CHAPTER FOURTEEN

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Alana

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19th of Decepter, 935 PC

The sun was setting in the distance. The sky was a mixture of oranges, pinks, and purples, the sun itself a bright yellow sphere in the middle of a grander beauty. But no less harsh on the eyes. Alana shaded her face with one hand to get a better look at the shackled Purist. The prisoner was barricaded behind a wall of Lotus, their bodies were mostly silhouettes. Days of hovering over and around The Emerald Wood in hopes of spotting Urman Gant had resulted in little more than a few disappointing claims and more than a few tantrums from Laspin. That is until the Purist was spotted on the edge of the forest. Now, Laspin was stalking around the ship with a chest full of pride and the young Lotus that had spotted the woman, Goma Narez, under his arm.

Alana was thoroughly jealous of the newcomer. Look at him. Been with us three weeks and he’s already got his damn pin. Everywhere I look, pins, pins, and more pins. I’d like to take one of them and shove-. She was interrupted by the squawking of birds on the side of the rail. Harsh, annoying things, birds. Unaware of when it was their turn to speak. She glared at them beneath her raised hand. They showed no interest or hard feelings.

Three Lotus had come before this one during Alana’s time with the outfit. Io claimed when he and Ulla joined Purists wound up in the brig every other day, but once the scum got word of what was happening they began offing themselves when they got in pinches as opposed to facing the atrocities of becoming The Lotus Queen’s captive. That was apparently not the case for this particular Purist. It had taken less than an hour to corner her and bring her aboard after she had been spotted. According to Ulla, never one to miss a hunt, the Purist tried to claim she was not magical. A foolish move in Alana’s opinion. Before The Lotus Queen developed her magic it may have been quite simple to lie about one’s status as a Purist, not that there was ever a reason to. But now, Lotus could sense the magic within their enemies. Their own strange hybrid form of magic was drawn to it, as if the tained, ruined ounces of pure magic within them wanted to be returned to its rightful home. When Alana had learned of the connection between the two groups of mages she had mistakenly assumed it would pull her straight to any Lotus in the empire. More specifically, her father. But as fate would have it, Lotus had to be reasonably close to Purists, the length of a tall building typically, to get even a hint of suspicion. Life would have been too easy if they could pick up a scent from hundreds of miles away.

Alana was distracted by Io exiting Ulla’s cabin and joining his sister beside Laspin when Kit smacked her arm. The captive had emerged through the harsh sunlight and was crossing the main deck. Her clothes were caked in mud, her face bloody and dirty. Even still, there was a soft look to the Purist. A kindness. Gotta hand it to her. I’d have already tried to jump off the side of the ship if I was in her boots. Laspin fell in line with her stride and thrusted a powerful grip around the back of her neck that put a look of terror in her eyes. A surprising amount of sympathy fluttered in Alana’s chest as the greasy officer threw the woman down. Her shackles clinging and clanging. She lay there, facedown, in fear. Too scared to move. Or in too much pain. Alana wasn’t sure what all the others had done to her on the ground below.

“Tie this bitch to the mast,” said Laspin. He looked directly at Kit and Alana. Both Lotus stood up straighter, Kit lurching toward the Purist, Alana moving to retrieve rope from near the crane. .

Laspin turned to the others. “Gather round!” he yelled. Those Lotus that were tending to other tasks on the ship began to file in around their captain and the main mast.

Kit dragged the woman the ten feet it took to get her in front of the main mast and sat her up against it, less rough than Laspin would have liked, surely, but still harder than Alana liked seeing. What’s wrong with me? I’m not built to care about everyone else's feelings. Alana helped wrap the rope around the woman’s torso and chest several times.

The Purist muttered quietly under her breath. “Please. Help me. I won’t hurt anyone. Please.”

Neither Lotus responded, though Alana could tell Kit was feeling the same uncomfortable feelings she was now that she had a good look at his face. That’s the Kit I know. Wouldn’t kill a Purist if they were threatening to kill his family. How does someone like him get caught up in a war like this? Doubt it’s the same way I did. Can’t be that stupid and naive.

What awaited the captured Purist was nothing short of the worst fate a person could face, especially for a Purist. First, she would be left tied to the mast until she was frozen to the core. During that time Lotus were free to do what they wished to her, spit on her, berate her, whatever came to mind. Some of the more demented Lotus would abuse her, Alana was sure. Then, when Laspin saw fit, she’d be thrown in the brig for any remaining time she had onboard before she was delivered to one of the several locations across the empire that gathered captured Purists and took them to Harvesthouses. There The Lotus Queen or one of her closest alchemists would harvest their magic and kill them. Alana had never been interested in finding out the exact details of the harvesting process, but she knew it was bloody and brutal. She’s doomed to live a fate even worse than mine. Alana’s inevitable death would involve her body eventually becoming too weak to sustain the hardships of having lotus in its system. Her blood would thin out so much that there would eventually be too little for the synthetic magic to mix with. And she would die. It was called drying out and it happened to every Lotus. Eventually. If they survived long enough of course. There were plenty of Purists willing to kill Lotus if given the chance.

Alana finished off the knots and stood, catching a glimpse of the Purist’s face as she stepped away. Damp streaks of tears cut through the dirt on her cheeks. Pleading eyes begged her for help. As much as Alana’s heart felt for the woman, her mind was permanently fixed in a state of self-preservation. Sorry sweetheart. Better you than me.

Laspin began his spiele to the group.

“This…” he searched for the right words. “... disgusting piece of shit is what the bastards call a Medicalist.” There were mumbles through the crowd. Including Kit.

“That’s a find there. Medicalists are rare,” he muttered.

