Oval eyes bored into her soul, the sand-rusted rifle raised at Keydis. She wasn't moving, and the Skull squeezes the trigger and the bang is echoing in her skull-
With a sharp gasp on her lips, Annora started awake. Panic-stricken eyes stared blankly at the ceiling above the pitch-dark room. She prays to remember that it is shared, that she will hear anything over the sound of her pounding heart. Mercifully, she succeeds, and her ears catch the soft almost-snores of Keydis Lysistrata.
Screwing her eyes shut again, the spurii woman gently raised a webbed hand to her face. The membrane between her fingers is soft and warm, splayed across her forehead and the bridge of her nose. Taking long, slow breaths, she tries to force her mind to blank out; to take a much-needed respite from her thoughts.
In this, Annora fails, and her next breath comes out tersely.
As silently as she can manage, she eases the covers off herself. Her eyes are already adjusting, the indistinct silhouettes of the room coalescing into imprints and shapes. Sitting up, Annora can make out the lump of sleeping friend across the room, safe in her own bed.
Fighting down the urge to draw closer to Keydis, she instead padded silently to where she'd left her things perched. Her greataxe, Trunco, was leant against the far wall next to the door. Her cloak was drawn over it like an impromptu coat rack. After her eyes roamed over the room once more, she realized she couldn't place Vallum's form.
She was certain she'd left the auritium broadsword on the broad dresser at the foot of her bed. Squinting her eyes through the darkness, Annora definitely couldn't make out Keydis' greatest work to date.
Sighing, she slipped her well-worn flats over her bare feet, drawing her cloak over her and cracking open the door out. The soft creaks of the wood underfoot didn't worry her much, Keydis was a fairly heavy sleeper. Moreso when she was recovering from a fight.
She might've left Vallum downstairs. The inn had a small bar with a no-weapons-permitted rule, so she and Keydis had to check their weapons in with the barkeep. With any luck, he was still cleaning up. Their room was next to the stairwell that led up one more floor, and down to the main reception and bar. Oil lanterns were lit in the hallway, a soft light that left the inn with a pleasant orange glow and a thick warmth.
Annora's footfalls were heavy, groaning hardwood flooring accompanying her as she took to the stairs and made her way to the bar. It was a small affair, gated off by a small wooden fence mounted indoors. The barkeep was nowhere in sight, but weapons checked-in were left just behind the counter. She should've been able to see Vallum…
A sound from a nearby table startled her, and she shot around to find a table, chair pulled out. Odd, had the barkeep stepped out before putting this one up? Every other chair in the reception had been placed atop its respective table.
Another sound, from the bar. Annora spun again, this time coming face to face with Vallum atop the bar's counter. Lightning-quick, she'd snatched up the blade and held it close, eyes scanning as she threw off the half-haze of sleep. Her eyes flashed away from the bar, then back, only to flinch.
Someone was there.
A hunched cloak so very like her own, slender hands poking from its folds to clean a dirtied mug. It wasn't the barkeep… an assistant? Had he been here all along? What was going on?
The figure's face was unseen in the dim lighting, shrouded by a hood drawn far over their face and framed behind a dark silken veil. A long moment passed, before the figure set the glass down… and promptly retrieved another, continuing to clean.
Finally, Annora broke the silence, "Are you uh… working for the barkeep?"
Silence persisted, and the spurii found herself backing towards the stairwell. She just wanted to sleep, to forget about the nightmare that still flashed behind her eyes with every blink. As she took her third step, the figure spoke. The tone was even, and feminine, measured and sing-song.
"It's a nice sword." It said.
Clutching Vallum tighter, Annora replied in spite of herself, "Did you take it?"
The hood and veil rustled as the figure shook her head. Then, it pointed a slender finger at the blade, "What did you name it for?"
"Vallum," Annora answered, feeling unnaturally cornered. "I named it Vallum."
"And what was it named for?"
"I'm sorry?" Annora blinked, unsure of the question.
The figure sat at a stool behind the counter, and gestured for her to do the same. Casting suspicious eyes over the still-unidentified person, she felt… compelled, to oblige. Sliding onto a chair opposite the figure, she asked her own question first, "Who are you?"
The figure's shoulders rocked slightly, as though amused by some untold joke. Then, it repeated itself, "What was it named for?"
