It had been less than an hour ago that the survivors of the expedition had finally caught their quarry.
The journey into the Cyclopean Bones had been long and treacherous, but not half as treacherous as the company in which they made it. Of over a thousand people, less than thirty survived to confront the monster they hunted, all thanks to one beastfolk.
Despite the heat of the water, Marcus shivered.
The confrontation itself had also ended in disaster.
Yet now the same adventurers and mercenaries who had struggled for so long to reach and slay the beast were relaxing in a hot bath with it.
Not as a ploy to recover their energy and strike once the creature lowered its guard, but as a prelude to a long and painful trip back to Bellwood, empty-handed.
Those too foolish to see through the lies about hidden gold he could forgive. Mimics were famed for their deceit, after all, but those with bleeding hearts who insisted on calling the creature a person, and on trying to actually make peace with it, they were simply unbelievable.
The Lyanna he had grown up with would have known better. She had taught him to fight, schooled him in every facet of hunting, tracking and survivalism, and made a man of him when she guided him to join the Guild and become part of her new party. Even now he couldn’t hope to compare to her skills.
Yet she used those abilities not to save their mother, but to sabotage her own goals and forsake the woman who raised her for total strangers.
Subhumans.
The battle was lost, that he would grant, but there again the blame fell on Lyanna and on her new pet, Reynard; on betrayal by the despicable animal and his doting new owner.
Whatever they might say, however they might try to rationalize that the monster was too powerful, too strong or fast, they had brought over two dozen gold- and silver-rankers, with a diamond-rank as their lead. It was impossible that they could have been so outmatched – it had to be. Even the Sultan of the Naga would have been defeated, were the serpent to attempt to fight them all.
No, the battle was lost thanks to Reynard.
Again.
Once more Marcus told himself that the harpy could never have caught him unawares if not for that interference. It wasn’t his inexperience or slow reactions – his skills could likely match many a gold rank – it was that stinking, traitorous vulpine.
Now his sister sat between the fox and the mimic, speaking earnestly in hushed tones to the both of them.
Marcus could imagine the inane lies it was feeding her, much like those with which the fox had pulled her in. He had already heard the breathless news; the mimic would go with them to Bellwood, and save their mother, out of sheer good will.
There she was, letting another subhuman creature befuddle her with some sob-story, talking her into more half-measures and feigned acts of mercy.
Oh his sister was merciful indeed, he thought, so merciful she would let her own mother waste away for the sake of a known thief and murderer.
So merciful she would abandon her own party, her own brother, whom she had raised herself, practically alone, all for that ill-bred, undereducated nobody, even after he sabotaged the expedition and got innocent people killed in a landslide out of pure spite.
Somewhere, far at the back of his mind, the contradictions in that story still needled him. The official explanation didn’t make sense. But why should the actions of beasts be logical? The animal was a traitor by his own admission, and worse yet, Lyanna, learning this… had forgiven him.
That was when Marcus had felt true despair, when he had seen the weakness in his sister and realized she didn’t have the resolve to save their mother. Not even the resolve to hold a killer to account.
She might have said otherwise, but he had heard in her voice, seen it on her face afterwards. She didn’t hate Reynard. He was a stranger to her, whose actions had done more than any other to keep her from the goal towards which she had worked all those years, yet she wouldn’t exact revenge for all those killed, and nor would she expose the crimes of the fox.
He felt disgusted even to think it of Lyanna, but it could only be that she didn’t really want their mother back at all.
She had never wanted to be burdened with blood ties; he saw that as he thought back on his childhood. She was away all she could be, out hunting and fighting, slaying monsters and earning coin. All for the sake of their mother, or so she said.
It had started mere days after the elder adventurer had returned from a quest and collapsed. Lyanna had taken her sword and left without a word, only to return a week later with a pouch of coin and a few short words. After that she had disappeared over and over on long trips, her poor little brother never knowing if she was alive or dead, until she showed up again, bruised and bedraggled, often bloodied, to give him another handfull of money and a few meager words of affection.
At the time he thought it was her devotion that drove her, her love and care for her family, but if she cared so much she would have been there, been with Marcus on those long, cold, fearful nights.
