KGWrites

James

Sea Lords’ Hall of Records, The Rivermouth Port, Free City of Blueholdt

“There’s a certain point when you’ve read so many ancient Evellien texts that you can feel your eyes drying out by the second.” James groaned as he rubbed feeling back into his eyes with the remaining fingers on his right hand.

“There is.” Meghan agreed from next to him, where she was practically slumped face down into a book. “I was there three hours ago. I actually don’t have eyes anymore.”

James laughed, giving her shoulder an affectionate squeeze. He definitely agreed with the sentiment she was putting forth. It had been two and a half weeks since they’d arrived in Blueholdt and made their deal for shelter with Darrin Crowe. In that two and half weeks, he and Meghan had been into the Hall of Records daily, searching for any mention of the Brightblade or of the three locations its parts had been sent to.

Their previous research in Aldiron had left them with three translated names: Throne, Market and Tower, but no clue as to exactly where in the world those three locations actually lay.

The Blueholdt research had started hopeful, with them discovering the location of Tower on just their second day. But that location had been Aldiron, which was the piece of the Brightblade that Iona already carried. Of all the ones to get translated, they’d succeeded in finding the least helpful one. And all the while Throne and Market continued to elude them.

Frustrating would be an understatement.

“You sure there’s no “find the right book” spell you could just cast?” James asked as he looked down at the page he was trying to read for the fourth time. The words remained nothing but blurry squiggles on the paper.

“Wouldn’t that be something.” Meghan quipped, sarcasm almost as thick in her voice as exhaustion. “No, there’s no magic that can do that. In fact, that’s really not how it works.”

“I wouldn’t know. Seems like it can do a lot.” James replied, closing the book and looking over to her. It wasn’t like he was taking in what he was reading anyway. Meghan sighed and shook her head.

“It’s much more… limited than you think.” She said after a moment, closing over her own text.

“I know that talking about it bothers you.” James started, picking his words cautiously. “If you want me to stop asking…”

“It’s alright. If you or Alyx had a power I didn’t fully understand then I’d be nervous too.” Meghan reassured him, leaning her cheek on her hand as she smiled at him. Her dark curls fell down like a waterfall from her tilted head. James clenched his fist against the temptation to run his fingers through them. Swallowing the feeling, and the rising warmth in his cheeks, James smiled back.

“I’m not nervous. That power is with a friend I trust deeply. I’m just curious.”

Meghan’s smile dropped and her eyes moved away from him, towards the fire burning in one of the hall’s nearby hearths.

“You should be nervous. It would be smart to be.”

“Why?” James asked, leaning forwards. Meghan chewed her lip, still staring at the fire. Then she lifted her head, the brief darkness banished from her, restoring the content, playful smile.

“I’ll make you a deal. A trade. Question for question. What do you say?” She offered.

James narrowed his eyes in confusion. “Why? It’s not like I have any great power to explore, or secrets to hide.”

Meghan grinned at him, amusement dancing in her deep brown eyes.

“I’m just curious.” She told him. James chuckled, shaking his head. Fair enough.

“Alright, deal. But I’m going first.” He said, pulling his chair around to face her. Meghan laughed lightly and shrugged. But she didn’t argue, so James pushed onwards.

“You have magic, but a lot of people don’t. How do you get to be a sorcerer?” He asked.

Meghan let out a long, low whistle, sitting back in her chair. One hand came up to rub at her chin as she considered how to answer.

“You would go straight for the throat wouldn’t you. No foreplay first?” She joked, grinning wolfishly at him. James nearly choked on his tongue and had to fight to keep the blush from consuming his entire head.

“Didn’t feel it was the place for it.” He replied, once he’d managed to recover. He did his best impression of a cocky grin right back. Meghan looked him, her eyes tracing up and down his body slowly.

“Worried we might get caught by some uptight librarian?” She asked, her hand failing to hide the playful grin that was spreading up her cheeks.

“Are we still talking about questions?” James retorted quickly, eager to find any way to stop her from pushing all of his buttons at once. Meghan rolled her eyes slightly and clicked her tongue behind her teeth. Her look became absent for a while as she returned to thinking.

“We… humans that is… we were not naturally born as a magical people. Very few races were. Apparently some Evellien could use it, in small amounts. But in the old world, one group of people were capable of magic. A group with only a few surviving members, that we are fundamentally opposed to.” She began, her voice uncertain, still strained. As if she had no desire at all to speak on the matter.

