The farther we were from the disaster I made, the smaller the forests became. Fields of nothing but stumps and piles of sawdust littered our way for at least an hour of our second escape. The furthest fire behind still fed the sky with towers of smoke. The guilt at not being able to contain the fires once they escaped my frame held on like a sadist’s teeth, despite Morrigan’s continued reassurance. My face could be blank, my own thought cage bereft of threads and lines, and she’d be able to tell when I was panicking, on the verge of slowing down.
The night and the run was still long however, as more pyres, more blazes and destructions of the ground had to come as the Vacuous accosted us at every hop, turn and stop. If that town had a Tetherbox, my companion would have ripped it from its post and used that to repel the Vacuous instead of using my flame. I could not complain like she, for my body seemed to conjure without cost, to fight without injury. The giant could do a great many things, so much more effortlessly - but even uninjured, she would need to stop eventually. An anger rose in me at the thought of those Colossi again.
The morning finally came after we stepped upon a long established trade route beaten and neglected after the mass cutting of the trees. Stacks of produce and sheep skins decorated a line of carriages that now lay abandoned near a lake. Hunger hadn’t been a real issue for almost a year, ever since I started traveling with Morrigan. She was always prepared in one way or another and the money from the Guild of Gold Intent made sure we had our stomachs full at least once a day, twice for a job well done.
My stomach never begged so much for simple potatoes and sticks of green I couldn’t recognize but assumed were edible regardless. My companion devoured entire bundles of green before even checking to see if the cart owners were nearby, the stringy insides confounding her as she ripped them apart through her teeth. Inspecting the outside, it was clear they’d been ripped from their carts through the fabric walls to places unknown on this featureless lakeside. My sympathies had to become secondary as the light above grew wider, and the common burden became a powerful weight on my neck. The invisible anchor so grand as to squeeze the strength out of my legs, with my companion being physically sympathetic for once. We crawled into the carts and used the sacks of food to cover us as we slept on the excess of sheep pelts.
There was no magic in the world, no altering braid that could dissuade the most powerful of forces - the pull of slumber.
About half as long as I would’ve found ideal, our sleep was interrupted by the shaking of the walls around us. The set of carts being towed by a separate folk than what originally owned it - a trio of horses being led by a single man wearing dinged up armor and a thick red cloth that decorated him from head to toe, stepping on the dirty crimson every time he turned to shout at the load bearers to pull harder.
The sound of a giant waking up is enough to alert even the dimmest of men, so when she tried to stretch, the man immediately turned around with a sword drawn. Like his mustache, his armor, his…general being, there was a distinct lack of care in his appearance and his extension’s shimmer.
“Hooligans!” He shouted, eye twitching and sword shaking in indignation, or fear. Likely didn’t want to find anything on his morning round up anyways. “You know what our Sworn will do with poachers such as yourselves?!”
“Yep, we’re in true Warden lands now.” Morrigan shared with me. She looked to the man, his blade unconvincing as a threat. “Are you gonna feel guilty if we take this man’s stuff?”
My shivering frame said no before my mind could form the words. “Knock him out cold and more if you have to. Full permission here.”
Morrigan yawned as she stepped forward, rocking the cart with every step, horses wriggling themselves out of their restraints and dashing as quickly as possible. Threats attempted to part from his lips but stammers were all that could be heard before Morrigan stepped over and smacked the sword out of his hand, jumping out of the cart and using her weight to slam his body into the ground, making a man sized indent in the road. Blood flowed from his nose but the enlisted help still breathed.
Morrigan stripped the armor from his body: a collection of plates that didn’t match - clearly not built by the same smith, or purchased on the same day. This was normal for the fanatics, those from the smaller frontiers that considered themselves to be Wardens all the same despite not being truly sworn to the mission, the training and the ranks. They were just in a town that fell in line with their rules, usually didn’t know tetherwork, siphoning or any other skill that involved magic. As heretical as unregulated magic was to the tin knights, they knew how to use it themselves - that mockery was proof that they went beyond what they preached - the malicious arts the “witches” in Jeremiah’s time, they themselves found a use for. If our heads are in their periphery, I fear them sending more.
I nabbed the red fabric for myself and used the man’s sword to cut myself a new cloak to wear. The best it could do was make me a bit warmer and prevent being struck for nudity, but it would do. Morrigan took care of the rest, pillaging the sheared wool and shaping it into fluff underneath my garb and using her bare hands to reshape the torso plates, giving enough armor and comfort across my chest and stomach. The arms and legs were bent into wrist and shin guards. The wool robe couldn’t replace the black of her northern set, but that was for a conversation with her family another day.
Leaving the carts behind, the gateless community of what the guards called Kirquen arrived before us, an improvement on the last by having more than just homes and stalls - a brothel and tavern stood on the north side, its presence known by the men and women hollering its name on every other street, shivering in their various states of undress.
“The Warm Water Inn, huh?” Morrigan spoke, gazing as the eager workers suddenly shifted their eyes elsewhere. “Sounds like the perfect place to get a full rest.” Her face was far more complacent than my thoughts could ever be, but half of my mind still agreed. Sand felt like it made a home underneath our skins, irritating every hair in between on my head.
“Only problem is that the carriage patrol didn’t have any gold on him.” I replied, thinking of any other time where we’d need money. There was no job board, no questing encouraged in these parts. “Think you’ll be fine scouting out the inn by yourself?”
She looked down at me with an incredulous look on her face. “What exactly are you planning?”
“Just putting an old skill set to some use.” I added, giving her a small push that did nothing. She simply nodded her head and smiled, walking forward as I turned right towards a row of homes.
