Chapter Fifty-Four: Flowers

Val awoke the next day. Tom had taken the other sick bed next to her, unused currently, but he was up and about by the time his mother popped in to see her in the morning.

He waited, anxiously perched on the edge of the bed while his mother checked her over. She placed her hands gently on Val’s stomach. For minutes, nothing happened, the colour in her cheeks just gradually increasing as it had each time before. Then, suddenly, her eyelids flickered, and she slowly came to.

Val looked around the room through bleary eyes, then belatedly drew in a sharp gasp.

“Where am I? What’s happened?”

“It’s okay, Miss Carver. I’m Marget Cutter, a Healer. You’re in Corin’s Grove. You’re safe.”

“Corin’s Grove? They don’t have a Healer. Wait… Cutter? You’re… Tom! You’re okay! Thank Goddess. Whoa there!” Smitten had wriggled past his mother and was snuffling at her face, licking it all over. Scorn had been curled up on her pillow, directly beside her head, and was licking her face too. He was purring so loudly that it filled the room.

Tom beamed at her. She really was going to be okay. His mother gave him a smile.

“You’re okay, Val. You’re safe now. I was worried for you for a while there,” Tom said.

Val regained some breathing room, both her hands occupied scratching her familiars, which was the only way they’d stop licking her face. She seemed just about to speak, and got cut off by a plaintive little roar from the small window across from her bed. Sesame’s big head was framed in it, his tongue lolling out the side of his mouth in a happy grin.

“You’ll get your chance at me later, you big lump,” she said to him. “How did we make it back? Was it …bad?”

Tom had run over this conversation several times in his head. “Honeyfield cut you. I finished him. We brought you back on a litter with Sesame. Smitten kept you alive ‘til we got here,” he summed up.

Val collapsed weakly back onto her pillows. “How long? That’s almost two weeks… Goddess, Tom, how did you win?”

“Sweet Suffering,” he said. He didn’t want to elaborate further in front of his mother. It felt… wrong to discuss a life and death fight he’d been in in front of her. He’d rather that she worry as little as possible.

Val rolled the information around in her head for a moment. “Thank you, Tom,” she said, quietly. “You saved me.”

He saw tears gathering in Val’s eyes, and he felt a sudden, overpowering affection for this woman who had taught him so much. She had taken him in and shown him an entirely new life, looked after him, been kind to him. It was the least he could do.

“I guess we’re even now, more or less,” he said with a smile.

She barked a laugh, which set her to coughing. “True that. Lets try and avoid having to drag each other out of the Deep again, though, shall we?” she said, when she had cleared her throat.

“Deal,” he agreed. He fished around for more words. “I gave the heads to Dale and the Mayor. They’ve sent word to Wayrest. We did it, Val.”

It took a second before comprehension dawned. Their initial goal wasn’t the first thing on her mind, after everything that had occurred.

“Good! Good. I’ll need to talk to them, sooner rather than later. Ahh, Marget, do you think you could send for them?”

“I do,” said his mother, from where she had retreated to give them space for their conversation. “I’ll fetch them right now. Don’t get up, though. You’re not well enough yet. And don’t be talking to them for hours. You’ll be fine, come a few days, but until then, you do as I say. Clear?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Val said, without a hint of condescension. His mother eyed her for a few moments, then walked out to get Dale and Corin. Tom and Val sat in silence for a few minutes, just enjoying each other’s company.

“I haven’t talked about the Hunters yet. I thought it would be best if it came from you,” he told her.

“Okay. I’ll let Dale and the Mayor know when they come. Damned if I’ll let those bastards try and take the city now. Fucking Honeyfield,” she said, with real venom.

It was one of the few times he had ever heard Val curse so strongly. It shocked him, like seeing a brutal assault in broad daylight. Tom wasn’t quite sure how to act.

“Well, he’s dead now.”

“We can only hope the Lord and the rest of him go the same way soon.”

They sat in silence again. Tom was glad to see her awake and recovering, the feeling of relief and happiness was stronger than any Thought-Painting frog poison.

