Book 3 Chapter 17: Teleportation

Standing outside in the middle of a clearing one moment and then inside a dark, slightly damp stone chamber miles away the next was a bit more unsettling than Joan expected in her current body, though she managed to keep from getting ill. She’d done it in prior lives, so at least she knew what to expect.

Which was more than she could say for poor Bauteut. For a moment there was was silence, before Bauteut crumbled to her knees and started retching.

“Oh, oh by the stars, how can you do that? WHY would anyone subject themselves to that?” Bauteut asked before dry heaving on the ground.

“Eh, you get used to it,” Joan said with a shrug. “It wasn’t easy my first time, either.”

“Well, if I live another, guh, thousand lives, I’ll learn to get used to it,” Bauteut said with a shudder.

“Oh, you should try and be prepared,” Joan said with just a hint of maliciousness. “After all, this was within sight. Just wait until we teleport across the continent. There’s nothing quite like the feeling of your head being all the way to the east while your feet are in the west and your stomach is somewhere in the middle.”

Bauteut gave a low groan before shaking her head. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“Probably more than I should,” Joan said with a light snicker. “You should take better care of yourself, not push yourself so hard. Maybe take a nice little nap now and again. Maybe if you behave, Searle can carry you.”

“Joan,” Bauteut said slowly. “Please, let me remind you of something.”

“Yes?” Joan asked, her grin only growing.

“I make the potions you’ll be drinking whenever you get sick and hurt, which is quite often. While I wouldn’t ever put you in danger, that does not mean I have to make them pleasant. Are we clear?” Bauteut said before giving a light hiccup, a hand moving to cover her mouth.

Joan cringed, the smile fading from her lips. “Okay, point taken.” She glanced up and froze when she saw Isla and the three chosen staring at her with looks of amusement on their faces. “What?”

“Oh, nothing. You two carry on,” Isla said. “It’s kind of cute. Reminds me of Korgron when she was younger.”

That wiped the grin off Korgron’s face. “What? I was never like that. If anything, you were the one teasing me.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Isla said, her grin only growing. “Prideful. Haughty. Talented. Runs headfirst into danger.”

“Doesn’t listen to others, keeps crying, thinks she can boss me around, if anything she’s more like you,” Korgron said, crossing her arms and glaring at her sister.

“Wait, why is being like me an insult now?” Joan asked, glaring up at the two of them. “I at least didn’t get sick from teleporting.”

“She’s not really worth comparing ourselves to,” Korgron said with a shrug.

“HEY!” Bauteut said, glaring up at the demon.

Joan tried not to snicker, quickly covering her mouth with her hand. “Right, while Bauteut finishes recuperating, there’s still plans to make. Where to now?” She glanced around the room, but it was quite simple. An arcane circle was on the ground and four pillars in each of the cardinal directions, once likely heavily decorated but now little more than faded stone. She could see the sections on the walls where great tapestries likely once hung, but now they were empty and barren, covered in a thin layer of dirt and dust. Much like everything else.

Korgron gave a soft sigh before glancing to Isla. “Well, we’re going to have to go deal with some things. But before that, we’ll need to get you four somewhere safe. Also…” She glanced around the room before snapping her fingers. The arcane circles on the ground went out and, unfortunately, it seemed they were the only source of light in the room. Joan gave a sigh.

“Not all of us can see in the dark,” Joan said.

“Actually, I think you’re the only one who can’t,” Bauteut said. “Come here and I’ll take care of it. Oh. Wait, I can’t, I’m feeling too sick. I don’t want to push myself.”

Joan sighed and hung her head. While she did deserve that she also knew she had to learn that spell.

“Right,” Korgron said and a moment later she felt a hand on her own. “Come on, let’s get you out of here. There’s going to be a lot of questions to answer. Luckily for us, we won’t be the ones answering them.”

Slowly she was tugged along and out of the room, into a hallway that, mercifully, did have windows to the outside world. Well, holes. They were, somewhat, like windows. At least she assumed some of them had been windows at one point. The building they were in was across the courtyard from the main palace, though in about as much repair as most of the other parts of the city. It wasn’t the only arrival point for teleportation spells, but as far as she knew it was the only one within the palace courtyard.

Which she imagined was why it looked more like a decayed tomb than a greeting area for royal delegates. She wondered for a moment how long it had been since the teleportation array had been activated. Could anyone but Korgron have brought it back on? Had she made a new one all on her own? She was certainly capable of it.

All those thoughts were shaken from her head when she was pulled out into the main courtyard of the palace. The ground was overgrown with vines and moss, many of the stones either cracked of shoved aside where vegetation had decided it wished to grow there now. However, the demons running around the courtyard, fully armored, were her main focus.

