Chapter 32
Angeline lets out a long sigh from her seated position on a grassy knoll looking out over the Aegis training grounds. Same drills day after day. Practice in a wide variety of blades. Thrusts, sweeps, dodges, counters. All of the candidates lined up in neat little rows, following the motions of Sten the high-pitched Weapons-master. No sparring. No duels. No agility drills that would become so essential to their survival. So boring to watch. And yet she had to scout these kids. Had to prepare for her Bond…
It had been nearly two months since Master Quang had taken Samuel up on the western mountain… which had been aptly named ‘The Peaks of Hell’. Very little natural vegetation grew on the shale slopes, save for a smattering of thin-rooted trees and moss. Long, long ago, the first mages of the Order had blasted a wide tunnel through the solid rock at the base, only because they’d gotten tired of flying over it. Of course, the Knights that came along a short while later were very thankful not to be forced to carry their supplies over the treacherous cliffs, too… un-expected foresight could be a good thing at times…
The golden-haired caster issues a thin groan of annoyance as the candidates start yet another thrusting drill, and throws her hands up in frustration as she flops back against the grass to stare at the thick grey clouds overhead. All of the mage-trainees went up on The Peaks of Hell for two weeks every year, past the age of fourteen. There they practiced fire-based spells in low-oxygen environs, as well as basic survival skills that everyone needed to know like the backs of their hands. Thankfully, their camping trips were always in the middle of summer, so there were no bone-chilling nights to contend with…
But Samuel had gone up near the end of the hot season. And already, the evenings and overnights up on the Peaks would drop below freezing… even from her current vantage-point, she could see snow covering the top-most third of the mountain. N-not… that she cared what happened to him, damnit. Just… just that she felt bad for Master Quang. Hell, the Buddhist Order’s High Magus was nearly as old as Jonas Warren… even if the Asian man didn’t even look a third of it. She’d made the mistake once of asking Master Xing what his secret was… to which he’d told her that ‘Deflowering virgin ev’ry night’ kept him youthful. Bloody old pervert…
The blue-eyed woman lets out another long sigh as she slowly pulls herself back up to stare down at the candidates below. Damnit… why she’d ever suggested to her own High Magus that Samuel might benefit from a visit from Master Warren’s Eastern counter-part was something of a mystery now. Granted… it was to ensure that Sammy was at his prime, and could learn all that he needed to excel in slaying Daemons… but that had been back during his second day in the Hall of Runes… when… when she had thought that he’d be glad to see her…
Yet that had all gone down-hill extremely fast. Learning his true feelings about his abandonment in Serenity Valley… then getting into a huge row with him the next day… there probably wasn’t a snowball’s chance in Hell that he’d even want to talk with her again… which… which hurt. But she could at least understand her mistakes. Of which they were numerous. And she wasn’t about to try and deflect any blame for them… all the responsibilities rested on her shoulders…
Angeline’s lips pull into a frown, and she shakes her head slowly as the Knight-hopefuls move into a tedious thrust-and-sweep drill with their spears. Damnit… there were only two graduating candidates this year that showed any meagre sense of promise as a Bond-mate. A slender girl with powerful shoulders supporting twin braids, Gail, or a tall and lanky boy named Mitchell. Gail seemed to prefer a battle-axe that took a long time to wind up with, while Mitchell enjoyed using a broadsword and a rapier. In terms of skill, the young man would be better… but the thought of Bonding with a boy sent shivers up her spine…
It wasn’t that she disliked men or anything. She’d had normal sex fairly frequently when she had been growing up within these walls. Why not? What good was learning a contraceptive-spell at thirteen if she didn’t have the occasion to cast it? But when it came down to forming her first Bond, she’d chosen a girl with extremely soft skin over a man with greater skill using a blade. And yet he had still died only a few months ago… so her choice in her partner hadn’t really mattered in the slightest when compared to the Goddesses plans…
“Tch. Screw this.” The golden-haired caster pushes herself up to her feet, and brushes off her back-side as she starts to head towards the garrison-proper. With it being mid-afternoon, there should be at least one letter from Katherine awaiting her. Perhaps one from Sarah too. It’d be a nice diversion from her self-deprecating thoughts and brooding over her lack of choices for a new mate. And, damnit… perhaps she ought to transfer the stock of older correspondence she’d gathered over the past couple of months to the desk of their rightful recipient…
Whatever was in the note that Samuel had dropped off on his way out of the front gate had sparked a flurry of responses from the denizens of Serenity Valley. They’d trickled off in the past few weeks, but they were always filled with the sounds of hope. Still, with him gone, she’d been looking after the replies in her continuing liaison-duties… but she hadn’t been back to his room in the Candidate’s lodgings since he’d left. Both because there was no need, and because the very thought of going in there made her stomach flutter…
But she’d suck those hesitant feelings up for this afternoon. Extreme boredom always seemed to calm people down and allow them to do things they otherwise might not. Goddess… how nice it was going to be to get back out into civilization. To have a proper bath, complete with sweet-smelling oils. To have the ability to order from a menu. To see what people were wearing for fashions. To see the latest technologies at use…
The blue-eyed girl issues a dejected sigh as she pushes open the door to the Postal room, strides over to her little basket, grabs the single letter from Katherine, and starts to make the trip back to her quarters as she reads through the usual ramblings.
