Fate and Such

It wasn’t supposed to be a difficult mission. The Commonwealth had just told him to deliver a letter. That was supposed to be it. Out of all of the tasks they’d had him complete, he’d have pegged this as one of the least likely to get him killed. Now, as he ducked behind a bar to avoid a spray of gunfire, Marc decided that he’d put it somewhere around the middle. 

Glass shattered behind him, and he felt a splash of what he assumed was beer spill over him. Still, he needed to keep his focus if he wanted to survive the altercation. Two Commonwealth loyalists crouched next to him; they looked scared. Marc supposed he’d have to be the one to get them out of this. Absolutely wonderful. At least, if he completed it to the Commonwealth’s satisfaction, he’d be one step closer to paying off his debts—presuming they didn’t consider it a botched job. So, summoning his courage he peaked back over the bar and returned fire. He barely glimpsed one of his opponents, blood spilling from their side before they hit the ground and Marc lost track of them. 

And then, across the bar, the door opened. Marc swore under his breath. They were wearing some kind of mercenary uniform. He hadn’t bothered to learn how to tell the getups apart, but he knew that this one wasn’t good. Just when he thought the mission was going about as badly as reasonably ought to, something like that happened. Then he caught sight of her face— a tangle of red hair, blue eyes as cold as lightning, a gaze that could melt stone, blood trickling down her side. There was something familiar, something haunting, about that woman, but he couldn’t dwell on it.

One of the commonwealth loyalists had peaked over the edge, gun in hand, ready to do their part. But there was a roar from the mercenary’s gun and the loyalist was struck with what seemed to be a bolt of thunder. They fell back beneath the bar, pained wheezes escaping from their lips.

Marc ducked back behind the bar as well. He couldn’t last too much longer like this, taking potshots at the enemy. This was especially so with the mercenary that had entered the bar. So, he rolled back one of his sleeves and drew in a breath as he uncovered the tapestry of ink. It was all courtesy of the Commonwealth, of course. The tattooed spellwork on his forearms shone with a dark light, visible even in the afternoon sun that filtered through the bar’s windows. Marc traced his fingers over one of the glyphs. He couldn’t read them, of course, but he still remembered what the grinning doctor had said as she had inked the glyph into his skin: conflagration.

It would be painful, Marc knew, when the magic bled from his skin. Such power was not an infinite resource. And their use was always… messy. But, he wanted to be done with this particular encounter. So, he pressed a finger into his arm, drawing along the selected glyph. Already, he could feel it burning him. He grimaced as the pain tore at his flesh. But he still smiled in satisfaction as the glyph came as though alive, the ink twisting as it danced along his forearm. 

Quickly, he rose from where he had hidden himself behind the bar. Immediately, he was greeted by a storm of gunfire. With precision, he extended his arm as power bled from it. Tangled ink writhed. A swirling mixture of blue and black and scarlet shot from his arm. Ancient glyphs reoriented themselves into a caricature of hellfire, then into a summoning of real flames. 

Marc ducked back behind the bar, trying not to listen to the screams as the conflagration descended upon people. Hopefully, it would be enough to buy his escape from the now wreck of a bar. He stole a glance at the two wide-eyed loyalists. Each clutched a gun in shaky fingers. They’d been a load of help, definitely worth their getting him into this hellhole of a situation. 

“You ready? On my signal, we’re gonna make a break for it.” Marc did his best to make his voice gentle. It wasn’t their fault they’d decided to get themselves mixed up in all this, not really. “Point your guns at anything you see moving, but don’t shoot.”

Both of them gave sharp nods, just like people did in propaganda vids.

Marc peeked over the edge of the bar and gazed at the ruination. All around were singed tables and floors. There were a few tiny fires lingering on patches of carpet. The battered bodies of men lay scattered and burnt across the floor. Blood and ashes decorated the ground. Marc turned his head back towards the bar.

“Let’s move.”

The two loyalists darted out from where they had been sequestered. And they started running. There was a single wayward shot from one of their downed opponents, but there was no resulting cry of pain so Marc just kept running. 

