Sovereign of Wrath

The trip to the bar that night warmed my sister up a little, especially once Taava had embarrassed me enough that the anxiety of the room had morphed into curious camaraderie. Who wouldn’t take a chance to drink with the marchioness?

Unfortunately, Tania’s staunch defense of inhibitions led us to an early exit, and the rest of the evening took place in the castle. Awake, alert, and damnably sober I put together a list of things to do.

Smaller things, like refurbishing the castle’s smithy with a new furnace and taller counters, and spending time with my wife and daughter. I had a lot to talk to Joisse about—and her new magic was a large part of it. From Seyari… we were going to train together, and soon.

The little I’d seen of Joisse that day, she’d been happy enough, but I saw how she kept away from the humans, even though she’d been confident enough to appear as a demon, startling a good few of my new subjects. But also pleasing me endlessly with her raft of new complains about the inadequacy of clothing designed with two arms in mind. Finally, someone who understands.

At the same time, we received volunteers to help restore the keep, including plans to rebuild the wall I’d punched in. Among them was that young man I’d talked to in the cellar, Doryn. His eagerness made me wonder if he’d end up part of the castle’s retinue in some form or another come spring.

Nearly a week passed like this; a haze of odd jobs, hands to shake, and a new bed or bed-adjacent soft space each night. It wasn’t until I’d finished packing my old, travel-worn pack for the outing to clear the pass that I remembered to think about what lay ahead.

And what lay behind.

I’d gotten the pack after the river by Mordwell’s estate had taken my old one. It had a stain from a pie I’d stubbornly tried to take with me from a small coastal town east of Lockmoth. It had scratches and scrapes and tears, and the faded lines of a charcoal mark used by the Guild Storage in that tide-smelling city. A faded number—I couldn’t remember quite what it had been—in Firalex’s handwriting.

We’d patched it at our house after that night I’d fought the monstrosity, and the new canvas stuck out garishly—wonderfully garishly—darker brown against the pale shade of the rest of it. The drawstring was from Gedon, and I’d had a burst seam sewed in Linthel.

I almost regretted that it didn’t have the scars from our flight through Navanaea, or a cute embroidery from Lilly in Sandmeadow. I imagined winding a wreath of flowering vines from my island as I’d done out of boredom during my two years of exile.

I’ve come halfway across the known world. More, maybe.

And here I am, in a place I may truly call home, packing again. This time, however, I’m going to return. This pack that’s been a constant companion, sometimes the only thing I had with me, and it still is.

But at the same time, it was tired. Ready to settle down.

I was too, I realized, and all four shoulders slumped. Given a choice, I’d bow out of this war, live with my family, and finally get that life I’d always wanted.

But, I had things to do yet. And in return I got to live in a castle and was now a noble. Myself ten years ago—my human self the year I’d died—couldn’t have possibly fathomed this life I now lead less than a day’s flight away from where my house once stood.

And, someone had given her everything to see me here.

Thanks, Abby.

I placed a hand over my gemstone, feeling its soft glow that pulsed in time with my heart.

Thanks for everything.

I pulled the drawstring taut and hefted the bag—light as always—pulling my arms through the loops and settling it into its place between my shoulders. The old, formed leather moved against all four shoulder blades, soft and warm.

I walked over to the oil lamp, dim now against dawn’s light that streamed through partially-finished shutters, and turned the knob, snuffing it. With a last look at a mostly-unfamiliar room I stepped out into the hallway, checked my new winter clothing, and headed out to meet Seyari, Joisse, and Kartania.

The three of them met me at the edge of town. Seyari wore an old pair of winter traveling clothes that I think we’d bought in Lockmoth that had the back of the shirt cut out and salvaged into a cross strap that was tied by her waist. Heavy boots completed the look, and a similar pair was worn by my daughter.

Joisse was in her human form, if only because she had appropriate clothing that fit her comfortably. A heavy dark blue jacket over thick pants—the ensemble made her look small with how baggy it was. She and Sey packed light, although Joisse did have a change more suited to her demon form in a backpack. After training tonight or tomorrow, Sey and Joisse would return home to Astrye to keep up the town’s defense in case Mordwell doubled back or Envy had any plans.

