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I'll be posting my story here as well!  If you're interested in it, please feel free to follow my other account: ManuWrites

Thank you if you take the time to read it!

Previous Chapter:
Next Chapter:

All Chapters HERE.

CHAPTER 45: SALUTATION

                Gorken returned Malia’s embrace.
                He was overjoyed to feel her strong arms clinging to his back; he could easily encompass her smaller body with his own, and yet her firm hold confirmed that she was there, healthy and tough, unlikely to fade away as happy dreams often did.
                Only when Kadem’s hushed words reached them did they disentangle. The silver witch instructed them to rest, to wait until dawn before sharing tales and plans, and then as quietly as she had made her presence known she retreated into the darkness.
                Once Gorken was free of his luggage and weaponry, he sat on the floor below a window. Malia mirrored his actions, snuggling next to him. He let his head rest on hers, and the princess noticed there were remnants of uneven breathing in his chest. He must have run all the way from headquarters. By the time Malia turned her head slightly, eager to peek at his face, Gorken had already fallen asleep. She exhaled faintly and, soon enough, followed him into slumber.
                In contrast with Malia’s and Gorken’s silently affectionate reunion, Aldous was vocal about his emotions the next morning, cheerfully hanging on to his boss with his only hand.
                “…Aldous, are you well?” Gorken didn’t hide his concern, “You look terrible.”
                The redhead turned to Bayard then, “I’m beginning to think I’m surrounded by tactless jerks.”
                Bayard replied as he exchanged a fond salute with his leader, “You’ve always been slow to come to obvious realizations.” Thus it was up to Malia to pat Aldous’ shoulder in playful solidarity; she had been the first tactless jerk, after all.
                They were forced to catch up and tell their respective accounts over Kadem’s appalling breakfast. Nothing was done to actually force them, but no one had the heart nor the courage to voice their opinion of her food. Kadem’s ability to read people’s wills should have been a rapid way for her to know the truth, and yet Malia couldn’t shake the feeling that the witch’s proud grin over her cooking was entirely honest.
                Malia spoke of her training as she shoved flavorless spoonful after flavorless spoonful into her mouth, and Aldous recounted his progress as he discreetly pushed his plate of probably scrambled eggs away from him. The freckled man was very grateful for Kadem’s kindness: she had specifically served him dishes that could be eaten using a single hand. But no amount of gratitude could overshadow the bizarre taste of the indefinable substance.
                “In my case,” Gorken grimaced at the strangely muggy bread he had just swallowed, “I underestimated the time it would take to explain all we have learned to the rebellion. First we had to convince the Council of Elders. They didn’t doubt my words, but they were reluctant to spread the information carelessly. Lyra’s help was crucial,” he smiled at Malia, “she’s much better with words than I am. It also helped that the elders weren’t intimidated by her… she’s good at getting people to listen with that polite demeanor of hers. When we finally came to an agreement with the Council, and when Konrad was done compulsively questioning us, I realized I couldn’t just leave Lyra there on her own; I assigned trusted men as her guards and left her in Rose’s care, but even so I needed to establish a lasting arrangement. Our men didn’t want me to go either… Now that an actual objective is within grasp, everyone was invigorated. I wanted to make sure the rebellion wouldn’t just spiral into chaos after I left. I spent time with our companions, I joined some of Lyra’s lectures, and the days just refused to slow down. But at least I’m confident that order at headquarters will endure now.”
                “As long as the old farts feel safe, and Rose and Konrad are involved, headquarters will be just fine.” Aldous took refuge from Kadem’s cuisine in biting an apple, “Our comrades love you.”
                Bayard nodded in agreement and followed Aldous’s example by peeling a tangerine.
                “It’s our turn now, isn’t it?” Hedera’s voice came through a window. The twins were basking in the sun, as they habitually did in place of dining. “We found what we were sent to confirm.”
                “So we already know where the stone seals are?” Gorken asked.
                “Almost.” Licorice answered, “We sensed where they are, but we didn’t lay our eyes on them. It might have wrecked our plans if we ran into the white maiden, or the dragon, and they did say they would be waiting for us. We chose caution.”
