FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Part 19

For Basitins, the phrase ‘time off’ was largely unknown. Certainly there were times when Basitins would take the time they needed, to heal, or grieve, or give birth. But when it came to relaxation, where a human might choose a beach, or a Keidran might choose to hunt or fish, Basitins preferred to occupy themselves with either a bath, or more likely, rigorous physical activity.

The training complex of Dauntless Fortress was located directly underneath the main courtyard. The space had once been the Fortress storehouse, a cavernous, high ceilinged, stone room. Ropes for climbing hung from the ceiling, weights of every conceivable size and shape sat upon shelves around the room, as well as an immense array of mock weapons. In the center of the complex was a large, raised sparring ring.

During the day the room would be full of Basitins, from the rawest of recruits to the most hardened veterans. It was one of the few places in all of Basikal where rank made no difference, where the young and the old, males and females, could meet and mingle all together. But now, with even the most dedicated trainees having turned in hours before, only one corner of the training room was still lit.

Marien’s body was a blur as she ducked and weaved around the dummy set up in the northern corner of the training room. The dummy was roughly basitin-shaped, with three circular sections with long wooden arms that would spin when struck. The arms were padded with only a thin layer of canvas wrap, and the clattering of spinning sections when they moved was almost deafening.

Over the decades, the dummy had earned the nickname ‘Razy’. It was named for Major Dauntless’s famously cruel predecessor, Andras Rasmus, who had made a habit of beating students in an effort to ‘toughen’ them. His reign ended when Major Dauntless, who had been a mere corporal at the time, had challenged him to a fight and broke his legs so badly that he could barely walk from that day forward.

Marien ducked, one of the dummy’s arms just barely touching her hair as it whizzed over her head. She blocked the middle arm, while also stepping out of the way of the lower section.

Beads of sweat flew off of Marien’s hair as she pressed her attack, striking the arms again and again, her knuckles leaving behind patches of blood with each hit. The training room was cold, and steam rose from her arms and legs as she panted for breath. Each time she struck harder, the dummy grew faster. Her arms and legs were on fire, her throat was raw and her chest ached. But still she pushed herself, faster and faster and faster. The rest of the world faded away, it was just her and her movements. Every muscle, every sinew, every fiber of her body did exactly as she commanded it.

“And yet it betrayed me, and killed my daughter.”

The momentary pause the thought created as it flickered across her mind was all it took to throw off Marien’s rhythm. She missed the middle section and the arm struck her hard in the stomach, knocking the wind out of her. An instant later an arm of the upper section crashed into the back of her head and sent her sprawling on the frigid stone floor.

Dazed and winded, Marien gasped for breath as she stared up at the ceiling, her head spinning. Slowly the dummy clattered to a halt.

“That has got to be the fastest I have ever seen ol’ Razy move.”

Immediately Marien leapt to her feet, fists raised. “Who’s there?!”

From the shadows, a figure stepped into the light.

Marien blinked in surprise, “General Silver?”

Kent crossed his arms as he leaned against one of the corner posts of the sparring ring. “I saw there was light in here, so I decided to come and see who was up and about at this time of night.”

“I couldn’t sleep.” Marien replied, adjusting the wrappings on her wrists.

“I gathered that.”

Kent stepped forwards and gently batted at the dummy’s arms. “You know, back in my day, if they caught you trying to go that fast on Razy, they’d cane you in front of your squad.”

“Is that why you are here? Do you want to try to cane me, General?”

Kent chuckled. “No no, of course not, I think ol’ Razy made his point. Besides, I’m fairly certain that there isn’t a punishment in the world that I could subject you to that would compare to what you are doing to yourself.”

The fur on the back of Marien’s neck bristled. “Is there something I can help you with, General?”

“I have some questions for you, about a mutual friend of ours.”

“You’re talking about Seig?”

“Not this time, no.” Kent stepped away from the dummy, “I had a word with Mr. Kolvest a night ago. And while I would love to talk about him more, I’m actually more interested in his father.”

Marien stiffened, “What do you mean?”

“We’ll get to that, don’t worry.” As Kent approached the ropes that surrounded the sparring ring he reached up and began undoing his jacket.

Marien raised an eyebrow. “What are you doing?”

“I enjoy a go at Razy as much as the next guy. But I thought perhaps you would enjoy an opponent with a little more flexibility.”

Kent tossed his jacket over one of the ring’s corner posts and pulled a pair of cotton hand wraps from a rack. As he wrapped the cloth around his wrists he looked up at Marien, “Care to go for a few rounds?”

