A/N: This was supposed to go up yesterday, oops.
The third day out from the town where they'd met, they expected to reach the mining town in the hills where they hoped to rest and resupply. They got off to an early start, eating a cold breakfast, hoping to make up for it with a cooked lunch in town. Their routine in the morning did not shift enough, though, to keep them from sparring as usual. Margaret happily wiped her brow as she hefted her pack onto her shoulders afterwards, having gone even with Shining for the first time. They headed towards where the Sarkaz woman's map showed the road leading into town, not wanting to seem to sneak up on a town in time of war.
As they approached the road, they heard something move in the brush. Both women froze, Margaret looking in the direction of the noise. Another rustle followed, and then they heard a scream on the road. Margaret hurled herself forward immediately, drawing her mace and shield as she burst out of the hedges flanking the road. She immediately took in the situation, seeing a young Sarkaz girl who had been seized by the leg by a scuttling animal she didn't immediately recognize. "Za światło!" she shouted, the battle cry of the Nearl family bursting from her lips in a full-throated roar.
The animal let go of the girl's leg, turning to face her and emitting a burbling snarl, its pincers snapping as it lunged for her. She spun, and her mace landed like a thunderbolt, smashing the insectile animal into the ground. She carried through, striking again and crushing it against the dirt, vile fluids leaking out from its shattered carapace. She stepped back, evening out her breathing and lowering her mace and shield from her guard position. Her ears flicked, listening about for more of the animals in the brush, but heard nothing.
Shining was kneeling next to the girl when she turned back to the road, looking distastefully at the smashed animal. "Vsighar," she said, the word unpleasant-sounding. "Did it break the skin?" she asked the girl, next. The girl whimpered, clutching at her leg where the animal had gripped her with its pincers. The white-horned woman pulled the child's hands away, and Nearl saw that her leg had been badly lacerated by the… vsighar's? pincers. Shining's breath hissed between her teeth at the sight.
"Venomous?" Margaret asked, quietly.
"Very," Shining responded. The dim grey sky started to darken, as if a storm was rolling in, and the ricasso of Shining's blade began to glow. "Please don't distract me, I don't have very long." Light spilled from her hand, washing over the child's leg. Again, Margaret was struck by the purifying power of Shining's Arts, so like and yet unlike her own abilities. The child had started to shiver just before the Sarkaz woman had begun healing her, and yet shortly the girl's shudders ceased, her muscles relaxing. The wound on her leg began knitting together, and finally scarred over, still pink and obviously a fresh wound, but no longer open. The child stared in evident awe.
"Thank you, Miss," the girl said respectfully, looking up at Shining with a shy smile. "And you too, miss knight!" She flexed her leg, grinning happily at the cessation of pain. "I was so scared," she admitted. "But you saved me from the vsighar!"
"Of course we did," Margaret said, smiling back at the child. "How could we have done anything else?" She reached down, ruffling the girl's hair with one hand, then offered her hand, pulling the little brown-haired girl back to her feet. Shining rose to hers too.
"What were you doing out here?" Margaret continued.
"My mamma sent me out to pick some fruit from the grove nearby. I wasn't being careful enough," the girl explained.
"So you live in the town?" Margaret asked her.
"Of course," the girl said casually. "We've lived in Clastorn as long as I can remember."
"We were heading there," Margaret said, smiling. "Could you lead us back?"
"Sure. But I'd better go pick the fruit first, or my mamma will be really mad at me!"
Shining had never been to this village before, but Clastorn was much the same as other Kazdel mining towns she had visited. It rested in a valley amidst the craggy peaks of the smallish mountain range, beside a clear pond, a narrow, swift river running down beside the road out of the town. A low but defensible wall encircled the town, gated in three places; the two points where the mountain road passed through, and a narrower road, alongside a railway, heading up into the mountains, presumably toward the mines.
The wall, or at least the gates, were guarded, hardly a surprise. They looked decently competent, likely a group of reasonably trustworthy mercenaries hired on as town guards. That was the usual thing for a town which could afford it, given that the civil war had been going on for centuries. It also indicated to her that Clastorn's mines must be at least decently productive.
