You were blocked by a Terran Deity, but your Magi Deity fought on your side, Rosa said to Ghia alone, getting to her feet and helping Ghia up. Anala rose with them, sheathing her knife.
You'll have to tell me more about that later, Ghia said. "Thank you," she said out loud.
No. Thank you, Rosa said, including Anala in the conversation this time around.
Anala stepped forward then, clearing her throat. "Happy reunions aside, we'd best be makin' a plan. And I could be using a new sword," she added with a lopsided smile at the Magea.
Had Rosa been able to blush, she would have. I can fix that, she said to both women. But what do you mean 'make a plan'? What's happened?
Briefly Ghia explained the attack and subsequent siege. Rosa could feel the sorrow fresh in each woman, an ocean of it that rivalled the size of the sea where she had grown up. She bowed her head and placed a hand on each woman's shoulder, saying without words she was there for her students.
A few moments passed, and then Rosa led the two women down to the lawns underneath the North Tower, where, only a few months ago, a furtive-looking major had buried a kettle beside a rockshield.
Jester
0330 hours
It was the dull throbbing ache of her left arm that eventually woke her.
She was lying on her back on a hard surface. A headache pounded in her temples. It was dark. She started to move, but instantly was pressed back down by a hand.
"Shh," came James' voice, his hands brushing back her hair, "don't try to move."
"Unnh," she managed, somewhat articulately. James asked her if she was alright. She made another sound and tried to sit up.
"What did I just say about moving?" he asked, but helped her sit regardless. A cup was pressed into her hand, and she drank it, completely trusting. And completely parched.
"Where are we?" she whispered, her thirst quenched.
His voice was grim. "We were captured by the invading Vocan army and placed in Lord Exsil Vis' seraglio." A violent shudder racked her body at the sound of that word, and the memories of Aeril it conjured up for her, but she said nothing. "I told them we were just sneaking out of the castle for some time down at the tavern. They almost put me somewhere else," he added, "but I told them I was fifteen."
She could hear the smile in his voice, and couldn't help but smile herself, though it was more a grimace. "Thank the Goddesses for your boyish good looks," she said, and he chuckled softly. "How tightly are we guarded?"
"Not terribly, but there's a full army camped outside in the Town Square. From what I saw of Atherton, most of it has been burned or occupied. And you're in no condition for another escape, Jes," he added sternly.
She didn't argue, hearing his concern. That and her arm still throbbed and stormed. She found she could move her fingers and hand without too much pain, however. She'd always been a fast healer.
"Of course I'm not," she said, and heard him relax. "Just asking. Good information to have for the future." Her eyes were adjusting to the dark, and she saw there were more human-like shapes within the space. Must be a tent. The walls glowed dimly in places, where she was sure there were fires burning outside in the camp.
They sat in silence for a while, Jester mentally railing at the Moirae -- how is this fair? We escape the dungeon only to be thrown into a harem for the most evil man this country has ever known? You Three sure have a horrible sense of humour.
Before her thoughts wandered into blasphemy, James spoke again, his tone quiet. "You were unconscious for a long time. I was worried you wouldn't wake up."
She ran her hand down his arm. "Well, I did, so stop worrying," she said with a smile, and leaned forward to kiss his cheek. She couldn't see properly in the darkness, and his head had turned just at the wrong -- or right -- moment; so her lips met his instead. It was an awkward, clumsy first kiss, the sensations of it laced with the throbbing from her arm, but she wouldn't have had it any other way. It was real.
"I've been wanting to do that for a while," he said when they broke apart.
She almost giggled. "So have I. And I promise," she added, linking her fingers with his, "that if we both get out of here alive, it'll turn into something more."
"I'm going to hold you to that, you know," he whispered.
"Hm. You can hold me to anything you want," she said, and kissed him again, stubbornly ignoring the pain she was still in. Feck off, arm, for I am trying to have a good time despite the horrible turn my life has taken.
