Book 2 Chapter 17: The Test

“What are the rules?” Bauteut asked, finally breaking the silence that surrounded them.

“I honestly don’t know anymore,” Joan said. It felt like they’d been walking for hours, though she couldn’t be sure if they had or she was still just so tired from before that it felt longer. The chaffing didn’t help either. “It doesn’t make any sense. Last time they announced themselves and let us choose who would take the challenge.”

“What was the challenge then?”

“Defeat that which we had never defeated before,” Joan said with a shake of her head at that memory. “It was really obnoxious.”

“Oh? Was it some great monster?” Bauteut asked.

“Nope. Old board game, four realms,” Joan said.

“Wait, what?” Bauteut asked. “You played a board game? With who? Why?”

“An old teacher of mine. Took me weeks to beat him. I tried everything to bypass it, though,” Joan said. She felt the pressure building up behind her eyes when she thought about the memories, but she tried to tune it out. “Was with one of the guards I’d played with when I was a kid. I never could beat him before it.”

“Really? How’d he feel after the challenge?” Bauteut asked. “Do any rematches?”

“No idea, he died trying to protect me and my dad. Never played after that until the fae made me,” Joan said with a shrug.

“Wait, your dad? I thought Hardwin was your dad?”

“No, not this dad. That dad. I mean, I don’t even know who this dad is,” Joan said with a roll of her eyes. “But that dad was someone else. The Hero’s dad. He died during an ambush.”

“Wait, so you were an orphan then, too?” Bauteut asked.

“I had a mother,” Joan said quickly.

“Really? What was she like?”

“She was there,” Joan said, though to be honest, she couldn’t really think of much else to say. The Hero’s mother had certainly been there. But after his father had died, she’d all but vanished from his life. It hadn’t even seemed like a big deal back then, after all, the world was at stake. But she couldn’t, for the life of her, remember a single time when the Hero’s mother had actually been there aside from the occasional awkward meal. “She was busy.”

Bauteut gave a small nod. “That explains so much.”

Joan’s cheeks went a little redder and she walked a little faster. “How about your parents? What were they like?” she asked, failing to keep the annoyance out of her voice.

“Farmers. Well, they were. We were. We lived in a small little village near Batwatch Valley. When everything went bad and the territory fell, we had to move away.”

Joan glanced over at her, a small wave of guilt washing over her. “What happened?”

Bauteut shook her head and gave a light chuckle. “Don’t look so sad! Nothing much happened. We ran, made a life for ourselves. We lost our homes, but most of us didn’t lose our lives. We made a new home. My parents ended up joining the Golden Lions. Wasn’t the most stable life, but we made do. Mom apprenticed under one of their healers, learned a bit of magic. They saved what they could and sent me off to the academy. There were a lot of people who were far worse off than we were.”

Joan nodded, though she couldn’t help but suspect there was more to it than just that. But she supposed she had enough secrets of her own that she couldn’t blame the--

Wait a minute. She frowned when she thought about that. How many times had Bauteut pried into her life despite her telling the girl not to? How many times had she pushed and nagged and teased and almost tormented her until she gave in? If anything, it was time for some payback. “So they’re mercenaries now?”

“Yes,” Bauteut said.

“When’s the last time you saw them?” Joan asked. If nothing else at least the discussion was helping her focus on something other than her aching body. Maybe it would even--

Joan barely had time to register something was coming at her. There was a glint of metal and she barely had time to draw the sword from her hip before it was on her. It took her half a second to recognize who they were. The figure who had been with the Demon Lord in the strange shimmering armor. In the light of the fae’s sun it seemed to shift and change color wildly. Clasped in their hand was a large, two handed sword that had a blade that was so dark it was as if was made of the void itself.

Joan’s sword was knocked aside, sent hurtling from her grasp. “Beyond recollection,” the demon’s voice said, strange and rattling through the armor before they swung the sword once more. She held out her hands and, once more, tried to gather her magic to deflect the strike. Unfortunately, as before, she couldn’t get the spell to go off. The sword cleaved through her hands, then her arms and finally her chest.

