Episode 8 – Within the Palisade
The group returned, not as conquering heroes, but as survivors. On their day’s journey back, they had traveled unmolested by the deer. Whether it was because they had killed all of the deer, or they had just scared them off, they hadn’t cared. It was evening when they finally made it back to the welcoming sight of Verdant. Crescent was glad for that, as there were few people there to stare at them. Everyone in Verdant knew that a journey to Penomier and back would have taken at least a week. All knew what it meant that they were returning early.
The group of them dispersed soon after entering Verdant. None wanted to talk. And, indeed, there were no words that needed to be said, at least not to each other. Instead, the lot of them went to their disparate places of residence, doing their best to deflect any inquiries until the next day. Crescent knew that Valeria would be forced to talk to people, to wear a false smile as she fielded questions from her people. But that was her fate.
Crescent made her way to an ornate building adjacent to the Magistrate’s dwelling. She was tired, so tired. All she wanted to do was wait until the night took her when the lack of sunlight meant that her movements slowed as her vines became lethargic. She would be unable to speak or even move her fingers. Only in the morning would she assume animacy.
One of the first things she did, just under an hour after the sun rose, was to find Galba’s office door. Crescent knocked and within a few moments, Galba opened it. His hair was noticeably less neat than it had been when they had just met, though perhaps that was just due to the late hour. He looked ever so slightly disheveled, with his cloak askew and his buttons less polished.
He beckoned her inside quickly. “I suppose that there is much for you to tell me.”
Galba sat behind his desk, emerald green eyes staring intently at her. He smoothed his hair somewhat before folding his hands together atop his desk. And Crescent began to relate the events of their failure of an expedition to Penomier—the destruction of Briarknoll, the herd of deer, Hildegard’s death, the strange way that the deer seemed to communicate with each other, all of it. Galba just watched her, sitting motionless until she finished.
“When I asked you to take part in the mission to Penomier, I had hoped that you would give me information as to the state of that village. That obviously didn’t happen. This was, it seems, ultimately fruitless. So much of what we do are just shots in the dark. We stumble blindly.”
“So,” Galba said after a moment, “We won’t be able to get any aid from Penomier and presumably not from any of the other settlements either. You said that it was only the deer that you had to deal with, not some new threat?”
“Right.”
Galba tapped his fingers on the desk. “I suppose that is, in a sense, good news. At least there isn’t some new horror out there that you’ve come to tell us of.”
Crescent watched the man think. She was comfortable just sitting in silence, the vines wrapped around her hands and fingers stilling, the vines within her throat not needing to move. The act of living was so much work. So, she was comfortable examining Galba, trying to read his thoughts by his face.
Crescent watched as Galba’s head sank a little bit as he stared off at a point on the wall. “Are you okay?” she asked.
“I am as well as can be expected given the circumstances. At the moment, I am mired in conversation with the bridge guild. They’re making the building of watchtowers difficult. It seems that they have their hands in any kind of public infrastructure. As it is, they are diverting me from overseeing other matters.”
Galba paused and looked at Crescent. “I suppose that I have another assignment. While attending to… other things, I would have you investigate a death near the west end of Verdant. It was deemed an accident. But, given everything, I worry that there might be more to it. Right now we are in a battle for information. Every scrap of knowledge could be vital in determining our safety.”
Crescent eyed him. “And I’ll be paid?”
A thin smile pressed against Galba’s lips. “Of course you will.”
“I’ll report back soon.”
It took three-quarters of an hour before Crescent made it to the house of the deceased. It required a surprising amount of walking and as well as another crossing of Hearthrawl bridge. Crescent just had to bear it; the other bridge was worse. As she made her way to the outskirts of Verdant, she wondered idly if the bridge guild should be focused more on maintaining their bridges than on quibbling over Verdant’s defenses. She didn’t want to drown again.
The buildings thinned as she reached the outskirts of Verdant. At the outermost edge, the buildings had thinned substantially, the intermittent space filled with small outlying fields. Little green buds poking up through the soil. The spare houses each were modest. Although a few looked somewhat larger than the ones found closer to the heat of Verdant, but were neither ostentatious nor ornate. Thin cracks and large spans of ivy decorated each wall, and paint and colors were faded in a way that suggested quaintness instead of neglect.
