An unusual meeting place breeds unusual conversation. Sabre can only be pulled away from his life as a Hero for one thing. Just one thing.
Theresa
Cold was something Matt had had a lot of since he had become a Hero. Darkwood had been cold. Very cold. He'd been in many different caves and caverns that were no summer holidays, either. And not just the outskirts. Oakfield had been a warm, dry little hamlet. Bowerstone was a costal town, and had costal weather - cold and wet, with everything smelling of sea salt. Witchwood was pretty cold, too. Cold and dangerous.
But nothing compared to this.
Sabre tightened his shoulders for a second. The feel of this place was enough to put his teeth on edge. Darkness and death and despair. And... so cold. His fingers tightened around the hilt of his legendary weapon, the Harbinger. Maybe its light would help him here now, against such darkness.
Why had she chosen here. The answer was obvious. No-one came here. No-one living, any way. The only person that had been here for the last ten years was him. Him and Amanda.
Matt looked up at the Grey House and shuddered despite himself. Then he continued walking up the hill.
The door creaked when he pushed it. Of course it did. Had he really expected anything else? The Hero's heart was throbbing. He remembered all too well the first and last time he had set foot in this place. The tick of the grandfather clock. The chime.
And then the undead.
Sabre's sword was still drawn. He couldn't release his caution even for one second in this place. He wanted to call out her name, but, of course, he didn't. He walked further into the house. The floorboards groaned, reminding him unpleasantly of what had, until just a few weeks ago, laid underneath them. Trapped in the basement. Running out of air. Even after death, still caught in that airless tomb. Waiting for her Rhodri to come rescue her.
That poor girl.
In the end, Matt was glad he had trusted Thunder with the information regarding Amanda's death. The Hero had come through. Maybe he thought he owed Sabre one after their fight up on Headsman's Hill, maybe he was just as sickened by Grey's deeds as he was. Whatever the reason, he had gone straight to Bowerstone with the proof that was needed, and proven to the guards once and for all the Mayor's treachery. He had gone to find Lady Grey himself, apparently. Matt had heard that the conversation had been quite... bloody. She had tried cajoling him, and then threatening him. Yeah. Like any amount of threats could get through to a Hero like him. Foolish woman. Thunder had driven the witch straight out of town. Just like he had hoped he would.
There was something to be said for a family who could go through humiliation and switch it with a righteous anger. They hadn't come face to face again quite yet, but Matt knew that, when they did, it was probably going to be just as bloody as the conversation with a murderer. Thunder wanted him dead, and, after all he had put him through, he didn't blame him in the slightest.
Something moved behind him.
Matt's instincts kicked in a little too quickly, and it took everything he had to stop his blade when he finally realised who it was.
"Hello, little brother. Long time no see."
They walked outside. It didn't do the scenery any better, but it was an improvement to that claustrophobic house. The house where a young girl had choked to death.
Matt's eyes moved over his big sister. She seemed older every day. He could still remember the child she had been. Running around. So bright, so innocent, so... happy. But they both had done some changing since that day. He couldn't decide who had changed the most. Both had turned into killers. She had lost her eyes, he had lost his voice. Both took on some rather unorthodox company. Maybe they had more in common than either realised.
Theresa was playing with the hem of her silk band, the sash that came down from her eyes. "Thanks for coming."
He looked at her. Had she thought he wouldn't? The second he had got that letter he was on his feet, heading for the door. Slinging his pack onto his back, excusing himself from the shop he was standing in. He had a dozen quests running at the moment. They all paled in comparison to seeing his sister again. He would deny the Heroes' Guild itself if she called asking for help.
"They told me about the Arena." She continued, her voice soft, contemplative, "The bandits. Twinblade's men. You know now, don't you. You saw her. Mother. You know what she was."
Matt stared at her. She didn't sound at all surprised.
She knew, he realised, shaking his head, slowly, All this time. She knew.
"I've seen you, little brother. In a ring of sand and blood. An Arena full of secrets."
"And you spared her. Didn't you. They told me you spared the girl's life. Your friend."
He nodded, slowly. He wondered what she was thinking. If she had changed so much as to view him weak because of his sacrifice.
She paused, and then moved her blind face up to his, "And you spared him as well, didn't you. Twinblade. You spared him even after you hated him. Even after you thought he killed me, killed mother, father, everyone we knew. You spared him."
Yes. Because he didn't do it. Did he? Tell me. Tell me he didn't do it. Tell me I haven't let the man who ripped our family to shreds walk free. Tell me.
"He didn't, of course. You know that, don't you?"
He nodded, slowly, more relieved than anything. He didn't know what he would have done if she had said otherwise.
Of course, with her blind eyes, Theresa shouldn't have been able to see his agreement. But she nodded herself, "Good. Twinblade is a murderer. He has done many things. But he did not destroy our home."
Matt put a hand on her shoulder, quickly. His eyes bore holes into her face.
Tell me. Tell me.
The girl paused. Then she shook her head, "The Arena. What did it feel like? Having that girl's life in your hands? The young girl, your friend, everyone telling you to kill her, murder her, in cold blood. Of course," she said, when he did not respond, "You won't speak. You won't talk. But that's fine. I just need you to listen."
She paused, leaning forwards onto the fence they were standing at, blind gaze moving over the hell they were frequenting, "The Arena full of secrets... You saw mother for what she was there. And you finally met Jack of Blades."
Jack of Blades. The Hero of Heroes. Yes, he had met that manipulating little 'Hero'. He knew where mother was. He had told him that she had survived. Wanted him to tell him where Theresa was, so he could reunite them. Some sort of trap, obviously. But why.
She nodded, slowly, "I met him myself long ago, of course. Years." He frowned at her, curiously, and she drew in a slow breath, "When he burned down our home and cut out my eyes."
