Rotten Æther

“I hate chants,” I grumble staring down at the words he’s written down for me. It’s incredible to think that this string of words scribbled hastily onto a loose sheet of notepaper could give me some new power, but even then, I have complaints. “It’s too slow and takes too long to change things, I manipulate things really quickly.”

“Learning a new magic without chants isn’t unheard of, but you’ll be spending years hitting your head on the wall and even then you won’t be able to do much,” the teacher explains. “The chants mean you can learn the magic much faster. The chants help you to stretch your adaptive æther veins into the right shape to bring about the magic so you can start developing dedicated veins for the magic.”

I let out a long sigh and start muttering the chant again to get the right feel out of it. Imagining what I want to happen is supposed to make it easier to summon the magic. With weight magic, I can make my swords lighter or heavier as I want, and I can even do the same thing to myself. It’ll let my entire fighting style develop so much further in line with what I want from it, which is control over my momentum.

Even saying the words, my æther is expelled loose into the air, becoming nothing as the magic fails to form. Channelling the power hurts a little, like clenching your fist a little too hard, or exercising muscles that you haven’t used in a long time, but I have to do this.

Bouncing between tents and trees, I navigate our little camp, the guards I see nodding politely or even waving at me as I pass by. The moment my secret is out, they’ll all change their expressions. They’ll see me the same as they do the monsters outside. It’s what everyone has been telling me, depending on how things turn out, it could be the same with Namor.

A desperate ragged howl in the distance proves that the infection is still out there. Soon people will recognise these creatures, and when they do…

“We shouldn’t hide her,” Saya says, already working her needles as she works on something for Namor. I didn’t even have to ask her about it.

“But if people see her, they’ll compare her to the monsters,” I say, rubbing at my arms.

“If we were attacked by them, then I’d agree with you,” Saya shakes her head. “I’m sure the researchers with you are smart enough to listen and realize that she’s not a monster, and the Falchion company warriors aren’t as terrible as Knights and nobles. They haven’t seen these monsters yet, they’ll listen.”

I pause, looking Namor over and biting my lip.

I’ve been treating her problem the same as mine, but it’s not. Everyone here already hates necromancy, they hate it so bad that I couldn’t hope to convince them that I’m not evil and the moment they find out I’m in trouble.

Namor’s not trapped the same way. If we can talk to people, they might listen. If they don’t though…

“We can’t hide her,” Olive says, pulling me down closer to Namor and sitting with us. “It’s not good for her.”

“Fine,” I nod slowly. “But if anyone tries anything, I’ll beat them up.”

She nods quickly.

“Let me finish first,” Saya says, her needle flashing. “People come to respect you properly when you wear the right clothes, and what she’s wearing now just does nothing for her.”

“I’ll pay you,” I say, pulling out my purse. I’m not rich, but I don’t find much to spend my money on besides new clothes and things for my weapons.

“No, I couldn’t ask for it,” Saya says, not even glancing up from her work. “Not for something like this.”

“You need it to open a new store,” I say, finding a few coins and guessing at the cost, adding a little on top and giving it to Olive. She can hold onto it until her mother is done. “Clothes are worth spending money on.”

“Shoes?” Olive asks, rolling the coins in her hands before they disappear quickly. One returns to her palm, and she flicks it back and forth, smiling up at me.

She’s a bit cute, and before I met Rea, I even had some interest in her, but now…

How will she look when she finds out the truth about me?

“I’ll have to find someone that can make them,” I say. “Most shops only make shoes for normal feet, and she needs something different, but she’ll be fine so long as there’s no snow, her feet are better than ours like that.”

“Papa?” Namor asks, crawling up to my side and asking again.

“We can go see him after you get your new clothes,” I say, rubbing at her head and smiling down at her. Smiling for her kind is different to normal human expressions, and Anna gives me a weird look from the side of the room.

“How did you learn to talk like that?” Saya asks, turning curious eyes to me. “Are you talking with her? Or are you just making sounds?”

“I’m talking with her,” I sit up quickly and cross my arms.

“Those are for me?” Namor asks, looking at the clothes quickly forming in Saya’s hands. She didn’t have the chance to carry much with her, but she’s modifying a small cloak and stitching together a simple but elegant dress.

“They’re for you,” I say, nodding to the girl.

“How did you learn?” Saya asks again.

I don’t know how to reply. I obviously can’t tell her the truth, but I don’t know of a story that I can tell that would make any sense.

“I don’t want to say,” I reply after waiting a bit too long. I know it’s not a good reply, but it’s all that I’ve got. Maybe if Rea was here with me she’d have something smart to say, she’s a noble so I’m sure she’d be able to help me.

“Sorry if asking has brought up bad memories,” Saya says, pausing her work for a second to look at me properly before her hands return to work.

“It’s fine,” I shrug, looking back down at Namor.

“No one is allowed to know that your Papa is with us,” I tell her. “We have to be really careful, otherwise they’ll kill your Papa and they’ll kill me.”

Namor looks down, crossing her arms.

“Can’t you find a better healer?” She asks. “If you can’t fix him…”

“No,” I say firmly and stop her. “Normal healers can’t do anything. He’s… he’s lost his warmth, and he can’t get it back. Normal healers will try to kill him.”

“I don’t get it.”

“It’s fine, just let me protect you,” I say, squeezing her shoulder comfortingly. I’m just trying to be the person that I needed back then, and I’m not sure that it’s enough for her. She deserves to have her Papa back, but I can only give her so much.

