Chapter 15 : Spanish Ladies

Sesus Siata, Water-Aspect Dragonblooded

Realm Year 764, Ascending Wood

Road to The Lap, Southern Inland Sea Coast, Barbarian Lands

There was an unusual sense of satisfaction in watching common work be done. 

“Hammer.” The sorcerer-prodigy held out a hand, legs sticking out from underneath the cart, laying on his back. The beautiful alchemist paused for a moment, crouching near his legs, before finding a hammer and placing it in his hand. The hand retreated and a few bangs of steel on steel followed.

The cart itself was being held up by the thin but deceptively strong arms of the snakeman, an entire corner of the laden cart held up with a flawlessly steady hoist. The other side was being held both by a brace and the strong arms of the monk, who was not quite as steady. Siata could attest- the snakeman was atrociously strong for such a lithe, delicate form.

The Ram Lizard paused in its chewing of savannah grasses, looking over to him dumbly. Siata smiled and rubbed its side vigorously, provoking the immense beast to toss its head forwards before returning to the flora feast. A great dumb animal, but there was something charming about that lacking mind.

“How goes the repairs, cousin?” Siata called out, in a relatively good mood despite the delay. It was difficult to be too upset, looking across a strange but majestic view. Rolling grasslands and thin trees, broken up by thin rock walls and the occasional primitive foundation of stone and clay, long fallen into ruins. There was a village here once, maybe a hundred years ago, but it was long gone by now.

“The cart wasn’t designed for these rocky roads.” Rhomon explained between bouts of hammering lengths of carved firewood into the underside of the purchased carriage. “It’s a towncart, not a tradecart, so the suspension slowly wore down until the wheel snapped off.”

Ah, so his choice of cart wasn’t exactly the most discerning, was it? He did his best to maintain poise, before slowly realizing that no one was glancing his way.

His shoulders slumped, halfway between sheepishness that he expended the effort and relief that he didn’t need to again. The Ram Lizard decided to dent the soft earth at that moment with one heavy bash of its skull. Siata chuckled, reaching under to scratch its rough chin scales. 

His cousin was a kind sort. Always ready to point out where Siata had erred but never holding that over him. Just a reminder before moving along. He had found and corrected more mistakes in their brief travel together than Siata had managed on his own in years.

Was this the talent of a prodigy that the whole Realm spoke of? Siata found himself jealous. 

“We’ll have to buy a new cart in The Lap, but this should last-” Rhomon paused in his talking briefly, provoking a curious tilt of his head. After a few moments of hammering, the sorcerer continued speaking. “Be careful to not react obviously, but there are disguised soldiers approaching us.”

Siata’s eyes widened, even as his shoulders stilled. The monk and prince were equally composed, but the beautiful alchemist flinched violently. 

“How did you detect them?” Brahm asked quickly and quietly, eyes starting to roam subtly.

“You know that raiton I summoned?” Rhomon said, reaching out from under the cart and vaguely gesturing upwards. Siata cast his gaze skywards, spotting a lone feathered lizard circling over them like the scavenger it was. “I’m seeing through its gaze at the moment, and her eyes are substantially better than mine.”

Rhomon hammered briefly before pushing out from under the cart, starting to casually put his tools in order. “It’s okay to set the cart down now, Shuri, Brahm.” He stated calmly, waving at the newly braced undercarriage.

“How can you tell they’re soldiers, sir Rhomon?” Shuri asked in his delicate manner, gently easing the heavy cart down and stepping back. 

“They’re hiding shortswords in their sleeves as they approach.” Rhomon explained, rolling the bag of tools up and gently setting it in the back of the cart again. “Their robes remind me of the ones we saw in An-Teng. So maybe they’re from there.”

“P-perhaps they’re from the Domain of the Silver Souled?” Melia offered, bringing both hands together and stepping back next to the cart. Siata nodded thoughtfully, that was entirely possible-

“Not one of them has white hair.” Rhomon shook his head. 

