The silence, broken only by the crunch of their boots on the path and the incongruous birdsong, had stretched for what felt like an age. But a question, persistent as the void corruption slowly consuming him, gnawed at Xayn's thoughts.
Xayn: "So, when we reach your master... what *exactly* is your plan? How will you ensure she helps us?"
Mola's shoulders tensed beneath her dark robes, but she didn't break stride, her gaze fixed resolutely ahead. The silence stretched again, heavy with unspoken resentment.
Xayn: "Did you hear me, Mola?"
A low growl escaped her lips, tight and sharp. She finally stopped, turning slightly, though her eyes didn't quite meet his.
Mola: "Oh, I heard you, alright... Doesn't mean I have an answer."
Xayn's skeletal brow arched. The movement was subtle, but conveyed a depth of disbelief.
Xayn: "You don't...?"
His surprise quickly curdled into something colder, sharper. The blue enso of his irises seemed to dim momentarily.
Xayn: "Let me understand this. You intend to approach her domicile accompanied by two undead revenants, one practically falling apart and both tainted by void energy... *and* possessing a demonic artifact responsible for the massacre of an entire village... all while knowing how much she despises forbidden magic... and you expect things to simply *work out somehow*?"
Mola's head snapped around fully now, her face flushed with irritation, her eyes flashing.
Mola: "By the gods, you are *annoying*!"
Xayn tilted his head, a silent query.
Mola: "How does Bazren -- or whatever her name is -- put up with your endless strategizing? Your *pointless* question-making?"
At least she used her name, Xayn noted internally, a minuscule observation logged away.
Xayn: "I have maintained silence for well over an hour, Mola. And this question is far from pointless -- particularly for you. Weren't you the one adamant that she could not, under any circumstances, discover what truly transpired back there...?"
Mola: "Yes, and...? I'm thinking about it, okay?"
Her voice rose slightly, defensive.
Mola: "I don't need you looming over my shoulder, checking if I've done my homework."
Xayn: "It might aid the speed of your thinking if we put both our minds to it. Two perspectives are often better than one."
A harsh laugh barked from Mola's throat, devoid of humour.
Mola: "Both our minds? Ha! Funny, coming from --"
Xayn cut her off, his voice dripping with a weary sarcasm that mirrored Bazren's own, though his carried the weight of ages rather than impulsive fire.
Xayn: "-- a hollow skull such as mine? A brainless carcass that shouldn't even be speaking...? Oh, I'm sorry -- did I interrupt your litany of creative insults...? Please, continue."
Mola paused, momentarily thrown off balance by his preemption. A flicker of something -- surprise? grudging respect? -- crossed her face before being quickly suppressed.
This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
Mola: "... I was going to say 'someone with literally no brains'. But, close enough, I suppose."
Her tone shifted, losing some of its sharp edge, replaced by a weary frustration that almost mirrored Xayn's own.
Mola: "Look..."
She sighed, rubbing her temples.
Mola: "... my master sensed a disturbance -- a *magical* disturbance -- in a nearby village some days ago. She's usually... occupied. Didn't have time to investigate herself... So, she sent her favourite -- and frankly only -- errand girl to deal with it. Me."
She gestured vaguely back the way they came.
Mola: "The rest, as they say, is history."
Xayn's gaze remained steady, absorbing the information.
Mola: "*Technically*, the problem was solved. I found the disturbance, I... *dealt* with it. The only real complication being that there were... no survivors left to report back."
Her voice faltered slightly on the last words.
Xayn: "... And, you found two escapees from Mortmundus wandering the ruins. One of whom..."
He gestured pointedly towards the shriveled dagger still secured at his hip, its frail fleshy tendrils still pulsating ever so slightly.
Xayn: "... is now carrying your dormant 'disturbance' which, by the way, could very well awaken at any given moment, as far as we are aware."
Mola winced, looking away.
Mola: "Riiight."
She waved a dismissive hand, trying to recapture some bravado.
Mola: "So basically, all I need to figure out is how to break the bad news to her without... *repercussions*."
A worried frown creased her forehead, although Xayn could not see it with her back turned.
Mola (thinking): "You're so *fucked*, Mola! She threatened to cease your apprenticeship last time, what'll she do if she finds out what you've been up to?!"
Xayn: "... And ensuring that she helps us both."
He reminded her gently, yet firmly.
Mola: "Yeah...! T-that too, of course."
She shook her head, running a hand through her limp blonde hair.