Eventually, they heard several pairs of footsteps returning. Val patted Tom’s hand.

“I’ve got this,” she said. “Go help the Guards. I’m sure they’ve got plenty to do, with the news we brought.”

She cut him off when he opened his mouth. “I’m not going anywhere. I’ll see you this evening. There’s work to be done.” A hint of her usual sternness returning. “Thank you, again, Tom,” she finished, softer.

He gave her a smile and left, giving a brief greeting to Dale and Corin as they were led in by his mother. Neither looked like they’d gotten any sleep. Corin looked frazzled, and Dale stony.

“Is there any prep I can help with while Val recovers?” he asked Dale.

“Goddess, is there what. Go find Miss Raventos, she’s inspecting the walls and ditches out past the orchards. She’ll thank you for the help.”

I’d be lucky, he thought to himself, but he thanked Dale and stepped outside. Sesame came rumbling around the corner of the cottage, nuzzling at his hands. Together they made for the path out of the village. He’d start there, at the outer defences, and look for Rosa.

Tom wandered down the path to the Deep, between the orchards, revelling in the safety, the relief of Val being okay, the simple joys that came with springtime. The air was warm, with a balmy breeze, and the sweet scent of blossoming fruit trees filled the air.

Sesame was in his element. The bond was filled with immense satisfaction at the hard work he had done carrying the travois back. Even so, there was still room for little curious pangs of hunger at the smells drifting to them all around. Tom made a note to stop by the town hall and buy all the honey he could get his hands on. Maybe even some peach or apple jam. He was certain that would be a hit. The bear deserved a reward.

He came to the end of the path, to the earthen wall and stake-filled ditch. Looking both ways, he could see no sign of Rosa. She must be further out, one way or the other, obscured by the curvature of the orchards.

He puzzled for a moment, then came up with a solution.

“Got a fall yet, you slacker!?” He yelled into the sky, at the top of his lungs. He waited.

“Fuck you, Tom Cutter!” came the faint reply, from off to the north.

He followed the defences towards her voice, and found himself grinning. So when he stepped around a small bend, that was how Rosa found him, smiling from ear to ear. She had her hands on her hips, and was looking distinctly unimpressed. Her dark eyes burned at him.

“Come to pick a fight, have you, you fuck?”

Tom grinned even wider. “Didn’t know which end of the wall you were at, is all.”

“I suppose you’re here to boss me round, now you’ve come and dropped such news on us? Probably to tell me you’ve found some outrageous fortune or other in the woods too, yes?”

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Tom’s mind flicked to the spatial ring with multiple enchanted weapons he’d taken from Honeyfield. He wisely decided to keep his mouth shut.

“No, Dale told me to come help you. Val’s still got a few days recovery, you see.”

Her face softened, if only fractionally. “Well. Okay then. At the moment, I am just inspecting. Looking for gaps and weaknesses and such.” Tom nodded along. “Then, we will be expanding, trying to make the wall higher, maybe. But that is the work of more than two days, I would think. Come.”

She set off briskly towards the north end of the wall, where it curved back towards the next village over. The two village walls didn’t meet, the distances being too large, but instead encircled each village, creating fortified funnels leading towards the more heavily fortified middle ring villages.

Tom and Rosa spent the next several hours walking all the way around the village. Every so often, Rosa would stop to take a note in a small pocketbook, detailing some deficiency that needed to be corrected. They talked about small, inconsequential things, bantering, tweaking each other’s noses.

Eventually she noticed the slightly odd flock of sparrows trailing after them. Tom introduced her to Sere, who was indifferent to Rosa, her not having a great deal of shiny or brightly coloured things on her. Rosa then spent a solid hour waxing lyrical about how much she wanted to fill the requirements for her own familiar. After she had berated him a little, of course.

At noon, they had reached almost three quarters of the way back around the wall, to where the orchards stood thickest. Rosa led him away, between the rows of trees, so that they could stop for lunch.