“I’m not interested.” Marien turned to leave, “Thank you anyways General.”

“Oh… Huh. I suppose Sieg was wrong about you.”

Marien paused, her ears twitching. “What did you just say?”

“Just that Mr. Kolvest was mistaken when he talked about you.” Kent held out a hand, casually examining his fingers. A smile crept across his lips as he observed Marien out of the corner of his eyes. “I suppose you do know when to retreat from a fight.”

Marien slowly turned back to Kent as her hands curled into fists. “That is a very, very old trick General.”

“True.” Kent shrugged as Marien turned and approached the ring. “But an old tactic that works is always better than a new one that doesn’t. Plus… I’m willing to bet, this isn’t the first time you’ve fallen for that particular trick.”

Testing her own hand wraps, Marien met Kent’s gaze with a glare. “I suppose you think you know me pretty well.”

“I know your type.” Kent stretched his neck as he spoke. “Young, arrogant, brash, and with something they are so very desperate to prove.”

As Marien stepped between the ropes and entered the ring, Kent removed his trousers and tossed them atop his discarded jacket.

“Do you always wear a pair of exercise shorts under your uniform sir?” Marien asked as Kent also squeezed between the ropes and stepped into the center of the ring.

“You’d be surprised how comfortable they actually are.” Kent replied, bouncing up and down and testing his arms with a few experimental jabs.

“You didn’t just stumble across me here, did you?” Marien glared at Kent. “You knew where I was… Are you having me watched?”

“It’s a distinct possibility.”

“Why?”

“I thought you might be interesting. Turns out I was right. Or, well, I suppose I should say your choice in friends is interesting. Though, and I mean no offense, it is more peculiar that Conrad is interested in you.”

Both Marien and Kent moved to the center of the ring. Keeping their gazes locked on one another they touched fists, before stepping back and taking up fighting stances.

“So it’s true, about you and General Kolvest.” Marien held her fists in front of her face as she and Kent began to circle one another. “I’d heard the two of you didn’t get along.”

“Conrad is a good soldier and a good Basitin, but he’s a lousy father and a horrible judge of character. I, on the other hand, am an excellent father and a wonderful judge of character.”

As he spoke, Kent swung his fists at Marien, first his left then his right. Marien blocked the first blow and dodged the second. Marien responded with her own attack, a left right left combo, but Kent easily dodged each blow.

“He’s fast!”

“But if you were to ask Conrad, he’d say I was an awful soldier and an even worse Basitin,” Kent huffed. “Rather like he would say about you.”

Switching up her tactics, Marien waited for Kent to attack, bending her knees in slightly. Kent stepped in and threw a punch, which Marien blocked. But just as she was preparing to strike out with her foot, Kent ducked down and swept her legs out from under her. Marien caught herself as she fell, spinning on her hand and pushing herself right back to her feet.

“Which is a rather colossal failure on his part.” Kent grinned as he bounced up and down. “Fact is, you’re a rather excellent Basitin, and an exemplary soldier. Too bad Conrad can’t see it.”

“I don’t need him to see it!”

“You say that-” Kent ducked a blow from Marien and countered with a strike to her stomach. “-as if you actually-” Kent aimed a jab at Marien’s jaw that she dodged. “-believe it!”

“I don’t need General Kolvest’s approval, or yours!” Marien bellowed, raised her fists again as Kent stepped back..

“Captain Kolvest! That is out of line!”

Marien paused and drew in a breath to apologize, but suddenly Kent rushed her. He threw a wild haymaker which Marien ducked, but followed it up with a powerful kick to the stomach that sent Marien tumbling backwards.

Kent smiled as Marien picked herself back up. “Don’t let your guard down now.”

“You wanna fight dirty, do you?” Marien raised her fists again. “Then come on!”

Despite her obvious exhaustion, Kent was amazed at how quickly Marien could move. Each punch flowed into the next, each kick designed to get her into a better position even if she missed or was blocked. Kent soon found himself having to pay careful attention not to get pushed back against the ropes.

“Everyone fights dirty when it serves their purpose,” Kent called out between blows. “Winning is important, and dishonour can be reasoned away!”

“That’s just the excuse everyone uses to justify doing what they want!” Marien roared, throwing a wild punch.

Kent caught Marien’s fist, spun around and tried to flip her over his shoulder.

Instead, Marien hooked her leg around Kent’s and managed to get her other arm around Kent’s neck. Using her weight, Marien dragged Kent to the mat, tightening her chokehold.

Unable to escape Marien’s hold, Kent pounded the mat with his palm. Marien released her grip and pushed Kent off of her, getting back to her feet.

