Chapter 9

The Woman

She was exactly as he remembered her.

The malicious smirk. The fluttering cloak. The hair that rose about her in floating tendrils. Now, in the light of day, these features were brought into an even sharper relief than Terrill expected. He started to believe her toes weren’t even touching the ground, too. It spoke to the mastery of wind that she had, and her loathsome smirk made it worse. The knowing eyes were what put his body on edge the most, both hands now gripping his sword as he held it on her.

“So, you are here…” he growled. Krysta came closer, the rapier coming out from her side. “The call for people, for ‘heroes’ to gather at Luster Mines wasn’t a lie. Why? And what are you looking for in a hero?”

The woman tilted her head, the smirk dropping off to be replaced with confusion and curiosity. Every movement of her body was trying to figure out why he was asking the questions he was asking, but Terrill couldn’t be certain of that. Her body wasn’t sending any shifts through the earth for him to read. Krysta sensed the same, for a free hand of hers clasped Terrill’s arm, her mouth leaning up to his ear.

“She’s not normal…”

“You know, for all your searching,” the woman spoke instead, drowning out Krysta’s warning, “and all the questions you must have, the first thing you ask is what I’m planning. You were no different in Winthrop. Jumped straight into battle without a concern for yourself or your charge. I wonder if you’re still the same-”

“Where is Atrum? What did you do with him?!” Terrill swung the sword, but the woman wasn’t the least bit threatened. “What did you do to all of us? To our history? To Sayn?!”

“Terrill…?” Floyd’s confused voice went ignored.

Terrill only had eyes for the woman, and every question he asked mounted the ever-growing smirk on her lips. He stepped forward, placing his foot down with a tremor, the earth bubbling beneath it. The woman looked at it, her eyebrows raising. “Answer me!”

“Nothing. I just took you from one place to another.”

“Liar! You were there! You were there when we fought Golbrucht, so why doesn’t anyone remember him?!” Terrill broke Krysta’s hold on his arm, closing the distance between himself and the woman. The smoke was forgotten to him, as were the soldiers and the wounded. All he had eyes for was the woman that could give him answers, even if he needed to beat it out of her.

“Maybe he was never real. Or maybe he was real to some, and a mere nightmare to others. Who could say what’s correct? The eyes or the soul? Which do you believe in, Terrill Jacobs?”

“Enough of your bullshit nonsense! Talk straight!” His blade said he was done talking. He pushed off from the ground, racing for the woman with his sword ready to strike. She held her hand up and lazily flicked her finger. A spear of wind, corporeal to even the naked eye, was created and aimed for him before a shield appeared and deflected it. Terrill continued his swing, only for the woman to block it with a pocket of wind just as before. Their faces were closer than they’d ever been, and he searched her eyes for a glimmer of response that could inform him of his plight.

He found nothing but cold derision.

“I can’t give you your answers. Perhaps you should ask your friends.”

“You’re the one who sent them away! Where are they?!” He kicked, putting distance between the two of them as he slashed upwards. Her body was nimble, leaping back to avoid the blow as her face grew colder. The temperature of the wind dropped. The trees that flanked the harbor were rustling, as though to precede a rather terrible storm. Terrill could hear Floyd get on his feet, hobbling with exhaustion over to Krysta. “Where are Atrum, Lumen and Charles?!”

“Who are Atrum, Lumen and Charles?”

“Floyd, not now!” Krysta hissed. Terrill looked at them and could see there was something building in Krysta’s eyes. A worry that was sharper than any he’d seen. For the soldiers approaching. For the woman he was opposing.

For him.

“I’d imagine they’re running amok and about somewhere, probably making a mess of things as much as you are. Neither of them can help themselves and their true natures.”

“The hell does that mean?!” Terrill swung again, the woman backing up until she was against the exterior wall of one of the houses. He had her, and he jabbed forward, only for her to vanish.

She reappeared behind him and landed a kick on his back. The move caused him to faceplant in the same wall. He whipped around while she dusted her cloak off. It was followed by a sigh. “It means I sent them far away from you, and if you want to find them, go look yourself. Though I’m curious, Mr. Hero, which of you could be considered the hero. The disgraced Guardian? The Chosen One? Or-”

Terrill didn’t give her time to finish. The words she spoke were too knowledgeable, and far too aware of the things he knew. She was lying about not having answers. She had to be.