Annora squirmed in her seat. The origin of Vallum's name was uncomfortable, at best. She had named it more than a decade ago, when emotions and passion ran high. She'd said a lot of things before she left her hometown.
Licking her dry lips, she tried to find a less assuming way to answer, "Vallum was named for the people in my hometown."
The finger nodded sagely, perhaps it already knew the answer? Lacing its fingers and propping its elbows – Annora could now see the dense musculature under the cloak, velen perhaps – onto the table, it rested its unseen head against the interlocked hands. "Back when the world seemed larger. Less empty… no, it was never empty, was it?"
Unease flitted through Annora, but her gut told her the figure wasn't threatening. She carried no visible weapons, though her words were strangely… on the mark.
Heedless of the spurii's uncomfortableness, the figure continued. "It was never empty, just… full of more of the same. Full of every tired thing you'd already seen, I suppose. The very ruins of civilizations past show that we just keep repeating our mistakes."
Annora found herself nodding in agreement, eyes straying to her own hands splayed across the bar counter. One still clutched Vallum, which had been lain across the counter much the same as she had found it. Her own words came nervously, "I spent a lot of time in those ruins, trying to find something that was different."
"Trying to find someone that was different." The figure corrected, and Annora's head shot up, peering intensely at the veil which separated her from her questioner. "You found much else, though. Worlds and beings beyond mortality. You knew magic, but never beings like this. There were sprits and spirits, demons and devils."
"I never thought of them as more than another part of our world," Annora admitted, "not for a long time. Beings that had memory of something other than Araevis… what was beyond our understanding? I kept asking myself that, for so many years. How much could we study and learn and yet…"
The figure smiled, and patted one of Annora's hands. Rough leather tipped the spurii off to the coarse armguard she wore on the hand, a thick bead in the center of the palm-strap pressing into the back of her own hand as the figure consoled her. It finished her sentence for her, "… And yet they turn their ignorance inward. So much knowledge wasted on the idea of what is 'proper'. So many bountiful minds all without purpose beyond their thinly-spread wisdom of what was already known."
A heady sigh emanated from Annora, her shoulders sagging as she reiterated her earlier question, "Do I know you?"
"Of course you do," The figure answered, and a hint of joy could be heard in the voice. "You studied so hard, after all. You took to books when people would not take discourse with you. Social expectations were replaced with academic ones."
The hand was drawn away from Annora, and she once again felt compelled to answer. "Since I was a child. So many years in that library… I never really had a direction in it. It was easier that way."
"Easier to think, rather than feel." The figure nodded again, and the spurii nodded with it, feeling her earlier drowsiness begin to return. Shaking her head to clear it, she found herself relaxing with this stranger's presence. There was no criticism, no judging, nothing more than simple commiseration and idle questioning. The veiled figure continued to speak. "That wasn't when you named it Vallum, though."
"No," Annora answered bitterly, a humorless smile working across her lips for a moment before falling to a somber look, "no it was not."
"It's so easy to fall in love," The figure spoke, "so easy. Yet so hard to make sense of it. So hard to understand the why's and how's and when's. How old were you?"
"Barely fourteen. The town guard had already denied me employment, and he was already a guard. Sixteen, I think. I don't even remember his name now, but…"
The figure once again finished for her, "He shared a teacher with you. It's so easy to see the good in someone learned under a trusted friend and mentor."
A laugh, bitter and painful, welled from Annora's gut, "He said he'd put in a good word once we'd both passed our teacher's test. Trusted, though… I don't know about that. I remember Lupus… perhaps he was simply stern but fair. I should like to remember it that way… he said we'd have a future together, in the guard."
"You're not talking about your mentor," The figure observed amusedly, earning an annoyed glare from Annora, before it continued, "An academic's worst nightmare: the future. How many nights spent wondering and worrying?"
"Too many."
"The anchor is so tempting, anything to keep you steady in the ocean." It mused
"I was a trophy to him," Annora said. "Something exotic and feral. Something to be tamed and displayed. He couldn't do that with me in the guard. I couldn't even look at him or Lupus."
The figure gave her another pat on the hand. "Another curse of the lonely and forgotten. So many plans made in the course of a single relationship. So many hopes and dreams. Marriage, homesteads, children."
