GODSWAR: The Mask of Ares, Chapter 6

Ingram and Quester had gotten an urgent message...

------

 

Chapter 6.

Urelle watched from her darkened window as the two passed out of the gate, her heart beating twice, three times its normal speed. Ingram and Quester are leaving!

She'd heard a lot of their discussion; enough to make her eyes sting at what had happened to Ingram, why he'd run away, and to be worried very much about what danger he was heading into. Quester was obviously worried too.

But they'll need my help!

That, another part of her mind told her, is one of the most arrogant things you've ever thought.

But it wasn't, not entirely. Ingram was dangerous – there wasn't any doubt about that – and with Quester, he was four times better. Yet neither of them was a wizard. If they were being followed by unknown enemies, they'd need someone who understood magic.

Oh, really? They were Adventurers, Guilded, before they met up with you. Two years or so, I think they said? If they really needed a mage with them, wouldn't they have already found one? One with actual experience in the Adventuring game?

Yet the rest of her felt – even more strongly – that Ingram needed her. Needed her badly.

Which, she had to admit, really didn't make sense. She was used to him, yes, and he was fun to have around, he'd been more than just fun when she was … was finding her way out of shock and darkness. He'd been an anchor, sometimes more so than her sister Kyri or Aunt Victoria, just because he was like her – small, studious, even if he was also more than capable of fighting, preferring to think rather than fight if he could.

She would miss him. Miss him terribly. But that was no reason to go following him. Her sensible side was right.

So why did she feel so clearly that it was wrong? Just because she didn't want him to go? Was she that pathetic, that she had to cling to everyone?

Even as she thought that, she knew it was, at least, part of the truth. She did want to hold on to the people around her. "I have reason to," she whispered to herself. Her parents. Rion. Kyri, on a deadly mission of justice and vengeance. And now Quester and Ingram.

Was that all? No. Even examining herself in the most coldly unflattering light didn't provide explanation for it all. Somehow a part of her was convinced she had to follow them.

Myrionar? Is it you? Are you telling me this is the reason I couldn't follow Kyri? Because I was supposed to follow him?

She stared out the window, craning her neck to see the portion of the Balanced Sword that could be seen above the roof. The stars remained their normal color. If it was Myrionar, It was not going to give her a sledgehammer of a sign.

If I don't have a good reason, they'll chase me right back here anyway. And then it will be my fault that Ingram's delayed on his travel. It was possible that, given the urgency Ingram had mentioned, he might not turn around – that he'd feel he had to continue on – but she couldn't bet on that. More likely, if that were the case, he'd order Quester to take her back and catch up with him later.

She sat there, debating with herself, for … well, she didn't know how long, staring out into the grounds towards the gate through which the tiny boy and towering insectoid had disappeared.

What finally roused her was motion, an almost-ignored motion of black against near-blackness. She focused on that location, then averted her eyes slightly; she knew that the edges of her vision were more sensitive to movement.

Something was there, near the gate. But there was – at least as of now – no reaction from the wards.

She sketched a pair of circles before her eyes and stretched her hand and mind outward. Her little adventure with Ingram had taught her one thing, at least – not to rely on ordinary sight alone.

As reality realigned itself to her will, the grounds sprang into sharp relief, as bright as an overcast day to her newly-enhanced vision.

Four figures, gathered in front of the gate. She brought out a spyglass and focused on them.

The four were dressed very similarly – in dark, tough travel clothing that showed ridges of armor underneath. Two wore tight-fitting helms that had wide visors protected by thin bars – good field of vision without sacrificing much defense – while the others were bareheaded. She couldn't quite make out the small insignia on their arms, but she could see that they were all armed – at least one with a rune-carved staff.

Amplifying light went pretty well. How about sound?

Improvising a spell was a lot harder than casting one you'd practiced, but in this case she had the advantage of knowing – as Lythos and Sasha Rithair had emphasized – exactly what she wanted to change about reality, and how it might be accomplished. A wide, bowl-shaped surface, just so, focusing sound from its entire radius onto her ears…

There was a momentary swelling and chattering of sound – insects, scuttling little animals in the brush – and then she managed to envision the collecting surface pointed directly at the gate, while still keeping the sound funneled to her.

"…only residence anywhere near this area," one was saying.

"Check again," another said, the voice deeper. "This gate is warded; it's a fair-sized estate. We don't want to buy trouble we can't afford."

A sigh. "Very well." The one with the staff slung it over his back, reached into a pouch and pulled out something that glittered in the amplified light. He mumbled some words that Urelle couldn't quite make out, but she knew a spell when she heard one. The object glittered and moved for a few moments.

"Ares' Sword," the magician cursed. "Not there. The target's in motion … that direction, looks like, though it keeps wobbling, which it shouldn't. Maybe some kind of protective ward's confusing it."

"They weren't moving in that direction before. Something…" Another curse. "That courier. The Odinsyrnen we passed a bit ago."

"Some kind of message?"

"I would think so. Don't know what it could be to get someone to start out in the middle of the damned night, but moving, they are."

"But they had to start from here, right?" the deep voice said. "No reasonable alternative. Go much past here and we're in the Forest Sea. So they can't be far. If we move now, we might catch them!"

Urelle let the spells drop. She'd heard enough. Four people looking for someone who had been here? Swearing by Ares?

Pursuit was closer than Ingram or Quester dreamed.

Now she had a reason.

Then she turned and was packing as fast as she could. The small so-called ‘neverfull’ backpack would have to do. It wouldn't hold everything maybe, but enough. Magical equipment and notes, reagents, materials ranging from powdered crystals to hairs from an Eonwyl and a tiny piece of the tooth of a Nahm, one of the lesser Dragons, a vial of forestfisher venom, dozens of others. Clothing. The training tent she'd gotten three years ago and used once.

She ran downstairs as quietly as she could, yanked open the healer's cabinet. Can't take it all – wouldn't it be terrible if I did and someone got hurt? Still, she could take several of the bottles and enchanted pads. Those also went into the bag, which was starting to hit its limits. Food. Maybe we can get some along the way, but can't bet on it. The pantry and coldbox yielded enough for several days. Bet Aunt Victoria has some marching rations somewhere, but I don't know where.

Then back upstairs. A part of her was still telling her this was very unwise, but this time she had an actual argument other than pure pique and selfishness. She stripped off her day clothes, yanked open the armoire, pulled down the spelled armorcloth outfit Auntie had gotten her just last year and got it on – it's a little tight, I think I've grown a bit, have to do some minor resizing later – hooked the access pouches to the belt, along with the crystal dagger that Daddy had carried when he was on Adventure.

Finally, her combat gloves and the quickstaff; the latter she secured inside her sleeve in the form of a small cylinder.

I've got everything I can get on short notice.

One last thing to do – add her own note. She dashed it off and was going to place it atop Ingram's, then reconsidered; Auntie would want the context first. She slid hers underneath Ingram's, then went back a final time to her room.

She took a deep breath and forced away all her self-doubts. If there's ever a good reason, it's to save someone else.

She stepped off the window ledge and soared up into the starlit night.