That meant that the rest of the trip—made by our task of clearing the road—would be just my sister and me. Kartania wore her usual armor with its bright red and white tabard. On it, the symbol of Dhias had been cleaned and shone bright against the crimson. A ring with three marks below like rays of the sun. Each had a meaning, but I could never keep them straight. Like me, she’d packed for a longer journey—especially as she and I would part ways in Linthel; Tania would continue on to Ardath.

I adjusted the old rucksack and waved. “Everyone ready? Sorry I’m a little late.”

“What kept you?” Seyari asked with a feigned impatience that her smile did nothing to support. “It’s freezing out, you know.” As if to punctuate her words, she flicked her pinion feathers and sparks dropped into the snow with a series of small hisses.

“Does that mean you’ll be the heater now?” I joked, taking a moment to muss Joisse’s hair while she was in a shorter form.

“Mom!” she protested. “Really?”

“I do that to everyone shorter than me,” I replied with a shark-toothed grin.

“I won’t be the heater,” Sey said. “You’re still the best at it.”

A compliment. Damn, she picked the one way to get out of where I’d put her. I took another step forward and ruffled both Sey and Kartania’s hair. Tania’s was familiar, like mine, and even with her helm off, the tight ponytail she kept it in gave me little play. Seyari’s hair, on the other hand, was loose and warm to the touch—for the moment I felt it before she slapped my limb away.

“Renna!”

“What? I’m not going to lie to our daughter!”

Seyari hissed, but relented. “Fine. And by that same token, I am the boss of people taller than me. So get moving miss marchioness!” She gave me a playful shove and I let it stumble me.

Head free of my hand, Kartania straightened her hair. She reached for the helm buckled at her hip, but stopped just short, fingers brushing the metal. “I don’t care what business you and your family get up to, Sister, but we need to go; daylight is precious in winter.”

“Aww,” I protested, nevertheless starting down the road toward the nearby tree line. “But you’re family, too!”

Kartania blushed a suitably deep red and hurried to catch up.

***

Joisse felt for her magic as she walked behind her moms and aunt. Like a pot near scalding, she always thought it would burn her. But… it didn’t. Willing, ready, and seemingly eager, it was almost like its own living thing. And she felt anxious holding it back.

The feeling wasn’t uncomfortable. There was no compulsion, but there a sort of curiosity burned all the same. What does my magic do? Is it safe for people?

She didn’t know.

She wanted to know. The past week she’d been tempted to try it in secret, on plants or something as simple as a piece of scrap wood. But she didn’t. Fresh in Joisse’s mind still were her hazy days lost to her wrath.

Control. She prided herself on control. Now, with the wrath gone, it seemed like something else had to fill that void of anxiety in her mind. Like it couldn’t just pop and drain away like a boil. Still, this was different. Better.

Joisse had people around her who wanted to help—even if her moms and aunt were preoccupied right now. And so the young wrath demon walked along the warm, dry ground and watched the sky above for any breaks in the white-gray pall.

Up ahead, the other three were working. Kartania used her magic to break apart ice and packed snow. Sey blew it away with a hot wind and Renna blasted it warm and dry. The latter was the most visually impressive.

Jets of fire from her lower hands swept ahead of her and her tail followed behind, radiating so much heat that, to Joisse, it felt like mid-summer. A quick glance at the road behind showed an immediately unnatural scene of a dry road with scorched strips bumping right against frozen walls of snow of about chest height. Chest height to human Joisse, at any rate.

She wanted to stretch her arms, but she thought about the magic less in her human form. And she also seemed to like it more than her mom. Sometimes being small was better!

By early afternoon, Aunt Kartania was worn out. Uncharacteristically for the cold, stoic woman, she called for a rest. With a shrug, Zarenna agreed, seemingly oblivious to how Kartania’s shoulders tensed.

She just wants to take care of everyone, but some people chafe under that, Joisse thought. She wondered where she’d gotten that sort of insight, but ever since her contract had ended and she’d changed, she seemed a little more in-tune to people’s emotions.

Wrath, obviously, but the rest as well. I must have gotten that from Mom Sey, she thought. Her parents weren’t quite as certain as Joisse was about what had happened that awful day.

