Chapter Twelve

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No killing.

Ann’s voice rang out in the back of my mind, causing me no small amount of annoyance. My preoccupation with her was what had led me to this moment in the first place. My lack of focus was how I’d found myself surrounded and in a fight for my life. I was very much in a kill-or-be-killed situation, and all I could think about was how much I’d be letting her down if one of these people didn’t get back up. I didn’t know that I could survive this fight otherwise, but not knowing wasn’t the same as impossible. The frustration building in me would need a release, I guess.

Damn it, Ann. Fine. I will do this your way.

I pirouetted towards the fallen man before he could stand, bringing a heel down hard against the side of his knee with a rebellious crunch. The smart move would have been to stomp down on his neck, but I hadn’t been smart in at least a couple of days, it would seem. He howled in agony, but at least he could howl. Two more people came at me from the kitchen, both of them women and both of them wielding steak knives. One of them earned a broken foot and a rolled ankle for her troubles, the other merely received a sharp elbow to the side of her head. They went down, but the one became two, and the two became four.

My training took over, and suddenly the parameters of the fight became clear: Defense if I must, offense while I can. Several more cult members went down and in a variety of creative ways. A dislocated shoulder here, broken ribs there, and most of the front teeth of one particularly eager young man, but if anyone was wary of my capacity for violence, no one was showing it. They all kept coming until I made sure they could not. When the numbers became too many, I leaped up over the banister and dashed to the second floor, only to discover that my presence caused a wave of them out of the halls and from behind doors. There was no room to maneuver, and in the face of a dozen or so of them, I was promptly knocked back down to the first floor.

Recovering in mid-air was easy enough; I twisted my body and planted my feet into the chest of the pot-bellied man unfortunate enough to be directly beneath me. Still, that bought me less than a second, and all pretense of offense was officially gone. I was fast, I was trained, and I was present. And it wasn’t enough. For all of my defense, the punches were starting to land. I wasn’t focused on who went down by this point, only that I managed to stay up. It didn’t last. Minutes that felt like hours passed before I was lifted to my feet and pinned to the wall. Two particularly bulky men on either side held me back, and two more people I couldn’t see held my legs. They needn’t have bothered. I knew the fight was lost at this point, and they must have been ordered to take me alive. I didn’t bother to struggle; it was wiser to conserve my strength in case those orders didn’t hold.

The crowd of people began to part wordlessly as a silk-robed man slowly made his way into the home from the backyard. His dirty sneakers, which clashed with the rest of his outfit, seemed to deliberately crunch the broken glass around the room as he approached. His face was an uneasy blend of features both young and elderly, making a guess at his age impossible. A golden surfers tan and the full head of hair flowing down his back marked him as young, while the crow’s feet around his eyes and the large gray patches in his messy beard exposed signs of aging. As he drew closer, he knelt down absently and waved a crystal over some of the wounded, and their pained expressions faded almost instantly.

His eyes met mine as he rose, deliberately and slowly, and with a forced smile, he let his first words languidly fall out of his mouth. “Hello, Chalsarda. I’ve been looking forward to meeting you.”

“You’ll forgive me if I cannot say the same, Samuel.”

He chuckled softly at that. “Why would you call me that? Samuel. Why that name?”

“Am I supposed to call you the Abbot?”

Samuel, the Abbot; whatever, knelt down beside another small gathering of his followers, three people with broken legs that I’d put down in quick succession, to repeat his performance. One by one before my eyes, their injuries healed in a matter of seconds.

He stood after a moment and looked at me as he continued. “I never said you should call me anything; I merely asked why you called me by that name. Why do you call yourself Chalsarda? Why does anyone call anyone anything?”

“It’s my name, you dolt.” At this point, I wasn’t sure if I preferred death or the philosophy lesson.

“Yes, it’s your name. But who gave it to you? Why does it hold meaning for you? Why do you call a tree a tree? You’ve just accepted it. But is that who you are? Am I just a Samuel?”

“This feels like an odd way to go about gloating before you kill me, Samuel. So if you’re hoping for murder here, maybe a ritualistic sacrifice or something, might I suggest you get on with it?”

His eyes grew at that with mock surprise. “Why ever should I kill you? Simply because you broke into my home and assaulted my family? I’d dare say the only one doing any violence here today was you. I am seeking to correct some of your wrongs if anything. But I digress, if you don’t like that question, let us move onto another. Why are you here?”

“Is this just going to lead to some deep answer about why any of us are here, cosmically speaking?”

“No, I meant that in the present tense. Why have you broken into my home?”

“Oh good, a real question,” I sighed. “Finally, I wasn’t sure how much more of your nonsense I could stomach. I’m here for the Battle Born, of course.”

“You mean Debbie? And what would you have with her?”

I blinked at that. “So you’re not even going to bother denying it? And you’ve given her a name?”

