*kicks down door* YA MISS ME?
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Achillean had visited Ataraxia a number of times by now. In the outside world the floating islands felt like a dream, a hallucination conjured by his mind that no longer felt real out in the rest of Ardonia, where the scales were tipped in favor of gravity. It never ceased to amaze him how accustomed the Ataraxians were to it; the kids who'd lived there their whole lives, they had an excuse. But the beings who had known the outside world, how could they not be amazed every day at the marvel of magic and geology that they were lucky enough to call home?
He had said as much to Aegus once, who pointed out, "well, the fact that I don't have to stop you from walking into trees anymore seems to prove that a person can get used to this place." Achillean couldn't argue that point. But still, every time he crested the ridgeline and the floating islands came into view, the unreal became real again and brought the same wonder with it.
Achillean wondered what other places like Ataraxia existed in the world. Places of magic, places where the impossible was possible, places that were like dreams made real. There were so many legends, surely at least some of them had to have a basis in truth. He imagined palaces under the sea, cities carved inside glaciers, fish that swam between the clouds or turtles that carried islands on their backs.
"Have you ever heard of frostbiters?" Ingressus asked him as they walked.
"Of what, now?" Achillean asked.
Ingressus pushed a branch out of his way. Achillean had noticed that the Voltaris tended to avoid the main streets in Ataraxia– or maybe that was just because Aegus was nearby. He didn't bolt for cover like he had the first time Achillean had met him, but his caution was still obvious.
"They're predators that live in the wilds of Northwind," Ingressus said. "They're even bigger than bears, and they hunt by sensing their prey's body heat. They have clear blood that's cold enough to freeze your toes off, so even wounding them is dangerous. Their fur is frozen into needles, horns like icicles... they say there's a constant stain around their mouths from frozen blood."
"Well, they sound terrifying," Achillean remarked. "Are they real monsters, or legendary ones?"
"I've seen one."
Ah. So he had once lived in the mountains.
Achillean didn't know much about Ingressus's past. He'd come close to asking once, but even nearing the topic had made Ingressus's walls visibly go up. So, despite the curiosity he'd had ever since he'd met the Voltaris, Achillean had let it go.
Achillean wondered how he had ended up in Ataraxia, but he wouldn't ask. Though he couldn't stop his mind from trying to piece together the tidbits of information he learned, Achillean had already decided he wouldn't ask unless the information was offered. He doubted they were close enough friends for that.
Ingressus paused at the edge of the stand of trees, glancing down the street from the shelter of a tree trunk.
"Aegus is on the other side of town," Achillean said. "He can talk to Keleus for hours about the old days."
Ingressus muttered something about "can't be too careful," but left the cover of the trees behind and walked to a nearby storefront, knocking on the counter. A Nestoris around their age appeared from the back at the sound, shaking a strand of hair out of her face.
"You here for Galleous's order?" she asked.
"Yes." Ingressus dug out some coins, and the Nestoris pulled a box from under the counter.
"Is everything okay at the forge?" she asked, her brow furrowed in concern. "Galleous came by looking for you earlier. He seemed worried; he didn't even stay long enough for me to give this to him."
"What?" Ingressus frowned. "Did he say anything?"
"Just to tell you to find him if I saw you."
"All right." Ingressus tucked the box under his arm. "Thanks, Ailera."
"You're welcome," Ailera said. "Good luck with... whatever's happening. Hope all is well."
Ingressus took the box and hurried on his way. Achillean faltered, glanced between them, then followed him.
Ingressus's concern was as evident in his lowered caution as in his quickened pace. He still scanned his surroundings, still cut through people's backyards, still paused at the edge of the island before crossing the bridge. But his caution didn't slow him down, and Achillean had to hurry to keep up as the Voltaris darted across the last bridge, scanned the streets ahead for danger, and then hurried up to the forge.
"Galleous?" he called.
A sharp scraping noise sounded from the cave and then the blacksmith appeared, hurrying out to meet them with a frantic look in his eyes. "Ingressus."
His gaze fell on Achillean next. "Good, you're still here. You're a fisherman, aren't you?"
"Y-yes?" Achillean said, confused at Galleous's urgency. One second later, he was blinking down at a fishing rod the smith had shoved into his hands.
