The Echo of the Enemy

[Storm Veritas]

The aging wizard walked and listened, an annoying twitch in his foot as a small pang began to walk up and around his arch. He had probably stepped on a rock, and his shoes hadn’t done their job. As he listened to the ultra-powerful heroine, it struck him that these nuisance injuries hit him far more frequently, and that trend wasn’t likely to change course. If age had saddled him with physical idiosyncratic peccadillos, it had at least granted him the wisdom of knowing when to shut up. His hand rubbing the hot skin on the back of his neck, he managed a smile as he craned his head over towards the emerald-eyed magicians.

“It’s reasonable enough, we can roll Yanbo to Scara Brae. I agree we can’t exactly pop Attila into a dinghy, the poor bastard will fall out if the high winds hit us. I hadn’t factored in the bird as a scout.”

He caught the peculiar, curious phoenix peering at him, the red hooked beak angled toward the horizon as Taodoine appeared to listen. Storm wasn’t specifically certain what the damned thing even was, but the fiery flier had proven himself loyal and helpful on more than one occasion.

“It’s schedules I worry about. Charters that take names and log passengers, anything that sails into formal ports; can’t trust a damned one of them. They won’t let us on or off without accounting for our identifications, which could feed well into whomever set me up and is likely expecting me to get out of town. Taodoine is gifted, but if they know where we’re coming, he’ll never spot people waiting calmly inside the local pub with an eye on the shoreline.”

The gallop-clip of Attila’s steady hooves on hard packed earth continued to drone beside him, with the inquisitive prodigy listening intently. Attila and Taische presented two problems; the vile electromancer refused to put the girl at risk, and knew that the horse couldn’t swim for a shit.

“I think our move will be to hire one of those formal charters, and then bribe the captain to land us off-port. We certainly have plenty of options to drive such a coercion. Those boats sail all day port to port, and never veer off course. We have him pull a hundred feet from shore, and dump his precious cargo in shallow waters.

“...way I see it, if there are people waiting for us, they’ll have to come at me in the open, not bottlenecked on the boat. Good luck to the damned fools that try to take me alive at that point.”

It wasn’t perfect, but it would likely be good enough. The salt air made its presence known with a warm, briny odor that filled his nose. They’d made their way to the shoreline, and it wouldn’t be long from here to Yanbo.

[Karuka]

Even with the course altered to reach Yanbo instead of Jadet, they had at least a day and a half of travel left to reach the coast. They had managed to stumble across a brackish marshland, and with the wind blowing in from the south, it did smell much like the sea.

Karuka led them around areas with soft ground; a blind monkey could have followed the tracks of a man in expensive shoes, a bare-footed woman, and a massive horse if they went through the mud. They traveled until darkness was already upon them, then set up camp in a sheltered nook in a dense copse of trees. A rock wall reinforced one edge of their campsite, making it highly defensible if any sort of pursuit came at them in the night. The redhead doubted that any of Storm’s pursuers would hunt them down so soon, given how far they’d traveled and their distance from a road, but she didn’t know if whatever it was tracking her and her daughter was gaining on them.

Taische practically fell from the saddle as soon as they stopped. Riding Attila was fun, but her body wasn’t used to the demands of it, and she was sore all over.

“Find somethin’ t’ give him a brushin’ with while yer sortin’ out kindling an’ wood fer th’ fire.” Karuka smiled at the incredulous look Taische gave her. Just because the child was aching didn’t mean she was exempt from camp chores. “He took care of you all day, y’ have t’ take care of him, too.”

She looked at Storm. “D’ you want t’ set up camp an’ I’ll take th’ bird t’ find some food, or d’ you want t’ hunt while I set up here?” He wasn’t exempt from camp chores, either.

[Storm Veritas]

Storm smiled, a bit of self-awareness present as Karuka used a little less subtlety than she might normally offer. It was good; a certain frame of normalcy in her direct message. There was comfort and trust in candor; there was no need for false pretenses. Shadows were just starting to grow a bit longer now, but the wizard felt an ache from the soles of his feet up through his calves. It was wise to start setting up camp from a defensible position.

