Thirty-Two || Blade

Maya woke suddenly, almost in a panic, and lashed out to clutch the Book of Cosmos. She caught it up in her arms and hugged it against her chest, her thoughts all a roil. The lingering edge of a terrible dream was just leaving her; she ran her fingers down the spine of the Book, tracing the runic letters, looking for some kind of comforting familiarity.

It was not to be found there, though. She recognized a few seconds later that the Book felt different somehow. Not magically, although that was part of it, but Maya was used to the ebb and rise of its power; much of the training she had done with the Book had specifically been to acclimate to its sometimes fickle energies. The Book was almost a living thing, and it had its bursts of activity and passivity, good moods and bad. Right then its magic was withdrawn and simmering, but that wasn't the problem.

Slowly, almost fearfully, she pulled the book away from herself. The light in the room was half-dimmed, just enough to see by, and what she saw confirmed what she felt. The edges of the Book's cover were slightly frayed, the stiff binding loose, the golden lettering etched into its spine cracked and slightly peeling. She opened the book and thumbed through the pages. They felt brittle beneath her fingers.

Her heart raced a little faster.

"Princess?"

She looked up and over her shoulder. Dark clothes made him recede into the shadow, but even in the poor lighting of the room his white hair was unmistakable. Maya pushed herself off the couch and to her feet. As she stood, Doll Master stepped forward.

"There's no need to rise," he said. "Morning won't be for a few hours yet."

"You knew him."

Doll Master came to a stop. "I beg pardon?"

"That boy," Maya said. "The one with my sister. The one who damaged the Book. You were familiar with him." She turned and tilted her head, forcing eye contact. "How is that?"

Doll Master was quiet for a moment. "We have met," he said finally, deliberately. "The circumstances were confusing and... unfortunate."

Maya waited for him to elaborate, and when he did not she regarded him with a pointed glare. The effect was lost in the darkness, although she knew better to expect him to actually respond even if he saw it. His reticence concerned her slightly, but in light of everything she had witnessed, it seemed almost incidental.

"What can you tell me about him?" she said finally.

Doll Master mulled over the question.

"Not as much as I'd like," he said.

"Do you know–" She cut herself off, involuntarily digging her fingernails into the softened cover of the Book. She tried again. "Is he in possession of a Relic?"

Doll Master tilted his head. "Why do you ask that?"

"The Book has been damaged, Doll Master," she said. She held it up, and he leaned in to have a better look. He flicked his wrist in the direction of the nearest lamp and set it properly ablaze, using the light to examine the Book's surface more thoroughly, never quite daring to touch it. He frowned.

"So it has," he said.

"No commonplace magic can do such damage," Maya said. She placed the Book on the couch and folded her hands behind her back. "Only a Relic could have done this."

"As far as you are aware," Doll Master said. "There are many great and terrible magics in this world. Your Highness. Although..." He closed his eyes for a moment, nodded to himself. "I suppose it would be foolish to dismiss the consideration outright."

"But you don't know."

"I can't say."

She hummed to herself and turned away. "But if that were the case, and they are working together, my sister would have found a means of making use of it herself. Perhaps that's not the case."

"Perhaps."

She looked over her shoulder. "You said the first layer of the seal was broken when we arrived."

"I did."

"How close were they to unleashing the Relic?"

"By my estimations?" Doll Master asked. He rubbed his chin. "We arrived only just in time. They were not prepared to take the Relic this night, but, unchecked, they may have done so as early as tomorrow."

Maya shivered. "You have... addressed the situation, Doll Master?"

He half-bowed to her. "Yes, Your Highness. But I'm afraid it's an imperfect solution. We need to get to the heart of the matter."

She considered those words. "I know my sister's madness," she said softly, "and the damage she would do if she possessed a Relic. What of her friend? Do you know?"

Again, Doll Master was quiet for a few seconds, assessing the situation. "He would be remarkably dangerous if he came into possession of the Relic," he said.

"What could he do with it?"

"Anything."

"That's not terribly helpful."

"Unfortunately, no," Doll Master said. "But I must emphasize the threat we are facing. If they are allowed to reach the Relic... perhaps I need not further emphasize, actually. Your sister alone should be sufficient threat."

"If she were alone, I don't think we would have much more to fear," Maya said. "She can't contend with the power of the Book. But she's in accompaniment of somebody or something that can." She looked at the Book and bit her lip. "This situation seems less than routine."