A moment later there was shouting and most of the demons who had been moving around the courtyard were now racing towards them. She tried to pull back, but Korgron’s hand was tight on her own. The demon glanced back and gave a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry, Joan. It’s going to be fine.”

“You say that, but last time there was this reaction to me being here I got stabbed. A lot. Then I got sent out to try and hunt down a doomnetter,” Joan said nervously.

Korgron paused for a moment, staring at her. She couldn’t be sure, but she swore the demon was trying not to laugh.

“What?”

“We made you try and hunt a doomnetter?” Korgron asked. Now she was sure of it. The demon was definitely trying not to laugh. She then heard Isla giving a light snicker and, to her growing annoyance, so was Andreas.

“What?” Joan asked.

“Did you ever find it?” Andreas asked.

“No, I spent days hunting it, though,” Joan said, her annoyance only growing. Now Korgron was laughing, a hand over her mouth. “What?!”

“Nothing, don’t worry. You won’t have to find any, err, doomnetters,” Korgron said before giving a light snicker and looking away. “Nope. Not a single one.”

Joan glared, squeezing the hand as tightly as it could and feeling more annoyance knowing that it likely didn’t even hurt in the slightest.

“So, uhhh, did they make you look for long?” Isla asked before giving another snicker.

“Of course,” Joan said. “What? What’s so funny? Is it really that funny that I never managed to hunt one?”

“I honestly think it would have been even funnier if she had managed to find one,” Andreas said before covering his mouth to suppress the snickers.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Joan asked, the anger only rising. “If you don’t think I can track one, then--”

“Err, as amusing as this is, I think we should focus,” Bauteut said before pointing ahead.

Joan glanced over at the demons who had approached. They were now standing at attention, a row of spear wielding demons who were staring at them with carefully trained, blank expressions.

“Your highness,” a voice called out. After a moment a short demon with no horns, bright yellow skin and wearing a long, white robe walked through the assembled guards, the other demons making way for him. “Please, you cannot run off like you did, you especially cannot be bringing back things like--” The figure then stopped when his eyes fell on Isla.

“I was busy,” Korgron said. “Had to get my sister. You know how she likes to run off.”

“Lady Isla,” the demon said, a hand moving up to cover his mouth. “I thought… we thought we’d never see you again. Oh, thank the gods, the stars, the heavens.” Though he didn’t move, tears were beginning to form in his eyes and slowly fall down his aged cheeks.

It was really hard to say who looked more uncomfortable when the tears began to fall down the man’s eyes. Isla, Korgron or the assembled demons who were now looking to each other and shifting nervously.

“It’s fine,” Isla said. “Really, I’m fine. I was rescued by the chosen. No need to get so emotional about it.”

“The chosen?” the demon asked. Then his eyes went to Korgron’s crown and he gasped. “Lady Korgron, is that what I think it is?”

“If you think it’s the crown of the chosen? Then yes,” Korgron said. “Allow me to introduce some people. This is Searle, Chosen of the Shield. You already know Andreas, but he is now the Chosen of the Spear. These are Joan and Biscuit, Searle’s attendants.”

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Joan’s eyes widened and she opened her mouth to object to that particular title, only for her mouth to be covered by Bauteut’s hand, stifling her words.

“Chosen, please allow me to introduce Frisk, the royal regent,” Korgron said before turning to look at them. No, not at them. Andreas. She was staring quite pointedly at him. Joan didn’t get why for a moment, but her confusion was short lived.

‘Can everyone hear me?’ Korgron asked, her voice echoing inside Joan’s head. For a moment Joan was confused, as she didn’t see the demon’s lips move. But she then realized it was, once again, Andreas’ spell.

‘I can hear you just fine,’ Joan said through the connection.

‘It’s BAUTEUT, not biscuit,’ Bauteut’s voice echoed through their head.

‘Right, just for now we’ll talk through this. Andreas, can you keep it going?’ Korgron asked.

‘As long as needed,’ Andreas said. ‘Should we be expecting trouble?’

‘Better safe than sorry,’ Korgron said.

The demon then turned around to face Frisk. “It has been a long journey and we would all like a long, long rest. Could you have some rooms readied while we go and clean up?”

Frisk nodded. “Of course, your highness. But there’s still the matter of… err…”

“Everything I left behind and didn’t finish before I ran off? Yes. Yes there is,” Korgron said, her tail flicking around a bit with excitement. “Which, as my sister is now here, is firmly and proudly her problem.”

“You didn’t,” Isla said. “Korgron. You did not.”

“Have fun,” Korgron said before she started walking towards the castle, lightly tugging Joan behind her. “Searle, Biscuit, come along if you would? Andreas, I’m sure Isla can show you where the rooms are. Bye bye.”

