155 - Family Reunion, Part 1

There was a sixty percent chance that she would kill someone today.

Celie spread out her toolkit in front of her dressing mirror, next to her cosmetics and the perfume Arielle had gotten her for her birthday. The table itself was Brom's gift, and the rest of the things on it, including her cheek rouge, lip tint, rhubarb, and saffron, were purchased with the new allowance that Arielle's wealth afforded them.

It had also provided her with a more sophisticated arsenal of weapons and defense gear, some of which she had never dreamed she would possess.

Her hands lightly sampled her tools, trailing the sharp edges. Not all of them, though. Quite a few of them had poison-laced tips, including one with enough venom to paralyze an immortal.

She’d paid a lot of gold for it, but she knew it would come in handy.

Perhaps today.

Which was the day she would discover whether or not the Archmage was lying to her about her sister being alive.

The last time they’d heard that Arielle was in trouble, it had not come from the Archmage. It had come from a strange woman who claimed to have been sent by Elric, telling them that a demon was haunting Arielle and that was why she could not come home for the break.

It was bizarre.

Just a few months ago, Celie was saying goodbye to her fragile sister, terrified that they were throwing her to the wolves and she would be eaten up by the cruelty of that society.

Arielle was vulnerable in so many ways, and everything would be new, and Arielle didn't like change, and Celie was worried that no one there would have the patience for her, and Arielle would not know how to communicate her needs and her fears.

When her father had gone to visit with Brom, Celie had half-expected them to return with news about Arielle being depressed and alone, aching to come home but too proud and dutiful to admit it. Even Brom’s story about Arielle humbling a softboned, snobby aristocrat wasn’t enough to calm her worry.

And then there was the gold.

Arielle had given them an obscene amount of gold and didn’t have a clear explanation for where it came from. Sure, it could have been from the archmage Elric himself, but if it were from him, Arielle would just say so.

And it didn’t make sense for the Archmage to donate all that, considering how much he was already doing for her, enrolling her in that fancy academy and getting her father back from his self-imposed exile.

Celie liked the archmage and was grateful to him, but she was also inherently suspicious of anyone who was overly generous. Especially Ascendants. He was still a human, and humans were inherently greedy. So her guess was that he was using Arielle’s considerable skill for clandestine things, perhaps to get rid of rivals or even just to make his work a little easier.

She was sure that was how Arielle had gotten involved with the demons, and why she was being hunted by them. Why else would Arielle tangle with such a nightmarish creature?

Unless one of those aristocrat brats had put a hex on her or tricked her into summoning it. Either that or Arielle was gone completely, and Elric was trying to conceal that with a stupid lie, but that was the less likely possibility. Celie had spoken with Arielle via messaging scroll, and she answered questions only Arielle would know.

But that could be faked. She had been around enough ascendants to know that their magic was capable of all manner of things, especially things that were beyond a mortal's wildest dreams. Elric could have also altered Ari’s mind to control her, and that was why he didn’t want them to meet her. Because then they would know. Celie would also know if someone was lying to her sister, manipulating her to do their bidding. It was hard to deduce something like that over infrequent messages, but it would be impossible to hide in person.

Today she would find out if she needed to paralyze and drag the truth out of Elric. She wasn't going to let him get away with it if he'd hurt Arielle, archmage or not.

She heard a slight whoosh and her father booming, “Elric! Nice to have you back!"

The Archmage murmured something which made Torv bellow out a laugh and invite him to breakfast with him. Her father, despite Celie's suspicion, was always assured of Elric’s good intentions and had defended him when Celie had questioned why someone like him went so far for them.

“It’s in the eyes, Celie,” he’d said. “Elric is a good man.”

"A good man that has our sister in his grasp, and won’t let us see her,” she'd murmured.

Her mother had caught her gaze, and she knew that while Thessa didn't necessarily believe Elric to be exploitative, she wasn't quite as convinced of Elric's guilelessness as Torv was. She was also extremely worried about her daughter and wanted more than anyone to see Arielle again.

Celie and Thessa had held each other's gazes, communicating without words their dedication to doing anything that needed to be done for their family. Celie knew that Thessa would never outwardly approve of what she was planning, but she would have her blessing nevertheless.

