Private Tales Scorched Earth

[Fife]

Hearing his voice devoid of any affection in that profession struck her hard. The words didn't carry the flood of color she had always felt with them. Raigryn still said them, as hollow as they were. That mattered, didn't it?

Fife nodded and leaned back in preparation to stand and go. This hurt her. She was clearly confusing him by being here. He would remember in time and then she could come collect her absolution. Hopefully it would be when they left this place together. Soon.

Yet when he looked down at the shell she had secreted into his palm, his features twisted into distress. Shit. Still kneeling, she thought to reach out to comfort him, suddenly regretting giving him her token to help remind him. It had done exactly as she had hoped and jarred something loose. That something was, however, too much for this moment.

It was definitely too much. His words slammed into her. She staggered, mentally and physically, and the strong facade she wore for his sake faltered before a smile bloomed like the dawn across her face. Fife nodded. Tears shimmered brightly in her eyes, and not only those of sorrow. She got the distinct impression that leaving him on this note could be worse than the potential harm she could do pushing him further.

Somewhere with ponies and chickens. And a bedroom that faces the morning sun, she signed slowly for him. She didn't know what was going on in his mind, couldn't read more than the barest flecks of emotion through the muted haze. Opening her own barriers, she let her own colors bleed through for him.

Remember, she urged him silently. Please remember me.

When we go, we go together. Again, she delivered a promises she intended to keep. Even here, in this cruel, unusual place, she was holding onto that promise to him.

 

[Raigryn Vayd]

The words didn't have the emotional impact they deserved. It conjured the image in his mind, but soon that too was mist slipping through his fingers. A content smile was lost in a sea of frustration. He couldn't stand having these thoughts and feelings spread out before him but with none of the connections between them for context.

He knew Fife, he knew what she meant to him. It just kept alluding him when he tried to hold onto that. It was like trying to study a floater in your vision. Every time you looked at it there was nothing there. As soon as you gave up it danced around the periphery.

The surge of her feelings was impossible to ignore. Was he responsible for the sadness she felt?

Raigryn slipped away from eye contact again. He closed his hand gentle around the shell. It was precious. He knew it was precious, even though it was slightly broken.

"Together," he said. But once again whether he meant it or was simply echoing what she said was impossible to tell.



A single wave and the assassins were gone. The damage had been done, but it could have been worse.

It could have been better. If they had reduced the dose before Raigryn required force feeding then he would have at least looked more healthy.

It was a slow process. If she was kept away she would hold onto her image of him so tightly. If he let her visit more frequently then maybe she would let hope slide away and turn to what she had left.

Their Order was what she had left.

 

[Fife]

There was a flutter of color, a butterfly dancing in the fog that, for a moment, made her heart race and her lungs expand. But he didn't grab it. The feeling slipped away and was consumed again by the swirling apathy around him.

It hurt. Fife had almost nothing tangible in this world except Raigryn. They had taken away the only person who loved her and now he didn't love her anymore -- could barely remember her. She knew it was temporary but it hurt.

Raigryn echoed her and Fife was still for a moment. Her mind curled around itself and she stood, her hands loose and incredibly heavy at her sides as she watched him for just a moment more. Lawrence said he would improve; he wasn't going to be like this forever. His memory would return. His feelings would return.

She had nothing left but that thin hope.

Fife picked up her sword and walked back to Lawrence. Her eyes were downcast, the smile she had put on was gone, but the red splotches on her cheeks remained beneath her heavy dark rings. This had been mentally exhausting, not at all the reunion she had been hopeful for. She stepped outside silently with one final look back.

 

[Raigryn Vayd]

The Allir reach



Reaching the end of his plan, Lawrence was starting to grow less certain of the outcome. He was lost in his own thoughts as the group remained hidden by the treeline. They watched a lone scout approaching the town cautiously as the sun fell.

He had expected to see a change in the girl over time. She had found a routine, but rather than fitting in naturally he was suspecting Fife was just driven by her determination. Determination to get Raigryn away from them.

Being a survivor, he'd thought she would be more impressionable or at least more pragmatic. In the last few weeks he had let her visit Raigryn every few days.