Gasping for breath, Kent nodded at Marien, “You… may be right… But you’re the one… letting people play dirty.”

“What do you mean?”

Massaging his neck, Kent got back to his feet. “I played you to get you to fight, just as Conrad is playing you.”

“He’s my superior officer.” Marien shot back, though the doubt in her voice was obvious. “I go where I am ordered to go.”

“Only because you don’t believe in your own worth.”

Kent and Marien began circling one another again.

“My own worth,” Marien spat. “What worth?”

“And there it is.” Kent shook his head. “The part of you that makes you so weak. The part of you that is holding you back!”

Marien stepped forwards, aiming a punch at Kent’s body, while also bringing up her hand to strike his jaw. Kent allowed the blow to his body and blocked Marien’s other fist.

The entire training room echoed with the sounds of blows landing, and grunts of effort. Marien rained blow after blow on Kent, but the General refused to counter attack. He merely kept dancing around Marien, dodging or blocking her attacks, forcing her to chase him.

“Why aren’t you fighting back!” Marien yelled, fighting back desperate exhaustion as her fist missed Kent’s jaw by a hair.

“I’m waiting.” Kent replied, ducking backwards and stepping to the side as Marien lashed out with a kick.

“For what?”

“You’ll see.”

With a snarl of frustration, Marien increased her speed. But with her muscles already taxed to their limit, she had trouble aiming precisely.

Ducking a right hook, Kent delivered two light punches to Marien’s body. In a howl of rage and frustration, Marien drew back and put all of her strength into a left hook followed by a right haymaker strike.

Kent blocked the hook and ducked under the haymaker. Before Marien could recover, Kent struck her hard in the stomach, and followed up with a powerful uppercut. Marien’s teeth slammed together and she tumbled backwards, crashing to the mat gasping for air and completely spent.

“I was waiting… for that.” Kent gasped, wiping the sweat from his brow. “I wore you down, just like everyone else has, and just when you were most vulnerable, I kicked your ass.”

With her head spinning, her teeth aching and her body barely able to even move, Marien found it hard to disagree.

Kent extended a hand and helped Marien back to her feet. “I know it’s been hard, with your eyes and your fur inviting everyone to judge you. And I know you are strong, very very strong. But as Major Dauntless taught me, even a man striking a wall of diamond with his bare fists will, with enough time, eventually break through.”

“I don’t understand, what does that have to do with me?”

“You’re the wall of diamond. And every day of your life, every glance, every muttered word, every promotion that you were passed over for, every dirty job you were given, every insult, every single time someone called you a Westerner, they have all worn you down. And I’m willing to bet that Conrad just offered you an out.”

“I…” Marien tried to find words, but none came.

“I know Conrad is up to something, I know it has something to do with the Chariots, and I know he plans on using you.” Kent sighed and put both hands on Marien’s shoulders, “And I have seen enough soldiers in my day to know when someone isn’t planning on coming back.”

Marien couldn’t help but look away, ashamed.

“You are strong.” Kent said, shaking Marien’s shoulders, “But you are letting lesser men control you. You and I both know Conrad doesn’t deserve your loyalty.”

“He is my superior officer… I go where he tells me. I am a Basitin soldier, I follow my orders.”

“And what about the people who love you?”

Marien looked up sharply as Kent smiled sadly at her. “The people who look down on you, they will never change. No prize you bring them, no honour you earn, no heroic sacrifice you make, will ever convince them. You could bring them the crown of the Western King’s head, and they would still claim it was a fake”

“I already told you, I don’t need them!” Marien snapped, pushing Kent away.

“And it was a lie then, and it is a lie now.”

Marien’s breath shuddered, her whole body shook with anger, but she was rooted to the spot.

Kent met her gaze evenly. “You can go and die in the war if you want. Earn a glorious death if you want it. But don’t lie to yourself, you know it won’t matter. You know you will just be forgotten, stepped over without a word of regret. It will only hurt the people who love you.”

“I only seem to be able to hurt the people who love me.” Marien muttered, her eyes stinging and she looked away again, “My mother… Major Dauntless… Sieg…”

“So what? We hurt each other every day, its a fact of life, whether its something as brutal as war or slavery, or if it’s buying the last fish from the market and ruining someones stew. Maybe we say the wrong thing, show up late to an important engagement, or kick a stone into the street that someone will trip over someday.”

Kent stepped forwards, and to Marien’s shock, pulled her into a hug.