It was before full rise, so the amount of people out to their jobs should be high enough. The homes in this town were at least more than just unfinished arrangements of wood and nail, some bore constructions of orange clay, with furs laid upon the interior corners and wire candle lights strewn across the ceiling - a dozen tiny lights bright enough to cover the whole room. The clay housing appeared to be the exception of luxury on the street, bearing no candles, so this must be someone who either hid them or could produce the lights themselves - a tether user passing through.
I slipped into the small alley between the houses where they kept their buckets of table scraps, melting tiny holes into the clay house to make footholds. Crawling to the top, the fur roof was a smelly and rancid arrangement that must have seemed like a good idea for keeping the house warm at the time. Pulling apart the fibers, opening the latch door into the attic, I dropped to the floor lightly. One learns how to land quietly after living an evanescent existence, and shoes might be a luxury but they’re also noise makers. The space was littered with useless souvenirs and dust coated paintings. Don’t have the time to loot and sell to whoever is willing, especially in a town of less than five hundred - someone would know where it came from, and I’m not taking chances on a maybe or eventually.
The stairs creaked underneath my feet so I grabbed the rails on either side and slid my way down, feet floating over the steps until I entered the second floor. No sound of people, so my gut was right so far. After enough time, a thief can hear the sound of even timid slumber upon concentration through bedroom doorways. Slinking across the halls and rooms, the bedroom was empty save for little scraps of silver coins on the nightstand. The stash was usually in three places - the closet, under the bed, and in the attic.
Would check the last on the way out, in case the owners come back through the front door. The closet was filled with lavish dresses and masquerade fancies, none of which I could imagine for functions in this meager hamlet. Wearing one of these to the tavern would be one way to guarantee a partner home I suppose. Green fabrics laden with golden lines across the shoulders and forearms. No real value in those lines regrettably - during my first years of robbery, I was led to believe that they did - the lines certainly weighed and shined like real gold did but was nothing more than an imitation from the eastern side of the mainland, the area that used to house all of the studying siphons and more. This detour for cash reminded me of those days where stories between my campmates would theorize on where all those aspiring manipulators of the sky, earth and waves were now. Perhaps the owner took these wares from her grandmother as she fled the institutions and gatherings spaces of free mages. The “age of free” was long past by the time I was born, whenever that actually was. No staves or braids accompanied the fabrics as I pushed boxes and unsecured lockboxes on the floor around, so perhaps nothing more than a pillager or a purchaser of the ill-stocked auctions.
The ground floor housed scriptures full of words I couldn’t understand, which I don’t admit to in order to give one permission to call me stupid. Just because I might not know the ins and outs of casting the elements around man, doesn’t mean I’m hopeless in a fight. Simply on behalf of being able to read and try to understand, I’ll give myself that much value. Darren gave me the statement once that one who employs foreign and elaborate terms for the most mundane of situations and simple statements is a fool insecure, a piece on the board unsure if their tile is the right color or even holding permanence. They must always flail and talk aloud to assure that, in fact yes, they are standing on a painted rock.
The stuff that I could make out without much thought was all of the Warden advisories and notices that typically hung outside of taverns and general shops. Perhaps it didn’t stick that they didn’t want folk to be making their own homebrew remedies and practicing siphon and simple magics within their homes, just move to the Central Strip and enlist with them to harness your natural affinities. Of course they didn’t put it like that, the higher than thou rustless buckets had to say it in words one would need to take a second breath in order to finish the sentences they were contained in. Even someone as bright and vibrant with knowledge as the land’s biggest bookworm would find these strings of letters to be nonsense at best and tortured experiments at worst. Part of me is tempted to bring them over to the tavern to see her laugh at them, as she is oft to do, especially in front of the tin militia with their glued together halberds and heirloom swords.
The kitchen was endowed with slabs of meat, cooked and salted but unbitten. Even the vegetables resting within my belly shrank and vanished upon seeing some actual meat for what felt like ages. I had no pockets, held no bag, so I just took my share and hoped the haul would be able to buy meat for my other half before she asked me too many questions about the smell of my breath. Past the meat however was a strange contraption on the wall, what appeared to be decorative gears that ran along just to appeal to the eyes. However, a chain ran between the pieces that led into a hole in the counter. I opened the drawer nearby and found it fully splayed in an otherwise empty space.
A curious pull gave way to a curious sound that led back upstairs, something had dropped from on high. I made my way back to the bedroom and found a box now laying at the foot of the bed. The low hanging ceiling hung even more so with the pieces of a trap door now in clear view. I jumped onto the bed and opened up the green chest that regrettably bore a lock that shocked me at the touch. Petulant thing became much more agreeable after I melted it off, with only a flurry of sparks to offer. Pushing the top open gave me what I was longing for, a collection of gold coins that would pay for our night here and then some, perhaps some more permanent clothes once we get into the next town over.
Years of training were almost wasted after I held two of the bags to my chest, the sound of a door slamming open from downstairs and the ramblings of two people quickly coming up the stairs. Panicking, I grabbed the box, realized I didn’t have the height or time to close the trap door in the ceiling and slid myself under the bed. The wooden slab at the end of the mattress was my only cover. If there was something underneath here that the residents needed, I couldn’t tell and I didn’t want to move and feel my way around for obvious reasons. There was a small crack on the bottom of the slab that gave me enough of a view of the doorway. In came two sets of feet with a woman giggling and telling the other to stop going so fast.
“Aren’t you an eager little knight?” She said with glee, laughter and most concerningly…slurred speech.
“There are little beauties in the world that compare to you!.” The man replied, a drop in his tone and steadiness with every word.