More importantly, she had shown no ambition. Every member of the Order was here for the coin. Not the Steel Coin that signified their determination to complete contracts, but the gold coin that changed hands for their services.

Raigryn still seemed to be her motivation. If they caught the rogue empath, Lawrence couldn't let them walk away.

He was considering whether he could claim that Raigryn had died to see how she would react. There was no time for any further planning.



Their scout was rushing back from the village and there was no more time for planning.

"I think we're too late. It's like Prettensford."

Perhaps there was more time. Lawrence looked over the fields, spotting one of the locals. They were meandering slowly and without purpose through one one the fields.

"Move in, Fife to the front of the group," Lawrence called. If this was like before they were going to find an entire village of people as broken as Raigryn had been through the worst of his treatment.

 

[Fife]

Well prepared for the task ahead of them, there was nothing else on Fife's mind. Her eyes focused on the village, alert for movements. Her head was clear, her thoughts calmed and balanced to the mirrored surface of still waters. Those around her were not as calm. Lawrence was, but there were flickers of nerves from the others. Fife paid them no heed. Lawrence might have a plan, but she had laid careful groundwork for a backup plan of her own.

She had prepared for a lot of things the last few weeks.

To those that didn't know her, the merciless training regimen, the long days and short nights, the hardening of her body and expression all seemed like determination, doubling down to ensure things went right. They were, in a way, correct. Fife was training hard. She slept a few fitful hours each night and spent every spare moment in some form of training.

That included a bad crash course through more of her Aspects. Was she doing a good job? Probably not. Would Raigryn approve? Definitely not. But she had a constant supply of emotions to borrow from the Steel Coin assassins and plenty of time to practice -- and plenty of subjects to practice on.

With half of the Aspects established or proficient, she focused on the others -- Charity excluded, of course. Misery was wild and frightening. Desire was difficult to manage up or down and left her feeling flushed in her inexperienced wielding of it. To her surprise, Disgust came as easy as Fury. All of them had been learned in a school of hard knocks, along with the refinement of her use of the others. It was unorthodox and dangerous. More than once it had attracted a small audience. More often than not, nobody knew when she was doing it at all. Fife hoped it made them squirm.

What they didn't see in her behavior was the despair she buried deep beneath rigorous repetition and routine. There was no time to think, to dwell on her situation or Raigryn's. Mostly she kept busy to not think about Raigryn.

Lawrence had managed to twist something her heart had needed into a very specific form of torture. Raigryn hadn't improved in weeks, and no amount of negotiation would persuade Lawrence to lessen his dosage. Each consecutive visit to his cell had been worse and worse until she had stopped accepting the offers to see him. She had not gone in a week before leaving for this mission. She had not gone to say goodbye. Fife told herself that he wasn't aware of the passage of time between her visits, and that her presence only confused and upset him. She told herself it was a kindness to stay away.

If it had been her in that cell, would he have gone at every opportunity? Or would Raigryn have broken beneath the heartache of seeing a stranger in the eyes of the one who had once loved him, too?

Lawrence was winning whatever game he played. She hoped he had enjoyed his time, because this trip to the Allir Reach was the end of it. Either she succeeded and they left forever, or she died and was freed from it all the same.

The scout returned as dusk had settled. A new crossbow in hand, Fife emerged from their cover and padded silently into the open stretch between forest and village. She eyed the villager carefully and her open mind sensed… nothing. They were beyond saving, and wandering away from the village in the opposite direction from them. Fife did not allow herself to feel pity or remorse for their fates; she kept herself centered and moved on.

Fife closed the gap and hung close to the side of the building. She peered around each corner before taking the group onward.

 

[Raigryn Vayd]

It was a strange kind of silence that had settled over the village. The birds had gone silent, the wind a particularly gentle breeze. The ghosts meandering through the streets barely broke it.

There was no purpose behind their direction of travel. They changed direction seemingly at random, barely paying attention to their surroundings. They may as well have been swept up in the breeze.

There was a blip. Not a sound, but the sharp cut of fear was incredibly loud in the emotional silence of the town. A small farmhouse on the far side of the village.

A lone farmer had been down the road at the next village for some trading when tragedy had struck. The door was closed and locked. His wife and son inside where he could keep them safe.

