The Tears of Kas̆dael

The s̆algū had been easier to defeat than Jasper remembered. Of course, he’d nearly doubled his levels since the last time he fought had one, but the true difference maker was his Flame Charge. The beasts could shrug off all his other fire spells with ease, and even spectral spells like Scourge of Despair struggled to penetrate through the beasts’ dense fur and iron skin. They had a critical weakness, though, as the same white fur seemed to be particularly susceptible to the white flames of Flame Charge.

It should have felt good to crush an enemy he'd struggled against in the past, but Jasper couldn't enjoy his victory. He wasn’t sure exactly how intelligent the creatures were, but he knew they were capable of at least limited speech, so turning the s̆algū into living torches made him feel sick to his stomach. He did it anyway, unwilling to sacrifice the lives of innocent villagers on the altar of his own squeamishness, but he was glad when the remnant of the s̆algū fled without a fight, and he was able to turn his attention to rescuing the village.

Ḫengal was a mess. His party had reached the s̆algū in time to prevent them from ransacking the entire village; most of the buildings remained intact and only a single silo of grain had been destroyed, but the fire the s̆algū had started proved to be a graver threat to the village’s survival than the beast themselves.

Like many rural hamlets, the tradesmen's and farmers' cottages were spread far enough apart that the fire would not naturally have spread, but the weather was against them. It was a cold and blustery day, and the winds that swept down from the north carried errant sparks far and wide, starting fires on the aged thatch roofs faster than he could put them out. Nearly a fourth of the village was already burning, and with each new roof that caught blaze, the sparks flying through the air increased.

I’ve got to find Tsia. He spurred Dapplegrim through the village, searching for any sign of the princess, and found her near the edge of the hamlet. Three of the creatures were piled up beside her, and a small entourage of farmers stood guard around her.

Sliding off Dapplegrim’s back, he ran over to her. The farmers parted to let him pass, and he crouched beside her, fearing the worst. She had a number of wounds across her body, especially on her face, where one cheekbone was collapsed upon itself, but the steady rise and fall of her chest quelled his concerns. He cast Circle of Forgiveness quickly and followed up with a healing potion.

The bones were still knitting themselves back in place when she came to, and a grimace of pain disfigured her face. “Ugh, those bastards were tougher than I expected.”

He nodded sympathetically. “They’re not a great matchup for a mage; they seem to resist most types of magic.”

She grinned wryly. “It looked like you were handling them pretty easily."

“Eh, it’s my second time fighting them,” he played it off modestly. "I already knew that most of my spells were worthless."

“And the village?”

He matched her previous grimace. “The whole place is about to go up in flames if we don’t do something. Any chance you could whip a storm again?”

Tsia hesitated, glancing up at the stormy sky above them. Heavy clouds hung above the firmament blotting out the sun's rays, and a cold wind scoured across the mostly fallow fields, but no precipitation was falling. “I’m not sure. I was forced to switch to lightning to actually hurt him, but those spells use a lot more essence than my wind; I’m running pretty low.”

“What if I help,” he offered. "Give you essence like last time."

A gust of wind howled through the village streets, bearing a spark that landed on the cottage closest to them. Fire bloomed outward, rapidly expanding across the roof as thick smoke spiraled into the heavens.

“I guess I’ll try.”

Like before, Jasper fed her his essence. Tsia made no attempt to quell the wilds winds that raged, but focused her will solely on the ominous clouds above. Releasing their load was not enough, for snow would not quench the flames fast enough to save the village - it needed to rain.

Slowly the drops began to fall, an increasing crescendo that sent the desperate villagers fleeing back inside the remnants of their cottage as a bone-chilling, icy rain descended on Ḫengal. She managed only five minutes before fainting again, but it was enough to quench most of the fires, while Jasper and Ihra beat out the rest.

They lingered a few more hours in the village. Ihra was convinced to part with a few of her precious ingredients to save the most severely wounded, while Jasper tended to the many minor burns and wounds with Circle of Forgiveness. By themselves, the three of them could do little to rebuild the homes, but Jasper promised that, once they returned to camp, he'd bring back his soldiers to help. Besides, he needed to honor his promise to the fallen dorēsah and make sure the remnants of her people would be protected.

“What were you thinking?” Gūla glared angrily at Sels̆arrat, who was currently being propped up on the saddle in front of her cousin, Attalû.

The poisoned woman started to speak, but the Djinn cut her off. “No, don’t bother. Clearly you weren’t thinking. That was a suicide mission, S̆arra. I didn’t think anyone was stupid enough to delve a crypt by themselves, but I guess you proved me wrong.”

Attalû nodded his head vigorously, taking obvious delight in the mage’s rebuke.

“What were you thinking?” She demanded again.

The mage didn’t respond at first, clearly not expecting Gūla, who had been ranting for the last fifteen minutes, to actually allow her to speak, but as the moment stretched on awkwardly, she realized her time to respond had come.

“I didn’t know it was going to be so dangerous. It’s not like it’s Naḫas̆innu.”

“And as we all know, Naḫas̆innu is the only dangerous place in the realm,” the captain replied sarcastically.

“Well, no, but…”

“But what?” Gūla’s voice softened. “I’ve known you a long time, S̆arra, and you’ve never been this reckless. It is a miracle you didn’t die down there. If not for that dorēsah, I don’t think we ever would have managed to open those doors in time. What was so pressing that you’d throw everything away? I know you need funds for a dowry, but why now? We’re headed off to war anyways.”

