The Swordbearer spoke first. “Delyth, welcome,” he said, genuine warmth in his dark oval eyes. Rhys was a man the halfbreed both liked and trusted because he cared for little but courage and ability. Others might consider this abysmally single-minded, but it meant that he had always accepted Delyth, either for her courage or for some of the other obstacles they shared due to circumstances of birth. Because of him, a few of the other warriors accepted her as well.
“You’ll be wondering why you’ve been summoned.” By contrast, the High Priestess was as unreadable as ever. “Approach the table, and we will explain.”
Delyth obeyed the High Priestess, pulling her wings tight against her back in the only visible sign of her discomfort. The warriors around the table tensed as she drew near, for all that she made no aggressive movements and kept her hands clasped before her. She was unarmed, and though these people served the same leaders that she did, their wide stances and narrowed eyes were setting her teeth on edge. The very air within the hall balanced on a blade tip.
“I’m sure you know of the visions granted to the late Seer Cerys,” Anwen started. “Her glimpses of the future to come were shared among the temple as a symbol of hope. There was, however, another—”
“I can not sanction this!” Chief Mender, Emhyr, cut her off. “Not the mongrel. It— This will be a slaughter. Is she even a priestess of the temple? She—”
“Emhyr!” Anwen exclaimed, her voice like ice, but he only paused a moment.
“Cursed Realms, she’s not even human.”
The last word struck Delyth like a physical blow, and only some instinct of self-preservation kept her from reacting. This was one of the leaders of her faith, someone she would die for.
“Anwen, if I may,” Rhys was saying. “Delyth is a priestess of the temple and has been for seven years.” He turned back towards Delyth. “How many years have you served in total?”
She swallowed, but her voice didn’t falter. “Twenty-five, Chief Swordbearer.” Her entire life.
The High Priestess nodded sharply. “Emhyr, either hold your tongue or leave. Now, as I was saying: Cerys was given a third vision only days before her death. A warrior of this temple will wield Calamity in service to Enyo’s vassal. Your Chief believes you worthy, but first, you must show that you can master the sword.”
Delyth understood with sudden, terrible clarity: this was a test, one that those chosen before her had not passed.
How many had failed already? Was she here as some last effort?
Rhys spoke again, interrupting her thoughts. “Take the blade,” he said, and the other warriors drew their weapons.
Delyth swallowed again, her heartbeat accelerating with the rush of adrenaline through her veins. Was she going to have to fight them? To prove herself through battle?
She looked down at the blade, such a brutal instrument. It was a bastard sword, black from tip to the rough jewel at its pommel, a thick blood channel carved down its center. But despite the menace etched in its appearance, something about the weapon called to Delyth. Made her eager to touch it, to wield it.
She could almost taste rust, smell the blood already consumed by Calamity.
And Swordbearer Rhys had commanded her to take it.
With trembling fingers, Delyth reached out to grip the wire-wrapped hilt, to lift it, dark and heavy, from the table. Every muscle in her body tensed with the contact, a tight embrace. No weapon had ever felt so right in her grip, no other weapon so gleefully deadly.
The sword was hunger.
It was laughable how easy, how glorious it would be to slaughter the five men guarding her. Delyth could see herself dance among them, carving limbs from their bodies in a shower of crimson, plunging Calamity in and out of their still-beating hearts until the channel at its center overflowed with blood. She would bathe in it, tear into their throats until it dripped from her gums.
It was Calamity, and so she would be.
But still, Delyth did not stir. The warriors had made no move to engage her, and these were people she knew, people she had fought with when the village was under attack. She did not want to kill them.
Though if she did, they would never again insult her or grimace out of her way. No one would mistreat her again. It’d almost be a sort of freedom.
A wild sort of abandon. Diving off a cliff.
Delyth took a huge, shuddering gasp of air, and then another.
She was not a monster. These people could not make her into one—hadn’t they tried for years? This fucking sword would not best her either.
Trembling with effort, Delyth gently laid the sword back down on the table, though for several long seconds, her fingers would not unclench from around the hilt. She had to peel them away, her body protesting, her very blood. She had to give away the slaughter.
She was no monster. Refused to be.
And so, Delyth finally broke contact with the blade, leaning against the rough wood just long enough to gulp more air before straightening again.
To a man, the warriors lowered their weapons, but Delyth paid them no mind. The High Priestess was smiling all the way to her honey eyes.
“Delyth, Warrior Priestess of the Temple,” she said. “I name you Champion to the Vassal of Enyo.”
Chapter III
Fourth Moon, Waning Crescent: Ingola
A few hours after the incantation, Etienne had stood before a mirror in the room he shared. It was dark except for the single candle he’d lit, but he could see himself clearly. He had discarded his shredded tunic so that in the center of the mirror, framed by the pale skin of his chest, was the mark of a single feminine hand.
He had shoved the book into the bottom of his trunk in the hopes of putting the whole thing behind him, but as the days passed and Alphonse’s behavior fluctuated, he finally gave up pretending that everything would go back to normal. He would be marked for the rest of his life, and though his friend had escaped physical harm, he feared that the incantation had caused her some deeper injury.
