Chapter 15: Where Virtue Actually Went
While They Were Gone (Part 1: Please Leave)
Virtue closed the door to the shack behind them, bracing themself against the wind.
It is, they thought, their Staff rocking as they headed back into the thick of the forest,
An unremarkable winter.
The sentiment struck them as odd, considering their time in the Icefield, but they quickly reassured themself it was the concept of the Icefield’s harsh winters they were comparing this one to.
An error of theory versus experience.
Behind them, the Everflow. Such a tiny divider between them and the battlefield, and yet… Virtue exhaled, slowly, fixating on the sensation of air being pushed out of their nostrils, the rattle of it against their tongue as they pulled a new, freezing mouthful inward…
The trees were charming in the daylight; no longer sharp shapes and shadows to second guess by the way they swayed and moaned in the darkness and the wind. Now the sun lit the snow frozen to their branches, the light splayed and soft like each pine or fir was projecting an ethereal outline of itself into the physical world. Virtue paused, their mouth pulling upwards in a curious smile, and reached out towards one of these vignettes of light–
And froze when their claws passed through.
There was silence in the forest, except for the distant sounds the split in the sky made. Virtue’s shoulders slumped, their head slanted down so that they looked with a cold passivity at the hand that had failed to grasp the light.
An error.
The moved quickly through the trees, realizing, suddenly, how much time had already passed by the progress of their shadow’s position in the snow. They pressed on, their progress to the opposite edge of the forest simpler, swifter in the daylight– even though they moved in a wider arc to avoid traveling under the widest point of the split in the sky. There was no danger of being sucked into it, as Muddle had almost been, but they felt a strange draw to it– a fascination with the way in which it seemed both hollow and teaming with an unspeakable mass all at once…
Virtue blinked at the darkness that passed over their eyes and resisted the urge to stop and spit up the things in their throat. Resisted the urge to hold the Staff to their forehead and–
There were bodies on the ice. Living ones.
Groups of dragons, standing and gesturing and chanting as they observed the split.
Virtue kept their distance, feeling disjointed, lumbering as they watched the strangers’ swivel and shift and point– fragments of their conversation rising over the sounds of Virtue kicking up the top-snow.
”… Eclipse? I heard that when…”
”…Icewarden is coming to judge…”
”…Those sodding Lighters are…”
Virtue flattened their ears. On the other side of the Everflow, they could see the other bodies and their Flight banners curling and tattered as they fought against the wind. Looking back, Virtue felt a tinge of anger rise in their chest but, before they could even attempt to make sense of it, they collided with another dragon.
”My sincerest apologies,” Virtue rose quickly, gathering their Staff towards them with one hand and extending their other towards the stranger.
She was a spiral, larger than Virtue had ever seen and fitted with a display of unlit glass and paper lanterns.
”If I have damaged any of your wares, I assure you I can reimburse you–”
The Spiral held up a claw and righted herself, politely declining Virtue’s outstretched hand– her lanterns rustling and clinking as she moved.
”No harm done,” she smiled, the expression fading as she glanced towards the split in the sky, “Anyways, there’re more important causes for concern. Good fortune,” she dipped her head and moved past Virtue, the sounds of her hollow lanterns fading into the conversations of the other dragons.
And, after a moment, Virtue continued through them.
There were long plumes of smoke rising over the top of Lopshide’s wall– Long, listless trails that looked almost purple in the winter light of the Icefield– and Virtue limped towards them a quickly as they could, feeling the exhaustion of this form like a blunt, throbbing pain pressing against every muscle.
A Guardian stood at the gate and growled when she saw Virtue, tossing her head as she spoke,
”No entry.”
Virtue moved closer, trying to appear as meek and weary as their body felt.
”I only wish to inquire with the local authorities about two potential fugitives.”
The Guardian blinked and looked at them again, squinting as she extended her neck towards Virtue. Confusion flashed through her features before it faded back into her previous steely expression and she tossed her head again, gesturing for Virtue to enter.
”Didn’t see that you were kindred,” she muttered, rounding behind them in an attempt to hurry their entrance, “Barracks’re at the mid-eastern point of the wall. Hurry up.”
Virtue almost resisted, almost corrected her, but passed through before they could settle on an explanation a settlement guard would be able to understand. Instead they hurried through Lopshide’s deserted streets, following the Guardian’s directions.
Lopshide was smaller than Virtue had expected, considering the settlement’s wall, but this was, perhaps, the effect of the absence of any visible locals. Virtue thought about the dragons watching the split in the sky and swallowed, feeling the anger rise in them again.
Ahead, a large wooden building jutted out from the wall, it’s large door painted with a pitch sealing and swinging slightly as if some wyrm had entered the annex through it recently. They paused, steadying the wood and themself against the frame.
This body is so…
There was a crash from inside, the clatter of metal and wood against stone, and then–
”Was that needed? I just finished cleaning up the mess from your last outburst…”
Virtue entered slowly, pausing in the antechamber of the barracks. Wooden racks of various sizes lined the walls, empty apart from a few tarnished pikes and a dented breastplate fitted for a smaller dragon. Ahead and to the left a large doorway glowed faintly with candlelight, it’s mouth barely veiled by the few garlands of bones and dried herbs that were littered on the floor around it. From it came,
”Perhaps this time,” the voice was sharp and dangerous, “You’ll recognize that there are more important things than how your desk is arranged.”
”I have records to keep, magic to cultivate, warding spells to update and you…” there was the sound of wood dragging against the floor, “And you have the gaul to tell me my priorities aren’t straight–?!”
”You think you understand so much about the Icefield but you–!” the voice paused, flattening out with an unsettling evenness, “Flower, I need you to grasp the dire situation I have been put in. Can you do that for me?”
