Runes weigh upon my thoughts as I take my meal, their shapes pressing always at the edge of my mind. Magic..... what is the nature of such a force? What is it exactly that I'm trying to learn?
For all my study, still, I can scarcely understand it. But I'll admit.... my time with Maldor has been of some help. These new runes, set beside those I had already learned, begin to form a more comprehensive alphabet, gaps and holes in my current understanding... slowly filled in.
I cannot help but wonder.... if I were to construct these runes into words and commands of my own making, what might come of it? Could I fashion spells of my own?
Lucien says a man may hold only three spells in memory at once.... but what if they were not held in memory at all? What if they were written down as Maldor's are? So that my mind might be freed of the burden?
I pause in thought, realizing I am far too green to be entertaining such notions. Too many obstacles still stand in my way. I can barely manage the single spell I actually know, attempting to cast one I don't? It's sure to end in disaster. Lucien’s words echo through my mind, a reminder of the limitation I should be overcoming.
Mana.... he said I need to cultivate more. But what exactly is-
My thoughts are interrupted as the bench shifts beside me, William dropping into place, followed by Hamza. William rubs his hands for warmth and grabs a chunk of bread.
“Yurik’s back,” he says around a mouthful. “Rode in ‘fore dawn. S'pposedly we’ll be marchin’ in a few days.”
I try to focus on his words, shaking my head of the runes that continue to swirl there.
Hamza nods once. “He spoke of a large task. All hands needed. Might be the moment we’ve waited for.”
I nod slowly. Still unsure. The escape plan they've concocted is half-formed and risky, though that's hardly the real issue. Leaving Two's task unfinished... now that's something I'm sure to regret.
A booming laugh crashes across the room.
Bran’s gang has returned. They barrel through the doors, loud, drunk, and dragging a fresh pack of rough-looking outlaws behind them. They near trip over themselves as they walk in, knocking over a stool as they make for the fire.
They shout for beer and meat. Laughter rolls off them like thunder. Tankards slam. One of them mimics a woman’s scream with an unflattering wail, and the whole table roars.
William leans in. “Seems they had a good time.”
Hamza frowns, his eyes on the group. “At the expense of others.”
I finish my bread, wipe my hands on my cloak, and start to rise-
“Oi! Seven! That you, lad?”
Bran.
The noise dies a little and I turn to the brigand lieutenant.
He lurches toward us with five of his men, drunk and swaggering. Faces red, eyes glassy.
William half-rises. “Evenin’, boss. Lookin’ like ye had yerselves a fine time. Proper sloshed.”
Bran grins wide and slaps him on the back. “Always a good night with me lad. But we had a little extra fun today, I'll grant. Nabbed a noble on the road, had a fistful of coin on him. Not to mention a daughter.”
Hamza tenses beside me, but says nothing.
Bran shakes his head. “Would’ve had a little more fun too, but this sod-” he jabs a thumb at a sullen brigand behind him “-gutted her ‘fore we got the chance.”
The man shifts uncomfortably. “Sorry, boss. Thought she were a lad. Built like a cart ox.”
Bran waves him off. “Nearly had his stones for it. But then Hobb, the drunk bastard, pipes up. Says that sweet little eunuch always trailin’ you lot? Turns out he’s a she. And not just any lass, a real fine one.”
Damn, the bloody recruits really did spread it quickly...
His eyes land on me. The grin widens.
“So, Seven... where’s she hidin’? We’d like a little chat.”
The others chuckle, low and greasy.
William lifts his hands, palms out. “We dunno, Bran. Honest. Ain’t seen her.”
Hamza and I both nod.
Bran steps in closer. His breath stinks. “Yurik says the four o’ ye were thick as thieves. Don’t lie to me. Where is she?”
I meet his gaze. “Edric sent her to Maldor, that's the last time I saw her. She’s likely under his protection.”
Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.
Bran laughs sharp and sudden—and then his fist slams into my jaw.
Pain explodes. I stumble, blood already in my mouth.
Argh- cunt! This fucking whoreson-
“That’s yer second lie,” he growls. “Maldor dismissed her for you. Lie again, and I’ll gut you like a pig.”
Goosebumps prickle up my spine, face still acing. I glance to William, then Hamza. My mind races. Luna’s in the dungeons the last I checked, but surrendering her to this fucker...
Then again, what's the alternative? Fight them all?
Hamza speaks first. His voice is surprisingly calm, despite his overt hatred for Bran's kind. “We speak true, brother. She vanished. We've not seen her.”
William nods quickly. “If she’s smart, she’s long gone. I’d be, if I were her.”
Bran snarls and draws his knife. The torchlight gleams off the blade. Sweat beads at my brow.
Should I strike first? Maybe I could kill him before the others react...
But then.... how would we get away from the rest?
“Where is she?” he growls. “Tell me now.”
His knife comes up... Then a hand—pale and lean, but hard as iron—grabs Bran’s wrist.
Is that.... Halric?
He yanks Bran back a step like it’s nothing, his thin frame apparently having no trouble moving the bulky brigand.
Bran stares, surprised. “Halric? What’s this now?”
Halric’s voice is cold and steady. “Leave him. Edric has decided, he's to work for Two and Maldor.”
Bran’s face tightens. “He’s lyin’. Guardin’ that woman.”
“And? Edric doesn't care about some woman” Halric replies. “Leave this man to his work.”
Bran jerks his arm away. “He’s a snake, Halric. A liar. I know the type, can smell it all over him.”
“Touch him, and you answer to Edric. And to me.”
They lock eyes. Long. Then Bran scoffs and spits near my feet.
“Yer lucky, boy.”
