247. Of stubbornness, hubris and a little pressure

Ahri Arete

"No, no fucking way," Erya cursed. "I'm not going to leave her…"

"No one's asking you to," I exclaimed exasperatedly. "For Christ's sake, will you shut up and listen? I'm telling you, I will go! And if you manage to stand up, all on your own, I'll even take you with me, but if you don't, you'll go with Mordred and you won't make this even more difficult than it already is." We glared at each other, the soft, reddish light, emanating from the crystals, a fierce spark in her pitch black eyes. 

Breaking the curse had been tricky. My powers, as they were now, were much more suited to burn and destroy, which came in handy in regards to actually dispersing the magic but it had been one hell of a struggle to keep the fey alive. We had been fighting, ever since she had opened her eyes and I was seriously starting to doubt, if we were truly better off, with her awake and whole.

Mordred and Viyara had left me, the very second Erya had woken and tried rushing off to save her grandchild. The cowards had only taken one fleeting look at her determined mien and excused themselves, claiming that they wanted to make sure, Alassara didn't need our help. As if, the vampire was mostly waiting for us, eager to be reunited with her daughter. We had planned to head to the ship, as soon as I'd be done, but apparently, it wasn't going to be that easy.

Erya closed her eyes and took a deep calming breath, but her anger and frustration were still simmering beneath the surface. "She's my family, Ahri, mine! What would you do, if Cassy suddenly disappeared and…" she caught herself, eyeing me guiltily. "I didn't mean that," she added in a rush, subconsciously pulling the covers up to her chin, as if to hide from me.

"Yes, you did," I stated calmly, even though her words had managed to reignite my worries. "Look at me, fey, I'm still here, aren't I? There's no point in me going after her. Even if I could find her…" I touched my tattoo before I continued: "she's fighting against her own past, at least I think that's what's going on, and I can't help her. Just like you can't do shit for Morgan, while you're as weak as a hatchling, who has fallen out of his nest. Unless you want to wait until you're hearty and whole, I'm going and you're staying. I think I've proven that I'm more than your match, or have you forgotten, why you're bandaged up to your neck? What do you think you're going to accomplish, except for getting in the way?"

"Whatever it takes," she hissed through clenched teeth. "I'm grateful, Ahri, I really am, but I'm not going to hide and sit still, while my child is in danger. I can't."

"Your child? You know, she isn't…."

"She bloody well might be. Her mother abandoned her and I'm not going to do the same."

"Again, I'm not asking you to. I'm just asking you to trust me. Would you be as stubborn, if it was Cassandra asking?" She blinked owlishly and despite her anger, managed a smile.

"She wouldn't have asked, would she? She'd have made you or Viyara hold me down and be done with it. Incidentally, why don't you?"

"Because it's about damned time that we started working together and not against each other. We've got preciously little friends as it is and if I can't convince even one of them to trust me, what am I even doing here, in the first place. Please… I'll be back with her, before you know it and with a little luck, I'll even get my hands on whoever is responsible." Her expression darkened and eerily glowing sparks manifested along her horns. For a moment, strange, unnatural shadows danced along the walls of the small, marble lined room and across the plush, colourful carpets, but she got a hold of herself quickly enough and extinguished her magic. 

"Blackthorne's puppet, the alchemist. If I ever get my hands on either one…"

"You will. If you trust me. Now, do we have to keep going or will you allow me to save your… daughter? I won't leave, if I have to fear you might come limping after me. What's it going to be?"

"Fine," she spat after a pause, that was much too long for my comfort. "And Ahri… thank you."

"Don't mention it. If your guardian angel can't be here, I'll do what I can, in her stead. Her debts are mine, after all." A plethora of emotions played across her face, rejection, fear, hope and a bundle more, which I couldn't recognise, but ultimately, she simply asked:

"Is that the only reason?" I rolled my eyes and took a couple of steps to reach her side. Ignoring her rising eyebrows, I hugged her tightly.

"If you want me to spell it out for you: no, you're just as much a part of my family as Reia, Mordred or Viyara. Do you really think, I'd leave you high and dry, even if I wasn't tied to Cassandra? I'm not doing this because of what she promised, I'm doing this, because I want to."

She tensed but after a moment, her small hands circled around my neck and pulled me in closer. "Thanks," she whispered. "I guess I'll have to get used to having a real family."

"You better. Now, tell me what happened." She sighed and I sat down at the edge of her bed.

