Chapter 6 #3
'At the beginning. I ran around with the other children who had no one.
We stole, did whatever we could do to survive.
And, then as I grew, I became bigger than the others, even the other orclings.
It was easier to fight. I made more coin.
So, that is what I did for a long time. I moved around, left the Fifth. Found myself in Merediea.'
I nod against his chest, feeling as if I should probably get up now, and yet I still don’t.
He continues speaking. 'When I met Locke, I was a half orc-half fae fighting in the black fights in the White City. I was not…how I am now. I drank too much. I fought too hard. I had no mercy for myself, nor for others. There was little need in my life for anything but the fighting pits.’
‘How did you come to the Light?' I ask.
'Locke. That cunt. He saved my life in some dark alley when I was deep in my cups. Five thieves. They’d got lucky and taken me down. He appeared. I realized later that he’d come through the Breach from the Light close by and happened upon the scene. He killed two. The others ran.'
'But I don’t understand,' I wonder aloud. 'You went with him? Why did it matter to you that he saved you? You were without mercy, you said. Why…'
He lets out a snort that I feel graze the top of my head.
‘It was the right thing. Even I knew that. I started travelling with Locke. I still fought, but by the time I saved his life in return, and we were even, things were different. I was different. So, I stayed on with him. I came here. I learned about my fae roots, and I realized how much more in common I had with them than I did with the orcs I’d known.
' He chuckles quietly. ‘Though that’s mostly Jak and Locke, not the likes of Calder and Voss.’
He's quiet for a time before he speaks again.
'We didn't leave you, you know,' he says very quietly. 'Jak and I. Locke worked the same conjure on us that he worked on you. I'm sorry that we let him, that we didn't fight harder, that we didn’t realize what he was going to?—'
'He told me,' I say, my voice cutting through his.
I look down at his arms around me. 'But the pits…' I shake my head. 'They were… I wasn't myself there. He made me survive with magick. I wouldn't have, I suppose. I should thank him for that, but I…I killed there to stay alive. I was little more than a beast.'
I fiddle with some loose threads on my sleeve. 'Or, perhaps it wasn't his conjure at all. Perhaps, when it came down to it, that's all I am. Like many of the other humans in the Dark, the ones who've spent their lives there, the ones they say are too broken to live in a place like this.'
'That isn't true, Bryn. You aren't any of those things.' He takes my hand in his.
I don't pull it away this time.
'Aren't I?' I ask. 'I'm not sure.'
Morgan's jaw sets. 'I'll never forgive him for what he's done to you. To us.' His hand squeezes mine. 'Everything in the Dark was real, you know. The time we spent together. The Moon Festival. The inn with Jak.'
I look away from him again, terrified that he'll pull me in, that I'll trust him only to be hurt again.
'Please,' I say quietly. 'Don't.'
He lets out a long breath, his arms around me twitching a little, as if he wants to hold me closer, crush me to him, but can't.
'I'll find a way to prove it to you,' he says very low. 'I will, no matter how long it takes. You will be certain of my regard. Jak's too.'
My eyes flick up into his for a moment. Could his words be true?
I draw in a quick breath and pull away sharply, my chest hurting enough to make me feel lightheaded for a moment. I cover my pained groan with a cough. I’d forgotten about my injuries in his arms. What a power he has over me.
His arms unwind from me, and he lets me go as I scramble gracelessly from his lap to put some much needed space between us.
'What happens now?' I ask, eager to change the subject, and the mood.
'Now? Nothing. We should stay in the cottage for the rest of the day, give those who weren't there this morning time to learn that you're staying in the village after all. Tomorrow, I'll show you around your new home, perhaps look around the Trading Post if you like.'
'When will Voss summon me for the training?' I ask, wondering how long my reprieve will last from the fae who hurt me.
'After the Council Five meet regarding the mission and what Locke found out. That won’t happen until after Dane and Locke meet tomorrow. We have a week or so, I think, so long as nothing is happening imminently, but we will know more on the morrow.'
‘What are they doing now? Jak and Locke, I mean.'
Morgan looks a little bit uncomfortable.
'They're looking through Locke's books in search of Kismet references,' he admits.
‘Jak wants us to go to the Great Library in Kitore, but Locke has dissuaded him for now.
He has books from when he was learning his magick in Dead City, and he thinks there might be something within their pages. '
'I see.'