                “Who cares?” Hedera interjected, “The point is we know where they are and how to reach them. So we succeeded.”
                “Those are great news.” Gorken said, “To think we can so quickly start to actively-”
                “Master!” Malia interrupted him. Gabrielle had crept out of her room, and the princess had been too shocked at the sight to filter her reaction. The last time she had seen her master had been a mere handful of days prior, and she had looked as imposing and solid as always. The figure that languidly approached the table was anything but, an almost unrecognizable residue of the mighty woman they all knew… No, the fact that she was recognizably Gabrielle made it all the more unsettling. She was hiding most of her body below a hooded cloak, and yet what little they could see of her skin was lifeless, her face was depleted, and the dark circles under her eyes were glaring beneath her glowing yellow irises.
                “Won’t you tell her she looks terrible?” Aldous asked in an attempt to lighten the mood, but he regretted it right away. His own deterioration was trivial compared to hers.
                “Welcome back boy.” Gabrielle addressed Gorken as she sat down, and Malia couldn’t help gasping; her master speaking had allowed her to spot the missing teeth.
                “Where are your manners, my subnormal student?” Gabrielle rolled her eyes, “It would seem tactless is too gentle a word to describe you. Though, I don’t have time for pleasantries anyway. So Gorken, your sword, what is it and how does it work?”
                “I…” Gorken paused, gathering his thoughts. Not only was Gabrielle’s condition a sufficient preoccupation, but he also had misgivings about disclosing the nature of his weapon. He squashed those resolutely; he was surrounded by his family, by the people he trusted the most. And there’s no point in hiding it from her. “Maybe I don’t know as much as you expect, but… Konrad told us this sword used to function as the key to headquarters, back when it was common practice to seal and open the gates regularly. Originally, only those who could wield it were chosen as leader, but that rule died out long ago when humanity ran out of people who could. That’s why my master, Malik, was determined to make me the next leader; I was the first recruit in generations to get a response from the blade. Knowing what we know now… it presumably has to do with the Guardian Clan, but we humans had forgotten about that.”
                “So?” Gabrielle pressed, “How does it work? How do you get a ‘response’?”
                “I’m not sure how, but when I touch it directly it reacts to my feelings, my needs, and my-”
                “Your will.” Gabrielle cut him off. She sounded defeated.
                “Yes.” He nodded, “That’s why I avoid gripping the hilt directly. If I don’t touch it, I don’t have to fear seeing myself in it.” Of those present, only the dark woman and himself had seen the monstrous horror that had destroyed Cain in the dark dungeon, but even so Gorken felt a twinge of shame, as if simply by mentioning it his friends would be able to see it too.
                “So it’s all the same then.” Gabrielle’s words were bitter, “It’s always magic. For all their posturing, the Guardian Clan had a magic sword as the key to their stronghold. I was the fool for harboring any hope. It all circles back to magic. What bunch of dishonest charlatans.”
                “Don’t be so quick to condemn.” Kadem warned her, “Magic is all about intent. A mirror will reflect whatever is placed in front of it, invariably. Just because you don’t understand how it does it, that doesn’t make it magic. That sword is much the same: it cares not for the intent of the wielder. It solely reflects. It reveals.”
                “That changes nothing for me… even if it isn’t magic, if I don’t know how it works…” Gabrielle hung her head, “It can’t help me.”
                Malia’s heart writhed at seeing her master outwardly beaten, and scared, and fragile. Gabrielle had been a beacon in her childhood, a guiding light and a symbol of fortitude. She had relied on her ever since she was a weeping kid. How could she repay that? How could she be of aid? She was stuck staring powerlessly at her master, unable to offer a helping hand or a fitting phrase of support. Every second Malia didn’t help was a second spent in guilt.

                Gabrielle pulled herself together on her own, as she had all throughout her life, “Very well. I’ll pay for the information you provided with a tale of my own.” She adjusted her cloak, “I should start by telling you I was the one who opened the crack in the great stone wall.”

