Introductions

Chapter 23

Mira

When I woke, I was beside Hetcha in a bed that was far too comfortable. My fuzzy mind cleared after a moment and I forgot my comfort, leaning over to shake Hetcha awake.

“Hetcha!” I called, terrified as the last thing I could remember was an explosion and the certainty that we were both done for. Hetcha snapped awake instantly, sitting up to hug me after a cursory glance to make certain there were no threats in the room. We embraced for a while, neither of us speaking, and I could feel her body trembling as her heartbeat shook her with its excitement. If I hadn’t been holding her it would have reached the tips of her ears.

“Easy love,” I said, feeling calmer as moment by moment the situation began to feel real. Hetcha was brave but Lepsan biology was different from humans. If they got too excited, they would blackout. A fact that had fostered an undeserved reputation for cowardice. Any strong emotion could technically trigger a fainting spell among them, and rage was a more common culprit than fear according to her. The last thing in the world I wanted was for that to happen, our situation was too strange.

After a while, it was the smell of food that lured us from the room. It still felt strange, peasants shouldn’t have had a room just for the bed let alone more than one. They almost always lived in single-room homes with the occasional loft and families slept communally. Even a lord would only have a curtain around his bed in the great hall while his vassals and servants slept on mats in the open.

The farmhouse felt wrong and its layout reminded me of things Mina had often spoken of when complaining about the differences between this and her world. It was part of the reason I hadn’t wanted to linger after the party left and I could stop pretending to be sick.

“Is it safe?” Hetcha asked, trying to be stoic even as her stomach grumbled. Looking at the table I felt a similar pang of desire. The spread looked like something from a good pub. Overcome I put the tips of my fingers to my forehead and closed my eyes. A revelation came with surprising speed, the only danger from the food was Hetcha choking after eating too quickly. Something that was essentially a given at any meal with her.

“It's safe!” I confirmed happily and sat down to eat. It wasn’t until halfway into the meal that I noticed a sealed letter. After such a strange day I was reluctant to invite more trouble and waited until we were done eating to open it.

Hello,

My original intent was to allow you to leave without us meeting, but circumstances have conspired against that. The explosion that nearly killed you both was the result of a spell interaction that was remotely triggered. I would like to understand this phenomenon and if you help me, I will give you supplies in exchange and you may both be on your way. If you are agreeable to this darken the dining room after you eat and leave the back window open. I will speak to you through it from nearby.

Regards,

Hermit of the Lorel Mountains

“Open the window?” Hetcha said after I read the letter aloud to her. I was equally puzzled and went to take a look at it. The only ones I’d seen were sheets of glass set into a frame and nailed in place whether they were solid sheets or panes of stained glass. They weren’t something a peasant should have been able to afford, oiled paper or openings with shutters being common.

Behind cheerful curtains I found them. The pane was split down the middle with a latch and flipping it up I opened the window while Hetcha put out the lamps. Darkness descended and we both carefully walked back to the table and took up our seats again.

I was curious about the Hermit who said they would come, but also a bit afraid of getting close. They weren’t exactly rare, but they weren’t easy to meet and all that I’d ever heard of had strange reputations. No matter how they might have started their lives something would happen to drive them into seclusion, and it was rarely pleasant. Disfigurement by disease, curses, a revelation of strange heritages, it was likely best to respect the Hermits privacy measures.

“Good evening,” A strange female voice called from the darkness outside the window and I jumped, grabbing onto Hetcha who chuckled a little. Hearing the double voice, I felt like my decision not to try and sneak a peek had paid off. I didn’t know what could cause such a sound and wasn’t curious.

“Hermit,” Hetcha said and I realized a little late that she tended not to remember her manners when under stress.

“Call me 42 if you like,” The Hermit replied, apparently unphased by Hetcha’s lack of decorum.

“I’m Mira and she’s Hetcha,” I cut in before anything else could be said. There wasn’t any question in my mind that the Hermit had saved us both, treating her politely was the least we could do.

“So, any idea about what I mentioned in the note, Mira?” 42 asked and I nodded before realizing that was pointless.

“Yes, possibly, or at least partly, if Reiner died,” I said, and my voice caught a little. As much as I’d been frightened of what was happening as I traveled with the group, I didn’t blame him. He was as much a victim as the girls and I could only regret not being able to help them.

“He did and I have some questions about that, which can wait… I’m sorry for your loss,” 42 said and I nodded again, holding Hetcha’s hand for comfort.

“Thank you. He was a good friend until… everything went wrong,” I admitted unhappily. My guilt was limited but still heavy.

“So, tell me, how did you and Hetcha meet?” 42 asked and I was startled by the change of subject.

“I was captain of the mage towers guard before the chaining. We were already lovers and she bought me afterward as a personal guard,” Hetcha said, blunt as always.

“What’s ‘the chaining’,” 42 followed up immediately.

“When not what. It was the year all demi-humans were declared slaves in Stromholt and its territories,” Hetcha answered easily.

“Do you prefer demi-human as a term? I’d understood it as you’re a Lepsan, and the collective term for non-humans is La’Darin, was I wrong?” 42 asked and I blinked.

