Twenty-four.
That was how many cape trials Aldeheid had done at the Etheria. And he'd failed each and every one of them. Out of those twenty-four, Gwen was the first one to die. But that was one too many. All the others had fallen ill from having so much of their magic drained.
Then again, cape trials had always been a problem for him, even before he came to earth. But that was a time he didn't want to think or speak of. Earth was supposed to be a new beginning for him, a time to leave the things of the past in the past. He'd started the song and dance of cape trials all over again, because he'd found a mentor who convinced him his problem was remediable.
After all, reciting spells was a magician thing. Having a cape as a source of magic was a magician thing. But killing capes wasn't a magician thing. It was an Aldeheid thing.
It seemed no matter what he did, disaster followed. No matter where he went, he could never find peace or purpose. Such was his lot. Mellidius had been wrong; his problem wasn't remediable. Because if it were, he would've been fixed already. There were only so many ways one could recite spells.
Some may have blamed his predicament on bad luck, but Aldeheid couldn't, in good and sound conscience, blame his fate on such a silly notion. No, what was happening to him was far more deliberate. There had to be a cruel god following him around, pulling the proverbial strings in the background, gaining pleasure and sustenance from his misery.
Or perhaps everything was his fault. There were those who believed one could speak their own fate into existence. And he wasn't exactly a warm ray of sunshine. How many times had he convinced himself he'd fail before even trying? Countless.
With that considered, it wouldn't be so farfetched to think that his serial negativity had contributed to his hard lot. Perhaps if he'd been more optimistic about finding a cape, he'd have one. One who was fearless, strong and capable. More importantly, one who could handle the insanity of his spellcasting.
Ridiculous, he thought, as he ventured further away from the Bastion. Dried leaves crunched under his feet and more fell from overhead, painting the mountain trail with the colours of autumn. Birds flitted back and forth in the canopy and forest rodents disturbed the underbrush.
Gallitel had warned Aldeheid to stay away from Claudia, and he planned to do just that. By getting as far away from the Bastion as possible. His hair was still damp from the quick bath he'd taken before leaving. He'd used balms to soothe the burns and bruises on his hands but no amount of medicinal treatment would take away the guilt that weighed him down.
So he walked, as he always did in moments like this. He walked until his legs gave way beneath him, and exhaustion left him too weak to think about what had happened.
Claudia should've strangled him to death. Or better, Gallitel should've thrown him head first off the west balcony, and done to him what he'd done to so many capes before. Maybe he would've seen said capes on the other side. Maybe they would beat him senseless like he deserved.
Gwen, the beautiful flower that she was. He'd crushed her.
Like the murderer he was. Gallitel's punishment for him was almost comically light-handed. He should've been beheaded and thrown to the scavengers.
Aldeheid continued his trek well into the valley, bypassing the town to wander the rolling foothills beyond. Their heather-brushed crests rose and fell like waves on the ocean, and he waded through them until he reached the Phantom Orchard.
The cluster of trees was laden with fruit, but even the human villagers knew better than to eat any. There couldn't be any beneficial sustenance hanging from trees that disappeared and reappeared randomly.
Aldeheid instead moved beyond it to the small lake at its east.
The still, clear water reflected the clouds that dotted the sky. A herd of deer were grazing on the opposite bank, and a hare darted through the tall grass at the north edge. He found a shady tree to sit under and rest. He was a long way from the Bastion, but could still see it in the distance, sitting on the mountainside.
Tall and proud, gleaming white in the sunshine, it was a sight to behold. An abundance of towers stretched up from its base, their pinnacles topped with flags bearing the Bastion's crest. For nigh a hundred years it had been his home, and he'd managed to ruin that in one morning.
The meaning of Gwen's death wasn't lost on him though. It was time for him to stop. No more cape trials. No more crushing flowers. A capeless magician was a worthless magician, that's what he'd been told. But if that was the case he'd have to accept the fact that he'd be worthless for all his days.
If only Mellidius could see me now...
Still weak, still fumbling around in the darkness like a lost child. Aldeheid leaned his head against the tree and watched the clouds drift by. What would he have said, were he there?
Maybe: You make it hard for me to pity you, Aldeheid. Since you seem to pity yourself enough for both of us.
Or perhaps: When you stop feeling sorry for yourself, meet me at the training grounds.
Or something better: Rise Aldeheid, so long as you have breath, you have hope.
Aldeheid smiled as he remembered his mentor's words. That's right, I'm not done yet. There had to be something he could do, some glimmer of hope on the horizon that he'd yet to see. And he wouldn't find it by moping around the valley.
