by Pirateaba
He waves for another drink, jaw set. I feel for him; he’s going through what I felt not too long ago. What I struggle with now, to be honest. It just bites him harder, because he’s in the system and still not getting rewarded.
“I’d say relax. Don’t worry about it. Soon Persua will be gone, and you’ll be the best Runner again. Well, aside from me. The Guild will be fawning all over you soon enough.”
Fals stares at me and then laughs.
“It’s odd hearing you be the voice of reason. But you’re right. It’s just depressing seeing Persua of all people become so successful. If it was someone like Garia, I’d be cheering her on. I wish it had been her, to be honest. She could use the help.”
I frown over my drink. It’s not even half empty and Fals is on his second tumbler. He’s really upset. I guess I can listen; I was going to find Garia anyway, and she might be in here later.
“What’s wrong with Garia? Is she hurt? Or is it something else?”
“She’s had problems of her own. Garia’s a good Runner, Ryoka, you know that. She can haul as much as a horse around, but she’s slow. And sometimes—she gets lost.”
The young man in front of me shakes his head, shoulders sagging. His words make me sit up in my chair.
“Lost? What do you mean?”
He waves towards the window. Ivolethe rustles around in my pouch and I order a bowl of nuts to dump in there to keep her calm.
“It’s the snow. Everything looks the same to her—she loses track of the road. Her eyesight isn’t as good as yours or mine, that’s the problem.”
Eyesight problems? Why would—oh. They don’t have glasses here. Or do they?
“Isn’t there a—a spell that could help her out with that? Improve her vision?”
“Oh, it’s not a matter of how far she can see.”
Fals flicks his wrist dismissively.
“If it were, there are spectacles—although it would be hard for her to wear those clumsy things while running—or she could buy an enchanted pair. Pricey, but she could save up. Her problem is that she can’t tell the difference between white and grey, you see? If she’s on the road and it’s just snowed—”
Color blindness. Oh. I close my eyes. There’s nothing I can do about that. Fals nods wearily.
“Everyone’s got problems, Ryoka. Garia’s a good Runner, but winter is tough for her.”
“Sounds like it.”
I sigh. I haven’t been a good friend—a friend at all to these people, have I?
“I should hang out with her more. Talk to her. I know she’s wanted to go on a delivery with me; I could do that now and then.”
Fals smiles.
“Would you? She’d love that. In fact, she’s invited me over to stay at her parent’s farm—thanks for helping her out after she got injured. I’d go, but…it would be better if two of us went rather than just me.”
He pauses delicately and I consider the invitation. He’s saying he doesn’t like Garia, which is fair enough, I guess. It’s not as if he has to like her, and he’s still a good friend to her. And as for me?
“Why the hell not? I’ll tag along sometime. Can I bring a friend?”
“Interesting way of putting it. I’m sure Garia wouldn’t mind the company, and she tells me her folks are just as friendly as she is. I’ll ask her about it when I see her.”
“She might come walking in here soon enough. She usually eats here—more often now that there’s a new cook. Were you waiting for her?”
“What? No, I was going to see you.”
“What for?”
Fals pauses, cup touching his mouth. He lowers it and smacks his head.
“What? Oh, of course! Dead gods, I’ll start forgetting my own name soon enough.”
He puts down his drink and leans across the table to me, smiling. Suddenly I remember that Fals doesn’t like Garia. He likes me. At least, I think he did at one point. Fuck. What’s he going to—
“You know those adventurers you were hanging out with? The ah, Horns?”
My thoughts freeze. I focus on Fals.
“Yes. What about them?”
“I was just in Ocre, and I heard of a big celebration that was thrown in Remendia. I missed the festivities—but apparently the city was celebrating a group of adventurers who just completed a dungeon crawl. They came out with a lot of loot. And guess what they were calling themselves?”
