In an instant, the pain in Tressa's eyes went from searing to a dull roar, but her vision was nothing but pure white. She stuck her arms out just to be sure she wasn't face down in the snow which confirmed it. Her ears were working just fine, but everything was muffled by the monstrous screaming..
The same voice that Tressa should have just listened to asked them if they could stand and the merchant chose to answer, "yeah!" Despite the fact that she was already up. Her comrades said nothing, but Tressa heard determined groans and the shuffling of snow.
The mystery woman called out, "we need to get to Flamesgrace! Is your friend still with us?" Tressa had seen Cyrus on the ground before the blindness took hold, but she hadn't even considered that he might be – she pushed the thought from her head and felt a hand firmly on her shoulder, "miss, can you see?"
Tressa violently and fearlessly shook her head. "I'll just follow with noise. Like a bat!"
Primrose's weakened voice was now in front of her. "Tressa, you aren't a bat, now stay still." Tressa felt the dancer's slight frame press against hers and in a moment, the sightless girl let out an excited scream.
Primrose had never lifted someone over her shoulder. She had been faced with several drunks that needed to be hauled off, but they were all more than twice her size and it was bad for business if the dancers got the stench of booze on them. Thankfully, Tressa was easy enough to hoist, and mostly smelled of leather. More importantly, there wasn't any other option. Keeping Tressa focused was hard enough without leading her blind, away from a screaming monster.
Primrose grunted as she found her footing, "you'll end up tripping or running into a tree."
"I see your point."
"Now quit squirming." Normally, the dancer would pass off the heavy lifting to Olberic, but her friend was already occupied with carrying Cyrus in his arms, easily but with intense fervour like a bouquet of roses that could save him from a scorned love. She would have marvelled at the sweetness of the scene if it wasn't time to haul ass.
Their saviour, dressed top to bottom in various whites, turned to them and strongly suggested they follow her since "the Jotun would not risk taking on an entire town." Pale blonde hair flowed majestically, guiding an agitated Primrose in her wake. There were a lot of reasons for the dancer to be upset in the moment, but more than the dried blood, heavy luggage or even giant monster, Primrose despised the mage's choice in fashion. Before the woman turned to run, the encumbered dancer caught a glimpse of the clasp keeping her cloak tied up.
Primrose had never seen a woman of the cloth before, but far too many of the men had been VIPs in Helgenish's tavern and the crest - the symbol of Aelfric - was nothing more than a symbol of hypocrisy and debauchery. It was almost enough to run toward the monster instead of away, but Tressa might have objected.
Though it's not like she would even know until it was too late.
"Lead the way, sister," Primrose seethed. The cleric bolted with an impressive deer like grace and speed through the snow and Olberic was able to keep up with her on strength alone. With her new baggage, the dancer lagged behind but with enough determination, it seemed like everything would work out, as long as the monster remained still in its agony. It was an uphill struggle in every sense, but at least Tressa seemed to be enjoying herself.
"Primrose, look out!" As Tressa's arm flew up pointing, Primrose almost fell for it.
"Tressa, now is not the time."
"Sorry, I'll watch what I say."
Primrose groaned, her pace was still keeping consistent, but in addition to her friend's jokes, she heard the Jotun's screams were gradually changing from ones of pain to ones of anger, which didn't bode well. This is the problem with monsters, she thought. Any animal would have ran away and found something else to eat but monsters were all the worst parts of beast and man, and it made Primrose wonder what all the abusive humans she'd come across would do if they were gigantic.
Another quarter kilometre or so, the sound of relative composure was emanating from the beast. Primrose was much closer to the torches of what she needed to be Flamesgrace than she was to the danger behind her, and as long as their guide was right about the safety of the town, they would make it through the day.
And if she was wrong, they were probably dead regardless.
Primrose pushed on with a sense of hope. Her optimism seemed sound until a massive icicle crashed to their left and broke into several head sized ball of ice. The damn Jotun had magic on top of everything else.
"That sounded bad, Prim." To Tressa's credit, she didn't sound scared at all. Just as well, fear wasn't going to do them any good.
"Don't worry, Tressa. We'll get through this, as long as that thing's aim doesn't get any better."
"Sounds like we need some blind luck."