"Great," Galleous said, pushing a matching rod into Ingressus's hands. "I need you to take him on a fishing trip for a few days. I've heard there's a nice cove on the northern shore of the inlet, but I don't care where you go as long as it's away from Ataraxia. Take any supplies you need, I'll make your excuses for you."
"Wait– Galleous, what's going on?" Ingressus broke in.
Galleous's expression twisted. "My brother's coming."
"And that's a problem?" Achillean said hesitantly, glancing between the two. Galleous looked as if the very sentence had tasted like rotten flesh, his lip curled and his eyes narrow. Ingressus, on the other hand, had gone still as a statue, gripping the pole so hard his knuckles had gone pale and a cold fury burning in his eyes.
"He's a Champion," he spat.
Okay. Yeah, that was a rather big problem.
"I'm not running from him." Ingressus slashed a hand through the air in emphasis. "Not this time."
Galleous stabbed a finger at him. "Yes, you will get out of Ataraxia, and you will stay gone until he leaves."
"I'm not afraid of him," Ingressus snapped.
"I don't care," Galleous retorted. "Barely a month ago, you were lying half-dead in the hospital. If you stick around, I can't imagine any outcome that doesn't end in you killing Thalleous or him killing you. I don't want either of those to happen, Ingressus!"
Ingressus made a snarl like an angered zombie. "You're protecting him?"
"Yes, and you," Galleous fired back. "Listen kid, do I need to remind you what Kittrian and the twins would think if you killed someone– or got yourself killed– in their yard? I will play that card, Ingressus, don't think I won't!"
Ingressus faltered. He opened his mouth to argue further, but words deserted him.
Galleous sighed, rubbing his forehead. "Three days, Ingressus. If he isn't gone by then, I'll kick him out myself."
He stepped forward, taking Ingressus by the shoulders. "Please. Don't have this fight now. Not this time."
Ingressus bowed his head with a defeated sigh. "I won't go looking for him." He met Galleous's gaze. "But if I see him, I make no promises."
Galleous bowed his head, suddenly looking five centuries old. "You'd better not be covered in blood the next time I see you, Ingressus, I mean it. I don't want any deaths, at all."
He let Ingressus go, taking a step back into the forge. "I'll hide your research and make your excuses to Everin. You two just get packed and get out of here."
He vanished back into the cave. Ingressus sighed, slipping the fishing pole into his inventory as he glared at nothing.
"So," Achillean spoke up, and Ingressus's gaze shot over as though just remembering he was there. "You ever been fishing before?"
It shouldn't have been a pleasant day. It should have been raining, the sky should've been swirling with storms and echoing with thunder. The trees should've been tossing in the wind, their branches lashing back and forth as the tree fought for stability against the onslaught of the vengeful air. But instead, the breeze was light and warm, the sky sparsely scattered with puffy white clouds. The waves rolled gently against the sand-covered shore, and birds squawked at each other overhead.
Ingressus barely noticed any of it. The lack of a storm in the outside world didn't mean there was none in his mind.
Buried memories had arisen once more in his head, still burned there like a brand. Blood, terror, Ardoni bright with foreign colors and flickering with Songs. Kaitos summoning his Aggroshard with a roar, Azha straining to keep her shield wall up, an arrow appearing in Gyarus's chest as he shielded Cendir from harm. The weight of Voltar in his hand, his father's last words as Dominus shoved him out of the path of a blast. A Sendaris with Galleous's markings, bright with unmatched power and with eyes dead and empty as the resonances themselves, wielding a diamond greatsword stained with red. The red of his father's lifeblood merging with the older stains.
That murderer still walked free. More than that, he was celebrated by the clans for what he'd done. What he undoubtedly still did. Ingressus had been offered an opportunity to confront him, to make him accountable for his crimes. And what was he doing? Walking away. Running and hiding. He owed it to his people to avenge them, to take this chance the universe had offered him. He remembered Carolin uttering her spell, shaping the rock beneath the snow into knifelike ridges to slow the attack. He remembered Zaurak and Vedarin charging ahead to engage the raiders, the first to fall... He had to avenge them, had to hold the Champion accountable for what he'd done.