The guards at the gate saw them approaching and casually slid into a more watchful, ready formation, eyeing the pair of them with a blend of appraisal and suspicion. Shining had already thought ahead here, making some adjustments to her clothing to make her affiliation with the Redeemers somewhat less evident.
One of the guards relaxed slightly, waving to the others. "Relax," she called, "they're with Sadie." She sauntered down calmly to meet them, hands on her hips, unobtrusively still near her sword and pistol, but not threatening. "Hello," she addressed them. "I see you found Sadie. What happened to your leg?" she asked the girl, gesturing at the still-reddened leg, which looked as if it had been scraped or bruised.
"A vsighar attacked me from the bushes! It was going to eat me, but miss knight smashed it with her hammer, and then the nice lady with white horns took the poison out and healed my leg!"
"Is that so," the guardswoman chuckled. "And did the Winterwisps come out of Leithanien and help you pick that basket of fruit too?"
"The child… Sadie… isn't lying," Shining said, speaking quietly but firmly. "My companion and I are travelers. Margaret is a knight of Kazmierz, on a pilgrimage, and I am a healer. It was fortunate that we happened to be near enough to hear the vsighar attack her."
"You healed a vsighar's poison?" The mercenary raised an eyebrow, clearly impressed, but also perhaps unable to entirely believe the claim. "If you're that good a healer, you'll be welcome in town. We need some help, desperately. There was a collapse in the mine, earlier. There are several injured miners up at the mine head, and most of the town is up there trying to dig out the collapse and rescue anyone who might be trapped inside."
"We'd best hurry, then," Nearl said from beside her. "Will you take us up there? We can both be of assistance to the injured, and we'll both also help clear rubble if you need us to."
"Of course," the other woman replied, raising an eyebrow. "Can I ask, though… What are your names? I'm Esitha, a mercenary in service to the township of Clastorn, and captain of the town guard force. And you are?"
"I am Shining, traveling healer," Shining introduced herself, with a polite bow.
"Margaret Nearl, the Radiant Knight," Nearl said, extending her hand for a handshake. Esitha took it with a small smile.
"Not every day some backwoods Sarkaz merc like myself gets to shake hands with the champion knight of the Kazmierz Major," she said, good-humoredly. "It is a pleasure to meet both of you. Thanks for rescuing Sadie. Now let's hurry. The people up on the mountain need your help."
The head of the mineshaft was a-bustle with people moving back and forth, carrying lumps of rock, pails of water, and various tools and equipment. A set of tents held the groaning injured, and a line of canvas-covered oblongs showed that some miners hadn't been lucky enough to merely be injured. Nearl winced. A town like this was small enough that every lost person would be known to everyone else. She and Shining headed towards the tents with the injured miners.
Fortunately for Margaret's confidence, the wounded miners in the tent mostly had injuries she knew how to manage. As they entered the tent, she saw broken limbs, torn flesh, and Oripathy, but no blood poisoning, no venom, nothing like that.
As Shining knelt next to the worst-injured man, Nearl began to draw on her own Arts. A brilliant glow lit the tent, starting as an aura surrounding her, then starting to play over the injured men and women. Their injuries began to knit themselves closed, broken bones and torn muscle alike. The local healers drew aside in awe, watching as the two women began their work.
Nearl watched in awe as Shining healed a man with a shattered ribcage. Her own Arts sense showed her the white-horned woman's talent, as she healed the horrifying, almost certainly lethal, wounds with apparent ease, returning bone and tissue to their proper places, apparently solid light melding with the wounded man's body and sliding it all back into its correct, uninjured condition. Unbeknownst to her, Shining was also admiring her powers. Though Margaret was slower to heal major injuries, it seemed as if the mere presence of her aura was alleviating the pain of the injured miners, and their smaller wounds seemed to heal almost spontaneously.
