“Breena!” I shouted. “The fight’s over!”
She didn’t listen. She was too wrapped up in the emotions cycling through her. I sighed, stepped over, and jammed a palm full of lightning into the prone man’s chest. He jerked one final time, then died.
My little fairy companion blinked, and then looked around.
“What?” she asked suddenly. “Oh. He’s gone… but why?” She looked up at me. “I had him, Wes.”
“I know,” I replied. “But I had to step in.”
“Why?” she demanded, flying in front of my face, her small woman’s body shaking with adrenaline. “Why couldn’t I handle him?”
“Because you were starting to become like me,” I said back quietly.
Her eyes widened, and I felt her reach in through our link to read my intent, my emotions. It was a new thing, or at least a thing that was new to me. Fairies, or sprite-folk, as they called themselves, had an easy time reading the surface thoughts and moods of other races. They could tell what people were feeling, or afraid of, even if they couldn’t always understand, or care, why. It was why Stell had made a sprite-folk Satellite of herself to attach to Challengers, so that they could better read the condition of the extraplanar hero that had come to battle whatever world-ending Tumult had arisen. But somehow the bond had developed even further, to where Breena could read some of the surface thoughts of her Challengers, even when she lost most of her power and reset by linking with a new Challenger. I had found this last part out only recently. Breena had been getting concerned about how I had been acting after all of my torture and deaths. One time I tried to brush away her concerns and she blew up on me, and explained how she could tell what I was thinking sometimes and so she knew that I still wasn’t okay even if I pretended I was.
Today, as we had been ambushing all of the Malus Members trying to return to Avalon through their portals, she had found that she could read the surface thoughts and feelings of other Earthborn as well, not just me, her bonded Challenger companion. I had taken it to be an invaluable interrogation tool and it was part of the reason all of the ambushes today had gone so smoothly.
But I hadn’t taken into account just how many atrocities and war crimes she had become aware of. And now she was drowning prisoners alive.
I sighed, and then did my best to project all of the empathy and compassion I felt through our bond. This situation wasn’t her fault. I knew firsthand just how easy it was to do what she had just done. We had to help hold each other together, or we’d spend all of our spare moments making sure these bastards got what they deserved, and there just wasn’t enough time for that right now, even on Avalon.
“We’ll talk afterwards,” I said kindly, but firmly. “For now, we’ve got to interrogate the man Eadric knocked out, and check on the new group of prisoners we’ve rescued.”
“Okay, Wes,” Breena said in a small voice, hanging her head. “And I’m sorry.”
“I know,” I said back, and I reached forward to carefully give the one-foot tall fairy a careful hug. “I’m sorry too. But we’ll talk after everyone’s safe.”
CHAPTER THREE: PLANTING ROOTS
Putting Breena’s moment on hold, and trusting Eadric to make sure the surviving, unconscious enemy was secured, I turned to check on the people we had just rescued. Guineve’s shell of protective covering had finally faded from them, revealing them to be completely unharmed from our fight. Hailing from the Woadlands, they were a beautiful people, with black, brown or red hair, and skin ranging from pale to slightly tan. None of them were as tall as I was but a few of them were just at six feet, and their ears slanted to slight points. Blue whirls of Woad paint, the namesake of their world, adorned various places of their bodies, usually a cheek, wrist, or shoulder.
They were also all bruised, dirty, and disheveled. I wasn’t completely fluent on reading the ages of their race but I could tell that no elderly were with them, and they were mostly women and children.
They were also, very, very afraid.
“What happened?” a woman in a torn dress stammered.
One of the few men, a shirtless fellow with braided brown hair, stood in front of the group.
“Who are you?” he demanded, though his tone was a careful balance between caution and deference. “What do you want?”
“To free you and save your lives,” I replied simply. “I’m Challenger Wes Malcolm and you’re on Avalon now. If you come with us, you’ll be taken care of. The other ex-prisoners can vouch for me if you need. But you all need to be fed and have your wounds looked at.”
