahead at the manor, trying to make out its surroundings. “Where were those guards going earlier, by the way?”
“Mine inspection,” Levent muttered. Amara was surprised he actually bothered to answer her. She glanced back at the forest, frowning slightly. Now that she thought about it, she did remember one of the miners mentioning an inspection.
“That doesn’t sound like it’ll turn out well.”
Levent didn’t respond, but his silence was answer enough. Amara turned back to the road and continued walking. She was glad her magic side effects had worn off by now. Halfway up the hill she could feel her body slowing a little, and she could only imagine how much worse it would be if her energy was still lowered.
Finally, the two reached the top of the hill. Amara could see two guards standing in front of the main entrance as usual, their eyes following them as they approached.
“You can drop it here,” Levent suddenly said. Amara raised an eyebrow.
“You sure?”
“This is far enough.” His eyes shifted not so subtly to the watchful gazes of the guards, then back. Nodding slowly, Amara heaved the sack off her shoulder and set it down as gently as she could. It still landed a bit harder than was probably ideal, but given the lack of complaint, she assumed that whatever was inside wasn’t too fragile.
Straightening, Amara patted her hands. A layer of grime was visible on her gloves from where she’d grabbed the sack, and when she tugged at the cloth, a small cloud of dust rose with the motion. In the dying light of evening, it sparkled and shimmered far more beautifully than it had any right to.
“—you.”
Amara glanced up. “Huh?”
Levent stared at her for a second, then heaved a long sigh. His shoulders slumped down. “I said thank you.” He looked pained at having to say it, and the unmasked reluctance brought a smile to Amara’s face.
“You’re very welcome,” she said brightly. “Next time you need help, don’t be scared to ask!”
The man snorted.
“We’ll see.”