CLEO – Ashenshore

  Despair.

  Curse-strike.

  Retribution.

  There was no doubt that Cleo’s spells and abilities, along with her auras, had saved her life multiple times—but somehow she felt like a one-trick pony. Or at least, lacking in certain areas. She could provide support to other carded in her party, but when she was on her own she was at a distinct disadvantage.

  Her current abilities left her vulnerable since she didn’t have an upfront spell or ability that packed a punch, and she relied on being able to keep her energy shield up against attacks as her curses took time to work and Retribution needed her shield to absorb attacks before it could retaliate and deal damage.

  That’s what you asked for, remember? To help people and not die.

  And here’s someone flying around like it’s normal… add flying to my to-do list.

  Cleo sighed softly as Dalvin glided toward her. He landed a dozen yards away, the roiling air and embers subsiding and the dust quickly settling. Power radiated from him like heat from a hot stone. His intense eyes took in the frazzled condition of Cleo, and the two blood-covered workers lying on the ground.

  They were lucky to be alive. If Zane hadn’t dispelled or shielded himself against her they probably wouldn’t be. She’d acted impulsively under stress and almost killed two innocent people—would have, if she hadn’t been lucky.

  If you could call someone completely negating her ability lucky.

  In the future she’d have to be more careful, and also figure out what had happened to render her Retribution harmless. It had to be either a card spell or ability, or an artifact, which Rosalia and Kalak had mentioned. Magic items? Probably.

  Cleo pointed to the injured men. “Look after them first. If you’re able to. I don’t know if you’re a healer or—”

  “Healers are on their way. What happened here?”

  Cleo decided that now wasn’t the time to quiz the man on how or what he’d sensed. It could have been her or Zane’s mana use, or maybe Dalvin had a danger sense like Aldrikur had, or even—

  “Cleo! Are you in shock?”

  “Oh, sorry! No, I’m… fine, I guess. Luckily, I’m not injured. A man attacked me. Zane. He was a late addition to the caravan. Rivett would know more about him, since he hired him just before we left Ankratur. In the party list his class was hidden.”

  Except she imagined that whatever information Zane had provided about himself would have been a lie.

  A Dark One… frak! Wait, what had he called them? Si… Siunattu… that was it. I must have come to their attention somehow, but how?

  Cleo didn’t think she’d done anything out of the ordinary, and she hadn’t noticed any extra attention on her in Ankratur, so there had to be another explanation. Was there a card that could sense other cards, or their strength? A danger-sense?

  Or even prophesy? That would be freaky…

  “Do you know why he attacked you? And, how did you defend yourself?”

  “I… first, he used some sort of mind control on those two. I assume that’s relevant information which will help with their healing.”

  Dalvin nodded slowly. “How do you know it was mind control?”

  “Because one moment they were normal, and then they were like puppets and attacked me. One scratched his own face, and they started bleeding. It couldn’t have been anything else. They were definitely not in control of themselves.”

  “I see. And why did this Zane want you dead? You used your energy shield to fend him off, I assume?”

  Behind Dalvin, a squad of legionnaires jogged into the alley, armor clinking and spears at the ready, their eyes wide and alert for any danger. Two stayed at the entrance to handle the curious public who’d gathered at the commotion, but had so far not intruded out of fear. With the situation under control, curiosity might get the better of some of them.

  The remainder of the legionnaires spread out down the alley, with another two hurrying past Cleo to block the other end behind her. All the men and women soldiers were older and had the hard look of veterans. Maybe this was a crisis response squad or something?

  Two white-robed women appeared and pushed past the two legionnaires blocking the alley. Dalvin motioned them toward the unconscious workers. One of the women kneeled and laid a palm on each of the prone men, while the other placed a hard-leather case on the ground. She opened the case—a medical kit—and quickly and competently began to mix liquids and powders in a flask.

  “Yes,” Cleo said. She kept one eye on the healers, as she was interested in what they could do. “Is she making a potion? Is it a healing potion?” Maybe after this she could persuade them to make her one. If she had to stay in Ashenshore much longer, she’d run out of lozenges.