Beyond the houses and the fields was a wall formed from wooden stakes, the remnants of a palisade. Crescent couldn’t quite tell what it guarded or discern what it was meant to guard against. The wood was old, and stained, and cracked. There was an odd kind of majesty to it, but she wasn’t there to dwell on it now.
Her plan was to begin investigating by talking to the neighbors of the deceased. And yet, the first person she met was one she was already well acquainted with. Crescent noticed that Valeria’s hand rested on her sword. Based on the times she had beheld the blade, it seemed to be well crafted. Crescent wondered where the woman had gotten such a thing from Very few people had enough wealth or enough status to carry a sword, especially not in the backwater settlements. It stood as a testament to the woman’s importance.
Although, despite usually having brown eyes that burned like molten metal, Valeria’s gaze seemed to have cooled. Her shoulders were tensed with worry, making her look more like Abraxas than herself. But she straightened, again donning her air of imperiousness as she noticed Crescent.
“What are you doing here?” Asked Valeria.
“It was requested that I investigate a death in this region.” Crescent considered Valeria for a moment. “I assume that you’re here for the same reason?
“Yes. I suppose that it will be good to have your company.”
“Where’s Abraxas?” Crescent hardly ever saw the two apart and wondered if
“He has his duties, tending to the wounded, becoming a great healer. And, well, I have mine. There are some things that I need to do for Verdant.”
“But you’ll still be thankful for my companionship?
There was a moment of hesitation before Valeria gave her answer. “Yes.”
“Well, that’s always good. We’ll have each other’s backs just like…” Crescent noticed Valeria flinch very slightly. It seemed that the woman was not yet ready for mention of their failed expedition. Crescent changed tactics “Anyway, I’ve heard you’ve trained for this, correct?”
“Yes. The Magistrate… and Mackrin instructed me. They taught scholarship, dueling, politics… leadership. I was blessed with an education just short of that from the universities in Caespen Ru or Vro Techroma. I was supposed to join the council in Caespen Ru and advocate for Verdant.”
“What was your education like? I’d assume it was arduous, right? It must have been difficult.” It was always good to get people to talk about themselves. Oftentimes it built up confidence and ease in the person, something Valeria seemed desperately to need.
“It was long days spent dueling and studying. Hill Mackrin took me on with his as he traded in the other settlements until I knew the economy of each by heart. Every day was spent in study. I can’t remember how many books the Magistrate had me read. Some days my eyes were shot from bending over the pages. And then the dueling practice—”
They were now near their destination. In front of them was a burly man tending to the fields. Dark hair framed his postmarked face and a thin scar stood out stark against his otherwise deep brown skin. He stood next to a large bonfire, its smoke darkened by burning herbs. And with the gemstones on his forearms gleaming violet, and arms outstretched, the man was pulling the smoke from the fire into the field.
“What’s he doing?” Crescent asked Valeria, despite already knowing the information. Letting Valeria answer would be a chance for her to show off.
“He’s enriching the soil with the byproducts of the plant material. It contributes to plant health.
“Fascinating!”
Valeria nodded. Then she rolled her shoulders, straightened her back, and plastered a smile onto her face. “Alright let’s go talk to him.”
She approached the man. “Hello. Did you know Ms. Pergin before her death?”
The man paused in his work for a moment, saying “The creepy old lady that lived by herself? I knew of her, but she didn’t go out much. Kept to herself, she did. It was an admirable quality.”
“Well, I’ve been sent to look into her death. I’m sorry, I know this must be hard for you, but can you tell me what happened?”
The man glared at them. “There isn’t anything to tell.”
“Look, I’m just doing my part. Can you give me details about the incident?”
“It was an accident. I don’t pry into other people’s business.” He gave her a pointed nod.
“Are you sure you can’t tell me anything about what kind of an accident she might have had?”
“Old people get hurt and get sick all the time. How should I know?”
“Surely you must know something? The Magistrate and I would be very appreciative of anything you told us.”
Crescent knew that this was distinctly the wrong thing to say. Indeed, the man looked quite incensed, saying “Well, I’m not very appreciative of the Magistrate sending people to meddle in our business”
Despite Valeria’s years of scholarship and preparation for Caespen Ru politics, she seemed ill-equipped when it came to manipulating and persuading the common man. Crescent needed to step in
“With how cagey your being… it’s starting to look as though you might have had a hand in your death. Now, I’m sure you didn’t, but that’s not what the Magistrate will think after he asks for my report. I don’t want to involve the government any more than you do, so just give me some information to start with and we can be done with this.”
