Story: Latroci (all chapters) — Deviant Hearts Archive

[Author's notes: Yes, this is the prologue which covers the Witch and the Goddess.]

Prologue: Advent of the Goddess

The Gods have forsaken us.

Cobblestone struck the ground in likeness of mallets upon their drums. Only, cobblestone was not meant to ring upon the land in such a way. Buildings crumbled and split from their spider-web cracks, people split at their seams in sprays of red, and the Church – once so grand in all of its flying buttress glory – shattered with a single wave of Her finger. Screams severed by beasts unleashed by Her reached out their broken limbs to escape strangled throats to join the symphony of clamor.

Every 1,000 years, She comes.

I ran towards her, clothed feet catching upon broken stone while sounds of all things breaking – stone, bone, glass, voices – like the land was crying with the vibration of quaking earth. I looked at her. The Goddess who had descended from the heavens, sitting upon her throne of grandeur made of something earthly, yet from another world, her castle in the sky wrapped within wings of an Archangel. She is beautiful, a visage befitting of her title, and within her arms was a sword crafted for the destruction of worlds.

I had not realized that my teeth were clenched; my jaw was becoming sore, and I glared up at her, whose eyes were closed, glittering strands of gold framing a smooth face. It was as if she were sleeping, erect and holding that sword so close and gentle, upon an entire island within a winged embrace; wings wrapped about the island, wings splayed out above her, wings curved and ready to conjure vicious tornadoes. Below her, hell was upon land brought about by swords spearing from glyphs in the sky, and striking down everything.

But She comes not bearing good news.

Then came the wind. If it was even possible, my breath quickened, my heart crushed itself into my chest over and over again until I screamed in my head for it stop. Her wings spread wide, the sound of her feathers beating on the air and the drums of my ears. Whatever Her wind touched, shattered, and people flew without wings – died before even touching ground. I drew closer and cannot wait any longer; I run as my own glyphs carve fire-white into the air between my feet and ground. And I must breathe – these lungs burn.

“Glacio!” I threw my arm forward in commanding, as if it would be last thing I could do. Pillars and mountains of carved ice rose to her, striking, tipping that island of wings. I have angered her more, for there must be something that had angered her first. Oh, humankind, what have you done? Those unmoved lips unsealed a voice of despair – a long-held note of beautiful mortality – that struck a chord within the souls of mortals, trees, mountains – I felt it in the deepest pit of my stomach and wretched. Everywhere, the land below our feet was tipping as bodies tumbled and were crushed – but wait. People were clamping their hands down over their ears; some tore off the flapping piece of flesh to no avail. I could feel what they feel. Her voice seeping and prying at the folds of their minds – my mind – I must fight.

There was no time to be gawking. I deflected her incoming missiles of runed stakes with a defensive blast of aura, and raised my arms, summoning everything – what I had, what I thought I had, what I could possibly have.

Mankind may lack power enough to defeat the Goddess now.

A bloodcurdling scream tore through the air, and I dare take a moment’s pause to look. Human forms convulsed, mounds of flesh shuddered and grew into tumors of otherworldly flesh, tearing open human skin to reveal skin of the dead, the wild, the faery. Goddess, what have you created? They were transforming. “Aegis,” I whisper and hope that this shield will hold against her rain of spears. Everything I have.

But, perhaps in a thousand years’ time, we may come to attain it.

“Machaera.” It sounded so unfamiliar, this voice that tore from my throat. A sword that could be crafted by the heavens materialized above her, eager to drop in execution, but it must be complete, so I held it, gritting me teeth in defiance as I glared at the Goddess. My body burned, it ached, it bled, it cried out for me to stop. She turned her lid-sealed gaze upon me now; she would grant me the honor of laying her spell upon me. A great vortex swirled with obedience at her fingertips. I would not let her. But everything was fading from my vision, and I lowered a hand to reach into a fold of my tattered robes to clasp a rounded crystal of pure white, casting a spell on it as well.

I am prepared to give my life if only to gain more time.

The sword came down, as did my arm. This sword, my finest magecraft, cleaved through only a single wing, scattering its feathers. I felt consciousness drifting, hope drifting, but I musn’t lose hope. Everything began to dim, but this last vision of the Goddess sinking in rattled agony, her remaining wings wrapped about her injured form, gave me hope. Bestial screams, no doubt the work of her poisoned feathers, faded into the backdrop – everything became less, even the feel of the smooth polished crystal. And now nothing.

Mark these words,
Trust the Gods no more.
Have you the time to pray,
Have children and raise them.
Give them swords and strengthen their minds.

Live…
Let nothing sway your will to live.
Mankind,
To live is to hope, to hope,
Is my plea to you.

- The Witch of the Crystal

Chapter 2

[Author's notes: Yes, well, that escalated quickly...
This can't be the end! I assure you it isn't. Confusing? Yes. Bloody? Maybe. The end? Never. Aelis, our protagonist, escapes from the orphanage, but runs into her friend Rosalia in the forest and comes to her rescue only to fail miserably. Warning: Rape]

Chapter 1: Leave Ashes Behind

1724 Annus Sanctus

The thick smoke burned her lungs; with every breath Aelis it was as if a hairball lodged itself in her lungs, and she would choke only to catch her breath and choke some more, continuing the cycle of horrid events. It wasn’t even the breathing that was difficult, the black smog stung her eyes until they watered and singed her pale skin. It wasn’t too long ago that the entire orphanage was sound asleep in the early hours of the morning, the cherubim babes snuggled into their tattered blankets. But they would be dead.

Aeilis pushed her soot-matted hair, once platinum, out of her face – the stubborn strands clung to her neck and shoulders making it all the worse for wear. The wood beneath her feet heated and curled, their splinters latching onto the exposed skin, slicing it – infection could set in even if she did escape death by fire. It was strangely quiet, though, for an orphanage burning to hell, but perhaps it was all for the best to not have to hear the screams of children being torched alive. It was quiet save for the crackling of flames and an odd sizzling noise. It was best to ignore it.

Another gasp and a rasp burst through her smoke-strangled throat as she hammered at the thick oak door – bolted shut from the outside? Then she tried the windows, thumping her fists against the thick glass, prying until her nails tore off her very fingers. There was no use; even the windows were sealed with age. The roar of flames in the background filled her head. There was no use, was there?

If it was even possible, the heat grew even hotter, peeling her skin; she took a breath of smoke and the smell of burning hair – and flesh – reached her lungs. “Help!” Like it would be loud enough, anyway. She forced her eyes to open and accept the searing smoke – if it were to be the last thing she did, she would see why she was stupid enough to die. Even though everything tore at her auburn irises, Aelis couldn’t see a thing, the smoke making her knees give way and strike the peeling floor. Hell, she would love to die now.

She slapped herself mentally. Not now. Not yet. She couldn’t die yet, not when she’s survived so long. There had to be something, anything, laying around – Old Man Jargus always had a room full of garbage – she needed something! Blistered hands scraped, groped for any sort of object, any type of hope – and yes! What was it? No matter. Aelis’s heart almost soared out of her chest for the sake of joy, and her fingers curled about a fire-whitened hilt. It burned the skin off her hands. It was as if the fire itself seared a path up the nerves of her arm and well into her very core. With a scream ripping from her vocal chords and past her lips, Aelis forced her air-starved muscles to move, and jammed the tip of the heated sword into the crevice of the shut window and pried.

With a crack and a shock of cold air, it opened. Aelis couldn’t wait to scramble out the window, heaving herself onto the ledge. It finally happened; the adrenaline left her limbs and all she could do was slip off, land with a thud onto the earthen floor, and crawl on her hands and knees as far as she could go. Air. Gulps of air filled her lungs – and Gods – she would be caught for heresy for saying that – was it heaven. Her light gasps came out in white puffs; it was almost heaven in the frigid air of winter.

Clattering steel and gruff voices took to the air; it sounded like soldiers – guards? It didn’t matter if they were here to help. It didn’t matter if they were here to kill her. She just had to run. She was angry – yes, that was it. Aelis’s jaw clenched. Everything has gone. “Shit.” Amazed that she still had breath to utter anything – albeit it being under her breath – Aelis staggered up to feet and ran into the forest, rusted sword still in tow.

* *

His hand tangled in her fire red hair. The other one – she didn’t want to feel it. She didn’t want to feel it groping her breast hard enough to bruise. His armor too – it crushed her against the hard, snow-dusted earth. She screamed, screamed, screamed, her voice ripping from her throat just as he tears the top of her already tattered shirt. Maybe she should focus on the cold floor, the roots of old trees digging into her back, as he yanked her hair, snapping her head back, attacking her neck with frenzied bites. Maybe she should focus on the sound of dried leaves shuffling as he rasped in her ear, “How do you like your Goddess, Heretic?” He laughed, and she winced. “Pray to her, whore! Pray to your whore Goddess!” The guard laughed.

“Stop – !” Rosalia grimaced as he shoved her legs apart. She wouldn’t do it. She wouldn’t use a thing. She wouldn’t blow it now, not when they were so close.

“You, stop squirming.” He took a fist to her face for some discouragement. A crack accompanied her scream. “You think we don’t know your little orphanage worshipped the Goddess?” Rosalia could only steady her breathing. She couldn’t expose them now. She would close her eyes. That’s it. Ignore how he removed his hand from her hair to grip her throat, and lift her skirt with the other, then fumbling past her undergarments. She would just breathe. That’s it. That’s it. He could have her. And she would forget it.

Get it over with, get it over with, get it over with, she thought, screamed in her head. His fingers greedily pressing inside – it hurt. She would focus on the pain in her broken ankle – it was her own fault for being so clumsy. Tears sprang to her eyes, biting her lips. She wouldn’t care when he fumbled at his leather breeches with a grunt. “Shut-up and stay still, whore. I’ll kill you I hear you screa— Argh!” It stopped. She wouldn’t open her eyes, yet.

“Rosalia!”

Rosalia recognized that voice. Who—?

“Rosalia, get up!” Rosalia opened her eyes to see Aelis standing over a … somewhat wounded guard. Aeilis had struck him, only managing a scratch to his face with the rusted-blunted sword. It wasn’t a bad swing, Rosalia judged, granted that the other girl was a seventeen-year-old and had what was about as useful as a stick. But she was grateful, amused, everything – her hands were shaking. It was one sacrifice she would not have to make in this lifetime. But it was her duty

The guard laughed and lunged at Aelis with his own sharpened edge. Untrained, inexperienced in the art of battle, and utterly startled, Aelis only did the thing she knew: she lifted the sword for a messy parry and shouted, “Rosalia, run!”

Oh if only she could. “Aelis! What are you doing?! Get away!” Rosalia screamed back, slightly exasperated at the other girl. But what did she expect? Aelis was always of the stupid noble sort. And so, Rosalia couldn’t help the idiots. But no matter how stupid the girl was, Rosalia’s heart spilled when she saw red.

“Die, filthy scum.” The guard’s blade jutted from the left side of Aelis’s chest. Her expression was blank, as if she couldn’t or wouldn’t believe that she had died. Rosalia blinked tears from her eyes. It shouldn’t be this way. Even though Aelis was stupid, she didn’t deserve this. He wrenched the sword out, but not before twisting his grip for a morbid squelch that turned Rosalia’s stomach. The thud confirmed that Aelis had become a corpse.

Red stained the lightly snow dusted floor, pooling, pouring. If only it would stop. If only, it would all go back inside. If only…

Just this once.

Chapter 3

[Author's notes: Poor, dead Aelis and unfortunately frightened Rosalia run into some more trouble in the forest and perhaps some hope.]

Chapter 2: Stomp the Calla Lilies

“Pitiful.”

Who was it?

“Mortal, have you desire to live?”