It took them some time to work their way through the dozen survivors who had been brought up to the camp. Both women grew grim when they left the medical tent, seeing that, although no new injured people had appeared, the line of canvas-covered bodies had grown longer. "Let's head down to the mineshaft. If nothing else, we can help try to excavate the cave-in, and we'll be better positioned to give immediate help to those who need it."
Shining nodded her assent, and the two of them set off down the trail to the mineshaft. On the way, they passed another covered stretcher, borne up out of the mine by a pair of grim-faced mine workers. The head of the mineshaft was even busier than the camp, with carts of rubble emerging every minute or so, evidencing the frantic work being done below to clear the cave-in.
"When did this happen?" Margaret asked the mine manager, who was directing the hurried efforts, worry plain on his features.
"Just before noon. The shift below was coming up to trade positions with the incoming shift and break off for their meal, but as they were coming through one of the main galleries, the ceiling caved in on them. The front few were okay, but there were at least three dozen still in the gallery and another half dozen yet to enter, who are probably still trapped down there. They told me what you did for the injured, and I thank you for that. Are you willing to go down into the cave? There are some people there we daren't move up, and if it wouldn't be beneath your dignity, we could also use help moving the rubble."
"Of course it's not beneath our dignity," she assured him. "Anything we can do to help, we will." He gestured to a miner, who led them down into the tunnels. They had to stoop in several places to get through, the tunnels narrow and low, before coming to the first gallery, reasonably well-lit, where they paused momentarily as the miner conferred with another, pushing a cart of debris up.
"By the way, what do you mine here?" Nearl asked.
"Originium," he said, half grateful and half regretful. "It's good money, but hell, this mine's going to kill us all in the end." He sighed, then reached down and opened a chest next to the wall, pulling out some rubber masks. "I'm going to have to ask you both to put on these breath masks before we go any deeper, this gallery is the last one with safe airborne concentrations. We wouldn't want either of you getting infected helping us."
Nearl hid a grimace at that, strapping the mask on. Of course, she was already infected, but she knew better than to mess around with originite dust. "How many people in town are infected?" she asked, curious.
"Plenty," the miner said sadly. "Of course, we're almost all Sarkaz. That makes us… more susceptible. Nothing much to be done about it. For you, it won't be an issue, but for us… even with the masks and protective gear, it still gets in eventually."
"Maybe we can do something to help," Margaret said, thinking hard. Their Arts were potent… surely there had to be something they could do to at least help those with Oripathy? The miner shrugged, turning back to the tunnels down.
"Let's go," he said quietly, gesturing them forward into another narrow, dimly lit passage, headed down into the heart of the mountain.
When they arrived at the site of the collapse, it was obvious. Lumps of debris lay strewn about the ground, clearly spilled from a massive pile of rock and crystal that cut off part of the room. Shining looked about, the lights showing only too clearly where either injured or dead miners had been pulled from the pile. A trio of horribly injured minors, two men and one woman, lay amid the wreckage, clearly having been uncovered and found impossible to move safely.
"Gods of the Pegasi," Margaret mumbled quietly next to her, aghast. Truth be told, Shining felt much the same. She hurried across the room, kneeling next to the nearest injured Sarkaz. She forced herself to look at the horrible wounds where sharp chunks of rock and crystal had punctured his body, the evidently broken limbs. A slow, agonized, bubbling breath rasped out of his broken mouth, and galvanized her into action. She started to channel her Arts. Light flared from her blade's ricasso, and she stretched a hand out, laying it gently on an uninjured part of his chest.
The effort of it was draining. It wasn't as complex as some of the infections, cancers, and so on that she'd healed at the refugee camp, but it was hard. She had no idea how the man was still alive, with the kind of injuries he had. The area around her darkened to the black of night, and the light spilling from her staff and hand solidified, coursing through his body as she forced him to live long enough for her to heal him. The power coursing through her was draining, and she found herself gasping for air as she strained her powers to heal him.
