MrAzE

I'm back. My book "Chosen of the Veiled God" has been published, my eyes are better, so that means I'll be updating more frequently once more :)

Octavia took a deep breath to calm her thundering heart. She was running out of time and could feel the fever growing with each passing hour. Very soon she would become delirious if she did not recover her satchel and the medicine contained within it. Not that something like a fever would kill her, but she could do without the days of suffering before the side-effects of Lexi’s Flower subsided. It was a rather vicious cycle really. She would boast how she could endure anything and everything the Goddess could send to torment her for using her blessings carelessly. Then an illness would start, harmless at first, almost killing her by the end of the week. Rinse and repeat.

One would think that after a year of going through the same steps, Octavia would have learned her lesson. As if, the seventeen-year-old girl chuckled to herself. Thanks to Vinn being unable to keep her mouth shut, the young fixer-in-training had acquired the Prideful talent and revealed the existence of the inert trait Fractured. A rather irritating double-edged combination curtesy of the twin Gods of Madness and Perfection Angor and Eer. Septima’s face when she did the reading on Octavia after her magic-like skills began to manifest in earnest, was priceless. The thought of the elderly maid reminded the girl that there was another reason she had to hurry in retrieving her satchel. The old woman’s pain-relieving medicine was also in there.

Septima’s illness, and her idiotic at times stubbornness, had all but incapacitated her. It was a miracle if the woman could stand on her feet for more than four a day. Yet she insisted to serve the Fixer’s meals, tending to the garden and school Octavia. At times it looked like she was improving, but soon the girl learned to recognise the signs of her faking it and pushing past the pain. In a way, this only made her respect for the elderly maid grow, as well as the burning desire to beat her senseless for being so stupid.

However, right now Octavia had a different problem to deal with. To think that she had allowed the absolutely amateur copper adventurer team she was shadowing to catch her, rob her and leave her for dead, was unforgivable. By the Gods! She knew from the very start that they were nothing but bandits, using the Guild’s name to hide from the Magistrates. There was no way she could go back to the mansion and tell the truth, hoping that all would be forgiven. Her Master was not that kind of a man. And Octavia could not blame her failure on the side-effects of Lexi’s Flower. Instead, she had to craft a believable lie, and well, she was really bad at that.

Sure, Dark Octavia – as she called the memories and personality of her older self that were a part of her – was a master at lying. However, knowing what to do and having trained for almost a decade to control your facial expressions and the tone of your voice, were two very different things. At the same time, there was also Innocent Octavia, whose reality she currently lived in, who was incapable of lying. Actually, that one was pretty much useless, thanks to her naïve and pacifistic nature. And to make things just perfect, there was the last part of her – Foolish Octavia. She was somewhere between the two, shifting closer to one or the other based on the mood she was in when waking up.

It was only thanks to the Fixer that she had managed to come to terms and accept her other selves. Apparently, in his life before being summoned to this world, he had been a scholar on the path of becoming a Sage, who dealt with curing or alleviating curses and illnesses of the mind. Or at least that’s how Octavia intermitted all the strange words he had used. According to him, she was suffering from an illness called Deperson-something, well, the name didn’t really matter. The important part was that he was teaching her how to deal with it, through meditation and long talks which were supposed to change how her mind dealt with her Fractured self. And although she was more than sceptical that talking could be of any help with an illness sent by Lexi, she had to admit that it was working.

Damn it! Her fever was ruining her focus. Octavia couldn’t rain in her wondering thoughts on the matter at hand. Of all the times this had to happen it had to be now.

“Come on! Focus, girl!” She whispered to herself and slapped her cheeks. “It’s not the fever, it’s all this humidity and heat. They are making you lethargic, that’s all. And Septima has taught you how to deal with this.” The girl tried to convince herself and looked at the setting sun, urging it to hide behind the horizon sooner.

She began to repeat the mantras, the old maid had taught her, in her head. Originally, they were made for mages to keep calm and collected during battle, but a long time ago someone had spread them throughout the adventurers and as it turned out they were a lot useful for dealing with stressful situations for non-mages as well.

Octavia’s attention returned to the seven bandits who were busy erecting their camp for the night. Five were busy building a fire and shelter where they would sleep, while the other two were unloading a cart overflowing with stolen goods. Nothing that would have the capital’s guard send after them; wine, foodstuffs, low-quality armour pieces and weapons in dubious condition. And of course, her satchel along with a few others. Without a doubt, they would most likely try to sell most of this staff to other copper rank adventurers, but honestly, Octavia couldn’t care about that.

