Adder's Story

The various proses detailing notable moments of my pathfinder character's backstory (along with that of her mentor). Adder is a Laughing Shadow Magus, and is a human of changeling heritage. These were the tales that forged her into a witch hunter.

[huntinghags]

Campaign Appendix

Currently working on an appendix that goes over the entire campaign story so far, as well as all the characters! I will be working on finishing it over the next week or so. I'll post an update when it's done. My goal is to have a comprehensible story that acts as the backdrop for these proses. I eventually want to also include a more sensible reading order than the archive.

Mostly this project and blog is a record for me and the members of the campaign, so that when years from now when I come back and try to read it, I can do it in an enjoyable way and not forget anything!

If anyone else chooses to read all this mess... I hope I did a good enough job to make it understandable.

Appendix status: Work in Progress (story through Wongalara complete, Krev-Turnu and Varad-Oesek missing).

Blog status: 104/104 proses updated.

Writing WIPS: 3 Dueling Wolves, My Son, Childhood

Art by filibusterfrog

[filibusterfrog]

big batch of comms for @huntinghags

[huntinghags]

My hunters!! Fili did such a great job on them all.

[huntinghags]

How it started vs how it's going. Art by the lovely @saprophilous

Love how they captured the campaign robbing Adder of all her whimsy.

[huntinghags]

104. Stone

[Content warning, some suggestive content and implied PTSD at the end, will put that section under a read more. Set around a year after Lander, and a few months after the Price of Glory. Bakar sets out on his first mission after his first hunt left him maimed, he adjusts to the new realities of his situation]

Would that he could have been assigned anywhere else. At least Tysa was just a stop, and one Bakar had considered forgoing. Yet, the same things that conspired to make being here difficult were what caused him to return. Kalah deserved rest and needed a new set of horseshoes. He would not be made an oathbreaker. 

Passing under the stone arch that marked its start, the city stretched out in front of him. It didn't look like he remembered, but then again, maybe he'd just tried not to remember it at all. Something about the stone make of all the buildings and how they were neatly arranged in rows reminded him of a graveyard. But it was all too lively, and loud. 

Exiting the stables, he found his eye caught by the window across the street. The curtain was drawn, and it was unlit by the yellow glow that filled many of the others. He looked down at his boots, and where they rested on the cobbles. New dust, but the same street. He looked over his shoulder at the stables and sighed. He would need a place to rest his head this night. 

This wasn't the busy season for Tysa, and the inn and connected tavern hummed with low conversation. The front desk was empty, and so he waited, and thumbed through the book that had been left upon the counter. 

Pages of names. He found his own. It was over a year ago now that he'd written it. 

"Can I help you, sir?" A voice came from behind him, as Melori circled the desk and found her way behind it. She had not changed much. She was taller, her hair tied back instead of loose, a few of its black strands had escaped the tie and stuck out haphazardly. She had the look of someone who had been busy for quite some time, and had very little patience because of it. 

As happened with most people, her expression changed when she looked at his face. A widening of the eyes and a parting of the mouth. Quickly replaced with a polite and tight smile, and a diverting of the gaze. There was no recognition. 

Bakar wondered, not for the first time, if there was anyone that would recognize him. Melori had known him for a night, perhaps it was to be expected. If he had not been there upon his return, would Musa have known him? If he wandered back to Mizik, would Zabel? He hardly recognized himself anymore in the mirror, after all. Why should they? 

The burns had taken nearly half his face. His hair, once long and well kept, was cropped short and unruly. There were angles in his cheeks that hadn't been there before. He was older. Taller. He could force a smile, but he could not recall what the one he'd worn once had looked like, or if it matched. 

The logbook was slid forward, and a quill placed down upon it. 

"Your name, sir?" Melori asked, and there was an edge of discomfort in her voice. This face he had now made him somehow untrustworthy, though, the way he kept his clothes and his resting expression did little to refute that. He matched his occupation now. It had just taken a while to learn for himself the truth of it. A hunter was not a man. 

"Bakar Muru." He'd considered giving another name, but one hadn't come to mind, and what had come to his lips had been the truth instead. 

Melori must have recognized his name, because her posture adjusted immediately. Her palms were flat on the counter, and there was a look of shock mixed with confusion. Her eyes, which had been fixed on the logbook, jumped back to his face, and she searched it. Her mouth was folded into a tight line. 

"Have we met?" It was the kinder way of saying what she left unsaid. The question behind it, clearly, was: what happened to you? 

Bakar tried to offer her a smile of reassurance but it felt wrong on his face and he was sure it looked wrong, too, so he let it fall. 

"Yes." Why was he being honest? He did not know what he expected from this or wanted from it, and suddenly felt strongly like he wanted to leave. He needed something first, and it was enough to endure the veiled disgust and obvious discomfort present in Melori's appraisal of him as she struggled to find a suitable reply. 

"But it was only once, and I'm sure you have many travelers." He added, offering her an out. "I do not need a room, but I did wonder if I could buy a bottle of spirits." He had not had a drop of alcohol since the night of his first hunt, but she could think him a drunkard, she probably already thought worse of him. 

"Apologies, we do have a lot of guests." Melori answered, avoiding looking him in the eye. "I'll fetch a bottle. It will cost five silver." Bakar placed a gold upon the counter and nodded. Melori hurried off, and returned with the bottle, some sort of whiskey, and set it down in front of him.

"Thank you, Melori. That will be all." Bakar said, taking the bottle and pulling the hood of his cloak up. He left before anything else foolish could come out of his mouth, and stood, again, on the stone streets of Tysa. 

An hour of walking took Bakar to the far side of Tysa, where the buildings gave way to the walls of the large cavern, punctured by a slew of caves and shafts. He’d clung to the hope that he’d remember the way, but staring at the diverging paths in front of him, he was at a loss. There were too many, and he hadn’t been paying close attention. He lacked the map that he and Lander had used on that day. Scaling one of the inclines, Bakar found the mouth of one of the caves. 

It wouldn’t have mattered if he remembered which entrance it had been. His feet froze at the threshold. It had been difficult to even enter Tysa. Cowardice. Since his encounter with Baba Nostra, tight and dark spaces had been difficult. He would have to overcome it at some point, for his work would drive him to such places again and again. He would not overcome it today. There was no point in it. Lander’s resting place would not be found. 

Bakar sat at the center of the cave’s entrance, and opened the bottle of whiskey. This would have to suffice. 

“Kalah is well.” He said, quietly. 

“You were the first of us to fall.” Bakar often thought of all of them, especially when in the Rest. It was as if their ghosts haunted it, for he found memories of them everywhere. The time away from the Rest was a reprieve, the open road was emptier, and held a less crushing sort of quiet. 

“Only Musa and I remain. I do not know how they died, for they did so alone. I hope they died quickly. I hope they did not suffer long.” They probably had, though. Hags were cruel creatures. 

“I hope you rest peacefully, Lander. I understand so much more about you now than I ever did before. I’m sorry.” With that, Bakar overturned the bottle, and let the liquor pour onto the stone below. Perhaps it would find its way down into the depths, Bakar hoped it would.   

If not for the chime of the bells and the lighting of the lanterns, time in Tysa would be impossible to track. Hours had passed, Bakar realized, as he counted the tolls. He’d spent much time in distant thought. When he stood, his back ached from sitting on the hard ground. 

Where would he go? Where did he want to go? Not the inn. Not the tavern. There weren’t many other places in a town one could go this late at night, and so habit and circumstance found him in front of the brothel. Close Quarters the name of the brothel was carved into the wall. It was apparent that at one point, the letters had been painted in bright colors, but had long since flaked off and no one had bothered to paint them anew. 

The lobby smelled of smoke, the heavy sort of stuff favored by dwarves. It mixed with the thick cloud of incense that hung in the room, but did not fully cover the smell of sweat that clung to this place. Bakar stifled a cough, and approached the counter. The source of half the haze was a stout woman behind the counter, who held in one of her hands a hefty wooden pipe that she took long luxurious drags from. 

“Can you read, doll?” Her voice was a harsh raspy drawl. Bakar nodded. 

“Good.” She said, and pushed forward a set of papers. Marked on them was the list of available whores, and the occupied ones were crossed out in broad strokes of charcoal. The clerk was going on about something, and he heard bits of it, descriptions of the women and men, suggestions. It all vaguely just sounded like background noise as he stared down at the paper in front of him. He had a headache. He wanted out of this lobby. The rooms would be less smokey, at least. He pointed to one of the human women on the paper. 

“And a room for the night.” Bakar said. 

“A good choice.” The clerk said in a way that made it sound like that would have been her response regardless of where he had pointed. “That, and a bath,” She looked at him pointedly, “will run you three gold and five silver.” 

Bakar produced the coins, and placed them in front of the clerk, who scooped them into a pouch. She gathered a rough looking towel, and handed it to him along with a numbered key. 

“Ring the bell when you’re ready for your woman. Baths are the last door on the left. Your room is well… you can count. Numbers are on the doors.” She told him, and he was already making his way down the hallway before she was done.  

The bathtub was sizable, though it did not look particularly clean. Bakar frowned at it, before looking over his shoulder. He set down his bag, and traced a rune in the air before holding his hand over the basin. Some of the apparent filth had been the mottling of the rock it had been fashioned out of, but… not all of it. Satisfied, Bakar turned the nozzles until the water was a good temperature, and undressed as he let it fill. 

He was grateful there were no mirrors in this room. He folded his clothes neatly, setting them and his bags a safe distance from the tub. He then bathed. Warm water was a welcome sensation, and it made him linger in the bath for a few minutes longer than necessary. The soreness of the road was somewhat lessened. 

Wrapped in a towel, he carried his things to his room. The brothel wasn’t opulent, but it was warm. The room, at least, was cleaner than the bath. The furniture was made of pine. It had been years now, but he still marveled at the abundance of wood in this region. Something so common here was precious in his homeland.

How quickly one’s perspective could change. 

Bakar hung up the towel, and set down his things on the small table. He found the cord that was attached to a metal bell. He reached for it, and paused for a moment. He wasn’t sure the source of his hesitation, only that it was there. He pulled the cord, and a sonorous chime, crisp and metallic, emanated from the bell.

He sat on the bed, and waited. There wasn't a chill in the room, fire crackled in the hearth, but Bakar pulled the blanket over his shoulders and head. He missed his cloak. He pulled the blanket tight across his chest. There was a knock at the door.

[Content warning starts here]

“Come in.” 

The door opened, and with a lilting saunter, a woman entered. 

She was older than him, but not by many years. It was hard to tell her exact age underneath  the makeup she wore. Her skin was fair and oiled, and caught the firelight. She smelled strongly floral. Her hair was a light shade of ashen brown that bordered on blonde. It fell in a straight sheet past her shoulders. 

She slipped off her simple shift, without much theatrics, and approached him. Seeing him closer now, he tracked her eyes as she took a good look at him. 

She was a better actress than Melori had been, or maybe she’d just seen more. She took clear note of his burns, her gaze lingering on them, but she kept her expression pleasant. She reached forward and pushed the blanket from his shoulders, it fell to the bed and left him uncovered. 

Bakar was glad she didn’t make conversation, maybe she could sense it was the last thing he wanted. She leaned forward and kissed him, climbing into his lap. 

This was supposed to feel good, wasn’t it? It had been awhile. Recovery hadn’t been quick. She wasn’t the most beautiful girl he’d seen, but he’d bedded girls that were far more plain. He’d come here for this, hadn’t he?

Something about her wandering touch felt strange on his skin. He felt like he was an observer in this, rather than a participant in it. He felt a step removed. He could feel her soft skin beneath his fingers, her lips against his neck. None of it felt like it was really happening to him. 

When she pushed him back onto the bed, he pulled her on top of him. There was an echo of familiarity, of how he remembered this feeling. Some dull excitement that cut through the strange numbness of this. This had been what he needed after all. 

He let his hands rest on her hips, and pulled her down. She ground into him, sighing softly. Leaning forward, she reached to cup his face. 

Bakar’s hand was on her wrist before he had a chance to think of why. He gripped it hard, pushing her off of him roughly. She yelped in alarm and pain. 

His heart thundered in his chest. He felt like he was going to be sick.

 Fingers reached for his face in the dark. What had followed was pain.

 It was hard to breathe, every breath came out shallow and ragged.  The room wouldn’t stop spinning. He squeezed his eye shut. 

When he opened it, he looked down to see he still held onto her. She squirmed beneath his grasp, and there was an expression of fear painted upon her face. Her eyes were wide and darting, her mouth slightly open. She didn’t cry out. 

This was awful. He was awful. 

He released her and stood, backing several paces from the bed, and turning away from her. He stared at the bands in the wood of the shelf, they weren’t moving. They were the only thing steady in this room. 

“Leave. I’m sorry. Please leave.” He said, and his voice came out more harsh and less apologetic than he’d intended. 

Quick retreating footsteps and the sound of the door closing, the latch falling into place. 

Bakar let himself fall back into the bed in a heap. He wrapped himself in the blanket, and tried to slow his breathing. 

It was a long while before he could sleep, because when he shut his eye, he either remembered the look on her face, or the look of cruel delight on Baba Nostra’s. He wasn’t sure which one was worse; to be the monster or the victim. 

[huntinghags]

103. Lander II

[Continuation of Lander I]

Five months had passed, Belir had returned, and had since left again. There were only a few months left before the apprentices would set out on their first true hunts to earn their amulets. All had been sent on several smaller assignments more frequently. 

The loss of his mentor, Ghorn, had weighed heavily on Lander. He had been entrusted to Urus's tutelage. Urus already had two apprentices, and he was a far more detached master than Ghorn had been. Through neglect or broken spirit, Lander's skills faltered. He rarely joined the others in the sparring ring, he rarely joined them at all. He stayed sequestered in his room or the stables, where he cared for his horse. It seemed one of the few things he enjoyed doing anymore. 

When Lander sparred with Bakar, it often ended bitterly. Lander had lost his edge, and Bakar had only improved. Lander would point to some unfairness, and leave the ring without debriefing. The only time he showed decorum and patience was under the supervision of Belir. 

And so, when Nyrus handed over orders, and handed them to Bakar, Lander was furious. 

"Not only am I being sent on this mission with Bakar, but he is the lead hunter on it?" Lander's voice was raised, and Nyrus gave him a sharp look, which Lander did not heed. Bakar did not interject, he stood there and waited for Nyrus's reply. 

"And who, pray tell, would you have rather been assigned with, Lander?" Nyrus's tone was dry and impatient. 

"No one. This is a mission I could easily handle on my own." Lander replied in haste.

"Hunts are usually done in pairs." Bakar spoke up, Lander turned to him, and there was such anger on his face that Bakar thought the boy might strike him. 

"The first hunts are not, they are done alone. Belir hunts alone. Ghorn often hunted alone." 

"You fancy yourself a warden?" Nyrus looked down at Lander, there was dismissal there. "A good hunter knows when a task is best done in a partnership. It is a skill that is learned, Lander, just like swordplay and magecraft. Belir possesses this skill, and so did Ghorn. Do you doubt my judgement?" 

There was a pause that went on for far too long, and Bakar thought Lander was going to say something more foolish than he already had, but Lander dropped it. His shoulders slumped, and the fight seemed to leave him. 

"No." He answered glumly. He turned to Bakar with a scowl. "We leave tomorrow morning, do not delay me, Bakar." 

As lead hunter of the mission, Bakar should have been the one to decide departure time, but he did not press the issue. He simply nodded, and waited for Lander to exit the archives. 

Bakar awaited dismissal. He'd worked with Nyrus often in the past months, and found him to be a fair master. He assigned rigorous texts, and emphasized bestiary knowledge. His three apprentices, who were presently gawking at the spectacle Lander had caused, were all well studied and Bakar had worked with them on multiple occasions. Nyrus turned, and gave the trio a look, and they quickly dispersed into the archives to return to the tasks they'd been assigned.

Nyrus returned his attention to Bakar. 

"You will have to rein him in." 

"Why did you assign me as lead?" Bakar asked. Even if he was suitable in skill, it was unlikely that Lander would listen to him. 

"Don't ask questions you know the answer to, Bakar. You have seen with your own eyes the reason." 

"I--" Bakar considered arguing the point, but decided it wasn't worth it. When Nyrus had decided he wasn't going to answer something, there wasn't much to be done about it. 

"Is that all, Nyrus? Can I search the archives to prepare?" Bakar asked. 

Nyrus nodded, and Bakar began to turn when Nyrus spoke. 

"You are from Mizik, isn't that right?" Nyrus asked, Bakar looked at him quizzically. It was common knowledge where he and Musa were from. 

"Yes." He answered simply, something about the way Nyrus looked at him put him on edge. He felt like a specimen under the lens. 

"How old are you, Bakar?" 

"About sixteen years." Bakar did not know his exact birthday, they did not track them at the orphanage. Nyrus narrowed his eye.

"Do you know of your parentage?" There was an edge to the question.

"If i did, my last name wouldn't be Muru." Bakar replied, a bit flippantly, he was eager for this conversation to end, and to start his preparations. 

"I suppose it wouldn't be." Nyrus said, and there was clearly something else he wanted to say, but he kept it to himself, and told Bakar he was dismissed. 

 Wandering the shelves, Bakar eventually found what he sought. Not a book, but an apprentice. 

Percival looked up at him from where he sat cross-legged on the floor. He had a bestiary in his lap. The boy was of a slighter build, with a mess of ashy brown curls that often got in his eyes when he'd gone too long without a haircut. He gave Bakar a sheepish smile and wave, pushing his hair out of his face. 

"I thought Nyrus might strike him, for a minute there." Percival said in a hushed whisper, and looked to the end of the aisle of books, to ensure his master wasn't hovering there. 

"Is he prone to that? Not that I would have blamed him, Lander was asking for it." Bakar shook his head, and sat down next to Percival. 

"Zhetan has been on the receiving end, multiple times. He learned the hard way that Nyrus expects a certain amount of quiet and decorum in here." Percival winced. Bakar was sure that Percival had never been struck by Nyrus, because he could not imagine the meek apprentice daring to do anything that might warrant it. 

"His voice does carry, doesn't it?" Bakar chuckled. You always knew when Zhetan was in the main hall, he had a baritone laugh and spoke as if you were across the room, even if you were at his side. Bakar pulled the mission briefing from his pocket, and passed it over to Percival. 

"I was wondering if you might lend me your expertise." Bakar asked, for he often came to Percival before the hunt. Of all the apprentices, Percival knew the most about monsters. It seemed any and all free time he had was spent perusing the bestiaries, and he had a particular talent for remembering each and every detail. Bakar had spent hours with him, before each assignment, leafing through bestiaries for any edge he might gain against a quarry. In return, Bakar had helped Percival improve in his sparring, which he took to far more slowly than his work in the archives. 

"I was hoping I'd get a peek." Percival grinned widely as he took the briefing from Bakar's hand, and began to pour over it. He mouthed some of the details as he did. 

Bite marks on the victims. Canine in shape.

A broken ritual circle found deep within the mines.

"The shades were thorough." Percival commented, there was excitement in his voice. He loved a good puzzle. "There's only a few things it could be, I think. Wait here, I'll fetch the bestiaries we need." Percival sprang to his feet, and hurried along the shelves.  

When Percival returned, Zhetan and Dimitrius were both in tow. The four boys made a circle in the aisle, and Zhetan motioned for Bakar to give him the briefing. He handed it over. 

"Nyrus picked you as lead?" Dimitrius asked, looking over Zhetan's shoulder at the piece of parchment. 

"Nyrus was at the ring the other day when Bakar beat Lander handily in a bout. I saw it too. It was embarrassing to watch!" Zhetan commented loudly, earning a shush from Percival, to which Zhetan rolled his eyes and offered him a middle finger. 

"Did you put him in his place?" Dimitrius asked, speaking in a low volume. 

"I might have." Bakar admitted, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "But I'm only returning the treatment he gave me when I first arrived." 

"I don't think you're wrong for that, he's always thought himself above the rest of us. Nice to see him knocked down a few pegs." Zhetan clapped Bakar on the back. Bakar wasn't sure he'd agreed. It'd been more than a few pegs. If anything, Lander had regressed. 

"Here." Percival passed two bestiaries to Bakar, there was a small slip of paper to mark the page in each. Bakar nodded in thanks, and turned to the first marked page. 

"You're going to Tysa." Dimitrius observed, still reading over the briefing. He looked up and shared a mischievous smile with Zhetan. 

"Tysa's a good place." Zhetan grinned widely. 

"You've been?" Bakar asked. 

"They have, on a hunt with Nyrus that took them close by. I wasn't ready yet." Percival answered. 

“There’s a good brothel there.” said Zhetan.

“Too many dwarves.” Dimitrius waved a hand dismissively. 

“Didn’t you lay with one?” Zhetan countered, and Dimitrius went a bit red in the face. 

“Only because the innkeeper’s daughter turned me down.” 

Bakar stifled a loud laugh, covering his mouth with his hand. 

“What?” Dimitrius demanded. 

“If your approach was anything like it was with that last girl then—“Bakar started.

“Fuck off. Like you could do better.” Dimitrius cut him off, punching him in the arm. 

“Two gold says I can fuck her.” Bakar grinned widely. Zhetan guffawed, his laughter echoing through the archives.

“I’ll ask Lander when you two return so don’t think of cheating me, desert rat.” Dimitrius offered out his hand to shake.

“Guys—“ Percival tried to cut in, but it was too late.

“If you all have time to be making such a ruckus, perhaps I haven’t assigned a sufficient amount of reading.” Nyrus’s voice was cold, and the four boys turned to see him standing a few feet away. 

Bakar quickly gathered the bestiaries Percival had given him, muttering a thanks. He scrambled to his feet, the other apprentices dispersed as well, none wanting to further test Nyrus’s patience. 

“Looking forward to taking her to bed, and then taking your gold, Dimitrius.” Bakar whispered as he passed him, earning a hard shove. 