Finally, it was done. The scars were still visible, angry and red, but she knew he was out of danger. He was also unconscious. For that matter, she almost wanted to collapse next to him. But there were two more to heal. "You can take him back up to the surface, now," she said quietly as she tried to steady her breathing. "Keep him in bed for at least three days, ideally a week. I've healed him, but overexertion could undo much of what I've done." She straightened up, turning towards the next woman who needed her. Her focus, much of it on avoiding staggering, kept her from noticing the looks of outright awe on the faces of everyone in the room. "Nearl, you should go help with clearing out the collapse. This is…" She didn't want to insult her companion, but didn't know how to say it.
"I understand," Margaret said quietly, setting aside her mace and shield and turning to the pile of rocks, setting her hands to one of the heavy boulders that the crew trying to clear it was working on, lending her immense strength, the light of her Arts beginning to glow around her as she strengthened the miners working with her too. Shining reached the woman, and knelt next to her, already drawing on her power.
Nearl's light, filling the room by now, encouraged her as she threw herself into the task again. She wasn't sure if it was an effect of the Kuranta woman's Arts, or simply the assurance of knowing her friend was there too, but it helped. The task was no easier this time than last, though, and she was perspiring by the time she finished, leaning on her staff as she hurried towards the last horribly injured man.
Her Arts darkened the room one last time, and she focused carefully, knitting his spinal cord back together where the impact of a rock had broken it, replacing and fusing ribs, mending and regenerating crushed organs. A pair of miners hovered behind her, watching in worshipful silence as she saved a man who they'd known would die. Finally, it was done, and she planted her staff firmly, levering herself to her feet.
There was a heavy thud behind her. Nearl and the miners working at the collapsed pile had levered a massive piece of shattered stone out of the pile, and it slid down the side of the mound, landing with a solid impact on the stony floor of the mine. Margaret smiled at her… and then everyone in the room froze at an ominous, deep cracking sound.
Shining's eyes snapped upwards, and above the working party, she saw what it was. Another huge boulder, part of the faulty formation that had caused the cave-in in the first place, was breaking loose, and suddenly detached, plunging towards Margaret and the miners.
"NO!" Shining cried out, reaching out her hand. Something inside her flared up, rejecting the idea of having to see Nearl's body crushed and mangled like those of the miners she'd just saved… or worse, impossible to save, and dead. Her Arts, not quite dissipated yet, flared around her hand and then flashed out, the near-solid-seeming light coalescing above Margaret and the other workers in a thin, brilliant dome, the rest of the room plunging into darkness as she concentrated all her powers to protect them.
A heavy, crunching sound resonated out, something shadowing out a portion of the shielding arc of light. Small stones and dust sprayed out, stinging her skin with their impacts, sparking off the walls, followed by a clatter of heavier pieces hitting the pile of rubble, and she let her Arts fade, the dim light of the wall lamps returning to light the room.
Nearl and the working party stood there unharmed, in shock. New rubble spilled about them, except for a ring around them, where nothing had fallen at all. Shining fell to her knees, tears of gratitude running down her cheeks. Excited shouts rang from the top of the rubble pile, but she barely heard them, until Margaret's arms wrapped around her shoulders gently.
"Thank you, Shining."
Shining reached up, holding Nearl tightly, reassuring herself that she was still there.
As it turned out, the boulder that had triggered the second rockfall had been important in another way. When Margaret released Shining from their hug and turned back to the rock pile, she saw something promising: a black, gaping hole above the mound, with a grimy, horned face hauling itself through.
"Kayen!" one of the miners on their side shouted, recognizing the man. He threw himself up the hill of rubble, reaching out a hand and hauling him through the hole. "Are there any others back there with you?"
"Yeah," the man said, his voice muffled by the breath mask. "Dain and Ferenc are both back there. We were trailing behind everyone else. True King's name, we were lucky. We saw the collapse start and ran like hell back down into the mine, stayed out of the way. How many others made it out?"
"You were the last three missing," the other man said. "But that's not necessarily good news. Caros, Flayn, Vesim, and Yohn made it out on the front side, but we had fifteen injured and eleven dead. Most of the injured would have died, too, if it wasn't for a couple of visitors." He gestured to Margaret and Shining. "They're healers, and they saved all fifteen of them, thank the King."
