Notice: Due to an awards ceremony that I have to organise, foot questions over and chair in September, I'm going to be taking the week starting Monday 12th – Sunday 18th September off. I'll be back Monday 19th September. I'll try and remember to keep the "next chapter" dates at the bottom accurate so you can always rely on those.

Cover Art: GWBrex

Chapter 29

The galleon was gaining on them. It was less riding the waves and more cutting through them, propelled by large and powerful sails hanging from three masts. Jaune could hardly believe that something so large could be so fast, or that the Trident would be slower, given how sleek it was. It only made sense, in his head, that they be faster and that it move at a snail's pace. The galleon did not agree.

Neptune shouted for his men to bring the ship about – did he think they could face it? The smuggler must have had some plan, that Jaune would have to trust, and he hoped the plan didn't revolve around him pulling out magic. He had a sinking suspicion, however, that it did. The Trident began to turn, slowly listing and then turning toward the portside, bringing them across so that they were side on. Broadside, he might have said, if the broadside of this ship were any more than two ballistae. The ship approaching them likely had forty or more on either side.

Jaune walked to the railing as sailors sprinted about pulling on ropes, carrying weapons and doing other tasks he couldn't decipher. They ignored him. Neptune was on the wheel and Sun was manning the nearest ballista. Jaune's hands settling on the wet wooden railing and gripped it tight. He leaned out, drawing in a deep breath of salty sea air and wondering why he didn't feel so afraid when the galleon seemed closer than ever. It wasn't confidence. If anything, it felt as though he had nothing left to lose.

Magic, thought Jaune with closed eyes. I need to use magic.

The power he'd brought about before felt so far away now, but he knew that it wasn't. He sucked in another deep breath and tried to summon up the familiar feeling. It was there, he could sense it, but it danced just out of reach. It felt weaker as well, as though his usage of it earlier had drained himself.

"An amateur wastes too much," said the Dark Lord. He had sounded tempting before, but almost defeated now. "It is why I offered to take control. You have wasted what little power your body can handle."

"Let me guess." said Jaune to the open air and sea salt spray. "That can be fixed if only I let you take control of me now." To that, the Dark Lord remained silent. "That isn't going to happen. You lied to me."

"I… did not intend to…"

"What bullshit response is that?" asked Jaune.

"I intended to keep to our deal, I truly did, but when I found myself faced with her, after what she did to me, I lost control. The madness descended."

"Isn't it you who drives men mad?"

"It was not always that way," said Ozma. "I was once a boon, working with my hosts, but Salem bested and then broke me. Over years and decades. Now… Now, I am mad. I admit it. The lucidity comes and goes."

"You seem remarkably lucid now."

"I am at my weakest when she is near, and she shows for every battle. You hear of Dark Lords being driven mad because I cannot grasp my sanity when she faces me. I am sane here," he insisted. "Please, for both our sakes, have faith in me."

Faith. It was such a simple word and yet so stupid that Jaune laughed out loud. He had grown up under the faith of the Church of Salem and saw little reason to doubt that even now that he was hunted by them. They were not evil; they were not cruel; they had not been the ones to draw steel first and attack – Ozma had when he tried to kill the Goddess in front of all those people. Asking for faith after all that. Jaune shook his head. "You ask too much."

"Then we – or you – will die here."

There was that. The galleon was hardly a hundred feet away now and slowly beginning to turn to bring its own weapons to bare. "A compromise," said Jaune. "You want me to trust you, but you accept that you betrayed me before, whether or not it wasn't your intent. You understand why I can't trust you. Teach me instead. Tell me how to use the magic and I'll…" He thought quickly. "I'll listen to you again."

"You listen with both ears closed. It will be meaningless."

"Then what do you want?" asked Jaune. "I'm not giving you control after what you did."

The Dark Lord was silent for a time, for seconds that stretched out over an eternity, and during which the galleon completed a quarter its turn. Men and women rushed across the decks of it, which were much higher than their own, and many weapons bristled. They were going to be boarded.

"Assist the rebellion in Mistral. That is my compromise."

"They don't want me to!"

"Don't take it over. I agree with their reasoning, and I did fail them the last time. Assist it. The chaos only benefits you as well-"

"Fine! I agree! Get on with it!"

"Draw your bow."

Jaune wasted no time asking why and swung it off his shoulder, flexed it and drew an arrow. He nocked it to the string but didn't draw it back yet, trusting there would be more to the process that required his concentration. He was not disappointed.