Pain shot through Joan’s body, the pain of the blade slicing through her and cleaving her in half so intense she couldn’t help but let out a weak, pained cry before she fell to the ground. She closed her eyes, relieved at least in knowing it would all be over soon.

Joan laid there for a few moments, but the pain didn’t fade, yet no more was added to it. “Joan? Oh gods, please be okay. Joan?” Bauteut asked.

Joan felt a hand push against her chest and, slowly, she looked up. To her amazement, her arms were still attached. She lifted her hands up to look at them, but there wasn’t a single mark. “How?” she asked. She looked around, but the armored figure wasn’t anywhere to be seen. “Where’d they go?”

“Where’d who go?” Bauteut asked.

“The demon. They--”

“Nobody was here but you and me,” Bauteut said before shaking her head. “You just suddenly turned and drew your sword. The next thing I knew you threw it away and you screamed before dropping on the ground.”

“What?” Joan asked. “But they were right here. Didn’t you see them? They knocked the sword out of my hand and then they cut me in half!” She’d have thought she was going mad, but the pain of the cuts was still there. Even if her body was in one piece, the sensation of the sword cleaving through her was not one she could easily push aside, though it was finally dulling.

“You’re not cut in half,” Bauteut said in a soothing tone. “There’s no injuries at all, aside from what you already had. Can you stand?”

Joan nodded before slowly getting to her feet. Her heart was pounding so hard she thought it might burst out of her chest. But there was nothing there. It was just an illusion. A trick. One of the fae’s games. But why the demon of all people? She walked slowly to her sword and bent down to pick it up.

A foot came down on it and she looked up into the eyes of the Demon Lord. His lips were curled back in a cruel grin and her entire body locked up.

She’d seen that face far, far too many times. She’d seen the coldness in his eyes, the moment right before his spell went off. “Burn, little hero.”

Fire erupted from his hands, enveloping her. She screamed and closed her eyes, falling from him and rolling on the ground. She screamed, ignoring all else, even when Bauteut grabbed and tried to hold her down, she shook and writhed, the fire burning away her skin and enveloping her body in agony.

“Joan? JOAN! It’s not real, you’re okay!” Bauteut yelled, but Joan couldn’t believe it for a moment. She clutched Bauteut, her eyes closed tightly as the pain rolled over her.

More than that, though, was the terror. She wasn’t dead. Despite her screams and the pain, she was still alive. Just like the inferno god, her body burned but it didn’t end. It lingered, the pain surging through her.

“Joan, it’s not real. None of it is real,” Bauteut yelled, shaking her heavily. “Listen to me. It’s not real. It’s not real. None of it is real!”

It felt real, though. What the girl was saying had to be true, but she couldn’t open her eyes to see. She couldn’t even move. Even as her--

Suddenly coldness washed over her and, as quickly as it had started, the pain was gone. All that remained were the echoes of pain and the exhaustion of enduring it. She stared up at Bauteut, her mouth open. “What happened? What did you do?” Joan asked. Though it only took a moment for her to realize what she had done. Joan was now soaking wet and in Bauteut’s hand she was holding a now empty waterskin.

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“I dumped this on you. Better?” Bauteut asked.

Joan gave a small nod, though she couldn’t help but look around. Neither the Demon Lord nor the armored demon were here anymore. “You didn’t see them, did you?”

“No, I didn’t,” Bauteut said gently. “What was it?”

“Burning. Fire,” Joan said. “The Demon Lord. He was here. Or he wasn’t but, I don’t know.”

“Tricks? Fae?” Bauteut asked.

“Obviously,” Joan said, her voice coming out far angrier than she had intended. “I just--” Out of the corner of her eye she saw a great burning red light and the sound of sizzling and popping. A sound she remembered hearing only once in her life.

The sound of a creature that, even as the hero, she knew she couldn’t defeat.

The avatar of the Inferno God. The creature that, again and again, slew the chosen. The creature that had always delayed them and cost them so much. It didn’t speak. It didn’t negotiate. If it had a name she didn’t know it.

Her entire body shook and she closed her eyes, leaning her head into Bauteut’s chest. “Please no,” she whispered softly.

