Charomera
The 15th of Thargelion
The Year 4631 in the Era of Mortals
Arche didn’t consider himself a particularly anxious person. The last two months had been filled with an undue amount of stress, pain, and trauma, but he had never felt that his worry was unwarranted. He still didn’t feel it was unwarranted, but he could do nothing to quell the rising tide of fear within him as Tess led him through the city. He was surrounded by strangers, any one of whom could be a member of the Hekatonkheires. Any moment could end with steel in his back, made all the more worrying by the fact his armor sat useless in his inventory. His hood was up, but the fabric did nothing to stop the overwhelming wall of sound that crashed against him. He was out of his element and was fighting against the churning pit of panic roiling in his stomach.
“Do you think the others are alright?”
“Don’t talk,” Tess replied. “Just keep moving.”
Her voice was low and steady against the roar of the city. The only hint of solid ground in the world. She led him on a winding route through the city for over two hours. After, of course, having crawled out of the inn’s upstairs window and made the treacherous journey to the ground below. He’d lost his grip three times, his broken finger disallowing him from proper handholds. It was only his now considerable Strength that had kept him from falling with only a single hand’s grip, dangling above a chasm he couldn’t see.
The descent had drawn attention, some of the passersby making offhand comments about Arche’s sanity. Some suggested that Tess was his mistress and that they were fleeing so as not to be caught by Arche’s jilted wife. That particular theory made Arche’s cheeks burn with embarrassment, but once he ensured his hood was low over his face and activated Stealth, the attention dissipated.
A new problem presented itself almost immediately, however. Stealth in a forest or underground environment was very different from Stealth in an urban area, let alone a crowded city. Arche was jostled and bumped in every direction, each contact breaking his Stealth and often eliciting oaths from those who knocked into him. One had even shoved him, mistaking him for a thief. It was at that point that Tess grabbed his arm and held him close.
“Don’t use Stealth. It’s too crowded here and it will draw too much attention. You must meld into the crowd. Join it, don’t hide from it.”
In theory, it was good advice, but it was difficult to blend into an environment that he couldn’t see. Arche had no sense of direction, no concept of what was near him other than Tess’s hand gripping his bicep and the occasional jostling of the crowded streets. Once, he had the brilliant idea of using his Psychic awareness to avoid the people around him. Activating it nearly brought him to the ground. Pain bloomed in his mind like a meadow after a Spring rain and blood dripped from his nose. There were too many consciousnesses and his Mana channels weren’t strong enough to support the effort. Tess noticed him sagging and dragged him into the stoop of a business that had yet to open. She didn’t say anything and he couldn’t see her expression, so they waited the few short minutes it took Arche to recover in silence.
At blessed last, they were off, down yet another street and away from the crowds. There was still the sound of shoes scuffing stone and the occasional cart or horse going by, but the roar of conversation was dull and distant, and no shop criers shouted out the day’s best deals.
“We must be nearly there, no?”
“Nearly there?” Tess echoed. “Arche, we’ve gone a kilometer at most.”
“One day, I’ll make you people understand that I don’t know your stupid fucking measurements. One day.”
Arche couldn’t see her, but he could feel her rolling her eyes at him. She muttered something under her breath that he decided to ignore.
“How much farther to go?” he asked, trying to move the conversation along.
“Six kilometers, give or take. We need to keep heading east.”
“Six?” Now it was Arche’s turn to echo her. “It took us two hours to go one and we still have another six?”
“We weren’t walking in a straight line, before. We were throwing off tails.”
Arche stiffened.
“Did you spot any?”
“Nothing definitive. Saw a couple that were possible, but we lost them pretty well. I haven’t caught sign of any followers, potential or otherwise, for the last half-hour. That’s why I decided it was time to make a break for it.”
“Hope our good luck sticks,” Arche muttered. “The sooner we can find a healer, the better.”
“We’ll find one, but we’ll still need to pay for the services. There’s much to be done. The Hekatonkheires complicate matters but not beyond repair.”
“They want you dead. Doesn’t that scare you?”