“Why should I deny it? Of course she is here, but to your other point, no. I would not presume to name her; she has named herself.”

He had me on this one; I hadn’t expected him to be so blunt about it. “I don’t understand.”

“Oh, of course you do! If only you think about it, it makes perfect sense. Chalsarda, my words and my abilities are for those in pain, even you. And my home is for all people with nowhere else to go.”

“No, you’ve captured her, you were sent to collect a bounty!”

He raised an eyebrow at that. “And why should I do that? Do I look as if I need mere money? Or trinkets? No, do not presume to put me into the same foul category as you. Debbie is safe here, with me. After all, you’re the one who inflicted grievous injury upon her person, and now you’re here to finish the job.”

This was becoming more frustrating by the moment, and I didn’t have time for it, but I didn’t have a lot of choices either. “If you do not intend to turn her in, then what do you want with her?”

“The same thing I want with you, my dear. I want to show her peace. I want to help you heal your wounds.”

“Have your goons let me go, and I’ll give you some wounds of your own to play with!” I spat.

He laughed softly to himself as he approached. “You know so little of my power. Physical wounds are but one sort of injury to be healed. And before I even walked into the room, Chalsarda, I could tell that your wounds ran deep. Allow me to show you just how deep.”

With an outstretched fist clutching a glowing crystal, he moved to place it towards my forehead. The terrifying idea of having unknown magic visited upon me suddenly seized me, and I struggled to break free, but it was too late. I was pinned tightly in place as the crystal—

He fell back and away from me like someone who took a sucker punch to the stomach, dropping the crystal as he lost his balance on his feet. I suspected that I got the worst of it. My senses were overwhelmed in an instant, more pain and relief than I could have ever possibly anticipated filled my being. Guilt and anger and regret and emotions I didn’t have words for flooded to the surface and close behind them, mixing horribly, were the hints of acceptance and understanding and a soothing that was not enough to keep up with the sudden torrent of pain. There was only the knowledge, as terrible as it was, that I was in terrible pain and somehow I didn’t know how badly I’d been hurt. It was the feeling of a bad tooth being removed from your head without anesthetic or the moment of adrenaline wearing off after realizing you’d survived a terrible accident; I was assaulted with the sensation. And slowly, far too slowly for my liking, it began to evaporate. Suffering and fear faded from my being, replaced with a warmth I had almost forgotten.

My body began to relax as the feeling of muscles I hadn’t realized were tense began to soften and relax. Deep-seated pains, physical and otherwise, started to smooth over and my legs went limp beneath me. The men on either side of me were no longer holding me back but were now holding me up, and my eyelids became heavier than anything they were responsible for keeping aloft. The Abbot was excitable, babbling as he got to his feet, but if whatever he had to say was important, I’d never know it. I was checking out of this conversation, and I didn’t have any closing remarks.

* * *

Trancing again. Wonderful. I’m not ready to fight it now, despite knowing how this story ends. Even here I am weary. And more to the point, I’ve long since passed the part in my story where it has become too late to change my fate regardless. The deal has been struck, and I am now clutching my prize, incorrect in my assumption that I am ready for the world to come. I watch myself as I make my way to the shoreline, rushing to meet my love. I know how badly this will end, but for once I’m not going to resist. I will let my mind show me the last good and pure moment I would have for a lifetime to come, and when I get to the punchline, let me feel the blow as it lands without flinching. It may have been enough to break me once before, but I’ve since learned how to take a punch.

Abarta had opened the way into Alistair’s world, and with my prize in hand, I crossed over without hesitation. I am in a small village. So small that I am confident I can see its border in any direction from where I’m standing. The men wear thick, dull black woolen coats and the women are clothed from neck to toes in multiple layers, bodices over corsets over outrageously big dresses; none of which matched the pleasant warmth in the air. Everyone wore tall hats, something I certainly had never seen back home. The looks I received and the comments whispered about me were immediate. I didn’t care back then, and I don’t care about them now, though getting the chance to relive the moment has given me the opportunity to chuckle internally at the phrase ‘Devilish apparition.’

No one is of any help, but in my excitement, I follow the road to a larger town nearby, one visible before I even begin to venture forward. My request for Alistair brings sour faces, for the most part, one even spits at the sound of his name. For the first time, I’m becoming aware that my appearance, my ears and my attire, even my way of speaking are unlike anything anyone here has ever seen. Not everyone is ready to welcome an elf into their community, it would seem, but again, I don’t care. Now it is for other reasons, the petty and spiteful side of me sarcastically thinks it’s because everyone there has died due to their painfully short human lifespans; but then? Only because I had no intention of staying. I intended to see the world, and from what I could tell this was the most insignificant corner of it. Finally, someone recognizes the name. He’s expected today on a ship known as Faith at Port Talbot, which is apparently not far from here. My heart soars. He has more to say, but I’m gone before he can tell it, sprinting for the ocean. And as I arrive at the cliff’s edge, that’s when I see it. That’s when I feel it!

