I remember everything.
Ten years. Ten years I've lain asleep, not even aware of my own existence. For ten years I sat silent while my body was violated, used by some perverse monster. The memories come flooding back to me, and all I can manage to is to remain catatonic on the dirt. Each day floods past in a torrent too strong to quench. Moments of joy, sadness and terror. I have had a decade of my life stolen, a decade when my body was paraded around like some mocking tableau.
Even the memories are no solace. No joy can remain when the Maurielle in them is a monster. No love can linger when those emotions are manufactured. This creature has stolen those years from me, and all it has left are memories full of sludge. All the emotion has been stripped away until I am left with a cold emptiness in my chest. Father...Jalace...
I don't even try to stop the flood of tears streaming down my face. It just flows and flow from a source I can't even identify. Those memories I'll never get back, those relationships tarnishes or destroyed. All I can see in front of my eyes is water yet the images keep pouring in. Happy family dinners, bonding with father, teasing my brothers. I studied under my tutor and his caring smile. Now all I can think of is the manufactured one I gave back. Now the unpleasantness start. Once my eyes are dry I see flashes of the cruelties. The carnage I have caused, the tortures inflicted on me-
I black out, go to another place.
When I return, I find bile dripping out of my mouth. It's only the prospect of sitting there in my own filth that finally compels me to stand, to bring my eyes skyward. The eclipse still darkens the skies, His light gone from the world for now. I can hear the cannon blast, but so far away the sound seems muted, irrelevant. I can hear the great stonework of Varantium being pulverized, the thousand-year buildings reduced to so much rubble.
The lights from the burning city blaze in the false night. The inferno rages on, converting both shops and corpses to nameless mounds of ash. The Republic's own torches are just barely visible beside that monstrous blaze. Tiny dots like ants fighting against a great fiery tiger, both unaware of the caner within. The same disease wormed its way through me, poisoning me and everyone around me.
I pull my arms tight around me and dig long marks into my arms, drawing small drops of blood. Even this pain I welcome for it signals that I am truly human. For the time in a decade I am free and pure. I have been cleansed of the vile corruption within me. And now, staring upon the burning hulk of a once-proud city, I know what must be done.
Just then, a mockingbird flies down to greet me. Instantly, a flare of white-hot rage strikes me. The monster conversed with someone else through such birds. The mockingbird lands on my shoulder, and tied around his belly is a small rolled-up piece of parchment. The creature never knew who the senders of these messages were, or how they always found it. All it knew was that the sender was a far-off ally of the Mockingbird, a distant resource. And in exchange for providing detailed updates of the battle, the sender had promised their own information. I unfurl the parchment. It reads:
From: L
Provide the usual update.
As for my part, here it is:
The Republic's navy has suffered some difficulties against Havsgard.
Rumours suggest Admiral Timbale is at the bottom of the ocean.
The message disappears, the paper ready to record my response. That rage returns, drowning out all other distractions. I drop the parchment to the ground. Slowly I take the bird off of my shoulder, gently petting it. The bird is calm, pliant, ready to return to its home. I wrap my hands around it.
Then I break its neck.
***The gate I approach is manned by only a few soldiers. Most of them are likely up north, guarding against the Republican advance. It takes some few minutes for him to address me, which I can only guess is due to his confusion. He isn't greeted by the sight of a Republican soldier, but a woman, dirt-covered and naked. "S-state your business." He finally says. "Who are you, and why are you here?"
"My name is Maurielle. Get Tilan Jahimis. Tell him his daughter has returned to him after many years. Tell him I now bleed true."
More time passes, as I am left with only my thoughts and the far-off sounds of the dying. Then finally a smaller door within the gate opens, inviting me inside. In the courtyard I am greeted with a partial ring of steel, polearms raised bare inches from my body. They're so close I could take a heavy breath and impale myself on their steel. Dozens of soldiers surround me, each one-step away from using those weapons. And there is my father. He sits on a horse, above his troops, the perfect embodiment of barely constrained rage. His hands grip the horse's reins so hard I worry for the horse. His lips are a thin line and his eyes never leave my sight. Even through the flickering torchlight I can see the colour in his cheeks as he speaks.
"Explain yourself monster. Do it quickly, I don't know if these weapons can even hurt you, but I am eager to try."
I cannot even look at my father without tears welling up again in my eyes. "I'm not the monster you believe me to be, not anymore. I'm human again, I don't know how or why. Look into the realm of the spirits, and tell me what you see."
