Joan slowly slid off of the horse, her entire body feeling like a mass of bruises and pain. On top of that, it had been raining until about an hour ago, at which point it had finally stopped. She was now certain that the gods were either attempting to punish her or just vicious and cruel. She clutched the saddle of her mount, struggling to avoid collapsing to the ground. She reminded herself they were almost done. Soon they’d have the second chosen and then she could rest.

“Can you even walk?” Hardwin asked, his voice filled with concern.

“I’m just a little sore,” she whispered. “Please don’t say you told me so. I know. But we were in a rush. We’ve already wasted almost two weeks.”

He gave a soft sigh before sliding out of his saddle as well. He walked over and knelt down in front of her. “Joan. It’s not going to kill us if you take a few--”

“I’m fine!” she lied, shaking her head. “I just need a minute.”

He gave a soft sigh before patting her on the head. “Fine. Wait here, I’m going to go take our horses to the caretaker. After this trip they deserve a bit of coddling as well,” he said.

Joan gave a nod, slowly pulling away from hers and suppressing the need to collapse. If she fell, he’d never let her hear the end of it. “I’ll wait for you, old friend,” she said weakly, watching him take the horses away. She kept repeating to herself that she just had to stay on her feet for a little longer. Soon she could collapse and get out of these wet, heavy clothes. She glanced down at her cloak and sighed. While it had offered a little protection from the elements, the rain had been far too heavy and even it was now soaked through. She reached up to untie it, but stopped herself. If she let it fall, she’d have to bend over to pick it up and there was no way she’d be able to get back up from that.

So instead she stood, stiff and straight as a board, her eyes locked on the ground. Focusing every bit of will she could on just remaining standing.

“Joan?” a voice said, but she didn’t look up. She struggled to remember the voice, but no flurry of memories came this time. “Joan, is that you?”

“Yes,” Joan said through gritted teeth, wishing they’d go away. She didn’t want to raise her head.

“Are you okay?” She caught sight of a pair of boots heading towards her, though she couldn’t place them. They looked like the same boots everyone here wore.

“I’m fine,” she said, slowly raising her head. A girl, she suspected only four or five years her senior. She was in the simple, brown trainee tunics that all the academy students wore. She looked slightly familiar, but she couldn’t place where from. “Just waiting.”

“Dear heavens, what happened to you?” the girl asked, her eyes wide with alarm. Rather than going past, instead she walked to Joan and reached out to grab her arm.

Joan would have shoved her away, but she was far too tired. She struggled to place who the girl was. From this life, at least. The lack of a memory wave made her suspect that. Bertha? Bridgette? Baron? She felt it had to be some B name. Suddenly a soothing numbness filtered over her body, dampening the pain and, unfortunately, making her legs finally give out. She didn’t fall, though, as the other girl caught her. “Joan, what happened to you?”

“What did you do to me?” she asked, barely able to keep the panic out of her voice. She tried to reach for her sword, only to realize once again that she didn’t have one. She didn’t even have the energy to scream and push the girl away. A moment later she realized what had been done to her, though. The same spell that had been used when the troll had shattered her body. Now she remembered where she’d seen the girl, she was one of the healer trainees from the infirmary.

“A healing spell,” the girl said. “What happened to you? You’re covered in bruises, your muscles are strained and you’re in the first stages of a rather nasty snap.”

“My muscles are--” Joan said but cut herself off when she processed the rest of what was said. “A flu? I think your spell didn’t work right. I feel fine.”

“Stand up, then,” the girl said.

“I can’t, because your spell--”

“Wouldn’t have this kind of effect if you were anywhere near being able to stand on your own. Did the Crystal Phoenixes do this? We’re going to the headmaster. Any mercenary company that does this to its--”

“It’s not them!” Joan said quickly, finally managing to get enough strength in her legs to stand. Unfortunately, they only held her for a few seconds before they gave out again. “It’s not them. I am fine. See? Fine,” she said through gritted teeth before pushing herself back up, this time barely managing to keep herself up on shaking legs. “Go away, I’m perfectly fine and I don’t need you to help me.”

