Chapter 2

The Cemetery

Silence followed Terrill when he spoke those words, and he was surprised they didn’t get caught in his throat. Whether it was from shock or the somber acceptance of the death that surrounded them, it was a pervasive hush that permeated the cemetery. Terrill’s own hands gripped the wooden fencing, his nails digging into their softened surface. His body was at war with his mind, unsure if he should travel into that haunted place.

One of his earliest memories, after all, was that of his parents walking away to the war, and the news that came later. They had fallen, and their gravesite was at an allied cemetery in a place called Kirdon. He had long since forgotten, but now that he was here, the memory of that day rushed back in an uncontrollable flood.

Why did they have to go, too? He had never cursed his parents’ absence, never lamented their deaths, even in the face of Golbrucht’s eternal onslaught against Sayn. Terrill always knew they had died fighting in a war against monsters for the hope of winning them that peace. Standing before where they were buried, though, brought up a different and foreign emotion about their passing, and he hated it.

His mind won out, and his body soon obeyed it, jumping over the fence and into the rows of graves. Terrill didn’t know if the others were following him, and his gait didn’t slow, regardless. He was yearning to see them, now, in a way he never knew was possible.

Terrill padded across the grass, past the many different headstones with the many different names. By all rights, he felt Kirdon was less a port town and more this singular graveyard for the fallen of that battle on Silicias fifteen years ago. There were other visitors laying flowers, or sobbing over a loved one’s grave, and even some soldiers that were drinking to a comrade who had likely fallen. They looked young, though not as young as they had looked the day that battle had happened.

None of his companions called to Terrill as he walked past these mourning people, his chest tightening as he felt like joining them. Their pain was his, even if he didn’t know them. He understood, perhaps more keenly, than any of those he was with. The only one he doubted his belief about was Krysta, who had stopped before a grave of her own when he turned a corner.

This caught his eye and he turned back, joining her at the lonely grave with a once lovely wreath of flowers on it, now withered and dried with age. They looked ready to blow apart at the slightest touch, which happened to be the reason Krysta hesitated to touch it. Her lips quivered, and tears threatened to spill forth, but her eyes composed themselves.

“Eric North…” Terrill muttered, reading the name that had been hastily engraved upon the surface. It was an impossible shot, given her age, but Terrill still asked, “Someone you knew?”

“N-no… Just…” Krysta was embattled, her hands twisting back and forth as she attempted to get her thoughts out. Floyd and Torry had moved on, and Terrill reached up to put a hand on Krysta’s cool shoulder. “There are so many untended graves, and so many that don’t have a body in them. It’s…heartbreaking.”

Terrill didn’t disagree there. There was nothing more heartbreaking than a loved one who never returned home, never got the chance to say the things that needed to be said. He bent low against the cold grave, his hand atop it, trying to offer solace to its empty contents. His breath sent the withered flowers scattering onto another, more desolate grave, to the point all but the last name of “Lyten” had been worn away.

He let a low, mirthless chuckle escape his lips, and his head bowed in prayer. Never had Terrill much believed in the goddess, despite how intertwined the church was with Sayn and the “goddess’s will”. Yet for that solitary moment, he wanted to offer a prayer that the souls of those whose graves sat before him would find peace.

It lasted a few seconds until Floyd’s voice, devoid of humor and volume, called for him. “Terrill, I think they’re here.”

Thunder could be heard, threatening to silence Floyd’s call, but Terrill had heard it all the same. He left the other graves behind, his eyes now only for the two that were side-by-side. Floyd backed away from them as Terrill approached, falling to his knees before he could touch them. These graves were adorned with no flowers, withered or otherwise, but Terrill knew there was no way anybody from Hart could have paid his parents a visit. Instead, he just came to sit by them, with sudden contentment as he stared at the two graves, both engraved with the last name of “Jacobs” on them.

No one said a word. They didn’t know what to say, or how to say it, and Terrill appreciated the silence. More rumbling sounded off the coast of Kirdon, but the clouds hadn’t moved in and Terrill remained kneeling.

“You know,” he whispered into the dead air of the graveyard, “for the longest time, I wanted to imagine that my parents were alive, or that there was this grand meaning to their death. I don’t think it was ever really real for me, because I never saw them after the day they left. All I got was this sword from the battlefield, Supposedly my father had been clasping it when he died.”