“Demons.” James responded with an understanding nod. Meghan only hummed in assent, her gaze returning to the flames.

“From the lower caste lesser demons to the greater demons like Draconeus, every species of demon was capable of magic. And they used that power to rule the world. To rule humans with an iron fist. Some of them… mixed with us closer than others. They became fathers and mothers to whole human dynasties. To long bloodlines that inherited their power, that learned to harness it. Every magical bloodline tracks back to one of demonkind eventually.” Meghan said, a sneer of disgust crossing her face. She didn’t work to hide it.

James watched her, worry gnawing at his insides as his friend grappled with her own family history. Descended from demons. From the monsters every child in Aldiron was told frightening tales of, the creatures the priests say were cast down by the original Gods of the Village. Meghan was descended from them, and she had watched just one greater demon tear apart their home like it was nothing.

“Is that why the priests curse all magic? Because it came from demons?” James asked, his voice seeming so far away now. But Meghan recovered quickly, drawing back in beneath her playful mask and turning back to him.

“Ah ah. Nice try Cobalt. But it’s my turn to ask a question now.” She corrected him. James sighed, wishing she didn’t need to retreat behind a shell, at least not from him. But a deal was a deal, so he inclined his head, inviting her question.

“What was the first thing you stole that you were proud of stealing?” Meghan asked. James blinked.

“That’s it? I ask you to unpack a great secret about your life and you ask a simple thing like that?” He asked, with a scoff of disbelief.

“I like a little foreplay.” Meghan replied with a grin, leaning back in her chair and folding her hands on her chest. She chuckled mischievously as James blushed again, looking away from her.

“Has anyone told you you can be cruel?” James joked and Meghan chuckled again. He chewed his lip and thought for a moment before replying. “I stole a ring and a dagger from the Winter District guard barracks, around a year after Alyx and I ended up in Winter. Just me, I was fourteen, all spots and long, clumsy limbs.”

“I can’t picture you ever being clumsy.” Meghan said absently. Then she returned her gaze to James, tilting her head in silent permission to ask his next question.

“The priests of the Village, they teach that all magic is cursed. Witchcraft. Is that why? Because it comes from demons?”

“Yes and no. There was actually a very long time where the practice of magic was thought to be a sacred gift, bestowed by The Scholar. Sorcerers were holy to the priesthood. But one too many bad apples spoiled the bunch. A rogue sorcerer using magic for power here, a spell going wrong and costing lives there. People started saying that the remaining demons would use our magic to curse our people, like they did the Dwarves and the Evellien.”

“Could they?” James asked. Meghan didn’t chastise him from asking another question. In fact, she almost looked surprised that he had bothered to ask at all.

“No. At least, I don’t think so. It was just people being cruel and others making mistakes. But I’ve found that… people always need someone to make a victim of. No-one likes the idea that there are just some bad people. There needs to be a reason. And at some point, the priesthood agreed with that reason. And mages, they started hunting us down.”

“I’m sorry.” James told her earnestly. He’d been victim of enough cruelties from those around him just over something as simple as not having money, or his missing fingers. But he’d never experienced anything like that before.

“There’s nothing for you to be sorry for. But trust me James. Magic isn’t something to be proud of. I learned that long ago.” The mask didn’t return this time, but she still brightened somewhat as she reached her next question.

“A ring and a knife. Hardly a vault of treasures. Why so proud of that?”

James smiled at the memory she brought back. “The guard I stole from was blackmailing a man named Sigmund. He’d caught him in some lie or theft or something. And he was extorting him and the Oasis for everything they had, elsewise he’d turn Sigmund in. That ring, whatever it was, was the key to the whole thing.”

“I knew if I could get Sigmund on side, even get him to look our way, then it would help us. Help me keep Alyx safe. So I followed the guard, watched the barracks for hours. The idiots left the back door on latch, made it easier to reach the privies. But also made it easy to get in. I found the guard’s bunk, stole back the ring. And took a really nice freshly forged dagger he had just bought himself with Sigmund’s money, just for good measure.”

“I returned the ring to Sigmund. And he heard my story, said I had talent, and he took us in. That little theft got a roof over our heads for three years. So as reasons to be proud go, I’d say it ranks pretty well.”

Meghan nodded her agreement. “The dagger?” She asked. James decided that seeing as she had allowed him two questions, it was only fair to give her the same.

“It was Alyx’s birthday gift. A way to protect herself. She carried it with her for years, right up until we came to the palace for the first time. Once she had a proper weapon in her hand though, she gave it to-.”

