Episode 5: Through the Infirmary’s Doors
Malik struck a sledgehammer against the red-hot piece of metal and the sound reverberated around the blacksmith’s shop. Nova Iren, the blacksmith housing him for the time being, gestured to another point along the metal sheet that she was holding steady with her tongs. She was a dark-skinned woman with braids as dark as her anvil. She had two warm brown eyes and heavily muscled arms from her long time spent working at her forge. Malik struck again with his sledgehammer. Smoke and soot collected on his fingers and hands, staining them black. The work was long and hard and continued for some time.
When his stay in the infirmary had ended, he had been looking for a place to stay. At first, he had turned to the refugee camps. He was used to sleeping on the hard ground outside. But, there the forest was nearby, looming, and it felt as though something was watching him. Malik couldn’t bring himself to sleep too near it. He had done his best to find board and had found himself working for Nova, gaining board in exchange for unskilled labor in her forge.
He struck again with the sledgehammer and the sound rang out across the forge.
The day’s work stalled during the late morning. They would take a short break to eat and would resume work soon after. Malik would be allowed off in the early evening, where he’d be able to work at the labor camps and earn some extra money.
So he was surprised when Nova said to him, “You might as take off early today. It’s that day of the week, after all. I’m sure we’ll have several visitors, all coming at odd times of course.” He didn’t understand but jerked his head upwards anyway.
There was a knock at the door. “You can come in.”
The door opened, and in walked a man with tangled brown hair. Malik remembered seeing this person commissioning an item earlier in the week. The person was dressed shabbily, but clean. His clothes were creased and patched in a variety of places. Some of the seams were coming undone. A small pendant with a roughly carved glyph hung from his neck, jerking around as he stepped. But the man walked with surety and reverence.
“Welcome, Nestor. It’s good to see you again. How are Gurt and Emily?” said Nova, a soft smile playing across her lips.
“I am pleased to see you as well. And the kids are doing well.” Nestor straightened and made a show of dusting himself off. “I have come to make good on my promise.”
“I appreciate your patronage and your continued support.”
“We can’t forget those that we rely on, especially with everything going on right now.” His face darkened for a moment before he smiled.
Then they began the ritual of patronage. Malik, of course, had never played a part in it himself, but he knew how it worked, the giving of Spirit to symbolize gratitude and support.
Nova drew closer to Nestor, who placed his hands around the gemstones on Nova’s arm.
“I pledge my to you my Spirit.”
“I will continue to serve.”
The gemstones on Nova’s right arm saturated into a dark, seething gray. The ritual was done.
“Thank you,” said Nova.
“Just keep supplying me with nails,” said Nestor, smiling.
He turned to leave, passing through the doorway. “I’ll be back next week.”
There was a short beat after Nestor left the forge before Malik said, “So, people pay you patronage.” It shouldn’t have come as such a shock to him– he had seen patronage before. But he hadn’t prepared himself.
Nova shrugged, displaying an almost genuine modesty. “People appreciate their blacksmith. Besides, the other two blacksmiths have many more patrons.”
“I’ll leave you to them, then.” Malik didn’t quite wish to witness another such exchange. It made him feel somewhat hollow inside. He made his way towards the doorway.
But, there was another knock at the door, two swift raps. Before Nova could answer, the door opened, and a tall human man stepped through. Such a cleanly, well-dressed thing didn’t belong in a forge.
“Hello, Nova.” The man said, a wide, genuine smile stretched taut across his lips. Malik took one step backward, not wanting to be drawn into the encounter.
“To what do I owe this singularly unique honor?” Nova asked, with what Malik deemed a healthy amount of caution.
“I’ve come to see to your well-being. With everything going on, we need our blacksmiths and community leaders to be secure.”
Malik could see someone, likely another patron, walk up to the door behind Galba. However, upon seeing the man, they took some steps back, waiting for a few moments before leaving. Malik envied them.
