Private Tales Scorched Earth

[Raigryn Vayd]

The trip back was particularly unpleasant. Lawrence had the corpse thrown over the back of one of the horses, muttering something about a reward for his debts.

He wasn't foolish enough to let Fife see the coin that was just for Arrol. The notes had been faked, the mage was completely out of assets and credit. The contract was valuable. The coin was valuable. He could no longer feel the tug of its magic, the ever increasing discomfort of not fulfilling a contract.

They hadn't wanted Arrol back for money, it was to send a message about skipping out on debts. Whether you were a peasant or a powerful mage.

The skies opened up and the sound of torrential rain drowned out anything else.

 

[Fife]

Fife had only the rain and her thoughts for the ride back. She couldn't ask any of the dozens of questions that kept her mind running in circles around itself. She couldn't call him a liar. She couldn't escape the freezing rain that soaked through every layer of her clothing. Chilled, heavy, tired, and upset, she plodded along in the middle of the group.

It was a longer ride back than it had been there. She refused to look at the body. Not that that helped her dismiss her distress over it. Fife had been in trouble plenty of times. She had been made to do a lot of things she didn't want to do in the past. Her hands weren't clean, but she had always felt like the means had been worth the end. This didn't feel like that.

They had traveled almost halfway back before Fife suddenly reached behind her saddle for something that wasn't there. Her crossbow. She had set down her crossbow in the hall. She had left it. Pulling her horse up, she turned it around and looked back towards the village that was too far away now. Her eyes burned and she drew a shallow breath.

She had so few material possessions, and fewer still that mattered beyond their use. But that crossbow, her sword, and the shell in her pocket were the exceptions -- the three things she couldn't replace because no amount of gold could replicate their sentimental value.

And she had left one of them behind. She couldn't go back for it; Fife didn't need her escort telling her to turn back around and keep going to know that. Somehow, leaving it made the whole last week culminate to the lump in her throat and the tightness in her chest.

She turned the horse to follow. She tried telling herself that it was stupid to be attached to a thing of wood and metal. But as they rode on, Fife was glad for the rain if it spared her pride.

 

[Raigryn Vayd]

No one spoke on the ride back. Those that had scarves pulled them up over their faces to shield themselves from the wind.

The rain started to ease. As the clouds dispersed the Eastern sky started to brighten. The sun beyond the horizon brought no warmth yet and the winds remained. They sought out any gaps in their drenched layers to wick away their warmth.

When the rock faces of their temporary base came into sight - along with the floating towers of Elbion - the scouts rose high enough to be seen. Two rushed away.

A small party was waiting for them. The teenagers were there, on duty to care for the horses. Steam still rose from their flanks. The older woman emerged with a man at her side. He was missing his right arm from the elbow down.

"There is no need," Lawrence snapped. "This isn't him."

 

[Fife]

The welcome party was underwhelming. Fife knew he wasn't there -- prayed he wasn't one of the people standing in the courtyard outside the stables with the others. Nevertheless, her red eyes scanned for him with the others and she still felt a tightness in her chest in his absence. It wasn't the first time her longing had conflicted with her shame, but it might have been the worst.

Relying on the knowledge that she wasn't the only person in their party who was achy and tired, Fife slid down from her horse carefully. The cold rain had done her the small favor of alleviating the pain from her burns, but it still started as she dismounted. A stark reminder.

She stepped aside to let one of the younger trainees take her mount and waited for direction from Lawrence. Perhaps it was her stubbornness proving that he needed her, that she was valuable and he needed to keep his leverage tucked away somewhere safe. Perhaps it was a punishment she meted out for herself. Regardless, she stood and waited in angry, tumultuous silence. She was barely on her feet, but she had sniffled on the ride back and needed to somehow reestablish her pride.

 

[Raigryn Vayd]

Lawrence was a man who tried to plan without placing too many expectations on the behaviour of others.

It meant considering a raft of possibilities as well as being quick to adapt. A long glance at Fife and he decided how to play the next step.

"Come, let's get you out of the rain and have someone tend to your shoulder," he said softly.

This was a long game to try and make use of her skills and at some point along that journey it was going to be necessary to show some kindness. If kindness didn't work, then he would need other motivations or bribes.

 

[Fife]

Her initial response had been to refuse his help or anyone else's. The mere thought of being touched right now was so repulsive it made her nauseous. Then again, she was pretty nauseous in general. And she didn't know anything about spells and injuries caused by them.