James’ voice simply trailed off as he remembered what had become of that dagger. Of the young girl that carried it now. Or at least had been carrying it when the city fell. Gods I hope she’s still carrying it now.

Meghan leaned forwards and placed her warm hand over James’ own, giving a reassuring squeeze that spoke more than a thousand words ever could. And in doing so, her sleeve rolled slightly higher up her arm, revealing a pattern of pale white on her brown skin that gave James his next question.

“What’s with the tattoos?” He asked, eager to move out from beneath the shadow Lillian was casting over his thoughts.

“Magic focuses. They help us channel magic, help us feel and interact with it more precisely. With a focus, our magic is precise and clear, like lightning in a storm. Without them, we become the centre of a hurricane, dangerous to everything around us.” Meghan explained, rolling her sleeve up further to reveal the intricate white pattern on her skin. The branches of a tree, stretching down her arms to just above her wrists.

Cautiously, James reached out with his three fingered hand and traced his fingers across the silvered skin. There was no feeling of difference, no bumps or ridges, just smooth, warm skin. Meghan didn’t pull away as his fingers followed the twisting pattern. Instead, her eyes locked to his.

“Why are you pushing Iona so hard?” She asked him, tilting her head. James focussed hard on keeping his eyes to hers, not tracing them down to her lips as she spoke.

“She’s the key to it all. Without her, then we’re just three idiots looking for a mythical sword. The kingdom needs a rallying point, and that’s a Ravellan. She’s the last Ravellan, she can’t take risks with that. It’s taking risks with the entire kingdom, with the memory of everyone that’s fought for her or her father, that’s died for them.” He explained. It wasn’t the whole truth, he could have been far kinder to Iona when keeping her on track than he had been.

But she lost Lillian.

A part of James knew it wasn’t her fault. That she’d had no choice or ability to stop it without making things worse. But that part couldn’t move past the ironclad certainty that if Lillian was still alive, she was almost certainly in danger, and that was in part Iona’s fault.

Unwilling to entertain that thought any longer, James cleared his throat and shifted his weight. His gaze travelled down to where his hand still rested on Meghan’s arm.

“Okay so, the tattoos help you to guide your magic. But how? I know it’s not just ink, seeing as it glows when you use it, but still.” He asked. Meghan pulled her arm away from him, rolling her sleeve back down and looking away from him. James got the sense he had just asked the wrong question.

“They’re not just ink, you’re right.” Meghan’s voice was soft now, barely above a whisper. She hugged her arms to herself and would not look back up at James as she spoke.

“The tattoos that mages have… people worked for a long time to introduce greater control over the magic that we’d inherited, and to empower it. Salves and potions, that sort of thing. They discovered that there were precious gemstones that could contain a spell, amplify its effects indefinitely, remember the Evellien vault beneath the Falcon’s Nest?”

James nodded, remembering the green glow that had come from the patterns carved in the vault door. The magical way it responded to touch and lit up before opening. And how it had responded beneath his hand when he had taken control of the door, and ensured it closed them all away from Draconeus and Iona’s father.

“Those gemstones can be ground up into a fine powder, mixed with an ink, and applied in a tattoo. Through them, we can channel the energy of our magic, use them as power rather than ourselves. Saves us from becoming exhausted with every spell.” Meghan explained, but that uncomfortable look never left her face.

“But they found something else too. That human mages could empower their magic far beyond their natural means, through the use of blood. Demons’ blood.” She continued, now almost shrinking back as if she could hide from James out of shame. James’ stomach turned over in his chest and he swallowed hard.

“They… what, drank it?” He asked, trying hard to keep any hint of revulsion or judgement from his voice. But he clearly failed by the fact that Meghan folded her legs up onto the chair and hugged them to her chest.

“Some did. Or tried mixing their own blood with it. Those that did experienced power greater than any other mages. But it could be very dangerous, with certain types of demon especially. The blood could be like poison, causing illness and pain, maybe even death. So they found a less dangerous solution.” She lifted her arm into view again, the sleeve falling down past her elbow and revealing the twisting white branches once more, glinting slightly in the firelight.

“They mixed the blood of the more common lesser demons into the ink used for mages’ tattoos. It caused the tattoos to not only focus our magic, but strengthen it too. It wasn’t as potent as direct contact with the blood though, so ambitious mages seeking as much power as they could wield often have a lot of tattoos infused with demon blood.” Her gaze rose up, her dark eyes shining as she fixed James with an odd look, one scanning him and his reaction carefully.