His actions followed his words, taking his blade off, scabbard and all, and placing it across the two graves. The feeling from that action was hard to explain, but there was a certain contentment that his parents shared with him in that moment.

“I know better now.”

The feeling passed, replaced with anger. His fist clasped around his blade and lifted it off. There was no more meaning to this reunion with his parents, and the quickness with which he stood surprised his companions.

“You don’t want to spend any more time with them?” Torry asked. She was adjusting her clothes, looking uncomfortable the whole while. “You haven’t seen them in fifteen years. I know I’d give anything to see my mother right now…”

“Torry…” Floyd said. He was half in warning and half sympathetic to the emotions passing between all those in the graveyard. The soldiers that had been visiting were packing up, making their way back through the rows towards the main port of Kirdon. The sun sank lower as Terrill looked up, watching Torry and her wistfulness. He scoffed.

“I shared their sword with them, and let them know I’m alive. Right now, that’s all that matters.” He leaned down, touching his hand to the gravestone and nodding at where his parents lay. “What matters is the road forward, not the road back.”

“How mature of you.” Floyd sounded irritated, leaning against a tree that offered muted shade to the pair of graves. His legs were crossed and he appeared to be bored, ready to sleep, but kept one eye open to continue the conversation. “You sound like you’re used to it.”

“I am.” Terrill’s hand came away and he and Floyd locked eyes with one another. “Sayn was a place consumed by death in an endless cycle. People died. Guardians died. Chosen Ones died. All of it was meaningless. So, I became a Guardian, to make sure no one else died just to have a few more moments of peace. May not have been a Chosen One, but it’s my part to play.”

“Your role? Or your choice?” Krysta’s sudden query drew him away from Floyd. She sounded far more affected by the space than the rest of them, as if the death of each and every person here was felt. Like she was the one that had died hundreds or thousands of times over. Terrill was reminded of the look she once held when they discussed the war, and wondered yet again what she had lost. Before continuing, Krysta kicked at a stone, sending it flying over and landing on the grass with an anticlimactic thud. “These people here didn’t have a choice. They just thought they were protecting people by fighting in an impossible war.”

“It wasn’t impossible. The war ended soon after that disaster on Silicias.”

“Ended?” The heaviness Krysta lent to her words made even Terrill seize up, his chest clenching in the presence of his parents’ graves. “Can we really say the war ever ended? Look at you. You lost your parents, and no matter how much you moved on, it…it left a mark on your soul. That burden can’t just be wiped away. That’s a wound that never fully heals…”

“And that’s why we’re preventing another one,” Terrill insisted. Krysta didn’t look convinced by his convictions. They stared at one another, oblivious to the other two near them. They looked more uncomfortable by the talk of the war, and Terrill had to guess they were too young and too removed to have felt the effects. Krysta understood, though, and he could see that reflected in her gray eyes. They looked clouded, tormented by a pain and acknowledgement of a war that neither of their two slightly younger companions could understand.

She hadn’t been lying, he felt. War did leave that indelible wound on a person’s soul. Tthere was no doubt that these graves here proved that the world, itself, hadn’t moved on from that clash of humanity against the forces of monsters. Krysta knew that as well as anyone, even if he didn’t want to acknowledge the death that surrounded him. Instead, he wished to remain true to his word in facing forward and preventing the wars that were to come.

To protect anyone else from dying.

It took Terrill a moment to realize that his hands were clenched, turning purple from cutting off their own blood flow. The anger that surged through him was not a result of Krysta’s callous reality or the cold stone that was his parents. No, his anger was driven by a more direct force, likely the ones that had orchestrated the war to begin with: the Fiends.

Winifred’s smirk and blonde tendrils of hair surfaced in his vision, and her words atop Devil’s Haven revisited him. Her words of Atrum continued to torment him as the clouds began to cover the darkening sky and the first of the raindrops pattered upon the graves.

“Storm’s coming,” Floyd said. His melancholic tones attracted the gaze of the soldiers, dressed in the robes of Serotin. They didn’t recognize him, though it broke the spell over Terrill and Krysta to put attention on their surroundings. Torry was aware, pulling her beret down to avoid being noticed by the trio of troops. “Think the ship will sail in this weather?”