“People hurt each other, we’re all just children with sticks, stumbling around in a dark room, accidentally poking each other's eyes out,” he said quietly, holding Marien tight. “Love is just caring enough about someone that you try your best not to hurt them. It’s not always going to work, but it’s the effort that matters.”

Kent’s embrace should have shocked and humiliated Marien, a scandalous and wholly inappropriate violation of her privacy and decency. But it was different, it wasn’t a lovers embrace at all. There was no passion, just a warm, comfortable reassuring embrace. For the first time in a very long time, Marien felt as if she were being hugged by a parent. For an instant, Marien was certain she could smell her mother’s scent.

Releasing Marien from his grip, Kent stepped back. “And you, Marien Kolvest, are loved more than you can imagine.”

“I… I know but… but I…”

“You know, when Sieg came to me, he asked me to end the war, to stop it all so you could be safe. Not for himself, not for his comrades, not even for Basidian, just for you.”

Despite herself, Marien couldn’t help but smile at the sheer ludicrousness and magnitude of Sieg’s request.

“Of course he would say that.” Marien felt a warmth growing in her heart. “How could he not…” At that moment, the only thing Marien wanted in the entire world was to hold Sieg in her arms.

“I want to help him, and I want to help you.” Kent continued. “But I can’t do that as things are. Conrad and the Chariots are up to something, they’ve seized control of the military forces on Basikal and they are bringing in Chariot house troops at an alarming rate. I need to know what they are doing, and fast.”

“You do realize the position I am in.” Marien replied, crossing her arms. “You and General Kolvest are both the same rank, and I have been ordered to stay silent.”

“I see.”

“It’s not that I don’t want to help General, it’s just…”

“I understand.” Kent turned and strode over to the corner of the ring where his jacket sat. Turning the coat over in his hands, Kent extended his claws and ripped a hole in the shoulder. As he did, something small and metallic dropped out of a hidden pouch and fell to the floor.

Picking up the small metal object with delicate reverence and closing it in his fist, Kent returned to Marien.

“I understand the position you are in. I am asking you to put your faith in me.” As he spoke, Kent pressed the item he had retrieved into Marien’s hand. “I cannot and will not order you to do what I ask, but I hope this will help you trust me enough that you will at least consider it.”

Slowly Marien opened her palm. Her eyes went wide and her heart skipped a beat. She held in her hand a golden ring. Inlaid within the ring was a strip of jade. The heraldry of Basidian and King Adelaide were carved into the inside of the ring, the engraving impossibly small and detailed.

“This… this is…” Marien looked up at Kent in total shock. “This is a royal sanction!”

“Her grace, King Adelaide, gave it to me years ago.” Kent nodded, “I was to be her eyes and ears on Basikal. The King knew… certain things about me, things that led her to believe that I could be trusted to help her see that her vision for a kinder, more open Basidia could come to pass. This sanction once belonged to a mentor of mine, another man that King Adelaide trusted, and now I bear it in his honour.”

Marien could barely believe her ears as she stared down at the ring. A royal sanction was a gift bestowed only on those who had the King’s deepest trust, those who would serve as agents of the throne. It was a key that could unlock almost any door. Only five existed at any one time, each crafted to the personal specifications of the king that had ordered their construction. When the king died, their sanctions would be buried with them.

As Marien looked up, her eyes widened even further as Kent bent down on one knee and lowered his head. “What I am asking you, Marien Kolvest, is to forgive the blows you have suffered, to forgive me, and Basidia for failing you for so long. I’m not asking you this as a superior officer, not as a soldier, but as a man who loves his country and his people, despite their flaws.”

“I…” Marien stared down at the ring for a moment, before slowly nodding. “There is nothing to forgive, General Silver. I… I serve my people, no matter what they say. I always have.”

With a sigh of relief, Kent got back to his feet. “Thank you. Now-”

Before Kent could speak, Marien’s legs wobbled and she nearly fell as a wave of dizziness crashed over her.

“Whoa dear!” Kent caught Marien as she stumbled. “Took a few good knocks, didn’t you.”

Marien nodded, trying to shake her head clear. “Yes I… I’m suddenly very dizzy… My apologies.”

“No apologies needed. Come, we’ll go to my house, there will be no prying ears there, and you can get some rest.”

“My… my company.”

“I’ll call for them. Chances are we’re going to need them. Now, come on.” Kent put Marien’s arm over his shoulders and helped her up. “Let’s go get some tea in you, and have a chat.”

===

With a deep breath, Sara wiped the sweat from her brow. “Alright, I think this is as good as it is going to get.” She looked up at Youlan, “Are you ready?”

Youlan nodded, bracing herself, “Yeah, I’m good.”