—

The sun was low in the sky when the two fledgling hunters arrived in Tysa. The city’s nature rendered daylight irrelevant, but the city still kept to the hours of sunrise and sunset. 

“A night to get settled and then–” 

“Tomorrow we’ll find the mark.” Lander spoke over him, Bakar huffed out a small sigh. Rein him in. Sure. That wasn’t going to work. Lander could lead, maybe that would make this all easier. 

“You can take lead on this. Where do you think we should look first?” Bakar offered. Lander halted his horse, and looked over his shoulder at Bakar. He seemed not to expect this turn of events. 

“What did the briefing say?” Lander asked, and Bakar felt a spark of anger. Had Lander not read it? Had he not prepared? The hells was he doing?  

“That there’d been trouble in the mines, and that people have been going missing. Based on what the shade wrote in his report about the marks on the bodies, and the ritual circle, I’m relatively sure it’s a pack of Yeth hounds.” Bakar summarized. 

“And what makes you think that?” Lander scoffed.

“They’re used by cults and the like, summoned for a purpose. I think someone fucked up, and got themselves eaten, based on the other information we’ve got. We’re cleaning up a mess.” 

“Good. I came to the same conclusion. You seem to have done your homework.” Lander swished his reins and urged his horse forward. 

Lander was lying to save face, Bakar realized. Calling him out on it would only lead to strife. Best to leave it be.

“Should we ask some workers in the morning, then?” Bakar asked.

“And in the tavern tonight.” 

“I can do that, I have business there anyway.” 

“Don’t get carried away.” 

“I handle my alcohol well.” 

“Meet me at the stables at sunrise. Don’t be late.” 

“Not going to be staying at the inn, then?” Bakar gave him a knowing look.

“What I do with my time is my own business.” Lander answered. It was impossible to get anywhere with him.

“You can just say you’re going for a fuck at the brothel. Gods.” Bakar said, finally out of patience. Lander didn’t reply. They were nearly at the stables, and it was a good thing. Bakar couldn’t stand another hour of Lander’s company.  

—-

“Get up! Get up! Please wake up.” 

Frantic shaking woke Bakar from the depths of slumber, and they were nauseating. Each movement sent a lance of pain through his head, which was throbbing. Gods, he was so hungover. 

Based on the room he was in, his state of undress, and the fact that the innkeeper’s daughter was shoving his garments at him while tugging on her own… he’d had a bit of fun last night. Not that he could really remember much of it. 

“The sun’s nearly up, my father is awake! If he comes to check on me and finds there’s someone in my room—“ 

Bakar cut her off with the motion to keep quiet. He heard footsteps coming down the hall. He dressed as quickly as he could.

There was a series of loud knocks at the door. 

“MELORI! Breakfast starts soon, get up!” The innkeeper’s voice resounded through the wood.

Melori’s face paled and she pointed to the window. Bakar gave her a tired look. She returned a scowl, and pointed again, more forcefully. Bakar chuckled and shook his head, and then quietly slid open the latch.

“NEARLY DRESSED PA, COMING!” Melori yelled back, and Bakar used the noise to pop open the window, he was nearly out of it when he felt a hand on his sleeve. Melori kissed his cheek. 

“Visit again.” She whispered, and offered him a wink, before shooing him away. Bake hefted himself out the window, and braced at he hit the street several feet below, rolling to lessen the impact. 

Bakar dusted himself off, and spotted a familiar pair of boots. They belonged, he realized as he stood, to a familiar half-elf, one who did not look pleased with him. 

"The window, really? You're late." Lander stood with his arms crossed, leaned against the side of the stables. He had, evidently, seen everything and now looked at Bakar with an expression of distaste. Though, Bakar thought it wasn't so different from how Lander always looked.  

"Saved me some coin, at least. Can you say the same?" Bakar offered him a wide and cheeky grin, and crouched down to tie his boots. He'd only pulled them on, and had time for little else.

"I don't mind having to pay if I can start my morning with dignity." Lander spoke haughtily, and held his chin high.

"That's what you call waking up in an establishment like that? I'll have you know I made money from this venture, Dimitrius owes me two gold." Bakar hoped that pride wouldn't preclude honesty when it came to having Lander verify his escapades. 

"You really are deplorable, also, you reek of alcohol." Lander crinkled his nose. He was right on the second count, of course. Bakar had nearly keeled over from the exertion of his inn room escape, it had left his stomach gurgling. Breakfast was unthinkable, it would no sooner enter his mouth than exit it. 

"Give me a few hours, and I'll be fine. We won't hunt until the evening anyway. Not like we're wasting daylight in a place like this." Bakar waved him off. He'd recovered from worse. By afternoon he'd be most of the way better.

"An easy way to excuse your bad behavior. You are lucky your master is away, or I'd tell him of it upon our return." It was an empty threat, and one that Bakar met with a raised brow and curve of a smirk. 

"You don't know Belir well if you think that would even make him stop and blink. Lander, if you got down off your high horse and pulled that stick out of your ass you might find that there's some fun to be had with the rest of us." He was tired of squabbling with Lander, it was like having a nagging wife, and it was making his head hurt worse. He started down the street. If they started their inquiry, Lander would at least have someone else to direct his words at. He had replied to Bakar's final quip, but Bakar hadn't deigned to listen.  

By the time evening came, the pair of apprentices had gathered enough information to locate their quarry. Most of the disappearances had happened near the western entrance of the mines. The hours between the morning and now had done much for Bakar, he still wished he'd had a few less drinks and a few more hours of sleep, but he did not feel sluggish. 

Lander, it seemed, had run out of vitriol to spew. As the day had progressed he'd become more quiet and focused. He said little. Asked little. He spent most of his time checking over his gear. Standing at the mouth of the mines, he scrutinized the map a worker had given them. He squinted into the inky depths. 

"I've always wondered, can you see in the dark, Lander?" Bakar asked, immediately regretting his attempt to make small talk. 

"No, not in a place this dark. I didn't inherit all of my father's sight." Lander answered without scorn, to Bakar's surprise. He traced a rune, and summoned a globe of light, then looked over his shoulder to make sure Bakar was doing the same. Bakar followed suit. 

"Pity. Many of the senior hunters cast darkvision, so the light doesn't give them away. It'd save you a spell if you had it naturally. You think Nyrus can?" 

"I try to avoid talking with Nyrus, when possible." A cold response that revealed much even though little was said. Bakar let it lie for a few minutes, the only sound their footsteps echoing through the stone tunnels as they began their descent. 

"No shared sense of comradery between half-elves?" Curiosity finally overcame better judgment, that, and the silence of the mines was deafening. There was a building tension, there always was during the search. Keeping nerves at bay was more than half the battle. Lander, at least, seemed of a similar opinion, and was far more open to conversation than usual. 

"Does it seem like Nyrus has a sense of comradery with anyone?" Lander laughed, Bakar didn't often hear Lander laugh, at least in a way that wasn't condescending. 

"Belir is fond of him, though I cannot imagine how they get along." 

"They trained together, didn't they? Under the same master." 

"Did they? How do you know that?"

"Ghorn spoke of it." The conversation had flowed easily but suddenly halted. There was a tightness to Lander's voice and a squaring of his shoulders. It felt an ill omen to speak of a dead man now, when it was a reminder of a fate that could be easily shared by any of them. 

The hairs on the back of Bakar's neck stood up, and he let his hand rest upon the grip of his sword. In the silence, every drop of condensation that resounded in the empty air was an enemy in wait. The globes of light cast long shadows. Lander looked ahead, further down the tunnel, but Bakar kept looking over his shoulder at the path behind them. They'd marked the way, he reminded himself. 

Getting lost wasn't what he was truly worried about. 

A loud and hollow crack rang through the tunnels and both of them swore and drew their weapons. Lander looked down at his feet and held a hand out for Bakar to stop. 

He'd stepped on a bone. By the looks of it, a rib. The way ahead was littered with them, and another minute's walk gave rise to the overwhelming smell of decay. Neither of them spoke. Bakar barely breathed, his stomach turned, but he would not allow himself to retch. 

The map they'd had didn't document the current depth, whatever was ahead was a surprise. The cave here widened, the walls less uniform, supports absent and replaced by pillars that had been formed from the merging of stalagmites and stalactites. Every surface was covered in moisture, and the iron stained it red. It was like being inside of an organism, rather than a cave. This was an evil place, the air hummed with something beyond fear. Every instinct screamed at Bakar to turn back, it was the sensible thing to do, but training prevailed. The two apprentices stepped into the larger chamber. 

The viscera was most concentrated here, so dense that it nearly covered any traces of the ritual circles beneath. But in thin spaces, the chalk lines could still be seen. The chamber was so large, their lights could only reach its edges when they strayed from the center. This place was an atrium of sorts, with a myriad of tunnels that shot off from it like veins. This was not a place they should be, Bakar realized, only he realized too late. 

"Lander we should--" 

A chorus of low growls resonated through the chamber, sourceless from the way it echoed, but from the structure it was likely the creatures approached from the tunnels. Becoming surrounded would be a death sentence. Bakar took a step back immediately. 

The first hound stepped into the light, and tipped its head back. Bakar covered his ears. 

The cascading series of howls was muted, and so was their effect, but Bakar still felt his heart pound in his chest, and felt a wave of compulsory fear that tightened his chest and addled his thoughts. He shook it off, and ran back toward the tunnel they'd come from. He could not hear over the howling, over his ragged breathing, over the heavy fall of his boots on stone, and so he did not realize until he'd turned that Lander had not followed. 

Lander remained at the center of the chamber, sword drawn, frozen in place. He was paralyzed by fear, arms slack at his side and shoulders shaking. He had not known. He had not read the bestiaries, so how could he have? The most powerful tool a yeth hound wielded against you was your own fear. Their howls dragged it out of you, and their bite deepened its hold. He had not known to cover his ears. 

Most of the hounds circled Lander, but a few peeled off the group and pursued Bakar, beckoned by his fleeing figure. All Bakar could see of the chamber was Lander's light, and a blur of shadows. He could not make out anything else, nor could he focus on it. The tunnel bottlenecked the hounds, but there were still far more than he'd been expecting. 

The next minutes were a mired strain, striking down a hound, retreating. His blood roared in his ears and his sword felt heavy. There was no thought, only reaction. Practiced violence and muscle memory and adrenaline. 

An anguished scream cut through it all. Then another. And then there was only one source of light, for the other had winked out. 

By the time the last hound fell, Bakar's every muscle screamed at him as he made his way back into that chamber. The floor was so slick with blood that he stumbled and nearly fell forward more than once. Low whines of dying hounds permeated, but they did not fully drown out the sound of wet, strained breathing. 

Bakar knelt at Lander's side and tried to gather him, but he felt a hand against his chest, and a weak shove. 

"Let it be." Lander gritted out, his teeth were clenched. His flesh was so torn that it was impossible to count how many bites he'd incurred. They were beyond bandaging. Lander had already lost so much blood, it pooled around him and stained Bakar’s clothes. If they could get to a healer, if he could stop the bleeding, if he hurried— Bakar reached for him again.

“LET IT BE, DAMN IT BAKAR!” Lander’s shout stopped him, it was harsh and ended in a sob. 

“What do I do? What do you want me to do?” Bakar asked, and he didn’t know why he whispered. Probably because his voice cracked, and his throat felt so tight that it was the only thing he could force out of his mouth. 

“I want you to listen,” Lander sucked in a labored and painful breath, “and I want you to promise.” 

Bakar nodded, and he offered Lander one of his hands. He took it, and held it weakly. 

“You will take care of my horse. Her name is Kalah. She was my mother’s, the only thing my father left us, and the only thing left of my mother. Do you understand?” Lander spoke with a burst of lucidity, but the effort left him gasping, a low groan escaped him. 

“I will take care of Kalah. I swear.”

“Kalah means light, in Elvish. She’s a good horse, so make sure you’re worthy of her.” Lander spoke slowly and quietly now. 

“I will.”

Bakar waited to hear if there was more, he waited a long while, ears straining to hear if Lander would speak in a whisper. He realized then that he could not even hear breathing. Lander had slipped away. There would be no more requests, no more words. 

Hunters bore amulets that were returned to the forgemaster along with their weapons. But Lander had not survived to his first hag hunt, and so he wore no amulet. His sword was a standard make, but Bakar still gathered it with shaking hands.

Bodies were not recovered. A hunter was to lie where he fell, for he was usually alone when it happened. 

When. 

Bakar looked upon the scene in front of him, a grim realization fluttering at the edge of his consciousness. To accept it would be to despair. It would devour him, its teeth would rend him asunder as surely as the hounds had done to Lander. 

And so, to keep it at bay, he chose to recite those words Belir had given him. 

A prayer. A denial. It was like a ward against an evil spirit. He heard it in every single step he took back toward the surface, and it was the only thought he let himself think. 

This will not happen to you.

[huntinghags]

102. Lander I

[Set over 20 years before the start of the campaign, Bakar is around 15/16 and new to the order. This is the story of the boys he trained with. Cut into two parts because of its length.]

The Rest was loud, and busy. Of their cohort, Bakar and Musa were some of the last to arrive, and so neither had gotten their choice of bed. Musa had either forcibly moved a smaller candidate to an upper bunk, or won it in some gamble, Bakar was unsure of which story was true. Bakar hadn't bothered, scrambling into an upper bunk was something he was accustomed to from the orphanage in Mizik. It shared many similarities with the orphanage, communal meals, chores, and a daily routine of tasks. Women were absent, though. It was strange to live a life fully devoid of them, when the al'umahat and girls at the orphanage had been such a common sight before. 

Bakar missed Zabel, though he wagered Musa missed her more. They hadn't spoken of her often. Musa hadn't seemed to want to. Conversations with him were short. They spent much of their time with their mentor together, but that was a time absent of idle chatter. Musa had gotten on well with the other boys, and often spent the nights drinking with them. Bakar was one of the younger candidates, and though he had studied a great deal of magic, his surmaan wasn't as practiced as Musa's. Musa had picked up some when he'd started his trade in Mizik, speaking to foreigners. Bakar had only had his travels with Belir. 

Bakar also missed speaking in Ma'arun. Belir, and by extension Musa, tried to insist he speak in surmaan at all times. Musa would, at times, converse with him in the language of their shared home, usually when the two wished to keep something between them. The rest, however, was suurmaan. It was all the hunters and their apprentices spoke, and given that they all came from different parts of the continent their accents made it even more difficult to understand. It had made Bakar slow to join the different groups that formed, which felt odd. He'd been part of many circles in the orphanage. 

Learning names had been a start, by his second week at the Rest, Bakar knew all the hunters and their apprentices. 

Ghorn of iron had a sole apprentice, Lander. He was the only half-elf in the cohort, and had chosen to meet any scorn he received with arrogance. He was older than the other boys, and acted it. He ate many of his meals with his master, and fraternized rarely. His skill with a longsword was admirable, Bakar found him to be a challenging opponent in the ring, for his limbs were long and so was his reach. He moved gracefully and swiftly, often unpredictably, and his blows carried a surprising amount of power. 

Urus of the targe was the Rest's forgemaster, and was not one for conversation, unless sufficiently deep in his cups. Even then, it was not good conversation. He had two apprentices, Quen, a boy from the Osyn region, and Markus who hailed from Velu. They were of a similar stocky build and age, likely around sixteen or seventeen, Bakar guessed. They kept to themselves mostly, and were, in Bakar's opinion, lax with their studies. Perhaps Urus permitted that, Belir certainly had not. 

Nyrus of starlight, had three apprentices. Two older, Zhetan and Dimitrius, and one around Bakar's age, Percival. The three were bookish, and often found in the archives with their master. They rarely sparred, the bow was not as conducive to it, but Percival, who favored dual daggers, occasionally joined Bakar in the ring. He was a meek boy, who spoke little, but was a diligent worker. 

Last in the Rest was Tibor of iron. He had no apprentice, for he had only recently gained his mastery. He had studied under Belir. He at times would come and watch Bakar and Musa's lessons, and on occasion, joined Belir for a demonstration. He was often absent from the Rest, without an apprentice, he took nearby marks during the winter. He seemed to have no interest in instructing, and did so only at Belir's request. He was more interested in traveling. Bakar found him rather disagreeable. 

A few months had passed, and with the end of winter, travel was more common. The hunters had enough faith in their pupils to leave them to study as they set off for hag marks in the nearby region. It was not uncommon to take a lesson with another master while your own was away. The boys began to take hunts of their own, always paired, they set off to quell the beasts that were beneath their masters. 

These hunts provided much for the apprentices. Practical experience that would aid them at the end of the coming year, coin, which they enjoyed spending, and time away from the Rest. Months of winter spent cooped up had all the boys irritable and restless. Bakar had already been on multiple hunts with Musa. The marks they claimed seemed to please Belir, who steered them towards the more difficult quarries. 

Lander had taken on a hunt alone, and from it had claimed the head of ogre. The blood of it had stained the flank of his white horse and now hung, temporarily, outside of the stables. It stunk horribly, especially as it began to rot, but every apprentice looked upon it with envy. Lander had regaled them with the tale of the battle multiple times, and took pride in the gash that now cut across his cheek. 

Ghorn and Tibor had been sent south, following a lead about growing hag activity in Osyn. In his mentor’s absence, Lander sat at the long banquet table with a tome, thumbing through it as he ate. The main hall, however, was not a place conducive to studying. Lander’s face held a scowl of annoyance, as Musa, Quen, and Markus spoke loudly over their game of cards.

“Will you look to this?” Bakar asked Lander, coaxing a bit of the warm dry air from the fire towards the paper in his hand with magic, the ink was nearly dry. 

Lander cut his eyes at the younger apprentice.

“Will I look at your notes?” Lander repeated, sucking his teeth. He often criticized Bakar for his way of speaking and his accent, but so did many of the other boys. It happened so often that Bakar had learned to let it pass over him. He was getting better at Surmaan, eventually he’d lose the accent, if he continued to practice. 

“Yes, would you?” Bakar asked again, keeping his tone pleasant. Musa looked over his shoulder, and then quickly swatted away Quen’s hand as the other apprentice tried to peer at one of his cards.

“We have days to do those notes, don’t tell me you’ve gone and done them immediately.” Musa shook his head dismissively. 

“I found them interesting, I wasn’t going to finish them tonight. Then I did.” Bakar answered, keeping his sentences simple so as not to stumble over them. 

Lander reached forward and took the page from Bakar, he narrowed his eyes as he read over it.

“If not for the quality of your notes, I’d think you rather dull, Bakar. Your cthonic is better than your common. These lines are wrong, but the rest is fine.” Lander passed them back. 

Bakar nodded, and set about making his corrections. Curiosity led him to peer at what Lander was studying. It was a large tome, it seemed focused on runework. Multiple pages within it were marked, and Lander had already written numerous pages of notes. Ghorn had left him many tasks before leaving on his hunt, it seemed. He was a similar master to Belir in that way, but that made sense. Ghorn had trained under Belir. 

“Key runes.” Lander said, noticing Bakar’s attention. 

“Learning new spells?” 

“Yes.” Lander left it at that, he was always short with his words, doubly so when focused. 

Bakar had finished his corrections, he capped his inkwell and collected his papers. Musa stood, halting his conversation with Quen and Markus and setting down his cards, and crossed the room. He stared down at Bakar’s work with a furrowed brow.

“You can’t mean to go show him now. You’ll make me look like a slacker.” Musa spoke in a quiet and stern string of Ma’arun. Bakar laughed loudly in response, earning an irked look from Lander.

“You do that well enough without my help, enjoy your game of cards.” Bakar replied with a smug smile. 

“Leave Belir be. It’s late. He has better things to attend to than reading your studies and listening to your boasting.” Musa reached for the notes but Bakar swiftly gathered them and stepped out of his reach.

“Bargaining, are we? It’s not a good—“

“Take your conversation elsewhere, you’re disturbing my work.” Lander interjected coldly. 

“You’re the one studying in the main hall, go to your room if you want silence.” Musa retorted irritably, switching back to surmaan, he waved him off, and returned to Quen and Markus. 

“I had four cards when I set them down, why are there now six?” Musa commented, smacking Quen across the back of the head and eliciting a burst of howling laughter from Markus. They dealt the cards over again.

“Sorry, Lander.” Bakar gave the older apprentice an apologetic look, which was summarily ignored. Bakar shrugged, and ascended the stairs to find his master.

Bakar arrived in front of the door to Belir's study. He was the only one of them that had a separate study and living space. Belir had not mentioned that he headed the Order on the way from Mizik, but it had been clear upon arrival at the Rest. There was a certain sense of pride that came with being apprentice to the Order's chief, and though the others tried not to acknowledge it, their questions at times betrayed their envy. 

 The door was usually left open, and Bakar had considered turning away when he'd reached it and found it closed, but curiosity compelled him otherwise. If he finished this work, Belir was likely to give him more to read. 

The door was imposing, Bakar wondered if it had been designed that way, and how long ago it had even been built. Belir knew little about the history of the Rest, none of them did. It was not a history kept. The studies, the bestiaries, and the way of leadership were the only things passed down. 

Bakar knocked once. There was a pause, and then an answer. 

"Enter." His master's voice was tired, and there was an edge to it. Perhaps Musa had been correct, and bothering Belir at this hour had been a mistake. It was too late now. Bakar pushed the door open. 

Belir sat at his desk, slumped forward, his elbows resting on the wooden plane, and hands supporting his face. Upon seeing Bakar, he righted himself, sitting up, and pushing the strands of his grey hair back. They were unkempt, as if he had done this particular gesture far too many times in the past hour. He had a haunted look about him that the smile he mustered did not cover, and only put Bakar more ill at ease. There were glass shards across the floor, scattered in a way that it was clear the decanter they'd come from had been thrown rather than dropped. Droplets of wine stained the carpet. 

Bakar was paralyzed in the threshold, his hand still upon the knob of the door as he took in the scene. He could not find his words. 