“The Challenger is dead,” the man replied carefully. “He died fifty years ago. Everyone claiming to be him has been an imposter sent by the Earthmen to deceive us.”
The last group had told me something similar. It had been an aggravating bit of news. Especially since Rhodes’ people had started off their conquests by saying I had already died for good.
“I just heard about that,” I replied. “It’s already been added to my list of things to be angry about. Since we’re on Avalon, though, I can show you my Deeds and Renown, and the Satellites of the Starsown can help serve as proof.”
“Every imposter so far has come with a captured sprite professing to be the Holy Fairy,” the man countered.
“Good to know,” I replied. “I’ll have to figure out how that’s happening. But I need to point out that you all were already captured, and already stranded on a foreign planet, so it’s pretty unnecessary for me to trick you. If you want, we can look at your wounds now, and hopefully I can get you back to the Shelter and get you some food and clothing. It’s that, or you guys can stay out here.”
It was harsh, but I needed to drive home their predicament. There wasn’t anyone else who could look after them out here and if Rhodes, or the Horde, or God forbid, Cavus, found a way to invade Avalon again I really was their only hope. Being afraid of me wouldn’t change that.
The bare-chested man finally nodded, and the group shuffled forward. Breena flew over to look at them, and they marveled at her as she cast healing spell after healing spell. I guess they were able to recognize the real thing after all. Virtus hung back and threw on another cloak, but the other former prisoners stepped forward to help any way they could, usually by providing spare cloaks of their own.
I turned forward to engage our last prisoner, drawing the dagger I had put away at the end of the battle. Shadow had begun to travel over my body, blurring my form slightly. It reminded me of Stell when her body was in between changes. I didn’t know why the dagger could do that or the limits of its power, but it had been an excellent complement to Guineve’s veiling magic, so I had been putting it to use all day.
Right now I was going to use it to hide myself while I used a newly discovered spell from the Ideal of Blood to charm and interrogate the surviving Malus man. Eadric had explained that he would wake up after a minute of two of being knocked out. Then, because of the way he had hit him, he would go into a full-blown coma and probably die, unless his vital guard held off the damage somehow.
Except I couldn’t, because he was already dead.
He had been bound by coils of mist that had looped around his limbs, courtesy of Guineve’s magic. But his neck was also bound, and twisted at an angle about ninety degrees different from what it should normally be.
“Guineve?” I asked carefully.
“Yes, dear Wes?”
Stell’s oldest Satellite walked out of the mist to answer me. Like every aspect of Stell so far, she was a beautiful woman. Tall, graceful, dignified, imperious, and somehow playful all at once. Raven-dark hair crowned her head and draped down her shoulders, framing a pale face with deeply red lips. She wore a dress made of mist that sometimes resembled a gown, sometimes resembled a toga, but always displayed more of her admittedly impressive figure than my broken, prudish psyche was comfortable processing.
Right now, though, that last bit wasn’t as much of a problem, because she had just fucking murdered a gu
y behind my back.
Language, the new, draconic part of my psyche admonished from out of nowhere.
I’ll work on it, I snapped back. Now shut the hell up. And don’t you curse more than me anyway?
Oh, I know, the New Guy answered, I just wanted to be that guy for a couple seconds.
I shoved the rest of his words aside. I needed to get back to the whole Geneva Convention violation that just happened.
“Guineve,” I repeated as I regathered my thoughts. “Did you just murder a guy? That I was about to question?”
“I might have, dear,” the stately woman replied simply. “Let me check and make sure… yes. Yes, I did.”
Well, that was a new side of the woman that liked to bake us all cookies and sugar bars.
“Um, can I ask why? Because I’m pretty sure we talked about interrogating these guys before killing them.”
And yes, I was going to kill them anyway. Because not doing so was too stupid on too many levels, the biggest of which being the fact that every one of these guys I didn’t kill was just going to torture or kill someone else, and get power out of it.
