Chapter 19: Why fear me?

Joan’s eyes slowly opened and, to her surprise, she recognized the ceiling above her head and not as the void of her time between cycles. She was spending a lot of time these days looking at ceilings, she hoped it wouldn’t become a trend. Waking up on soft beds, however, was quite nice. The curtains were closed, but even then a few rays of sunlight allowed her to see in the darkened room.

She realized she wasn’t alone, though. Someone was laying besides her. She slowly tried to sit up and felt pain surge through her leg, drawing a hiss from her lips and causing the person to stir.

“Joan? JOAN! Don’t move! I’m here! Don’t move,” Bauteut said quickly. She felt the person besides her move and then saw Bauteut’s head rise up. The older girl reached a hand out, putting the palm against Joan’s leg and causing the pain to dim. “How do you feel? No, don’t talk. You’re probably exhausted, just lay there and relax. Please.”

“I’m fine,” Joan said softly. “A lot of pain, but fine.” The other girl was right, though. She felt exhausted. Even turning her head to get a better view of her comrade sounded like too much effort.

“Oh thank the gods,” Bauteut whispered, staring down at her. She then turned to the left before reaching out and shaking someone outside of her field of vision. “Searle? Searle, she’s up. Go get her ladyship. She’s going to want to know.”

Searle’s voice was heard next. “Are you sure? What if you two--”

“We’re in the castle. Nothing is going to attack us here. Just go and get her,” Bauteut said harshly.

Joan saw Searle rising up besides her, before once more disappearing. She then closed her eyes and tried to relax. Despite the magic from the healer, the wound on her leg still ached terribly. Her arm twinged a little, but nowhere near as severly.

“I am so sorry. I don’t know what else I can say, but sorry. If you hadn’t stepped in then, we’d both be dead,” Bauteut said, before applying more pressure to her leg. “You’re lucky to be alive. Taking on a demon without a weapon? You’re insane. Oh by the gods I’m so sorry.”

Joan took a slow, lingering breath before speaking up. “She was new. Inexperienced. Wasn’t a true fighter,” she whispered. “Anyone could have fought her.”

“Not without a weapon and certainly not in the state you were in,” Bauteut said. “If Searle had been just a few seconds later, you’d be dead now.”

Joan couldn’t help giving a light snort of amusement. “I guess it’s only fair that he save me, huh?” she asked before opening her eyes to look back at the healer. Tears had formed in the other girl’s eyes and she felt a sharp stab of guilt. “The sword, was it okay?”

“Of course it wasn’t,” Bauteut said. “How can you ask about that now? You almost died!”

“Wasn’t my sword,” Joan said gently. “Borrowed it.”

Bauteut looked ready to slap her, but at least it was better than the tears. “You’re an insane idiot. Reckless. You must have a death wish.”

“If I do it is granted far too often,” Joan said before trying to sit up again. A hand pushed her down quickly.

“If you try to get up I will have you tied to the bed, are we clear?” Bauteut asked in a tone that made Jone suspect she would make good on the threat.

“Yes ma’am,” Joan said quickly. “Sorry. Beats having all of my bones broken though, right?”

“You’re impossible,” Bauteut said before wiping her eyes. “I’m sorry. If I’d paid more attention, none of this would have happened.”

“You couldn’t have known,” Joan said gently. If she hadn’t spent so many life times fighting those cultists, she wouldn’t have noticed either. A simple burn mark was easy enough to hide and ignore unless you knew specifically how to look for it. “Besides, you saved my life.”

“After you saved mine,” Bauteut said.

“I wouldn’t have had that sword at all if you’d let me return it after the practice,” Joan said with a small smile and, to her delight, was rewarded with one from the healer as well.

“Since you seem to have it on the mind, you’ll be happy to know that its original owner has had it replaced by the queen, personally. So there is no ill will caused by your breaking of it. Now please, try to just relax.”

Joan gave a soft chuckle before nodding. Relaxing sounded wonderful. She closed her eyes and once more drifted off.

She was awoken, in either seconds or hours she couldn’t tell, when she heard the door open and heavy footsteps. When she opened her eyes she saw Searle and Emeline towering over her. The queen knelt down besides her, a hand slowly reaching out to wrap around her leg. Soothing coolness washed over the wound, dimming the pain even further. “There. Does that help?”

Joan nodded. “Better, mostly just tired,” she whispered.

“Good. This will take a little bit, but now that you’re conscious, I need you to keep talking with us. Tell me if anything starts to hurt more,” the queen said in a hushed tone before her other hand reached up and both rubbed the leg. “I’ve heard quite the interesting story from Searle.”