“We’ll make it happen,” Terrill said, adamant over their departure that evening. He couldn’t stop that bubbling rage. “I’m not wasting another second, letting the Fiends have their way with Serotin or Valorda. Otherworld or no, the war they caused is one of the things we have the most in common. I don’t want to imagine what another would bring.”

“You the ambassador’s group that’s meant to ship out, then?” The soldier’s call made all four of them jump. The rain was starting to come down now, forcing the quartet to huddle under the thin tree while they spoke with the eavesdropping soldier. Torry retreated to the middle, careful to not be seen. Floyd took point.

“How’d you guess, Mr. Soldier?” His enthusiastic conversational skills took all attention away from the hiding Torry as the soldier came near.

“You were talking about preventing a war, yeah? The mayor’s letter arrived a couple days ago talking about an ambassador to Valorda who was supposed to figure the state of things. Tensions have been high between them and Invaria,” the soldier explained. The rain was soaking his robe, but he made no attempt to join them under the tree, seeming used to posts in unfortunate climates. Floyd stroked his chin in contemplation.

“So, you’re saying there could be a war there?”

“I don’t know, but the possibility is high. We get a lot of scuttlebutt here in Kirdon, but I’ll tell you, no Valordan ships have been sailing in the last week. Then there are the rumors.”

“Do tell, Mr. Soldier.”

Terrill began to roll his eyes at Floyd’s technique of wheedling information. Of course, the man was quick to share, which made Terrill want to roll his eyes all the harder. “Well, Valorda has apparently pulled all ships back to their harbors, military or otherwise. Not a single fleet has the same might as Invaria’s, but the word is that even they have been having problems. The two countries sent envoys to Ardoris to meet and make peace, but each was supposedly met by a mysterious black knight, appearing like a ghost. No one knows their identity, but each country is blaming the other.”

“Did they ever make it to Ardoris?”

“No clue. The rumors are just that,” the soldier admitted with a shrug. Terrill frowned. Rumors or no, they sounded credible, if a few were fanciful and farfetched.

Then again, where Winifred is concerned in this world, nothing’s outside the realm of possibility, he reasoned. Terrill blew outward, his breath failing to lift his matted hair, but he spoke up in Floyd’s stead. “Any other rumors?”

“Grapevine has been a trickle through, of late,” the soldier said, jerking his head back towards the port. It was getting darker and oil lamps began to spring up around the docks, including on the small ship that was waiting for them. There looked to be very few crewmen, but each was preparing for the inevitable departure. “The only thing people in Kirdon can say for certain is that the relationship between the two countries has never been so sour. It could explode any day now. If there was even a single thing that went overboard, like one of their ambassadors getting killed, or a town being attacked and confirmed, there’d be no going back. We’ve been trying to tell the mayor this for months. Glad he finally listened.”

“Sounds like tensions are high,” Krysta whispered. The soldier had started walking away, indicating that they should follow him. Floyd led the way in doing so, his hands in his pockets while he kept his head down to keep the rain out of his eyes. The second they were out from under the tree, the cold of the rain seeped into Terrill’s skin, but he trudged on towards the boat. “A small spark could set off a powder keg of war, and if those fake documents are linked back…”

“Serotin would be caught in the struggle. We’d have a war waging across the whole world.” Terrill’s grumbled agreement didn’t sit right with him, and an uneasy feeling, like the crackling storm brewing overhead, caused a pit to form in his stomach. The pit went away for a moment when Torry poked him in his back, leaning forward to whisper harsh commands in his ear.

“Ask him if he knows what kind of problems Invaria is having.”

“Keep quiet,” Terrill muttered, but acquiesced to her request anyway. The soldier was quick to answer.

“Not a clue. Only speculation that something has disturbed the waters of late. Invaria’s known for their naval capabilities, so stuff like that gets noticed.” The party had arrived outside the harbormaster’s station, the graveyard well behind them by now. The storm was fiercer, and the four drew together, unsuccessfully, to protect themselves from the rain. “Just a moment and I’ll have the finalization on your permit, Mr. Ambassador.”

“Ah, feels good to be respected,” Floyd said, once the soldier had disappeared into the warm and inviting building. “So, what do you make of all this nonsense?”

“It sounds like a Lifeblood issue!” Torry said, back to sounding cheerful at the thought of her research continuing. “You saw the effects of the Earth Lifeblood at Silicias.”