At first, the changes in Alphonse seemed reasonable. Dark circles under her eyes, solemn and quiet moods. The entire day after the ritual, Alphonse had stayed abed. At times she seemed to avoid looking at Etienne all together, no matter what he did to mend the rift between them.
But as the days passed, Etienne started to notice more oddities. More strangeness from Alphonse. Despite studying attentively to assuage Alphonse’s fears that he would not pass their exams, she seemed absent-minded or even uninterested in classes altogether.
He caught her staring off into the distance on more than one occasion, completely lost and unresponsive to his attempts to regain her attention. Othertimes, Etienne would look up from his own scrolls or books to find Alphonse’s eyes locked on him with an eerie stillness.
Still, he had hoped this was just part of her recovery process. The shock of dealing with that creature… There was no telling what profound impact it might have.
With a week passing and two days after the last set of their exams, Etienne had hoped things were changing for the better.
Settling in at the table he and Alphonse shared with Colarie during lunches, Etienne looked around for Alphonse, who was late, when Colarie plunked down in front of him.
“You will not believe what I just overheard Master Yuan and Master Dega saying.”
Colarie was a bit of a gossip, so chances were she had actually been eavesdropping. Still, she was practically quivering with excitement at the news. She shot Alphonse’s empty seat a questioning glance before plowing on. “Alphonse’s practical exam on spell casting and summoning? She summoned a live snake into the room!” For a healer like Alphonse, summoning something so complicated as a living creature was unheard of. Objects, plants… Certainly.
But a living, breathing animal?
“That’s not all! Master Yuan was telling Master Dega that for the written portion of Laws of Healing, she didn’t write a single thing down. Just stared at everyone in the room and then fell aslee
p on her paper.”
Colarie reached for a cup of cold water, shaking her head. “I don’t know what’s going on with her. The other night, she didn’t come back at all. Yesterday, she nearly forgot to put her veil on.” A scandalous thought for someone like Alphonse. “She’s getting so absent-minded. You don’t think she has some romantic tryst going on, do you?”
“Alphonse has just been over-stressed about the exams,” he told Colarie. “I’m sure the Masters will understand, especially considering her demonstration in summoning.”
Etienne was worried about these changes, though. It was so thoroughly unlike Alphonse to not try on an exam, especially a healing exam, that he almost couldn't believe it. And while she was really quite clever at their required courses, she had never shown an aptitude for summoning. Just what had that thing done to her?
There was nowhere to turn but to the book that had started this whole mess, and he resolved to get to it just as soon as possible. He could figure this out, he could fix it.
Colarie rolled her eyes. “You don’t understand girls at all, do you, Etienne?” she murmured, taking a bite from her lunch plate and chewing thoroughly. “I’ve never seen her this way before. It’s more than stress.” Despite her concerned words, Colarie didn’t actually look all that torn up about it. Rather, she was merely interested.
“Did you say or do something to upset her?” she asked after a few seconds of consideration. “You can be a real oaf at times…”
Etienne opened his mouth to reply, then stopped. She was right, of course, about some of it anyway. This was his fault. He shook his head angrily. Yes, it was his fault but she didn’t know Alphonse. She didn’t really care. He stood up abruptly, sending a fork clattering from his plate.
“You’re right,” he said simply. “I can be. And no, I don’t understand many people, but I do know Alphonse. Find someone else to gossip about.”
He strode out of the lunchroom without a second glance, his shoulders tense. He had to get to the book, had to figure out what was going on.
⥣ ⥣ ⥣
* * *
It was becoming difficult to keep track of the days. Half the time, Alphonse felt as if she were in a daze or a dream, sleep-deprived despite the distinct memory of going to bed. Other times, she was on edge, a pressure behind her eyes making her tense and snappish. Not at all like herself.
As if that weren’t enough, Alphonse was starting to lose chunks of time. Just completely gone.
She’d go to the library to study, or the dining hall to eat, and the next thing she’d know, she’d be standing in the gardens or lounging on her bed. After losing more than an entire day, Alphonse was starting to think she might be going insane.
The thought was solidified when she found herself being reprimanded by the masters. Of course, she felt shame and horror over her failure to participate in the written exams, but more so she felt… Irritation?
At her masters! For waxing on and on about the importance of her studies and the misguided attempt to rebel at this time. Truly, ire was welling up in Alphonse, a feeling so foreign and volatile it was all she could do to keep from snapping at the masters. She had to keep her hands folded tightly to the bodice of her dress in order to keep from slapping the older bald man, Master Yuan. Where were these impulses coming from? Never in her life had Alphonse struck another person!
She held back tears and promised to try harder if they would only give her another chance. The masters said they would talk it over and sent her on her way.
Alphonse hurried from their private offices and bustled down the halls, wiping the traitorous tears away hastily before her fellow students could see them. Most already thought her a pushover—
Because you are.
Alphonse stopped in the middle of the hallway, looking left… right… Who had said that? But no one was paying her any attention. No one was near enough to whisper into her ear…
But that voice.
That voice most certainly hadn’t been her own…
Had it?
