Chapter 41 - Interlude III

Mithra pulled the hood tighter around her face, careful to avoid the lamplight that might reveal her rather recognizable red features. With Darcent and Annalisa finally out of the pub, and with no engagements of her own, Mithra took the opportunity to slip away to the middle city.

Even a mile or more west of the middle city arena, the shouts for the fighters carried over the night air. She turned away and ducked under a sagging beam. On the corner of a block of tenements, she chose the basement of the third building and knocked twice, paused, and then twice more.

The door slid open, and Lenise looked beyond Mithra, no doubt making sure she wasn’t followed. Mithra ducked inside, pulling back her hood and shaking out her hair. She looked about the small basement rooms, lips pursed.

“Don’t give me that look,” said Lenise. “It’s discrete.”

“It’s ugly.”

“It’s safe.”

Mithra conceded the point and moved over to the hearth to put the kettle on the coals. She raked her fingers through the embers to stoke them, and then wrapped her hands around the kettle and added her own heat. “It’s well, then?”

“Well enough.” Despite the relative warmth of the evening, Lenise wrapped her arms around herself and shivered. “The wards have discouraged unwanted visitors. I don’t think he can find me. but it doesn’t stop me from constantly looking over my shoulder.”

“Which will just make him try harder,” Mithra pointed out. “He’s not easily deterred. He sent a demon after you, girl.”

“I know,” said Lenise. “I heard its voice, too. Gods, it’s bad enough with just him. But now he’s got that Soul Seeker kid in his pocket.”

Mithra leaned against the hearth, saying nothing.

“Unless… do you trust him?” asked Lenise.

“Who, Darcent?”

Lenise nodded.

Mithra shook her head. “No. I’m not sure about him, yet. He may not be completely rotten like Kridick, but that schoolboy is too ambitious by half. He wants power. And until he’s got it, he’s too easy for Daggertongue to push around.”

“Well, I did some digging of my own, after what Mother Mayaz said.”

Mithra narrowed her eyes. “Digging where?” she pulled the steaming kettle off and poured two cups.

Lenise shrugged, half-smile on her face. “The Royal Arcanists Historical Library.”

“Lenise...”

“Their wards are outdated and easy to slip past.” she cleared her throat. “Anyway, I think there may be some truth to what she said. I doubt Darcent knows the full extent of his role.”

Mithra pursed her lips. “The real question is, does Daggertongue know?”

“If not, it won’t be long before he figures it out.” Lenise wrapped her arms around herself. “For all his faults, foolishness isn’t among them. He figured out I was hiding under his nose at the Mop. Kridick as much as told me. He took my own hiding place and turned it into just another prison. In a way, I owe Mother Mayaz a favor. But who told her where to find me?”

Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

“You think someone sent Mayaz after you?”

“I’m certain of it,” said Lenise. “Bethane still has friends who know what she knew. The Ways Witch, for one. You can’t hide from a determined Soul Seeker.”

“Not unless you’ve got your own. Maybe we should consider bringing Darcent in.”

“Not yet,” said Lenise. “Not until you’re certain about him. Give me a couple weeks.”

Mithra finished her tea as they chatted about less consequential things. But the conversation was half-hearted at best, and the devilborn soon rose and swung her cloak about her shoulders. “I shouldn’t stay so long. It’s just, I hate to see you alone like this. It’s like a prison?”

“This?” asked Lenise, spreading her arms. “I was a prisoner in my own home for 16 years, Mithra. I was born a prisoner. Born to serve someone else’s design, and my mother died for it. I’ll never forgive Daggertongue for killing her. This? This is freedom. And I’ll die before I let them take that from me again.”

A quick embrace, and the two separated. Mithra let herself out and headed back toward the lower city before someone could notice her absence. The fights had already concluded, and the streets were packed with revelers and drunks all too willing to reenact the events of the fight against slights both real and imagined. She blended with the crowd, melting into its flow.

Still, she couldn’t shake the feeling that eyes were on her the whole way.

***

From the Desk of Master Alar Hedwin

Lord Mirandalis Guifoyle

I hope this letter finds you in good health. I wished to thank you once more for your generous continued contributions and consideration to the Soul Seeker academy. Your son, Tanlith, continues to excel. Mastering two suits in only 8 years is quite a prodigious pace for a young elf studying the Wills. The disciplinary matter you inquired about in your last letter has already been resolved. I regret that young master Darcent and your son could not resolve their differences amicably, but this was not the reason for his departure. The boy has parted ways with the Guild due on sole grounds to the deficiencies in his abilities and discipline, and I have not seen or heard from him since.

I regret to inform you that I seem to have misplaced the quite unconventional manual that you sent alongside this semester’s tuition. I will, of course, provide a suitable replacement copy as soon as I locate one. If you would prefer I acquire a different volume in its stead, please send along the title with your next letter.

Your friend,

Alar Hedwin SSG M

* * *

Annalisa ducked, imagining the training dummy opposite her had just led with an overhand right. She planted her right foot and struck out, coming out of her crouch with a powerful counter that cracked the wooden head of the dummy. Without stopping to survey the damage, she followed it up by spinning, striking with the heel of her foot just beneath the ribs.

“Good!” shouted Jeedle. He tapped a wooden pole against the ground. “At me, now. Keep your hands up! Move your head!”

Annalisa touched her knuckles to the bases of her horns as Jeedle came at her. He alternated swings and prods with the rod, rapping her ribs or her face where her guard was weak. The dwarf wasn’t gentle, but Annalisa relished the challenge—relished proving her strength and toughness. Through footwork and careful timing, she slipped and dipped beneath most of the blows without even having to block them. She breathed with each step. In, out, sharp, with her stomach tight. Those she did block stung against her arms and elbows, the hard wood cracking off flesh and bone.

“This how it’s gonna be?” she asked.

So intent was she, watching the movements of the rod, that Jeedle’s fist came out of nowhere, smashing into her face and sending her spiraling to the ash.

The other fighters stopped and watched.

Anna groaned, pushing herself to her sit bones. The ash where she’d fallen was damp with sweat and blood, and she touched a bloody spot on her cheek.

The dwarf leaned down, fingering the bloodied ring on his hand.

“That’s how it’s going to be, Annalisa. You’ve come a way, girl. But this fighter you’re going up against?” Jeedle clenched his thick, meaty fists. “Knuckles like barnacles. Fists like mallets. Jaw like a slab of onyx. He’s twice your weight and has eight wins under his belt. The punches aren’t going to come one-by-one.

It’s just you and him in that pit, and he’s never had to be carried out of it.”

Annalisa pushed herself to her feet, slipping back into her stance. Left foot slightly forward, knuckles to her temples just below her horns. “He will.”