Description

I'll be posting my story here as well!  If you're interested in it, please feel free to follow my other account: ManuWrites

Thank you if you take the time to read it!

Previous Chapter:
Next Chapter:

All Chapters HERE.

CHAPTER 45: SALUTATION

                Gorken returned Malia’s embrace.
                He was overjoyed to feel her strong arms clinging to his back; he could easily encompass her smaller body with his own, and yet her firm hold confirmed that she was there, healthy and tough, unlikely to fade away as happy dreams often did.
                Only when Kadem’s hushed words reached them did they disentangle. The silver witch instructed them to rest, to wait until dawn before sharing tales and plans, and then as quietly as she had made her presence known she retreated into the darkness.
                Once Gorken was free of his luggage and weaponry, he sat on the floor below a window. Malia mirrored his actions, snuggling next to him. He let his head rest on hers, and the princess noticed there were remnants of uneven breathing in his chest. He must have run all the way from headquarters. By the time Malia turned her head slightly, eager to peek at his face, Gorken had already fallen asleep. She exhaled faintly and, soon enough, followed him into slumber.
                In contrast with Malia’s and Gorken’s silently affectionate reunion, Aldous was vocal about his emotions the next morning, cheerfully hanging on to his boss with his only hand.
                “…Aldous, are you well?” Gorken didn’t hide his concern, “You look terrible.”
                The redhead turned to Bayard then, “I’m beginning to think I’m surrounded by tactless jerks.”
                Bayard replied as he exchanged a fond salute with his leader, “You’ve always been slow to come to obvious realizations.” Thus it was up to Malia to pat Aldous’ shoulder in playful solidarity; she had been the first tactless jerk, after all.
                They were forced to catch up and tell their respective accounts over Kadem’s appalling breakfast. Nothing was done to actually force them, but no one had the heart nor the courage to voice their opinion of her food. Kadem’s ability to read people’s wills should have been a rapid way for her to know the truth, and yet Malia couldn’t shake the feeling that the witch’s proud grin over her cooking was entirely honest.
                Malia spoke of her training as she shoved flavorless spoonful after flavorless spoonful into her mouth, and Aldous recounted his progress as he discreetly pushed his plate of probably scrambled eggs away from him. The freckled man was very grateful for Kadem’s kindness: she had specifically served him dishes that could be eaten using a single hand. But no amount of gratitude could overshadow the bizarre taste of the indefinable substance.
                “In my case,” Gorken grimaced at the strangely muggy bread he had just swallowed, “I underestimated the time it would take to explain all we have learned to the rebellion. First we had to convince the Council of Elders. They didn’t doubt my words, but they were reluctant to spread the information carelessly. Lyra’s help was crucial,” he smiled at Malia, “she’s much better with words than I am. It also helped that the elders weren’t intimidated by her… she’s good at getting people to listen with that polite demeanor of hers. When we finally came to an agreement with the Council, and when Konrad was done compulsively questioning us, I realized I couldn’t just leave Lyra there on her own; I assigned trusted men as her guards and left her in Rose’s care, but even so I needed to establish a lasting arrangement. Our men didn’t want me to go either… Now that an actual objective is within grasp, everyone was invigorated. I wanted to make sure the rebellion wouldn’t just spiral into chaos after I left. I spent time with our companions, I joined some of Lyra’s lectures, and the days just refused to slow down. But at least I’m confident that order at headquarters will endure now.”
                “As long as the old farts feel safe, and Rose and Konrad are involved, headquarters will be just fine.” Aldous took refuge from Kadem’s cuisine in biting an apple, “Our comrades love you.”
                Bayard nodded in agreement and followed Aldous’s example by peeling a tangerine.
                “It’s our turn now, isn’t it?” Hedera’s voice came through a window. The twins were basking in the sun, as they habitually did in place of dining. “We found what we were sent to confirm.”
                “So we already know where the stone seals are?” Gorken asked.
                “Almost.” Licorice answered, “We sensed where they are, but we didn’t lay our eyes on them. It might have wrecked our plans if we ran into the white maiden, or the dragon, and they did say they would be waiting for us. We chose caution.”
