Morgan || Jade

Friday, August 5

“Give us some light.” It was a man’s voice issuing the order, one the three of them recognized. There was a flicker of light as a glowing orb illuminated the clearing. “Stand up slowly. Mouths shut, hands up where I can see them. Move.”

Hands above her head, Morgan examined the attackers. Along with the three holding swords to the backs, two others stood to the side, swords out in front of them. They wore scarves over their faces, only revealing their eyes, but Morgan still recognized the striking resemblance to a few of the campers back home. One, Chilla, had dark eyes, sharp features, and a calculating expression. The other, Celadon, was shorter, and his soft eyes darted back and forth from the three CITs to their captors.

Zack’s lips started to part as he too recognized the boys, but Morgan caught his eye and pressed her lips together tight and he kept his mouth closed.

Chilla kept his sword leveled at their throats. If he recognized them, he didn’t show it. His posture was ready to fight and, if ordered to, kill. Celadon kept looking behind Morgan, to the person holding her hostage.

They stood in smothering silence for a few moments before Celadon spoke. “Arc, it’s only-”

“I see who it is,” the voice said. A shiver ran down Morgan’s spine. Back on Earth, that voice had belonged to a well-loved counselor, whose no bullshit attitude barely covered his good nature. This was not that man.

Celadon nodded, raising his sword again, eyes shining, angry or afraid - Morgan couldn’t tell.

“Alright,” Arc said. “Celadon, take my place. Chilla take up flank. I’ll take point. If any of them open their mouths or move their hands without permission, kill all three. Move.”

Morgan’s stomach threatened to reject all the water she’d had over the past day days, but throwing up now would be a death sentence, for her and the others. This did little to soothe her nausea.

Celadon maneuvered behind Morgan and she felt a sharp jab in the small of her back. She swallowed, keeping the bile down.

“Alright,” Arc said, taking lead. “You’re going to follow me, exactly in my footsteps. You will walk at the pace of the guard behind you. Do not turn around. Do not stop. Do not walk faster. Do not open your mouths. Do not move your hands.” He eyed them until he was sure they would obey. “Alright. Move.”

The three followed him, keeping pace with the three silent, wraith-like Kalivara. Every variance in her pace, every awkward shift sent a flash of heat through Morgan’s body. She wondered what being stabbed felt like. Did you writhe and gasp on the ground like a movie protagonist or just choke, then fall lifeless like an unnamed side character? The Kalivara at camp had been ruthless but precise and never cruel. So maybe she wouldn’t even notice.

Trying to apply her camp knowledge to this situation was so dizzyingly hilarious that she had to fight a hysterical laugh. The Kalivara at camp were a group of kids, not killers. She had no idea what was going on.

The group walked for a few minutes until they reached one of the nondescript sand dunes. Arc brushed a hand against it before grabbing some unidentified edge, pulling back a sheet of sand as though it was cloth. Behind it was a dark interior, maybe a cave. As Morgan’s guard pushed her forward and Celadon’s light orb provided some illumination, she realized it was the inside of a tent. The CITs must have passed that dune a half dozen times, never realizing the Order was inside.

Arc pulled his headscarf off as he entered. He was stocky, with short blond hair and scars covering any visible skin. He had a symbol tattooed on his face and warped by even more scars.

“Listen to the orders I am giving you. Only begin to follow when I have finished. Starting with Jade, you will each hold your hand out and make no other movement. Once I’ve completed the test on her, Amandra will follow. Then Puma. If you are not our enemy, you have nothing to fear. Move.”

Morgan stuck out her hand, faster than she meant to. All her muscles tensed, expecting an immediate response from the Kalivara. But Arc’s movements were smooth and measured as he unsheathed a small dagger before pulling a tiny vial from his pouch.

Was this an identification test? Could the three CITs, impersonating their Echoterran counterparts, possibly pass this it? Should she try to get the jump on them?

Like in the desert, she failed to act in a timely manner and the decision to do so was taken away. Arc scratched the top off her clammy hand, drawing a single drop of crimson blood. She managed to keep her face straight but knew the dampness of her palms betrayed her fear. Arc then dropped one drop from the vial onto the scratch, before moving to Amanda. Then to Zack.

Morgan could only stare at the droplet on her hand, blood and water mixing. The tiny bead of liquid held its shape before the water tension broke and it trickled down her hand. She didn’t breathe.