 

[Fife]

The early evening was too still, too quiet -- telltale signs of danger that even Fife understood at a base level. What was left of the townsfolk shambled aimlessly through the village. Like leaves atop water, they did not appear to have a direction or intent, only going the direction their momentum carried them. They were blank, but Fife still led their group well away from them.

Anywhere else it would have been lost like a voice in the din of rain. In the surreal quiet, however, the flash of fear was a beacon in the darkness. Fife turned her head sharply, then scanned the surrounding streets.

Not good. Fife glanced back at Lawrence and the others, pointed to the far side of the town, then touched her fingers to her temple. It was as good as their communication was going to get, but it hopefully conveyed that she had sensed something.

Still leading and still keeping her mind still and open, Fife kept to the shadows and led them forward.

 

[Raigryn Vayd]

Todd didn't hear them coming. As the darkness deepened, the light from a single candle became more obvious. He was focused on his son.

The boy was lying in his bed, where Todd had placed him. The farmer knelt beside his bed and prayed quietly.

He had never prayed much before. Sometimes for the harvest, sometimes when the weather turned on him. He didn't know many prayers, so he simply asked for this curse to be lifted for anything that could be listening.

 

[Fife]

She followed the feeling across the village to a single farmhouse. Nondescript, bleeding with the sticky purplish cloud of Misery. Fife followed the deepest shadows to its side and kept her back to the wall as she circled it for a window. There was the light of a candle through near the source of the emotions inside, the steady pulse of sadness still a beacon in the emptiness like the flame in the gathering night. It was louder here and it was difficult for Fife to sense the others over it.

Peering in through the window carefully, she spotted a man kneeling beside a smaller figure in a bed. A quick sweep of her eyes across the room and a slow, deep breath to keep her own thoughts quiet, then she slipped along the shadows back to the others.

One, she signaled to them with a single finger, but shook her head. It did not seem to be their Empath. How Lawrence wanted to proceed was his prerogative -- to question the man or wait, using his emotions like bait on a lure.

 

[Raigryn Vayd]

Lawrence pursed his lips. He glanced around the dirt road as if he would see their villain slinking through the shadows. If he slipped through their fingers then he could string Fife along even longer.

His pet projects were not as important as the ambitions of the most senior members of the Order. They were a relatively loose group of magically talented murderers who turned those talents to making coin. They also cleared up the mistakes of rogue mages. When those possessing magic were seen as a threat to everyone's wellbeing the ignorant could turn dangerous to their kind.

Lawrence knocked on the door. He waited, still and patience. He was one of the more unassuming members of his order, but there were moments that his predatory focus made itself known.

The sense of loss slowly turned into one of fear. It was a long time before the door was opened. The plainly dressed man seemed to be holding a farming implement just out of sight behind the door.

"Who'er'you?"

"We're on the trail of a dangerous killer, but it seems we were too late here. I was hoping you could..."

"No killer 'ere. Just a curse. Get far away from this place and..."

"A curse? Yes, right." Lawrence paused. "We are chasing one man who does...curses like this."

"Can you help them?"

"What? Oh." His lack of sympathy now the chase had begun was rather obvious. Lawrence peered past the man, but Todd leaned to block the view. "I'm afraid not."

"Be off then."

"How did you escape it?"

"Wasn't here."

"When did you return?"

"Yesterday."

"Did you see who..."

The door was calmly, but firmly shut in Lawrence's face. He turned back to the group, lips in a tight line. If he'd felt the man knew anything worth knowing he would have kicked down the door without hesitation.

"He has at least a day on us," he said. "If anyone can find any tracks leaving the town then they're probably his."

 

[Fife]

Lawrence chose questioning. Fife stayed close enough to hear, but not close enough to see beyond the farmer before he stepped more fully into the doorway. She did not need to see to understand; she could surmise from the glimpse in the window and the sadness clinging to him.

He bore bad news for their group: their target was already gone. The calm she had managed was broken by a bubbling font of frustration. They were always one step behind, a day too late. She was so close to finishing this yet he was going to slip away again.

