The Second Search

A lone eagle with its rider swoops in and a few of the higher-ranking men head over to them. Aster, as well as his mother and brother, joins the group during the debriefing, and without much hope he asks for news about Diane. And he finally gets an answer.

“She was at the monastery,” the rider nods. Aster is hit by a brief gust of relief that dies at the next words. “The soldiers we sent with her are all dead. But as far as we know, she's alive. The surviving children saw the Mokushi take her.”

“Take her?” Aster stares at the soldier in front of him as if he were personally responsible.

“Yes, from what we heard, it seems they knew who she was,” the man explains nervously. “Once they had her, they left the others alone. Our men died in her defence.”

Aster wants to say something comforting, to praise the bravery of the soldiers, but he can’t get the words out. His head is buzzing, fear and wrath filling him to the point where thinking is hard. She’s gone. Taken! Stolen!

He shakes his head in an attempt to clear it, but it only makes things worse, a rage unlike anything he’s experienced taking him over. The bastards took her. Stole her. He will hunt them down and kill every single one of them.

Every. Single. One.

His skin tingles. He welcomes it. Letting instinct take over will be a relief.

“Get it together, son. Stay human.” His mother's voice is like a slap in the face, and from the look in her eyes, she’s prepared to give him an actual one if he doesn’t obey.

With inhuman effort, he stops the transformation and looks at her. Her armor is spattered with blood but she’s unharmed, her face reflecting the same worry and concern as his. But she doesn’t understand, she can’t…

“I… I must…” Speaking is difficult, and he swallows hard.

“We will find her. You will find her.”

He wants to believe her, he really does, but he can’t just stand here. He must… Without thinking, he runs from the courtyard, heading to the forest in the direction of the monastery, ignoring the calls to stop, to slow down. He’s already deep into the woods when a familiar sound makes him pause. A series of squeaks, accompanied by rustling leaves. The cub. Momo.

Getting a grip on himself, he pauses, calls for the cub, and is rewarded with a proper meow. Moments later, Momo bounces toward him, fur slightly ruffled but otherwise in good shape.

“Hey you,” Aster says. “Where’s Diane?”

Momo turns and takes a few steps back, looking intently at him as if she wants Aster to follow. He doesn’t get the chance before someone stands blocking his way.

“What in the Ancient’s name are you doing?” Aster winces as his mother gives him a stern look. “Were you planning on running all the way up there?”

“I… wasn’t thinking.”

“That much is obvious,” she snorts, but places a gentle hand on his arm. “We’ll fly there. With reinforcements. Everything’s ready.”

He nods, admitting that she’s right. “Thank you.”

Not fifteen minutes later, he’s looking at the remains of the monastery together with his mother and a troupe of men, holding one anxious cat in his arms. He sniffs the air but there’s no trace of Diane’s scent. Momo squirms to be let down, so he does.

“Where is Diane?” he asks, feeling more than a little foolish. The cub, however, meows and leads him to the edge of the cliff. The survivors are there too, waiting for transport.

He looks down, a sinking feeling in his gut. Had she fallen? No, they said she’d been taken, led away by two men. The rage in his belly flares up again but he pushes it down. Hard. Looks around after any trace. Some kicked up stripes in the grass catch his attention and hope flares up inside him so quickly he feels dizzy. She left a trail.

“Aster, wait!” It’s his mother. Quick as always.

“No. I have to find her. I’m faster alone.” He shakes off the troubled hands trying to calm him, to hold him back. “I still have the spell from the Ritual. I can find her.” He takes a deep breath, forcing the anger eating at his heart back under control. “I can sense her. Her mana, her scent…”

“Still, if it’s a trap…”

“I don’t think so. They’ve always targeted healers. This follows their pattern.” He looks at the children, huddling close together, watching the soldiers with big eyes. “Besides, after you help them, you’re needed back home. We have many injured. What if there’s a follow-up attack?”

His mother’s face hardens, and she reluctantly takes a step back, the others following her lead.

“You make good points.” She smiles and cups his chin as if he were still a child. “Be careful, son. I guess we’ll soon see what the Prophecy has in store for you. Both of you.”

“Thank you. I’ll bring her back. There’s still hope.”

“There’s always hope.” She bends down and scoops Momo up. “You, on the other hand, are not going anywhere, little one. You’re staying with me.”

Aster takes a deep breath to center himself. Willing the tendrils of search magic to come forth once more. They shine brighter here, all joining together, pointing across the dry field. It reminds him of his time in her barren world. He still can’t remember everything from that last day. He remembers her coming into the alley, chatting away, offering to help him. Then those bastard thieves attacked her, and everything turned into a blur.

There was rage, red-hot, the same kind that’s flowing through his veins now. He remembers the feeling of her brushing against him when he passed her. The blinding light as her mana flared, revealing her true self. Next he knew he was back home, with her. And nothing was as he had expected it to be. He thinks of his Soulbook. Somehow, she wasn’t the only thing he’d brought back.