-Ah! Yes that’s right, wasn’t it? “And we’ve yet to wander across anyone else since leaving their domain, which means this group followed us from An-Teng!” Siata declared, standing up and gently punching his palm. 

“How far away are they?” Brahm asked quietly. “And may I borrow a sword?”

“Sure, I still have my old one.” Rhomon muttered, reaching back and tossing the one-edged blade over to the monk, who quietly placed it by his side, a moment’s breath from his hand. “They’re on the edge of the village ruins now. North-westerly. Two are breaking off from the group to go wide around our position.”

“So they’re definitely moving to encircle. We are their targets.” Brahm muttered. 

“Brahm, Shuri, guard Melia. Siata, would you mind protecting me while I cast?” Rhomon quickly chopped his hand, taking up his staff and walking around to the back end of the cart. 

“What about our Ram Lizard-?” Siata began, stepping forwards but hesitating to glance at the dumb lizard. Rhomon looked over and raised a hand, muttering an ancient word and twisting his palm clockwise. 

The Ram Lizard practically collapsed as it settled down into an instantaneous nap. A reminder of his cousin’s sorcerous puissance. It was enough to make him nervous, but he had a good enough read on the sorcerer by this point to tell he was mostly good natured.

Siata didn’t know much about the supposedly mortal sorcerer when he approached him. A few aimless years in An-Teng had disconnected him from the wider Realm gossip, so his distant relative’s retrieval of the long-lost regalia had been an immense surprise. The immediate shunning of any social gatherings caused quite a stir, and speculation that the sorcerer disdained his fellows.

Initially Siata thought it was nothing more than the sorcerer being thoughtless in his pursuit of occult secrets, but now he was starting to figure there was an element of truth to that rumor. Cousin Rhomon was impressively surly when he decided to be, and Siata found it hard to predict when and where he’d make a stand.

A flutter of wings heralded the raiton’s descent from the air, fluttering down to land next to its master. Scavengers and unclean corpse-eaters, feathered lizards that flew like crows and circled like vultures over new fresh carcasses. A distinctly unlucky omen to witness.

Rhomon had heard none of their protests and instead pointed at its soft tawny feathers, oversized head and claws, and slightly stumpy wings. ‘Isn’t she the cutest!’ he had declared with a toothy grin and a squinted eye, while scratching it under its sharp beak and feathered tail.

It was fairly cute, Siata privately admitted, for a corpse-scavenger at least. 

“Ho there! Friend or foe!?” The sorcerer called out suddenly in shaky Firetongue, raising his voice to carry over the ruins. Siata followed his gaze over a few short tumbled walls, where men wearing concealing tan robes paused to regard them. They had the features of An-Teng descent, honey skin and narrow eyes, but it was difficult to determine anything further. 

“Friend of course, friend!” Came the answer from one wearing a long red scarf. He had a thin beard and narrow eyes, and a long scar that crossed his nose. “Our business is only with a fugitive- a woman of An-Teng- has she lied her way into your company?”

The lovely alchemist shrank back behind the monk and snakeman, doing her best to not be seen by any of the men. Was she the- no of course not. Fugitives were as a rule ugly folk, so a lovely alchemist couldn’t be the woman they sought. 

“Describe this fugitive to us fir- stay right there!” The sorcerer began before booming ominously and raising his staff. The mortal men paused as they were approaching. “We will speak from this distance!” He glowered, stomping his staff once harshly. 

“Ah, of course friend, of course!” The red-scarfed man replied, raising his hands gregariously. “We mean no harm, not even to this fugitive! We only seek to return her to our employer in An-Teng, so that she may pay for her crimes. No harm to her by our hands.”

“And what are her crimes, you have not told us this.” Rhomon raised his hand and squinted, the raiton on his shoulder twisting its head to get a better look at the man. 

