Field Guide to Irresponsible Adventuring

Chapter 6 – Consommé Quarrel

“So…HUNGRY.”

Tamago offered Mayakashi Shintaro a biscuit in a folded-over leaf.

“Ugh, no thanks. I’d rather lick my own feet for sustenance than choke on one of those.”

“I could take one,” Jun said amicably. “They remind me of the desserts from my homeland.” Tamago glanced askance at the red-haired knight while the other two glared at Jun as she munched happily away at what, far all intents and purposes, was little more than sugared cardboard. “Mmm…just like home.”

Worse than actively consuming the pressed sawdust cookies was the fact that she honestly seemed to enjoy them. “Maybe she has no taste buds so that everything tastes like sand.”

“Actually, funny that. Despite preconceived notions, sand has a taste distinct to the region, average temperature, local wildlife and cardinal direction of its incoming tide.”

Yaru-chan raised an eyebrow precariously at the young man’s apparently intelligent statement. “Mayaka, I do not want to know how you know that.”

“You’re damned right you don’t, and it’s Mayakashi, not Mayaka.”

“Okay Mayaka Shintarō!”

His face flushed and he felt his temper starting to slip. “Stop making my name weirder than it already is!”

“Ooh, getting angry at me, are we? What will you do about it, you whiny toth?”

“Grr…You little brat! Someone shoulda taught you to respect your elders!”

“Are you going to teach me manners, Mayaka?”

“Maybe I will!”

“Oh please! You couldn’t etiquette your way out of a sackcloth satchel!”

“Probably not—since I don’t know what any of that meant—but I could still probably kick your ass!”

“Nancy!”

“Twerp!”

“Charlatan!”

“Psycho!”

“Luddite!”

“Stop saying words I can’t spell!”

“Um, um, you guys? P-people are staring at us.” All while they were bickering, Yarunorini Kahana and Mayakashi Shintaro were completely oblivious to their sur-rounds—specifically the outskirts of a fairly well-off hamlet known as Postwick, famous only for the sizeable stamp collection. It was traditional for those seeking employment or a place of residence to bring a stamp from their homeland as a sign of good faith and trustworthiness, and every year several men are sent out in the world to visit distant lands, establish and secure trade agreements and most importantly, return with stamps or not at all. If a chosen male did happen to return without a single stamp, he would immediately be sentenced to death and then subsequently immortalized on that year’s one Whisper piece stamp, thus restoring his family’s honor.

“Wow. These people are strict around here.” Mayakashi shoved the pamphlet back into the kiosk.

“That’s not the worst part. Apparently, when they say immortalized, they mean it.”

Mayakashi gave Tamago a horrified look. “…You don’t mean…”

“I wish I didn’t.”

“I don’t wanna be turned into glue!”

Suddenly shouts broke out outside of the tourism agency and- “Wait, wait, wait! Hold on just a minute!” Yaru-chan shouted irascibly. “Stop that! I know how I’m speaking, you bleeding twit! What the bloody hell is going on?! Who the hell are you?!”

Well…I’m the narrarator.

“Oh yeah? How’d we go from arguing just outside of this oversized chamber-pot of a town to the ever-loving tourist agency? And why the hell does Bimberella look so constipated?”

“H-huh? Bimberella?”

“Tell me that, Mister Narrarator!”

Oh, I’m terribly sorry. Maybe some pages were stuck together. Ah! Yes. Here we are. Mayakashi and Yaru-chan glanced around at the numerous amount of pointy-toed shoes at varying distances away from them that far and above outnumbered the amount of non-pointy-toed shoes (id est, a few hundred locals to their four).

“Thank you. Twat. Ahem. Oh, big brother, Yarunorini Kahana laughed nervously, haha, you’re so silly. The adorable arch-mage elbowed the small bullocks’d prat in the stomach in a loving and good-natured fashion. Play along, she whispered.”
“Uh…What?”

“She elbowed him slightly lower than his stomach to ensure he caught on for once (said through gritted teeth).”