Dear Finny / Angie
Goddess! What a hectic morning! The last of the fields’ scrub was burned, only the bloody wind suddenly shifted, and caught a trio of the farmers in thick smoke. I spent hours mixing up healing salves and pain-relief medications, and barely got so much as a damned ‘thank you Miss O’Malley’. I swear, Angie, before I treat any more of them, I’m going to make them follow proper damned etiquette!
Grr! Well, on a slightly more-pleasant note, at least the harvest is now completely over with, and Finny’s birthday has finally come! It’s such a shame that we can’t celebrate it with him again this year, but at least we know that he’s working hard and staying out of trouble, which, believe me, isn’t something he used to do.
I remember each of Finny's birthdays, after he turned eighteen, him and my dad would get so completely drunk before mid-day that they were utterly useless when it came time for dinner. But they’d wake up soon after that, and start guzzling even more alcohol, often staying up until the wee hours of the morn. And they’d get into all sorts of mischief, too. They once stole a heifer from the Temmersons, bought a couple of cheap dresses from the seamstress, trussed the damned thing up, and paraded it around town, introducing it as Finny’s fiancée. Oh, the town had a good laugh at it, to be sure, but the rest of us were just mortified. Especially Addie and Sarah, as you could well imagine.
That wasn’t even the worst thing that they did, but we, uh, don’t even mention Finnigan’s twenty-third birthday celebrations. Even the merest inference of that day would be met with goofy smiles and red cheeks from all the women in town. Damned near gave Addie a heart-attack that day… of course, it was only another eight months or so when she died. Hopefully she finally saw the humour in Finny’s actions that day after she got up to Paradise. Though, well, I wouldn’t be surprised if she was still a little angry. It’s not like there are a lot of people in Serenity that would ride a donkey through the streets while wearing nothing but the skin they were born with. Repeatedly. For hours. While singing lewd songs at the tops of their lungs. Come to think of it, that was the year that the town-Elders banned cheap ale from coming within fifteen kilometres of here.
Oh. I ended up telling you after all. Well. Just cast some mind-wiping spell on yourself. Oh. But you’d just read about it again. Then, how about burning this… no, that won’t work either, since Finny will still probably want to know why the women in town were initially look at his waist when he walked along the streets. Most likely checking to see if he was wearing pants, and then being a little disappointed to find that he was.
Uh, anyway, nothing new to report here. Everything is the same as it was for the past couple of days. We’re expecting our new butcher-boy to be back by the end-of-year celebrations, which is good news. We’re all going to enjoy not having to store twenty pounds of meat for a week at a time. I tell you, Angie, if you’ve ever smelled beef that’s been slowly cooking in the summer heat for seven days, it would be enough to make you want to eat nothing but grass for the rest of your life.
Oh! Your friends Gawain Thurstrom and Hilda Mueller sent us a letter today! They said they’d be stopping by for a night this coming week as they’re heading to Downsview! Sarah’s making them sleep here in Finny’s house, so the two of us will stay with mom and dad that night. For the first time in more than two months. Geeze. Feels like forever since that whole Daemon-thing happened. Oh, Charlie Mendoza’s doing well, too. I stopped making that sleeping-powder for him sometime last week. Still no word from his mother’s family from up north, but we’re always hopeful that we’ll hear back at some point.