  “Yes. A weak one, but it will help to stabilize their injuries until more thorough healing can be applied. Now, Cleo, the altercation?”

  “Oh, sorry. Zane almost broke through my energy shield. Well, it’s more like a mana shield, since it uses mana to… Anyway, he would have, too, except he must have sensed you coming and bolted.”

  Dalvin frowned and scratched an ear. “I can’t perceive anyone nearby who would be this dangerous. And there’s no sizable mana signature nearby either, apart from yours.”

  Oh… some people would be able to sense her mana. A class or card ability? She’d have to ask later. “He turned into a bird. Would that make a difference to what you can sense?”

  Dalvin raised his eyebrows and nodded. “That’s… unusual. I’m scanning for human mana signatures. Animals would be excluded. What type of bird was it?”

  “A raven. Would that make a difference?”

  “No, but I was curious. And it’s good to know for reference. Unfortunately, there are a lot of ravens around at the moment. With what happened in Mossfell, there’s been plenty of food for them. Wait a moment, please.” His frown deepened as he concentrated for a few moments, and then shook his head. “Nothing. That’s disturbing. Assuming you’re telling the truth.”

  Now it was Cleo’s turn to frown in frustration. “Do you think I just wandered down this alley and decided to attack two strangers? And then hung around until you arrived? I’m the victim here, assaulted for no reason—”

  Except there had to be a reason, and Dalvin and the 13th Legion should be made aware that there’s a Dark One on the loose. Or maybe Dalvin was also one of them… shit…

  Cleo realized that she had to tell them what she knew about Zane. She couldn’t constantly jump at shadows and trust no one. But how could she tell if a person was trustworthy?

  The answer, of course, was that she couldn’t. She had to rely on people's actions and trust them—within reason—until they proved otherwise.

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  “He was a Dark One,” Cleo blurted. “He said so. Siunattu, he said they called themselves.” Way to not draw attention to yourself, Cleo.

  Dalvin’s expression went blank. He glanced at the two healers, where the workers were groaning and moving slightly, and their skin had gone from deathly pale to a healthier color. One of the healers still had her palms on the men, while the other dribbled drops of the fresh potion from the flask between their lips she held open with two fingers. Cleo noticed the potion was pale pink with hair-thin orange swirls—as if it was a watered-down version of the healing potion Rosalia had used.

  “Cleo, you’re coming with me. Do not mention that word again. It’s far too dangerous.”

  He beckoned Cleo closer, and when she was by his side he gripped her arm in a friendly manner, but his hand was like iron and his grasp more than firm.

  “Squad,” he said loudly. “We’re going to see the Commander. Clean up here and report back. The two injured men are to be taken to the infirmary, placed under guard, and questioned when they’ve recovered enough. I’ll do that personally.”

  “Sir!” one of the older legionnaires said. Cleo assumed he was a sergeant or an officer.

  Dalvin turned his piercing eyes on Cleo, and she found herself wanting to flinch or look away, but steeled herself to meet them.

  “I have some questions for you, young Cleo. As I’m sure Commander Magnus will as well.”

  * * *

  Back in the commander’s office, Cleo flopped into an armchair beside the table filled with snacks. She was tired and sore, and mentally drained.

  At least there are snacks.

  She avoided the honeyed dates and nibbled on a few nuts. There was a carafe filled with water and three glasses, and she poured herself a drink. After a slight pause, she poured another for Dalvin.

  He accepted his glass gratefully, and then continued to pace back and forth, muttering to himself. Cleo couldn’t figure out whether this was the attendant—mage—thinking, or whether he was casting spells in an attempt to track down Zane.

  After about ten minutes of pacing, and Cleo nibbling, Commander Magnus strode into the room. Behind him trailed Aedan and his two bodyguards. In their regular bodyguard attire— black pants and dark-gray shirts, and hip-length leather coats—they did look more professional and a touch menacing.