“Ngh… I mean, I’m sorry my sweet little sister. I’d never say such awful things in a serious manner and I’d never dream of hurting you. But I do dream about doing other things to you—hey! Who the hell wrote this script?!”

“Oh, big brother! You mustn’t let mother and lesbian mother know about our forbidden love!”

“Why did you look at me when you said ‘lesbian mother’?! I’m only fifteen and I’ve never even thought of…”

“You’re old enough. C’mon, don’t be a prude!”

“Eeyah!”

“Tamago screamed as Yaru-chan slid her hand up Tamago’s—“

A resounding thunk could be heard in Postwick as Yarunorini Kahana’s shameless non sequitur ended by means of Nigiri Tamago’s glaive. Likewise, the former tourist agency had become a natural hot springs resort. And all the while, Kowai Jun was looking very stern as if guarding some proverbial crown jewels as she contemplated the name ‘Bimberella’ and tried not to cry. I’m a strong…powerful…bimbo! Jun sobbed loud and openly and Tamago pat her on the head sympathetically.

Jun spun around, tears pouring down her face, a clear fluid dripping from her nose and mouth as she gasped for air between sniffs. “Sob do you sob think I’m a sniffle b-b-bimbo?”

Tamago gently held her at a distance as she pat the would-be knight on her pauldron with kindness in her voice. “Of course not. You’re a kind and beautiful young woman and we all think very highly of you. AAHNG!”

The older woman unintentionally engulfed Tamago in her embrace. “You don’t know how much that means to—“

“Gkk—drpugh…”

Jun loosened the bear hug and glanced between her breastplate. “Huh?”

Tamago took the chance and inhaled. “I said, ‘You’re dripping.’ No, not that! Your face!” Tamago hurriedly handed the tall woman her handkerchief and politely thrashed free.

“Thank you miss Nigiri. That’s very kind of you. But now I’ve gotta practice being a knight. Excuse me!” Immediately Kowai Jun stood at full attention—witnessing this event is certainly something to be seen, it’s akin to watching a giraffe unfold itself—and displayed an expression that fell somewhere between staring directly into the sun and trying to simplify quantum mechanics for preschoolers.

“She does look constipated… Maybe I should tell her…” Mayakashi gently grasped towards her shoulder before Tamago grasped his wrist.

“I wouldn’t,” she whispered, “She’ll probably just start crying again.”

Jun found it very odd indeed that her traveling companions spoke so rudely about her right to her face, yet she staved back the twin waterfalls rising in her tear ducts, if only just barely.

*

It was a mere twenty minutes until noon in the hamlet of Postwick as the tourist agency was preparing documents declaring Postwick the place to visit to wash your worries away in their completely-natural-and-not-manmade-whatsoever-we-assure-you hot springs. Stating “Really! It’s been here the whole time!” as their slogan that would practically sell itself. (Not literally, of course. However, sages in the far western rexdom of Daburhombi were experimenting with products that could actually sell themselves. So far their findings extended to Rex Diozepatr’s premium malt beverages, Pliskinian embroidered rugs and little bottles of colored sand. So far the profit margins have been commendable. Except for the bottles of sand. No one knows why people buy what they could collect at their very feet, but talking or no, tourists steadily continue to go out of their way to purchase little bottles of colored sand.)

“Yaru-chan steadily glared up at the sky with a scowl that spoke volumes, each titled ‘Get On With it, You Wanker!’”

“When did you wake up?” Mayakashi said, idly picking at his nails, “and what happened to Jun?”

“I think she has allergies or something,” said Tamago. “Her eyes were all red and she said ‘I’b going do ghet by arbor abolished,’ whatever that means. No idea how a ceremonially extricated tree could help her get anywhere, really. Unless of course it was cut down and…what?”

Shintaro stared at her evenly before stepping aside and looking at a smithy’s and the sign in the window that said: “Armor Polishing: 5 pence.”

“…Or maybe she got her armor polished.”

“Probably. Maybe we should lay low here for a while. Get jobs or something, you know? Just until this whole mass genocide thing blows over.”