“They don’t want me dead. They want me in their service. Again.”
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
“No, Arche. The Hekatonkheires don’t scare me.”
Her pace quickened, faster than Arche could comfortably go so he was forced to shamble along after her for a block before she slowed her speed again.
“I don’t like that we had to split up,” Arche said. “I’m worried something will happen to the others.”
“It was your idea.”
“Yeah, that’s why I’m worried. I was given an ultimatum. If even one of our friends gets grabbed, that ultimatum will be that much easier to follow through on.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Tess said, her voice was harder than the stone streets they walked on. “Your focus is on getting better. The Lyceum has the best healers in the city. If anyone can save your eyesight, they can. Focus on getting there, all right? We can work the rest out later.”
“Some thief you must have been,” Arche grunted. “A child could see that you’re hiding something. Unfortunately, you’re right. I can’t afford to wait any longer. I need my vision back. I can’t fight without it.”
‘I can’t keep you safe’ is what he wanted to say, but she wouldn’t want to hear it. Tess was not a damsel in a story waiting for him to rescue her from a gang of murderous thieves. He opened his mouth to say something further. Some explanation of his feelings that he would figure out before he got to the end of his sentence, or perhaps some clarification on the threats they faced, but before he could get the first syllable past his lips, Tess tugged him along a little faster and, just like that, the spell was broken.
They walked in silence for a long time. Arche used the opportunity to eavesdrop on whatever snippets of gossip happened to be nearby. Taxes were being raised again, one of the scholarchs of the Lyceum was an eight-thousand-year-old biomancer, someone’s neighbor woke up with red spots all over, a corpse was found outside the Shattered Pint.
Arche nearly lost his footing, only propelled along by Tess’s guiding hand that refused to let him fall behind. An icy pit enveloped him, spreading from his gut out to the tips of his extremities. It burned with whispers and doubts and a thousand failings. His head swam and he clutched at Tess’s hand, ignoring the pain of his still-broken finger.
“Tess.” His voice was barely a whisper.
“Keep moving. Don’t slow down, don’t dwell on it.”
“But what if—”
“Don’t, Arche. We don’t know. We have no way of knowing. We will get to the inn and we will meet the others there. That’s how we’ll know.”
She pulled him along, his feet suddenly leaden and sluggish. It took minutes for him to get his body under control, to fight down the lump that had risen in his throat. Every beat of his heart seemed an act of betrayal. They walked for an hour in silence, ruminating on the dead body, wondering if it was one of their friends. Wondering which one it was.
“How much farther?”
“We’re nearly there. The inn isn’t far from the Lyceum. We can probably see the biomancers today, but we’ll need Helwan. The Lyceum isn’t normally open to the public.”
“Why not?”
“There’s bad blood between the mages and the city folk. The latter blame the former for every odd pestilence and the former dislikes the latter because the thieves’ guilds occasionally pull heists.”
“Doesn’t the magic school have magic protections?”
“It does, but the guilds also have magic users. Usually disgruntled, former students who’ve been expelled for one reason or another. It’s hard to learn magic outside the Lyceum unless you’re born into it or have a rare profession.”
Arche frowned.
“Does that mean all the mages in Tartarus have gone to the Lyceum?”
Tess let out a quick, barking laugh, before choking it off.
“Sorry, that was rude. No, not by far. Tartarus is enormous. If this was the only school of magic, Ship’s Shape would be large enough to house millions. No, there are many schools of magic. The Lyceum just happens to be one of the better schools and the closest to Myriatos.”
“Knowing that I may very well not have the capacity to understand whatever metric you use, how big is Tartarus?”
Tess thought for a moment.
“Some three thousand years ago, some mage measured it out to be about forty-three thousand kilometers in circumference. A thousand years later, that number went up to forty-four thousand two hundred. About three hundred years ago, another mage determined it was forty-five thousand one hundred.”
“Well, which is it?”
“It was all of them, at those times.”
“You’re telling me Tartarus is growing?”
“That’s what the Lyceum claims.”