“Now don’t worry yourself about that. No, the Magistrate won’t ever come down here. He’s too afraid of what this place represents. You see that?” He gestured at the remnants of a spiked wooden wall that lined the outer edge of the farms. “These palisades were constructed to fend off Caespen Ru when it tried to gain dominion over us. They stand as a reminder that just because we pay Caespen Ru tribute, that doesn’t mean we owe them anything. We put up one hell of a fight back in the day. The Magistrate doesn’t like the reminder that not everybody loves him.”
Crescent gazed at the wall as she spoke. “I’d never heard of that before. I’m glad that I have now.” Slowly, she turned back towards the man and lowered her voice conspiratorially. “Now, I’m sorry my friend’s been bothering you. You probably know her, big government assignments, thinks she’s very important. I don’t want to bother honest folk more than necessary. Just give us something, and we’ll be able to go.”
The man’s glare lessened, and he looked somewhat mollified. “Alright. I don’t know much but talk to the Graveskeeper. He’s where all of the corpses end up.”
“Thank you.”
The cracked front door of one of the nearest houses opened just a sliver, and the voice of a young girl called out, “What’s going on, papa?”
“It’s nothing, Cindy. Go back inside, and don’t worry yourself.”
The door closed with a faint slam.
Crescent turned towards the farmer. “It looks like I’ll be off then, and I won’t trouble you anymore, sir. You have my apologies.”
She stuck out her hand, and the man had courtesy enough to shake it, though he glared at her while doing so. As they departed, Crescent noticed that the man ceased his work and, instead, went back into his house, making sure to close the door behind him. It slammed.
To Crescent’s great annoyance, the first thing Valeria did once the farmer disappeared was apologize. At least it wasn’t some sappy apology, said with tears and shaking shoulders. It was formal and reserved, like something someone would say when failing some task. “I’m sorry. It appears that I should have let you take the lead there. I had not realized I would be so ill-equipped to talk to someone. I nearly messed it all up… ” And there, at the trailing edge of her speech, was that sign of brokenness.
Crescent patted Valeria on the back. “You did fine. Hold fast. Teasing information out of folks is surprisingly different from politicking. I’m just more practiced at it, being a merchant and all. Now, I’m going to meet with the Graveskeeper. Why don’t you try and talk to the refugees? Most of them are living nearby right there, correct?”
Valeria nodded. “They’re just past where the palisade ends.”
You’ll probably have better luck talking to them.”
“I will do this thing. I- I think that there is something going on here that requires further investigation.”
The Graveskeeper’s hut was nearby, as were the graves. Likely, Crescent knew, the Graveskeeper would be a Tivour like herself. Of the few other Tivour she had met on her travels, a sizable portion had tended to the dead. It was apt, she supposed, for the dead to be overseen by those who had once already passed from life. Although, such a job had always seemed far too melancholy for her. She didn’t have the heart for it, even if hers still had been beating.
But, despite expecting to see another such as herself, the person she first saw upon approaching the cemetery was not a Tivour, shrouded in vines with skin just beginning to fall from the bones. No, instead she saw a man with flaming red hair bent over with silent tears.
It was Merc, and he had come to grieve his daughter.
Crescent tried to tread quietly, not wanting to intrude upon the man’s grief as she made her way towards the Graveskeeper’s hut. But her efforts were for naught. Merc stared up at her, his face marred by grief.
All she could do was whisper a single “I’m sorry.” Their last interaction—more of an altercation, really—had been full of threats and bribes and accusations. Whatever Merc’s faults, Crescent didn’t want to disturb the grieving man.
Merc pointed at her with a quavering finger. “You were with her before she… Please, tell me what happened.”
“I didn’t see it.”
“But you were still there. How did she die? Was- was she alone?”
Crescent knew that everyone died alone. Even if one were dying surrounded by friends, once they drifted into the abyss they would be on their own. And Hildegard’s death had been particularly alone, as she lay in a ruined building, torn at by monsters that no one understood, far from her compatriots. “No, she wasn’t alone. We were there for her in her last moments.”
What had been silent tears now came louder, though his voice lowered till it was barely above a whisper. “She was so brave. Always, so brave. I hope she knew that I loved her.”
“She did, I promise you.”
“I- thank you.”
