Chapter 44: Brackley
Grey morning time, a terrible cold outside, the wheels of the carriage creaking, and Valens sat there by the window, peering out into the dreary skies with a hand propped under his chin. Teary eyes from the sharp winds. Not much of a relief for the string of sleepless nights, but he guessed it was as good a remedy as any.
The carriage was packed with a variety of smells, soot, and ashes, some sweat in the mix, dried blood, and the stench of the Ironmanes snorting through the morning fog, terribly efficient at keeping the wheels rolling. They never tired, which turned the compartment into a cage of sorts that kept them huddled tight inside.
You have to learn to live with your demons.
Valens sighed. It was one thing reminiscing about the old lessons but another to practice them without his Master holding a stick up his back. He felt his absence like a collapsed lung, bothering him at each breath, reminding him of his shortcomings. The worst part, there wasn’t a solution. A Lifesurge couldn’t fix what appeared to be a metaphorical reminder of his sins.
Nomad would’ve told him to carry on. He did just that, albeit he could use some time away from the object of his nightmares. She lay round the back caught in dark dreams, arms sprawled around her long, black hair, mouth curled into a deep frown, skin looking baby soft and smooth without any blemishes.
I’ve fixed her, haven’t I?
Which was all the more reason why it didn’t make sense that he still felt this way. Then again, she did flinch whenever she came too close to him, and not once Valens could catch her eyes with his own. Somehow, the young woman knew he’d be looking at her, so she kept her chin low and gaze nailed to her feet.
She’s scared but grateful. Happy, yet afraid. Am I the reason for all of those things, or just the bad ones?
Had she known anything about the shadow that took her in the first place, perhaps she could’ve given him an explanation. A clue to work with. Anything that would be mildly useful to keep Valens’s mind occupied. But amnesia was a bastard of a sickness to come across, and the fix was a long, arduous process, not to mention in this primal world.
What do you want, exactly? To tell you she wasn’t the innocent, pitiful girl you think she is? That she purposefully did the ritual? That she wanted to kill that Lady and her sons for this so-called Mother of Venerable Fates?
Looking at her face now, cheek flattened out over the hardwood, hair dancing at each puff of her breath, a part of Valens thought that it wasn’t likely that the woman could’ve had a wicked quality to her.
Everybody lies.