Where Is She?

Finally, all the attackers have been either slain or chased off. Aster wipes his face on his sleeve. After hours of fighting, he’s covered in dust, sweat, and blood. Looking around, he takes inventory of the damage and casualties. The courtyard holds many bodies, human as well as reptiles. The giant snakes and the paralysing venom they spat had been a particularly troublesome surprise, but most of them are dead now. A few of them probably escaped, they were fast and well camouflaged, but no longer a threat. The human casualties are mainly from the enemies, though he sees several familiar faces and an irrational pang of guilt settles in his gut, eating away at him as he walks around the aftermath of chaos.

How had it come to this? When did the confidence of the Mokushi grow to the point where they abandoned their guerilla tactics and dared a full-scale attack on the strongest military hold in Akeyokuni? Had they succeeded, would they be on their way to the capital now? Burning and corrupting everything in their path? Almost certainly. But the Arakiba and the fortress had stood their ground, as they’re sworn to do. A strange blend of pride and sadness fills him as he helps to clear debris, putting out fires, separating the bodies of friends and foes.

Eyes roaming, searching the survivors, he finds his parents, his father still in the shape of a huge black bear, his mother still unnaturally tall. Alder is with them, still human. Aster had half expected that the stress and excitement of the attack would trigger his brother’s first shift, but it seems not. It should happen soon though. The boy is definitely of both age and maturity.

He keeps searching, noticing Tenna moving between the gravely injured. But Diane isn’t with her. Where…? He notices soldiers helping other wounded to the healer’s wing. A surge of relief floods him. Of course. That must be where Diane is. He quickly heads over there to make sure she’s okay and see if there’s anything he can do. This must be the first time she’s seen real battle, and for someone as kind as her…

She’s not there. He stares into the room for longer than necessary, frozen at the implications. A couple of soldiers are carrying an injured woman inside.

“Diane, the healer, do you know where she is?” he asks them as they pass him on their way out.

“I saw her outside,” one of them informs him. “Right at the beginning of the fight.”

“Thank you. Carry on.” Just after the attack? That was hours ago. Where is she? Surely she’s not among the injured or the… No. He hurries back out. Someone must know where she is.

A long and frantic search later, he still hasn’t gotten any answers. She’s nowhere to be found and he’s getting more desperate by the second. He should have been at her side at the first sign of trouble. What had he been thinking?

Where is she?

***

“Eat, girl.” A bowl of cold stew is slid under the bars of her cage. It doesn’t look very appetizing. The bowl is made of wood, as is the spoon, so neither would be of any help trying to break out. Not that she knows what she’d do even if she had the skills to pick the lock with a wooden splinter, or bend the metal bars open using the spoon. She ignores it.

“What do you want?”

“Your powers. Only slightly… altered.”

“Altered? And what our you doing with my book?”

“Ah, your soulbook, the connection to your soul, to your powers.” He waves his hand toward the shelves holding a line of books, black goop dripping down on them from an intricate device, “We’ve found it most efficient to soak them in darkness until it claims your mind, and body.”

Bile rises in her mouth as she recognizes her own book there. Somehow, it had teleported here after she’d dropped it together with her belt, and a robed mage had immediately snatched it away. It’s still pretty and shining bright, though the others remind her of the scaly skin of the infected animals she’s seen. Black, scaly covers shimmering with living oil.

“But why?”

“Isn’t it obvious. Reversed, corrupted soulbooks create the most interesting dark spells. The first version of the curse was created by one of your kind.”

“My kind? You mean healers?” Well, he probably isn’t talking about kidnapped earthlings. At least she hopes so.

“Of course. You already have the means to alter bodies. We just… make you use it differently.”

Her mind floods with images from horror and zombie movies. Body alterations. Followed by aggressive mind modifications. She’s seen it on the wolves. Are they experimenting on humans too? She looks at the line of soulbooks. Soulbooks meant humans, so there must be people held captive here. But why so many animals, if what they’re after is more spells?

“Wait, first version? Do you mean you have…”

“Several by now. And once we harness the power of the Chosen, not even the resilience of the fated Champion can stand in our way.” He grins, sharp canines glistening with saliva. Much longer and pointier than any human teeth should be. He points to the bowl. “So, eat up, little girl. You’ll need your strength, and it’ll make the transition quicker and easier for you.”

The guard leaves her to join the rest at the long table. Some of them are reading or taking notes on long rolls of parchment, and a few of them are engaging in a chess-like board game. Others are just nibbling on snacks or having a drink. Fourteen of them, she counts. All armed. It seems excessive.

Her stomach points out that it’s been many hours since breakfast, and she reluctantly picks up the bowl. Lifts the spoon. Something dark, oily floats to the surface. With a yelp, she drops it, the cursed stew spilling over the floor, seeping out through the bars. Good riddance. There’s no way she’s touching that.

A pained shriek suddenly echoes through the vast cave, and Diane tries to look around. Her cage is one of many lining the walls. Each holding a living creature, in various stages of the curse. Some curled up, some pacing back and forth, others whimpering or screaming in pain as the disease spreads over their bodies. Is it altering them on the inside, too? Rearranging organs? It’s not impossible.

With another shriek ringing in her ears, followed by annoyed shouts from the guards, she sits down. Knees pressed against her chest, arms wrapped around them. She has to get out of here… but how?

She meticulously goes through her so far not impressive list of spells, none of which are of any help right now. Knitting bone, sinew, skin, and muscles together in minutes, that she can do. Cure fevers, even soothe headaches and exhaustion. But she hadn’t given a single thought to offensive spells, or anything that can be used when trying to escape a cage, deep underground. Nothing to put attackers or guards to sleep to help her sneak away. If she could break the metal bars trapping her, that is.

She slides a hand along the cool metal. Would Cold Flames work? Could she make them cold enough that the bars would become frozen enough, brittle enough to break? Perhaps. Probably not. But then what would she do? She needs a plan to take her all the way, not just a half assed attempt that would only result in tightened security. Or punishment. She doesn’t even want to imagine what they’d do if they got angry enough.

Time soon loses all meaning. The light from the flickering torches is constant, so there’s no telling how many hours go by. When tired, she rolls up in the blanket, the only ‘furniture’ in the cage, for a few pitiful winks of sleep. She’s offered more bowls of food, flasks of water. She doesn’t dare to touch any of it, even though she’s well past the initial stages of dehydration. Mouth dry, feeling lightheaded at the same time as a dull headache makes it hard to think and focus.

The water is looking more tempting by the minute, but she can’t risk it. She’d need a supercharged poison-cancelling spell to even consider it, and she doesn’t even have a weak one. That really should be one of her top priorities, as it potentially could be efficient against the curse. A good project to keep her mind busy.

Diane looks over at her Soulbook, it’s still resisting the curse, as far as she can see. She needs to keep hope up; giving in to despair might speed up the process. So, she keeps plotting possible escape routes and thinking of new spells while trying not to worry about those back home. Praying they’re safe. That Momo made it back. That Aster will come for her. If the princess allows him.

No, she mustn’t think like this. He will come. If only because they’re bound by the prophecy. A prophecy she’s not sure she believes. She rubs her eyes, curls up in the blanket and closes her eyes. She’s getting too weak, she needs to rest.