She slid the necessary tools into her sleeves and her boots, with one more in her bosom and another strapped to her right thigh. She swallowed, her stomach leaden as she rose from her dressing mirror, staring at the determined reflection. She practiced her smile until it no longer pinched at the edges and she looked just as innocuous as ever.

Then, she descended the stairs.

“Archmage,” she greeted him as he came into view, standing next to her father by the door. Torv had a plate in one hand and a deer leg in the other, with the gravy dripping off the side.

Her mother, who was emerging from their joint room on the base floor, gave him a dirty look. "Torv, if you get any of that gravy on my floors, I will rip your entrails from your stomach and fashion them into a cleaning rag."

Torv had more sense than to laugh at the threat, although he did crack a smile. "Ah, Thess, my entrails are all bruised and bloodied from war. They would make a terrible rag."

Her mother rolled her eyes and took the plate from him, gesturing for him to dump the deer leg within.

He did with a very forlorn look.

Meanwhile, the Archmage smiled at the pair before his eyes travelled to Celie.

“Hello, Celie,” he said without a trace of deceit in his expression. “You look well.”

“You look famished." Thessa interrupted, grabbing Elric's wrist with her free hand and steering him to the kitchen. “Eat something before we go.”

This unapproved chapter came from the author's publishing page. Reading the official version supports the work's creator.

“Oh, that’s not necessary.”

“It is. It looks like you’re about to drop dead in the blink of an eye. The ministry is working you to the bone."

"It's not just them," Elric allowed himself to be pulled into a seat. "I got something of a special assignment."

"Really?"

"Yes. An excursion, if you will."

"Can't wait to hear all about it," Torv said as he went into the kitchen and sat down, picking up his deer leg once more.

But Elric steered the conversation away from his work, asking Torv instead about his recent business ventures, which were really more him gambling with his allowance than anything, considering all the hair-brained ideas he invested in. As her mother poured stew for the Archmage and her father made small talk with him while devouring the deer leg, Celie grabbed some breakfast of her own.

She didn’t eat much, just enough to give her energy for what she might have to do. Throughout the conversation, she watched the Archmage, though he barely spared her a glance. The one time he did, he gave her a kind smile. She smiled back too. It was good that his guard was down and he clearly didn't consider her a threat. She was used to being underestimated. It was why she was so good at what she did.

Though she had initially focused on long-range attacks, in recent years, she had started to excel at close-range kills. It was easy, really. She just had to ingratiate herself in the inner circle of her target. Blend in, smile at jokes, pretend like she was one of them, until she could get them alone. She found she was good at it, at befriending strangers, and earning their trust. Something about her face made her seem innocent and trustworthy, she supposed.

Pretend to be a dove, a courtesan had told her once. And a lot of people will throw themselves in front of your knife just to keep it from nicking your skin.

It helped that her targets, more often than not, tended to be inebriated and not very wise. By the time they realized she was not a dove, it was too late, and they would be bleeding at her feet. Or convulsing, though she typically did not like those types of poisons. It somehow left her with more of a mess than a simple neck slice.

However, it wouldn’t be easy to get close to the Archmage’s neck. He might not look very physical, but he was still an Archmage and likely had boosted strength as well as recovery and constitution. She had to poison him first, and to do that, she would need to ensure that she had his trust. It had been unwise of her to threaten to kill him that last time, but hopefully he had forgotten. Or maybe he thought it was a joke.

Oh well. They would see today.

The front door burst open with Brom rushing in.

He ignored everyone, went straight for the carved meat by the cauldron, and began shoving slices into his mouth.

"Brom Mossborne!" His mother scolded. "Sentinel knows I raised you better than that."

"You did, mother, but I have been hunting in the forest for three days now and have become half animal as a result." He turned around with a mouthful of food. “So, when are we leaving?’

His mother gave him a disgusted look while his father laughed. Brom also met Celie’s eyes and sent her a silent signal that she didn't respond to. He was the only one who knew for sure what she was going to do. He would help her paralyze and torture the archmage for answers about Arielle, and then, when they were done, he would help her get rid of his body. That was always the hardest part of her job.

