CLEO – Ashenshore

  Cleo glared at Neridur. Her face grew hot and she clenched her fists, and all the bruises and aches she’d accumulated in the past few days receded into the background of her anger and growing disappointment.

  “So, we’ll say that you didn’t do much during the attack,” the witch said. “We have a reputation to think of, and we could use a break. It’s best that you keep your mouth shut. No one will believe a shitty F minus aura mage did anything anyway. It’s not like we aren’t grateful, my dear. We are.”

  Ashenshore stood on the edge of a massive lake, which the not-quite-set sun painted a hazy pink, along with the sky. A fitted stone wall about twenty feet high surrounded the substantial town, apart from the lakeside, in front of which ran a barrier of sharpened and blackened logs. The only opening in the wall she could see was a few wagon widths wide, where the rutted road changed to stone pavers a yard square. The caravan had come to a rest and gathered in the open space just inside the opening. If she had to guess, Cleo thought there were a few hundred buildings inside the wall, and a few dozen more outside around the fields and along the lake’s shore. To her right, off in the distance, she could see another stone walled town—which puzzled her. Why were there two towns?

  Coming from Ashenshore was an out-of-place buzzing of industry; the air was filled with smoke and the scent of plains-elk and ovis dung, and sweat and leather. Cleo could hear metal striking metal as if dozens of blacksmiths were working at the same time, along with pack-trains of laden ovis and goats exiting the main gate. It was all so strange, since she thought Ashenshore was here to essentially house the 13th Legion which protected the Gravelands and guarded the dungeon.

  The main thing that grabbed her attention though, was a small stepped pyramid on an island a few hundred yards into the lake. The dungeon, I presume. It’s a lot smaller than I thought it would be. Hmm… maybe it’s like an iceberg and there’s a lot more underground?

  The wagon train had careened into Ashenshore a few minutes ago, and Neridur and her brother, Aldrikur, stood a few paces from Cleo. They’d essentially been left to deal with whatever had attacked the wagon train—and probably the village of Mossfell—while the rest of the caravan rushed as fast as possible down the road, heedless of the possibility of breaking an axel or two. The three of them had to scurry behind the wagons, all the while keeping their eyes on the trees and long grass in case another of the creatures appeared.

  She almost wished another would so she could test out her improved energy shield and her new Malice aura.

  Almost.

  Cleo glanced toward the teamster Kobie, who remained seated on the driver’s seat of his wagon, though the man’s eyes frequently strayed toward Cleo and the other two, as if he was keeping an eye on them.

  Rivett scurried around the other wagons, making sure none of them were damaged, and showed a great deal less concern for Cleo, Neridur, and Aldrikur, who’d been in the firing line and effectively abandoned to their fate. Not that the rest of the wagons would have been aware of what was happening, but when Cleo stripped her energy shield from the other party members they would have known their rearguard was in trouble.

  And they hadn’t stopped to check.

  “But you don’t want to get noticed by the Legion and mixed up in their business, I’m sure,” Aldrikur added. He watched her disinterestedly, like a tiger eyeing a wild boar it was too lazy to eat. “You ain’t injured, and your head’s still attached. We saved you from the creature.” He nodded a few times as if that made his lie true.

  That’s not what happened…

  It was true that Cleo didn’t want to come to the attention of the Imperial Legion stationed here, but that was beside the point. This witch and her brother were trying to take all the credit of fighting and chasing off the creature, whatever it was, for themselves. So much for helping out party members and working together. The pair’s backstabbing was a timely reminder that there was no one to look out for her but herself, and that she shouldn’t place her trust in anyone until they’d proven themselves honest and dependable. The siblings must have their own reasons for pushing themselves and their supposed ‘competency’ in front of the Legion stationed here at Ashenshore, and to be honest it was probably in Cleo’s best interests to stay out of it. The problem was, it was just… unfair, and annoying.

  She tilted her head, as if deep in thought, and rubbed the back of her sore neck. Her whole body ached, and all she wanted to do was rest for a few hours, or better yet get a good night’s sleep. Being railroaded by these two left a sour taste in her mouth, and although she would normally protest, she found them too petty to bother with.

  “All right,” she said.

  At least now she knew why Neridur hadn’t been forthcoming with information about wands: she was a petty bitch who only looked out for herself. And apparently handing out a few tidbits on how wands worked to a fresh-faced lowly F minus—now F—tier carded girl was beneath her.

  “Good girl,” Neridur said as she moved closer and patted Cleo on the arm.

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  Good girl, like I’m a dog. Her distaste for the witch and her brother was growing quickly.

  Cleo had tiered up without actually killing the fell creature, which meant that fighting itself meant something, not just killing. The theory was sound, as she’d experienced it in action herself, and she couldn’t help feel that she must have been close to tiering up and just not known it. Though the fact that her two class cards had tiered up at the same time was interesting. After thinking about it for a while, Cleo decided that it could have been a coincidence, and that in future her class cards could tier up at different times, depending on how much she used different spells or skills. Still, she didn’t have enough information to confirm this, she would just have to see what happened going forward.

  As for her Legend tier up… Cleo couldn’t help but be frustrated with the lack of information she had, and there was no guarantee that she’d find all the answers she needed at the Misk’Imas Institution. Going by how reticent Neridur had been to part with knowledge about basic wands, she didn’t hold out much hope that educating herself would be easier once she made it to Lethanas.

