Things Not Written 9/12
9.1
The girl, Sylvie, was thrashing as he dragged her back, away from soldiers. The screaming of the wyvern muffled Sylvie’s muffled sounds as she fought valiantly, and vainly, to escape his hold. When he’d dragged her sufficiently backward, he released her with a push and took the time to straighten his jacket that had become rumpled in the scuffle.
“That’s my mother!” she screamed, trying to dart around him. He shoved her backward, onto the ground. Panting heavily, she looked at him with an accusatory glare. “Who are you? What do you want?”
“Don’t remember me? That’s fine.” He brushed the dirt from his clothes to hide the slight shaking of his hands. He could barely feel his magic. It was like he on the opposite side of the room from a roaring fire. He could feel it, but had no control of it whatsoever. “Let’s go.”
“Like hell I’m going with you,” she snarled, wrapping her arms her waist and hunching over. “My mother’s got hit by one of those arrows. Briar was right. He said, he said-”
“She’s fine,” he snapped, reaching down to grab her arm and haul her to her feet. “Stop it!” he said when she started fighting him again. He pushed her away from again. Covering his eyes with the back of his hand, he sighed when he heard her start to sniffle. “Your mother is fine.”
“How do you know? And if that’s true, why didn’t you just leave me? What do you want from me? Who are you? Where are you taking me?”
He crouched down, cutting off her stream of questions. “Do you expect me to answer all of them?”
“Yes!”
“Well that’s not going to happen,” he said in a tight voice. “I will answer one of those questions, though. I couldn’t leave you because I saw what you did.”
She looked at him sharply, a dark look crossing her face. “I didn’t do anything.”
“No? You looked up before the wyvern circled back. I’d say you’ve gotten some magic, yes? But not from your mother.”
She paled. “How do you…you know my…” Her eyes narrowed. “You’re Leigh, aren’t you? Leighton Mills.”
Smiling insincerely, he started to walk toward the Citadel, knowing she would follow. “Smart girl.”
As expected, her footsteps quickly caught up with his own. “Briar told me about you.”
His smile faded. “Did he? What did he say?”
“He said, he said, oh right! He said to go with you and to trust you…” She trailed off and a quick glance at her revealed another frown on her face. “He said, she’s fine. Could that mean my mother? Do you think she’s okay?”
“I believe you know my feelings on the matter,” he said as they turned the corner. Hopefully, they would be meeting up with Reagan soon. She was scoping out the area to make sure security was down during this crisis as he suspected.
“Yeah, but I’m pretty sure you were lying just so that I’d come with you.”
“Is that so?”
“Yep. So, where are we going anyway? You never answered that.”
“I didn’t answer a lot of your questions.”
“I kinda hate you right now.”
“I assure, the feeling is mutual.” Their exchanged was silenced when a silent Elf glided from the shadows followed closely behind by a furious Reagan. Sylvie squeaked and took several steps back. Leigh easily fell into a slight bow. “Lord Rhydderch. What a pleasant surprise.”
“The humans are weak without their magic,” he said without preamble. “Now is the time.”
“Excellent.” Leigh made to take a step forward, but Rhydderch forestalled him with an upraised hand.
“You are a magic human. Have you been weakened?”
“I will do whatever needs to be done,” he stated. Rhydderch looked at him closely, but nodded.
“Who are you?” Sylvie said, stupidly attracted his attention.
His gaze drifted over her, before his mouth twisted in an unimpressed frown. “You are Briar’s Sylvie.”
“Yeah, how did you-”
“Where is Briar?” He directed his question to Leigh.
“Safely escorted to the Citadel by a Royal Mage and a contingent of soldiers,” Leigh guessed.
Rhydderch nodded again. “That is satisfactory.” Behind him, Reagan’s eyes narrowed and her hand tightened into a fist.
“Shall we?” Leigh said, extending his arm and gesturing in the direction of the Citadel. Inclining his head, Rhydderch turned and started in the direction. His stride was quick and purposeful and the distance between him and the other humans quickly increased. “Where did you come across him?” Leigh asked when what he hoped was sufficient space left them out of Rhydderch’s hearing range.
Walking to his right, Reagan sneered and crossed her arms tightly. “I didn’t. He attacked me. Jumped out of the shadows like some kind of wild animal. I thought he was going to kill me.”
“Obviously he didn’t.”
“Not for lack of trying. He only stopped when I sliced his pretty little face open.”
Unable to recall any marks on Rhydderch’s face, Leigh presumed that he had healed without any complications, so dismissed her fury with a flick of his wrist. “A test of sorts, perhaps. The Cathali respect strength. Be content that your skills passed.”