“There are other, more important blacksmiths in this settlement, Galba. Why have you gone to me?”
“Your forge caters mainly to those with little means, supporting many of our most disadvantaged. But because of this, your forge is near the edge of the settlement, near the refugee camps, near the forest. It’s vulnerable. If you would take us up on our offer, we would move you closer to the interior of the settlement.”
“My forge is near the people that I serve. I cannot leave them now.”
“And I understand that. I admire your dedication to your community. It is why so many pay you patronage. But you will do your community little good if you are killed in some attack. We don’t want to lose someone of your gift.”
“I’ll take it under advisement.”
“That’s all that we ask,” Galba said before turning to leave. He brushed off the soot and ash that had settled on his otherwise pristine cloak.
Malik left soon behind him, eyeing the small crowd of people who had come to pay their weekly patronage to Nova. He didn’t even glance at the faintest glimmer of dust contained in his right arm. It was almost gone.
He turned his gaze away from the surrounding people.
Malik walked through the city streets, trying not to think about patronage. The flow of magic, forged bonds, and gifted strength did not concern him. He was fine, he told himself. He was fine. Instead, he focused on the streets and side streets ahead of him. Before, in Caespen Ru, he’d wandered often, gotten to know its many back passages and alleyways so that he could blend into the background. He hadn’t found many back alleys in Verdant.
The city of Verdant loomed before him, full of unfamiliar streets and bustling market stalls. Caespen Ru had been a city full of strangers, where one wasn’t expected to recognize even a twentieth of the people they saw about them. Verdant was smaller, tighter knit. As Malik walked, countless others stopped to talk to friends they saw passing by. Others stared at him as if they knew he didn’t belong. Other Sculos stared most of all. Likely they had never seen someone with an uncarved face.
As he wandered, his steps grew slower, and he couldn’t shake the unease that had settled within him. The sun hung low in the sky, casting away shadows and causing his translucent skin to shimmer. Malik felt eyes on him. He clenched his fists, trying to quell the rising anxiety.
His eyes darted from one person to another, the townsfolk moving with purpose, casting furtive glances in his direction. Malik’s face and clothes marked him as an outsider, and he felt the weight of their gazes, like needles pricking at his skin, causing fissures in his glass.
“Hey, you there!” A voice rang out, pulling him from his thoughts. He turned to find a group of locals approaching him, their expressions a mixture of suspicion and caution. Malik noticed that from some of their necks hung small stones with roughly hewn symbols. He wondered if it was some facet of Verdant’s culture he was unaware of. But he couldn’t focus on that as the angry-faced people drew closer.
“You’re a newcomer, aren’t ya?” one of them, a human, asked, eyeing Malik’s attire with disdain. Not many others were milling around this section of the street, but those that did pointedly averted their gaze.
Malik nodded, heart pounding in his chest. “Yeah.”
“Verdant’s not a place for wanderers, especially these days,” another added in, her tone dripping with skepticism. “Stick to your camp. We’re pressed for food a resources as is, don’t need you driving up the prices.”
“I’ll remember that from now on.” It was always best to feign subservience in these sorts of situations.
The third member of the group leaned towards one of her compatriots, eyes narrowing. “People like him might draw the aberrations. You were forced out of Willowbrook by them, weren’t they?”
The second local clasped at the stone hanging from his neck tightly, clutching it to his chest. A look of fear and horror played across his face.
Malik felt a knot forming in his stomach, and he glanced around at the gathered townsfolk. He took a step backward. “I don’t think that–” he started before stopping himself.
“You don’t?” The first one laughed, the sound devoid of warmth. “Tell that to my daughter who’s hunting through the forests right now, searching for whatever monsters you people have conjured up.”
The second local leaned closer, his eyes locked onto Malik. “We can’t afford to trust strangers, not with our lives on the line. Don’t stick around.”
Fear surged through Malik’s veins, and he took a step back. “I don’t want any trouble.”
“Best keep it that way,” the third local spat, giving Malik a final, lingering look before the group turned and walked away.
