"Come along girls, no dallying." Valeris's tone was full of warning and stern but that did little to prepare Ramona for the sight of the train yard.
She was a girl from a secluded village. The closest she'd come to the trains was watching them pass from the top of Reckoner's Hill; great metal snakes that slithered at impossible speeds over the land on tracks of wood and iron. Her father helped lay the long track as a youth but he rarely spoke of it. No one in her village knew much about the trains, how they worked or what they carried. They didn't care. If it had nothing to do with business in the village as usual, no one cared a wink.
The yard unrolled before her, a living sculpture of criss-crossed tracks. The trains glided among them, long sleek constructions of plated metal. This close, she could see the individual plates each train was made of, riveted in place and sealed by alchemy that left oily black ribbons along the seams. The true art were the engines, each train gifted with a different work of soldered iron to represent the name of the engine. There was one with metallic tentacles curling along the sides of the front compartment. Another with the raised etching of herd of horses, their manes whipped back from their bodies to match the speed of the wind.
Instructor Valeris didn't stop walking. Ramona would have lost her in the bustling crowd of the yard if Agnes hadn't hooked her arm and pulled her along.
"Beautiful, aren't they?" The blond murmured, her eyes shining as she took in the scene. Ramona looked down at her, her eyes filled with awe.
"I've never seen many in one place, or so close."
Agnes nodded to the train Instructor Valeris approached. "This is the convent's personal transport."
It was much smaller than the others, only two cars and an engine compartment long, but the decorative scrawl and metal work were the most intricate of all. Ramona's eyes drank in the details, the etchings of warriors and demons, locked in an eternal brawl down the entire length of the two car train. At the engine compartment, the metal began to bend and twist in near fluid perfection. From the swirls rose an angel, metallic wings flattened back over the sides of the engine, divine features gleaming in the sun at the prow. The detail work was stunning, down to the individual lines in the angel's feathers, all shaped and drawn from unyielding steel.
Instructor Valeris paused at the door, raising a brow at the awe on her charges's face. "Ladies, the Archangel awaits."
Ramona held her breath as she stepped off the ramp, her footsteps hollow and weighted until they hit the plush carpeting of the Archangel's interior, a scalloped dove gray that complimented the finely upholstered chairs and bench that made up the interior of the first car compartment.
"Please be seated. We shall discuss matters once we are underway," said Instructor Valeris. She walked around them, pausing at the opaque wooden door between cars and rapped her knuckles on the door.
Ramona jumped at the outside door slid shut with a soft hiss. The entire compartment jolted, rattling the glass decanter of water on the bolted service table. She collapsed beside Agnes on a long cushioned bench as the train lurched forward, the scuttle and grind of turning wheels drowning out everything else until the train gained momentum, sliding into a low buzz. Ramona stared out at the curtained windows, watching the train yard sail by as they picked up speed, until the land outside began to blur, moving so fast her eyes couldn't track it. She felt the pull in her stomach, through her feet. Her eyes were glued to the flashing landscape outside when Instructor Valeris cleared her throat.
Ramona forced herself to look at their instructor. The slightest twitch of her lips revealed the woman's amusement.
"First time on a train, Sister Ramona?"
The girl gulped and nodded. The scrolling scenery tugged at the corner of her vision. The speed, the gentle rocking of the train, the elaborate interior, she found all of it fascinating.
"I promise you, it will not be your last time. Not by a long shot," the Instructor said, unfolding a sheath of thick vellum parchment on the table between them. "We are heading to the city state of Allomar. Rumor has it, there was a sword brought to the local blacksmith of unknown origins for routine repairs. The make up and craftsmanship of the weapon was so unusual the local authorities contacted the supposed owner of the sword. It was revealed the man obtained it through grave robbery. This man is to be hung on the morrow for his crimes."
She glanced up at her charges, studying their puzzled faces. "There are whispers he stole other weapons from these unknown crypts, possibly one of divine origins. If true, he plans to take the knowledge to the grave. Our time line is tight, Sisters. We must gleam what information we can before he meets the hangman's noose."
Ramona frowned. "Hung for grave robbery? That seems extreme. Even in the capital, thieves are jailed for a few years at most."