“Okay… Gentle… Very gentle…”

As Youlan’s magic began to relax Lyon’s muscles, Sara very gently began to pull on the bolt in Lyon’s chest. She had to remind herself to breathe as she very slowly worked to free the bolt. For a moment, it seemed stuck, and then bit by bit the bolt, it began to emerge.

“There we go.” Sara muttered, “Come on… stay in one piece…”

Sara knew she had to be gentle. Most crossbow bolts were designed so that the tip would separate from the shaft if someone tried to pull it out. The last thing she wanted to do was to have to go digging around in Lyon’s chest for a broken point.

As Sara pulled, Lyon groaned, his head turning back and forth and his body shifting.

“I need him under!” Sara ordered, looking up at Youlan. “If he moves too much he’ll die!”

“I’m trying!” Youlan gasped, the strain obvious on her face as the glow around her hands grew brighter. “There’s a lot of pain… and he’s very strong!”

Lyon’s groans grew louder, his breathing rasping.

“Dammit, what I wouldn’t give for some lunamilk or poppy nectar!”

The more Lyon moved, the more Youlan’s breaths came in desperate gasps. “I’m losing it!” she cried, “I can’t hold it!”

As Sara pulled the very back of the metal head emerged.

“Now or never.”

Pressing down on Lyon’s chest, Sara grabbed hold of the bolt at the base of the metal head with a pair of tongs and pulled hard. With a horrid squelch, the bolt came free.

Tossing the arrow aside, Sara immediately grabbed a poultice she had mixed together and spread it on the wound, before placing a thick layer of gauze on top.

“Are you alright?” Sara asked, looking up at Youlan.

“I… I can’t…” the glow around Youlan’s hands faded and she stumbled backwards.

Despite her own exhaustion and the heavy weights on her ankles, Sara rushed around to the other side of the bed as fast as she could and caught Youlan before she fell. Gently she guided her to a bench against one of the walls. “Okay, okay, easy easy easy.”

“I’m fine.” Youlan protested, “I’m fine, I just… I just…” She tried to stand, but immediately dropped back onto the bench. “I just... I need to sit.”

“It’s okay, the poultice should numb the pain and coagulate his blood.” s she spoke, Sara sat down on the bench next to Youlan, her whole body shaking with exhaustion. “He’ll sleep alright for now and we can sew the wound shut.”

“Think he’ll make it?” Youlan asked.

“If he survives the night, he should. We basitins are tough… he’ll pull through.”

“Good.” Youlan leaned back and closed her eyes, “I just need to rest for a moment, then I can get back to it.”

“Are you certain?”

“Do I look uncertain?”

“No, you look exhausted.”

“Then let me rest.” Youlan sighed. “And don’t try anything, or I’ll burn you to ash.”

“No need for threats. I gave my word.”

“Yeah well, I’m not as trusting as Davit apparently is.”

“He’s not trusting, he just knows how we Basitins work.”

“Yeah yeah, I get, I’m an ou

As she looked over at Youlan, Sara’s eyes were once more drawn to the brand on her cheek. The scar was deep, whoever had marked her had held the brand against her cheek for a long time.

“How long are you gonna stare?”

Sara blinked in surprise, “How did you-”

“I can feel people's eyes on it.” Youlan opened her eyes. “I’ve gotten used to it. It’s all most people seem to notice.”

“I didn’t know that Templars marked themselves like that.”

Youlan laughed bitterly. “This isn’t a mark they give to their allies. This mark is a curse and a warning. It’s the Templar’s way of telling everyone that you are a traitor.”

“You… betrayed the Empire?”

“I betrayed my race.”

Youlan reached up and touched her brand, running her finger down the vertical line burned into her flesh. “With this… No one is allowed to hire you or sell to you or serve you when you have this mark, but they aren’t allowed to kill you either. If a marked person dies in a town, the whole town gets punished. So if you’re hurt…” Youlan raised her arm, where Sara could see a long, deep scar, “They’ll heal you, just long enough to make certain you survive, then cart you out of town and dump you on the road.”

“By the King…”

"As for Keidran, well they can sense the curse, and it repels them. And even if it didn’t, the curse draws Templar, so the Keidran want nothing to do with you.”

The bitterness in Youlan’s voice, along with the pain that Sara could hear beneath it, filled Sara with remembered dread. She wanted to speak, to say she understood, but even if she could tell Youlan about the Hearth, about having to leave her community behind, the loneliness she had felt since that day, what good would it do?

“And the best part,” Youlan continued, “they put a curse on you that means you can’t kill yourself either. If the thought even enters your mind, the curse drags you back to ‘safety’. You live out your life, utterly alone.”

