Chapter Seventy-Two

Krissintha Arlonet Dar Ghelain wasn’t sure if the popping sound she heard was in her ears or in her mind. But with that sound the goddess vanished and so did Kevin. Just like that, without much warning or preamble. Again. And for who knows how long this time.

Everyone in the dining room stared befuddled at the spot where Lady Wensah had been just moments ago. The sudden silence was understandable, and it gave Krissintha some time to comprehend the rather shocking revelations of the evening.

Wensah. Her and Kevin’s patron god. She used to be a familiar? To Master Fenar’s wife? Fought a “giant Tentacle Horror” and became a god in the process? That was a lot to digest, and Krissintha wasn’t convinced her life would be any better or easier having learned about it.

And then, there was Kevin. A former human Lady Wensah had somehow turned into a spirit. Or merged with a spirit. A Tentacle Horror of all things, because what else? She hadn’t heard it said outright, but it sounded like it was the most dangerous evil spirit known to the world.

It was a strange thing to even think about — to her Kevin was just … Kevin. She no longer saw him as a malevolent entity who had nothing on his mind except devouring every soul he came across. Kevin wasn’t that. She had almost reached a point where she was comfortable calling him a friend, but …

After this latest admission of going out of control, and of course having witnessed the weird bickering between god and familiar more than once, her confidence wasn’t exactly swelling in either of them. Krissintha was beginning to see the reason why the elves — Master Fenar most of all — disliked spirits with such vehemence. All this spirit-fuckery might have been more trouble than it was worth, but …

Krissintha had come a long way since the downfall of her family, and it was thanks to Kevin no matter how she looked at it. The man-turned-spirit hadn’t let her down yet — well, not seriously, not with anything that mattered. She had survived so far, she had trained, she had fought, she even got injured. Life was a long — hopefully long — series of ups and downs, wasn’t it? Kevin was just going through one of the “downs”, wasn’t he? Nothing Lady Wensah couldn’t fix, she was a god after all. Confidence more or less restored.

‘What … just happened?’

Someone’s voice interrupted Krissintha’s internal meanderings. She saw Hisa looking at her grandmother, then her grandfather, confused by the events, asking for someone to explain.

‘That idiot Kina went back to the spirit-world and took Misery’s familiar with her.’ Fenar provided the explanation with a bored voice, as if explaining a fighting stance to a particularly untalented student for the hundredth time.

‘Come now, Fenar, that’s not nice,’ Komi chided him. ‘And her name is Wensah now.’

‘Kina, Wensah, nothing but trouble.’

Krissintha turned to look at Kiwa while councilwoman Komi was giving Fenar a lesson on manners. Probably a futile endeavour.

‘Tilry says Kevin’s still here. At least his body is, well, his avatar,’ Kiwa whispered. ‘I’m not sure what it means, but she says it’s like being unconscious here and conscious over there.’

Krissintha didn’t know what it meant either, she just hoped whatever problem Kevin was experiencing would be sorted out and he’d return soon.

‘Misery!’ Fenar called out to her — it seemed Komi’s lecture was over. ‘The counter evil spirit exercise will be held in three days. Think your weird god will bring your weird familiar back by then? We don’t want to change the timetable again.’

‘They didn’t tell me, but I think yes,’ Krissintha stated, hoping she sounded confident enough to convince the man.

Fenar nodded and grunted something she didn’t understand, and that was it.

‘I think it’s time we retire for the night,’ Komi announced and stood up from her chair. ‘I know Kin … I mean Wensah asked me to look after you, but the barracks aren’t that far and you have a bodyguard.’

‘We’ll be fine,’ Krissintha assured her, and with that dinner was concluded.

***

Krissintha didn’t need a bodyguard at all, but Kitala Iwani seemed to like the idea, so she didn’t argue. Maybe she liked feeling useful, but a bodyguard?

Elves were nice and agreeable people — a fact Toven and Fenar had repeatedly reiterated to Krissintha while doing their best to prove they were exceptions — and elven cities were safe even after dark. She hadn’t been spending a lot of time in Gal Themar or Sek Arthem — mostly on account of her training — but the absence of the kind of unsavoury characters and activities prevalent in human cities was still noticeable. As far as she could tell, petty crime wasn’t an issue in elven society, and even without a familiar or a bodyguard, there was nothing to worry about.

Kiwa didn’t have much to do. Greetings from the occasional passerby made for a good atmosphere, and the slow, hour-long trek back to Fifth Ranger’s compound passed without incidents and the appropriate amount of discomfort for someone with a twisted ankle.