A few moments of silence. Then he speaks. "You appear human, this is true. But then again, I believed you were human before now, and look where that got me! I don't have the talent for magic, and if these events have shown anything, it is that I was a naive fool. My own daughter has left me, and will not return." He looked at the soldiers. "Put her away in the darkest cell you can, she will face Radiance and-"
"Wait!" I say. "I said I bleed true, and I meant it. This monster, it didn't bleed when injured. I do. Let me show you." I raise my arm, slowly so the soldiers don't get shocked into motion. I gently place it against one of the pointed blades, and push until it breaks skin. Blood flows down my arm, crimson truth.
Even through the torchlight I can see my father's eyes widen.
I put as much conviction into these words as I am able to muster. "Do whatever you wish to confirm, it does not matter. I am Maurielle Jahimis, daughter of Tilan and Arehl Jahimis, and I am ready to bleed."
There is a tense moment where I am not sure if he will have me executed or imprisoned. Finally he turns to one of the men on the outer ring. "Bring me some of the magi who are resting or not in battle. Tell them I want her looked over as finely as they can manage. And get me Stormlight." A look back at me. "You will stay right where you are. Any sudden movement and you'll be skewered." A sudden sadness comes through his eyes. "I won't take any more chances."
***And so for untold minutes I stand there, naked and surrounded by gawking eyes, as what mages that can be pulled away scour my essence. They are looking for anything out of the ordinary of course, anything to justify throwing me in a cell for the rest of my short life. Father's concern is understandable, given the circumstances, though I wish it did not take so long. With the sun eclipsed the air is frightfully cold, and it takes all I can manage to not shiver in front of the other soldiers. Even in this state, some small shrivel of family pride remains.
The mages eventually retreat back in the formless mass of soldiers. II do not hear what they say to my father, though I do catch the occasional glances he sends my way. Small cracks of hope are beginning to show through. Even after that monumental betrayal, he has not fully hardened himself.
One can hear Stormlight's presence long before he makes himself known. There's a buzzing in the air, followed by a loud thunderclap of announcement. All my hair stars to stand on end as the roiling mass of black clouds hovers over the gathering masses. There's much more lightning coursing between the clouds now, some of it even leaping off to give some soldiers a brief shock. My hair stands on end just being near him. He gazes at me with eyes of lightning, and his voice speaks with thunder behind it. "Is this the one?"
My father bows. "Yes. She claims to be human once more, that she is my daughter returned. Is she telling the truth?"
Stormlight's eyes grow as he looks me over. Even he was fooled by the deception earlier, but he is looking far deeper now, I can tell. There's a ringing in my ears and small spasms in my muscles as he buries his gaze deeper. "I...believe she is correct. Before, when I saw here there was strangeness about her essence, some sort of residue surrounding her. There is no trace of it, but no trace of my Spark, either."
This comment sends the soldiers to murmur among themselves. My father however begins blurting out commands to those around him, before Stormlight even finishes speaking. Commands for some clothes, to clear out a space nearby, to lower their weapons and disperse, are all given out. The frequency and volume grow louder and louder, more frantic, until he cannot contain himself. He leaps from his horse and surges from the retreating troops, elbowing men and women aside just so he can get to me. With a wordless cry of pure joy he wraps me up in his arms, heedless of those around him.
"Oh my darling, my sweet Maurielle, I thought I'd lost you...come, come. Let's get you out of this cold."
He brings me inside what used o be some merchant's sad excuse of a textile shop, and has me sit down near the back. He starts barking out a series of order to the men outside. Soon a bath is brought in with a privacy screen and soap, scented with herbs brought in from Kutanda. The soap is the first pleasant smell I've experienced for ten years, and I stand there for a few moments, just soaking in the experience. Then the water comes and by the time I've finished bathing myself a new set of clothes are ready. A riding dress and some expensive jewelry, befitting my station.
I look at these behind the privacy screen and shake my head. "Father...I'm afraid I can't accept these. Can you bring some other things, pants, a jacket, traveling clothes?"
He stumbled but I can hear from his voice he's only happy to acquiesce to his daughter's wishes. "Of course, whatever you think is appropriate." Soon the replacements arrive, a dark blue jacket over a simple white shirt, with simple leather gloves and bots. There's even a belt and holster for a sword. Stepping out from behind I can see the joy mixed with confusion at his face.