“That’s… that’s truly awful.”

“That’s the Templar.”

Sara was quiet, staring down at her hand. After a moment Youlan turned to her. “What? That’s it? Don’t you wanna know how I got it?”

“Only if you want to tell me.”

Youlan crossed her arms and sniffed. “Well I don’t! I don’t need your pity.”

“Very well.” Sara nodded, leaning her head back against the wall. “I don’t want to pry into your business.”

“Good!”

For a few moments the two women sat next to one another, resting their eyes and weary bodies. But slowly, Youlan’s eyes slid open.

“His name was Flint. He was a slave… on my father’s farm.”

Sara opened an eye, “So you do want to tell me?”

“It’s not like we have anything better to do.”

“We could sleep.”

“You wanna sleep? Fine.” Youlan grumbled.

Again they were silent for a few minutes, both resting with their eyes closed. But just as Sara felt the tendrils of sleep pulling at her, Youlan spoke again.

“Flint was taken from his village as a pup, from one of the wolven tribes, and sold to us when he was five years old. I treated him like a pet at first, but then he grew up… he grew up so fast.”

Youlan smiled as she stared up at the ceiling. “After he did the chores, we’d go running and hunting. We’d find berries and eat till our bellies hurt. Sometimes we’d even camp out overnight. Flint would catch us a rabbit or two, to cook over the fire and we’d watch the stars for hours.”

“Sounds wonderful.”

“It was… When we headed home, he’d tie a stick around his leg and pretend to have been hurt as an excuse when we got back so my father wouldn’t punish me. He'd pretend to limp for days, even if it got him beat for taking too long.”

Youlan’s voice changed, and Sara could tell that she was no longer in the room. Only Youlan’s body remained, as she dove into her memories.

“As he got older, he got so… strong and handsome. He had these eyes that just… they seemed to glow almost, like a pond in the sun. And he had this one ear that never stood up straight, so he always looked like he was asking a question. He was so strong… but so gentle. So very gentle...”

Sara opened one eye, “And you two were…”

“Yeah, we were. I was young and in love.” Youlan looked over at Sara sharply, “What, something wrong with that?”

“No, not at all. It’s just… funny how things work out.”

“Funny?”

“Let’s just say… I understand non conventional relationships.” Sara turned and met Youlan’s glare. “Believe it or not, but I may be one of the few people this side of the world who might understand you.”

“Well good for you, but the Templar sure didn’t.”

Youlan sighed heavily, unconsciously reaching up to touch her face again. “Kiedran… only live twenty years or so… and I couldn’t bear that thought. I couldn’t bear the thought of watching Flint growing old, of seeing him die. I showed some skill with magic, so I went off to study with the Templar. I thought that maybe, in the hidden archives, there would be some… secret, to prolonging Flint’s life.” She shook her head, “So stupid…”

“You’re not the first to try, you know. Even Basitins have searched for the elixir of life.”

“Yeah well…” Youlan turned and spit on the floor. “It worked out about as well for me as it did for the rest of them. I found what I thought was a useful spell, but it meant stealing supplies from the Templar. I gave Flint the keys to his collar, told him where to meet me, then I took what I needed and made a run for it.”

“How far did you get?”

“Oh I made it to our meeting place, but my father caught Flint soon after he escaped and handed him over to the Templar. They tortured him until he told them where I was. When they caught me, they made him watch as they branded me a traitor, then they made me watch as they hanged him. Then they just left me there, no family, no home, just a stupid girl and a dead slave.”

“How old were you?”

“Seventeen.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Youlan’s eyes narrowed. “Like I said, I don’t want pity. In fact… I’m almost kind of grateful. ”

Youlan looked down at her hand, tiny tendrils of mana crawling up her fingers. “The more focused you are, the more mana you can control. And the Templar… well let’s just say they made sure I was very, very focussed. So it’s fine, if they want to treat me like a traitor, I’ll show them what a real traitor can do!”

===

As a handful of Chariot House soldiers set about dousing the fires in the Hearth, Shani and Alwyn stood face to face, an arms length apart, at the edge of the pool

“Favour?” Alwyn demanded, glaring at Shani. ‘What favour could we possibly owe you, invader?”

Shani raised an eyebrow. “Do you honestly not know? Do you at least know who I am?”

“Of course I do. You’re from the Chariot family, Shani Chariot if I’m not mistaken.”

“You are not.

“then I ask again, for the last time, what favour could you possibly believe WE owe YOU!”