And there was nothing less to say. Or rather, perhaps, Merc was merely without the words to say what he wished. Either way, Crescent departed the conversation and entered into the Graveskeeper’s hut. Hand pressed against the door, she pushed her way in. Already a smile was stretching across her face. One always needed to be ready for their next encounter.
She found the Graveskeeper—a Tivour, as had been expected—sitting at a table contemplating a deck of cards. The room was cluttered, with a hundred little trinkets and bits of refuse strewn about the room. Every surface was lit with natural sunlight, let through by the large windows facing east and west. It looked like many similar houses inhabited by other Tivour.
An orange flower, the color of softly burning flames, rested atop his head. And carvings upon his face now were pigmented the same shade of gleaming orange as the flower. Where not covered by clothing, vines could be seen writhing under translucent skin. It was a level of, well, transparency, that Crescent didn’t know she would be comfortable with. Perhaps that was the reason the man was so covered in fabrics, with his large dingy robe stretching past his ankles and covering much of his form. The man’s root had been a Sculos. It was less common to have sprouted from one of them, but not unheard of.
“Ah, one of the kindred. I’d heard rumors that another such as us had arrived in this settlement.” The Tivour were few and had spread far across the land, and so many were often moving. It was rare to meet with another of their ilk.
“It’s too rare that I meet with another of our kindred. How long have you made your home here? Are you one of those that travel, or have you settled here?”
“I’ve been here for just over one hundred and seven years. It might be time for me to go to the Glade soon, but not quite yet. How old are you?”
“I am just starting my eighth year as a kindred.”
“Ah, such a young one. It is always good to meet with a new life.” For how rarely Tivour met with each other and for how soon one departed from their parents, it was strange how much of their interactions with each other were formalized.
“The… corpse that was brought to me recently, Ms. Pergin, I want any information you might have on her death.”
“Why are you inquiring? To my recollection, she hadn’t donated her body to be a Root.”
“Oh no, nothing like that. I’m not at that stage of my life yet. For the moment, we’re just trying to determine her cause of death.”
“Ah, I see. I don’t know the exact cause of her death. But, I can say that her body bore significant injuries. Portions of her legs looked as though they had been crushed. There was a hole skewered in her chest. And then, in some parts, it looked as though some of her flesh had been torn away.”
“You didn’t think to look into this?”
The man shrugged. She could see the vines twisting around his shoulders, tensioning and lifting them up. “People die in strange ways. I have seen too much to comment on the way that people pass into the stars.”
They were growing a bit too close to the taboo topic; Tivour never discussed how they died. It was impolite.
“How were you notified of her death?”
“Oh, one of the farmers told me in passing. Don’t ask who, I have trouble telling people apart after a century. New people pop up so quickly, not like the kindred.”
“And her legs, you said they were crushed? Do you know what by?”
“I don’t know, falling debris maybe? Although, it looked as though they had been cracked multiple times. Don’t ask me for specifics. I’m no coroner. I just tend to the dead.”
“Well, I must thank you before I leave.”
“Think nothing of it; it was good to see one of you again. Just make sure you talk to the next kindred you see. Too many of us spend too little time with each other.”
“I’ll make sure to do that.”
She met with Valeria in the Herald’s Spoon. The refined-looking woman didn’t seem like the type who would enjoy frequenting the Eyesocket. Already, Valeria was there when Crescent entered. Uneaten food lay before her and she grasped a mug of tea in steady hands.
“I talked to the refugees. They told me of strange bellowing screams that they heard in the night, accompanied by the sound of hoofbeats. Crescent, they’ve been experiencing deaths too. For them, there’ve been almost a half-dozen. And sometimes they just disappear. Although, they hadn’t experienced anything the last two nights, and that was when Ms. Pergin died.”
“That fits with what the Graveskeeper said. He told me that the woman’s legs were crushed, that she had been gored in the stomach, that it looked as though the flesh had been torn from her.”
Valeria sucked in a breath. “A deer. They’re back.”
“Yes, I think so.”
“They’ve come back for us. We led them to Verdant.” Valeria’s brow furrowed. “Or, no. these are scattered attacks. That doesn’t make sense for a herd. If there had been a lot of them, there wouldn’t be just one or two disappearances—it would be an onslaught.”
Crescent considered the matter. “Does this mean that it might not be the deer?”
