Chapter 13 — In Search of A Better Future
Ayla ran her finger over the varnished surface of her Cartographer's Society membership badge. This wasn't the first time she had taken it out to do so while staring out the back of the covered wagon.
Was it the right choice? She had her doubts. Traveling with a love-struck half-Kyrren and a shady elf mage certainly was one of them. At least, she was pretty sure she could trust the half-Kyrren. Whether or not she was safe traveling with him, that probably depended on the meaning of safe.
As for her current goals, her efforts to rescue Fenton had resulted in failure, and if Marleyne's brother was to be believed, her cousin had met a horrific end. Though she had accepted his death was a likely possibility from the start, the news had still come as a shock. He had been a large part of her life until her lack of awareness and competitive spirit had crushed his pride, stolen the expectations of his family, and driven him away—into the arms of cultists (and Xogg`Shriloth itself apparently).
In part, she felt relieved about no longer needing to infiltrate the cult he had been involved with, but her relief also made her feel guilty. Thinking about how she'd failed Fenton as a friend and as family made her feel deeply depressed. The last few days, she had tried to keep active so she wouldn't have to think about it, but sitting in a wagon as it lazily traversed the country-side didn't present her much opportunity for distraction.
Her eyes drifted down to her sword, laying across her lap, oiling cloth waiting for her to finish polishing the already immaculate enchanted blade. Even her sword—the sword commissioned for her by Fenton's grandfather—was a reminder of how she had wronged her cousin.
And now, here she was, secretly heading back to Ravenhill to investigate Fenton's involvement with the cult of Xogg`Shriloth. Meeting with Fenton's family would be… hard. If she could disguise herself well enough for them to not recognize her, she would. But her acting skills weren't that good, and there was no way they wouldn't recognize her face even with her red hair dyed deep-brown by the alchemical hair-dye that Ruby had recommended.
Ayla had considered hiring Ruby for this trip as a maid and would have offered if it wasn’t for the way the girl shamelessly flirted with Xyn. Sure, the reason was petty, particularly when Ayla had no intention of ‘bearing the half-Kyrren’s kits’—she still couldn’t believe he said that with a straight face—but there was just something annoying about watching someone flirt with the only guy to ever profess interest in her as a woman… well, other than Fredrick…
Ugh. Ayla let her head fall back against the tarp that was shielding them from the sun. Was marrying Fredrick actually worse than being taken away to who-knows-where in the Beastlands to bear Kyrren ‘kits’? That she could even weigh the two and not be sure of the answer… certainly didn’t speak well in Fredrick’s favor.
And it wasn’t because Fredrick was ugly… or excessively old. Sure, he was fat, but that wasn’t the reason either. And doubtlessly, she would be pampered and spoiled by the foppish man. There was just something about the way he could call out without an ounce of shame, ‘Ayla, la, la, la, my dear sweet avatar of flaming beauty, I have alighted to your sunlit abode to bask in your radiance and renew my sooooouuul with thoughts of the days when our worlds will become one! Come out my glorious candle of love and illuminate my life!’ that instinctively repelled her.
A shiver ran it’s way up Ayla’s spine as she recalled that mortifying embarrassment and her parents forcing her to actually present herself in front of the manor in response to such a greeting—in front of the servants even!
If she really had to choose, at least with Xyn she could have him erase her memory of their kit-making activities after each time…
Surely, there was a better future to be found.
Ayla placed the badge back in her pouch. Accepting Master Valence’s offer had been an attempt at finding that better future. She was loathe to give up her noble status and wealth, but there was something about seeking her own path with her own feet that strongly appealed to her. And the thrill of stepping into a hidden world of strength and wit where she could challenge herself while making a positive difference in the fates of more lives than she would ever be responsible for as a baron’s wife—it stoked both her warrior’s spirit and her noble’s pride.
Sadly, her fellow initiates weren’t the most entertaining of travel companions. A half-hearted glance around the inside of the wagon reaffirmed that truth. Xyn was meditating as usual, probably wracking his feline brain for some new scheme to impress her. Yillian wasn’t much different, studying his books of magic whenever the situation allowed. Unlike Xyn, the elf was such a delicate pretty-boy that she found it hard to take him seriously, even after having witnessed his competence and intelligence.
The lie Yillian had recommended she tell Marleyne—that they had successfully removed the parasite the cultists had used to control her brother, but were unable to stop the spell the cultists had set in place which erased parts of his memory likely to prevent the other cult members’ identities from being discovered… Ayla had to admit she was impressed. Not only had Ayla been able to preserve her friendship with Marleyne, but they had convinced the younger girl to seek out Master Valence should Nicolas remember anything of interest or if he (or any other family members) started acting strange again.
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Acting against the House her family was vassal to was fraught with risk of retaliation against her family, so she was thankful that Xyn and Yillian had managed to resolve the situation in a way that preserved the honor of both families and avoided her being disowned or worse.
The incident wasn’t entirely clean in its execution though, as shouts of alarm about an ‘assault on one of the young masters’ could be heard while the three of them were passing through the kitchen on their way out of the castle. Hopefully, the commotion made them less noticeable rather than more.
