Betrayal

The pair managed to escape Dove’s Landing without further incident, and they watched it burn from a safe distance. Saga didn’t know why she’d bothered, but she closed the gates and used her magic to partially replace the barricade on the way out. Something about it felt…necessary. Once she’d finished, she felt suddenly relieved, as if there’d been a nagging tension at the back of her mind that was suddenly gone.

What happened to this place?

She turned to her Master, studying his face. She’d casted a quick Heal on him, just in case, but he really hadn’t been injured, and the spell’s drain on both of them had been negligible. Now he just looked tired, worn, like he’d aged a decade in mere minutes. She pulled the scarf from her face and stuffed it into her pocket. “Master?”

He continued to watch the fire in silence, his eyes haunted. Every once in a while, he gave his head a little shake, and she wondered if he was in some sort of shock. She thought back to how she’d felt after killing the bandits, and wondered if it was the same for him being forced to kill who he thought was an innocent in danger.

“Master?” she repeated, giving him a slight shake.

Like before, the physical movement seemed to get his attention. He looked at her sharply, his eyes suddenly hard, and frowned. “What?” he growled.

She jerked her hand away, taken aback. Where had that come from? “I’m sorry, I just wanted to make sure you’re alright. You seem…shaken.”

His frown deepened, and he looked away. “I’m fine. Worry about yourself.”

She looked down, unsure of how to respond.

“What a waste. We came all the way out here and the village is burned to the ground,” he muttered bitterly. “Now I can’t resupply, and that’s a source of good wood as good as gone.” He shot her a sidelong glance. “Of course, this means your trial is a failure.”

“What?” She looked up at him, shocked. “What do you mean? How?”

He gestured impatiently at the village. “You were supposed to restore the line of trade. Instead, it’s gone forever. You’ve failed, Apprentice Vance.” He sighed. “This is my fault, of course. I should’ve trained you better. There’s nothing to do now but return to Beacon’s Ridge. Both of us.”

Her heart sank. None of this was her fault. How could he hold it against her? Her eyes began to tear up as she turned away from him. He was right, of course. She was given a single task, and that task was a complete failure. Her fault or not, her trial was over. She forced her voice to remain even by sheer will. “Yes, Master. Shall we make camp for the night?”

“What do you think?” His voice was harsh, and it made her flinch involuntarily. “We’re not going to walk back at night, unless you’d rather murder some more bandits.”

Saga’s body went numb. She felt her eyes drying up as she forced the tears back. This wasn’t like her Master. He’d always been harsh during her training, a stern taskmaster and a relentless sparring opponent, but he’d never been mean, not like this, anyway.

She looked over her shoulder at him, but he was already looking back at the village. “Yes, master.”

“Don’t ‘yes, master’ me, girl, just go do it! We need to get to sleep soon if we want to get back as soon as possible.”

She obediently set up a campsite for them, though, at his instruction, she skipped the fire itself. They ate rations of dried meat and nuts, then crawled into their bedrolls without another word, though more than once she caught him staring daggers at her. Each time, he blinked and shook his head before turning his gaze away, acting like nothing had happened.

Sleep would not come for Saga that night. She didn’t think he would harm her, even with this sudden change in personality, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d be in danger if she fell asleep around him. Besides, after all the bodies she’d seen - and made - that day, she didn’t know if she was ready for what was waiting in her dreams.

Just before dawn, Master Dorrin rose from his bedroll and approached her, nudging her with his toe to wake her. “Get up. It’s time to get moving.”

She did so, climbing out of her bedroll with bleary eyes. He studied her for a moment as she moved, then spoke softly. “You didn’t sleep.”

She eyed him warily in the dim light, unable to see his eyes. He sounded more like his old self, but she wasn’t sure if she was imagining it or not. “No, Master. I couldn’t.”

He sighed, looking away. “I imagine not, after everything that happened. Still, we need to move. With the Captain in the area we were safe enough, but with the new day comes the scavengers.”

She nodded, then packed up their camp, such as it was, and made ready to travel. As she shifted her pack onto her back, she looked over at him. “Master, who is the Captain?”

“I’ve told you everything you need to know about her!” he snapped, and when he turned back to her from picking up his own pack his face was a mask of anger. “Do not speak of her again. To anyone. That is an order.”

Saga resisted flinching again. Evidently he was back to his short temper and mean spirit from the night before, and she’d already decided not to press him about it until they’d returned to the city. “Yes, sir. I’m sorry. I won’t.”

“Good. Now, onward. We have a lot of ground to cover.”