Ingressus imagined it. He imagined sneaking off, returning to Ataraxia in the night with sword in hand. He imagined finding the Champion asleep wherever he was staying, imagined the killer's markings glowing for the last time as he readied his blade, and—
Ingressus's mind resisted. He imagined lifting his sword for the kill and his mind went dark, refusing to envision the outcome. Fine, then. Maybe there was no honor in killing a sleeping foe, Champion or not. He imagined confronting the Champion openly instead, imagined engaging him in battle, imagined gaining the upper hand... He forced his mind to paint the picture: his sword slashing open the Champion's chest, his enemy falling to the ground, the diamond greatsword clattering to the street as the blue markings faded to blackness and Ingressus looked on in victory...
And then he imagined looking up. He imagined Luciren's wide eyes as she stared at his bloodied sword, imagined Kittrian covering Volerik's eyes, imagined Galleous staring down at his brother's darkened corpse with a silence that spoke louder than a shout, and he didn't even know what the silence would be saying but it made his heart shrivel even in his mind.
"What would they think if you killed someone in their yard?"
But he would be protecting them, too, protecting them from one who would surely kill the twins for their father's blood as readily as for red markings, who would surely kill them all for their dealings with him. They would be safer with the Champion dead, just as he and his clan would be, surely they would understand that—
But the fear he imagined in their eyes was too much, the judgment, the looks of what have you done and what else might you do and can we trust you, the same looks he'd gotten from everyone else in Ataraxia but never from them, not once before from them—
No.
Ingressus rubbed his temples, as though he could erase the thoughts away. Achillean noticed.
"Hey, are... are you okay?"
Achillean had been making scraps of conversation as they walked away from Ataraxia, finding things to talk about in a vain attempt to distract him. Ingressus had barely said a word in response, too lost in his own mind to engage.
He knew he shouldn't be ignoring his companion. Though Achillean had run off to make an excuse to Aegus before they left the town, he knew it had been no small ask for him to abruptly disappear for three days to keep an eye on him. He hadn't needed to come– unless, a bitter part of him thought, Galleous had sent him to make sure Ingressus wouldn't sneak back into Ataraxia.
"No," he admitted.
Achillean nodded awkwardly. "Fair enough."
Ingressus kicked at the sand, watching the particles spray.
"Well, at least you won't have to see him?" Achillean offered.
Ingressus snorted bitterly. "It's true I've had enough of that."
Even one time was too many. But even after the raid, the Champion's specter wouldn't leave him alone. His dreams hadn't been safe for a long time.
Achillean opened his mouth, then hesitated. He closed his mouth, glanced at Ingressus, then spoke.
"Would you... would you really have killed him?" he asked tentatively.
"He's killed many of my people," Ingressus said coldly. "He wouldn't hesitate to try to kill me again."
"I mean, if it was his life or yours, then I get that," Achillean said. "But back there– you sounded like you wanted to. Like you would have gone after him if Galleous hadn't talked you out of it."
Ingressus grit his teeth. "He killed everyone I had ever known. I'm the only survivor of my camp. I watched him murder my father in cold blood. And instead of facing punishment for it, he's being honored for his crimes."
Achillean winced at the words. "I'm not saying justice shouldn't be served, but..." He gestured at the air, fumbling for the words to make sense of his thoughts.
"There was someone I knew back in Nestoria," he said finally. "He was traveling with some merchants, when they were attacked by bandits out in the wilds. One of them went for him and he killed them, totally by accident."
Achillean shivered slightly. "It wasn't his fault, everyone said. It was in self-defense, the bandits would've done the same to him. But it... it was scary to see what it had done to him."
"Something in you dies when you take a life," Ingressus said. "I've heard that, too."
Everyone in the mountains knew that you would one day be faced with a kill-or-be-killed encounter. It was a fact of life, one that was unavoidable for the Voltaris. The adults had done the best they could to prepare the kids for that day. He remembered asking his father once whether he'd ever killed anyone, and Dominus's gaze going hollow as he answered yes.
"I pray to the world gods that you will never have to," Dominus had said. "But if that day ever comes, you will have done nothing wrong in defending yourself. Remember that."