She snorted, tilting her head away from him to glare at the Elf’s form. “I believe satisfactory was the term.”
“A compliment! You must have really impressed him.” She snorted again and they fell silent when Rhydderch turned his head to glance back at them. “I do believe he can hear us,” Leigh mused.
“Is anybody going to tell me what’s going on?” Sylvie demanded, sidling up to the left of him while keeping an eye on Rhydderch.
Reagan glanced over to her. “Yes. Who is the girl?”
“I’m Sylvie,” she said, extending her hand across Leigh. Smirking, Reagan accepted the gesture and introduced herself. “Leigh kidnapped me and won’t tell me where we’re going or why I need to go with him. He says he’s a friend of my mum’s.”
“That sounds like something he would do. Who’s your mum?” Rhydderch came to a stop, cocking his head to the side like he was listening for something.
“Temperance.”
“Oh, really-”
“If we are done chatting,” Leigh interrupted when they caught up with Rhydderch. “It seems we have arrived.” He refrained from letting his doubt coat his words, though it appeared ‘here’ was a dark, dank alley.
Sylvie looked around. “There’s nothing here.”
“This,” Rhydderch said, gently resting his clawed hand against a grimy wall of the alley. “There is magic that covers the entrance.”
“I thought magic is failing,” Reagan demanded.
“Failing, but not failed,” Leigh said, stepping closer to examine the wall. “Fascinating. This is one of the undisclosed entrances into the Citadel. And it seems the visual illusion is still working. What about tactile?
Rhydderch shook his head. “I feel nothing underneath my hand.” Leigh placed his hand against the wall to feel the odd sensation of nothing beneath it.
“You two look really weird. Like you’re communing with the wall. Or molesting it.”
Rhydderch looked pained and Leigh snorted. “Sorry to offend your sensibilities,” he said, drawing back and extending his arm toward her. “It’s your turn now.”
“My turn?”
“Indeed. It would be imprudent to just waltz in without knowing which precautions are still in effect. And that’s where you come in, my dear.”
“Oh, no. No, no, no way,” she said, shaking her head. “No way in hell I’m going in there.”
He looked between her and the wall. “Do you sense something?”
“No! I mean, oh bother what I mean. I’m not going to be your danger detector.” She crossed her arms with what was probably supposed to be a resolute manner.
Rhydderch observed, “I trust Briar will eventually forgive me for hurting you.”
Her mouth dropped open and she stared in shock first at the Elf and then at Leigh who just shrugged and stepped aside. “This is absolutely ridiculous,” she said, though she did approach the walls. “I’m not expendable, you know.”
“I’m aware. Now tell me. Do you feel anything? An overwhelming urge to not enter? Anything of the sort?”
“I don’t feel anything. Not really.”
“Who’s to say her magic hasn’t failed?” Reagan interjected.
“She sensed the wyvern’s return and your wind magic seems to still ensure your balance.” He nodded toward Rhydderch to remind her of their fight; she scowled. “There is every indication that if the wards are still in place, she will be alerted.”
“I guess,” Reagan said, though she still sounded dubious. Leigh ignored her as Sylvie took the last step separated her from the wall and reached out for it. She touched it hesitantly.
“That’s so weird,” she said, excitedly. “I actually don’t feel anything!” She laughed, turning to face Leigh. Rhydderch almost casually reached out and shoved her in the middle of her back. She squealed and pin wheeled her arms uselessly as she tipped forward. She landed half in half out of the illusion.
“It is safe,” Rhydderch announced; he looked smug.
“So it seems.” Leigh peered at her, unsurprised to see her slowly getting to her feet. He couldn’t hear anything emitting from the other side of the wall, but he doubted she knew the definition of quiet let alone how to exhibit it; audio illusion was still operating. “Shall we?”
A birdlike screech interrupted their conversation and garnered their attention. Reagan dropped into a crouch, her short sword sliding easily from the sheath around her waist. The creature spread its feline-esque legs, dropped the bundle carried in its beak, and screamed again.
“Um, Leigh.” He glanced behind to see Sylvie’s head peeking out of the illusion. “I think we’re in trouble,” she whispered.
“Why do you say that?”
“’Cause I think that thing was starting to build some kind nest thing. Inside. Its looks pissed.”
“You have a remarkable knack for understatements,” he said, taking a step backward and glancing over to Rhydderch. The Elf watched the creature closely, making no move whatsoever. “Do you sense any danger?”
“Yeah. Lots.”
“Fantastic. Just give me a moment and I’ll think of-”
“She’s breeding,” Rhydderch said.
Leigh looked at him sharply. “Is that so?” he mused. A glanced at the creature revealed an extended belly that indeed pointed toward motherhood. “I can’t decide if that works for or against us.”