“That was the doing of a Fiend, not the Lifeblood, itself,” Krysta snapped, her wariness over approaching another Lifeblood haphazardly making Torry flinch.

“Even so, these kinds of events don’t just happen. You said yourselves that a Fiend was ensuring you didn’t interfere with a Lifeblood. They must be crucial to the plan.”

“I agree with Torry. Investigating a Lifeblood could lead to a way to stop the war.”

“Floyd, you’d agree with Torry even if she asked you to walk off the edge of the world,” Terrill said. The sheepish grin he received from the boy made him slap him on the backside of his head. “Either way, vetoed.”

“Oh, come on!” the two Academy students whined.

“Even if the Lifebloods are related, we need to get to the actual core of the issue, and that can only be done by going to Valorda, not wasting time and letting a war kickstart in the meantime.” Terrill’s point mollified them, and they backed off, putting their research behind them in place of pursuing the greater good. That conflict settled, Terrill wrapped his arms around himself and huffed. “I’m not in disagreement, but let’s deal with what we can. Right now, our only hint on a Lifeblood is conjecture, so maybe we can get more info in Valorda. Let’s just ship out before it gets too late.”

“And before they get here.” Krysta’s mention of “they” was made obvious by the bobbing lanterns that could be seeing riding through the rain towards Kirdon. Torry cringed and hid behind Krysta when the soldier returned with permits for each of them in hand.

“We’ve been told to let you head out at any time. The crew is all prepared. These recent storms might cause some trouble, but-”

“Thanks, Mr. Soldier. Let’s sail!”

Floyd had noticed Torry’s skittishness, with her eyes darting back and forth as she huddled behind Krysta. The soldier had noticed nothing, or perhaps thought she was merely trying to escape from the rain, and looked to seek shelter from the storm, himself. Seeing him retreat, Floyd took the lead, parting his wet red hair from his eyes as he led their troupe towards the bobbing ship, its little lamps serving as beacons to their destination. It rocked on the choppy waves, and a man on the docks was tapping his foot in impatience when Floyd approached and handed over their papers.

A peal of thunder split the air, causing Torry to jump, squeak and latch herself to Krysta. Her pack bounced, its flap disengaging as she did so, but she was more concerned with clinging to her fellow blonde.

“Are you scared of lightning?”

“More the sound than the flash,” came the high-pitched response. “It’s always so unexpected. Floyd, hurry up.”

“I’m trying. Are we set to sail?”

“On your command, ambassador.” It was the best news that Terrill had gotten all day, and he followed Floyd up the ramp to the ship. It was much smaller than the boat he and Krysta had taken from Sayn to Sagitta, manned by no soldiers and very few crew members (Terrill estimated it to be only a half dozen). There was a way to go below deck and shake the damp from them, but Terrill remained aboveboard to watch the lamps now entering town. His grimace was hidden by the rain and night, but he held his hand out to help Krysta on to the deck. Torry was the last, still keeping her face hidden when a voice called out.

“Ma’am! Miss!” The same soldier that had prepared them for their journey could be seen yelling for them, running down the dock as his hands waved around. Another flash of lightning illuminated that he was carrying something in his hand that looked like a scroll bound in a leather tube. “You dropped something!”

Torry paused, just for a fraction of a second. Her mind went through all the possibilities of what she could have dropped, and whether it was worth it to go back for it. Terrill hoped she wouldn’t make a big deal out of it, but knew that line of thought was a lost cause.

The scholar side of her won out, after all.

Krysta groaned, but was unable to stop Torry from meeting the soldier at the end of the ramp to take back the scroll. It was just their luck that another flash of lightning and rumble of thunder caused her to jump, sending her beret down to the ramp floor and illuminating her face.

“Lady Rainert?”

“Shit.” Terrill’s response was loud enough that heads turned in his direction, and his companions acted without further thought.

“Get this ship sailing, now!” Floyd yelled. The desperation was evident in his voice, causing confusion among the crew. They hesitated in obeying him, and made the redhead stomp up the stairs to the helmsman. “Shove off or you’re overboard.”

“Floyd, not helping!” Terrill snapped as he took his own action. He and Krysta leapt back down the ramp, each grabbing ahold of one of Torry’s frozen arms and dragging her upwards, leaving her beret to be swept aside by the wind into the ocean. She kept a death grip on her scroll in any case.