“How are you?” Olive says, leaning against me and looking up into my eyes. “After everything… are you still okay?”

“I’m fine,” I shrug.

Namor flinches as another warbled howl rises in the night.

“What about you?”

“I’m… I’m just happy that Mom decided to come with us,” Olive says, smiling over at her mother. “If she wasn’t with us…”

“It’s good to have family,” I say, nodding firmly.

Anna is the one to flinch this time, looking at me and looking away as she meets my eyes. She’s still working on Titan, giving him a new arm this time. It looks like it’s meant to be a weapon, some sort of spike.

The sun has fallen by the time Saya is nearly done with her dress. Anna has run off a while ago to talk to Theo and get his help with introducing Namor to the mercenaries, and I’ve been practising my magic and my chants in the time between.

I get the spell to work one time, making myself a little heavier and I’ve been trying to get it the same since.

“Finished,” Saya says, lifting the dress and bringing it to Namor. “Olive, guard the door while we get her changed.”

I step a little closer and do what I can to help, mostly taking the old clothes off of Namor. She’s old enough to know how to get changed, she could get herself dressed when she was half her current age because she loved dressing up so much.

“Very pretty,” I nod as I look her up and down. Her face isn’t covered like before, but with her cloak closed with its hood up, she’ll mostly be hidden when she needs to hide.

The dress itself is very simple, but the cloth is something better than what I would usually buy. Saya only brought her best with her, and it seems like I might have under paid for it. It shimmers with every ripple, sparkling red stars shimmering as she slowly waves it around herself.

“When we get to snow spring, I can finish work on it,” Saya says. “I’ve done what I can for now.”

“Thank you very much,” Namor says, bowing to Saya. “Can I go show Papa now?”

“In a little bit,” I say, smiling at her before sending her thanks on to Saya.

“You’re welcome,” Saya replies. “How can I say that so that she understands?”

“Ah…” I slowly pronounce the words, still echoing them from Grey. Most of the sounds are easy enough to copy, but there is a strange tongue click that takes some effort to get used to.

Saya slowly echoes the sound and Namor barks an excited laugh, grabbing the older woman’s hand and shaking it happily.

“They’re ready,” Anna says, coming in through the door. “They know the story, the researchers were a bit surprised, but they even worried for Namor now that they know. It’ll be fine.”

“Okay,” I turn to the girl and grip her hand as she turns to me.

“Before we can see your Papa, I need you to come with me and talk to some people,” I say forcing a smile. For some reason, I feel sick in the depths of my stomach as I squeeze her hand and lead her out.

“It’s not dangerous?”

“It’s less dangerous this way,” I say, smiling and showing off my teeth. “We’ll be fine.”

Theo is waiting outside for me, walking with us as we head through the dark camp to the large cooking fire where most people have gathered.

“You’ll be alright,” Theo says, looking between the two of us. “I think this is a smart move. I wasn’t going to bring it up just yet, but… it’s brave of you. Both of you.”

“This is about Namor,” I say. “How am I brave for this?”

“You’re putting yourself at risk right beside her,” Theo says, patting my shoulder comfortingly. “That’s brave.”

I shrug, not feeling comfortable with his compliment. I’m not brave. If I was brave I wouldn’t run away from everything. I would stay to fight for what I want. Instead, I hide and I run.

Saya and Olive follow right behind us, and Namor stands a little taller than I expected out of her. She’s brave and strong. I’m sure that she’s hurting inside, but she’s not showing any of it.

“Welcome, welcome,” a familiar tall man says, waving us in. I think he was important in the Falchion company but I can’t remember his name. “Let’s get little Namor introduced so the dumbest of us know not to mess with her.”

“They’d better not,” I growl, bearing my teeth. Namor sees a smile, everyone else sees a threat, but only chuckle in response. Namor draws away from me, fearlessly letting go of my hand as she approaches the fire at the man waving her closer and offering her a bowl of food.

I’ve been beaten out by food.

The mercenaries look at her with a bit of curiosity, but whenever she looks at them, they wave and smile. They were clearly told to do that. She happily drinks it all in, acting like she would back in her home village as she moves around sniffing at things and picking at her food.

“You’re frowning,” Theo says, bringing me a bowl of stew alongside his own.

I reach up to my face, feeling at my lips and proving him right.

“I… is it bad that I feel… sour? Is that the word?” I say, trying to twist my lips out of a frown.

“You’re jealous?” Theo asks, not seeming upset by it.

“Jealous?” I ask.

“The way they’re reacting to her,” Theo says.

“I…” I thought that Namor and I were the same. I kept thinking that everyone would think that she’s evil if they found out, and I’m not entirely wrong. When the disease spreads from the moon-blessed people will get the wrong idea and try to hurt her, but that’s not happening yet.

“I’m sorry that you have to keep yourself hidden,” Theo says, looking down into my eyes and rubbing my head. “But try not to let that affect how you see Namor. She needs you, and even though she’s smiling right now, I think you know better than I do that she’s still suffering.”

“Okay,” I nod slowly, finding the sourness in my heart and pushing it down and away. It’s not a good feeling. I should be happy that she’s got this moment of acceptance, especially with how bad things could get in the future.

“Papa…” Namor comes to a stop standing by the fire. “I want… I want Papa.”

She starts to whine, but no one around her realizes that she’s crying. Not immediately.

I rush in and wrap my hands around her shoulders.

“Come on, let’s go see your Papa,” I whisper, leaving the warmth of the fire behind.