Still, even if we don’t, mom and dad are happy to have another kid under their roof. They always said that the best years to watch them grow were from four to ten. Of course, the exception was Finny, since they didn’t start looking after him until he was twelve. I think my dad always liked having boys in the house rather than me and Sarah. Probably because he lets himself be bossed around by us. But that’s his own fault, since he always acts so stupidly.
Anyways, only a month to go until Finny gets back from his whole mountain-thing. Hopefully your High-Magus thing will open up that shiny Gate to let the two of you come and visit for a week or so at the end-of-year celebration. Make sure to extend the offer to him, too, because we always have more wine than dad and Finny can drink. And, trust me, the less they consume together, the better. (See above examples.)
Love you, Angie and Finny!
Katie O’Malley
Serenity Valley
Angeline pushes open the door of her quarters with a lop-sided smile on her lips as she finishes reading through the always-cheerful Katherine’s correspondence. How could Samuel not love that girl, even with only a month of being in close proximity? She was smart, funny, enthusiastic, and wore her heart on her sleeve. And, damnit… if the people of Serenity wouldn’t accept her as an apothecary by the time she hit twenty, she’d just have to come and work at the Blue Fortress. Sure, they had plenty of those types of people already… but they were all dour-faced individuals who had no lust for life. She could be extremely popular here, and lauded for her talents…
Stepping over to her desk, which held four hundred and sixty-two… sixty-three letters waiting for Samuel’s eyes, she lets out a soft breath, and slowly shakes her head at the sight. Goddess… he really was like a folk-hero to the people of Serenity. First a trusted doctor, and then a slayer of Daemon… if it weren’t for the nude-donkey-rides through the town’s streets, he’d probably have an argument for saint-hood. Uh… except for the memory-loss and ill temper. Hmm… well… perhaps folk-hero was the best he could do for now…
The golden-haired mage slides open a drawer, and withdraws a ball of twine before shutting it. Separating the letters into bundles of forty or fifty, trussing them up takes a good twenty minutes, and then she immediately exits her room, with Samuel’s lodgings as her new destination. Hero, huh? What made one of those, in the eyes of normal citizens? Was it their strength? Their character? The amount of Daemon or bandits that they killed? Their temperament during a large-scale battle? Hmm…
When Samuel was helping them to best the Gluttonous Daemon, he’d immediately jumped into the fray to take the beast’s focus off of the workers still trapped within the warehouse. That sort of bravery wouldn’t be overlooked if it happened time and again… which it had, as evidenced when he fought the Wrathful ogre in Serenity. There had been a lot of first-hand accounts of the residents that, while fleeing, they looked back to see their Finnigan O’Malley, lit by the fires of a burning house, facing down a monster twice his own height…
And every single one of those people, upon their return, had fully expected to find the un-identifiable remains of their beloved, brave, and foolhardy apothecary. But when they had seen the dead form of the Daemon laying where Finnigan ought to have been, well… no wonder they believed him to be a hero of legend. A single man standing against a massive behemoth while everyone else was escaping. Of course, the mages of the Order and the Knights of Aegis knew men like that, too… and they typically locked them into padded cells where they would spend the next five decades babbling about machines flying in the sky, or mole-men coming up from the ground to steal the ‘women-folk’…
The blue-eyed caster snorts out a small breath of amusement and displays a sad smile while she paces the last steps to the edge of the little town within the compound. Samuel was mad. No man or woman would face off against a huge Daemon without feeling an ounce of fear. Yet Sammy had told Hilda that the thought never crossed his mind. Not a single anxiety for his own safety, anyways. He had merely decided on a course of action, and had sought to see it through to the bloody end. It hadn’t mattered to him if that Wrathful bastard was four metres, or four inches tall. He just wanted to buy time for everyone to flee…
And the past two months away from him had taught her the error of her own views. She’d once thought he should have just run. Like all the other, sane people. But it sometimes just takes that one person, that single individual to stand up and say ‘No More’, and give people hope. The evidence to that fact was linked by twine to her fingers. If the residents of Serenity didn’t have a champion ready to lay down his life, then they would always live in fear afterwards. They would forever be terrorized by their most-wicked thoughts, and jump at the smallest bump in the night…
Goddess… what she wouldn’t give to go back to that moment in time where she had been sitting at Finnigan’s desk, writing her letter of fare-well. If only she’d waited until the morn, and calmly discussed the reasons as to why she felt like he should stay for a while. Of course… she’d played this ‘if only’ game all too many times before. Had Samuel not been irate at her hasty departure, then perhaps he wouldn’t have kept up on his sword-skills. Maybe he would have grown complacent, and when the time came, he might have run from the Daemon instead of becoming the Hero of Serenity Valley. Still… she’d destroyed any chances of forming a Bond with that same man the moment that she’d flown away from his house. So, damnit… worrying about the past, or wishing to change the future still amounted to the same thing. Wasted time.
