Chapter 16
WATCHER
I can't believe those buffoons are following her and doing what she says. They'll learn one day. I watch them as they get to the next town, their steps slowing. The cobblestone streets are slick with recent rain, and the air is heavy with the scent of wet earth and chimney smoke.
“I better get a weapon if we’re to continue this voyage,” Wallace states. “There’s a stall over there selling swords and knives, let’s check it out.”
I watch as they travel over to the stall. Warrick and Wallace both quickly pick out a sword each, paying the man before they turn to continue moving on.
“Look, there is a potion stall. Maybe we can find something to help us?” Warrick points out.
“Oh maybe some healing potions just in case one of us gets hurt? My magic as we all know…” Windy points out.
I watch as they pick out a small bag and some potions, I can’t tell what the stall owner sold them.
"Oh, can we please stop and get some food?" Windy's grating voice asks.
I cringe at the sound, my fingers twitching with the urge to silence her permanently.
"Of course, we can, maybe even stay the night in an actual bed!" Wallace appeases her, ever the diplomat.
I roll my eyes at his eagerness to please.
I watch them head into the closest tavern, The Drunken Dwarf, its weathered sign creaking in the evening breeze. I wait a few moments before ducking in behind them, the warmth and noise of the tavern engulfing me as I step through the threshold. The scent of roasted meat and stale ale fills my nostrils, but there's something else - something intoxicating that I can't quite place.
This is the closest I've been to them, especially Windy.
What is that scent?
It's alluring, drawing me in like a siren's call. I almost follow it but turn off at the last minute so they don't sense me. I grab a table in the corner, shrouded in shadows, and wait.
I can barely overhear them asking for a room when I see them walk up the creaky wooden stairs. The floorboards groan under their weight, and I catch a glimpse of Windy's silvery pink hair before she disappears from view.
I better get a drink so I can pretend to be fucking drunk and they let their guard down around me. Then they will spill their secrets and I can talk them into abandoning this damn quest. It's a risky plan, but it's the best I've got right now.
"Bar maid! A pitcher of your best ale please," I call out, trying to keep my voice casual and slightly slurred.
A young woman with frizzy red hair and freckles splashed across her nose hurries over. "Of course, sir, just a moment." She scurries off before I can say thank you, her apron strings trailing behind her.
As I wait for my drink, I scan the room, taking in the other patrons. A group of merchants argue loudly over a game of dice in one corner, while a pair of elves sit in silent contemplation by the fire. None of them seem to pay me any mind, which is exactly how I like it.
The barmaid returns with a large pitcher of frothy ale and a slightly chipped mug. "Here you are, sir. Anything else I can get for you?"
I wave her off, pouring myself a generous serving. The ale is bitter and strong, perfect for my purposes. I take a large gulp, letting some of it dribble down my chin for effect. Now, I just need to wait for the right moment to make my move.
As I sit there, nursing my drink and planning my next steps, I can't help but feel a twinge of... something.
Regret?
Longing?
I quickly push those feelings aside. I have a job to do, and I can't let sentiment get in the way.
The hours crawl by, and I maintain my facade of drunkenness. I tell bawdy jokes to nearby patrons, sing off-key tavern songs, and generally make a nuisance of myself. All the while, I keep one eye on the stairs, waiting for Windy and her companions to reappear.
Finally, as the night grows late and the candles burn low, I hear footsteps on the stairs.
My heart races as I see Windy descend, followed closely by the others.
Why is my heart racing?
They look refreshed from their rest, and I feel a pang of jealousy at their easy companionship.
Now's my chance. I stumble to my feet, deliberately knocking over my chair with a loud clatter. All eyes turn to me, including those of my targets. I sway on my feet, putting on my best drunken act.
"Well, well, well," I slur, pointing a wavering finger at Windy. "If it isn't the great hero herself. Come to save us all, have you?"
Windy's eyes narrow as she takes me in. There's a flash of recognition in her gaze, and I wonder if I've overplayed my hand. But then Wallace steps forward, ever the peacekeeper.
"Now, now, friend," he says soothingly. "I think you've had a bit too much to drink. Why don't you sit down and we'll get you some water?"
I laugh, the sound harsh and bitter even to my ears. "Water? I don't need water. I need answers!" I take a stumbling step forward, closing the distance between us. "Tell me, oh great and powerful Windy, what makes you think you can save anyone?"
The tavern has gone quiet, all eyes on our little drama. I can see the confusion and concern on Windy's face, and for a moment, I almost falter. But then I remember my mission, and I press on.
"You're leading these poor fools on a wild goose chase," I continue, gesturing wildly.
"There's no hope, no salvation. Why don't you just give up now and save everyone the trouble?"
Wallace moves to intervene, but Windy holds up a hand to stop him. She takes a step towards me, her eyes searching my face. "Who are you?" she asks softly. "Why are you so angry?"
For a moment, I'm at a loss for words. I hadn't expected her to engage with me directly. I open my mouth to respond, but before I can, a commotion at the tavern door draws everyone's attention.
A figure stumbles in, cloaked and hooded. Blood drips from beneath the hem of the cloak, leaving a trail on the floor. The stranger staggers forward and then collapses in the middle of the room.
Windy and Wallace rush forward, all thoughts of me forgotten. As they reach the fallen figure, the hood falls back, revealing a face as pale as moonlight and hair as dark as midnight. It's a man, his features sharp and angular, with eyes that seem to glow with an inner fire.
"Help," he gasps, reaching out a bloody hand. "They're coming."