Swallowing down her fear, Alphonse resumed her flight, seeking out the only source of comfort and safety she knew.
⥣ ⥣ ⥣
* * *
Etienne was crouched on the floor of his room when a timid knock sounded on his door. He had both hands deep in his trunk, pushing aside sundry belongings for the wrapped book that lay at its bottom. At the sound, he dropped his things in irritation. Didn’t anyone have anything better to do than bother him today? There was important work to be done.
He opened the door almost brusquely, but the irritation melted out of him at the sight of a crying Alphonse. Her cheeks were pink with embarrassment, eyes wide and glassy with tears, dark circles under them speaking of her exhaustion.
“M-master Yuan and M-M-Master Dega are considering h-holding me b-back a y-year!” she wailed, the tears escaping finally and dripping down her face.
He looked at her, stunned at the news that she might not continue on with him. They would still be at the same school, of course, but it had always been him and Alphonse. The only memories he had of the days before befriending her were dark ones.
After a moment, he snapped himself out of it. Staring at her certainly wouldn’t help. “Come in,” he said simply and placed a hand on her shoulder to gently lead her inside. With the door safely closed behind them, he shoved a few scrolls and clothes off a chair for her to sit in. He sat on his bed. There wasn’t all that much furniture.
“I’m so sorry, Alphonse,” he said. “Tell me everything. You said they were considering it? Maybe there’s still something we can do.”
❀
Sitting in the chair, Alphonse huddled against herself, hugging her arms about her belly as she continued to sniffle and weep. How could things get any worse!? “I— I don’t know what happened, but they were saying— I didn’t write anything down and…” She gasped, scrunching her eyes shut as if that would block out the truth of the matter. “Then I disobeyed orders to summon a stone from the gardens. I brought in a snake. I don’t know why I did that! I don’t remember how I did it. I just— It seemed… ” This was where it would sound genuinely insane. “It sounded… funny to me. To summon a snake.” It hadn’t been a poisonous one! But the master had not been pleased.
Furthermore, when he told her to send it back, she failed to do so. Whatever part of her that had known how to bring it into the exam simply refused to recall how to banish it.
Eventually, it had been worked out, but the harm had been done.
Her masters now thought she was insolent and disobedient. Traits that no one in Moxous tolerated.
“I’ve never summoned something alive!” she squeaked, eyes peeling open to look at Etienne helplessly. “Now they are saying I need more discipline. More time to learn the laws and…” she trailed off, pressing her lips together unhappily.
She had to tell him everything. If she stopped talking now, she’d not admit the full truth to Etienne.
“I’m not remembering things and… and I keep sort of— waking up places I don’t recall going and… and…” She lowered her voice despite being the only two in the room.
“There’s a voice,” Alphonse winced and tapped her forehead. Where the voice was from. “Etienne. I think I’m having a breakdown. I think I might be going insane. The pressure of Moxous is too much. I’m not strong enough.” It was a relief to say it aloud now. Even if it was terrifying.
Carefully, Alphonse gripped Etienne’s hands, her own touch shaking. He looked at their linked fingers, hesitant and pale. Her words had disturbed him, she could tell. “Alphonse,” he started gently. She knew the tone. It was one he reserved for bad news. “I don’t think you’re going insane, and I certainly don’t think Moxous is too much for you.”
He couldn’t quite meet her eyes, his gaze drifting to the single, small window that lit the room with late afternoon sunlight. She let her gaze follow his. Any other time, it would have been cheery. With exams done, she and Etienne
might have had a bit of time to enjoy a day like this. They had many a year before.
It felt as though that was lost to them now, all of the innocence of childhood gone in one ill-conceived night.
“That… creature we summoned,” Etienne started haltingly. “You saw what it did to me— my chest burnt down into the muscle with just a few seconds of contact… she—she touched you too, Alphonse. Maybe the damage was less physical, but she could have hurt you in some way we don’t understand.” Finally, he met her eyes, speaking more quickly now as if to lessen the horrible nature of those words. “I’ll see if I can learn anything more from the book, and even if I can’t, I will find out what’s going on, Alphonse. You know I will. We can reverse this you and I. And we’ll convince the masters somehow too. It's you and me, always.”
If the creature had tainted her mind. Made Alphonse’s thoughts not her own… Oughtn’t she go see one of the master healers? Surely they would be able to tell if something was wrong within?
Amber eyes flickered over Etienne’s face, the guilt and remorse there. The carefully controlled features were determined to reassure her and keep her from feeling alone and frightened, as she already did.
If she saw a master healer, they would want to know why her mind was injured so. How.
And inevitably, it would come back to Etienne and his ancient journal and quest for knowledge, casting rituals forbidden and barbarous…
He’d be thrown out from Moxous, possibly from Ingola. Their country was strict on magic and harsh on those who studied but did not fall in line. It was dangerous, and Ingola did not want its people to suffer.
With good reason, these rules and laws had been set in place…
She was paying the price now.
But Etienne was a scholar and a sorcerer. His masters had hardly discouraged his restless mind from seeking out answers; rarely did they punish him for going beyond the bounds of reasonable curiosity.
Vassal Page 4