"I admit to having been caught off-guard, myself."

"How do we proceed?"

"If I may offer a suggestion?"

She nodded. "You may."

"I have been informed that they broke the first seal through use of a homunculus specifically crafted for such a purpose," Doll Master said.

Maya blinked. "A... a what?"

"Homunculus," Doll Master repeated. "An magically articulated artificial human. A..." He paused, toying with the words. "An animate doll, if you will. Its presence at the altar shattered the first seal, and if allowed to perform the proper ritual it will be able to unseal the Relic completely."

Maya stared at him, her mouth slightly agape. "Why on earth...?"

"It is a highly complicated piece of magic," Doll Master said, "both the seal and the doll. All of which is beside the point."

"Then what is the point?"

"That the doll is effectively the seal-key of the altar," Doll Master said. "If they are without the doll, they cannot release the Relic."

Maya was quiet, allowing the information to sink in. "I see," she said, and sat back down on the couch. "I understand your consideration. And I'm... I'm very tired. Let me sleep on this, Doll Master. I think some proper rest would do my decision-making a world of good."

"Of course, Your Highness," he said, granting her a deep bow. "We shall all get a reasonable rest. Come the morning, I'm sure you'll make the proper decision."

. .

Mint waited about fifteen minutes after they got back to the inn, then slipped right back out again. She was armed with the remaining halo, just in case, but had a strong feeling she wouldn't be needing it.

She stopped first back at the Adler's house and spoke to Mira. Mira in turn went down into the basement and returned after a few minutes with a heavily-laden sack. Mint accepted the offering and headed out of the house, and then out of the town.

She made her way through the forest, the sack slung over one shoulder while she used the halo to throw illumination along her path. She followed the main path for a ways, until she saw the small footpath that led more sharply downslope. She followed the familiar passage until the forest opened out and led down a thin trail that terminated into a meadow. The campfire in the middle of the meadow burned low, but as she approached somebody tossed a bit of kindling into the flames.

Mint held her ring higher, using it to signal her approach, and called out when she was a little closer; "Good. I was afraid I'd have to wake you."

Rod poked at the flames, shifting the kindling and allowing more oxygen to breathe into the heart of the fire. The light grew, casting a broader circle of illumination, and Mint approached the other side of the fire circle and sat down across from him.

"No need," Rod said. "I haven't been able to sleep."

"Not surprising. Half the town looks like they're still awake. Or else they're sleeping with the lights on."

"I don't doubt it." He leaned forward. "I saw some lights from the direction of the town. You know anything about that?"

"Not the town," Mint said. "The lake. And yes, I do."

"Mind letting me know?"

"I do."

Rod hadn't expected that response. He blinked, pulled back slightly, stared at her. "Oh," he said. "Is this a... personal matter?"

"Yes and no," Mint said.

Rod watched her, waiting for her to continue. Mint met his gaze with a long, level looked of her own, and after several seconds of staring contest Rod finally closed his eyes and nodded to her. "All right," he said. "What brings you here?"

She nudged the sack with her toe. "This."

"You're gonna have to be more specific."

"The contents of this bag."

He frowned. "You're gonna have to be more helpful."

"The contents of this bag, and your skills."

This time, he refused her bait. Mint sighed.

"You're a weapon-smith," she said. "I'm in need of a weapon."

He assessed her quickly. "I see you only have one of your rings," he said.

"Actually," she said, "this isn't for me."

Rod tilted his head, blinked, and then sat up a little straighter. "Ah," he said. "I think I understand. Did you have a... concept... in mind?"

"Hell if I know," she said. "You're the Blade Star, aren't you? I figured you'd be able to come up with something."

He smiled. "I'll need a few things from you," he said, "but I might have an idea. If I could ask a few–"

She held up her hand, and he stopped speaking. "One more stipulation," she said. She tilted the bag and pulled the string of it up, allowing the contents to gleam green-flecked in the firelight. "Do you think you can do something with this?"

Rod stared, first in mild confusion then, slowly, in dawning realization. His eyes lit. His smile broke into a grin. He stood up and immediately stepped around the fire to examine the bag and its contents, and Mint found herself smiling as well.

She said, "I'll take that as a yes."

. .