What? Was it asking her? Aelis tried to lift her head, to look around for the source of the voice so filled with power. But she was dead, wasn’t she? It was no use to move. More importantly, why in all the hells was it asking her if she wanted to live? Maybe this was what it was like being dead; no one to talk to but herself. She must even be changing the voices to entertain herself.

“Answer me, Mortal!”

The voiced boomed within her dead inner ears, making her very soul shudder. Of course she wanted to live, but there was only one slight problem: she was already dead. One couldn’t just come back from the dead.

“And yet you are conscious.” The voice laughed. It was low and almost rumbling; it was as if the voice itself had a presence that towered over her spirit with power that only grew by the minute. “Ah, Mortal. You are a funny one.” The voice paused, like it was pondering something – something amusing. And Aelis didn’t like it. She knew that tone. That tone, which got her into being the butt of more jokes than she cared to remember, was never a good sign.

“Let’s make a deal, Mortal.”

Aelis didn’t say anything. Her head was certainly playing odd tricks on her, and she wondered if she was really dead.

“No, you’re not dead. Not officially, Aelis. Let’s say, you’re caught in a limbo of sorts, until you decide your fate.”

Oh, she could decide now? Why hadn’t she been able to decide how her biological parents didn’t throw her out like garbage, why hadn’t she been able to will the fire away from the orphanage, why –

“Answer me, Aelis; do you wish to live?”

For once her mind was silent. Why would she want to live? Her life had been less than glamorous. But somehow, this wasn’t a satisfying enough death. Aelis always thought she’d die alone, but happy, or at least, not under the excruciating foot of poverty.

“Yes.” Her own voice, a whisper against the other, answered.

“Then you have your end of the bargain to uphold. You must, in turn, do something for me.”

“What do you want?” Oh, she was certainly curious now, but she somehow knew that it would bite her in the ass later on.

“You shall see.”

“How do you know I’ll uphold my end of the deal,” Aelis spoke – or thought-spoke – faster than she could hold her tongue.

“Like this.”

“Wha—” Aelis felt a pang of cold air. Then, she tasted blood and salt and soot and whatever else was on the ground upon her tongue and gagged. Gods, were her limbs stiff. Aelis struggled to stand as her shirt, wet with blood, clung to her frigid skin, and of course whatever entity had been merciful enough to allow her a second life wasn’t so merciful as to give her a new shirt. Blood? With a startled gasp, Aelis patted herself down, checked her palms and feet and knees, and tentatively took a gander down her shirt to see if there was a gaping a hole in her chest.

Nothing! Well, almost nothing. “Yes!” She couldn’t help but grin wildly at her luck even though there was a raw scar over her heart. “Ah!” Aelis grimaced and clutched at her newly closed wound as pang of soreness struck with an accompaniment of a faraway voice reminding her of her promise and who had, indeed, given her life back.

“Aelis!” Rosalia cried out in surprise, disbelief, and fear. Aelis was dead, and now she was alive? Her cerulean eyes caught a glimpse of a residual glow over the newly revived girl’s heart. A trick of the snow? With a blink, it was gone. There was the smell too – strangely floral, like calla lilies; it was light, clean, morning dew-esque, and Rosalia wondered if that was her imagination as well. It was the cusp between winter and spring, but no flowers would bloom so soon.

Her thoughts and the initial shock in the air were broken by a shout of guttural dismay. “You are heretics! You, you!” The guard stood shaking with terror. “The walking dead! I knew it, ” He gasped through chattering teeth, “I knew it, I knew it! Black magic!” He clawed at tufts of his hair while drawing shaking breaths, “I’ll end you. I’ll end you both. You’ll be the death of us all.” Aelis and Rosalia threw uncomfortable glances at one another. The man’s pupils were dilated. It struck Aelis as intriguing. How could people become so pathetic?

Rosalia pressed her palms against the floor and wobbled to her feet; Aelis wasn’t too lax with waiting to help her up. Lean, and slightly malnourished arms wrapped around her waist. It was alright, Rosalia decided, after all, she wouldn’t be getting anywhere by herself. But still reluctantly, she draped one of her arms over Aelis’s shoulders.

The guard rounded on them again, the sword reflecting red-tinted snow. Aelis raised her own sword in defense.

“Aelis! What are doing? Are you trying to die? Again?” Rosalia’s voice seemed to drip with frustration.

“What does it look like,” Aelis growled back. “If I were trying to die, I would’ve stayed dead and saved him the trouble.” What’s with Rosalia, anyway? She wasn’t usually so snippy. “Just shut-up, and help me out already! You’re getting heavy.”

Of all the nerve… A heavy tint of red splashed across Rosalia’s face, and had nothing else to say when she felt the slender girl’s muscles tremble, so she merely gripped Aelis’s shoulder a little tighter in hopes of supporting her own weight. Aelis straightened a little. Maybe it wasn’t entirely Rosalia’s fault, but all the same, the cold as well as the weight was quickly sapping her strength.

With a battle cry and some exaggerated brandishing of his sword, the guard lunged for them, both hands gripping the handle of his sword. “I’ll kill you both.” Aelis grunted with effort to heft her sword up to strike –

A crunch resounded through the forest. A burst of sound, partridge wings beating rapidly against the air, almost in desperation, followed the initial stomp. And following that, were the screams of the guard, choked off by his own blood until there was nothing but the sound of tearing. Aelis gulped. Before her, a dragon was ripping the man to shreds with teeth and claw. Its leathery wings beat on occasion as it enjoyed its meal.

It must have been the smell of blood and the ruckus that have attracted it. “Aelis,” Rosalia whispered, and Aelia could hear a slight tremble in her voice, but she dared not turn to look or even breathe. “I think we should leave…” Rosalia stated. Aelis gave her a slight glare. Of course they should leave, but how? It wasn’t a particularly large dragon. It was a little stocky with thick hide, and its wings seemed a little small in comparison to its body. It was possible to fight – a wet crack and the distinct sounds of bones crunching and grinding under teeth had Aelis abandon the thought with haste.

It wouldn’t be bad idea to take Rosalia’s advice. She held her breath and felt Rosalia do the same as they inched backwards in hopes of finding a tree; one would think there were plenty of trees in the forest to hide behind, but Fortuna had exhausted her grace upon Aelis today. Either the trees were too slim or they were so huge that it would take an eternity to get around. Slowly, they shuffled their way back as the dragon, seemingly oblivious to the other potential meal making their escape.

Aelis barely breathed, but she swore that her heart was hammering hard enough for everything in a ten-score radius could hear it. Her arm was straining as she attempted to soften Rosalia’s clumsy hopping, hoping that she wouldn’t let go and drop the other girl. The dragon raised its snout into the air and sniffed. It couldn’t be done already! Aelis and Rosalia froze. Its earthen toned front claws rose off the ground as it extended its height, rearing up. Don’t breathe. Aelis couldn’t tell whose heart beat did what and who was trembling. They clung to each other until their knuckles turned even paler, until they couldn’t feel their hands and couldn’t tell if it was from the cold or pure fright.

The dragon huffed. Freeze. Not a single twitch. It let out a low growl of disappointment and seemed to lose interest, stretching its wings as it came to all fours with surprising grace. Aelis stood watching in awe and terror as she reveled in the beast’s magnificence; those wings were of leather, thin but strong; the thick bone curved in its flexibility to fold and unfold; the muscles along its back tightening and coiling as if the power within them was about to burst forth .

She felt a hard nudge at her side and turned to see Rosalia’s disapproving glare dipped in exasperation. “Get moving,” her eyes said with in silence. Aelis took some tentative steps back, another, another – crack. Rosalia shot her a look of disbelief. Shit. The dragon tensed, whirled around to spot the two girls; it gave a roar that shook the trees, the very earth they were standing on, and charged. The ground below them rumbled with the weight of the great beast – hell was it fast. Aelis could’ve killed herself right there for her own lack of grace.

Without thinking, Aelis mustered up whatever strength she had to shove Rosalia as far as strength allotted and made for a dive in the opposite direction. “Hey!” Aelis shouted. The dragon, spotting Rosalia first, reared to face Aelis. She got its attention, now what? “Hey!” She shouted again and kept shouting, pounding her sword against tree trunks, roots, and whatever made noise, and ran. The dragon followed not hesitating to lunge with its jaws agape, roaring in lieu of this new excitement.

Aelis didn’t know what she was doing or why she was doing it, but she was doing it. Crying out in fear she scrambled aside again, narrowly dodging its teeth, struggling up and whirling to face her assailant. Before she had time to steady herself, an enormous claw swatted her to the side. It was only a swat. The air broke from her lungs, and her lungs collapsed in prolonged deflation, tossing breath into the realm of nonexistence. Aelis curled clenching her teeth and clutching her stomach, willing herself to breathe, screaming silently when it vision began to leave her. Finally, breath. She took in air in a wheezing gasp, the blackness of her beginning to recede.

Instinct forced her to roll with a wild swing of the useless word as that same claw plummeted towards her with too much speed. “Rosalia, get out of here!” If that was the only thing she could do, she would buy time for the other girl; after all, Aelis did sentence herself to death, again. It was by chance that she got up to her feet again just as the dragon lunged again, and again, Aelis whirled away, her feet having desperation of their own. The dance continued, so she decided to try her hand at striking, and swung.

The sword only made a sort of whipping sound as the blunted edge struck the rough, thick skin upon its snout. With a blind swing, something gave under the force of the sword, and Aelis had courage enough to open her eyes to look; another roar broke loose from booming vocal chords in the wake of blood spurting from one of its eyes. Amazed by her luck, Aelis took the chance to sprint backwards, but the dragon wouldn’t have it. She saw the rage burn its remaining eye – if it would kill her, it would kill her in spite and not hunger. Spite?

Another flurry of attacks and Aelis could barely stand, backing in between giant roots of a tree with a gnashing jaw inches away. Her muscles were numb and her sword was broken and bent – useless. The cold was finally taking its toll, but Rosalia could have gotten a good head start by now. The grip on her sword was solid only because it was as if the cold had frozen her hand and each of her fingers in place, fusing her skin to metal. She could hardly hear now, only see the jaw and hole of teeth salivating, digging away the roots in splinters; Aelis had gone beyond the point of terror and could only stare.

A crackling sound and a sudden burst of heat woke her from her clouded mind. The smell – the smell was stomach wrenching – decaying flesh, stomach acid, soot, burning innards, blood, everything overwhelmed her sense of smell. If there was anything in her stomach at that point, it would have been upon her shirt joining the drying blood. She looked down the mouth of the dragon and saw the beginnings of a fireball coiling at the back of its throat, and clenched her eyes shut to hope for the best.

“Hey!” Shouting and some clattering noises. It was Rosalia!

“Rosalia, what the hell are you doing? Get out,” Aelis shouted. The dragon pulled back and turned on the red-head, irritated at the noise and the sting of particles upon its wound. Rosalia had managed to limp her way towards the battle, her heart racing – she had no idea why she was doing something like this.

“Aelis! Get out of there!” Rosalia screamed as the dragon dashed for her.

“Rosalia!” Aelis hurried to her feet and made a hopeless dash forward.

Sticky blood splashed to the floor. Aelis crashed to her knees, energy spent and completely exhausted. A gash gaped wide on the dragon’s hide, bubbling with thick blood, a major artery severed. Aelis looked up to see two figures – two men with their swords drawn. One was dark-skinned, older, his beard meticulously groomed, his ebony military-cropped hair peppered with white, his jaw set and hard. The other was shaggy, stone-skinned, ears pointed, a goatee matching his silver hair that was carefully parted by a skillful comb, his posture leaning, cocky…and with Rosalia in his arms. Aelis frowned at Rosalia’s perpetually thickening blush.