Still, it doesn't matter now. All that matters is the burning need to find her. To get her back from these new thieves. He takes another steadying breath and sets off, a sense of pride blending with dread as he follows the kicked-up marks in the ground. She knew he would come for her. That he’d always come for her, and she did her part. Leaving what trail she could.

Hoping that her captors haven’t noticed what she’s done and punished her for it, he picks up the pace, long legs covering the ground quickly.

He almost misses it. Her belt. Lying sad and forlorn in a patch of taller grass. He picks it up, an invisible noose tightening around his chest. Was it a voluntary loss? To show him the way? Or had the monsters that took her… No. He can’t afford to think like that. Can’t give in to the fear-driven rage that’s lurking in his heart. The sheath is empty. So is the small pouch made to hold her Soulbook. So, she’s not near. Of course not. They have many hours' head start.

Grimly, he presses on. Darkness is setting in, the last colors of sunset fading, leaving the sky as dull and gray as his thoughts.

The opening is well hidden in dense shrubbery. Had it not been for her marks, he would never have found it. How many more like these are scattered across the foot of the mountain? Allowing their filthy spies to come and spread their evil. They must locate and block them all when he’s back. When they’re back. When she’s safe.

He lies flat on his belly, readjusting his sword. It’s a tight fit, but he can do it. She’s been through here, he’s certain of it. Even without the search magic, he can feel her scent, her fear. His stomach turns into something as cold and hard as the stone around him.

Thanking the Ancients for his decent night vision, he presses forward, one wiggle at a time. One breath at a time.

“Hold on. I’m coming. Stay strong.”

I can’t lose you.

***

A loud clang brings Diane back from her restless sleep and she blinks against the light, momentarily confused. A man is standing outside her cage, banging a glass bottle against the bars with enough force that it’s a miracle it doesn’t shatter. The noise is deafening. When he notices her stir, he stops.

“You must be thirsty. Here.” The bottle is held inside, but she shakes her head. She’ll never be thirsty enough to drink that.

The newcomer, however, piques her interest – and fear – enough that she raises her aching head. Not one of the usual guards, this man is dressed in a long black robe, held together with a golden belt. A heavy gold ring in the shape of a dragon’s head glistens on his finger. He reminds her of the dark mage who attacked her in the forest, only colder, more dangerous. Almost certainly higher ranked. He smiles at her defiance.

“We could force it down your throat easy enough. This is an option to make the transition easier for you. A kindness your kind doesn’t really deserve.” He shakes the bottle, the sound of water making her mouth feel even drier. “Suit yourself. As I said, kindness is wasted on you lot. I won’t mind seeing you writhing in pain and agony.”

“My lot? You mean healers? Why do you hate us so much?”

“You know what you did.” He spits on the ground in front of her, the vehemence in his voice more frightening than the words.

“I don’t. I haven’t been in this world for long, and I’ve never interacted with your people before.” She licks her lips nervously, “But if I can help you in any way, I will. You don’t need to do this.” She looks around the room and all the suffering creatures in it.

“You all have our blood on your hands. You all carry her sin.”

“Her? Who are you talking about?”

“The foul one. The betrayer.” He snarls the words, then grins coldly. “You say you want to help us. Don’t you worry, you will help. You already started.” He points at her book, and it might be her imagination, but the light around it already seems dimmer.

“What do you mean? The corruption you mentioned earlier?”

“Perhaps you’d like to meet one of your colleagues? See your future?” His grin takes on grotesque proportions, as if his face is about to transform into something hideous. Diane’s empty stomach reaches new levels of nausea as he looks her in the eyes, holding her gaze trapped as if with some hypnotic power.

Her shoulders sag with relief once he lets her go, and disappear, heading further into the cave. The respite is brief. Shuffling steps are soon drawing nearer, though it takes some time before she can see what’s causing them.

The black mage is back, but it’s not his steps she can hear. Behind him comes someone. Something. A blackened creature, human-shaped. Skin scaly and dark, with patches of oily substance swirling across its torso. Eyes bright red. Diane stares, her mind refusing to take in what she sees. That this thing was once human. A kind healer. She feels sick, bile leaving a bitter taste in her parched mouth.

She forces her eyes to the face of the mage. He seems satisfied with her reaction. Laughing at her distress.

“See your future, spawn of the betrayer.” He raises a hand, a thin smoky line connecting his hand with the neck of the creature… zombie… cursed. He flicks his fingers and it lurches forward, throws itself against the bars of her cage, skinny arms reaching far inside, trying to grab her. Its mouth opens in a silent cry, revealing perfect, white, very human teeth.

Pressing herself against the far wall, Diane screams, the sound blending with the mage’s laughter and the cursed’s hisses. The other captives join in, and the cave echoes with shrieks and screams long after the mage and his cursed slave have left.