I sit back in my chair, too shocked for words. The Horns of Hammerad? Gerial, Calruz, and—
No, no. They’re dead. It’s just Ceria now. I remember that Erin told me she’d formed another group with Pisces, Yvlon, and one of the Antinium. But I didn’t realize—
I’m standing before I know it. Fals looks at me, concerned. I stare towards the door. Rememdia? Not too far. It’s only midday—not even that. I can make it by tonight.
“I—I’ve got to go. I have to—can you tell Garia? And Erin?”
I look at Fals. He nods at me, understanding.
“I’ll let Garia know. But who’s Erin?”
“She’s the other innkeeper here!”
I shout at him as I run out the door. I’m already picking up the pace as I run down the street.
It’s too late now. They went through the dungeon and survived. Fals said that. It’s all over now; why am I running? But I have to see.
The last time I left them, they were all dead when I got back. All dead. I never said goodbye. But this—
They did it. I just have to see that. I have to look Ceria in the eye and congratulate her. I—
They really did it. I’m smiling, but my eyes are stinging as I race out of Celum and run through the snow.
—-
The young woman ran through the snow, dashing through snow banks, feet flashing across the ground. She ran fast. Well, comparably fast. To the faeries flying high overhead, she was as slow as a falling snowflake.
Oh, if pressed the faeries would admit that Ryoka ran faster than the snow in a literal sense. But to their eyes she was like a rolling stone, or a scurrying rodent, or the slow orbit of the sun. She moved, yes, but she ran against the wind, blundering through nature. She did not dance upon the world like they did.
And the faeries did dance, or fly, or maybe both at the same time high overhead. Ryoka ran on, not hearing as they flew and argued with one of their number.
“Why are you following her? She’s done naught interesting for days, sister!”
One of the faeries complained to a faerie who flew closer to Ryoka than the rest. She sounded aggrieved, but the faerie in question—Ivolethe—just flicked her wings at her sister as she flew.
“Ah, buzz off if you feel like it! What I do is my own concern!”
“It’s ours if you want to give away our secrets!”
Another faerie called out, voice high and challenging. She was younger than Ivolethe—ancient by mortal standards, but younger in a way only the faeries would count. She flinched as Ivolethe glared at her.
“‘Tis my business! Interfere and I’ll pluck out your eyes you stripling whelp!”
She flew aggressively at the other faerie and the young one flew away, squeaking. But other faeries flew around Ivolethe, and they were not afraid.
“It is our business, sister. You pay too much attention to her.”
“I have cause.”
“An ‘if’ on the sea of possibilities is not enough. You risk too much—death, even!—for a mortal. It is not as if she is prophesied.”
“My life is my own. Or are ye a king of mine, to order me about?”
“Not I. But what if I was to tell our king of what ye do? What then?”
“Yes! Stop following the mortal like a silly pet! You stay in her belongings like a kept thing! Stop!”
More voices urged Ivolethe. She snarled and flew at them, but the faeries just flew around her, shouting.
“Yes, come away!”
“We’ll tell!”
“You went into the place of iron! Fool!”
Ivolethe roared at them, her voice lost to Ryoka as the girl leapt over a frozen log below. She pointed at the other faeries, accusing.
“What was that tripe ye brought to revenge me? Destroying a building? Throwing snow and ice at those fools? ‘Twas hardly an hour passed before you forswore vengeance and flew off as if naught had happened!”
One of the faeries laughed at Ivolethe’s anger.
“You went into the home of iron uninvited. You dared them and struck first. If you had died, we would have called for vengeance. But you are alive and only your pride is injured, so be content with that! And because of you, the mortal has a dire oath sworn against her, a prophecy of vengeance and blood!”
“I know.”
Ivolethe sighed. The faeries grew silent then; they respected oaths and vows of vengeance more than they did lives. After a while, the other faeries began to fly off. The ones around Ivolethe urged her to join them, but she just shook her head.
“A little longer. A little longer. What is time to we?”