“Blows over what?”

The two turned around to see Jun in gleaming bronze armor that blazed as beautifully as an evening sunset. “That can’t be the same suit of armor you’ve been wearing, can it?”

“Of course it is, Omele—I mean, Tamago. I just haven’t gotten a chance to polish it in a long time. In my home country every soldier must keep his or her own armor and weapons and other tools in the best condition possible. But unfortunately, the polish for bronze armor is more than I can afford. Most of my budget goes to my parents who are very poor and barely make enough to get by farming dirt.”

Shintaro shook his head. “Wait, your parents are dirt farmers?”

Jun nodded happily as the group meandered to an outdoor luncheon and stamp admiring café. “My father is a mason and my mother is a potter. We grow the finest silts and harvest the richest clays in all the continent in my country. However, the past few years have flooded the market and washed out demand and as a result, our economy is in the mire.”

Yaru-chan was hunched over a table with a hand covering her face as she shook uncontrollably.

A cool look came over Tamago’s features. “Where did you say your country was, Jun?”

“Oh, I don’t think I did. It’s called—well, actually it was a territory of three countries who all fought over the land for the rich soil, Murzokispan, Ursalyg, and Detritois.”

“Snort.”

“But after killing each other for several hundreds and even thousands of years, they came to the conclusion that they could become one nation that was above dirt before they were all put under it is the joke they say, ehehe. But now the three nations that used to hate each other—four Chocoteas please, thank you—for the past ninety years have been as one! They called it Mud-!”

“Pfft-bwahahaha!”

“-dovia. Wait, I said it wrong. Hkk-dovia. Muh-hkk-dovia. I can never get that right. Stupid silent phlegm noise. Muh-*phlegm*-dovia. Like that. Sorta. … Is she okay?”

“Never. Are you done yet?” Tamago snapped pointedly at the girl with tears streaming down her face.

“Ah, I love it when people mispronounce that… hmm? Mm. This is good,” Yaru-chan said, finishing with a refreshed ‘aah’ after downing the last of her drink. “So I suppose we had best find work. I know that I’m certainly a bit strapped for cash. How much did these cost anyway?” She picked up a menu and flipped to the beverages and glanced at words: “Chocotea: 15 pence,” and her face went white.

“Oh! I know how you feel! My budget is really tight this month but I’m scraping by,” Jun said as she pulled a Lotus piece from her gilt-inlayed money purse and handed a it to the waiter who almost dropped it. “Thank you very much! Please, keep the change!” She stretched and breathed deeply as the waiter hurried to turn in his apron, confront his manager and use some colorful language in regards to his soon-to-be-former employees, but unfortunately his plans would never work out and he’d inevitably return to this shop again for significantly less pay. “This place is great, and so affordable, too! … What? Is there something on my face?”

They would’ve been staring at her if something more immediately worrying weren’t standing immediately behind her. As their luck would have it, this wasn’t the case. A flyer declaring WANTED in big, red letters found itself pressed firmly in front of Jun by an unknown figure whom asked in a clear, flat tone, “Excuse me. Do you recognize these people?”

Being the polite soldier she was, she picked it up, looked carefully at it and laughed. “Hey guys, these people kind of look like you! The drawings are pretty bad, but I think they captured your bangs pretty well, Yaru-chan.”

“You idiot!” Yaru-chan whispered as loud as possible, her face several shades of scarlet.

“That’s what I thought. Basil, if you would?”

“Certainly, Rosemary. On behalf of the Koushinryakutou, we hold you under arrest on the charge of mass genocide of the first degree by means of fire. You have the right to be arrested and shut up about it, or, failing that, be kicked, beaten and-slash-or severely maimed by means of us. If you do not comply-“

“Basil.”

“-the use of deadly force has been authorized to be used—literally.”

“Basil!”

“If you request a—wh-what? Yes, Rosemary?”

“They’re running away.”

“Then chase them!”

“In this dress and these boots? I don’t think so. You don’t run in goth-loli. We’ve discussed this.”