"If you are--" He started, then stopped, and let himself slip into Ma'arun. 

"If you are busy, this can wait. I am sorry for disturbing you, master."  Bakar's voice was quiet, he felt like he was intruding. He had never seen Belir look this way. He was always composed. Something wrong hung in the air. 

"No, come and sit." Belir spoke back to him in Ma'arun, something he had not done since their first week on the road from Mizik. "It is good that you came to see me." There was a softness to his expression that Bakar found confusing, but he did as he was asked. He crossed the room, careful to step over the shards of glass, and sat in the chair across the desk from his mentor. 

Belir held his hand out for Bakar's notes, and Bakar provided them, steadying his hands so that they did not shake. Belir's appraisals of his work always made him a bit nervous, for he wanted to do well, but this time it was more than just a bit of nerves. 

“You learn quickly, abni.” Belir’s use of a term of endearment caught Bakar’s attention. Some of the aluhuat used this word, meaning son, and while Belir had used an equivalent in Surmaan for both he and Musa, something about hearing it now was different. Bakar nodded, waiting for Belir to continue.

“I wish I had the time to write more for you, to encourage this ambition of yours. But I must leave you in the hands of Nyrus for now. I depart in the morning.” Belir passed back the notes, not offering any corrections. It was unlike him. He still wore that tired smile, but there was a deep sadness in his eyes, Bakar thought. He could not see any trace of anger, why then, was the decanter shattered?

“Has something happened?” It was a question Bakar knew he should not ask, but could not help but voice. It was clear something had. Maybe it was better to know, than to let it haunt the room like a wraith. 

“Yes.” Belir stood, and walked around the desk, he stood over Bakar, and looked down at him. 

“I received a sending from Tibor.” Belir said, his voice sounded hollow, grave. Bakar met his eyes, and found them distant and searching. 

“News of the hunt?” 

“Last words.” All the air left the room. 

Bakar was stunned. Had the hunt been that dangerous? Surely there had been an accident or some explanation as to what had happened. 

“Is Ghorn—?” He couldn’t fully ask the question, Belir shook his head in response. 

They hadn’t seemed nervous upon departure. They had been expected to come back. They were supposed to come back. Bakar looked to Belir, confusion plain upon his face.

“A coven had formed by the time they arrived. They did well to slay the two that they did.” It was the only explanation Belir gave. A misfortune. Something unaccounted for. 

This was why they killed changelings; they were the vessels of calamity. The formation of a coven meant empowerment of all the hags within it. Had Ghorn and Tibor arrived a bit earlier, they could have cut down the future hag before she had a chance to fully fledge. They hadn’t. 

Bakar had never seen a changeling, he’d only read of them in the bestiaries within the archives. An illustration of a girl with two mismatched eyes, accompanied by a litany of caution that now felt so much more salient.

“You will go alone?” 

“Yes. The other hunters are needed here, more than ever. You are not ready yet to face a hag, nor is Musa. But you will be, abni, in time you will be ready.” 

Belir placed his hand on Bakar’s shoulder. His grip was firm. There was reassurance there, but also something else.  

“Look at me, Bakar.” Belir commanded. Bakar did. He looked into Belir’s eyes, and they still had that same feeling about them during their first meeting in Mizik. It was hard to hold Belir’s gaze, because it felt like he looked into you, and saw all there was to see. 

“This will not happen to you.” The assertion was delivered as truth. With such conviction that Bakar believed it. 

He had no words to answer Belir, but he nodded. 

“Fetch Lander for me. I will tell him what has happened to Ghorn. He ought to hear it first.” Belir’s swap back to surmaan cut the interaction like a knife. Whoever had been standing before Bakar a moment ago was gone, and in his place was the leader of the Order of the Iron Shadow. 

“Yes, sir.” 

–

Bakar stood at the top of the stairs, and for a few minutes, he could not descend them. 

Below he could still hear the boisterous voices of Musa, Markus, and Quen. He found himself hoping that Lander had returned to his room, and already turned in for the night. That there could be a few more hours of ignorance. 

But Lander’s voice rose over the others, and he heard Musa give a retort. What was said was not understood by Bakar. It was too muffled, either by the stone, or the shock. 

It was not his job to deliver the news, Bakar reminded himself, forcing a foot down the first step. He had to gather Lander, nothing more. 

His face must have betrayed him, for when Musa looked up to see him, he set down his cards in a heap, and rose. 

“What happened, alakhuat?” Musa spoke in a hushed tone, and blocked Bakar from view of the others with how he stood. 

Bakar shook his head, he could not speak of it. It was not right for Musa to know, it had not been right for him to know before Lander.

“Later.” Bakar forced the word out. 

“It’s your turn Musa, come on.” Markus urged, calling from at the table, Musa turned and shot him a dirty look. Markus held up his hands and rolled his eyes. 

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Musa whispered. He searched Bakar’s face. 

Bakar nodded once, and reached forward to pat Musa’s arm, to ask him to move aside. He walked to Lander’s side, and Lander did not look up from his tomes. 

“Lander.” 

“Perhaps it was a mistake to study down here, it’s been nothing but interruptions. If you have more questions–”

“Lander.” Bakar cut him off, his voice was strained, and when Lander looked up, he quieted, and waited. 

“Belir wants to speak.” Bakar said. He wished he could have said it in Ma’arun, he would have been able to say it better. 

“Very well.” Lander gathered his things, any touch of arrogance gone from his voice. His brow was pinched with concern. He had the look of someone trying hard not to appear worried, but he did not mask it fully. 

When he left, Bakar did not know where to go. He did not want to follow Lander upstairs, and did not want to be in the barracks when Lander returned to them. So he walked out the main door, and out into the courtyard. 

The head of the ogre Lander had felled still hung by the stables. Bakar looked at it, and wanted to wretch. Tibor and Ghorn would soon be in a similar state of decay. He had to turn his eyes away from it. He walked in the opposite direction, toward the wall, which he climbed. He rested upon it until he grew too cold and was forced to return to the hearths within the Willow’s Rest. 

[huntinghags]

101. In Slumber, Found

[A month has passed since Bakar removed the Shade-Whisper Shawl, and his magic has at last returned to him. Adder receives a Dream Message from him in the night. First person POV Adder.]

The world was cast in the light of dusk, but shifted. Sourceless illumination, an echo of sunlight, distorted and scattered over a sprawling canopy of conifers. The distant features faded quickly into darkness, beyond my sight. Hoofbeats crunching through the frost-caked rime of a world freshly in spring, but still cold. I knew not where I was, but I knew vaguely that I was headed north, and had been for some time. 

I could not direct my vision, and so much of it was blurred. Half of it felt missing. The horse by which I traveled was a black blur. All of these sensations were muted, and somewhat alien, but there was a sensation I felt through it all. A sensation I recognized. 

It felt like a steady hand upon my back, or a deep breath. It felt like sitting at the edge of a campfire on a cold night, warmth radiating through you, but with the backdrop of a chill; some deep melancholy that waited at the periphery. Just beyond the surface of that warmth was something distant and veiled. 

I was used to feeling this sensation as a brush against my mind, fleeting and light, but here it was a blanket. I was enveloped fully within it. The dream was made of it, I realized, it was made of Bakar's magic. 

Movement slowed, and I saw the destination, an alcove of a cave, tucked into  the rise of a foothill. Crossing into the maw of the cave a wash of feelings, too tangled to fully parse, slid over my mind. They retreated before I could grasp at any of them. Relief and anxiety both existed within the mix.  

"Good morning, Adder." 

Bakar's voice was both sourceless and right beside me. I fought to look in its direction, but I stared out of the cave's entry. The silhouette of tall trees cast in the early purples of a sun that had dipped below the horizon. It was evening when he'd sent this, but he'd known it would be dawn when I'd receive it. 

"I hope this message finds you well." 

I was already better just to hear him. I was a passive participant in this, but I longed to reply. He felt so close to me here, in this space of slumber and dream, but I could not see him, could not touch him. 

"Upon waking yesterday, I felt the presence of the arcane for the first time in a while. It seems my affliction has passed. I know this was bothering you, so let this be my report on the matter." 

A smile tugged at my mouth, and if I could make a sound in this place, I would have laughed in relief. His affliction had not been permanent, he would have all his tools at his disposal once more. He spoke so stiffly and formally in a way, but there was so much between us now. So much to say. I didn't blame him for it. I was just glad he'd chosen to reach out to me. There was an ache in my chest that felt both soothed and exacerbated, I hadn't been fully aware of it until this moment. I'd been missing him terribly.  

"The journey is fairing well. By this time tomorrow, Alzali and I will be in Nagyrecsed. We're traveling within reason. This marks about halfway to our destination."

That far north already! Though it made sense, we'd covered a fair bit of ground traveling with an army. A single rider on horseback traveled quickly. I wished I knew where he was going, or what he was doing before I'd made him alter his course to find me. I knew asking Viper about it would get me nowhere. At least he wasn't pushing himself or Alzali too hard. It was a sign he'd listened. It was an assurance. 

'I know you may not be able to respond to this message yet, but I trust you'll figure it out soon." 

His faith in me warmed my heart. I'd delayed trying to learn the spell, but I would delay no longer. 

"If I'm in the Netherworld when that happens, I'll send upon my return." 

How long would he be away? At least this time, I'd have a sign that he'd made it out. I'd have to trust him to keep his word, and not assume the worst during the time in which he'd be unreachable. 

"I...Hope that's alright." 

I wished I could shake him. The hesitancy in his voice, the doubt. Of course it was alright.

"In some ways, I wish our goodbye had gone differently. It simply wasn't enough time. But I meant all of it." 

My face heated at the implication. There had been part of our goodbye that he didn't regret. I had thought about it all too often. I'd meant everything I'd told him too, and everything I'd done. There was still so much more I wanted to say, wanted to ask. It really hadn't been enough time. I'd never forgive Amilila for cutting our time short, but I wasn't sure if a week would have been enough either. A familiar regret rose in me, that I somehow had taken our time in Kelias together for granted. I'd give anything for another Lathafos with him, to go back to that world where we could nap under the shade of a tree without a care again. He'd wished the same. Over our four years apart I wonder how many times we'd both wished it. 

"The promise I made you still stands.We will see each other again." 

I knew Bakar to be a liar now. But the way he said those words, I had to believe them. I had to do my own part to make them true. Maybe they were just as much a wish as everything else, as foolish as the promise Badr and Shamsi had made each other. He was hundreds of miles away and only getting farther, and so much more than distance stood between us reuniting. It was a more hopeful goal though, to reunite rather than just find him. I knew we were working towards the same thing, at least. 

The dream began to fade, and I fought it as if I could will the magic not to recede. Clinging to the traces of it, and him.  The dream was as fleeting as the kiss had been. It was painful, it was like another farewell. Here we were close. When I woke we would be far again, when we woke I would have to go back to it all. Just a few more minutes, seconds even, of respite and I'd be able to manage it all, surely. 

But magic such as this was intangible, it could not be grasped. I had not the hands to find purchase and hold on.  He slipped away, and I hoped he was still resting peacefully in that cave near Nagyrecsed. Dawn found me about a week's worth of riding outside of Ternopil, the first rays of sunlight piercing the canvas of my tent. 

I put my hands over my face and rubbed my eyes, there were tears there, as there had been the last few mornings, but for an entirely different reason this time. All my feelings were in such a tangle. Foremost among them was urgency. I desperately wanted to reply. I had the means to learn the spell, but not the materials. I knew immediately that my day would be spent remedying that. I took a few minutes to collect myself, and then rose from my bedroll and pulled on my clothes and boots. Frost covered the ground here, too, though not as densely as it had in my dream. I was glad the occupants of a war camp rose early. 

I found myself in need of arcane ink, the stuff was expensive. More powerful spells meant copying more runes which meant more ink. There had been many signs that Bakar had been far more wealthy than his appearance suggested when he was in Kelias. His paying for a tenday at an inn with ease had been the first. However,another was how often he'd let me absolutely waste a substance I now knew was worth its weight in gold. I thought of how much of it I'd wasted on sloppy attempts in the past, and cringed. He'd chastised me, of course, but not nearly enough! 

I had also learned that I was horrible with managing my money, I never had enough of it. I still deemed the things I spent it on necessary, but adventuring was so full of expenses. More gold had entered and left my hands in the last few months than it had over the course of my lifetime in Kelias. 

I did not presently have enough coin to purchase the ink I needed. I had things I could trade for it, but we weren't in a town with merchants. I could not make simple exchanges. I knew I would likely have to barter with the wizards present in the army, but I had nothing they would be interested in. Gold would be my best bet, if I wanted to negotiate with them. 

I considered my options. Explaining myself to Gloomy seemed rather fruitless. She had little understanding of magic, reading, or writing. I did not like the notion of having to explain why I wanted to message Bakar, and why it had to be today. I doubted my arguments would hold any sway with her at all. It would also probably be unpleasant, and she would ask me more uncomfortable questions I didn't want to answer. So, I wrote Gloomy off. Which really only left Elzabet. 

I found myself at her tent, and as soon as my request for a loan of gold left my mouth I was already feeling foolish. Her insinuation that the dream message was for "sweet nothings" made my ears burn. It most certainly was not for "sweet nothings!" I wasn't quite sure what that even meant, but I didn't like the way she said it! 

For some reason I chose to reveal what had transpired between myself and Bakar during his stay in Varad-Oesek. Upon learning that I'd kissed him, Elzabet expressed a mix of shock and congratulations. 

I'm proud of you girl, I didn't think you had it in you. 

What was I supposed to say to that?! I didn't know. So I left with the gold I'd come for, a beet red face, and offered no reply. It was going to be a day of humiliation, I felt it already. 

Any respect I was given at camp was simply by extension of my relation to Elzabet, of that I was confident. Whether due to some breach of etiquette I was unaware of, or another reason, responses to questions I asked around camp were terse. I was eventually able to find the tent that housed one of the wizards that travelled with the army. 

A scrawny and lanky middle aged man sat upon a stool with a tome in his lap, small spectacles rested upon a thin nose. I cleared my throat, and the man did not deign to look up from his work. He simply carried on, seeming to ignore me. I was seconds into the interaction and already annoyed and impatient. 

“Excuse me.” I said, a bit loudly, and not fully masking the displeasure in my tone. The man let out a little huff of a sigh, and looked up at me. He had wrinkles from a life of furrowing his brow. He wore that expression now.

“Can I help you?” He asked, in a way that made it clear that he didn’t want to. 

“I need arcane ink. I was hoping I could buy some off of you.” Best to be direct, he gave the impression I was wasting his time, and I felt similarly about him. 

At my request, he raised an eyebrow, and looked me up and down. His eyes rested on my rapier for an extra moment. 

“Why? Does someone need it?” He asked, like I hadn’t just said I needed it. What did I look like, some wizard’s page? 

“Yes. Me.” I said, testily, and reached into my bag, procuring my grimoire and the spell scroll I sought to copy. 

The man in front of me looked at my grimoire with what I could only describe as a mix of disgust and confusion, but there was enough curiosity there that he reached forward and took it from my hands. He flipped it open to a random page, and looked even more confused. He looked back up at me.

“Is this a joke? Did someone send you to waste my time? Was it Francel?” He seemed genuinely miffed.

I looked at the page he’d opened to, it was an advertisement for turnips. I’d pulled it off the notice board years ago, paper wasn’t always readily available, and my book was a hodgepodge of scrap papers I’d written on the back of. I turned the page, revealing the spell on the other side. 

His eyes widened, which was a bit of a comical expression on his face. 

I continued to flip through the book until I reached the most recent spells I’d transcribed. It had taken careful practice, but I’d managed to write out the three circles of runes needed for each. They were immaculate, not even Bakar would have been able to find flaw in them. 

“See? Not a joke. I just need enough for one more of this scale.” I said, a little smugly as I noted how he scrutinized my work. “Can you sell me what I need?” 

“You can cast these?” He asked, still flummoxed. I wasn’t sure why my need for ink was contingent upon my ability to cast, but I didn’t feel like arguing to convince him. 

“Bars’greb-Imu’galnir.” I said the words slowly, trying not to trip over them. It was a longer spell than I was used to, it had required an additional strand of deriving. I traced the runes in the air with my fingertip. The effect was immediate. I felt a surge of energy and speed flow through my body, and there was a small localized wind that whipped around the area, it fluttered the pages of the grimoire. 

What a peculiar sensation. The shadows accelerated you by closing the distance between you and your target, but with this spell, I felt my body was almost imbued by the swiftness and lightness of wind. The runes needed for it made sense now. It was a removal of binding limits, and an empowerment of wind. 

I was so caught up in the mysticism of having used a new spell, that I almost forgot about the wizard, he reminded me of his presence when he spoke again. 

“Where did you study, and under what wizard?” He asked, as if it had somehow been some school or academy. He was marveling at me, I realized. 

“I’m from Kles and my master is a traveler.” It felt good to say ‘is’, when I’d been saying ‘was’ for years. 

“I will sell you the ink with a condition. I wish to copy a few of your spells.” 

“Fine by me, just not today. I need to focus on transcribing. Tomorrow, though. You can find me in the command quadrant of camp.” 

He blinked a few times. Elzabet had said before that status could get you many things, I was beginning to see why she often brought hers up in a negotiation. At last, he seemed to have exhausted his questions, and accepted my coin for the ink I required. 

I made my way back to my tent. I stationed Gouhwae, who had returned to my side this morning after being squashed during the heist, to sit outside. I’d instructed him to tell anyone who came to bother me that I was busy. He presently sat just outside of my tent, rigid, alert, and taking the task seriously. 

I drafted the spell thrice in regular ink on a spare sheet of parchment. I realized at the end of my last inscription, with a little embarrassment, that the paper was an advertisement for a whorehouse in Tysa. A naked, buxom, dwarven woman lounged over the letters of the brothel’s name: Close Quarters. I couldn’t remember where I’d snatched up the paper, but I clearly hadn’t been paying much attention. I was immediately glad this was just the draft. I crumpled it up and fed it to Gouhwae when I was finished. 

The nib of my fountain pen had nearly touched the paper of my spellbook when I heard a loud hiss outside my tent, followed by a shriek. 

“Mistressss isss busy!” 

“Adder!” It was Chrys’s voice. I sighed and put my pen down, before getting up and opening the flap. My sister was there, a bowl of stew in her hands. Gouhwae was puffed up to his largest size and had his wings flared. 

“You forgot mealtime. I asked Gloomy and Elzabet if they’d seen you, and they said they hadn’t all day. Yesterday I thought we agreed you’d take bet–” 

“I know. I’m sorry. I got carried away trying to learn a new spell. Thank you for the food.” I rubbed the back of my neck, and scooted Gouhwae to the side with my foot, taking the bowl of stew from Chrys sheepishly. She looked cross with me. 

“It hasn’t even been a day since that conversation and you’re already–” 

“I didn’t mean to!” I objected, not meaning to talk over her, but I did. She clamped her mouth shut and frowned, crossing her arms. Shit. I didn’t need another one of them mad at me. “It was for a good reason I promise, Chrys. I heard from Bakar last night.” 

“Oh, is everything alright?” Her expression softened a little. 

“Yes, he’s alright. But I… I really wanted to message him back as soon as possible. It takes a lot of time to transcribe a new spell, especially one of this rank and–”

“I understand.” Chrys said, empathically, and it was my turn to be stopped in my tracks. 

“What?” It seemed too easy. I never won arguments with one excuse. She didn’t know anything about magic, save for the little I’d told her, how could she understand? 

“If I could message…” She tried to force out the other words, but they wouldn’t come. Amilia’s forbiddance silenced her. But I knew what she meant. My heart sank for her. I couldn’t imagine how much she must miss her father, and how frustrating it would feel not to be able to even speak of it. I nodded once, and stepped forward, offering her a one-armed hug, carefully so as not to spill the stew.

“Thank you.” I told her, and I meant it. She returned my hug stiffly, and nodded. There was the start of tears at the corners of her eyes. 

“Don’t stay up too late.” She said quietly, wiping her eyes, and turning on her heels. She was walking away before I could say anything more. 

“Am I in trouble? I tried to tell her to leave!” A voice from low to the ground, I looked down to see Gouhwae cowering. 

“No. I’m going back to work.” I told him, not really having the patience to console the creature. I ate the stew quickly, realizing I’d been ravenous, and my focus had made me ignore the feeling. I set the bowl to the side and continued my work. 

I drew my runes slowly taking the time to work each line carefully as I took deep breaths. I let the magic flow through me as I did, bonding the runes to the page, and let them mix with my own essence. This book was as bound to me as my blade, a mage’s spellbook, Bakar had said, was an extension of the self. To hold another mage’s book in your hands was to hold hours of their devoted time and effort, it was a privilege, and should be treated as such. He’d always asked for permission before looking through mine. 

I finished the final mark, and let out a long exhale. I could feel the ley leave me as I did, settling on the page as the ink dried. A wave of exhaustion passed over me, and then discomfort as I realized I’d been sitting hunched over my book. What I wouldn’t give for a desk and a chair. 

I wasn’t done, though. The ink on the page of my tome wasn’t even fully dry by the time I picked up my other pen, and began to draft my message. An hour went by, then another. My page was full of crossed out words and my wrists and hands were smattered and smudged with black. 

How was I supposed to say all of this in such a restricted word limit? Had Bakar, too, agonized over his message? He probably had, he agonized over damn near everything. 

It was late in the night and camp was quiet by the time I’d finished. I stepped outside of my tent, and turned my gaze skyward. 

It was a clear night, and dark. The moon was waning, only a crescent of it hung in the night sky, and as I exhaled, my breath hung in the air with it.

“Ed’ib-Tanth’arn.” I murmured, tracing the runes. A heaviness clung to me, and I yawned, as if I could feel the slumber I was casting the magic into. I read from my paper, going slowly so as not to fumble any words. I’d used the limit exactly. 