To her surprise, Primrose found herself not minding if those were the last words she'd ever hear, which was for the best since there was a whistle of another ice missile heading their way. A noise came from in front of them – the most pathetic excuse for a war howl ever before the gentle blonde yelled out, "here I go!"
From behind her, Primrose heard another sound, much more impressive than the cleric's screams. The Jotun's spell collided with what sounded like a giant shield. The good news was that this meant the two women weren't crushed by a magic ice spike. The bad news was the storm of shards it created, one of which hit Primrose in the back and, subsequently, the stomach and everything else in between.
She collapsed with a yelp and as the snow reddened underneath her and the world around her faded, she once again cursed the cleric. Now Tressa's joke wouldn't be the last thing she heard.
Tressa had never been inside a cathedral before. In Rippletide, if you wanted to pray, you would just go to the docks. People would say the view was so beautiful that, at any given time, at least one of the gods were probably hanging about enjoying it.
She also had no idea it could be so cold inside a building. When they had been lead inside, once the massive doors shut behind them, Tressa could feel herself not getting any warmer. There was a source of heat, but as she stumbled around to get closer, Ophilia pulled her away, saying the fire wasn't really intended for drying off.
Things did pick up though. She was guided into a smaller room with a fireplace and after Ophilia gave her some disgusting tea, Tressa's sight came back almost immediately to see a large room filled with beds and her friends. From there, it was hours before the dust truly settled when she heard Primrose shifting.
"She's waking up!" Tressa yelled out, her voice echoed through the church. "Ophilia, Primrose is awake!" The merchant was so thrilled that it seemed all her friends would be okay, that she hadn't considered what a horrible idea it was to be screaming in Primrose's face, though she considered it a possibility when she felt a clammy hand shoot up and cover her mouth.
Primrose asked with a groan, "what happened?" As the young cleric Ophilia entered the church's lodgings.
Tressa stepped back so she could yell without being muted, "that giant monster got blown to bits! Ophilia cast this crazy spell that blew its attack right back at it – well, most of it, I guess and," the merchant mimed an explosion. "She figured it would only block ice and give us some time, but-
"Blind luck," Primrose chuckled with pain. "Is everyone okay? Was Cyrus..."
"I'm quite alright, my dear," Cyrus announced from his own bed. The professor was sitting up, his body seemed to be completely recovered. "The only real harm done was that I was unable to take part in the first Jotun sighting in decades." Tressa could see the ailed dancer smile, satisfied that everything was well despite Olberic not making his existence known. I guess she just assumes he made it out okay. It was a safe bet.
Ophilia gently touched Tressa's shoulder, trying to get past her. "Please excuse me, Tressa." On the battlefield, the healer had sounded like a force to be reckoned with and Tressa imagined she looked equally impressive, but inside the cleric's home turf, she seemed as meek as the kind of kids that Tressa protected from bully's in her childhood.
The underwhelming young woman crouched next to the increasingly aware Primrose and, 'ahe-he-hemmed' to the rest of the room as she lifted the blanket up. Olberic quickly turned away but Cyrus was too far to see anything and Tressa didn't even think to care. Primrose let out a restrained shiver when she exposed to the church's poor insulation before looking down and asking with some animosity, "where are my clothes?"
The cute blue outfit she had been wearing was replaced by a plain white gown with a hole cut to grant easy access to her stomach wound and the corresponding spinal one, both of which had finally stopped oozing various disgusting colours.
"It was soaked," Ophilia responded adamantly. "And covered in blood, but you have nothing to worry about. I did the bandages but I gave Tressa the priv – I mean the task of redressing you. I apologize that I'm unable to heal you as efficiently as the first time but Aelfric only has so many blessings to go around in one day."
"I'm sure," Primrose muttered.
Ophilia ignored the cold response and lifted the well applied dressing. Tressa leaned in to look, fascinated by the injury. She had been a reckless child, seeing her share of scrapes, but nothing had ever gone all the way through her. Now that she knew her friend was okay, she was free to enjoy the gore. Both her and the cleric smiled at the sight of the wound, though probably for different reasons.
"It's looking great," Ophilia said cheerfully. "You'll have to lay in bed a day or two so your stitches don't tear, but you'll be okay." The cleric covered Primrose again before popping back up and clapping her hands together. "The Sacred Light truly did shine on us today."
"We almost died by the hands of a mythical monster. I would think twice before giving your god credit for everything that's happened." Tressa could see Primrose wincing in pain as she tried multiple times to sit before giving up. "All the praising should go to you."