“Will you help me make more?” That last word dragged off her lips and in my ears. The rational options here, just grin and bear what’s about to happen or push the two drunkards down and hope they don’t remember my face. A few thuds reverberated throughout the room as bracelets of shining silver fell from the woman before her dress covered them. Sloppy kissing noises followed for a moment before the man’s pants joined the dress, taking enough time to put his helmet down gently.
The mattress squealed at the couple’s rough entrance. Giggling gave way to reprimands from the woman for the man spanking her twice in quick succession without permission. The other just mumbled an apology. Whatever position they were in made the bed start to sag downwards, the head of the cushion dipping, my legs spreading apart so as not to collide and give myself away. The woman was pulled up for a moment as she panted, yelped and moaned along with the bed squeaks, then came back down hard, pushing the material down right before my head.
I’d rather be out in the cold than endure this. That thought ran back and forth multiple times with different forms but the same heat of anxiety in my thought cage.
The man’s gasps and thrusts became louder and louder until he gave a weak, raspy expulsion of air, falling forward onto the woman, forcing me to slide against the wall and see the large lump threatening to flatten me. The mass lessened as the homeowner belted out insults to the man and threw him off with a roll. The coarse scream that came afterwards let me know which part of his body hit the wooden floorboards first.
“Is that all you really have to offer?” The woman stepped onto the ground as well, having his effort drip onto the floor as she walked over and kicked him in the stomach. “Get out of my abode, runt.” Her brown curls almost covered her bottom completely, swaying as she turned her gaze towards the fleeing dreamer. A jangling sound accompanied his escape, the man never bothered taking off his chainmail.
She returned to the bed, her legs hanging off of the side, blocking my exit. A sigh escaped her lips before the first retch of crying. “What is wrong with my head?”
The legs retracted upwards before she started talking to herself some more, a few sentences mumbled and others stated with utmost clarity. “Guess it's another trip to the witch doctor. Sure she won’t be pleased.”
It was only a few minutes, but it felt like half an hour passed before the sound of a sleeping human convinced me to move out from under the bed. Light steps adopted once more for my escape. I could leave through the front door if need be, but my mind started to think of affairs and unfaithful partners. If she were a bound woman, there’s the possibility her betrothed would be here any moment. I didn’t know her story, her circumstances, or why tin knights at the brothel seem like they’d offer fun under the sheets. I can’t judge wholly, nor should I.
This pointless train of thought almost stopped my pace as I looked at the stairs which led to my means of escape on either side. My pace immediately hurried as I heard a question less asked and fully belted - “Why the fuck is my stash open?!” Do I quietly rush at half the pace of running or just full on sprint?
For a drunk woman, she rushed out of bed quickly, so I matched the fervor and dashed upstairs. The opening in the roof was matted down by the fur roof, so I threw it open with the bags of gold before jumping, barely grabbing the ledge before pulling myself up. Whether she saw me or not, I don’t know. They didn’t do the usual Stop! Thief! So I assumed not as I slipped down the wet fur, disgusted by the smell and crashing into the alleyway where the bags laid. Scooping them up, I walked quickly back into the street. As if the skies favored me for once, it had started to rain before my escape, casting a gray over the area as I moved to the north side of town. Even as I heard the door slam open from the clay house, I knew my security was guaranteed as I pulled up my hood and turned the corner.
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Most humans have a sense of unease whenever I talk to them. While I wasn’t naïve enough to wonder why, it always seemed illogical, pointless and petulant to bother with the hostilities - obvious displays and otherwise. Maybe these hatreds were their own, perhaps they were inherited from their masters. Hard to know for many where individual thought starts, and influential throttles end. Even asking around for maps or a lay of the land proved to be irksome as merchants and tavern hands turned their gaze away from me, with some offering the quietest denials. If I stared down at the bar maiden long enough, I wonder if she’d hide behind her wooden stall. Amusing possibilities ultimately outweighed by an urgency of a few kinds:
When Lulu would return. If he was not back from his plundering within the hour, I’d fish him out myself through any means, hopefully without setting another town off the cliff to destruction. Don’t blame him, you know he didn’t want to. I cursed to myself, biting my lip and pressing my fingers into my palms.
Secondly, where we can go from here now that we knew we were wanted criminals. That mockery was spouting nonsense as far as I could tell, listing off grievances to justify the taming or killing of the free mages and the remainder of the havenfolk. A grim theory but the most logical to me, knowing full well the Warden’s disdain for the various stains on what they built up as paradise. Give them another fifty years and they’ll start rewriting history, omit dragons and the acts of Jeremiah, a tale so wide spread, it was a common campfire story in my settlement.
Thirdly, I desperately need a bath and realize I’ve become a spoiled brat over travels before this. Hot water wasn’t even always available in the north, and yet I’ve become pampered in these greener lands. Mother would laugh surely and feign embarrassment when I forget how to walk on ice.
Only one of the regulars gave me a second look, an older mercenary with a beard that stretched over his abdomen. His skin was half as sun-kissed as Alu’s, with a few burns on the top of his forehead before his puff of dirty white curls. I stood against the wall as he laid out a few of the maps he assumedly drew himself, judging by the parts unfinished. His beer soaked lips let a few drops of his third witnessed drink leak onto the parchment. The south up to the Center Axis was mostly drawn up in some way but the north was shown with only a few childish drawings of mountains and rivers. A quick read of his drunken mind revealed that he thought me as familiar, but with other names he rattled off, wondering which one to try attaching to me out loud. No rummaging through the corners of that place shone light on malice, but it did show the strands in his mind being frayed, incomplete and possibly ensnaring each other. The picture was never perfectly in purview, wherever it may lay - present thought or past storage. The First Death was unfortunately upon him it seemed.