“You can let the bird rest for a bit; I’ll take care of the food out here. If you can get a good dry patch out here, I suspect four hands are better than two at setting up the tents.”

Hopefully it’s “tents,” at least. Would love to get that little one down and feel mama’s mile’s worth of legs wrapped around me after this bitch of a day.

The soil around the brackish marsh was soft, yielding to tall reeds about him as standing water stood in spots. It was a short walk of maybe three minutes before he found his ideal locale. He had hunted in waters like this before all about the world; small standing pools were about the easiest eating that a man like him could find. With both feet ankle deep in cloudy, mud-hued water, Storm lowered his palm beneath the surface of the swampy waters and unleashed a mid-sized pulse of electric energy. A soft sizzling, bubbling sound was followed by that all-too familiar whiff of ozone, and two small fish and a long snake floated lifelessly to the surface.

Bingo, bango, bongo, bitches! Easy eats, courtesy of the electric chef.

He pulled a long, thin reed from the water, satisfied by its sharp point and straight nature. The two fish were on the smaller side, barely longer than his hand. Both were already stiff as bricks, as he effortlessly pushed the reed behind the eyes and out on each side. The eye sockets made fine hanging hooks, and the dead fish were in no position to argue. Pushing them down the length of the reed, the tall adventurer fixed his focus on the dead eel, or snake, or whatever the hell it was. He strode twice to it, his third step knee deep and just about reaching the floating protein.

“WHORE!”

With footing less sure than butter-coated ice, Storm felt his shoe slide helplessly beneath him, his entire heretofore dry clothes being dunked in muddy, lukewarm, very suspect and salty water. He managed to keep his head and the reed above the water level, grabbing the serpent as he raced to stand, his tailored and clothes now free of sweat but freshly treated with a thick spread of mud, floating weeds and general debris. One shoe was hopelessly lost in the deep, opaque and unforgiving mud; the food well secured but his general demeanor miserable.

Ten minutes later, the wizard walked the hundred yards or so to the campsite, dripping with a green-brown slime and a sneer. A burned splotch of black on his shirt marked where he incorrectly hoped he could flash-dry the clothing with his electrical capabilities. It was obvious by the look on both of the female faces turned to him that their ability to suppress laughter would be stretched.

[Karuka]

A hundred yards is not a long distance, and both mother - setting up the little, low tent that she and her daughter shared when the weather was foul before working on Storm’s larger tent that reeked of pipe smoke - and child - who was roaming a little bit afield to find sticks, branches, and small logs - managed to get the majority of their snickering out of the way before the soggy Storm came squelching his way back into camp.

Taische turned her face away when she saw him, pretending to work very hard to build the fire. The corners of Karuka’s mouth twitched up slightly, but she approached Storm. “Y’ made quick work of it. Here. I’ll take care of those, an’ y’ get cleaned up. Maybe I should hunt from now on, though. Th’ big tent’s a bit heavy t’ deal with myself.”

It was a lie he’d see through just as easy as he could tell a lie, but it was also one he might well choose to believe. The truth was that he was physically stronger than she was, and the extra reach his height and longer arms gave him was helpful in pitching the tents. The other truth was that she could often find choicer meals than fish and snakes fresh from the bog water.

Karuka sat down to prepare the food while Storm went to clean up and change clothes, and Taische took a handful of kindling and blew on it, igniting it as casually as a normal child would blow out a candle. “Mother,” she began in Gaelic, “why…?”

“Because sometimes we tell little lies to help the people we love feel better about themselves. If you acknowledge the qualities someone else has that you admire or that are better than yours, they’re much more willing to help you in the ways they feel noticed. Meanwhile, if you tell them they’re bad at a job, they’re not going to want to help at all. And he wasn’t bad at this job. He’s just not got grip in those smooth-soled shoes of his.” Karuka peeled the snake’s skin from its long, muscular body.