Anger bubbled up like so much venting geyser-water. It all made sense to him. Marcus had only been a burden to her, just as their mother was. It would be so convenient for a talented gold-ranker to be free of those ties. Free to focus on herself at last, and never mind that Marcus would be left all alone… without even his mother.
Never mind that Lyanna was doing exactly what their mom had done, before the sickness took her.
Leaving her children behind in her own hunt for glory.
A painful flash of rage took him, and for a moment Marcus wasn’t even sure who he was angrier with… but then he recalled the face of their mother, laying there, so afraid, unable to even speak as the last of her strength failed her, only pain written on those twisted features.
Lyanna could have stopped that, could have saved her, if she had just been willing to let one beastfolk die for his crimes.
Perhaps Lyanna only stayed with him to show everyone how special she was, out there all day every day, fighting to support her family, when really she’d always wanted to be rid of them.
It was a cruel thought he knew, but the cruelty came with a warm feeling of validation. He had told himself for years that his sister was doing her best, doing all she could for her family, for their mom, but now… how could he believe that, when her every action made him despair? How could he not conclude that she didn’t really want their mother to ever wake?
The only alternative was that she really was as blinded by idiotic ‘mercy’ as she seemed, unwilling to sacrifice even the lives of an inferior animal and a monster.
Well no-one was that kind, that empathetic.
The world didn’t let people become gold-rankers and keep so soft and weak a heart.
Life was no game. Trying to save everyone, to never hurt or kill, that was just a child’s fantasy, and Marcus was a man grown.
Dolm was there too of course… another gold-rank, with decades of experience, but while the man had sense, he’d be no use now. Marcus couldn’t fault his loyalty, but it was misplaced – Dolm was loyal to Lyanna, not to the party – and certainly not to their mom.
He recalled how easily they’d surrendered, and his fists curled under the water.
Lyanna acted as if she was the perfect sister and ideal leader, all-knowing and incapable of making mistakes, yet if not for her they would have come upon their foe with an army of hundreds of elite knights and master hunters. It was her stupid, selfish false virtue that had released the fox, some pathetic attempt to prove to herself that she was better than the rest of them, that precious special Lyanna would never allow a cute, helpless beastfolk boy to come to harm. Never mind that he was a criminal and a killer.
And never mind the harm her actions caused her own brother, or the rest of her allies.
Never mind even that at the moment of their victory against the naga, she’d struck down Bomond, the center of their defense, just to hide her own dirty secret.
Even after all her talk of mercy and justice, she’d stuck the man in the back… then tried to pretend she did it to save Marcus!
Not that it was… wholly unimaginable, that Bomond might have meant to hit him along with the Sultan…. But Marcus could have dodged. Or the man might have adjusted his aim.
A former gold-ranker turned Guildmaster didn’t just strike down his own allies.
Unlike Lyanna.
That too had been a moment of painful clarity; the realization of how far Lyanna would go when it suited her, or when she could rationalize it away.
Yet that too made no sense, for even with over a thousand killed or scattered, and Bomond slain through her own actions, Lyanna wouldn’t even cut down the mimic to save her own mom. Their mom.
Marcus felt the familiar knot of pain and rage pushing up into his chest, but he swallowed it once again.
It was an abhorrent thought which he returned to once again, but Marcus didn’t see how else could he explain it. Lyanna really didn’t want their mother back.
Well even if Lyanna didn’t care about anything but herself, Marcus was different. He was prepared to sacrifice to bring mom back.
If that meant conspiring with this crude, monstrous creature, then he would hold his tongue and stay his blade… for the moment.
He doubted it would follow through, or that it could actually heal his mother, but unlike his sister, he was willing to do whatever it took.
~~~
Sitting in a warm pool with a harpy, a horror, and two dozen people who she rather suspected would enjoy seeing her dead, Lyanna reminded herself why she was there.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
She had to do whatever it took, to protect her family and to save their mother.
For the moment that meant guiding the tense gathering to a peaceful resolution, and ensuring that the creature called ‘Safkhet’ returned to Bellwood with her.