“Against,” Rhydderch said, taking a step forward. “Go. I shall handle her.”
Nudging Reagan on ahead of him, Leigh retreated while saying, “Do be careful. Briar will not forgive me should you die.”
Rhydderch’s final look was affronted as Leigh stepped back through the illusion.
9.2
Briar closed his eyes, breathing deeply and leaning heavily against the Royal Mage. He didn’t think he would be able to make it to the Citadel if it was a long distance. “How far?” he muttered. He stumbled and his legs gave out underneath him.
“Damn it,” Clay said, helping him down to the ground and leaning back on his haunches. “It’s not far. Just a few more hours.” Briar groaned and covered his face with his hands, shaking his head. “You can make it,” he said, though he sounded dubious about it. “Come on, a little farther and then we can rest again.”
Shaking his head, Briar allowed himself to be helped back to his feet and dragged a few more feet. His breath was rushing in and out in pained gasp and every other step forced his vision to darken. He started to recognize landmarks, but he didn’t think they were anywhere near the Citadel. In fact, they looked to be closer to the Rosebush than to Citadel and that was on the other side of the city.
Clay stopped and reversed direction, taking them down another alley and still farther from the Citadel. “Where are we going?” he asked again. He remembered, down in the Vaults he had had a vision about Clay killing him. He didn’t recall too many details, except that Clay had been sorry. Visions didn’t always necessarily come true, they were just a possible future if things continued as they were.
“There’s-” He stopped again. Briar inhaled sharply, holding his breath against the pain. And then he heard it. There was a animalistic shriek, dissimilar to the wyvern’s, but no less terrifying. He gasped. Clay ducked down, dragging Briar down with him, and swore softly. “I don’t know where it’s come from,” he said, pressing his body against the wall. “Or how many of these damned things there are.”
“S’not a wyvern,” Briar said, between his pants. “I don’t know what it is, but it’s not a wyvern. More like a bird of some sort.”
“Pretty damn big bird,” he swore. Briar voiced his agreement. The sound was echoing in the empty alleyway between the two buildings. He couldn’t even tell which direction the sound was coming from. “It’s blocking the direction to Citadel. Damn it,” he cursed again. Rising, he started to pace the small area between the two buildings. “We’re not going to make it to the Citadel at this rate.”
“Rosebush,” he muttered.
“What did you say?” he demanded, coming to a stop to stare at him.
“Rosebush. We’re close to it,” he repeated. “I think. I just, I don’t know. Mellie’s is nearby. She can help.” He struggled to get to his feet and Clay rushed to help him. “We can go there,” he said, stepping forward. He kept his eyes focused on his feet, making sure to put one foot in front of the other. “Safe there,” he muttered softly to himself. And she would have medicine for him. He needed it desperately.
“We’re going to the Rosebush,” Clay demanded. “The brothel?”
Blinking, Briar shook his head with a frown. “No, no, of course not.” He swallowed thickly, shaking his head and attempting to focus as dark spots appeared in front of his eyes. “I know a witch, a few witches, who might be willing to help us.”
“Oh, yes. I do believe I went there rather recently,” he said in a vague manner, probably assuming that Briar didn’t know that he had followed him to the witch’s workshop.
“The witches?” he asked. Clay hummed his agreement. “Yes, Mellie told me a tall brown-haired de Lacey mage had come around and harassed her about her wares,” he said in a bland tone.
Clay stiffened beside him. “I didn’t harass her!”
“But she still might not be too happy to see you.” And him neither, if he didn’t have the means to pay for the medicine. He might just have to take Tal up on his offer to pay for it, but just this once though. He wasn’t going to make a habit of it, though. It was his father’s debt that had forced him into Temperance employ in the first place. And he was not thinking about his father and Temperance. “Just try not to get curse, okay?”
9.3
They knocked on the door of the small modest two-story building that housed the coven of witches that resided in Twin River. Well, Clay knocked and Briar leaned heavily against the doorframe and looked listlessly through half-lidded eyes. His bright blue eyes were glazed over and his breathing was shallow.
“Okay, there?” he asked. His eyes widened a little, but he still didn’t move, just kept breathing, which Clay took to be a good thing. He knocked again, peering through the windows and trying to make out if anyone was inside. “Do you think they left? Maybe they went to the Citadel.” Briar scoffed. “Yeah. Right. You know, there is a chance that their magic has failed them also.”
“It’s not like we have any other choice,” he said, slowly with each labored breath. Twisting around, he knocked on the door; it was weak and kitten like. “Mellie? I know you’re there. Open the door.” His eyes fluttered closed and he started to collapse forward. Clay rushed forward to catch him before he hit the ground.