Aldeheid braced his hands against the ground, and something flashed in his peripheral. In the Phantom Orchard. He leaned over to get a better look and a horse came into view. It was being guided by someone, but only their hand was visible. After more leaning he caught a swath of braided hair adorned with jewels.
A woman? His body tilted forward as though it was being guided by her hand, and he fell face-first on to the ground.
Idiot... When he looked up again, both the person and the horse were gone, but his curiosity was ignited. Or perhaps his mind was latching onto any distraction it could.
Wandering around the Phantom Orchard would be unwise. There were rumors of people going missing or turning up dead after venturing inside.
Well, wisdom be damned.
Aldeheid weaved through the trees, looking every which way, but he spotted no trace of the woman or the horse, not even a hoofprint. There were strange markings on the ground, and his eyes tracked them, wondering what secrets they held. Runes, maybe? Were they the cause of the orchard's disappearances?
"Are you lost?"
He almost jumped out of his own skin. His heart hammered as he whirled around. And there she was, at the other end of the orchard, one hand reaching up for a ripe fruit. The other held the reins of a fearsome black steed that stood many hands high. She pulled the fruit down and her dark eyes examined it. Her skin was nearly identical to its smooth brown surface and glowed in the filtered sunshine.
Well?" she asked, tossing the fruit into a basket on the horse's back.
"I... I'm Aldeheid." And I'm a moron. He could've kicked himself. She didn't ask for your name, fool.
"Aldeheid." The gentle lilt of her voice stroked the syllables of his name like rich, soft silk. "Are you lost?" She moved a bit closer to him, examining the fruit on another tree.
"N-no... I'm just..." Just what? An idiot. An intrusive one at that.
"Then are you running from whoever's trying to kill you?" She gave him a measured look, one eyebrow raised.
What? "I don't know what you're talking about?"
"You have bruises on your neck." She turned away from him to pull down more fruit. "Hand-shaped bruises, your own hands are little beaten up too, and only a fool would come in here otherwise."
Images of Gwen's lifeless body and Claudia's murderous expression flashed through his mind. "Oh, it's fine. I deserved it."
"Ah, so you're just another curious fool." As she plucked another fruit, the sleeve of her blue tunic slid back, revealing an elegant, swirling mark on the back of her hand.
"You're a cape..." The words escaped his mouth before he could think better of them. Good job pointing out the obvious.
She looked down at her mark with mild disinterest. "Indeed I am."
Aldeheid was tempted to slap himself to make sure he wasn't dreaming. After such an abysmal morning this was the last thing he expected to find on his self-pity walk. A cape... All the way out here. He looked up and down the meadow before settling his eyes on her again. "No magician?"
"Who needs them?" She turned from him and started up the path again, the horse plodding along beside her.
"But you're so beautiful," he said, starting after her. "I'm sure any magician would be honoured to have you on their shoulders."
"Is that why you've been visually raping me from the moment you caught sight of me?"
Aldeheid coughed. "I... I apologise. T'was not my intention to cause you any discomfort." He supposed he should also take that statement as a warning to stop berating her. Although he wanted to talk her some more, she didn't seem keen on sharing his company. Which was understandable since he was being a bit of a nag.
"You know." She turned to face him fully. "Your eyes are quite beautiful."
Heat crept up into Aldeheid cheeks and his lips tipped into a small smile. He'd gotten that compliment a lot, but it was always a little bit more special coming from a stranger. "Thank you."
She took a step closer and tilted her head, studying him as though he were a fancy piece of art. "Indeed, I would like to pluck them out and keep them in my back pocket. Then I could look at them whenever I please."
A chill washed over him as the blood drained from his face. "I... please don't."
"Shame," She took a step back, and the air felt suddenly cold between them. "Well then, my silver-tongued fool, if that's case, I'm going to have to ask you to get out of my orchard."
He blinked several times, his mind not fully registering what she'd said.
"Go on." She flicked her head towards the exit and made a walking motion with her fingers. Then she turned on her heel and disappeared into the trees, her long braid swaying in her wake.
What just happened? Aldeheid asked himself, silently. He sucked in a deep breath to clear his head and stared at the space the woman had occupied. She had just summarily dismissed him. He started towards the orchard's exit, none the wiser of the mysterious woman that had drawn him in there. Well, he knew she was a cape.
A cape who thought his eyes were beautiful. Quite beautiful. But she also wanted to keep them like a gaudy trinket.
A blast of fresh air from across the lake hit him as he stepped out of the trees. He inhaled it deeply, a smile breaking out on his face. My, she was beautiful, and the way she said his name...
Realization struck him. He'd forgotten to ask her name. Of course an idiot like him would overlook something so simple. He whirled around, prepared to run back into the trees to find her. But both the orchard and the mystery cape were gone.