Chapter 16: Ch 14 p.1

Jeno is with her parents, for the afternoon, and Leah spends the time skimming through the books Wellen lent her. She finds notes he has written in the margins, but can’t decipher his handwriting – certainly not with her eyesight the way it is. One section pertains in particular to the exact history of the Contested Lands, written from the perspective of Volst, and she reads it voraciously, grateful to finally have some answers.

“Volst laid claim to the land dubbed “the Jun Province” during the Great Settling. It was lost three centuries ago, in war; Devad bent the rules of the Treaty which ended the war, and claimed the land, renaming it “East Devad.”

“Since then, few Devadiss families have successfully been able to hold control over any part of the so-called Contested Lands. No other nation has ever tried to infringe upon its resources or borders, for fear of inviting the wrath of both Volst and Devad.

“Most of the land has been left wild, with farmers either abandoning their homesteads once they become too isolated or forming mini-communities of mostly independent landowners, claiming no political power but nonetheless being self-governing in the absence of exterior government. Occasionally, individuals will rise up and claim sovereignty over their territory; these self-proclaimed nobles are seen as illegitimate by both nations, though only Devad has the authority to rebuke them.”

Leah finds only a little about Cheden’s history – an empire spanning not quite a thousand years, with a strong mythic history – and nothing at all about Algi’s or Nent’s. There is some information about the Nations of Bair, and what little there is, is laced with xenophobia and magic-fearing. ‘The peoples of Bair’…what exactly does that mean? Just from what I’ve seen here I know there’s ethnic diversity, but how common is it to see non-white people in Volst’s provinces? Well, that’s not entirely right; Vivitha and Kain are both from the provinces. Are white people the foreigners? Or are my distinctions entirely inaccurate and based on a geography that does not apply here? Much likelier to be that.

What about other forms of diversity? Religion, language? The whole region can’t all speak the same language. Seffon uses that weird dialect of English. I feel like people have mentioned that other-Leah speaks her own language…Algic? God I hope no-one ever tries to talk to me in it, I’d be screwed. She remembers how the last time she had memories come back to her from the skull spell, it was of giant spiders in a river in Bair, speaking an odd language she could not understand but almost felt she could speak. Was that Algic, or something else?

A sudden realisation hits her. If other-Leah doesn’t speak this dialect as a mother tongue, maybe her ‘dumbness’ is just language-trouble? They all seem surprised when I use long or uncommon words, but maybe it’s just that she doesn’t know this language very well. I hope it’s not just that…that’d be very pretentious of them, to not realise she was trying her best in her second language. Speaking of second languages…

She tests her tongue, and finds she is still capable of speaking French, and the few words of Spanish she has from ineffective high school classes and self-teaching. I’ll test them on Wellen when I return the books; he seems like he might know. The five might also, if they’re so well-travelled, but I’d rather not tip them off to anything suspicious.

Jeno returns late, and has to rush to dress for supper. Leah offers to help, and immediately regrets it; Jeno’s clothing is far more complicated than hers, and she fumbles endlessly over the gold-plated clasps and the hidden laces keeping everything in place. Jeno is patient with her fumbling, giggling at her exasperated comments.

“Why not just use buttons? How are you supposed to put this on by yourself?” Leah asks, attaching the gold-and-velvet link at the back of Jeno’s neck.

“I’ve been wearing these all my life; it’s easy once you know how.”

“You don’t have a lady’s maid?”

“In theory, yes, but only for the very complicated things. I could put something like this on in pitch darkness, if I had to.” Jeno turns to her with a mischievous smile. “Or take it off.”

Leah gives her a quick kiss then gestures to the door; they walk out together, falling into their appropriate paces, the image of propriety.

At the table, Jeno sits with Samson, as she has done the past few nights since the engagement was formally announced. They are acting very cute together – whispering and giggling and sharing glances – and both sets of parents seem to approve.

Leah tries to look neutral, or at most mildly approving of the match, but in general matches her expressions to those of her teammates, who all treat it like a normal, political marriage.

There is no briefing session this night, as the border has been quiet recently. Iris and Leah elbow each other in relief, and Meredith pointedly ignores them.

“I’m a little concerned,” Meredith admits to Leah after supper, as they wait at the door for Jeno. “It might also be that the question about the scrolls startled the Auzzos and Valerids. Iris assures me there was nothing suspect about the weapons, and Vivitha said the fletching of the arrows came from a type of duck found near the Shining Island, so it all checks out, but still…those missives bother me.”

Leah is grateful that she wasn’t the one who asked after all. There’s never going to be a better time to bring it up, though…and Meredith might have an idea how I should best go about reporting in the scroll I found, without getting in trouble. Before she can begin to ask, Jeno arrives at the large double-door. Meredith nods at her, then at Leah, and leaves them to walk back to her own rooms alone. Leah deflates a bit, but does not call her back.

Leah accompanies Jeno to their suite, and touches her hand gently at the door, just a brushing touch, before sending her to bed.

Back in her rooms, she feels herself drifting into a smooth sleep the moment she gets under the covers. A dream hits her like a freight train.

*

Meredith and Iris puzzle over a map as Leah tends to the horses by a stream. Kain is futilely trying to teach Vivitha to walk quietly over the dead leaves of autumn, rimed with frost. Even Kain’s steps aren’t perfectly quiet, but Vivitha keeps stumbling and stepping on every hidden branch and gopher hole.

