CHAPTER 49 Torj
Torj
‘Remnants of the past often serve as a means to illuminate the path to the future’
– Arcane Alchemy: Unveiling the Mysteries of Matter
TORJ SPOTTED HER in the workroom instantly, her hair falling into her eyes as she handed out pouches of herbs to the people of the Warren.
The makeshift alchemy space had caused quite the stir in the underground stronghold, with many volunteering to help the future Queen of Delmira, and others coming to her for assistance of their own.
Instinctively, Torj moved towards her, the connection between them tugging him closer, needing her nearer.
Extra lanterns had been lit within the cavernous space and the flickering flames caught the bronze in Wren’s hair.
Her usually sharp expression was softened by the questions the people asked about her remedies.
She handed out supplies as though she hadn’t spent hours upon hours preparing them.
Wren was teaching them how to make the counter-alchemy as well, with different benches set up for different purposes. Some were finely chopping herbs, some were monitoring the fires beneath the cauldrons, and others—
‘No, like this,’ Wren patiently demonstrated to one of the women, showing her how to properly distil the concoction. ‘See how the colour changes? That’s when you know it’s ready for the next step.’
Perhaps it was her hope that for every person who understood true alchemy, it would be one less who could be tempted by Silas’s corrupted form.
‘She’s something, isn’t she?’ Thea stood in the doorway, following his line of sight to her sister among the bustle.
‘That’s an understatement, and both you and I know it,’ Torj huffed.
‘So why aren’t you in there, standing by her side?’ Thea asked.
‘Because it’s a privilege to watch her. She doesn’t need me casting a shadow over her while she does what only she can do.’
Thea surveyed him. ‘You poor bastard. You’ve got it bad.’
‘No shit.’
She laughed. ‘As you should. She’s the best of us.’
‘You don’t think I know that?’
‘I think you know it all too well,’ Thea replied with a shrug.
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘It means you’re like Wilder. You don’t think you deserve it, but you do. You are also one of the best of us—’
Torj opened his mouth to argue, but Thea silenced him with a look.
‘Haven’t you learned not to argue with an Embervale sister yet?’
With a scoff, Torj shook his head. ‘Just because I’ll lose doesn’t stop me from trying.’
Thea grinned. ‘Atta boy.’
At that, Torj couldn’t help but laugh.
It had been three days since Torj had taken a dose of Dessa and Zavier’s strengthening potion.
He was trying to make it last, trying to go without for as long as possible before he needed to top up.
But sitting in the weapons room of the Warren with his war hammer heavy across his lap, he realized he had hit that limit.
His hand trembled as he tipped Wren’s cleaning aid onto the scrap of fabric, and it felt as though his thighs were bruising under the weight of the weapon.
‘Fuck’s sake,’ he muttered, shifting uncomfortably, ignoring the nagging worry that he soon might not be able to lift the hammer at all.
As he was agonizing over his failings, the door swung open and in strolled Wilder, Vernich, Cal, Thea and Kipp – four Warswords and a strategist, all here to witness his undoing.
Great, Torj thought darkly.
But they nodded in greeting, Thea letting out a low whistle at the sight of the weapon-covered walls. ‘Not bad, Bloodletter . . . not bad at all.’
‘It’s no Naarvian steel, but it’ll slice traitors open all the same,’ Vernich replied. ‘We’ve been doing some guerrilla warfare across Silas’s known bases. A lot of this weaponry is his.’
‘Impressive,’ Thea replied. ‘Have you sent word to Audra?’
Vernich shook his head. ‘Too dangerous. Can’t afford to have this place discovered.’
Torj turned his attention back to his hammer, his hand trembling more violently as he tried to clean the dried blood from its runes—
Suddenly the hammer lifted from his lap, and he looked up to see Vernich pulling it onto his own, taking the cleaning aid and cloth as well without so much as a word.
‘What are you doing?’ Torj hissed, his face heating.
‘Arranging flowers for your funeral,’ Vernich said bluntly. ‘What’s it look like I’m fucking doing?’
The Bloodletter guided the cloth over the carved iron with a smooth, practised hand, giving it as much care as he might his own prized weapon.
He seemed to admire the way the concoction cut right through the grime and gore in the runes, examining the bottle with a hum of approval before putting it down.
‘Want to know why I switched from sword to mace?’ he asked suddenly.
