Private Tales Scorched Earth

[Fife]

If she didn’t hate him before, she sure hated him now. There was nothing quite like reviving the good old childhood memories of fighting to eat. Fife’s shoulders tensed at the pattering of footsteps behind her. She stood, the chair whining as it suddenly scooted back, and half-turned to face them. Though she had the presence of mind not to grab for her sword, her fingers twitched at her side.

They waited and Fife spent her seconds of tension weighing them up. She counted them, took note of how they held their staffs, how tall they were, tested the air for stray emotions. She took a deep breath and reminded herself of her training; Aretta hadn't worked her into the ground so she could go hungry the first time it was truly tested. She released the breath and relaxed her shoulders.

Her hand moved quickly to her sword, but so did her foot as it kicked Raigryn’s chair back toward the guards on her left. It gave her more space as she kept her position near the table -- something sturdy at her back that offered as much escape as it locked her in. She set her feet and was ready.

 

[Raigryn Vayd]

The chair was stopped with a boot, but it bought her time as the other two moved it swiftly. One darted up onto the table itself, the other come from the front.

Lawrence watched with interest. She seemed relatively calm in the situation, the sword was not just for show. He'd already seen that when they had captured the pair. What he had not see was her really trying to fight.

The first came at her from the front with a testing lunge, using the range of the staff. The other came in shortly after, swinging down at her from above.

 

[Fife]

One stopped and the others took different positions. She kept them both in her peripherals, mindful of the advantages and drawbacks of her position. Fife swept her sword upward to deflect the lunge and used the upward momentum to block the above swing. Turning on the ball of her foot and stepping back, she put herself out of the triangle they had formed. Or, at the very least, she was better placed between the first two and could see all three of them.

For the time being she maintained her defensive position. Her heart was racing, but she breathed carefully to keep calm.

 

[Raigryn Vayd]

They cautiously followed her footwork, testing her without throwing a single strike. Their caution did not last long.

The tallest of the group was a stern looking man with particularly pale skin. The kind that almost dipped into a shafe of blue.

His staff came in low for her ankle, then he reversed his momentum to go high with the other end.

The other two worked to try and box her in, to limit her options for movement without striking for her body directly.

 

[Fife]

They gauged her without striking, and Fife faultlessly adjusted with each test. Her eyes moved between the three, watchful. Later she would take a moment to be thankful for all the drills Aretta had put her through. She had prepared her as well for this as she could knowing Fife's strengths didn't lie in the sword. But she was far from useless.

She was approaching a wall and the two were limiting her mobility. She needed to be on the other side of the tall one or open up her box. Getting cornered against the wall would be bad.

Fife shifted her foot back and half-turned to evade the strike at her ankle. He followed with the other end of the staff and she leaned back, the movement stirring the loose hairs around her temples. Instead of stepping back more, however, Fife took the opening. She sidestepped into his reach and quickly swung up toward his hands on the staff before it had fully stopped. Fife used her small size to her advantage, forcing him to defend or back up as she twisted on the balls of her feet to push forward. She kept the other two in her sight, watching for them to profit on her distraction.

 

[Raigryn Vayd]

"Going on the offence in these conditions?" Lawrence asked from across the room.

"Good."

He had no time for cowards.

One of the attackers had to try and slow his retreat. There was no option but to back pedal. A quarterstaff wasn't ideal for being in a defensive posture. Even wrapped that steel would easily break his fingers against the wood.

The other two darted in quickly. They were coordinated. High and low, front of shoulder and back of knee. Their numbers and their reach would be a constantly problem.

 

[Fife]

Of course, they didn't waste the opportunity to flank her. The ground she had just earned was lost. Fife turned and lifted her sword with an angry grimace. At the same time, she kicked her foot and swung her leg out of the way. Narrow misses. Not nearly as articulate as her previous movements, but hits that did not land. She was determined to last longer than this -- even among bad odds, even if it was sloppy.

With a hiss, Fife twisted and tried to put her back to the wall once more. She knocked aside their sticks, beginning to pant from the effort of keeping them at bay.

