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Chapter 9 - Tentative Bonds
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Skye was awake long before dawn.
The Silverborn had given her a bedroll out of their spare supplies and placed her in the centre of the camp, well inside the ring of sentries. She suspected one of them was tasked with watching her specifically, which she wasn't sure how to take. Did they consider her a threat, or were they worried the shadows would come and steal her away?
She snuggled down inside the blankets. She hadn't been this warm in weeks, hadn't ever imagined this kind of comfort would ever be possible again. Callum, the Silverborn's appointed doctor, had applied some kind of sticky green paste he claimed would help her wounds seal and prevent infection. Without the plants to make her own antiseptic, she'd reluctantly allowed it.
Go with the Silverborn, Kiarae had told her, like she had another choice. The Master had been right about one thing--marked the way she was, the elves would never have taken her back in Naisha. She was already enough of a social outcast that they'd likely try to kill her for bringing corruption into their underground haven.
Skye gave up on sleep, instead opting to play with this newfound energy inside her.
She sat up, keeping the blankets around her shoulders as she brought her hands out in front of her. Unsure of how to go about it, she tried calling the energy to the surface. In response, a light green spark ran across a line on her palm. Encouraged, Skye pulled another to the surface, then another and soon enough, there were a multitude of sparks the same colour of her soul weaving in and out of her fingers.
How did I heal Jesse? she wondered, glancing at the paste-covered injuries up her arms. Her hand hovered over them. I touched it, and then... She concentrated her gaze on a shallow gash. Heal.
The sparks obeyed. Green light flashed from her fingers and melted into her arm, setting it aglow beneath the surface. Skye watched in amazement as the wound closed, leaving perfectly unmarked skin.
She examined her arm, unable to stop the smile. I did it!
"Was wondering when you'd start healing yourself," came a soft voice from behind.
Skye looked around to find the Silverborn who she'd pinned down watching her with a curious look. Feeling self conscious, she pulled the magic back and went back to staring at the ground.
"Didn't know if I could," she murmured back. "Would have felt stupid if I tried in front of everyone. Your name was Tayne, wasn't it?"
He sat down beside her. "Tayne indeed, Skye." She liked the casual way he said her name, without any attempt to place a title around it. "Haven't been a Sentinel long then, I take it?"
"First time I used magic was to heal your friend when you found me," admitted Skye. "Still not sure I believe it, but..." She tapped the place on her arm where she'd stared at the moving image for several long minutes. "Not much point arguing otherwise with that there, is it?"
Tayne gave a quiet laugh. "Not much point indeed." Skye tensed as she felt the questions he wanted to ask about her captivity on his tongue, questions she wasn't ready to relive yet.
Skye tensed as she felt the unasked questions on his tongue.
How had she been captured? What had they done to her? Did the Master claim her with that mark on her shoulder?
She wasn't ready to answer those questions yet. She wasn't ready to relive the three weeks of hell and fear they'd put her through, and she wasn't sure if she'd ever be ready.
Thank the deities, Tayne seemed to know that. He patted the ground beside her bedroll and smiled at her. "I'm glad we found you, in any case."
Skye brought her knees up to her chest. "Why are you up, anyway?"
"Almost time to move," said Tayne. "That, and I was wondering if you'd be willing to give me back my sword."
Oh. She reached under the bedroll to where the elegant weapon lay, having consciously forgotten it didn't belong to her.
"Sorry," she said, passing the sword hilt-first. "Just made me feel a bit safer, after..." Skye shook her head, refusing to go down that path. "I think I can sense magic in it. Are all Silverborn weapons like that?"
Tayne nodded and flipped the sword, putting the engraved hilt between them.
"They are, same with most of our other equipment," he said. "The weapons are enchanted to withstand great stress so they don't break and can pierce most demon hides easily, which, as you might imagine, is pretty useful."
"I wish my sword did that," said Skye. "Well, the one I used to have anyway."
Tayne paused for a second, like her words had caught him slightly off guard. "I'll find a spare Silverborn one for you to keep, if you like. Unless you have something that's more your style?"
"A sword is fine," said Skye, already itching without a weapon by her side to grip. "A dagger too, if you have one."
"Don't use a shield?" asked Tayne.
Skye gave him a sly smile. "I don't need a shield if they can't hit me in the first place."
Tayne snorted with amusement, which made Skye narrow her eyes. It almost seemed like he didn't believe her--although she wasn't sure that she believed her, especially after she'd managed to get herself captured in the first place.
But that wasn't my fault, she told herself. Not...exactly. If it hadn't been me, if would have been someone else. I just offered myself up for them.
Skye was debating setting Tayne's opinion straight when his sword, still unsheathed and resting across his lap, started to glow.
He caught her interest. "Silverborn weapons store Celestial energy, which we can use to break spells and perform minor healings, though that energy runs out fairly quickly and we have to recharge them during a Celestial cycle, or with etherstones in between times since that's only every four months."
That gave a whole lot more potential to the rest of their equipment. "Is anything else like that?"
Tayne shrugged. "Our armour can't be pierced by most things, and we're faster and stronger than we were before becoming Silverborn. We can also imbue anything Silverborn with a Whisper--our weapons, armour, various other things like bedrolls--which is like pre-recorded mental communication only we or a celestial Sentinel can hear. It's more useful than you'd think."
"And these enchantments haven't worn out?" asked Skye. "Unless there's been Sentinels among the humans recently, I thought the last celestial ones would have been a few hundred years back." Except Kiarae, locked inside the Citadel.
