KGWrites

James

The Steaming Springs, North Road, Barony of Fallham

The hot springs were exactly where Darrin had said they would be, a day and a half north and three miles off the road. Even without the worry of pursuit being too easy if they stayed with the road the whole time, James had been more than happy to turn towards them.

Especially once he saw where the springs themselves actually were.

The group had travelled far down winding dirt tracks barely wide enough for the cart for an hour or so. There had been no suggestion of the springs ahead, no-one else on the road or signposting at all. Twice Alyx and Iona had needed to get down from the cart and push to get it unstuck from roots and stones that littered the trail. James had been on the edge of turning back when they’d rounded the crest of a hill and come upon the grove.

A dip between the surrounding hills was filled by dark green trees. Streams ran down across moss covered rocks into the hollow. A hollow made up of tiered layers of pools of steaming water and lush green vegetation. A low mist hung in the space, obscuring the finer details of it from view.

Dark, quiet and safe. It was perfect to rest and recover at, they could completely disappear into those trees with ease. Unless The Other Face, or any other pursuers were right on their trail, they’d never know they left the road. And they’d certainly never spot any sign of them in the grove.

Which was why James had urged Moondust on the last half mile down into the hollow just as the sun began to set.

They’d found a flat patch of ground, hidden by trees and bushes from the road and higher slightly than the springs, allowing the thin mist to help to hide them even further. From the trail down, they’d be all but invisible.

Iona had helped James set up the tents while Alyx dug in the packs and bundles that Darrin’s crew had given them.

“Hope you all like rum.” She muttered as she dug around. “They’ve given us enough to fucking drown in.” A few more minutes of searching past before Alyx gave a triumphant call and practically dived headfirst into a sack before emerging with a wrapped bundle. Hopping down next to James she unwrapped the bundle, revealing several thick, red cuts of beef.

“Now we’re eating properly.” She beamed, showing off her prize proudly before carefully rewrapping it and settling down to make a fire.

Meghan began helping her, moving slowly and stiffly and not speaking at all. The exhaustion had faded over the travel, but it was clear that The Other Face had done some damage to her before James had arrived to stop it. She still had a ring of deep, dark bruises around her throat from where it had been strangling her when James had found them.

James and Iona set up the tents properly, stowing Alyx and James packs and equipment in one and Iona and Meghan’s in the other and laying out blankets and bedrolls. While they did, Alyx and Meghan built up the fire and began cooking the meat on a metal plate that sat over it. Alyx found several vegetables and chopped them, frying them in a pan to add to the meal.

Once camp was set up, Iona left James and unharnessed Moondust from the cart, leading the horse over to a tree where she tied off the mare’s reins to a limb. The princess stood and gently spoke to the horse a while, brushing her hand across her coat. Moondust seemed unbothered by her, instead focussing on the patch of tasty grass growing around the tree.

It was a scene of surprisingly easy domesticity, something James couldn’t quite make mesh with the battle he’d had with a literal monster from children’s stories the day before. But as Alyx laughed at some joke she and Meghan had shared silently and Iona turned to smile at them, James couldn’t find himself able to argue against it.

When the food was ready, they ate in easy, relaxed silence that left James struggling to recall the tense meals they’d all shared in the wilds before reaching Blueholdt. Though his relaxed feeling ended not long after they’d eaten.

Meghan had taken away the pans and plates to clean them somewhere away from camp and Iona had announced she was taking Moondust to find a stream for her to drink when Alyx had announced she would take a look at the stitches in James’ shoulder. He’d agreed, which now, ten minutes later, he was beginning to regret.

“Ah! Easy!” He winced as a sharp tug sent a wave of pain from his injury. Alyx sucked her lip and stuck her tongue out at him.

“Stop being a baby. I’ve almost got it.” She chastised him, pushing him hard with one hand to hold him in place as she worked on pulling the last bit of thread from him.

“You try walking around with a stab wound from a demon in your shoulder.” James grunted back. Alyx sat back, staring at him in silence. Her face was unreadable, though her eyes traced down herself. James followed her gaze.