Sleep came slowly to Rue, and when it arrived it was troubled. All combination of concerns twisted up in his thoughts and haunted his dreams: the easy familiarity Doll Master had tried to address him in; why the East Heaven delegates were there in the first place; if there was anything they could do to ensure the safety of the town; the implications of what he had done to the Book. It all garbled together and reached further back into his memory, stirring again the questions he had tried to bury. He didn't attempt to disentangle any of it – quite the contrary, he was desperate to silence it – but it gnawed at him, waking and sleeping, until he gave up even trying and shoved himself out of bed.

The sky was taking on the first hint of predawn gray. He killed time by wandering his room and sorting objects that needed no sorting; he wrote stunted sentences on the back page of his diary, trying to release some of his thoughts to paper so they would stop crowding up against his mind; he stared out the window for a while, paced a bit, stared again. The town below was silent.

Trying to find something that could be remotely helpful, he rooted around his belongings for his second cloth bandana before realizing he realized he had used it to bandage up Terence a few days ago. He took the other one to the washroom to try and rinse out the blood, but the stain had long since set and by the time he gave up he had only succeeded in making it even worse.

"You don't use warm water on blood."

He blinked and looked up.

Mint was standing in the doorway, arms crossed, eyebrow raised. He looked down at the sink, half-filled with water, spiraling down the drain to make way for more from the faucet. The bandana had been mostly abandoned and managed to float its way to the close end of the sink, drifting uselessly in front of him. Rue himself had just been standing there, staring straight through the counter, for... he wasn't sure how long.

"Also," Mint added, "you're wasting water."

Yes, he was.

He shook his head and turned off the water.

"Bad night?" she asked.

He reached up and massaged his forehead. "You were there," he said.

"Well, for that part. I meant... you know. Sleep-wise." She paused. "I definitely wasn't there for that."

He sighed, although it almost turned into a laugh. "Yes," he said finally. "Bad night."

"Well, I'm sorry to hear that." She stepped fully into the washroom, eying the cloth bandana. The stains had run across its length, turning it into a mess of pinks and red. She reached around Rue and into the sink, pulling it away from the drain and letting the rest of the water run through. She rinsed it out, unfolded it, squinted. "And I'm sorry for how you've abused this thing," she added. "This is worthless."

Rue took it back from her. "I still need it," he said.

"You're kidding."

"The town's already on edge," he said. "I really don't want to have to explain this."

"'Cuz you can't."

He gave her a long, heavy-lidded stare. "Yes, that's right, thank you so much for explaining to me my own motivations."

"No need to get snitty," she said.

Rue closed his eyes and exhaled deeply. "Sorry," he said. "These last couple of days haven't been particularly good to me."

"No kidding," Mint said. "So if you don't mind me asking–"

"Would it matter if I did?"

"I guess not," she said. "So, whether you mind me asking or not, why did Klaus know about your... birthmark?"

"I spent several months helping him with his work," Rue said. "It eventually came up. That's all."

"Why do I feel that you're being cagey?"

"Because I am."

"Oh." She frowned. "Well, I appreciate your candor."

He turned and leaned against the counter, rinsing out the rest of the cloth and starting to fold it back into a bandana. Before he had gotten too far, Mint reached out and caught his arm. He stopped what he was doing and stared at her hand, perplexed. Slowly, his gaze worked its way back up her arm and to her face, and all at once he saw how unkempt her hair was, the heaviness of her eyelids, the faint darkening circles forming under her eyes. His chest tightened.

"Did you... did you sleep last night?" he asked.

"Not really," she said.

"Bad night?"

"You were there."

He managed a faint smile.

Then, without further warning, Mint reached up and ruffled his hair. He jerked back, surprised, but she still had a grip on his arm and she tugged him back toward her. "Stand still," she said. "I can fix this."

"What is the this that you are fixing?"

She didn't answer. "Your hair's kinda long," she said. "If you wear it like this" – she brushed his bangs down and swept them to the sides – "then... yeah, that's good." She released him and stepped back, nodding at her handiwork. "You can get away with that."

"What am I getting away with?"

"Your crystal thing," she said. "Until you can get something else to cover it up with, I mean." She tapped her forehead. "Keep your hair down like that and it'll be way harder to notice. And, I mean, given how often you actually bother going out in town and talking to people– you're fine."

