Particles of dust floated lazily about the room, reflecting the mid-afternoon sunlight as it tumbled into the space through the singular bay window and drawn curtains. The infirmary was partitioned into halves by a thick burlap curtain, and there were two beds against a single wall on the side with the large window. Because the window was cracked open, a slight breeze made its way through the room, not quite as warm as the day before, but a comfortable-enough zephyr that reminded her that the rest of spring was on its way, slowly but surely. A wave of this chill gently caressed the half-elf, waking her peacefully. For a moment before opening her eyes, she believed she was still out at sea, but when salt didn’t meet her nose, she remembered where she was.
Before even opening her eyes, Seneca jolted upright, and immediately regretted it when her ribcage complained. “Ow, fuck me that hurts.” With careful fingers, the woman lifted the right side of the shirt she was wearing, which was most certainly not the dirty prison garb she’d been wearing yesterday. Sen prepared for the worst, but other than a nasty violet and chartreuse bruise that ran from her waist to her breast, she apparently fared pretty well against that giant. Since she was alive, Seneca figured that someone must have killed him. She wondered who in this town had managed that.
As the fogginess and grogginess of waking began to fade, Seneca’s perception expanded, and she started passively taking in the rest of the room, at which point she immediately noticed the two people to her left. The healer with dark hair and bright eyes was lying in a bed just like her own, and the knight was sitting beside it, now stripped of his armor; both of them were staring at the half-elf with mild amusement.
Seneca scowled at them. “What are you two looking at?”
While the knight flinched slightly, the woman in the other bed only chuckled. “You. Are you feeling okay?”
Seneca let the look on her face fade. If I’m stuck here… better to play sweet. “Sorry, I’m just on edge. I have a bit of a headache, and this bruise is insane, but… I’m alright.”
“Well, that’s good to hear. I’m Kishori Somers, by the way, and this here is Elias.” Elias waved. He hadn’t spoken yet, but Sen found Elias tiring. “Do you have a name, love?”
Seneca thought about what degree of trust was worth building with these people. “Is my partner here? I need to know if he’s okay. He’s got weird eyes…”
Elias spoke up with a slight smile. “Like rolling fields of wheat?”
“Ha ha. Is that guy still alive? No, I’m talking about stormy seas. Dude who’s like a lightning rod.”
When the knight opened his mouth to speak again, Kishori held up a hand. “Eden’s fine. Woke up for a bit this morning before conking right out, told Eli here to wake him when you woke up.”
“Okay… So wake him up. Is he good enough to leave?”
“Under no circumstances will either of you leave until I say so,” an older, more feminine voice said. Sen watched as another woman she didn’t recognize ducked through the curtains. As the curtain was falling back into place, Sen caught a glimpse of Eden asleep in bed. She smiled despite herself before turning back to the woman who had entered. She had chestnut hair that was graying around her temples, and while the tips of her ears were entirely smooth, Seneca suspected she had some elven blood in her, as her facial features were ever-so-slightly angular, and she gave off the vibe of being a lot older than she looked. They looked nothing alike, but… the woman reminded Seneca of her. “It’s nice to formally meet you, by the way, I’m Cinthia. Duncan and I did the best we could with those broken ribs… You should be good as new in a couple of days, although that bruise could last for the better part of a month.”
Kishori smiled at Cinthia, and turned her gaze back to Seneca. “You know, you can trust us.” Then in a singsong voice, she said: “I heard through the grapevine that a local steelsmith is so appreciative that she’s going to give those blades you stole to you. For free.”
Seneca’s emerald eyes lit up, a tell that everyone else in the room clearly picked up on as they all started laughing. Sen felt seen, and only half in a good way. She sighed dramatically. “It’s… Seneca. My name is Seneca.”
“Do you have a last name, Miss Seneca?” Elias asked.
Sen looked up to Cinthia briefly, and then back to the pair by the other bed. “Magphyralei. My name is Seneca Magphyralei.”
