Tempered by the Will

16 - Responsibilities

 Vica didn't get a chance to argue about hiding like a coward, but she wasn't sure if she would have anyway: she and Constantine had yet to return to speaking terms, but after two weeks of the bare minimum of communication between them, much of her wrathful anger had cooled to a controlled bitterness, something that she could think clearly around if the need arose.

And there was certainly a need now. Constantine was a wanted man with an official kill order set on him, while she was probably in similarly dire straits for what she had done to damage the Capital's forces weeks ago. She had known Bren would be doomed by mere association with them, but now that she knew something of his mottled history and the filthy practices concerning elves in this place, she dreaded to know what else might happen to him all because she had dragged him here.

What timing, for unfriendly faces to come while Felix was still absent. There was no doubt in her mind that they were coming to look for either her or Constantine; why else would they come in force? Surely they knew Duke Aventine was not at home and were trying to take advantage of it. How they had found out about his fugitive guests, she didn't know, but they had all known from the beginning that it would be impossible to stay hidden forever anyway.

But where was he? Felix had been gone for almost a week now. He had sent notice exactly once three days ago saying that he was still handling Court business that would take a while to resolve, but now she wondered if something had happened to him, too. Maybe the people that were on their way had found out he was hiding something after all.

She had nothing resembling even the slightest fondness for the Duke who had had her kidnapped in the first place months ago, but he was the most powerful ally she had within the Capital. The only one, rather, with any influence at all. She would rather go out and make her stand in a blaze of fire against the corrupt Order, but in her short time here, she'd begun figuring out that she needed finesse rather than force.

Felix had finesse. She needed him for that. If something really had happened to him, she would have to figure out a way to get him back, small army or not.

"I think the duke is in trouble," she whispered to Bren from where they'd hidden in the small warded cellar. It was dark but warm in here, spelled for comfort in times like these. There were even plush armchairs in here to sit on, which they were doing now. Not that the luxury made her feel any better about what was happening upstairs. "Maybe we should get out there."

"I don't think that would be a good idea."

"Isn't it possible they're holding Felix prisoner? The last time we heard from him was a while ago. He could be captured or something - maybe he was forced to tell them about us."

Bren nodded. "It's possible."

"If they start digging around and making a racket, then we'll know they're looking for me. Actually - if I have to go, you stay down here."

"In the event you have to confront them, it's better if I come with you."

"But you're..."

"They won't know who or what I am, not at first glance," he said with a soft smile. "There's no need to concern yourself with that. I can pass for human easily enough unless they arbitrarily decide to take a much closer look at me. Besides, it's been a very long time since anyone's last seen me here, and it wouldn't have been anyone who can walk freely between different duchies. Moreover, I doubt there's anyone alive who remembers me anymore."

Vica frowned. "You think your father...?"

"My father never saw my face. We were only to be brought to him after we proved our value and completed the schooling necessary to be of use to him. I left this place long before that could happen."

That would teach her to ask personal questions again. She had expected nothing less than a deeply callous and cruel father, but she hadn't thought the man would completely discard and ignore his children until they could be 'of use' to him. Even if someone could be so horrifyingly evil as to force women to bear his children, was there no natural paternal urge there either? She had always thought no matter how twisted a man, he would at least want to do good things for his children.

Apparently not. But maybe it was a good thing Bren had never met his father. Better to be unknown than to suffer at the hands of someone like that, or be corrupted.

"It's alright," he said. "But we shouldn't be reckless. Who knows what they might do to the duke if they do have him prisoner? Being discovered would put you in danger, but you are still a threat they have to respect. If they have already captured and restrained the duke, he is completely at their mercy."

That made her pause. He was right. Then all they could do was wait down here in this dim cellar, hiding like rats.

She didn't have the mind for this kind of thing, the strategic twirling and careful prancing around each other instead of facing their problems head on. It was frustrating, not being able to simply act on instinct the way she wanted to, but Bren was right. She couldn't endanger their own ally by being reckless, no matter how much she wanted to charge up the steps and burst into their midst to demand if they wanted a piece of her.