Instructor Valeris gave a small nod. "Yes, it does, doesn't it? I will caution you now, my doves, the laws of Allomar will seem strict and uneven as they come. The local lord has a tyrannical reputation and the city state is on edge from a recent bout of Shills."
The mention of the plague-like illness slid down Ramona's spine like the tip of a razor. She'd never seen a case, her village was cut off from the rest of the world enough to avoid it, but the rumors were enough to turn the stomach. It was spoken of in hushed tones, a sickness that covered the body in vicious necrotic sores, as if they were decaying alive from inside out. It was always fatal, and the cure was both expensive and near impossible to concoct without a highly skilled alchemist.
"The sickness has settled, but the city is still in a state of panic. They are wounded, lashing out. They want someone to pay for their numerous dead." Instructor Valeris folded her hands in her lap, her expression closed as she watched her charges. "Keep your head down. Don't do anything out of the ordinary."
Ramona swallowed. Her control of her abilities was limited, dangerously so. Why risk sending her to a place like this? "Instructor Val–"
The woman held up her hand, as if she could sense the question on the tip of Ramona's tongue. "The Mother Superior believes you are stable enough for fieldwork, with supervision. I am here for a reason, Sister Ramona."
Agnes made a small noise in her throat, drawing Valeris's sharp gaze. "To supervise both of you," she added with a quirk of one black brow. "It's a long trek, girls, make yourselves comfortable."
The statement was an order as much as a dismissal. The two eased back in their seats as Valeris continued to pour over her ream of documents. Agnes leaned on her shoulder as Ramona stared out the window, watching the gradual change of familiar landscape into something new and deliciously foreign. Agnes was snoring in her ear when Instructor Valeris spoke again.
"Mother Superior believes, and I agree, that your progress is greatly hindered by lack of proper tools," said the woman quietly, her tone careless, as if she spoke of the weather instead of something so very, desperately important to Ramona.
"You think this grave robber found a weapon that can....withstand me?" She fought to keep the hope and excitement from her voice, failing as a waver entered the last couple words. She looked up into Valeris's light cast eyes, glinting like polished coins in the woman's swarthy face.
"We suspect as much," said Valeris, tapping her index finger against her thigh. She sighed through her nose, slightly crooked from past breaks. "The Mother Superior also wishes to gauge how you do in less than savory conditions. She told me the circumstances of your entry into the convent."
Ramona flinched but the instructors eyes held no judgement, no pity, nothing but a calm coolness. She still couldn't look at her. Her solace of window gazing was fading with the day, the outside now a blur of passing shadows. She stood, gently lowering Agnes onto the bench without waking her.
"Is there somewhere I can lie down and rest?"
Instructor Valeris nodded. "Go through the doors, one at a time, to the second cart. There are sleeping quarters within."
"Thank you, Instructor," said Ramona and gave the woman a half bow.
Her steps were even as she slipped through the door at the back of the first car, pausing to catch her breath. Out here, the passing ground seemed easier to track; her eyes caught flashes of wild animals running through the surrounding woods, and a touch of color in foliage. The wind was muted between the shelter of the cars, but there was enough of a cross breeze to lift her hair around her face, into her eyes, blazing copper in the last streaks of sunlight. It was cool with the early nip of autumn. She gripped the hand rail, trying to ease the tightness in her chest. Of the course the Mother Superior would tell Valeris. It made sense for the Mother Superior to inform all her instructors of her circumstances but that didn't stop the hot burn of shame eating away the pit of her stomach. The Divine Blade that failed to protect her family. The Divine Blade who possessed little to no control over her heavenly power. The Divine Blade who couldn't hear mention of her past without slipping into a blind panic.
What would she do in Allomar? What if there really was a weapon that could channel the power squatting in her like unwelcome visitor? She couldn't get her hopes up. Disappointment cost too much.
The sun finished sinking behind the trees, the oncoming night numbing her cheeks, when Ramona finally made her way into the other car. She didn't wish to sleep, afraid of the dreams waiting for her. For a long time she lay in one of the stiff trundle beds available, the sheets still heavy with the scent of fresh soap. The rocking of the train wore her down, lulling her to sleep after hours of staring at the blank ceiling.
