Author's Note:
If you made it through parts 1 and 2 of 'Kyra and the Swordstress', wow, thank you for reading! If you hadn't and are interested in reading this story, please find 'Kyra and the Swordstress Pt. 01' on my author's page.
This is part 3 of Kyra and Scarlet's saga. I am diligently working on finishing this story, and will continue to release them in parts as they are written.
Thanks for reading!
Chapter 6. Aether Bonds
The aether bond that strings between two spirits is one of those mysteries of the universe that many philosophers have attempted to unravel but have yet to come close to doing so, yet attuned to magic know without doubt that it is force as powerful as love. Like the bond of love, the aether bond is unseen, yet is as plain as daylight to anyone paying attention, and often, a strong aether bond can lead to a powerful love, as recounted in the many romance sagas from Leinyere's history.
One of the most famous sagas of aether-bonded love is that of Prince Tura, a young Aqbian sorcerer prince, and Nahara, a young Nereshian woman, who, by unfortunate circumstances, happened to be the lady-in-waiting to Tura's future wife, Princess Zeina. Out of jealousy from seeing the unequivocal bond between the pair, Princess Zeina had Nahara abducted and sold into slavery in a faraway realm while leading Tura to believe that she had run away with a lover. Tura submitted to believing his bride-to-be, yet his heart could not because the bond between Tura and Nahara was so strong, the aether's mysterious force told him otherwise. In fact, it drew him to her. He eventually found her, rescued her from the shackles of slavery and married her. The aether-bond between them, the same that brought them together despite the intentions of others, was strong. Though Nahara was not a trained magician, she was a deep well-spring of magic, and because of the aether bond between them, she was able to share her magic with Tura. Tura, by all accounts, was already a talented and accomplished sorcerer, but with Nahara by his side, Tura became the most powerful sorcerer of all Leinyere. As king and queen of Aqba, Tura and Nahara ruled over a long golden age of peace and good fortune.
The aether bond, when it exists between two souls, is as powerful a force that causes the sun and moon to rise and set or the tides to change. Someday, the philosophers will lay its mysteries bare, but until then, it will always be regarded as a sort of magic akin to destiny.
***
Scarlet had a disorienting dream. A kaleidoscope of strange and familiar emotions. Strange and familiar places. A confused crisscrossing of elation and terror. Of light and darkness. Fractal memories, both hers and another's as if she were two separate people connected at a seam like two facets of a diamond. She caught glimpses of her own memories in the tessellations. Glimpses of herself as a child, caught in a storm. Escaping with her life. Lightning fracturing the sky like a fragile mirror above her. The sea an unending, wrathful form. Then she saw herself with a sword in hand. Fighting against dancing shadows in candlelight. Wounds from the whippings raw on her back, searing her skin as much as it did her soul, throbbing in time with her heart. Marcus was there, murmuring his secret instructions to her, as she flicked the blade against the shadows. Then she saw herself in the Rose Narcissa. Adorn in naval regalia and standing tall with her white saber sheathed at her side. To her left stood her former mistress, Lady Bellona. In the distance, smoke rising, and muffled roars of cannons.
Then another memory. Discordant and full of fear and shame. Again, on the Rose Narcissa. Yet the memory was unfamiliar. It was a memory that wasn't hers. A memory full of hopelessness. Tears on a glistening floor. A shimmering reflection of a face on the floor. A recognizable face. It was Kyra. Twisted. Distraught. In trouble.
"Kyra!" Scarlet shouted, but her voice only echoed.
"Kyra!" She shouted again desperately. Her voice was weaker still. Kyra glanced up, anguish written on her face, tears in her eyes, rage in a deep well, doused by shame. Then the vision faded. Kyra faded into whispers of memory. Scarlet reached out, but it was in vain. She grabbed at the whispers. Then she woke with a jolt, damp with sweat.
It was a dream that felt so real, she wasn't sure if she was now awake or just in another dream. But the vivid imagery faded like a fog in a breeze or ripples in a pond. Chatter and laughter coming up through the floorboard from the bar downstairs brought her back to reality. She remembered where she was. She was in the Mermaid's Pearl in Galtin's Port, her safe haven in this city, this den of lions and scoundrels.
When her heart calmed, she wiped the sweat from her forehead, laid her head back down on the pillow, shut her eyes, and whispered a mantra to herself. The same mantra she had always uttered to ease herself into sleep.
"I am Hyla of the Wind and the Star... I am Hyla of the Wind and the Stars... I am Hyla of the Wind and the Stars...."
She turned the phrase slowly in her mouth, just as she had since she was a little girl. Long ago, she used to punctuate each consonant, and each vowel with meaning, feeling the phrase like a special souvenir of a cherished memory. But it didn't mean the same now as it did before. Like an old over-cherished souvenir, it had gradually lost its specialness. These days, the phrase has devolved into meaninglessness. Now, it only served her as a habitual mantra. A ritual of tranquility. An empty phrase. She hadn't been Hyla for a long time. Hyla was dead. In her place beat the heart of Scarlet.
She used the mantra now to try to put herself to sleep, but it was failing her. She tried blanking her mind, but the blank spaces steeped with the colors of her dream. The colors of Kyra. She could see her the pain on her face as if it were her own pain. A feeling of futility that weighed heavy on Scarlet's heart. Was it regret that made her dream so lucidly of Kyra? Sorrow? Strange. She hadn't felt sorrow in a long time. Not since her mother's death.