Laspin grabbed the Purist by her long brown hair as he bent over slightly. He snapped her head back for his soldiers to see her face better. “Don’t let her innocent looks deceive ya’s. She’s a killer, a hateful murderer.” The Purist did her best to shake her head in not so subtle disagreement. Luckily for her, Laspin didn’t notice. “But there’s something she can do that can help us until we drop her off with the boys in Amberwood.” He looked at her. “Ain’t that right beautiful?” The Purist bit her lip in fear. He thrust her head away with a shove and stood upright. “She can heal ya of damn near any cut, bruise, break, or sprain ya got. So starting now, Hurd…” He turned to find Alana. “... you will be assigned to watching over the prisoner from sunup to sundown, in the brig. The rest of ya’s can get aches and pains taken care of while Hurd makes sure the filthy bitch doesn’t try to kill ya.”

Are you serious? Just do what we always do with captives. Break her will to live and toss her in the brig. The burden of such a task was setting in quickly. Dammit. Damn him to the three hells. Lords. Sunup to sundown. Are you serious?

Kit looked at her, eyes wide.

“You hear that, Hurd?” asked Laspin angrily.

“Aye, sir. I understand.”

“Good. We’ll leave her where she is tonight and put her in the brig first thing in the morning.”

*~~~**~~~*

Kit and Io joined Alana in her cubicle that night. Kit because that’s what Kit did, and Io because he was avoiding his sister. Ulla had spent the entire day trying to convince him that the two of them should wander into The Emerald Wood that night to find Gant. Io’s response was to get completely and thoroughly drunk so he would not be capable of doing so.

A transition occurred when Io drank, one that took him from a figure in the background that was known for little more than snide jabs and sarcasm, to something between a poet, a bard, and a philosopher. Whatever it was that he became, it was always on the verge of crying over something he had no control over. An interesting behavior for a man that had trained to become part of one of the most formidable military presences in the empire. Might just be why he didn’t make it in. Kit found Io annoying when he drank, but Alana enjoyed him. There was a lot of bullshit piled on top of a few moments of brilliance. Considering most everyone else around her was nothing to write home about, any amount of brilliance was worth Io’s whining. Not to mention watching him cry often made her laugh.

“I feel so bad for you, Alana,” said Io and ran his hand through his hair. He had taken his gambeson off earlier, claiming he was hot. Now, he wore a beige cotton shirt with strings at the neck. His eyes were half-closed except when he was worked up about something and his short brown hair was drenched in sweat from when he had put his face close to the glowing red rocks in the bowl by Alana’s bed. Kit had brought over one of the four bowls that were shared by the entire sleeping quarters after most of the other Lotus had fallen asleep.

Alana was sitting on her foldout bed, her back against the bulkhead, the ends of her legs hanging over the edge of the thin mattress. “Why’s that?” she asked.

“Laspin has made you no better than a prisoner assigning you to spend your days in the brig with the Purist.”

Kit nodded his head in agreement as if the notion had popped into his mind at some point as well. The thought had run through her mind several times that evening as well. She was not a fan of being around the brig for any amount of time, let alone for hours at a time. The cell’s floor was covered in straw that had been found on an abandoned farm and covered in blood, sweat, and other things that only made the smell worse. How she was going to hold her stomach was beyond her. A strong stomach was not something she could pride herself on.

“Ah. Don’t worry about me. It’ll only be a tenday or less.”

Io frowned. “Ah, wishful thinking from those who are prisoners. Hoping for a sun to set that has no horizon.” Suddenly Io’s brilliance wasn’t so attractive.

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“The powerful make decisions that benefit the few. And though the prisoners are but two, these decisions will not aid you.”

She lost her cool. “Dammit Io. Tell me what the fuck you’re talking about.” He looked at her with big, wide eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m just annoyed. Please tell me in a way I can understand.”

This time Io spoke much clearer and sensibly. Dumber, in his head, she was sure. “Ulla claims Laspin has no intention of taking the healer to Amberwood.”

“Three hells if he’s not,” said Alana hotly. “I’m not spending everyday in the brig so he can get his rocks off boasting about capturing a rare Purist.” I’ll make damn sure he doesn’t keep this woman prisoner till she runs empty. I’ll slit her throat tonight if I have to. But she wouldn’t. Alana had a thing for dramatics. In her head. In her words. In practice, she was like a sack of potatoes sitting on the edge of a table; always making others think it might move, but seldom doing so.

Io, apparently still too drunk to remember Alana’s recent outburst, spoke in poetry once again. “Never slower does a candle burn than when watched by anxious eyes.”

She exhaled. “Enough, Io. I get it.” Do I? What the hell is this man talking about now?

Sensing Alana may have missed the point of Io’s last comment, Kit elaborated. “Sounds to me like Laspin’s going to wait for the Purist’s magic to run out. Then who knows. Probably kill her.”

“Precisely,” Io said.

Alana looked at him through narrow eyes. “And your sister’s fine with that?” Io shrugged.

“Never faster does the-” Io stopped when Alana’s glare became more severe, surprising even herself that such was possible.

“She is gonna keep some of us from dying ya know,” Kit said. “That’s pretty important. And you ain’t gonna be going on many missions if you’re stuck here.”

She thought about it but was interrupted by Io. Though, he seemed to be speaking to the sky just as much as she and Kit.

“Is it worse to thrust a terrible fate upon another or to be the one that ensures they can’t escape it?” He shook his head in drunken disappointment.

Kit and Alana mumbled opposite answers simultaneously. Alana taking the latter.

Suddenly, Kit stood, reached into his pocket, and revealed a handful of lotus capsules. Alana’s eyes widened. There has to be at least a dozen there. He handed them all to her.

“What’s this for?” she asked.

“You’ll need them more than me. And I can always-” He stopped himself before mentioning Keila. “Just take them.”

She smiled at him.