He closed the distance in no time, and with a heave of his sword, he sent the spire ripping out from the ground. The attack nearly impaled her chin, and the woman stumbled backwards with wide eyes. Terrill charged forward, while from behind her, he saw the soldiers with their weapons out. The woman sensed their approach too.

“Floyd, you damn miscreant! This time we’re taking you in for real!”

“Can we talk later, guys? I’m pretty sure that-” Whatever Floyd intended to say was rendered irrelevant by the woman snapping her hands outwards. Tunnels of wind appeared and she sent them flinging backwards, on an inevitable course with the soldiers.

Krysta moved to act, but she wasn’t as fast. Her barrier was too slow for the wind.

Terrill acted quicker.

He sidestepped, throwing his whole body into another strike. His hand left his hilt, focusing his magic into his hand. He could feel it growing harder, becoming like stone as he punched one of the wind turrets.

“Aaaagh!” The force of the gale cut at his fingers, but he resisted it, no matter the pain he was enduring. The woman ceased her strike while Terrill grunted and groaned with the effort. Behind him, the soldiers had been saved, though one had fallen on his behind, quivering and shaking.

“So…you are one of those types, aren’t you? Thought it might have been a fluke at the castle, but no.” The woman’s taunts had turned to frigid hatred, no longer masked under a veneer of mockery. “You want to protect other people and throw yourself headfirst into danger. Interfere with everything. He had you pegged exactly right.”

“Who…did…?” Terrill grunted. He was getting his fresh wound under control as he put his hand back on his sword. Krysta took a step towards him, but Terrill kept all eyes on the woman.

“People like you never think about the harm your actions cause. Never think about those you doom or leave behind. Never think about their pain.” Terrill gasped softly, his mouth dry from trying to hold it together. The woman’s sudden turn to philosophizing was confusing him, but her sad reminiscence faded into anger. “But if you care so much, let’s have a test, Mr. Hero.”

The wind rose, carrying her into the air, far above his reach. Her hands came together, and as she pulled them apart, a nexus of swirling wind was formed. Krysta had reached Terrill, trying to take his hand to heal it, but he didn’t let her. Floyd looked confused about which direction he should head.

“You want to be the hero, that’s fine by me. He had a different test in mind, but I think a little preamble is good enough to me. Maybe this will be a good enough shock!” As she said the last word, the nexus of wind exploded from her hands and grew. It was small at first, but quickly became a towering cyclone, tearing up the trees as it slowly began to make its way towards town.

“What?!” Terrill roared. She was still out of his reach, but Terrill wasn’t going to let that stop him. His hands tightened, as if they could form a fist around his blade while he knelt. He could feel it, the earth, whispering to him. With a fierce growl, he slammed it with his foot, and the earth began to change. It was lifting upwards, carrying him straight to the woman, who regarded him with little care. “Why? Why would you involve the townspeople like this?”

“Beat me and find out!” With a grunt, she twirled around in midair and kicked him in the stomach. He felt the breath leave his lungs, and he was sent flying into the grass, rolling down the hill with a hacking cough. Miraculously, nothing was broken, while the woman touched down. The cyclone continued forward, growing in size and intensity as it churned up trees and began to chew up the first buildings on its path to the port. “Which one are you going to choose? Fight me, or take your chances at stopping that?”

“How about both?” It was a long shot, Terrill figured, but he wanted to try it. He called on it, slamming his hand on the earth. Like always, he could feel it move, and where he willed it, the spike of earth emerged, with the woman dancing around it. That gave Terrill the time to plant his sword and stand. Before engaging once more, he looked towards Krysta and found something missing. “Where’s Floyd?”

“He’s-” Krysta gasped as the woman made a move at Terrill. He held his blade up to deflect, causing her to bounce off its surface with no harm done. “I think he went into the port. Something about Torry.”