“Careful, sister. Do not wait too long.”
“Teach her if you will! But there will be consequence and dire reckoning!”
“Aye.”
Ivolethe nodded, watching her sisters fly off. She flew lower, and whispered the words.
“There always is. But it will come no matter what I do or do not.”
Then she flew next to Ryoka and had fun creating patches of ice to trip the girl up.
—-
Ceria Springwalker was not a half-Elf for whom socializing came to naturally. She could not be a social butterfly, or social squirrel, or social anything, really. She had friends, and she could enjoy a night at a bar or one of the parties in Wistram easily enough, but she’d grown up solitary, and gotten used to being alone once she’d left her home.
Most half-Elves were like that. And so while Ceria was perfectly content to have people fawn over her and buy her drinks (or have her buy the bar a round of drinks), she eventually had to retire from the crowds and go to her room in the inn.
Below, she could hear the party still going on. Pieces and Ksmvr were busy entertaining the mass of people crowding the tables below, and she knew they had to be drinking heavily even now. Pisces could put away a surprising amount of liquor despite his thin frame, and Ksmvr seemed to be almost immune to the stuff.
The world swam in a not-unpleasant way as Ceria lay on her bed and grinned. Some people would say that drinking before the sun had even set—in the winter, no less—was unacceptable. But those people hadn’t just cleared an ancient dungeon and come back with treasure, now had they?
It had probably been a bad idea to drink the last two…three mugs, though. Ceria was just contemplating a nap when she heard a commotion on the stairs. She sat up warily, and her eyes flicked to the door. She had no gold on her—rather, she and the other Horns of Hammerad had a letter of accreditation magically sealed, allowing her to draw the coin she needed from the Merchant’s Guild if need be. It was useless to thieves, but they didn’t know that and already twice the bouncers at the inn had caught people trying to break into their rooms.
Were they now going for a more direct assault? Ceria focused on the [Ice Spike] spell although she really didn’t want to kill anyone. Maybe a blunted [Ice Shard] spell? Or just set their clothes on fire? She heard someone shouting, and then pounding feet. She raised her hand—
And Ryoka burst into the room. The young woman’s hair was a mess, and she was breathing heavily. Sweat ran down her forehead, despite her light attire. Her eyes fixed on Ceria, and the two young women stared at each other.
“Ryoka?”
Ceria stood up slowly. She heard someone shout, and then Ryoka was tackled from the side. Ceria ran out and shouted at the men trying to wrestle Ryoka. She heard faint shouting, as if someone tiny and far away was trapped in Ryoka’s belt. It was almost like a buzz. But Ceria had no time to wonder what that was.
“Stop, stop! She’s a friend!”
She shouted at the inn’s security and eventually managed to get them off Ryoka. Ceria pulled the Runner up, surprised at how warm Ryoka felt. Then she managed to soothe the [Innkeeper], and got Ryoka into her room before she could start any more trouble.
“Bring up a tray of drinks, please. Something strong to take the chill off.”
Ceria closed the door and pulled a seat out for Ryoka. The taller Human girl sat, looking around. The room Ceria had been given was huge, the biggest in the inn, meant for a couple. She was alone in it, befitting of her role as the team’s leader. In truth, it was too big for Ceria but they weren’t planning on staying in the city for more than another night, and it was perfect for talking with Ryoka.
That was, if either of them could speak. At first Ceria was buzzing with questions—how had Ryoka heard they were here? How was Erin doing? Had she heard about the Goblin attack? What about Rags? But then she found herself tongue-tied, unable to say a word.
When had they last sat together in a room, the two of them? Ceria could remember it clearly. It had been the day they’d left Esthelm, the day Ryoka had unwisely picked a fight and the Horns of Hammerad and the other adventuring groups had gone to Liscor. So long ago. A lifetime ago.
Ryoka was thinking the same thing. She sat, looking Ceria up and down. Ceria saw her eyes linger on her skeletal hand and smiled just for a second. That had to be—
“Your fingers.”