“How do you know that?” I asked. I’d only run across La’Darin in ancient manuscripts a few times.

“Is that a thing?” Hetcha asked me in a whisper, likely never having heard it before.

“It’s the language of the ancients, and yes. It means children of Larel. The races who don’t claim a specific patron apparently used it at one time,” I clarified and then remembered that 42 had called herself the hermit of the Larel mountains. Perhaps it was knowledge she’d received as a revelation, or through some book passed down among those who came to become Hermits as she had. Mystic schools did something like that. It stood to reason that Hermits might inherit something from predecessors.

“Is that weird? I thought demi-human was a racial slur, so I did some research,” 42 said, sounding more confused than before.

“I wouldn’t know, but I like your words better,” Hetcha said to my surprise. I forgot sometimes that she’d grown up as a foster child among humans rather than a Lepsan family. A lot of what she knew about her own people was second hand or from books.

“Okay,” 42 responded, sounding relieved.

“So..uhm... What is your theory about what happened to you, Mira?” 42 asked after a pause.

“I was only able to do a partial study of the Lilly pendant I was given but it had a failsafe. When the antenna wielder dies, the party is eliminated by a mana surge,” I said and Hetcha’s grip on my hand tightened for a moment in surprise. She’d known something was wrong, but we’d never had the privacy needed for me to explain any of it.

“I’d altered mine to reduce the mind control effects and negate the surge but must have made a mistake. That may have been the cause of the explosion,” I admitted unhappily. The minute the party had left I should have ripped it off and chucked it down the well or into the outhouse. That I didn’t should have been a red flag but that was the problem with mind-altering effects. All of the changes it caused were subtle at first, growing in time as the mind's resistance to the spell weakened and reparative behavior reinforced it.

“If you had a copy of the diagram for the items, would you be able to find out more?” 42 asked and I nodded again. Feeling like an idiot I was glad she couldn’t see me blush.

“Yes, though I can’t guarantee anything. It would depend on how complete it was and if it’s in code,” I said, uncertain of how she would even obtain it. The items were regulated by the church if not the crown itself.

“Okay, one more question for now,” 42 said and there was a pause. I got the feeling she wasn’t used to talking to people and was a little clumsy with words.

“So, not to be… rude? I’m just curious, is the situation in Stromholt something you’d like to change? Or is it just something you want to get away from?” 42 asked finally. I was stunned, never having it put to me like that. I’d known very well that there was nothing I could have done so I’d never put much thought into if I’d want to if I could.

“Leave her be,” Hetcha growled but wasn’t vibrating with anger. 42’s question was pointed but her tone wasn’t threatening or judgmental. Like she’d said, she just seemed curious.

“It's fine love,” I whispered to Hetcha. It wasn’t a question I’d been asked or asked myself, but it was one that was important to answer for myself.

“I’d like to do something about it, I just can’t think of anything within my power,” I said, and it hurt a little to admit to helplessness but it was better than refusing to even think about it.

“What sort of powers do you have?” 42 asked, taking my statement a little more literally than intended.

“I’m a Sage,” I answered and was met with silence.

“I can receive premonitions, but they are limited in scope and only good for a few hours ahead at most. Prophecies are also sometimes revealed, but they tend to be cryptic,” I explained, wondering if 42 didn’t know what a Sage was or was trying to get a particular answer for some reason.

“Huh, well, can’t say I have a plan or anything but…”42 said after a few moments only to drift into silence again.

“If we pool our resources, we might be able to come up with something,” She added, sounding like she was talking to herself more than to us.

“Alright,” I said, knowing I needed more information as much about what had happened as 42. It wasn’t a great idea to jump into a deal with someone I didn’t know but so long as no formal pacts were made it would probably be fine.

“Okay, we’ll call it here for tonight, if you're agreeable. I’m in a somewhat delicate position so a contract will be needed, but we can take our time discussing terms-“ 42 started and Hetcha stood up, my hand holding hers the only thing stopping her from advancing on the window.

“Problem?” 42 asked, sounding surprised.

“What manner of creature are you!?” Hetcha demanded.

“Uhm…why ask?” 42 countered, sounding flustered.

“I can see you,” Hetcha said flatly. I looked between her and the dark window, surprised even though I knew here night vision was better than mine.

“You can’t, actually,” 42 replied, voice as sharp as Hetcha’s despite its whisper-like sound.

“You’re in the bush with white flowers,” Hetcha countered.

“I’m really not, walk forward and pick up the stone on the windowsill,” 42 said and Hetcha pulled away from me. I couldn’t see more than an outline of Hetcha’s body against the deeper black of the window.

“Not sure what you’re seeing, but I’m not even close to you,” 42 continued, her voice sounding like it was coming from higher up now.

“Rest and consider what I’ve said. When you make a decision, just use the stone,” 42 said and the lamps sprang back to life in the room.

“Why?” Hetcha said plaintively, eyes likely dazzled worse than mine. She was looking at me for an answer when my vision cleared.

“That wasn’t me,” I said and felt a chill run down my spine. Opening her palm Hetcha revealed an intricately carved stone, the apparent source of the voice. It seemed that the Hermit of Larel wasn’t a simple woman.