Slamming his fist into the door, he pounded on it as he shifted Briar in his arm to get a better hold of him, without jarring his ribs. “Damn it.” Even if they had left, he needed to get inside to get Briar on a flat surface. “Damn it, open the door,” he shouted. It was silent. “Either open it or I’m breaking in,” he warned. He twisted back to kick the door in when it swung open and revealed an older witch standing in the doorway with a frown on his face.
“I see you’re back to hassle us some more.” His dark gaze drifted down to the Briar and he frowned, shaking his head. “Come inside,” he said, stepping back.
Sighing in relief, Clay gripped Briar tightly and led him inside. The seer swayed in his arms, but made the journey successfully if not steadily. “His ribs are injured. I need to lay him down on something.” The lines on the witch’s face deepened, but he indicated a table where he got Briar up onto it with minimal difficulty.
Clay pushed his sweat-soaked bangs from his forehead and stepped back. He bumped into the wall and just leaned against it, finally relieving the tension that had been thrumming through his body since the whole thing began. His relaxation was interrupted when Briar gasped. Clay’s eyes flew open and he watched Briar arch painfully off the table.
He staggered over, grabbing the witch’s arm to get his attention. “What’s wrong with him?”
Briar’s eyes opened and their glazed blue color began to glow and he collapsed back down. “He sees,” the witch answered breaking Clay’s hold of his arm. He tilted is head toward a darkened doorway and called, “Mellie!” A young woman came bounded out almost immediately, her skin a nut brown compared the older witch’s darkness. She looked to be only a few years older than Sylvie.
“Yes, Victor?” she said with a wide smile, pushing her long dreaded hair over her shoulder.
“This is your mess. I want these Royal Mages to be gone shortly.” Her smile widened and she bobbed her agreement. This didn’t seem to appease him, but he moved away from Clay and took up a position next to the doorway from which she’d emerged. Mellie moved to stand in the place he’d vacated.
Clay’s eyes were drawn back to the blond who was still in the throes of his vision, which he didn’t imagine it was good for his ribs. How could it be possible for Briar to be having a vision when all other magic has failed? But then he remembered that the seers had been acting strange before all other magic had failed; could there magic be affected earlier than all else? It was possible, he supposed. “Briar said you had medicine for him?” Clay said, glancing up at Mellie.
“He must have been delirious. I haven’t any medicine for him,” she stated coolly.
Frowning, Clay took a step toward her. “He was very adamant about it. It’s the only reason I’m here and didn’t take him to the Citadel where we have trained Healers.”
“Who haven’t a drop of magic to help him. Please. Cut the intimidation. You’re here for my help.” She smirked and his frown deepened.
“Mellie, quit toying with him,” Victor said sharply. She pouted and sent a disgusted look his way. “It’s not a medicine,” Victor continued. “More like a poison with brief side-effects.” They all stopped when Briar’s eyes fluttered close and the tension melted from his body. When nothing further happened, Mellie rolled her eyes, crossing her arms and turning away from them. “When Briar first came seeking a substance that would mitigate his headaches Mellie was the only one in the shop. Instead of a painkiller, she administered a potion that stripped him of his magic temporarily.”
“It doesn’t strip him of his magic,” Mellie said, finally drawn back into the conversation. “More like suppresses it. And it was just a lark, nothing permanent. Besides that, he wasn’t even angry when he found out what it was. It’s apparently the only thing that completely eradicates the headache.”
Clay reigned in his temper and asked in a tight voice, “Is it possible that this, this poison, could have gotten into the water supply or-”
She shook her head quickly. “No! No, I can only make it in individual quantities since the ingredients are so expensive. Short of Briar collecting them and then dumping them in recently this is not my doing. You should probably look to your own mages for this.” Before Clay could protest the accusation, Briar’s eyes fluttered open again and he frowned at his surroundings.
“Relax,” Clay said, dropping a hand lightly onto his shoulder. “You’re at the witch’s shop, remember.” He lifted his hand to push Clay’s off of him, but at least he was freaking out.
“Yeah, I remember.” His hand drifted over to his right side and he gently prodded the area, hissing when his fingers made contact. “But why are you still here?”
“What are you talking about?”
“The Vaults. You’re supposed to be in the Vaults.”
“Why?” he asked, quickly. “Is something happening there?”
“Yes, yes. You have to go there right now.”
Clay hesitated, glancing up at Mellie. She smirked, dropping a hand to rest on Briar’s chest, much to his consternation. “Relax. We’ll take great care of Briar. Go on.” She made shooing motions with her unoccupied hand. Clay hesitated a moment longer, before deciding that Vaults were probably very vulnerable during this time.
“Fine, but when I make it to the Citadel, I’m sending someone back over.”