The words slipped out of Ceria in a gasp. She stared at Ryoka’s right hand, at the two healed stumps of scar tissue where her fingers should have been. Ryoka started, and held up her hand. She smiled, almost ruefully.
“I keep forgetting how many people haven’t seen this. Yeah, I lost my fingers.”
“How? Where? Was it on your delivery?”
“Yeah. The one south. It went…south.”
Ryoka laughed a bit while Ceria stared at her hand. She looked away, but then deliberately held her hand out to Ceria.
“It’s not exactly as bad as your hand, although I wish I’d kept the bones.”
Ceria gently reached out and touched Ryoka’s hand. She didn’t know what to say. Losing fingers was normal for an adventurers—it was all too easy to lose body parts when a monster was in your face. But it was never easy, not with a friend—
“I’m sorry.”
“It happened. There was nothing I could do to stop it.”
“A monster did it?”
“Goblin. Bit them right off.”
“Goblins—you mean, the ones that attacked Esthelm?”
“Sort of. It’s a long story.”
Ryoka’s expression closed off a bit. She looked pained, older. Ceria saw her shake her head.
“I’ll tell you later. I’m not here to dwell on my mistakes—and I’ve got a lot. I just had to come here, to see you.”
“You certainly did it dramatically. Couldn’t you have asked to see me rather than run up the stairs?”
The young woman grinned and shrugged, abashed.
“You’re a celebrity now. They were turning away everyone who wanted to talk to you. I don’t think they would have accepted my word that we were friends.”
“True.”
Ceria laughed, and the hardest part was over. She looked at Ryoka, marveling.
“Not a day’s passed since we got out of Albez, and you find us. How?”
“A friend of mine heard a rumor about some Silver-rank team that cleared a dungeon. I raced over here, and every person on the street knew where you were staying.”
“Oh? So you know what we’ve been up to?”
“A bit. Just the important details. Although to hear other people say it, you guys went into the Ruins of Albez and slaughtered every monster you saw until you found a treasure vault.”
Ryoka grinned at Ceria. The half-Elf had to laugh.
“Hardly. We were digging around in that place aimlessly for over a week! If it weren’t for the map O
lesm found—dead gods, there’s so much that has happened! Did you see Pisces and Ksmvr in the common room?”
“I did. They didn’t recognize me, though. Of course, they were both drunk.”
“Even Ksmvr? I might have to go down and see that.”
“He’s still drinking. I’m not sure if the Antinium can get alcohol poisoning, but you might need to stop him.”
“They’ve got antidotes for that. I’ll go down in a bit. For now—”
There was a polite knock at the door. Ceria broke off and got up. The [Innkeeper] himself was at the door with some drinks for her and Ryoka. She took it and thanked him before sitting with Ryoka at the table again. The young woman shook her head as she eyed the stiff beverage.
“They treat you like royalty, don’t they?”
“Anything for the heroic adventurers. I haven’t felt this pampered—ever.”
Ceria sighed as she stared at her drink. She should have ordered water, not more alcohol. She paused, and looked at Ryoka. The other girl was staring at her.
“What?”
“Nothing. It’s just—you guys really did it, didn’t you?”
She looked at Ceria, something in her eyes. Ceria Springwalker shook her head, smiling, feeling something in her heart move.
“It wasn’t nearly as easy as the rumors make it out to be. We nearly died several times. Yvlon is getting bits of metal cut out of her arm as we speak. We’re not even sure if we can remove the armor without damaging her arm…”
“But you did it.”
“Yes. We did.”
How she wished. How she wished she could have said that to Ryoka at another time, in another place. In an inn in Liscor, laughing with delight as the other adventurers celebrated down below. But that moment would never come.
And yet, she knew that Ryoka was thinking the same thing. Seized by a sudden impulse, Ceria grabbed her mug. She lifted it.