But Joisse knew. She’d been influenced while her soul was in limbo—or rather, she’d gained something. Even though she couldn’t remember anything, Joisse felt surer of herself in more ways than her transformation and control over wrath could mean.

Some of each of them was a part of her now, she was sure of it.

And so she sought out Kartania while Seyari and Zarenna flew off to train. Her paladin aunt was fiddling with the cookfire Zarenna had sparked before she’d left, eyes dark. If she’d been the type to mutter to herself, she would have, but she was too disciplined for that.

Wordlessly, Joisse opened Mom Renna’s rucksack and starting helping Aunt Kartania with dinner. The older woman was silent, reticent at first. But once the pot was on and cooking, she laid her bedroll over a rock, sat on it, and eyed Joisse. “Thank you.”

Joisse nodded. “You’re welcome.”

“You’ve been different ever since that day. My sister doesn’t seem to notice how much her coddling chafes me, but you do, don’t you.”

Joisse hesitated for a moment, taking her own seat atop a bare rock across from Aunt Kartania. “I do notice, yeah.”

“Do you know why?”

Joisse shook her head. “No. I’ve been trying ever since mom saved me to be better with emotions. So that’s probably a lot of it. And…”

“And?” Kartania raised an eyebrow. “Nevermind—I won’t pry.”

The young wrath demon nodded gratefully. “Thanks for all you’ve done for us. I know my moms—Renna especially—are going to say so later, but thanks for helping her. Not just with the vows, but I think you made her finally take that last step.”

“Into becoming a demon?”

Joisse shook her head. “Into accepting it. She always enjoyed her body, but…”

“She ignored that she was a demon as best she could?”

“Kinda?”

“That sounds like her. Acknowledge something, understand possible solutions, and then do nothing and suffer.”

“Are you talking about before she died?”

Kartania nodded, taking a moment to stir the stew, and Joisse felt nostalgic for the road—oddly enough. Good company and a take-it-by-the-day life. “Her best friend Abigail helped pull her out of it. That, and get her in trouble all the time.”

Joisse giggled. “Mom’s mentioned, yeah. She also said you were a perfectionist who took everything too seriously.”

“I took nothing too seriously. Had I not been so strict with myself, I’d have never reached where I am—was. I might not even be here at all.”

“You’re not demoted yet!”

“Dhias above, you are her daughter.” Kartania groaned. “But yes, I suppose I am not demoted yet. And that just means I have uncertainty, which I do not tolerate.”

At that, Joisse, wasn’t sure what to say. Mom Zarenna would have some insightful comment. Mom Sey would deflect onto her own failings or make a blunt statement.

What would Joisse do?

“I’m not sure I understand that, but I wish you the best of luck.”

“Thanks,” Aunt Kartania said with a genuine smile. “Thanks for not trying to fix me. I’m all organization and no fun to my sister, but I like that. Genuinely. And I do know when to cut loose. I just understand a predetermined amount of slack to loosen to and arrive at precisely that amount.”

Joisse blinked. “You lost me, Aunt Tania.”

She laughed. Honestly, genuinely laughed. “And yet you’re not trying to tell me otherwise. Where’s the combative Joisse from last week?”

“I dunno. Last time, I saw a problem and a solution. I’m not sure what I see this time. I guess all I’ll say is not to totally discount my mom’s advice? Either of theirs?”

“I won’t,” Kartania said softly. “Something’s bothering you as well, isn’t it?”

Joisse froze. “I… well…”

“Out with it. Your moms would dent my armor if they found out I’d noticed you troubled and kept quiet. Sometimes… sometimes you need the perspective of your cool, calculating aunt.”

I am not Mom Renna. I will not make the obvious joke. “I want to experiment with my magic. I know it needs to be kept a secret for now—and I really do get it. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to try it.”

Kartania hummed. She dipped a spoon into the stew and pulled out a chunk of meat from something Seyari had caught earlier near the road. It was still red, fat still white. “We have time. I’m afraid I can’t offer myself, but I’m not completely tapped out in case something happens, and there are plenty of trees to try it on.”

“Really?”

Aunt Kartania nodded. “Yes. It’s reckless, but I’ve never heard tell of someone, demon or otherwise, whose magic went completely out of control with a good teacher guiding them. Well, I’d imagine reavers to be exceptions, but we know you’re not one.”