The dragon screeched, rearing up a final time. “Ready your sword, Otto!” The older male’s gruff voice reprimanded Otto, the one with Rosalia in his arms.

“I would, Cillian! But, alas, I have a beautiful lady in my arms! She would be frightened!” Otto pouted with an exaggerated expression of concern, hugging Rosalia closer.

“Otto…” The other man huffed in exasperation. Aelis was about to charge forth in attempts to recover Rosalia from some unknown pervert’s grasp when a glint of a movement from Cillian caught her eye. She ducked and crashed to the floor, feeling the wind from his swing brush the top of her head, a couple of platinum strands floating to the floor. And all was quiet. The dragon collapsed in a spray of blood, its throat neatly slit, revealing a sprawled Aelis.

When Cillian’s eyes met her own, a chill shot down her spine. “My apologies, madam. I didn’t see you. Are you hurt?” His concern was surprising, given his cool demeanor.

“Er...yes – I mean, no! Uh. Thank you.” Aelis scampered to her feet in a mostly failed attempt at looking somewhat presentable.

Otto’s voice rang out with presumptuousness as he clutched a nervous and undeniably blushing Rosalia. “Oh! Miss! Are you quite alright? I was certain my heart was stopped when I saw your beautiful visage. And even more certain that my heart broke when that horrible beast wouldn’t be tamed by the beauty such as your— ”

“She’s quite alright, thanks,” Aelis cut in. She pried Rosalia out of Otto’s arms much to his disappointment and supported her familiar weight again.

“Aelis, are you alright?” Rosalia looked at her with concern.

Otto stared at her then at Rosalia. “Otto!” He turned to follow his superior. “Move out. We have a job to do.” Cillian’s voice was commanding and authoritative – Otto followed. “You two better get moving as well. It won’t get better here.” With that the man, Cillian, left.

Otto began to follow, but paused, tossing them his cloak and a long dagger. Aelis glared at him. “You can’t expect to use that,” he gestured to Aelis’s broken sword. “It would be a shame for such a beauty to die here – all because of an inexperienced hand.” With a chuckle, he spoke again, “I’ll give you a clue: that way,” Otto pointed north and left with a flourished bow. Aelis clenched her teeth and stomped out her pride, tossing the old sword away, picking up the dagger and cloak and wrapping it about the both of them.

“Aelis?” Rosalia’s cerulean eyes searched her auburn ones. Another waft of calla lilies tickled the air around them.

“Let’s go.” Aelia, attentive and careful, led Rosalia close to the shelter of trees. They would have to get out of the forest if they were to avoid more forest dragons or even Hostia.

“Aelis.” Rosalia, paused, and smiled more to herself. “Thanks. Even though you’re an idiot.”

Aelis looked back with indignity and huffed. “What are you for trying to save an idiot then,” Aelis muttered under her breath. They both giggled with relief, but nervousness. Aelis shifted her weight as they continued moving north. “I guess we’ll follow Otto’s advice.” They were safe, for now.

Chapter 4

[Author's notes: Aelis and Rosalia are trapped in the woods, and when they get out, there's more trouble with the guards of Biblos.]

Chapter 3: Forgotten Leaflet

“Oh, Aelis! Look!” Rosalia gripped Aelis’s cotton, worse for wear tunic due to the extensive damage from giant bee attacks and monster beetle wrestling, and she pointed. By now, Aelis’s vision had broken into a thousand pieces of a sparkling hallucination from dehydration along with starvation, and so she had to make a great effort to follow the line from Rosalia’s finger to the thing at which it was directed. Rosalia’s excitement was hardly matched by Aelis’s; they had been travelling for four days in the northern direction without much avail, and she began to wonder if Otto hadn’t just played them for fools and taunted them with the hope of survival.

She squinted with some skepticism against the glinting rays from a daybreak sun peeking out from behind winter-darkened branches and stubborn leftover leaves. I wouldn’t have been the first time that Rosalia had pointed something out in the distance that had looked like a silhouette of some hint of civilization. Aelis couldn’t blame her. More likely than not, Rosalia was probably just as delusional as she was; and the condition of her foot had only worsened since the day of their escape from the orphanage. Although Rosalia hadn’t made a sound of complaint, her face was pale and her lips tightened every time the inflamed limb grazed the floor. The travelling did the injury no good.

Aelis abandoned her attempts at locating whatever it was Rosalia had gotten excited over to help her lean against the tangled, snow-dusted roots. Aelis looked searched Rosalia’s eyes, her brows furrowed in concentration, reading the other girl. “I don’t see anything, Rosalia.” Aelis’s lips were set, pursed with worry. They had been stopping more frequently not only because of the worsening swollen ankle but because the cold had been sapping their strength in steady, parasitic sips. She hooked her arms under Rosalia’s to help her down, but weakness had taken its toll in her limbs and muscles; her arms and knees gave and both girls crashed to ground with a muted thud against the spiraling roots and the surrounding sea of more trees.

“Sorry.” Aelis had no energy to even lift her head from Rosalia’s shoulder.

“It’s alright,” Rosalia said dazedly. Pain was nothing now; it used to come in increments, but by the third day, everything hurt with a constant pain, and so more hurt would go unnoticed. Without thinking she held Aelis closer. “It’s alright, Aelis. There’s a city,” Rosalia had to pause to catch her breath, “just a little further down.” She smiled with sadness hanging upon the corner of her lips and buried her face into the crook of Aelis’s neck, and breathed in the scent of blood, sweat, grime, and a hint of calla lilies. So it really was her scent.

Tears sprung to Aelis’s eyes, “But I don’t see anything.” They weren’t going to make it even after all of the running and dragon-fighting and beetle-wrestling and dying. Aelis clenched her jaw tight until they became sore, using all of the will that was left in the crevices of her mind to stop herself from sobbing. It was hopeless. But for now – and perhaps it was just the thirst for human contact – Rosalia’s embrace was comforting; there was warmth even though her limbs had long been stiff with cold, and she held on even tighter.

“There really is something,” Rosalia breathed against Aelis’s neck, “it’s true, this time...” If they hadn’t been so close, Aelis doubted that she would have heard the trailing statement. She felt Rosalia get heavier against her and the arms around her slacken their hold.

“Rosalia,” Aelis mumbled. No answer. Aelis snapped to attention and broke herself from Rosalia and called out to her again. Rosalia was slumped over. Aelis spoke louder, “Hey, you can’t sleep now – it’s not safe.” There was a waver in her voice. Aelis propped Rosalia’s limp form against the tree and shook her gently, “Rosalia?” A knot formed on her throat as she wracked her brain for answers. Her eyes darted back and forth, looking for signs of Hostia or other hungry beasts, like dragons, lurking beyond the thick tree trunks and protruding roots.

Quickly, Aelis pushed Rosalia further into the crevice between enormous tangling roots, tucking Otto’s cloak behind the unconscious girl’s arms and legs. The cold air had been nippy before, but against bare skin, it was biting. She gulped and exhaled a shaky breath, her entire body shivering, and could barely reach her arms out to haul herself up. Water. There had to be water somewhere. She strained her ears for any sounds of dripping, any hint of droplets, but it was the end of winter, and the land was still a frozen waste.

Aelis was also reluctant to leave Rosalia’s unconscious form – Hostia weren’t picky about whether their food was fresh or frozen. She looked around frantically, only managing to put messy footprints in the snow and wishing that she had survival skills other than pickpocketing. Her eyes widened at a sudden realization. With great effort and a grunt, Aelis hoisted herself up upon the upper layer of the roots. After regaining her balance, she bent forth and extended her shaking hands into small indentation between roots, cupping a handful of snow.

Her breaths were coming in hitched, broken puffs of white. The snow burned her hand with cold, numbing them further as she tried to stay her hand. Aelis slid back down to where Rosalia lay with a graceless thump, and brought her hands to her torso, warming the snow. By the time the snow had melted, half the water in her hands had slipped between her fingers onto her shirt, and when she brought her cupped hands to Rosalia’s chapped lips, the water had been shaken out of the makeshift cup.

Aelis hissed in frustration and made a second trip up the roots. After slipping to and fro and several near heart attacks, she managed to collect a larger handful of snow. Aelis tumbled back down and dreaded what she was about to do – it’s alright; she’ll use exhaustion and hypothermia as excuses for this mad decision. The snow touched her quivering lips, and Aelis took a bite, squeezing her eyes shut from the imminent brain freeze and teeth numbing sting. It melted in her mouth, but she held it there with clenched teeth that staunched the chattering.

As soon as it melted, she parted Rosalia’s lips with her thumb, running their along its seam. Aelis sealed Rosalia’s chapped lips within her own, transferring the slightly warmed liquid in small amounts. But most of the water had trickled down onto Otto’s cloak. Aelis shuffled into a more comfortable position propping a leg against a sturdy root for balance and held the handful of snow close. Her hands felt like they were being crushed by a giant piece of cold iron; her fingers had become swollen and red, and they were so stiff that she was inclined to speak for them to move. She supported the back of Rosalia’s neck this time and tried again.

Aelis pulled back in relief as Rosalia’s eyes fluttered open. “Rosalia!” Aelis beamed, “You’re okay!” Rosalia blinked up around her, still disoriented and drifting between unconsciousness and delusion. Aelis wiped her grinning lips upon her arm.

“Aelis? What happened?” Rosalia’s blinked, looking around to grasp her bearings. She brought a hand to her lips at the unfamiliar but welcome moistness – where had the other girl managed to happen upon water? Knowing Aelis, Rosalia decided that she didn’t want to know and would instead just be grateful. When she tried to sit up, her arms failed her, and she ended up slipping back down against the tree.

Aelis turned around, feeling ambitious, and motioned for Rosalia to hold on. If nothing else worked, Aelis would simply carry the other girl around. “Hold onto the cloak, too,” Aelis half-turned to Rosalia to speak. After a moment’s hesitation, Rosalia obliged. With a grunt, Aelis rose to her feet, fighting the pressure upon her knees and thighs, the new weight on her back threatening to topple them both to the ground. “Where’s the city,” Aelis huffed..

Rosalia could only point. She wondered where Aelis had gotten the second wind; she sure could use one now as well to have herself the embarrassment of having to be piggy-backed around. Refusing to be a piece of baggage, Rosalia wrapped the cloak about herself and Aelis, covering the girl’s chest as best she could.

* *

They had travelled well into the night and had only rested when Aelis’s endurance failed. Aelis couldn’t tell what time it was, but there was a hint of light blue to the east, and the sound of birds broke the silence of the night. There had been fewer Hostia sightings as they travelled further, so Aelis took it as a good sign. When dawn finally broke, they heard it first – the tolling bell that signaled sunrise, then the sound of cart wheels began to clatter against cobblestone, and it was as if, slowly, the world came to life with the sounds of people shouting orders and clanging armor and doors opening.

“Rosalia, look! We’re close! Is it okay? Can you hold on? I can’t carry you if you don’t hold on,” Aelis said with excitement, prompting Rosalia to look up and nod. With a grin, Aelis stepped into the clearing. The city walls were hardly grand; there were cracks and seams that ran across and over the crumbling stone and every so often, a piece of stone would loosen and clatter to the ground. Aelis glanced up, reveling in its height. There wouldn’t be petty trespassers. But if a hand went into that little crevice there, and a foot over there, with a little leaping –

“Aelis! Pay attention,” Rosalia scolded and pointed to guards at the gate. Aelis reluctantly took her eyes off the aged wall and glanced at the guards.

Aelis, turned to whisper, “They’re checking papers.” Aelis thought for a moment. “Hey, just, pretend to be passed out – but don’t let go! I can’t carry you myself,” she said without thinking.

Rosalia rolled her eyes, “No, Aelis, that’s not going to work.”