The girl, Sylvie, was thrashing as he dragged her back, away from soldiers. The screaming of the wyvern muffled Sylvie’s muffled sounds as she fought valiantly, and vainly, to escape his hold. When he’d dragged her sufficiently backward, he released her with a push and took the time to straighten his jacket that had become rumpled in the scuffle.
“That’s my mother!” she screamed, trying to dart around him. He shoved her backward, onto the ground. Panting heavily, she looked at him with an accusatory glare. “Who are you? What do you want?”
“Don’t remember me? That’s fine.” He brushed the dirt from his clothes to hide the slight shaking of his hands. He could barely feel his magic. It was like he on the opposite side of the room from a roaring fire. He could feel it, but had no control of it whatsoever. “Let’s go.”
“Like hell I’m going with you,” she snarled, wrapping her arms her waist and hunching over. “My mother’s got hit by one of those arrows. Briar was right. He said, he said-”
“She’s fine,” he snapped, reaching down to grab her arm and haul her to her feet. “Stop it!” he said when she started fighting him again. He pushed her away from again. Covering his eyes with the back of his hand, he sighed when he heard her start to sniffle. “Your mother is fine.”
“How do you know? And if that’s true, why didn’t you just leave me? What do you want from me? Who are you? Where are you taking me?”
He crouched down, cutting off her stream of questions. “Do you expect me to answer all of them?”
“Yes!”
“Well that’s not going to happen,” he said in a tight voice. “I will answer one of those questions, though. I couldn’t leave you because I saw what you did.”
She looked at him sharply, a dark look crossing her face. “I didn’t do anything.”
“No? You looked up before the wyvern circled back. I’d say you’ve gotten some magic, yes? But not from your mother.”
She paled. “How do you…you know my…” Her eyes narrowed. “You’re Leigh, aren’t you? Leighton Mills.”
Smiling insincerely, he started to walk toward the Citadel, knowing she would follow. “Smart girl.”
As expected, her footsteps quickly caught up with his own. “Briar told me about you.”
His smile faded. “Did he? What did he say?”
“He said, he said, oh right! He said to go with you and to trust you…” She trailed off and a quick glance at her revealed another frown on her face. “He said, she’s fine. Could that mean my mother? Do you think she’s okay?”
“I believe you know my feelings on the matter,” he said as they turned the corner. Hopefully, they would be meeting up with Reagan soon. She was scoping out the area to make sure security was down during this crisis as he suspected.
“Yeah, but I’m pretty sure you were lying just so that I’d come with you.”
“Is that so?”
“Yep. So, where are we going anyway? You never answered that.”
“I didn’t answer a lot of your questions.”
“I kinda hate you right now.”
“I assure, the feeling is mutual.” Their exchanged was silenced when a silent Elf glided from the shadows followed closely behind by a furious Reagan. Sylvie squeaked and took several steps back. Leigh easily fell into a slight bow. “Lord Rhydderch. What a pleasant surprise.”
“The humans are weak without their magic,” he said without preamble. “Now is the time.”
“Excellent.” Leigh made to take a step forward, but Rhydderch forestalled him with an upraised hand.
“You are a magic human. Have you been weakened?”
“I will do whatever needs to be done,” he stated. Rhydderch looked at him closely, but nodded.
“Who are you?” Sylvie said, stupidly attracted his attention.
His gaze drifted over her, before his mouth twisted in an unimpressed frown. “You are Briar’s Sylvie.”
“Yeah, how did you-”
“Where is Briar?” He directed his question to Leigh.
“Safely escorted to the Citadel by a Royal Mage and a contingent of soldiers,” Leigh guessed.
Rhydderch nodded again. “That is satisfactory.” Behind him, Reagan’s eyes narrowed and her hand tightened into a fist.
“Shall we?” Leigh said, extending his arm and gesturing in the direction of the Citadel. Inclining his head, Rhydderch turned and started in the direction. His stride was quick and purposeful and the distance between him and the other humans quickly increased. “Where did you come across him?” Leigh asked when what he hoped was sufficient space left them out of Rhydderch’s hearing range.
Walking to his right, Reagan sneered and crossed her arms tightly. “I didn’t. He attacked me. Jumped out of the shadows like some kind of wild animal. I thought he was going to kill me.”
“Obviously he didn’t.”
“Not for lack of trying. He only stopped when I sliced his pretty little face open.”
Unable to recall any marks on Rhydderch’s face, Leigh presumed that he had healed without any complications, so dismissed her fury with a flick of his wrist. “A test of sorts, perhaps. The Cathali respect strength. Be content that your skills passed.”
She snorted, tilting her head away from him to glare at the Elf’s form. “I believe satisfactory was the term.”
