CHAPTER 13: A START

The moment seemed carved from stone. No one dared defy the stillness. The young group had certainly heard what the woman had said, but they didn’t know how to react. Their baffled gazes assembled on the source of the low voice; even from afar her silver hair was unmistakable, a cold flame burning inside the tree.

“Come inside.” She spoke once more.

They hesitated.

“I won’t repeat myself.” She added, languidly pacing deeper into her lair.

“I need to treat Gorken’s wounds.” Malia was the first to make a choice, “Even that cluttered room is better than the middle of the forest.”

Aldous and Bayard exchanged one of those looks they often shared, and a wordless conversation took place in front of her. Malia didn’t know what was said in it, but it resulted in them concurring with her decision. Caring for Gorken’s injuries came first. Hedera and Licorice were forced to follow, but even their unwillingness was voiceless.

Once inside, Malia supported Gorken while Aldous and Bayard hastily cleaned the table, aiming to render it an appropriate place for an injured man to lie down.

“That’s unnecessary.” Gorken tried to stop them, “I’m not bleeding. Don’t overreact.”

His friends ignored his dismissal; Gorken had always been stronger and healthier than any of his companions, and that made him prone to believing he was invulnerable. They knew better. And so did Malia.

“Just because you can’t see the blood it doesn’t mean you’re not bleeding.” She corrected him, “I’ll examine you.” She removed his tunic gingerly, wary of hurting him and making his unknown condition worse. Then she gasped without meaning to. The dark, wide bruise on his torso horrified her. She wanted to keep it together, but her heart raced apprehensively nonetheless. He has internal bleeding. Stay calm. I just need to focus. The procedure should be similar to infusing magical energy into external tissue. I can’t afford to mess up. Stay calm. Don’t panic. Stay calm.

“Keep that up and he’s as good as dead.” The silver woman berated her, “I can feel your terror from here.”

When the only reply Malia could muster was a distressed scowl, the woman left her spot near the passageway and approached them, “I’ll do it then.”

The silver witch wouldn’t say it out loud, but she wasn’t proud of having attacked them; she wished to make amends. Somehow Malia could feel it, and that made trusting the woman easier. But Bayard and Aldous stood between the witch and their leader. They didn’t need to speak to express the meaning of their interfering. They had come seeking Kadem’s help, that was true, but it was by her hand that Gorken had been hurt. Their boss. He belonged to them in a way no one else could comprehend, not even Malia.

They stared into her silver eyes, as if gauging whether the woman was worthy of touching him, searching for any ill will in her visage. Bayard stepped out of the way first, seemingly appeased; he never took long to make up his mind, one way or another. Aldous on the other hand, wasn’t convinced. He stretched the instant firmly, throughout in his evaluation… until Gorken started coughing blood.

Despondent, Malia placed her hand on Gorken’s shoulder, but she regretted it shortly after: she was trembling more than he was.

“She can’t help him.” The silver woman shook her head, “He’ll die anyway if we do nothing, so you might as well let me do as I please.”

Aldous and Bayard sought an answer in Malia, but she lowered her gaze, “She’s right… there’s no time.”

The witch kneeled next to where Gorken was sitting, placing one of her hands on his abdomen and the other one on his back. Whatever was occurring was imperceptible to the rest of the party. There was no glowing, no noise, no exertion on her face. A minute passed and then she moved away, “Done.”

“Done?” Aldous echoed, doubt and hope battling to claim his tone.

“How do you feel?” Malia grabbed Gorken’s hand.

“…Fine.” He replied incredulously. Gorken was as shocked as the rest of them. The unbearable pain that had been eating away at his entrails had dissipated in a heartbeat. “…Thank you.” He uttered at last. As confused as he was, that felt like the right thing to do.

“There’s no need to thank me.” The woman was leaning casually on the table, “As your friends’ glares vehemently pointed out, I did that to you. I acted irrationally and tried to harm children… I should be thanking you for not dying on me. I was sure you were done for when you crashed against the tree trunk. You’ve got a sturdy body.”

“That’s our boss for you!” Aldous had made his way to Gorken’s side as the silver woman talked, and the redhead was now clinging to him from behind, affectionately tousling his already messy hair. Malia wanted to join in on their relief, to hug Gorken and allow Aldous’ bright mood to envelop her. But she felt she had no place there. It was her fault that things had gotten violent, and she hadn’t even been able to use the healing magic she had studied for years.

