Chapter Twelve
Reunion of Strangers
With a final wet gurgle, the last demon’s head fell to the ground with a flat thud. It had been accompanied by a shout of exertion and victory from Clarus, who had delivered the death blow with a lot less pomp and flourish than he had entered the fight with. His flashing smile had been reduced somewhat, but it was still there. His normally annoyingly-perfect hair clung to his forehead, and streaks of mud and grime covered his clothes and face. But when he turned around to look at any other possible attackers and found none, he was once again that vision of royal calm Vera had grown to… admire. From a distance.
“I know,” Aesling said, “I think he’s beautiful too.”
Vera grew red in the face, which would have been more of a problem if she hadn’t already been out of breath and flushed. She mumbled something incomprehensible even to herself, and then straightened up when they found no more foes around them. The fight itself had been over in just a few minutes. Fights with demons had to be, apparently. Either you killed them quickly or they killed you quicker. She turned to look at Rubicus, who had slumped down to one knee. She’d never seen the old warrior brought so low, and she hurried over.
“Hold still. We need to… stifle the bleeding,” she said, trying to remember the first-aid they’d taught her. She hadn’t had a lot of chances — or need — to do so. Not only did Rubicus not get seriously wounded very often, but if and when he or someone else in their band had, it had always been Flaveo who had dressed their wounds.
“Stem,” Rubicus grunted. “You ‘stem’ the bleeding.” He sat down with a grunt, holding his armor. He looked like he’d fall apart if he let go for even a second. Blood had seeped into his clothes from his midriff down.
Clarus kneeled down next to him, helping the large man lie down in the grass. “I’m surprised you are still breathing, friend. A lesser man would have died on the road ten miles back, let alone fought the Cavean’s fiends with such vigor.” He looked around at the bodies. They were already starting to dissolve. They’d become silhouettes in the dirt where they’d fallen, and nothing would grow there. Not for a long time.
“You do me a kindness, Prince Clarus,” Rubicus said quietly. Now that the danger had passed, he seemed to be a lot less lively. Color had drained from his face, and he looked tired, more than anything. “I am afraid that I will not be staying by your side for much longer to thank you for my rescue,” he grunted, “I think I’m not long for this world.”
“Hey, no,” Vera said as she began to unclasp his breastplate, “you aren’t dead yet, Rubicus. We just need to make sure—”
“Prince Clarus, please tell your handmaiden to… give it a rest,” Rubicus said. It was obvious he was already too weak to really protest. “I’d like to die with dignity and my armor on. I’ll not be found naked by the side of the road if it’s all the same to you.”
“You’re not going to die, you big oaf,” Vera mumbled, more to herself than anything. Rubicus wasn’t going to die because she needed him not to. He had to help her get Flaveo and Caerella back, and to stop the Cavean, and then he had to lead them, because that’s what Rubicus did. Rubicus didn’t die, and certainly not in a ditch by the side of the road. She was grateful Clarus didn’t try to stop her, at least.
“I may be able to help,” Aesling said softly. Immediately, Vera’s own wounds came to mind. She’d been thoroughly perforated when Aesling had saved her. Even if it meant letting go of Aesling, she was willing to do what she had to give Rubicus a chance to survive. Aesling, hearing her thoughts, protested slightly. “Oh, I’m not leaving you behind any time soon, child,” she said. “I may be able to heal him through you. And I would rather not be stuck in the body of a man again if I can help it.”
“I can relate,” Vera said. “What do I do?”
“Who is she talking to?” Rubicus mumbled, but Vera shut him out as Aesling instructed her to put her hands on the wounded flesh. Now that the armor was out of the way, she was able to reach and put her hands on his skin. It was slick with sweat and blood, and she tried desperately not to think too strongly about the sensation. If he lived through this, Rubicus would have a scar that would last him a lifetime.
“Now,” Aesling said, “hold still, and allow my magic to flow through you. It’ll hurt him somewhat, so maybe get Clarus to hold him down while I do it.” Vera nodded, trying to remember what else Flaveo had taught her. If it had really been that painful…
“Prince Clarus?” she asked. The Prince looked up at her. “Might you… uh… take off your belt?” He looked at her nonplussed for a moment. She realized how that’d sounded. “I need him to bite down on something.
“Oh! Yes, of course, very well.” He quickly did as was asked, and then sat by Rubicus’ head to hold him down as Vera instructed. “I see what you’re about to do, Ash,” he said. “You’ll have to hurry, the man isn’t long for this world.”
“She’s doing what she can,” Vera said. She felt Aesling help her steady her breathing, and then the strange sensation of magic running through her was suddenly there. It reminded her of a day, a year ago, when she’d taken a wrong step onto a thin patch of ice and had fallen through up to her shoulders. The shock had knocked the wind out of her, and it had taken her a few seconds to even realize what had happened. This was like that, but in reverse. Warmth blew through her, knocking the air out of her as she became more aware of her body, and her limbs, than she ever used to.
And it all seemed to be flowing, like rivers, from her hands into Rubicus, who inhaled sharply. Vera couldn’t tell exactly what was happening, but she had a very distinct feeling. The longer it went on, the more strongly Rubicus began to struggle, his breathing more laborious and agitated by the second. He’d been seconds away from drifting off before, but now he stirred like a man in a fever dream, and Clarus seemed to be having trouble keeping him down. It was all Vera could do to keep her hands in place.