The young woman averted her gaze, her cheeks blushing with a red that was not entirely due to the nipping winds.

“You found someone?” Attalû, noticing his cousin’s expression, spoke up for the first time. “Is it that southern noble that keeps coming around? What’s his name? Kurunīl? I thought you were just tutoring him in magic.”

Gūla watched her friend’s face for a moment before snorting. “Oh, she’s been giving him lessons alright. Just look at her; her face is about to explode.”

“But why the rush,” she demanded again. “We’re headed to war. When we crush these little stoneflesh, we'll have all the loot we can carry. There was no need to do something so rash.”

Sels̆arrat’s voice was almost drowned out by the wind as she replied quietly. “It will be too late then. Kurunīl’s family has started talking about engaging him to another and, well…” It was hard to believe it was possible, but her cheeks flushed an even deeper red, “by then my serrī will already have come.”

“S̆arra!” Attalû groaned. “How could you?”

Gūla regarded her friend with a touch more compassion than her cousin had granted her. “You know there’s herbs for that, right? I can round them up for you if you wish. I doubt I can get my hands on calendula right now, but there are others we can gather that will work just as well.”

“You’re one to talk,” the woman quickly retorted.

“My choice doesn’t effect yours,” Gūla replied calmly. “And frankly, my situation should serve as a warning. It's not like I got a happy ending.”

“But your situation isn't mine," Sels̆arrat disagreed. "Neither Kurunīl or I are already engaged. His family may not be happy, but as long as we have a suitable dowry, they will consent to our arrangement.”

“And what about the war?” Gūla asked skeptically. “You can’t expect to continue with the army in your condition.”

She saw the faintest creases of happiness at the edge of S̆arra’s eyes, and understood. “I see. So this was not an accident. I suppose you expect to be released from duty.”

“And leave us without a mage,” Attalû cut in, his voice suddenly thick with anger. “Do you really think our House will be happy that you’ve abandoned us? Our soldiers will be slaughtered with no mage to protect us.”

“And why should I care about the opinions of a house to poor to offer me a dowry,” the woman replied cooly, shaking the bag of holding that hung at her hip. “I got everything I need now.”

The man’s shoulders rippled with anger, and Gūla feared she would need to intervene, but the man pulled it together. Reining his horse to a stop, his voice was curt as he snapped at the men around them. “Someone else take her,” he snapped.

The scene was awkward as the poisoned mage was transferred to another horse before continuing in silence. As they did, Gūla studied the face of her old friend impassively.

It had been a long time since the two had studied at S̆ams̆a's temple together, but she was surprised by Sels̆arrat’s cavalier and callous abandonment of her House. Attalû hadn't exaggerated the issue; without a mage to protect the troops from attacks by stronger foes, the casualties of their detachment would likely be doubled, or even tripled, and their share of the loot would be correspondingly diminished. Sels̆arrat had hung her House out to dry despite the fact that, as far as Gūla knew, her House, though far from wealthy, had never treated her poorly. If anything, as the strongest mage in their family, the elders had lavished what limited resources they could gather on her development.

It was hard, then, to not feel a bit disappointed in her friend’s selfishness. When Gūla had chosen to keep her child, she had done so believing that, due to her previous engagement, it would be accepted. Nas̆ru had knowingly taken another man’s fiancee and there were certain expectations that came with that; by the time she realized that he intended to dishonor their agreement, it was too late to make another decision, but S̆arra was under no such constraints. She simply didn’t care.

No, it’s worse than that, she corrected herself. From the woman’s response, it was clear she had purposefully gotten pregnant to dodge the war and abandon her House for the more wealthy southern clan. She didn’t seem to care about the many that would die because of her decision, or the hardships it would bring to the House that had invested so much in her. Was she always so selfish? Gūla hadn’t thought so, but maybe she had been inveigled as thoroughly as the mage’s cousin.

But the firebird captain kept her judgment to herself. She still needed the mage’s expertise after all, so it would do no good to piss her off. But afterwards…Gūla promised herself that she would try to help Attalû and his men. There was little she could do to thwart Sels̆arrat’s plan, but she had some sway in the royal court. Perhaps she could persuade them to lend a mage to Attal’s encampment - S̆ars̆adû was always looking for a way to indebt nobles to his cause. Yes, perhaps I can turn this to my advantage after all.

Heartened by her plotting, she almost didn’t notice when they reached the edge of a camp until Attalû suddenly called for his men to stop.

“I assume you can take her to a healer,” he asked in a strangled voice.

“I’ll be happy to do so, my lord,” Gūla replied, with more respect than his relatively irrelevant status demanded. Might as well butter him up now.

He inclined his head gratefully to her before turning to his cousin. “Unless you change your mind, you’re not welcome back in camp. We’ll have your stuff delivered to your…partner,” he spoke the word with some effort.

“Don’t bother,” the woman sneered. “I don’t need that trash anymore.”

Trash? Attalû gave you the best he could afford in everything. Gūla’s hid her frown behind a quick cough and helped the woman up on her mount without comment. “Let’s get you to the healer and then…you can take a look at this device we found. I think Nas̆ru’s using it to frame firebirds,” she explained as she kicked the tsussîm into a gallop.