“That might be the most beautiful name I have ever heard,” Kishori said, which made Seneca smile. She ran a hand through her fiery hair, and scooted back along the bed to lean against the simple headboard. Kishori seems nice… If the rest of them are more like her, maybe this won’t be so bad. I can certainly tolerate talking to her for a few days. “Well, I hope you’ll hear this a lot more in the coming days, but thank you. Helping this place the way you did was incredibly selfless.”
Seneca was caught off guard, but also saw an opportunity to gather intel. “I’m not as selfless as you think. I mean, I literally got into this whole mess by stealing. A selfish act if ever there was one.” The room was quiet for a moment, and Cinthia exited.
“It’s okay to be selfish if you’re doing what you need to do to survive, Seneca,” Kishori said. “I obviously don’t know your whole deal, but… I think things are more complicated than steal or don’t steal.”
Hell yes. “I suppose you’re right. Well, I suppose I’m not entirely angry that I stayed.” Seneca winked, and laughed a little with Ki. Kishori seems like an emotional powerhouse in conversations. If this is what she really believes, and we’re on the same page, she could easily dominate others into believing the same things if they wouldn’t ordinarily. This could really work… Seneca’s mind drifted off to the man with the golden eyes. He seemed to be with Kishori, but they clearly thought a lot differently, and Seneca knew better than anyone how disparate ideals could light fires beneath small groups of people; and it was always going to be up to someone to manage those flames properly.
Across the curtain from the three of them, the young scholar opened his eyes. He could hear voices on the other side speaking quietly, and thought about alerting someone to his presence, but elected instead to take in his surroundings. His burnt robes were hung on a coat rack in the corner near an unlit fireplace, and the room itself was adorned in countless shelves of potions and tinctures. A dozen or so hanging pots and planters lined the rest of the wall space with herbs and vines that he didn’t recognize. Taking up most of the floor space in this half of the long room were two other medical beds, both of which were occupied. In one, the man that he had saved was snoring lightly, his dark, wispy hair splayed out haphazardly over his face; in the other was a man with curly brown hair and a very tranquil vibe that he could roughly remember having fended off the giant for some time. They both looked about his age.
In thinking about the night before, Abel suddenly recalled the strange artifact he had found on the bluff before walking down into town. He began frantically checking his pockets for it, and promptly remembered that he was wearing a gown, and not his normal clothes. As he continued to look around, Abel spotted his spellbook on the bedside table, but no magical pocket watch. He looked to the coat rack and sighed, figuring it was his last hope before having to assume that the artifact was stolen. He muttered a simple incantation. “Coalesced as the movements of a hand…” Before Abel, a translucent, purple hand appeared, made out of pure magic, with strings that connected to each of his palms. The arcane hand was in the same position as the wizard’s left hand, but moved around the room as instructed by the careful, if a little shaky movements of his right hand. The magically-woven hand rifled through each of his robe’s pockets as it hung on the rack. When he felt the cool touch of something circular and metallic through the sensations shared by the string attaching the hand to him, Abel let go of a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding. Quickly, Abel commanded the arcane hand to zip back across the room to him, and as it faded back into his left hand, it dropped the silver watch into Abel’s grasp.
On the bedside table, next to Abel’s leather-bound journal, there was an inkwell and quill. Figuring he had nothing better to do, Abel placed the well carefully beside him on the bed and the spellbook on his lap, before taking the quill in one hand while he maneuvered the watch with the other. He clicked the device open, and began to write down everything he observed about it, muttering all the while: “Compact design… perfectly smooth quartz face… the hands and hour ticks appear to be made out of a dark iron-carbon alloy… four hands of varying thickness, three for telling time, and the last for the unusual property… protruding gear on the outside controls the fourth hand… twelve settings, ‘2’ worked… perhaps this fourth hand is the ‘Limited Series’...”
Abel was too engrossed in his work as the door to another room opened and shut, and Cinthia entered the main room. “Oh, you’re awake!”
Abel looked up, somewhat surprised. “Oh, uh, yes… Are you the one who patched me up?” Now that there were other conscious people present, Abel became suddenly aware of bandages and a general soreness all over his body.
“Yes, that would be me. I’m Cinthia, darling. Can you tell me your name? You were muttering some names in your sleep last night, but I didn’t think any of them were yours, so I didn’t listen too carefully.”