“Joan, what’s wrong? What do you see?”

“Please no,” Joan said, unable to stop herself from begging. “Not that. Please, anything but that. Don’t make me face it. Not now. Not here. I’m not ready. It’s too soon. Please. Please, please, please. I don’t care what the price is. I don’t care about anything. I’ll go back. I’ll leave. I’ll do whatever you want. Just please, not that.”

“Joan, it’s okay, there’s nothing there,” Bauteut said gently. “Here.”

Joan felt the other girl start to push her away but she clutched her all the tighter. “No no no no no no, please no. Not this, don’t go. Gods no, please,” she begged, her entire body shaking now. She could hear it still. The terrible hissing, popping and sizzling coming closer.

“It’s okay, Joan,” Bauteut said in a soothing tone. “It’s okay. Let me go. I’m not leaving, I promise. Just keep your eyes closed, okay?”

Joan nodded, though she didn’t dare open them. Not now. Looking at this monster wasn’t something she could stomach. Bauteut pulled away from her and then got to her feet, but didn’t let Joan’s hands go.

“Just come with me, okay? Keep your eyes closed and focus on me,” Bauteut said gently before she pulled her to her feet and helped support her.

Joan nodded and let the other girl lead her away from the popping sound. She kept her eyes closed as tightly as she could, listening as the popping and sizzling got further and further away. Then, finally, it was gone. Her eyes opened and she looked up at Bauteut. “How did you know that would work?”

“I didn’t,” Bauteut said before giving her hand a gentle squeeze. “But I hoped it would. It wasn’t real so I hoped if we left, it would eventually just disappear. It’s not here now, is it?”

“No,” Joan said. “It’s gone. I hope for good.”

“Was it the werewolf?”

“I wish.”

That made Bauteut hesitate for a moment before glancing back at her. “That wasn’t the… what was it, then? You were--”

“You don’t want to know,” Joan said with a light shudder. “Trust me. It’s not the kind of thing that you want to imagine. If you ever see it, then everything has already gone so wrong that… well… it’d be better to run and hope it can’t find you.”

“Is that what you would do?”

“If I had to face it? Yes, in a heart beat,” Joan said with a light shudder. “There’s nothing I could do against it. It would be pointless to even try.”

Bauteut shuddered and shook her head. “I don’t envy the chosen having to face it, then.”

Joan almost answered but quickly stopped herself. Even the chosen couldn’t defeat it, but Bauteut likely didn’t need to know that. The chosen were the most powerful beings in the world at their most powerful. The fact that some of the things they had to face could even be beyond them was not something anyone but her had to know. “Do you have any more potions that can help me?”

“Help you?” Bauteut asked.

“I can’t even use my magic right now. I’m so tired and achy that—”

“No,” Bauteut said. “You’ve already had more of them than I’d like. If our lives hadn’t been in eminent danger then--”

“Are our lives not in eminent danger now?” Joan asked. “There’s going to be more before we’re done. Whatever game they’re playing with us is different from the last one. I need to be able to fight and use my magic if I’m going to beat it.”

“Joan, don’t--”

“You should take one too,” Joan said, cutting her off. “Because we’re both going to need to face it. Together.”

Bauteut sighed before giving a small nod. “I must be crazy for this, but you’re right. We should--” She then went entirely still, stopping in midstep.

“Bauteut? What’s wrong?” Joan asked.

“Nothing,” she said gently and started walking again. “It’s just like a nightmare. Ignore it and it’ll go away. Don’t look at it, don’t speak to it. Just keep going,” Bauteut whispered. “Just keep going.”

“What do you see?” Joan asked.

“Nothing. Just keep going,” Bauteut said, lightly tugging Joan after her. “No potions. Neither of us are in any shape as it is to push ourselves. We still have to go home, right?”

Joan gave a soft sigh before nodding. “Fine, just--” A glint of silver on her right made her turn before she could stop herself and she mentally cursed. The armored demon had appeared again, charging her through the brush. At least they were further away this time. She reached to her hip to draw her sword, only to realize she’d already dropped one of them and quickly grabbed the second over her shoulder, drawing it in a single motion.