"Utilising magic requires three properties: power, control and medium. Power is simply the capacity to use magic and that you are not exhausted; control is the ability to not be wasteful or have it grow out of control; medium is the method by which it reaches your target. For touch-based magic like what you accomplished before, there is no need for a medium, but we cannot reach out and touch this. To make a spell travel a distance requires more power and more control, but you can substitute a medium with another. Your arrow, in this case, will become the medium, the vehicle for the spell, and carry it to your target. Draw."

The bow came up and the string drew back, his fingers brushing against his cheek as he took the practised stance. A ship was larger than a grazing deer or unawares rabbit. It would not be a difficult shot despite the swaying ship and his shaking hands.

"Draw now from that power you felt before. Will it up from within your body and let it swirl about unchecked. This magic, called aura to some, is created by the power of the soul. It is your life energy, and it is finite, even if it can and will regenerate over time. It is weak now. Let it swirl and build up. Then, when it feels like it is too much, will it to your arms, your hands and then to your arrow. Concentrate on it."

Vague as the instructions were, he was able to follow them. The power couldn't be mistaken as it was like wildfire rushing through his body. He felt more alive, more real, tingly all over and had a clarity of mind he didn't think he'd ever had before. It was heady and, he imagined, addicting as well. Jaune concentrated on his shoulders and felt it move there, then his biceps and his forearms and gasped as the power raced down his arms so fast that his skin and clothing began to glow green.

"Control is difficult to teach and not needed here. Control will keep your aura contained and calm. We do not want that. Force it into the arrow as roughly and as clumsily as you may, then loose without hesitation. Let the lack of control do what it does best and serve as a lesson as to how fortunate you were before."

Jaune had already released the arrow before Ozma finished. It had begun to glow so hot that he felt it might burst into flame, and so he let it go. The shaft whizzed up and forward, covered the fifty or so feet and struck into the forward hull of the galleon with a thunk that he heard even from such a distance. The magic, his aura, flooded out from the arrow and into the wood, which also glowed fiercely. Too fiercely. The wooden hull expanded, cracked and then exploded with an outpouring of energy that burned in the air, igniting into a fireball and a blast of air and sound that propelled their two vessels apart, splashing them with water and causing both to list aside.

The galleon, heavier, landed in the water first, but it splashed down so hard that water flooded into the gaping hole he had created and caused the ship to start listing forward. Sailors screamed aboard the ship, but huntresses raced amongst them, three that he could see, doing their best to fight through the panicking soldiers and reach the railing closest to him. They could still make the jump.

"Oars!" roared Neptune. "Row, you bastards!"

The Trident was still shaking from the force of the magic, but the smugglers were as disciplined as soldiers in their own way and took to the oars. With the aid of the wind in their sails, the Trident lurched forward. It had been slower than the galleon at top speed, but their acceleration was far greater. One of the Huntresses leapt, but misjudged, and she splashed down into the water less than four feet from the aft of their ship, so narrowly missing that she would have landed on Neptune's raised platform. The other two huntresses didn't try the same, and one jumped off to rescue the first, swimming through the water after her as the Trident began to pick up speed as it turned back with the wind. The galleon was too busy tilting forward to give chase.

"It is done. I trust you will honour our deal."

"I'll honour it. One of us ought to."

The Trident's crew didn't speak to or acknowledge him. How much of that was them being too busy to care, and how much was because they knew now of what he was, Jaune could not tell. They moved about the outer decks and called out to one another in laughter, but Jaune kept to his tiny cabin and so wasn't there to drag the mood down. He sat on the bed, legs crossed, too anxious to sleep and too tired to move about. The Dark Lord had gone quiet since their parting words, perhaps satisfied with what he'd got or perhaps realising that Jaune didn't want to talk to him any further.

He would honour the deal, not only because his parents hadn't raised him to lie, but because he, at least, didn't want to be at odds with someone who could actively sabotage him. Getting away from the Church, Salem and the Chosen would be hard enough as it was without Ozma dogging him every step of the way. The rebellion will help hide me as well, thought Jaune. The more unrest they caused, the less time the ruling family would have for him, and the more they wanted to hunt him, the less time they had to look for treason. It was, or would be, a mutually beneficial relationship.

Jaune hoped so anyway.

/-/

Remnant was ruled by its goddess, Salem, so Jaune had expected Mistral to look much the same as Vale did, but that couldn't have been further from the truth. From the moment he saw the continent on the horizon, and as it grew closer, he knew it was different. There were more mountains, taller mountains; the trees were a more vibrant shade of green; the buildings of the port they pulled into were sloped to tall peaks, with rooves that came down in tiers. Even the boats they passed on their way in, most of whom were out fishing the shallow waters, were flatter and squarer than the typical vessels back home. The people on board them wore hats fashioned from reeds that fanned out to shield their faces from the sun.