The girl sighed before pulling her hands back, only to put them on her hips. “You’re not fine in the slightest. You’re always like this, aren’t you? I know you’re not well because if you were, you would have left the moment I approached you rather than talking to me.”

Joan opened her mouth to object, before pausing. Had she really been like that? Was that how people saw her? “I can’t leave, I’m waiting for someone.”

“You shouldn’t be--”

“Joan? What’s going on here?” Hardwin’s voice suddenly cut through the air like a knife, making her cringe.

“It’s nothing, some old classmates is all,” she said quickly. “They were just leaving.”

The girl’s eyes narrowed on her. “We were never classmates. Do you even remember who I am?”

Joan’s cheeks turned a little redder. “Of course I do.” She knew it started with a B. Bridgett, she was sure that was it. “Bridgett.”

“Bauteut,” the girl said, shaking her head. “You weren’t even close.”

“I knew it started with a B. That’s close...” Joan said softly, her cheeks only getting redder.

“Considering you never so much as asked my name, I’m not surprised. Then again, considering the number of times I had to patch you up, you’d think you’d have taken the time to learn all of the healer’s names.”

“Oh, so she was like this even in the academy?” Hardwin asked, his voice filled with amusement. The smile on his lips quickly died when the girl turned her eyes to him, leveling a glare.

“Yes she was. Are you her commanding officer?” Bauteut asked, her voice hard and angry.

“Something like that,” Hardwin said sheepishly. “But I--”

“Then you should know that Joan is in no shape to be performing any duties,” Bauteut said again, cutting him off.

“Well, yes, but--”

“She’s exhausted, bruised, battered and coming down with a nasty healer’s shock flu,” she said, cutting him off again. Joan would have found it far more amusing if she wasn’t certain she might fall over at any moment.

“I didn’t--”

“In fact, those bruises alone are not--”

“AHEM!” Hardwin finally yelled, his voice booming and the sheepishness evaporating from his voice, replaced by the edge of anger. “If I may get a word in, miss?”

Bauteut’s eyes widened, her mouth falling open. Joan got the impression she wasn’t interrupted often.

“Thank you,” Hardwin said, his voice going as cold as ice. “First of all, those bruises are her own doing, foolish behavior on her part. Secondly, exhaustion occurred due to an important matter for the crown that could not be delayed, otherwise I wouldn’t have allowed her to come in this state. Thirdly, while I do appreciate the information about the flu, I would also appreciate you not taking that tone with me, young lady, unless you want your own backside to be just as bruised as Joan’s.” Joan couldn’t keep a smile off her lips at that comment. Judging by the color draining from Bauteut’s face, she believed the words coming out of Hardwin’s mouth. The fire that seemed to form in his eyes always was good at making him appear quite intimidating. “Fourthly, allow me to introduce myself. I am Hardwin Dusklam, one of the chosen of the gods and servant to Queen Emeline.” Joan barely stopped herself from giggling when she saw the color drain even faster from the other girl’s face when she realized just who she had been scolding. “Now then. I have important matters to deal with, but I would thank you to keep your focus on your own business and out of ours.”

“Yes sir,” Bauteut said quickly, bowing her head and quickly scampering off.

Joan snickered, until she looked up at Hardwin, who was now glaring at her. “What? I didn’t do anything.”

“You just got me scolded by a child. Are all of them like that?” he asked, his voice filled with annoyance.

“Just the healers,” she said with a sigh. “They can get a bit bossy.”

The glare slowly left his face, replaced with an amused smile. “Ahhhh. Healers, of course. She’ll make a fine one, then.”

“I don’t see how,” Joan said a bit bitterly. “The queen was a far better healer, she was far gentler.”

Hardwin reached out and grabbed her shoulder. “You also listened to her and obeyed the care instructions she gave you. Sometimes. There’s an old saying amongst adventurers like me. Never mess with your healer.”

“Why?”

“Because they often know the best way to stop you from killing yourself and if you push them too much, they know which herbs to sneak into your drink to make you regret it.”

Her mouth fell open and she stared at him. In all her lives with him, she hadn’t ever heard him mention anything like that. Or at least not often enough that it stuck out. “Wait, what? Did the queen try that? You never told me about that!”