The surrounding people of Verdant continued milling around as if pointedly ignoring what had just happened. Left alone, his heart beat fast in his chest. But the fear swiftly turned to anger. He clenched his fists and shook his head. Malik then took a few steps forward, walking quickly not running. He didn’t want to be seen as weak and vulnerable.
Off to his left, he heard shouts and saw someone running from an irate shopkeeper, a satchel overflowing with food clutched in their hand. Malik didn’t even think about intervening. He’d leave the people of Verdant to look after their issues. After all, he’d been told not to stick around.
Malik now walked by the outskirts of the city by the forest edge. He was glad of the relative solitude it provided, only a few others were this far from the city center. But Malik still eyed the whispering trees warily, remembering the injuries on his legs. And he was still on edge. So he whipped around as he heard noises emanating from the forest behind him. There were uneven footfalls and heavy, labored breathing, the sounds of injured or exhausted people making their way through the forest. Malik, cautious, drew nearer to the forest’s edge. Obscured by trees and shadow, he could make out two forms, drawing closer.
A Sculos staggered out of the forest, skin gray, rivulets of blood running down her body. Though there were surely carvings etched into her face, none could be seen, so thick was the blood. Though much of the blood was Sculos blue, some of it was a violet that seemed to shine like starlight. She looked close to collapsing, each step a stumble. For a moment, the only thing that Malik could think was that this might have been what he looked like when he had staggered into Verdant.
All of a sudden, he realized that none of the other people were doing anything, instead backing away, looking fearful. Muttering something uncharitable, he rushed forward to provide aid. As Malik put his arm around her and took some of her weight the Sculos said “Thanks,” her voice barely a grunt.
Then the Sculos woman fell almost limp, as though she had been waiting for the chance to collapse. She stopped supporting herself and all of her weight fell against him. But Malik was strong and she was light—perhaps it was malnutrition, perhaps it was just her small frame. In any case, Malik was able to lift her and begin to carry her. There was only one palace he could think to take her.
As he walked, his gaze turned towards the surrounding people. His skin shifted to the pale red of irritation and the faint swirling green of disapproval. But, he supposed he shouldn’t have expected much better.
Malik again stood at the door to the apothecary. He didn’t quite want to go back, especially not so soon. It made him feel too confined. But some things couldn’t be helped. He shouted for both of his hands were being used to hold up the woman.
Sounds came from inside the building and soon Illoc opened the door. She barely glanced at the woman in Malik’s arms before ushering them further inside, to the miniature infirmary in the back. “This way,” she said, “We’ll get her situated with a bed. Do you know what happened to her?”
“No, I found her after she appeared from out of the woods.”
“Did you find any major injuries on her?”
“There’s a lot of blood, her carapace seems to be cracked in several places. There’s a lot of blood on her back—I’d check there. She was walking with a bit of a limp before she lost consciousness, but I don’t know if that was tiredness or an injury.”
“Well, that’s better information than most would give me, I suppose,” Illoc said in a slightly derisive tone. She turned and busied herself among the herbs in remedies.
“You can go now,” she said without turning around. “Abraxas and I can look them over.”
Malik nodded and left without saying another word. He didn’t like being back in the infirmary; it made him feel trapped and reminded him of his delays left immobile in bed.
It was the evening of the next day, and Malik found himself traveling again to the infirmary. He had finished working for Nova and could be spending his time either in leisure or continuing to work on the housing projects. But, instead, his feet carried him to see the injured woman he had found the previous night. He needed to make sure that they were all right.
His hand on the door’s knocker, he felt a prickle of fear make its way across his skin. The door opened, and Illoc greeted him.
“So, you’re back?”
“I was hoping to see if the traveler was alright.”
“Well, you can come inside. I suppose you may as well hear this.”
Malik followed her through the main part of the house, to the large side-room where the infirmed slept. The Sculos was almost sitting up, their back resting against the wall behind them for support.