The battle at the Steps of Tiamat weeks ago had been the end of such simplicity. In an explosion of force, she had swept away all her problems, but the kind of obstacles that the resulting tide had pulled in were so much more complex now. Now she had to worry about politics and history and people who didn't think they needed saving. Worst of all was the knowledge that even if she succeeded in wiping away the corrupt system, she had nothing to offer in place of it.

Just like her dilemma now. If she went up there and postured before them all, what was her plan afterward? Was she supposed to really fight them off, even killing them if that was what it came down to? And if they had Felix, what was she supposed to do about that?

There was too much she didn't know. The only one she could lean on was Bren.

...And Constantine. She didn't have to forgive him, but she could stand him better now. Giving him time to prove he was no longer going to torment her with his violent mood swings had also given her time to cool off as well. She had no interest in picking up where they'd left off when it came to their misshapen relationship, but she could treat him civilly now. She had to. Just like Bren, he'd come with her to the Capital, hadn't he? Not happily, but he was here.

Speaking of which, he hadn't come down here with them. He'd said he was going to keep an eye on things, but how was he going to do that without being seen? It was broad daylight. Even with his best assassin tricks, someone was sure to see him if he got too close -

Suddenly, a terrible impact from above sent the whole cellar vibrating from wall to wall, and a small cloud of dust floated down around Vica and Bren. It nearly smothered the single pitiful light that had been spelled into the middle of the ceiling, making it sputter nearly go out.

CRASH!

Another. Vica leaped up from the armchair and stared up, wondering what had happened. Had Constantine showed himself? Was he attacking whoever had come to the manor? Or were they the ones who were attacking first? She spun and headed for the stairs. She and Bren were hiding in some warded cellar while Felix's servants were still up there. Even if they weren't the intended victims, they were bound to get caught in the chaos. They were blameless; she couldn't let them get hurt for her sake.

"Vica, wait. This is dangerous. We need to wait until we have no choice -"

"We've left the - the maids and the chef and everyone else up there! We can't just -"

"Your safety is more important."

She narrowed her eyes and turned back around. "No, it isn't."

"Yes, it is. You are indispensable. They are not."

She sucked in a sharp inhale. The things Bren said sometimes - they made her angry. He knew exactly what she thought about such talk, and she had overlooked it until now. And after what she had just learned about him a little while ago, about his horrid past and the suffering he must have endured, she didn't want to shout him down and ask him how he could be so ruthless. But this was inexcusable, and if he wanted to stop her from protecting people who had done nothing wrong, he was welcome to try. They were friends, but no one was going to make her cross lines she didn't want to.

Or stay behind those she did want to cross.

She strode across the room and hitched the hem of her flowing green robe up past her ankles. If things got messy, she was prepared to get as filthy as she needed to -

CRASH!

She stumbled on the bottom step and nearly fell forward onto the wooden slats, catching herself just in time with a splayed hand. With gritted teeth, she stood back up.

"Vica, if Constantine is too close to you, your magic will be hampered. I won't be able to help you either. I have no offensive talents."

"Same for them," she snapped. "If he's close to them, they can't do anything. And he's not close enough yet that I'm completely useless -"

"They'll have someone with them who can at least utilize old magic, which Constantine can do nothing about. Besides, they have sheer numbers. And not to mention, they'll have others who are -"

She didn't stay to listen to the rest. Another violent crash had her rushing up the stairs nearly on hands and feet, and she yanked at the horizontal metal latch that secured the cellar door shut. But something fizzled and stopped her, making the latch slide out of her hand. When she tried a second time, the same thing happened, and it was then that she realized her fumbling was useless. Clearly this was some kind of locking hex, a secondary measure for safety.

To hell with safety. And while she was utterly useless at counter hexes, she knew what would produce the same result. She probed outward with her senses to gauge where Constantine was, and she was relieved to feel him just far away enough that she could still reach for her magic. A room or two over, perhaps, she didn't know, didn't care.