“Lady Rainert, what are you doing here?” the soldier cried. He seemed to want to pursue her, but the second Terrill was aboard the deck, he kicked the ramp aside, leaving the man stranded on the docks. “Has the ambassador’s party kidnapped you?”

“Hey! That’s offensive!” Floyd shouted, though he wasn’t heard much over the pouring rain. His voice kickstarted Torry from her shocked and fearful state.

“No! I’m here of my own accord. Tell my father-”

A sudden horn blew, making the announcement that the pursuers from the capital had arrived. Terrill let go of Torry and raced up to blow past Floyd and stare down into the harbor below. The oil lamps had arrived, accompanied by men on sluggish horses well past their prime. Atop one was a mustached man that looked harried, wiping the endless rain off his forehead. He was the one to call the shots, and he stepped forward to address them…or Torry, at least.

“Madam Rainert, this is the Serotin Guard! Your father requests you return to the capital at once. If you do not, we will use force. Do not hinder the ambassador any further!”

“Oh, now this is just ridiculous,” Floyd mumbled. He was tired of the crew not doing anything to get them underway, and with a groan, he shoved the helmsman out of the way.

“Floyd, do you even know how to sail?” Terrill yelled.

“Nah, but how hard can it be?”

“Harder than it loo-” The crewman’s shout was interrupted by a sharp shot that seared the side of the ship. It did little damage, but was a warning to Torry that they would indeed render the ship unable to sail, thus delaying them, if she refused to return.

If only they’d hit their mark better.

Another warning shot fired, and right after, Terrill could feel the ship beginning to drift, the anchor damaged and forcing them to float away from the harbor. With the ship untied and the ramp now missing, there were only two ways to go: across the sea or to the bottom of the ocean. Torry regained her wits, shaking Krysta off and running to the rail where Terrill stood.

“Stop this at once, Matheson!” the girl yelled. The soldiers that had been pursuing them looked grateful at her presence, though they were drifting farther and farther away. “My father may love and protect me, but I will not return home while the fate of our country and the mysteries of the world await.”

“Do not be foolish, Lady Rainert,” the mustached man, Matheson, called out. His voice was growing faint, as was the light of the lamps, though a brighter one began, summoned by the mages that appeared to be in the party. “Think of how you could hinder their journey to Valorda. You must be safe at Serotin.”

“Yeah, because I was so safe at Silicias, am I right?” The light grew brighter, and even with the thunder, Torry seemed to be standing her ground against her fear. A sudden gust sent their ship almost spinning and Terrill whirled around. It felt familiar, and the glower that came to his face didn’t go unnoticed by Krysta. Floyd was currently occupied, though, having been forced to the ground by the helmsman that attempted to gain control of the ship. “I’ll be just fine with my Guardians here, and when I return home, the Academy will flourish.”

“Not an option, miss. Fire when ready.”

“You obstinate fool…and Academy mages? Really?” Their two parties were drawing out of earshot, though both remained in range of the others’ magic. Torry observed this singular fact, her free hand held out. “Fine, if you won’t listen to reason, I’ll show you the might of the Academy’s greatest student.”

“Uh, Torry, what are you thinking?”

Floyd’s actual worry made Terrill’s own spike. He drew away from the unsettling nature of the storm to see Torry creating a glyph of air that threatened to spill forth her own gust as the next shot was lobbed at them from the mages below.

Terrill knew he should have stopped her. Floyd had spelled it out.

Yet he didn’t have the chance to stop it, much less even open his mouth.

Torry fired, the shot of pure, compressed wind traveling to meet with the heated orb firing from the harbor. They met, mingling together in the air for but a moment. The night sky glowed orange.

“Hit the deck!” he yelled, before the spell could finish. He grabbed Torry and pulled her down. The few crewmen that could leapt off the side of the ship, though the helmsman dropped, tumbling around the deck with Floyd and into Krysta.

Then the explosion of wind ripped through the air, and Terrill felt as if the ship was launched along with all of their bodies. In which direction, he couldn’t say, as the storm never ceased, but when he next looked up, after the force had petered out and made it possible for them to stand, Kirdon had become a miniscule speck in the distance and the ship was adrift on the waves.