The lack of a lookout was reason enough to have her swoop in, beat them senseless and laugh at them. But they had to rob her, so now, she was going to kill them. It shouldn’t be too hard. Already she could formulate a few ways to do it. However, therein was the problem. She was confident that her strategy and approach would be perfect, alas actually achieving it was a different matter. Octavia didn’t have the muscle memory, agility or skill to do it cleanly and quietly. Again, she was faced with the same issue of knowing how to do it but not being able to do it.

She could try and pick them one at a time, however, that could take hours, and time was a commodity she could ill afford. Alternatively, Octavia could charge them like an idiot, kill one or two of them, three if she was lucky, and get hacked to pieces by the others. Things would be different if she had weapons with her. Instead, all she had was a short sword, which the bandits had not stollen on account of it bearing the mark of a cursed weapon, a dagger hidden in her boot, and a set of throwing knives underneath her belt. Not exactly the equipment needed for dealing with these many targets. Then again, this was not supposed to be a murder-everyone-in-blind-rage kind of mission, to begin with. It was an intelligence-gathering one, and Octavia had managed to screw it.

Pretty much out of options, the girl set her mind on the only plan that made any sense to her. She would start a forest fire, force the bandits to run away in panic, steal her things back before they burned and hope that her action would not torch the capital. And in the slim chance that something like this happens, no one could possibly blame her. After all, forest fires were common during the height of summer. Thinking about it, Octavia had to admit that perhaps it wasn’t the sanest of ideas but, on the other hand, she was tired, hot, feverish, dehydrated and very irritated. Having convinced herself, the girl began to put her plan into motion.

As it turned out, starting an uncontrollable forest fire was harder than Octavia had originally thought. The fire part wasn’t an issue, no, the main problem was the uncontrollable part. After starting a few small fires, the bandits noticed them and were in a hurry to put them out. If she continued, they would surely realise that it wasn’t all an accident. Well, there was a positive side to her failure. Her targets had split into three groups and were combing the area around their camp spot, making sure that there were no other nasty surprises. Thanks to that they were fairly apart from each other.

Rather ungracefully, Octavia flung herself from one tree to the next in an attempt to follow one of the groups. For a second her heart stopped as she felt her foot slip on the branch she was aiming at. Thankfully, she managed to grab some of the smaller branches and avoid disaster, however, her actions stirred a flock of birds who flew away in panic from the tree’s crown. It went without saying that this attracted the attention of the bandits on the ground and only by some miracle they didn’t spot her.

For a moment, that felt like an eternity, they stared at the canopy, hands placed on the hilts of their weapons. At least, they were as inept as her. A more experienced group would have called their comrades, drawn their weapons and checked every treetop, just to make sure no wild animal or a monster was about to pounce on them. Unskilled or not, Octavia knew she wouldn’t get a better chance.

Swallowing the thick saliva gathered in her dry mouth, the girl grabbed her dagger and short sword and dropped like a rock on top of the nearest man. Her sword pierced him right between the collarbone and the neck. Not wasting any time to dislodge the weapon, Octavia used the built-up momentum to roll and stab the men in the groin with her dagger. His scream echoed throughout the forest. Badly wounded and maimed, he was out of the fight for the moment. But all that would change once the adrenaline and anger kicked in. Grabbing the spear the bandit dropped, Octavia spun around and fell to her back, burring the shaft into the dried ground. This caught the last of the group by surprise, who in his infinite wisdom came screaming at her, resulting in him skewering himself on the spear.

The Fixer would call this dumb luck; however, the end result was the same – they were dead, she was not. Octavia could question her skill and experience all she wanted, and for a good reason, but there was one thing she was positive that she had mastered and that was special orientation. Because of this, she knew exactly where and how long it would take the other bandits to arrive. Quickly she scrambled to her feet, pulled the dagger from the mewling man’s groin and plunged it in his throat.

Briefly, she thought about retrieving her short sword, but that could take longer than she had. It could be stuck in the first bandit’s ribs for she knew and somehow the girl did not trust the strength of her trembling hands. Instead, Octavia took the axe dropped by the one skewered on the spear and darted for the bushes. They were the perfect hideout for her. The sun-burned leaves and dried twigs combined with her brown leather armour and straw-like hair made for rather good camouflage.

Just as she expected the second group showed only a few seconds later. Two men and one woman this time, which left only two more who most likely had returned to the wagon with their stolen goods. A rather fortunate development, and one for which Octavia should offer a prayer to Omni. Sadly, she was rather angry at the Goddess of Fate, so that could wait. Steeling herself for what was about to happen, the girl took a deep breath and darted out of the bush.