"You're the first Sentinel any of us have seen, and the first one that Alguarde will have seen in over a hundred and fifty years, when we get you there," said Tayne quietly. Then, sounding more upbeat, he kept talking. "But the enchantments are old, back from when the Sentinels were still strong, so they hold out well against time. There's a blacksmith in Alguarde that works with etherstones well enough to repair anything that does get damaged, too."
Skye remained silent as it hit her. How alone she was in her situation, the expectations that would surround her finally making themselves known as they lurked off in the distance.
She'd arrive at Alguarde, and then what? Would the people see a saviour, someone who was confident, that could challenge the Master and end his reign? She wasn't any of that. She was the girl who'd almost got her village wiped out when she was seven and had never since sat back, defending them with her blades however she could in an attempt to repay that debt.
Is that why I have this? Skye wondered. Is it some kind of sick joke from the deities--you failed the people once, and now you will do so again, only the entire mortal realm?
Skye closed her fists. She was being overdramatic. Whatever the reason she'd been given magic, she certainly wouldn't be the last to wield it before the corruption finally won. She wasn't the only one that could stop it. She could fail and someone else could pick up the pieces later and succeed. Mortality's near-demise wouldn't see the blame fall entirely on her.
She became aware of Tayne watching her and fiddled with her hair, pulling it neatly back into a ponytail as the sun peeked over the horizon.
Tayne stood and sheathed his sword. "I'll need to organise everyone before we start riding, but how about we see about getting you those weapons first?"
He offered her a hand, and Skye tentatively accepted it.
*+*+*+*
Kiarae almost wished she hadn't come out of the soul stasis.
Almost.
She felt the dawn, the moment the sun graced Lerelia with its warmth for yet another day, and let it wash over her resolve. The corruption, for all its power, for all its strength, could not stop the cycle of night and day. It could not break the hold of the deities over the mortal realm, and it could not break her hold on her mind.
When the wall of her Naclictite cell slid away and he entered, it didn't surprise her.
He. The Master, the man she schooled herself to never refer to by his other name. To think of him by that would do nothing but stir old memories and give her false hope.
It'd cost her dearly to open her mind to the deeper magic and imbue the young elf's soul with the Celestial's light with the Master beside her, but she'd had no choice. He'd known it and exploited it, but Kiarae found it hard to regret her decision. The elf might have resisted his initial attempt, but it was unlikely she'd do so again.
Now, it was time to re-establish that her stasis had not made her weak.
"Your little display did not work, I take it?" murmured Kiarae from her place in the corner.
The Master's face told her all she needed to know.
"I'll give you the chance I always do," he said with words etched in annoyance. "Tell me, now, and you shall be spared."
"My answer has not changed from the previous three," Kiarae replied softly.
"Deities be damned, why, Kia?" The Master slammed a fist into the wall. She felt the vibration run through the floor. "I'm not playing around here. Tell me, now, else I'll--"
Kiarae found her feet. "You'll what, keep me locked up here for the rest of my immortal life? Oh please, spare me the horror!" Kiarae spat at his boots, careful to not make eye contact for too long. The saying had some foundation; the soul could be accessed by someone skilled enough through visual contact alone.
The Master raised his hand. Lilac magic consumed his fingers, the black core larger than it usually was. Her heart twinged in pity, a feeling that vanished as he thrust the flame straight on to her arm, and Kiarae screamed.
She was strong. She'd been subjected to this long enough to have figured that out, but expressing the pain in a physical manner helped her cope with it. Ignoring it, pretending it didn't exist did nothing but allow it to build to dangerously high breaking levels. It created a foothold for the corruption's methods to take hold.
So each time the flame was pressed into her skin--an illusion rather than actual fire, she kept trying to tell herself--Kiarae screamed for all she was worth.
The Master continued with his demands. "Who was the Sentinel in your head, Kiarae? I don't have the damned time for this!"
Kiarae coughed, using the brief respite to clear her airways.
"The only Sentinel that has made attempts to get into my head in the last century stands before me now." She managed a smile. "Why don't you have time for this? Surely you have all the time in the world, Master."
The Master grimaced. Kiarae waited for his reply as the flame still burned on his hand. Her fingers went to her throbbing collarbone. The cells there were begging her to heal them, though she knew they were not damaged in any way she could fix. The combination of shadow and corruption had the strangest ways of inflicting damage without doing anything at all.
"Your little games are not amusing me," he said. "The shadow cycle is almost upon us, and I'd rather not waste too much time in it hunting down another Sentinel when I could be doing other things."
"Murdering innocents and warping them into demons is pathetic," growled Kiarae. "Fight your own battle instead of using others to do it for you, coward."
The Master didn't rise to the insult. "There's a lot more innocent murderings going on nowadays, even without the demonic aftereffect." He took note of her pained look and gave her a savage grin in reply. "It's a little side project of mine. You'll be a key part of it, once I get my hands on a nature Sentinel, anyway. But for now, care to tell me where this Sentinel is?"
For the next hour, the room echoed with Kiarae's cries as the Master continued to ask questions and punctuate them with varied degrees of pain. Some he'd never dared use on her before, fearing retaliation, but the Naclictite saw to it that she was unable to respond with anything substantial.
Once, she felt a brief flicker of emotion through the Linaye from Skye. A Master and their apprentice were never truly seperated, and Kiarae hung onto that flashes of the outside world and a life outside the Citadel.
*+*+*+*