Aelis blinked, and looked at Rosalia with a hint of disappointment. “What? Why not?”

“Look,” Rosalia gestured to a man clad in armor removing a weeping middle-aged woman with child. “No one needs more homeless.”

Aelis frowned. “They can’t just do that, can they?”

Rosalia looked at Aelis with pity. “They can do as they please,” she said coolly. “Now, drop me.”

Aelis looked at her with an incredulous expression. “What?”

“Did I stutter? Drop me, Aelis— Ow!” Rosalia glared up at Aelis, who looked back at her with complete innocence.

“What?”

“You know what. You get in when you get the chance.” Rosalia looked at Aelis in a new light – she supposed she deserved being tossed to the ground.

“What about you?” Genuine concern and skepticism shone through Aelis’s cinnamon eyes.

Rosalia gave her a sly grin through pale exhaustion. “I’ll be fine.” She fumbled with the top couple of buttons on her blouse. Sighing in frustration she turned to Aelis, “Aelis. Tear my blouse – just a little though, these buttons.”

Aelis gaped at her, “Er…okay.” Shakily, she leaned down, and took the shirt in her hands and popped the buttons. Rosalia screamed – something in between shock and fear. “What?! What’s wrong?” Aelis jumped back in panic, her heart almost popping out of her chest.

Rosalia jerked her head and motioned for her to hide as the cry earned the attention of one of the guards. Aelis grabbed the cloak and dived back into the woods, watching, when the guard sped his way to Rosalia. She watched in amusement as Rosalia began sobbing.

“I—I was attacked. It was a man, he ran.” Rosalia’s sentences were broken by artfully placed hiccups and hitches in breathing. “L—look! He, tore my shirt.” A few more carefully placed stutters and the guard had helped her up, staring at her chest, then looking away, and glancing back again. It was apparent that this one was a new recruit – his eyes were too full of life and honor, Aelis decided. She peeked out a little more daringly from behind a tree as he helped Rosalia to his partner.

The gate guards seemed preoccupied with the pretty damsel describing the alleged attacker, so Aelis took the chance to scale the wall. It wasn’t anything that was new to her, but she was unsure of whether her body would cooperate for such a feat. She threw the cloak around her shoulders and tied the string, looping it with un-deft fingers. The dagger, Aelis kept at the tie of her tunic. Taking a few hops to shake out her muscles, Aelis loaded her legs, and leapt, reaching for a sturdy looking protrusion.

It was harder than she expected. Aelis kicked her toe into the wall for traction. She was stuck in a quasi-dangle of sorts, her foot sliding gradually as her grip waned. With a thrust of power, she stretched for another jutting stone, and gained some footing. It was uncomfortable and slightly disconcerting that grains of gravel came off at the wake of her grip. She scanned the remaining height of the wall for her path and leapt. Her movements were as graceful as they could have been for starved human being, but they were familiar and automatic.

She was gasping for breath when she reached the top, pushing herself up to peer over the edge and swung her leg over the wall, seeing that the coast was indeed a back alley. Without the energy for another climb, Aelis opted for a faster means of travel and jumped. In ordinary circumstances, she would have been able to land with grace, but as soon as her feet hid the dirt floor, her knees buckled, landing her on her rear. She winced and muffled a groan. Rosalia was waiting.

Aelis fixed the cloak to cover the massive bloodstain on the front of her shirt, wrapping the large piece of cloth around her front like a towel and using the rope about her waist that held her tunic to tie the cloak. All around, people bustled – some were peasants, she figured, they were unarmed, regular folk. But other wore armor – not uniformed ones – their appearances were mercenary-like, but clean. There was, however, one thing in common of these folk; they had a dagger similar to the one Otto had given her attached to their belts or hip or back. It was as if it was some sort of emblem to be respected; even the patrol guards saluted these folk.

She tailed one of the mercenary folk to take a closer look at the item – it wasn’t the same. Hers had no crest etched upon it. The man hurriedly shooed her off. After a moment of thought, she pulled the dagger forth and slid it carefully into her makeshift belt, only allowing the hilt and some of the blade to glint in the morning sun. She looked around a little more, spotting a fountain in the middle of what seemed to be the city square and rushed over to clean herself. A quick double check for dirt and grime confirmed that she was somewhat presentable, so Aelis rushed to the front gate, recognizing Rosalia’s voice.

“But, this is the only family I have! Please, sir, surely you could let me through!” Rosalia had her grip on the guards shoulder more for balance than effect. Clearly the two guards had no clue what to do with an “assaulted” female.

“I’m sorry, miss. You just don’t have documentation…” At least he was consistent.

“But—“ Rosalia started.

“Sister!” Aelis bounded to the girl and tore her from the guard, pulling her into a tight, affectionate embrace. Rosalia looked surprised at Aelis’s brushed up appearance before pressing her face into Aelis’s shoulder with a cry. “I thought you were dead! You were supposed to be here two days ago – I sent letter back, too. I was hoping that you had postponed our arrangement instead of— ” Aelis feigned a look of shock. “What happened?” She turned to the guard with her own faux tears, “What happened to her? Oh she looks like – You saved her, sir?”

Without waiting for a reply Aelis smiled at him, “Thank you! I’ll be sure to let your commander know!” She feigned a concerned turn towards Rosalia, showing off the glint at her hip.

“Y—you’re welcome, miss.” He turned to his partner and lowered his voice, “Serdic…” The guard glanced at his partner in recognition, mouthing the word “Latroci.”

The other guard nodded to his partner then at Aelis. With a flirtatious smile he said, “You’ll have to forgive my partner Harry. He’s new.”

“No worries. Thanks for your help!” Aelis rushed Rosalia through the gate. Her heart was felt as if it was about to burst; they could very well have been locked up and killed. As soon as they were out of earshot and sight and safely into an abandoned alley, Aelis and Rosalia slumped to the ground with a sigh of relief.

Aelis felt Rosalia’s familiar weight against her shoulder. “I didn’t think we’d get in,” Rosalia laughed.

Aelis exclaimed with a disbelieving laugh. “You were the one with the idea!” Aelis pouted, “I don’t believe you. Giving me the harder job…” Aelis glanced pulled out the dagger to observe it casually. “Maybe, I’ll let you go get the food and water this time.”

Rosalia on shifted her weight closer to Aelis – this feeling had become familiar. “Sure, if you want to starve to death.”

Latroci. Aelis wondered what it meant, holding the dagger against the sun. She shoved the thought from her mind at the sound of Rosalia’s even breathing. They could still die without food and water. Aelis dug through some garbage, finding unwanted straw. It was better than nothing. She spread the straw about Rosalia’s sleeping form and made her way into the city. For now, she would be a thief.

[End notes: What?! A kiss -- just kidding. No lesbian fluff yet.

But, deepest apologies for the late update; I'll do my best to update up to speed. Chapters are getting longer and longer. As usual, thanks for reading thus far!]

Chapter 5

[Author's notes: Aelis and Rosalia have settled nicely into the city of Biblos. Aelis prepares for her Royal Latroci examination.]

Chapter 4: Royal Pawn Spring 1729 Annus Sanctus

It had been five years since they had arrived in the city Biblos. Thankfully, no one asked questions. There were regular refugees from neighboring towns due to the increasing Hostia invasion and there was little sense in cracking down on the minute details, and most people assumed they were from the slums behind the city. Fortune had finally turned her gaze upon the pair for better; Aelis had happened upon a semi-abandoned church which they had stayed for the better part of the spring when they arrived. The old silent preacher did not seem to mind their presence, always stooped at his podium by day and shuffling back to his home by night. He also did not seem to notice when the pair had left after they managed to rent out a single room at Biblos Inn.

At first, Aelis thought him unnerving; his eyes stared through them as if there was a faraway light within them, as though he were looking at something else altogether. His frizzy tuft of white hair sat on his head like a bird’s nest would sit upon a withered tree, and those bespectacled eyes did no better with an old rim around them that kept slipping off the tip of his beak-like nose. Rosalia had tried to make conversation with the preacher, but to no avail, and Aelis couldn’t be bothered.

He never spoke to them, but eventually, Aelis felt the compulsion to leave a bit of a donation every week in the offertory box. It had been empty save for cobwebs and dead spiders, and after five years, it was filled. With her own gold. Rosalia had reprimanded Aelis for putting pocket change into something the preacher obviously didn’t care about. But she decided that it was best not to be indebted to someone. And perhaps she had felt some compassion for the run-down church.

Aelis was about to make her weekly change deposit and was surprised to find the preacher standing in front of the podium – he usually made himself scarce when Aelis delivered the handful of silver and bronze pieces. He seemed to be observing the worn paintings upon the ceiling with most fervor. Unwilling to begin a conversation, Aelis merely dropped the change into the offertory box just inside the archway door with a familiar clink. She turned to leave for the other side of town.

“People don’t come – but the pigeons are so friendly.” The old man’s voice quavered. He stared, looking as though he were pondering, as he fiddled with the frayed sleeve of his robe. Aelis turned in surprise, thinking that he was speaking to her. His face contorted, and he tore violently at his sleeves, “Vile birds – you!” The preacher rounded on Aelis, “oh, it’s you.” The deep lines on his face softened, mellowing his expression back to the far-off gaze always had. “You know why all the people are gone.”

Aelis shuffled a bit, unwilling to hold the old man’s gaze. He grinned and hobbled closer, and she didn’t realize how tiny he was, the tallest tuft of hair barely reaching her shoulders. Feeling obligated to say something she answered as-a-matter-of-factly with a frown. “The Goddess— ”

“Precisely. She returns!” The old man gripped her vambraced arm only to jerk away in terror and scuttled off, bumping into a mildewed pew. “Oh, dead thing,” he wailed weakly, “they roam the lands now.” He glanced back at her, his exaggerated eyes lingering on her for a second before he left and slammed the back door. Perhaps Rosalia was right to reprimand her.

“Aelis!” Rosalia’s familiar soprano sent Aelis whirling around at the unexpected break in silence of the chapel.

Her shoulders relaxed. “Oh, Rosalia.”

“What do you mean ‘Oh, Rosalia’? You’re not happy to see me?” Rosalia feigned a hurt expression.

“I’m sorry, my dearest most wonderful, Rosalia. Your presence makes my heart leap bounds and scores. I wish to know why you have chosen to grace me with such pleasure,” Aelis jested with bow. Five years of sharing a room with Rosalia had steeled her against the woman’s odd form of showing affection, lending her some wit with the tongue.

“That’s better,” Rosalia said with a satisfied nod. “Anyhow, what are you still doing here?”

“I met the old preacher.”

“Oh? You met him? Meaning you spoke to him?”

“Not exactly. He spoke to me, somewhat.” Aelis adjusted her splinted vambrace, feeling it to be somehow violated by the preacher’s touch.

Rosalia raised a brow, “That’s odd. He never spoke to me.”

Aelis laughed. “Maybe it’s because you’re such a chatterbox.”

“What?!” Rosalia gave Aelis’s shoulder a light slap. “It’s all the more reason to speak to me,” she frowned, “but what did he say?”

“He said something about the Goddess returning – it’s nothing new. And something about the undead. I guess he was a little senile.” Aelis said, brushing it off as just mere ravings of an old man.

“He isn’t wrong, you know,” Rosalia smiled with the corners of her lips dipped in mirthful vengeance, “about the undead part. He must have been speaking of you.”

Aelis shot her a teasing glare, sizing her up, their faces inches apart and whispered, “Then it would do you well to be careful. Death is contagious.”

Rosalia, undaunted, sidled closer, wrapping her arms about Aelis’s neck. Rosalia thought to herself, since when had this little girl been able to match her height? “What’s life without a little death?”