This kiss was better than the first, and quickly turned more passionate. They broke apart then, James saying he didn't want to hurt her arm and Jester saying she didn't want to hurt her arm. Nor did either of them want to give the guards an excuse to separate them. They'd been separated by metal bars for too long. Now that she could finally hold him as she wanted, she didn't want anything to pull them apart again.
It was decided they should get some rest, so they curled up on the ground together, Jester on her right side, James' arms around her waist.
For the first time in a very long while, Jester fell asleep with a smile on her face.
Jules
Jourd'Juno, 8th Trinnia
Yarrow's morning sickness was not strictly a morning affair, now. There was no hiding it from her women.
Or from Yarrow.
After a particularly vicious bout, she lay on her back, head in Thadea's lap. Her aunt stroked her hair, silently soothing the bellica.
Jules sat beside her, as usual when she had her sickness. They were camped by the river again, a few days ride out of Atherton. Major and bellica were far away from the fires of the camp, but the moonslight cast enough light to see by. She regarded him steadily.
"I'm pregnant." It wasn't a question. He nodded anyway. "How long have you known?"
He took a deep breath. "Since we left Atton."
Her eyes closed briefly. When she opened them again they shone with wetness. "I knew I should have packed my tea when I left Atherton," she said with a hint of humour.
"And I, mine," he replied. "Some medic I am not having standard birth control with me," he said, smiling wanly at her.
Her smile was small and pained, but it was a smile. "I don't suppose you have the other drink with you?"
He shook his head sadly. "We can go back, Yar. Just say the word and we'll --"
"We'll what, Jules? Go back to Atton so I can get that drink but pollo out at the last minute?" She shook her head. "No. I couldn't do it. I realised that when I asked you for it." The tears ran down her cheeks now, but her face was a stoic mask.
"We can still go back," he said gently.
"And I could raise my child -- mayhap already damaged by my night of drinking -- in exile. No. It's forward we go."
There was silence for a moment, and then Thadea spoke.
"Exile not so bad."
Yarrow laughed, as much a release of tension as in real mirth, and Jules found himself joining her. Soon medic and bellica were laughing heartily, with Thadea staring at them as if they'd lost their minds.
When her laughs subsided, Yarrow grabbed Thadea's hand gratefully. "Thank you, Aunt. I know exile isn't so bad. All the same, I'd rather not go back to it." She sat up and looked south, towards the capital they marched on. "No," she murmured, so soft Jules had to lean closer to hear what she said. "No, better we both die trying to take back home, rather than live with the damage I've done you, little one."
"Yarrow," he said, his voice the same level as hers, "as medic I should tell you -- three glasses of wine probably won't hurt your ba--"
Her hand pressed against his mouth. "Don't give me hope, Jules. That's the cruelest thing you could do right now." He didn't speak, and her hand dropped as she looked towards the camp. "They know, don't they?"
"Yes." What else could he say?
Yarrow got to her feet, an activity that was not so easy as it should have been. She was starting to show already. With her form, it was inevitable that it would show this early. It wasn't much,
and naught more than would be mistaken for a small beer gut by anyone not spending all day and night with her.
Yarrow brushed the dirt off her clothing. "I'm going to go talk to them," she said, and walked off, still the same proud bellica he'd always known, weight of the world on her shoulders or no.
It really was, now.
Caelum
He'd cried when he'd heard about Aro.
He wasn't ashamed of it. When he'd reached the hospitalis in search of a healer for Zardria, and the news had been broken to him none too gently, he'd let the tears flow unimpeded down his face.
Aro had been as a brother to Caelum, the more so because Caelum's family had fostered the other man's sister.
No matter what the truth about the attack, he felt guilty. As if he could have prevented it.
I should have been there.
Never mind that he'd have to have been psychic to reach the hospitalis in time to save Aro's life. Never mind that even Anala, Admiral of Athering, hadn't made it in time, her well honed battle sense telling her something was wrong. It still felt like his fault.