“We haven’t had him help much before. Why now?” The little girl stuck the tinder beneath the kindling, encouraging the little tongues of flame to lap the twigs and sticks she’d set up.

“For one thing, Taische Asthore, he does the majority of setting up camp when we stop in cities. Yes, it only takes gold to hire rooms and buy food, but it’s been his gold. It’s only mine when we’ve been without him. Remember that. I am not the only one who provides. For another thing… Storm and I have been together, apart, together, apart, since many years before I had you. Before now, I had us setting up camp, hunting, everything except what he offered to do, because I expected that he’d be gone any day. But the last time, days turned to weeks, then weeks to months. He left only because I sent him away. We’re keeping him this time, for a long time. Maybe forever, if intent becomes reality.”

The redhead skewered pieces of meat onto sticks so they could roast. “When everyone works together, it bonds them tighter. It makes it so that you’ve helped this person, and they’ve helped you. You forget how many ways you rely on each other, your lives are so tightly interwoven. For that reason, I’m treating him as one of us now, instead of as a lover who might be gone the next time the moon turns.”

Taische frowned slightly, but just got up so she could start brushing down the horse.

[Storm Veritas]

Watching the whole operation move was impressive; he moved into the creeping darkness behind some less-muddy grasses to unearth what he could from his satchel. Decision making was difficult here; his shirt and pants would be soaked in near-perpetuity as they were, and he didn’t want the bog-smelling sour mud to contaminate the entirety of a pack that served him so faithfully. He found a pair of light pants that would service him for now, leaving his torso uncovered for now as he found a few thick reeds to suspend near the fire as accelerated air-drying.

This barefoot business is for the goddamned birds.

Silently, he marched back into the marsh from where he found the evening’s dinner. With the soft glow of lightning buzzing from his outstretched palm, he found the footprint and delicately - almost with impossible care - retrieved the lost shoe. It was more mud than shoe at this point, but it would help him down the road. It sickened him to wash the thing clear of mud in salty water nearby, knowing well that the leather would never be the same.

Does Taische know that these shoes cost me three hundred f*cking crowns? Lucky she didn’t laugh…

His temper began to fade as he washed mud from his forearms and returned to camp, which Karuka and her kin had set up artfully. A few downed logs were already dried around a robust, nearly smoke-free fire, and sitting by the fire, his skin began to warm and dry immediately. They were good teammates, and better people; certainly better than he had expected to travel near. It took a moment for the wizard to catch the prodigy staring at his stomach.

“They say each scar tells a story, kid. I’ve got plenty of stories, but not for now.”

Embarrassed, Taische averted her eyes, but the thin electromancer bore no shame or anger at the leers. His body was athletic and looked younger than his years would suggest, but his skin was objectively ugly. Many long, trailing scars dragged a map of battles lost across his frame, marking him in perpetuity for his stories. Sitting up, he never felt those wounds anymore, and realized that with the luxury of life, he could reinvent those stories to suit him far more favorably.

The snake meat was well prepared, and he watched as the two sets of gleaming white teeth carved through them as the two ladies each devoured their share. The O’Sheeans were efficient, precise, and generous, but the lack of hesitation to show their animalistic sides provided a small window into their capacity for carnage. The “delicate flowers” facade was simply that, and the adventurer smiled as he chewed through his own gamey bites of protein.

“Well done. Of course, had I known we’d be chased half across the goddamned country and have to cook barbecue snake, I woulda packed us some salt. Shortsighted there - that’s on me…”

His joke produced a laugh from the little one, although it was likely the overt swear that he knew would generate a glare from Karuka. She knew his mouth well, for better and worse, and still would try to keep it under wraps. This was a benign barb he had offered, after all. The three sat by the fire as they began to pick clean the shrapnel of fish and snake alike, sharing a canteen of water that was a fixture within that lovely satchel. Seated closely, Storm produced a second flask - a far more interesting drink, and shielded it from Taische behind the small wall of crackling fire. The small steel cask was tapped gently against the shin of his love, as he looked up at the unpredictable savant with a wink.