The last two trapped miners made their way out of the hole, blinking even in the dimness of the lights on the walls. Everyone carefully left the gallery, made wary by the second rockfall of the potential for more, but as they made their way up the tunnel, relieved laughter and jokes began to echo off the tunnel walls. Shining and Nearl brought up the rear, letting the miners go ahead. Neither of them wanted to intrude on their happiness, and both of them were tired from their exertions.
Soon enough, they passed through the first gallery, leaving their breath masks behind in the chest, and climbed up the narrow tunnel leading outside. The grey light of the overcast skies was still shockingly bright compared to the dimly lit mineshaft. When they emerged, leaning lightly on each other, they were both astonished to be greeted by loud cheers and applause. The mine manager rushed forward, shaking their hands vigorously. "Thank you both. Thank you so much."
The rest of the people gathered at the opening of the mine swarmed forward as well, shouts of gratitude and happiness mixing into a joyous babble of sound that overwhelmed their surprised attempts to quiet it down. The crowd started moving towards town, dragging them along in its midst, an infectious, jubilant mood radiating forth from it.
When they reached the town square, the crowd only grew, the townsfolk thronging together to celebrate the rescue of so many of its people after the disaster earlier in the day. Both Margaret and Shining found themselves pushed onto the small stand at the center of the square to join the mayor, Esitha, and the mine manager, looking out at the packed square, the crowd's cheers surging over them.
"I want to take this moment," said the mayor loudly, over the sounds of the throng, "to thank these two Margaret Nearl, the Radiant Knight, and Shining, the traveling healer, for their actions today. They, who were merely passing through our town, saved the lives of eighteen men and women who they hardly knew. My words, and our town, cannot thank them enough, but I would like to announce that we shall hold them a feast tonight, to celebrate the rescue of those in the mine by these two brave women."
The crowd's roaring would have drowned out any words Margaret tried to say on response, so she simply bowed respectfully to the mayor. Next to her, Shining did the same.
Their plans to stay unobtrusively at the local inn were utterly dashed by their sudden fame. The mayor insisted that they guest at his house, a plain but well-appointed and large building on the town square, where he, his wife, and their children fussed over the "heroes of the town," bustling about and trying to do everything they could to make Margaret and Shining as luxuriously accommodated as they could. It was a little embarrassing to Nearl, and she could tell that Shining was slightly discomfited by the attention herself. Nevertheless, they did their best to put up with it, knowing that it was how the mayor felt he could repay them for their work.
The feast, that evening, was different than the celebratory events Nearl was used to. At the Major, the celebrations had tended to be one of two kinds; either a genteel night of socializing, aided by champagne and gourmet delicacies from across the world, or loud, raucous, beer-fueled shouting matches in a small pub as the day's Major matches replayed on the screen. This was neither. A bonfire had been lit in the town square, sending roaring sheets of flame into the sky and billows of warmth out into the crowd. Near the bonfire, but far enough away that it was merely warmed and well-lit, not scorching hot, a flat, polished wooden floor had been assembled, and dancers were already making their ways out onto it, as a small, clearly amateur, but enthusiastic and cheerful band struck up a tune.
Arranged throughout the square were large benched tables, and a huge buffet line near them. Heavy wooden sawhorses were set up near the table, and kegs were being rolled towards them from the tavern. A small array of glass bottles and jars were set up on a table near the kegs for those whose tastes ran more towards spirits.
Most of all, though, the mood was different than the mood of the parties Margaret had been to before, except for the few small ones at the Scary Martin with Whislash and the retired knights. Everyone was cheerful, without the belligerence of the rowdy street celebrations, but also without the mandatory restraint and snobbishness of the high-class gatherings. It was simple, excited, and welcoming, and she felt a smile spring to her lips as she, Shining, and the mayor's family approached the square.