“But that’s crazy, right? How would it grow? Why?”
“Magic, maybe. Or something to do with the Titans, if you’re superstitious.”
Arche’s ears pricked up.
“What are those? I’ve heard mention of them before, but no one will tell me anything.”
“I don’t know if I’m the most qualified person to tell you.”
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Arche could hear the grimace in her voice.
“At this rate, you’d be the only person to tell me. That makes you most qualified in my book.”
Tess took a few moments to gather her thoughts.
“Long ago, well before the dawn of the Era of Mortals, and even before the era before that, it’s said that the Titans lived. Immense beings of destructive power. Each represented an aspect, but sources vary on what. It’s said they were banished here for crimes they committed elsewhere, but no one knows who did the banishing or where it was done. They raged and all of Tartarus quaked with their fury. Eventually, they fell asleep and the world grew around them. Now, the mountains of Tartarus share their names. Some say the mountains contain the sleeping Titans, but I don’t know if I’d go that far. They’re just stories meant to scare children but, still, folk don’t like to talk about it. Nothing good can come from drawing that sort of attention.”
“I don’t suppose there are descriptions of any of them?” Arche asked.
“None that have merit, and none that describe those things you met.”
“Damn. Just when I thought I might have a lead.”
“If anyone knows for sure, though, it’s probably one of the librarians at the Lyceum,” Tess pointed out.
“Sure, we’ll add it to the list.”
“Save it,” Tess said. “We’re here.”
They walked into the Styx and Stones inn to find that it was largely empty, the only noises coming from across the room at the bar. Even the murmur of the outside was largely muted, giving the area an almost reverent feel. That feeling was broken, however, by the friendly greeting of the bartender.
“Hello, there! Welcome. Can I interest you two in lunch? A place to stay, perhaps?”
“Both,” Tess replied. “Room first, if you don’t mind.”
“Certainly. Rooms are two drachmae per night, eight for a whole week, and come with one meal a day.”
“Deal.” Tess placed the money on the bar with a small clatter of metal against wood. “We have some friends that will be coming soon, if they’re not here already. Two women, a man, and a satyr. Have you seen them?”
Arche heard a soft scratching sound and assumed the man was stroking his chin.
“Can’t say that description rings any bells. If they show up, shall I let them know you’re here?”
“Yes. Other than them, however, we value our privacy.”
“Of course,” the innkeeper was smiling. “Folks round these parts call me Pyrrhos on account of the hair, you see. Oh, sorry there, friend.”
Arche shrugged. “Don’t worry about it. Why does your hair make them call you that?”
“It means ‘red-haired’,” Pyrrhos said. “Not a name I’ll get away from. Not that I want to, it’s loads better than the one my pater gave me.”
“Which was?” Arche asked, curiosity getting the better of him.
“Ah.” There was a smile in Pyrrhos’s voice. “Careful there, lad. I only let people in on that secret after the third date.”
“When can we expect the food to be ready?” Tess cut in.
“Expect it in a half hour, if you like. Want it delivered to your room?”
“That would be appreciated.”
“Certainly. Up the stairs, third on the right.”
Arche followed Tess’s and soon enough they were safely in the room. While she shut and locked the door, he walked around the edges, one hand touching the wall.
“Seems nicer than the Shattered Pint,” he remarked. “More expensive, too, I think.”
“We’re not hurting for money,” Tess replied. “And we’re closer to the Lyceum. It’s half past noon right now. It shouldn’t take more than another half hour’s walk to reach the campus.”
Arche opened his mouth to tell her they should go there immediately but, at the last moment, changed his mind.
“You’re in charge,” he said instead. “What’s our next move?”
“Really?” Her surprise was evident. “I’m surprised you aren’t pushing me to take you to the healers straight away.”
“I want to, don’t get me wrong, but it’s ultimately your call. We’re separated from the rest of our group with no idea what their condition is. Reuniting with them is important.”
“True,” she said. “And it would be annoying to miss them while we’re out at the Mages’ College. We’ll need Helwan to get through, as well, considering he attended.”