"Oh. I– um– th-thank you."

She regarded him another moment. "Plus," she added, "it kinda looks good on you."

He stared at her. She glared back.

"Well, it does," she said flatly.

"I'll, ah... I'll take that into consideration," he said.

"Good."

She turned away from him and left the washroom. Rue looked down at the bloodstained cloth in his hands, sighed, and tossed it in the wastebasket before following her.

"So what comes next?" he asked.

"Not much we can do but wait," Mint said. "In the meanwhile, I'm going back to bed. You might want to consider it, too. I fixed your hair, but the rest of you looks kind of terrible."

"I'm flattered."

She shot him a grin. "I'll see you later, pretty-boy."

"Ladh mai," he said.

She was halfway to opening her door when she stopped, turned, and stared at him. It took Rue another few seconds to realize what he had done, and when it clicked, he laughed– a drawn, nervous, exhausted sound.

"Oh, gosh, I'm tired," he murmured. "Sleep well. That– that means sleep well."

She nodded. "Yeah, thanks. I'll try."

She slipped into her room. The door clicked shut behind her.

. .

Rue knew he needed the sleep, but the futility of the night coupled with the mounting tension of the day kept him awake. He remained sequestered in his room for most of the morning, monitoring the movement of the town through his vantage point at the window, searching for any indication of something amiss.

And there was indication, although nothing overt. As dawn started to burn the sky, he saw some of the townsfolk begin to move about, as they always did– but slowly, arriving in smaller numbers and always grouped together. Business that usually kept their doors open remained shut, the interior lamps the only indication that they were accepting business; even then, not all of them turned on. A few of the outdoor vendors set up their stalls, but the early morning showing was sparse. The town moved sluggishly, quietly.

The gates remained shut.

But time went on. Hours ticked by. The sun continued to rise. And nothing happened.

The townsfolk must have recognized that at some point, too. As the morning wore on, more people left their houses, more vendors dared to re-open their stalls, a few of the businesses threw open their doors. Rue shoved open his window and let the breeze in, listening to the murmur of the fountain and the babble of conversation beneath it, the volume slowly intensifying. It was never quite what it should have been – town square still looked sparse, conversation still seemed muted, the town still felt tense – but a sense of normalcy was gradually returning to the town as it became more obvious that, for the time being at least, they were still safe.

After a little while he saw Klaus pass through town square, stopping to speak to friends and neighbors. Shortly thereafter came Elena, heading for the greengrocer; accompanying her was the small but bright form of Prima. He didn't see Mira, but with all luck she had finally had an opportunity to go to sleep.

The forms of Belle and Duke stepped into town square. They came to a stop, held a swift conversation, and then broke apart. Belle headed back toward the hotel. Duke headed in the clear opposite direction. It took Rue a moment to realize he was coming to the inn.

Rue left his room immediately and was most of the way down the stairs when the door opened and Duke stepped inside the building. Duke saw him almost immediately, grinned, and waved in greeting. Rue relaxed. Slightly.

"Hey," Duke said cheerily.

Rue finished his descent and turned to Duke. "Morning," he said. "I assume you were looking for us?"

"No surprise there," Duke said. "I figured you'd want to– did you do something with your hair?"

Rue opened his mouth to speak. Words failed him. He gave up. "What's going on?" he pressed.

Duke smiled thinly. "Right, right. Figured you'd want an update. We didn't see anything happening near the town, and we didn't see anything actually in the old city, so that's that."

"But?"

"Well... there is something at the altar."

Rue studied him. "Can you... can you maybe be more specific?"

Duke looked slightly away from him, fidgeting slightly. "Kind of?" he said uncertainly. "While I was watching some guy came out to the altar– not one of the ones that was there earlier. I didn't get a good look at 'em, but they moved different, not exactly... restrained. They were there for maybe a couple of hours before they headed back into the city."

"What were they doing?"

"Spell-weaving," Duke said. "But something... weird. Milady tried to get close to it on the Hexagon, after we were sure he was gone, but she turned back around. Said there was a field of magic over the place, something really tense. If she went much closer than she did it would have snapped back on her. Exploded, most likely."

"A trap," Rue said.

"Yeah. They made a dome around the altar. You can almost kind of see it, when the light's just right."

Rue sighed. "Trap Master," he murmured. "They're closing off the altar so we can't get into it."