“Keep your mouth shut!” Octavia repeated in her head over and over again. She felt as if she was committing a taboo by resorting to such underhanded methods. After all, like every kid she had grown on stories of mighty adventurers charging their foes with a loud battle cry or facing demonic monstrosities in honourable duels. But what the Fixer was teaching her was also true and she could the merit of it. For the first time since committing to becoming Octavia, the girl felt conflicted. Either Octavia or Tilly needed to be sacrificed for her to move on. And after tonight, she feared that the choice would be made for her.

Well, all that hinged on her surviving this fight. The blade of the woodsman axe buried itself deep in the skull of the woman. She died without so much as making a sound, buying Octavia another handful of precious seconds. The girl ran as fast as she could and kicked the man to her left in the groin. This was enough to make him curl on the ground like a child. Not one to waste an opportunity, Octavia pulled the hunting knife from his belt, rolled over his back and landed in front of him. Grabbing him by the hair, the fixer-in-training slit his throat and stared at the last remaining bandit.

He was stunned and could only gawk at her like some startled animal. Alas, there was a small problem now, Octavia had lost her momentum and could feel her legs routed in place. She had no idea what to do next. No manner of willpower was enough to make her body obey her. This was actual combat, in which the slightest mistake could be the difference between life and death. It was nothing like the time she killed Piper. Back then, Dominant Octavia was a cornered animal one step into Saya’s realm. But now things were different. She had plenty of options and at this very moment, the girl was starting to question her every choice.

Make them think you are insane! Dark Octavia’s memory intruded in her mind with all the subtlety of a fireball. Before she could comprehend what, she was doing, the girl allowed for blood from her victim to gather in the palm of her hand and smeared it over her face.

“Did it look good?” She asked, bursting into maniacal laughter in order to hide the fear in her voice.

By the Abbys! What was she doing? This wasn’t the ‘scary’ insane she wanted to project. It was more like ‘I’m-going-to-slowly-back-away’ insane. Therefore, it shouldn’t have come as a surprise when the bandit turned away fleeing and screaming at the top of his lings. “Deamon!”

A rather anticlimactic end, she had to admit. Although considering everything, it was more than Octavia had hoped for. Her knees finally gave out and she fell to the ground sobbing. The oddest part was that she had no clear idea as to the reason for her behaviour. Those people were bandits, so why was she feeling any guilt for killing them. It had to be because of the fever, or because of the stress, she thought. No. She was looking for an excuse. It was because a part of her enjoyed it and it was not Dark Octavia that did. It was her, all three of her.

“Stop it!” She slapped her face and tried to push herself from the dirt. “Septima is waiting for you.”

The thought of how much the elderly woman was suffering because of her delay was enough to break Octavia from her stupor. Thankfully, people were more than irrational once panic took hold of them, and the bandits had abandoned their wagon and all the stolen goods the moment their comrade screamed Deamon. A part of her wanted to return the stolen items to their owners, but that would take days, assuming she could actually find what belonged to who.

Having ideals was good and all, sadly, they were not always the best guide to how a person should deal with a situation. As much as it pained her to imagine the heartbreak some of the people would feel. whose items were soiled in the wagon, by having something irreplaceable stolen from them – they were strangers. And Septima was not. With a sad smile on her face and pain in her eyes, Octavia grabbed her satchel and started into a jog.

By the time Octavia’s tired and aching feet crossed the mansion’s gate, it was close to midnight. Despite the fatigue, she noticed that there was no angry Fixer waiting for her at the entrance. Actually, the entire house was dark. There were only two possible explanations. Either both the Fixer and Septima were asleep, or they were out looking for her.

“Well, tomorrow’s going to be fun…” the girl sighed, afraid to imagine what punishment would await her come morning.

Best thing to do was sneak to her room without waking the others up – in case they were sleeping. Besides, she couldn’t enter through the door if Septima was out. The main problem would be unlocking the window to her own room; however, Octavia was confident that she could do it.

Turning the corner of the building, the girl stopped and gulped. The Fixer was sitting on one of the benches in the garden. Not waiting, just sitting. His attention directed to the stars above. He looked tired, but not his usual tired after a training session. There was no sweat on his forehead, his shirt was not damp and there was no heavy breathing. As he was right now, the Fixer reminded Octavia of how her father looked the days before death claimed him.

The girl hesitated for a moment what to do. She could approach him openly or sneak up to him, catching him off guard. Yet, that did not feel right. It felt as if she was about to intrude on a very private moment. Still, something about him screamed at her to sit next to him, so that he would not be alone. Well, she had nothing better to do. Octavia was not going to sleep anytime sooner, thanks to the combination of fatigue, excitement and self-doubt. Sure, she was tired, but not sleepy in the slightest. Might as well join him and get the lecture part of her punishment over with.