It would have to be a secret return, certainly not a glorious arrival back at Faron, striding into the Relentless Rat to buy a round of drinks and tell tales of the adventure, but sneaking in to rescue her mom would be well within her abilities.
Provided no-one was guarding her, waiting for Lyanna’s arrival.
It would come down to whether anyone else had survived and made it back to town, she imagined. Katia and Eustas would be the worst of course, but hundreds of people had seen her attack Bomond.
That all presumed that her former quarry made good on her promise, of course.
There at least things were encouraging.
The harpy, ‘Berry’ seemed to be recovering well.
Well enough, in fact, that what had been a medicinal bath, was now more of a gathering for rest and revitalization. To that end the ‘human’ had used her magic to heat the waters back up to a pleasant, steaming heat.
Berenike was delighted with that.
Harpies spoke no more Hronan than Lyanna did ‘Cycloan’, and the circumstances of the tall and powerful avian allying with the diminutive woman then somehow being near frozen to death were quite unclear, but from the way the two spoke to one another Lyanna could see the trust and care they shared.
She envied that; the eyes of the others, even her own brother, burned into her whenever they glanced her way.
“I meant what I was saying about the gold,” Safkhet was saying. “I know you wanted to catch a rare monster, but even if that’s impossible – what with me being human – I don’t think my friends would mind giving you some coins to take home, so that you and your families don’t have to go hungry or end up in debt.”
The looks she got were doubtful, but Lyanna was starting to think that this ‘Saf’ was just as honest as she appeared.
“And don’t worry, I’ll come back with you later on too, Lyanna. I have to help the Harpies first, but I’m not going to forget about you or your mom.”
“I appreciate it,” Lyanna answered, with a wooden expression.
“I was wondering, actually, what’s Bellwood like? I’ve never been there before.”
“Same as anywhere really,” Dolm piped up from her side.
He too had been uncharacteristically pleased by the chance to rest in the hot spring-water, even after his burns were healed. The man was reclining against a rock that Saf had warmed for him on request, looking more at home than she’d seen him in years, even close as he was to the frightful mass of essence that had almost killed him.
“Doesn’t have hot springs like this of course. More’s the pity. Bosquerime now, there’s a country for you. Can’t go back there either of course.”
“That’s a shame, I’d love to see it,” Safkhet said.
“You gonna run out of countries to get banned from,” Reynard observed, with a small smirk.
He too seemed much heartened, presumably thanks to the healing of his nose and the peaceful conclusion of the fight. He was even ignoring the pointed looks of his former allies.
“Eh, can always sneak in if I get to missing it. Don’t think I’ll miss Bellwood much though.”
“Same!” the fox answered, “can’t wait to get back to Arelat!”
“Maybe we’ll join you, once all this is done,” Dolm mused, “gotta get Lyanna’s mom Lenore out first though. Shouldn’t be too hard s’long as they’re not looking for us.”
“It’ll be hopeless with a monster venting mana everywhere like this,” Marcus pointed out, with a venomous glare that was spread among all of them equally.
“I’m sure Safkhet can’t keep… outputting it like this forever,” Lyanna pointed out, “in fact, now that we’re not fighting, do you think you could stop? It’s… hard to relax with this feeling of pressure all around.”
It was a simple enough request – common sense even. Any being exuding this kind of force for this long would surely exhaust themself; even one of the gods.
Yet Safkhet’s face was stiff and uneasy at the suggestion.
“Right…,” she said, looking down at her hands in the water, “I’ll give it a try.”
“A try?” asked Pice, from the far side of the water, “just stop blastin’ it out already!”
“I’m not,” she explained, blushing, “it comes out like this naturally. All the time. It’s really hard to hold it back….”
Doubtful, even fearful looks were exchanged.
Lyanna shared both skepticism and unease. Nothing could possibly produce that volume and intensity of mana at all times. Even Jalera would have struggled to output anything like it, even for a few moments. If Safkhet held still more in reserve that was… terrifying.
It would also ensure that every living thing for miles around knew she was coming.
Which also meant that Safkhet couldn’t possibly go with them to Bellwood.