Mola: "Ah, whatever...! I'll think of something. I just need a bit more time."
Great.
She'll think of something, he thought.
Typically, he has no issues trusting the one in charge of the decision-making.
Then again... Typically, that person is himself.
To put such blind faith on a character so... volatile...
It didn't sit right with him.
And, apparently, the bundle in his arms wasn't all too comfortable in its current position either -- just then, a faint stirring came from it.
Xayn (muttering): "Speaking of awakening..."
Bazren's eyelids fluttered, then snapped open. The distinct pink wind rose pattern of her irises pulsed weakly at first, then intensified, casting a faint glow on Xayn's face.
Xayn: "Well, well. Look who's joined us again!"
Mola jumped, spinning around, hand instinctively reaching for a spell tome that wasn't there.
Mola: "H-HUH?! Already -- !?"
Her eyes landed on Bazren, blinking owlishly in Xayn's grasp. Mola visibly relaxed, letting out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding.
Mola: "Oh. You mean *her*."
Xayn looked down at Bazren, smiling slightly in relief.
Xayn: "Finally. You're heavier than you look, you know?"
Bazren's eyes narrowed. Gritting her teeth against the raw ache of her severed shoulder and the gaping wound in her side, she summoned her remaining strength. Her severed arm, the one Xayn had retrieved and placed upon her chest, felt cold and unnervingly disconnected. She grabbed it with her intact hand and, with a grunt of effort, swung the dead limb like a grotesque club, slapping Xayn across the face with her own detached forearm. The sound was a wet, solid thud.
Xayn: "OY!"
Bazren: "Bastard."
With a sigh that sounded like shifting stones, Xayn unceremoniously dumped her onto the path.
Xayn: "Well, if you possess the strength to strike me for such a minor observation, you possess the strength to walk on your own two feet again."
Bazren landed with a heavy thud and a sharp intake of breath that wasn't entirely faked pain.
Bazren: "Agh!"
She pushed herself up slowly, joints protesting, the ragged edges of the wound in her side visible beneath her torn clothing, showing pale muscle and chipped bone, unhealing. The severed torso piece she'd been carrying tumbled onto the grass beside her.
Bazren: "Thanks, Xayn. Just the kind of wake-up call I appreciate..."
Her voice dripped with thick sarcasm as she finally gained her footing, wobbling slightly. She awkwardly picked up the heavy torso piece again, clutching it and her severed arm against her body, a grim burden preventing any semblance of normal posture.
Xayn: "You are welcome."
He turned his attention back briefly.
Xayn: "Bazren, this is Mola. Mola, Bazren."
Mola offered no greeting, merely glancing back with indifference before resuming her brisk pace.
Bazren watched her retreating back, a predatory smirk touching her lips.
Bazren: "Eh. I liked 'witch bitch' better."
Mola's shoulders stiffened again. She didn't turn around this time, her voice carrying back sharp and cold.
Mola: "Careful with that tongue, you zombified harlot. Now is *hardly* the time to get on my nerves."
Bazren lets out a small, dry chuckle.
Bazren: "Oh, that's rich... Of course, I'd better watch *my* mouth. Wouldn't want you to start throwing fireballs my way again... Oh, wait."
Her smirk widened.
Bazren: "Not that you could though, right? Someone's precious little spell book got a bit... *toasty* back there, didn't it?"
Mola stopped dead in her tracks, whirling around, her face contorted with sudden, incandescent fury.
Mola: "Y-you... DID YOU DO THAT ON PURPOSE?!"
Bazren feigned innocence, tilting her head.
Bazren: "Oh, what does it matter? With your *shitty* aim, you'd probably have missed me anyway!"
Mola's hands clenched into fists at her sides, her knuckles white. She took a deep, shuddering breath, visibly struggling for control.
Mola: "I am *not* doing this now."
Bazren: "'Course you're not..."
Her tone was deliberately goading.
Bazren: "... You must be all bark and no bite without your little scribbles to hide behind."
Mola took a menacing step towards her.
Mola: "Okay, listen, you putrid --"
Xayn stepped between them, his voice suddenly booming, cutting through the rising tension like a physical force.
Xayn: "ALRIIGHT!"
The imposing finality of Xayn's voice echoed momentarily in the suddenly heavy air. Mola froze mid-retort, Bazren's goading smirk stiffened on her pale features. They stood locked in a staredown of simmering hatred, the space between them crackling with unrealized aggression.