The Trident pulled in alongside a long jetty painted a rich red, and from which hung thick knotted ropes intertwined over and over until they had more girth than a grown man. The wooden hull knocked against them instead of the dock, bouncing harmlessly against the rope as sailors leapt off and caught ropes of their own from the ship, lashing them to raised wooden posts and pulling until the Trident was snug against the pier. Children watched from the shore, pointing and laughing, as adults carried racks of fish, worked hides or beat dirty clothing on netting hung up between poles to shake the sand out of them. The fishing village was small and only had some fifteen or so houses, about the size of Ansel, and Jaune was sure it was not the usual location for a ship like the Trident to stop at.

A ramp was pushed down, and several sailors clamoured off and started talking with people on the beach. Jaune waited, turning briefly to Neptune as he came slowly down the steps from the raised captain's platform. The man had a reed hat of his own on and casting shade over his face, but his eyes met Jaune's, and, with momentary hesitation, he approached.

"Welcome to the fishing village of Amiyoka." Neptune gestured to the brightly painted homes. What they lacked in size or wealth, they more than made up for with vibrant colours. "It's a small place, off the beaten path, and perfect for our purposes."

"A rebellion village?"

"No. And you'd be best not to mention that around here," said Neptune. "Safer for them if they don't know what it is we do. I have a contact in the village who speaks for the rebellion. Come with me."

They walked down the steep ramp and onto the pier, then down the wooden jetty and off onto soft, white sand. The village was built just off the beach on more solid ground, but Jaune noticed the houses stood on platforms about half a foot off the ground just in case of a high tide. The windows were covered by brightly decorated curtains that hung down in some places and were pinned up in others. There was no glass like Vale and now wooden shutters like in Ansel. Similarly, the doors were little more than wooden gates, with taller curtains hung like sheets to stop insects getting in. Neptune brought them to one, knocked twice on the wooden doorframe and then swept the curtain aside, entering and holding it aside for Jaune to follow.

"Who's that, then!?" a cantankerous old voice yelled. "You children better not be playing your games, or I'll tan your- ah. Neptune!" A woman approached them. Small, wrinkly, tan and hunched over a gnarled stave. Jaune could not point her age, but it had to be beyond eighty, for she truly looked ancient.

"Maria." Neptune bowed slightly. "A beauteous sight as always."

"Lies as always," said the woman, Maria, who stood before them and looked Jaune up and down. One of her eyes was absent but the other, a bright silver not unlike Ruby's, took him in. "And who is this? Uncertain eyes, poor posture – where did you pick this one up, Neptune – the gutter?"

"This is…"

"Jaune." It wasn't the name he'd given, and Neptune looked confused for a moment. "That's my real name. Jaune Arc. You wouldn't have any problem figuring it out once news from Vale comes."

"Famous, is he?" asked Maria. "Runaway noble brat?"

Neptune coughed into his hand. "The next Dark Lord, actually."

Jaune hissed and Maria echoed him, with about the same level of annoyance aimed at Neptune. "I'm not." said Jaune, before she could get any ideas. "I've no interest in becoming the Dark Lord or finishing his business. I'm here to escape all that."

"Not what I had hoped you would deny, brat." Maria snorted, half-amused and half-annoyed, and turned away, whipping Neptune with an angry glare. "And what in your right mind has you bringing him to me, eh?"

"The rebellion-"

"Does not need a death like the last!" barked Maria. "We had victory within our grasp, it was right there, and his madness lost had him sending our forces crashing against those of the Goddess. Our hopes, our families, our children, gone in an instant. All because he wanted to take his vengeance on the Goddess. They cannot be trusted," she said. "They will – and do – bring ruin to all they touch."

"That wasn't me," said Jaune. "That was the last Dark Lord."

"Oh, and you're different, are you? More in control? Not going to go insane?" Each question was asked with clear derision, and she finished with an undignified snort. "So they all say. I am the one, they say. I will win, they proclaim. Pah." Maria spat on the ground. "You've already had my family. Now you ask for more? I will hear none of this, Neptune. You bring shame to your name for even suggesting it."

"Now look here-" said Jaune.

"Maria." interrupted Neptune. "Please, I'm not suggesting he work with us. Quite the opposite. He has no interest joining or taking over the rebellion. His aims are to hide in Mistral, or even to pass through it and leave entirely. I only offered our assistance because it will draw the eyes of the Schnee family. They won't be able to ignore him."

He was to be bait. Jaune had known it, or suspected it, but to have it be said so clearly was unpleasant all the same. He kept his mouth shut and watched as the old crone turned to Neptune, still angry, but contemplative as well.