Hardwin chuckled. “We all have secrets, Joan. Besides, it’s not a very interesting story. Hardly worth telling. How do you feel?”

“Fine, I--”

“The truth,” Hardwin said firmly.

“But--”

“If I can’t trust you to tell me the truth about how you feel, I can’t ever trust you to be near me when facing these threats. I may need your knowledge, but if you’re going to get yourself killed, then I’ll have no choice but to go by myself. Are we clear?”

Joan stared up at him, her own eyes narrowing to match his gaze. Finally she gave a soft sigh. “Fine. I feel terrible. I ache all over. I’m cold and miserable. I can barely stand. She says I’ve got the start of a nasty flu, but she’s wrong. I’m just tired is all.”

“Then--”

“But we need to focus on finding all of the chosen, first. Before anything else. We’ll need all of you gathered to destroy the heart. I don’t have time to be sick. Besides, even if I know how to deal with these threats, there’s no telling when the next might show up. The sooner we get Searle, the sooner we can have two chosen, not one, defending the world,” Joan said, trying desperately to sound assertive but suspected she only sounded exhausted.

Hardwin sighed and gave a small nod. “And yet you likely are sick. You look like hell.”

“Thanks for those inspiring words,” Joan said, unable to keep the sarcasm out of her voice. “You truly know how to make a girl feel special.”

“I’ve been told that often. Come on, let’s find this boy and see if the shield reacts to him. Where would his room be?”

“Why would I know that?” Joan asked.

“You knew him, didn’t you?” he asked. “While I never went to the academy myself, I thought sneaking off into the other’s dorms was tradition?”

Joan rolled her eyes and tried to think back to her days in the academy. It felt like it had happened so many lifetimes ago. She supposed there were more than a few times where a few of the other girls had tried to invite her on an ‘adventure’, but she’d always ignored them. She’d been far too busy at the time. Now that she thought about it, there had been a few times where a couple of boys had been caught sneaking into their dorms as well. Twice by her. Her cheeks turned redder when she realized now why the girls were laughing when she yelled at them. “It was a stupid game, wasn’t it?”

“Possibly,” he said with an amused grin. “Are you sure you chose this life? It doesn’t seem to suit you.”

“What? Why?” Joan asked, her cheeks burning bright red. “It suits me just fine! I like it! It’s a great life! Sometimes!”

“Then why do you keep trying to end it?”

“I’m not. I just--” She stumbled and nearly fell over, only stopped by his arm reaching out and wrapping around her stomach to hold her up. “I’m just tired.”

He gave a soft sigh, shaking his head. “Joan, you’re still a child. You don’t need to push yourself so hard.”

“I’ve watched the world burn again and again,” she said, giving a soft shudder. “I have to push and fight. I can rest when it’s all finally over. When I’ve won. When the world doesn’t need me.”

Hardwin didn’t pull his arm away from her, instead he just stared down at her. “Have you ever been healed before?”

“More times than I can count,” Joan said quickly.

“I see. Then you should know how important rest is. I never should have let you come.”

Joan flushed. “Just let me go, please. I’m fine.” Despite her words, however, she hated to admit he was right. Even with his arm supporting most of her weight, each step was feeling harder and harder. Was there truth to what Bauteut had said? Was she truly sick? Was that why her strength wasn’t recovering?

“Joan, I told you not to lie to me,” Hardwin said again.

“Fine. I’m not fine. But the world won’t wait until I’m fine, will it? If we want any chance of saving it, then we--”

“Enough,” Hardwin said, his voice turning cold.

“But--”

“Enough,” he repeated, cutting her off. She looked around the courtyard of the academy, there were others watching the pair, whispering amongst themselves. She couldn’t blame them, though. Her presence here was strange enough. Once it got out WHO had brought her here she imagined the rumors would spread like wildfire. She didn’t blame him for not wanting to talk in front of them.

The academy itself was a massive, imposing building of strange wood, seemingly grown rather than built. Aside from a few places, the walls and floors seemed to be solid wood, rather than boards. She suspected the base of the building had been made entirely by magic, then modified to fit all of the needs. It stood an imposing four stories tall and was one of the few places she had seen in her life with actual glass windows. While the main courtyard made the building seem intimidating and massive, she knew it wasn’t nearly as big as it first appeared. The school was composed of three primary wings, the east, west and south wings, each four stories tall but only half as thick. Between the wings, hidden by the building itself, was the inner courtyard. That was where they trained in any outdoor activities as required. Further out from there were the fields where the animals were kept and most of their riding and camping lessons were held.