"I don't know what's going on in your head," Achillean said. "I've never had to deal with a scenario like this. But, you know..." He glanced over at Ingressus. "It doesn't have to be you to give him what he has coming. If there's any justice in the universe, he'll get it one way or the other."
Ingressus didn't know if he believed in a higher power's justice, but he just sighed. "I hope so."
They kept walking. Though the inlet carved a relatively straight line through the continent to reach Ataraxia, there were enough bends and curves in the shoreline and the terrain was hilly enough that the floating islands had been hidden from sight fairly quickly. He and Achillean were now the only signs of life along the forested shoreline, surrounded by trees and grass and mountains reaching for the sky.
Achillean rounded a stony ridge ahead of Ingressus and stopped, eyeing the landscape appreciatively. "Ooh, this looks nice."
Ingressus turned the corner behind him. A small cove was cut into the coastline, a bowl-shaped depression sheltered by the ridges of the mountain that towered above. The sides of the cove were forested with oak and birch, and the stone that rimmed the mouth of the cove gave way to a sandy beach at the far side of the bay. It was quite picturesque– and, Ingressus deemed, suitably sheltered. It would be a safe enough place to hide for a few days.
Achillean had staked his claim on a flat rock that extended out into the bay, and he glanced back at Ingressus. "Ready for a fishing lesson?"
Ingressus had to give fishing credit: it was certainly peaceful. The stillness of the cove slowly seeped the sting from his troubled mind, softening its edges and wearing it down into a more tolerable lump of confusion and bitterness.
Despite the serenity of fishing, it certainly wasn't monotonous. Ingressus snagged his line in a tree twice during his attempts to cast it. Achillean reeled in a clump of seaweed that hung from his line like a small, bedraggled spider. Ingressus caught a pufferfish that Achillean cautiously cut loose and poked back into the water with his pole. Achillean caught a salmon that flopped its way out of his hands and Ingressus lunged for it, landing with an undignified slash in the shallows. He emerged dripping wet, shaking the water from his hair and with the fish's tail clenched in his fist. Achillean pressed a hand over his mouth, his shoulders shaking with stifled laughter as he reached out to help him up. The humor broke past the lingering darkness and Ingressus found himself laughing too, his turmoil banished if only for a time.
Despite Ingressus's inexpert fishing skill, the two caught enough for a decent meal. Ingressus gathered the firewood as Achillean prepared the fish, and the two sat around the fire as the sky darkened with dusk.
Ingressus chewed on a strip of cod meat, gazing up at the western sky. The cove didn't offer nearly the same vantage point that Ataraxia did: the dark outline of the trees and mountain ridge rose high into the air above him, its shadowed bulk concealing the western horizon. He could see the blues, the yellows, the pale off-white shade between them, but the deepest reds and oranges were hidden from his view.
It's only a few days, he told himself. And then he'll be gone and I'll have my home back. He isn't taking it from me this time. He won't.
A Champion wouldn't harm their own clans. Galleous had promised that he would warn Kittrian and the twins, so all they had to do was avoid him. Even if the Champion had encountered Milorus– Songs, don't let him have found Milorus, don't let him be dead, for their sake– the odds of him remembering Milorus's markings well enough to identify them on the twins were miniscule. And white markings weren't nearly as condemning as red. They would be safe.
But if they're not– if he harms them– if he lays a hand on them there will be nowhere in Ardonia he can hide.
The vow settled in his heart, burning there like an ember ready to flare to life with the slightest breath of wind. The Champion's fate would depend on that of Ingressus's loved ones. If they were safe, Ingressus would spare him, this time. But if their blood was shed, then the Champion's lifeblood would be spilled in turn.
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(3248 words)
Yes, frostbiters have liquid nitrogen for blood. Because fantasy. Biochem majors, please don't ask me how that would work.
And yes, my solution for the landlocked-Ataraxia problem is just a big freaking inlet that carves its way into the continent and meets with the mouth of a river right by the town. Maybe there was a giant meteorite impact at some point that started the process, and then over time the power of nature carved the inlet further and further inland? And maybe Ataraxia is to the east of the Heart of Ardonia instead of to the north? It's the best I've got, friends, don't think about it too hard.