The gate of the compound came into view. Six people stood in the light of lanterns fixed to the wall on either side of the entrance, and Krissintha could hear a conversation — or perhaps some sort of mild argument — taking place.

Kiwa — leaning into her unnecessary role as a bodyguard — sped up and walked in front of Krissintha until they came close enough to see who the elves were and hear what they were saying.

Kiwa let out a sigh of disappointment. It was two rangers trying to explain to four civilians — one of them a child — why they weren’t allowed to enter the compound. Krissintha had a feeling her companion had been looking forward to some trouble, but there wasn’t any. As expected.

The guards noticed them and immediately beckoned them over to their little group. They had to go through the gate one way or another, and it looked like the elves had something to say, so there was no avoiding them. As they came to stand in front of the visitors, Krissintha recognised them instantly. Tomas, Ferin, another woman and a young girl, both of them former captives on the Graal’s Enormous Pride.

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‘You know them?’ Kiwa asked Krissintha, looking the people over.

‘They were on the galley.’

The young girl — couldn’t have been older than six or seven — quickly hid behind the woman Krissintha supposed was her mother. One of the guards scowled and said,

‘You two have a free pass, but I don’t think you can bring guests to the compound.’

Krissintha nodded and turned to the visitors who were looking at her as if she was some kind of apparition.

‘Can I help you?’ she asked, looking at Tomas, then Ferin, then at the woman sheltering her child behind her.

Clean and dressed properly they all looked a lot better than during their first meeting on the ork ship, although it wasn’t hard to tell they were still shaken by the events.

‘You … look different,’ Tomas said carefully, looking her up and down as unobtrusively as he could.

‘I’ve been to dinner in town. And my ranger gear is being cleaned,’ Krissintha said, then asked again, ‘How can I help you?’

‘Well, we …’ Tomas began to say rather hesitantly.

‘We never had the chance to thank you for what you did.’ Ferin took over from the man. ‘Thank you for saving us.’

Despite the nervous look on her face, she sounded infinitely more confident than before. The woman kind of reminded her of her past self, when she had to flee for her life, had to bargain with an evil spirit and had to commandeer a couple of sailors. Nervous? Shaken? Distressed? Frightened? Words did a poor job describing how she had felt back then, or how Ferin was probably feeling now.

Krissintha wasn’t sure what she was supposed to say to her beyond the obvious, customary reply, so she said it as she gave the visitors a slight bow of her head.

‘You’re welcome.’

Quiet sniffling emanated from behind the woman who was yet to introduce herself. The girl was gripping her mother’s skirt tightly, peeking and stealing glances at Krissintha, then hiding herself again.

The mother chuckled nervously, then gently pushed her daughter to stand next to her.

The little girl was adorable — her silvery hair was only shoulder length, her purple dress was similar to Kiwa’s, and the small bag she had over her shoulders was adorned with colourful, floral embroidery. A bag made for children, no doubt.

‘I am Limaran Iraka.’ the woman finally introduced herself, bowing her head to the two spiritualists. ‘And this is my daughter, Temaren Laila.’

‘Nice to meet you. I’m Krissintha. Also known as Misery. So … is there something you need from me?’

Krissintha wasn’t sure what this was about. Coming to say thank you for the rescue was a nice gesture, but was that really it?

‘Uhm … as Ferin said, I … we wanted to thank you as well. You know, for rescuing us,’ Limaran Iraka said almost stuttering.

She patted her daughter’s head. The girl — little Tela — shirked away, turning her head left and right like a scared puppy. Krissintha was sure she was making important decisions, such as whether to run or stay, talk or be quiet, or to scream or not to scream.

‘My husband … her father. He … when the enemy raided our farm … he didn’t make it,’ the mother explained, tears welling up in her eyes as she looked down on her child. ‘She hasn’t fully understood … she …’

‘I know what you mean,’ Krissintha said, stopping the woman before she broke down crying. She was a little worried about coming across as rude, or at least unfeeling, but there was a question she still hadn’t received an answer for, so she asked again, speaking as softly as she could. ‘How can I help you, Lira?’

The woman opened and closed her mouth without saying a word, her eyes wide with a sudden panic. Tomas and Ferin were about to intervene, but all of a sudden the little girl made her decision and stepped forward. Everyone looked down at her as she straightened her posture, lifting her head so she could look the human spiritualist in the eyes. She stood before Krissintha with the determination of a warrior facing the toughest opponent of her life, ready to do whatever it took to achieve victory.

Krissintha smiled at the girl, and she relaxed. Then she fiddled her bag off her shoulder, opened it and reached into it and held something up to her.