“It could be something else. But I think it more likely that it’s just a single deer. We need to find out what it’s doing. We can’t have it bring a herd back here.”
Crescent was glad that Valeria seemed more determined. The hero would need to step up and don command if they were to survive. “Alright. So, what’s our next course of action?”
“I think that we should go and investigate the place where Ms. Pergin died. There could be more information there. I could, perhaps, learn why the dear attacked there of all places. Although, should we confront the deer, it might be best if we were equipped to fight it. I think, out of everyone, our best fighter is Malik.” Valeria’s fingers curled around her sword. “We need to get him on board. And he would want to know about this.”
It cost something, Crescent thought, for Valeria to say that.
The sun had crested its zenith and was now falling towards the west. The shadows were beginning to lengthen once again. The air was still warm and the azure flower atop Crescent’s head stretched towards the light and warmth above.
And they soon found themselves at the blacksmith’s shop where Malik worked. Crescent had made it her business to find out as much as she could about the Sculos after her first encounter with him. And, indeed, a knock on the door revealed that Malik was there and on break.
Here, again, it was Valeria who spoke first. “The deer, we think that they’re back. We’ve discovered that there is one lurking in the woods, picking off people. We’re going to investigate the sight of the last disappearance”
“You think they’re back?”
“Yes. Perhaps only one or two of them, but they’re back.”
“I see.” Sculos didn’t pale, but Malik’s expressionless face seemed a tab more transparent. “Why is this being brought to my attention?”
“We were hoping that you would help guard us as we investigate the place where the most recent victim was found.”
There was a moment’s silence where Crescent wasn’t quite sure how Malik would respond. Eventually, he nodded and gave his assent: “Alright, let’s go.” He walked towards the door, grabbing his long war hammer as he did so.
Crescent was trying to develop a good read of him. She always had just a shade more difficulty discerning Sculos emotions as compared to humans. He didn’t quite seem the type for selfless acts. Perhaps the deer had scared him enough the last time, or perhaps he had some other motive. Their time together could offer certain insight. Crescent continued her musings as she and Malik followed Valeria down the road.
Ms. Pergin’s home was small and quaint. It stood alone. Not even the palisade stretched this far, ending just a bit north of the house. It gave the place an air of loneliness, of being exposed to the elements, of timelessness. The washing was still hung up, long since dried. A small garden by the front door was still looking orderly, not yet having had the time to grow wild. A few windows were missing, though most were whole. It was as though the palace was still filled with her memory, awaiting the time at which she would return.
And yet, when Crescent peered closely she could faint hoof prints could see leading into the house. Some have been obscured by wind and weather, though others were left mostly intact. It was final confirmation that there had indeed been a deer. Crescent watched as her two compatriots tightened their grip on their weapons.
What they saw upon opening the door was in stark contrast to the outward appearance of the place. Everything was overturned, with furniture toppled and faint lines gouged into the floor. Faint splatters of blood could be seen though they had long since dried. The pale orange glow of the setting sun, akin to firelight, shone through an empty window. The body may have been removed, but the events of her death had not been erased.
While Valeria knelt amidst the rubble, Malik still stood upright, hand gripping his hammer, face pointed towards the door. Perhaps he was resolute in his duty, or perhaps he was just nervous. Either amounted to the same thing at the moment
And it was a good, thing. Long before she or Valeria heard it, Malik had already drawn his hammer. “Something’s out there.”
Crescent scrambled to her feet, Valeria not far behind. And now she could hear it too, a loud bellow and the sound of hoof beats. Cautious despite her every vine and petal aching to move, a memory from when her body had been alive, Crescent exited the house, following behind Malik. She drew a dagger hidden within the folds of her vines. Likely she wouldn’t be the one in danger, but she couldn’t let anything happen to her compatriots. It would be sloppy and unseemly.
“We need to meet it,” Valeria said, not a quaver in her voice. “If the three of us can stop it we put an end to this.” She drew her sword.
Her response came in the form of silent nods.
They walked around the corner of the house, treading carefully, almost creeping. It reminded her just a little too much of their time in Briarknoll. This time, however, they would strike first. And soon, as they passed behind the house, they saw the deer standing near the closest edge of the palisade, eyes boring into the.
The deer was radiant in the light of the setting sun. Golden beads of sunlight gilded the deer. A partially exposed portion of its skull glowed with fiery colors. The grand aberration was awash in ribbons of amber and violet, like starlight and firelight intertwining.
