Furious Scribe
patreon
45. Hull - Things That Matter
🕑 Added 2025-10-01 04:43:36 +0000 UTC
Chapter 43
Things That Matter
I’d only left Afi’s side for a bare moment to see the tail end of Basil’s match, but now I hurried back to her, pride at my friend’s win warring with the lurching unease of watching him coldly break the necro-bastard’s neck. I’d known his time being tortured by Felstrife had changed him, but this brought it home in a way I hadn’t felt before. It wasn’t a bad thing that he’d grown hard – it was kill or be killed in this tournament, after all – but a part of me mourned the happy, trusting boy who’d pulled me out of the gutter using nothing but his own hope and belief in the goodness of others. That kid was as dead as Rathamon.
The centaurs were gathered around Afi, kneeling on their forelegs and bending down in a circle to minister to her. They’d shooed me away to do their work. Several unfamiliar Source balls circled the young female centaur’s head. They looked like nothing so much as a star-filled sky at midnight contained in a sphere small enough to hold in your hand. That’s… Celestial, I thought, wondering. It must be. I’d never seen the Source, and from the way Esmi and Gale were watching like hawks, they hadn’t either. Gerard had taken no more than a glance before losing interest, so maybe he’d met a centaur in dear old dad’s court once upon a time. Two of the Sources were dull and gray, but the horsey folk had specifically positioned themselves so none of us could see what they’d done. Had they cast a Spell on her? Did Celestial have healing Spells? Somehow I doubted they’d answer any questions about it, but I couldn’t have cared less at that moment. All I wanted to know was –
Afi sat up in the middle of the circle as the centaurs rose and backed away, her hands probing at her face where Mother had wounded her. They traced a ropy red scar from her temple that bisected her eyebrow, bridged across her nose, and ended in a jagged, sunken line on the opposing cheek. Her eyes slid closed and leaked tears.
I knelt beside her. “Maybe Basil’s Life Source will do a better job of it,” I said, grasping for words.
“It will not,” Rakkoden said. “Regardless of the method used, Nether sinks into the flesh and resists healing. She will bear this scar the rest of her days.”
“I’m alive,” Afi said shakily. “A scar is nothing.” Her hands kept tracing it, though, and the tears kept falling.
“I’ll kill her,” I whispered, feeling powerless.
She laughed, but it sounded more like a sob than anything. “Let’s not go making promises we can’t keep.”
I wanted to argue with her – I was Mythic just like Mother now, wasn’t I? – but some deep part of me feared she was right. Mother would stay alive even when the stars died, sustained on spite and mischief. The rest of us lived merely for her to play with. “I’m so sorry.” I reached out to smooth her hair.
She flinched back.
I rocked back on my heels, mute with guilt and helpless rage.
“No, no,” she said, throwing herself into my arms. “I didn’t mean it, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it.” Her words dissolved into crying, and she shook in my arms.
“That’s why she wore my card,” I whispered numbly. “For exactly this moment.” The true weight of what Mother had done settled on me like a sack of bricks in the soul. Like it or not, my face was now linked with pain and shame inside of Afi. She would always flinch, even if she tried not to. We clung to each other, and Afi was not the only one crying.
I felt a hand rest briefly on my head, and I saw Basil standing over us. He’d come back from his duel. His eyes were distant and his face was cold, but he was making his presence known, his support. It was the best he could do at the moment, and I nodded my appreciation. He moved away to talk to Esmi, and we were alone again as the rest of the room gave us some modicum of privacy, even the asshole leonid. Most likely he just couldn’t care less about a couple of wet-eyed humans.
“Listen,” I said, turning Afi’s face up to look at me with a gentle hand. “She doesn’t get to decide anything for us. I don’t care if she let you live to torture and shame us both, I’m just glad you’re here. From here we get to make what we please out of it.”
“She’ll always be there,” Afi said dully. “She’ll never leave you be.”
“Fuck that,” I said roughly. “I cut her off once and I’ll do it again. She gets nothing else from me.”
“Your card,” she reminded me. “She’ll keep reeling you in.”