Fife hardly waited for Lawrence to finish before she stood and set herself to the task of tracking in the twilight. Her eyes were on the ground, searching for footprints. She found the farmer's tracks around the farmhouse -- and those of the small figure he appeared to have brought inside. She gave the house a long, final look, then let her feeling of sorrow go; as far as she knew, Empathy could not undo its own work once done. Fife couldn't help the farmer or his child.

It suddenly felt like a waste to have a magic that could only take and never give back. Before setting on the trail of this Empath, she had found it difficult to fathom her magic being evil. The closer she got to him, however, the more empty people she saw... Now she wasn't so sure she didn't agree with the kings and college mages who had outlawed it.

She turned away from the farmhouse to continue her search before the twilight faded.

 

[Raigryn Vayd]

Lawrence stalked back and forth. He was on edge. Fife would be under his influence for longer without the agreement completed. Failing now would put him under intense scrutiny from people he'd prefer not be dealing with.

This would have been a good ambush point. Fife could have got close, just as she did with the mage running from his gambling debts.

He stepped into a house and set a lamp going over a table he had a map of the closest settlements to inspect. Not everything would be on the map. Different kingdoms took different approaches to maintaining records of citizens and towns.

To his understanding the Empath would be well charged with the emotions he had drained. Assuming that he had enough sanity left to use his magic any more.

 

[Fife]

She wasn't a tracker, but even Fife quickly recognized a problem with their attempts to pick up the Empath's trail. She found a set of tracks leading from the farm going out of town... beside a pair someone else had tracked from elsewhere. Her eyes scanned to the person walking slowly into the night, their steps steady and aimless.

Meeting the eye of the other assassin, Fife nodded back to town. They would have to reconvene with the others and Lawrence. Following behind more slowly, she lingered outside of the home they had occupied. Her gaze traced the horizon, her mind far off in thought before stepping inside.

Lawrence had a map, but that wasn't what caught her attention first. He was… irritated? Fury hung in the air, a shimmering heat around his shoulders. Fife's eyes lingered on him just too long, before she pointed to the map.

Two, she signed, then dragged the two fingers in a line, directional to the tracks she and the other had followed.

 

[Raigryn Vayd]

"There isn't anywhere close on this map down that direction..." Lawrence sighed. "... And every account is a man travelling alone."

Lawrence completely the line until it met water. A curve in the river. A good place for someone to build a settlement.

There were times when the world seemed a small, interconnected place. The portal stones played their part in that. Then he could be reminded how vast the wilderness was. They were fortunate to have cornered Raigryn and Fife. Bad luck for Raigryn, Lawrence supposed. A brighter future for Fife.

"We ride there, through the night. It's our only chance to find him quickly. If we don't find anything we're coming back and asking that damned farmer more questions."

 

[Fife]

A decision was made and Fife wasn't one to disagree, even if she had the most to lose. She merely nodded, surveying the map closely to memorize its lines. What was one more night? She packed up her disappointment and did as she was told.

Raigryn had spoiled her, she concluded, breathing against her fingers as they rode through the evening. It was colder in the Allir Reach than it was in the west, but she reminded herself that she had endured far worse chills. Street Fife would have made fun of her before beating her up for her boots.

Regardless of how her past self would have handled it, her present self let her horse follow its friends without direction from her. She let her eyes focus on a point in the distance and lose their focus. She constructed a familiar tent in her mind as she had done every night for this journey. Imagining places for each of her Aspects, she hastily shelved them and dove into the balmy heap of cushions to listen to the wind tugging at the tent tethers and the lake lapping at the shores. Somewhere in the distance was the crack of practice weapons and the call of a magpie.

It wouldn't warm her hands, but it brought her mind a deep, soothing neutrality. Something she needed much more than warmed fingers of there really was a crazed Empath at the end of this trail.

 

[Raigryn Vayd]

The moons were both out, which let them continue at pace. Lawrence's suspicions about another settlement seemed to have hit the mark. There was a well-trodden dirt track to follow. There were even signs people had smoothed it out in places.

Further confirmed for Fife when she would pick up a sense of people ahead. And an overwhelming sense of dread.