It wasn’t long before all of them were out of the bar, though the brief span had felt like an eternity. Adrenaline carried them a bit further. Marc stopped them outside of a half-collapsed alleyway, its shadowed walls offering a momentary reprieve. The stench of smoke and blood still clung to the air, but at least they weren’t getting shot at anymore.

Marc leaned against the crumbling brick, breathing hard. His arm throbbed where the magic had burned through his skin. He didn’t need to check to know the edges of the glyph had seared into fresh scar tissue.

One of the loyalists clutched his side like he might be sick. The other kept her gun raised, scanning the street.

“Where now?” she asked, voice tight.

“I get you two somewhere secure and then I find a bar that isn’t isn’t charred to cinders. After that I should check in with our superiors, but I don’t want you two worrying about a thing, alright? You two did good.”

They hadn’t really, but he supposed he couldn’t fault them for that. At least he’d managed to deliver the all-important missive from the Commonwealth, so that was taken care of. It was one more task down, for whatever that was worth, one more mission closer to freedom. As far as he knew there wasn’t a full garrison anywhere nearby; they were in too remote a village for that. He’d have to find some place for them to rest for the night before heading out then. It wouldn’t be too hard, he hoped. Most places paid at least tacit loyalty to the Commonwealth. So that should be easy enough to take care of.

But, there was something else that preoccupied him— a flicker of memory. Marc thought back to the red-haired mercenary from the day’s altercation. And he remembered a girl from back when they had both been far younger. She’d had a name— Cass. Marc smiled to himself, Those had been better days, far better. He’d been happy then. And Cass herself, well, she sure has hell had been something. It was a shame that he’d lost touch from most of the people from those days.

He wished they’d talked; he wished he hadn’t left her burnt and bleeding on the ground.

But there were more immediate matters for him to attend to, he supposed.

—

In the end, Marc managed to find an inn where they could stay, one that wasn’t burned down; he hoped it remained that way for the near future. He’d paid for rooms for the two loyalists, made sure they were safe and all. At daybreak he’d head out with them, drop them off at the garrison when they ventured through Teryl-Rin. It would be best for him to rest before they left.

But, he didn’t. Instead he was out on the inn’s balcony, bundled in a tight coat, blanketed by the light of the stars, a shudder of melancholy running through him. Cool air passed over trembling hands. Marc cast his gaze out towards the twinkling little gas lamps in the village below. They were pretty, he decided.

There was a mild thud on the balcony next to him.

A small smile began to play across his lips; he already had an idea of who it would be. And, when he turned, both his hopes and his fears were confirmed. There was the woman, her eyes like steel. She was wearing a smirk, just like she had in his memories. 

“I thought I saw you back there, Cass. I didn’t quite believe it though.” Marc gave a nervous chuckle; he still didn’t believe it.

“That’s how life happens. I wasn’t expecting to find you like this.” She made a vague kind of gesture towards him as she said the last line.

“Well, I’m glad you came to find me afterwards.”

“Of course,” and she smiled at him there and it seemed as though years melted away. “I kinda had to, didn’t I? I couldn’t pass up the chance, not after all this time.”

“I know what you mean.”

There was a silence then, though not an awkward one. They had known each other for too long for that, even though they’d been apart. It was more the silence of two friends sitting together under a harvest moon, the autumn winds playing with their hair. 

The silence was broken soon enough, however.

“I never thought you’d join the Commonwealth,” Cass said, after a moment. There was something in her tone and just the barest glimmer of fire in her eyes.

Marc took his time answering. “I didn’t think I would either. And well, I didn’t really join the Commonwealth.” Here he began to trace his fingers along his arm. He was glad to be wearing long sleeves at the moment. “Although I suppose the fine distinction doesn’t really matter. But, a lot changed since we last saw each other, I suppose.”

Cass studied him for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Then, with a sigh, she leaned against the balcony railing, staring out over the gas-lit village below. It seemed as if something had been taken out of her. “Yeah,” she said, almost to herself. “A lot changed.”