All eyes were on her as the girl seemed to tense herself, striking an odd pose that reminded Lyanna more of someone straining at stool than training their mana-control.
Silently Lyanna pleaded with her to succeed in suppressing her essence.
At first nothing happened, but as the seconds drew on there was a marked easing of the weight that lay upon each of them, and a sense of pressure releasing.
Sighs were heard as people relaxed, enjoying the relief.
“I think I did it!” Safkhet declared, beaming, looking around at the faces of the others.
Berenike looked impressed, at least.
Everyone present could still feel the presence of absurd quantities of mana of course, but it was more like being around an archmage in the midst of a duel, rather than being submerged and drowning in an endless ocean of malevolent, dark power.
That was, she supposed, progress.
“I think I just feel about the same as any normal person now, right?” Safkhet asked.
She wore such a hopeful, happy look on her girlish features, that Lyanna actually felt guilty.
There was no need to break the truth to her, however, as a moment later the monstrous figure wavered, not in expression, but form.
Lyanna felt a terrible weight pass over her, as the very air distorted, and then as if following a broken damn, the flood of essence was back again.
Safkhet sighed.
“I really thought I had it there, but the… weight of all that mana just kept building up until it spilled out. I guess I still need a lot more training.”
Her melancholy look would have been more fitting for one unable to muster the power to incant a single spell, rather than a creature with enough energy to overpower an entire legion of mages, but Lyanna found herself despairing too.
Perhaps it really was possible to be too powerful for one’s own good.
Or at least for their mother’s good.
Safkhet might be willing to help them, but they couldn’t possibly heal her mother while fighting off the entire armed forces of Bellwood.
She could see her final lingering light of hope fading before her eyes, choked out by a suffocating wave of mana.
~~~
Marcus stared at Lyanna, then at Safkhet, then back at his sister.
The two had fallen silent, glum looks on their faces as they realized the absurd impossibility of their plan.
Each sat there uselessly amid the steamy water.
“So that’s it?” he demanded, “you’re just giving up?!”
The monster glared back at him
“Of course not, if I can’t go in person we’ll just have to send someone else, a harpy healer or one of the Naiads.”
“They’re just gonna prance into the middle of Bellwood, are they? I suppose you’re going to tell everyone they’re human too!”
She shifted uncomfortably atop the rocks, and Marcus felt a sudden surge of fresh anger.
This foolish creature, this lying monster wearing the form of a person, it couldn’t even come up with a plausible deception, yet still his sister chose to listen.
“Maybe with the help of the Valkyries we can rescue her, and take her back to the mount-”
“Oh yes, I’m sure you’re going to do that! Just send a legion of flying monsters to attack the capital of Bellwood and abduct a sick person! She’ll be just fine too, being grabbed and dragged through the air as arrows and spells are flying! All just for us too, how magnanimous of you!”
His sister spoke up. “Marcus, we can work something out-”
“Stop it, Lyanna!”
Lurching to his feet, he spat into the pool between them.
“This thing tells nothing but lies – just like that rat posing as a fox that you’ve taken in!”
He was screaming, but he didn’t care anymore.
Burning rage spread like wildfire through the desiccated remnants of his last familial tie. So many years of respect, of admiration and longing, of trying to keep up, catch up with his sister, trying to earn her respect and her attention. Years of just fighting to keep going, as their mother wasted away… and Lyanna didn’t care at all.
Not about him, and not about their mother.
“You have quite a collection of killers and traitors now – suits you, since you’re one too! You destroyed the expedition, you killed Bomond, and now you’re throwing in with thieving murderers and monsters!”
“Marcus, I-”
Lyanna’s voice broke as she tried to speak, but he just shouted her down.
“Everything this monster says is a lie! It’s not human! There’s no gold! It was never going to heal mom! It’s just telling you whatever you want to hear! But you don’t care! You never did, I see that now! Family’s just a burden to you, isn’t it?!”
All eyes were on him, a stunned, painful quiet hanging over the air in the wake of his outburst. The geysers were, for a moment at least, still, and it seemed no-one dared disturb the stillness.
“Marcus,” Lyanna whispered, “please… I… I tried my best….”