Stepping past Alwyn, Shani gestured around the cavern, “I’m curious… Just how do you think your people found this place? Who do you think kept you from being discovered? Who has suppressed any rumours about you for the last few centuries?”

Shani paused and looked over her shoulder, “And who do you think have served as your protectors amongst the higher echelons of power?”

“Do you seriously expect me to believe that it was you and the Chariot family?” Alwyn demanded. Several Chariot soldiers drew their weapons as she stepped towards Shani, but Alwyn ignored them.

“The Chariot family have always been supporters of the new order, the King’s order!”

Shani shrugged. “On the surface perhaps, but-”

“Enough!” Awlyn raised a hand and pointed back at Jabarian and Teela. “I will not say another word, unless you release her.”

“This ‘bargaining position’ thing isn’t really something you are used to, is it?” Shani sighed and gestured at Jabarian. “Let her go.”

Without hesitation, Jabarian uncoiled the wire from around Teela’s neck and shoved her away.

Alwyn turned and rushed over to Teela as she dropped to her knees, gasping for breath.

“Are you alright?” She asked, gently stroking Teela’s face.

“I’m alright.” Teela replied, her voice hoarse as she massaged her neck, the fur there stained red.

“I’m so sorry. I promise, I won’t let them touch you again.”

“So, I trust you will at least listen to what I have to say now?” Shani asked, carelessly kicking a stone into the pool with a loud *plunk!*.

Slowly climbing back to her feet, Alwyn turned to Shani and nodded once. “Get on with it.”

“My ancestor, Tahl Chariot, she found your people and your mission fascinating. She had a soft spot for old things, a bit of a nostalgic if the histories tell it right.”

Shani folded her hands behind her back as she strode around the Hearth, stopping every once in a while to examine some small trinket as if she were visiting a museum.

“She thought the knowledge and philosophy of the Hearth could one day be reintegrated into Basitin society. Your knowledge of herbs and medicines was of particular interest. She wrote about you extensively in her journals. Journals that found their way into my possession.”

Shani looked back at Alwyn, “But it wasn’t just curiosity and sentiment, oh no. Tahl also recognized the potential military value of your people. A network of well hidden eyes and ears around the world, and a secret back channel between East and West.”

“I don’t believe you.” Alwyn snapped, baring her teeth as Shani paused to admire one of the looms. “Everything you’re saying, it’s impossible!”

“The sun may be down, but the Spirits hear our shadows.”

Alwyn’s eyes narrowed, “That phrase means nothing coming from you! You could have tortured one of my people to get it!”

“True. But I doubt I could have gotten the other half that way.”

Alwyn’s eyes widened, “The… other half?”

“The sun may be down, but the spirits hear our shadows. And so we run in darkness, until our arms catch the light.”

Alwyn’s heart skipped a beat. Those words were known only to the high priests and the oldest, most trusted members of the Hearth. It was a code phrase to be used only in times of great distress, as a means of identifying friend from foe.

Shani shrugged, “It’s a little drole as poetry goes. But then we Basitins aren’t exactly known for our prose. Now keidran poetry, that’s some fun reading, very spicy.”

As Shani walked, the cries of the infant whose parents had been killed drew her attention.

Stepping over to the nest and around the parent’s bodies, Shani knelt down and picked up the infant.

“Leave him alone!” Alwyn surged forwards, but two soldiers stepped in front of her, spears aimed at her chest.

Pulling off her cape, Shani wrapped it around the squirming, screaming child. “Hey, it’s okay little one. Shhhhh, it’s okay.” Gently she wiped away a few flecks of blood that had stained the infant’s fur.

It took every fibre of Alwyn’s self control not to attack as Shani walked back towards her, infant in her arms.

“He has no idea how unlucky he is, does he?” Shani said, gently playing with the infant’s nose as he stared up at her. “He’ll grow up, always needing to stay hidden, never venturing outside of the walls of one hearth or another.”

“He’ll grow up far more free than those on the surface.” Alwyn snapped, “And he won’t grow up to fight and die in a meaningless war!”

“True.” Shani looked up at Alwyn, “Which brings us neatly back to the favour.”

“Get to the point! If you’re going to kill us, kill us! I will no longer tolerate your games!”

Shani raised a hand and snapped her fingers. Jabarian stepped forward, and from the pack on his back, he removed a metallic cylinder covered in glowing runes.

“All I want is for you to make a simple delivery.”

Alwyn stared at the device, transfixed by its eerie glow. She could feel Teela beside her, her gaze also locked on the strange object as well. Tiny wisps of mana flowed from the runes, and the very air around the metal seemed to vibrate. The device pulsed and Alwyn felt a shiver shoot up her spine.