Alyx had removed her tunic to avoid any blood from James’ injuries staining it, leaving her in a cropped undergarment that exposed her midriff. Where there was still a large pale scar from where one of Spyder Xeros’ men had driven a dagger into her gut the previous summer.

“Right.” James said, flushing with embarrassment. “Sorry.”

Alyx shrugged, seemingly indifferent.

“You’re right. Big bad demon stabbings are very different to knife stabbings, I’m sure.” She smirked, playfully flicking the end of his nose.

“Oh yeah, very different. I mean, taking on a demon? I’m a real hero now.” He joked back, straightening his back and putting on a deep voice, like the one their mother had used whenever she read heroic characters to them as children. He joked back, straightening his back and puffing out his chest.

“Yeah well, that’s what I’m worried about. Can’t have the hero dying because the demon left something nasty in him. I can’t see anything, but there still could be shit in there. Go get it washed in the springs. We’ll bandage it and let it rest tonight, and I’ll sew it back up in the morning.” Alyx explained, running her fingers around the edges of the wound, prodding just a little harder than she really needed to. James winced and scowled at her, but she smiled innocently and shrugged.

Huffing, he shrugged her off and stood, stretching out his arm. Aches spread in waves from the wound, but he flexed it all the same, keeping it moving and testing he hadn’t lost any movement in it. He glanced off down the hill in the direction of the pools. They were hidden from camp by the trees and undergrowth, but the low-lying steam still reminded him they were there.

Warm, clean and refreshing. That’s what Darrin said.

James crossed to the cart and lifted a wrapped fur sheet that he could use to dry off.

“Fine, I’ll go get it cleaned up, if it’ll make you feel better.” He said, feigning annoyance. But Alyx looked at him seriously.

“It will.” She said simply. James’ breath hitched. She’s genuinely worried about The Other Face leaving some sort of poison in me.

He’d have been lying if he’d said he hadn’t considered the possibility. But he’d felt no ill effects from the injury. Besides the hole in his shoulder anyway.

“What’ll you do?” He asked, hoping the more normal subject might put her at ease. Alyx smiled sheepishly and reached behind her, lifting her packed lute into view.

“I… promised Oz I’d practice with it so…” She began, a blush colouring her cheeks as she spoke softly and didn’t look back to James, instead looking off into the woods over his shoulder.

James beamed at her. “Of course you did.” He turned to walk away before turning back to look at her just at the edge of the clearing. She’d unpacked the lute and was quietly shifting it into position, ready to tune it.

“Hey Alyx?” He said, making her look up again. Concern coloured her features, clearly worried about why he’d not left yet. James nodded to the lute in her lap.

“I’m happy you found something to enjoy that’s not what we learned fighting to live.” He told her. “Mother and father would be too.”

Alyx sat up a little straighter, smiling back at him proudly. With one hand she pulled on her sleeve and used it to dab at her eyes a little. She sniffled once and nodded to him, an unspoken thanks.

Still smiling, James turned and walked into the darkness of the woods. Soon after, the tuneful strumming of lute strings followed him.

He moved further down the hill, around five minutes or so from camp, until he found himself by a tree at the edge of one of the larger pools. The steaming water was dark and calm, reflecting the sky above like a hole in the world itself. The moon and stars glistened like a blanket of gems, no clouds came to break their limitless beauty. The edge of the pool could see out to the rolling hillside, down towards the coast, where even the distant sea shone with silver from the moon.

James had never been one to stop and take in scenery, there’d always been another thing to do, the next problem to be solved. But even he was taken aback by the stunning vista.

It was too good to pass up.

Setting down the fur against the tree, James began unwrapping the bandages from his burned left hand. It stung slightly as the fabric pulled across it, but as he got a fresh look at the injury, a small degree of relief worked its way into James’ chest.

There were no horrible twisting burn scars like Trident had, no peeling bloodied skin. Most of it was reddened and a few yellowish blisters had formed, but given time, they would heal and not scar.

A small victory.

Smiling to himself, James slowly stripped off the rest of his clothing, tossing it next to the fur blanket against the tree. Then he slowly stepped forwards into the steaming water.