[Taische]

Karuka rolled her eyes a little at Storm’s game. He knew that Taische drank new beer when they stayed in towns; it was safer by far than the often-infected water or even cow’s milk, which sometimes carried consumption. The little girl had yet to develop anything but disgust for hard liquor, which burned her mouth and tasted sour and bitter all at once. Even so, the redhead palmed the flask and took a quick sip before passing it back.

“We’ve a little salt. I rubbed some int’ th’ meat along with a few herbs from around camp, but if y’d like a bit more salt, y’ can have some.” She took another bite of meat, then poked into the fire with a stick to turn some sizzling roots.

“I’ve got them.” Taische reached into the fire with her hands, turning them easily with her fingertips. She didn’t turn into a mass of boils and burnt flesh like an ordinary person might; she didn’t even seem to notice that the fire was warm.

“Mom, will I have scars when I grow up, like you and Uncle Storm?”

Karuka shrugged. “No tellin’, wee bit. Y’ll certainly see yer share of fights, but yer already learnin’ how t’ heal yerself. By th’ time yer old enough that we jus’ let y’ hold yer own, y’ might well be able t’ heal as fast as y’ get hurt.”

“If I get scars, I want ones like your fancy ones.” Taische pulled her hand out of the fire and went back to her food.

Karuka frowned. Her “fancy scars” were patterns engraved into her flesh by very powerful, very painful magic. “Y’ might get those, even if I hope y’ won’t. If a wild enough land chooses y’ at a time when yer about t’ die, it puts its mark on y’. Those’ll stay with y’, even if y’ heal. But if th’ land is strong enough an’ yer too weak, it’ll keep y’.”

Taische frowned, thinking about that. “So you’ve almost died four times?”

Karuka snorted. “I’ve almost died more times’n I can count. I’ve been chosen three times. Dheathain put two marks on me at once. But y’ don’t choose yer scars, Taische. They choose you.”

The girl frowned a little, then shrugged and seemed to forget the conversation. “I think there are bears around here. I saw a paw print while I was getting fire wood. It had five fingers, and it was as big as both of my hands stretched wide.” She held up her hands, stretched out with the thumbs touching, to demonstrate how big the print was.

“That’s good. Healthy forests have bears. We’ll not leave any meat fer them t’ smell, an’ they’ll leave us alone.”

“Oh!” Taische hopped up. “If we find a baby bear on its own, can I keep it? You have Ta, Uncle Storm has Attila, so I should have a pet, too. I can take care of it!”

“No, y’ may not have a bear cub. Taodoine thinks I’m his mother, Attila is a cantankerous, dangerous beast of a stallion, but he’s still a horse. A bear b’longs in th’ wild. If we get a pet fer you, it’ll be something that b’longs with people - or something that chooses you itself. But not a bear. Not at this time of year.”

Karuka stood up and stretched. “I’ll go get th’ worst of th’ mud out of yer clothes, Storm. It’ll only take a few minutes.” She ruffled Taische’s hair and moved into the brush.

[Storm Veritas]

With the dark of night came the cold, and the travelers were grateful for the fire. Karuka had left for only a moment when the shirtless old adventurer leaned forward, rubbing his hands near the fire. The mud quickly dried and flaked away; in its wake was a pair of powdered, roughened mitts that had clearly seen better days, years, and decades.

“I’m getting old fast, kid.” He smiled a half-cocked grin towards the fire as the orange licks lit a falsely sinister gaze upon his face. “Your mom’s been the star of the show for a while, now, but if I don’t start taking care of myself a little better, you’ll leave me in the dust, too.” The echo of the oaken flavor of whiskey kicked up his throat with a small, silent, undetectable belch. His body agreed.

Don’t be too quick to disagree, kid. Feel free to chime in.