“Damn it, Floyd… He probably didn’t realize she might not be there!” Terrill said, adding in a grunt for good measure as he jabbed his blade forward. The woman smirked, taking advantage of his distraction to aim another shot of wind at the recovering soldiers. He wasn’t letting her pull the same trick twice.

Now that he’d done it once, Terrill clasped a fist and rent the earth in two, erecting a spire to absorb her blow. The two men managed to get back on their feet, nodding in his direction with gratitude.

“It wouldn’t be the first time Margrove has done such a thing. Should we stop him?”

“Why are you asking him? The townspeople and wounded take priority!”

“He doesn’t have a bad idea, though!” Terrill yelled. Now that he had it figured out, he rushed for the woman and managed to land a headbutt on her chin, sending her backwards, though his own teeth grit. “I’ll stop her and hopefully end the cyclone, but in the meantime, you soldiers get everyone out of there on that barely floating barge. Make sure to keep the wounded away from the docks, too! Krysta, can you-”

“Leave it to me!” The girl bowed, and followed after the soldiers, into the port itself, where the cyclone had already torn up the first layer of houses.

The woman righted herself. “Not bad. Solved the situation and got rid of any possibilities I could take advantage of in one fell swoop. Too bad about your friend, though. He doesn’t seem to have the altruism of Lumen.”

Terrill was done talking. If he wanted answers, he’d have to finish the fight first…if he could before the cyclone took it all away.

Exchanging no words, Terrill readied to intercept the woman’s next attack. She snapped her fingers and a shot of wind fired, as visible as could be. Terrill adjusted the hold on his blade, making an uppercut that sliced through the wind. He dashed forth, and knowing she would expect his blade, he plunged into her stomach with his hilt.

That was the first indication of what Krysta had shared.

Hitting her, it felt different. Like someone had taken out a part of this woman and replaced it with something else. Like some sort of abomination.

“That’s not polite.” Terrill shook his head; he couldn’t afford the distraction, not with the cyclone entering the city. Cries were springing up, and the woman made her next move. It appeared like walking on air, dancing with light steps to exit Terrill’s range before she brought her leg sailing down. He brought his sword up, bearing the full brunt of the blow. His feet sank a little as the gale tore up the ground around them. This, too, felt different.

“Rend!” he shouted, kicking one of his feet upwards. It put him off kilter, but it got the job done. The stone spire ripped at the air, striking the woman and sending her towards the sky. With a gust, she righted herself, looking no worse for the wear. In moments, she’d perched herself upon the spire, looking at him with glee. Behind them, the cyclone raged, and Terrill became antsy to make a move, despite being aware of its folly.

“I can see how unfamiliar you are with magic. And even with that, you’re still trying your hardest. Are you sure you weren’t a Chosen One, yourself?” The taunt felt all too knowing, as if it had guessed at what he once wished he could have been. He’d made peace with it, but her words still cut. He steeled himself.

“Come down here and find out!” Terrill ran to his own spire, his thoughts racing while she regarded him like he was prey, and she was the falcon. His hand touched the surface of the spire. If he could create it, then there was no doubt he could destroy it. “Crumble!”

The stone obeyed his commands, breaking apart and causing the woman to lose her footing. Up the hill, Terrill could see other soldiers gathering, the relief party from earlier beginning to make their procession to the harbor. With the issue growing on two fronts, Terrill knew he had to act faster than he was. The woman had to go down…and he still needed answers.

She was on the assault again, somersaulting in midair with mini-tornadoes whirling from her hands. They impacted with Terrill before he could blink, pushing him back. He strained to hold his footing, his feet digging into the grass and kicking up dirt. She increased the pressure and he flew back, slamming into the edge of one of the destroyed buildings. Terrill dropped, his hand and sword falling to stabilize himself against the ground.

Behind him, he could now see to the center of the harbor. He could see the great square, desolate and burning from whatever pirate attack had taken place the day prior. He could see the boat that people were being ushered to by the two soldiers from earlier. Then there was Krysta, speaking with some mages that were in the village, attempting to figure out how to make the ship float. Their only ticket to safety. Worse yet were the scores of already wounded individuals lying on mats and stretchers. There was no way to move them all back on the boats before the cyclone would whisk them away. On top of it, the relief team was coming too close to the site of this battle.