"You look wonderful," he says, and truly means it. "Now, I imagine after what you've been through you'll be wanting some rest. I've got one of the nicer manors set aside just for you, it should be ready-"
I put up a hand to stop him. "Father...I'm afraid I won't be staying."
"What? Why in Radiance's name not?"
I clasp my fingers in front of me. "Because there is a sickness here. The Mockinglord's talons are worming their way through the Dominion and the Republic both. I remember everything that creature did, I know this to be true."
The joviality drops away. He's all business now, like he is at negotiations. "If what you say is true, then why not stay here? We can use your information to root out their spies."
"That won't fix things, he'll just get new ones. I aim to get rid of him, permanently."
He tilts his head. "How in blazes could you manage such a thing?"
"Do you know where the High Palatine left the Godslayer blades he brought back with him?"
"He gave them to me personally for safekeeping. I've been having Stormlight look them over to see if there might be ways to counter them. You're not seriously suggesting-"
"Yes," I said, "I am. There's nothing left for me here. I can't lead soldiers anymore, not after a whole mass of them has seen me exposed."
"Now" he says, "You know that was just a precaution-"
I soften my gaze. "I know. And I don't blame you for it. If I was still that fiend, who knows what I could have done had you let your guard down? Even without that, my betrayal was spread throughout the ranks. You might be willing to forgive, but if I stayed there would always be rumours. Murmurs calling me witch, fiendspawn, chimera. I can do better elsewhere, with less restriction. Father, please bring me one of the swords. And Stormlight as well."
"As long as you promise to explain what you intend." He gives me another hug. "I don't want to lose you again."
"This is something I feel I have to do."
A long, weary sigh from him. "Very well," He says. "though it pains me, I'll get you what you need."
He and I come out from the back. I lean against the now empty wooden cupboards that used to hold spools of satin and silk, before all this madness came. Perhaps someday I'll return and see things how they should be, and the city of Varantium will live up to its shining reputation at last.
Stormlight drifts in through the door, one of the infamous blades cradled amid swirls of lightning, my father close behind. "Now," he says, "what do you intend to do?"
"In the short term? Head to Kutanda, speak with the Burning Man. Perhaps he has knowledge enough. And if he doesn't, I will look elsewhere. It will be a long journey, no doubt, but after my experiences, I can't sit back any longer." I point to the blade. "What do you know about this?"
The blade turns around and around, spun within the lightning coils. "It's mostly used for binding." Stormlight says. "One of the runes is familiar, but it's paired with other symbols I've never seen before. Could be a way of tying a sword to a particular spirit, maybe a true name or some symbol antithetical to its nature." His glowing electric eyes focus on me. "You wish to take one of these blades." It's not a question, but I give it an answering nod anyway.
"If I'm going to do this, I'll need some things. Food, obviously. Coinage, a spare set of clothes. That sword. And something else. Stormlight...I can tell your spark is gone. You said you could replace it?"
"I can, sweet daughter. You're not like a normal Sparkless, there is enough room that I can give it back. Is that what you want?"
"Yes," I say, "it is. Father, Stormlight, I understand I am asking for so much so suddenly. If you don't think I can be trusted, then feel free to withhold what you wish. But whatever the case, I will be leaving. I will cut out the sickness, whatever it takes."
My father rubs his chin. I can see the wheels turning in his mind, weighing the pros and cons. Daughter or not, I'm asking him to take a considerable amount of risk. But then he shrugs and gestures to the sword. "Take it. I've done what I can to ensure you are who you say you are. You are my daughter." He clenched his fists until they grew white. "The Mockinglord has committed a grave insult against our family by taking you from me. Repay him a thousandfold."
"But won't the High Palatine notice a sword is missing and-" I begin.
He waves the concern away. "When he was brought in he was near-death, delirious. Easy enough for his memories to be mistaken concerning such precise details. Or perhaps I tested a sword to see if it was safe to destroy. It won't be the first time I've concealed the truth from him, not even recently. What else do you need?"
I tick off things on my fingers. "Money and rations, enough to sustain for several weeks of travel. A horse, bred more for endurance than speed. Another change of clothes. A map of the Dominion, or one that covers as much territory as can be managed. A spyglass. Oh, and can you please bring Jalace here? He deserves to know that I'm leaving."
"I figure I can manage most of those. It will take some time, but it can be done. As for Jalace, he's been carrying messages between the palace guard and those outside. He might be disinclined to see you, however."