“I have a lot of tattoos James.”

James understood what she meant, the shame and self-loathing that tinged every word of her speech was potent. But James recalled Meghan’s magic helping in the battle, saving lives.

“I understand. But that’s a good thing no? You saved people during the battle. You blocked multiple spells from Draconeus himself. If the power you’ve gained allowed that, then I certainly won’t get hung up on where it came from.” He told her earnestly. Meghan offered him a sad half smile.

“Not many would see it that way. Plenty of others would see someone wearing the blood of monsters to grant herself more power than she should ever have had. And as to Draconeus…” She shook her head, her eyes distant as her jaw shifted from side to side. Lost in a memory.

“Even with all my knowledge of magic, all the enhancements to my own power, both times that my magic met his nearly took all my energy.”

James remembered Meghan, silhouetted against a ball of flame made by Draconeus, throwing it to the side with a blast of her own magic and collapsing to the stones of the city wall afterwards. And her holding a barrier against a bolt of red magical lightning, keeping him at bay while the Evellien vault closed. The second that door had closed, Meghan had fallen to the ground, utterly exhausted. Alyx and James had taken turns practically carrying her over the miles from the city until they were able to rest the next night.

“It was all I could do to reflect his magic off. And even then, I was a flimsy wall against a storm. I wouldn’t last more than a minute of matching his magic to my own.” Meghan tapped the top of the book in front of her.

“Which is why we need the Brightblade. It won’t just kill him, whatever was used in its forging, it helps shield from magic.”

“And why we need Iona to wield it. The Ravellan bloodline are mages too, she can wield the sword and defend against his magic with her own.” James said with sudden clarity. Meghan nodded, though James noticed the tiniest bit of hesitation before she spoke again.

“Which is why I’m focussing her on learning shielding spells.” There was more to it than that. Something about the reason Iona was being trained to wield the Brightblade over someone like Meghan herself that Meghan wasn’t telling James. But he’d pushed her enough for now.

“Look at me, asking you more than a few questions in a row. Hardly playing by the rules of the game here.” He joked, and was relieved to see Meghan brighten almost instantly, unfolding her legs and turning to look at him again.

“Have you ever played by the rules James?” She inquired, a knowing smile curling her lips.

James shrugged. “Occasionally.” He joked. “But still, your turn.”

Meghan chewed her lip for a moment before sitting forwards, an odd look on her face. No longer so bright and amused, she seemed intense as she fixed her eyes to James, tilitng her head.

“Alright, there’s a question that’s been eating me for a while now.”

James spread his arms wide in invitation.

“Why did you agree to come on this mission?” Meghan asked. James blinked.

“I understand Alyx’s reasons. Both her oath and her… desires wrap her up in keeping Iona safe. And I understand that you want to keep her safe. But since the siege… I guess you’ve changed.” Meghan elaborated, tilting her head slightly in interest.

“Changed how?” James asked uncertainly.

“You believe now. In the fight, the Brightblade, the kingdom. All of it. Months we worked alongside each other and you were nothing but a cynic. Always doubting Draconeus’ claim of being unkillable, the existence of mythical blades or any causes beyond keeping your family safe. But you didn’t stop Iona at Oakworth, for all your warnings, you were right there with her. Hell, you stayed behind in Aldiron to save a stranded child, leaving behind Alyx and Lillian in a burning city. I could be wrong, but I see a man that says one thing, but does quite another.” Meghan replied.

Now it was James turn to look away from Meghan, looking down at the three fingered hand that rested on the table in front of him. He chewed over his answer for a while before replying.

“Caught red handed I guess.” He admitted with a chuckle. “Make no mistake, I joined this mission because it did keep my family safe. Alyx and Lillian were both being brought along, away from Draconeus and the war. And the James Cobalt that you first got to know, the thief from the Winter District, would tell you that’s all there was to it.”

“But if I’m honest, with you and myself. There was always more of a reason than that to my doing this.”

Meghan turned, now giving James her full attention. She nodded at him to continue, a slight, encouraging smile curling her lips. James considered his next words, running his hand through his hair.

“Alyx doesn’t remember, but our mother read stories to us every night. Stories of the demons, the Evellien, the dwarves, all of it. She told us all the stories of heroes and adventures. And she always said that good things in this world needed protected and fought for. She was a legionnaire too.” James scoffed bitterly as he recalled an extra wrinkle to that fact.

“Second Legion actually, served under Hills.”