Since then, she had promised herself to never feel sorrow for anyone, and up until this point, she had done a pretty good job of it. But there was something about Kyra. She couldn't figure out what it was, though, or why. Kyra was a clumsy neophyte. She was crude, rude, and selfish. But Scarlet couldn't deny that there was something about Kyra that made her feel undeniably good, and it wasn't just what she could do with her wand. It may be Kyra's fearlessness despite her neophyte clumsiness. The radiant energy in Kyra's hazel-grey eyes. And Kyra's laugh and smile and eagerness.
When she realized her heart was fluttering from thinking about Kyra, she tried shaking off the feeling. She tried speaking her mantra aloud to push Kyra out of her mind.
"I am Hyla of the Wind and the Stars."
Kyra was a sorceress, after all, and Scarlet knew how terrible sorceresses were. She had worked for one. Don't ever make deals with sorcerers again. That was a golden rule. Yet she liked Kyra. She liked Kyra a lot and felt the sharp of remorse for leaving her stranded on the Plentyful Plains without even a quarter piece of copper. Despite her rules, she felt, deep in her heart, that Kyra didn't deserve to be left nothing by her. She deserved, instead, to be held, to be caressed, to be kissed, to be --
"I am Hyla of the Wind and the Stars!"
She slapped her hands against the mattress, then rolled out of bed.
Maybe a drink ought to make her forget. Or if it didn't, then two drinks ought to do the trick. Or three.
She slipped on her trousers and her blouse. Stuffed her cap onto her head, pulled its beak over her eyes, and walked down to the Mermaid's Pearl bar.
The fortune she had raked in just from one chest of the wagon she and Kyra requisitioned from the bandits was enough for her to easily afford to purchase a luxury apartment in the Merchant's district of Galtin's Port, but she consciously chose to not flaunt her wealth, as that would obligate her to rub elbows with the city's well-to-do, and draw attention from the dime-a-dozen Galtin grifters that raked the streets of the rich as an oyster farmer raked the bay of oyster pearls. She was much more comfortable in the company of the city's never-do-wells, anyways, and she enjoyed, most of all, the company of the Mermaid's Pearl proprietor, Angelica, who was always a source of entertainment when she wasn't a source of useful gossip. Ancients know Scarlet needed Angelica's company right now.
"What's the scuttlebutt, Angie?" Scarlet said, slapping her fresh pint onto the bar counter.
Angelica was, as she always tended to be, at the end of the bar, keeping a semi-attentive eye on the goings about of the bar while she smoked her favorite tobacco from her favorite pipe.
She turned her head up and smiled when she saw that it was Scarlet.
"Got no new leads for you tonight if that's what you're after, dear," Angelica replied.
Scarlet shrugged. "Not worried about a lead. I'm taking a long break. A sabbatical, if you will. Had a good pull recently."
"Then maybe you wouldn't mind spreading some of that wealth around. Verana over on that good-fer-nothing bard's lap would rather bed a pretty lass like yourself. Be a dear and rescue her from that drunk louse."
"Funny. She seems pretty happy on Arren's lap."
As the drunk bard spun an elaborate yarn, Verana gave a golden laugh and twirled her autumn-red hair. She shot Scarlet a furtive glance with her soft green eyes and gave her an eager smile. Scarlet smiled back and tipped her cap. Verana was her favorite.
"Bah, it's always the same story with that bastard!" Angelica huffed. She put on a mocking voice, "
Oh, that darn witch musta hexed me coin!
What a crock!"
Scarlet chuckled.
"Yet you still let him back in here."
"If he weren't so good at drawing customers with that voice of his..."
"Ah, and there it is. You see, Angie, that's what I like about you. You never fail to sabotage your loathing for someone by seeing the things you like about 'em."
"It'll be my undoing," Angelica replied. "Anyways, you did miss a bit of an event while you were away. Something that might interest you."
"Is that so?"
"Indeed. The Rose drew into port just the other day."
"I see. And why would I find that interesting?"
Angelica shrugged as she tapped the ashen remnants of her pipe tobacco into an ashtray, and, as she took out a pouch and pinched a fresh plug of tobacco from it to stuff her pipe, she answered,
"I figured you might want to know the going on about your former mistress, is all."
Scarlet smirked and swigged her ale, then crossed her arms haughtily and replied,
"Why would I give a bullboar's shit about what that dark bitch is doing these days?"
Angelica frowned. She lit her pipe and sucked on it deeply before replying,
"Now, now, I'm not saying you must feel indebted towards the woman that freed you from your shackles, but maybe a wee drop of gratitude could do your soul some good. In any case, you might be interested to know that I had a witch for a tenant here for a while who sought Lady Bellona for an apprenticeship or some such thing. A very peculiar lass. Kyra was the name. Sent her aboard the Rose with Mordecai Silver."
Scarlet's heart stopped, and a tight knot grew in her throat. She sipped her ale to loosen the knot.
"Oh?"
A smile curled on Angelica's face, seeing that she had successfully caught Scarlet's attention.
"She had come all the way from Portoa with barely a copper piece to her name, but my, was she full of spitfire. Shame you didn't meet her. You would have really liked her. I hope she got what she was after."