Finally, with a sudden growl, Rubicus shoved them both away and practically jumped up to his feet, backing away from both of them. He blinked several times, as if to clear his eyes. “What — what are you doing to me, woman?” he half-grunted, half-shouted. Vera thought for a moment he’d fall to his knees again, but he managed to keep his balance. He reached up to touch the wound in his torso and then frowned, looking down. “What…” he mumbled, and then looked back up. “What kind of… sorcery is this? What kind of witch are you? This isn’t possible. Who are you? Aesling, was it? What did you do to me?”
“I’m not Aesling,” Vera said quietly, “I’m Vera.”
“This’ll take some explaining,” Aesling said. “Good luck, child.” Vera grimaced.
“I’ve only done what I could to heal your wounds, Rubicus. I’ve been told… As I understand it, you should still try not to move too much. You are still wounded, even if not as much as before. As for who I am…” She tried to smile, hoping there was enough of her still in there for him to recognise her. “I’m surprised that you didn’t recognise my bladework, even if my appearance has changed.” She hoped that mention of battle would help jog his memory. It was a language he understood well, at least. Rubicus scanned her face carefully.
“I would have remembered fighting alongside a waif like yourself, girl. Who is she, Prince Clarus?” He turned to the other man. “I am sorry, Your Highness, but if this child knows forbidden magic, I feel that, if a man such as yourself—”
“—listens to her, then you should too?” Clarus cut him off with a smile. “She means you no harm, mercenary. Heed her words, if only at my request.” With that, Clarus looked at Vera and gave her an encouraging nod.
Vera stepped closer to Rubicus, who immediately regarded with suspicion again. “Rubicus, it’s me,” she said. “I traveled with you since I was yea high. Only days ago, we went up the mountain to collect the Prince. You, Flaveo and Caerella saved my hide when we went up against the shade still in the tower.”
Rubicus frowned, which was to say that the frown that had already creased his forehead brought his eyebrows even closer together. “The only one that was with us was Cinero, and you do not look like Cinero to me.”
“Well, you aren’t wrong,” Vera said, “but not in the way you think.” She tried to very quickly explain that, when the king’s mages had tried to rouse the Prince with a potion, it had stirred not only the Cavean, sealed inside the Prince’s body, but another spirit as well, who had given Vera that unspoken thing she’d always longed for. It took a moment, because it was such a strange series of impossible events, and even she had trouble believing what she was saying. “And it is that spirit, living inside me, that allowed me to heal you,” she concluded.
“I’ve heard more plausible lies in my lifetime,” Rubicus growled. “Ancient healing spirits are one thing, but to have those spirits turn a friend, a deceased friend, into a woman who can heal one with but a touch, that stretches the limits of belief. Prince, if you trust this woman, I will of course trust your judgment. But that trust does not extend to her madness, Your Highness.”
Vera opened and closed her mouth a few times, trying to think of ways to prove that she really was who she said she was. “You taught me how to hold a sword, Rubicus,” she said quickly. “You taught me where the weakest points of a man’s armor are, and you taught me how to maintain the weapons you had me carry up and down the countryside behind you.”
Rubicus looked her in the eyes for a few seconds. “It’s all just words, girl,” he said eventually. “If you really are Cinero, you’d know actions mean more to me.” Vera glared back at him.
“Fine,” she said. “But call me Vera.” Rubicus shrugged, and then went to pick up his dented, punctured armor.
“Very well, Vera.” He turned to face the road. “Prince Clarus. As I gave chase to the Cavean, I saw they took my companion Flaveo off westward to a nearby hamlet. Not only is he a trusted friend, he is also an accomplished magecraft. While I wish to give chase to the Cavean as much as you must, I would ask that we help release my friend.” He paused, apparently realizing who he was talking to, and dropped to one knee with a barely audible grunt. “If it would please Your Highness, more people may serve you better than one old warrior and a young girl.” Vera tried not to be insulted, and focused instead on the fact that Flaveo was not only alive but nearby.
Clarus looked at her for confirmation, and she gave a quick and enthusiastic nod. “Very well, Rubicus. We’ll go and collect your comrade, though we must hurry. We can not let the Cavean get too far ahead.” Rubicus nodded and stood up with determination, then went to go fetch the horse that had run off a little bit. Vera saw him touch his chest where the wound had been. Sure, he didn’t trust her, or even recognise her for that matter. But he was alive, and that’s all that mattered for now.
Her train of thought was interrupted when she felt Clarus’ hand on her shoulder and she almost screamed. She turned to face him. “Are you okay?” he asked. “That mustn’t’ve been easy.”
“I’m fine,” she said softly. “I’ll have time to prove myself to him, to prove who I am. And that’s thanks to you. If you hadn’t—”
“You’re the one who saved his life,” Clarus said with a reassuring smile.
Vera shook her head. “That was all Aesling,” she said. “I didn’t… really do anything.”
“It was your decision to save him, Vera. You,” Ash denied.
“Oh,” she said, and smiled a little bit. “Thank you.”
“You are very welcome, lovely Vera. Now!” he turned around, “let us go save your other comrades!”
“Prince Clarus?” she asked. The Prince looked up at her. “Might you… uh… take off your belt?”
pffft
I feel that mentioning the rooster scar might've been more convincing as to who she is
Certainly, but she can’t do that in front of the Prince!