If he didn’t have an iron bolter’s bow and pair of daggers hanging off of his belt, the semicentennial would be mistaken for the many wise men who litter the streets of the sovereign settlements - criers of fate. You might have a point for once…if recent events are any indication of the world changing for the worse in a way that’s closer than we previously thought. Thinking back to the village that went up in a storm, Gurvan I believe it was called, I feared that the amount of spires had been increasing over the last year. A tempest spire erupted mere miles from where I once lived in the north, with Mother sending letters of the pilgrimage moving farther west. That was only two months prior to all this, which makes the smallest gap in eruptions so far. With the Guild nowhere near, I have no way to tell her of what disaster is striking here.
Perhaps our two issues can be resolved with the same approach, though I’m not sure if Lulu would like it. We had talked before about visiting Mother’s settlement, the awkward conversation that would ensue, but it might be our only chance to guarantee safety from the Wardens and a place where many siphons can put their minds together to figure out how to outlast the spires erupting ever more so. As I gazed upon the unfinished map, I plotted a route, thinking of what I remembered for the rivers, the villages, hubs, and most importantly - the train tracks. Our trek would take far too long by foot, possibly weeks before we’d reach past the Boiling River and the Dragon’s Scar and into the Narrow North. From there, I can only hope we’d find a peace to settle on.
Plan. Always having a plan and this is the best we can come up with. Again, my mind criticized and spat - the logical going against the hopeful, the pessimistic stomping on the ambiguous with rage. Spontaneous action was only fun in the moment during an otherwise controlled adventure, but the long term unknown just serves as the ever-present teeth on my neck. As fucked as we were from top to bottom, our plan out of the colosseum was contained to one day.
The mercenary’s murmuring was hardly touching the strands in my mind, so it was no surprise I failed to notice him nodding off as I was looking at the map. Even as I tugged the parchment from underneath his drool covered chin, he didn’t budge. Wasn’t dreaming yet but his thoughts remained scattered to a point, I seemed to have been completely forgotten. I had no coin to give at the moment, so I gave a simple pat to his leather clad shoulder. “Thank you, Orek.”
“Excuse me, can I please have a room for two for the night?” I turned around to see a successful thief talking to that bar maiden from before. As I approached from behind and laid my hands on his shoulders, the maiden refused to take her eyes off of me, staring upwards even as Alu rattled off questions. He even knocked on the bar’s wooden surface to snap her attention back. “Yes, she’s my second half for the room. Do you have any large beds?”
“Well we have a special lay, but that would be at least twelve gold for one night…” As her eyes wandered elsewhere, Alu pulled that sum and laid it before her, with a couple extra callously thrown in as well.
“Done, and bring us your best ale.” The thought of getting drunk didn’t cross my mind but suddenly felt like the best idea in the world to get my other thoughts to stop screaming at each other for a moment or five. The cocky man felt my affirmation and even from behind, I could feel that occasionally boisterous smile appear on his face. “A whole barrel if possible.” He finished, planting two more coins before the stunned maiden. Another employee came from the stairwell, beckoning us over to show our room. The establishment clearly never expected giants, judging from how many times I had to duck and squeeze before we had even reached our room on the second floor. The guild at least was much more accommodating, having room for even the tallest of the nomads back home who dwarfed my size.
Upon entering the room, the lack of accommodation was even more evident. Like I said before, spoiled brat is what I’d become during my stay at the Guild. There were days of sleeping in mountainside caves where ice would cover the entrance the next morning, and now it slightly irks me to have a bed that can’t even reach breast height across. As the guide left, informing us the barrel would be up shortly, I bent the metal frame to stretch out so the footrest could at least let me have my legs hang over instead of curling up and pushing Alu off of the bed with my knees.
“So how did you come upon this pile? Find a sleeping dragon with its forgotten worship horde?” All together, we had about two hundred gold from this one haul. More than enough to spare us some new clothes, a train ticket north and some luxury.
“Very funny.” He said before collapsing on the bed, rubbing the remaining sand in his red hair before surrendering to the bed. “Just got lucky with my first choice to loot. Lady there seemed to be a collector, an enthusiast for the taboo.”
“And you didn’t bring me a staff or any garments?” Poked him in the nose as a tease.
“If I found it, you know I would have brought it to you.” He replied with a curt smile. “Might be worth looking into on our way out if you’re interested.”
“As long as you remain a shadow, I think that’ll be enough.”
The sound of heaving and slams on wooden furnishings brought us out to the hallway to find the two maidens from before struggling to heave the barrel of liquid fun up the stairs. Picking it up and heaving it over my shoulder left them speechless but nodding. Upon asking when the warm water at the Warm Water Inn would be ready, they said it would be full to use in a few hours, citing an issue they were trying to fix. Hearing that made all those grains in my skin announce themselves just to annoy, so I brought the alcohol back in haste, ready to kill those hours in minutes.
The “ale” was a simple but rich wine, offering the bitterness of cranberries and compensation of lime. The sour rolled down Alu’s throat perhaps a tad too quickly, giving me a chuckle as he made a face that suggested he swallowed the ash from a fireplace chimney. Nodding his head back and forth, he continued to drink, the protesting face remaining but diminishing.