“Oh?” Joan asked. “Only good things, I hope.” She tried to focus on the queen’s face, not on the hands wrapped around her leg or how quickly they could reach up to wrap around her throat.

“Apparently you taught him the strange spell by which he vanquished the demon.”

“He wasn’t supposed to tell you that,” Joan said, a new sense of dread washing over her.

“Please stay calm,” Emeline said gently. “I’d never heard of such a spell before your appearance, Joan. I must say it is fascinating. Did you have a vision of it as well?”

“Yes,” Joan said.

“Don’t look so afraid, Joan. While this talent of yours is quite unique, I have no intention of allowing anyone to try and take it from you. Hardwin left you in my care and I intend to have you here, safe and sound, when he returns.” Emeline then glanced to the other two in the room. “Which brings me to my next question. I would like the two of you to leave while I discuss things with Joan.”

“P-please don’t,” Joan said quickly, the fear rising in her voice. She gave Searle a pleading look, staring at him. The idea of being wounded and unable to escape while the queen watched over her made her want to scream and hide under the bed, for all the good it would do her.

“Your highness, with all due respect,” Searle said. “I promised Lord Hardwin--”

“Am I not your queen?” Emeline asked, turning her fierce gaze to Searle. Even though it wasn’t directed at her, even Bauteut cringed and backed away. “Allow me to rephrase. Chosen Searle, Healer Bauteut, both of you are to wait outside until I am finished speaking with the patient.”

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Joan tried to catch the eyes of the two, but they refused to look at her. Instead they turned and quickly walked from the room. She heard the door close and felt the echo through her body, as if it was the sound of her own death bell. She stared up at the queen and gave a soft whimper.

“That right there,” Emeline said before turning to face her again. Her face had softened, however, no longer looking fierce or angry. “That look is what I wish to discuss.”

“My look?” Joan asked.

“You look terrified right now. Certainly not the look I would expect from one who faced a demon,” Emeline said in a soothing tone. “In these visions of yours, did you see something of me?”

“Of course not,” Joan said quickly, her heart pounding now.

“Joan,” the queen said softly, her tone firm. “Don’t lie to me.”

The girl stared up at the queen for a long moment. She tried to think of the correct response without lying. She had never seen any visions to begin with, so that was easy enough. The rest of it was the issue. Guilt started to flood inside her. Emeline had been nothing but kind to her since her arrival and, despite her past issues with the woman, had never given her any reason to fear. Was it really okay to blame the queen for what had happened in a completely different time? As kind as Emeline had been, did it matter if in the end the woman could so easily turn hostile? “I’ve never had any visions of you,” Joan said softly. “But I’m scared of you. You’re the queen. How can I not be?”

“You are one of my subjects, Joan. The same as Hardwin. I care as much for you as I would any of them.”

“You could kill me if you wanted,” Joan said gently.

“I became queen by proving my power and willingness to defend this realm. There are very, very few I couldn’t kill if I so desired,” Emeline said carefully. “But that’s not it, is it? There’s more to your fear.”

Joan clenched her fists, her mouth going dry. Of all the people she could tell, the queen was not one of them. If she was to find out who and what Joan really was, then everything would go wrong. She wasn’t strong anymore, either. Surviving the wrath of the ruler once more would be impossible.

After a few minutes of silence the queen let out a soft sigh, her hands slowly pulling away from Joan. “I see. I won’t force you to answer me, Joan. While I don’t understand why you’re so frightened, I do hope, someday, you’ll be willing to tell me.” She got to her feet and turned away. “You should be able to move, just do not try to walk for the time being. I will be a while until you’re fully healed. Do try to not get yourself nearly killed again.” With those parting words the queen walked from the room, closing the door behind herself. After a few moments the door opened again.

Joan almost said something sarcastic to the two, but when they came into view she could see their own expressions were downcast. As annoyed as she was that they had left her alone despite her pleading, realistically she had to admit they didn’t have a choice. The queen was the queen for a reason, they couldn’t have hoped to ignore her orders. Even as a chosen, Searle still had to answer to the throne except when pertaining to his duties for the gods.

“It’s okay, I know you didn’t have a choice,” Joan said soothingly before, very slowly, she sat up. She felt a light pain in her leg, but not nearly as bad as it had once been. “Thanks for saving me. Both of you. I should have been more careful the moment I realized what she was.”

“How did you know?” Bauteut asked.

“She had the symbol of one of the cultists,” Joan said. “It’s not the fir--” She cut herself short when she realized something else. Dealing with the cultists, for her, was old news. She’d been dealing with them across so many lives. But they weren’t supposed to be this active, either.

“Joan?” Bauteut asked.