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Beeswax shies away from something on the other side of the stream. Leah puts out her spear in a defensive position and steps across the stones to the other side, looking about. A shadow moves, about twenty metres away, and then something bolts towards her. She spins the spear around to face the oncoming force, hoping it will impale itself before it reaches her, but the incoming shape dissolves into mist before it hits the point of the spear.

She hears a commotion on the other side of the stream, and turns to see that her distraction has allowed her teammates to be surrounded by more shadowy shapes. Kain noticed first and has warned the others, going on the defensive, but there is only so much a rogue can do without the advantage of surprise.

One of the figures yells, and a hoard of magic-shrouded shapes pour out of the woods. As the others scramble for their weapons to defend themselves, Leah notices that about half of the figures seem to fade in and out of existence, never actually physically touching their opponents.

“Illusion!” she hears herself call out, trying to keep track of which figures are solid and which illusory. She ends up lost, and just stabs wildly at every opponent, inexpertly using her shield as a secondary weapon to try and double her chances of actually hitting one.

A thrown axe imbeds itself in her shield and she drops it, the extra weight making it unwieldy. She instead braces her shoulder and runs into the densest point of the fray, barrelling through two illusions before hitting something solid and knocking it off its feet. She ends up sprawled on top of an ordinary-looking man wearing some sort of guerrilla uniform, who struggles to get his wind back. Leah stomps on his throat as she stands back up and he convulses, not dead but unable to breathe without a miracle to heal him.

Another fighter has cut the horses loose; an unfamiliar black one bolts into the forest, but the others mill about, Maelstrom kicking at anything that approaches. One figure lies trampled to jam under her front hooves.

A horn call suddenly causes the remaining figures to fall back, melting into the woods. Leah takes the time to notice Iris swinging into Maelstrom’s saddle to give chase, Kain bleeding out from a leg gash, and Meredith administering first aid. Vivitha has come out from hiding and is finally able to shoot at their foes as they flee, her bow being useless in a crowded melee.

“We need to tell Herrets that the infestation wasn’t cleared.” Meredith says as she finishes trying up Kain’s leg. “Kain’s horse bolted, but she can’t ride like this anyway, she has to stay here. Vivi?”

Vivitha shakes her head. “I can’t protect her if they come back for an ambush.”

Meredith frowns. “Iris needs to come with me; she’s the only one the Lady trusts.”

Her eyes fall on Leah. Leah picks up her shield, the axe blade sticking fully through the wood, and discards it. Meredith reaches over to the man Leah knocked over, who is asphyxiating on his own tongue, and pulls a round wooden shield out of his limp hand. Leah takes it when she holds it out to her.

“We’ll be back within forty-eight hours.” Meredith looks like she’s saying goodbye for the last time.

“See you then,” Leah says defiantly. “We’ll be right here.”

Meredith mounts up to leave, Blither’s dappled grey coat even more pronounced in his youth. Iris returns empty-handed to accompany her, Vivitha following behind after collecting her expended arrows. Leah watches them disappear into the forest, and then listens to the interminable silence.

Kain whimpers, and Leah puts pressure above the injury. The cloth is bloodstained, but only slowly becomes more so. Leah looks at the relative stranger, and feels a calm certainty that the rogue will die before help returns. She also suspects that she will die too, if the ambushers return.

The man she knocked over finally rattles out a last breath, breaking the silence. She had thought him long dead. She approaches, and sees he is blue in the face, his hands frozen in place around a metal beaker with a cork. He didn’t have the strength to open it before dying, but it seems he was intent upon it.

“Last rites? A charm? A tot of rum to ease your going?” Leah sits down next to the corpse and pries the beaker away. She opens it and sniffs, smelling only a very faint aroma of fruit, overpowered by something distilled and herbal. “Bitters?” She chuckles, taking a tiny sip. The drink warms her to her very core, and eases her sore shoulder from where she had barrelled into the man to knock him down. Her hands tingle strangely; looking at her skinned and bleeding knuckles, she watches in awe as the skin re-grows, and the pain fades.

She had heard of healing potions, but thought they were very rare. Certainly they were in Volst and Algi. They are near the Nations of Bair, however, so she reflects that they might be more common here.

She returns to Kain, checking to make sure the forest is clear. Birds chirp familiar-yet-not tunes as she tilts Kain up and offers her a drink. The rogue accepts, unresisting but not entirely aware of what she is tasting. A few seconds pass, and the tenseness in her body melts away. Leah checks the leg bandages, and sees that the blood has stopped flowing so heavily. Removing them, she notices that the wound has shrunk from a seven-inch gash to a five-inch slice. Another sip and Leah watches as the flesh knits itself back together with a red glow, shrinking to a four-inch shallow cut. She also notices that the scar left behind is a brilliant red, slightly glowing – obviously magical.

In fear she takes the beaker away and corks it, hoping the effect will fade before the team returns. The worst has healed, and Kain will last that long at least without further help, and may even be able to defend herself minimally. Leah considers dumping the rest of the potion into the stream, then reconsiders and tucks it into her belongings, in case of a future emergency. There is only half a sip left, but even that might be enough to pull someone away from death one day.

So long as she can keep it hidden from the others.

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