Torj’s brows shot up. He hadn’t known that the older Warsword had ever wielded anything but the mace. ‘Alright.’
Vernich paused his work to roll up the sleeve of his shirt, revealing a thick scar along the length of his right forearm.
‘Managed to cop a slice right through the tendon here,’ he said, his voice rough with the memory as he pointed to the marred flesh.
‘Wasn’t even a Guardian yet, but sparring got a little heated in the arena.
I couldn’t work a sword properly after that, not at the level I needed to pass the initiation test. According to the healers, the injury compromised my finger dexterity and fine wrist control. ’
‘I didn’t know that,’ Wilder murmured beside Torj.
‘Why would you?’ Vernich replied gruffly.
‘Anyway, I was told I wouldn’t be able to master the precise sword techniques needed to become one of Thezmarr’s best. Thought my life as a warrior was over .
. .’ He grinned, the sight somewhat unhinged.
‘And then Esyllt gave me a mace. Said I might not have the wrist dexterity any more, but I could end just as many lives by crushing rather than slicing.’
Kipp snorted. ‘Sounds about right.’
But Torj didn’t take his eyes off the Bloodletter, his stomach roiling with unease. ‘Why are you telling me this?’
‘Because I adapted,’ Vernich replied. ‘And that’s what you need to do now.’
Torj shook his head. ‘The day I can’t lift this hammer is the day I’ll no longer be a Warsword.’
‘What a load of shit,’ Thea declared from where she was sharpening her own blade. ‘A Warsword’s strength isn’t limited to the swing of their arm.’
‘No?’ Torj laughed darkly. ‘Would you want a Warsword who couldn’t wield a weapon guarding your flank?’
But Thea’s gaze was angry, and unyielding. ‘If you think my sister is going to let you die, you’ve got another thing coming, Bear Slayer.’
There was a murmur of agreement around him.
‘How’s the potion Dessa and Zavier made?’ Wilder asked.
‘It helps,’ Torj replied. ‘But I don’t want to become dependent on it. It’s similar to the alchemy Silas used during the first attack on Drevenor, and who knows what darkness fed that? We don’t know its lasting effects yet.’
‘Maybe it’s time you considered a lighter weapon? If the Bloodletter can adapt, so can you . . .’ Cal said tentatively, as though waiting for Torj to bite his head off.
Was that who he was becoming? Someone people didn’t want to share their true thoughts with for fear of being rebuked?
‘Our oath is to protect,’ Wilder said gently. ‘Nothing says we have to do it alone.’
Torj sighed. ‘Can we talk about something else?’
‘Like the fact that Vernich Warner the Bloodletter has a daughter?’ Kipp offered up quickly.
‘A Warsword daughter, no less,’ Thea agreed.
‘The Warsword, according to Audra,’ Kipp added. ‘Ashlyn Graves is a legend among the newer cohort.’
Vernich glared at them both, and Torj fought back a smile. The older man had been horrible to the pair of them during their shieldbearer training, so despite the fact that Vernich was a better man now, it still brought Torj joy to see him riled up.
‘We should definitely talk about that. How’d it happen, anyway?’ Wilder asked.
Vernich’s nostrils flared. ‘I’d have thought you’d be familiar with the act, Hawthorne. You’re a married man now, after all.’
Wilder rolled his eyes. ‘You know what I mean.’
‘Of course he does,’ Thea interjected. ‘Where’s her mother, Vernich? Who’s her mother?’
‘None of your fucking business,’ the Bloodletter snapped.
But his brusque attitude didn’t have the fear-inducing effect it once had, and seeing their expectant expressions, Vernich threw up his hands in surrender.
‘Fine. Her mother was a woman I met on the road a long time ago. We spent some time together and parted ways. I didn’t know Graves existed until she came to find me.
She was explaining who she was when we were attacked and captured. That’s the story.’
‘So you do call her Graves!’ Kipp exclaimed with glee. ‘I’m sure you left out some details along the way, but it’s a start. Who knew that a lump like you could have a daughter as beautiful as her—’
‘You.’ Vernich was on his feet in an instant, a thick finger pointed inches from Kipp’s face. ‘You stay the fuck away from her.’
Kipp had the audacity to wink at him.
‘Furies save us,’ Torj muttered, standing up. ‘Try not to kill each other before the war.’