“You abandoned us! When I needed you the most! You left me to go play adventurer!”
The pain on his sister’s face was shocking. He’d seen her cry many times, but never before had she looked as though he’d stuck a knife right into her heart.
Driven by righteous fury, and years of simmering resentment, Marcus took sadistic pleasure in twisting it.
“You don’t care about mom at all,” he said, voice cold and bitter, “she’d be sick just to see you. And… and so am I.”
He hoped that the words hurt her more than they had him.
With that he turned, and climbed up out of the pool.
“Marcus….”
Her voice was a strangled whisper.
He didn’t turn around.
“You were the one who said it, Lyanna, Thunderbolt is just you. The rest of us were nothing but baggage. Well you’re rid of me now, because I’m done with this. I’ll save mom on my own.”
His head was spinning, aching, as he tried to keep himself together.
It was hard to act dignified in his smallclothes, so he strode over the small pile of armor and weapons that were all he had left in the world.
He didn’t let anyone see how his hands were shaking as he started to dress himself.
Nor did he let his sister see the tears pouring down his cheeks.
~~~
My own anger at Marcus seemed trivial, after his outburst at his own sister.
We all sat in a stunned silence for a time afterwards, only Lyanna’s small sobs and the rush of another erupting geyser to be heard.
Dolm had a hand on her shoulder, and Reynard looked like he wanted to say something, but no-one present seemed to know what to do.
That was when Jalera rose to her feet.
The brown-skinned older woman had been covered in bruises and more than a little blood when she entered the pool, but now she was fully restored I could see her impressive physique clearly, along with several scars that spoke to worse injuries past.
Climbing out of the pool, she turned to address her company.
She was wearing only a wrap around her chest and underwear similar to shorts on her legs, but still she had an air of dignity and assurance to her.
“We are leaving,” was her simple declaration.
“Where to?” asked a man, who I suspected was ‘Pice’. “Can’t go back to Bellwood no more… especially not with the traitors in tow.”
“Thunderbolt will not join us, and we will not return to Bellwood. We are going South, to the Thabian Desert.”
“What about our families?” asked a mink beastfolk, Reila I thought.
“They will be better off without you for the moment,” Jalera said, “once the furor abates you will be able to return quietly, be that to stay, or help them leave with you, but for the present it is suicide to return after deserting from the expedition.”
“’Specially after comin’ all this way in the company of a couple of traitors,” another woman snarled, rising, and pointing angrily, “should have just executed her on the spot!”
“Maybe if we turn her and the fox in they’ll see it wasn’t us!” a young man suggested, also scrambling up, and reaching for the pile of armor and weapons near him.
“An’ make the mimic take us to the gold too!” another called eagerly.
Others were arguing, reaching for swords and axes as they climbed out of the pool. The good-natured reconciliation I’d hoped for seemed like a distant, naïve dream.
“Just try it,” I said, loudly.
The wave of essence that accompanied my words brought silence.
Standing, I was painfully aware that I was clad in nothing but a few scraps of tattered cloth, but I ignored the embarrassment, instead focusing on pouring out all the mana I could.
The water around me rippled, pushed back, and underfoot I felt the stones groaning.
“You can all take your stuff and leave. I don’t care what direction, as long as you get out of these mountains without troubling anyone else, human, beastfolk or monster. Otherwise it won’t just be me that you have to worry about, but the Valkyries too.”
That put a quick stop to the delusions being shared around, and while Jalera, Marcus and many others glared at me, none dared argue.
“After what you’ve all done to me, consider yourselves lucky that you’re leaving with your lives.”
I relaxed my body, and the air and water flowed back in around me like a sigh of relief.
Jalera looked pale, and several of the weaker adventurers still near me collapsed.
I was rather pleased with that. They deserved more than just a few faints.
Their friends pulled them from the water, and shook them back to alertness, and soon the whole group were drying and dressing themselves.
At my side, Reynard was also out cold, but Dolm and Lyanna supported him, themselves looking uneasy.
“Sorry… I wanted to make sure they got the message,” I explained.