“I’ll let it die,” I said, steeling myself. “I did it once, I’ll do it again. If it means I have to keep dealing with her, I don’t want it back.” It hurt to say the words, but I meant them. “I’m done with that bitch.”
Afi shook her head. “You’ll see her every time you look at my face. That’s why she did it.”
I took her face in both hands. As softly as I knew how, I kissed the scar. Temple, nose, cheek; gentle as silk on the breeze. “You earned this scar fighting for all of us in a battle you knew you would lose. It’s beautiful.”
The tears started again. “It’s not. You know it’s not.”
“You haven’t even seen it,” I protested.
“Then tell me,” she said. “And don’t lie. I’ll know.”
I pulled back and scanned her face. “Right. So. Yeah, it’s a bad scar. But you’re still you.”
“Am I?” she asked pitifully. “It’s all people will see.”
“Not me,” I said forcefully. I let loose of her with one hand to pull up my shirt, showing the twisted mass of scarring just above my right hip where I’d been stabbed years ago and almost died. “You think I care about scars? They mean you fought, Afi. I want a woman who fights for what matters.”
Her eyes searched mine. “Easy to say, Hull, but if we live through this, you’re going to be one of the most important people in the kingdom. Women will throw themselves at you. Beautiful women.”
“One already did,” I said, taking her by the hand. “The others can go shit themselves for all I care.”
She snorted, the ghost of a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth, making her sunken cheek scar pucker just a little. “What a charmer.”
“Look,” I said, pulling Source out of my soul and casting them overhead. Two deep purple, spiky Nether, then the single pearly Order, and then came the new Nether I’d just gotten. It looked different than the others; its spikes were hooked, and it had a redder hue mixed in with the purple, like my heart had bled all over it. “This one just showed up a few minutes ago when I thought Mother was going to kill you.”
She peered at the odd thing. “What’s wrong with it?”
“Nothing,” I said. “You know what I feel when I use Nether?”
“Hate,” she whispered.
“Damn right. Kept me alive many a cold and dangerous night. But you know what I get from this one?” I pulled on it deeply, letting all its power course through me. “A righteous rage. The rest of my Nether makes me want to break things. This one makes me want to fix things.”
She looked at me with wonder. “What does it mean?”
I pulled her close. “It means my heart is in it, Afi. Anger born of love.”
Her eyes locked with mine, deep liquid pools of beauty, more enticing than ever. She said nothing.
“I love you, Afi,” I admitted. “That’s what it means. I’m sorry it took a bad scar for me to figure it out.”
Her eyes were leaking, but she reached up and kissed me tenderly. “I’d take another just like it to hear that again.”
We stayed there in an easy silence for a long time, our foreheads resting against each other. It felt good. It felt right.
Finally, she stirred. “Let a girl up, would you? I’m starving.”
Laughing, I helped her up. “Nothing like a brush with death to whet the appetite.”
She smiled and squeezed my hand. “Go see to the others, I want to talk to the centaurs for a bit.” When I hesitated, she gave me a little shove. “I’m fine. Well, no, I’m not, but I will be. Go on.”
She moved stiffly over to the refreshment tables. The others gave her some space. I looked for Basil, but he was deep in conversation with Esmi, and I didn’t feel like broaching any of the others, so I wandered over to the balcony to watch the new match starting. It was one of the odd match-ups, with Xemris squaring off against the black-eyed girl I’d let out of the fighting pits back in the Lows, whose name was apparently Essoq. The centaur’s explanation about the Twins letting unaligned bystanders go to either team made sense, I supposed, and the idea that they might create drama by putting people in the same room who had to fight each other tracked perfectly with what I knew of the great and powerful. When all of reality was your plaything, you must get bored eventually, right? You’d go searching for every bit of novelty you could. I hated it just as I’d always hated the injustice of Hestorus and his cronies ignoring the Lows, but I recognized it as the inescapable reality of the world. I was also smart enough not to complain about it where the Twins themselves could hear me.
The two females had posted up to their positions in the arena, and their cards flashed overhead. Xemris was standing tall and defiant, alluring as ever, but the black-eyed girl was shaking and clutching herself as if she were sick.