Aelis’s auburn irises stared into Rosalia’s cornflower ones, and she laughed, leaning her forehead into Rosalia’s shoulder, “Fine, you win.”

Rosalia giggled and hugged Aelis tighter, playing strands of platinum blonde. “You expected to beat me?” They separated as Rosalia continued to speak, “But, Aelis, you’re going to be late for your examination.”

Aelis straightened herself and stood still, allowing Rosalia to adjust her leather spaulders and the ties on her bodice. “I know, but it’s not a long walk. And I shouldn’t be too long.”

“You never know with these Latroci things,” Rosalia focused on tightening the buckles on Aelis’s straps, “but if you really want to do this…” She frowned.

Aelis blinked at studed the other woman’s expression, “Don’t worry, Rosalia. You’ll be fine without me!”

Rosalia sighed and ran her fingers through her neat curls of strawberry auburn. “That’s not what I meant. It’s you I’m worried about – you know, waging war on the Goddess is no small feat.”

Aelis nodded and thought for moment, “I guess.”

“You guess,” Rosalia’s hand-on-her-hips tone was never a good sign. “I don’t understand why you feel the need to become a Latroci. Why not just become a knight?”

Aelis shrugged, “I wouldn’t be able to become a knight if there was nothing left.”

Rosalia’s frown deepened, “Why don’t you just leave the Goddess to the heroes?”

Aelis laughed and pulled Rosalia into a brief embrace. “You worry too much. I should go.” Aelis checked the sheathes on her belt, making sure both the parrying dagger and falchion were in place.

Five years of practice had honed her skills with her weapons of choice – at least that was what she would like people to believe. The truth of the matter was that she could not afford a shield or a better sword, so she, instead, chose and polished less pricey butchering weapons; most of the money from her hunting gigs went into paying rent – Rosalia had even taken the position as the inn’s hostess. The innkeeper Gus was kind enough to give her his old set of armor, and although large, Aelis was able to fashion it so that it fit relatively well.

Aelis darted towards the door, feeling somewhat selfish for wanting to become a Latroci. She and Rosalia had numerous talks and awkward silences between them as a result of her choice. Aelis would stand firm through it all; a knight, she thought, gave his life for the King, but a Latroci gave his life for the people. She had learned this while shadowing a Latroci during one of her more ambitious hunts.

“Aelis, wait,” Rosalia caught Aelis’s hand. “You know I just want you to be safe, right?” She gave Aelis’s hand a little squeeze.

Aelis nodded and reassured Rosalia with a smile.

“I have something for you.” Rosalia pulled out a metal-beaded necklace from her apron pocket. On its end, a miniature silver sword dangled downwards. “It’s the only thing left from the orphanage that we have.” She looped it around Aelis’s neck and tucked it away under the neckline of the fitted tunic.

“Don’t you think it would be safer with you,” Aelis asked. Not that she didn’t appreciate the gesture, but for practicality’s sake, it was safer with Rosalia.

“Absolutely,” Rosalia grinned, “but this just means you’ll have to be extra careful.” With a haughty laugh Rosalia shooed Aelis out the door, “And I wouldn’t want you to get too homesick on one of your Latroci journeys”

Aelis laughed back, but knew she would indeed miss her when the assignments get too long. “Thanks, Rosalia.” Aelis bolted out the door leaving Rosalia behind to wave.

The loosened cobblestone streets pounded against her booted feet. Biblos wasn’t a particularly grand city, but it was very yellow. Everything was a sandy color, and when the sun struck an angle correctly, it was as if the city shimmered. It would have been a beautiful sight, Aelis thought, except for the broken roofs, beggars, chipped corners, and semi-paved roads. Carts would clatter and rattle and their wheels would wedge into an old wheel track left by years of wear, and there was always a layer of dirt misting the surface of the city. And although Aelis had managed to scale the town walls five years ago, the King had the walls “rehabilitated” – but even he had no control over the quality of how the thing was built; it still crumbled in places and looked as if someone took old bits of wall from other town walls and stacked it atop the old bit of wall. But Aelis had to give them some type of credit: it was a higher wall.

But for all of the walling about the city, Biblos was still a rather small one, only having a few full-fledged abodes around the vicinity of the palace; many of the living quarters where small townhomes pressed side by side, only big enough for a room or two, the top and bottom floors shared by different families no doubt. These families without the clink of gold in their purses lived within the market district, away from the palace and near the tavern where the air was laden with gossip.

As Aelis neared the palace, she slowed to a walk. She had the notion that if she weren’t careful, she’d disturb the air of elitism within the vicinity, or if she startled the statuesque guard, there would be some punishment, or that she might . So, she approached lightly, reporting herself. The guard nodded and escorted her through the arched door.

Inside the palace was a complete juxtaposition of what was outside – it was as if the inside had taken all of the grace and beauty from the city and saturated it into the sweeping arches that flew across the ceiling. The marble statues were dipped in grace, their figures in posture, chipped in just the right places – a little at the shoulders, perhaps a little wear about the hips, or maybe a knick upon the nose. Aelis walked down the tan marble hall; the walls themselves struck her speechless. The white that marbled the stone almost appeared to be silver, or even gold when the sun struck well through the arched glass panes, dripping from the ceiling down to the floor to weave out like roots underfoot.

Aelis drank in the view from ceiling to floor, from statue to tapestry, until she reached the throne room. The guard who had escorted her saluted and marched back to his post. Aelis watched him leave, not truly minding her surroundings until she heard a familiar gruff clearing of the throat. She automatically straightened her posture, her gaze first brushing from the carped floor then up the elevation of stairs where she saw a Colonel Cillian. It wasn’t shocking to see him affiliated with the palace, but it was shocking, just like it was always surprising to see a familiar face in an unexpected place, to see him announcing their presence.

She looked around, attempting to locate the king, thinking it was odd that there were only two other examinees. But upon closer inspection of her compatriots, she saw two familiar faces which were scrutinizing her as well. Harry and Serdic. Aelis swallowed and turned away with guise of calm. She pretended not to notice, her jaw stiffening with anticipation, as Harry eyed her with suspicion. With a boom of Cillian’s voice, the three examinees straightened to attention, all other things forgotten in the wake of authority.

“The Kingdom of Weiselheim does not need more pawns.” The Colonel clenched his fists and beckoned towards Aelis, Harry, and Serdic. A chill shot down her spine when Cillian held her gaze, his eyes shadowed with the herald of impending doom. He looked away, and Aelis felt relief, wondering if her own gaze would eventually mimic his, bearing the weight of ice. He spoke again, that commanding voice pounding against the marble pillars with such force that even they seemed to shudder in its wake. “King Antoine Vikesl Cordelweisel himself will explain your task.”

Aelis started. For what she had mistaken for the king’s lack of presence was in fact the king’s lack of height. She knew the Kingdom of Weiselheim was ruled by what the people called “The Boy King,” but his stature, for a boy of his age, was unimpressive. He appeared graceful in his movements; it was befitting for his frail form and sickly gray complexion.

“Your task lay within the Domerul Forest,” the king rasped; Aelis could tell by the way his breath shuddered that he was ill. Aelis almost cringed when the pitiful king let out a hack that shook his entire frame, and she found herself cheering him on in her head, coaxing him to continue. He shot a glance at her. She gulped and held his gaze; this boy’s gaze was different than the Colonel’s – his gaze was confused, yet knowing, clear, yet jaded. His gaze was that of a boy’s and a king’s.

Gathering himself, King Antoine continued, “It is up to you, brave warriors, to complete the task. And this task, you shall have to find on your own.” He gestured to his manservant who briskly handed each of the examinees a piece of stone.

Aelis ran her thumb over the rough surface; the thing looked as though it was taken off of a recently battered boulder, but it was smooth, the edges worn. She saw out of the corner of her eyes, Harry and Serdic both exchanging confused glances, and trying to catch her gaze. They were all at a loss. What would one do with a rock? Serdic dared to move, eying the little stone against the sun’s rays and sighing when it was of no avail. Aelis only placed hers within her satchel.

“This examination is a unique case,” said the king. It looked as if he could collapse even if the slightest breezed entered the chamber. “You may only return if you have completed the task.” With that he turned and left in as much hurry his little form could muster.

Cillian’s voice burst against the air again, “What are you standing here for? Your examination has already begun.” The guards escorted all three out of the palace. Questions raced through her head; they didn’t even know what the task was, and what did it mean that the kingdom didn’t need any more pawns – kingdoms always needed pawns. And the forest, she thought, was the one she came through to get into the city. Of course, there were the two former guards, Harry and Serdic stealing glances at her then at each other. Ignore them, Aelis decided.

As she exited the castle, she swore she felt the stone warm inside her satchel. But then again, it could have been her nerves acting up. Aelis was about to send word to Rosalia when she and her two examinees were ushered out of the hind gates behind the castle and into the forest. When the chains stopped clinking and the final thunder of the gate closing, there were no sounds save for the occasional crack of winter-dried branches and the pounding of hearts.

[End notes: Sorry for the lateness again. I actually have a real job. So I would only be daring enough to say; new chapter every Sunday. Thanks for reading, as usual.]

Chapter 6

[Author's notes: Aelis, Harry, and Serdic wander towards the center of the Domerul Forest where they find a nasty surprise.]

Chapter 5: Hunting Forest

It was late afternoon, drifting into evening, and the sun had long since passed the zenith of the sky, dipping behind the palace walls. The fading light welcomed uncertain chirps from insects of neither darkness nor light. As the dimness grew, the sound of birdsong began to diminish into only a few sparse chirps, and the sounds of Hostia began to grow; the beats of Mantis wings and Beetle wings hummed to life.

Aelis recognized the buzz of insect Hostia – this would be her first time venturing into the Domerul Forest unchaperoned, and she drew her swords. Her companions followed suit; Harry hefted a great battle axe onto his shoulder, and Serdic relieved his back of an equally great claymore.

Aelis turned to look as Serdic heaved a sigh. “It’s finally happened,” he said with a frown on his face, “we’ve finally been sent on some obscure mission and left out to die. Didn’t I tell you it would happen, Harry?” His voice was full of mirth. Somewhat inappropriate for the given situation, thought Aelis.

Harry looked at him with disapproval, his thick stern brows knitting together, “Serdic, it may be better to leave the joking aside.” Serdic began mumbling about something about being a killjoy, but Harry stood fast in his conviction. The more they spoke, the more Aelis thought resembled counterparts – squabbling brothers almost; Harry was serious, his posture rigid, speech polite, hair combed and parted, while Serdic was playful, sporting a charming smile and stylishly groomed hair while always moving about.

“—but at least we’ve got a pretty damsel to look after.” Serdic slipped closer, ignoring all personal boundaries. Aelis realized that their conversation had become lost to her and focused her vision upon Serdic, taking a small step back.

Aelis glared at him and turned way when she saw the light of quasi-recognition in his light brown irises. Then he stated what she dreaded. She dared to think upon the looks about their faces if they found out she was the one they let through, unwittingly labeling her as a Latroci. “Hey, Harry. She does look familiar, doesn’t she?” Aelis mentally cringed. She wouldn’t be deported, or at least she hoped not, if the Guard found out, but there would be some heavy fine or flaying or perhaps a lifetime of servitude. And none of the above really tailored to her fancy.

Harry shot Serdic a warning look, “Yes, Serdic, but it’s not polite to stare.”

“Fine, but I would never forget such a pretty face.” Serdic seemed to give up on his questionings. And somehow, Aelis found his reply to be somewhat hypocritical. She rolled her eyes – he was obviously another good-for-nothing womanizer, and she’d seen her fair share going after Rosalia. Adjusting her grips, she moved ahead, not wanting to engage in needless conversation.