Fife lifted her head long enough to study Lawrence for a moment before falling into step behind him. She wasn't foolish enough to trust him, but she couldn't exactly avoid him.

 

[Raigryn Vayd]

Lawrence was a prideful man. He was meticulous in his planning, but the reason he left his plans open was because he didn't read people very well. What he saw in her falling into step was acceptance.

In his mind, other than tripping those hidden wards around the bed, the plan had all worked quite well. A step towards obedience, or at least a contractual relationship where Fife was one of their assets.

With that thought, he left Fife not far inside the complex. A cave that apparently served as storage for bandages and tinctures. A shout for one of the healers.

 

[Fife]

Empathy was not perfect. Something Raigryn had said once that she already knew. The limited range of their perception and how it was used couldn't really tell her the thoughts of a person's mind. A flicker of gold, a swell of green, a swathe of red. They were meaningless if one didn't know how to translate them.

He had been so careful, so disciplined in suppressing his emotions, that even the smallest change was a flare in the darkness. A touch of color in her mind that dissipated as quickly as it appeared -- but not before she noticed. Was he happy? Pleased? What about this moment had triggered a response?

Fife watched Lawrence’s back as he led her away. Something was afoot and she couldn't see it yet. Her experience hadn't added much intrigue to her repertoire and she had done her best to avoid people instead of understanding them. Something she sorely regretted now that she was on her own. Raigryn would have been able to sniff out the problem with a few careful questions. She would have to wait. She would have to watch and listen.

The calamity in Elbion must have set them back considerably, Fife thought to herself as they arrived in what was presumably their infirmary. She startled a little when Lawrence raised his voice to call for one of their healers and her eyes scanned around anxiously.

 

[Raigryn Vayd]

A young woman arrived. She was a half-breed of some kind. She looked mostly human, but had vestigial horns protruding through her hair. Her eyes were an unnatural shade of yellow.

She rubbed sleep from her eyes and shook her head.

"Right, right," she mumbled. "How were you injured?"

Her piercing eyes turned to Fife's shoulder. Her coat was blackened and burned by the magic that had struck her. If that spell had been fully cast and well aimed it could have turned her to ash.

 

[Fife]

Thankfully the healer that attended them was a woman. Not all the tension drained out of her, but Fife appeared to relax a little -- even if the woman wasn't entirely human. That wasn't as important, but her bias was.

Of course, the woman addressed her with questions that Fife could not answer. She touched her throat and shook her head to try conveying that she couldn't answer. She then turned her shoulder closer and gingerly eased her arm out of her coat. The burn on her cheek stung, but even to Fife it was obviously superficial. Out of the freezing rain, her shoulder ached like an infected cut that throbbed to the beat of her pulse. That was a little more concerning. She winced as she peeled her jacket away from her injury.

Regardless of her discomfort or how tired she was, she still watched the healer's approach intently.

 

[Raigryn Vayd]

"Oooo...careful now," went the young woman. A look of concern flashed across her face. She made no comment on Fife's lack of a verbal response. Just a brief flash of understanding as she tucked it away. Yes and no questions it would have to be.

Given that most of the time the question was are you ready for this to hurt a lot? it would suffice.

"That looks like...fierrendus, but only a half cast or else it would have taken your whole arm off. Haven't treated you before, first contract?" She asked.

She seemed to be waking up, reaching down to pull more fabric back away from the wound without hesitation.

 

[Fife]

She very carefully slipped her arm free of the jacket sleeve. While it was far from the worst pain she had ever felt, it still took her breath away. Fife squeezed her forearm like the pressure would lessen the sting in her shoulder. It didn't.

Whoever she was, the young woman seemed to know her trade well. And spells. She was just glad to have a whole arm; at the time she hadn't really appreciated how lucky she had been. A small consolation 8n the grand scheme.

Fife listened more out of social obligation than curiosity or an interest. Fife nodded yes, first contact -- whatever that was. She could assume it alluded to first job or something like that.

The moment the healer's hand moved toward her, however, she instinctively leaned back to angle her shoulder away from her touch. A glance upward, a moment of self control, and Fife looked away as she slowly straightened. It was fine. Fife reminded herself that this woman meant to help her, not hurt her.

Not for the first time today, Raigryn crossed her mind. She let herself dwell momentarily on memories of him. She figured she couldn't feel any worse. They brought her a measure of comfort and distracted her from being touched. Her mind was only half on the woman attending her and Lawrence.