"The Chosen will be coming after him in force anyway. That was no intent of mine, but by the time I realised who he was, he was already on my ship. It was too late to go back – and especially after we sank a galleon."

"You sank-?" Her eyes narrowed. "He sank a galleon."

"The Chosen won't care who was behind it." said Neptune. "We're all guilty, and the Schnee despise us anyway. Think about it, Maria. When the Schnee are told the Dark Lord is in their land, they will drop everything to catch him. They are so desperate for the Eternity Queen's praise that they will let their entire territory go to ruin if it means presenting him. That is our chance!"

Maria continued to stare into the distance silently. Outside, children played, and the wind rustled among the leaves of nearby trees; the water sloshed against the beach and slapped against the hull of the Trident. "What guarantee have we?" asked Maria. "He might say now that he has no designs on us, but when the madness takes him, he will want an army as every Dark Lord before him has. You ask much from a woman who has lost everything to his madness before."

"I-"

"Not you." Maria interrupted Jaune with a snarl. "Every word from your mouth is tainted. How much are yours and how much are his? Even if you said none, I would have no way of knowing if it is the truth."

"He's running away from Vale." said Neptune. "Away from the Chosen, away from the Eternity Queen. If he really wanted to go after her and throw his life away, and those around him, then he's going in the wrong direction." Neptune smiled awkwardly and crossed his arms. "Isn't that proof enough, Maria? You can't say he wants to fight the Goddess if he is fleeing her."

/-/

They didn't spend the night in the Trident as had been originally planned. The sailors moved quickly to transport the weapon shipments off the ship, then carriages were brought forward, steered by men or women wrapped from head to toe in cloths, including their faces. Village folk from Amiyoka drew their children away, avoided eye contact and pretended not to notice them.

"You cannot stay," said Maria, to both him and Neptune. "Your actions on the water will draw the force of the Schnee. We will be put to the sword if the Trident is seen here. You," she told Neptune," must be away. And you," she added to Jaune, "Must be the same. You will travel with the weapons and in the wagon. I have given them a letter to deliver. It will explain you. They know not who you are, but do not take that as an excuse to win them over. They have been told you are to be watched."

It was as much as he expected from Maria. Jaune nodded. "I understand. I'll keep to myself."

"Hmph. I'm not sure what value the leaders will see in you. Your magic, aye, but you represent too much loss and too much death to be trusted. Even if you wish and justly mean to aid us, we cannot trust the monster that lives within you not to drive you mad."

"I understand."

"If you are sane, if you are you, then accept my apologies," said Maria. "But understand all the same why we must all doubt. You have a hard and terrible path ahead of you, and a future that is not all that uncertain. The madness will take you sooner or later."

Jaune's eyes closed. "I know. I've felt it."

"Poor child." There was no sarcasm in her words. "You do not deserve this. But then, if the world was so kind as to only punish those who deserved it, then we would all be better people. The just suffer while the unjust prosper. So it has always been." Shaking her head, she took hobbling steps toward the wagons, and Jaune followed. "You will be used as a distraction. You must know this. You will be flaunted, but you will be protected, because it only does us ill for the Schnee to claim more glory in catching or killing you. Listen to your guides. They know the land well, how to hide, who to trust, what to say and what not to do. Trust them long before the voice in your head."

The closest wagon was led by a single donkey and what Jaune would have guessed was a woman by her slighter build. Her, or his, face was fully wrapped so that only their eyes and a small bit of black hair showed through. They indicated the back of the wagon where several crates were piled high. Jaune climbed up and found a spot between one crate and the back of the driver's seat where he could sit with his back to the crate and his feet dangling out the open air. By that time, the Trident was already pushing back off into the water. They couldn't afford to stay, and Jaune wondered how safe they'd be now that the Chosen knew they'd helped him. They wouldn't find safe harbour in Vale. Then again, neither would he.

You're not very popular here, Jaune thought to Ozma.

"With good reason. I failed them in their time of need."

How am I supposed to aid the rebellion if they won't trust me? They want nothing to do with me.

"I have the utmost faith that you will find a way," said Ozma.

Jaune snorted, drawing a look from the driver, before he leaned his head back on the crate and closed his eyes. They probably wouldn't turn him over to the Chosen, and few people in Mistral yet know who he was or that he'd appeared at all. The news wouldn't reach Mistral until the first ships did.

For now, he was safe.

There we go. I'm trying a bit of a speedier writing style. You may or may not have noticed.

Next Chapter: 20th August

Like my work? Please consider supporting me, even if it's only a little a month or even for a whole year, so I can keep writing so many stories as often as I do. Even a little means a lot and helps me dedicate more time and resources to my work.

P a treon . com (slash) Coeur