Adrenaline pumped through her system and she tore away from Bauteut, watching the approaching blade. She had a split second this time to react, but that was all she needed. Joan moved a little to the right, letting her instincts take over as the figure slashed down at her from above. The blade missed and she kept moving. The demon always left themselves open on the left slightly, it was one of their few weaknesses.

Joan swung her sword at the figure, stepping in at the same time she swung. Already the black blade was coming at her, but even without her magic to support her she was just fast enough. The tip of her blade connected with the figure’s arm.

They disappeared in a small blue flash of light, their sword only a hairsbreadth from striking her. Joan stared, her eyes wide.

“Joan, what’s--” Bauteut said, but Joan lifted her hand up to silence her.

In the heat of the moment she’d let it go, but the demon’s movements were familiar to her. Incredibly familiar. Even if she didn’t know who they were, her instincts practically screamed at her that it was something she had seen a million times. Her head started to throb again, but she pushed through it.

A downward swing, followed by a low sweeping leg strike. If it connected, they’d move the blade up to cut at the hip. If it failed, they would then push forward, attempting to pivot around their opponent to--

Joan reached a hand up to grip her head, the pain almost too much to endure. Her breathing was rapid and sweat was pouring out across her body, every muscle tense from the pain. But slowly she sheathed her sword and, shakily, reached out a hand to Bauteut.

“I saw that,” Bauteut said gently. “The light. What was it?”

“Don’t know,” Joan said through gritted teeth. “Illusion. Fae magic. Seen it before, I think.”

“You think? You don’t know?”

“Please be quiet,” Joan said softly. “I’m trying to figure that out and my head feels like it’s going to explode as it is. Come here,” she said before motioning Bauteut to lean down for her to whisper to. “Whoever is making these illusions is targeting us directly. I think that’s why we’re not able to see it.”

“But I saw when you broke it,” Bauteut whispered back. “What about your sword, you said it was knocked out of your hand, didn’t you?”

Joan nodded before glancing down at her hip. The sword she’d dropped was the one that she’d been gifted by Ywain. A part of her wanted to go back and grab it. But, no, they could get it later. Once all of this was over, she’d get it back. “We’re in their realm. There’s no telling what their illusions can do here. I don’t think they will attack us unless we focus on them.”

Bauteut gulped and gave a small nod. “I see. They’re not attacking me, though,” she said gently.

Joan blinked a few times and tried to process t hat. “They’re not?”

“No.”

“What are you seeing?”

“Hearing. And I’d rather not say. It’s just…” Bauteut trailed off and her gaze wavered off to the right, away from Joan. She started to pull away, but Joan quickly tugged on her hand.

“Bauteut, don’t fall for it. Remember what you said? Just ignore it. Keep going, it’ll go away.”

Bauteut gave a small nod, but whatever she was looking at she didn’t stop staring. Joan sighed and then pulled her hand, guiding her away.

After a short bit Bauteut shook her head and looked back to Joan. “I really don’t like this place.”

“I don’t either,” Joan said before closing her eyes and wishing the pounding headache would just go away. Out of the corner of her eyes she saw another glint of metal and she quickly looked away, not wanting to risk another fight. She tensed up, but nothing happened.

“Joan?” Bauteut said softly.

“It’s another one. Just keep walking.”

“It’s not that,” Bauteut said. “Look.”

Joan blinked and slowly looked back towards the metal. Her sword was laying on the ground, the one she had dropped.

They’d been walking in circles.

“Impossible,” Bauteut said softly. “We’ve been going forward this whole time. I know we have. Haven’t we?”

Joan couldn’t help but smile, though. That had been the piece she’d needed all along. She couldn’t help but start to laugh before leaning into Bauteut, resting her head against her chest. “We did it. We’re fine.”

“What?”

“I’ve done this before. I remember. Vanillamist!” Joan yelled, though yelling made her cringe and send echoes of pain through her head. “Vanillamist, you tiny little pain in my butt! Get out here! I know you’re the one behind this!”