 

[Raigryn Vayd]

Jenna was slightly patient with her, but she needed to get on with the job. She kept her hands away as Fife tensed and then explored the extent of the wound.

She went to fetch something, returning with a small wooden box and a warning that this was going to sting.

The salve inside was a deep mustard colour. It's smell was far less pleasant. It had an acrid tang that lingered on the palate. Jenna was not stingy in applying it to the wound.

 

[Fife]

The healer didn't speak but to warn her, and Fife summarily ignored her until the salve was applied. It was rather difficult to live in her mind when her nose was assaulted by the pungent scent. Casting her eyes down, she observed her work with no remark besides her sharp frown. Hopefully the smell could wash out of her clothes. Then again, this tunic was more than likely ruined beyond her ability to repair it.

Fife sat still until she was finished. She lifted her arm for a brief inspection when the woman finally stepped away, then signed her thanks before realizing they didn't understand it. Hopefully she got the gist.

Turning back for Lawrence, Fife glanced around for writing implements that weren't there. She opened a flat palm for him to see clearly what she spelled out.

RAIGRYN. It was a clear, simple request.

 

[Raigryn Vayd]

He had been so in control of his emotions that the flash of colours was out of the ordinary. Lawrence had expected the request, but the not the timing.

"Of course. Of course. Not today. Tomorrow. Get some rest now."

He put his back to her, effectively silencing any further protest. It had all been falling into place and now he had to shift his plans.

---

"Fife?"

"Fife."

A pause.

"Do you remember Fife?"

"Remember Fife."

"Are you saying that because you remember her or because you're repeating me?"

"Yes," Raigryn said, almost looking proud of himself.

Lawrence let out an emphatic sigh. It was the worst day to be told that they needed to adjust Raigryn's dosing. He'd stopping feeling hungry. Lawrence could see how he had lost weight despite them forcing
him to eat. He was so subdued he wasn't even chained.

---

Lawrence circumvented the problem by avoiding Fife for two days. He was nowhere to be found and no one would give Fife a straight answer.

He came to her at breakfast. Striding confidently to her table he dropped a pouch in the table. It landed with a heavy thud.

"Your due," he said politely as he sat down. In the pouch was more golden coin than Fife would have ever carried before.

 

[Fife]

She felt the mix of his emotions like getting slapped in the face. They surprised her and passed too quickly to truly discern what the cocktail of color and feeling could have meant. Something she had said, again, had triggered a response. Lawrence's tight control slipped.

Tomorrow. The delivery of that promise was cold water over burnt skin. She raised her hand to make some attempt to persuade him to make it tonight, but his decision was clear and he turned away before her finger could touch her palm again. Fife looked awkwardly at the healer. Forcing a half smile and a nod of her head to better convey her thanks, she gathered up her sword and her pride and made toward the dormitory.

Tomorrow came, but Lawrence didn't. Fife went about her usual routine, training with the youngsters who mostly glared at her. Whether it was competition, mistrust, jealousy, or just the powerful stench of the salve, she didn't quite know -- or care. It didn't matter; her primary objective in being here was not making friends with children who were too much like a mirror for her to feel at ease.

By nightfall she had grown anxious. She had waited, sitting up at the end of her bed even after hours, her eyes still hopeful as she watched the doorway. He didn't come. Nor did he come the following day.

She was well beyond the shame of what she had done and felt keenly the pang of longing. No one would answer her -- if they could understand her in the first place. It was frustrating, maddening.

Fife sat at breakfast the third day, eating out of an obligation rather than for her enjoyment. The burn in her shoulder was going to scar, but it was healing well. She still looked exhausted. That took a lot more than salve to fix. She had slept so well on her return, assured by his promise and weighed down by sheer exhaustion, but could barely rest waiting to see Raigryn.

Why couldn't she see Raigryn? What wasn't she seeing?

Sitting alone, deep in thought, Fife only noticed Lawrence a moment before he dropped the coin pouch in front of her. He sat down and Fife frowned at the bag of coins.

Your due.

Fife stared at the pouch, hoping he would say something different, something more to change its meaning. Nothing was added. Silence stretched out.

At long last, she pushed the coins back toward him with the shake of her head. No. She wanted nothing to do with this money or the memory of how she got it. It didn't matter that she couldn't have earned that much money in two years of picking pockets. Every one of those coins would be a reminder of the mage.