“Rosemary, you can fly.”

“Of course I can fly. In any case, we know what they look like for certain and they took that flyer with them, so it won’t be hard to track a few murderers in a small town like this. Let’s just sit and have a drink while we’re here, shall we?”

Basil sighed and tossed his messy white-blonde hair out of his face. “I suppose we don’t take the time to relax often enough, do we my dear?”

The cold demeanor of the young woman with long black hair that hung just below her brocaded waist warmed slightly as she smiled. “My sentiments exactly.”

*

After they had caught their breath in the safety of a dark, back alleyway and pried Yaru-chan off of Jun’s back, Mayakashi managed to speak between fevered gasps of air and choked out, “Who were they?! What the hell was that all about?!”

Jun looked at them with a mixture of feelings so diverse that if they were condensed into a pastry, that pastry would the be declared the most repellent dessert of all time, second only, of course, to durian a la durian with a durian-based glaze (pork rind ice cream was a close third). “Are you people fugitives?”

Everyone looked to Yaru-chan except for herself who at the time was looking firmly at nothing. “She’s the fugitive. We just happened to be with her at the time.” Tamago blinked. “But didn’t you kill some kid on our way to the city that Yaru-chan razed? They’re probably after you as well.”

Mayakashi Shintaro blanched between them to find a considerable dearth of support, let alone a Y chromosome. “Look, more importantly, who were those guys and what the hell is this Kenshinryakutou thing the frilly-shirt guy was talkin’ about?”

Yaru-chan turned on him with a precariously raised eyebrow. “You don’t know who they are? You really did fall off a tomato wagon.”

“It’s potato-“

“Don’t care. Really cannot believe you don’t… The Kenshinryakutou are bounty hunters turned law enforcement agency. When an incident that’s too big for a local watch, out of a kingdom’s jurisdiction, or …well, let’s just say too messy for anyone else to handle, they’re called in. At one point before they formed the Kenshinryakutou, they were loose bands of mercenaries before they realized it would be more profitable to create a government sanctioned agency to do the same thing—plus pension plans.”

Mayakashi blinked. “Which government?”

“All of them.”

“Huh. Let’s duck in here,” he whispered as he pulled back a leather doorflap and entered a restaurant just short of a dive. “We should grab a bite to get our energy level up before we need to run away from those guys again. Four chicken soups, please.” Mayakashi glanced at Jun whom was the only one resolutely not seated. Well, maybe not resolutely but rather somewhat sternly. “C’mon, Jun, sit down. We need to eat something before they find—“

Jun cut him off by drawing her sword and pointing it directly at him. Most of the time, anyway, when it wasn’t shaking haphazardly. “You-you-you… you’re criminals! Murderers, probably thieves, too!”

A random patron spoke up. “An’ what’s so wrong wif thieves, then? Nuffin, that’s what!”

“Yeah!” another unknown voice spoke up. “All we uh doin’ is keepin’ the money in circlashun. We keep the economies up we are.”

“Oh, please,” a third voice interjected. “You’re the scum of the land, feeding off the suffering of others. My neighbor just died of a tragic ailment and if it weren’t bad enough that his home was foreclosed, a troupe a’ bandits ransacked the place!”

“Heheh. Made a tidy profit on that ole bugger we did. Ah mean, in unfortunate circumstances such as dat, what do ya think would’ve happened to his belongins?”

“His children would’ve inherited them, of course.”

“Right, right. And there they’d hang on their mantelpieces until they died an’ theys children would display them on dere doilies next to da good flatware, amiright? Being a’ no use to noun ‘cept to look ode. Cycle reverts same verse as da first. Until someone sold em, a’ course.”

“I suppose that’s true enough. Doesn’t make it right to sell family heirlooms!”

“An’ who says? You? Yur auntie? Da’ status quo? Let me tell you cousin, da’ status quo been on its arse in da’ mud for a good long time. Howeva’, money is a… wossname… custard! Tha’s right. By selling these valuables, getting them out in the market, be it noble thieves or grandad’s nippers, they’re doing a service vis a vis stimulating the economy an’ keepin’ the trade flow from collapse. And believe you me, cousin, thems by times where you’ll have no trouble atoll sepuhratin’ tha’ t’ieve from da pollocks.”