Then just like that, my carefully laid plans are thrown into chaos. I watch as Windy kneels beside the stranger, her hands already glowing with healing magic as she attempts to heal him. Wallace stands guard, his hand on the hilt of his sword as he scans the room for threats.
I find myself moving forward, drawn by a force I can't explain. As I get closer, I catch that intoxicating scent again, stronger now.
The scent… it’s Windy. Why am I drawn to it? To her?
"Who are you?" Windy asks, her voice gentle but firm.
The man's eyes lock onto hers, and I feel a chill run down my spine. "Juniper," he whispers. "My name is Juniper. And I need your help."
As those words hang in the air, I realize that everything has changed. My mission, my plans, my very purpose – all of it has been upended by the arrival of this mysterious Juniper.
As I stand there, watching Windy tend to his wounds, I can't shake the feeling that this is only the beginning of a much larger, more dangerous game.
I lean against the bar, my fingers drumming restlessly on the sticky wood as I observe the scene unfolding before me. The tavern has fallen into an uneasy silence, broken only by the occasional murmur and the soft, pained groans of the wounded stranger - Juniper.
Windy kneels beside him, her silver pink hair catching the flickering candlelight as she bends over his prone form. I watch as she closes her eyes, a look of intense concentration on her face. Her hands begin to glow with a soft, ethereal light that makes my skin crawl.
Magic.
I've never trusted it, especially not in the hands of someone like her.
"Wallace," Windy's voice cuts through the silence, "I need space. Clear the area and make sure no one interferes."
The big oaf nods, his face set in grim determination. "On it. What about him?" He jerks his head in my direction, and I stiffen, ready for confrontation.
Windy's eyes flick to me, and I feel a jolt of... something.
Recognition?
Fear?
I'm not sure. "Let him stay," she says after a moment. "He might be useful."
I snort softly. If only she knew.
I edge closer, drawn by a morbid curiosity and that intoxicating scent. Up close, I can see the extent of his injuries - a deep gash in his side, oozing blood that seems almost too dark to be natural.
"Juniper, can you hear me?" Windy asks, her voice uncharacteristically gentle.
The stranger's eyes flutter open, and I'm struck by their otherworldly glow. "Yes," he whispers. "The blood... it's not all mine."
I feel my eyebrows shoot up at that.
Windy furrows her brow but doesn't press the issue. "I'm going to try to heal you now. Try to stay still. I don’t know what will happen."
As she places her glowing hands on Juniper's wound, I watch in fascination. The air around them seems to shimmer, and I can almost taste the magic on my tongue - metallic and sharp, like blood and lightning.
She won’t be able to do anything. Her magic is too out of control.
"It's alright," Windy murmurs as Juniper gasps. "This might feel strange, but it shouldn’t hurt you, from what I’ve been told."
I lean in closer, my curiosity overrode my usual caution. "Who did this to you?" I find myself asking, surprising even myself.
Juniper's eerie eyes dart around the room before settling on me. I resist the urge to step back. "They call themselves the Crimson Covenant," he says, his voice barely above a whisper. "They're... not like other mages."
I feel a chill run down my spine.
The Crimson Covenant. Who is this? How does he know about Grandfather’s coven?
"What makes them different?" Windy asks, her hands still working their healing magic.
Juniper winces. "They use blood magic. Not just their own, but others'. They're... harvesting people."
I can't help the sharp intake of breath at his words.
Blood magic.
Forbidden, corrupting, and incredibly powerful.
He does know about us.
"How did you escape?" Wallace asks, having returned to Windy's side.
Juniper's gaze flicks between us all. "I... I'm one of them. Or I was. But what they're doing... it's wrong. I couldn't be part of it anymore."
I feel my body tense, ready for action.
Another blood mage.
Right here, in our midst.
How?
I know almost all of the other blood mages. I’ve been away for awhile but usually grandfather tells me of new recruits.
What is he up to?
But Windy doesn't stop trying her healing. Instead, she asks softly, "You're a blood mage?"
He nods weakly. "Yes. But I swear I want to stop them. That's why I came to you. I've heard the rumors... about the hero who's going to save us all. The witch with messed up powers who will overcome it and conquer all her enemies. There’s been a prophecy about this, and when I heard about a witch no one had seen before in this land, I just knew it had to be you."
I almost laughed out loud at that. If only he knew the truth about our so-called hero.
"I'm not sure I'm the hero you think I am," Windy admits, her voice barely audible. "But I'll do what I can to help."
As she continues her work, her eyes suddenly lock onto mine. "You," she calls out. "Make yourself useful. There's a bag by our table. Bring it here."
I startle, realizing I've been staring. “My name is Willow, not you!”
“Fine, Willow, please get the bag and bring it here.”
Nodding, I hurry to fetch the bag, my mind racing. This changes everything. This rogue mage seeking redemption makes my job harder... My simple plan to derail Windy's quest seems inadequate now.
As I hand over the bag, Windy pulls out a vial of bright blue liquid. "Drink this," she instructs Juniper. "It will help replenish your blood and give you some strength."
I watch as color returns to Juniper's cheeks. His glowing eyes meet Windy's. "Thank you," he says softly. "I know you have no reason to trust me, but I swear, I want to make things right."
Windy nods, looking exhausted. "We'll talk more once you've rested. For now, let's get you somewhere safe."
As they help Juniper to his feet, I find myself rooted to the spot, my mind whirling. I catch Windy's eye one last time as they make their way upstairs, and I see something there - a weariness, an uncertainty, that I've never noticed before.
I watch them disappear up the stairs, the gravity of the situation settling over me like a heavy cloak. My mission, my very purpose, seems to shift beneath my feet. And for the first time in a long while, I'm not sure where my loyalties should lie.