She braced both hands flat against the horizontal door, now ignoring the lock completely. With eyes closed, she puckered her lips into a focused 'o,' taking in a deep breath and squaring her shoulders -

- then blasted outward with every ounce of power that she could summon forth. It was heavily dampened by Constantine's anti-magic, but it was still strong enough to rip the door clean off its metal hinges and send it crashing up into the ceiling so hard that the side of the wood became lodged into it with a fierce c***k.

She didn't stop to admire her handiwork, messy as it was, and she charged up the last two steps so that she could rear up out of the underground room and run toward wherever she needed to go. This was at the very back of the rear kitchen; no one else was around. But she could hear angry voices slipping through the space between the narrow walls.

She needed to go. She dashed out of the darkened room and headed toward the main kitchen and the connecting hallway, noting with anxious dread that she couldn't see any of the staff. She hoped they were hiding, not captured -

A woman's shriek, high and terrified, made her run even faster down the short hallway, but she was too late: just before she turned the corner into the main hall by the manor's entrance, she heard a sickeningly heavy thump on the other side of the wall.

That was solid wood, she thought. Whoever had just hit that would be in dire condition. She hoped it wasn't one of the...

Her thoughts ground to a halt. She'd rounded the corner and immediately looked down, heart in her throat as she balled her fists at her side, only to recognize the bloodied face of the delicate attendant who had drawn her bath her first day here. She was curled into a crumpled mess at the bottom of the wall with one arm and leg bent at nauseating angles.

Why -?

She was tiny. She was a skinny thing, as delicate as any fairy and far from dangerous. She would have been no threat to anyone. If anything, she was probably just trying to escape all of this...

Vica tore her eyes away and looked forward. Across the grand, circular hall, she heard the last few sounds of fighting fade to silence, and with narrowed eyes and the tip of her tongue running along her upper lip, she observed the faces that suddenly turned toward her. A few of the attendants had evidently been trying to fight back with swords against the intruders, and they were scattered throughout the enormous room, some just now rushing in and some already bleeding on the floor.

She saw another familiar face in the mix. Constantine, currently in the middle of strangling some man by the throat against the wall. He was looking at her too, yellow eyes flashing with feral energy. He said nothing, however, and she let her eyes slide away from him again.

The rest? She didn't recognize them. She could see one enormous man in particular wearing half-armor and otherwise barechested...and who possessed the head of a bull. No mage, that one. The ball and chain looped around his enormous hands indicated he was a thing of muscle rather than magic. There were three others like him around too, half-man and half-beast hybrids, no doubt the cause of all the commotion. It certainly wasn't the gaggle of twenty-odd men in robes huddled far away against the entrance, who had been watching the chaos with squinted eyes just before she made her appearance. They were far closer to Constantine than she was, and their magic would be useless.

She felt more confident already: besides the anger steadily rising inside her, black and poisonous, she couldn't help but notice that she was less affected by the anti-magic than she'd been months ago. Good. Now she could put it to good use.

"Who did this?" she asked loudly, well aware that all eyes were on her. She pointed down at the woman on the ground beside her, who let out a tiny, pained cough that sounded vaguely wet. "I said, who did this?"

No one answered. Even the four half-man creatures did nothing, merely continuing to hold onto whichever victim they were wailing on now.

Vica pointed at the one most directly in her line of vision, the man with the bull's head.

"Let him go," she said with a smile, even though she didn't feel like smiling at all. "All four of you. Right now."

They glanced at each other, slowly and uncertainly, which was all the reason she needed to lift her hands in front of her and summon fierce blue flames from her fingertips down to her elbows, where the sleeves of her elegant green robe remained bunched.

A wave of murmured protest rose from the mages gathered at the far doors.

"Wait, this is a misunderstanding -" someone began to shout, but with a hissing roar, the blue fire flared outward several feet like a ferocious starburst around her. They shrank back, and the beastmen dropped their victims and began to back away as well.

"Oh, no," said Vica. "You four stay where you are. Since no one wants to take responsibility..." She paused and looked down at the trembling, mangled attendant, who was now bleeding from her open mouth onto the wooden floor. Anger sliced through her again like knives tearing into cloth, and she looked back up. "I'm going to need an arm and a leg from each of you. Now come here."