Angeline pushes down on the door-latch of the Candidate’s lodgings with her elbow, uses her foot to close it behind her, then shuffles over to the stairs, and slowly climbs up to the second floor. Geeze… did it ever feel odd to be back in here after nearly eight weeks. And just like the last time, the room she was now entering was… oh, son of a bitch. Did no-one change the bloody flowers?!
Snorting out the smell of long-since-decayed fragrant petals, she moves over to Samuel’s desk, then lets out an un-known pent-up breath as she finds only neatly-stacked blank parchment sitting on the top. Damnit. Perhaps expecting to find something waiting for her was too much to hope for… still… even a death-threat would have been a welcome discovery…
After setting the mass of bundled letters onto the dusty surface, the golden-haired mage then slowly turns to survey the room. Nothing changed, really, since she’d run out while crying her arse off. Wardrobe doors still wide open… only his Aegis clothing still hung up. All of his loin-wraps, stockings, and other vestments were still gone, as were all of his daggers… even the one she’d thrown at the floor. The sheets on the mattress still had the small indentation of where his weapons and bag had sat. The pillow was still nicely-fluffed. The only change was the rotten flowers, two months of dust, and the lingering odours from both the same.
Letting out a long sigh, she moves over to the widow, and throws it outwards to allow some fresh air into the dank space. Perhaps she could kill some time by doing a little light cleaning. And she could come back about three weeks from now for a bit more of the same… not like she could trust him to do it. He might have made a good butler to travel around with… but his skills in sweeping or dusting were nearly non-existent…
Moving over to the wardrobe and reaching into the gap between it and the wall, she hauls out a decently-constructed broom, then starts to attack the various cobwebs hanging in the corners. Damned hot season always brought the spiders out in droves. Sure, they ate all the bugs that attempted to eat the humans, but, damnit, stringing up webs in a room with no air-flow was just stupid.
After succeeding in shedding the arachnids’ spinnings, she rests the broom against the desk, and takes a look out below the window before dumping the old contents of the vases to the overgrown weeds four metres under the sill. What comes from nature returns to nature. Just at a slightly higher height, complete with splatter-effect. She sets the second vase off to the side, then starts to scoop the fallen, dried-out petals and leaves from the ledge into her hand… only to suddenly stop as a piece of parchment is revealed underneath.
Staring at the sun-bleached piece of paper for over a half-minute while frozen in the exact same position, a multitude of thoughts enter her mind in that time. Could have drifted over from the desk, and was blank. Could have been a draft of the letter he had sent back to Serenity, perhaps full of spelling-mistakes. Could be a note meant for someone in the Candidate’s lodgings. Could be something silly, like a shopping-list, or a, uh… damnit. One thing was for certain, however… considering that there were petals below and leaves above the folded letter… it meant he had stuck it amongst the flowers, and it had only fallen down onto the ledge once the supporting petals had fallen away…
Issuing an audible gulp that seems to echo around the room as her heart palpitates within her chest, the blue-eyed girl allows the dried-out refuse in her hand to drop onto the stone floor, and slowly reaches her index finger to raise the edge of the note while leaning over to peek underneath. Ooookay… if it was addressed to someone else, then she’d leave it where it was. Or… clean up all the stuff around it, and leave it there. Without read… ohhhhhhh, SHITE and BOLLOCKS…
Stepping back quickly and whirling around to clamp her hands over her mouth, she listens to the coursing blood pounding through her ears, and stares at the wall opposite of the window as she tries to calm her flaring anxieties. Iiiiiiit didn’t have a name… just ‘Mistress’ as the intended recipient. Addressed to herself, presumably, and left in the flowers as he was buggering off for his training with Master Quang. Why, though? Why leave it there? Why not on the desk? Why not pass it to someone that could give it to her directly? Why write anything for her AT ALL?!