 “You don’t know how nice it is to hear your voice. I’m so glad you’ve recovered. This spell was cast from my spellbook, you have my word.

En route to Varad-Oesek, our mission in Ternopil completed. Hopefully it keeps the region out of open war for a bit longer. Viper is healthy, and travels with us. I have not made progress with her otherwise. I’ll keep at it.

I tell you this in the confidence that you will stay your course and keep your promise. Whatever Boa and I did made the threads worse. They came to me unbidden when I tried to summon shadow. I will try to remedy this malady.  

 I wish we’d had more time, but I’ve told myself to be content that we got any at all. Every step we take, even in different directions, leads us up the mountain. I’ll know Ma’arun when we next meet.”

As the last word left my mouth, I felt the magic settle. It was still there, just small. It would wait until it could be delivered. I hoped Bakar would rest soon. I hoped this message was less jarring than the last one I’d sent him. I had considered not telling him of the threads, but... we’d agreed to work through this together, hadn’t we? I didn’t want him to hide things from me, and so I wouldn’t hide things from him. 

There was more I needed to say, but I didn’t have the words for that yet. I hoped I would find them before the end of the next month, before he descended to a place where he could no longer hear them. This would have to do for now. At least I could communicate with him now, there was a great sense of solace in that. 

Unlike the last time I’d used this spell, I did not stay up to ensure its delivery. I woke the next morning with the knowledge it had been received. No panicked sendings this time. Somewhere in Nagyrecsed, Bakar had rested. He was safe. 

[huntinghags]

100. A Sympathy Between Siblings

[Set after Cleanse, Chrys confronts Adder. First person POV: Adder.]

There had been a certain maddening monotony to the last few days. Sleep was still fitful. I was tired of the nightmares, and waking up in a panic. I'd started to wonder if it'd be easier just to let myself be fatigued, because laying my head on the pillow had become such an anxious thing. This wasn't like me. I didn't usually fret like this. I didn't know what to do about it, other than stay busy and stay tired. It all just felt like treading water. 

I tried to remind myself that it hadn't just been steps backwards. I'd made great strides with my magic in the last week. That was something. But it was hard to feel pride in it, when I'd lost my grip on shadow. I feared reaching for my magic. I feared the threads would come more readily. 

My siblings, too, were the source of much of my stress. Boa and Chrys joined me for training each morning. The results were lackluster. Boa lacks diligence and Chrys lacks courage. I do not know how to instill either. Viper refuses to come train at all, and has kept all of us at a distance. I am not Bakar. I am not even close. I do not have his wisdom, his patience, or his power. He is risking his life pursuing his task, our task, and I do not even know what I am doing. I find it all unbearably frustrating. 

Another day of not enough progress has me dragging my feet back to my tent, ready and not ready for the release of sleep. I right my slumped shoulders and fix my resting expression when I realize there is someone waiting for me there. The sun has set, and so Chrys has her hood down, she looks at me with an uneasy smile, and hands that are clasped a bit too tightly in front of her. It has been about a week, hasn't it? 

"Good evening, Chrys." I mustered a smile, and she nodded politely in greeting, seeming not to know what to say. I beckoned her into the tent after me. Once inside, I sat down upon my bed roll, and motioned for her to do the same. I did not miss how her eyes darted to my wrist as I pushed back my sleeve. She looked away quickly, guiltily. I wished she wouldn't punish herself for needing this. 

Offering out my arm, she took it gingerly. Her fingers were cold. It was an odd sensation, the lack of human warmth. I suppressed a shiver. It began to remind me all too much of things I'd been trying not to remember at all. Her fangs in my wrist brought them back to the surface immediately. 

I'm back in that cellar. The strength is leaving me. Day after day until I'm fully spent. Cold fingers. Cold instruments. Dying hope. The warmth leaving my own body. 

"Adder? Adder, are you okay?"

Chrys's voice brought me out of it, but looking down at my wrist and seeing the blood bead up where her fangs had been, seeing it stream down into my hand, a drop of it falling onto the bed roll-- 

I was going to be sick. I shut my eyes tightly and forced my breaths through my nose. I felt gauze at my wrist, and pressure. 

"Do I need to get the others, Adder? Should I fetch Elzabet and Gloomy?" 

My eyes snapped open. 

"No!" My voice came out stern and raised, and Chrys's eyes were wide, worried, and fearful, and so I repeated it, more softly this time. "No. No, it's okay."  

"I don't know that it is okay, though." Chrys said, her brow furrowing. Resistance wasn't something I was used to from her, there was a challenge in her words. She looked at the entrance of the tent. She was thinking of fetching my companions anyway. 

"Don't bother them with this, please." I asked. I wasn't sure why. I hadn't wanted to trouble them with any of this. They were going through the same things I was, only managing it better. 

"I won't, if you'll tell me what's going on." She still had her fingers around my wrist, pressing to staunch the blood. The pressure, and the way she held my stare, made me feel stuck. I immediately resented it. 

"There's nothing to t--" 

"I heard you the other night, and I heard you that morning in Krev-Turnu. You aren't fine! Stop saying you are!" Chrys cut me off swiftly, and her voice was pinched as if tears were at the edges of it. What was there to cry about? 

I looked at her in silence for a while. I didn't know what to say. I thought I'd been managing fine, but now that she'd pointed it out, it was so clear to me that I wasn't. My stomach knotted. My throat felt tight and I wasn't sure how I could possibly answer her, because I knew the second I opened my mouth, that I'd cry. I desperately didn't want to cry. So I bit my bottom lip, and looked at her in a plea to let this go, to let me go. 

“I’d like to help, Adder. You can talk to me about it.” Chrys assured me.

Would talking about it help? My impulse was that it wouldn’t, but I hadn’t been talking about it, and it hadn’t been getting better. It didn’t seem like she was going to drop it, either.

“I don’t know what to say.” I told her, because it was true, I didn’t know where to start. 

“You know my story, but I know very little of yours.” Chrys offered, and somehow that made it easier; framing it like a trade. 

“What should I tell you?” 

“You said you found the man you were looking for. Were you speaking to him that morning in Krev-Turnu?” 

“Yes. For the first time in years.” 

“When you said you’d lost someone close to you, did you mean him?” 

“Yes.”

“Is he a loved one?” 

I blinked at the question. The answer came easier than I would have thought. 

“He is.” 

It was still an answer that made tears well up, I wiped them away as quickly as they started. 

“Are you sad because you found him?”

“No! I’m not sad.” I didn’t know how I felt, but I knew that wasn’t it. Chrys didn’t say anything else, she just nodded, and waited for me to say more. 

“I liked seeing Bakar. It was all I’d been trying to do. I’m worried, I think. I want to see him again, but I don’t know when I will. He… he doesn’t take care of himself and he’s trying to do something impossible.” 

“He sounds a little like you.”  

I stopped at that comment, ready to refute it. But maybe there was some truth in it. I sat with it for a moment, and remembered all the times Bakar had asked me to have a little more care for myself. To fight less. To drink less. I’d made him worry when we were in Kelias. I wondered if he worried about me after he’d left. He probably had.

 I was doing those things now, wasn’t I? 

“It’s different.” I told her, but I wasn’t sure how it was. “He’s working too hard, he arrived ragged in Varad-Oesek and it was all my fault.” 

Viper’s words still haunted me. He hadn’t blamed me but she had, and I still blamed myself. 

“Adder, I’m not sure you’ve been doing much better.” Chrys said, and there was a gentleness there in her voice as she held one of my hands in hers, overturning it. 

My callouses were blisters. I had them from both sword and pen. My hands were raw. 

“It helps to be busy.” I said, trying to excuse it. But it felt flimsy when it left my mouth, and she gave me a bit of a reproachful look. 

“When was the last time you gave yourself some grace?” 

That was a damning question. I knew the answer to it. 

“The morning after he left.” 

“You gave yourself a single morning?” 

“Well, I had a lot to do.” 

She gave me that look again.

“How long did you have with him?” 

“A day.” 

“He left after only a day?”

“Amilila forced him to.” 

“Why the hells did she care if he was around?” 

I looked at her a bit incredulously. I hadn’t heard Chrys curse. But perhaps the subject of Amilila was what brought it out. 

“Much happened when you were away.” I admitted. There was a lot to the story I didn’t want to tell, but I realized that now, I probably would have to. 

Best to get it over with. 

When I’d finished my retelling of the events in Varad-Oesek, I had managed to make Chrys cross with me. I endured a thorough scolding. I held my tongue and didn’t object to what she was saying, because she was, in many ways, right. 

I promised that at least the next day, I’d take things a bit easier. Her stipulation that I let myself sleep in, and forgo a day of training was one that made me deeply uneasy. But I acquiesced. It would just be more time I could spend reading. I was halfway through a transcription of one of the folktales in the glossary, and had been meaning to finish it. She said she’d sit with me while I studied, but I think she really meant to supervise me and make sure I kept to my part of the bargain.

Chrys also made me eat dinner, because we both realized I’d skipped it. 

My chest felt a little lighter. To have spoken of it was helpful. I’d tried to make it small and move past it, but I’d still been carrying it. When I told Chrys that, she said of course I had been.

Before she left my tent, she made me promise that if I woke in the night again, that I would wake her. 

Somehow that made it less daunting. Enough that when I put my head to my pillow, for the first time in days, sleep found me quickly. 

[huntinghags]

99. Birthright

[The nightmare Adder in Cleanse]

Adder was out of breath, the air burned on every ragged inhale, she'd been trying to run, trying to escape something. She couldn't remember what it was, only how tired it had made her. How futile it had been. 

"Fair child." Adder felt the fey tug at her sleeve, beckoning her out further into the woods. She knew better than to heed them. 

"Don't call me that." She snapped at them, yanking her sleeve away from their tiny hands. It was growing dark. She needed to get back home. Which direction was Kelias? She couldn't see the lights. It was as if they had been snuffed out. Even the stars and moon were covered by clouds. There had been cicada song a minute ago, hadn't there? The sound of summer. So why was it so cold? 

"What would you like to be called then?" A man's voice, she recognized the sound of it, but couldn't put a face to it. 

Adder was standing in the center of the training ring, the familiar one that she'd used for years. That clearing nestled in the woods outside of town. Nearly home. She knew the way from here. That should have been a comfort, but there was a feeling of dread that gnawed at her stomach. Adder felt a hand on her shoulder, fear stopped her from turning. 

"My name is Adder." She answered, trying to force a conviction she didn't feel. This man knew exactly what she was. 

"We both know that isn't quite true, don't we, Masa'an?" Slow footsteps, as he circled her, he stopped in front of her.  Valdrin reached out, taking a strand of her hair, black as the night around them, and holding it up to her. He still had a hand on her shoulder.

This was not the version of him that she had seen painted in the temple, it was the one from that memory. He was human. His hair dark, his eyes a familiar shade of brown, the same as her left eye. She resembled this man. He was her father. The familiarity felt wrong. Adder wrenched herself away from him, taking several steps back. 

Valdrin did not look surprised, or angry. There was almost pity in the look he gave her. Pity and understanding. She bristled at it. 

"You don't know anything about me. That isn't my name." She spat out, wanting nothing more than to separate herself from that name, and from this man. 

"Still running from it all? Still trying to turn a blind eye?" Valdrin sucked his teeth, and shook his head dismissively. "You can paint yourself however you like. Village menace rather than cursed child. Apprenticeship rather than birthright. Human rather than what you are." He paused, looking at her carefully.

"You can call yourself Adder rather than Masa'an. But does covering it really change what's truly there? What did running get you?"  

 It killed me. It got me trapped and killed. I could not escape. The thoughts came to her, unbidden. 

"Stop." Fear was replaced with anger, white hot and boiling over. She drew the Traveler's Gift, and pointed it at her father. He seemed amused. 

"That's more like it. Fight, don't run. Isn't this what you're supposed to do?" There was admiration in his voice as he drew his own rapier. There was a smirk on his face, one she'd worn on her own mouth countless times. Confidence. Bravado. Things that had been beaten out of her in the last month.

This was what she was supposed to do. But it wasn’t just for that goddess, not anymore. It was to claw her way out of this. 

Adder surged forward and struck at Valdrin with a thrust of her blade. She was met with empty space. He was gone. 

“Slow.” The voice came from behind her, she spun to face him. Shadows clung to him, writhing and reaching for her. Beckoning. He looked at home in them.

“You could be faster.” Valdrin said, and took a step forward and Adder stepped away, the shadows nipped at her as he got closer.. “But you let fear cloud you. There was a time where this gift didn’t frighten you, and it shouldn’t. It’s a part of you.” 

“They are something to be frightened of. I saw what they can do to someone.” Adder argued, remembering all the warnings, remembering how the void had nearly taken Bakar. 

“He wasn’t born of them, not like you. But perhaps he gave the shadows to you because he knew you were meant to have them. Have you considered that, Masa’an? That you are exactly where you are meant to be? That your path was formed to lead you here?” 

Adder felt the threads in her arm tighten. The metal of her sword burned, but she gripped it tightly. It had all been closing in. It still was. The clearing grew darker as shadows crept forward, swallowing the forest. Adder shook her head. She couldn’t speak, fear had stolen her voice. 

“Summon the shadows. You cannot best me without them, Masa’an.” Valdrin said, though she could only hear his voice, he had faded into the darkness that surrounded them. 

Adder knew he was right. Weak as she was, she needed every advantage she could get. She held her breath, and summoned light. The shadows were like ink, and still, even illuminated, blocked her from seeing into them. She stepped forward, and cycled shadow in cascade. 

They were a shock to her system. She remembered the cold of the void, and the pain and isolation. Whispers overlapping that made it hard to think. She staggered a step, but righted herself, just in time to catch a strike of a rapier upon her own. The force of the blow wrenched her arm to the side, and she back stepped. Alert. There was no sensation other than quiet focus.

Nothing for a moment, and then an onslaught. The blows were so swift she had only the time to react and defend, most of it muscle memory. There was no strategy, no room for retaliation. Even with the shadows she could barely move fast enough to parry. She was outmatched. When wasn’t she? This was impossible. She was losing her grip. 

The Traveller’s Gift was forced from her hand and it went sailing into the darkness. Adder felt the tip of a sword against her throat. The shadows relented, so that she could again see its wielder. 

“Too much restraint and caution. You were at your best when you were reckless. You hold the shadows at an arm’s length. You squander your gift.” There was disappointment in Valdrin’s tone, and his expression.

“They’ll consume me.” 

“You will die either way. Trust in them. You’re a natural. You are my daughter. There’s a reason they came easier than magic did. They took to you. You remember it. Before you feared them, they simply made you feel alive.” Valdrin gave her a knowing smile that made her blood run cold.

That memory felt like ash. How had they ever felt light, and not like the weight they were now? Bakar had been right to be angry with her, when she’d treated them with levity. He’d known. He’d known to be careful and still ended up like—

“You hesitate, and that will be your downfall.” Valdrin’s voice was further away, the pressure at her throat gone. She saw him, paced away in the shadows, holding her sword out for her. 

“Reach for them, Masa’an. You have so much more to lose if you don’t.” The voice was fading, so was the image of her father. The sword too, became enveloped in shadow. She ran, reaching for the grip of the rapier.

The shadows felt like a membrane, she instantly recoiled at the sensation that felt far too much like flesh and gore. Her fingers wrapped around something, but it was soft and moving.

It had a pulse.

Something was wrong. She knew she shouldn’t look, but she had to know. 

Adder opened her eyes, and saw Bakar. His face still held that exhaustion, his eyes were closed. Her hands were in his chest, threads protruded from her skin, and flowed into the cavity. And in her hands, she held his beating heart. 

Woven together in ruin. 

From the very start.

Adder woke screaming. 

[huntinghags]

98. Cleanse

[Adder and her party were successful in their mission in Ternopil, the duke was captured. During the heist, Adder killed a two unarmed servants to ensure they were not discovered, something Gloomy chastised her for. Additionally, her ritual with Boa in Varad-Oesek to scry upon her parents in the past was not without its repercussions. The things she saw disturbed her, and worse, the threads within her grew. She reached for the shadows, and the threads came instead, snaring a guard they fought. Adder reels from the guilt and the terror of the things that happened during the heist, and her newfound responsibility for her siblings]

A few wayward crickets chirped in the rising light of dawn, Adder could barely hear them over the roar of the creek, swollen with snowmelt. She shivered, she'd underestimated how cold it still was, but it was too late now. Her warmer clothes were soaking wet, she'd cleansed them, washing the blood off of them. The remnants of anything the magic had left behind. She'd washed her hands too, until they were raw from the scrubbing and numb from the icy water. It had done little. She still felt it all there, and she could not wash away the taint that was beneath her skin. 

Adder's eyes and shoulders were heavy as she walked to the cart. She stopped to greet Halim. He got along amicably with Viper’s horse, the two of them grazed placidly while waiting for departure. Adder lamented, for a moment, that the same could not be true of their masters. Her actions an hour prior had been ones of tiredness, fast anger, and little patience. She wasn’t sure she regretted them, though. Chrys did not deserve to endure more of being ordered around. 

The spat hadn’t been without repercussions, Viper did not join them in the cart. Adder had to trust that she would accompany the war band, because as soon as she’d clambered into the cart and wrapped herself in a blanket, sleep found her.

—-

Breakfast was salt-beef, eaten from the edge of the cart as Adder looked out from the back of the cart upon the mustered troops, and wondered at what her life had become. War and espionage. It was a long way from stablework. Boa snored softly, and was leaned up against Chrys who was tucked into the darkest corner of the cart. Elzabet and Gloomy still slumbered as well. It was nice to see them peaceful. 

Adder had slept deeply at first, then fitfully. She could not recall any of her nightmares, only that she'd had them. There was a buzzing in her skull, louder than usual. The hags kept out of sight, and had not made a move to meddle, but Adder still knew they must be nearby. The Call had been stronger, the very presence of the hags beckoned. Adder took a slow breath as a wave of nausea passed over her, she didn't finish her breakfast. 

Reaching for her bag, Adder pulled out the rune she'd pilfered from the Duke's estate. Its meaning had escaped her the night before, but she'd been tired. She turned the stone over in her hands, and traced over the carved lines on its surface. This rune wasn't one she'd ever inscribed, but surely she could derive it. Somewhere, hidden among the marks, would be the key rune. 

Tugging out a piece of spare parchment and a stick of charcoal, Adder copied the shape of the marks lightly, and then began to isolate pieces of the rune, rearranging some of the marks in sketches below the first. She furrowed her brow. It was some sort of property rune from the looks of it. At least she could remove those strokes and work on the rest. 

At last, she'd derived three curving hooks, one bisected by a straight mark. She nearly dropped the runestone. 

Naarn. 

This was a rune of shadow. She frowned down at it. There was a certain bitter irony to having found such a thing. Adder could not use this rune, not yet, she'd need the accompanying one for potency first. Perhaps that was for the best. She tucked the rune back in her pocket, and sighed heavily. She'd spend the rest of the day deriving a different sort of glyphwork. She retrieved the Glossary of Spoken Sand and turned to the last page she'd marked. 

—

It was only after the fifth gasping retch that her stomach was empty, and Adder could lean back against the base of a pine, shoulders heaving and head pounding. Cold sweat clung to her, and made the night air bite at her skin. It wasn't the only discomfort. Her ungraceful exit from the tent and stumble through the brush had left her with several small nicks that smarted. 

Whether the tears had been from the force of the vomiting or the nightmare was unclear, Adder wiped them from her cheeks all the same. She clenched her teeth together, trying to stop the sobs that rose in her throat, and wrestle them into silence. The shaking was either panic or shivers. She reached up for Bakar's amulet, and let her fingers slide across the worn engravings on it, forcing her breathing slower. It had just been a dream. He was safe. Gods, she hoped he was safe. 

It would almost be worth the scolding to fetch the scroll of sending from her bag, and reach out for him. She'd do it just to hear him right now. But there was no assurance that Bakar hadn't already slipped into the netherworld, and she'd have to trust in him. He'd trusted her not to waste his gifts. So, even though she so desperately wanted to, she resisted the temptation. 

A rustling cut through the stillness of the night, and Adder drew her rapier swiftly. 

"Easy now, fair one. Put the biting iron away." The tiny voice was nasally, and belonged to the small myconid sprite that Boa kept in close company. It flitted out of the brush, and hovered just outside her reach. Adder sheathed the Traveler's Gift. 

"I was only being cautious." Adder told it in a half apology. 

"You and the other one are very similar, you know, all teeth and raised hackles. Mine was raised in the wilds, but does not behave so. She treats us kindly, she carries no iron." 

Adder figured the sprite must be comparing her to Viper. It wasn't a comparison she took any pleasure in, but she supposed there was some truth to it. 

"I do not mean to treat you unkindly. The iron I carry has saved my own skin on more than one occasion. You are not the only creatures it wards against. It was a gift from my master." 

"The man that stunk of iron and shadow?" 

"You've been spying." 

The sprite gave a wide grin. 

"My friend only wishes to know that her sister is well." It answered, twisting the truth the most it could. 

"Is that why you're here now?" 

"She heard you cry out. You woke her, and many of us. Such discourtesy. She is generous enough to worry instead of being cross. So, are you alright?" 

"Yes." 

"Hah! You say it so convincingly while looking paler than a ghost. It's so delightful the way you can spin mistruth! Do it again! Again!" The creature clutched its sides and cackled with giddy laughter, it buzzed closer to her, Adder shooed it away. 

"It was just a nightmare." Adder said dismissively.

"Oh, it wasn't though, was it? Tell me another!" 

"I will," Adder sucked her teeth, "if you will tell Boa I said I am fine." It would be able to relay the message if it worded it so, it wouldn't be a lie. 

"Very well, you have my word." Another grin with too many teeth from the sprite. 

“The grass is blue and the sky is green.” She said with confidence, the sprite burst into another fit of guffaws. 