“Oh… sorry. It is Abel. Comstock.”
“Well, Abel Comstock, it was a pleasure patching you up… Do you mind if I ask a question, though?”
Abel shrugged. He mostly wanted to get back to investigating the watch, but he also figured his health and situation should probably be a priority. “You may.”
“How long ago was the, eh… accident? I don’t mean to insult you, of course, but… you were talking a lot about it in your sleep, seemed like you were having some sort of nightmare… but it looks like you’ve had the scar all your life.”
Abel shuddered. After walking down the hill in the haze, looking for solace in the small town, just to be knocked out by a frost giant of all things… he had entirely forgotten about what led him there. For a long time, instead of answering, Abel looked at the open watch. In the reflection of the top casing, he could see his face. One side was totally normal, but the other side looked discolored and unsettling. It wasn’t a face he remembered. “I… It is hard to explain, ma’am. Actually, I don’t know what really happened. I was burned… yesterday.”
“Yesterday? That’s not possible! The scar looks incredibly healthy, and no offense, but no human is going to heal from something that severe so quickly.”
“No, I know… It also did not happen near here… Something went very wrong… I am sorry, I don’t think I can say much. Both because I don’t know how it healed, and I think even if I did, I shouldn’t tell you.”
The woman looked confused. “Okay… Well, let me know if you think you would like anything for it, but it looks fine. As for the rest of your injuries, I’ve got that handled.” Cinthia gave a smile that Abel tried to appreciate. An onslaught of confusion took over the wizard’s mind, as he attempted to grapple with the watch, the burn, and his spatial displacement all at once. When the memories became too much to handle, Abel decided he would think more later. For now, he could go through his spellbook to make sure that his memory hadn’t faltered at all with the recent events.
Just as Abel began ritually running through his book of notes and equations, and the world started to quiet down, the dividing curtain flew open, making the room feel much more open, and less like two separate spaces. A half-elf with curly, fiery hair and emerald green eyes walked through the curtains, looking much more energetic than Abel would have expected for someone who had been hit in the side by a ten-foot-long club not twenty hours before. She expertly twirled five gold coins between the fingers on one hand.
“Miss Seneca!” Cinthia said. “You really shouldn’t be up yet, it’ll take you longer to heal if you spread out the process!” She looked at the coins. “Where are you going?”
As Sen crossed the room, the knight from the day before followed her. Instead of armor, he was wearing a simple but noble-looking suit, and Abel clocked the Eagleheart family crest on a brooch. Before Abel could say anything, the half-elf spoke up. “I wanted to stretch my legs, and when I was told that my clothes from yesterday ‘weren’t worth saving’, I bet the good knight here that if he gave me five piece to go shopping with, I could buy five piece worth of goods for just two.”
The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
“She seems good enough to walk, Miss Cinthia,” Elias added. “If she starts feeling frail, I’ll carry her back.”
“Oh, my hero,” Seneca intoned. Cinthia shrugged, either not feeling up to convincing them otherwise, or realizing that she couldn’t. On their way out, the pair both noticed Abel’s robes on the coat rack, and thought to look back at him. “You look… smart. Talk later?” The woman named Seneca winked at Abel, and walked out without waiting for an answer. The knight, who Abel had already sussed out to be Elias Eagleheart, similarly walked out without saying anything else, but he did give the wizard a knowing nod upon seeing the University-adjacent clothing on the rack.
Abel shrugged, and was about to go back to reading when he realized there was still one more person in the other half of the room. He looked over at her, and she was already looking at him.
“What’cha reading?” Kishori asked.
“Erm… It is my own journal, actually.”
“Oh, neat. Like a diary? Oh, oh! Is it a spellbook?”
Abel managed to chuckle a little. “It is.”
“Cool! So you’re like a wizard then, huh? What do you specialize in? What’s the craziest thing you can do with your magic?”
The woman’s excitement amused Abel. It wasn’t at all the same excitement that he felt about the arcane, but any excitement about the science was good to encourage in Abel’s opinion. “I do not quite know how to explain what I specialize in…” The wizard glanced down at the watch in his lap. “I guess you could call it ‘exploration and study of the nature of magic itself’. My peers all focus on the core schools of arcana, but… I like to study the arcana itself, not so much applications of it in the traditional sense. Sort of like how epistemology is the study of knowledge itself. My arcane preference is to understand arcana at its most base level, if that makes sense.”