A little longer. She could keep this up a little longer.

 

[Raigryn Vayd]

She couldn't. The sound of wood cracking against her shin was particularly loud. Even Lawrence winced. The next blow stuck below her sternum. Hard enough to knock the last of the wind from her lungs. Several more swings followed.

They dropped away like shadows as Lawrence cleared his throat.

"Better than I expected," he remarked with no compassion. "I suppose you will have to manage with soup for your dinner."

No one moved to help her. Lawrence turned away and made for the doorway.

"Someone will bring your food and show you to your sleeping arrangements."

 

[Fife]

Fife heard the hit an instant before she felt it. She gasped, a soundless cry as she tried to raise her sword to deflect the second strike, but it was too high. It struck her flat across the chest, any remaining air heaving from her lungs. It bent her in half, though it didn't stop her from continuing to put up her sword to block.

Lawrence cleared his throat and they withdrew and Fife was left in the center. Her ribcage echoed, spiraling tight around her lungs and making it difficult to draw a breath again. She swayed but remained on her feet.

He made his departure and Fife simply looked around at the guards, wary. She still held her sword tight in her grip as she drew deliberate, shuddering breaths. Her mind was closed up tight, curled around her pain and anger like a fist. Wherever Raigryn was, she didn't want to worry him more than he already was. A little bruising wouldn't kill her.

 

[Raigryn Vayd]

She was brought a small portion of soup and a chunk of bread. Their views on what was a ration were skewed. Whilst their hideout was spares these were not idemni. The Assassins of the Coin were paid well and lived to their means.

Fife would be led to a room once she was finished. A box with quill, paper and ink was brought with her but the sword was taken away. The room was a hollowed out cave with a door, but it had a comfortable bed and table and chair. She couldn't lock the door from the inside, but it hadn't been locked from the outside either.

Raigryn had not been afforded such comforts.

He didn't know what was in the needles biting into his neck, but he could feel them sapping at his strength. The colours were slowly bleeding from the world. He lost interest in the pin holding the chain to the wall. He lost interest in everything.

---

"So when do you take the contract then?"

"When she is ready," Lawrence replied. The main dining room was chaos in colours. There was little order here. A collection of individuals bound to the cause. Magicians from all walks of life whose only common aspect was the pursuit of murder.

"Big risk. Will she comply?"

Lawrence shrugged. "Our Empath problem shows up and at the very least she will be a distraction."

"And then?" The other man in the conversation seemed to inhabit the stereotype of a wizard. Colourful robes and a thick beard. He ran an emporium of interesting items in Elbion - or had. Out of sight of his usual patrons had been vials containing enough poisons to wipe out a small town.

"Find a use for her or get rid of them both. We have leverage. She's young and well trained and an outcast."

"Fits the profile?"

"Quite."

 

[Fife]

Though compliant, she paused before sitting down, before eating, before parting with her sword and walking into her room. Distrustful, she had not taken her eyes off of them until they shut the door behind her. Even after it closed she waited a while for the click of a lock that never came. It was quiet. Another test.

Clutching her aching ribs and shedding her stiff pride, she walked slowly to the bed and sat. A hiss escaped between her clenched teeth as she sank the last few inches and Fife laid down on the side that felt the least battered. She drew her knees up, closed her eyes, and rested her face on the cool comforter.

It offered little comfort. A lifeless corner was not what her heart yearned for. She had been simmering with anger and had refused to let them see her upset. Yet as she laid in the cool, quiet dark of a strange room, it bubbled up like spring waters. Fife was hurting, body and mind alike, and she was sick from exhaustion. She didn't know where Raigryn was or if he was safe -- if they were keeping their half of the agreement. They were mixed up in some very big trouble and she was more alone than she had been in over a year.

After this, they wouldn't get a tear from her until it was over. She would dedicate herself to finishing this job and would have only the singular goal of getting the both of them out of here.