The other man paused for a moment as our four seated heroes ate their chicken soup in silent fascination. “Are you implying that thieves are patriotic and that I’m some sort of… fish?”

“Could be. I know I pay my stamps like everyone else, but cousin, you dunt look too fah from what fell offa one a dem Venlord’s trawlers, aye mates?” The thieves in the room—that is, most of the staff and its patronage—laughed heartily.

“Fascinating language, Rosemary. What do you think they’re saying?”

“Well, Basil, from my understanding it seems that he’s suggesting that the politicians that foreclosed on the old fellow’s house are more thieves than the ransackers.”

“Yeah, right. Pollocks tha’ is. Aye, cousin, your boyo a Venlord, too? Looks it.”

“Hmm. I’ve never asked. Don’t. Move.” Rosemary’s icy glare froze the heroes into place. Literally.

“W-wait! I’m not with them! I’m no criminal! I was going to arrest them myself!” Jun pleaded.

“You were with them. You ran with them. You are here with them. By the looks of it—you’re with them. Does it look that way to you, Basil?”

“It doesn’t have to. It need only look that way to the law. As an accessory to criminal behavior, be they seen in a situation of criminal behavior, in league with a suspect of felonious activity, or suspected of such acts, is immediately considered a wanted criminal of the third, fourth and fifth degree respectively.”

Jun’s world shattered. “Cr-cr-criminal? But I didn’t do any of those things!”

Basil pulled open a scroll with a clearing of the throat. “‘A suspect may be charged for any of the following as a suspect in the fourth degree: assault, murder, failure to cooperate, forgery, larceny—’” he said in italics as Jun looked over to see Yaru-chan stuffing her pockets with bread rolls.

“Stop that!”

Yaru looked between Jun’s ruddy face and the apathetic look on Rosemary’s visage and sighed. “Bollocks.” And suddenly their table burst into blazing flames and choking smoke. With barely a wave of her hand, the flames smothered and the table was left with a thin sheet of ice that was already melting before the smoke dissipated, and when it did, the four were gone. Rosemary’s lips turned into a small frown. “Expected. I’m disappointed, Basil.”

“As am I. Pity.”

“We get paid more the less pieces they’re in.”

Slowly the two bounty hunters walked towards the door as a large bald-headed man ran through the dining room to catch up to them. “Who the hell’s going to pay for all this?!” he bellowed.

Basil and Rosemary turned as one, stopping him in his tracks—via pure intimidation this time. Rosemary smiled. “Send the bill to the Koushinryakutou Corporation.”

The man began to sweat more than usual. “Oh, no problem! That’s no problem at all! I’ll just take the hit. I wouldn’t want to trouble you good folks. Ha ha. Sorries.”

Basil gave the slightest nod. “Have a nice day, sir.”

The shop owner’s rictus stayed well after the two had left, only fading once the stark fear in his eyes took prominence. “Bloody hell. That was a close one.”

“S’right, Paolo. Say, cousin. Your neighbor live over by Farber Street?”

“Nah. DaSinel Boulevard. Knew they weren’t your boys anyways.”

“Who was it then, eh?”

“The old man’s kids.”

“No foolin’? So how’d he pass on?”

“A very terminal case of arrow-through-the-neck.”

“Sounds downright lethal.”

*

“No more burning things, Yaru-chan!” Tamago shouted.

“Oh, what? We’re out of that situation, right?”

“Out of the pan, into the icebox as it were?”

“No, no, the analogy goes… Dammit.”

“I don’t wanna go to prison!” Jun sniffled.

“You’re really only making it harder on yourselves. Go peacefully and you won’t die.”

“That really is a piss-poor ultimatum, you know.”

“Ahem—‘destruction of property, endangering the lives of innocents, arson—’”

Alright, alright! I get it. Bloody hell… Can I keep the rolls?”