But it felt wrong to have a piece of Stell make that call. Even though I knew it was a hypocritical, probably chauvinistic feeling. But after seeing what was happening to Breena, it was a decision I had doubled down on.
“I already interrogated him, my dear Wes,” Guineve answered calmly. “His mind was very unguarded, so it was easier to use my magic instead of yours this time.”
“And then you killed him?” I clarified.
“Yes, dear.” The beautiful raven-haired woman nodded. “I’ll tell you why when we get back to the Shelter.”
She showed none of the emotional turmoil Breena was still working through. No guilt, no regret, no lingering hatred or fear of what I’d think about her. She seemed like she had just done what she thought was the best course of action for all parties involved.
I still wanted to be angry with her. I wanted to argue that she had usurped my authority and went behind my back, and that I didn’t appreciate her making this kind of call without me. Then I realized I was dealing with the same kind of feeling that power-hungry teachers, managers, and politicians everywhere struggled with, and that if I couldn’t trust my most senior teammates to act independently every now and then, I probably wouldn’t have a team left at all one day.
“Alright, fine,” I said, trying to put my grown-up hat back on. “I’m going to trust you on this and wait until then. Let’s make sure we’re done here and head back.”
“Of course, dear.” The woman nodded as she looked at me, and for a moment I thought she was going to say something else. But then she walked over to the rescued prisoners and picked up the smallest crying child, whispering comfortingly to her.
The trip back home was peaceful enough. The entire planet had already been cleared of resistance so there wasn’t anyone left to give us any trouble. And even if there were, the planet itself would have informed me.
I was still processing how much of an advantage that was. Knowing where the enemy was, and what they were doing, played possibly the largest role in my victories over the Horde and the Raw-Mawed Wolf. It was an advantage I both needed to fully understand, in order to maximize, and also an advantage I had to force myself to not depend on, because the other worlds wouldn’t talk to me like Avalon did.
But that depended on me thinking clearly, and that was still really hard. Even without the New Guy.
Teeth, FNG (short for the Freaking New Guy, my other name for the jerk) spoke up during my reflection. My name is Teeth. We agreed on that.
Sure we did, I responded. Now go play with your dads.
He swore at me, but I was able to tune him out again, which made today a really good day.
“Um, Wes?” Breena asked me. “Everything okay?”
“Huh?” I turned to her. “Yeah. As far as I know, anyway. Why do you ask?”
“Just thought I’d check,” she said as she fluttered by me. She bit her lip. “Sorry for being paranoid.”
Oh. She had seen me grinning suddenly. And I had probably made some weird facial expressions while I was talking to Teeth, which she couldn’t figure out because her bond usually didn’t let her sense him.
“No, you’re good,” I replied. “I was just having an internal conversation.”
“Oh, okay,” my fairy companion said, accepting that fact without judgment. I was always relieved when she did that. The more I got to know Breena, the more I realized she was slow to label someone as ‘crazy.’ It had taken me some time to get used to that and open up to her, but the fact of the matter was that she was a tiny, spiky-haired woman with wings and sparkles, and so she spent far more of her time convincing Challengers that they weren’t crazy for seeing her. “How is your new friend?”
“Annoying,” I admitted. “He’s always saying stupid crap whenever I’m trying to concentrate on something important.”
“Like during a fight?” Breena asked.
“No,” I admitted. “He’s gotten smart about that, thank God. But every now and then I’ll try and have a quiet moment to myself and process things, and he starts squawking like a needy two-year old. It’s aggravating, especially when there’s still so much to plan.”
“Um,” Breena said again. “You do realize he’s you, right? Another half of your psyche? Formed to help you process all the trauma and changes you’ve undergone?”
“Maybe?” I offered. It was a compromise. The truth was I didn’t like to think about that idea, and if Teeth was really part of me then I didn’t like what that said about me.