After my second pour from the barrel, I felt the pain in my limbs dull and my lips loosen - gushing forth a tale from when I passed the Dragon Scar as I trekked south. It had been two weeks since my pilgrimage began and I was exhausted beyond belief. When I had exited from a mountain haven I made one morning, I was astounded to see grass for the very first time out in the distance through a monocular. Curiosity ravaged me, and I committed myself to eat on the run and just keep going. That in part was due to the creatures of the Narrow being much more prominent than Witch Zori predicted and my efforts would be better spent avoiding than fighting them. Different cut from the same cloth as the Vacuous we encountered last night. These beings of transparent dark stood as tall as the smallest mountains, walking through the snow covered lands without effort, leaving behind a trail of seething gloom wherever their four stumps landed. Mentors called it void, for it fell in line with the mythos the old pushed around, that it represents the seams of our world, irreparable tears appearing as soon as the dragons died. I knew not what to say to affirm or destroy that thought, all I could focus on was that the spawn of those tellers would often say I was born close to the void, so I could grow up to be one of those some day. That talk almost faded, but never died, when I never managed to tower over my fellow nomads.
The bitter wine made me realize how I almost forgot about those Walkers altogether, but in my defense, they were just scary loopers, never deviating from their path. Their threat was often easily ignored because their tracks of void were in the same place every day. If they really were at the world’s seam, it would be an apt comparison, seeing as the seams on your clothes stay in place unless disturbed.
When I finally reached the grass, I remember collapsing before discovering how annoying mud is when it coats your cloak and weighs you down. After eating the last bit of salted meat I had for a while, considered only for when I wanted to spoil myself on grandmother’s gifts - I made my way down to where the infamous Dragon’s Scar laid. The fire that caused the blackened patch to occur was long gone, suppressed by all the Havenfolk on hand decades ago, but a wall of smoke still rose from the ground. Spent half of the day measuring and drawing the landmark on my dry parchment, stretching on for seven miles at the very least. Not all for simple curiosity, mind you, I had been advised to not attempt quelling the smoke with tetherwork. As I was on the other side, I attempted for a moment to push the black curtain open but even with my hand outstretched a few feet from the barrage, I realized the heat would have scarred me at the very least.
I started to talk louder when I was a few swigs into the wine, and by that I mean I laid on the ground below the tap and just let the rancid red fill up my open mouth. I’m sure he’d heard this story before but he listened all the same, even joining me on the ground, unsuccessfully trying to drink from his glass lying down and spilling it all over his face. A laugh filled the air from both of us, one messier than the other. Red in the face, in more ways than one, he asked me to continue.
After I measured the Scar, I made my way down the river that had boiled dry in its proximity and a round hut came into view, calling itself the Dragon Shot Bar & Bed. Compared to the rest of the bars, taverns and lounging houses I’d be in, this one was hosted by a fellow giant. He was surrounded by his two brothers and a dozen humans.
“Ahh!” He greeted me before I even finished pushing through the iron doors, clashing with the rest of the humble wooden structure. “Another child out for their pilgrimage aren’t they?” I simply confirmed his assumption and walked up to the bar, almost panicking at the thought of not having enough coin for a room. Zori was old and weary, he was wrong once about the Walkers, who knew if what he said about man-run lands was outdated as well. “I have no want or need for your coin, traveler.” He held up a hand and then shot a look at one of his brothers. “Kendeth, show our kin a room she can stay in.” I protested this, demanding an explanation right out of the gate - generosity is rarely ever simple, a one-sided affair, someone always wants something whether it be a favor, gratitude or cheap affection. “Sorry, sorry, presumptuous.” The leader said, a giant who looked to merely be a decade older than myself, decorated with smooth pearl skin and green eyes as opposed to the typical scarred skin of many giants I’d seen. “I’m just doing my part in helping out the pilgrimages of my former home. One night here for the price of my advice when you proceed wherever it is you may wish.” My mind favored a space to recoup and plan more of my journey, but trusting my gut sounded more lucrative than entertaining an anxiety. Regardless, I accepted but never let Kendeth have my back to him. When I was given my room, no “enjoy your stay” or regular pleasantries were given, he just looked at me for a moment and dismissed me from his mind. Rejected him from my sight as I closed the door and set my things on the bed. I employed a braid from my mother to seal the door shut - no key or force would break it down unless I let it. The small silver ball in the palm of my hand melted and reformed around the knob before enveloping the full door. The hut stood three tall and I was given the second, with a meager room that landed on the verge between compromise and apathy. The bed accompanied a giant, the room was designed for someone whose legs are less than five feet long. Could go from wall to wall with one lunge. The bed called to me anyways after I made sure there was nothing in the room watching me, from something as simple as a peephole to an elaborate braid.
The advice was simply to be wary of the Wardens that now held dominion over the Central Strip and many of the small villages I would find on the way there. A pilgrimage often was sparked by the want to discover new and exciting things to bring back to your home, so this would complicate things if I was ever to ask for the old history books in any library. That just gave me the creative idea to just loot the kingdoms that were never rebuilt after Jeremiah’s fall. I found a lot of neat things in those ruins, even a Warden’s robes to wear, after they heroically tried to take hold of my plundered texts and scrolls.
In my ramblings, I realized my companion was asleep beside me, his colored face resting on my arm. Even as I flapped my tongue and constructed the narrative, I felt the tug of sleep take a hold of me as well. The bed was comforting but so far away in the moment, so I simply wrapped myself around him and matched my breathing to his.
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I woke first from that bitter drink, finding myself relieved that my detour and investment paid off for her. Night had fallen outside of our window, with the tetherboxes being the only light in town. Soon after I rose, Morrigan murmured and followed suit, her blue eyes shining in the darkness. Her face scrunched, probably feeling the same as I did about the sand stuck in our skin.
“Think the hot water is finally back on?” I said aloud as we both stretched out.
“I hope so.” She replied, running her hands through her bushy black hair, disorganized into puffs and frayed ends. Some black sand even peppered the floor with audible crackles.