“A very bad woman, yes.” The man assured politely. “She was under the thrall of a rogue god, who was driven out by the great Immaculates. The lease of her shop was in danger of expiring without his ill-gotten monies, but our employer generously purchased the lot, and gave her plenty of time to pay him back.”

He shrugged and shook his head regretfully. “But she refused to pay her debts, and has fled the country, and broken this contract of trust- would you not say? Our employer is merciful, however, and will take her in as his alchemist.”

“A lie.” Melia muttered hatefully, clinging to the robes of the monk, face hidden behind his back. 

Siata glanced back at her with furrowed brows.

“Ah, what was that-?” The red-scarfed man began to ask, being cut off with a sharp gesture by the sorcerer. 

“And what does this woman look like?” The sorcerer asked with a dynastic sneer on his face. Siata was suitably impressed, the drawl was really quite professional. It reminded him of the sneers his older cousins sometimes gave their house-slaves. 

“Ah, she is beautiful, so let not her charms mislead you, friend.” The man nodded and smiled. “Her hair is long and rich-green, and her eyes are a shining violet. She is pale as a princess, and I’ve been told her voice is like honey.”

“Ah, then there is no issue.” The sorcerer shrugged. “The woman i’ve hired as my aide has seaweed for hair and pallid skin. She only speaks kindly when she’s lying to me, and growls cutely whenever she’s frustrated.”

“Hey!” Melia snapped with a growl, head shooting up past the shoulder of the monk to glare at the sorcerer, before quickly retreating again. 

Siata chuckled. “Now cousin, that’s not very fair to say of dear Melia.” He commented.

“Melia you say? That’s the name I was told…” The red-scarfed man commented, rubbing his chin. Siata’s heart skipped a beat as he realized what he had said. “Now friends, you wouldn’t be trying to deceive me, would you?”

“To deceive would require more information than we have.” The sorcerer shrugged. “Tell me, should my aide be the one you are seeking, and if the matter is money, then House Mnemon will simply pay off the remainder.”

“Ah, I’m afraid that will not be possible, friend.” The man smiled kindly, inclining his head. “Our employer was very specific, he has no more need of money, but an alchemist as fair as she-”

“He doesn’t want her for her alchemy though, does he?” The sorcerer interrupted with a flat expression. The raiton on his shoulder let out a little shriek and flew upwards, well into the air and out of the way. “If he wanted to hire an alchemist, he could.”

“...I’m afraid I can say no more friend, for I didn’t ask.” The man’s face fell into a professional mask. The men around him shifted, placing their hands upon the ruins or reaching into their sleeves. The sleeves the sorcerer said he saw weapons hidden within. “Do we feed the raitons today? Or will you release her into our care?”

“Siata, defend me.” Rhomon stated in blunt High Realm, raising his staff. A rolling chant began to fall from his lips, and his spare hand began to flow through precise finger-poses. Siata raised Red Wing with mild alarm, not expecting the talks to turn to threats so quickly. 

The tan-robed warriors began to run their direction, tossing themselves over short walls and down rubble roads with prayers on their lips. Warriors leapt towards them from either side, over the ruin walls and far closer than the main collection. One battle-cry came over the rest.

“Bull-Headed Ahlat! Our victory in your name!” 

Ah, pagans as well. Siata swallowed back his nerves as he took a defensive stance, broad red daiklave making wide sweeps before him. He’d need to intercept them before they reached his cousin.

He was the Dragon here, he was the Prince of the Earth. He needed to protect them. 

The moment hung in the air. To Siata’s perceptions, the attackers hovered in position, hands reaching to draw short blades from their sleeves and rush towards them. His cousin held his staff up and before him, an occult word on his lips, and a mystic fire burning in the tip of the staff. The Monk and the fine Snakeman behind him, backs to the alchemist that these men claimed to be a fugitive…

Ah… he got it now. They were lying vagrants, here to abduct his cousin’s servant. 

His pupils shrank. The moment passed.