It charged at them, hoofs kicking up faint clouds of dust. The deer lowered its head, bearing its antlers. It met Malik’s hammer with a crack and there were splinters of white as bone broke and shattered. Crescent watched as Malik’s shoulders eased, as his posture shifted into a freer, easier one than he usually held. The deer thrust its head upwards, knocking Malik and his hammer aside. But Crescent saw Malik work with the motion, bringing it back to the side in a parry. Crescent appreciated Valeria’s choice of companions.
Valeria had gotten around to the deer’s side, sword reddied. “Let me have this one,” she said. Her voice was soft, her eyes were fierce.
After a glance in her direction, Malik nodded and began to back away.
Valeria attempted to slash it with her sword. But the aberration was lithe and she missed, though only by inches. The deer turned its attention towards her. It charged at her, and she dodged to the side just in time. As it passed, Valeria aimed again for its side, this time wounding it. Purple blood burst forth, coating her sword.
The deer was wounded, its movements more sluggish. It fell. All that was left was Valeria and her bloody sword, Malik and Crescent standing back. Crescent contemplated the deer for a moment, wondering just what it had been doing.
An unearthly call sounded faintly from the north.
The deer snapped its head toward the noise and bounded back into the woods, back behind the palisade, calling out in response. It soon disappeared into the forest beyond Verdant’s border.
“What was that?” came Malik’s impassive speech.
“It’s call was returned. There’s another one out there. This became more pressing.” Valeria said.
“What do you suggest we do now then?” Crescent looked towards Valeria.
“I wonder… The refugees were to the north of the farms, while we’re now south of them? And the call came from around the direction of the farm.”
A grim look spread across Valeria’s face for a moment. “We should go back to the farmer.” And then her expression shifted. “But you should do the talking this time.”
“Will do.” Crescent tried to keep an upbeat and encouraging tone, but it seemed as though Valeria had slid back into insecurity.
And then they traveled to the same farmstead they had visited prior. They moved slower than they had, their pace slowed by injuries. Nothing was series, at least not to Crescent’s untrained eye, but enough to be a pain. Still, they eventually made it back to the farmstead.
The door was closed and the windows all were shuttered. There was no one tending smoke in the fields and the fire had since gone out. Crescent wondered if the tiny shoots looked a bit less green, but that was most likely just her sense of atmosphere.
She knocked on the door. Nothing greeted her.
She knocked again, before trying to open it. It was locked. And then a small voice, that of a little girl’s, said “My daddy told me to say you should go away.”
“Where’s your dad? Can I speak with him?” Crescent asked the child.
“He can’t come to the door right now.”
“Oh, where is her?”
“He’s…” she turned away from the door for a moment, “sleeping. He’s sleeping.” As she repeated the phrase she said it with more confidence as if that would cause Crescent to believe her.
“Then could you talk to us?” Crescent got nee so that she would be at eye level with the girl.
“My daddy said I shouldn’t talk to you people.”
“Oh, and why is that?”
“He told me not to say.”
Crescent was starting to get the barest inkling of what had happened. “Is your daddy hurt?”
After far too long the girl said “no,” in such a small voice.
There was a whisper from behind Crescent. “Ask her if she’ll accept help from Abraxas. He’s gone up here to tend to people before, and I remember him talking about seeing to someone with a scar on his face like that farmer had.”
Crescent nodded and turned to the door. “I’m friends with Abraxas okay? If I brought him here, would you let him check out you and your daddy? We want to make sure you’ll be okay?”
“You know ‘braxas?”
“Yes. And I know he’d be worried about you.”
“Okay.”
Crescent turned back to the group. Valeria stared intently at the door, hand at her sword hilt, while Malik gazed out into the surrounding area, ready, vigilant.
“Well, that went worse than hoped, but we found out something,” Valeria said “It looks like Abraxa will be our way in. Malik you stay here and stand guard in case anything attacks. Crescent, you’ll come with me.”
“Whatever you say.”
Night was falling upon them like rain. Most houses were dark but a candle was still lit in the apothecary. Crescent gazed up at the stars and wondered how much time she would have left until her vines failed for lack of light. She thought she had some hours left, but did not want to spend another night leaning against the wall, her vines not strong enough to puppeteer her limbs. That would be a matter for later on, but it was worth considering and playing with, at the moment.