Then the grim look faded from Arc’s face. His new expression looked much like it had when a missing camper was found; relief tempered by enough anger to keep her scared. Still, for a moment it was so familiar that she almost broke her silence with the counselor’s actual Earth name, Eric.

Then he turned back to his charges and she was reminded that this was not her superior from back home. If she had flinched, this man would have killed her in a moment.

At his signal, the three swordpoints withdrew from the CITs’ backs.

“You can speak now,” Arc said. He pressed a hand to his temples, massaging his forehead for a moment. “It’s good to see some friendly faces out here.”

“Wish we could say the same?” Amanda said. Morgan winced, but the heroes didn’t seem to mind her bluntness.

“You hardly gave us fair warning,” one of the masked heroes said. His voice was deep but friendly. He pulled his face cloth away from his mouth. He was easily the tallest of the whole Order, Arc included. A mark, like that on Arc’s face, shone silver on his dark skin. His height and physical stature contrasted with the large smile on his face.

Beside him, the fourth hero, a very short, heavily built girl with a short blond braid, took off her scarf, revealing a similar smile. The mark on her fair skin was copper and it glinted as she lit a long candle. “That was a novice move, Jade.”

“Yeah, we’d expect that from Amandra or Puma, but you should know better.” Chilla’s voice was a tad haughty as he pulled off his scarf fully, revealing a white symbol on his swarthy skin.

Celadon waved his hand, murmuring an incantation to summon more light orbs. His symbol was a dark blue. Each mark was different from the others but similar, like a music note crossed with a letter or number. The more she tried to find a pattern in them, the less familiar they seemed.

Agwé, the tall boy, summoned more light of his own and soon the room was as fully lit as any with electricity. The tent was comfortably furnished. Two sections split off from the central room, each set up with bedrolls and multiple sacks and bags. The large room where they now stood had several pillows and blankets strewn across the ground, two hanging lanterns, and a squat table

“So, why’d you come to see us?” Celadon asked, jaw set harder than they normally saw on the boy’s Earthen counterpart.

Morgan studied the look as she formulated an answer. It wasn’t aggressive or even angry. Guarded maybe? Or afraid. Were they expecting the answer to be bad?

“Nothing really,” Zack said, shrugging. “Do we need an excuse to visit?”

Celadon’s face relaxed as a relieved grin spread across his face. “No…” He glanced over at Arc. Arc nodded shortly at him and he turned back to Zack. “Nope!”

Blythe, the heavyset girl, was lighting the two hanging lanterns. “No word though, huh? Could’ve saved us a bit of panic.” Her voice was half chide, half whine. “We were getting ready to sleep.”

Agwé snorted. “Yeah, I thought maybe it was a test but you didn’t even try to avoid the wards.”

“Life is a test,” Arc said. “You always have to keep your guard up. Celadon. You’ve had enough of a rest. I want you outside.”

Celadon looked ready to protest. His eyes were tired and he looked longingly at the CITs. After a moment, his eyes flicked to Arc. Arc didn’t even look up at him. Celadon squared his shoulders and put up his face covering.

“It’s good to see you,” the youngest of the four Kalivara said as he armed himself, grabbing his broadsword, almost comically large for his size. “Are you staying?”

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“For a few days,” Zack said.

“Yeah, we’ll still be here tomorrow,” Amanda said. “Don’t stress.”

Celadon nodded. The orbs of light flickered out as he ducked through the doorway and let the cloth slide back into place, obscuring the tent from the cold sands outside.

Morgan turned back to the group and found Amanda staring her down. Morgan frowned at the girl’s hard look. Amanda jerked her eyes, first to Blythe, then to Chilla, then to Agwé, and finally to the door. She repeated the motion, as Blythe finished lighting the lanterns, and Morgan understood what Amanda was signaling.

Morgan grimaced. Damn, she’d never make counselor if she didn’t even notice when half the Order was missing.

“So,” Blythe said, settling down on a cushion, “what have the Masters been doing lately? What’s with the secrecy?”

Morgan held up a hand. “Sorry, but we’re not finished with the test yet. You first. Start from the top, tell us everything.”

Blythe frowned. “Oh. Start with tonight? Or since last Gathering Weekend?”

“The top top,” Morgan clarified. “Like, pretend we don’t know anything about anything.”

Blythe, Chilla, and Agwé exchanged looks, almost too quickly for anything meaningful to have been conveyed.

“...Ok Jade,” Agwé said. “We’re the Kalivara.” He spoke slowly, how one might speak to a child.