“… Sure, why not.”

“Fantastic. So what happens to me if I allow you to turn me in?”

“You’ll be tried before a court and since you’re a minor, you’ll likely be sent to a boarding school for troubled children.”

Yaru-chan peered. “No apprenticeships?”

“I wouldn’t think so. Why?”

“No reason.”

Mayakashi watched this in open-mouthed astonishment. “The hell are you doing? Why aren’t you fighting these guys? You’re gonna give up?”

Yaru-chan said nothing and merely held out her wrists. Basil approached with a pair of manacles that were covered in magical runes. “A wise decision.” The manacles snapped shut, giving off an eldritch light.

“Now what do the rest of you—” Rosemary was cut short as something small and metallic sliced through the chain between Yaru-chan’s manacles and pinned itself into a nearby tree. “What was that?”

“A hairpin,” Tamago elaborated as her hair fell into her face. “Yaru-chan! Run!”

“Crap.”

Basil turned to chase after her, but Rosemary touched his arm. “Let her go. With those manacles hindering her flow of magic, she’s powerless. We’ll find her after we deal with these wastrels.”

“Heh.” Mayakashi grinned and drew his wakizashi. “Been spoiling for a fight for a while, now. Let’s go, blond boy.”

“Tch. I could beat this maggot with my bare hands.”

“I’m sure you could, Basil, but for your protection, use your sword. He looks inexperienced.”

“Hey, lady! Who you callin’ inexperienced?!”

In one smooth arc, Basil drew his longsword, hit the flat of his blade to Mayakashi’s own and knocked the weapon from the boy’s hands. Mayakashi Shintaro looked from his palms to his weapon five feet away then fell into a side-roll to avoid a pommel-strike to the head while simultaneously rearming himself. “Okay, nice move. Don’t try it again.”

Basil took a casual stance, wielding his weapon one-handed at a 45-degree angle and quickly closed the gap when Mayakashi lunged with a forward thrust and Basil parried, sending the boy stumbling forward and following through by drawing back his blade across his cheek and pivoting to his left in time to see Mayakashi scramble to his feet, clenching his face. “Point,” Basil said without mirth.

Tamago and Rosemary returned their eyes on each other while Jun watched, not certain what she should do. “Looks like your friend isn’t doing so well, is he… QiGong master?” Tamago peered at Rosemary’s words. “That is what you are, aren’t you? A manipulator of chi, yes?” Tamago didn’t speak a word, but merely pulled her glaive over her head and gave it a mighty swing through the air, cleaving the molecules of pure energy in seconds. Rosemary didn’t move an inch and merely stared at Tamago. A few strands of black hair fell away in a breeze. “Bad answer.”

Basil’s sword fell again and again into Mayakashi’s wakizashi, each ring of steel against steel pushing the boy back another step until he found a chance to keep the swordsman at bay with a deft strike to his flank—that Basil dodged with ease. “Very good. You’re learning. Too bad you’re not good enough,” he mocked as he parried Mayakashi’s blade to his left and greeting him with a firm knee to the groin and a solid, heeled boot to the kidney, sending the boy reeling to the ground.

Rosemary held a hand to her side and a gentle, pulsating light, twinkling in reverse-sublimation, became visible, slowly growing in size and speed until it coalesced into a harsh strobe hissing with cold malevolence, and when she raised her hand, it was a huge, ice-encrusted claw, sparkling terror and she lunged.

Tamago quickly dove to the side, tossing her glaive skyward, but her eyes went wide in silent horror as she realized that she hadn’t moved at all and the caster’s ice gauntlet tasted flesh, blood and bone. Tamago felt dizzy and coughed up blood as she hazily looked to the ground at her feet encasing in thick ice. She felt as if she was going to faint until Rosemary graciously gave the claw a twist, shredding her shoulder further as she did. Tamago’s eyes rolled wildly.

“There’s still time to surrender, you know. I’d rather not have to kill you if possible—you’re worth more that way. So… do you surrender?”

