Incendium

Another rib snapped beneath my boot. The thorn-in-my-side strained an arm forward, clawing at the scorched dirt. Strange symbols began to glow in the air around her hand. 

A dagger through the wrist promptly extinguished them. 

No exclamation of pain ever escaped from her. Impressive. If she weren’t worm food, my soldiers might benefit from this display of stoicism. 

Too bad.

My foot remained on the wretch’s back, while we both waited. Staring into the shade of a trampled forest edge while the midday sun gazed down on us. Heat slunk under my armor; it licked at new bruises and gashes.

A restless asp thrashed in my chest; my anticipation had grown vitriolic. The end to this old game neared — I’d skin those secrets alive…in due time. 

The bellow of a horn soared over the canopy. 

Finally.

I knelt, yanking the dagger out of her flesh. Despite the horn’s continued cry, the labored wheeze she expelled when I forced her to face me did not escape my ears. She struggled as I poised the tip of the dagger over her forehead, carving a crude shape just above the brow. Blood dripped over her fiery eyes, but dulled upon completion of the sigil. The rest of her went limp soon after. Dirt fell from the wretch’s small, weightless body as I dragged it toward the tree line. This was the warrior who stretched a raid into an entire war? 

I neared the trees, and the horn went quiet. The powerful gallop of the warhorses penetrated the dense woodland in its stead. Their synchronized steps shook the ground as they emerged from the thicket. The wretch remained limp as my best men-at-arms approached, forcing the beasts to trot. 

“Two children, one woman, two men.” I peered at the restrained cargo, each slung over the backs of a horse. Except for the small children, who one of my men held tightly to his chest. “They sound like Maerthites, babbling nonsense.”

“Protecting simple-minded foreigners,” I scoffed, looking down into the wretch’s dull eyes. “Disgusting. Kill the men. We’ll take the rest.”

The bound men shouted in protest as my soldiers shoved them to the ground. With enviable precision, the now cargoless warhorses positioned themselves over the foreigners. After a set of quick whistles, both horses brought down one of their behemoth hooves onto the prisoner’s skulls. Three stomps left visceral paste embedded in the soil.

The foreign woman wept silently the entire ride back to the city. Neither child joined her in mourning. 

\\\

Night engulfed the world in its chill by the time we approached the outer-city. Those still meandering in the dirt streets retreated into doorways and alleys as we led the warhorses through. Once dirt transformed into wide, paved paths the unit galloped the rest of the way toward the castle. 

We veered off into a side road, toward the garrison quarters.

Stable hands and other servants hurried out from their various corners upon our arrival. My men-at-arms and I released our beasts to them. The children were handed over to the nearest servant — they’d join the slave-house. Squirming, the ever-weeping woman struggled fruitlessly as she was hauled the other way, toward the barracks. 

I pulled the wretch off the back of my horse, letting her sag into my arms. Her eyes remained colorless, and her limbs stayed limp. 

A few bright-eyed squires waited eagerly in the barrack doors, ready to spend the late hours cleaning and repairing my men’s armor. I watched them all disappear into the building before I marched the other way. I could barely tell that I was still holding the wretch. Had she gotten lighter on the ride here?

The obnoxious giggling of the maids still doing laundry died once I rounded the corner. Three of them were elbow deep in a massive basin of filthy water. A slave sat in a corner with another maid, stitching. 

They all eyed me — and her — with wariness they tried to conceal behind indifference. I held out the wretch. 

“Wash this.” 

My arms became empty. The girls working the basin laid her down next to a pile of yet-to-be cleaned cloth. They were nimble, and gentle as they maneuvered through caked on blood and soil to strip the wretch. 

“Take it to the dungeon-master when it isn’t covered in dirt.” I turned. Knots in my back tightened. “If you can, see if it’ll eat.” 

Anticipation boiled. The asp hissed, agitated. 

It would have to stay agitated for one more night. 

Paralysis of the body and mind rendered the wretch harmless; she could wait, too.

Torch- and moonlight rested sleepily in the garrison. Raucous laughter followed me from the barracks on the trek to my private quarters – a modest apartment – that sat closer to the castle than to the stables. 

My armor suddenly felt far weightier; exhaustion tore into my bones. 

The heavy door of my quarters eased itself open before I ever made it to the threshold. Soft firelight filled the entryway. The familiar scent of a meadow after rain led me upstairs. 

My goddess sat on our bed, hunched over an absurdly large book. I leaned on the doorway. The ferocity with which she studied sent sparks flying…literally. Small fireworks popped into existence all over the bedroom. This must have been happening for a while — the room smelled strongly of smoke. 

“Are we hosting a faire in here?” 

It took her a moment, but the sweetness that filled the air when her focus finally shifted to me melted time. The hefty tome was cast aside; the sparks ceased. 

“Would you like to?” 

