Chapter 42 ARIS
The very next day, Aris used her sight to look at the enchantment on her cart. She told herself it was because she was bored and that Laell probably didn’t use the right runes to give maximum effect. In reality she was trying to avoid thinking about Verne’s words.
Why did she have to pay kindness forward? How conceited of him to claim she had a debt, this stranger who knew nothing about her.
Trying to focus on the runes - or rather the squiggles of ‘light’ from her perspective in the Great Solvent made her feel miserable with nausea. Unlike Solutes which were larger and easier to see, runes were small with details she couldn’t quite make out. Furthermore, they didn’t take the shape of what they normally looked like in the physical world. When she experimentally ran her hand over them, they glimmered out of sequence, meaning distance was also different in the Solvent.
If she could find a way to get this pain-dispelling enchantment onto her body, she would gain more mobility. She drew up what such an enchantment would look like in her head, thinking about implementation, experiments until one thought put it all to a screeching halt.
She’ll gain more mobility for what?
Exhausted and head throbbing, she collapsed on her back and tried to look at nothing. Certainly not at Verne’s solute, which was a constant presence whether she liked it or not. She made a point not to talk to him after he gave her the handkerchief. He was just like the rest of them, arrogantly telling her what to do as if he had all the answers.
You can’t die.
Without a doubt, they wanted something from her: Camaz, Verne and maybe even Laell. But after thinking about it all night, Verne was right about one thing. She couldn’t die. What was all of this for? There was an anger that drove her to study runes, then to kill that Shade back at the Academy. She wanted powers. She wanted to do something… and now she could see into the Great Solvent. She now could do something about men who think they could just take. Those who stormed Caelis castle, those who killed Nilda - maybe with her eyes she could do something finally.
The pain almost made her forget the anger. People have taken too much already, they can’t take her anger away. Aris decided when she could show that when she could stand on her own again, she’ll prove to Verne she doesn’t owe kindness to anyone. Then she’ll give back his damn handkerchief. But for now it was tucked inside her shirt, wedged under the cloth belt to keep it secure. It was there as a reminder, nothing more.
That afternoon, Camaz and Laell were gone again. There was a village nearby where they did favors for supplies, money, and information. Camaz was utilizing any contact he knew of out here but even so he had barely any information on the group that called themselves the Bringers. It was like they didn’t exist or knew how to avoid even the spymaster of the Academy.
But then that afternoon, while Aris was miserably studying the runes again while fighting off dizziness, she noticed the glow of solutes she’s never seen before approach. Were they approaching? She occasionally saw some pass, ones of passing merchants or hunters wandering the forest. Aris had the sinking feeling these ones were not just passing.
“Are we expecting visitors?” she murmured to Verne.
“No. Hood,” he said. Aris reached behind her and pulled the hood of the tunic over her head. The edge of it would sit low over her face and cover her eyes.
They approached until she could hear their footsteps through the forest. They were walking quietly as if to hide their numbers but Aris could see it clearly - there were four of them. As the sound got closer, she could ‘see’ their solutes with increasing clarity, including a slight glimmer of runes floating with the glow of the solute.
“They’re wearing talismans,” she whispered suddenly, remembering what Camaz said about his ‘friend’ that betrayed him. “Verne!”
He didn’t answer. Instead an unfamiliar voice filled the camp. “Was expecting a warmer welcome,” a male voice said disdainfully. “Have you been living like beggars?”
“I wasn’t expecting visitors,” Verne said pleasantly. If she didn’t know better, she would have thought he sounded too relaxed. “I would have kept the stew boiling if I knew.”
“Nah, I don’t even like stew,” the stranger replied. “I’ll just have the girl.”
Aris pressed her mouth together. They were the Bringers. What in Moon’s name did they want with her? If they wanted her dead, they could just attack her right now.
“I’m afraid my friend isn’t on the menu,” Verne quipped back, still annoyingly pleasant. “Can I interest you in some stale bread?”
“If you weren’t Duke Teverin’s son I would have slaughtered you by now,” the stranger spat, the pretense of friendly chit chat suddenly dissolving. “What a waste of time. You can’t say I didn’t try.”
At the same time, Aris saw one of the solutes glow brighter and shake with anticipation. “Careful!” she said.
The sound came crashing to her. The flurry of movement, the clang and scrape of metal, the cursing. Aris pressed her back against the side of the cart at the confusing noise. For the first time, she was terrifyingly aware she couldn’t see any of this happening. Her ‘vision’ was just a disorienting mix of glowing spots and glimmering lights. Trying to make physical sense of it sent a wave of pain through her skull.
Camaz said that the talisman renders even manus abilities useless. It would mean Verne would be at their mercy. Furthermore, she wasn’t able to turn to her shade form, leaving her completely defenseless. Shaking, she pressed her back harder against the cart as if it would even help.
Some crashed close to the cart and she heard a loud snap. The floor of the cart suddenly dipped and she slid off of it, landing on the dirt. Hands grabbed at her and she heard Verne shout, his voice shockingly close to her ear.
Someone backhanded her, the force sending sparks through her brain. More sounds of scraping metal against metal. A hand grabbed at her again, one that was disturbingly slick with something warm.
Gritting her teeth, she switched to shade form and hand gripping her lost its grip on her. The pain forced her back into solid form, but riding the adrenaline from being attacked, she found the closest assailant and shoved a shadowy hand towards where the glimmer of rune was. She didn’t find it right away as where she saw it and where it was didn’t exactly coincide, but when she grasped the wooden talisman it glimmered, showing she found the right thing. She pulled it out before the body the solute belonged to could fight back.
A shout. A confusion of movement. She was pushed aside. The solute she tore the talisman from suddenly dimmed, then extinguished. Her head screamed in punishment for using her Shade form and she felt like screaming back.
She flipped to shade form again before something else could grab at her. Find the talismans, rip them out. She shouted at her limbs to move and to ignore the pain. Find and destroy. The glimmer of the rune showed her where it was and she grasped it, and ripped it out. She knew the assailants would be trying to get to her, but she stayed in Shade form and so didn’t feel any of it except for the rush of air.
“Her eyes!” one of the Bringers screamed as she reappeared. Her head turned to his voice and he screamed again, wordlessly. Her hand shot out to him, to his vocal chords and made him stop screaming. Through her pounding head, she realized that the talisman didn’t stop her. She was still able to slip her shadowed hand into vulnerable flesh and rip and tear. The only problem was that she had trouble targeting them.
Another crash of movement. Verne was suddenly by her side, straining against something. A Bringer was also close, shouting curses. Aris forced herself into shade form again and reached to the enemy, relieving him of his talisman. Almost immediately, Verne overwhelmed their aggressor and the solute dimmed when the Sekrelli nobleman won the fight.
“One more,” Aris gasped. There was one more solute that came with them. It was starting to fade, as if it was running away. The fucking nerve. She tumbled onto the ground, the pain growing unbearable.
No, there was one more. One more.