For now, however, Fife curled up and tightly held herself. Her fear and worry and pain were exhausted in the silent trembling of her shoulders until sleep finally pulled her into fitful rest.

 

[Raigryn Vayd]

She was woken early by one of the guards bringing her breakfast. Whilst her dinner had depended on performance, she was offered a perfectly robust breakfast.

It wasn't long before a guard arrived carrying her sword and beckoned her. Fife was led down and outside of the caves. A small patch of flat ground, with the odd tuft of grass breaking through the dry soil.

Lawrence was there along with an older woman who kept some distance from them. There was a table set out with quill and ink. A sheet of parchment held down by stones. Then there were straw filled training dummies.

"I want you to show me what you can do with your magic," Lawrence said simply.

 

[Fife]

Fife slept little, but that had been expected. Months of happiness and reassurance undermined in one night and her nightmares had taken new forms. The place beside her in bed was empty; there was nothing for her hands to touch when she woke up reaching for comfort from her dreams.

She was glad when someone finally came to get her. Fife sat up and ate her breakfast, ran her fingers through her hair to braid it anew, then followed the guard who brought her sword. The sword on her back was a comfort. The leather belt across her chest creaked in her hands as she held it tight -- a habit she had picked up in Indretar that kept her expression neutral.

She made a mental note of the way they took to commit it to her memory. A way out. Sort of. Lawrence and a woman were waiting. Fife looked at the table with its writing implements, then to Lawrence as he spoke.

Fife immediately decided that she did not want to show him but that she also had no other choice. Her gaze lingered on him for a while before sliding to the woman, and then finally the dummy. She had to show him something, but she didn't want to show the depth of her skills all at once. She also didn't want him to change his mind because her abilities didn't separate her well enough from his own assassins.

Joy was first; it was not her first skill, but it was arguably her best. Fife bent her knees and shifted one foot back before she touched on her reserve. Fast to begin with, the used Aspect made her a blur between them and the dummy. Not as fast as she could go, but faster than a body without magic and enough to impress. She came to a skidding stop, one hand still comfortably looped in her sword belt and the other swinging out to steady her.

Avarice might as well have been next. It was her worst learned skill, but she had much better feelings to draw from herself lately. She pulled on a thread of jealousy and threw a handful of green shards which buried themselves in the straw figure. For once, only a trace lingered on her fingers before it all began to dissolve. They'd seen Raigryn's shield. They could infer the rest.

Not interested in looking back for his approval or waiting for him to offer feedback, Fife drew her sword. She fiddled with it until she had freed it from its cloth binding and eyed the dummy. A pull from Fury and the blade swung up through the arm like it was made of soft clay instead of the tightly packed straw -- a feat she couldn't have achieved on her natural strength with a dozen swings.

Fife sheathed her sword, picked up the pile of cloth strips, and turned to look at Lawrence.

 

[Raigryn Vayd]

He looked from her to the older woman. She was chewing on something. Jaw moving in slow circles with her lips pressed shut. She looked to be in deep consideration.

Her cheek moved as she moved something aside with her tongue so she could speak.

"It won't be enough," she said.

Lawrence nodded slowly and turned back towards Fife.

"Seliana saw the last attempt to bring this empath in. From a distance," he said gravely.

"Hand crossbows, poisons, knives and it will take a team," Seliana said. "You might have bought yourself surprise Lawrence but he's faster, more dangerous and quite, quite insane."

 

[Fife]

Her gaze followed his, going to the stranger as she mulled on something -- both literally and figuratively. Fife waited for her response. The moment she did, however, she rocked back slightly and drew a sharp breath. Not enough? She watched the exchange, hands curling white around the cloth binding. What happened if she didn't make the cut? What happened to Raigryn?

Fife walked to the table, put down the cloth beside her, and picked up her writing implements. She hated this. She hated how quickly she sprang to this for their benefit.

I can get better. Raigryn can teach me more, she wrote. She straightened and tapped the page insistently. They weren't going to let him, and she knew that. Their ploy to keep her here only worked as long as they were separated. Fife tapped the first part again for emphasis.