“Delightful! Enjoy your misery, fair one.” The sprite said, before it flitted off and the night was once again empty. Adder knew she should go back to her tent, but she doubted she’d get any more sleep this night. 

[huntinghags]

97. Chance

[Though neither of them are currently aware of the significance, Lachlan and Adder both hail from the Kles region, in neighboring towns. They met, once, many years ago. This story takes place 16 years before the start of the campaign. First person POV Lachlan.]

Kelias had previously just been a dot on my map, or a place I'd heard my brothers discuss with my father. I'd never been anywhere farther than Narae, which was only a short distance from the family farm. Arriving in Kelias, I found it similar to Narae, albeit half the size. The buildings were of a different style, but it was surrounded by trees, and let up to have a wide town square. I could imagine that they used it for markets and festivals, like they did in Narae. The town had a small general store, a tavern, and an inn with attached stables. 

Narae did not have a temple to Erastil like Kelias, and I knew my brother had been asked to leave an offering and a prayer before we left. 

"Stable the horses, and stay out of trouble Lachlan. I'll collect you when I'm done." Declan had told me, his voice stern. He was projecting. I rarely got into trouble, while he found it constantly. But our father would tan his hide if anything went awry on this trip. Our dealings with the farmers in Kelias helped our herds, it was good to have a mix of animals from different lines. Every couple of years we made the trip to trade some of our livestock. 

I was saddle sore, and our horses were tired. While I was used to riding, I wasn't used to riding for quite so long so many days in a row. I led both of them towards the stable. At first glance, I didn't see anyone around. 

"Hello?" I called out, a few of the horses peered out at me from their stalls, and then a girl popped out from around the corner. 

"Hello!" The girl greeted me with an eager smile. Dark hair framed her pale face, which had smudges of dirt on it. Her clothes were too big on her small and thin frame, like a set you were supposed to grow into. Only, it was clear she'd had them for a while. They were as patchwork as my own hand me downs. She'd used a couple of strips of fabric to tie the sleeves out of her way. 

"I'm looking for the stablemaster." I told her, she was probably a stablehand, but Declan would scold me if I didn't ensure I didn't speak to the stablemaster. I also wanted to make sure they were in good hands. This girl looked likely to take my coin and tell the stablemaster I hadn't paid.  

"You're looking at the stablemaster." The girl gave a loud laugh, and sketched a bow. She took a step forward to peer up at the two horses behind me, her eyes widened, and so did her grin. It rounded her cheeks, and was full of mischief. "These are good horses." She remarked, and reached forward as if to give mine a pat.

"You're a kid." I stated. I stepped in her way and frowned. The girl raised a brow at me, and crossed her arms. 

 "So? You are too. It doesn't make me not the stablemaster! You can ask Mihail!" She raised her chin and puffed out her chest a little bit. She was still nearly a head shorter than me. She looked ridiculous. 

"I'm thirteen." I informed her imperiously, as if that somehow made me not a kid. 

"That's a stupid name." She said, and when I opened my mouth to correct her, she gave me a playful shove, and laughed. 

"I'm Adder. I'm twelve, I think." She offered out her hand. 

"Lachlan." I said, and found myself shaking her hand. She brushed past me and took the reins I was holding. She cooed to the horses, and urged them forward towards the stables. I just stood there, feeling rather confused about what to do. 

"Well, come on. You have money, right? Follow me, Lachlan." Adder waved me over. She tied up Declan's mare, and set about removing the tack from my horse. She moved quickly, and seemed to have a method to where she stored things. I looked around the stables. No one else was there. It seemed she really might be the stablemaster. 

"I have money. How long have you been the stablemaster?" I asked. I wanted something to do, so I worked on the straps of the saddle on Declan's horse. 

"Two years! Mihail used to do it all himself but he was working himself grey doing that and the inn." 

"Is Mihail your father?" 

"No!" She answered, rather forcefully. She peered around the flank of my horse at me, and scrunched her face. "You're not going to get a discount for helping. I can do that." 

I shrugged, and continued with the saddle straps.

 When she'd stabled my horse, she walked to my side, and helped me take off the saddle. 

"Which one is yours?" She asked. 

"That one, his name is Iya." I pointed to the one that she'd just put into a stall. Iya wasn't really my horse, but I cared for him more than my brothers, and when I rode, I always rode Iya. I spent a lot of time with him, so I thought of him as my horse. 

"Good." Adder said, and didn't elaborate. I waited for her to, but she just continued working. She was so busy. I was exhausted just watching her move. 

"Why is that good?" I finally asked. 

"Because it's clear his coat and mane have been taken better care of than this mare, and so I was going to judge you if you'd said this horse was yours." She answered, plucking a brush from the shelf. She began to remedy some of Declan's negligence. 

"Surra is my brother's horse." 

"Tell your brother he should brush her more." 

"I don't think he'd listen. He'd probably knock me flat if I tried to boss him around." 

"So?" She asked, and I realized her nose was crooked. Acdin's nose looked a little like that, from the time Rodlan had broken it in some stupid sibling squabble. 

"Maybe I'll tell him." I said, not wanting to seem more cowardly than her.

 There was a lull in the conversation as Adder focused on brushing Surra, and so I took out the map my father had given me and sat down on one of the benches. I wondered if we would take the same way back when we departed tomorrow. I couldn't imagine how long it would take to travel to some of the further marks, when the route to Kelias had already felt so long. 

I was suddenly aware of a presence next to me. Adder stared down at the map with a curious expression. 

"What's that?" She asked. 

"A map." I answered, tilting it so she could see it better. 

"What does it say?" Adder narrowed her eyes. 

"Can't you read it?" 

"No, why would I know how to read?" She asked with a scoff.

I blinked a couple times, considering her question. 

"My father says that if you can't read, people will cheat you. He made sure we all knew how." I said. Adder plopped down next to me, and continued to stare at the map. 

"Speaking of being cheated, I need your money." She held out her hand, and I passed over the coins Declan had entrusted to me. She pocketed them. "So... what does the map say?"

"It shows the Kles region. We're here, in Kelias." I pointed to the dot on the map. "I'm from Narae, this is the road we took to get here." I traced the line between the two towns. 

"It looks so small here. But it's days away, right?" 

"It was a lot of riding." I nodded.

"Can I hold the map?" Adder asked, and I handed it to her. She spent the next few minutes looking over it, occasionally asking me to read the name of a place for her. She seemed engrossed by it, and would often comment that she'd heard a traveler speak of a place, but hadn't known where it was. Eventually, Surra stomped impatiently from where she was still tied off. 

"Whoops." Adder jumped to her feet, putting the map in my lap, and hurried to the mare. She gave me an apologetic look. "Stay there. I'll be right back." She said, and was already taking Surra to a stall before I had the chance to respond. I folded the map and put it back in my pocket.

Adder was gone for several minutes, and I started to worry she really had taken the coin and fled. But she returned, skidding to a stop and out of breath. 

"You stayed!" She exclaimed, clearly surprised that I had. She'd been gone for a bit, but she'd asked me to stay, so I had. It wasn't like I had anything better to do. 

"Where did you go?" 

"To get something."  Adder was still out of breath, wherever she'd gone she'd clearly sprinted the entire way there and back. She shoved a hand in one of her pockets, and then gave me a funny look. 

"What?" 

"You showed me the map so I wanted to show you something. But I don't know if you'll be able to see it. I don't have anything else cool." She spoke so fast I could hardly understand what she was saying, she looked both bashful and indignant. She had something closed in her fist, but held it close, as if she wasn't sure she actually wanted to show me. 

"Why wouldn't I be able to see it?" I asked, wondering if it was something imaginary. She was a little old for such things, and so was I. But my curiosity was piqued by the fanfare around it. 

"I don't know! I've never shown someone who can see it. Don't blame me if it doesn't work! Promise you won't tease me, swear!" Adder held out her other hand, pinky extended. 

"What are we, six?" I asked, and she clearly didn't like that answer because she scowled. She moved her hand closer to me. 

"Swear." Adder was acting like this was a blood oath rather than a pinky promise. I rolled my eyes and complied. 

"I swear. Show me what you have." I assured her. She gave me a hard look, and then slowly unfurled her fingers. 

All she had in her hand was a small feather. That was it? That's what this was all about? 

"A feather?" 

"Look at it closely!" She commanded, and placed it in my hand. I scrutinized it. It was like any other bird feather I'd ever seen. I grasped the end of it and tilted it back and forth, letting it catch some of the light that filtered into the stables. If I held it just so, there was a small flash of color, vibrant and bright. 

"Oh. Huh." 

"Did you see it?" She grabbed onto my arm, her voice was giddy. 

"It's got hidden colors in it. What kind of bird is it from?" I gave her the feather, she was beaming. 

"It's not from a bird." She answered, suddenly very smug and self-satisfied. She twirled the feather between her fingers, and held it up high. 

“It’s…not?” I tried to think of animals that weren’t birds that had feathers. None came to mind. “What’s it from then?” 

“A neighbor.” She said, like that explained everything. I waited for her to continue.

“Well. I mean. I call them the neighbors.” Adder rubbed the back of her neck. She turned away from me, and seemed to be looking for something. She stood on her toes and looked up at the rafters, then crouched down and looked between a few of the crates of supplies.  

“UGH!” She stood and put her hands on her hips. “Never around when I need them!” She turned and grabbed my hand.

“Come on!” She said, and tugged me forward. I nearly lost my balance.

“Wait, I don’t know that I’m supposed to—“

“It’ll be fast! Come with me!” She left no room for argument. 

Adder didn’t let go of my hand as she swiftly walked away from the stables. We were going towards the edge of the forest. I dug my heels in and stopped. The forest was not a place I was supposed to go, especially not without one of my brothers. I’d broken the rule enough times to realize it was better not to break it. Declan would tell our father, and then our father would let me have it.

Adder spun around.

“The woods are dangerous.” I said in explanation. Adder laughed loudly at me. 

“That’s what adults say because the woods are fun. Don’t tell me you’re scared?” Her tone was full of goading. 

“I’m not. I just don’t want to get—“ 

“Then hurry up and we won’t get caught.” She pulled at my sleeve. 

“Fine. It’s not far?”

“It’s not.” 

It was far, or at least it was a distance from the town that made me uncomfortable. I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to hear Declan if he called for me. If he had to look for me, I was sure I’d be sorry. 

“Okay! Good! Hide.” Adder gestured to a bush at the edge of the clearing. I was regretting this already. I opened my mouth to protest but she shushed me and pushed me toward the bush. What had I gotten myself into? The branches poked into me, and I could feel that I had twigs in my hair, but I hid and I waited. 

Adder cupped her hands to her mouth, and made a strange call, then she darted back to my side, and shoved herself into the bush as well. 

“The hells are we doing?” I hissed. 

“Shut up and watch!” She put a hand over my mouth, and I swatted her away. This girl! I was about to give her an earful when she pointed to the clearing. A small songbird, dull brown in color, landed in the center. 

“There it is.” Adder whispered. 

“It’s just a bird.” I whispered back.

“Is not. Here. Look through this.” She pressed something into my hand. It felt like a river rock, only there was a hole worn through its center. I held it up and peered through it.

The bird in the clearing wasn’t a bird at all. Looking through the stone, the appearance of it was wholly different. It looked like a salamander, sort of. It really looked like no creature I’d ever seen, but that was the closest thing I could compare it to. It had a long body of shiny skin that gleamed in the sunlight, and its two forelimbs were wings that sported feathers far more splendorous than the one Adder had shown me at the stables. 

It sat back on its tail and stubby legs, propping itself up with its wings and surveyed the clearing, its long neck a periscope for its head. Anywhere the light hit it shimmered, it was almost too dazzling to look at directly. Suddenly its attention snapped to the bush. 

“F’YLLTOIR!” The creature shrieked and hissed, it took off quickly, streaking through the air like a colorful comet. 

“Tà bryn!” Adder called after it, and then she turned to me. “Did you see it? Did it work?” 

“I’ve never seen anything like that. What just happened?” I looked down at the stone and turned it over in my hands. 

“That’s a seeing stone. I traded a neighbor for it, they said it helped other people see them. But, I guess it only helps a little. I never got it to work for Andrea. She called it a dumb rock and told me to stop telling tall tales. I thought I’d been cheated!” She laughed boisterously, I’d never seen someone smile so earnestly. I was smiling too. I felt like I’d just seen something out of a storybook. 

“Thank you for—“ 

“LACHLAN!” Declan’s voice was distant but I still heard it.

“Shit!” I swore. I didn’t think; I just ran back towards the town. It was only after Declan had finished chastising me that I realized I still had the seeing stone. I’d have to give it back in the morning, because I’d been told to stay in our inn room. 

The entire evening I would hold the stone up to my eye, and look out the small window, hoping to see something. But it was soon too dark to see anything at all. 

Declan at least sent me to fetch our horses, and I found Adder there. Her face lit up when she saw me, but almost as quickly her expression turned to a frown.

“Did I get you in trouble?” She asked, mumbling quietly, and wrung the bottom of her shirt in her hands. 

“A little.” I admitted. “But it was worth it.” 

That mischievous grin from yesterday was back on her face. I wished I wasn’t leaving. I wanted to see more. I pulled the stone out of my pocket, and offered it back to her.

“Here. Thanks for letting me borrow it.” 

“You can borrow it a little longer, I don’t actually need it.” She reached out and closed my fingers around it. 

“You don’t?” 

“I can see them just fine without it. Be careful using it though, they don’t like being seen and some of them are nasty little shits. Be discreet! Don’t listen to them either. They love tricks.” Her expression was suddenly very serious.

“I’m leaving, though.” I said. I wanted to keep the stone, desperately, but it didn’t seem right to borrow something when I didn’t know how long it would be before I could return it. 

“Well, I’m not. I’ll be right here. The next time you’re back in Kelias you can return it if you want.” Adder patted the top of my hand, and pushed it back towards me. 

I thought I’d be back, so I agreed, thanked her again, and told her farewell. 

I saw Adder again, a final time, when she waved me off from the edge of town. The sun was high in the sky, and for the first time I noticed that in the light, one of her eyes was brown, and the other wasn’t. 

[huntinghags]

96. Harmony

[A combination of two stories featuring Trummogs]

[Kelias, Year 2]

 Adder leaned over, plucking a blade of grass. Bakar watched her, his face its usual stoic and unreadable expression. She grinned at him, and placed it between her two thumbs, before leaning forward to blow. A rasping whistle rang out over the clearing. 

"Now we wait. Unless you'd like to try?" Adder wiggled the blade of grass at him.

"I doubt I could call whatever this creature is in such a fashion."  Bakar huffed and shook his head. 

"You're going to upset the Trummogs with that attitude." Adder scanned the clearing, despite Bakar having lowered his wards, perhaps the neighbors would still be too nervous to come out. She held the grass whistle up again and made another long note. Silence. 

 And then, a bit distant, and quieter than usual, there was the tinny sound of a trumpet, one clear note. Adder smiled widely. It was feeling shy, but it was here.

 "There, in the grass. It's hiding, afraid of you, no doubt, Bakar." Adder pointed in the direction of the trumpet.

 "As it should be." Bakar leaned forward, resting his chin lazily on his hand, but he looked where Adder pointed. 

 "We can get it to come closer. They love music. Can you sing?" Adder asked. Bakar looked at her like she'd asked him if the sky was green and the grass was blue, his eye a bit wide. He was taken back, for a moment, to those nights in the desert. When he and Musa had scraped up enough coin to get drunk enough to forget their misery temporarily, and instead delight in the temporary merriment of a hedonistic lifestyle. His expression soured, his mouth tugging into a frown.

 "No, not well." He muttered. 

 "How well you sing doesn't really matter, they just like it when you do it. Here. I'll show you." Adder shoved his arm playfully, and as always, Bakar sat stiff as a stone.

 Adder began, her voice a bit raspy and out of tune, but she sang loudly in a voice that carried out across the clearing. "From sapling to tree, follow me. To the oaken table.

   From earthen roots, shed your boots, and dance if you are able." 

 The answering refrain of notes came a bit louder, a bit closer than before. Adder smiled, but felt a bit discouraged. This usually brought them out in force, but just one had been brave enough to play, and even still it hid in the grass. 

 "Your turn. It wants you to sing now. You can sing any song, they always somehow know the notes. Don't ask me how." Adder elbowed him.

 Bakar gave her a look that seemed to ask, 'must I?' but Adder stared at him intently, with an expression of impatience. Bakar sighed deeply and thought for a moment, before clearing his throat. 

 "Far across the scorching sand, you can find a distant land, and it is no mirage.

  Hills of green, people serene, beyond the dunes and dust." His voice was a deep baritone, clear and steady. Adder listened with a bit of wonder, she hadn't known he could sing. The song itself was wistful and slow. 

There was a short pause after he stopped, before a snout poked out of the grass. A creature that looked a bit like a ferret revealed itself, only instead of fur it bore a coat of leaves, the color of autumn. It reared up, balancing on its back feet, and inhaled, before a pouch on its throat, much like that of a frog, inflated. 

 Crisp notes rang out, continuing where Bakar had stopped, it matched the same emotion he had sung, but deepened it. A few others, hidden far back in the brush of the wood, began to join it, harmonizing. Bakar gaped at them, in genuine amazement. Adder watched his face, she'd never seen him make such an expression. 

 "How?" He whispered to her, afraid to break the small creatures out of their song. "That is a song from miles and miles away, how can they possibly know it?" 

  "They just do. Isn't that neat?" Adder whispered back, a bit smugly. Bakar was clearly impressed. It wasn't often she got to show him something new. She expected him to play it off, and resume his grumpiness, but he simply nodded, and seemed a bit lost in the music.

—

[Some time after Bakar’s Departure]

Winter had passed, and the region slowly and steadily made its way into spring. The nearby stream gurgled loudly with snowmelt, and the vibrant greens of new grass poked through the dwindling drifts. 

The world was so alive and full of noise. On the first day back from the netherworld, it had been almost deafening. But it had been almost a week now, and Bakar had adjusted, though his attention was still sometimes pulled by birdsong, or the soft colors of a freshly blooming flower. 

The last drops of daylight hung over the land, painting the world in shades of gold. Bakar rested idly by the fire, which popped and hissed with the wet wood within it. The birds had quieted, and there was the intermittent sound of insects; the first to pull themselves out of winter. Cutting through the air, was a small trumpeting sound, clear and resonant. Bakar froze, and listened keenly. Somewhere, in the distance, it was echoed. 

His chest tightened in a way that it felt as if someone had gripped his heart. A memory, one of her smile and laughter, and the reedy buzz of the grass whistle she’d held between her fingers. There was a weight on his shoulders, but the ghost of a smile on his lips. How long had it been since he’d laughed? It had come so easily in Kelias. It was at that moment that he realized how quiet it had been. The netherworld had been muted, the road solitary and silent. Well, almost solitary. Bakar looked over to find Alzali nosing through the snow to devour the grass sprouting beneath. 

It felt like he’d been sleepwalking, and was awake now. Bakar reached down and plucked a blade of grass. He inspected it, noting how bright it was in color. This was something absent below, but it had been abundant in his time in Kelias. Kelias was bright green grass and rolling pasture, dark green trees that cast shadow over the moss on the forest floor and their bark, Adder was yellow, like the last rays of sun that poked through the canopy. He bent the grass blade like she’d shown him and brought it to his lips. 

And then he discarded it. The neighbors likely wouldn’t approach him without Adder at his side. They’d been wary even then. What would it accomplish, other than bringing up a memory he shouldn’t dwell upon? Bakar tried to push all such thoughts aside, he didn’t need any reminders worming their way into his sleep. He nestled down into his bed roll, and closed his eyes. Far away, he heard the trill of a Trummog. 

—

A few evenings passed before he heard the Trummog once more, though how many Bakar was unsure, he’d long stopped counting the days. 

This time, it was like a flute, a melodic note that trilled. Bakar again plucked a blade of grass. He brought it to his mouth and blew, it made a loud buzzing sound, and tickled his lips. He felt ridiculous. A laugh bubbled out of him, and it was almost startling. He found himself wondering if the grass whistle was really how you called the Trummogs, or if Adder had just wanted to watch him make a fool of himself years ago. He supposed it didn’t really matter. With a chuckle, he blew the grass whistle again, and waited.

There was a tentative note, played quietly in harmony, that came in response. But no matter how many times Bakar played the whistle it would not come any closer. 

Sighing, Bakar picked up Ashbrand and moved it to the other side of the camp. The fey hated cold iron, and perhaps that was what kept them at bay. He suspected this was not the only barrier, though. Adder had been with him before, and while the neighbors shied from him, they flocked to her.

So many memories that he had of Adder involved the neighbors. She would often have one resting on her shoulder, or tugging at her hair. On their walks in the woods, she would kneel by a fallen log and overturn it, finding some seelie or unseelie beneath it. Her Sylvan and Aklo were fluent, the words flew from her tongue as easily as they did the fey, and she was an expert negotiator with them. 

When Bakar called out in Sylvan that he meant no harm, he knew his pronunciation was lacking. It was a language he was more adept at reading than speaking. He hoped they understood him. 

The woods were silent, and he could not help the melancholy that filled him at the rejection of his plea. Bakar took it as a reminder that he didn’t belong in this world, her world. He’d done much to earn this scorn. It had been foolhardy to try. Feeling defeated, he rose to collect Ashbrand. 

He made it a few paces, when he heard a small rustling. Bakar froze. He remembered that he had forgotten a step. He hadn’t offered a song.

He hummed a note, and waited. There was more rustling, and then he heard the note repeated. There was a song he wished to hear, but he couldn’t quite remember how it went. Tentatively, he hummed the starting notes he remembered. 

There was a pause, and then, the notes were repeated, but it sounded as if they were played upon a fiddle. 

“Can you help me remember the rest?” Bakar asked, calling out in his broken Sylvan. The response was the first notes again, followed by the rest. 