Another bitter laugh came from Annora, but her drowsiness was beginning to return, and she rested her head against the counter as she mumbled an answer, "I never wanted children at first. What would I know, what could I know about being a mother? Not after… no, I didn't want children, but he made me dream about things I never thought I should have."
The consoling pat moved to her head, and Annora felt herself drift away into blissful slumber.
When she awoke, it was not light out. She could hear Keydis' almost-snoring on the other side of the room. Sitting up less-carefully than she had before, Annora felt something 'off' click in her head. Who was the stranger, how had she known so much? Where was Vallum?
The sword was once more missing, and Annora almost tripped getting out of bed to make her way to the door. She didn't bother grabbing her cloak this time, barely slipping her shoes on before making for the bar.
Had it been a thief trained in Serpens or Occultus? She could not recall any spells that would create such an effect. She had been exhausted the last few days, her and Pico both. The familiar had run himself ragged healing both Keydis and herself.
Annora almost slammed into the bar floor as she descended the steps, eyes instantly locking onto the bar counter. There Vallum sat, unassuming and untouched. Grabbing it and holding onto it for dear life, she turned a warrior's gaze on the rest of the bar. Her eyes immediately locked on the chair where the lone chair had been. The once-empty chair was now occupied, the veiled figure sitting as silent as a spider.
Marching up to it, the aqua-haired woman placed a hand on the figure's shoulder, only for the cloak to fall entirely!
The empty garment flopped against the chair, leaving nothing behind, and the scrape of wood-on-wood had her turned, Vallum unsheathed with a ring of steel. Spinning and brandishing the weapon, Annora felt utter confusion settle on her as a second chair was lowered and seated at the table. Upon looking back to the first chair, to find it entirely empty, the veiled cloak gone.
A long gust of wind whisked through the bar, the door to the bar drifting open. With heavy footsteps, the swordswoman cautiously approached the open doorway. The lantern outside was lit, the faint orange glow reflecting off hints of steel standing astride the doorframe.
Tensing, Annora burst through the door all at once, turning on the watchman with sword drawn. The figure was tall, clad in a set of full-plate armor with a fluted helmet. The brandished sword produced not so much as a twitch, but after a moment passed the knight turned its helmet to meet Annora's gaze. A long tabard, its color indiscernible against the light, swung softly with the passing breezes that swept through Concha Litus.
"Who are you people?" Annora asked hotly.
A long breath was drawn through the knight, a shudder of its posture that rattled the plates of its armor. The voice that answered was strong, but soft, an insistent murmur, "I am but what you know to be. To live by the sword, to die by it, is not so complicated a goal, is it not?"
"I wouldn't know about that." She bit back. "Why the evasion?"
"Which is more frustrating: the question, with no answer? Or the answer, without a question to precede it?" The tall figure questioned in response. Their shoulders were rolled back nobly, and mounted against the waist of its armor was the thick blade of a broadsword.
An impatient huff more suited to Keydis than her rocked Annora's frame, and she bore the sword at the knight. "That's more than enough coyness from you."
"You hold the sword like a prepared mercenary." The knight observed, "Were you always a sell sword?"
The question caught her off guard, and Vallum dipped in Annora's hand. Her mind seemed to wander for a moment, caught between the compulsion to answer and the twisted complex of her need to evade. Her answer came moments later. "I have been whatever the world has demanded of me."
"Yet never what you desired to be." The knight retorted, and she hissed back at it. "The callous of your hand is too deep, your posture too well-travelled for mere mercenary work. Surely you had a higher calling, once. A venture of some sort?"
Weary and put-upon, Annora finally lowered her sword. Whoever these people were, they seemed more interested in asking questions than attacking her. Vallum was sheathed, though the gesture seemed to do nothing for the knight's noble posture, as Annora contemplated how to answer. "There… was a caravan group, once. I enjoyed my time with them."
"Another dream that wasn't yours, though."
An exasperated sigh came from Annora. "It's not as though I've ever opened a venture of my own before."
"And if you were to?" The knight postured in return.
Scratching idly at her head, Annora briefly wondered why she was answering at all. The knight stood erudite and implacable. The answers had no effect on it. No judgment, no untoward probing. Simple questions with simple answers. She could do that.