The mayor was already there, and waved an arm towards them as they approached. "Please, everyone, welcome Shining and Margaret Nearl!" The crowd roared its approval, and they plunged into it. At first, people swarmed them, wanting to meet the new heroines of the town, but once that was done, they could simply mingle. The two of them stuck reasonably close together, heading first for the drinks area. There were several casks, kegs, and barrels set up by now. A few contained local beers, while some others had various imports, three had various wines from around Terra. The table with liquor had a couple of jars of unidentifiable clear spirits and a few local, reasonably cheap whiskies and brandies. All of it was far from top-shelf, but neither of them turned their nose up. Nearl tried a couple of the local beers before settling on a dark, cloudy, potent one, with a taste like bitter chocolate.
She turned around to recommend the drink to Shining, but the Sarkaz woman was already sipping water that she'd dipped from a clean copper tub. "You don't drink, I take it?" Margaret asked curiously.
"No," Shining replied. "I don't." She stepped closer, her voice dropping so she could speak to her without being overheard. "The Redeemers rarely held celebrations, so when I was at a party, it was usually on some form of business that meant that drinking was a bad idea, and even the few times we had… gatherings… it was never advisable to be at all off one's guard."
"Oh," Nearl said, sadly. "I didn't think… sorry."
"Why?" Shining asked, quizzical. "You couldn't have known, and I'm not offended by the question." The white-horned woman shook her head, clearly having said what she wanted to on the subject. "Now, hadn't we better go enjoy the party? I recognize the tune they're playing right now; I think I'll join the dancers. Care to come with me?"
Nearl smiled and nodded, following the Sarkaz woman towards the dance floor, where she would soon be feeling at once clumsy and happy, as she tried to learn the steps of the utterly unfamiliar dance.
The next day, Shining and Nearl set up a small station on the town square, offering free healing to those who were sick or injured. The mayor was surprised by this. "You don't need to do this," he said in astonishment. "Certainly not for free! Our town owes you a great debt as it is."
"We want to do it for free. Nobody should have to turn away because they cannot afford to be healthy," Nearl said firmly.
"And nobody should turn away because they think their wound to be too trifling, unworthy of our attention. It is our pleasure to aid those in need," Shining said, demonstrating as she drew a young boy, scraped from a fall out of a tree, under the awning, healing his bruises in a moment. She turned to the next in line. "Please, come in."
Fortunately, most of the injuries and illnesses were minor, although they did make a few house visits to those with more serious ailments, as well as to the victims of the collapse the previous day, to check in on their progress. All of them were recovering well, although Shining made sure to insist that they remained abed, resting, for at least the rest of the week.
As they wrapped up their last house visit, she sensed that Margaret had something to say. "What is it?" she asked her as they returned to the awning where they'd set up their aid station. Nearl's eyebrows rose in surprise.
"What is what?" the knight asked, not quite meeting her eye.
"It looked like you were thinking about something. Or were concerned about something, and had something to say about it. Go ahead, it's just the two of us here."
Margaret sighed. "It's just…" She paused, clearly trying to find the right words. Shining held her peace, waiting for her companion to speak again. "There are so many Infected here," Nearl finally said. "And… it hurts me to see them. We can heal their wounds, but they're all doomed to an early death anyways. And it also reminds me that, as mild as my case might be, I'm as doomed as they are." She shook her head slowly. "I can live with that knowledge, most of the time. But I'd guess that what, a third of the people in this town are Infected, maybe half. It's just… depressing. I wish there was something we could do to help them."
Shining rested a hand on her friend's shoulder, squeezing comfortingly. "I do too," she said, quietly. "We're doing everything we can for them."
"Are we?" Nearl asked quietly. Not accusingly, either of herself or Shining, but simply wondering. "We have some of the most powerful Arts I know of. Maybe one or the other of us can do something about it."
"Maybe," Shining said speculatively. She had never even thought to try something of the sort, even knowing how susceptible Sarkaz were to Oripathy. "Have you tried to do anything of the sort to yourself?"
"I have, but it doesn't seem to work. Perhaps that shouldn't be a surprise though… I'm channeling my own Arts as I'm trying to heal myself, and Oripathy can be accelerated by Arts usage. I might be having some effect, but it's clearly counterbalanced by that accelerating effect."