“A compliment! You must have really impressed him.” She snorted again and they fell silent when Rhydderch turned his head to glance back at them. “I do believe he can hear us,” Leigh mused.
“Is anybody going to tell me what’s going on?” Sylvie demanded, sidling up to the left of him while keeping an eye on Rhydderch.
Reagan glanced over to her. “Yes. Who is the girl?”
“I’m Sylvie,” she said, extending her hand across Leigh. Smirking, Reagan accepted the gesture and introduced herself. “Leigh kidnapped me and won’t tell me where we’re going or why I need to go with him. He says he’s a friend of my mum’s.”
“That sounds like something he would do. Who’s your mum?” Rhydderch came to a stop, cocking his head to the side like he was listening for something.
“Temperance.”
“Oh, really-”
“If we are done chatting,” Leigh interrupted when they caught up with Rhydderch. “It seems we have arrived.” He refrained from letting his doubt coat his words, though it appeared ‘here’ was a dark, dank alley.
Sylvie looked around. “There’s nothing here.”
“This,” Rhydderch said, gently resting his clawed hand against a grimy wall of the alley. “There is magic that covers the entrance.”
“I thought magic is failing,” Reagan demanded.
“Failing, but not failed,” Leigh said, stepping closer to examine the wall. “Fascinating. This is one of the undisclosed entrances into the Citadel. And it seems the visual illusion is still working. What about tactile?
Rhydderch shook his head. “I feel nothing underneath my hand.” Leigh placed his hand against the wall to feel the odd sensation of nothing beneath it.
“You two look really weird. Like you’re communing with the wall. Or molesting it.”
Rhydderch looked pained and Leigh snorted. “Sorry to offend your sensibilities,” he said, drawing back and extending his arm toward her. “It’s your turn now.”
“My turn?”
“Indeed. It would be imprudent to just waltz in without knowing which precautions are still in effect. And that’s where you come in, my dear.”
“Oh, no. No, no, no way,” she said, shaking her head. “No way in hell I’m going in there.”
He looked between her and the wall. “Do you sense something?”
“No! I mean, oh bother what I mean. I’m not going to be your danger detector.” She crossed her arms with what was probably supposed to be a resolute manner.
Rhydderch observed, “I trust Briar will eventually forgive me for hurting you.”
Her mouth dropped open and she stared in shock first at the Elf and then at Leigh who just shrugged and stepped aside. “This is absolutely ridiculous,” she said, though she did approach the walls. “I’m not expendable, you know.”
“I’m aware. Now tell me. Do you feel anything? An overwhelming urge to not enter? Anything of the sort?”
“I don’t feel anything. Not really.”
“Who’s to say her magic hasn’t failed?” Reagan interjected.
“She sensed the wyvern’s return and your wind magic seems to still ensure your balance.” He nodded toward Rhydderch to remind her of their fight; she scowled. “There is every indication that if the wards are still in place, she will be alerted.”
“I guess,” Reagan said, though she still sounded dubious. Leigh ignored her as Sylvie took the last step separated her from the wall and reached out for it. She touched it hesitantly.
“That’s so weird,” she said, excitedly. “I actually don’t feel anything!” She laughed, turning to face Leigh. Rhydderch almost casually reached out and shoved her in the middle of her back. She squealed and pin wheeled her arms uselessly as she tipped forward. She landed half in half out of the illusion.
“It is safe,” Rhydderch announced; he looked smug.
“So it seems.” Leigh peered at her, unsurprised to see her slowly getting to her feet. He couldn’t hear anything emitting from the other side of the wall, but he doubted she knew the definition of quiet let alone how to exhibit it; audio illusion was still operating. “Shall we?”
A birdlike screech interrupted their conversation and garnered their attention. Reagan dropped into a crouch, her short sword sliding easily from the sheath around her waist. The creature spread its feline-esque legs, dropped the bundle carried in its beak, and screamed again.
“Um, Leigh.” He glanced behind to see Sylvie’s head peeking out of the illusion. “I think we’re in trouble,” she whispered.
“Why do you say that?”
“’Cause I think that thing was starting to build some kind nest thing. Inside. Its looks pissed.”
“You have a remarkable knack for understatements,” he said, taking a step backward and glancing over to Rhydderch. The Elf watched the creature closely, making no move whatsoever. “Do you sense any danger?”
“Yeah. Lots.”
“Fantastic. Just give me a moment and I’ll think of-”
“She’s breeding,” Rhydderch said.
Leigh looked at him sharply. “Is that so?” he mused. A glanced at the creature revealed an extended belly that indeed pointed toward motherhood. “I can’t decide if that works for or against us.”