The misery mask.

Krissintha scowled at the thing. She could have sworn it had gone down with the ork ship, but here it was in the hands of an elf girl named Tela. She had to stop herself from trying to squat down — it would have been a huge mistake with her twisted ankle. Instead, she resumed smiling as she took the mask from the girl.

The visitors let out a collective sigh of relief. Krissintha raised an eyebrow at them. Just what had they been expecting? That she’d give a tongue-lashing to a child for bringing back something she’d lost? Well, the three elves had seen what a displeased spiritualist with a displeased familiar could do. From their point of view, apprehension was a perfectly justified thing to feel.

She looked down at Tela again. She had been there, too, she had seen all the orks and their slaves, she had seen how they had died, and Krissintha was sure she knew who had slaughtered them.

‘How do you have this?’ she asked her, hoping her smile was as reassuring as could be.

‘I … picked it up,’ Tela answered, her voice barely audible.

‘Well, thank you for bringing it to me,’ she said and held the mask up.

Nothing happened.

Damn, she had forgotten Kevin was on a trip with Lady Wensah. No Jack’s Room for the time being. She handed the mask to Kiwa.

Tela reached back into her bag, and the thing she presented to her this time made Krissintha gasp. She took the white mug with the green zig-zag lines and stared at it in wonder.

‘I … wanted to bring this, too,’ the girl said.

Krissintha gave her the biggest smile she could manage. The girl finally let go of her wariness and smiled back at her.

‘Thank you. This mug is important. You might have just saved my life,’ she said, and as far as she was concerned it wasn’t an exaggeration. Who knew what Toven would do to the one responsible for the disappearance of his favourite mug.

‘Save? Aren’t you strong? Aren’t you the one saving others?’ the girl asked in disbelief, looking at her as if she had just confessed to the most heinous of crimes.

‘Oh, well. I am a spiritualist. My familiar makes me strong.’ Krissintha tried to explain and save the situation.

‘And her familiar is something else,’ Kiwa muttered and was ignored.

‘Can … can I be a spiritualist?’ Tela asked, her confidence growing by the second.

‘Well, not until you’re much older,’ Krissintha answered her, shifting her gaze slightly to see the reactions of her mother, and of Tomas and Ferin. Telling a child in Solace that she could become a spiritualist might not have been wise, but the three elves didn’t say anything. Was that a good sign? She decided not to push her luck and said to the girl, ‘Maybe you can start by becoming a ranger. They’re the ones who will always protect everyone. Spiritualists, well, they come and go at the whims of their patron gods.’

As far as Krissintha knew it wasn’t the case for most spiritualists — unless fledgling gods like Lady Wensah or Sivera were involved — but the nods of approval coming from everyone meant it was the right thing to say to the little girl.

‘I’ll … I’ll try.’ Tela nodded slowly.

Then it seemed her courage for the day ran out — she scuttled back into hiding behind her mother, but not without giving Krissintha one last smile.

What a cute kid. Was it an astonishing presence of mind, or perhaps childish curiosity that had made her pick up a mask and a mug on a ship filled with orks and death? Whichever it was, she was a brave kid. Maybe she would really become a ranger one day.

The guards were happy to see the visitors leave, now that whatever business they had come to conduct was done. Krissintha and Kiwa walked through the gate and took the path heading to the barracks.

‘What’s with the mug, boss? Is it really that important?’ Kiwa asked.

‘It’s Toven’s favourite mug.’

‘Oh. I see.’

And that reminded Krissintha: if the counter evil spirit exercise was going to be held here in Sek Artem, it meant Toven would probably be in attendance. He might even be arriving soon, and with Kevin gone again for who knows how long, it would be her job to return the mug and make the appropriate excuses and apologies.

Krissintha smiled as she realised that all these things — Toven’s mug, Deni’s dress — were inconsequential. They were nothing more than a distraction to keep her mind from wandering off and bring up recent, dreadful memories or point out all the uncertainties of the future.

Kevin might have had the right idea after all: “Keep calm and carry on.” What else was there to do?

The barracks were coming into view, a single lantern at the entrance still burning. It was time for a good night’s sleep. Maybe her weird, tentacled, former-human familiar would be back in the morning.

‘And he still owes me pancakes,’ Krissintha muttered.

‘Pancakes? What’s that? Who owes you?’ Kiwa asked with sudden enthusiasm — probably ready to beat anyone who owed her “boss”.

‘Kevin. It’s some kind of food, I think.’ Krissintha shared her thoughts. ‘I guess we’ll know when he comes back.’