“Elite Order of Echoterra,” Chilla said. “Fit for only the most skilled and determined heroes. A deadly force that few dare to reckon with and none survive. We were chosen-”

“-because of our uniquely inflated egos,” Blythe cut in. “Which makes us singularly qualified to eliminate threats summoned by the Doorway before they reach the rest of the world.”

“And the Doorway is…” Agwé trailed off, looking for a cue from the CITs. Morgan nodded, spurring him on. “Ok, the Doorway is a rift, presumably made by the Gods. It’s a portal from other worlds. It keeps the good and evil forces of the world balanced, especially when the Heroic Faction is active. Meaning, it has to summon monsters to counterbalance us being here.”

“Deadly monsters,” Chilla emphasized. “Hellbent on destruction of some form or another.”

Blythe continued. “We keep them here so the other Orders only have to face things native to their individual areas. We intercept the most dangerous plane shifters, which the Doorway brings straight to the Desert Void at the southern tip of the continent.”

“The Kalivara guard the Doorway,” Agwé said. “We’re connected to it through our High Master. He was killed by Imortry a few years ago, while we were protecting the Doorway - Imortry had taken control and moved it. We can cover that whole year…”

Morgan could have listened all night, but there was a limit to how far they could push the Kalivara and there were a few key items she needed to know. “Skip that. Just finish your Order’s objective.”

Chilla shrugged. “That’s pretty much it. We neutralize the threats that pass through, while Yaran’s group just sort of runs around the desert trying to find them.”

Agwé bonked him on the head. “The Kalivara split up. Yaran’s group: Roc, Annis, Eilidh, and Ior, travel lighter and quicker. They spread a net of wards across the whole damn desert that detect large discharges of power or movement or even just vital signs. They make sure we have eyes on all parts of the desert and we follow these and track down enemies before they can leave the desert.”

Chilla shrugged, smirking. “We’re the better fighters. That’s why we’re not on warding patrol.”

Agwé pulled off the rest of his scarf and whacked Chilla with it. Chilla shoved him and Agwé responded by pushing him onto his back. In one swift moment, Chilla leaped to his feet, grinning, ready to wrestle.

Morgan’s eyes trailed over Agwé’s sharp ears, much like Fionas, and Chilla’s eyes, orange with cross-shaped pupils. Blythe, so much shorter and stockier than the camper she represented back at home, sprung to her feet as well, back Chilla up. This was just life for them. Each friend a different species, no painful transformations needed. What would life feel like, were this an average day?

Arc, noting the fight breaking out, pulled out a chart of runes. Morgan slid over to him as Zack and Amanda hung near the fight, waiting for a chance or excuse to jump in.

“That ok?” she asked, nodding towards the roughhousing.

Arc nodded as he slid his fingers over the runes on the chart. There was a hum in the air that Morgan barely could hear, but she saw both Amanda and Zack’s heads snap over.

“They can let out a little energy. It’s healthy.” Arc said. “I’m just upping our soundproofing.”

“Can’t let anyone find us,” Morgan said, wishing she’d pressed the heroes more on why they were under such high alert.

“Assuming you brought the Kalivara map, no one should be able to. No need to make it a possibility.” He put down the chart, sighing heavily. “Any other visitors that we should know about?”

“Not coming here.”

“So you coordinated an effort to hit every Order? Was this a test?”

“We can’t tell you much right now,” Morgan said, improvising. “All we can say is that we’re checking to see how prepared the Orders are.”

“As prepared as we can be, not knowing what we’re facing.” He leaned back, the shadows of his wrestling heroes dancing across his face. “That why you’re pressing them so hard?”

She nodded. “We might interrogate them a bit more on the nature of the threat.”

“Is it them specifically you want to talk to? Or are you gauging Order readiness in general?”

Morgan pursed her lips. “Just in general.”

“I could…” In the shadows of the tent, he looked tired and older than back on Earth. “I hate to interrupt them. They could do with an hour or two of being off duty.” He grinned. “Just don’t tell them I said that.”

“You want to give me your Order’s protocol then?”

“Yeah. We’re guarding against the impersonators best we can. Both teams have plenty of holy water and have practiced the standard test. Chilla and Celadon stay close with a verified member so no one has to test them. We don’t want any false positives while testing for enemy demons.”

Demons, huh? That hadn’t been the plan for this session’s plot at all. Again Morgan felt foolish for trying to apply her camp based knowledge to the situation. Then again, all the heroes and their histories fit with camp lore. “What do you know about the impersonators, beyond them being demons?”