Ophilia gently pushed on Primrose's shoulder, encouraging her to stay put. "That is very kind of you to say but I was nothing more than a conduit for Aelfric's." Primrose looked desperate to respond, but they were cut off by a panicked voice at the door.
"Sister Ophilia," a dusty old clergyman called out. "His Excellency wishes to see you right away."
"Of course," Ophilia's eyes widened with panic despite the pleasant tone in her voice. "I'll bring some nice food upon my return."
Tressa mused over the napping Primrose as the dancer began to snore. "Primrose sure is beautiful when she's sleeping, dontchya think?"
Cyrus, now fully functional in his own white gown wandered over to their unconscious friend. "I daresay the argument could be made that she's beautiful regardless of state."
"That's a good point." Tressa had now seen Primrose at her worst. Bloody, limp, drooling and leaking, so she had to agree with Cyrus. "I bet people are telling her that all the time. Back home, a couple boys have told me I'm cute, but no one ever told me I'm beautiful, 'cept for ma and pa, of course."
"Is beauty something you seek?"
"I'm not sure. It is easier to make a sale if you're beautiful, but if you're not, you need to rely on customer service and quality goods." The conversation was causing Tressa pain that had nothing to do with combat. She had learned a lot on the road, and found a surprising amount of money on the ground, but no business opportunities had come up. "I think that's a lot more rewarding."
"Well said, my dear. Substance over style is a noble pursuit. Wouldn't you agree, Olberic?"
"Yes."
Behind her, Tressa heard soft shuffling coming from the door. She turned to see Ophilia had returned; the cleric had made herself into a liar, carrying no food with her, though it was probably for the best. Tressa imagined it would be difficult to carry three trays of food with all those tears streaming down her face.
Tressa screamed as she ran to her new friend, "Ophilia, what happened!?" The call roused Primrose from her slumber.
With a sniffle, Ophilia slowly choked on some words. "I won't burden you with the details. I'm afraid I have to leave you in the care of someone else."
"I love details," Tressa responded in desperation. She hated seeing people cry – a trait she assumed made her special. "And Cyrus loves details. Olbric, you do too, right?"
"No."
"Well, I'm sure Primrose would if she were awake."
Tressa heard Primrose groan behind her, "Not really. There's no need to pry, Tressa...However, Ophilia, we do owe you our lives. If there's anything we can do..." The rest of the quadrapath nodded in agreement.
"Thank you all," Ophilia responded shakily like someone uncomfortable with kindness. "The archbishop is ill and my sister wants nothing more than to stay by his side, but that seems like an impossible wish. She is destined for a pilgrimage that begins tomorrow. It's the greatest honour Aelfric can bestow."
Primrose let out an even more guttural groan. Tressa turned to see her friend had managed to sit up and spoke through laboured breathing. "I must be missing something. A daughter has to choose between caring for her sick father or go on some continental tour like some kind of musical troupe?"
Ophilia's eyes dried, but she didn't seem any happier. "You speak as if faith has no value."
"Don't be silly. Of course it does, but there's no sense in having faith in someone you can't rely on."
"Then where do you put your faith, Primrose?"
"Myself."
"That's very wise," Ophilia said cheerfully. "Never abandon that, but I hope one day you can see that Aelfric's kindness is something you can depend on as well."
An optimist would say that statement invigorated Primrose, and helped her body heal because, with not even a grunt of pain, she had gotten to her feet and didn't miss a stride getting right up in Ophilia's face.
"Tell me something, sister." Primrose was so close to her doctor that a whisper would have been loud and clear, but that was no whisper. "Where was your god's kindness all those years that me and the other slaves suffered?"
The room froze and if someone as uncensored as Tressa wasn't there to break the tension, it's possible they all would have died of old age before anyone spoke. "Primrose? you were a..."
Primrose ignored the question. "Where was the Sacred Flames of justice to come punish the men that beat, defiled and murder children!?"
Ophilia didn't back down. Her eyes narrowed and Tressa thought she looked cute in her attempt to look angry. "You say you have faith in yourself? Then where in the hell's were you?"
Primrose's lack of a quick response was immediately explained by her collapse. All the pain from getting up and moving must of condensed into a single sensation and she was once again unconscious.