I laugh off the sense of unease that they're researching me, or those like me, without me.
‘Well, it's not as if I could help with that,’ I mutter.
The silence stretches on, but I speak before Morgan can give me some useless pitying platitude.
'So, what's at the Trading Post?' I ask.
'Tavish’s shop. He’s a cunt, but he knows his wares, I’ll give him that. It has food, trinkets, blankets, all sorts from the Underhill as well as the Dark sometimes, and regions in the Light Realm as well.'
Morgan gets to his feet and gestures at the door where I slept last night. 'Locke has said that his room is yours for now, until we can sort something more permanent.'
‘Oh,' I say, peering in and wondering what permanence in the village would look like.
Will I have my own cottage? Would I contribute to the village? Do I have any skills that would be useful to them?
I stare at the bed. Or will I simply stay here in this cottage with them, sharing with whomever of the trio wants me that evening?
My stomach coils, and not in disgust, but because of something else that I don't want to name.
My chest twinges, and I close the door for a bit of privacy. I take the vial that Lia gave me out of my sleeve and un-stopper it, sniffing. It's definitely a healing potion.
I stare at my reflection in the mirror opposite.
I don't look any different with Voss’ conjure still upon me, but as I probe my chest, I can feel exactly where there should be bruising and swelling, as well as on my arms and on my face, though I can at least open my eye a little now.
How odd that none of it can be seen. My injuries don’t even feel much different from the surrounding areas of my body on the outside, I realize, just the inside.
I stare at the vial, wondering if perhaps I shouldn’t take it. I can move around still, and, as long as I’m careful, my injuries don’t hurt too much. But I’ll probably feel it more in the morning, I rationalize, and it’s definitely a healing tincture. I can smell the pink Ialican flower in it.
I drink the potion.
'Are you hungry?' Morgan asks from the other room.
I put the empty vial under the coverlet to get rid of later and open the door, already feeling better as the potion does its work.
'I could make something for you, or, you can,’ he continues as I step back into the living area.
He shows me where the foodstuffs are kept in the cupboards.
‘Take what you want.'
My eyes widen.
'I can just,' I glance up at him, 'help myself?'
He nods. 'Tell me if we run out of anything, though, so I can procure more.'
I swallow hard, surveying the jars of what look like spices and nuts, dried fruits and pickled vegetables, the flour and eggs, and salted meats.
'I have lamb shoulder for tonight. Is that all right?' he asks.
I nod. Not that I know. I've never had lamb before, I don’t think.
He takes the meat out of another cupboard and begins to prepare it, putting it in a pot with potatoes, rosemary, and a bit of mint. He covers it and puts the handle on a hook jutting out from under the hearth, swinging it over the flames.
'What should I do?' I ask, feeling a bit useless.
He gives me a small smile. 'What would you like to do?'
I frown as I look around the room. 'I don't know.'
'You could chop the carrots and greens, if you like.'
I nod, a little bit more at home now that I’ve been directed toward a task, I realize with a sinking feeling. What if I'm like those other Dark Realmers who can't live in freedom, who go mad and try to set their new home ablaze?
As if guessing my thoughts, Morgan puts a massive hand on my shoulder that I try not to shy away from.
'It's folly to think that there won't be a time of adjustment,' he says gently. 'This is a different life than the one you left behind. Time, Bryn, that's all. Just give it time.'
I nod, blinking away the tears that suddenly threaten.
'Thank you,' I say, turning away to chop the vegetables.
Morgan then goes to the big table in the middle of the room and brings out his weapons, laying all his knives and swords out neatly before beginning to clean and sharpen each one in a ritual that looks as if it’s performed often.
When I'm finished chopping, I go to the table and he shows me how to take care of the blades as well. We sit in silence, polishing and sharpening. There’s something about Mogan’s quiet manner, his soft words when he’s teaching me, that make me able to relax in a way that I can’t usually. It’s nice.
He even shows me how to hold some of them properly in a fight as well as demonstrating a few moves he knows, and letting me practice them at my leisure. I’m glad I took the vial, my body copying his easily and without much pain as I follow the movements he shows me.
Hours later, when the light is starting to wane and the lamb is beginning to smell delicious, this is where Jak and Locke find us.
Morgan looks up from the thin, dangerous looking dagger in my hand that he’s instructing me with when he hears them coming down.
'Anything?' he asks.