 

[Raigryn Vayd]

There was no reprimand for her impatience. The woman stayed where she was and watched as Lawrence walked to the table and read the sentence.

"You could learn more Empathy, yes," he replied. He didn't want to push too hard, too fast. He needed her to arrive at the right conclusions.

"If you were to try and kill Raigryn - just imagine - would you try and learn more Empathy to challenge him head on?"

 

[Fife]

Fife’s initial response was a frown, her eyes drifting away from the pair. She was asking how she would kill someone like Raigryn. Half a dozen things came to mind right away, only half of them sarcastic. But she felt as though she was still being tested. They were looking for something in her and she needed to be it or have it -- whatever she needed to make sure she wasn’t left behind.

She took her time writing again before turning the paper back to Lawrence.

No. Yes. Part magic, part weapons.

Empathy is an advantage. I can feel what he is using, know what is coming. Keep my mind quiet to get close.

But the sword and knife are important. I cannot kill him with magic. Empathy makes us even and skill determines success.

I can be better than the others with both.

There was an uncharacteristic confidence in her posture as she watched Lawrence read. She knew she could do it. She was less suited to her sword than she might have been to lighter, shorter weapons. Her skill with a knife proved that. Fife didn't doubt their ability to capitalize and improve her existing abilities. She just needed them to give her the chance to prove it.

 

[Raigryn Vayd]

Lawrence didn't smile, but he seemed content with the answer. It was a good one. He felt absolutely no shame in knowing that she was trying to impress them to get Raigryn back.

She was not getting Raigryn back.

He wanted her trained up and away from this place as soon as possible. Far from Raigryn, so that the possibility of his freedom was placed beyond her reach. The old man had been neutralised and would never leave these caves, but the girl had potential that could be used. That could make them money. Reputation was important to them, but it was only a means to an end.

"How do you know what is coming?" he asked. "You can feel his magic gathering?"

 

[Fife]

Neither of them gave a response. Fife only cared that her answer was sufficient to at least let her try. She had to try. Raigryn was here somewhere, and it was up to her not to fuck this up.

Once again, she bent to write in response to his question. The less she had to tell them about Empathy in general, the better. She didn't like the idea of them knowing too much about what they did and how it worked.

I can feel the emotion he uses as he uses it, she clarified. It was a little more complicated than that, but she would leave it there. All they needed to know that it was just like seeing a person's intent in their movements with a sword.

 

[Raigryn Vayd]

Lawrence read the letter out for the sake of the woman watching them. It wouldn't be much use to a team around her, not unless they were very familiar with how they worked together. However, if they used her as a warning for if the Empath was even reaching for his power if could make a difference.

"She could train with the rats for now?" Lawrence asked.

A firm nod was all he got by way of reply.

"Come with me," said Lawrence.



The Rats, as it turned out, were a scrawny group of teenagers who were mulling around outside of another exit from the cave system.

The Order of the Steel Coin had a number of recruitment channels. They took criminals with magic abilities before they were sent to the noose. They picked up professionals from fair off lands. They also found orphans with latent talent.

The group were subdued. Just days ago they had been in a safe house in the city. The place seemed like a common workhouse for orphans but they were tested for potential. There was no future for those that failed. They vanished in the night.

Just days ago they had lost half their number in the tradegy that had befallen Elbion.

"This is Fife," Lawrence announced. "She will bunk with you. Join your lessons. Do not murder her."

 

[Fife]

For now. Her grip on her sword belt released and some of the tension eased out of her shoulders. For now was fine. All she needed was time. What had initially felt like a quick errand she could run before getting Raigryn back was becoming a far more involved affair. That was less fine.

As they turned back to the complex, her eyes scanned the structures. She didn’t know which one he was in. Her magic couldn’t tell her which one. Not even the ache in her chest that hoped beyond reason that she’d get some sense of him. But the weight of reality was heavy and the thread of affection between them was silent.

Fife shifted her gaze to Lawrence’s back and followed.