“We don’t even know they’re demons for sure. Just in some way demonic. It could even be folks possessed or hypnotized or had their memories hijacked. Could also be shapeshifting or doppelgangers… It’s all possible. All we know is that holy water, directly entered into their bloodstream, causes them pain. So, demonic.”

“And you’ve seen them personally?” she asked.

“No.” Arc’s face changed, the tired fondness replaced by a look closer to what she’d seen when he held them captives. “No, they struck the warders. Makes me regret sending them out alone. We heard from Yaran that Ior was at Death’s mercy. By the time the groups united, Ior had recovered some but he’d been detained by the rest of his group. This was before we learned that this was a shared experience among the Orders. At the time he was claiming that Masters Darren and Freya had attacked him.”

“Seems like a weak lie,” Morgan said.

“Yaran thought so and the MacLeod sisters agreed. Only Roc argued in Ior’s favor. Yaran theorized that he was lying to justify having his guard down. This group,” he gestured at the heroes, who had taken a break from fighting and were now eating something that smelled both citrusy and spicy, “concurred. Ior had let himself become incapacitated without warning his Order. They all could have died. We’d planned to banish him from the Order, send him back to the Njoku, but at Gathering Weekend we heard from the other Orders.”

“And they’d all experienced it.”

He sighed. “Before that, no one would have thought twice had they seen two Masters approaching the Order. Each Order gets one designated Master who can visit without forewarning. Any other Master, any hero or High Master, we kill on sight. It’s killed cross Order travel because the heroes are scared they’ll give notice wrong and get killed.”

Morgan nodded, but the merriment in the tent faded into background noise as she processed this. Who had the other designated Masters been? Had they sent the right people to each Order? Were some of the groups heading into deadly traps? Would any of the CITs run into impersonators?

“No one’s even taken an impersonator down,” she said.

“Beyond High Master Cee, no. She hurt whatever was pretending to be Freyasa from the Evelyne Order. That’s been it since last Gathering Weekend, at least that we’ve heard of.”

“And the Evelyne couldn’t confirm if Frey was with them at the time of the attack?”

Arc shook his head. “No. So it could have been Frey herself, just possessed. The impersonators only strike when no one can account for the target of impersonation. Chilla convened with the other Master Alchemists at Gathering Weekend. They used the blood Cee recovered from the attack, found out the water trick.”

“So even weeks later, the blood contained demonic traces? Can possession even last that long?”

“Depends on the strength of the demon. But no one turned up dirty at Gathering Weekend. And we tested almost everyone.” He caught her wince at the word ‘almost’. “Testing anyone demonic wouldn’t have done anything.” His voice was heavy; this was clearly a frequently debated topic.

“We just know they’re cleared?” she asked.

“Oh fuck off, Jade!”

Morgan jumped, not realizing the rest of the tent had gone silent for some time. The heroes and other CITs had been listening in. Chilla’s lip was curled as he fixed Jade with a disdainful gaze.

“You think I’m lying about my lineage?” he asked. “That’s one hell of a long game.”

Arc waved him off. “If this demon has found a way to override the blood and bindings of other demons, that’s a terrifying prospect indeed.”

Chilla shook his head vehemently. “It wouldn’t work. If a demon somehow possessed someone like me, I mean, I’d just die. A demon can’t possess another demon. And if it tried to possess someone like Celadon, well, he’d probably also die because two demons can’t share a host. Demons aren’t like Gods. You can’t serve two.”

Morgan’s brain was tired. Keeping all the heroes and Orders straight drained her back home, let alone here. Remembering who was an elf princess, a vampire lord, a demon, a demigod Dragonborn prince… Processing the demon stuff? She just didn’t have the energy.

“My bad, Chilla. Just thinking out loud.”

“We get enough shit for how many demons are in the Order. I don’t need that from you.”

Morgan nodded, eyelids heavy. The excitement from almost getting murdered by fantastical counterparts of the kids she’d babysat back at camp had worn off. “I’ll keep that in mind. Anyone thinking about getting some rest?”

“I’ve been pushing that for an hour,” Blythe said. “We had a long day.”

Arc nodded. “Fair proposal. Lights out in fifteen minutes. And prepare a spot for the Masters.”

---

Morgan expected to struggle to fall asleep that night. Worries of demons and impersonators chased around in her head. Not to mention the others CITs potentially heading to their deaths.

But the worries, loud as they were, couldn’t shout over the rushing exhaustion she felt in her bones, and she was soon fast asleep.