Her hands clenched the bedding and she struggled to suppress the panic. The cultists were old news. But they shouldn’t have been yet. The cultists of the Inferno God had been laying low after their defeats and had only started to be really active AFTER the demon lord had been defeated. But the demon lord hadn’t been. “Bauteut,” Joan said, turning to the girl. “The food the girl had brought us. What was it?”

“Stew, I think. Why?” Bauteut asked.

“Was it poisoned? Had it been poisoned?” Joan asked, struggling to keep her voice steady.

“I don’t know, we didn’t check. We were focused on trying to keep you alive. Joan, what’s wrong? Why are you so pale?” Bauteut asked, moving by her side.

Joan took a slow, deep breath and tried to calm her nerves, though she couldn’t stop herself from shaking. The demon lord wasn’t supposed to be active yet. The cultists should have still been in hiding, as well. Why were they making a move now? Why were--

Batwatch Valley. It had fallen. She hadn’t saved it this time. The cultists were stronger now. She was so STUPID! Had she really believed everything would stay the same without her here to change things? If Batwatch Valley had fallen, there was no telling what other plans they had enacted. For all she knew the cultists were already on the verge of summoning the Inferno God.

Joan collapsed and stared at the ceiling, trying to keep the despair from running through her. “We need the chosen,” she whispered.

“I know,” Searle said with a nod. “Lord Hardwin will gather them, you just need to be patient.”

Joan gave a small grunt, but it did little to appease the feeling of dread. She was in entirely uncharted territory. For all she knew, there were cultists gathering in the capital already, attempting to overthrow the monarch and offer all of them as a sacrifice to the Inferno God.

“I brought you a gift,” Bauteut’s voice suddenly said, making Joan glance up.

“I’m sorry?” Joan asked.

“A gift. Here,” Bauteut said before pulling out a small, metal book and holding it out to the smaller girl. The strange thing was that there was it was entirely encased in metal and had a lock on the side, with a key inserted. She took the book and, to her surprise, it was so heavy it nearly sent her falling out of the bed, it would have if not for Searle reaching out to steady her. “Careful! It’s heavy!”

“I noticed,” Joan said, unable to keep the sarcasm out of her voice. She reached up and turned the key, causing the book to open. To her surprise, the pages were blank. “It’s empty.”

“It’s a dwarven security tome. Very hard to get in these parts,” Bauteut said, her voice filled with pride.

Joan stared at it for a few long moments, trying to think of what in the world she was supposed to do with it. On the inside there was a long narrow pen. “I see. I’ll cherish it. It’s to write a journal, right?” she said, not wanting to make the other girl feel unappreciated for the gift. She just didn’t see much point to keeping a journal, she never had.

“It’s for your visions,” Bauteut said with a sigh, shaking her head. “Not a traditional journal.” She reached out and tapped the pen. “Dwarven ink, it’ll last you ages. But this way you can write down all of your visions and get them out of your head to help focus. I hear that seers of the past used them to keep records and stop themselves from forgetting anything important. On top of that, it’s impossible to open a security tome without the key, at least without destroying the paper. So only you’ll have access to it unless you want someone else to.”

“I see. That sounds usef--” Joan stopped mid sentence and stared at the book. Now that she thought about it, maybe this was exactly what she needed. Everything in her head was such a jumbled mess, but if she could write it all out, maybe it would help. “That really does sound useful. Thank you, Bauteut.” She slowly picked up the pen and eyed the tip. She’d never used one before, but she heard they had the ink inside, rather than using an inkwell. She reached down and wrote slowly in the top left corner.

“Is that code or is your handwriting that terrible?” Bauteut asked. “Maybe a security tome was a bit overly cautious. Is that your name?”

Joan jerked the pen back, her cheeks turning scarlet. Her handwriting had always been bad, though now she suspected it was because she had thousands of different styles to draw on from her past lives. “If you’re going to complain, you can just leave,” she said, quickly slamming the pen back down. “Actually, no. You can leave anyway. If I’m writing these things down, then I’d rather do it in private.”

“But—” Bauteut started, but Joan quickly cut her off.

“Out or I’ll throw you out!” Joan said, pushing the covers as if she had any actual intention of getting out of bed.

Bauteut quickly stepped back, lifting her hands up. “Easy, easy. Calm down. I’ll leave, so don’t get excited anymore. You need to heal. Searle will stay here with you, if you need anything, let him know. Do not antagonize your leg though. Okay? Please.”

Joan gave a small nod, though didn’t answer the girl.

“Good. Remember, if you need anything, just call.”

Joan gave a sigh and pulled open the book once more, grabbing her pen and starting to write. So many lives, so many connecting thoughts. So many failures. Hopefully this would help her keep it all organized.