The relief was almost instant. The water was almost the perfect temperature to invite James deeper, and he sank in gladly. Every muscle seemed to relax as the warmth flowed through him. He winced slightly as it washed over the wounds from his fight, particularly his burned hand, which heated uncomfortably in the warm water. But the heat soon eased and he found himself relaxing again.

He leaned back against the rocks at the side of the pool, floating slightly in the warm water and allowing it to carry him far away. His gaze turned upwards to the stars and drifted away on the night sky.

He was still lost among the glittering jewels when the soft splashing of something else slipping into the water of the pool brought him crashing back into the moment. His gaze whipped around, his mind already tensing, conjuring the image of The Other Face lunging out of the darkness at him.

It was a tension that eased when he found the source of the noise. Though it was quickly replaced by a new feeling. One not too different from the tension that had just left him, and that set his heart hammering in his chest.

Meghan Whiteoak was floating in the water at the edge of the pool that looked out towards the ocean. Her back was to James, giving him a view of the frosty white tree tattoo that covered the brown skin of her back. The trunk ran down the length of her spine and the branches and leaves stretched and twisted around her body, running across her shoulders and ribs. Long branches ran the length of her arms and James could see the trunk joined to roots that curled down her legs beneath the waterline.

It was an effort to keep his eyes above the water and not follow those tattoos, and the beautiful woman that bore them.

Meghan’s black hair was tied above her head in a curly bun that seemed to want to break free of its holdings at a moment’s notice.

As if the view couldn’t have gotten any more breathtaking.

James only realised he was staring at Meghan when she turned her head to glance over her shoulder, one dark brown eye studying him.

Pulling himself back to the moment, James pushed forwards and swam across the pool to rest his arms on the rocky pool edge next to Meghan. He didn’t look at her. He didn’t dare. In fact, James was more glad than ever that the view before them was so amazing that he could focus on it.

He opened his mouth to speak and found it dry. Licking his lips he sighed theatrically.

“Were all the other pools not good enough? Had to come disturb me?” He joked drily, Meghan gave a chuckle, a sound with a slight rattle that reminded James of the damage done to her in the ambush. Of the injuries she’d sustained.

Because I left.

“I’m sorry Meghan. If I hadn’t left you alone…” He started softly. But he was quickly cut off by a hand closing firmly on his wrist, pulling him around to face her.

By some mercy, Meghan had sunk deeper into the water, leaving just her shoulders above the dark surface. It made it much easier for James to focus.

But her gaze was firm, her jaw set as she shook her head firmly. She opened her mouth to speak but only a painful, rattling rasp came out. Still though, James understood the message clearly enough.

Not your fault.

He nodded sadly, tilting his head to examine the ring of dark bruises on her neck. Like his hand, they were light enough that they would heal. Her voice would return given time, but they were deep and painful, and it would take a few days of rest before she would fully recover.

“It should have been me.” James said. Again, Meghan shook her head firmly, scowling at him. But this time he chuckled, holding his hands up.

“No, no. I don’t mean like that.” He explained quickly. “It’s just, I’ve been going over it in my mind. And attacking you like that? It doesn’t make sense. It could have easily attacked me when I was lost among the bookshelves, disguised as me and come back with you. Instead, it went for you, who had magic and weapons nearby to fight it off. Seems like a much harder target.”

Meghan narrowed her eyes and looked away again. For a moment, James wondered if she hadn’t thought of the question either, but then she nodded to herself and turned back to him. And he realised she knew the answer and was trying to work out how to explain it.

She reached out with her left hand and placed it on James’ chest, then shook her head.

“You’re saying… it couldn’t have become me?” James asked, carefully translating her movements. Meghan nodded and lifted her other hand into view. She’d folded her little and ring fingers inwards against her palm.

James knew instantly what she was miming, looking down at his scarred hand, at the stumps where the little and ring fingers had once been. It took him a moment to follow the logic.

“The scarring? It couldn’t have copied it?” He asked and Meghan smiled, clearly proud of herself, and nodded.