Arche nodded and settled onto the bed. He removed his boots and socks, stowing them in his inventory, and was glad to be off his feet for a while. The linen shirt and pants he wore were a rough on his skin, long since in need of a wash, but it was hardly his worst concern. A check on his broken finger showed his high Fortitude had gone far in healing it, but it needed more time before the bone would be sturdy.
Arche sprawled out, his good hand resting behind his head, idly fingering the bandages around his eyes. He heard running water and shifted slightly.
“What’s that sound?” he asked.
“I’m tired and dirty,” Tess said. “I’m taking a bath before lunch arrives. I didn’t get an opportunity at the Shattered Pint.”
A waft of floral soap caught in Arche’s nostrils. It was sweet and enticing.
“Lucky for you, I can’t see,” he joked, letting a smile spread across his face.
“Double lucky,” she replied. “Because I’m making you take a bath before bed.”
“Sure, fuck it. Everyone kept following me to the river in Myriatos when I wanted to bathe. Why would civilization be any different?”
“I don’t want you stinking up the bed. Which is what you’re doing right now.”
Arche stood, feeling solid wood floorboards beneath his feet.
“Shit, sorry. There’s only one bed?”
“Pyrrhos seems to have taken us for a pair.”
“Well, you did only order one room.”
“Considering your condition and our situation, I didn’t want you out of sight.”
“Too late,” Arche tapped a finger to the side of his head.
“Do you want to stand there making jokes? Or do you want to make yourself useful?”
“Don’t think that I can’t do both. What do you need?”
“Wash my back?”
Arche struggled to make his mouth work.
“Are you sure?”
Water sloshed and a wet rag pressed into Arche’s good hand.
“Just watch those wandering hands,” came Tess’s wry reply.
Arche slowly approached the basin, one hand gingerly outstretched until he found the wooden lip. He knelt before it and Tess took his wrist and guided him to her shoulders. With one hand he rubbed up and down, taking care not to go too far in any direction while simultaneously struggling to not picture what he was doing. The latter was a losing battle.
“You’re distracting me, aren’t you?” he asked. “Keeping me from getting caught up in my thoughts.”
“So?”
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. Now shut up and rub my shoulders.”
“Yes, dear.”
Arche laid the soapy rag over the lip of the basin and used his hands to press gently into Tess’s shoulders. Her skin was soft beneath his fingers and slippery from the water. She let out a contented murmur as he pressed his thumbs into tight muscles. He worked back and forth in slow circles until they were interrupted by a knock on the door. Arche stood immediately, the Tridory flying to his outstretched hand from where it had leaned against the wall, the move causing a tinge of pain through his head.
He moved toward the door, one hand outstretched to prevent himself from walking into it.
“Who’s there?” he called out.
“Pyrrhos.” Came the reply. “I brought food.”
Arche turned his head in Tess’s direction, tilting it in a silent question.
“Go ahead,” she said. “I’m behind cover.”
Arche laid the Tridory against the wall and opened the door. The scent of roasted lamb, olives, and fresh berries washed over him, bringing a hungry smile to his face.
“Just hold out your hands and I’ll place them,” Pyrrhos said.
Arche did as he was instructed and felt the food pile up. A flagon was also placed into his good hand, luckily.
“This one’s on the house,” Pyrrhos whispered conspiratorially. “Thought you and your lady might enjoy it.”
“Thanks. Any word from our friends?”
“None yet, but don’t worry. I’m sure they’ll come round.”
Arche thanked the innkeeper again and shut the door with his foot.
“Is there a table?” Arche asked aloud. “I didn’t find one earlier.”
“Bring it over to the bed. We can eat there.”
Water sloshed as Tess stood up and the tub began to drain. Arche set the plates onto the bed and, carefully, retrieved an olive from a small bowl. He was about to toss it into his mouth when Tess grabbed his hand.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“Just wait a moment.”
He waited as asked, her wet hand still on his, listening to the patter of water droplets landing on his shirt.