Taische remained a bit withdrawn with her mother away, perhaps feeling a bit predated upon by the miserable older man. Their adventures in Radasanth had not precisely gone according to plan, and their shared frustration in the day lead to a patient nervousness.

“Not that old…” the wise little prodigy proffered. “I mean, it’s not like you’re FORTY or anything.” Her face remained unblanched, unapologetic, and unaware of the implication.

“Yes, another… hell… year and change for that, I guess. I’m a regular sprite about these parts. Hell, maybe you can teach me some tricks with that yo-yo and I can be the cooler old guy.” His inflection and tone made it clear that he was joking; finally the cute young magician succumbed to a smile.

“Listen, I know I’m not your dad. You’re probably smarter in a lot of ways than I am already, right? I don’t care if you call me Uncle, Storm, or ‘hey asshole’ - well, so long as your old lady’s not around - but I want you to be comfortable with me.”

The girl looked up at him finally, her mother’s beautiful eyes nearly glowing with innocence and a benevolent brand of lethality.

“But for the record, I know that you’re a kid, and while I was mad, it was a short-term type of anger back in the city. You’re okay to be pissed at me, too, but when you come around I’m here to help, kid. Fair enough?” His voice had grown remarkably smooth and diplomatic. He could almost feign a hint of paternal instinct in the whole exchange.

Sheepishly, Taische returned her eyes to her feet, her cheeks popping a bit rounder with a smile she wished to disguise. Storm wouldn’t get the satisfaction of penance, but progress had been made.

Breaking the silence only a moment or two later, the spectacularly beautiful Karuka returned, her lithe and athletic form cutting a striking silhouette against the darkening sky behind her. The wizard’s mind grew very dark in a fun form and way before she tossed a clean, wet shirt to him. The tunic landed across his lap, literally pouring cold water on his excitement.

Leaning forward, he wrung out the last free fluid from the shirt, batting droplets of water off his leggings in the process. He looked above to a star-riddled sky, the brilliant white pearls against a sea of perfect black foretelling a night devoid of rain. He propped the tunic over a three-point pop stand of reeds to dry near the fire, looking forward to the scent of campfire on his shirt for days to come. As he turned back, Karuka was moving into the tent he would share, rolling her side away from him and motioning for her miniature version to enter the tent right beside her. A quick glance showed two fully separate bedrolls in his tent, with plenty of real estate between the sleeping couple.

I guess that answers my other question… Guess that cold water came at the right time.

[Taische]

Taische frowned into the fire after Storm spoke. He thought their day in Radasanth was the problem? Was he completely forgetting about Lounton? Whatever had happened in Radasanth, when her mom had sent Storm away, was between the two of them. Yes, he’d gotten mad at her. He’d failed her numerous times. But she’d been deliberately pushing the boundaries, and she knew it. He shouldn’t have ever crossed her path in Lounton. That was where the damage was done.

Even so…

“You’re not my dad now,” she acknowledged. “But my father has no place for people in his life, especially not a child, so he’s nothing more than blood. Blood doesn’t make family, Uncle Storm. I know that and I won’t even be ten until spring is almost summer. So maybe, if you stay and make sure I grow up okay, you’ll become my dad.” She looked at him, at the scars and the wrinkles and the dark expression. “But if you want to stick around, maybe you shouldn’t breathe so much poison. It’ll kill you, someday.”

Storm didn’t have a chance to respond before her mother returned from the rushes to order her to bed.

“But!”

“Don’t argue, Taische. We’re makin’ fer th’ coast with all haste in th’ mornin’, an’ we leave with as much light as th’ sun’ll give us.” Karuka’s head turned pointedly to the little tent, and Taodoine hopped to its entrance, looking to his girl.

“I’m always awake at dawn anyway!” Taische protested.

Karuka raised an eyebrow. “Fine then. Don’t sleep. Get int’ yer bedroll an’ count t’ a hundred.”

“Which lang-”

“You choose. Get in.”