“What in the hells?” I muttered. Why did Essoq’s card look like that? Was that Fae?
The girl’s shaking grew violent, and she reached up to claw at her face. It tore in half, revealing black chitin dripping with blood and goo. Gasps filled the room, and my horrified mutter of “Fate’s saggy tits,” was hardly the only curse I heard. I knew it wasn’t a good idea to speak of the Twins that way – not here, of all places – but holy shit, it wasn’t every day you saw a lady tear herself down the middle so a five-foot bug with a stinger butt could step out. Wet insect wings flapped and buzzed, shaking off gore and viscous fluid, taking on a rainbow sheen as they dried.
“Nasty bastards,” came a voice from beside me. With a jerk, I realized that Gerard had sidled up alongside me and was watching the scene below. “Father let me meet a delegation of fairies once. Said never to trust them and never let them touch you.” He shook his head.
“Sound advice,” I grunted. Below, Xemris was ranting to the Twins overhead about the insult of being paired with a Fae. I’d never heard her so offended. Or so scared.
“Fae and Nether are violent opposites,” Gerard said in a bored tone. “Like Order and Chaos. They’ll both get extra Source their first round due to the rivalry. You don’t see it happen often, but it’s an ironclad rule. Twins’ decree, I suppose.”
I turned to him, shutting out Xemris’s rage and the opening gambits of the match. “Why are you talking to me?” I demanded. “Last we talked, you wanted to kill me.”
“Still do,” he said, not looking at me. “But sometimes you need to talk, and you can say things to an enemy you can’t to your friends.”
I frowned. I’d never heard him so flat, so empty of piss and vinegar. Down below, I’d missed the ante cards. Essoq was throwing out little fairy Souls. Looked like she favored a rush deck.
The cards had a great synergy, though she was only able to pull it off first turn because of the extra Fae she’d been able to play. Xemris, for her part, weathered the attack out of hand with a pair of cards and immediately played a card I’d never seen but immediately loved.
Too bad she hadn’t been able to get that out before she’d taken 4 from that Lancer. Xemris would be a tough opponent. We never did have the proper fight she’d promised. Not that I felt nearly so invested now that I’d figured out my feelings toward Afi. Shaking my head, I turned to my insufferable princeling – no, kingling – half brother. “So talk, if you have to.”
“You know this is all bullshit, right?” he said, gesturing to the arena. “It doesn’t matter.”
I huffed a sour laugh. “We win, we get the city back. That’s not bullshit.”
He flicked a disbelieving glance at me. “And you’re going to win against the Primarch, are you?”
“Me or someone else,” I said stoutly. “Hell, even you, if necessary. You’re a piece of shit, but at least you’re not out to destroy everything.”
“Would if I could,” he muttered. I don’t think he meant me to hear it. Xemris had summoned a Vampiric Blade and was whacking at a new Fae Soul with it. Essoq replied with a nasty Spell that would have left me spitting if I were fighting her.
The Blade fell to bits in Xemris’s hand, and a pink Source bubble appeared over her head. Shrieking with rage and disgust, she swatted at it, but it bounced back at her, unaffected. Essoq, hovering nearby, buzzed out something that might have been a laugh.
“Listen,” I said to Gerard. “You hate all of us, I get that. Well, actually, I don’t, but whatever. You’ve got a stick up your ass and the rest of us get in your way. But you’re King now, asshole. You, of all of us, should care about winning this fight.”
“King,” he mused. “Doesn’t feel like it. Generals talking to me like I’m five. Gale flitting in whenever he pleases and looking down his nose like he’s some damned hero. Mother barging in and doing whatever the hell she pleases.”
I could only nod ruefully at that last one. The Queen rolled over everybody, and I was more than a little glad to find out that included her son.
“And if we do win,” he continued glumly, “what then? All I can ever be is the son of the first living human Legendary. Even in death Father’s shadow will cover everything.”
“Do you hear yourself?” I said, rounding on him. “You sound like a child. Grow up, Gerard. Want to be a big deal? Make one of yourself. Want to be remembered? Build a library. Finish that new city the army was working on. Feed the Lows, for Twins’ sake. Put in the effort and reach Legendary yourself. Whatever you do, quit bitching to me about it, because there is not a single soul in the world who gives less of a shit about your woes than me.”