Amidst Serdic’s indignant whining, Aelis caught the clunking of a different metal. “Wait, miss. I’m sorry for Serdic’s behavior,” Harry stepped in front of her successful stopping her stride. “I’m Harry, and that’s Serdic,” he bowed bashfully before continuing, “but probably already figured that out.” Aelis couldn’t help but feel her own resolve crumble in his clumsy wake.

“I am Aelis,” she said quickly and challenged the former guard, “and I assume that you’ll be apologizing for hindering my travels.” Harry seemed to shrink at her jab to his courtesy. “Unless this is important, I will be on my way.”

Serdic took the chance to catch his friend’s blunder, leaping with utmost energy into her path. Again. “Oh, but it is important. I wouldn’t tarnish my reputation for forgetting woman’s face, Aelis.” He tested her name. Aelis thought she felt some bile rise to the back of her throat. Serdic implored her again, “Won’t you humor us? Have we met?”

She placed a hand on Serdic’s steel-plated shoulder. He blinked confusedly and somewhat gleefully. Aelis shoved him aside and scoffed as he clunked about for balance, the remaining light glinting upon his full plate armor. Harry moved to steady him and Aelis rounded on them both with unexplained hostility. “Humor you?” Her voice came out louder than she intended, leaving the two men to stare, dumbfounded. She softened her tone – it really wasn’t their fault in asking who she was – “Humor you,” she repeated minding her tone, “you mean pretend that we have met?”

“Oh, that would be fabulous,” Serdic exclaimed and took her hand, bowing to place a peck upon its back. Aelis swallowed a gag. Although Serdic was interesting, to say the least, she preferred the company of the quiet Harry. Speaking of whom, Aelis heard Harry shuffling uncomfortably, perhaps feeling slightly left out. She took her hand back with haste, a bit of distaste straightening her lips into a tight line.

“Yes, and the pleasure is truly yours,” said Aelis lightly. Her tone hardened, “But none of us will be having any pleasure if we don’t complete this task.” With no more willing words, Aelis moved on.

Upon following her, and Aelis assumed this, Serdic could not spend a moment without speaking. And so she merely ignored him when he asked if any in their party knew where they were going. And it was true that none of them really knew their direction, but something compelled Aelis forward.

As they moved, the forest seemed to watch their movements; it was as if the branches leaned in to listen to their mumbled conversations and clumsy plodding, and it seemed that all of the little holes and crevices were filled with watching eyes and listening ears. When there was a snap or a crack Harry and Serdic would start and shift closer to one another. Aelis would have slapped herself in the wake of her comrades’ amazing courage. She knew better than they. She knew that sound from the unseen was better than none at all.

But even for her hunt-trained ears, Aelis found the whisper of winter-burned leaves speaking of an unknown and unwelcome presence in the forest. They moved with as much silence as they could muster; the eerie hush made Aelis feel like a troll lumbering through an aisle of glassware. Eventually the weighted silence of the forest made even the chatty Serdic stop his flapping jaw.

Two days passed since they were thrown into the forest, and it seemed to be always night as branches were so thick, they had not need for leaves to blot out the sun – the three examinees had said little as time progressed; only speaking when it was necessary. The Hostia encounters were juvenile, the majority of critters being lesser faeries and their enchanted moths. It was the forest itself that proved to me most troublesome. They had woven their way towards the center of the forest, following Aelis’s lead. Sometimes Aelis thought she had cleared a tree rood, stepped over it even making sure that her second foot had cleared, but it was like the trees were filled with mischief, raising their roots to catch her foot. Serdic and Harry didn’t have any more luck as they tumbled, clamoring to the floor.

The feeling of being watched had eventually crawled its way to the back of her head; it was always there, but Aelis had gotten used to it. Something, now stopped her, her rustling footsteps, lighter than her companions’, halting at an enormous aged tree circled by a ring of thick vein-like roots. But this tree, greater than the rest, reached out its still green-leafed branches, spreading its grasp overheard, was not bare. Its base was grown with ferns and littered with colored leaves and fungi which shrouded the trunk in a miniature forest of its own.

Something bid her to listen. Aelis whirled around as the sound of a low hum brushed her ears. “Did you hear that?” She wasn’t really asking them. Aelis didn’t really expect their city-muted ears to pick it up.

“Hear what,” Harry muttered grimly. Aelis was pleased it was him who answered; she had soon learned that he was better at appropriating his emotion.

“The buzz.” Aelis couldn’t describe it as anything else. And there it was again, continuous this time – the buzz of wind grazing her ears.

“Oh just wonderful,” this time Serdic spoke. “The scrying witch has gone mad.” He stuck his claymore into the earth, making the forest shudder in anger.

“Shut your babbling,” Aelis growled and shot back, “I can’t hear with all the noise.”

“What are you hearing anyway?” Serdic threw up his hands in frustration and sighed.

“I already told you.” She frowned as a strange sweet aroma filled her nostrils and prickled fatigue through her muscles, making them cold and numb. “Poison,” she warned – these neurotoxic hallucinogens she had only heard about through the tales of her hunt parties; some people go insane and some die of sapped energy, their bodies falling limp upon the forest floor to be fed upon alive. It was a mistake, she judged, bringing her hand to cup her mouth and nose. But still the air refused to stay in her lungs as she breathed.

Her heart raced partly with panic as she heard Harry groan and Serdic grate on his teeth. But, she knew, her heart pounded in frustration. And she thought of Rosalia. It wasn’t unheard of that examinees were to disappear on their missions. Many did not return and their families were left to grieve. She willed her legs to hold, but failed, falling heavy to the humus rich floor, and she heard harry drop next to her, grunting. Serdic ground his teeth audibly as his eyes shifted back and forth quicker than a flutter of moth’s wings.

Aelis thought to apologize in her mind. She felt the skin-warmed silver that Rosalia had given her against her chest. Dying couldn’t be so bad. She already had once before, so she pitied Harry and Serdic – Harry a little more as Serdic would be lost in his own mad ravings. Rosalia’s playful smile flashed through her mind.

“You know, Aelis,” Rosalia chastised with her hands folded and her face flushed, “dying has made you too accepting of death.” It was a clear night when they both had enjoyed a celebration of their fourth anniversary in Biblos with sparkling drinks and a couple mugs of ale.

“But what else am I supposed to do? Eventually I’ll die again,” Aelis giggled and flopped her back onto the roof of the inn. “Best be prepared for it.”

Rosalia laughed back curling against Aelis, her head on the hunter’s shoulder; it had become her favorite spot. Rosalia was warm with drink, and Aelis didn’t know whether it was the buzz or the slight petting that Rosalia had taken to her stomach that had her heart thundering. But it seemed that Rosalia had no idea as she was unable to control her incessant giggling. Aelis listened as Rosalia said through gasps of air, “But, but, then I’d miss you so!” She attempted her sarcasm, but failed as another wave of laughter washed over her shaking form.

“I’d make it a point to visit you as a ghost!” Aelis laughed.

For once Rosalia said nothing back, and Aelis turned to look. Rosalia seemed to have become lost in thought – she loses focus every so often when drink became involved, Aelis noticed. The hostess’s usually kept hair tousled about her blush-tinged face, and her full pink lips were slightly parted. And the blue – the irises of story-book oceans – they were unfocused as if elsewhere. Aelis tensed as Rosalia changed the pattern of the sweeps of her touch, drawing absent shapes through a light tunic upon Aelis’s toned figure. She tried to say something, anything, but only her heart pounded in her speechless lips’ stead.

They said nothing more that night. Rosalia had snuggled even closer, not perceiving how the distance between them had closed, leaving no room at all even for air. Perhaps Aelis could hold her alcohol better, or perhaps it was the alcohol that did it; she felt the gap close, felt her own breathing stop, felt the warmth of drink from Rosalia’s body, felt her nerves light up, and she felt the heat of the woman’s erratic breaths caressing her neck. Time did the odd thing of slowing for a while.

It was a slow gradual halt when Rosalia’s hand ceased their ministrations. Aelis found she missed it and noticed that her friend had fallen asleep, those hot breaths becoming warm and even. But the hunter had trouble sleeping that night and merely settled with holding Rosalia’s sleeping form closer against the cooler breeze of night.

But perhaps now her memory was skewed as she seemed to remember that long silence – there looked to be sadness laced into Rosalia’s giggled words, there looked to be unshed tears lost in those ocean blues. And then she thought; “I must be very selfish.” Again, the smile that defined a home for the hunter shot to the forefront of her mind. Her head raced with words as she said silently, “Then I must live if only to be selfish.” She willed her limbs to move, only earning a slight twitch of fingers. She willed and willed. Stand up. Stand up. She made it to her knees, shaking. Stand up.

A sudden warmth spread from the center of her hear to her limbs. Her hands, feet, arms, and legs drank gratefully the newfound energy that radiated from her scar. And she stood. Aelis came to herself when she heard Serdic blundering around hacking at all sorts of plant life and screaming something about a witch.

“You’re jerking us around.” He turned and glared at her.

“I’m not. Calm down, Serdic,” said Aelis coolly but still catching her breath.

Harry wriggled nervous. Though his body was more resistant to the poison than hers, by this point, he could only crawl.

“You’re just here to get us killed – we don’t even know who you are!” Serdic turned to Harry. “Isn’t that right, Harry?” He gripped the hilt of his sword.

“Serdic, don’t,” Harry warned and coughed bringing his arm to his cover his nose as the thick aroma grew stronger, his body fighting the weight of his armor.

“Get us out of here.” Serdic stepped closer, readying his sword at Aelis.

Aelis responded with silence. There was a haze in his eyes that Aelis knew.

Serdic grew hot with anger, his tone and voice escalating now. “You will show us out.”

“Stop it, Serdic. We’ll never get out this way,” Harry reasoned desperately.

Serdic swung his claymore in a clumsy horizontal arc but inhuman strength and speed. Aelis danced back over the ring of roots and closer to the foot of the tree, almost catching her foot upon one of their many protruding limbs. Her senses sharpened still registering the incessant uncanny hum as her eyes tuned to watch the torque of Serdic’s hips. She stepped to the side, predicting his equally messy horizontal swing, and every time he swung, Aelis hovered away, her blades like wings in her hands, and her feet quiet.

But soon, her back was upon the tree. Harry’s concerned yelling became little whines of protest in the background. Sweat poured from Serdic’s red-painted face as he swung a final time. Aelis ducked, and the sword lodged itself into the tree. The only sound now was Serdic’s grunting as he focused on ripping the claymore from the sturdy trunk, sobbing. Aelis’s eyes widened. The humming had stopped as soon as Serdic touched the tree.

“Serdic, get away from the tree!” As Aelis screamed, she shoved the mindless guard from the trunk just as a rogue blade whipped out to strike him dead. Her falchion rung loud as she narrowly blocked the stinging shot. Serdic lay motionless on the floor. But Aelis had no time to be sorry for knocking the poor bloke unconscious when he landed.

Aelis spotted the towering Mantis, once still lying in wait for its prey, swaying, watching her with unblinking eyes as it calculated her every movement against the background. It was a clever thing. Aelis smirked. It was using the low vibrations of its wings to rouse the poisonous mushrooms, and once the prey was snared, the Mantis would feed. She moved to raise her blades in defense. The Mantis was quicker and caught her off guard with its sharper movement detection. Aelis’s reflexes were forced to drive her to side-step.

She thought she had dodged the strike before the blow came to her shoulder and she felt warm blood flowing from the gash. The Mantis’s front legs were like whipping saws that sliced just through her leather spaulder. Aelis couldn’t revel too long in the creature’s grace as her sharp eyes caught another flash of lightning movement. In one graceful movement, Aelis stepped, the blow taken by the skillful parry of her main gauche, swung. But before she could strike, the mantis struck again, forcing her to parry with the falchion. And the seam upon that arm felt like it was about to tear open at the force of the strike.