Not for money, she wrote out on the table with her finger.

 

[Raigryn Vayd]

"Regardless of whether you wanted to do that for the money or not there was a bounty of him. Bounties on rogue mages are..."

He picked up the bag of coins and shook it.

"...significant. The others have already had their payout and I can spread this around them too. But it might be nice to have some coin in hand when you leave. I could have one of the others take you back to Elbion should you want to get some supplies this afternoon. I assumed you would want to see Raigryn this morning."

Lawrence was surrounded by people driven by money. He had thought Fife might have been a little more tempted by the coin. He needed something, anything to soften the impending blow.

 

[Fife]

Fife watched Lawrence speak before her eyes lingered on the pouch of coins. A furrow formed between her brows and she bit her lip as she turned the thought over. It was a lot of coin. She had seen how much Raigryn had made since leaving Indretar, knew how much their inns and meals had been. The math to figure out they lived along a thin line was not difficult, even for her. If Raigryn was still recovering, they were going to need more than a travelling scribe's pay.

Her contemplative expression cleared, however, at the mention of visiting Raigryn. Finally! In spite of herself, Fife straightened, her heart thumping excitedly and her eyes betraying her. She nodded. Of course she wanted to see him.

 

[Raigryn Vayd]

"Good, take the coins. Give them back if you decide you don't want them later. If I pass them out to the others they will not be seen again."

Lawrence stood up, glancing around the room. Two of their best trained murderers would be following at a distance. They would pass by the cell at roughly the same time Fife went inside.

He was vaguely concerned that Fife would try and kill him. There was no reason to take any risks on the matter.

"Come on then," he said, turning from the table.

The deeper caves led to stairways of rock that took them to another smaller network of tunnels much higher up. A few temporary cells for prisoners, some laboratories for experiments too dangerous to carry out in Arethil, lookout posts high above the hidden entrances.

Lawrence unlocked an iron door with a single open slit more narrow than a man's arm.

Raigryn was sat in the far corner. A single beam of light cut into the room through a shaft in the wall. He looked up at her.

"Fife."

There was recognition in his eyes. Lawrence allowed himself to breathe. He had lost weight and colour. He no longer wore shackles and the collar had been removed. There were angry red blotches around his neck where the potions were administered.

 

[Fife]

Her eyes fell back down to the pouch and she nodded. Fife tried to reassure herself that she had done bad things before and had lived with the profits she made off of those actions. It didn't lessen the shame she felt picking up the pouch. It was so heavy in her hand, heavier on her belt.

She followed Lawrence with eagerness in her short gait and a knot of dread in her stomach. They wound their way through corridors and stairs -- corners of the place she had not seen and passages she wouldn't have known existed. Trying not to appear too obvious about it, she kept careful measure of where they went. She surveyed the complex from the vantage of the tower and counted the sentries they passed. She counted doors and windows and turns.

Something began to feel very wrong. Her excitement fled, replaced by a gnawing unease. Her mind was closed tight, too afraid of showing what she kept closely guarded to open herself up to find Raigryn. There was no need, because Lawrence stopped to unlock a door and stood back for her entry. The early morning light barely illuminated enough to see inside the cell, and Fife raised a hand to block the sunlight as she stepped in and her eyes adjusted.

And there he was. Except as her eyes acclimated to the change in light and he lifted his head to call her name, the wary half-smile bled from her face.

Fife was still in the threshold for only a moment before she hurriedly crossed the cell. She whistled his name, discarded her sword on the ground before dropping to her knees beside him, and reached out worried hands to probe his thinning frame.

What happened? she signed to him, her hand moving from the words to smoothing the hair out of his face. She cradled his neck and her fingers pushed aside his ivory hair to inspect the scarlet patches that burned against his pale skin. Something was very, very wrong. Panic and fear clamped around her ribs and the barrier she had built around her mind clattered as she opened it to feel for his.

 

[Raigryn Vayd]

"I'm sorry," said Lawrence from the doorway. He glanced to his side. The slightest movement revealed the two assassins that had followed them.

"He is under the influence of a substance to limit his emotions. It prevents access to your magic. Unfortunately he was given too much. Those responsible have been punished. He will recover completely."

Lying came so easily to him. Especially when it was more of a twist of the truth than a real lie.


Raigryn's eyes followed her hands. It took a few seconds to turn movement into words. He was thinking through a heavy fog.