  “Oh, that’s a shame,” Cleo said, meeting the woman bodyguard’s eyes. “I thought the dress looked lovely on you.”

  The woman narrowed her eyes but remained silent. Aedan’s gaze flicked to Cleo periodically, never resting on her for more than an instant.

  “That was a compliment…” Cleo trailed off and averted her eyes, reaching for another nut.

  “Cleo, are you… recovered?” Aedan said.

  Recovered from embarrassingly bursting into tears? “I’ll be fine,” she said.

  “Dalvin, an update if you please,” Magnus said. The commander sat in his chair behind the desk, which creaked under his weight. He looked exhausted: pale and drawn face, eyes heavy-lidded. She imagined he was under a great deal of stress, with Mossfell to deal with in addition to his usual duties. And now this disturbance.

  “Cleo claims a Dark One attacked her. She managed to hold him off until I arrived. I was alerted to large usages of mana and intriguing signatures, and made my way there with as much haste as I could manage.”

  Flying. He flew. “It’s not a claim, it happened,” Cleo said. “The two workers will be able to tell you I was attacked. They saw… well, they saw the beginning.”

  Dalvin grunted. “I’m afraid they won’t be talking for a while. Mind control scrambles memories and thoughts, and it will take a specialist healer to undo the damage. And even then there’s no guarantee they’ll ever be the same.”

  “Mind control?” Magnus exclaimed. “Dalvin, explain.”

  “Cleo, why don’t you give us your version of events?” Davin said.

  “My version, which is the truth,” she said.

  Cleo narrated her account of the fight, from the unprovoked ambush attack on her, to Zane mind controlling the men, and him fleeing when he realized Dalvin was swiftly approaching. Her story was interrupted with constant questions from Dalvin, Magnus, and Aedan—most of which dwelled on small details she thought were mostly insignificant, like what Zane was wearing, exactly what he had said, and how he acted.

  “What was that he called himself? See-ewn… ” Aedan said.

  “Siunattu. I take it you’ve never heard the word before?” Cleo said.

  “No, never.”

  “That’s exactly what a Dark One would say,” Cleo said with a half-smile. She was fairly certain Aedan was in the clear, but then again, maybe he was just a good actor.

  “Not funny. Anyhow, you said when he appeared he looked ‘unwashed’ — that was the word you used,” Aedan said.

  “Yes,” Cleo replied. She thought for a moment. “I haven’t seen him since Mossfell. He did look a bit unkempt. Maybe he was in hiding? And he wasn’t in the meeting you called, Commander.”

  “Why not? Dalvin?”

  The attendant shook his head. “Rivett didn’t mention him. I had no idea he existed until today.”

  Commander Magnus caught the attention of one of the legionnaire guards. “Get the caravan leader, Rivett, here now. Quickly!”

  With a crisp salute, fist over heart, the soldier hurried out of the room.

  If Rivett hadn’t mentioned Zane, then… “Mind control,” Cleo said. “But not as harsh as what he used on the two men, something far more subtle.”

  Aedan stared at her, as if expecting Cleo to volunteer more information, and lowered his eyes, frowning with disappointment when she didn’t.

  Dalvin snapped his fingers, the sharp crack drawing everyone’s attention to him. “She’s right. Rivett is suspect, as is everyone in the caravan.”

  Cleo drew a deep breath, about to protest, but Aedan beat her to it.

  “Surely you don’t suspect us of being Dark Ones?” he said.

  “I suspect almost everyone,” Dalvin said. “We cannot afford not to. But it’s best to be cautious until we know for sure. Rivett’s memories might have been tinkered with. In fact, based on the evidence, they must have been, otherwise he would have told us about this Zane.” He raised a finger and pointed it at Aedan. “And you didn’t mention him.” The finger moved to point at Cleo. “And you didn’t either.”

  Aedan’s eyes narrowed for a moment, and then his shoulders slumped. He nodded slowly. “You’re right. I should have realized Zane ought to have been with us in the meeting, and he wasn’t.”

  “I saw he was missing,” Cleo said, “but I thought there was a reason.”