It was the song of Renewal. The one Adder had sung to the Trummogs in Kelias, and the one the fiddlers had played on the holiday itself, when he’d danced with her. 

He couldn’t sing or hum along, for his throat was too choked up. Bakar felt the start of tears at the corner of his eye. It wasn’t like when Adder had shown the fey to him, there was a single Trummog, but the song was still beautiful. It was enough to remember. It was enough to make him miss her bitterly and think of all the other small pieces his memory had lost in the years apart. 

The song had stopped, but Bakar hadn’t noticed. Tears flowed freely down his cheek. Maybe it had been the shock of such a strong emotion after weeks in the netherworld, or maybe it had just been the song itself, but he had not cried in this way since the day he’d left her. 

Bakar felt a nudge against his ankle, and heard the sound of a tambourine, struck once. Wiping his eye, he looked down to see the Trummog. The creature’s leafy body trembled, rustling softly.  It retreated a step when he looked in its direction. It spread its feet and adopted a bit of a wide stance. And then it did something Bakar wasn’t expecting. 

It laughed. But he knew that laugh. The cadence of it, the way it cut off abruptly at the end. It was one of his favorite sounds. 

They were thousands of miles away from Kelias, how could it—

“Your turn. It wants you to sing now.” The Trummog said, in Adder’s voice. The little creature seemed to be looking at him crossly, it approached, and put one of its birdlike feet atop his boot, and made a tiny huff. 

Bakar knelt down to be closer to the creature, and marveled at it. It wasn’t often that he encountered wonders, anymore. Of course this one would be an echo of her. Adder had shown him the world in a new light. 

“You can’t possibly be from Kelias, can you?” He asked the little fey. 

“They just do.” It replied in Adder’s voice again. A non-answer. It was still looking at him expectantly. 

“I didn’t keep my end of the bargain, did I?” Bakar chuckled, and reached down slowly to place a hand atop its head, which it permitted. The Trummog made a few high-pitched notes that sounded like a wooden flute, and then shoved his hand to the side to look at him again, waiting. 

“I’ll sing for you. Thank you for being brave enough to come out, and for reminding me.”

[huntinghags]

95. What Comes After

[Bakar departs, having been exiled by Amilila out of her fear of his power. He left in the night, and left Adder with the following message for Viper:

I have to leave by order of the Duchess. I’m sorry for abandoning you. I thought I would have more time to explain. I’ll be back once I finish my task. Do not follow me. You must stay with Adder. She can protect you and help you with your studies. I know this is not what you want, but try to get along with your sisters. 

Make sure you keep the hood up, even when you sleep. 

Thank you for stabling Alzali. I’ll tell him that you miss him. 

I’m sorry I couldn’t find another way. 

Bakar]

It was still early in the morning, the sunrise stained the landscape pink, and Adder considered that perhaps she should have waited to wake her sisters until after her training. They would have to adjust to the early hours soon enough. If Viper had traveled with Bakar, she was probably already accustomed to them. A hangover made any morning difficult. Adder had experienced hers last night, it had made every swing of the forge hammer feel like it descended upon her skull instead of the metal in front of her. The fog that clung to her now was just one of exhaustion. She couldn’t have slept more than an hour or two. 

Adder had been glad to crawl into bed sore and spent; that she hadn’t had to lie awake alone with her thoughts, and hadn’t been able to lament the empty space beside her. It was a mercy that they were leaving this morning, it made the fact that Bakar had left easier. She’d already stayed in one place after his departure before. She couldn’t stomach it again. Was it heavier now than it had been the first time, or simply different? 

This wasn’t goodbye forever, she reminded herself as she walked through the still sleeping town of Varad-Oesek, and out into the woods. Something about the sight of the trees, though they were a darker green, snow covered, and coniferous, held a pang of nostalgia. This morning she found that feeling everywhere. She felt it like a spectre as she looked out onto the clearing. The fresh snowfall had wiped any trace of yesterday away. It had covered their footsteps. It had covered the line Bakar had traced. But they’d been here. He’d been here. 

 Reaching down, she scooped up a handful of snow, and pressed it to her face, and then through her hair. The cold was a shock, but it woke her up a little. Adder let out a shaking shivering breath that hung as a cloud in the winter air. To be able to see it was a reminder that she was alive. That was a blessing, but it was also somehow the new goal. Bakar knew she hated promises, but this one she’d been willing to concede if it meant he would do the same. Survive this. It was a goal she was familiar with, but it had never before felt so daunting. She tried to forget that they had both broken promises to each other. 

Slow meticulous steps started the first set of sword forms. Every turn and swing aggravated her already sore muscles, and her limbs felt leaden from the fatigue. Just for today, she’d allow herself grace. She was alone in this clearing, and no one was watching. She was permitted to stumble. She just needed the familiarity of this routine, because everything else had changed. 

The questions she’d had for years were finally answered, Adder had, in essence, accomplished what she’d set out from Kelias to do. Bakar had been found, and she knew why he’d left her all those years ago. Everything she’d learned about him had been difficult to process, but there was still relief in the knowing. When he’d stood before her, he’d still been the man she remembered. The journey and years had changed them both, but when she’d sat beside him at the tavern it felt familiar. There had been solace there. 

The weight had been shifted, perhaps in a way that was somehow easier to bear. Adder had always known how to work hard and suffer well, but had never been good at patience and questions. The new arrangement of things certainly had less wondering, the task was straightforward. A point on the horizon that she could focus on. 

Bakar had still left her with three heavy things. They’d gnawed at her mind all morning, and they’d been what she had been keeping at bay while forging the night before. As Adder sat down to meditate, she realized how fruitless it would be. She was too exhausted, and her thoughts too unquiet. If she successfully banished them, she might fall asleep. So the only choice was to sit with those unquiet thoughts. It was the first time she’d allowed herself to. 

The first was the matter of Viper. She wished Bakar had said more of her, even if Viper had made him swear not to. Bakar had a way of being fair and unfair. The letter he’d left for Viper had been an example of that. She knew why he’d done it. Viper would have followed him. Adder saw within her that same stubbornness and ire she was so familiar with. She’d lived with it for years. She was no wise sage now, but the past months had shaped her. Still, in reading the letter Adder felt that frustration she’d felt years ago well up inside of her. He might have apologized for it, but Viper would still feel abandoned. It was a rotten feeling to sit with. 

Adder did not feel guilt about having read the letter. If she was supposed to take care of Viper, she needed to know things about her. Viper certainly wasn’t going to tell her any of it, she’d made that clear. Adder wondered if Viper had even been able to fully understand Bakar’s letter. He’d said she was still learning her basic runes, and from the way her face had scrunched and the time it had taken her to look over the note… she doubted Viper could comprehend all the words. She would have to find a way to remedy that without offering Viper help that would surely be shot down. Adder wasn’t sure how to help someone that resented her too much to accept it, but she resigned herself to continue to try. 

There was also the matter of Gouhwae, who had not helped to smooth over her relations with Viper. Quite the opposite. Adder would have to apologize for him, though she was loath to do so. Why had he bitten her? He’d been behaving strangely since right before Bakar arrived. Not that he was ever normal. None of the neighbors were. Maybe Boa would know more, she seemed very familiar with the folk. 

Gouhwae’s behavior of late made Adder uneasy, but so did the bones she now carried in her bag alongside him. She hadn’t looked at them since Bakar had given them to her, and didn’t plan to. Seeing them once was enough. He’d said they belonged to a young girl from Kormeste. He’d asked her to bury them in a place that was beautiful and free, and far from the shadow of the mountains. 

It was a grim task and a heavy burden. Had he wanted her to sit with that? To make her fully acknowledge what he had been? 

 He’d gone back for her bones, after Kelias. But he hadn’t been able to bury her. She realized that it must have weighed on him the entire time he’d been in Kelias with her; the death of that girl and all the ones before her. 

It was still hard to see him as monstrous, even after he’d made her hold the weight of his sins in her hands. Maybe she should be angrier with him, for he’d asked something unfair of her. Maybe she should fear him, or revile him based on what he’d done. But she couldn’t. 

The Bakar she knew was kind. It was hard to imagine him otherwise. Maybe he had been different before, but it seemed to her that he had simply been misguided. She doubted that fact mattered to him, but it mattered to her. 

There was a question she still had, and one she probably would never have the courage to ask of Bakar. When had he changed his mind about her? She had been the reason he was in Kelias, Ardwin confirmed that. 

Bakar had always been so inscrutable. Though she knew he’d been adept at hiding things from her she wondered just how much he’d hidden and for how long. Her thoughts drifted to the final thing he’d left her with. A kiss.

Adder’s face heated, she put her cold hands over it. She felt embarrassed. She’d thought she’d known her own feelings about it all, and his. Maybe something had been clear to her companions that wasn’t clear to her. 

She’d worried that those first kisses were her fault, and that he hadn’t wanted to reciprocate. After all, that matched the Bakar she thought she knew. When he’d kissed her before leaving… she hadn’t known what to make of it. 

Had he wanted to kiss her in Kelias?

That thought made her feel all tangled up. If he had, she’d made a fool of herself on so many damn occasions. The feelings she felt now were ones she’d had traces of back then, maybe she simply hadn’t known what they were. She’d always thought it was nerves or something else. This was all so new. She wanted to understand it more but it was difficult to think about. Maybe the letter would help.

Adder pulled the note from her pocket and stared at the glyphs that stretched across it. The way he wrote his Surmaan runes echoed back to his Ma’arun glyphs, she realized. The loops and long strokes were mirrors of each other. 

Ma’arun was a beautiful language when written, but for all its beauty, she couldn’t read it. She traced her fingers over a few of the glyphs she recognized and sighed. How very like him to leave her something like this. She pondered what it could possibly say, and felt immediately frustrated. She had no idea what he would have written for her. 

Resisting the urge to shove the note in her pocket, Adder neatly folded it and put it in a safe place. Time would reveal its meaning. A game of patience and curiosity, two of Bakar’s favorite things. She’d master Ma’arun faster than she had the other languages she’d learned, she decided. 

For now maybe she’d ask Elzabet more questions. Her definition of love had at least made more sense than Gloomy’s. She did want to be at Bakar’s side even if the journey was painful. She wasn’t quite sure if he was on his journey because he’d do anything for her, or because he wanted to atone, or a mix of both. Maybe it all meant they loved each other. Maybe. She was still stewing on it all. She didn’t need an answer now. 

Hefting herself off the ground, Adder shook the snow from her clothes. She’d been out in the elements long enough that her ears and nose burned and her cheeks stung. It was time to gather Halim, and go meet with the others. 

The stables held a mix of feelings for Adder. The events of the previous night were at least offset in part by her excitement to see Halim. Traveling meant riding, and it meant getting to spend time caring for him again. There was a comfort in that routine that Adder looked forward to. She tried to cling to that, and put thoughts of last night’s farewell to the side. 

Halim was waiting, his ears alert and attention fixed on her as she approached, nickering softly. He was a good horse. He’d warmed to her quickly and was eager to work and please. She reached up to rub his cheeks, and he bent his head low. Adder kissed the star that marked his forehead. 

“You’ll be more cooperative about your tack than the last horse I saddled, won’t you?” Adder cooed to him softly. The years hadn’t changed Alzali, he’d still been as ornery as ever. He’d never been good at sitting still during the process. She hadn’t minded that it took longer, it had given her a few more minutes with Bakar. 

Halim stood politely as Adder put his saddle on, and affixed her saddle bag. He at times would investigate what she was doing, but a gentle shooing was all it took to redirect him. Adder lifted one of his hooves to inspect his shoe. The farrier had done well. Varad-Oesek at least had decent stables, even if it didn’t have a decent duchess, Adder thought to herself. 

Nearly ready, Adder exited the stall to find the stablemaster. Turning the corner, Adder nearly swore. Standing with her back to her, talking with the stablemaster, was a problem Adder didn’t have the energy to deal with right now. Viper had told her she wanted to pick out her own horse, and if she saw Adder, she’d take it in bad faith. Adder was sure she’d get an earful about being a nuisance or some other shit, even though she’d only come here for Halim. She quickly pressed herself against the wall as Viper started to turn around.

“Sum’ba’a” Adder whispered, and traced the runes for invisibility. She vanished just as Viper and the stablemaster approached. 

Viper was pointing to one of the stalls. Adder couldn’t hear what they were saying, but they were likely discussing the horse. Viper had picked a fine horse, Adder noticed. She’d noted it on a previous visit. He had a fine temperament and good build for travel. Adder wondered if her sister had experience with horses, she’d gotten on well with Alzali, which wasn’t an easy task. 

“This is the deed. You’ll need to sign your name.” The stablemaster explained, passing over the paperwork. It looked wordy. Viper stared down at it in consternation. 

“Where do I put it?” She asked, and Adder was surprised that her tone wasn’t harsh. She wasn’t trying to eavesdrop but they were so close she worried if she moved they’d hear her.

“What is your name?” The stablemaster asked patiently. Adder held her breath. She wondered if Viper would use her real name, the one she’d told Bakar not to tell her. She didn’t really want to hear it in this way. She sighed in relief when after a brief pause, her sister answered:

“Viper.” 

The stablemaster filled the papers out for her, and handed them over. Accepting her gold. Viper thanked him, and slipped into the stable. She’d be busy with tack for a while.  Adder used the time to quickly gather Halim, and make herself visible. She paid the stablemaster, and slipped out with her horse. It was time to find her companions.

[huntinghags]

94. Expectations

[Set the morning after Alwatan, Familiarity, and Mirror]

It was early when I felt a hand on my shoulder and a gentle shaking. 

"Best to get up before dawn." I heard a familiar voice, it was enough to make me open my eyes. The candle was lit, and I blinked, adjusting to the dim light of the room. 

Bakar sat on the bed next to me, and if his hand wasn't still on my shoulder, I would have thought him a figment. A smile came to my face, and my chest felt lighter than it had in years. 

"A few more minutes." I jested, rolling back over away from him and gathering the covers as I did. He swiftly removed them, and I laughed, getting out of the bed. I pulled on my boots, Bakar loomed by the door impatiently. He was already dressed. The clothes I'd borrowed for him from Ardwin were neatly folded and placed on the desk. He wore those strange shadowy clothes about it, something I considered protesting, but arguing about that could wait. I wanted a normal morning. It had been so long since I'd had one. Gloomy was waiting outside the door, likely still gripped by some paranoia, but she didn't waylay us for long.

We grabbed a simple breakfast from the kitchen, the staff was still hurrying about their morning preparations before the rest of the estates woke, and I tried to stay out of their way as I took some bread, cheese, meat, and a pair of apples. I ducked out of the kitchens, and regrouped with Bakar. We ate as we walked, the cold air bit at my fingers and made my breath visible. I listened to the crunch of his boots in the snow, and felt grateful that after years, he walked beside me on this morning trek out to the ring. 

I cleared some of the fresh snowfall off of a trunk, and sat down on it, pulling my grimoire from my bag. I saw Bakar eye it, and I think I saw him sigh at the state of it. I hadn't gotten any neater with my organization, it had maybe worsened without his oversight. Pages stuck out at odd angles, made of mismatched parchment. It was functional, mostly, that's what mattered. I waited for him to join me in my preparation, but he merely traced out a circle in the snow, and then looked over my shoulder as I prepared my spells. I realized there was little use of him doing so, when he couldn't cast them. My comfort at Bakar's presence tinged with anxiety, it had been a long time since I'd been watched by someone who actually knew what I was doing.

"You've added a lot." Bakar remarked, after minutes of silent appraisal. Had I? It didn't feel like much. But I suppose I had nearly double the spells I'd had upon leaving Kelias, and far more than when he'd left. Time had made the progress feel slow, but I also didn't have any peers to compare myself to. 

"There's still so much." I said, looking over at the journals in my bag. 

"They were meant to last you." There was a solemn apology in his tone, and I again marveled that he'd written so much. He'd meant them as a replacement for him. 

"They've been helpful." I told him, even though I wanted to tell him they were no substitute, and that it'd been so difficult without his guidance. They were helpful. It wasn't a lie. It just wasn't the whole truth either.

Bakar nodded and waited for me to finish my preparations. I closed my grimoire and looked out at the ring. Had Bakar not offered me a hand, I'm not sure I could have stood. I had so many excuses I wanted to say. That I'd not trained consistently in over a week, that my body still wasn't cooperating fully and that I'd likely stumble through some of the steps, and that I'd tried my hardest to keep up with my forms over the years, but that they'd likely be less polished than he remembered. I would have to keep pace with him, to do the sword forms with someone else was like a dance. 

Bakar faced me, a few paces away, and we drew our blades. We took three breaths, and then began. I tried to remember his reminder to trust my footing and my muscle memory, even though it was difficult when a piece of me still felt adrift. I knew these steps, and this rhythm. Our footsteps in the snow were in time with one another, the series of blocks, jabs, and sweeping movements were mirrored between us. We made our first cross, twisting past one another, and turning on our heels. 

I was reminded of Renewal, when we'd danced together. Bakar hadn't been entirely honest when he'd told me fencing steps weren't so different from dancing, but they did share some similarities. Just like then, the longer we worked through the forms, the more comfortable I felt. I was able to ease the tension in my shoulders and adopt a smile, my movements became more fluid, and I held to the steps less rigidly. Over the years I'd made the forms my own. 

We flowed through the rest. I was struck still by how effortlessly and gracefully Bakar moved with a far heavier weapon. It seemed light in his hands, but I knew, from when I'd held it, Ashbrand was anything but. When we concluded, we both seemed more out of breath than I'd anticipated. Our shoulders rose and fell, and Bakar offered me a warm smile.

There was something in the way he looked at me that wasn’t often there in Kelias. I remembered how last night, he’d told me he was proud of me. It wasn’t something Bakar had ever expressed before. There had always been room to improve, he’d always been stern and stoic. There was admiration on his face now. 

“You’ve improved.” Bakar remarked, and it took everything in me not to refute it. I wanted the compliment, but I didn’t know how to sit with it. I didn’t feel like I’d met my own standards, and I knew that his were always so much higher. Maybe I’d improved, but it hadn’t been enough. I could do better, I’d stumbled my way through one of the hardest steps. I could do it perfectly, if I tried again. It didn’t matter how my muscles were tight now from the exertion, that I was winded, that I wasn’t in the best shape.

“I made a misstep in the final set of forms, let me try again, I know I can–” 

“Adder.” He interrupted me softly, he said my name with patience. I don’t know why my chest felt so tight and I suddenly felt so close to tears. 

“Bakar, I can do it better–” 

I was cut off by a hand on my shoulder, and Bakar gave me a look of what I think was pity or maybe it was apology. He shook his head.

“Sit down with me.” Bakar sat, and looked up at me and waited. One of my hands gripped the Traveler’s Gift tightly, and the other was balled into a fist at my side. I bristled. I wanted to yell. I didn’t even know what about. Who was I angry at? Why? I just felt so frustrated. My breaths came out in quick huffs. Bakar didn’t repeat his request, he just waited amicably. 

I sat down in front of him, we both placed our swords to our sides. He gathered my hands in his, and took a long inbreath, and then held it before exhaling, he repeated this until I began to mirror him. On my third exhale, he spoke. 

“You used to wait for me to tell you your mistakes. Now you see them for yourself, that is progress.” He said. I frowned. 

  “There are so many of them.” 

“Only if that is what you solely choose to focus on. They are outweighed by the improvements you’ve made.” 

“I should be better at it by now.” I should have studied harder, learned faster. I shouldn’t have wasted so much time. 

Bakar gave me a searching look, and then he sighed. 

“You have been hard on yourself.”

“I had to be. You weren’t there to tell me what to fix and I had to figure it out.” I wasn’t blaming him. 

“I should have told you how well you were doing more often.” He told me, and squeezed my hands lightly. I wished he wasn’t holding them, so I could cover my face. I bit my bottom lip to stop it from quivering. I shook my head. I wasn’t doing well. I’d messed up so many times. 

“You are thousands of miles from Kelias, Adder.” Bakar had a way of saying little in a way that it said a lot. It was a reminder that I’d made it here. I was still alive. Maybe it had been enough, even if it didn’t feel like it. I took a few deep breaths, and nodded, I looked up at the sky and blinked back the tears that had started to gather at the corners of my eyes. 

I might have been thousands of miles away from Kelias, but every morning I’d been back. Sitting in that ring with him. His words had become my own, as I’d imagined him watching my every move. I’d carried him with me and it had been heavy. Memory wasn’t perfect. The Bakar that had been my mentor these past four years had been far less forgiving than the man in front of me. 

I let my mind empty, and my breathing slow, and I joined him in meditation. Sparring would be next, and I would need a level head. 

When it was time to ward our weapons, I tried not to think about the last time I'd sparred with someone. We hadn't warded them then. It hadn't been sparring. 

"Shalri." I murmured, tracing the runes over the hilt of my sword, and then running my fingers along the blade. I felt the edge adopt a barrier that made it dull. I looked over at Bakar, expecting him to be completing the process as well, only he wasn't. Fear crept up in my throat. I then realized he was offering his blade to me, and felt foolish. Of course he wasn't warding. He couldn't use magic right now. I reached out and repeated the process of warding on Ashbrand. 

He stood across from me in the ring. I slid my feet in the snow, adjusting my readied stance. He watched carefully. I’d always thought his careful observation was that of an instructor, until I’d seen that same look on Ardwin’s face. He’d warned me. He’d told me that men were just as dangerous as any monster. He’d even told me he’d killed before. But it had been abstract then. All of those memories were held in a different light now. 

I’d felt nervous to do well before. I’d never felt nervous like this.

“You held back in Kelias, didn’t you?” I let my tone be light because I had to ignore the heavy feelings these words were covering. 

“It wouldn’t have been fair otherwise.” He met my levity, maybe he could sense I needed it. 

If he’d wanted to hurt me he could have done it a long time ago. He wouldn’t have gone to the lengths he had. He wouldn’t have held me last night when I’d been in the grip of the Call. He wouldn’t have trained me. I knew this. I knew all the logic behind me. My first shuffling steps forward were still hesitant. 