Taische grumbled and stomped into her tent. She wasn’t a baby to be sent to bed, but she was nearing the end of Karuka’s patience. As any child with a mother knows, that’s a dangerous place to be.

[Karuka]

A moment of silence passed after that, then Karuka crouched to start banking the fire. “She’s exhausted. She’ll not even make it t’ thirty.” A glance at Storm told her everything she needed to know about his disappointment.

“D’y’ think we’d not wake her? An’ even if we didn’t, d’y’ think y’d be up an’ movin’ quick enough in th’ mornin’?” The redhead brushed some hot ash from her hands.

Storm leaned in a little bit, trying to catch the dying fire’s last flicker of warmth. “I thought it was because I’ve been a bit…” his hand waved back and forth, trying to wordlessly express his behavior without words.

“Inconstant?” Karuka flipped her long braid over her shoulder, getting it out of the way. “We’ve been lovers in fits an’ spurts since my eighteenth summer. If I couldn’t forgive you bein’, well... you, we’d not’ve been lovers again when we met in Dheathain. If I’d not accepted who y’ are an ay long time ago, we’d never have been in this corner of C’rone t’day t’ begin with.” Karuka sat beside Storm, looking at him in the soft shards of moonlight that pierced the pitch-black of their campsite.

Her hand found his shoulder, tracing a magic-infused design onto his skin to help ease some of the aches that came with being a bony older adventurer. “But this time, y’ve committed t’ stay, an’ I’ve committed t’ keep you. In light of that, what’s a day or two, t’ make sure we’re all safe?”

[Storm Veritas]

He chewed on the last tiny tendons by the fire as he smirked at Karuka, gently touching her hand as she healed his pain. Her blend of delicacy and ferocity was genuinely unique in this world, and it made her a true diamond in the rough. Looking at the sharp contrast of his sunburned, red-flecked ivory skin against her smooth cappuccino flesh seemed to epitomize the fire and ice that somehow worked between them.

How the hell did I ever trick you into caring so much for me? You’re too bright to be such a damned fool.

Those big emerald eyes looked down to him with a brightness, but with the sharpness that admonished any ambitious ideas he might have had. She was right, of course; with the young one right there beside them, two small flaps of burlap would not be sufficient insulation for long-overdue lovemaking.

“I’ll be in there shortly. Going to have a smoke to smooth the stomach; it’s been awhile since I’ve been this full.”

The red cherry bowl was still warm when he packed a small pinch of tobacco into the chamber. With a snap of his fingers, a small spark burst above the leaves, erupting in an orange glow almost instantly. The first pull - always the best one - filled his lungs with a warm massage, as if tiny hands rubbed their way around, dancing. The flavor was smooth and mild, his mind instantly cleared.

So now we charter a small one to Scara Brae - try to find ourselves a fishing ship or something short and quiet. Get a proper ship to sail the long haul; probably won’t be much attention paid. Sounds good, -if- we get that far.

Another pull from the smoke, and a stare back in the direction from whence they came. Memories of the ambush rang back into his head; he’d felt so safe walking in to settle the score with Letho.

Maybe they’ve already followed me. Maybe they’re already marking all the ships. If that’s the case, I’m already as good as dead, even with these two world-wreckers with me. The assassins get paid enough to make their families rich for lifetimes. They won’t even bother attacking me, they’ll just sink the ship once we’re too far to swim.

The thought of it - the thought of losing Karuka and Taische because of his sins - it sickened him. The finest tobacco in the world wouldn’t settle his stomach now. His eyes moved across the periphery, studying the stars above laid upon the great blanket of black. Wind cool at his back, fire warm in his face. How long would he be able to keep them safe? How long would he wait until he brought death to the door of the only two he cared for?

Better off to wait twenty minutes, hitch Attila and break for it. Leave them behind. They’ll hate me, but they’ll live.

The selfish pang won the battle over his own knowledge. He needed the love, even with the risks. Finishing the pipe, he tapped out the residual ashes over the fire, and crept in for a restless night of sleep.