A bitter smile crossed his face. “Not an ounce of class. You still talk like a gutter kid.”
“I just don’t kiss your ass, that’s all,” I grunted, turning back to the match. I’d lost track of the turns in my anger at this self-absorbed dickhead. Xemris was on a mount now, and it was a great one.
“What’s even the point?” I caught in a whisper from Gerard. “Let them win. It’d be a relief.”
“Gerard.” I didn’t look at him. “I don’t know what happened to you, and to be perfectly honest, I don’t really care. You’re going through some shit. Welcome to life. Whatever you’ve lost, whatever has been taken from you… make them pay for it. Like it or not, brother, I know you. You fight like hell when push comes to shove. You might think you’re done and nothing matters, but you get out there on the field and you’ll want to win. You’ll try to win. You won’t be able to help yourself. Whatever it takes, snap out of it. We need you whether we like it or not. You’re the gods-damned King.”
Essoq pulled a pretty impressive board clear using the several extra Fae Source she’d managed to force onto Xemris.
Xemris only had a couple of Souls out other than her drake Mount, so the move was less effective than it might have been against, say, me, but Xemris still grunted in pain as she shed card confetti. Her Mount roared and dripped blood onto the arena but survived.
“Do you think about dying?” Gerard said.
“No,” I said, fed up with the conversation, “and neither do you. Pull your head out of your ass. You can mope all you want once this is done.”
“You do, though,” he murmured as if I’d said nothing. “I think we all do.”
My blood ran cold. If he was really as morose as he sounded, he might decide to just lie down in the arena and let himself get killed, and we couldn’t afford that. We’d already lost two of our competitors, and we couldn’t afford for any of us to throw a match in a suicidal funk. I needed to get him angry. “Go suck the Primarch’s dick and ask him to kill you, then. I’ll make a better King than you ever would. Father said so.”
He jerked upright as if stung. “He did not.”
I got right up in his face. “You sure about that, asshole? Hull, the one who crawled up from the bottom. Dad loved that shit.” Calling Hestorus father and dad made my mouth taste like I’d eaten cat turds, but Gerard was getting red in the face.
“You don’t know the first thing–”
“Your mother will teach me.” I leered at him. “And then maybe I’ll teach her a thing or two.”
He lunged for my throat and I let him. “Die now and you’ll never get to kill me,” I said right into his face.
He let go of me and spat at my feet. “You vile, low bastard. Your death will be so sweet.”
In the arena below, Xemris made her move. Her Mount let her strike at Essoq directly, but she’d held off until she whittled the wasp woman down, presumably to avoid her opponent’s Venom. She had another Vampiric Blade in hand and swung at Essoq with all her might while she cast a Spell at the same time.
Essoq’s Venom felled the drake, who keened in despair as it shattered into motes of light, but the Fae thing had reached the end of her tricks, and the massive blow severed her cleanly from shoulder to hip, the two halves falling to the arena floor in a gory mess. Xemris landed heavily, her tail lashing, and bellowed in triumph.
I turned back to Gerard, but he’d stalked off in a fury. “Good chat,” I called after him. Any extra barb I could land might make the difference between him remembering what mattered and not. What mattered was the fight. I’d gladly take him as a mortal enemy in the future – hells, he was going to be that anyway – if it meant it earned us a competitor right now. I could only hope it would work.
I plastered on a smile and went to join Afi at the table of refreshments. I’d need to fight down there soon enough myself, and I’d far rather do it on a full stomach.
Comments
iridium248
He can't actually use it! Barring the Twins altering it, he doesn't have enough Chaos.
Sharrif
Every Fae we’ve seen is - frankly - terrifying.
Novice Reader
I have a feeling Hull is going to have a legendary weapon pretty soon 😎
Test Test
To be fair it is a very powerful weapon
iridium248
I actually feel Xemris should have her own 'unique' weapons - At the very least, reskins - so that the Vampire Blade isn't over-used. We've seen four Vampire Blades so far, that's surprisingly prolific.