The Rats looked like every gang of urchins she’d run with in the past: skinny, distrustful, severe. They weren’t much different from herself, even in their relative ages. They were all taller than her, but she guessed she was easily older than all of them. It came as a small comfort that she didn’t recognize any of them.

She was introduced, only briefly throwing a scathing look at the back of Lawrence’s head for his final remark before Fife stepped up to the group. Not likely. Fife lifted her chin and regarded each of them. She waited expectantly to follow them to wherever this lesson was.

 

[Raigryn Vayd]

The group was collected by two young women. Unlike the idemni, there was little in the way of order and coherence about the members of the Steel Coin. A varied group of individuals who seemed to hail from all corners of Arethil. One of the women had a clear cortosi air about her. Thick dark curls of hair and colourful, loose clothes. The other has tightly fitted grey clothing, looking ready for slipping through the Elbion streets at night unnoticed.

They were led to the base of a stream. It ran down the rocky slope to pool by their feet. The others seemed to know this drill. Shoes came off. A small bag of a pungent substance was passed between them and applied to the soles of the feet and palms. If Fife even looked at the bag it would vanish from sight. She was an outsider, they weren't in the business of helping her just yet.

"No leaving the stream. Last to the top is holding the shield after this," called the cortosi.

The first of them set of, jumping to the first slippery rock within the stream. They jumped from rock to rock, slowly making their way uphill without touching the surface of the water.

 

[Fife]

Surveying the group and the pair that came to get them, she kept to the rear. She paid as much attention to the path as the group. Few looked back at her, but Fife was content to follow. This time. Today she was settled in and observe.

They removed their shoes at the stream and Fife followed suit. She looped her laces together and slung her boots over her shoulder, careful that her little knife didn't fall out or become visible in the process. Whenever she tried to look at whatever receptacle they passed around, it disappeared, but she got the idea. Something to offer greater traction on the slippery rocks weathered smooth by running water.

Once again, she waited for the others to lead the way. The ominous punishment at the top of the hill for being last was curious, but she could use her imagination to surmise it from previous lessons. That was fine.

Fife hopped out onto the slick rocks, agile and steady. She needed little Tranquillity for tasks like these as long as she took her time. Which she did. The reliable pace meant that when she did slip she could correct it without Empathy. Keeping close to the group, she made no effort to overtake the stragglers.

 

[Raigryn Vayd]

The group continued ahead of Fife. They tried not to make it seem as if they were watching her closely, but they were. If she had joined the pack one of them would have tried to push her in by now.

The group was being watched by one of the trainers, but not that closely. For them it was a fairly leisurely walk alongside the stream.

"Serys, keep your balance forwards as you jump!"

The odd suggestion was thrown out, but mostly they were simply observed. As the slope increased so did the rush of water. The stones became more slippery. One of the group was tripped.

The boy fell into the water. The stream was shallow, but it sent him back towards Fife quickly before he could find his feet and try and reach for a stone.

 

[Fife]

For the most part, she ignored them. She kept her eyes on the rocks and the feet of those right in front of her. Where their eyes went was none of her concern.

What was her business, however, was when the boy slipped and fell in front of her. It sent a spray of water across her chest and she raised a hand to shield her grimacing face. She was trying to be the last one up, to be the unfortunate who got the job of holding the shield.

Fife glanced ahead to the others. A group of cutthroats -- a type she knew well because she had scrapped with their kind before. She had been one of them.

It was all she could to do wait for the boy to scramble back ahead of her before Fife began up after them. Still in no hurry, she familiarized herself with the terrain more than the tactics and patterns of those in front of her. If this was a daily routine, she would have time for that. Basics first; she quite literally learned the stepping stones.

All the while, she was decidedly behind the others, pausing when they slowed to let them go ahead. They were fighting for their own pecking order, and it was becoming obvious (even without trying to look for it) where the dynamics were emerging. She was not looking forward to being a teenager again. She had signed up for murder, not pubescent drama. Fife paused with her feet balanced between two rocks and drew a deep breath for patience.