It took Sabre a second to realise what she was saying, and when he did, his heart stopped. He stared at her. No. No, Jack of Blades? Jack of Blades was the one? The one who came to Oakvale that night, the one who -
No. No, that wasn't possible. Having the killer of his father, the man who destroyed all those lives, so close to him and not even knowing it, no, it wasn't possible.
Theresa glanced at him. Searching out his eyes. Wondering how he was taking this.
Her face told him she wasn't lying.
Avo. He had known it was a trap. But this...
He had been so close. That close. Right behind him. Watching him fall before his mother's statue in amazement, realisation, pain. Comforting him. Giving him the only words that could have helped him - she's alive? - and then trying to coax him with empty words and even emptier promises.
Anger built up quickly in Sabre's chest. Anger that he never even knew he was capable of feeling. Anger even hotter than that day, the day after the raid, when he realised what he had to do, realised what his life would be from then on. Anger so hot it burned inside of him.
A hand took hold of his arm. He could barely feel it through his glittering Platemail. Theresa tightened her grip until he could feel her fingers pressing through the armour. Matt managed to tear himself out into the real world. He looked at her.
She shook her head, slowly, urgently, talking slowly so he knew just how important what she was saying was: "But he wasn't lying when he said he knew where mother was. She's in Bargate Prison. He's kept her there ever since the night of the raid."
Kept her? His mind repeated, ferociously, Kept her?! Like some damned pet, like, like a... ornament?
Why. Why is he keeping her there. Tell me, Theresa.
She knew what he wanted: "She's the only one who knows how to reach the Sword. You did read the book I sent, didn't you? The Sword is everything. And it could turn the world to nothing. Jack knows this. He will keep her until she breaks."
But she wouldn't. Not his mother. She'd always been so strong, so stubborn. He didn't know how he hadn't guessed she was a Hero in the first place. It had been a full decade and more since the raid. And she still hadn't broken. Matt felt a flood of warmth and pain. And determination. He would get her out. If it was the last thing he did, he would free her from that jail.
He put his hands back on his sister's shoulders. What do I have to do.
"You have to get mother out." She said, firmly, not needing a voice to know what he wanted, "You have to save her."
I will. But how.
"I've tried. I have. I haven't been able to get inside. But the Archaeologist knows of an ancient secret passage." He frowned, and she picked up on it, "Yes, you've met him already, haven't you? Jack's creatures are still after him, just like they're after me."
Jack's creatures?
Theresa moved away a little, walking down the 'garden'. She stopped at the other side, facing towards Barrow Fields. She shook her head, slowly, "I can't stay here much longer. I've left the details in a Quest card at the Guild."
Matt frowned at her, quickly. It had been so long, they barely knew each other anymore. He wanted her to stay. He wanted to talk.
But he couldn't, and neither could she. The fates seemed to conspire against people like them.
She sensed his frustration, his need, and smiled, wryly, "We're quite a pair, aren't we. I can't see and you won't talk. And both from the very same day." The irony wasn't lost on him either. Pain and anger and uncertainty split through him. She turned to him and reached out, brushing a finger slowly over his lips, "Jack took more than my eyes, it seems."
This was my fault, my choice. He replied, firmly, But I will not let that monster take any more from us. I will find mother. I will free her.
She nodded, "I know you will. She has a gift for you, too. When you see her. More power than you can imagine."
I only want the power to avenge our family.
"Then that you will have." Her head moved to the side, "I must go. They still hunt me. I am not safe here. I am not safe anywhere."
I would protect you.
"With your life, I know. But maybe our lives are something worth preserving. You will need your strength where you go." She started towards the path. Then she hesitated. She glanced back at him, "He sees you when you're sleeping, and when the daylight fades." They looked at each other. Her tongue moved over her bottom lip, unconsciously. "Stay safe, little brother. The night is coming."
Matt stayed in the Grey House for longer than he had ever done, and perhaps ever should have done. His thoughts were scattered, confused, his attention nowhere near where it should be. He was aware that, if anything were to attack - and in a place like this, it was more than likely - he would be able to do little to defend himself. He didn't care.
Jack of Blades killed his family. His home. He was the one, all along. The Hero of Heroes. How far a man could fall. Jack must have been good once. Sabre knew better than anyone that the Guild quite often bred murderers, killers, but this... this was something else. He was a monster. A monster that could cut out the eyes of a child, a young, innocent girl, and not feel a thing.
He had to kill him. He needed to kill him. Matt had never felt bloodlust so strongly before. It was a feeling that both compelled him and sickened him. He had to kill him.
The Archaeologist. Bargate Prison. His mother had spent far too long in darkness. He would set her free.
But he would have to be cautious. He would have to go there free of this blind rage. He would have to channel it, to see it anew, to shape it into intense, cold determination, as he had done all those years ago. He would need some time.
And, whatever he said, whatever he felt, Matt knew he had other commitments. Albion needed him. His heart ached for him to go, now, screw everything else. But Scarlet Robe had survived ten years. And there were other people in Albion who needed his help, people in need. This new 'Quest' would need his entire attention.
Yes. He would finish what he had on hand. He would help those he could. And, when he was done, he would seek out the Archaeologist yet again. Find him. Find out what he knew about this secret passage. Find out how to get into Bargate Prison. Find Scarlet Robe.
Scarlet Robe. A Hero's name. A Hero's tag. The Heroic blood that pumped through her veins. Heroes would stay strong. They would keep going, no matter what was thrown in their path. They were meant to be the best, to be the strongest of their kind, to endure anything and everything.
Matt paused for a long time, and then strode back down the winding path with a new purpose.
Stay strong, Scarlet Robe.