"We were having lunch at the Silver Swan, it's a restaurant owned by one of the Captains. When we were almost done, she, Captain Kirena, that is, joined us and invited us to bring Cassy and you along in the evening, she wanted to get to know you. We agreed. When we were leaving, one of her servants intercepted us and asked us to join her again…

Erya of the Silent Glade

"I don't like it," I whispered. "Our assistance? That's some bullshit, right there."

"Then why are we even going," Morgan said, an ironic smile playing around her lips.

"I'm curious," I shrugged, "and if there is something going on, I want to know what it is. I don't think we have much to fear, but I want you to stay close to me."

"No need to remind me…" she was breathing heavily, the flight of stairs we had to climb an arduous exercise for someone, who was used to supplementing her strength with magic. 

The inside of the Silver Swan was at least as impressive as the garden. The waiter had led us through a massive, carved double door, opening towards a reception area with a small but exquisite bar. Heavy, velvet curtains barred the way towards the main room but we had taken the curved flight of stairs to our right. A small army of empty but complete armours lined the walls, the steel shimmering in the midday light, entering through coloured windows. The worn steps creaked quietly as we slowly made our way past the first floor and towards, what I assumed must be, Madame Kirena's private quarters. At the top of the stairs, we stopped and our guide knocked.

"Come in," our hostess answered, her voice quivering ever so slightly. I tensed, my magic almost pushing through the flimsy disguise, I had created. This wasn't good. Whatever had a woman like herself on edge, didn't bode well for us. I was sorely tempted to simply turn around and make myself scarce, but my curiosity, as well as our dire need to know what might be going on behind the scenes, prevented me from skipping out.

With an ominous scraping sound, that reminded me of nails scratching the inside of a coffin, the door opened. I squared my shoulders and entered before Morgan, a terrible mistake, as it turned out. The very second, I stepped over the threshold, I heard the whining noise of an unraveling wire and something cut through my wards and into the skin around my ankles. The world turned into a smear of colours and I lost my balance, as I was being hoisted up into the air. Immediately, I reached for my power, a deadly spell form, that would pulse out in an emerald, destructive wave, shaping up within me, but much more slowly than I would have liked, the wire was enchanted.

"I wouldn't, if I were you." A wheezy, almost choked voice sounded from somewhere to my left. "Why don't you wait until the room stops spinning and reassess your options?" I couldn't concentrate on his words, the strangle cry from behind me, the only thing that mattered.

"Let me down," I howled, but I kept a tight check on my magic, dreading what might happen, otherwise. A rasping chuckle was my only response.

I blinked, the blood, rushing to my head, a constant thrum in my ears. When the dots and stars finally faded and my vision cleared, I could hardly suppress a gasp. We were in the Captain's private quarters, an airy, open space, flooded with light. The wooden walls, interspersed with floor to ceiling windows, were covered in expensive cloths, silk and brocade, mostly, and a crystal chandelier dangled close to my tied up feet. An exquisite screen, decorated with gems, shielded the back from view, but my troubles weren't hiding there. An oaken desk, large enough to pass as a dining table, dominated the room, papers and quills strewn around it. I got a glimpse of a tied down woman, a hunched over, hooded figure holding a serrated dagger to her throat.

I was gradually spinning around, hot blood running down my legs form the clean cuts, the wire had inflicted. The door had closed, with two musclebound thugs standing in front. One had pinned the waiter to the wall, while the other was pressing Morgan tightly against himself, one arm around her neck, the other around her waist. She was shivering, but when our eyes met, I saw only fury in hers. She wasn't afraid, she was pissed and I knew exactly, how she felt.

"Now," their leader said to my back, "I'm sure you understand what's going to happen, should you attempt to cast a spell or try anything equally silly. Barden over there is going to snap the pretty neck in his hands like a twig. And believe me, he will know." I was completing another revolution. This time, I came face to crotch with the creepy old man and he even leaned forward to stop my circular motion. A bitter, metallic scent wafted up, a scent reminiscent of death, injury and sickness. He was an alchemist and not one of the gentle, healing potion variety.

"My business here is rather simple…" he was interrupted by a whimper, coming from Madame Kirena. He rolled his eyes. "Excuse me." With quick strides, putting the lie to his feeble voice, he returned to the desk and offhandedly pushed his dagger through her chest and into her heart, without so much as batting an eyelid. She convulsed, but whatever he had done to her, she didn't scream, she didn't even thrash about, she simply tensed, her fingers twitched and relaxed, as crimson slowly spread through the colours of her dress. Just like a sense of foreboding dread was spreading through my veins and sending shivers down my spine. I swallowed drily. Maybe fear was the more accurate description of how I felt, after all.