It took all my strength to do so but I helped her up and we made our way down the hallway and followed the signs that lead us to a large room with an octangular tub big enough for at least a dozen people, or in our case, the two of us and little bit of wiggle room. The tub was empty, save for the seating at the edges for those who just wanted to lounge in the water. Towels dotted the sides of the room with a long window decorating the back, optional curtain to draw. Past experience has taught me that the window will always be open to those looking to escape their raging spouses, intruding upon their unsavory rendezvous. Had to abandon a petty theft upon a tavern once because that happened with loads of collateral damage. An awkward sight seeing a Warden arrest one of their own in full plate armor.
Morrigan moved to the tub and started to raise her hands in a familiar formation, fingers pulling for strings in the air.
“Hey now, you still need to recover. You were breathing ragged while we were sleeping.” She looked at me with a scowl for a moment before resigning and nodding her head. “I’ll go get the water running.” If I had to hazard a guess, the pump would have to be outside, seeing as there were only a pair of pipes pointing into the tub from holes below the window.
Descending the stairs, the tavern was in full swing with atonal singing between men of beard and scar, giggling from ladies dancing in a circle - thankfully none of them looking familiar, and exasperated sighs from the beer maidens who were still on the clock. Local militia men courted the women, keeping them busy, though that didn’t stop one of them from trying to divert my eye as I marched straight for the door. The winter winds laughed at my measly garments but I soldiered on, the darkness of the world suffocating all the joyful noise upon exit.
With the maidens busy, I’d have to figure out the contraption in the back myself. A set of valves and pipes laid at the back wall, leading up a series of pipes that went through more than the holes in the tub room. There were labels on the individual pipes, with the ones I needed saying “Reservation Tub”. No one in the bar looked to be in the mood for a bath, whether for coin shortage or too drunk to care about their smell, so I turned the bar attached to a bolt on the two pipes that led to the window.
“You getting water up there?” I called to Morrigan, seeing her peek out of the window, down at my shivering form.
“No, try those valves on the other side.” Laid behind me was a set of much larger vessels for the water, likely stretching to a well or river out of sight. A few more turns and a tug on a switch produced the sound of rushing water through the metal confines. “Good to go, but it's still cold.” She smiled at me and started to slide the robe off of her shoulders.
“Don’t worry about it, I can fix that.” I hurried myself inside and dodged a few chairs and drunkards moving around quickly on the wooden floor.
As I opened the door and tried to lock it behind me, I was disappointed to find no such device. Turning to face her however, any thoughts of annoyance and inconvenience disappeared, with my eyes taking in the form bathing in the moonlight from the window. Even with the lights off, the pure pearl of her body shined brightly throughout, her black hair swaying and resting on a back littered with scars, but the radiance remained ever present. As she was testing the water and laying out the towels, I noticed a red glow on her rear and thighs.
“Morrigan, you’re hurt.” A stupidly simple thing to say, but I didn’t know what else to try.
“Well yes.” She said with a small laugh. “You did light a fire under my ass earlier.”
Silence gripped me as an even bigger red likely covered my face, erasing all other features. “I -um, I’m sorry, I was just thinking-” My words were cut off by a kiss from her lips to mine, eclipsing them entirely, feeling their softness on my cheeks simultaneously.
“You saved us in that instant, you thought well.” She planted another kiss on my forehead. “You fought well.” Pulling my hand, she led me to the tub, where I placed my hand with a small flame undeterred by the water. Morrigan dipped in her hand and submerged herself when it was warm enough, letting her head sink immediately - a cloud of two blacks occupying the water.
A quick hand at work is an even quicker hand at pleasure, ripping my clothes from me and almost ready to cannonball into the tub, but settling for a slow descent, sinking below the surface with Morrigan, immediately grabbing onto me and rubbing her nose on mine. Eyes open for a moment, seeing the black sands and more leave our frames and peppering the surface. My hands ran down her back, feeling and embracing the scars on her battle worn body but fearing the depressions in her skin, the insides that shrank and hurt when she used so much of her reserve and more. I knew in my heart that summoning water wouldn’t have taken too much more out of her, but I couldn’t let her hurt for a second more if I could help it.
I’ve closed too many of the wounds on her, scarring them before she could find the means to heal them truly, but it's what had to be done when we were out and unprepared.
Breaching the surface, I reached for the scrubbing tools on the side and worked on Morrigan’s back while she laid against me, taking care of the rest below the surface. As she did the same for me, the water had no clear patches left to spare. Our bath done, Morrigan hit the drain but made no move towards the door. As I was ready to stand and grab a towel, I heard the valve for the two pipes turn, and felt Morrigan grab my shoulder. Turning to face her, that wicked smile greeted me as she pushed me back down onto the seat. A few tried to burst through the door but a wave of her hand slammed the door shut in their faces, with another wave sending the cabinet nearby to pin the doorknob.
“Warm it up as it rises, darling.” She said softly as she kneeled down and planted kisses on my neck, moving downward with every peck until she reached what she wanted, lashing her tongue around it and taking it deep within her mouth, unrelenting in her pursuit, even as the water rose and submerged her head. Only stopping to breathe, she slammed the valve shut and gripped me, beckoning my tip towards her breasts. Slowly her tongue appreciated my form, as would I for hers. Besides her breasts, the marks upon and between, I submerged myself, freeing myself from her position to tend to her underneath. Moans and quick begging threw my desire ever further, making her sit upon the edge of the tub to continue without interruption. The sweetness she provided, coating beyond my lips and tongue, covering me in her smell and wondrous self. Neither could wait any longer however, and I sat back down, beckoning her over with haste.