“Do you remember when we used to sneak onto the rooftops back in Vance Square?” Marc’s eyes shone like stars. “It’d be market day and we’d both run off, trying to climb up as high as we could. We thought we could see the whole world from up there.”

Cass let out a quiet chuckle, shaking her head. “I remember you breaking your damn leg jumping between buildings.”

“It was one time, and I remember it being your fault. At least, I only broke it because I was trying to chase after you.”

“I’m pretty sure it was your fault for missing the jump.”

“Of course you’d say that.”

“Of course I would.”

“Still am,” Marc admitted, exhaling slowly. “Just in different ways.”

Cass stopped then and tilted her head back, watching the stars for a moment before speaking. “So what happened to you, Marc? The real story. Not just ‘things changed.’ You were the best of us once.”

Marc began to answer but stopped himself, the ghost of a smile flitting across his face. “I was the best of us? I don’t think that’s how anything works.”

“Well, that’s what I used to think.”

“Look, I’m sorry. This isn’t how I imagined any of this would go. I didn’t want any of this to happen. I didn’t know what to do with myself and things just sorta all fell to pieces. Life stalled. Then, I made some bad deals. There were some debts I couldn’t pay. And, well, here I am now.” Marc flourished his arms in a grand gesture. “Ain’t it something.”

Cass let out a slow breath, shaking her head. “Damn it, Marc.”

The silence stretched between them again, heavier now. He wanted to tell her everything—to say that he hadn’t forgotten the way they used to talk about freedom, about getting out of the city, about everything behind. Again his fingers stretched, itching to run across the tattoos seared into his arm.

Cass glanced out at the surrounding night.

“You got somewhere to be?” There was just a hint of mirth in his voice.

Cass snorted. “Probably. But I can spare a little longer.” There was a twinkle in her eye as she looked at him. “Actually, I’m pretty sure that if I’m supposed to be doing anything, it’s killing you.” 

“Oh, that’s fun. I hope you decide not to do that.”

“Of course not; it wouldn’t be much of a fight, would it?”

Marc punched her in the arm. “I suppose that’s right. How did things turn out for you anyway? I never thought you’d turn mercenary— though I suppose that that is better than working for the Commonwealth.”

Cass turned away from him at that point, gazing into the far-off distance. “Yeah, well, things didn’t go well for me. You can probably tell that by the fact that I’m here, trying to shoot people, instead of working in a hospital. Well, I got the job, started helping people. Then the Commonwealth cut funding for the hospital, diverting it to soldiers and enforcers and the like. I was left aimless. And, well, I wanted to do some good.”

There was a brokenness in her tone that Marc didn’t like. “Life sucks right now,” was all that he could say.

“And so the wheel turns.”

“Have you managed to help people, at least?”

“Yeah, a few.”

“Then everything was worth it, wasn’t it?”

“I suppose you might be right. That’s a nice way to think about it.” 

Marc looked out across the city, counting all of the little twinkling lights. “Do you know how anyone else is doing? Emile? Lief?”

“No. I haven’t heard from either of them in years.”

“Oh.” Marc hoped that they were doing better than he and Cass were.

“I know. I wonder about them too sometimes.”

“Well, I’m glad that we, at least, could meet again.”

Something was waning then. Perhaps it was the night beginning to die or the air beginning to still. Perhaps they had talked for so long that the shadows had all begun to fade. In anycase, they were finding themselves in an ending, of sorts. .

“Yeah. I missed you,” said Cass with a sigh.

“So, what now?” he said after a moment.

“You go your way and I go mine. And I’m sure that you have more things to do for those… people you serve.”

“Will we see each other again?”

“Who knows?”

“Yeah. Who knows? I hope we do.”

“Me too. Let’s make this a ‘till next time, alright Marc?”

He turned away so he wouldn’t have to watch her go. When he glanced back so as to catch one more glimpse of her, she was already gone.