"Where was I?" With a sickening crunch, he retrieved his dagger and cleaned it on her dress. "Right, to business. Like I said, it's rather simple." He rummaged in the depths of his robes and produced a tiny, sealed vial. On a whispered command, the elixir glowed with an unnatural pink and a few sparks ignited along the expensive glass. "You drink, or she dies. It's as simple as that. I don't really care which one it's going to be." He pulled the cork and a rancid odour, similar to decomposing flesh, assaulted my nose. He shuddered and shook his head.

"Disgusting stuff, but that's nothing compared to its effects. Should you choose to drink it, you'll soon wish you were dead, but that doesn't change much, does it? I can already smell the chemicals pumping through your veins, your perceived love overruling every sound judgement you might have been able to make. Here, let's not drag this out any further." He brought the disgusting liquid to my lips and I spat in his face.

Sighing, he pulled out an embroidered handkerchief and dabbed at his cheeks. "Break her arms," he commanded, without ever turning his gaze away from me. 

"No," I cried out and struggled against my restraint, a searing pain and another wave of blood my only rewards. An ugly smile spread across his face, while a dry crack and a suppressed sob sounded from somewhere behind me.

"Coward," I cursed. "Let her go!"

"Why ever would I do something that stupid? You'd turn my insides into worms or something similarly unpleasant and I don't intend to leave this beautiful world, just yet. No, my dear, I'm afraid the precious child is going to stay right where she is. Someone as young as her… it's a true pity I can take her back home. I've got a whole variety of poisons I'd like to test out, but alas… last chance, fey. Kill us all and doom her or take your medicine. There really is no other option."

One of the thugs grunted in pain and I heard Morgan's voice, clear as a bell: "don't! End them! Don't…" her words ended in a strangled cough before she fell silent again.

"Ah, youth," the alchemist mumbled melancholically. "Everything is so simple, when you're young. There is right and wrong and nothing in between. We are wrong and therefore should be killed, whatever the cost. But you and I, we both know it isn't nearly that simple. There are just some prices we can't pay, whatever the alternative. Now, enough dawdling." He raised the vial in one hand and his dagger in the other. "Choose."

Grudgingly, gradually I opened my mouth, my mind reeling. I didn't doubt for a second that whatever he wanted me to drink would ensure their safety and turn my life into a living hell. I was sweating profusely, by now, my heart thundering in my chest like a panicked beast. It really came down to a single choice, either attack now and risk my granddaughter's life or play along and pray to all the gods… maybe I didn't have to pray. I knew two, already. If I managed to get a message to Cassy or simply tell her what had happened, there'd be no stone for them to hide under. Carefully I sent the tiniest spark of magic outwards, carrying with it a command to…

"Didn't I tell you to refrain from using your magic," the alchemist snarled. The dagger shot forward, its serrated edge digging deep into my side. Red runes ignited on the surface of a black gem, attached to the hilt. The freezing, tearing sensation, that had driven the breath from my lungs, was replaced by blazing, red hot embers of pain, singeing every nerve in my body. I gasped, hot tears running down my cheeks while my vision flickered. He twisted his weapon and I felt bile rise in my throat, only to be replaced by a choking flood of blood.

Coughing, I sprayed a fine, red mist through the room, my body convulsing in pure agony. I knew I should have moved, I knew I should have fought, done something, anything at all, but I could only close my eyes, as I shook and quivered, each spasm sending fresh, torturous waves through me. A coarse hand grabbed my hair and mercilessly forced my head back, while his raspy, venomous voice hissed in my ear: "I missed your heart, fey, but only barely. Don't play games with me, if you want to fight, at least have the decency to kill us outright. You might be fast enough. Watch what happens, otherwise." He cruelly twisted my neck, until I was forced to stare at Morgan. 

Grinning excitedly, the thug behind her slowly trailed his hand up her stomach, while he still kept a vice like grip around her neck. She wriggled and lashed out with a series of pitiful blows, the hulking brute simply ignored. Like a child tormenting a fly, he caught her wrist, pulled and twisted. Her screams were muffled against his meaty hand and when he deftly jerked her arm in the other direction, breaking the joint again, she closed her eyes, her lashes barely holding back tears.

"Stop, please stop," I immediately relented. "I'll do it. Just don't hurt her."