“Tamago!” Mayakashi shouted before a steel boot concussed firmly with the side of his head, effectively silencing him. Jun winced at each blow she never saw as she sat on the ground, curled into a ball with her face hidden behind her arms, as tears of frustration rolled down her face. “Not talking big now, are you? Maybe that’ll shut you up for a few hours.” He bent down to restrain the unconscious would-be-samurai as he watch the blood pool around his partner’s platforms.

“You’re getting my clothes dirty, wretch. Surrender now and I may let you live yet.” Suddenly Tamago’s madly fluttering eyelids turned to look at Rosemary as red foam spilled from out of the QiGong master’s young lips. “I…I…” Rosemary peered her eyes. “What was that, girl?”

“I’m… pale…”

“Yes, you’re losing quite a lot of blood. I can save you if you like. Your arms are spasming so I imagine there is quite a lot of nerve damage. I’ll save your pathetic life,” Rosemary cooed in a voice as smooth as oiled silk as she gripped Tamago’s small chin.

“I’m…pale…You… sor—”

“Don’t kill this one, Rosemary. We need these bounties alive, you know that.”

“Be quiet. I can’t hear what she’s saying…”

Tamago’s lips moved soundlessly. You…sor…ry… I’m…pale…you… I’m…pale…you…

“She keeps saying “I’m pale. I’m pale you I’m pale you I’m pale you…”

Basil’s expression dropped.

I’m pale you.

Suddenly a speck above Rosemary began growing… flattening…spinning…

I’m pale you. I’m pale you. Impale you.

Basil leapt to his feet. “Rosemary! Get out of there!”

Rosemary’s eyes widened as she pulled her ice claw from Tamago’s shoulder only to find the QiGong master’s iron grip firmly on her wrist and she looked at Tamago’s endless stare and moving lips impale you as the glaive flashed past her vision and suddenly a sharp pain shot up her arm and lots of warm as she realized that the glaive had also passed through her wrist. In between her sight fading in and out of blackness, Rosemary looked where she knew her hand should be and saw only red. …So…much…red.

She fell to the ground fetal, in a pile, writhing and shaking as Basil pulled her to himself as she kicked at the ground while he stroked her face as she cried “She took my hand she took my hand she took my hand!”

*

Several hours later she awoke. Her eyes slowly opened as she saw a figure before her that was shadowy and indistinct. She closed them. Her body ached. Her head reeled. Her mind reeled. Her fingers tingled. Then throbbed. Then burned. Then she felt something cold and wet land on her chest and her eyes fluttered open as blood gushed from Tamago’s wound and the QiGong master’s eyes shined, penetrated Rosemary’s soul and smiled. “Here’s your hand back.” Rosemary screamed.

“Huh? Where am I?” She became aware just then that she was sitting bolt up right in a rather comfortable bed and that there was a vague twinge in her right temple and Basil sitting in a chair to her right, grasping his nose. Basil leaned back, uncovering his nose and sniffing experimentally. “Not broken. Good.” Rosemary cocked her head quiz-zically to one side. “You’re in the local hospitaler of Postwick.” Basil rung out a wet cloth in a wash basin and sat both down beside his chair. “The um…the doctors were able to reattach your hand because of your cryokinesis keeping the tissue intact. However, there were some…” Rosemary pulled back the covers wrapping her hand… “…difficulties.” …and gasped.

Tears welled up in her eyes. “The best they could figure was that your cryokinesis never harmed you while you were able to control it. However…when your hand was…every vein and capillary clotted and…”

“Frostbite.”

Basil winced.

“I can’t feel anything. My left hand, I can’t…”

“The nerve damage was extensive. They said—”

Rosemary sobbed loudly into her hands and Basil wrapped his arms around her and held her close as she wept into his chest and grasped her tightly until her tears froze on her cheeks and her breathing slowed. Without a word he rocked her gently into the deeper darkness of her dreamscape, and kissed her forehead, whispering promises to never let anyone harm her ever again.

Even if it cost him his soul.