He felt more alone than ever. Zardria was still bedridden, unconscious. Alive, but Goddesses knew when she'd wake again.
The only person he could talk to was Helene, when the older healer came to check on the Empress. Ghia hadn't been around when he'd run for help, and Helene had been the only healer willing to come up.
The woman was thinner than he remembered, and she walked with a cane now, but her eyes were still bright and sharp, and she still spoke with wisdom. She'd seen Caelum was crying as she'd walked up, and she'd patted him on the shoulder -- elbow, rather, for she was much shorter than he -- in a kindly fashion.
"There, there, son," she'd said, walking beside the Consort. "Aro's spirit is with Bellona now, dining in the Last Hall -- you can be sure of that."
Caelum dried his tears with difficulty. "I know. I just wish...oh, this is selfish, but I wish he hadn't hated me so before...I wish we could have been friends to the end."
"He didn't hate you," Helene said, the mild surprise in her voice not matching the surprise he felt. "We talked, many times after his reassignment to the hospitalis. He missed you, but said he didn't begrudge you your new life. He understood better than Anala that you only followed orders." The older woman smiled at him.
Caelum smiled back wanly. "I wasn't ordered to love her," he said, and felt a shock of recognition as he said it. He did. He loved Zardria.
Helene only chuckled. "Oh, not by the Empress, no," she said. "But can you say for sure what the Moirae have ordained for your life?"
Caelum didn't have an answer for her.
They got to the Spire, and Caelum somehow managed to convince the stubborn woman to take the Elevator while he took the stairs, sprinting up them as fast as he'd run down. When he reached the Empress' suite, huffing and puffing despite his good health, Helene was already at Zardria's side, checking her over.
"She's Goddess-touched, this one," the healer muttered, and Caelum wasn't quite sure he heard her right.
"I'm sorry?" he asked.
"Goddess-touched," Helene said a bit louder, and then pointed to a spot on Zardria's neck, behind her ear. "You never noticed this before?"
Caelum looked at the skin discolouration that formed a strange shape: Ω. "I just thought it was a birthmark," he said, a chill running down his spine as he remembered the last place he'd seen that shape.
Helene shook her head briskly. "It's not. I would know. I delivered her myself. No, Consort -- that's the mark of the Goddess Umbra," she said, confirming his fears.
He swallowed nervously. "What does it mean?"
Helene shrugged. "I don't know. I'm not a priestess."
The healer and Consort stayed silent for a while. Caelum stared at Zardria's face, which was relaxed and made her look younger. Innocent.
What are you hiding from me, Zee?
Eventually the healer turned from the Empress and addressed Caelum directly again. "Give her fluids, if you can get her to take any. Keep her hydrated. There's no lasting damage, so far as I can tell, so Goddesses willing, she'll wake up. But as I said -- I'm no priestess."
Caelum rose to shake Helene's hand gratefully. "Thank you, Healer. Do you think Umbra did this?"
Helene shrugged. "Maybe. Could just be late onset of the Zarqon family sickness." At his look, she patted his arm again. "You didn't know? Royal family has a disease that crops up dominant every few generations. Zora's mother had it. Could be Zardria got it too, but usually it shows up earlier than thirty. I don't honestly know, Caelum -- just keep her hydrated. Last thing Athering needs now is for her to die."
Caelum stood, thinking; when he turned to speak again, Helene was already at the door.
"Helene. You don't hate her," he said, bewildered.
"No, son. I don't. She's a damn sight better than Zanny." The healer ducked through the door, leaving Caelum feeling...well, not good. Better than he had.
Helene came in to check on Zardria every day, but there was no change. Caelum knew. He'd barely left his lover's side, getting all food brought up and only making short trips to the privy.
When he returned from one of those trips he saw her eyes were open.
"Zee," he breathed, falling to her side and taking her hand in his.
She groaned and rubbed her face with her other hand. "What have I missed?" she asked.