The spot she took him to was a large fieldstone that made a nice natural bench for them to sit upon. It had obviously been too large for the villagers to move when planting the orchards, and so, at this spot, the apple and peach trees curled tightly about it in a circle. It was shady, and the air was warm and sweet.

Rosa produced some bread and jam from her satchel, and Tom withdrew some cheese and pickles. They shared a companionable silence, occasionally grinning at each other with delight around mouthfuls of food. Sere settled in among the blossoms, lightly trilling and chirping.

Sesame ate several pounds worth of fruit from the nearby trees and then promptly collapsed in the shade for a snooze. Once they’d all had their fill, and packed away the remains, Rosa turned to him.

“I bet it was a shock, seeing your mother here,” she not-quite-asked him.

“Definitely,” he said. “But a good one. I’m… I’m glad she’s here.” The implication hung between them, that he preferred his mother live as a villager, in danger of attack by monsters, than safe behind enchanted walls with his father.

“That is good, then, Tom. It’s good. She has started down the same path you are on. That of freedom. And she has been, how d’you say it? Indispensable, to us here. There are not many outer ring villages with a Healer, you know?”

“I’m happy for her. Proud of her, I guess, is more accurate. Fear is a drug. It dulls you, tricks you into thinking complacency is safety. I’m glad she’s free. I’m glad she’s helping.”

Rosa didn’t speak, perhaps sensing he had more to say.

“I’m torn, though. Part of me wishes she would go back to Wayrest. It’s selfish, I know, but with what’s coming? It’s madness to be out here.”

Rosa bridled. “She’s a grown woman, Tom. We must all do our parts in this, I think. In what is coming. Do you think me too weak to be out here also? Are you wanting to go back, and hide inside Wayrest? Don’t be ridiculous.”

He looked at Rosa assessingly. Fire and Smoke. Most of her skills were damage-oriented, and targeted areas as opposed to single enemies. He pitied any orc hunting party that came across her.

“You’re right. I know you are. I guess, I’m just worried, is all I’m saying. We both just got …free, of …him, you know? And now..? It could all get snatched away.” He found himself staring off between the close-knit grove about them, towards where the shadow of the Deep Green loomed.

“We will fight this together, Tom Cutter. And we will overcome it, together, yes?” she prodded him.

He turned to her, his momentary uncertainty firming into steely resolve. Fuck Wayrest. Fuck the Council. Fuck his father. But he had people he cared about: Val, his mother, Rosa. He would not let them come to any harm.

“We’ll fight it together,” he told her, trying to put all his resolve into his stare. She held it, then nodded.

“Good. Because you dropped us in this fucking mess. You are definitely going to be the one who helps us clean it up!”

“At least the Council will have to listen now, surely.”

“Of course they will! You brought back two fucking orc heads and dumped then on Dale’s desk! And now I get to spend my days staring at a ditch, and a wall.” She gestured angrily about herself. Tom rubbed his neck sheepishly.

“I kinda did, didn’t I? I didn’t mean to be so dramatic.” Rosa rolled her eyes.

“It’s okay, I think. The situation, it called for it. It’s not your fault, of course. Usually, though, severed heads and menial labour are not the traditional gift for a woman after a long time away.” She stared at him from her dark, hooded eyes.

Suddenly, he felt warm. Too warm. He didn’t know what to do with himself. His mind skittered about, then latched onto something she said.

He reached into his inventory, and pulled out several objects, shielding them with his hands. Rosa sat back just slightly. Tom read slight, surprised tension in her posture.

“I… actually did get you something. It’s nothing, really, just something you said. I thought you might like it.”

He produced a small, vibrant flower. It had long, thin, delicate petals which curled backwards at their apex, red as blood, with a single streak of violent pink running down the centre of each one. Stamen and stigma, both in bright, purest white, nestled in its centre.

Rosa gasped softly. “Is that…?!”

“A Lily of the Hearth. Here,” he said, offering it to her carefully.