Nicolas’ journals proved to be a trove of information and confirmed the fate of the missing farmgirl from Lorel’s Watch. Unfortunately, while there were conjectures about the identities of some of the other cult members, Nicolas was almost entirely in the dark about those from the Tower itself; his fellow Tower mages had been much more secretive about their identities than their outside recruits.
The cultists from the Tower were clearly the driving force behind the group and had approached Nicolas because of his reputation with alchemical research, paying him to develop and produce magic-infused solutions for unknown purposes. Part of the reason he had expected the arrival of cultists from the Tower was likely because of the regular pick-ups of the solution batches.
Ayla sighed out, returning to polishing her sword.
When the wagon slowed and rocked as it pulled into a field to rest the horses, she noticed Xyn was watching her, probably gathering his courage to ask something ridiculous again.
“Ayla, want to spar?”
What he actually asked was a pleasant surprise though. At the different sort of hunger in his eyes, Ayla felt her competitive spirit burn and a hungry grin of her own settled upon her face; she had a score to settle after all. “Sure.”
“You too, Yillian,” Xyn also sent the elf’s way.
Yillian looked up in surprise. “Hells no. Go play with the noble girl and leave me out of it.”
Xyn shook his head and insisted. “It’s important, Yillian. Master Arienos tasked me with protecting you, and I need to know how well you can handle yourself to do that.”
With a huff, Yillian shut his book. “Fine. But if you cut my arm off, I’m poisoning your dinner.”
The sparing was intense. Once she and Xyn had determined that both could use aura to repel strikes and to blunt their weapons, there was little to fear of significant injury.
As Ayla had suspected from their first encounter, the half-Kyrren was quite skilled, and his fighting style that distracted with illusions and attacked from unexpected angles was difficult to counter. Fortunately, he was inexperienced and his patterns were predictable enough that she was able to land a few good surprise hits in before he wised-up to the problem.
As the match wore on, she noticed that his strikes began to cause a resonance within her body and aura that caused her heart and mind to seize up if she let too many land. He would back off each time she succumbed, seemingly testing to find the safe limits and effectiveness of his technique—which was a bit infuriating.
Fortunately, his Water technique relied on order to achieve its effect and was weak to her Fire Element that embodied chaos. Embracing that chaos allowed her to resist his intrusive redirecting of her aura by pulling the order apart and opportunistically repurposing the aura into strengthening and invigorating her body.
In the end, like almost all of her sparring matches, her opponent’s stamina couldn’t keep up with her aura-replenished stamina. Fire was unfair when it came to physical fights. Not only did it allow her to explosively boost her speed and strength, but as long as she still had aura, she was effectively tireless.
That was one of the reasons why Fenton had quickly become unable to defeat her with the sword; his Shadow Element was poorly matched against her. His grandfather had tried to explain to him that although Shadow was weak early on, it would allow him to develop a fearsome skillset as he progressed toward mastery, but such wisdom did little to ease the continual cuts to the pride of a boy desperate to prove himself.
Ayla thanked Xyn for the practice. Not only was she in a better frame of mind as a result, she also had gained unexpected insights, progressing her understanding of Fire for the first time in months, thanks to her efforts to resist his dangerous Water technique.
Wanting to consolidate her gains, she found a quiet spot near the wagon to sit and meditate.
“Your turn, Yillian,” she heard Xyn call over.
“Damnit.”
Ayla couldn’t help chuckling at the elf, having opened her eyes in time to see his clear dismay at being called to participate after having made himself as unnoticeable as possible and hoping that his companions would have forgotten about him during their lengthy and vigorous spar.
She also chuckled at the lazy way Xyn started the spar with Yillian and was caught off-guard by the elf mage’s scrappy fighting style and multitude of hidden knives. Though in the end, Yillian was convinced to begin learning the basics of Xyn’s martial arts style.
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In a dimly lit room, several hooded men and women sat around a stone table deep within the bowels of the Tower, their faces obscured by clinging shadows.
“They cut out his tongue so he couldn’t talk. His reaction upon seeing us was such that I deemed it important enough to use a Regrowth potion on him. Whoever did this, they even went to the extent of erasing his memories of us and his cult activities. Questioning a servant revealed that the assailant attacked him within his room at their castle without anyone noticing. From what I can tell, their goal was Nicolas Arden’s alchemical research, as his research materials were missing.”
The resulting silence lingered long enough to become uncomfortable.
“A troubling development indeed,” an elder mage finally answered, his voice distorted enough to hide his identity.
“I concur,” another elder seconded. “I assume a Forgetfulness Potion was used on Nicolas Arden and the servant after questioning them?”
The cultist tasked with investigating nodded. “It was, elder.”
“What about Fenton Ravenhill? Has his research been recovered yet?”
“Not yet,” a woman spoke up. “The research he had with him in Lorel’s Watch was recovered after the Revival Ritual. Two of our members have been tasked with recovering the rest and should arrive in Ravenhill soon.”
“Good. Both mages are inconvenient losses and will need to be replaced in time for the first harvesting.”
“I will provide you a list of candidates by the next meeting, elder,” the woman assured.
“See that you do.”
The elders, one after the other, faded into shadow, bringing an end to the meeting.