They ate their breakfast in silence as they walked; more dry rations. She walked in the front, relying on Dapper to detect anyone or anything waiting by the side of the road ahead. Master Dorrin kept farther back, and she could hear him muttering to himself, his tone harsh and angry. Several times she looked back to say something, and each time she received a dirty look that quieted her.

“What? I’m covering the rear,” he replied the last time she’d checked on him. “Do your job and watch our front. It’s bad enough you failed your trial, and now you can’t even keep watch correctly?”

She’d stiffened at his words but did as he ordered. That Snarewolf was still somewhere in the general area, she knew, though that area wasn’t saying much. The monsters could roam for dozens of miles in a day. Besides that, there could still be bandits out here, the kind they’d met on the way to the village. Sure, they’d been the Captain’s people, and Master Dorrin had thought they’d be safe with them around, but then why did they attack her in the first place.

Saga voiced this question as it struck her, but received only a noncommital grunt at first. She decided to drop the apparently touchy subject, but a few minutes later he finally spoke. “The Captain runs a tight ship, but there are bad apples in any bunch. Those men were likely friends and arranged to be at that post together so they could behave as they pleased.”

The response gave her hope for his mood, but when she looked back he was back to glaring at her. She suppressed a sigh, turned her head back forward, and continued the march.

As the day went on, and they passed out of the woods and into the grasslands approaching the Crossroads, Master Dorrin’s muttering evolved into ramblings. Though she still couldn’t make out what he was saying, it was clear he was becoming angrier, though there was a touch of something else, too: despair. She could practically feel them radiating from him, the rage and the hopelessness. What had happened back there that would affect him like this?

It was while she was lost in these thoughts that something finally snapped. She heard a cry of rage a split second before she received a blow to the back of her head. The force of the blow dazed her, and she spun as she fell to the dirt path. She could feel a sharp pain where she’d been struck, and her vision swam as she tried to focus on the man standing above her. Master Dorrin knelt down, his face contorted in fury, and reached for her. Before she realized what he was doing, he had his hands around her neck. He squeezed, his grip like iron, and her air was cut off completely.

She tried to scream, to call for help - surely there were guards patrolling the roads this far? - but she couldn’t make any sound from her constricted throat. She raised her arms to struggle against him, but they felt like limp noodles from the blow, and her ineffective swats at his arms only seemed to anger him more.

I will not end like this!

She summoned her Will, despite her increasingly throbbing head, but as she tried to shape the spell in her mind, fire filled her right eye. She released the spell, mentally swearing. She couldn’t use fire, not now. She’d likely kill them both.

She continued trying to force him off of her, but her arms felt heavier and heavier. His mouth was frozen in a maddened grin, his eyes wide, and a small part of her realized he wasn’t really looking at her. His eyes were focused past her, on something that wasn’t there.

This isn’t him. Something’s wrong.

Lot of good that does me.

The whole situation seemed surreal. This was the man who’d taught her how to dance, both in battle and on a stage. The man who’d taught her how to fight, how to survive. She couldn’t believe he would turn on her like this.

Slowly, as her vision began to darken, she shifted her legs under him and placed a foot flat against him. He didn’t seem to notice, and she took advantage of his ignorance. She knew enough time hadn’t passed to fully recharge it, but she hoped what power it had would be enough.

The benefit of using an enchanted item over a spell was that you didn’t need to spend time visualizing the item’s effect in your head. All you had to do was feed it an appropriate amount of Will. Summoning what little was left of hers, she directed it into her hair clasp and unleashed the power within, shoving with her feet at the same time.

Thankfully, the combined force of the wind blast and her kick were enough to dislodge the old man, and he landed heavily on his back a few meters away. She rolled to her feet, coughing as she struggled to get air back into her starving lungs.

Master Dorrin, down but not out, actually growled and jumped to his feet to lunge at her again. This time, however, he only made it a single step before falling again. His face hit the rough dirt of the road hard, and this time he stayed down. Saga didn’t waste time wondering what had happened. She drew her sword and backed away from her Master, rubbing her sore and likely bruised throat with her free hand.

Dapper chittered to the side of Master Dorrin’s prone form, and the telltale shimmer of his silk around the man’s ankles explained the fall. The beatweaver had tripped him! She’d never realized his silk was that strong, but she certainly wasn’t going to complain. She shot her small friend a grateful smile, then turned her attention back to the prone man when he stirred.

It took a moment, but Master Dorrin finally groaned and rolled over onto his back. He blinked up at the afternoon sky, confused, then looked at her with wide eyes.

“Saga? Angels above, what happened to your neck?”