“It would have had all five fingers.” James realised. “It would have been obvious it wasn’t me.” Meghan nodded again. James thought about it for a moment. It made sense, the creature wasn’t scarred itself, it was still whole. So, any scars that had been on the person it tried to mimic, it couldn’t take. Any changes to their body, it couldn’t steal.  

“Immunity by injury.” He muttered to himself, laughing lightly at the absurdity. “Not exactly what the storybooks say about it. But I’ll take whatever I can get.” Meghan laughed too, her whole body shaking.

Which reminded them both that she still had her left hand laid on James’ chest. They both looked down at it for a while, before Meghan quickly began to pull it back, a blush darkening her cheeks.

James quickly grabbed it though, a question already forming in his mind.

“But your tattoos? They’ve not been there the whole time, surely it couldn’t have mimicked those? So, you were just as big a risk for it.” He thought aloud, still gently holding her wrist. Meghan tilted her head, a sad look on her face, then she reached out and took James’ other hand, the one with three fingers, and placed it on her wrist. His fingertips ran softly over smooth skin, unblemished by the tattoos as she looked into his eyes again and shook her head.

James took a long deep breath as realisation hit him.

“Tattoos are made with demon blood. And they’re magical. It can shift to them. Right?” He asked. Meghan tilted her head in a motion that told James he was only half right. She tapped her tattoos with her free hand and then her chest.

“The tattoos are you? Not like an injury that changes something about you, but they actually become part of you?” He asked slowly and Meghan nodded. Her eyes turned downwards again, and she sighed.

It was a subtle movement, barely even noticeable. But James had been looking for it. Expecting the shame, and pain that she felt. Meghan had always been ashamed of her ties to demons, of what being a mage meant to her. James understood that. But now he could see something deeper setting in.

Guilt.

Guilt that she was now a liability, a weakness that could be exploited to get to Iona. To hurt her friends. And James could see on Meghan, clear as daylight, how much she hated herself for it.

She shrunk down deeper into the water, so that only her head remained above the surface and turned her head away from him. He could feel the muscles in her body beginning to tense up, like she was readying herself to swim away.

So, James held her wrist tight and pulled her towards him, his other hand taking her by the shoulder as she moved through the water. His eyes locked to hers and he smiled.

“You asked me what I saw. Back in Blueholdt. When I looked at you.” He began. Meghan’s eyes were wide as she stared at him, unsure and still clearly wanting to run, but also unable to move away.

“I told you the truth then. About seeing someone strong and brave and kind. Someone that shone like daylight. But I didn’t tell you all of the truth.” He could feel the blush running up his cheeks. He ignored it. This was more important than childish embarrassment.

“I see someone who shines like daylight to me. Who is there in my darkest moments, showing me a way back up. Who never let me face real monsters alone. Who should never feel locked in chains by something that she uses to help people. To save lives. Yes, she’s got some magic and that’s useful and powerful.” His fingers began slowly tracing the tattoo pattern on her shoulder. His gaze trailed down to her lips, slightly parted as she listened to him.

“But it wasn’t because she had magic that she came to help people. She did it because it’s right, and its kind. And I think that should outshine any darkness she thinks she live in. And I hope that other people see it. And I…” He hesitated, suddenly nervous as he moved his other hand from her wrist to link his fingers with hers.

“I hope that she knows how I feel about her.” He finished softly.

Embarrassment suddenly hit James in a wave and he looked up, around, anywhere but at Meghan. But it seemed that the steam from the pools had thickened, enclosing them in a moment, keeping them together as tightly as their intertwined hands.

Meghan’s other hand lifted, taking James by the back of his head and turning his gaze to face her once more as she rose from the water and met his lips with hers in a quick kiss. Then, when she pulled back, she kept her hand on his head and her other linked with his as she stared into his eyes, a tender smile curling her lips.

“She knows.” Meghan said quietly, her voice just above a whisper. But this time it wasn’t because of any injury. But because those words were for James and only James.

Smiling back, James pulled her close. And beneath the watchful sea of moon and stars, their lips met again.

And for once, James Cobalt forgot about everything else.