Berenike gave a quiet little giggle at the looks on their faces – she was more accustomed to my unusual mana pool, so it seemed she was enjoying seeing outsiders experience it too.
She likely had no idea at all what the argument had been about, or else she might have felt guilty for her amusement at so painful a time… but then I doubted Berenike felt much Sympathy for Lyanna, given the looks she’d been giving her.
I certainly couldn’t blame her either, but I did help her over to a deserted corner of the pool to check her over and fill her in on what was going on.
~~~
Lyanna couldn’t believe what was happening.
She’d had the time it took to dry and dress herself to try to make sense of it all, but still her head was spinning. Her heart throbbed with a sharp, miserable ache in her chest.
They were all gearing up, breaking up their simple camp and getting ready to go despite the late hour.
Jalera had taken Safkhet’s threat seriously.
She was glad of that in a way – she and Reynard could have been in grave danger if not for the intervention of the ‘human’, more for Reynard’s sake than hers she was sure – but that gave her so terribly little time.
Already Marcus was almost ready to leave, yet she had no idea what to say to him.
Her mind veered uselessly between shock, hurt and anger, her thoughts an incoherent mess of panic and pain.
How could she just let him go like this?
How could he truly think of her that way?
Was he even wrong?
Lyanna told herself, over and over, that she’d done her best. She’d tried to be there for her little brother, while fighting to pay the bills, keep their mom alive and raise a lost boy without his parents… but she’d been half a child herself.
She’d barely kept herself together when it happened. Marcus had turned to her, but she’d been left with no-one. She’d done the best she could, but she’d always known it wasn’t good enough. She wasn’t good enough. She couldn’t live up to Lenore, not as an adventurer, not as breadwinner, and certainly not as mom to Marcus.
But even so, could he really have hated her so much?
Once again tears welled up in her eyes, and her hands shook as she fumbled with the buckles and straps of her armor.
She wasn’t even sure why she was putting it on. There was no way Jalera would take her as anything other than a prisoner, and if she tried to chase after her brother the others might well attack her the minute she left Safkhet and the harpy behind.
But she had to do something, or else she’d break.
The tears were dripping down her breastplate as Dolm helped her fit it in place.
He said nothing, just raising his arms for her to do the same for him.
There was nothing he could say. He was shocked and confused like her.
Lyanna felt an overwhelming surge of gratitude towards the man, for his unspoken commitment to stay with her instead of going with the rest.
They shared a hug.
She wasn’t sure how long they stood there, Lyanna crying all over his pauldron, before Dolm pulled back.
“It’s time,” he said quietly.
The words felt like a death sentence.
Turning, she saw Marcus, hoisting an improvised cloth pack over his shoulder, containing what few things he’d escaped the expedition with. The others were ready too, grouping up over towards the treeline, well away from the ‘monster’ still in the hot spring pool.
As she walked over she saw her brother’s eyes were red, but the tears in them were angry, and she flinched as his glare found her.
“Marcus, please…” she murmured, “don’t leave now… not like this.”
“Too late,” he replied, his face twisting around the words, as if they were poison to be drawn from a wound.
“It’s too late for more excuses and lies, Lyanna. You had your chances, and too many of them. I’m going South with Jalera – at least she cares about her allies, instead of helping her enemies.”
Lyanna recalled who had been the first to flee on the night of the storm.
“Don’t look for me,” her brother was saying, “and don’t pretend to be sad – we both know this is what you’ve always wanted!”
“How can you say that?!” she screamed.
Marcus stumbled back, eyes wide.
“How can you even think that, Marcus?! I’m your sister! I love you, and I love mom! I’ve only ever tried to do what was right, for you and for everyone!”
“And that’s why you threw in with a murdering traitor, is it?!” he shot back. “You do what suits you, and hang everyone else! I was nothing but a burden to you from the start! Well no more! You don’t have to pretend to care about me or mom ever again!”
He turned and strode towards the trees.
“Marcus! It’s not like that!” she wailed.
She tried to follow him.
Her legs fell from under her, sending her crashing to her knees.
“Don’t go with them, please! I… I don’t want to lose you too!”
“You already have,” came his cold, bitter reply.