Kishori listened, totally enthralled. “That makes sense to me. I bet you’re the type of guy that common people hundreds of years from now will know. Like Astellon!”
Abel raised an eyebrow. “Normal people know the name Astellon?”
The woman shrugged. “Okay, not common people, but like, people that don’t necessarily live in musty towers.” Abel laughed at that. “Okay, so. I know it’s not really your bag, but what’s the craziest, coolest thing you can do? You have to have some tricks, I mean I saw a couple yesterday.”
“Well, I would not want to display anything that would cause damage here…” Abel thought for a moment, and thought of just the spell when he noticed a bowl of fruit on a table next to Kishori. “Oh, erm… what is your name, I should ask?”
“Kishori.” Ki smiled.
“Okay Kishori, would you please toss me an apple?” She happily did so. “Alright, here goes nothing. Be detached from the weave of the world.” Kishori looked on curiously as the wizard whispered an incantation to the apple, as if speaking directly to it, and traced a sigil in the air. Looking slightly unsure of himself, Abel took a deep breath, and tossed the apple back to Kishori. She prepared to catch it, but before she could, a blast of magical blue-purple energy circled around the fruit, seemingly emanating from the apple’s core without destroying it. Ki’s eyes went wide with excitement as the apple was caught in a state of abeyance, suspended in mid air.
As Kishori marveled at the apple, Abel looked relieved. “I have not done this successfully many times… Excellent.”
“That’s amazing… It’s Abel, right?” Abel looked to Kishori, smiled, and retraced the sigil in the air to undo the spell. Suddenly, as if it had never halted its arc, the apple continued and fell into Ki’s lap. Kishori took a bite of it, and when she looked to Abel, he was back nose-deep in the arcane tome he carried. “Well, that’s really cool. I’ll let you get back to… note-taking.” As Kishori ate the apple, she looked from Abel to the other two men on his side of the room, and hoped that they would wake up soon, a hope that extended to the air elf she met yesterday.
Ki had found out that morning that the elf, Marseillan, was given Cinthia’s bedroom to recover in, and no one other than Cinthia, Wren, and Duncan were allowed to see her. Wren, for his part, hadn’t left the master bedroom since Mars fell asleep late last night, and was keeping dutiful watch over the interplanar traveler. He felt bad for keeping her cooped up, but he had seen the look on her face as the people of Burden’s Bluff watched her walk through the town last night; she needed time to come to terms with her displacement before she should be liable to deal with what anyone else thought of it. Plus, with the injuries she had sustained, it wasn’t like she could go anywhere without an extreme amount of pain anyways.
As if on cue, as Wren was thinking about what to say when she woke up, Mars groaned, and her eyes opened. Her entire body ached, but she felt… okay. As her vision adjusted to the cozy but unfamiliar space, her eyes met the giant slayer’s. “Hi…”
Wren tried a soft smile. “‘Morning. Or, as the case may be, afternoon. You sleep alright?”
“I think so?” Mars replied. “I don’t particularly want to get up, but I can if you need me to.”
“Absolutely not,” Wren said, putting on a stern face. “My cleric friend patched you up well enough, but he doesn’t know much about, eh… air elf anatomy. Unless you have some way of fixing yourself, it seems like your wings are gonna be out of commission for a while.”
Mars looked heartbroken. “Oh… Well, thank you for killing the giant, I guess… Am I safe here?”
Wren looked at the woman sympathetically. “Yes. You’re safe here. And if you’re okay with it, I have an idea of someone to bring you to to get you back into top shape, but they’re a long way from here. Before we talk too much about that, though… you’ll have to forgive me, but I have some questions.”
Mars sighed. “Yeah, yeah… you’ve earned them.”
“So, you are from… the Elemental Plane of Air, I assume. I didn’t know frost giants were native to that plane.”