“Against,” Rhydderch said, taking a step forward. “Go. I shall handle her.”
Nudging Reagan on ahead of him, Leigh retreated while saying, “Do be careful. Briar will not forgive me should you die.”
Rhydderch’s final look was affronted as Leigh stepped back through the illusion.
9.2
Briar closed his eyes, breathing deeply and leaning heavily against the Royal Mage. He didn’t think he would be able to make it to the Citadel if it was a long distance. “How far?” he muttered. He stumbled and his legs gave out underneath him.
“Damn it,” Clay said, helping him down to the ground and leaning back on his haunches. “It’s not far. Just a few more hours.” Briar groaned and covered his face with his hands, shaking his head. “You can make it,” he said, though he sounded dubious about it. “Come on, a little farther and then we can rest again.”
Shaking his head, Briar allowed himself to be helped back to his feet and dragged a few more feet. His breath was rushing in and out in pained gasp and every other step forced his vision to darken. He started to recognize landmarks, but he didn’t think they were anywhere near the Citadel. In fact, they looked to be closer to the Rosebush than to Citadel and that was on the other side of the city.
Clay stopped and reversed direction, taking them down another alley and still farther from the Citadel. “Where are we going?” he asked again. He remembered, down in the Vaults he had had a vision about Clay killing him. He didn’t recall too many details, except that Clay had been sorry. Visions didn’t always necessarily come true, they were just a possible future if things continued as they were.
“There’s-” He stopped again. Briar inhaled sharply, holding his breath against the pain. And then he heard it. There was a animalistic shriek, dissimilar to the wyvern’s, but no less terrifying. He gasped. Clay ducked down, dragging Briar down with him, and swore softly. “I don’t know where it’s come from,” he said, pressing his body against the wall. “Or how many of these damned things there are.”
“S’not a wyvern,” Briar said, between his pants. “I don’t know what it is, but it’s not a wyvern. More like a bird of some sort.”
“Pretty damn big bird,” he swore. Briar voiced his agreement. The sound was echoing in the empty alleyway between the two buildings. He couldn’t even tell which direction the sound was coming from. “It’s blocking the direction to Citadel. Damn it,” he cursed again. Rising, he started to pace the small area between the two buildings. “We’re not going to make it to the Citadel at this rate.”
“Rosebush,” he muttered.
“What did you say?” he demanded, coming to a stop to stare at him.
“Rosebush. We’re close to it,” he repeated. “I think. I just, I don’t know. Mellie’s is nearby. She can help.” He struggled to get to his feet and Clay rushed to help him. “We can go there,” he said, stepping forward. He kept his eyes focused on his feet, making sure to put one foot in front of the other. “Safe there,” he muttered softly to himself. And she would have medicine for him. He needed it desperately.
“We’re going to the Rosebush,” Clay demanded. “The brothel?”
Blinking, Briar shook his head with a frown. “No, no, of course not.” He swallowed thickly, shaking his head and attempting to focus as dark spots appeared in front of his eyes. “I know a witch, a few witches, who might be willing to help us.”
“Oh, yes. I do believe I went there rather recently,” he said in a vague manner, probably assuming that Briar didn’t know that he had followed him to the witch’s workshop.
“The witches?” he asked. Clay hummed his agreement. “Yes, Mellie told me a tall brown-haired de Lacey mage had come around and harassed her about her wares,” he said in a bland tone.
Clay stiffened beside him. “I didn’t harass her!”
“But she still might not be too happy to see you.” And him neither, if he didn’t have the means to pay for the medicine. He might just have to take Tal up on his offer to pay for it, but just this once though. He wasn’t going to make a habit of it, though. It was his father’s debt that had forced him into Temperance employ in the first place. And he was not thinking about his father and Temperance. “Just try not to get curse, okay?”
9.3
They knocked on the door of the small modest two-story building that housed the coven of witches that resided in Twin River. Well, Clay knocked and Briar leaned heavily against the doorframe and looked listlessly through half-lidded eyes. His bright blue eyes were glazed over and his breathing was shallow.
“Okay, there?” he asked. His eyes widened a little, but he still didn’t move, just kept breathing, which Clay took to be a good thing. He knocked again, peering through the windows and trying to make out if anyone was inside. “Do you think they left? Maybe they went to the Citadel.” Briar scoffed. “Yeah. Right. You know, there is a chance that their magic has failed them also.”
“It’s not like we have any other choice,” he said, slowly with each labored breath. Twisting around, he knocked on the door; it was weak and kitten like. “Mellie? I know you’re there. Open the door.” His eyes fluttered closed and he started to collapse forward. Clay rushed forward to catch him before he hit the ground.