I wove the sigils with my steps, fingers, and tip of my sword: Naarn, Barstna, Idn’a. 

“Narn’ba’a.” My form slipped and slid, and as the magic brought forth concealment, I tugged forward that mantle of shadow. Something about the shadows felt strange and unruly, as if I didn’t have a good grasp on them. It could be nerves. It could be that brief time I spent in the void. I decided then that I wouldn’t risk porting today. I had no desire to be back in that space between. 

Bakar watched with silent appraisal. The magic I’d called forth was far more complicated than what we’d worked on in Kelias. It had more key runes and the command for it had been harder to derive, the intent was more nebulous. I had hoped to be a tier beyond this, but the understanding of those spells was still beyond me. 

I felt unaccustomed to the quickness that came with cascade, I worried it would make me clumsy. Part of me still resided in that desert beyond time, but the effect would fade in time, I’d been assured. I closed the distance to Bakar and urged the shadows ahead, they lashed out, feinting to cover my strike. My blade met expectant steel, and the spellstrike dissipated into the open air. I should have known Bakar wouldn’t fall for one of his own tricks. I spun out of the maneuver and out his reach. 

Bakar advanced, and as he used to, struck out in a series of blows to test my guard. I rebuffed them, and found him smiling. But what was there to celebrate? He moved with intentional slowness. He’d given me time to react. 

   “You’re toying with me.” My words came out harsh and angry. 

“I am testing you. This isn’t a real battle, though it’s clear you’ve seen many from how you move now.” Bakar said evenly. I’d forgotten how frustrating he could be. I stepped forward and struck, my thrust careless with my ire, back to my bad habits. He sidestepped and grabbed my arm. I tried to wrench myself free but stumbled in the process, losing my balance and nearly toppling myself. Bakar brought me in, gathering me.

I struggled, thrashing about and making no progress. Why was I so powerless? So useless? I reached for that wellspring of shadows, if I couldn’t wrench myself free I would simply make a small jump between and then—

“Release the stance, and breathe.” Bakar’s voice was quiet but firm as he spoke next to my ear. 

Why? I hadn’t lost yet. I could still get out of this, the bout wasn’t over. Did he think so little of me that—

I heard a thud in the snow, he’d dropped his sword. He wasn’t holding me in a grapple anymore, it was more an embrace. Oh.

I exhaled and let the shadows subside. I felt the anger leave me all at once. The questions were still there, and the shame was too. Like a novice I’d lost composure and control. I’d let emotion rule me, and the shadows had latched onto that.

 I tapped his arm, and he let me go. I sheathed my sword, and ran my fingers roughly through my hair. I took a few stomping steps and cursed. 

“Fuck. I’ve let you down again.” Every word left a bitter taste in my mouth.

“Adder, you haven’t at all.” His voice was gentle and so was the hand he put on my shoulder. I wanted to shake it off. I didn’t need to be coddled. 

“I have!” My voice was loud and it broke through the quiet of the winter morning. 

“Ardwin said you never trained anyone else.” The words were coming out and there was no stopping them. I hated when I got like this but I’d never been good at closing my mouth once I’d decided to open it. 

Bakar didn’t respond. That weary look was back on his face. He didn’t want to discuss this. I should have dropped it then. I couldn’t. 

“So, why? I don’t understand!” I was nearly shouting. 

With a sigh, Bakar took his hand off my shoulder, he walked back to his sword, and picked it up, sheathing it. He then walked over to the large stump, and sat. He patted the space beside him. I sat beside him, but I stared down at the ground in front of us. I kicked at the snow, dredging a trench in it with my foot, and waited.

“Why didn’t I train anyone else, or why did I train you?” He asked, after a few minutes of quiet.

“Both.” I knew I was being childish. 

“Do you remember when I gave you the shadows?” 

“Yes.” 

“I never wanted to. I didn’t want to pass any of it on. I swore I wouldn’t. I made an oath not to.” 

“When you said you weren’t a part of the Order anymore last night, how long have you felt that way?” 

“I don’t know. In some ways, a long time ago. I didn’t want to be part of something that was fundamentally a part of me, but I did not know anything else.” 

“Oh.” I didn’t know what else to say. There was so much behind his words that he wasn’t saying. They were heavy.

“And then you nearly burnt down the stables. It felt irresponsible to leave your magic untrained” He paused, before continuing, “and you were outside of it all. I wasn’t training a magus, not at first. You were curious. You were loud. You were relentless.” 

“You're saying I pestered you into it." I laughed once. I still couldn't look at him.

"I'd spent years in quiet solitude. It was more a reminder." 

"Why did you teach me the rest of it?" There was a question I wanted to ask that wasn't this one. 

"You felt the Call." Bakar answered. Suddenly I didn't feel like I could breathe at all. This had been a mistake. I didn't want to know this. I didn't want to talk about it. 

"I've seen what happens when girls follow it. I've seen what awaits at the end of that path." Bakar continued, I wanted him to stop. His voice sounded strained. 

"You were miserable. I wanted to make it better and... I wanted you to be ready. If it ever came to it." He reached across the space between us, and took the amulet he gave me between his fingers, turning it over to look at the two green marks. 

 There was so much I wanted to say that I didn't have the right words for, so I just held his hand and gave it a squeeze. To remind him that I was here, and I hoped he knew it was because of him. 

"Thank you for teaching me." I told him. I hoped he didn't regret it. He nodded. We sat together in silence and watched the snow fall. 

"What else have you been studying?" He asked after some time, his tone was less heavy, he was ready to put this behind us, and so was I. At his question, I smiled sheepishly. 

"I've been trying to learn the language of your home." I said, in a broken Ma'arun. I knew I'd phrased it incorrectly by the perplexed look on his face. But he chuckled. He looked surprised. 

When we sat together, and I showed him the Glossary of Spoken Sand, there was an expression of wonder on his face. I watched him leaf through my notes, and as he had during my studies in Kelias, he critiqued them ruthlessly. I was able to relax. These were the moments I'd missed most. This didn't feel any different than it had years ago. This part of us was the same. There was a deep comfort in that.

[huntinghags]

93. Mirror

[Set the same night as Alwatan and Familiarity, Adder has a nightmare. Earlier that day, she conducted a ritual with her sister Boa, and viewed her parents for the first time in a vision from the past. The ritual also made the threads in her arm worse, as well as the Call]

[A memory]

“Mother Myrna, why don’t I look like you?” 

“Child, I am not your real mother.”

“Then why do I call you mother?” 

“It is a title.” 

“Oh. Do I look like my real mother?” 

“All children look like their real parents.” 

—

[A dream]

Sunlight spilled through the window, through the leaves of the tree outside it, and dappled the hardwood floor of the room. Warm. A familiar unfamiliar room. I’d sat in this chair many times, and every time I’d squirmed impatiently to get out of it. 

“Sit still, we’re nearly done.” The voice behind me was firm but gentle, it matched the hands in my hair, which worked the unruly strands into a braid. There was no mirror, I couldn’t see the figure behind me, but I knew her. She was mother. 

“You said that forever ago, mama.” I whined, leaning forward, I immediately regretted it as it tugged my hair a bit. My scalp was still tender from the brushing. 

“Mm, and I meant it. We would have been done forever ago if you could sit patiently. It took me a while to get all the sticks and knots out. What were you even doing to get it that bad?” There was a soothing hand atop my head, smoothing the hair down. 

“Hiding in a bush. Like dad taught me. To wait for a deer. But I think I fell asleep for a bit. The neighbors tied some of my hair to the twigs.” 

“You’re still too young to hunt.” Her voice was patient as it gave me a reminder I’d heard hundreds of times.

“But not too young to practice being a good hunter.” I retorted. I left out the fact that I’d had a long stick with me that I’d sharpened the end of. 

“If you fell asleep and let the neighbors trick you, were you really being a good hunter?” There was laughter, so like my own. 

“No! But mama you know how they are! They used to give you trouble too!” 

“One day they’ll listen to you, Masa’an.” Something about that name made me try to look back at her, but strong hands wrenched me forward, no longer gentle. 

“Mama?” Fear rose in my voice.

“Sit still.” Pure authority in her words, and with them, I truly felt I couldn’t move. The braid was tight. Too tight. 

“Mama, that hurts.” 

“It will save having to brush it again later, I have to make it tight or it will come out. A little pain now, for your own good.” 

I listened. I sat still. 

“There.” The end of the braid was presented to me. Tied off in a red string. I heard my mother get up, and she circled the chair to kneel before me. A face that looked so much like mine. Black hair like mine. Mismatched eyes like mine. She looked tired, like I had the last time I’d looked in the mirror. She was so tired. She smiled a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. There was fear in them. She took my wrist in her hand, and held it tightly. 

“Mother?” 

“I have use of you.” That was the voice I remembered. 

I woke suddenly. The threads beneath my skin felt tight. My head hurt, my mouth felt dry. I’d been crying. 

Had it been the Call? Or just another nightmare? I tried to forget her face. Both of their faces. I’d gone my whole life not knowing them. It had been almost easier when they were monsters. I didn’t like having them real. I didn’t like having them look like me. 

They’d been human. Just like me. 

I felt like I was going to be sick. There was a racing panic and then a lance of pain shot up my arm, it made the room spin and then go dark. I must have cried out. 

“Adder!” I barely heard Bakar’s voice over the cacophony of voices in my head. I felt my head would split open from how loud it was. Covering my ears made it worse. My arm was throbbing. It felt like the threads were squeezing the bones so tightly they would crack them. It was hard to breathe in this room. I needed air. I needed out. Every voice in my head screamed that I needed out. I struggled for the edge of the bed. 

“Lumro. Fuck.” A command rune and then a curse. The room remained dark.

I was not able to move, strong arms wrapped me up and pulled me close. I remembered I was supposed to fight the impulse to leave. I gulped for air, trying to remember I could. The breaths were shaky and rushed, my chest heaving with each one. 

“Steady. Take slow breaths. Push back the panic.” I felt his hand rubbing my back, his forehead was pressed against mine. Those two points became an anchor, and the room came back into focus. The pain was still unbearable. 

“It hurts.” The words came out in a sob, and I realized tears were streaming down my cheeks. 

“It isn’t real. Anchor your thoughts to reality and memory. What do you feel, Adder?” Bakar’s voice was gentle, but firm. I could feel a hand stroking my hair. I could feel warmth, and the feeling of being held tight. He’d pulled me into his lap. I felt the rise and fall of his breaths, and tried to match their tempo. I felt his exhale on my skin. 

The pain began to abate. I wrapped my arms around him, and rested my head on his shoulder. My heart was still pounding, the Call was still loud, but it was a little less overwhelming. I tried to slow my breathing. 

“I’m here with you.” I told him. 

“Tell me about something beautiful you’ve seen. Tell me a good memory.” He asked, and I realized he was trying to do what he’d done for me in the past. He couldn’t ground me with his memories and his magic. 

“It snowed heavily as we entered Velu.” I murmured to him. “More than I’d ever seen in Kelias. It weighed down the trees and covered the world like a blanket. I remembered seeing a similar sight in those memories you’d shown me, and I knew I was standing in a mountain range that you’d been to. It was surreal. It’s a harsh sort of beauty up here.” 

“Did you see the auroras on Skylight?”

“I did. They’re brighter here, and the town put on quite a festival. I thought the people in Kelias made a fuss over it, but in Varad-Oesek there’s far more fanfare. I’d never seen so many shrines and offerings.”

“They celebrate it a little differently in every place.” 

“Maybe I can learn to like it again.” I said, and felt him pull me closer and murmur an apology. I shook my head. 

“You slept through most of Renewal. They don’t celebrate it up here and it was an eventful day, so I forgot all about it until it had passed.” It was the second Renewal I’d spent outside of Kelias. 

“Another eventful Renewal.” Bakar remarked, I heard him huff a laugh, doubtless remembering the last one we’d spent together where I’d ended up drunk on faerie wine. 

“You’re the one who blacked out this time.” I retorted, though I yawned in the middle of my sentence. “But I only had to watch over you for a day, not a week.” 

  “We should try to rest. Are you feeling better?” I felt him shift beneath me, I quickly eased off of him, and flopped on my pillow. 

“Yes.” I told him. The Call was still there, but it was quiet, back to the level I’d learned to ignore. 

“I’m glad. Wake me if it gets bad again.” His voice was weary. 

“I will.” I told him. I tried to close my eyes and fall back asleep, but I remembered something. 

“Bakar?” 

“Yes, Adder?” 

“I missed Lathafos this past year, too. Can you promise me ,if we’re apart then, that you'll take the day and rest on the next one? I’ll be able to rest if I know you’re resting.” I asked him. I couldn’t make him promise to take care of himself all of the time, even though it's what I wanted to ask of him, but maybe he’d concede to a day. 

“I’ll take the day to nap. You have my word.” Bakar answered, with a small chuckle. 

“Good.” I said, and nestled down into my pillow, pulling the covers tight, I was cold from having been outside of them. I felt Bakar scoot closer and put an arm over me. I could fall asleep easily knowing he’d feel it if I tried to get up again.    

I slept peacefully the rest of that night. 

[huntinghags]

92. Familiarity

[Set immediately after Alwatan]

I wasn’t sure how much time we passed, meditating together, but it must have been awhile. Dusk had turned solidly to night by the time my stomach rumbled loudly, interrupting the quiet breaths we shared. My eyes fluttered open, and I found Bakar looking over at me with a look of amusement. It was nice to see something other than sadness on his face, to see the hint of a smile upon it again. I stretched and yawned, my back stiff from how long we’d been sitting. 

“Do you need to eat?” Bakar asked, his voice quiet in the way someone speaks late at night, so as not to disturb others. Upon hearing his question, I realized I’d forgotten to eat, and that I had nothing in my stomach. I’d retched the contents of my breakfast during the meeting with Boa, and since then, had consumed nothing. 

“I do. I don’t feel like going down to the kitchens though so let me see– wait.” It dawned on me that Bakar had been sleeping for so long that he likely needed food too. “I should have asked as soon as you woke up, you must need food.” He’d need water too. I scrambled up from my place on the floor and reached for my bag. It would have the bread and dried meat I’d packed. A poor meal, but a quick one, and better than rations. 

“I don’t.” His voice interrupted me. I walked back over and sat in front of him again, pulling the bread from my bag, and unwrapping it from the cloth that held it. I leveled a suspicious and stern look at him. 

“I have enough for both of us, please don’t just suffer through it. You haven’t eaten in over a day, you were asleep.” I told him as I took the knife from my belt and began cutting slices. 

“It’s been longer than that, but I’m fine, Adder. I have this.” He pointed to the small stone that had been hovering around his head. I’d noticed it while he slept, but I didn’t know its purpose, so I’d left it alone. 

“What is that?” 

“A stone that is enchanted, it allows you to go without sustenance or water.” Bakar said, as if it were a common item I should have already read about. I frowned. 

“For how long?” Something about the way he’d answered originally bothered me. 

“Indefinitely, so long as I don’t remove it.” 

“And how long has it been since you’ve removed it? Bakar, how long has it been since you’ve had a meal?” I asked. He must have heard the concern in my voice, because he immediately looked away. I think he must have been considering whether or not to lie.  

“Years.” He finally said. I was immediately cross with him, and without another thought, I lunged for the stone, snatching it out of the air. 

“Hey–” He began to protest

“Here.” I passed it over to him, and he took it, he at least looked contrite. “Eat a meal with me.” I shoved a piece of bread his way. He was unbelievable. Perhaps it had nourished him, but it was evidence of how little actual care he’d taken of himself. 

“You’re upset.” Bakar observed, pulling my bag over to him, and going through it. He found the dried meat, and pulled it out. He tore it into small strips to go with the bread. 

“Yes.” I wasn’t going to deny it. I took the cap off of my water skin, and offered it to him. He looked at it a moment, before taking a small sip. He made a strange expression as he swallowed. Years. For fuck’s sake. 

“I wish I had ale, but I did recently get forbidden from drinking by order of the Duchess.” I admitted. 

“Do I even want to know why?” There was that patient sort of disappointment in his voice that I remembered so often from our time together in Kelias. 

“It wasn’t anything worse than it used to be. But apparently starting a bar fight counts as ‘terrorizing the citizens’ in Varad-Oesek.” I put my hands above my head and used my fingers to mimic the shape of a crown. I made my voice pompous as I quoted Amilila. I laughed at the end of it, because it was easier than remembering what the punishment for that crime had gotten me. I didn’t think I was going to be able to stomach the dried meat, not after remembering how much meat I’d been forced to eat when they’d been drawing my blood every morning. 

“Adder…” He seemed to consider whether or not he should scold me. I would save him the trouble. I’d had no right to be upset with him for the stone, when I’d taken no better care of myself. 

“I know.” I told him. “I know. This time when I say it won’t happen again, I mean it.” And I did. 

I met his gaze, and tried to let him see in my eyes that I was honest. There was concern on his face. He had questions he wanted to ask, but he wasn’t asking them. 

“I drank two ales a night, on the good nights. I imagined that you were off having one, sometimes. Now I know you weren’t and I’m glad I drank one in your stead.” I said, quietly. 

“There were bad nights, then?” 

“I’ve always had bad nights, at times.” I didn’t say how my last year in Kelias had been only bad nights. 

“Were there more of them?” Bakar had guessed I wasn’t being entirely honest. It must have been on my face. I’d never been good at lying to him. 

“It got harder the longer I was there.” I said. I took a bite of bread, just so I didn’t have to say anything else about it while I chewed. 

“When you realized–” 

“Yeah.” 

There was a silence that fell over us. He was eating, at least. Not much. But a little. We ate without talking for a few minutes. 

“Adder, I'm sorry.” He reached across our shared space and gathered my hand in his. 

I shook my head, but squeezed his hand. I’d maybe wanted to hear that from him once, I would have demanded it from him, but I’d heard it far too many times today from him. I didn’t want to hear it anymore. It was done. Settled. We were on the other side of it now. 

“It got better when I left Kelias.” I said, because that had been true. “I’m sorry I left, but I needed to leave.”

“I understand.” 

I knew that he did. He’d probably also needed to leave. I just wished he’d done it differently. I wished we’d both done a lot of things differently. He’d need to leave again, and so would I. I shoved that thought aside, not wanting it to sour the time I did have. 

I wanted to talk about something else. I looked up to find him lost in his thoughts. Some things never changed, but some things had. I reached over and brushed my fingers against the scraggly beard on his face. He startled. 

“Is this on purpose? I never saw you unshaven in all the time I knew you.” I asked, in a teasing tone. I was tired of the heaviness. He shooed my hand away, and rubbed at his cheek. 

“No.” He chuckled. I watched him trace a key rune in the air, his fingers quick, and the word for the spell whispered under his breath. Nothing happened. He hadn’t been lying when he said he couldn’t cast. It was strange, to see him without the skill he’d always been so adept at. It seemed impossible for me to ever have more magic than him. 

“I suppose I’ll have to find a razor.” He ran his hand over his cheek again, and frowned. He seemed disturbed, his fingers continued feeling the beard on his face idly, and his frown deepened. 

“Do you want me to get rid of it?” I offered. I knew the spellwork that could be used for such a thing, the runes he’d traced were those for simple magic. He’d just guided the intent. It would be a simple thing for me now. Maybe he wouldn’t accept my help, because he probably remembered me as a novice. 

 "Would you?" He asked and I suddenly became nervous. I had not done magic in front of him yet, not since he'd been awake. I nodded once, and began to clear away the remnants of our meal. Bakar assisted me. 

 I still had the cloth I'd used to wrap the bread. I brushed the crumbs that were left on it into the wastebasket beside my desk, where they joined crumpled notes of my failed studies. Bakar stood beside me. 

"Can you sit down?" I asked and gestured to the chair in front of the desk, I could reach his face, but it would be easier if I didn't have to reach up. He did as I asked. I took a breath. I held the cloth,in one hand, and with my other traced the runes. I went slowly, far slower than I'd usually go, just to be sure I didn't make mistakes. It was usually something I did without much thought, but it was different to be watched. 

I murmured the runes quietly to myself, I saw Bakar mouth them with me as I did. He'd had this habit for as long as I could remember, it was like a quiet reminder for me when I'd learned so many spells. I'd said the right words, now what mattered was the intent. I reached gingerly for his face, and guided the magic along my fingers as I did. Slowly, carefully, I brushed my hand along his face, and as I did, the hair was neatly shaved. It lifted from the skin and collected in the cloth in my other hand. I didn't think it was possible to harm him, with how I worded the spell, but I still went slowly and took caution, especially when I was close to his mouth and ears. 

I let out a sigh when I'd finished, and realized I'd been holding my breath.

 He looked as I remembered him, now. We were both four years older, he looked it. He looked worn and weary, and after what he told me of his journey, I could see why. He was more familiar now, though, and something about it made my throat feel tight again. He had a new scar on his chin that I didn't remember him having before, and it was more pronounced than the other, older ones. I rubbed my thumb over it, and cupped his cheek. He looked up at me, searching, and when I met his gaze I realized what I'd been doing, and pulled my hand away quickly. My face heated. 

"I--" I started to apologize, but remembered he'd reached for the new scars I bore. I hadn't done anything wrong. He didn't look angry.

 "I'm finished." I said instead, I walked over to the wastebasket to brush off the cloth again, I folded it and neatly placed it on the desk, and then rested my palms on the wood. I stared out the window, the moon was high in the sky. I wondered how many hours there were before dawn. 

"Thank you." Bakar's voice came from behind me, earnest and soft. 

"Mhm." I mumbled back, not facing him. I still felt the blush coloring my ears, even though it was gone from my cheeks. I heard him yawn, and one quickly overtook me. He had to be exhausted, I knew that I was. 

"You should lie down and rest." I felt his hand on my shoulder, directing me, gently, toward the bed. 