“Valeria, I won’t be up for much longer.”
Valeria glanced at her, then at the night sky. “Do you need to sit this one out?”
“No, I don’t think so. I want to see this through. But, you’ll help me if I need it, right?” Saying this should improve Valeria’s opinion of her and make it seem like she was part of the group, willing to sacrifice herself for Valeria’s cause. The seeds of this idea would be placed within Valeria’s mind.
So Crescent smiled—just slightly, just to herself—as Valeria nodded solemnly. “Yes, of course.”
They were at the apothecary door. Valeria knocked twice before letting herself in. Evidently, she was familiar with the place. And, before five seconds had passed, Abraxas was there before them. His black hair was disheveled, and his hands were still lightly crusted with dirt. He leaned awkwardly against a wall. “What are we doing this time?”
“Abraxas, someone is injured in the western edge of Verdant—one of the farmers.”
All at once Abraxas’s facial features shifted. His back straightened and his gaze was resolute. There was a sense of purpose to him that Crescent didn’t often see. “What are his symptoms.”
“We weren’t able to see. It was his daughter that came to the door.”
Abraxas cursed. “Do you have any idea what might have caused this?”
“Ah, well, we think he may have been bitten by a deer.”
Abraxas just stared at her for a moment before frantically returning to his work. “Alright. I’ll have to deal with that somehow.” He slung his bag over his shoulder. “Let’s go.”
Malik nodded at the trio as they neared the farmer’s door. Abraxas, meanwhile, stepped up to the door and softly knocked several times. “Cindy, it’s Abraxas. I’m here to help again, just like when your dad broke his leg last summer. Can you let me in?”
There was the click of a lock and Abraxas opened the door and stepped through, the others not far behind him.
The things that most readily stood out to Crescent were the little girl with frightened eyes and the large man who had draped himself on one of the chairs. A nasty gash scarred his bicep, a dirty rag wrapped around it, darkened with still pooling blood.
Already, Abraxas had started attending to him, preparing salves and bandages. “What did you do this time, Mr. Hayward?” Abraxas’s voice was a low whisper.
The farmer, Hayward, turned to his daughter and said in a low voice. “Cindy, I told you not to let them in. I don’t want any of those people to hurt us. We should keep to ourselves.”
“Now Mr. Hayward,” Abraxas said, “you know I’d never hurt you, I don’t think.”
The farmer glared at him.
“In any case,” Abraxas continued, “you need to tell me what happened to your arm so that I can properly treat it. You trusted me last time.”
Hayward gave no response. But then the awkward silence was broken by a loud cry from the next room. It made Crescent’s vines curl for she recognized that sound, that cry. It was the one that had been haunting them all day. Up close, the cry was a pained and almost pitiful sound, despite the horror that it conjured in Crescent.
“What was that?” asked Valeria in a hard, commanding voice.
Cindy hid her face. “Please, don’t hurt her.”
“Who is ‘her?’ What did you do?”
Hayward pressed his lips tight and Cindy’s face was drenched in tears. Crescent, following Valeira, tread slowly towards the back of the house until they came upon a small ramshackle shed. Again the cry came, and they could see that it came from within.
Holding her sword in her right hand, she opened the shed door with her left. Crescent saw a deer, an abomination like all the others, though this one was in the shape of a fawn. It was tied to a back post by its neck. Beside it, there was a young boy who held a pail of water. “Come on, Dasha, don’t be like that. Drink, it’ll make you feel better. You shouldn’t be acting like this. Please, Dasha.”
The deer lunged forward.
“What is that?” Valeria said, her voice rising with controlled fear and anger, reminding Crescent of the great nobles in Caespen Ru.
“That’s Dasha,” said a voice from behind them.
Hayward now stood behind him. He had hobbled there despite Abraxas’s protest. Even now the herbalist was trying to get Hayward to sit and rest. But Valeria stalled Abraxas with a look. Trailing behind the others was Cindy, followed by Malik, who was still glancing in every direction. Cindy was saying something but it couldn’t be made out amidst the sobs.
“She’s our family pet.” Hayward continued. “The kids love her. They’ve cared for her for almost a year by now. I was proud of them. And then one night, Dasha came back and was acting odd: more skittish than usual, more aggressive. We heard the reports of what you saw in the forest and, well, we’re not stupid. I could figure out what it meant, what had happened to her. But, Dasha was ours, we loved her. And, I’m pretty sure she loved us
“But she only got worse, and she started screaming in the night. The purple coloring spread over her like an infection. Her head started to… split. And, well, you can see it for yourself. But Dasha’s family.”