Abraxas, Valeria, and the Magistrate each stood somewhere in the cramped room. Conversing with the patient and with each other. Abraxas was anxious, his seemingly near-constant state of being. The Magistrate—Malik could tell by the exact tilt of his head, the position of his shoulders, the faint pink lining his hands—embroiled in thought. And Valeria seemed almost enthused, eyes shining.
The Magistrate was the first to notice Malik. For a moment, he stared at the intricate designs on the Magistrate’s face. Every inch of it was covered in various details, speaking to his many accomplishments. The Sigil of the Nezrik clan was foremost in the center of his face. The glyph on his forehead symbolized service. And scores of tiny designs, each reflecting a different deed, surrounded the central design. The Magistrate’s face was emblazoned with testaments to his contributions to Sculos culture. It all made Malik feel thin and hollow as if his glass were flaking away.
“Hello, I assume that you’re Malik?”
He gave a swift nod.
The Sculos woman sat up a bit straighter. “Yes, thank you for your efforts. I would not have made it if not for you.” Her voice lowered, becoming tinted by pain and regret, her skin turning a pale blue, and she devolved into a few ragged coughs. “The others still didn’t…” She cut herself off.
Malik bent his head forward according to Sculos custom. It felt quite important to him at that moment.
Valeria nodded to Malik before turning to the two injured travelers.
“You were beginning to tell us— you came from Penomier. You have news?”
“Yes, we left Penomier with the intention of reaching out to the nearby settlements. There’s been a longstanding partnership between us and Verdant, and we wanted to consolidate our efforts. We may have been overly optimistic in our efforts.”
“You left after the aberrations began appearing?” Valeria’s enthusiasm was mildly off-putting to Malik.
“Yes.”
“How long ago did they first appear?” said Valeria.
Malik noticed the Magistrate lean in closer. Then Malik glanced over to the corner, where Abraxas was sitting uncomfortably.
“It was just under a month ago.” She winced as she shifted her weight, and Abraxas was already at her side.
“For us, they first appeared two weeks ago,” said the Magistrate, voice careful and slow, “They’ve caused no small amounts of distress, and have wounded many of those that ventured out into the forest. However, none have dared enter the settlement so far. Is it the same in Penomier?”
“Not quite. Before we left there were many scattered attacks on various houses– possibly because dwellings in Penomier are much more spread out. Scattered families were easy to attack.” The man hung his head for a second.
“But you came here.” For a moment, Malik was startled to hear Abraxas speak. “Is Penomier doing well? Are the people safe?”
The Sculos woman spoke, her tone stronger than it had been at any time previous. “Yes. Penomier is already back on its feet. We’ve been able to band together and repel many of the creatures.” She spoke as one putting only the faintest effort into appearing modest.
“How are the herds?” The Magistrate asked. Herds of sheep and cattle were the lifeblood of the pastoral settlement.
“In the beginning, when we still didn’t quite know what was happening, our herds were the first things to be picked off. But, they’re still mostly intact. I don’t know about the future, but if we need to, we’ll be able to eat them.”
“So Penomier’s okay?” The Magistrate said in a low whisper. “That’s blessed news.”
“Yes, well, many houses have been ruined due to the aberrations. We were hoping that, in recognition of our longstanding relationship, Verdant would export some lumber to aid in our rebuilding efforts. Marshall Ricard, of course, is willing to extend whatever aid he is willing to give in return.”
“I don’t know if we can spare the people needed to travel between our settlements. However, we will start producing the lumber soon. It will be good to give the people jobs. We can sort out their transport at a later date. Given the circumstances, this is the best that Verdant can offer.”
And then, he felt a presence like watching eyes, like the coming storm. He turned to a nearby window, through which light was pouring. He saw a speck of red against the blue of the sky. Malik watched for a moment, saying nothing. It grew larger, and he could begin to make out more details. He could now see that there were two of the things above him, and he felt a rising panic. And they began coalescing into the forms of two great birds of prey. Malik felt for his hammer.