"Hmm. Maybe, if you aren't the one using the Arts…" Shining gripped her sword, starting to draw on her own powers. She sent her awareness washing into Margaret's body, tracing along her veins and sensing the assimilation of Originium with her friend's cells. She could also sense Originium particles in her friend's bloodstream. She decided that would be her focus, and started sending her powers in, trying to neutralize the Originium particles, purge them from the bloodstream. She could sense that she was beginning to succeed… and then snarled as she felt the Originium-fused cells start to surge, sending more particles into her body. She cut her powers off as quickly as she could.
"Curses," she said under her breath. "Almost had it! I was so close!" Margaret looked at her oddly.
"I've never seen you this irritated," the knight said quietly.
"It's because I could almost feel that I was doing you some good, and then I realized that I was only going to hurt you if I kept going," she said regretfully. "But I learned something useful, anyways. If someone isn't Infected yet, but has been exposed to a lot of Originium, I might be able to do them some good. But in your case, my Arts were making the cells that have already started fusing with Originium release more particles into your bloodstream, undoing what I was able to do."
"Hm. So if we had some way that we could…" Nearl broke off, musing. Shining knew what she was going to say, anyways.
"Yes. If we had some way to suppress the sensitivity of those cells to Arts, I could purge the Originium particles from your bloodstream, and inhibit the progress of the infection that way. Maybe with the combination of the way your Arts stimulate the body, we could even undo some of the progress of an infection. But I can't see how we would do that," Shining said sadly.
The girl's dark horns contrasted shockingly with her pale hair, pale hospital gown, and pale skin. They matched, however, with the dark, red-outlined bands of Arts that the Caster responsible for testing her was sending towards her. "Intriguing that she's lasted this long," murmured the lead researcher, writing down notes.
The guard standing behind him clenched his jaw as he saw the girl trembling, sweat running down her forehead as she fearfully watched the questing cords of energy press towards her, fizzling out as they entered the field of flickering ghost-light around her. He could tell that she was getting close to the limits of her powers, but pointing it out wouldn't do her any good. It wasn't as if the researcher cared about her except as her potential usefulness as a weapon or test subject continued. And it wasn't as if the Caster's arts would kill her immediately. There would be plenty of time to punish her for her "failure" without terminating her usefulness. He looked away as he saw her stagger.
The darkness of his thoughts was nothing new. He'd come to care for the young woman he was responsible for guarding. Unfortunately, it seemed that he was the only one who did. He hadn't been able to find anything out about her, her records expunged as usual for subjects at the facility. And it wasn't as if these researchers cared, either. All of them were loyal to Theresis and willing to do anything for the man they saw as the rightful King of Kazdel. He had been, too, when he came here.
The young woman's defenses faltered, and he winced as she screamed, the Caster's cords smashing through the dying field of light and wrapping her body in bands of red and black, hurling her painfully to the floor. The Caster let up fairly quickly, but the sadistic bastard enjoyed inflicting the pain he did, a grin evident on his face.
"Take the subject back to her room and ensure that her wounds are treated," the lead researcher instructed him. "She failed, but her punishment should not be lastingly crippling."
Failed at what? You yourself said you expected her to last no more than thirty seconds, and she held out for more than a minute. You bastard. The vehemence of his thoughts no longer surprised him.
"Corporal Vesimr? You have something to say?" The researcher had noticed his pause.
"No, sir. At once, sir," he said, turning to the door. He entered the testing chamber, lifting the pale-haired woman in a gentle carry, wincing as he saw the tears in her gown and burns in her flesh inflicted by the caster. He carried her carefully back to her room, laying her on the bed and applying an analgesic, antibiotic cream to the burns cautiously. The little blue bird was back on her windowsill, singing a song that sounded almost obscenely joyful to him. He could hear the young woman humming quietly, echoing the bird's song back to it, and felt tears prickling his eyes.
"What bird is that?" she asked him quietly when it flitted away as he stood up, putting the medication away and reaching for a bandage.
"A nightingale," he replied quietly, his mind completely made up.