‘This isn’t over!’ Isla’s voice screamed in their heads, making Joan cringe.

‘Oh, you’ll see it very much is, your highness,’ Korgron’s voice echoed through their heads. ‘I have very important chosen matters to attend to. Bye bye.’

The string of profanities that echoed through her mind were, despite Joan’s many years of life, filled with quite a few that she didn’t even recognize while she was hauled off towards the palace proper. Despite herself, she couldn’t help but smile.

------

Joan let out a soft groan before collapsing onto the guest bed she had been offered, wrapped in a fuzzy robe she’d been gifted by Korgron. Her skin was so red she bet she looked almost like a demon herself.

Not that she really minded, though. Bauteut and Korgron had spent what felt like hours trying to get the scent of her captivity off her. It wasn’t her fault, though. It wasn’t like she asked to be sent into the middle of a demon camp to be captured and then hauled across the lands.

Well, she supposed she had, but it wasn’t how she meant it. Honestly she was just thankful they let her keep her swords, even if they took her clothes to either ‘clean them or burn them, whichever is more efficient’. She found it almost cute how the two who seemed to constantly seemed to be sniping at each other could at least agree on taking care of her.

It did feel nice to be pampered a bit, though. To let someone else deal with all the little things like if her hair was clean enough or if she ate enough. Even if her skin now felt as if it had been all but rubbed raw due to the coarse brush that was used on her. She reached up and flicked a strand of hair. She’d even gotten a haircut. She couldn’t remember the last time someone had cut her hair. She hadn’t even noticed how annoying it was to have it fall over her eyes, but now it was once again short enough it couldn’t.

Joan tugged out a small strand and looked at it. Short and brown, plain. She flicked the hair away before giving a small sigh, the smile falling away from her lips. Compared to the beautiful, fiery red hair of Korgron it seemed boring. Or the dazzling emerald hair that Neia had.

She felt plain even compared to Bauteut, who had brown hair just like her, the other girl’s hair seemed so much more beautiful. Shimmering, flowing, well taken care of. Probably because she was a healer and knew more about proper care. Or maybe it was because someone had taken her aside before and taught her how to do it. Frankly, Joan felt she was lucky she didn’t just use a sword to cut her hair, she’d seen more than a few people do that. The Hero had done it that way plenty of times. Yet he always looked perfect and handsome afterwards.

Joan shook her head. “Stop it,” she told herself. “You’re the Hero, act like it. Nobody cares about your hair.” She sat up and looked around the room.

It was nowhere near as nice as her room back at the castle had been. The corners had dust in them, no furniture aside from the bed and a small chair. Not even a desk or wardrobe. Still, she had her own room so it wasn’t like she could complain. There wasn’t much else she could do, though. Five of the chosen were located, but until they got together again all she could do was wait and recover.

But waiting was boring and she absolutely loathed the idea of not doing anything for now. Her eyes focused on her swords resting on the chair.

There was one thing she could do. She got to her feet and walked over to them, picking both up. Binding one of them so she could summon it at a moment’s notice would be useful. She’d have done it ages ago, but there had never been any time once they left the castle.

Now just became the big question, which one to bind? The demonic blade was the far superior blade. But Searle had given her the other one and, despite being vastly inferior, had proven to be quite useful to her. She snickered for a moment before rolling her eyes. As if there was ever any doubt. She started to put the sword from Searle down when she was stopped by a sudden knocking on the door. She was silent for a moment before glancing back. “Yes?”

“It’s me, Searle,” a voice said from the other side. “Can I come in?”

“There’s no lock on it,” Joan said before quickly dropping one of the swords on the chair.

The door opened and Searle stood on the other side, clasping her tome in both hands. He froze when he saw her. “What are you doing with that? Are you going somewhere?” he asked, instantly suspicious. She rolled her eyes.

“No, Bauteut would kill me,” Joan said before holding the sword up. “I’m going to bond it, so I can summon it to my hands when I need it. I don’t want another incident like the werewolves. That’s all. Promise.”

Searle blinked a few times and she swore she saw his cheeks go red. “You’re going to bond with that one?” he asked.

“Huh?” Joan asked before glancing down at the sword. It was the one he’d given her. Odd, she would have sworn she had put that one down and grabbed the other. “Actually, I--” She stopped when she saw the look on his face. He looked so happy, it reminded her oddly of a puppy who had just brought a stick back to its owner. “Yes. I am,” she said, unable to bring herself to tell him the truth.

“Wouldn’t the other be better?” Searle asked, walking into the room and closing the door behind himself. “I mean, it is the better sword, isn’t it?”

“We’re in demonic territory,” Joan said quickly, trying to come up with a suitable lie so he didn’t end up disappointed. “Carrying a sword like that around just invites trouble.”