The others began to notice it as well, first Valeria, then everyone else. Within moments, the infirmary was filled with panic. Malik was sure that the others were also re-experiencing past encounters with the aberrations.
“Everyone, out.” The Magistrate’s voice rang out through the panic.
Everyone, except for the infirm, rushed outside, scrambling over themselves. Descending from above were two vicious-looking birds of prey, much larger than they had appeared from a distance.
Malik wasn’t practiced enough to recognize the bird species on sight, and even if he was, the creature was so warped and twisted that it would still have been a challenge to identify its original form. Its wings were rough, as though carved from granite. Each beat of its wings was unnatural, stone cracking and heaving. Its tail feathers were rust-red, the same color as discarded nails. And its head was misshapen, yellow eyes gouged into its surface. But its stomach seemed unmarred, still flesh. Malik had flashbacks to the cave, to the whispers, to the teeth tearing at his legs.
Around them, some people stood motionless as if transfixed, mouths open in wordless screams. Others had started fleeing, ducking into the nearest building, heedless of what or whose it was. This would be the first time that many of them had seen one of the creatures. And he saw parents and children who were panicked and screaming. He saw frightened people, distressed refugees who’d dared enter the center of Verdant.
And the birds were bearing down on them.
For him, there were no thoughts of running. Malik’s grip tightened on his hammer, but there was little he could do from the ground. One of the birds dropped from the sky talons extended, reaching towards a young Sculos. He screamed. Malik saw talons sink into flesh. Blood welled up from the man’s arm.
Valeria, far closer, was there in seconds, sword raised. She slashed at the bird with ferocity. Sparks burst as the steel scraped against the bird’s stone wings. But the bird cried, startled, and beat its wings. It returned aloft. The man collapsed before Valeria wrenched him back up.
“I’ll get the people out of here. You two, hold them off.” Already Valeria was supporting the man, helping carry him to the south end of Verdant. She yelled at others to follow.
But Malik couldn’t pay attention to them. Two birds were circling overhead. And already one was diving towards Valeria, drawn by the coalescing mass of people. He pried a stone from the earth before hurling it at the descending hawk. It shot just in front of the bird, trailing dirt and dust. The bird’s talons extended, reaching out.
There was still a glimmer of dust contained within Malik’s gemstones. He held his hand aloft. With a sweep of his arm, a cloud of dust burst forth from the rock, enveloping the bird. It cawed, wings beating at the dust cloud.
The glimmer in Malik’s wrist faded, the last of his Spirit gone. But he had successfully drawn the birds’ attention. He did his best to keep his shaking feet planted and his hammer held sturdy as the birds dove towards him.
Similarly, Abraxas had pulled out his pistol and held it aloft, pointing it toward the terror above. He stood steady, watching, trying to make sure his shot landed. Malik knew that Abraxas would have only one bullet, one chance. But the bird was almost upon them.
Malik leaped forward, dragging Abraxas to the ground. He could feel the wind as the bird passed mere inches ahead of him. There was a loud crack, like thunder, as the bullet shot. Within seconds, the hawk was aloft again. Abraxas had missed.
The two slowly rose from the earth. Abraxas was shaking.
“What was that for? I could have shot it.”
Breathless, Malik responded in short. “I didn’t want to take the risk, I’m sorry.”
“Well, you didn’t need to decide that for me.”
“I didn’t want to see anyone die.”
He looked upwards, the birds were still circling.
Malik reached out a hand to Abraxas and hauled him up. He clapped Abraxas twice on the back.
“I could’ve shot it,” Abraxas whispered, almost as reassurance to himself.
“I’m sorry.” A heartbeat passed. “How long does it take to prep another bullet?” Even as he spoke, Malik kept watch over the circling hawks
“Three minutes.” There was doubt there but he decided not to push back.
“I’ll make sure to buy you that time.”