He laughed. "Ever the dutiful leader," he teased gently, and she glared at him. "Nothing much. We're still under siege."
"Mmmm." Her eyes closed again, and Caelum tried to keep her engaged in the world around her. Don't you slip away from me again.
"Do you remember what happened?" he asked.
Her eyes opened again. "Not really. I remember talking to you, and then everything faded."
He breathed an inward sigh of relief. Maybe the mark of Umbra on her skin was just coincidence. Maybe it really was the family sickness. "You had a seizure," he said out loud. "Helene thinks you may have a late onset of the Zarqon family sickness." It wasn't the total truth, but it was close enough.
Her brows knitted together as she thought about that. "Mayhap," she said.
"Is there anything you need right now?" he asked, eager to make her feel better.
"Some willowbark tea would be lovely. I have a terrible headache." She smiled up at him in that way that made his heart melt.
He kissed her hand and rose. "Right away, love," he said, and headed to the door.
Empress Zardria
She watched Caelum leave, her heart twisting in pain at the necessity of lying to him.
She knew exactly what had happened to her, of course. She remembered it all -- going rigid, fighting beside Umbra against the Magea and her Deity. She hadn't thought Umbra could lose -- her Goddess was so strong! -- but the Magi prevailed. She'd thought after that she'd have renewed contact with her Goddess, that Umbra would speak to her again, but the Goddess had withdrawn, leaving Zardria to wander the alleyways of her coma alone while her body healed from the magekal onslaught it had suffered.
The block she'd put on Ghia had to be gone, now, for she and Umbra had lost, and she knew the Magea was free already. She knew she had two Magi -- at least! -- roaming the castle. She knew naught else, for she could not sense the goings-on of the world around her as she once had. It was if her other side was still asleep, and not able to help her with anything. She felt deaf and blind, and ultimately alone and vulnerable.
She was doomed. She knew that. When she'd become a full servant of her Goddess, Umbra had granted her immortality -- No human can kill you, Little Zardria, the Goddess had said. But you must beware, for there are Magi still in the world -- they are the only ones with the power to take your immortality away.
Beware the Magi, she'd been warned, for they could kill her, and beware falling in love, for it would weaken her.
She closed her eyes against the tears.
She would fail, in the end. She knew that already. There wa
s nothing she could do about it. Her powers weakened, she could not contain the Magi as she once had.
And then Umbra will never speak to me again, she thought, and her heart skipped a beat in pain.
"No," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "No. I must not fail. I must please Her."
It was all she had ever wanted to do.
Ghia
Ghia sat on a bale of hay, watching Anala practice with her new sword and shield.
The Naratus was a beautiful weapon. This was an opinion held by Ghia, who didn't like weaponry or fighting in general.
Unless it's Jules doing the fighting, she thought with a smile. Then I quite enjoy it.
The Naratus, Rosa had told them, was one of the Great Powers, weapons forged by the Magi at a time of great strife for their people. He'd been made together with the shield, his sister the Magisphere. Each Great Power was forged from a pure element. There was more history to it, Rosa had said, but it didn't bear getting into. All they needed to know was the Naratus had been forged from lightning, and the Magisphere from earth. Only one of Magi blood could handle the weapons -- for anyone else to touch them would mean death.
The blade of the sword was covered in markings strange yet familiar to Ghia's eye. Rosa said it was the ancient, written form of the Magi language, Ereneden, but she wouldn't translate what it said. The hilt was a zig-zag, like a bolt of lightning, and the pommel was wrapped in a black, incredibly tough leather. The thing fairly crackled with energy, and sparks flew when Anala struck the wooden target with him.
A few more hits and Anala turned to face Ghia, breathing hard, sword tip resting on the hay-strewn floor of the military's training room.
"I dinnae think 'e likes me," she said with a small smile.
"I'm sure he likes you just fine, cuz." Oh, she was happy to have her voice back! "The wooden target, on the other hand..." she trailed off and looked pointedly at the thing, which was covered in scorch marks.
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