" Fife," he said quietly, placing a hand over one of hers. He wasn't sure how to answer the question. He had been here. It felt like a long time since he had been anywhere else.

 

[Fife]

The answer Raigryn was too disoriented to give her was supplied by Lawrence. And it was not an answer she liked. His mind was foggy, shallow. The colors she knew and loved were muted, barely there. Was this why she couldn't see him two days ago?

Tears burned in her eyes, hot and angry like the swell of emotion she hid poorly behind her closing mind. She didn't look back at Lawrence, didn't take her eyes off Raigryn. Fife shook her head and blinked back tears that rolled down her cheek anyways. She raised a finger to her lips to hush him.

I'm sorry, she signed close to her chest, well out of the sight of those behind her. Her smile was thin, dishonest. This is my fault. I'm sorry. She sniffed softly and her eyes finally dropped. Her tell. Keeping her hands busy like that could spare her mind from its noise, she took full stock of his condition.

Fife hadn't administered whatever nightmare substance could sap the feelings from an Empath, but she felt responsible. She had made the wrong choice. Her compliance was supposed to guarantee his safety, not this. If she had known that this was how they had intended to keep him, she would never have agreed to any of it. He was only leverage to these people, but Raigryn was all she had.

 

[Raigryn Vayd]

"There's...no need to be sorry," Raigryn said. He was not entirely sure why that wad the case, but it felt like the right thing to say. The words felt almost autonomic. As if a mage had created a rough glamour of Raigryn from magic having heard him speak a few times.

He wasn't an illusion. He was flesh and blood. Raigryn placed a hand gently on her shoulder. There was no sign of the injuries he had sustained in the original attempt to escape.

Fife, his student, was upset. He could not figure out why. Frustration flashed across his face.

"It's all alright," he said quietly.

 

[Fife]

Fife shook her head. He didn't sound like himself, which somehow managed to make her feel even worse. Her hands gently drifted down his shoulder and her fingers curled around his wrist to turn his arm over. At the very least he seemed to have been healed. Closing her hand in his, she shut her eyes and pressed the back of his fingers to her cheek.

She only opened her eyes again when his hand came to rest on her shoulder. Her dark gaze searched his, looking for the right thing she should do or the absolution from the thing she had done.

She found nothing but his frustration. The weight of his hand on her shoulder was clinical, distant as the man who had left her at Indretar and not the one who had comforted her with open arms when he had returned. The Raigryn who had held her in their last moments together wasn't in this room -- at least not yet -- and that hurt worse than a hundred kicks in the gut. Distress washed across her face briefly before she swallowed the lump in her throat.

The confession in her fingers fled. There had been plenty of times she had leaned on him, but finally one had arrived where her shoulders were steady. Or steadier. Fife shook the despondency from her eyes and replaced the thin smile, a little more convincing this time.

It is alright, she agreed with a nod. She withdrew her hands to rub away her tears in her eyes, then wiped them on her thighs.

If he was any part of his normal self, he would have seen through her facade like wet paper. She didn't know if he would be present enough to feel the Joy and Tranquillity she touched, didn't know if that even mattered. Fife leaned in gently to put her arms around him in a tight embrace. She held him firmly and felt his heartbeat against her chest before she sat back.

I will be back soon, she assured him, her eyes fixed and her signs close to her chest. She curled her hands around his and raised his fingers to her lips. She pressed a kiss against them, squeezed her eyes shut to fight off the tears that continued to win against her best efforts. When their hands lowered, still shielded from Lawrence's sight, the shell from her pocket was pressed into his palm. She held his hands tight around it for a moment more, her eyes locked on his.

I love you. Wait for me.

 

[Raigryn Vayd]

As she held him tight, Raigryn wrapped his arms around her slender form. A slow trickle of joy crossed their bond, but he only held her loosely. Raigryn held her back because it seemed like the right thing to do, rather than to extract comfort in return.

"Love you too," he mumbled back to her, the words themselves absent of any emotional colour.

His gaze slowly fell to his hands. The smooth cold item she had pressed there. The single shaft of light captured all the colours of the spectrum as he tilted it from side to side. Raigryn's expression turned to one of distress.

He remembered this. He remembered a table full of trinkets and how strong his feelings had been there. He just couldn't fit all the pieces together. Like a jigsaw where no two edges met properly.

"We need a place of our own to keep our things," he blurted out. A feeling, a memory, that followed him from that table to here.