I sigh. "I won't blame him if that's so, given what I was. But this is something he needs to know."
"I agree. I'll see if I can drag him in. Stormlight, see to it that her Spark is returned to her while I go about making the necessary arrangements."
After he leaves, Stormlight places the sword down on the floor and hovers close. He'd tampered down his field in order to make me feel at ease but even so, being so close sends an uneasy tingle through my teeth. "Daughter Maurielle, accept my blessing."
It hits me with no more warning than that. The raw power of the storm courses through my body, filling me with more energy than I can ever possibly use. At first it's a mighty torrent, pushing me along as I strangle to flounder in its wake. Stormlight's essence infuses every fiber of my being, filling a part of my soul I didn't even know existed until right this moment. But I know from last time that this won't stick, not unless I can master the power within. Slowly but surely I steady myself, applying what force of will I can to buffer the storm. Ever so minutely I shape the course of the storm within me, direct it where I wish. I urge the power out, down into the ground and not to my heart. As I grasp the incredibly power, the storm binds to my very being, infusing every scrap of essence with a small portion of Stormlight's being. With a great big gasp, I shunt the remainder into the ground, leaving me with his Spark attached to my core.
After it's all over, I slump back against the counter. The floor and ceiling near me are charred and I can smell the scent of smoke. Twitches and spasms plague my muscles for a few minutes as my soul and my body get used to this new power. It will take time to properly master this new gift, one I have neglected for far too long. But where I'm going, I'll need every scrap of power I can muster. I try and muster some of Stormlight's energy and all I manage is a small spark between two fingers. This is merely the first step.
***I practice using Stormlight's spark, heeding his advice and words of warning. I'd used this magic so infrequently during my training, feeling the storm's presence feels uncomfortable at first, a a heavy weight on my shoulder. But it eventually fades into the background, a presence I can notice if I think about it, but that fades down to normality if I don't. It's frustrating, feeling such a torrent of power so close to you, yet being able to only bring the smallest fraction of it to bare. Some motivation then, to keep me focused on a long-term goal.
When Jalace walks in I can almost feel the temperature of the room dropping. Stormlight leaves without needing to be asked.
The longest minute ever passes before he asks a simple question. "How long?" It's difficult to imagine what's on his face under that helmet, but his voice is chilled, grating like an iceberg fracture.
"Far as I can figure, ten years. I was...infected," my hands clench, "after that trip to the Valashai forests."
There's an ear-splitting crunch as he punches the doorframe, breaking it easily with his gauntleted fist. "Ten fucking years. Never a hint of suspicion, not a trace of anything."
"Jalace...no one knew. Not even my own father, I-"
"You think that matters?!" He gives a long sigh, and retrieves his fist from the doorframe. "It's my job to notice these things. I'm one of the Aegis, Maurielle. The fact that I couldn't figure out a family member was lying...it speaks volumes."
I step forward and take his gauntlet, hold hist fist with both hands. "It's not your fault. This thing had my memories, it knew how to act exactly like me, it knew how to talk with you. Please, don't blame yourself for what happened."
"I appreciate that," he said, "but this isn't something I can just turn off. I know, logically you're right. Doesn't change what I'm feeling." He takes his hand away. "So, Father says you're leaving. When do you want to meet?"
It takes me a few moments to fully understand what he means. "No, no I'm sorry but you can't come with me."
"Why in Radiance's name not?! You're going after the bastard that did this, I at least want to be there!"
"You can't! I'm already a traitor and worse, our family doesn't need a deserter attached to it as well." I raise my hand to block off an interjection. "Even a bastard deserter. It's already tearing Father up knowing he'll see one child leave, I don't think he could lose another. Besides, I need you and Father here, in Varantium. The Mockinglord's spies still need to be rooted out, now that we know they're here. And it'll be the perfect distraction for me. He won't see me coming."
"Maurielle...what are you going to do?"
"I'm going to break him. First, I want him to feel helpless, to beg at my knees. Then I'll dissect him, carve him, dismember him, until there's nothing left but fragments. I will inflict such pain that he will weep tears of joy. It will still be too soft for him, but I'm only human."
"But the Archons couldn't even kill him, they-"
"Then they didn't try hard enough. And if he truly can't be killed...well that means I can draw things out." I give him a grin. The prospect of revenge stokes my dwindling rage back to full blaze, but now it's focused, constrained. I will hold onto this vengeance, this feeling of betrayal, and let it build. The longer it takes to find him, the worse his torture shall be.