---

It was beautiful. After a day of being trapped in a void of greys, Carson had drawn himself out of his internal world. His personal reverie wading through the colourful lakes had to come to an end if he wanted to make them brighter and deeper.

Someone blocked his path and he drew just a drop from the blood lake.

The myriad of colours collapsed. One lake always ended up overflowing when he acted in haste.

 

[Fife]

The trail was not long, yet not short enough that she could live in her mind palace for the entirety of the journey. She returned to the wintry chill of reality, her fingers still cold and a cloud of breath billowing around her.

The first blip of humanity confirmed Lawrence's guess was correct. There was a village here. Fife perked up in the saddle and fixed her eyes on the horizon. The first rays of dawn tinged the sky a faint green and lights glowed like stars in the distance. As faint as those lights, however, were the normal swirls of people going through life. Except they weren't. Something was very wrong.

For all her preparation, Fife's heart raced and she felt a flutter of fear in the pit of her stomach.

Her soft whistle broke the silence around their entourage. The moment Lawrence's eyes were on her, Fife pointed to the village ahead. He was here. They had finally caught up to him.

 

[Raigryn Vayd]

Instead of art, it was a mad swirl of primal colour. When he'd drained the last town so dry it made it hard to make sense of the world. He was barely aware of what was happening.

Carson was aware of the metallic taste of blood. He was aware of the building fear and how easy it was to drain it. It galvanised those few fighters the town had. They came at him with a mix of weapons and tools.

He was only aware the fighting had come to an end when the sound of his own breathing was louder than the screaming. Carson knew that he should have waited a few days to recover his senses.

It was going to be difficult to extract anything but Fury and Misery now.

 

[Fife]

The tang of Empathy hit the senses hard, harsh and unique from natural emotions. Fife kept her fear in check, but it steeled a sense of urgency in her.

Knowing they had finally caught up to him without any doubts didn't change the plan. They rode to the edge of the village and dismounted. Fife was at the front, crossbow in hand loaded and ready. Her eyes strained to see in the early twilight, but there was no mistaking the black pools expanding beneath the bodies in the street. She glanced over them quickly, too inexperienced to tell much from their corpses except that it had not been a fair fight. There was no one left to save among them.

Misery clouded the air, a thickening smog that made her throat thick and her stomach tight.

There was no going back now. She drew a deep breath, reminded herself why she was here. Exhaling, she willed her mind to its center and found her balance. She was going to need it.

With the stock steadied against her shoulder, Fife continued tracking. He was easy to find. She was not far behind him and there was not much town to hide him. Or her. Like last time, she was only going to get one shot off before he knew she was there; she had to make it count. She indicated for the others where the Empath was and they dispersed to their positions. Her fate was cemented in her ability to remain undetected just a little longer. Her eyes left her path only long enough to glance toward her disappearing compatriots.

Invisibility was difficult to accomplish. For Fife, who had failed to conjure a drop of the magic the Order used, it was literally impossible. Except it wasn't. She had lulled her fellow assassins into a false sense of calm until today. No longer taking the edge of their emotions from them, their fear and excitement was subtle -- but hopefully it was all the cover she needed for her to disappear in the senses of another like her.

 

[Raigryn Vayd]

Carson was beyond even noticing the assassins at his back at this point. He had drunk too deep. The world was colours and feeling, not logic and reason. Direction did not matter. The townsfolk ahead of him were gathering in one place. That part of his mind still connected to reality was aware they were barricading the town hall.

He stood in the open, breathing fast and hard. He had pushed his body beyond breaking point. Small tears had opened up through his muscles and he had to draw on Charity to ease the pain. He drew from their fear, from their Misery. When that was gone there would be room for other emotions, other sources of power.

A meal of just one ingredient was not worth having.

 

[Fife]

Coming around the bend, she finally laid eyes on the man who had eluded them for so long. He was not as she had imagined, some formidable mage with a presence like Raigryn's. In reality he was thin and disheveled, dirty from travel and neglect. He didn't look like he was capable of destroying whole villages. He barely looked capable of walking. Fife understood the importance of never underestimating an opponent. She was, after all, a small human girl who kicked like a horse.