Metal clicked against the flooring, the second voice let out a strangled gasp– and Virtue stepped through the garlands.
A large, elegant Coatl clad in ornate armor was arched over a stiff, crackled Skydancer with a wooden hind-leg. The former’s claws were stretched towards her in a gesture that looked split between threat and invitation, but Virtue spoke before they managed to figure out which one it was,
“My sincerest apologies for my interruption.”
The Coatl’s hand snapped back, his head turning to regard Virtue with pale, accusing eyes, and, in the same moment, the Skydancer stumbled backwards, steadying herself against the tilted edge of an overturned desk.
”State your business,” said the Coatl, gliding towards them with his feathers raised.
”Thrush, don’t,” said the Skydancer sharply, but the Coatl gave no sign that he had heard her.
Virtue stood firm, though, feeling the weight of themself set against the cold stones of the barracks– the grind of their claws against the ground– and dipped their head,
”Greetings, I am Virtue and I am a healer.”
The Skydancer brightened and pushed off of the overturned desk, rounding on Virtue as Thrush had.
”My name is Flower and this is Thrush,” she brushed against the Coatl lightly with her shoulder.
Thrush’s eyes never left Virtue, his tail curling at the tip slightly– poised for whatever threat Virtue might present,
”I said, State. Your. Business.”
A flicker of darkness crossed Virtue’s vision and they looked down, disguising the action with a submissive tip of their head,
”I have come to this settlement because I have reason to believe I might have encountered two fugitives in the wilderness.”
They did not have to see Thrush or Flower to know that the two had stiffened, leaning towards them with new, almost desperate interest.
”Go on,” said Thrush, coating his intrigue with a small growl.
”My travels lend themselves to meeting and acquiring strange, and occasionally, unsavory company, but these two appeared particularly odd– An Imperial and a Fae,” Virtue raised their head, “Odd enough to attempt to ford the Everflow. Odd enough to even admit they had escaped this particular settlement.”
”Where–!?” Thrush inhaled slowly, his voice evening out again, “Where are they? This Fae and Imperial?”
”Thrush…” Flower sounded hesitant, almost afraid.
”Quiet,” hissed Thrush, his right claws clenching into a steely fist.
Virtue could see the eagerness in the Coatl’s sharp, icy gaze– the way he was attempting to hold back every indication of his curiosity as if revealing it would expose something bleak and uncontrollable within him. Virtue took a slow breath in– a reminder– and then asked with the exhale,
”Before I disclose any further information I… I suppose it is somewhat juvenile of me, but I would like to know the nature of the crime these two wyrms committed. To satiate a personal intrigue, if nothing else.”
Thrush’s jaw slide sideways, parting slightly at the tip, before he took a step towards Virtue, motioning at the ceiling of the barracks with his claws,
”That terrible thing out there,” Thrush’s nose wrinkled, “They are the ones responsible for it.”
The dragons on the ice. The split in the sky. Virtue looked at their palm– feeling Muddle’s weight against it as Virtue had stopped them from being swept up into the split.
”How is that possible?” they said, trying to keep their eyes on their hand despite the darkness they could already see clouding over the corners of their vision, “When did you have them in your custody?”
”That is none of your concern,” said Thrush, moving closer to Virtue, “Now tell me where you spotted the Fae and Imperial.”
He is lying.
Virtue wormed their tongue between their front teeth and bit down on it, trying to reign back the urge to pin Thrush against the distant bars of one of the cells and demand the truth. But the darkness swept over more of their eyes until the barracks seemed like a halo of daylight at the end of an inky cave.
”Answer me.”
They could feel the vibrations inside this body– arms and legs and thick, dark belly shaking with the effort it took to keep still. To be restrained.
But he is lying. He does not care about jus–
”Thrush,” Flower spoke suddenly and, through the thick, veil, Virtue saw her step in front of Thrush with her back to them, “Go find Lang and the others. Let them know– I’ll… I’ll speak with Virtue about the details, healer to healer.”
A beat.
Then,
”Thank you,” Thrush breathed, skimming the side of Flower’s flank with his own as he wove around her and Virtue, “I’m glad you finally understand.”
The sounds of him were punctuated by barrack’s door closing, the garland rustling in the wind. The darkness still hadn’t cleared, but Virtue felt as though their body was breathing normally again. Flower let out a long, ragged sigh and then turned to Virtue so suddenly that they grabbed one of her wrists– as if she had been moving to strike them. She did not cry out. Virtue held her firmly.
”Thrush,” they said, “Is dishonest.”
”Leave,” she said with equal firmness , her mouth a willowy shape in the darkness, “You are making things worse here.”
”I only wish to discover what–”
”Please. If Thrush–” Flower stretched her neck up towards him so that Virtue could see the deep blue of her eyes, “You need to leave…”
Virtue could feel their lip curl, their claws tightening– something liquid and oily rolled down the side of their face and they let go of Flower. The Skydancer clutched at her arm, her wooden leg dragging against the floor as she moved back towards her over turned desk.
You hurt her.
”Let me–” Virtue stumbled forwards, reaching for their Staff just as Flower held up a hand,
“Please. Just go.”
They hoisted the desk into the air, setting it neatly beside the Skydancer, before they rounded back towards the garlands. Virtue could feel Flower’s eyes on them; imagine her cradling her boney wrist as if they had actually meant to–
“Thrush…”
They looked back just in time to see Flower shake her head, crests swishing softly against each other, as she gestured towards the garlands with her injured arm.
“Please.”
Virtue obliged– their nostrils filling with the sickly, wine-like scent of a dried Jadevine as it brushed against their snout– and headed out of the barracks, watching the golden edges of the split in the sky as they shimmered and swirled above the pointed edges of Lopshide’s wall.
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