The ocean! Oh merciful gods, the ocean! In my excitement, I never stopped to think that I might see it one day! Salt from the breeze gently burned my nostrils, and I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply, welcoming and savoring the new sensation. I opened them again, more delighted and filled with wonder than any child. Before me, infinite and blue, was the ocean. Grey clouds dotted the sky but threatened no rain. Waves gently lapping the shore creating a rhythmic beat which the universe had decided that, at least for the moment, was a concert exclusively for me.

But what brought me joy, more joy than just the freedom from the borders of Verisia, was the knowledge that it was the ocean that connected what would be all of my adventures. That someday soon, Alistair and I would set off across it, disconnected from everyone, and wherever we landed had better be ready for us, because Alistair and I were coming to leave our mark. It was the life I wanted. It was the life I was sure that I had deserved and earned.

I tried to hold onto this portion of the memory like gripping sand with both fists. I wanted to embrace the beautiful feelings that came with such optimism. I leaned into the lie because I knew it wouldn’t last. And it would be so very long until I ever felt good again.

I’ve spotted the port now. Dread is creeping over me in waves far more turbulent than are on the shore. They overwhelm the elation I felt at the time. My instinct is to fight the memory, but I force it down. This happened, and it happened to me. Pain is coming, worse than anything I’ll experience for a very long time to come because today is when I learn about betrayal and heartbreak. Part of me hardens today, and I lose something I may never get back. And for reasons I can’t pin down, I want it this time. I need it. I know intrinsically that I need to be hurt even if I cannot say why. Even if I’m disturbed by that very need.

I find running in the sand to be an uneven and perilous experience, but I laugh all the while, making a game of not falling down. When I arrive, the dock workers exchange glances in my direction, and whether it be from my appearance, my attire, or my unbridled glee, I do not care. It is not an understatement to say that I am unable to contain myself. It’s coming, Chalsarda. It’s almost here. You can take the punch. I squeal when I see the ship marked Faith. Don’t you dare flinch. You are stronger now, and you do not run. You couldn’t run even if you wanted to besides, so you will face this head-on.

I realize now that even preparing myself for what is to come is in itself, a defense mechanism. I’m dulling my senses against what was for what it is. I stop and remind myself I am merely a passenger in my own mind, and I quiet those thoughts as I see him.

Alistair Wright. Windswept and perfect. My hero.

He spots me soon enough. The surprise is evident on his face, even with the sun in my eyes. He moves to meet me, but I move to him even faster. “You’re... you’re here?” he asks in disbelief. I embrace him and kiss him in full view of everyone, drawing sounds of approval. His face beams as he looks into my eyes. “You’re here!”

“I am,” I concur. “And I am never leaving. Not without you.”

“About that. Quickly, we need to talk. In private.”

He leads me away from the glaring eyes of the public, around corners until at last, we stop. “So the deal, you made it?” he asks excitedly.

I nod my head in approval. “I did. For you. For us!”

“Tell me everything, what did he say? What was the bargain?”

It never occurred to me then why he was so eager to hear these details, and I try to watch with the same eyes I once had, ignoring what I now know. “Abarta gave me the means to travel to your world, just as you traveled to mine. You and I can live our lives together, and until our time has come to an end, I am free to be with you. After, I am to work for him, but that’s not important now. What matters is that we have the rest of our lives! You and I! Worlds could not keep us apart!”

Alistair laughs softly at that. “Chalsarda, this is wonderful news. More than you realize. You see, because of what you just did, because of what you just gave up for me, I finally have the chance to tell now, from the bottom of my heart just how truly...”

I am expectant of his every word as he stares at me, letting the sentence hang for one more cruel moment. “Just how truly disgusted you make me feel.”

I know I couldn’t have heard that correctly. “Oh, you heard me, though I don’t know that disgusted really encapsulates what I’m trying to say.”

“What?” It’s all I can ask. I simply do not understand.

“Oh god above, how can you be so blind? You’re an elf! Is there anything more unnatural? Did it honestly never occur to you to wonder why I, a human, would have taken an interest in you? You simple-minded cow, use your mind for once and piece it together! Did you not think for one mere moment what I might get out of all of this?”

“You... you had my love.” I am breaking apart inside now, the large pieces first. The smaller cracks would come later.

“You were a job!” he exclaimed. “Oh heavens, this was too easy. I could have just as easily fooled a puppy. Very well, pay attention to this. You are only free for as long as we are together, is that right?”

There it is. There’s the gaping, bottomless dread.

“Then let’s get this over with, shall we? Chalsarda, you and I are—”

“Get up.” I know I am being commanded. I know that voice from somewhere. My eyes open, and through the haze of watery eyes, I see a familiar figure. Imposing and dangerous. It is a woman, and her gaze itself is danger. She has another command.

“You and I are going to talk.”

***