She dreamed of gemstones eyes. Her brother's voice echoed around her, screaming for help that never came. Her sister's head rolled across an unswept floor to her feet...
Ramona woke up on the edge of a scream.
Agnes stirred, snuggling closer to Ramona's side. When had she come in? She released a breath, stirring the girl's ash blonde hair. Agnes's eyes slit open, revealing smoldering orange pupils that slowly faded as she focused on Ramona's face.
"Another dream?" Agnes murmured, lifting a hand to smooth Ramon's hair off her forehead.
She nodded, swallowing hard. Her eyes stung with unshed tears. "Thank you."
Agnes smiled, serene and lovely in the low light that seeped through the closed curtains. "Go back to sleep. I'm here."
Ramona woke again to the jerk of the train as it drew to stop.
Instructor Valeris poked her head in through the canvas that separated the sleeping area from the rest of the car. "Rise, ladies, we need to make haste if we hope to stall an execution." Despite the early pre-dawn light, Valeris appeared well rested and refreshed. Ramona's hair felt like a rat nest on her head, and her mouth full of cotton. She could feel crusts gumming the corners of her eyes. She groaned, scrubbing at her face.
"There is a wash basin set up out here for you," said Instructor Valeris, a hint of humor in her far too chipper voice.
Ramona crawled over Agnes, proud of herself for managing not to knee the girl in the head as she went. She tumbled from the bed, landing heavily on the floor as she lurched for the wash basin. The splash of icy water was bracing and succeeded in fighting off the clinging pall of exhaustion. Agnes rose by the time Ramona finished washing her face and fixing her rumpled clothes. To her great annoyance, the dragonborn didn't look the least bit tired or scruffy. Her hair remained neat and smooth.
She looked up at Ramona and made a face, coughing to hide her laugh. "Um, Sister, do you need a comb or something?" She snorted, clearly fighting a losing battle.
"Oh go away," Ramona muttered, shoving her mess of hair back into a tight bun. It would suffice. The two hurried out to find Valeris waiting on the ramp of the open doorway, frowning at the quiet city of Allomar.
The woman jerked her head, beckoning them over as she handed each of them a modified wimple. "We must appear as Sisters in this town," she said, helping Ramona into the unfamiliar garment. Inside the convent, the girls were not required to wear the head piece until their Ceremony of Station but in the outside world, they had an image to maintain.
Dressed, they descended the ramp into the silent early morning streets of Allomar. The town appeared deserted. The only sounds aside from their boots on stone was the eerie creak of settling wood and the whistle of the wind between buildings. Instructor Valeris marched on, undeterred by the emptiness, until they reached the square.
Ramona stumbled at the pile of bodies, a sight too familiar, too close to the carnage left by the Cult, except this pile reeked of rot and ruin, the bodies blackened by fire that continued to smolder, foul smelling smoke twining through sore covered limbs that rose in a foul plume. The sight of so much death made her empty stomach roll, but it was Valeris's quiet cursing that finally drew her gaze to the other spectacle of death in Allomar's square. The scaffold was near full, the bodies swaying in the morning wind like macabre fruit.
"We may be too late," she muttered. Her steps echoed over the cobblestones as she approached the jail, singular by the thick iron bars decorating its windows. Agnes and Ramona stood a bit off as their instructor knocked. A blearly eyed gentleman answered her several minutes later, still tucking his shirt into his pants as he blinked at the trio of young women.
"Sisters? What brings you here this time of day?"
"We came to see Alec Genot," said Valeris, wasting no time in pleasantries.
The man shook himself, clearing his throat with a lob of spit on the ground between them. "I'm afraid you are a day too late, Sister. Genot hung yesterday, expedited by the lord, himself."
Valeris looked scandalized, her hands curled at her side. Her pale knuckles were the true testament of her annoyance with the situation. She leaned in the sleepy man's face and launched into a tirade.
"Well, that's a bit disappointing," muttered Agnes, nudging her companion. The red head's attention was not on the unfolding spectacle at the door. Her gaze was swept upward, staring at one of the high windows of the jail's second story. Through the bars, a woman looked down, her dark brown eyes locked on the trio.
"We have to get in there," said Ramona. Â