Straddling me with such haste, she took me fully and let her voice ring out against the walls. I am no giant, yet she made love like I was, slamming viciously and clawing at me as she breathed raggedly. Falling back over, she grabbed the edges of the tub as she floated. Never-ending want, never-ending greed, I grabbed her legs and used the buoyancy to push even harder. Our moans, screams, declarations of pleasure grew louder and fell in sync. The splashing of water became a secondary noise when the sound of climax was at full volume. As with many times, we screamed our finish one after another, panting and collapsing into the warm water, embracing each other shortly before rising up to the surface and resting for a while - she on her back and floating into my chest while I wrapped my arms around her, keeping her near - and very much dear.
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He was so happy that I couldn’t help but keep planting kisses as we laid in our short bed until sleep took us again and my lips turned chapped. The thoughts of tomorrow and every day that comes afterwards however felt dreamlike until they suddenly couldn’t. Even with his warmth pooling with mine, the chill of uncertainty ran through my spine and clawed around my neck from behind. With him still awake and talking about nothing in particular but affections, it pained me to have to bring it up.
But you have to. I told myself.
“Lulu, we need to talk…” I began, seeing his eyes close halfway. “About tomorrow and our plan from here.”
He gave a small sigh before a weak smile. “I know…I know. You sure you’re not reading my mind?” A laugh was attempted but his lip curled shut. My hand grazed the red fur on his cheek, rubbing his temple before I shook my head. What I would give to be able to however.
“Firstly,” Placing my other hand on his face, his eyes gleamed with a smile forming. “You haven’t been doing anything without me around, have you? No time travel?”
He scoffed, a low and short laugh behind the toothy greeting. “No. Whatever that weapon was spouting about, frankly I have no idea where such ideas come from.”
“My worst fear is that it's a lie.” When asking what I meant, I bit my lip. “One that everyone will believe in, just so that they can rope in all the free mages.”
“Lie to the masses even more for unity.” He said with a sigh. “So what’s our plan, run away from all we know because of this?”
As much as I missed home, and as viciously as I wanted to run there to warn Mother, it felt so wrong to run when all I want is to wander freely. So much would be left behind but what other choice do I, perhaps we, have? What if he doesn’t want to come? We had talked about it before, I know we have - but there is such a fine line between planning and doing. “I’m not saying that’s a bad plan.” He interrupted my rambling thoughts, placing his hand upon my face and kissing the other side. Damnit, I let it show. “I just want to know what we’re doing. You know I have nowhere else to be than by your side.” Gave him a small smack to the cheek for that. “What? You know it's true. I was just a mere thief who was lucky enough to live past twenty.” Another smack, but lighter like a passing touch.
“Well you know we talked about going north and visiting my home.” He simply nodded. “Well that’s my plan, simply and fully.”
“We can do that, but how exactly?” Sharing my thoughts with his, I gave him an image of the map I absconded from Orek and detailed how we would keep going north for a few miles, take a right to follow the river to Sarengound, find a way onto their train hub and take whatever we can to close the distance. If the map rang at least a little true, we could depart a few miles from the Dragon Shot Bar & Bed if it still stood. The tracks still haven’t been made in the north, so we’d have to hoof it on foot. “I understand, and let me know if there’s anything I can do. We got some coins to spare.” He ended his reply with a smile and squeeze as he wrapped his arms around me. Little too happy for doomsday plans but I won’t complain. “But there is something I should tell you, and I am…deeply sorry that I didn’t say anything.” Pulling him into my chest, I told him to go on, rubbing the back of his head - red hair without the grit finally.
It started with the nightmares, things he couldn’t explain to himself, fearing what I’d say when he would fail to find the right words. When we fled throughout the night from the Vacuous, he felt a connection to them, like he was possessed in one eye, seeing what they saw. I did smile upon seeing that he used that to his advantage throughout our escape, but he continued to speak morosely, seeming to tremble at his own implications. He heard no thoughts of theirs, but felt the hunger they had for my flesh. “I have no idea what’s wrong with me, am I a danger? Why now?” His words trembled as his voice echoed off my chest. What can I say?
After a moment of silence. “That’ll just be another mystery for us to solve.” I brought his chin up and smiled at him, but he didn’t return the gesture - his lips tried to stay shut to hide the quaking. “Just like the Warden assassin, the spires erupting further, this will be another one on the list. We’ve done so much, what’s a few more fights?”
“And if I can’t be solved?” He shouted, retreating from me but unable to break my grasp. “If I become something like that, you won’t be able to kill me.”
“It won’t come to that.”
“And if it does?” His eyes brought forth a few tears, quickly running down his face and over grinding teeth. “Nothing works just in the name of good fate. Terrible and awful things can and will happen every single day.”
I yanked him back into my embrace. “And if the worst fate becomes of us, I’ll simply run. I sought you in some way for so long, it’ll simply be your turn to do the same for me” The strength in his flailing form faded, collapsing into me briefly before embracing me once more without another word.
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We woke a short time later, Morrigan using the bathroom while I felt a scratch in my throat that a simple drink could remedy.
Walking down the steps with a simple robe the tub room provided, I made my way to the bar where a dreary eyed gentleman was spinning coins. Their only company was a white haired mercenary on the other side, their head peering into the glass out of boredom perhaps. The bar master quickly produced a glass of green before I even pulled out a coin, told me it was “on the house” and to be thrown out. Questionable tint aside, I took a long swig. Unsure how long it’d take for liquid sleep aids to go bad but we were far past that by now. Guess it's better to poison your customers than the ground outside.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the white haired woman quickly shift her gaze from me and rise from her seat and unfinished drink. Focusing, I knew precisely why, and it filled me with a rage that dissolved the bitter drink in my stomach with a cancerous pull, a burning red, a metal clamp upon my spine that made me stand upright and slam a coin onto the counter. I muttered one word as I watched the woman cover her face and walk towards the exit. “Leave.”