“I’m sure she wouldn’t have-.” Meghan began to say when James cut her off with a firm shake of his head.

“Not a chance. She believed in Aldiron, believed in the Ravellans. She’d never have gone along with treason like Hills did.” He stated firmly.

“I didn’t mean to suggest she would.” Meghan said apologetically. James gave her a quick reassuring smile.

“I thought I’d stopped believing in the world that her stories were about. Where heroes fought the monsters. I thought Winter had beaten it out of me. But then the Gods gave me a little one to protect from the monsters and gave us a quest to save the kingdom from the greatest evil its faced in the past centuries. I could actually be one of the heroes from the stories.” He looked up to Meghan, his expression sheepish as he shrugged.

“How could I ever have said no to that?”

Meghan watched him with her head tilted slightly to the side. A smile curled her lips and James found himself blushing again. He turned away from her and cleared his throat.

“It’s… foolish. And childish. I know.” He stammered out.

Meghan’s hand laid softly over the back of his, her thumb running across his knuckles.

“It’s noble.” She corrected him.

James turned to her, searching her face for any hint of deception or negative appraisal. But there was none. Just a bright smile lighting a beautiful face. A sight he couldn’t hold for long.

“So erm… Darrin? How come he knows your secret?” James asked hurriedly, pulling his hand out from beneath Meghan’s.

Meghan hummed, smoothing her sleeves back into place over her arms.

“When Darrin and I met, not everyone on the Sea Lord’s Council wanted our meeting to go well. Very few supported the idea of any form of alliance with Aldiron. A few were even willing to shed blood to stop one.” She explained and James nodded.

“You mentioned assassins being sent to kill you both.” He recalled. Meghan hummed.

“They came for us in the town centre, from all sides. I needed to use my magic to fend them off. But I wasn’t as disciplined as I am now. I didn’t have as much control. An old woman, a priestess of The Merchant, got caught up in one of my spells. She survived, but bones were broken.”

James sucked air across his teeth in a grimace. It would be bad enough being revealed like that, but to catch a priestess of all people.

“Not your luckiest day then.” He remarked.

“Not my luckiest day.” Meghan echoed. “They started yelling, calling me ‘Witch’ and Darrin ‘Pirate’. They chased us from town, banished us, cursed our names. They threw things. If Darrin hadn’t gotten me to my feet, dragged me from town. I don’t think they’d have stopped there.” Her gaze was distant, haunted.

“I’m glad he was there.” James mused, visions of pyres burning in a town centre flashing through his mind’s eye.

“As am I.” Meghan nodded. “Afterwards, when he agreed to work with us, we made a pact not to speak about what happened. And to call each other by what they called us. That way those names became a good memory, not a painful one.”

They sat in silence for a moment after that. Before James shook his head.

“Enough questions, I think. We’ve dragged out enough of each other’s darknesses for one day.” He announced, rising from his chair. “We should get back to the Dawnrunner.”

But Meghan’s hand reached out quickly, gripping his sleeve and turning him back to face her.

“Indulge me, one more. Please?” She pleaded. James didn’t really want to revisit any other dark corners, but there was something in her tone that made him pause. Cautiously, he nodded.

“Now that you know… everything. About mages and our power. About me. I need to ask, what do you see when you look at me?” Questioned Meghan. There was a look to her eyes, a curl to her lips. Desperation.

Some part of James knew what Meghan would answer, stood where he was, looking at herself. A monster, descended from demons and marked by the blood of others to grow her own unholy, unnatural power. A creature that should be disgusted and ashamed of herself.

Luckily, James did not see what she saw.

He crouched down, squatting to drop into her view. He took her hand in his own three fingered one.

“A very brave woman, who’s seen and endured so much pain and remained kind, good and beautiful. Someone who believes that the Gods cursed her for the simple crime of being born different. A woman who has been taken in by the lie that she should dim her light because the world says its wrong. But she is radiant, and she should let it shine all the brighter. Fuck what they all say.”

Meghan sniffled and giggled, wiping her cheeks with her sleeve as she smiled at James. Then she stood, pulling him with her and into her arms. His head was buried beneath her mane of curls to the nape of her neck. His nostrils filled with the soft scent of vanilla and lilies, always present around her. Gently, his own arms closed around her shoulders, a barrier between her and the world that had hurt her. Her body was tense as she worked to hold back the barely noticeable tremble that shook her all over.

“Thank you.” She whispered, her words to him, and only him.

James said nothing back. The time for words would come later.

For now, he just held her tight and let the rest of the world slip away.