The golden-haired girl starts to pace the short distances across the room as she shakes her hands out to rid their quakings. Ooookay… so… after she had left, bawling her eyes out, he’d written the letter to the people of Serenity… and then penned something for her to read. It wouldn’t be long, or in depth. He didn’t have the time for that. So… curt and precise. Either a ‘fall off a mare and die’-type of note, or… or, uh… DAMNIT. That was the only realistic thing that he’d scrawl…
Shuffling to a stop in the middle of the room while she knits her brows towards the stone floor, she lets out a heavy sigh, and twice peeks towards to parchment as she tries to soothe her suddenly-frayed nerves. Why ‘Mistress’? He hated her, yet he’d use the same annoying term as when they’d been travelling together? Was he being facetious? Coy? Ironic? Humorous? Cruel? Damnit… no real way to know until she read the damned thing…
Drawing in a deep breath as she steps over to the ledge once more, she gently plucks the folded letter from the layers of flowery-remains, and holds it up to scrutinize the way ‘Mistress’ had been scrawled. Long, slanted letters made by a well-practiced hand. Light, free, and smoothly-flowing. Even weight with no hard pauses. Buggery… his script was too decent to easily understand if there had been any malice in his mind when he penned this part, at least…
Swallowing down an obstruction in her throat, the blue-eyed mage then prepares herself for the worst, and slowly un-folds the parchment to peruse the contents.
Angeline
I don’t think you realized it, but these flowers are toxic. Assuredly, they smell wonderful, but ingesting even a small amount of the petals or leaves can cause anything from diarrhoea, to vomiting, to agonizing cramps, and in some extreme instances, organ failure leading to death. Oddly enough, when dried out and inhaled through a pipe, the smoke can cause the loveliest hallucinations, though I wouldn’t suggest attempting that, as you might have the desire to strip off your robes and seek the company of barn-yard animals in conjunction.
I’ve not much time before I must meet with Master Quang at the front gates to the Fortress, especially after chastising your choice in poisonous plants, so I will make this brief.
I still have much indignation within me about the way that you vacated Finnigan’s abode. I can’t help but think it as a betrayal, and it fills me with a tempestuous rage with every instance that I ponder it. It boils my blood even that much more when I now consider what few of your own reasons I know of for your sudden disappearance. Upon my return, I expect to hear the remainder, as I’m currently left with an incomplete feeling within my breast.
I’ll not promise that I will ever be able to understand them. I myself am locked in to my own unique perspective, and the best I can ever manage for those around me are an empathy to pain, and a desire to see them healthy. I cannot fathom reasonings that I do not comprehend. That is far beyond me. Though perhaps that is merely another symptom of my selfishness.
You did shame me, however, when you mentioned the friends in Serenity that I had made, and the view that I am perhaps only ‘borrowing’ this body and mind for the time-being. So for those reasons alone, I’ll deign to listen to your thoughts, either in person or paper, whenever it is that I do return.
Sincerely
Finn
Post-Script; those small, expendable blades you mentioned… upon reflection, perhaps they would be a better addition to my arsenal after all. Thus, could I ask you to discuss them with your blacksmith? I would care to spend some time training with them upon my return.
Additional Post-Script; Thank you. For the various duties that you performed during my torturous times in that accursed Hall of Runes. The designs on these blades are lovely, and I am sure that the people in Serenity enjoy your responses. Though I’m still un-sure as to how I feel about you bathing me while I was unconscious.
Angeline issues a heavy sigh as her legs fail her, forcing her to flop backwards onto the hard woollen mattress of her former companion’s bed. For a time, she merely stares up at the stone blocks that formed the ceiling, allowing her various feelings of relief, guilt, anxiety, and general warm-fuzziness float through her being. So he had still been angry about her departure. Rightfully so. She was too. But he was now willing to at least listen. Oh, Goddess, thank you…
And he’d even gotten a little more playful in his addendums. Asking her to have Karl draft up a few dozen concealable blades that he could work into his style of combat. Thanking her for taking the trouble to stylize his weapons. Heh… and he’d even mentioned the bathing. Well… that had been an opportunity that she just couldn’t pass up. And it was better than allowing one of the perverted mage-physician’s ‘nurses’ to do those duties. Who knew what they might do to Samuel while he couldn’t defend himself. Geeze…
The golden-haired caster lets out another long breath as she brings the parchment above her head to read through the note once again. Damnit… stupid flowers… maybe next time she’d get him some lillies... though after she went over to have a chat with Karl. Ugh… he was probably going to suggest another date… and she’d have to threaten to set fire to his workplace… again…