“It’s not poisoned,” she said finally. “Go ahead.”
“That was a risk?” Arche frowned.
“Not really, but old habits die hard. Especially in the city. Especially in this city.”
Arche bit down on the olive, letting the vinegar spread as the salt filled his mouth with saliva. He moved to sit down but Tess stopped him.
“I think not. I don’t want you dirtying the bed any more than you already have. It’s time for you to bathe now.”
“It’s not fair that you get relative privacy while I have to be on display,” he grumbled.
“It’s not so much that I haven’t seen before,” Tess said, a smile evident in her voice.
Her hand brushed against his side, tapping a small line of silver scar tissue beneath his shirt. Arche recalled the night they met, where she had seduced him at a party before she had dragged him off to the woods, stabbed him, and hung him by the leg from a tree for monsters to come eat him. He had, however, kept his pants on during that encounter.
“I beg to differ.”
“And here I thought it would be so much harder to make you beg.”
Heat flooded Arche’s face so intensely, for a moment he thought the room had caught fire.
“But,” Tess continued, “seeing as you’re the sensitive sort, I’ll turn my back while you get ready.”
“I can’t see you,” Arche said, hesitating. “How do I know you’ll actually turn around?”
“I suppose you’ll finally have to trust me. Here, I’ll even get the bath started for you.”
Water sloshed into the basin and the fragrance of floral soap filled the room again, mixing pleasantly with the smells from the lunch on the bed. The thought of bathing away the dust and grime of weeks’ worth of journeying was irresistible.
“I do trust you,” he said. “I’m less certain I trust myself.”
He shucked his clothes and lowered himself into the warm bath. After a moment of sitting and getting accustomed to the temperature, he reached for the washrag. It was no longer on the edge of the basin where he had left it, so he twisted, checking behind him. Tess’s hand landed gently on his shoulder, turning him back to the front as the wet rag pressed against his cheek. He sat still, hardly trusting himself to breathe as she wiped gently at his face. Then, with slow and careful movements, as though she were worried she might startle him, he felt her dexterous fingers untie the bandage wrapped around his eyes.
The cloth peeled away slowly. The grime from the road acted like a makeshift adhesive that clamped his hair and stuck to the thin skin of his face. As the last strip came away, Tess removed two metal discs that held space between the bandages and his eyes. Arche had not allowed himself to hope that he would be able to see when the bandage was removed. He had not allowed the simple wish to foster that his vision would return, blurry, painful, and unstable. He had not allowed himself to hope that the trip to a healer would only expedite a process that his body was already conducting.
Arche hadn’t let himself hope for such things, yet his throat still burned with need when his vision remained as dark and unchanging as ever.
The washrag pressed against his forehead as Tess’s hand moved to hold his head from behind. Arche closed his eyes. Not for fear of getting soapy water in them, but for memory of what Odelia had said, or rather hadn’t said, about their horrible appearance.
“You don’t have to hide them. Not from me.”
Arche hesitated. Was it kindness? Pity? Was she bearing witness to the carnage of his face to wean herself from whatever ill-conceived feelings she might have developed about him?
“My face was taken from me, first. Now my eyes are gone. I’ll never be something to look at and appreciate, but I’m not sure I can stomach the reaction of what this world’s turned me into.”
Her hands cupped his face.
“The world may think what it will about any number of topics,” Tess whispered, low and breathy. “But you don’t have to change for me. For everything you’ve done for me—sacrificed for me—that, at least, is one gift I can give you.”
Arche opened his eyes.
He had no words, only a tight knot of emotions that worked its way from his stomach to his chest. He wanted to say something, anything. He wanted to assure her that she didn’t have to hide from him, either. That he would accept her in whatever form she wanted. To tell her how he felt about her and how the playful distance they’d had since his injury was killing him inside. How the memory of her lips was his only solace between nightmares. But try as hard as he could, not a single word would bring itself past his tongue.
So it was that with Tess carefully washing his face, Arche stared into nothing, feeling salty tears mix with the water running down his cheeks.