“They aren’t. I ran away from home, and was going to the Plane of Water to get more in touch with that side of my family… While I was in the Everfrost, which is between the two, I was assailed by that… Forsad. He was protecting a pool that ended up being a portal, which brought us here for some reason, instead of an actual established point of connection. It seemed… dumb and circumstantial.”
Wren nodded. “Interesting… about home. Plenty of people traverse the planes, so why is it that until last night, I assumed your people were a myth, or extinct?”
Marseillan frowned. “We’re good at hiding. And the Planes work differently than yours, space is… consistently inconsistent. If you don’t know you’re looking for someone, you probably won’t find them.”
“Fair enough. And you said you were going to get in touch with ‘another side of your family’. Am I to assume…”
Marseillan looked bored, or annoyed, and Wren couldn’t blame her. “Yes. Aquinel are real too.”
“Fascinating. Well, if you end up traveling with us for the foreseeable future, we’ll have plenty of time to talk.” Wren could hear more people beginning to stir in the other room, so he stood. “You gonna be okay if I leave you alone for a bit? I’ll, uh… be back with something to eat soon.”
Marseillan propped herself up against the headboard and sighed. “Yeah, I’ll be fine. And I may be mad, but… thanks again. That really was a good kill.”
Wren narrowed his eyes at the elf, and glanced at the broken bow that he’d placed beside the bed for her. “Yeah… A piece of advice: a good kill is one you’re not keen on making.” Without another word, the slayer gave a half wave, and walked out of the room, closing the door behind him.
In the front room, Wren found that everyone but the male thief was awake, and seemingly high-energy. Kishori, Pax, and the wizard were all still in their beds, but Elias and the half-elf woman had seemingly just come back from outside. The woman had on a new pair of pants, and was in the middle of tossing off her gown and putting on a clean white tunic with baggy sleeves.
“So, the shopkeeper was saying ‘Oh, thank you for saving our little town, this is the least I can do to pay you!’ But I couldn’t just take their wares for nothing, so I flipped them a gold — way more than these are worth, trust me — and they were so pleased at how selfless I was that they set me up with the leatherworker next door!” Kishori laughed, and the half-elf grabbed a set of belts from Elias and started to put them on. “He gave me this beauty, which, turns out, was a set that he was going to sell to the weaponsmith in town to pair with the cutlasses I stole! And then I got those blades back for the other gold! A single gold for two fine-ass swords!”
The woman was in good spirits, and everyone seemed to be enjoying her story, including Cinthia, who was half paying attention while setting up some plates in the kitchen with Duncan. Wren smiled, seeing the little party forming. When he caught the woman’s eye, he gave a nod, and stuck out his hand to see if she’d go for it.
“Hey, what’s up? You’re Wren?” the thief asked, striding over to the older human and taking his hand. “I’m Sen.”
“Nice to finally meet you.” He caught a glimpse of gold in Seneca’s other hand. “Hope you don’t mind me asking, but where’d you get those coins from?”
Seneca mocked offense, but couldn’t hide the huge grin that grew on her face as she heard Elias grumble behind her. “A bet that worked out in my favor.” She turned back to the knight. “Here’s a tip, m’lord, I have a hard time saying no to a good wager, so the next time you think you have one up on me, feel free to capitalize on it.” After slotting the twin cutlasses into loops on her complex set of belts, Seneca walked to lean against the bed she had slept in the night before. It was unlikely anyone else noticed, but Wren saw Sen wince as she put too much pressure on her right side.
“That bruise looked pretty legit, friend. You need any more help with it?” Everyone in the room looked over at Pax, who was sporting dark bags under his golden eyes. “I would be happy to take a look.”
Seneca looked at the man, confused. “I’m sorry, weren’t you hellbent on stopping me yesterday, or whatever?” Pax shrugged. “No, I’m fine, to my understanding there are two healers who are both plenty capable here. I think I’ll live.”
Pax nodded, opened his mouth, and then closed it. Part of him really wanted to enforce the idea that he didn’t hold anything against this woman, but he knew he shouldn’t push it. Oftentimes, a person’s ability to accept what you’re saying doesn’t have much to do with how you say it. So if she wasn’t ready to approach the subject, he wouldn’t mention it.