A heavy chop smashed into the guard of a man, then into his shoulder, a spray of red following before the man was tossed to the side with a scream of pain. Blades shot out from his allies, stabbing at his arms and torso, and he took a step back to avoid them. Siata grit his teeth as his sleeves were torn and stained red. His breastplate deflecting their blades to the side and leaving him unharmed. 

The sharp ringing of steel on steel provoked a glance back, where the monk and snakeman were engaged with the blades of two men, their weapons a blur. 

The flame in the tip of his cousin’s staff flashed, racing out to smash aside a heavy thrust. The man let out a sound of fear and surprise as the fire gathered into the staff once more. “M- Magician!”

Siata grit his teeth, throwing himself forwards in a shoulder-tackle of the nearest man, tossing him back and making another heavy chop of his blade. The man staggered and fell back, and the heavy chop was parried upwards by the dagger of the red-scarfed ruffian. 

The red-scarfed man smirked, the knife twisting and flashing forwards. A heavy chop made Siata stagger, a spray of red painting his shoulder. 

There was a cool sensation along his throat. 

‘A prince of the earth, and still such a failure. Have you no shame, brother?’

Siata kicked off the ground, a desperate howl coming up from his chest and spilling out of his lips. His heart began a heavy, pounding beat as energy flowed into his anima. 

Seafoam essence screamed around him as he threw himself forwards, a heavy thrust of Red Wing cleaving through a man’s guard, through his chest, and out the side of his torso. Blue-green essence made his organs burst as an overripe fruit a moment later.  

The men pulled back, their noses and eyes spraying blood as his elemental anima tore into their forms. 

“Dragonblooded?! No- retreat! Retreat!” The red-scarfed man gasped out, pulling back. 

His sleeve was grasped suddenly in a bronze grip, making him swirl about and stab thusly.

A sharp metallic clang followed, as the steel blade bounced off Rhomon’s throat. The sorcerer pulled the man back and slammed his knee into the man’s gut, making him gasp for air and stagger. Rhomon tossed the man disdainfully to Siata’s feet, and began another chant with staff raised high.

Siata stomped down on the man’s back, his seafoam essence washing over his form. The man struggled briefly, before belching out a wave of blood and falling limp. 

He raised his gaze to the fleeing warriors, jumping over walls and ruins in an effort to escape. The man below his feet continued to liquify as elemental essence tore his body apart. 

“They’ll get away!” Brahm growled, pulling his borrowed sword from the chest of his foe. 

Siata raised his sword. Red Wing would live up to his name, he knew. With a heavy toss, the artifact sword cut through the air-

-And missed, thunking into the stone ruins next to a fleeing ruffian and sinking into the rock up to the hilt. A somewhat sheepish expression overtook his face, waves of elemental energy tearing the ground around his feet into red slush and bare stone.

“Ah.” Siata said lamely. 

He turned to grab at the bow and arrow, but hesitated as his anima screamed, tearing at the edges of the cart before he pulled himself back in time. “Damnation!” He cursed, glancing back over to the fleeing men. 

A bird of flame burst into existence at the tip of the sorcerer’s staff, screaming furiously before racing forwards through the air. A Brilliant Raptor, three yards wide from wingtip to wingtip, streaking through the hot air.

“They won’t get away.” The sorcerer declared coolly, lowering his staff.

They watched the bird streak through the air for a few moments, before swooping down like a bolt of lightning and crashing into the centermost fleeing man.

A bright column of fire followed, expanding outwards in all directions as far as the wings of the bird were. Scorched black ruins and burning shrubberies were all that remained of the ruffians. 

The crackle of distant, quickly dying fires filled the air for a few moments. 

“Monk, would you be willing to oversee their funerary rites?” The sorcerer asked.

“Of course.” The monk replied. 

“Afterwards, I will have a discussion with my aide about the troubles she was fleeing from.” The sorcerer turned to give a smiling eye at the fair woman.

She visibly swallowed, glancing to the corpses, before smiling tightly and nodding. “Of course, master.”