Killing was the easiest part. She sometimes wondered if that was strange, especially after hearing some of her colleagues' sentiment and distaste for that aspect of their work. And also knowing how her mother and Brom felt about it. Unbeknownst to them, she used to feel the same. There was a time when the kill would make her violently ill, but after training and meditating to suppress that urge, she had gotten used to her work.

That was one of the things that made her so good at it.

After the meal, they finally gathered in the living room, and Elric said, "I’m not great at multi-person portals, so I have a friend here to help me.”

The friend appeared to be a bird perched on his shoulder. It leaped into the air and flapped its wings, spitting a small black hole out of its mouth.

At first it was an inconspicuous rotating ball. Then it spread wider and wider, taking up half the space in the room.

Celie recognized it for what it was, but the rest of her family eyed it apprehensively. As the portal grew, Torv cursed and took a step back, with Brom whipping out his dagger.

"What's the meaning of this, Archmage?" Thessa demanded.

"It's an expanded portal," Elric said. "Meant to take you directly to Arielle."

"I've never seen one this big before," Torv said. "Nor have I seen one come out of a bird's mouth."

“Yes, that's just a special signature my friend has," Elric said with a chuckle. "It’s perfectly safe. I can go in first if you want.”

The family shared apprehensive looks. Celie was the first to take a step forward.

"Celie," her mother called, and her father reached over to grab her, but she ignored them, moving through it without fear.

She appeared in a home she had never seen before, a place that smelled like cypress and maple.

The walls were strange, resembling tree bark rather than classic wood, with striations that glowed intermittently, and a subtle hum and thump that she could almost hear. The room was tidy, small, with a couch that seemed to be made out of cotton and velvet and was far too luxurious for the space, blankets folded in a basket beside it, a box, and an arrangement of books next to it.

Where am I?

Outside the window, a vast desert spread with no end, the sun scorching down on it. Through a door, she saw what appeared to be a small kitchen, with the table set as though someone had just eaten lunch.

She walked slowly because she heard a sound outside the open door and got herself prepared when she saw a tall stranger standing on a porch made of twisted vines. She slid one of her poisoned daggers into her palm. Perhaps they would know where her sister was.

“Don’t go too far, Sir Spendulon.”

Celie froze.

That voice...

It sounded like Arielle's. Not exactly in tone, but the same intonation, the cadence, the quietness. Her sister had a distinct way of talking, one that she had never heard in anyone else.

From behind, the stranger did not look like Arielle. She appeared taller, older, her hair longer.

However, her stance, the way her shoulders were set, and her hands moved at her side, even the way she bent over slightly to stare at something on the sand in front of her, out of view.

“Arielle!" Celie couldn't help but call out to her, and the woman turned around.

It wasn't Arielle. Not in appearance, anyway.

However, the expression…the way her eyebrows went up in increments, her eyes flaring while still maintaining that curiously flat expression. Her nostrils also flared a little, her throat fluttering, and a smile that she likely didn’t even know was forming spreading on her face.

Then multiple successive blinks, a fraction of a second apart.

It was undoubtedly Arielle.

Suddenly, everything fell.

All Celie's dread and tension leading up to this moment drained from her. Her fear that something terrible had happened to her sister, and that Arielle was suffering and they were the last to know. That she was trapped or being taken advantage of or lonely and crying out for her, but Celie wasn't there to help her.

The feeling was reminiscent of when she'd had to accept that her father was dead after many years of no contact. She’d told herself not to even hope that he would return, to accept he was truly gone. And when he had returned, the disbelief, the joy, the fear that it was all a dream were wrapped up into one intense emotion.

The emotion that made her run to Arielle and pull her into a hug that probably squeezed the life out of her.

The woman stiffened.

“Celie?” she wondered aloud, and Celie nodded into her shoulder.

"It's me," she whispered. "It's your sister."

Arielle reached around her and hugged her back. Celie knew how much that probably took from her. She knew that her sister didn't like hugs, but Ari would have to bear it for some time because she didn't think she could let go of her, at least not any time soon.

Tears followed down her cheeks, but she refused to give voice to them nor the fear that had been clawing at her heart.

Arielle was here. She looked like someone different and was in a house that looked like the inside of a tree.

But she was alive and well, and that was all that mattered.

It was only after a while that she noticed there was something else suddenly standing next to them. Something red and scaly, with sharp eyes and a long lolling tongue.

Celie yelped.