Then, without pausing, Malik cupped his hands around his face and yelled. “Hey, back here.”
The hawks, which had been eyeing Valeria and the handful of children she was evacuating, turned again towards Malik and Abraxas. A hawk dove. Malik stepped forward and swung his hammer. The bird rolled, and the blow glanced off of its wing. Shards of stone flaked off the monster’s wing. It started around him, talons outstretched. He shifted his weight, always keeping the head of the war hammer between him and the hawk.
As he turned, out of the corner of his vision, Malik caught motion. Briefly, he caught a glimpse of Valeria nigh four houses down from him, grabbing two huddled figures.
The hawk slammed into him.
Malik was thrown backward, and he was only just able to grasp two parts of the handle to use as a barrier. He struggled to push the hawk off of him. In turn, the bird strained at his defense, claws raking at his stomach.
Then there was a resounding crack as the form on top of Malik shuddered. His gaze flicked upwards. There was a second crack as Abraxas bludgeoned the bird with the butt end of his pistol. The bird faltered and Malik shoved the hawk off himself. Its stone wings carried it aloft.
For a moment, He only sat there. Then an outstretched arm hauled him back up to his feet. He grunted his thanks to Abraxas. It was all he had breath for. Abraxas clapped him twice on the back to show he understood.
A shriek rang out. One of the hawks was at the opposite end of the street. Malik watched as Valeria stabbed at it with her sword, doing her best to stay between the monster and the two civilians. Abraxas was already running towards them.
Summoning his strength, Malik struck the stone wall of a family dwelling with his hammer. The crash reverberated across the street. The hawk faltered and Valeria landed a blow, drawing a jagged red line across its underbelly. He struck the wall again. He could feel the stone crack a little, and he gave a passing thought to whoever lived in the house. But the hawks, both of them, were now flying towards him, like bullets from Abraxas’s gun.
“Run!” The word escaped from Malik’s mouth.
He tore down the street. Part of it was sheer instinct, his nerves all were fraying and it felt as if his glass were cracking. But part of it was the real desire to draw the hawks as far away from Valeria as possible. The image of the bleeding man still burned bright in his mind. He knew the man was dead.
He neared the end of the street. Toward the edge of his vision, he watched Abraxas dart into one of the doorways, gun clenched tightly. He just needed to stall for three minutes. He could give Abraxas that; he had to.
Malik pointed his hammer towards the sky. He stepped with power and confidence he did not feel. It was just him against an insurmountable threat. This was familiar ground. He clipped the wing of the first hawk with his hammer. Pieces of stone feathers fell like marbles.
But he felt wind at his back, stone wings beating. He whirled around swinging the hammer. Malik was too slow. Claws tore at his side. He felt a thin crack and a trickle of blood. He didn’t have the time for that. In moments he had pushed the large monstrosity off of himself, even as claws tore at his arm.
Even as he did so the other hawk tore at his back. Malik was used to pain, but it was overpowering. He brandished the hammer and bludgeoned the bird. He struck it so hard that the impact was met with a shower of sparks. The hawk looked dazed and he caught a glimpse of purple blood emanating from its stomach. It must have been the bird Valeria had slashed. He felt a vague sense of satisfaction before turning his attention toward the other hawk that was tearing at him.
Malik kept needing to reorient his attention and focus on the new threat tearing at him, the new pain wearing at his mind. He didn’t know how much more he could take. Blood spilled down his arms and side. He wasn’t quite dying yet, but he felt pieces of himself being torn off, his life ebbing away. He didn’t know how long he was trapped there, with the hawks opening up his legs and his side.
His left leg gave way and Malik collapsed to the ground. Sweat and bright blue blood mixed around his hands. He thought he could feel cracks in his palms from how tightly he was gripping the hammer. The hawks tore at him. Still, he pointed it forwards, the hammer’s head always between him and the hawks, even as his hands shook and the hammer felt heavier, sinking lower. One of the hawks had climbed above him, preparing for a final dive.