"That's what milady thought," Duke said. "They don't want you getting at the Relic."

"That could be problematic," Rue said.

Duke looked over his shoulder and smiled. "And what's your opinion?" he asked.

Rue looked over his shoulder and saw Mint standing at the bottom of the stairs, leaning over the railing and listening to the conversation. She flashed him a smile when he noticed her and stepped down onto the floor. "My opinion," she said, "is that they're closing off the altar so we're forced to play by their rules. We won't be able to do anything until they lift those spells – not without risking violent, fiery death, at least – so they're going to be able to at least partially control our movement for the time being. Or so they assume."

Duke nodded. "But you have a different idea, yeah?"

"Yeah, I do." She turned her attention to Rue. "Matter of fact, I was going to talk to you about that."

"Oh?"

She looked back to Duke. "Did anybody sleep last night?" she asked.

"Doubtful," Duke said cheerfully. "I was just about to head back to the hotel."

"Go ahead," Mint said. "We got this."

"Sounds like a plan," he said, and with a last nod to both of them slipped back out the door. Once he was gone, Mint closed the gap between herself and Rue.

"So what's this you wanted to talk about?" Rue asked.

Mint clapped him on the shoulder. "Follow me."

. .

It was nearing noon when they left the town, slipping out through the maintenance door; even as the interior of the town slowly came back to life, the broad gates remained shut. She led him along in relative silence, and he followed with the same, although it became clear where they were heading when she took them off the main path and down the little footpath that led toward the meadow near the river.

"Mint," Rue said finally, "we're heading to Rod."

"Sure are."

"There's a reason for that."

"Sure is."

"Do you mind letting me know?

They were already stepping out of the treeline and into sunlight. The meadow stretched out at the end of the path.

"I got you a present," she said.

"You– what?"

Any further conversation was interrupted by the excited barking of Johnny Wolf. Mint leapt forward and raced down the end of the path to meet him. Rue was much slower in following.

When he neared the end of the path, Rod's voice rose up from the end of the meadow. "Fighting off bandits, Johnny Wolf?"

Johnny Wolf, who was flipped over on his back and letting Mint scratch his belly, was quite plainly doing no such thing.

Rod strode across the meadow toward them. He was flushed with sweat and trailing the scent of metal, but he wore a broad grin as he approached, and tipped his hat in greeting.

"Just in time," Rod said. "I think you'll like this."

Rue took a moment to realize that Rod was actually looking at him.

"S-sorry," he said. "You mean me?"

"'Course I do," Rod said. His gaze slid over to Mint, and his smile turned just slightly wicked. "Or did she not tell you?"

Mint scratched behind Johnny Wolf's ears, gave him one last pat, and stood up. "Nope," she said. "C'mon, show us. I'm curious, too."

"Please," Rue added. "I'm... very lost."

Rod nodded to both of them, turned, and marched down the meadow. Mint and Rue fell in step behind him, and he started talking.

"I recall you told me you aren't a swordsman," Rod said. Rue nodded, although Rod wasn't actually facing them to see it. "So I started with that. If you weren't trained for it, this definitely isn't the time to begin, so we had a little discussion about where to proceed from there. We decided to keep with blades, but we needed something... different. Fortunately for you, different is my trade.

"Also fortunately for you, I've been working on a few different designs since I've been here. None of them were really ready, but there was one in particular that came to mind when your friend spoke to me last night."

"Last night?" Rue asked.

"This," Mint said, "is why I didn't get any sleep."

"There were a few specifics I was having trouble with, assuming that I would be the one to use it," Rod continued, oblivious to their conversation, "but Mint's request gave me a new outlook. The weapon isn't something that I want to use, but somebody else... it all fell into place. Plus her payment... wait here."

He motioned for them to stop just beyond the mouth of the cave, and disappeared inside. They could hear him moving something within. While they waited, Rue gave Mint a sideways glance.

"What is all this?" she asked.

"You'll see," she said. "And so will I. I just talked to him about it. I have no idea what he actually wound up doing."

"I meant–"

"Here."