“Don’t give yourself so much credit, girl.” The silver witch replied to Malia’s inner turmoil as if she could hear it, “I’m always in a foul mood when I wake up. I would have probably attacked someone no matter what you did.”

“How did you know what I..?” Malia didn’t complete her question.

“You really don’t know?” the woman inquired earnestly. She knew Malia wasn’t faking ignorance, but that only troubled her further. If she doesn’t know how to sense it, then how did she touch my core with her words? “Wait here, children.” She commanded after it was clear her doubts wouldn’t dissolve in a timely manner, “I’ll go change out of these smelly rags.”

When the silvery witch vanished into the dark passageway, they let out a collective sigh of release. The sudden hole her imposing presence had left allowed them to relax, as if their senses were permitted to venture outside the tight confines of their own bodies.

Hedera and Licorice were still by the door, unshakable in their aversion to going in. The rest of the group sat on the wooden floor, all expectant and curious. All but Malia. She kept her distance, holding her knees and avoiding the eyes of her human friends.

“You have to stop that.” Aldous startled her by slapping her back.

“…What?” Malia glanced up at him.

“That thing you do.” He rolled his eyes, “You run off on us, you forget we’re a team, and when you can’t do crap on your own you get all gloomy. You need to stop. Count on us and you won’t regret it, you’ll see.” He patted her head, “And stop acting like it’s the end of the world whenever something goes wrong. Imagine how annoying it would be if we all did it every time we botched a job.”

“Indeed.” Bayard nodded, “You should embrace your own idiocy and learn to love it and to share it with your comrades. Just like Aldous.”

“You couldn’t give it a rest. Not even for a minute.” Aldous shifted his attention to Bayard, “Not even when we’re talking to Malia.”

“It was a compliment.” Bayard shrugged, “Perhaps you’re the one who should give it a rest.”

Their back and forth carried on in front of Malia, but she was unable to interrupt it for some time. There was a fluttering in her stomach trapping her speech. With just a few friendly words, Aldous and Bayard had brutally demolished the wall she had put up all by herself. They had made her one of them. She wouldn’t have been able to explain how or why that hadn’t been the case before… but their reaching out after seeing through her weaved a bond she would never relinquish.

“…You guys are too nice.” She admitted, “Thank you. Gorken told me the same thing earlier. I’ll try to stop… but I might mess up before I get it right.”

“That’s what I wanted to hear!” as Aldous spoke it was Bayard that mussed her hair with a fond gesture.

Gorken had stayed quiet, still coming to terms with the bizarre sensation of having his innards scrambled. He witnessed the interaction of his allies longingly. He treasured his friends, he cherished their company… and to him they were part of a distant landscape. He was scared of stretching his arm to find he couldn’t touch them. Even after Malia’s miraculous return, that fact hadn’t changed. Maybe that was for the best.

When Gorken averted his eyes he spotted his tunic on the ground; he stood to pick it up, causing Malia to look at him. Now that her sight wasn’t clouded by fear and guilt, she saw Gorken’s body in front of her clear as day. And hanging from Gorken’s neck, no longer concealed by clothing, was a bright pendant. Swinging at the bottom of the silver chain was the emblem of the Daimonlance clan. That was her necklace. The one she had been wearing that day.

Her pulse shook her flesh with sudden force, as if her heart had become a monstrous creature about to consume her. She was happy, and sad, and excited, and melancholy, and embarrassed all at the same time. More than anything, she felt the need to hide how much it touched her to see Gorken wearing her necklace. The thought of him keeping the pendant for those long eight years heated her skin.

Malia speedily gulped down all of her feelings, chaotic as they were, when the woman emerged from the passageway; the person that came out was nothing like the shabby figure they had met previously.

Before them stood a tall lady of indiscernible age in a layered, brown dress. The various cloths that merged to form its skirt looked old and ragged, but inexplicably elegant at the same time. Her silver curls were rebellious still, but she had tied them in a low, long ponytail. Her hair was no longer covering her face, and below her bangs her silver eyes almost glowed. Everything about her was weirdly excessive: she had large eyes, a big nose and full lips. Her beauty was bewildering.

“Let’s start over.” She said as she approached them, “You can call me Kadem.”