  “Ah, so you noticed… ” Aedan muttered. “Of course you did. You’re observant, which is to be expected of someone with your intelligence.”

  Cleo lowered her gaze and wiggled uneasily in her chair, not comfortable with or used to compliments.

  “We have a day,” Magnus said. “Less than a day. I need them to be cleared by tomorrow morning. Is that enough time, Dalvin?”

  The attendant mage sniffed, and then nodded. “It will be. It’ll have to be.”

  Cleo was in the middle of drinking some water, and coughed when she realized their plans also included her.

  “What’s happening tomorrow morning?” she said.

  Commander Magnus stood from his chair and came out from behind his desk. He narrowed his eyes, as if debating with himself how much to tell them all.

  “The 13th Legion guards the Gravelands and the dungeon,” he said. “And we train new legionnaires for the Empire. The Gravelands are meant to be relatively peaceful, and we can ease new recruits into the Legion life, such as it is. But not too slowly, ha! This problem with Mossfell and the creature you fought, and now Zane, makes me think something larger is afoot. Plans within plans, and maybe this is meant to disrupt the Empire from within. More disturbingly, we’ve scryed anomalies appearing throughout the Gravelands.”

  “Anomalies?” Aedan said. “What sort of anomalies?”

  “Massive surges of mana, at least five that we know of,” Dalvin explained. He stopped and glanced at Magnus.

  “You know more than you’re saying,” Cleo said before she could stop herself.

  Magnus gave Dalvin a nod, and the mage continued. “We’ve received reports of Corrupted Scourge incursions inside our territory. Portals opening to disgorge some of the Scourge, before closing again. Nothing major, but it’s worrying.”

  “And you think these mana surges are portals?” Aedan said.

  “I do,” Dalvin replied. “We’re putting together teams to investigate. A legion squad plus some carded in each. But with the situation in Mossfell and everything else, there are more anomalies than we can comfortably handle. Which is why…” He trailed off and looked at Magnus.

  The commander’s gaze became steely, and he drew himself up. “Which is why, under the power invested in me by the Empire and the Eternal Empress, may she live forever, I hereby declare you conscripted. You are now representatives of the 13th Legion, and as such must abide by the Legion’s rules and regulations.”

  “What’s that mean?” Cleo said, alarm growing within her. Surely he couldn’t mean she was now part of the Imperial Legion…

  Aedan looked angry, his face reddening, and his two bodyguards moved a step closer to him. “This is outrageous!”

  “It means,” Magnus said, “that you either assist the Legion or you’ll find yourself incarcerated for a period of not less than sixty days. And possibly, if I’m in a bad mood, branded a traitor.”

  “This isn’t funny, Magnus!” Aedan said.

  “I just want to go to Lethanas!” Cleo said.

  “Too bad,” Magnus said. “We have work to do. The fight against the Corrupted Scourge is unceasing. It should only take a week, so play along or face the consequences. You two will be assigned to a squad, and head out to investigate one of the anomalies.”

  Aedan glared at Magnus, his hands on his hips and his lips pressed into a thin line, but he said nothing.

  Cleo decided that there was no way to wriggle out of this, and she might as well try to get something as compensation.

  “I want a wand, and some healing potions.”

  Magnus glared at her, but Dalvin sighed and nodded.

  “Done,” the mage said. “But it’ll be a low-power wand, and a cheap potion.”

  “To keep,” Cleo added. “Not a loan.”

  Dalvin hesitated, and then nodded.

  “Good enough.” Cleo knew when to back off. These people were far more powerful than she was, and didn’t need to accommodate her wishes if they didn’t want to.

  A week’s detour to check out a possible portal, maybe a few undead to put down, and then she’d be back and would be on her way to Lethanas and the Misk’Imas Institution. Another slight delay, but one she could handle, and it would be over before she knew it.

  “Wait,” she said suddenly. “Didn’t you say you had to clear us, first? What does that entail?”

  “I have to look inside your mind,” Dalvin said.

  Frak.