"I'm not that tired." I said, not really aware of why I was lying or arguing. Maybe it was because I didn't want him to leave. I made no move to follow his advice. He walked past me, and crawled into the bed, moving so that he was on the side closest to the wall. He patted the bed beside him. 

"Adder. You are tired." He said. I knew I must look it. I'd had dark circles under my eyes for weeks now, and my return to the living world had done little to improve that. I took the amulet off of my neck, and placed it on the bedside table, as I always did before I went to sleep. He passed me the one I'd given him, and I put it beside the one he'd given me. There was a symmetry to it.

 I slipped into the bed, and kept myself toward the edge, tense. I was glad he was staying. This wasn't the first time I'd slept next to him, but there was a nervousness I felt that hadn't ever been there before. It kept me aware of the space between us. Bakar settled, and shifted to lie on his back, he had his hands clasped loosely over his stomach, and looked up at the ceiling. I mirrored him, and it was a little easier, not to face him. I could still hear his breathing, though. I reached over and extinguished the candle that had been illuminating the room. 

It was dark now. I peered over at him, taking advantage of the fact that I could see, and he couldn't. I found him still staring up at nothing. I wondered what he was thinking about. I still had questions I wanted to ask, but the one I had in mind required collecting my courage. So I let myself be still, and took deep breaths until I felt steeled enough to voice it.

“Bakar?” I asked, not looking at him. I hoped he was still awake. Neither of us had spoken for what seemed like an hour. It was probably shorter than that, but my nerves had made it stretch on for an eternity.

“What is it, Adder?” He answered, I felt the bed shift, as he turned toward me.

“Can I be close to you?” My voice came out in a whisper, it was all I could manage. He felt so distant, and for what I wanted to ask, I wanted us close. There was a pause, and I held my breath.

“Yes.” Bakar answered. I didn’t think I heard annoyance in his tone. I scooted over, and felt him wrap an arm around me, I rested my head on his chest. I was so filled with anxiety, I felt like my heart was in my throat. I took slow breaths. I felt Bakar’s hand shift, resting on my forearm, his fingers brushed the marred skin where the greater shadow had struck me. He traced the scar. I felt him take a few deep breaths with me.

“There’s something I want to ask. But I’m afraid to hear your answer. Will you be truthful with me?” I finally managed to force it out. Bakar froze for a moment, before he replied.

“Yes. I promise.” His voice was quiet, nervous. I’m sure there was much he didn’t want to answer. There always was. I hoped he would answer this time. 

“When the goddess told me what I was, she called me a name I’d never heard before. She called me Masa’an.” I began. Bakar didn’t interrupt, he waited for my question.

“During this whole journey, I’ve learned I wasn’t who I thought I was. Both my parents are monsters. Sometimes I wonder… if I’m human at all. You told me once I wasn’t a monster, did you mean it? Am I a monster?” By the end of it I was whispering. It was something I’d grappled with since my time in Wongalara. My companions knew. They hadn’t treated me differently, but it had still weighed on me. I hadn’t wanted to ask Bakar, hadn’t even wanted to tell him the truth, but I needed his reassurance. Bakar pulled me in closer, and put his other arm around me. 

“I may have felt that way about you once, but I know now you are the furthest thing from a monster. You are still you, Adder.” Bakar told me, gently. It was so similar to what he’d told me back then, when I’d first felt the Call. I clung to him the same way now, unable to find the words to thank him, because sobs filled my throat. So I just nodded. Everything had felt so heavy lately, but as I wept, it felt a little lighter. 

I felt Bakar rub my back and knew he would wait as long as I needed for the tears to stop. He always had been so patient with me. I felt the brush of his lips against my forehead. I tilted my head up, and paused, letting him pull away if he was going to, but he didn’t. I kissed him again and unlike before, he reciprocated. A single chaste kiss, then I felt him shift. He still held me, but not as closely. 

I wondered if I’d done something wrong. I didn’t know what to do. The other times I’d kissed someone it had gone very differently. I wished I could see the other side of his face, but he looked up at the ceiling, and I could not see his expression. I wiped away some of the tears from my cheek.

“It hasn’t been easy, has it?” Bakar spoke, and I realized we had been silent for a long while.

“No. You were right when you said it wouldn’t be. I can admit that.” Given all he’d admitted, I could concede that. Death had checked my pride. 

“I never wanted to be right. I did not want you to have to go through any of this.” There was a deep sadness in his voice, a confirmation of all the warnings he’d given. Bakar had tried to prepare me, but he’d hoped I’d never need to use any of those lessons. They’d kept me alive, though. I hated the guilt that still stained his voice. 

“It hasn’t just been bad, though. I’ve seen a lot.” I told him. There had been enough misery, enough bad news. There had been wonder and beauty in the world too that I would have never seen had I stayed in Kelias. He had been my window into that.

“When I arrived in Ine, it was dark. But I still remember that first sunrise over the ocean. During all my time at sea I never got over the vast empty expanse of the waves.” I nestled a bit closer to him. 

“You said you took a boat from Ine up to Tamigdlu.” Bakar recalled.

“I did. A shipping vessel, The Undine. I got along well enough with her crew that they offered for me to stay. Can you imagine me as a sailor?” 

“I can.” I felt the laughter shake his chest. 

“Well, I spent the first month terribly ill.” I grimaced, remembering the sea sickness. 

“Boats don’t agree with me either.” 

“Does the swamp?” I asked, wondering if he’d seen the settlements

“I don’t think the swamp is pleasant unless you’re originally from there.” 

“There were so many different kinds of people in the settlements. It was such a strange start to my travels.” 

“I can’t imagine chasing bandits through the swamp was a simple task.” 

“No. I didn’t know bugs could get so large. I saw a crocodile devour a man. It was horrible.” 

“It’s not a hospitable place.” Bakar said knowingly.

“It is and it isn’t. People relied upon us. I didn’t really understand it. I was just trying to find you, but the others, they were actually trying to help those people. We kept being asked to do more and more and at first I didn’t know why we didn’t turn them down. And then we reached Tizkesh.” I paused, furrowing my brow. 

“What happened in Tizkesh?” 

“A child was brave enough to help us, and the ones  we were tracking tried to strike her down. They attacked the village elder, too. The girl and the elder just wanted to help their people. I realized that if we left, they would probably die. We stayed, and we did what we could. When we left they treated us like heroes; like we’d done something grand.” I still remembered how they’d looked at me.

“That bothered you.” Bakar knew me well. 

“It did. I didn’t feel like I’d earned it and I didn’t know what to say. I’d spent the entire time scared and doing it all for my own selfish reasons. I didn’t feel like a hero at all.” I’d felt like a fake and a liar. 

“You still helped those people, to them you were a hero.” 

“I’m not used to being relied upon. I’m used to people expecting me to cause trouble, not fix it.” 

“It sounds like you’ve still been causing a fair amount of trouble.” Bakar said, and I could hear the teasing smile in his voice even though my eyes were closed now and I could not see it. 

“It’s what I’m good at.” I chuckled. “I knew how things worked in Kelias. I knew to expect vitriol and look after only myself. I knew how to be self-serving.I don’t know what to do when people offer me kindness or need my help. I feel like the rules are all different now.”    

“You were in an unforgiving place.”

“You were in an unforgiving place, too. I don’t know your full story, and you don’t have to tell it, but I know enough to say that.” I squeezed his arm gently. 

Bakar was quiet for a long while before he spoke. 

“Thank you for not asking me to tell it.” The words were heavy for him.

“One day, when you’re ready, I’ll listen.” 

“I’m not the man you thought I was.” 

“I know, but you’re not so different. I don’t think you’re the man you think you are, either. I still recognize the Bakar I knew in Kelias.” 

“I wish we could go back.” There was a longing in his voice. It made me feel terrible about the doubts I’d had. He hadn’t wanted to leave.

“I don’t ever want to go back there, but I know what you mean. Things were simpler. When this is over we can find a different, simple place.” I didn’t know where that was, just that it included him.

“Adder–” Bakar started, but I cut him off, I didn’t want to hear any more grim reality. I’d had enough of it lately.

“It will be over, one day.” I said, because it had to be. He had to believe it would be. 

“The journey hasn’t changed that part about you.” He wrapped his hand around mine.

“Yes, I’m still stubborn. So are you.” 

“I meant–” 

“I know that’s not what you meant.” I said, yawning loudly. I heard him huff out a sigh of exasperation. It was good to know I could still annoy him in the same way I used to. In the quiet, comfortable silence, sleep began to take me. I had been fighting it. 

“I missed you.”  I murmured to him as I drifted off. 

[huntinghags]

91. Alwatan

[Bakar wakes up, and tells the party that he intends to kill Adder's mother, who he has discovered is likely a god. He also reveals that he has killed many changelings, and shows the bones of one that he slew in the caves near Kormeste, a sin he must atone for.]

It was hard to breathe. I didn't know where to look. The bones were visible in the pouch of that bag, and Bakar stood, holding one, and the remnants of an iron claw. I settled for staring at the wooden floorboards, I hoped the room would stop shifting if I did. I was grateful to still be sitting on the bed. 

Confirmation. That he'd hunted girls like me. I'd known. I had. It was different to see it in front of me. To look at them, and know I could have ended up the same way. My sisters too. I wondered what the girl had looked like. I wondered how close I'd been to death in Kelias. 

Bakar had said so much. I was still reeling from it, stunned to silence as Gloomy spoke to him. He'd said he'd been glad it was me that he met in Kelias. I didn't know what that meant. My situation wasn't his fault. He was not an innocent man, but his guilt did not lie with me. I did not want his atonement to be his death. Not for me. But he spoke as if he was ready for it. He'd nearly voiced that he deserved it. Every action he'd taken, the way he'd arrived, and the way he'd left me. His letter. His amulet. 

I knew he'd meant it. I knew with certainty now he hadn't intended to return. That any future plans he had for me didn't involve him. 

"Can we have a moment?" I was glad I still had a voice, because when I'd opened my mouth to speak I feared nothing would come out. I had things I needed to tell him, that were just for him to hear. I needed to speak, uninterrupted. I needed him to understand. 

I didn't process Gloomy's words as Elzabet practically dragged her from the room. I only looked at Bakar, and felt the weight of his amulet on my neck. Memento for a living man. I knew now why he'd been called a ghost. 

 I felt so much as I looked at him across the room that I ceased to feel anything at all. The only thing I was left with was weariness. I stood, and walked to him. He was in the same room with me, after years apart, but so distant. I wondered if all the times he'd seemed far away when we were in Kelias, during those moments of quiet withdrawal, if this was where his thoughts had been. If he'd been thinking about his guilt. It colored some of my memories to know why he'd done it all. Why he'd left. The anger I'd felt in the last weeks was wholly absent, and in the ashes was regret and deep sadness. 

He returned the bones to the bag and he did not meet my gaze. 

"I met more than just Ardwin on my journey. I met Haar. He told me a lot." I started, because I had to start somewhere. These words were hard to say. They'd been hard to know. "He told me what it means to leave an amulet. You didn't intend to come back." I reached out and took his hand in mine, as if I could keep him here, if I could just hold onto him. Bakar was silent. 

"I have something for you." I reached into my pocket, and retrieved the amulet I’d made him and the letter he'd left me all those years ago. The paper was worn and soft from how many times I'd read it. I took the amulet I'd made for him. I hope he knew that this was a rejection of all that he'd done that day, a return of that grim offering. I passed it to him and he took them gently, his eye fixed on the amulet. 

"I made this for you so you can remember that I am no Shamsi. You cannot leave me a piece of jewelry and expect me to wait and be content. Wear it and remember that I'll walk to find you wherever you are." I had proven that. He searched my face and saw the truth there. 

"I want to ask you not to do any of this." My voice cracked, my eyes already stung from all the crying I'd done, but my throat still felt tight from looming tears. "Because it's impossible. It's so much. You shouldn't have to do any of it." It was beyond daunting, how he'd been able to say the task so openly, how he'd been able to keep going as he'd learned its true measure. How had he been able to stand it? Why was he able to be so resolute with his death? 

"But.... I know I can't survive this without your help." That admission was painful. I wanted to reject his quest entirely. To tell him that this couldn't be his atonement. That he had no part in this. How could either of us expect to survive this? I shoved that thought, that strand of hopelessness, aside. 

"Please, survive it with me." I reached forward and gripped the front of his shirt, bunching the fabric of it in my hands. Stay. I needed him to stay. 

He placed the letter on the desk carefully, as if it were made of brittle glass. He slipped the amulet over his head. I hoped that meant he accepted my terms, but I should have known Bakar to be more headstrong than that. 

 "I wanted to come back, at first." Bakar spoke, and there was open pain in his voice. "But along the journey, the more I found out, I realized I probably wouldn't. It was enough that you would be safe, I hoped you would find someone else whose hands were less stained with blood." There was acceptance in his tone, of a defeat he'd long ago acknowledged. 

Someone else? I hadn't journeyed across the continent for someone else. Did he hear himself? The anger was back, as bright as it had ever been, I tightened my grip on his shirt. I wanted to shake him. Those words I'd read over and over in his letter came to my mind. If it's easier, forget me, go back to living a normal life and empty your head of adventure. I would not forget. Could not. He could not ask that of me, nor could I walk back on the path I had started. 

"I haven't told you my entire journey." There were parts I still didn't have the heart to say, and didn't want him to hear. "But recent events have made me realize you're very important to me. You were the home I was searching for." I'd waited for him, in that desert of stardust. I would have waited until I was scattered to nothing. 

"There are better homes than me." He said that with such sureness. He wasn't listening. I didn't know how to get through to him. I needed to make him understand that Kelias, without him, had felt like a tomb. That once he'd entered my life and shown me how the world could be different, that I couldn't go back to how it had been before. What words did I possibly have to convey how I'd missed him? What could I say that he wouldn't, in his stubbornness, refute? I'd never been good at winning arguments with him. Convincing Bakar of anything was next to impossible. 

I glared up at him, so full of frustration and a sudden panic that I wouldn't be able to get through to him. I didn't really know what I was doing when I pulled him closer to me, and kissed him. 

I don't know what I'd been expecting to happen, I hadn't had time to think that far. I'd just done it. But this was not what I would have wanted, had I had time to consider it more. Bakar stiffened, and he did not return the kiss. I pulled away immediately, whatever had come over me overshadowed by a lesson I'd learned long ago. 

Bakar didn't like to be touched. He didn't like things like this. He was looking at me, his eye wide in shock. 

"What was that for?" There was disbelief in his voice, and in my anxiety, I heard it as anger. 

I didn't have an answer for that. I didn't know why I'd done something so stupid, how I could have ever thought that would help. I took a step back. I eyed the door. I wanted to run out of it, I wanted to run until I found the woods on the edge of town, and become lost in them. I wanted the dusk to hide my shame, and the brambles to cut my skin. I wanted to be anyone else. I wanted to disappear. I didn't want him to ever look at me again. 

"I'm sorry." The word bubbled out of me, along with tears. I think I was shaking. I felt trapped in this room, and trapped by my choices. My inability to learn. I never learned. I was so foolish. My apology would mean nothing, because I'd made the same mistake I'd made years ago, only worse. It didn't stop me from repeating it over and over. 

"I'm so sorry. Bakar, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. I don't know why. I'm sorry." I took another step back, and he took one forward. I was small again. I was spewing apologies and excuses to Mother Myrna. I hated apologizing. It never worked. She always struck me. What use were words? I was a liar anyway. I'd broken all my promises to him. He reached for my face and I squeezed my eyes shut as tightly as I could, bracing. 

His touch on my chin was gentle, not rough like I'd been expecting. Not like when he'd caught me, sneaking after him that day he'd fought the aranea, and scolded me. When I dared open my eyes I found none of the anger on his face that I'd seen then. I couldn't name his expression. 

"Forgive me." There was so much in his voice, I didn't have names for any of those emotions, nor did I have time to ponder any of them. My confusion was furthered when he leaned in and kissed me.

 It was chaste, and soft. I thought he'd pull away before I'd even had the chance to return it, but he pressed another to my lips. I could feel the line of the scar across his mouth, and his beard was coarse against my skin. Familiar and unfamiliar. I closed my eyes and kissed him back, meeting each of his. I wrapped my arms around him, wanting to be closer, or maybe I wanted to stop myself from running. My heart hammered with something like fear, but that wasn't what it was. It was overwhelming and then it was suddenly over as I felt him put his hands on my shoulders and separate us. 

  He still looked distant, even though we'd just been so close. He was holding me, yes, but in a way that we would be apart. That there was still so much between us. Bakar looked sad. That wasn't entirely it. He looked tired. I remembered this look because I'd had nightmares about it. It was one of the last ways I'd remembered him. He'd looked at me this way when I'd yelled and screamed at him not to leave. When I'd been so unfair. When I'd made us part in anger. Regret and something else was what he wore on his face. 

"There are better people for you than me, Adder. You shouldn't waste something like that on me." His words were quiet and broken. I wanted to be upset, but I didn't have the energy for it, my arms were limp by my sides, and felt leaden. So the questions in my mind came slowly. 

What other people? They hadn't been there for me. Wasn't it him that had listened? Wasn't it him that had sat with me, and explained? I'd missed his laughter and I'd missed his wisdom. He'd become such a part of my life that so many of my own inner thoughts were his voice, his reminders. I'd been content to waste away in Kelias, if it meant he'd come back. When I'd known he wouldn’t, I'd been willing to waste my life searching. None of it had felt like a waste though, not until I'd failed. There was bitterness only in the failure, not in that it had been for him. I'd resented my own weakness and foolishness, but I'd never resented wanting to be with him. 

“You don’t get to decide that.” I told him, because he didn’t. If he was going to be stubborn, I could be too. 

“Adder–” He started, but I cut him off. He needed to know. 

“I didn’t want to tell you this, because I knew it would worry you, but you were too late Bakar.” The words felt cruel to say, but less so than the ones I’d not yet said. He would be angry, he would be guilty. I still needed him to know. 

“If this is about the threads, I can go faster–” 

“No!” I stopped him. That was the last thing I wanted. “Bakar this isn’t about that.” I took a breath. It was still hard for me to talk about it, because talking about it meant remembering what it was like to be in that cellar. It meant remembering what it felt like to despair. I had to start earlier, or the words wouldn’t come. 

“When I first faced Ardwin, he let me go. The next time he found me, there was no escape. He struck me down. I died, Bakar.” I tried to talk about it like it had happened to someone else, to remove myself from it. 

“Then how are you here?” There was disbelief in his voice, of course there would be. I’d told him an impossible thing. 

“He brought me back, with the help of my companions. A resurrection ritual.” A return I still felt the effects of saliently. My body still hadn’t fully adjusted. I left out that it had been only days ago. I pulled the collar of my shirt down, to show that peculiar scar. A faint white and silver mark on my skin; a four pointed star. I’m glad I’d never seen what it had looked like when the blow had been fresh. 

Bakar looked like he’d been struck, there was horror in his expression. He reached out towards the mark, tentatively, like he had when I’d shown him the other. Something about the motion was comforting, that he’d had the same impulse I’d felt about the marks on his skin. That he wanted to touch them, and know them. I reached out, and took his hand, and guided it, placing his palm upon the scar. My breath caught. I had to close my eyes for a moment, because the sudden feeling was overwhelming, and it took everything in me not to flinch. 

It was the same as when Elzabet had touched it, there was the impulse to recoil, of something being too close and too vulnerable. As if this mark wasn’t just upon my skin, but on my very being. A piece of me that had been left unguarded. But his hand was warm, the callouses familiar, and when he shifted to trace the scar with his fingers lightly, the discomfort was gone. His touch had never been to harm. 

 I opened my eyes to find Bakar beside himself, rage and regret contorted his features. 

“I’m going to kill him.” He meant it. “I’m going to kill him.” He repeated it. I placed my hand over his, and shook my head. This wasn’t what I’d wanted from this. 

“Stop. This isn’t why I’m telling you this. I’m telling you this because in my last moments, before he struck me down, I thought only of how I wanted to see you again. My last thoughts were of you, Bakar. I don’t think you get to tell me I shouldn’t care for you.” I would have given anything then, to have him in front of me like he was now. Those last memories and moments had been so painful. 

Bakar’s face softened, or maybe he just broke. He pulled me into a tight embrace, his hand in my hair, holding my head so that my face was pressed against him, his other arm around my back so that we were flush. I looped my arms around him, and held him. I knew what this was, because I’d felt the same when I’d pulled him out of the void. I’d felt the same way the first time he’d given me shadow. He wanted to know that I was really there. This was him anchoring. I needed it too. I didn’t let go until he did, and I lingered a bit longer, releasing him slowly. 

Bakar looked exhausted. I’m sure I looked the same. There had been so many revelations and so many tears and so many words. 

“I think that’s enough for tonight.” Bakar said, and he walked to the door. For a moment, that ugly fear in me thought he was going to leave, a protest welled up in my throat, before I saw him lock the door. I let my worry out with a long sigh, but it returned, smaller, as he walked towards me. I stiffened. I searched his face for his intentions, but I’d always had a hard time guessing them when I wanted to most. 

“Sit with me, Adder.” He sat on the ground, cross-legged, and gestured to the spot in front of him. I fell into our old habit, and did as he asked, sitting close so that our knees touched. He offered out his hands, and I placed mine in them. I felt his thumb rub the top of my hand, and I traced one of the scars on his palm, before settling. Together and still. We took our first inbreath together in four long years. Our shaking exhale was in sync, and with each breath, it became steadier. 

My mind had been so full of racing thoughts, for so long, and here, it was quiet. This had been one of the first exercises he’d taught me for clearing the mind and blocking out the Call. We’d done it every day in Kelias. I’d done it by myself every day since, even when I hadn’t had time to train properly. This was something I never skipped. But it always felt different when he was there, sitting across from me. When it was a shared breath and not alone. 

I remembered what it felt like to be whole.