From the kitchen, Duncan cleared his throat to break the tension that was clearly building. “Alright, soup’s on, whoever wants it! It ain’t much, but I still better not hear you all complainin’.”
The energy in the room quieted down as Cinthia and the dwarf passed out servings of venison stew and fresh bread to everyone. Wren quietly served up a second bowl after everyone had started eating, and walked into the master bedroom, shutting the door silently behind him. The smell of the food eventually woke the sorcerer up, who introduced himself as Eden only after he had gotten a bowl, which everyone laughed at. As the “kids” all ate, Duncan couldn’t help but smile; it wasn’t often he got to cook for such a large group of people. Cooking was something the man appreciated more the older he got, and reminded him of the guild halls he’d grown up in. Cinthia made for good company, too; she had been gracious enough to house and take care of the infirmed for however many days each of them needed. She hadn’t set a price, so Duncan felt that what they would have all paid for the local inn, plus a few meals, was the least he could offer. He also did a lot of healing the night before, of course, but bone fractures and internal ailments were frequently not so easily fixed with magic. He thought they made a good temporary team.
“Excuse me, Duncan?” someone asked, dragging him out of his thoughts. He huffed when he saw Pax raising his hand like a schoolboy.
“Ya?”
“Do you think it would be possible to see her soon?” Pax asked.
“See who?” Duncan replied, knowing exactly what the man meant.
“The woman who fell last night. Is she okay?” Pax showed a degree of true concern on his face; Duncan felt bad that he would have to uphold Wren’s rule.
“Okay enough to eat,” Seneca said snidely.
Without missing a beat, Pax responded with a smile. “Well, right, that’s why I was asking.” Seneca rolled her eyes. “So could we see her?”
The dwarf sighed. “Sorry, boy, no can do. Captain’s orders. I’m sure she’ll be feelin’ better enough to see people tomorrow, though. If you really want… You can ask Wren when he comes out.” Pax simply nodded at him, and said nothing more.
After a moment of silence, Seneca stretched, and brought her wooden bowl over to the kitchen. “Hey Eden, how’re you feeling?”
“Surprisingly, pretty okay,” the man said. Putting down his spoon, Eden untied a blue ribbon from his wrist, and used it to tie back his hair. “Why?”
“It’s just barely dark, and I wanna get a drink. Miss Cinthia, the tavern place would be open, right? I know this place is small, but it’s a Rotdas night.”
Cinthia furrowed her brow. “Yes, it’s open, but that doesn’t mean I think you should be drinking just yet.”
“Oh, I’m fine! Don’t you worry about me, ma’am. But thank you for taking care of us, really. I’m sure we’ll be back in a few hours, if you’ll still put us up.”
Cinthia sighed. “Yes, I will put you up. I suppose the two of you will be fine.”
The rogue grinned, and tossed her three gold pieces in the air. “E, you coming or what?”
“Hell yeah!” Eden said, and followed Seneca out the door.
As they exited, Elias shared a look with Kishori, who raised her eyebrows at him. The knight shrugged. Ki giggled, and rubbed her hands together to generate a soft, white glow in her palms. She calmly pressed both hands over a spot on her stomach, and a wave of divine relief washed over her. “Thank you, My Lady.” Ki stood, and looked to Pax and Abel. “Well, would you two like to join us? We’re gonna see if we can drink that three gold that Eli lost.” Elias made a face. Pax happily agreed, and Abel simply shrugged, gathering his book and watch so that he could study if he got bored. Drinking halls were never quite his thing, but strangely, he also didn’t want to be left out of whatever this night was going to turn into.
As the six of them left, Duncan and Cinthia looked at each other incredulously. “I don’t suppose you’re going to follow them?” Cinthia asked the dwarf.
“Depends. Do you have any mead here?” The woman nodded with a slight smile. “Then I’d prefer to stay, with better comfort and company. I’ll take one of their beds, they won’t be back.” She nodded back.
An hour or so later, after Mars fell back asleep, Wren exited the master bed with two empty bowls, and placed them on the stack in the kitchen. He found Duncan and Cinthia passing a bottle back and forth on a small couch, and the rest of the room empty.
“Where the hells did they all go?”