“It does? I guess that’s true,” Searle said. “I’m sorry it took so long, but here’s your journal back.” He walked over and held the tome and key out to her in both hands.

Joan couldn’t help but enjoy watching him nervously shuffle towards her. She then gave a light snicker before taking the tome and key. “You’re safe.”

“Huh?” Searle asked.

“You’re safe here,” Joan said again. “You’re one of the chosen. While not everyone in the demon lands will be okay with humans like us, those in this city do tend to show respect to the chosen. No need to be so nervous.”

Searle stared at her for a moment before giving a small nod. “Right. I guess. So, uhh, my room is right next to yours,” he said before pointing to the right. “Bauteut is on the other side of your room.” This time he pointed to the left.

“Really? What about Andreas?” Joan asked.

“Apparently he has his own room,” Searle said.

“Why would he have his own-- oh,” Joan said, her cheeks going a little red. “Right. I guess if he’s Isla’s fiance then he probably has his own special place. I still need to get more details about that,” Joan said before giving a soft sigh. “When Korgron and the Hero got in a relationship there was a whole trial thing. He had to prove himself a dozen times over and… Searle? Are you okay?”

“You and Korgron were in a relationship?” Searle asked.

“Yes?”

“But she’s a lot older than you,” Searle said, his cheeks only going redder.

“I was the Hero,” Joan said. “I had a lot of relationships with a lot of different people. She wasn’t that much older than I was, either. If anything, Neia and Thalgren were the ones who were way older than the Hero.” She glanced down at the tome and started unlocking it.

“Wait, what? Thalgren? The dwarf? But I thought, you, err…”

“I lived a lot of lives, Searle,” Joan said with a shrug. “I did a lot of things. A lot of it stupid, some of it quite clever and, as I am learning, far too much of it short sighted.”

“Do you ever think about trying to do that again?” Searle asked. “I mean, with the chosen?”

Joan gave another shrug before flipping through the tome until she came to an empty spot. “Not really. That was then, this is now. I’m a new person and the last thing I want to do is reduce my chances of success by worrying about getting romantically involved with anyone. Besides, I don’t think I could,” she said before glancing up at Searle. “You’re all a part of my life in a way I can’t properly express. I love all of you. I hate most of you. I trust you all. I can never trust any of you. I believe in all of you. I will never believe in any of you. Once all of this is over? If I can save the world and stop it all from ending in a blaze of horror and pain? Maybe. For now, though? I really just want all of you to have good, long, happy lives and make up for all the pain I caused you. You have all made my lives better than I had any right to and I want to do the same for you this time.”

Searle stared at her for a few seconds, his mouth falling open. He took a small step towards her, before stopping and shaking his head. “Joan, you can’t take all of the blame on yourself like that. It’s not fair. We all made mistakes, right?”

“Yes,” Joan said. “But that’s the difference. I’ve seen it all play out again and again. I’ve seen the chosen at their worst and their best. But you know what didn’t change? Me,” she said before walking back to sit on the bed. “I made the same mistakes again and again and again. I’ve seen all of you do good and bad, wrong and right. But me? So often I was the one who just screwed it all up. The one least likely to change. So this is my chance to do it all better, to fix things. So this time I plan to. I mean, I’ve seen all of you rise to the occasion. It’s about time I do it, right?” she said, giving him what she hoped was a comforting smile.

“Joan, I don’t…” Searle started before giving a sigh. “I understand. I ummm… I’m going to go rest a bit before dinner. Okay?”

Joan nodded. “I want to add some more things to this, is it okay if I give it back to you once I’m done? I think it’s really for the best if it stays with you.”

“Of course,” Searle said before turning and leaving the room.

Joan gave a soft sigh before, once more, she began to write. As much as she hated to admit it, though, she truly suspected that Searle had feelings for her.

But she really couldn’t afford to let herself worry about that. Even if she had memories of so many past relationships, they didn’t mean much compared to saving the world. Worse, if she ever did form a relationship with one of them, even Searle, if she died what would that do to the chances of the world surviving? She didn’t exactly have too many fond memories of past relationships, either.

Joan glanced at her left hand and the black mark of the key. There was no guarantee she’d survive any of this. So didn’t that mean it was better for them to not worry about her at all? She hoped so.

She tried to shove those thoughts aside for now and just record what she could remember. All the strange information she had learned, both from the fae and Penthe. The spell over the world that was blocking her memories. Every new bit of information she had managed to pluck from her memories since last she had allowed herself the time to write.

There was just so much of it. How many times had she repeated the acts of the hero? How many lives had she really lived, doing the same thing over and over? She wondered if she’d ever even know just how much she had forgotten. How many lifetimes just bled together.