                “Who cares?” Hedera interjected, “The point is we know where they are and how to reach them. So we succeeded.”
                “Those are great news.” Gorken said, “To think we can so quickly start to actively-”
                “Master!” Malia interrupted him. Gabrielle had crept out of her room, and the princess had been too shocked at the sight to filter her reaction. The last time she had seen her master had been a mere handful of days prior, and she had looked as imposing and solid as always. The figure that languidly approached the table was anything but, an almost unrecognizable residue of the mighty woman they all knew… No, the fact that she was recognizably Gabrielle made it all the more unsettling. She was hiding most of her body below a hooded cloak, and yet what little they could see of her skin was lifeless, her face was depleted, and the dark circles under her eyes were glaring beneath her glowing yellow irises.
                “Won’t you tell her she looks terrible?” Aldous asked in an attempt to lighten the mood, but he regretted it right away. His own deterioration was trivial compared to hers.
                “Welcome back boy.” Gabrielle addressed Gorken as she sat down, and Malia couldn’t help gasping; her master speaking had allowed her to spot the missing teeth.
                “Where are your manners, my subnormal student?” Gabrielle rolled her eyes, “It would seem tactless is too gentle a word to describe you. Though, I don’t have time for pleasantries anyway. So Gorken, your sword, what is it and how does it work?”
                “I…” Gorken paused, gathering his thoughts. Not only was Gabrielle’s condition a sufficient preoccupation, but he also had misgivings about disclosing the nature of his weapon. He squashed those resolutely; he was surrounded by his family, by the people he trusted the most. And there’s no point in hiding it from her. “Maybe I don’t know as much as you expect, but… Konrad told us this sword used to function as the key to headquarters, back when it was common practice to seal and open the gates regularly. Originally, only those who could wield it were chosen as leader, but that rule died out long ago when humanity ran out of people who could. That’s why my master, Malik, was determined to make me the next leader; I was the first recruit in generations to get a response from the blade. Knowing what we know now… it presumably has to do with the Guardian Clan, but we humans had forgotten about that.”
                “So?” Gabrielle pressed, “How does it work? How do you get a ‘response’?”
                “I’m not sure how, but when I touch it directly it reacts to my feelings, my needs, and my-”
                “Your will.” Gabrielle cut him off. She sounded defeated.
                “Yes.” He nodded, “That’s why I avoid gripping the hilt directly. If I don’t touch it, I don’t have to fear seeing myself in it.” Of those present, only the dark woman and himself had seen the monstrous horror that had destroyed Cain in the dark dungeon, but even so Gorken felt a twinge of shame, as if simply by mentioning it his friends would be able to see it too.
                “So it’s all the same then.” Gabrielle’s words were bitter, “It’s always magic. For all their posturing, the Guardian Clan had a magic sword as the key to their stronghold. I was the fool for harboring any hope. It all circles back to magic. What bunch of dishonest charlatans.”
                “Don’t be so quick to condemn.” Kadem warned her, “Magic is all about intent. A mirror will reflect whatever is placed in front of it, invariably. Just because you don’t understand how it does it, that doesn’t make it magic. That sword is much the same: it cares not for the intent of the wielder. It solely reflects. It reveals.”
                “That changes nothing for me… even if it isn’t magic, if I don’t know how it works…” Gabrielle hung her head, “It can’t help me.”
                Malia’s heart writhed at seeing her master outwardly beaten, and scared, and fragile. Gabrielle had been a beacon in her childhood, a guiding light and a symbol of fortitude. She had relied on her ever since she was a weeping kid. How could she repay that? How could she be of aid? She was stuck staring powerlessly at her master, unable to offer a helping hand or a fitting phrase of support. Every second Malia didn’t help was a second spent in guilt.

                Gabrielle pulled herself together on her own, as she had all throughout her life, “Very well. I’ll pay for the information you provided with a tale of my own.” She adjusted her cloak, “I should start by telling you I was the one who opened the crack in the great stone wall.”