  Frustrated, and before she could stop herself, Cleo spoke.

  “Neridur, have you heard of Dominions?” She snapped her mouth shut and clamped her lips tight. Stupid, stupid, stupid! What if it’s related to necromancy or demon summoning or something even more sinister? Before she knew it, she might be strung up or imprisoned. “I read about them somewhere,” Cleo added hastily. “In an old book in the library in my hometown.”

  The witch healer frowned and slowly shook her head. “I’ve never heard of dominions. And if I haven’t then Aldrikur definitely hasn’t. You could ask that Zane guy, who’s also carded. Or Rivett, but I’m skeptical they’ll know anything that I don’t.”

  “It’s nothing really,” Cleo said. “Maybe I’ll look into it when I’m at the Institution, if I have time.”

  “Do whatever you want,” Neridur said, looking disinterested and turning away.

  Cleo left the siblings and hauled herself up to sit beside Kobie. He offered her a leaf that looked like spearmint, except it was red.

  “No, thank you.” She shook her head, annoyed with Neridur and annoyed at herself for being annoyed. Mixing her lozenges with the unknown properties of a plant that reminded her of cocaine would be a terrible idea.

  Neridur and Aldrikur strode past, on their way to Rivett and his guards, no doubt to tell him their version of events. It grated on Cleo more than it should have, but she’d never liked people who threw other people under the bus or took credit where it wasn’t due.

  In a fit of pique, Cleo decided that since they were safe here in Ashenshore the witch and duelist could look after themselves. Leave party, she thought.

  [Cleo has left the party]

  The awareness of where everyone else was faded away. No more regeneration or shielding for you. Though technically I’m still a part of Rivett’s caravan and he’ll probably ask me to join again when we set out again for Lethanas.

  “Well, we made it,” Kobie said, tucking the leaf inside his cheek.

  “That we did.”

  “Legion’s here, so we’re safe.”

  “Maybe the people in Mossfell felt the same.”

  Kobie frowned and spat over the side of the wagon. “That’s a bit dark.”

  In an attempt to calm herself, Cleo closed her eyes and inhaled deeply through her nose, and then exhaled slowly. “I’m sorry. Neridur and her brother rubbed me the wrong way.”

  She really shouldn’t let them affect her mood, after all, she’d tiered up! Cleo’s disposition brightened immediately at the thought, and as it did, she remembered she’d vowed to use her Hole ability more to tier the card up and aimed for the ground beside her.

  Hole… Hole…

  She squinted, barely making out the voids she’d created, and sighed. Saskia had placed a peculiar emphasis on her Hole card, but it seemed the utility of it eluded Cleo for the time being. She’d just have to tier it up and see what changes eventuated.

  Wait… she activated her Malice aura and a vague, swirling glaze of violet and black erupted around her.

  Kobie jerked in his seat and leaned back. “What the frak are you doing?”

  “Sorry! I’m just testing something, it won’t take long.”

  Hole.

  The small hole in the ground appeared as before, with no difference that she could see. Hmm… so her Hole wasn’t considered a spell or attack. Maybe it was a ‘skill’ or an ‘ability’, the subtleties of which eluded her for the time being. Or maybe void damage didn’t affect dirt.

  Cleo deactivated her Malice aura. More testing needed, I guess. “It didn’t work, sorry for startling you, Kobie.”

  Hole… Hole…

  As Cleo continued to punish the ground—for no reason other than practice, she told herself—she glanced around to see what was going on.

  Over by Rivett, who the siblings were speaking to in hushed tones with their heads leaning close, a troop of soldiers approached. There were ten legionnaires, all wearing an identifying black tunic and a bronze disc hanging from a leather cord around their necks. Eight wore body armor covering shoulder to groin, comprising small rectangular plates of steel laced together, large rectangular shields and metal helmets with a wide brim, sheathed short-swords at their belt, and they clutched short spears about six feet long. The shields were painted blood-red, with yellow twisting lightning bolts around a central metal boss. The other two legionaries had to be officers of some sort, Cleo figured, as their armor was made from horizontal overlapping bands of steel, their helmets almost reached their shoulders and had a distinctive T-shaped opening for the eyes and mouth, and they wore a dagger and a sword but no spear.

  The officers spoke to Rivett, who gestured to Neridur and Aldrikur, and then in Cleo’s direction. One of the legionnaires trotted toward Cleo and stopped by their wagon. He was younger than the other legionnaires by a few years, and less muscular and hardened, as if he was inexperienced or had missed quite a few meals. He sported a bruise on one cheek and the knuckles of his hands were scraped raw. The bronze disc around his neck was stamped with the number 13, and surrounded by blocky words she couldn’t quite make out. She frowned in thought. This 13 was enameled in white, and from what she could see the other legionnaires’ numbers were black. Did the color difference signify that he was a trainee soldier of some kind?

  “Come with us. Commander Magnus wants to interview whoever fought the creature.”

  “That’s you, I assume,” Kobie said dryly. “I don’t know anything.”

  “I don’t either,” Cleo said with resignation as she climbed down from the wagon, and then to the young legionnaire, “All right, let’s get this over with so I can have a bath and a good night’s sleep.”

  Great. Now she’d have to pretend the witch and duelist were her saviors, and that she was merely a hopeless young woman out of her depth. Which, when she thought about it, was mostly true.