"Gods, you really mean that, don't you." He says.
"Every word."
"Then...godspeed. Make sure to give him a few cuts for me and Father, eh?"
"Absolutely." Without request, I wrap my arms around him and squeeze. The cold metal of his armour is unyielding and uncomfortable. Still I hold on, knowing that I may not see him for years yet. I stand there for who knows how long, before another set of arms joins us. My father, silent, embraces two of his children. Three we stand, whole and truly together for the first time in years. A fitting way for my journey to start, and a fitting reminder of what I'll return to someday.
Soon everything gets settled, my horse and supplies given to me. And I know where my first stop is.
***The feeders can be seen much sooner than the actual corpses. Flocks of crows cover the battlefield, feasting on Dominion and Republic alike. Their cacophony echoes inside my skull, a never-ending reverberation. Their feathered forms cover those of the soldiers in most cases, and if I stop to listen I can hear them. They pick and snip at flesh, consuming all the meat until all that's left are tendons and bones. And how they flock among the horses! Great rotting carcasses amid the killing fields, with entire flocks coating them. Some of the hungrier ones eye me as a potential meal but a few swipes of the blade disperse them. I have to clear them anyway, else I'd never find what I'm searching for. The sword's weighted differently than I'm used to, but the skills are still there. One good thing the monster gave me.
Ah ha! There it is. Beside a Republic cavalrywoman lies a pistol on the ground. There are quite a few muskets as well, but they're large and unwieldy. A pistol is easier to conceal, and much more surprising with people who don't expect you to bring a firearm. I take it without hesitation. The one thing I didn't tell Father and Jalace. The Mockinglord doesn't obey the Common Law, so why should I? What use is there in fighting an enemy when you've bound a hand behind your back? If I'm going to use every asset, I can't throw others away because of tradition.
I look around and also take some ammunition. A good portion has been ruined, dumped onto the ground or soaked in blood. But there are enough packets to salvage that I won't feel entirely unequipped. I'll have to make careful use of them course; until I leave the Dominion this is a last-ditch weapon. Of course, I'll need to practice with it, but that only means I'll have to conserve even more. A tricky balance.
As I'm searching on the ground, I notice the woman's still breathing. Shocked, I take a step back, before noticing where the blood is coming from. Some arrow shot her off her horse, lodging itself in her gut. She's been dying for hours, weak and unable to move from where she fell. Best to put her out of her misery. And I can get some practice with the pistol at the same time.
I stand back some, and stuff the powder and ball down the barrel. Unfortunately, pulling the trigger does nothing. Blasted thing, how do these Republicans get this to work?
I inspect the machine, noticing the piece of rock on top, with the shallow metal pan. I pull the trigger and the flint is brought down but again, nothing happens except for a small spark. I can see a hole in the silver pan, leading down, maybe that's connected. Hmm...curious. Perhaps not all of the powder was put into the barrel, maybe some was placed up top?
Well, I don't want to waste some more powder, but maybe...
I center the pistol on the woman's head, so close I won't miss. I keep my fingers away from the barrel and the pan just in case. I breath in, hold it, then slowly release. I tap the lent power from Stormlight, feel the power of the storm within me. A small spark is all I can make, but a small spark is all I need. Just...put it inside the gun, with the powder. A minute of focus until I think I've got it right, then I...release.
The sound is so much louder than I'd expected and the recoil feels like it will dislocate my shoulder. My arm is flung up in the air and I'm nearly knocked over from the blast. But there's a round hole in her head, blood and blood splintered around it. She lies still.
At the sound of the blast a cloud of crows jumps to the sky, flapping away from the danger and taking any path around me that they can manage. I stand silent, immobile as they fly by me. Another smile crosses my lips. Yes, I think I will enjoy this new weapon very much.
My horse is still back there, among the bodies. As I climb onto him, the crows are beginning to drift down again. A brief spook wouldn't dissuade them from a juicy meal. And so, I turn to give Varanitum one last look back. Strangely, the cannons are silent. The only sound I can hear now is the cawing and fluttering of the crows. Smoke tarnishes the once-pristine air. It even hides the Palace's light from my view. Perhaps it's a sign that Radiance's light will not fall on me, that I am truly alone in this.
I turn my back on the city and spur my horse onward. I'll make my own light.