The Hostia and Aelis exchanged blows. As she got used to the speed, her movements became more fluid – she floated in and out of combat, striking, parrying, striking, dodging – a waltz of feet; one could hear the ring of blades and the whir of missed swings in the air. And in Aelis’s tuned focus and the Mantis’s natural action, no one noticed Harry holding the moist earth over a rag over his mouth and nose. He had hoped the particles of wet dirt would filter the mist of shroom pollen, and slowly, he regained strength, hoping to help his comrade in battle.

Aelis noticed the sharpened sparkle in Harry’s eyes. Smart boy, she thought. He would indeed recover enough for a single swing. But her lungs were burning from the long exchange and her falchion arm slowing and shaking. The Mantis instinctually struck at her weakened arm, fatiguing it. Harry caught her eyes, and she knew she must maneuver the Hostia towards him before her arm gave out. Closer now. And closer still. They moved, the Mantis only focusing its soul upon her. Harry had crawled around the battle, keeping out of sight behind the insect and struggling up to his feet, preparing his axe, lifting it over head.

With one final burst of speed, Aelis brought her entire stance forward in aggression, cutting in arcs of all direction, landing her steps in precision. She would sacrifice defense to push, earning another blow upon her lower right arm. She lost grip on the falchion. Another blow to left thigh, toothed legs sawing through flesh. She lost footing and made a dive away as Harry’s rumbling cry rang about the forest, his axe driving through the Mantis’s torso in a spray of slime. He fell to the floor, out of energy again as his lungs filled with pollen.

Aelis lay gasping next to him, her wounds burning from the salt in her sweat and the grim from the floor. Something tugged at her heartstrings again. Chestnut browns shot open. It was urgent. Like she had to do something. Her muscles protested and she was sticky with blood. Aelis grunted and crawled towards the tree. There was a giant hollow in the tree, about seven hands wide and ten hands tall. “Harry,” she called in a hoarse voice. She got a moan in response. “Harry, get Serdic here.” An unwilling creak of metal signaled that Harry complied. She propped herself against the walls inside; at least they would have shelter.

After she caught her breath and staunched the wound in her shoulder for a bit, she noticed a stone overgrown with ivy next to her – no it wasn’t a stone. She crawled closer. It seemed to be smoother. The light was too dim to see. Harry had miraculously made it to the hollow huffing and puffing and finally fainting, but Aelis gave him credit. He had earned her respect as a comrade. His stamina was unparalleled in her eyes.

With both of her companions unconscious, Aelis cleared the weeds slowly. A final yank had the dried ivy rustling to the floor. Her heart throbbed almost painfully, but it seemed excited. This was it. She pressed both hands, stained with blood, against the surface. Something inside her named it a crystal of sorts, and how Aelis could hear such a thing was beyond her. But the coolness was soothing against her burning limbs, comforting the race of her heart – it was like the blood-organ had told her, “You found it.”

Before she could think about what she had found, a soft light pierced through the companions’ satchels – the rocks had started glowing, then they began brightening brighter and brighter, so bright that Aelis had to shut her eyes. But eventually the light burned through her eyelids so much that she had to use her uninjured arm to shield her eyes from blinding white.

And then it was dark.

[End notes: Is it late?! For some of you it's still Sunday, so there! Next installment, next Sunday. There might be a little surprise for you this week, but no promises. As usual, thanks for reading!]

Chapter 7

[Author's notes: Aelis had been gone for awhile, and Rosalia is worried sick. While she is worrying, she meets a bitter guild master and an elven whore.]

Chapter 6: Rain or Shine

It had been two nights going onto a third since Aelis had left for the Latroci examination, thought Rosalia as she counted the hours in her head. And every hour that passed meant a greater chance that the fledgling warrior could have been chopped up, eaten, or lost. Rosalia paced backed and forth, kicking up some dirt. If it weren’t for Aelis’s impeccable luck, the girl would have been dead many times over, and much to Rosalia’s exasperation, her thoughts weren’t exaggerated. It only left her with an uneasy mind and bitten-down nails. Why did Aelis have go and do something so outlandish? Perhaps it wasn’t outlandish; many young men and women had become Latroci following, starry-eyed, the promise of glory and the promise of a world free of the Goddess. This year would be the apocalypse, the year of judgment. Rosalia was almost angry, but she didn’t know at what.

Rosalia had come to the guild after her hours at the inn. And today, the Latroci and mercenaries where bustling about more than usual, trying to get their assignments reported before the storm. She was aware of eyes upon her; a woman in an aproned dress had no place in a guild of mercenaries and soldiers. There was only one other woman – if she could even be called that – the Guild Master named Rose, big in all areas and even bigger in mouth, but she was efficient because of her snark and tough love or so say the clients. “Will ya give it a rest, woman? You’re makin’ me dizzy.” Rose’s moled lip spat at her as it took a long drag on a smoldering cigar.

“I’m sorry, but it has been two nights,” Rosalia frowned and paused her gait only to kick at a stray dust clump before returning to her pacing.

“Only two nights.” Rose rolled her eyes, her toad-like visage widening. “You know Latroci are gone for weeks on end, maybe months.” The older woman seemed to have taken liking to making Rosalia even more uneasy. “It’s also not uncommon for examinees to never return – you’d become a skeleton here if that were to happen!” Rose guffawed loudly as nearby loitering mercenaries snickered at her predicament.

Rosalia whirled around to face the Guild Master. “Bite your tongue!” The statement was louder than she had expected to sound; the mercenaries that were minding their own business had become onlookers. She looked down and resumed her pacing. Rosalia shouldn’t be too worried, or so she told herself. Aelis had become quite capable with weaponry after the years of drilling and sparring. But something always held Rosalia back from ever fully letting her heart ease.

She stopped her pacing, lost in thought. Admittedly sleep had not come easy, as much as she would have liked to believe that she had not such an impossible attachment to Aelis. During early sleep, she was plagued by nightmares of flying limbs and splattering blood. But in deeper sleep, she would dream of voices speaking in secret intonations; sometimes she thought she heard her own voice protesting the conversation, and other times she would hear the other voice – the other voice that she felt she knew ever since she could remember. And the latter had been happening ever so frequently; she had dreamt of voices before and no doubt anyone in the room had as well, but she brushed them off. Perhaps it was just the stress, and her light sleep had been interrupted by Gus’s late night conversations with drink-drowned patrons.

Rose’s phlegm-filled cough broke her thoughts. “You should let go a little,” Rose waved a fat arm to dismiss the concern, “throw your little honey to the wolves. Maybe he’d grow a pair.”

Rosalia felt blood rush to face to match her hair as her mouth dropped agape. “He’s not – He?!” Rosalia stood at a loss for words before somewhat recovering, “He’s a she. And she’s not my honey!”

Rose blinked in astonishment, her wrinkles flapping in similar confusion. “Oh. Then it’d be awkward if she did grow a pair – unless you like that.” The woman let out another laugh. Rosalia threw up her ends in frustration and surrender; there would be no helping the Guild Master.

Night had descended upon Biblos quickly. No one had bothered to light the lamps tonight; the spring storms had begun early, thought Rosalia. The winds had already begun howling, blowing open unshut doors and rattling the shutters fastened windows. People were scrambling for shelter and salvaging what they could from their carts and stands. But Rosalia had insisted on staying until the last possible minute.

“Alright, get your asses outta here. I don’t wanna be cleaning your bodies off of my doorstep tomorrow.” Rose’s rasping holler signaled the end of the day.

Rosalia’s heart dropped. No Aelis. She supposed it was her own fault for convincing herself somewhere along the day that Aelis would be back. But Rose had made a good point; Latroci had a duty and they would be gone for far longer than two nights. She supposed it was unreasonable for her to worry – she would have to sleep on that. But her feet were still reluctant to move.

“Go home already. You’ll wrinkle that pretty face and Gus will blame me for having to fire you.” Rose stood to stow away her bookkeeping records in a rickety drawer. She supposed she felt somewhat sympathetic to the younger woman; it was always hard for the families of the Latroci. She shook her head and locked the drawer.

The howling continued to grow and Rosalia had not the energy to retort and merely made for the door. She stopped in her tracks as a crack followed by an angry rumble rolled through the city; lightning split the sky lighting the streets with white stained with black silhouettes. As in cue, rain did not hesitate to whip from the heavens, pounding the earth in giant pellets of liquid.

“Don’t just stand there! Close the damn door.” Rose flew to her stubby feet and slammed the door against the buffeting wind. One would wonder how the woman moved so quickly. “Great. No I’m stuck here with a whiny princess and away from my warm bed.” Rose grumbled all the way back to her seat, shuffling in it to get comfortable. Rosalia mumbled a half apology, having no desire for another exchange.

She didn’t know how long had passed, but the creep of sleep in her eyes told her it was well past midnight. But the maelstrom outside went on, the squeal of winds shaking roofs and throwing planks and glass. It would be a mess in the morning. And at times like this, one wondered if morning would come. She pulled the tattered blanket Rose lent her closer and shifted against the corner of the room for comfort. Sleep would come with reluctance once again.

A loud banging on the door riled her heart to pump as she leapt to her feet and disturbed Rose’s loud snoring. The loud banging came again over the noise of the storm, leaving both women to stare wide-eyed at one another. Maybe it was Aelis, thought Rosalia. She moved to open the door.

“Don’t you dare, girl,” Rose warned. “You don’t know what kind of crazies are out there – ”

Before Rose could finish her sentence the door blasted open, splintering the wood surrounding the latch, revealing a tall elven woman with a wand in hand. Her robes – once white or perhaps blue – were stained with rain and tousled by wind. “I think…this is wrong.” The woman slurred with a heavy accent, looking around confused. Rosalia recovered from the initial shock and wrinkled her nose at the stench of drink. The gust from the blast had put out the small flame that they had kept. Rosalia took an instinctive step back.

“It’s so dark…” The woman laughed, her giggles unstoppable save for the little hiccups that made their rhythmic presence clear.

“Oh brother,” Rose’s annoyed tone came as a comfort, “what the hell do you think you’re doing, Estelle? You busted my door again.”

Rosalia mumbled under her breath, “Why is it not a surprise that you are acquaintances?”

“Hey! Don’t lump me in with that whore. I’m a decent woman,” came Rose’s indignant reply.

“Oh, my dear Rose, is that you? You still haven’t found a man?” Estelle stumbled about, groping blindly in the dark – the dark that no doubt hid Rose’s flaming fury, thought Rosalia with a snicker.

“Blast it. Too dark…” Estelle flailed a wanded hand. A burst of light lit the room as all the lamps fluttered to life with a tip of flame. “But, Rose,” Estelle found her way to Rose’s desk, leaning heavily upon it, exposing a generous amount of cleavage, and began to ramble, “You must be getting old. I am no whore – how many times must I tell you – I am a holy woman!” And she repeated with a drawling emphasis this time, “Holy woman!”

Rose, in an attempt to save her dignity, waved off Estelle’s ravings and returned to shuffling in her seat for that elusive comfortable position she was in moments before, going back to sleep. Rosalia also brushed off the woman’s comment as drunken speech until she saw the crossed crest of healing and another crest of an eagle she did not recognize upon the breast of her robes. Rosalia’s mouth fell open; it was one thing to be a drunkard and another thing to being a drunkard while in uniform.

Estelle must have felt Rosalia’s scrutiny for she turned with a great grin and slurred, “Well, what do we have here. I haven’t met you before.” Estelle put an even greater effort to wobble towards Rosalia. Rosalia stood where she was with a stiffened posture, unsure of whether she should help the woman in her wobbling or to back away. Estelle froze for a moment, staring at Rosalia, blinking. “You really are something,” Estelle wrapped a heavy arm around Rosalia’s shoulders, “you may call me Estelle, or mistress if you prefer. Pleasure to meet you, dearie.”