He turns. “Come on, lads! We’ll sniff her out ourselves!”
His men cheer and stagger after him, though Bran now seems far less chipper.
I nod to Halric. “Thank you.”
He returns it with a slight tilt of the head. “Tell her to stay below. I saw her scrounging food earlier. If she keeps slipping around, someone else will notice.”
My eyes widen, but I try not to show overt emotion. “Understood.”
William fidgets nearby. “You won’t say nothin’, will ya? ‘Bout her bein’ down there?”
Halric shakes his head slowly. “Not all of us have abandoned decency. Some still remember honor, chivalry. She should leave soon though. There’s nothing left for her here. Not now that she's been discovered. A useful woman is still a woman.”
Hamza snorts at the mention of honor, but William shoots him a look, causing him to bow his head.
I clear my throat. “If you still believe in, erm, honor… why ride with brigands?”
Halric shrugs. “My captain chose this path. I follow.”
He speaks no more, giving the three of us a nod before walking off into the shadows.
We stand there a moment, silent. Then William tets out a deep breath. “Thought we was done for.”
I pick up the food I’d saved. “Yeah. Too close. I’ll taking this to Luna. You two split. Better we draw minimal attention to her.”
They nod, wishing me good luck and then vanish into the fort.
I descend into the dungeons, careful to glance over my shoulder. The air down here is colder, damper, but I'm used to it by now, during my frequent trips to Maldor's shop for 'work'. When I reach the cells I don’t call out, just clear my throat now and then as I move.
Then, when I pass a paticular cell, I hear a whisper: “Seven.”
Luna.
She peers from the shadows of an iron gate. I slip inside and close it behind me.
She’s curls up against the far wall, cloak tight around her. Tired. But alert.
I kneel and hand her the bread and dried meat. “Here.”
“Thanks,” she murmurs, quickly taking a bite.
“They’re looking for you. Bran. His gang. Others too. The whole hall knows now.”
She pauses mid-bite. Her eyes darken, but she doesn’t speak, just returns to chewing, slower this time.
“Halric saw you sneaking food,” I add.
That makes her freeze.
“He didn’t tell anyone. Just warned me. Mentioned something about chivalry.”
She snorts. “Chivalry? From a brigand? Please.”
“Still,” I say, “he didn’t seem to wish you harm. Advised that you leave at the next opportunity.”
She shrugs. “I will. And soon, I heard Yurick's returned. It's almost time.”
“I’ll bring you food from now on. You should stay down here. Maybe in a cell closer to Maldor's laboratory. You know they're wary of the place. I'll be closer at hand too.”
She goes quiet for a moment, then nods slowly.
“I told you this’d be harder,” I say with a sigh. “Being a woman in a place like this.”
She lowers her eyes just a little. “Obviously. I never said otherwise.” Her words come out somber, and I can't help but enjoy rubbing it in a little.
“You owe me a thank you, I think. For the additional effort.”
She huffs. “Fine. Thank you, oh noble protector.”
Her voice is dripping with sarcasm, but I can't help but smile. She sees it and smiles a little herself.
"Thank you Seven. For the food. And for the hardship. I know it's not easy." She leans her head against the wall. “I assume you're off to Maldor now?"
I nod grimly. “People to carve up. Magic to learn.”
She grimaces but doesn’t argue. She’s said her piece already.
I rise, stepping out of the cell door, but pause when I hear footsteps echoing down the corridor. A lone figure emerges from the dark. Hobb. One of the newer recruits, brought in the same time as me.
The one who told Bran about Luna.
He stops at the far end of the hall, peering at me.
“What’re you doin’ down here?” he asks, voice casual but sharp with suspicion.
My eyes dart to Luna’s cell, a flicker of panic rising in my chest. But I steady myself, force my body to relax.
“You know Maldor’s lab is beneath the dungeons,” I say. “Just lookin’ around before I head down. Getting my head straight.”
He narrows his eyes, then grins. “Oh yeah?”
He begins walking toward me. I step forward to intercept him before he gets too close to Luna’s cell.
“What?” he says, grin stretching wider. “Can’t I take a look too?”
He tries to step around me. I block him.
His smile doesn’t fade. “What’s wrong? Got somethin’ to hide?”
I don’t reply.
He chuckles, turning back down the hall. “S’alright. I’ll leave you to it. See you later.”
He turns and strolls off, boots echoing down the corridor as he heads for the stairs. His shoulders sway with smug ease, whistling some half-remembered tavern tune.
But the moment he reaches the base of the stairwell, his legs vanish from under him, swept in a swift blow, while a hand clamps down hard on the back of his head, throwing it forward.
His skull cracks against the stone edge of the second step with a sharp, brutal snap.
Blood pools and he lies still. Dead at the moment of impact
I stand over him, letting out a rough breath. "Fuck."
Luna pokes her head out of the cell, then steps beside me, eyes fixed on the corpse. "You killed him."
I rub my temples. “Yeah.”
She pauses, glancing down at the blood pooling beneath his head. “Not that I don’t appreciate it... but what are you going to do with the body?”
“I’ll take it to Maldor. Say I found him like this, slipped on the stairs, cracked his skull. I doubt Maldor will care either way. Might even thank me for the parts.”
She crosses her arms. “Quick thinking.”
I hesitate, then crouch and haul the man over my shoulder, adjusting his limp weight.
“I guess I better get to it.”
Luna watches me, her expression unreadable. Then, quietly, she says, “Keep your heart light.”
I pause, frowning slightly, unsure what she means... but I nod, and turn toward the stairs leading deeper into the dark.
Maldor will be waiting.