Slamming his fist into the door, he pounded on it as he shifted Briar in his arm to get a better hold of him, without jarring his ribs. “Damn it.” Even if they had left, he needed to get inside to get Briar on a flat surface. “Damn it, open the door,” he shouted. It was silent. “Either open it or I’m breaking in,” he warned. He twisted back to kick the door in when it swung open and revealed an older witch standing in the doorway with a frown on his face.
“I see you’re back to hassle us some more.” His dark gaze drifted down to the Briar and he frowned, shaking his head. “Come inside,” he said, stepping back.
Sighing in relief, Clay gripped Briar tightly and led him inside. The seer swayed in his arms, but made the journey successfully if not steadily. “His ribs are injured. I need to lay him down on something.” The lines on the witch’s face deepened, but he indicated a table where he got Briar up onto it with minimal difficulty.
Clay pushed his sweat-soaked bangs from his forehead and stepped back. He bumped into the wall and just leaned against it, finally relieving the tension that had been thrumming through his body since the whole thing began. His relaxation was interrupted when Briar gasped. Clay’s eyes flew open and he watched Briar arch painfully off the table.
He staggered over, grabbing the witch’s arm to get his attention. “What’s wrong with him?”
Briar’s eyes opened and their glazed blue color began to glow and he collapsed back down. “He sees,” the witch answered breaking Clay’s hold of his arm. He tilted is head toward a darkened doorway and called, “Mellie!” A young woman came bounded out almost immediately, her skin a nut brown compared the older witch’s darkness. She looked to be only a few years older than Sylvie.
“Yes, Victor?” she said with a wide smile, pushing her long dreaded hair over her shoulder.
“This is your mess. I want these Royal Mages to be gone shortly.” Her smile widened and she bobbed her agreement. This didn’t seem to appease him, but he moved away from Clay and took up a position next to the doorway from which she’d emerged. Mellie moved to stand in the place he’d vacated.
Clay’s eyes were drawn back to the blond who was still in the throes of his vision, which he didn’t imagine it was good for his ribs. How could it be possible for Briar to be having a vision when all other magic has failed? But then he remembered that the seers had been acting strange before all other magic had failed; could there magic be affected earlier than all else? It was possible, he supposed. “Briar said you had medicine for him?” Clay said, glancing up at Mellie.
“He must have been delirious. I haven’t any medicine for him,” she stated coolly.
Frowning, Clay took a step toward her. “He was very adamant about it. It’s the only reason I’m here and didn’t take him to the Citadel where we have trained Healers.”
“Who haven’t a drop of magic to help him. Please. Cut the intimidation. You’re here for my help.” She smirked and his frown deepened.
“Mellie, quit toying with him,” Victor said sharply. She pouted and sent a disgusted look his way. “It’s not a medicine,” Victor continued. “More like a poison with brief side-effects.” They all stopped when Briar’s eyes fluttered close and the tension melted from his body. When nothing further happened, Mellie rolled her eyes, crossing her arms and turning away from them. “When Briar first came seeking a substance that would mitigate his headaches Mellie was the only one in the shop. Instead of a painkiller, she administered a potion that stripped him of his magic temporarily.”
“It doesn’t strip him of his magic,” Mellie said, finally drawn back into the conversation. “More like suppresses it. And it was just a lark, nothing permanent. Besides that, he wasn’t even angry when he found out what it was. It’s apparently the only thing that completely eradicates the headache.”
Clay reigned in his temper and asked in a tight voice, “Is it possible that this, this poison, could have gotten into the water supply or-”
She shook her head quickly. “No! No, I can only make it in individual quantities since the ingredients are so expensive. Short of Briar collecting them and then dumping them in recently this is not my doing. You should probably look to your own mages for this.” Before Clay could protest the accusation, Briar’s eyes fluttered open again and he frowned at his surroundings.
“Relax,” Clay said, dropping a hand lightly onto his shoulder. “You’re at the witch’s shop, remember.” He lifted his hand to push Clay’s off of him, but at least he was freaking out.
“Yeah, I remember.” His hand drifted over to his right side and he gently prodded the area, hissing when his fingers made contact. “But why are you still here?”
“What are you talking about?”
“The Vaults. You’re supposed to be in the Vaults.”
“Why?” he asked, quickly. “Is something happening there?”
“Yes, yes. You have to go there right now.”
Clay hesitated, glancing up at Mellie. She smirked, dropping a hand to rest on Briar’s chest, much to his consternation. “Relax. We’ll take great care of Briar. Go on.” She made shooing motions with her unoccupied hand. Clay hesitated a moment longer, before deciding that Vaults were probably very vulnerable during this time.
“Fine, but when I make it to the Citadel, I’m sending someone back over.”