Hunter-Gatherer had picked it up at some point, he wasn’t sure exactly when. Near the orc encampment, he thought. It was a natural treasure, and the only true one he had seen in his time in the Deep. They were that rare. At the Academy, they were made to study the ones that were known to be found occasionally in the Deep, in case someone happened across one on a Reaping.

Natural treasures, when consumed, or absorbed, or whatever the method for the particular treasure may be, gave a small but permanent boost to Idealists. Some increased a physical attribute. Others increased an Idealist’s total mana, or health. Ones like the Lily of the Hearth permanently increased one’s affinity with an element. It was useless for anyone without a Fire or Heat-adjacent Ideal.

Rosa stared at him with her big, dark eyes.

“It is too much. Thank you, Tom.”

He shrugged, feeling incredibly awkward. Rosa placed the delicate flower gently on the rock beside them. She turned back to him.

“That’s not all. I brought these for you, too.” He handed her five small, white essence stones.

“Speed essence!” Rosa practically screamed.

“I have some more smoke essence, too, if you need. We had lots…”

But Rosa was no longer listening. She was rolling up one side of her trousers, exposing a long, toned leg, with a tattoo running down it. It was hard to describe. It made Tom think of a great mass of animals, all overlapping, moving with great speed, and yet individually indistinct. He was struggling to make out many details, and her smooth, olive skin was distracting him.

She slapped the essences to her tattoo, and they disappeared with a small flash of red and black light.

She paused, her eyes moving as she read her wisp. “Fucking, fuck yes! Fucking finally!”

There was a pop of displaced air, and suddenly, a horse was standing beside their rock.

It was tall and imperious looking, with long, graceful legs. Not bulky like the horses used by the one cavalry unit in the Guard, or stocky, like the ones merchants used to travel down the great trade roads. It was a dark, ashen grey all over, not speckled even slightly, with a mane and tail in silky, midnight black.

It looked like a shadow. Like smoke.

It looked like it could run.

Rosa let out a high-pitched, absolutely incomprehensible squeal of delight. She threw herself at her familiar’s neck, hugging it so hard Tom thought it might choke. He grinned. Her joy was so pure it was infectious.

She leapt up onto the fieldstone, pirouetted, and then vaulted smoothly onto the horse’s back. Tom couldn’t help but marvel at her casual gracefulness. She made him feel awkward and slow.

She took a double handful of her familiar’s mane, and then they were off. The horse flowed like a forest fire down the rows, smooth as smoke. Tom laughed as Rosa whooped with joy, cantering around, nearly falling off once or twice. Even Sesame roused from his nap to watch curiously.

Horizon was famed for two things: their grapes and their horses. They had an abundance of one, but not many of the other, but what they had of each was the best in the world, or so it was said. He was not surprised Rosa knew how to ride, her family would have ensured she had lessons.

Eventually, she came trotting back down the way, and slid down from her new familiar’s back. The horse showed not the slightest bit of exertion, not a single bead of sweat showed on its glossy coat.

The same could not be said for Rosa. She ran up to Tom, completely breathless, her cheeks flushed with excitement, beaming with delight. She swept him into a hug.

“Oh, thank you, Tom! Fucking… just …fucking thank you!”

“That’s okay,” he said, with a small chuckle. “It was well worth it.” She pulled away.

“Maybe this makes up for the walls and the ditch?” he ventured.

One of her eyebrows slowly climbed her forehead. Then, without warning, she stepped into him and kissed him.

Tom felt like he’d been struck by lightning. He was rigid. Then he felt like he’d been set on fire, and he melted. Rosa’s lips were hot on his, her hands grasping at his shoulders were light and strong. He tentatively placed his hands on her hips, soft and firm and curved, and drew her closer.

They kissed for a long time. When they broke apart, Tom found he was breathless too.

“This is just like you, Tom fucking Cutter,” she said, low. “Give me extravagant gifts so now I am compelled to forgive you for being a fucking oblivious fuck!”

“Sorr-” But he only got the word half out before she was kissing him again.

Fire and Smoke is right, he thought.