Floyd was there, too, but not helping the people. He appeared to be looking for Torry, unaware of what the soldiers had said. He was useless.

Terrill coughed, pulling up to stand. His sword cleft the ground as he did so. Debris from the cyclone was tossed about, some of it flying right between he and the woman while she landed, approaching with the wind extending up her arms. Her gaze was fixated not on him, but the port beyond, shaking her head.

“Always the same, these people, no matter the country. Give them the first chance and they take the most selfish way out. Your friend doesn’t have the same kind of compassion for people that you do.” She reached him, and without looking, kneed him in the chest. He gagged, his eyes bulging from the force. Spit flew out while the woman rambled on. “A shame. But expected nonetheless. Not everyone can play the hero. It’s why I’ve been looking for one.”

“By…hurting…others…?” Terrill wheezed. The woman wasn’t letting him catch his breath, lifting his body up with a snap of her fingers. The wind pulsed and expelled, throwing him into the building. She began to step over the rubble. Terrill’s vision blurred, but he could feel the cyclone whipping at his clothes and nipping at the heels of those attempting to evacuate. “You’re no…different. Teaming up with pirates and…bandits. What are you…what are you planning?”

“It would blow your mind.”

That response fueled him with rage. His hand tightened its grip, and he pushed off from the building, screaming with ferocity as he swiped at the woman. She ducked and wove around the frenzy of slashes he sent at her. His body screamed, begging to move faster, and finally, his blade caught on her arm, cutting across it. She leapt back. “You ally yourself…with people who hurt others, huh? I won’t let you.”

“Oh, I know you won’t. That’s your thing, isn’t it, Guardian?” the woman asked. His blade descended, and she blocked it, this time using both hands as they were forced into a stalemate. Terrill could feel the vortex of the cyclone pulling him in, and he dug in to continue his fight. “Never let a person die. Protect the world from Golbrucht. That creed must make you very proud, if naïve.

“So, let me let you in on a secret: people will die.”

“Not if I stop you first!” His mind had abandoned reason. Yet no matter how much he tried to compose himself, to remind himself the reason he was pursuing her in the first place, he couldn’t. All he saw was red. All he heard was the threat that needed to be stopped, and the people that needed to be saved.

“You don’t get it, do you?” Her knee was coming up again, and Terrill had no way of stopping it before it collided with him. His sword slipped, and the woman grasped his wrists while she leaned in, whispering things for only him to hear. “People are already dying because people like you run around playing hero. You can’t stop the war that’s coming.”

“W-war…?” That singular word paralyzed him more than anything else the woman had spouted. The memories of his parents walking away, and the news that followed created a pit of despair inside him. War had cost them enough, and yet this woman… “You want…to start another war?”

“A glorious war, between heroes and fiends,” she said, this time in such a quiet voice, it may have been the wind. It very well could have been. “But then I’ve said too much. Do you have your answers yet? Because if you don’t, Mr. Hero, I suggest the Luster Mines. The nexus for all of this begins there. If you make it.”

It was bait. He knew it. So, even through the pain, he looked up and glared at her in defiance while the roar of the cyclone threatened to drown his voice. “Then why did you come here?”

She grinned. “Information. And I have it. Goodbye now.”

Terrill couldn’t stop it. In one swift movement, the woman whipped her leg around, slamming into his chest. There was a split-second and then the wind took control, flinging his body high into the air. He could feel the pull on his entire being, the cyclone sucking him in. The wind tore at him, his mouth unable to stop the scream from coming out.

As he was whipped around like a rag doll, Terrill caught glimpses of the people in the port. He saw the soldiers rushing to offer relief, and he saw the woman watching all of this. There wasn’t glee, but something he couldn’t identify, almost like a necessity. Then he saw, farther away, there was Krysta, and she was screaming. He could almost hear her, too. Or thought he could.

“Floyd! Floyd, you idiot! Help me!”

Help… Floyd won’t help… He’s…Terrill’s thoughts were muddled, but the woman’s accusations stood out amongst them. Floyd was selfish. It was no different from the bandits or pirates that sought their own way. That had to have been what she was communicating. Every glimpse he got of her eyes appeared to confirm that, wanting to teach him that lesson.