“Teaching me?”

Kartania nodded. “You will do exactly as I say. Is that clear, young lady?”

Joisse nodded. “Yes ma’am! Clear as ice!”

“Good.” Kartania stood up, dusting off her still-clean armor’s backside. “We’ll stay within sight of the campfire in case the two lovebirds return early. From far down the valley, a boom echoed.

They’re sparring alright, Joisse thought.

Joisse followed her Aunt just into the trees—a thin stand short enough that the snow-wells almost reached the laden bottom branches even in relatively early winter.

“That one,” Kartania said, pointing to a half-dead tree. “Aim for the trunk and see if you can’t take it down.”

Joisse blinked. “Wait, what about healing?”

Kartania sighed. “Holy magic is not particularly adept at healing plants—there’s a knowledge component to it, even if its instinctual.”

“Oh.”

“Despite my earlier misgivings, I do wish to see what your magic can accomplish. While there is no doubt many demons—most demons potentially—are not the sort to be reasoned with, there are exceptions. And your magic could be the key to understanding demonic mana in a way we currently don’t. Despite what you may think, there are those in the Church who would take great interest in such knowledge—in most all the right ways.

“Now, are there any thrown weapons you’re familiar with?”

“I had a sling I hunted rabbits when I was human living on a farm.”

Kartania nodded slowly. “That… could work. Hold your arms like you’re readying a sling. Imagine the weight and feel of it.”

Joisse did so, but struggled to feel the weight. She even tried imagining a big sling made for a demon of her strength, but still felt silly.

“Hmmm. This is almost an instinctual process—for crude simple stuff. You certainly don’t lack the power from what I’ve seen in the past of your aura. Try forming the shot in your fingers, perhaps?”

Joisse took a deep breath and tried again. This time, she stuck her tongue out to one side like she used to, and imagined the entire slingshot. It’s worn ropes, warm from the sun. The old, rough leather of the pad as she loaded the smooth stones.

She felt a tug on her magic, and she let it. Eager, she pushed, pouring out more. When she cracked one eye open, she saw a blinding, white-crimson light held between her fingers of one hand. In the other, shimmering ropes of that same light nearly burned against her skin, the edges fraying in sparks of power.

Wordlessly, she loaded the shot and stepped forward, dimly aware that Kartania had stepped well behind her. With a resounding crack her arm shot forward. With an arc like a star shot out of a cannon, her magic shot ripped through the half dead tree and kept going.

In a hail of splinters and powdered snow, and with a sound like snapping tinder, it blew through tree after tree until a plume of snow and dirt signaled that it had hit the side of the hill. Joisse stared, slack-jawed. She glanced down at her hands, human and small, and watched the ropes of the sling dissolve away into motes of twinkling light.

“I… I didn’t mean to do that much.”

“It’s okay,” Aunt Kartania answered. “You’ve a lot of power and you’re new. Honestly, I was worried I’d made a mistake and you’d give us another avalanche.”

At the word “avalanche” the pair listened for a moment, but were met with only silence.

“Do you think they’ll have heard that and race up here worried?” Joisse asked.

“Maybe. If they do, I will take the blame,” Kartania replied. “But that’s not the most important thing.” She smiled wide, reaching her eyes. “Congratulations, Joisse. You’re definitely a mage now. I’ll be away to Ardath soon, but Seyari can teach you. Zarenna might be able to help as well—with the instinctual side of things. You may well take better to that style of learning, and you’re not going to lament to loss of efficiency.”

Joisse looked out at the trail of destruction. There were no fires and none of the trees sprouted horns. “What about the demonic aspect?”

Kartania’s smile fell. “I’d forgotten about that. Let me take a minute to check the damage and see what I can glean. Hopefully the other two didn’t hear your shot.”

At that, the young wrath demon nodded, once again looking down at her hands. She wanted to heal, not hurt people. But power could also be a deterrent—both her moms knew that lesson well. And besides, that itching, burning desire to know had been replaced with a warmer, milder curiosity.

Joisse clenched her hands into fists. If I have to fight, she thought, I am going to give it my all.

MadMaxine

Zarenna gives headpats to everyone shorter than her.

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