Blackness crept at the edge of his vision.
A gunshot reverberated throughout the street. And then came the sound of something large and heavy striking the earth. Sprawled out, covered in blood, the hawk lay dead.
Above them, the surviving hawk departed
For a moment Malik just stood there, the sound of the gunshot still ringing in his mind. Then all was dark. The blackness won.
Malik woke to the familiar sight of the infirmary. He had hoped that he wouldn’t again wake the cramped room and uncomfortable bed, injured and needing to be taken care of. But it seemed he’d made a habit of it. He looked about himself, seeing the same people that had been in the room before the attack. But this time he was also trapped in a bed.
On a chair next to him, Abraxas sat, face caked in grime. His gun lay on the ground near him, loaded with a new bullet. However, Malik found it odd that it wasn’t held in Abraxas’s hands or clipped to his belt.
The boy smiled at him. “I’m glad you’re awake. Sorry, you keep waking up here.”
“Yeah.” He grunted.
“Thanks, for what you did back there.” Here Abraxas’s tone was soft and tinged with emotion.
“Something needed to be done. And I could do something. You did just as much.” His words were clipped and torn.
“No, I didn’t.” Abraxas stared at Malik’s many bandaged wounds.
“But… you would have.”
In response to Malik’s words, Abraxas nodded his head slowly, almost unsure
It was later that day when the Magistrate entered the room, Valeria following close behind. The Magistrate walked slowly, his movements tired. His head was bowed and his shoulders slumped.
Behind him stood Valeria. She was still wounded. Malik could see thin scratches on her arms, some covered by bandages. She leaned against one of the walls. His gaze was cast downwards, and drops of blood still spattered her face. Sweat plastered her tangled black hair to her forehead. Valeria’s breathing was ragged and her hands shook.
As the Magistrate stepped into the infirmary, he straightened and spoke in a facsimile of his usual commanding tone. “Hello, Abraxas. Hello, Malik.” He nodded to each of them before continuing. “I would like to thank you for what the two of you did earlier this day. The both of you, along with Valeria, did Verdant a great service. Without you, things would have been much worse.
“I can only thank the stars that no one died today. As is, the people of Verdant are shaken. Having finally seen the aberrations, their fears have been made manifest. They are scared, and rightly so. I’m not sure how we will be able to protect them.”
The Magistrate paused. Malik could only think about the people that had accosted him earlier that morning. He thought back to their fear turned to anger, and wondered how much harder things would be for the refugees from Willowbrook.
The Magistrate gestured to the Sculos lying several cots from Malik. “Jess has volunteered to help implement some of the techniques that Penomier found effective, though she admits that defense and infrastructure aren’t her areas of expertise.
“I want to send an expedition to Penomier. They are our nearest neighbors and our two settlements do share a longstanding partnership. We will need to draw upon that now. We hope that we will be able to send people to Penomier who will return with some of the lessons that Penomier has had to learn the hard way.
“I cannot afford to send a large group. Verdant cannot afford to loose to many people, not now. So, I want to send capable people that I can rely on. I ask that you please, be a part of that group.”
There was a moment’s silence before Abraxas gave his assent. Malik sat motionless, not quite knowing how to respond. “I—”
“You said that you wanted to travel elsewhere.” Valeria was now looking at him, eyes narrowed and half of a smile resting on her face.
He thought for just an instant longer. He again thought back to the people who had accosted him earlier, and he knew that he wanted to leave. Malik nodded. “I’ll go.”
“Thank you so much.” The Magistrate walked forward to Malik and knelt clasping one of his hands around Malik’s wrist. “This is both because you went on the mission and for your efforts today. From hand to heart.”
Maliks voice came out as barely a whisper, as he felt a surge of Spirit flow through his arm. “From soul to deed.”
It wasn’t patronage, only a blessing: a gift given for some great deed or act of service. He hadn’t received one before and was left now knowing what to think or how to feel.