The feeling’s mutual, super-virgin, he suddenly quipped, getting through despite my best efforts.
Didn’t I tell you to—
Screw off? Yes! BUT YOU WON’T LET US! THAT’S THE PROBLEM!
He did have a point. And it’s not like he had anywhere else to go.
“It’ll be fine, Wes,” Breena promised me, hopefully missing every part of my internal shouting match. “All this part of you really wants is to figure out a way to deal with some urges you’re probably repressing. In fact, it’s good that he’s bringing them to your attention.”
I wanted to vehemently disagree with her, but somehow she was oblivious to that fact, fairy empathy and magic Challenger bond notwithstanding.
“But this always happens on some level with people who form Soul-bonds and Flesh-bonds with powerful creatures, even without everything else that’s happened to you. He’ll go away in time, but before then he might even help you process things.”
Fat chance, I wanted to say.
Jerk, Teeth argued. You should listen to her more. And be grateful a woman like that is even willing to put up with us.
I told you, I growled in my head. She is too young and way too small.
She can get bigger, FNG retorted. And she’s older than both of us by an extremely safe margin.
“He’s talking again, isn’t he?” Breena asked sympathetically. “Poor guy probably just wants to feel heard. If you want I can talk to him—”
“No,” I said quickly. “That’s okay. More importantly though—” I took a breath—“how are you doing? You kinda scared me back there.”
“Yeah, I’m sorry.” She deflated a little, even shrank to a smaller size. “This bunch was really loud. In their heads.”
“Isn’t everybody?” I asked.
“No,” she answered. “Most people guard their thoughts. All the time. I’m not even sure they realize they do it. It’s really hard to read what’s in your head, for example, even though I have the strongest bond with you.”
“Yeah, people on my planet are really paranoid about someone knowing what goes on in their heads. My country especially. We really value our privacy.”
“But your people can’t do magic,” the fairy wondered. “Most of you don’t even believe in it. Why would you guard what’s going on inside so carefully?”
“I… don’t know,” I answered, pondering t
he issue myself for the first time. “It’s just something we do.”
I know, Teeth answered. It’s because Father Aegrim taught us all to hide what was inside. So he could influence it better. He taught all the broken humans. Not just us and our ancestors.
“Well, that guy didn’t,” Breena said. “He didn’t show it on his face, but he was almost delirious. Drunk on hurting people. Hungry for the power he’d gain from making sure they failed the challenge of staying alive. He was going to drown them, Wes.” Breena shuddered. “He was going to find a way to drown one or two of them. Because he remembered the rush he got back when he drowned you, and had been obsessing over it.”
I nodded. I had thought the guy looked familiar. Most of the guards that had killed me in the past kind of blended together now in my memory, so I was never one hundred percent sure.
“I had to make him know,” Breena insisted. Her tone had become pained and defensive, and she seemed nervous. She’s afraid of what I might think of her, I realized. “I had to make him know just how much it hurt. So I snapped. I’m sorry,” she repeated, her head drooping as she hovered next to me. “I don’t think he knew anything important, because all he thought about was how good it felt to kill and who to kill next. But I can’t say for sure, and I didn’t give you the opportunity to find out. And I probably scared you,” she added in a small voice.
I wanted to laugh, because the last comment was so ridiculous. Scare me? Really? Her issues should scare me? But I had just enough maturity to know just how badly Breena would misunderstand, so I leaned toward her as I talked, making a conscious effort to not guard my thoughts, and to project how I felt about her through our bond.
“Hey. Breena,” I said. “Use your magic fairy powers and guess how I’m feeling right now.”
Her spiky hair lifted as she turned her head to look at me, and her eyes narrowed as she concentrated. Then she smiled.
“Oh,” she giggled, and then my happy silly friend was back. “Thanks, Wes. And I love you too.”
Woad Children (Challenger's Call Book 3) Page 2