Clearing her throat, the spurii leant against one of the wooden pillars that supported the small deck in front of the tavern. A silence fell over the two, accompanied only by the soft crackling of torch sconces, as Annora thought on her answer. Finally, "I wouldn't mind running an acquisitions business for the Arcanum. Dive into ancient ruins to pull fading relics of the past up for scholars to poke and prod at."
A faint smile worked onto her face as she talked. It was a nice dream for some day, at least.
The first physical response the knight produced since she had met them was a curt nod, and some hidden part of Annora was relieved for the approval. Another question wandered out of the thick helm that obscured the knight's face, the thick acoustics of the steel muddying their voice. "A heartfelt concept; light on one's coin-purse, as well. You have the responsibility, the intelligence. Why the frugality? Such debt would not become one as you."
Annora's smile vanished, a small scowl replacing it. "My debts are my own business."
"Then why should they follow you into others'?" The knight replied coolly.
Crossing her arms petulantly, the woman debated at length with herself. She hadn't thought about those promises since… no; that much was lying to herself. The promises had never left her mind, but she'd always seen them as some distant obligation. So why did they feel so imminent, so immediate? That much, she could not answer, but knew this one.
"I made a lot of promises before I left my, err, home," She answered uneasily. The word 'home' felt foreign on her tongue, and even she couldn't tell if it were the truth. Another curt nod was her answer, and the knight rolled their shoulders forward and gestured to its side. A pair of chairs had been pulled up, though not from the bar inside.
Already feeling the ache and fatigue in her legs, Annora allowed herself to get caught in the stranger's strange pace. Was Vallum at stake, was she still dreaming? The cold Aridus night seemed so far away, battered away by the warm glow of the torches and lanterns.
The two settled quickly, and the spurii couldn't help the satisfied sigh she gave as she eased into the chair. The wood was yielding and surprisingly soft. The knight gazed out into the street, towards some unseen horizon, and continued its thoughts. "Promises wouldn't cover it, would it?"
"Oaths, then," Annora cut in, stopping the musing before it could begin.
A low chuckle was her answer, and all at once she was reminded of her father's laugh. A distinct feeling of nostalgia swept over Annora, beckoning to her tired mind. She forced it away. Whether a product of her sleep-addled mind, or some troupe of storied travelers, she would see these strangers' questions through.
"Oaths that span a lifetime. Debts that are never repaid… it must've been difficult. No, perhaps not difficult. Perhaps it was simply too easy, to take on what the world had robbed you off so many times. So many broken promises and crushed forget-me-nots." The knight observed, to which they received a tired nod.
Annora joined the knight in their watch, casting roaming eyes out into the streets of Concha Litus. "They went from promising me the moon, to promising me a place in their hearts, to promising not to forget me… that spiral continued at length, until I was simply a stranger on their doorsteps."
"Or simply an empty doorstep with an echoing knock," They added.
"Or hushed voices in what they thought they could convince me was an empty one," She amended.
The knight folded their hands over their stomach as they leant into the chair. "The anger never really disappears. It just finds different outlets, different ways to get out. You couldn't shout or scream, you couldn't fight."
A bitter snort was Annora's answer, and a bitter remark. "And prove them right? Show them that the half-breed was nothing but trouble? No… I could scream until I was hoarse and accomplish nothing."
"You wanted the consequences to be unrelated; you wanted the price to be for something that had nothing to do with what you were."
"Petty theft was not a great mark on my childhood," She replied, mumbling the words as sleep dragged at her eyes, "but it was better than the silence."
"What if there hadn't been any consequences?" The knight inquired. "What if the revenge had been for its own sake?"
"That would've defeated the point," Annora explained. "If they were going to complain about me anyway, they should have to do it for legitimate reasons."
Another nod from the knight, as they droned on in that same rumbling tone, "Even such attention was temporary. It was better to be loathed than ignored; acknowledged than forgotten. Torment would've been preferable to isolation."
"Eventually, I forgot to get angry," Annora provided, unprovoked. Her eyes were closed, now, but her voice was still distinctly audible. "I forgot to even get sad. I just… stopped. Stopped feeling anything about it."
A slower nod came from the knight this time, and a sad sigh came with it. "They never broke you, though. You did that to yourself; and you've been trying to fix yourself ever since."
The words fell on deaf ears, Annora's mind drifted away into blissful slumber. When next she would awake, she already knew what needed doing.
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