The academy was, as far as she knew, a few centuries old. Funded and maintained by the crown itself, it had become a gathering place for all those who were deemed exceptional enough to require further focus. Those with considerable wealth also often sent their children here as well. It taught swordsmanship, magic, history, politics and everything else she could imagine. She had only learned the things required for her future duties as a mercenary, though now she couldn’t help regret not learning more about the history of the world.

“Boy’s dorms are at the eastern wing. If we go there we-- hey!” Rather than heading down the hall, once they walked into the building he stopped in the middle of the foyer. “What?”

“Where’s the headmaster?” he asked. “It’ll be faster to just have someone bring him. Besides, I don’t want to carry this all over the school,” he said, motioning to the rucksack strapped to his back. Inside it the shield rested, hidden from prying eyes.

“Oh. Right, yes. Uhhh, there,” she said, motioning up the stairs the back of the building, near the door to the inner courtyard. “Fourth floor.”

He nodded and then, to her great horror, picked her up and threw her over his shoulder.

“What do you think you’re doing? I am not a burlap sack!” she whispered, her face burning with shame. She tried to wriggle out of his grip, but he might as well have tied her to it. “I-I am a--”

“A small child who isn’t going to be walking up stairs right now,” Hardwin said dismissively.

Joan’s face burned with more shame as more students seemed to enter the main entrance way, staring at the display and whispering amongst themselves. She hadn’t imagined herself ever returning to the academy, let alone like this. She lifted her hands to her face, wishing she could die of shame. It would at least be one of her least painful deaths.

When they finally made it to the fourth floor, the door was already open and an older, balding man was standing there, his eyes narrowed in alarm. She didn’t blame him, the crowd of gathered student in the foyer was now a dull roar. She was set down and then his eyes focused on her. The annoyance quickly changed to confusion. “Joan?” he asked, before turning towards Hardwin. “Err, I’m sorry but--” Then the words caught in his throat and his eyes quickly jumped to the sword at his side, the color draining from his face. “Wait, that sword. Aren’t you--”

“Indeed, I am Hardwin Dusklam, chosen of the gods,” Hardwin said. “May we talk in your office? There seems to be quite a crowd out here.”

The headmaster sighed before walking out towards the railing, peering down into the foyer. Almost instantly the voices hushed and she imagined the trainees below were scrambling to avoid his gaze. “I see. Considering your entrance, I can hardly say I’m surprised. Please, come in,” the man said before turning to walk into his office.

The pair followed him inside. Joan couldn’t help but let her eyes wander over the room, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d been in here. Actually, she wasn’t sure if she’d EVER been here. The room itself seemed impeccable, the floor lined with a thick red carpet that her feet nearly sunk into. There were only two pieces of furniture, one which was a bookcase filled with dozens of thick tomes in an assortment of different languages, one of which she recognized as demonic, was up against one wall. A large desk and a few chairs rested opposite the door, which the headmaster quickly moved to sit behind. Behind the desk was a small square doorway cut into the wall, though she couldn’t imagine what it was for. The only thing that seemed strange to her was the wall opposite the bookshelf, where a large portrait hung on the wall. It had the words ‘First headmaster – Damian Lightfeather’ written on a metal strip at the bottom. At least now she knew those rumors that he had been one of the founders were true. Still, she couldn’t help but wonder if he had elven blood in him, or perhaps demonic. He certainly looked human, though as far as she could tell he hadn’t aged a day since that portrait was made. Perhaps he’d used a spell of some sort?

“I’m sure you have some questions,” Hardwin said. “You’ve met Joan.”

“Oh, I have more a few. Though it’s not too hard to imagine why you’re here,” Damian said, resting his elbows on the desk and then putting his hands together, peering out over them. “I am Headmaster Lightfeather, though you may call me Damian, sir.”