“What is it?” Alwyn asked.

Shani smiled as the infant in her arms cooed at the sight of the pretty glow. “It’s a bomb.”

Alwyn and Teela both took a step back as Jabarain pulled the pack from his back and slid the device back inside.

“Or, more specifically, it’s a mana bomb, a Templar device built by Trace Legacy himself.” Shani chuckled softly as the infant in her arms started to fuss, reaching for the glowing pack.

“I’m told the intention was to use it against the wolves during the war. But since keidran can sense mana, it was just as likely to be detected or stolen or even used against the templar. So it sat on a shelf in one of their towers, forgotten, until an associate of the Chariot family brought it to us as a gift, in return for sanctuary.”

“And what would you have us do with such a thing?” Alwyn demanded.

“Simple. Smuggle it into the Western Capital.”

Alwyn’s eyes widened. “Never!”

“Relax.” Shani waved a hand dismissively. “I don’t want you to kill anyone. You’ll smuggle the weapon into your Hearth outside the Western Capital, Hearth Janjuna I believe it is called. One of our spies will take it from there and drop it off, right inside the Western throne room. After that, an alarm will be raised and the palace evacuated, moments before it is reduced to a glowing crater.”

“But why?” Alwyn demanded. “Why do this at all? What do you hope to achieve?!”

“The same thing you and the Hearth have been dreaming of for centuries: a united Basidian.”

Shani shifted the infant in her arms as she walked around Alwyn. “And as the Western King stands in the smouldering remains of what once was his beautiful palace, destroyed by a device that could only have come from the Templar, he will have a choice: attack the East, or attack the Templar. It won’t be a difficult choice, especially since it will come at the same time as an Eastern attack on the Empire begins.”

“You plan to attack the humans?!”

Shani rolled her eyes, “Yes yes, try to keep up. Regardless, it won’t be a particularly hard choice.”

As she approached Teela, Shani held out the child. Quickly Teela snatched the baby away from Shani, turning her back as if to shield him from Shani’s sight.

Brushing off her hands, Shani continued. “During the fight against the Empire, Eastern and Western armies meet. One thing leads to another, and by the time we have turned Morlin Hall into rubble, our people may suddenly find that there is very little appetite to continue the war. After all, who will fight? The soldiers who just vanquished the greatest evil in the world together? I doubt it.”

“We won’t do it.” Alwyn snarled as she met Shani’s gaze. “We’ll have no part in this insanity.”

“You don’t have much choice. The device has already been triggered.”

Another chill ran up Alwyn’s spine. ‘Wh-what?”

“There’s no stopping it. It’s not a question of if it will go off, but when. And the only person who knows a damn thing about it, the fool who built it in the first place, has been missing for years.”

Shani gestured around the Hearth again, “And even if you did decide not to cooperate, how long do you think you will last without Chariot family protection? We’ve crippled your guards, you have a bomb that will go off heaven knows when, and as we speak my men are destroying your food supplies. If you want to survive, the only choice you have is to cooperate. After which, you will be left alone, your debt to our family paid.”

Swallowing her horror, Alwyn took a step towards Shani, forcing herself to calm down. Her voice was soft, her tone gentle as she spoke. “Young one, please, I know you think you are right… but listen to me. If you do this… you will bring destruction to all of Basidian. Think of the lives you would destroy, of how many will die?”

“How many? Thousands.” Shani replied simply. “Tens of thousands more likely, and that’s just on our side. As for the humans… millions. But they are the ones that set the rules, they are the ones who enslave and brutalize us. They are the ones who built things like this weapon! They MUST be stopped, and if no one else will do it, I will.”

“You’re so poisoned by hate, you can’t even see what you’re doing, can you.” Alwyn shook her head, “Underneath all of this… you’re just a scared child, trying to fight back the monsters under the bed.”

Shani turned towards Alwyn, rage burning in her gaze. As she spoke her voice dripped with hatred. “I’ve seen the monsters you speak of, and I have seen what they will do. And to them, and you, I say: Never again.”

End of Part 19

If you like this and wish to support me, please consider supporting my Patreon. Or just visit for more stories and art:https://www.patreon.com/theauroranarchive

And for more stories and artwork, visit the Auroran Archive Subreddit:https://www.reddit.com/r/TheAuroranArchives/

Special thanks to my Patrons: Dowel-Rod , Tokamak, ArcaniA20, & DrowsyUnicorn!

And Special thanks to: Spear Mint Wolf for his stellar editing work.