Rosalia tried to hold her breath to avoid the smell of the tavern and men – many men, no doubt. “Rosalia,” she stated bluntly, “the pleasure is certainly all yours.” She moved to push the other woman away only to be met by resistance as Estelle draped another arm around her neck, pulling her into a tight and uncomfortable embrace. Rosalia turned her head to avoid the putrid breath and did not return the embrace.

“Don’t be shy!” Estelle giggled into her ear. “Why don’t you and I have a little fun?”

A familiar sickening feeling from five years back rose in the pit of Rosalia’s stomach as a rush of heat seared a path up her neck and into her cheeks. “Enough!” She ducked out of the embrace and pushed the elf away, leaving the woman flailing for balance before crashing into the ground in a laughing heap. Rosalia took in a breath to say more – anything, anything to spill her rage that surprised herself. “Who do you think you—“

Before her furious words even finished leaving her mouth, a flash of white that might have been from lightning blotted all things out of her vision and her mind. She vaguely heard Rose snort back into wakefulness and Estelle cease her giggling. Then she felt something crash against her, the weight knocking her down. She gave a startled cry, feeling grimy limbs tangled with her own and catching a whiff of calla lilies.

“Ow…”

Rosalia’s heart froze; she recognized the voice.

“Hi there, Rosalia. You sure make a nice cushion.” The cheerful familiar voice drew warmth into her heart.

When the light and the spots in her eyes subsided, Rosalia could jump for joy as she saw Aelis’s dirty and a little bruised but grinning face. “Aelis!” She clung to the woman sprawled on top of her. Rosalia brought a hand up to brush muddied platinum from Aelis’s fine-boned face. The other woman’s face was streaked with mud and dirt, but those warm auburn eyes were as clear as a mountain stream. Rosalia wondered how Aelis could still be so cheerful, her eyes wandering to meet Aelis’s full upturned lips. With a breath upon her own lips, Rosalia was all too aware of the position that they were in, feeling the flutters of her heart rush just enough to make her lightheaded.

“Oh, your woman is back. I guess you passed er…” Rose rustled through some papers, looking for a name, “Aelis.” Rose settled on the most feminine sounding name and was pleased with her deductive skills when Aelis nodded in response. Rose busied herself with the paperwork, losing interest in the pair.

Pink powdered Rosalia’s cheeks and she gently, yet reluctantly, pushed Aelis away, both women sitting up. Aelis chuckled and said with a tone filled with mirth, “I’m your woman?”

Rosalia flushed more noticeably and refused to meet Aelis’s eyes choosing instead to focus on something sticky on her hands, and she looked. Fresh and old blood stained her hands. Rosalia’s vision sharpened and her demeanor hardened. Aelis must have sensed her sudden flip in mood for her smile wavered and her eyes seemed to wince under her glare. Rosalia ignored the comment, focusing on the blood coming from Aelis’s wounds.

“Aelis, you’re bleeding!” Rosalia began removing Aelis’s battered armor, carefully unbuckling and untying the straps before removing the unblooded pieces. Aelis’s lips tightened as Rosalia reached to unfasten the remaining leather spaulder. Sensitive to Aelis’s body movement, Rosalia gently unstrapped the shoulder guard, and slowly removed it. Rosalia couldn’t see very well, but once the spaulder was removed, she noticed that something had cut clean through the leather and onto flesh. Blood stained the once cream-colored tunic; it was still wet.

Rosalia’s brows were knitted so tightly that Aelis was afraid that she was going to put permanent creases in her forehead. “It’s not that bad.”

Rosalia, only clenched her teeth, anger rising. Anger at what, though? It’s not that bad to you, thought Rosalia. She would see worse for she has seen nothing even now. Rosalia dropped gaze, concentrating on removing the rest of the armor. Aelis searched her face, wondering what was wrong. “Rosalia, I came back right?”

At times, Rosalia hated it when Aelis could read her so freely. “Yes, but—“

“Well don’t stop now! Take the rest off,” a drunken whine came from a corner of the room, “get to the action already.”

Aelis looked up, “What – “

“Ignore her, Aelis,” Rosalia interjected quickly.

“Who is that?” Aelis wrinkled her nose; she hadn’t even noticed the woman lounging in the corner with almost everything exposed.

“Nobody,” said Rosalia quickly.

“What?! I am not nobody!” Estelle had seemed to sober when she stood, swaying a little, “I am Estelle, the greatest healer in the kingdom of Weiselheim.”

“Also the greatest whore in the kingdom,” said Rose under her breath as she continued to finish the paper work.

Estelle either ignored the comment of failed to hear it as she sauntered towards Rosalia and Aelis, who was attempting with most effort to ignore the woman.

“A healer,’ asked Aelis.

“Aelis— ”

“Maybe you could take a look at these wounds,” Aelis continued much to Rosalia’s chagrin.

“Oh?” A shrewd glint entered Estelle’s gray eyes. “My services come at a price, darling.”

Aelis thought for a bit, “How much are we talking? I don’t have much gold.” The warrior spoke carefully.

“I’m sure we can work it out,” Estelle’s voice rolled out in seduction. Or perhaps it was Rosalia’s imagination. Nonetheless, she saw the direction the deal was headed. Estelle knelt beside Aelis, eyeing her, almost as if she were examining goods.

“No. Aelis. There are plenty of healers around…” Rosalia trailed off, unable to find reason through her panic.

“Let’s just say,” Estelle ignored Rosalia and licked her lips, “I perform a service for you and you would perform a service for me.”

“Aelis, no,” said Rosalia, pulling Aelis close, “I’ll treat them.” Aelis shrugged and nodded. Estelle laughed and wobbled into the back room, finding a comfortable seat to doze.

Rose hadn’t said a word during the entire exchange, pretending not to hear until now. “There are rags and supplies in that room.” She coughed and stamped the papers with a loud thud.

Aelis had begun to doze, and Rosalia had to rouse the woman to prop her up against the wall. She hurried to the back room, finding the rags folded upon an old shelf.

“It would be a shame should ‘your woman’ catch an infection,” a twisted smile snaked its way onto Estelle’s lips.

Rosalia had the feeling that the woman was hardly drunk anymore. But she froze.

“Perhaps an infection that would color the skin a putrid green? Or one that strikes a person with fever and delusions,” Estelle began counting off her fingers. She met Rosalia’s eyes with danger.
Rosalia took a sharp turn to look at the woman. “And you know just as well as I do that in the morning, I will have her at the local healer’s. Goodbye.”

Rosalia stormed out the room neglecting to hear Estelle’s next words, “Oh, this is hardly goodbye, Rosalia.” She tapped her lips, lost in thought, remembering the platinum-haired woman. Something about the two of them struck at her magic-honed senses as odd. “And Aelis.”

In the lobby, Rosalia had heated a kettle of hot water, pouring the steaming liquid into a large bowl. She was reluctant to wake Aelis, straining the hot rag to fish for more time; she looked so at ease. Rosalia pushed back Aelis’s side-swept bangs and wondered when her hair had gotten so long; it had reached her hips while Rosalia had preferred to keep hers at the conservative length of her shoulder blades. She reached and pressed the warm cloth against Aelis’s forehead, wiping down her cheek, cleaning her face.

Aelis’s long lashed eyelids fluttered before opening. Brown tinged with wine looked at her, dazed, as an instinctive hand reached up to grab hers. And since when, thought Rosalia, had a simple touch been able to make her heart skip? When had she started to imagine that the looks Aelis gave her meant something more?

As soon as the thought entered her mind, they vanished when, Aelis bolted straight up, cringing at opening her wound. “Where are Harry and Serdic?!”

Rosalia blinked. “Who?”

Aelis looked around with frantic panic in her eyes. “Harry and Serdic – my party. They’re not here.”

“No one was with you,” Rosalia frowned.

Aelis paled and Rosalia could only wonder what the look of guilt was about.

“Bah,” Rose grunted, “they’ll be fine. Prolly home with their families or bitches.”

“What do you mean?” Aelis said slowly.

Rose continued, “You already saw that the rock they gave you is a crystal. It’s an old legend – don’t ask me if it’s true.” Rose filed away the papers she was working on. “They say the Witch of the Crystal had left some magic in these crystals. Of course over time the magic had leaked out, but supposedly they were good for scrying.” Rose paused, trying to remember the rest of the story and gave up. “And once all the magic from the crystals reunite something was supposed to happen.” Rose shrugged and went back to making herself comfortable.

Rosalia could see a thousand questions on Aelis’s face and doubted that Rose could really answer any of them. “Aelis, not now.” She coaxed Aelis to relax. “No doubt you’ll find out more.” Aelis nodded obediently. Rosalia took the chance to peel the blood-stuck tunic off, wincing at how the torn cloth stuck to Aelis’s equally torn skin. And even though it looked painful, Aelis didn’t make a sound.

Rosalia threw the ruined tunic aside, grimacing at the jagged gash that ran from Aelis’s collarbone to her shoulder blade. It wasn’t too deep, much to Rosalia’s relief, but it would scar. And it was likely that this scar would be forgotten or buried under the future scars to come. The thought made Rosalia frown.

“Is something the matter?” Though the question was serious, Aelis’s voice couldn’t help but hold a twinge of joke, her eyes glinting with laughter.

Rosalia said nothing, only shooting Aelis a scolding glare and proceeded to clean the wound, bandaging it afterwards. She cleaned the other two wounds in silence as well, and it felt an eternity. Rosalia placed the supplies aside, covering Aelis with the blanket she had before. She rose to replace the supplies into the room that Estelle seemed to have commandeered, but felt a tug at her skirt.

Rosalia sighed and turned, meeting a pair of concerned brown eyes. It was always a wonder how Rosalia couldn’t resist that look of silent “come here”. She knelt, sitting on her heels, next to Aelis. “Do you need anything – water, food –?”

Aelis pulled Rosalia against her and grinned, “Nope.”

Rosalia was stunned to silence. “You’re an idiot. You’ve always been an idiot. You’ll always be an idiot,” Rosalia grumbled.

“You’re so mean,” teased Aelis while shuffling against Rosalia to get comfortable.

“You deserve it,” Rosalia’s voice wavered. She turned away from Aelis, but her body still desired the feel of the other woman against her. “You deserve it,” she repeated, quieter.

Aelis’s usual playful smile faltered and faded. Although Rosalia’s face was obscured, Aelis could feel the tears as if they were her own. There was nothing she could say. Is something the matter? What’s wrong? Are you okay? All of the half-arsed questions seemed stupid and irrelevant. Aelis knew the problem and wanted to reach out to take Rosalia’s chin, to turn her pretty face about to face her, to tell her it would be okay. But something stopped her as she reached out. Aelis understood that she had no right to comfort the other woman.

Aelis turned to face the other way and pretended not to hear Rosalia’s soft sobs and closed her eyes. Sorry, her mind said over and over again, drowning out the sounds of the sniffles and hiccups, but her heart would always hear the silent drop of tears. Eventually, the pair fell into a black slumber unaware of the gaze of their companions – one in pity, the other in interest.

Through thick sleep, both Rosalia and Aelis heard a distant voice.

“So it seems that I had not the need to make my request, Aelis. I have high hopes for you.”

[End notes: To those who have been actually reading this with interest, sorry about the long wait. Real life has been a real butt. I'll still aim for an update every week since things have slowed down. So, please forgive me. And forgive me for the slow chapter; I feel like I'm introducing too many things. But as usual, leave a review, and thank you so much for reading!]