Rod emerged from the cave, and he bore with him a very peculiar device. It was long, nearly three feet from end to end, and primarily scarlet, with one a narrow handle gently widening until it suddenly reached the real center of mass, flaring out into a circular point of balance. It looked almost like an instrument at first blush, but with another moment of examination it became clear it was no such thing. A finely honed blade ran part of the length of the handle and traveled halfway around the circle, ending with a slightly extended tip. The weapon was clearly meant for hacking and slashing – and, by the way it was weighted, was not terribly reliant on finesse to do so – but the blade tip could be used for stabbing in a pinch.

He stared at it. He understood.

But Mint spoke first.

"You made a battle lute?" she asked.

"No," Rue said. He stepped forward, and Rod held out the blade to him. "It's an axe."

"Of a sort," Rod said. "I call it the Arc Edge."

He accepted the blade from Rod and hefted it. It was lighter than it had first appeared, although still heavier than what he was used to, but the heft of it – the way the weight fell to the end, the way the blade sat – felt familiar.

"You said you took an axe when you went to defend your home," Rod said.

"It was the only thing we had," Rue responded.

"So, of course, you would know how to use one."

He smiled faintly. "That's true."

"It took a little tweaking from my original design," Rod added, "but I think it worked out rather well." He reached forward and pulled at something on the backside of the handle, revealing a length of leather that ran from just below the hilt to the blade's center of mass. "This isn't exactly ideal for carrying at the hip, but this'll let you strap it to your back and carry it that way. You like it?"

"It's beautiful," Rue said. "But..." He turned his attention to Mint. "What's this about?"

"Honestly?" Mint said. "I notice you keep stealing my Dual Halos to fight things." She pulled the ring from her side. "And now that I'm down to one, I really can't afford to let you keep doing that, not if we're going to be fighting. And given the situation, I get the feeling we're going to be fighting." She swung her ring down in front of her. "Try it out."

He pulled the strap taught against the blade again and gave it a short, experimental slash. The weight of it gave his movement more force and momentum than he had anticipated. Not a bad thing, but it would limit his ability to change mid-stroke. He would need to get used to committing to a blow.

"A little more force," Mint said, and he gave it another go. She shook her head. "No. Attack like you mean it."

"I need to get used to the–"

"Ah, just give it a try," Rod said. Rue sighed, raised the blade with both hands, and brought it down in a powerful blow in front of him.

He felt something tug at his chest, burn gently at his forehead, and the blade gleamed, trailing behind it an afterimage of cobalt flame. The edge sank into the earth and the flame died. He pulled it free and ran his hand along the blade, brushing off the dirt and taking a better look at the metal. He tilted it in the sunlight and saw faint flecks of green.

"This is phantomite," he murmured.

Mint grinned.

"It's a phantomite sheath, if you will," Rod said. "I wouldn't have had enough time to re-forge the entire blade, but I tried applying a coat of phantomite to most of the flat. I would have preferred to have a chance to properly forge the whole blade, but..."

"But we don't have time," Mint said. "And anyway, this is exactly what I was looking for."

Rue looked to her.

"Think about it," she said. "You– you are the only thing that I have ever seen that could combat a Relic like that."

"Woah, what?" Rod interjected. Mint ignored him.

"If we're going to confront them, there's an extremely good chance we'll be dealing with Maya and her stupid Book again, and we needed some kind of weapon that could fight her. That's you. And you needed some kind of weapon that can take advantage of your anti-Relic magic. And that," she pointed to the Arc Edge, "is it." She looked past him. "You done good, Rod."

Rod's confusion dissipated and was quickly replaced with almost tangible pride. "Of course," he said. "That is why you came to me, after all."

"That, and you're the only blacksmith on the island," she said.

He snorted dismissively.

Rue nodded. "I see," he said. "This is... this is wonderful. Thank you. Although, ah..." He kept his focus on the axe. "I can't– pay you. Most of my savings went to Belle and Duke, so–"

"Mint already rendered payment," Rod said.

"With the phantomite," Mint added. "He used whatever he had to use on your crazy thing there, and he's free to do whatever he wants with what he's got left."

Rue nodded and pulled out the strap of the axe. He worked with it for a moment before realizing that it extended far enough that he could effectively slide into it, then tighten it back up to hold it steady. He played with it for a few seconds until it sat properly against his shoulder, nodding to himself as he did so. "This is good," he said. "This is very good. I- I think I like this." He looked at Mint. "So what do I owe you?"

Mint smiled. "Help me beat my sister's face in, and I think we can call it even."