He didn't seem to notice her approach. He didn't notice any of them as he walked slowly toward the village hall, where the cloud of Misery was the thickest. She had to draw him away from it or he'd have a live vein of emotions at his disposal. Her poisoned bolt would be fighting against his use of Charity to paralyze and slow him down; her arrow had to land well, because she didn't think she'd be getting a second chance at it.

Stepping out into the street, she took aim and touched her store of Tranquillity in the moment before she squeezed the trigger. Her arms steadied, Fife breathed out, and the sights lined up. The thump of the firing bow, the swirl of Empathy -- they were equally loud in her mind. Her aim was true and the bolt sailed true to the Empath's left shoulder.

 

[Raigryn Vayd]

A spark of bright green chased a circle around the empath's feet before a jade screen rose up around him. The bolt shattered the shield of Avarice but lots most of its sting. The poisoned tip only going flesh deep. The sound of it striking the empath's shoulder blade was even louder than the shield cracking.

Caron turned, face screwed up in confusion. He took a step and stumbled. There was something else attacking his fatigued muscles.

He stretched out, feeling the semicircle of well contained emotions behind him. It was a trap. He howled in uncontrolled rage. The bloodied murder weapon in his hand was a simple crowbar.

He hurled it with such ferocity that it turned a wooden wall to splinters. It hadn't been aimed at Fife, but one of the other assassins. Her shield around her feelings kept her from his loose grip on reality for now.

"This will be bloody," Carson promised them, and himself.

 

[Fife]

The flash of green was well out of her league, an art Fife was still learning the fundamentals of. It took most of the brunt of the bolt, but it still hit. He stumbled and Fife used his moment of confusion to duck back into cover. Her heart was racing but she didn't allow herself the same moment of fear as the others in her company. Even when the Empath raged she remained steady, still awash in her borrowed calm.

As he turned toward one of the assassins, she took advantage of his distraction to relocate. Her mind was clear and she knew damn well that if a second shot would improve her chances of living, she was taking it. She couldn't afford to fail today.

Sliding her slim arm in the arch of the limb and shrugging the crossbow onto her shoulder freed her hands to do what Fife did best: run and climb. Finding a way up to the roof of one of the neighboring houses did not take long and she scaled the rough exterior timbers just as quickly.

Pulling her light frame onto the thatch and keeping out of sight, she settled in a valley to reload her bow. She kept an ear on the target as she loaded it, and the moment she finished she carefully mounted to the peak beside a warm chimney to peer over.

 

[Raigryn Vayd]

Lawrence had warned them not to get too close. The last trio of assassins had, according to reports, ended up much the same as the villagers. Listless creatures, they had been almost husks.

The serum they had developed was supposed to be able to control empaths, but thinking back to Raigryn made him consider that they might have replicated the threat in another form.

Talik and Kerone advanced, confidence growing when they saw the Empath was spoiling for a fight. Lawrence didn't call out to them. He didn't want to give himself away and end up like those villagers. Fife was staying out of the empath's line of sight. He hadn't been certain they would need her - it was an excuse for the verbal contract - but now he started to think she could be their hope.

There was a flash of magic. A clatter of chains. Neither struck the raggedy man. The Empath was a blur, grabbing the chain out of the air and pulling Talik from her feet. Kerone cried out as he took a step. A powerful curse causing him trip awkwardly and break his ankle.

Lawrence started to prepare a spell as quietly as he could. Something he could strike with whilst staying out of view.

 

[Fife]

It was not looking good for two of the assassins on the ground. She did not hurry on their account. The swirl of magic and Empathy was seen and felt, invisible and intangible things that made the hairs on her neck stand up. Lawrence's assassins were slower, weaker. They couldn't fight what they couldn't see.

But Fife saw it. It was ugly and she didn't have the experience to know if the technique was masterful or reckless. It worked regardless and both assassins went down.

That, however, kept their target's attention. She settled the bow on the roof's peak and lined up her sights. Her hands weren't as steady as they had been before, but she couldn't afford to draw his attention now by drawing from her Aspects. Once more, she waited for an opening and took aim at his heart. Once more she exhaled before her hand squeezed the trigger and a poisoned bolt was loosed. Her body was poised to spring the moment the bolt struck. No matter what it hit.