People weren’t worth saving. They’d just start another war.

Still… I’ll save them.

Then dig deep inside. Terrill’s eyes had been fluttering shut when the voice interceded. His eyes were wrenched away from the woman, to the lands overseas. To Silicias. Find the power, Terrill Jacobs. Find the soul that mine returned to yours.

My…soul… he couldn’t help but think, though he received no answer. Not in the way he wished. People were screaming, and Terrill felt his body finally stop hammering about the cyclone, with Krysta’s protective barrier once more wrapped around him.

Forge your path. Find my blessing once more inside you. Protect the mines, and cut a way to your friends. Protect them.

Protect them…

The voice faded, stifled by the winds, or perhaps something else. Terrill didn’t know or care. The winds were slowing by a miniscule amount, and Terrill wondered if Krysta had gotten Floyd to help. His eyes once more found the woman’s, raising her eyebrows in a mocking question, or declaration.

“You can’t save them. They’re not worth saving.”

But they are…to me! Terrill’s body ached from the battle and the winds raging about him, but his hand remained on his sword. He pointed it downwards, right to the very base of the cyclone. “I won’t let you…have your war. Pirates, thieves, fiends, whatever you want to throw at me. You can’t have them. Lumen, Charles and Atrum, too!”

“Then do something about it, Mr. Hero!”

“I will!” Terrill’s scream tore at his very throat. “Krysta! Give me a shield up above!”

“Terrill, you crazy bastard, what’re you-”

“Shut up, Floyd!” Terrill yelled. He clammed up, and Krysta acted, making the shield just as he requested. It was small, but all he cared about was a place for him to plant his feet and push off, shooting down for the ground, his hand outstretched. “I don’t give a damn what you’re planning, or what you did with us. I’m ending this! Stone Shield!”

The words of the spell left his lips before he could think of them, and he touched down.

For a moment, nothing happened, but Terrill knew it was coming. He could tell from the stirring of the earth. That power gushed forth from his fingertips, and the ground sparked. His own power blew him back, forcing him to bounce along the harbor as people gasped. Then, from within the ground of the harbor, large plinths of stone emerged, impaling the cyclone and boxing it in. The power was immense, enough that Floyd and Krysta both fell back while the cyclone was trapped. It tried to bust and cut its way through, but the stone was too thick, and it began to slowly fade out, becoming nothing but a breeze.

Terrill nearly slipped, his body falling towards the water in the bay, amidst the wreckage of a pirate ship, when some rough hands caught him, belonging to some of the fishermen.

“Hold on, there, buddy! Don’t drown!”

Terrill could tell his vision was fading. He was exhausted, his body running on empty after…whatever he’d just done. His head raised a bit, locking eyes with the woman, his glare communicating that he would get up and fight if he needed to. She watched him, her eyes widened.

Then, she chuckled.

“So that’s how it is… I was wondering,” she said. With a snap of her fingers, a wall of wind appeared, pushing aside Krysta, Floyd and the fishermen as they could do nothing but watch. Terrill fell on the stone of the harbor and gasped, looking up as she walked over. “You searched for me, wanting answers on why no one knows the things you do, but I do, yes? I can’t give you those, because it’s now obvious that we’re not the same. But I can say…

“You’re not supposed to be here.”

“What does that…mean…?” Terrill’s body slumped, no longer able to support itself.

“It means I look forward to the next time we meet, Hero. I enjoyed this game. Let’s play again at the mines.”

She disappeared the same way she’d arrived, in a rush of wind. Terrill succumbed, the cold water and the bruises and cuts to his body beginning to take over.

The mines. Play again. Not supposed to be here.

None of it made sense. The words that had spoken to him earlier did, though, telling him to cut a path to the mines and his friends. Finding them now, if they were a piece in this wicked plan, was what mattered most.

The energy fully drained, and Terrill at long last slipped. The last things his eyes saw were a shocked Krysta and a trembling Floyd amidst a destroyed Point Harbor. Then he was gone.