“I can get through to her,” said the boy beside the pail of water, “honest. I know I can.”
Dasha leaped towards him, teeth bared, only stopped by the rope around her throat. Still, she strained against it. The boy winced
“Hayward,” Valeria said in a cool tone, “That deer was calling out for more of its kind. One of them has been searching for this deer. That’s what’s been killing people. It’s been trying to get to this abomination but others have gotten caught in the crossfire.”
Crescent watched Valeria’s eyes flash as realization hit her. “While you’ve been protected by remnants of the old palisade, others have borne the weight of your recklessness. Did you ignore others taking the fall for your actions, or were you so inane as to be blind to it all,”
Crescent saw Abraxas leading the two children towards the house whilst Valeria continued her tirade. “The people’s deaths are on your hands. And you’re lucky that it was only you and not your children that got injured. Ruminate on what you would have done if your son or daughter had gotten grievously injured.”
Valeria then turned to Malik. “Hold its head still. We’ll take this away and deal with it since these people seem to be unable.”
Only Crescent and Hayward were left in the now-empty shed. And Hayward said the only thing that she supposed he could say. “I’m sorry”
“Yeah, well, you messed up, big time.” Crescent stared at him with her sky-blue eyes. But she made her gaze soften, adding a slight lift to her eyebrows, a quirk to her lips, a fullness to her cheeks.
“I loved that deer. But I- I shouldn’t have…” The man was breaking down.
“No, you shouldn’t have. But what matters is that you pick yourself back up. People died, and it’s at least partially your fault, don’t forget that. We will only get through this if it’s all of us. We need to look out for each other. You still have your kids; be grateful for that. And make sure you look out for them.”
“I will.” He looked at her, faint tears glistening in his eyes. “Please, keep the others safe.”
Crescent smiled at him, fuller this time. “Of course.”
And then the man knelt and placed his hand on her wrist. “From hand to heart.”
“From soul to deed.” And she felt power bristling within the gemstones on her arm as they darkened purple.
“If you or the others ever have need of me, just ask.”
“I-” Crescent pretended to hesitate as she knew a person might ought to. “We will, of course.”
Valeria sat with her legs crossed, her back to the side of the house.
“I sent the boys back,” she said as a response to Crescent’s raised eyebrow. “I just needed a moment.”
“Do you want me to go?” Crescent lingerd.
“Not yet.” After a minute, Valeria said, “That could have gone worse, I suppose.”
“Oh, definitely. It went quite well.”
“I appreciate your saying that. But we’d probably all have solved this a lot sooner if I’d let you talk to Hayward. And then I got myself injured by a single deer. At the end, I lost my temper and went off on Hayward. I was supposed to be better than this.”
“Yeah, well, that did happen. But, I think that you have a false impression of yourself.”
“Oh, do I?” Valeria stared up at Crescent.
“Yes. You’ve been groomed to take your place in the high council of Caespen Ru. But that’s not where we are. You might have to accept that much of your training prepared you for the wrong thing. Verdant doesn’t need another politician, they don’t need an advocate in a foreign city.”
“I think I’m starting to realize that.” Valeria looked down towards the earth.
Crescent sat down next to her “They need a leader. And today you lead, okay? Part of leading is delegating. You brought along Malik. It was your idea to bring along Abraxas. And without that, we wouldn’t have gotten into the building.”
“I- thank you.”
Crescent clasped Valeria’s wrist in both her hands. “From hand to heart.”
The response was only a whisper. “From soul to deed.”
“Your training encouraged you to do everything yourself. I’m not saying that was wrong, but for something of this scope, you need to be able to delegate to people that you trust. You’re the leader with that mind of yours.”
“I’ll think about doing that. I should talk to the Magistrate about extending the Palisade all around Verdant.”
“That’s the spirit.”
Valeria rose but Crescent remained sitting. Her leaves were curling inwards and her vines were more tired due to the lack of sun. She would, of course, be able to make it back to her bed; she made sure to keep track of these things.
But what she said was: “Could you help me, it’s late and I need the support.”
“Of course.” Valeria then hauled her to her feet. “Anything to help a friend.”
And so the two women walked together.