“As you wish. So what do you think the reason is?” the chosen asked before he, a little rougher than she imagined he meant to, put her into the chair opposite the desk. She nearly melted into it and, to her surprise, found her body refusing to move.

“One of the chosen come here, bringing one of the greatest students we’ve ever had in tow? It’s not hard to imagine what this means. Joan has become one of the chosen, I take it?”

Hardwin chuckled, shaking his head. “No, though you’re close. She has a belief that one of your students is one. In fact, she’s staking her reputation on it.”

That made the man frown. “She’s not? That’s interesting. I would have sworn she would one day turn out to be something special. Right. Still, if one of my students are a chosen, I would be happy to get them for you. Could I have their name? Perhaps it’s--”

“Searle Durstev,” Hardwin said quickly, before the headmaster could go on.

If Joan hadn’t felt so exhausted, she would have laughed at the look of shock that covered the man’s face. That was often the expression most of them wore when Searle was finally revealed as one of the chosen. He was one of the most plain, simple people they’d ever met. In most lives that she’d been through he was little more than a record keeper, often times he was the one who inscribed their journeys.

“Are you quite sure? He’s not the most...” Damian trailed off before coughing into his hand. “We have many other fine, wonderful--”

“I’m sure you do. Joan, are you sure it’s him? There’s still a chance to back out,” Hardwin said, though the annoyance on his face made her suspect there wasn’t.

“It’s him. Trust me. If it’s not, it means everything I’ve said up to now is a lie, doesn’t it?” she asked.

Damian looked between the two, before his eyes settled on Joan. “Is she okay? She is quite pale.”

“I’m fine,” Joan said again. Despite herself, it took all she had to keep her eyes open. She had to stay awake for this though. A large part of her just wanted to drift off into the chair, but she had to stay strong. The world was depending on her.

“Very well,” Damian said. “I will go and fetch the boy. Please wait a moment,” he said before getting to his feet and heading towards the door. Once they were alone, Hardwin turned to her.

“You’re sure about this?” he asked once more.

“If I’m wrong, it means I’m either insane or a great liar. To be honest, nothing would make me happier,” she said, her eyes drifting closed for a moment before she snapped them back open.

“It’d make you happy to know you’re insane?” he asked, before kneeling down and putting a hand to her forehead. “Joan, you’re burning up.”

“I’m fine. This is more important,” she said, shaking her head. “I’ll rest after you see.”

“I shouldn’t have let you come,” Hardwin said softly. “You are insane.”

“I hope so. If I am, it means I haven’t destroyed the world over and over,” she whispered, unable to keep the tears from forming in her eyes nor the despair from her voice. She closed her eyes quickly, trying to will the tears back down. What was wrong with her?

“You’re exhausted and ill. Once this is over, you’re staying here until you’re better, then I’m taking you back to the queen.”

“Fine. I’ll rest a few days, but then we need to go. I think I know where Thalgren would be at this point. Once we have him, we--”

“No.”

“No?” she asked softly, struggling to open her tired eyes to stare at him. “But the chosen need to be--”

“I’m going alone from now on.”

Her eyes widened, her mouth falling open. “What?”

“Do I really need to repeat myself?”

“But you need me, I--”

“You need to rest. That’s what you need.”

Joan stared at him unable to think of anything to say with her addled mind. He couldn’t do this without her, he needed her. They needed her. Why couldn’t he see? She was the only one who could save everyone, who could stop all this from happening before it became too late. She tried to form the words, but found her mind struggling to grasp onto them. His hand was pushed to her forehead again.

“You need a healer,” he said firmly. “Damn it.”

“I’m fine,” she whispered, though she knew it wasn’t true no matter how many times she said it. She was already struggling so desperately to keep her eyes from snapping closed again.

The sound of the door opening again made her slowly turn her head.

There he was, Searle. The young man, now just a boy. His short, slightly messy brown hair. His slightly crooked nose. His plain, brown eyes. The youngest of all of them at a year or so younger than she had been. Plain. Boring.

Hundreds of memories of that face staring down at her, her blood and the blood of her friends coating the bastard, filled her mind and it was all she could do but suppress the hatred before her energy finally gave out. The last thing she heard before darkness enveloped her was Hardwin calling her name.

MelodyAvant

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