“Perhaps another night,” I replied. In a blink, my love stood before me, nearly an entire head taller. “Everything worked, exceedingly so.” 

“Excellent.” Invisible threads slithered under my armor, undoing clasps and pulling the heavier pieces off. “Even the enfeebling spell?” Stars fell from her eyes as she studied the filthy gashes lacerating my face. “I wasn’t so sure I got that one right.”

She pulled me behind a partition in the room, where an ornate tub hid. Brilliant blue water cast hypnotic lights onto the walls. 

“Yes, even that one.” A horrible itch flurried over my skin as I cast away filthy undergarments. “But, it did yield something unexpected.”

She poured a few drops of some pungent smelling liquid into the tub. “Oh?”

“When I cast it the first time, it broke an illusion.”

The water folded over me like silk; aches, bruises, and wounds immediately began to heal. Slipping out of her gossamer nightgown, my love joined me. I held her close.

“Interesting,” she mused. “An illusion of…?”

“Physique.” Under the water, my fingers brushed against the thick scars on her back. She still hasn’t told me just how she managed to tear her own wings off. “The great, giant protector clad in mysterious metal is just a very talented magic-wielder.”

“Hm. Fae?” My wife asked, adjusting herself so she could see me better. 

“Not obviously.” I tilted my head back to let my love wipe grime away. “She uses runes I don’t recognize, not from any fae or giant or dwarven or seafolk language, story, or passing whisper I have ever encountered.”

“She? How unladylike, parading around in an illusion like that. Tsk, tsk.” Cold cloth fell over my eyes. “This warrior is an enigma, but not indestructible.” She chortled. “All these years of battle, and some homespun magic is all it took to stop her? You’ll have her whole life penned out before noon.”

Yes, I would.

\\\

 Ropes held the wretch to the chair. Not in restraint, but to keep her from falling over. The sigil held strong. I’d have to secure her more effectively before I undid the paralysis. 

 Crisp silence flooded the cell. In the early morning light and without the paint of battle smeared all over – or an illusion to conceal the truth – she looked unremarkable. The maids had put her in an old frock, and gave her a loose braid. She’d pass as any common woman. Except for the garish tattoo on her neck saying otherwise. 

Despite the intense fading, its shape retained itself – a shape I recognized. 

“Shit!” With contempt I eyed the now useless array of tools I had brought to extract information with. No wonder not a single word nor sound ever left the wretch’s mouth while we fought. She had been cursed with permanent silence. No amount of torture would give me anything and cutting the flab of inked flesh off wouldn’t undo the spell either. 

Venom slipped into my blood; the asp writhed in my stomach. So close to answers and another wall hit. It was all right there. All that knowledge the Grand Court wanted, the information we needed to finally end this godforsaken war that never had to start. All of that and so much more. Hiding within the folds of this nobody’s mind.

I stared down at the line of small blades on the table next to me. I stared at the sigil beginning to scar on the girl’s forehead. Traces of an idea flitted their way into the room. Momentary fury subsided. 

I picked up a knife and carved a different sigil into both of my palms. The thought of my love’s fury if she found out I did this made ignoring the pain easy. Slathering my hands in fresh blood sent jolts of bitter electricity down my arms. With a blood-soaked finger I drew the new sigil onto one of the wretch’s temples. Low murmurs dripped into my mind as I clasped her head with my slick hands. Both light and shadow stretched over the chamber — like wax melting. I recited words I could barely pronounce and dove into an ocean of voices.

\\\

A blurry forest surrounded me, swaying in a breeze I could not feel. Light with no source illuminated everything; there were no shadows. My own body seemed…fuzzy, attempting to fade like a bad memory. Outside her mind, the pain pulsing through my hands kept me anchored here. Still, I wanted to hurry.

Ahead of me a lone, not-blurry door sat idle. I waded through a current of whispers and echoes to reach it. Ice crawled up my arm the moment my fingers brushed the handle.

“Gah!” I recoiled. The pain in my body outside grew tenfold. A hand touched my ice-encased arm. The door vanished. So did the blurry forest.

A pub sprouted from the ground, full of music and an energy I hadn’t felt in years. The ice was gone, yet a hand remained on my arm. A quaint woman sat beside me, laughing at something another woman next to her said. She turned to face me and deja vu punctured my heart. 

Centuries later, and I almost forgot what she looked like. She looked like…

A wild shriek heralded an explosion of light. My hands — my real hands — scraped at the cell floor. Blindness had me groping around like an invalid. 

Sight eventually returned, just in time for me to see the last lines of the sigil on the girl’s forehead heal themselves away. 

Wrath I could feel burned out of her gaze. It burned away the ropes holding her to the chair. 

It burned the chair. 

Anything made of metal began to melt, bubbling violently.

Fire filled the cell, but all I could think about while I turned into ash, was how much this girl looked like her.