“Master,” Octavia spoke, not daring to raise her voice above a whisper while keeping a few paces away from the bench. She stood like a frightened mouse for a minute, before repeating the word again. “Master?”

The Fixer continued to stare at the night sky, oblivious to her presence. Somewhat worriedly, Octavia approached him and placed her small on top of his.

“Sir?” The girl hesitated, unsure what else to say. “I’m, uhm, sorry for being late.” She paused, waiting for the disappointed sigh that came every time she screwed up. In a way, hearing it was worse than all the lectures and every punishment the man could devise.

“It’s not my fault… Well, it is, but it’s not…” Octavia couldn’t close her mouth. She wanted to explain herself and at the same time take responsibility for her actions.

“I know I made a mistake and should have never allowed such amateurs to ambush me in the first place, but I fixed it.” She allowed a fragile smile to appear on her face. “Killed three of them…”

“Octavia,” the Fixer rumbled like a dormant volcano ready to explode. His dark eyes focused on the bright stars above, he motioned for her to sit next to him.

“Your world,” he began and closed his mouth, thinking over the words he was about to use. Something he did quite often, the girl had noticed. “No matter how much time passes, this will always be your world. Never my.”

He paused again and his eyes shifted to look at her. “Though, perhaps you are the only one who can come close to understand how it feels to be uprooted from the place you belong.”

Octavia nodded, keeping her mouth closed, as she was trained to do whenever the Fixer spoke. Only Septima had the right to interrupt him, and that was because she had earned it. Something the girl hoped to earn as well one day.

“I hate this world.” The flat statement scared her.

With fear, she looked at the Fixer’s expressionless face. The calmness of his voice and the detachment in his eyes was enough to freeze her blood. By the Gods, he really means it, she thought but resisted the urge to speak.

“All it has to offer is misery and suffering,” the Fixer shifted his posture on the bench, his scarred face focused on the ground now. “No matter, how I try to justify it, I cannot stop but feel that the scum of what humanity has to offer has been gathered in this wretched place.”

The man looked at her, and Octavia felt as if she was about to crumble under his hard gaze.

“But then I remember that I come from a place, where taking someone’s life is considered madness. Never, in my wildest dreams, could I have imagined that snuffing someone’s life would be as normal to me as breathing.”

His dark eyes narrowed, examining her. “Am I weak or strong?” This was starting to sound like the rumblings of her father when he had been drinking a little too much.

“I’m sorry, it’s unfair of me to expect an answer from you.” The large man turned around but did not leave, instead, he continued to speak “You’re but a kid, who has no idea what’s going on… A kid, you bloody assholes!” He roared at the night sky, the anger in his voice making Octavia shrink on the bench.

“Perverted sick fucks, too lazy to clean after shitting on everything,” the Fixer continued a note calmer and turned towards Octavia again. “That’s what your childish gods are!”

The trembling girl was ready to flee in order to avoid the wrath of the gods. She did not want to get caught and be smote by accident, or because she was standing too close to someone who dared incur their wrath.

“What? None of you is going to show up to assure me that all of this is happening for the greater good? That there is some grand plan in motion? Have you stooped so low as to use a child to pull at my heart stings?”

“Master…” Octavia raised her hand, meaning to stop his outburst, only to remember that there was absolutely nothing she could do to calm him down.

“Don’t worry,” he flashed her a tired smile, “none of your gods would dare show their faces. Even beings such as them can feel shame. And they’ve got a lot to be ashamed for, after ignoring the problems of this world since the creation of time.”

The Fixer’s face became expressionless once more and he bore his dark piercing eyes into her. All Octavia could do was gulp and shrink under his stern gaze.

“I’ll be leaving this cursed place tomorrow morning.” He proclaimed and walked towards the house. “Septima will not be buried in this heartless land.”

Octavia’s world crumbled and words failed to form as she opened and closed her mouth. No, it had to be a lie, because if it were true, the girl was responsible for the old woman’s death. She was too late returning with the medication and because of that… because of it… She could not finish the thought, the guilt inherited in it, too much to bear.

“Don’t blame yourself, Octavia,” the Fixer spoke in a calm droning tone. “The illness took her half an hour after you left this morning.” He stopped and looked at her over his shoulder.

“Tomorrow you’ll have to choose. Come with me as Octavia, or leave this place as Tilly.”

“I understand.” The girl answered out of habit, unable to hear the words he was speaking, let alone comprehend their signific.

Only a single thought occupied her mind. Septima... Rebeca was dead. The woman who in less than a year had become her closest friend and was almost like a mother to her was gone. Octavia was not ready to face a world without the elder maid’s guiding hand.