The serving man knew the trade well enough to take the coin and disappear, not even muttering a “Please don’t trash the place, I still have to work.” Her pace hurried but I was faster, jumping forward and grabbing onto her cloak, pulling her to a stop before taking my other hand and slamming her head into the wall. A short cry escaped her lungs as she collapsed to the ground, turning her over, that face was all the confirmation my hate needed - the justification to discard restraint. You tried to get us killed, you worthless mutt.
“Alu, please. I know I fucked u-” A fist to the eye silenced her plea, a pinning knee to her wrist foiled her reaching for a sword attached to her thigh. I placed my hands around her throat and dragged her to the door before the exit, a closet, and threw her inside, lighting a candle nearby. Scrambling, she unsheathed her curved sword but it dragged along the narrow passage’s walls. Repositioning, the strike went overhead - I lit two of my fingers and parried her attack, slicing the blade in half before closing the distance and maiming her neck with my burning hand. The screams came out hollow, nothing but expulsions of air and wet coughs. The beatings on my extended arm by her own faded and soon she collapsed on the ground, alive but wet with tears.
I kneeled down to look her in those distant eyes. “You took our braid and left us out to die. Don’t even try to deny it, cause no one else would have that kind of stake back at the guild.”
She breathed deeply, interrupted by coughs and tentative feels at her own neck. If I’d done this back in my ignorant beginnings, I would’ve accidentally burned through all her flesh in one swipe. “Gotta beat a girl when she’s already down, Alu? She makes one mistake and it’s gotta follow her til death?”
“Don’t try fishing for sympathy.”
A tortured laugh passed Gina’s lips. “Figured I’d try, you’d always been a sweetheart.” Wiping away the tears at her own face, she brought a vial out from her belt and lathered it on her neck - one of the few remedies to stop my kind of burns. “That was until you met that bitch of a northerner.”
“Consider yourself lucky that northern ‘bitch’ isn’t here in my stead.” Lighting a flame close to her again. “Unless you want to take your chances and let me get her. Might give you a two minute head start.”
She wasn’t amused at this faux offer. “How long until she gets what she really wants from you?”
Shut your mouth. “Think she’s got everything she needs from me-”
“How long until she finally cuts you up and finds your little secrets, dragon butcher?”
Idiocy, that’s your plea, now?
“The moment she finds a reason to kill you for her own gains, she will. The moment your kind becomes something even they can fear, she’ll leave.” She spit out blood pooling in her throat. “Should’ve taken my offer while you could.”
I raised my hand to punch her again with my other hand but she raised her arms to defend herself, a quick burn from the flaming hand dropped her defenses before the fist left a mark on her forehead. Another was ready before she called out that she needed to tell me something urgently. “The Wardens, they’re after you - they have mechanist boons powering these…these…”
I lowered myself to one knee, keeping my glowing fingers next to her neck. “False men and women? Mockeries?”
She breathed heavily, coughing and gagging until drool fell onto her clothes in a big puddle. “You’ve seen it then?”
“I killed it, its body is in a village engulfed in flames.”
She nodded her head slowly. “That won’t be the end, whatever they’re doing - it’s something big. They hunted me down while I was spying on them and asked me for you specifically. ”
“For a murder we have not committed.” I blankly said, dulling my fingers when the fight in her had long since abandoned the limbs.
“They know what you are, and were investigating a series of strange fires in the northeast appearing and disappearing in an instant - by the Academic Recluse.” My pause gave her the slightest of smiles.
“How do you know these things? You said they hunted you down.”
“I was captured for a small while, but made my escape when their Red perished and you set your fires all along their neighbors.” She adjusted herself against the backwall and presented her wrists. “They were transporting me for their execution. ” Shock links similar to the full spine devices in the Reach left marks on her flesh.
I could think of nothing to say, or even want to entertain what she was implying out of desperation. My heart however wasn’t complete stone, so I stepped outside the closet and opened the door to outside. “You can leave.”
She stood up meekly and walked towards the door, her eyes never wavering from mine. As she left, I commanded her to wait before I ripped the belt from her clothes - a collection of vials and some coin left with it. “Alu, please. I have nothing, not the guild, not friends, nothing.” I conceded and threw her back the coin. “Well now you have something. Stay and I’ll give you a funeral pyre.” And like that she ran across the wet ground, likely with tears in her eyes. Could she call a Warden over here and get us hurt once more? Yes, but this was the one maybe I was willing to bet on. Her days were numbered as is, and no caster, siphon or mercenary would risk talking to a Warden, lest their curious eyes settle in unfavorable places.
I returned to our abode with my remaining drink, Morrigan hadn’t fallen back asleep in my absence but didn’t question me once she saw the drink in my grasp. The belt of potions and sands caught her eye for a moment but I simply replied that I spent one gold for them, hoping they might help, playing on my own ignorance on the subject.
She ruffled my hair and applied some of the lathering gels to her own skin - the scars left by the mockery started to fade from their black roots to a white circle that blended with her skin. An energy in her emphasized that she would be back to making the world shake with her prowess tomorrow. I couldn’t help but smile at that, even as what Gina said stubbornly stayed in my mind.
It couldn’t be true, it wouldn’t be true.
As slumber conquered us again, I relished the moment and started to dream sweetly for the first time in a long while. I wondered if she was already doing the same.