The Great War: Chapter 39
The drifting boy awakes
By the time the mystery boy’s eyes begin to flicker and his fingers twitch, the light of the cycle is slowly starting to dwindle outside. But Cassie’s patience, she feels, will all be worth it in the end, even if she has to stay up all night as well.
On the surface, he appears to be sturdy and strong, built well but not toned. A sailor, judging by his simple outfit and his hair that appears to be kissed by the ocean’s salt. A scabbard, empty or not, implies that he knows how to fight. A bodyguard, perhaps? And the ice he was found floating on, and Yumi’s assessment of his condition, all say that he is a wizard as well.
His eyes finally open, his icy blue eyes sparkling without the need for light. It takes him a moment to twist his face into a grimace, and a strangled grunt rises from his throat. His fingers curl slowly as the rest of his body shifts up and down, left to right, as he warms up his aching muscles.
“Ah, finally!” Cassie speaks, clapping her hands together eagerly. “You’re awake.”
The boy’s eyes finally snap to hers as he becomes suddenly aware of her presence at his side. His eyes widen for a moment, a spark of hope flashing across his face, though it disappears as he registers that Cassie is not whom he might have thought her to be.
“Who…?” he barely manages to croak coherently.
“Now, now,” Cassie hums gently, extending one of her long fingers. She runs its tip down the side of his face, and even though she’s only using her nail to make contact she can still feel the sharp chill of winter that rolls off his skin. “You’re in no condition to do much with yourself. Although, if you answer my questions, maybe I can have your healing process quickened.”
The boy grits his teeth and emits a strangled grunt, his limb movements still slow and creaky. Anger ignites in his eyes. Fear, too, although he does his best to hide most of it from her.
A smile crosses Cassie’s lips as she begins her interrogation. “What’s your name, boy?”
“M… Mathew…” he replies.
“Ah,” she hums, “what a fitting name.”
“Where-”
“Where are you?” Cassie interrupts him. “Korodon, of course. The center of all magical power.”
Mathew is silent, just staring at Cassie with a strange look. Is he happy at the news? Surprised? Scared?
“You do have magic, right?” Cassie prods. “If you don’t then… we are in the middle of a war…”
Mathew draws a sharp breath of alarm. “I… do. Ice.”
“You’re a Cryomancer? No wonder you were out at sea!” Cassie laughs. Of course, she already knows this. Any being with any sort of magic sense can tell. But his response to the insinuation that he doesn’t have magic is what she’s interested in. Why would a wizard display hesitance instead of insult? Why did his inhale sound fearful and not frustrated? Unless…
“Anya…” Mathew speaks once more, a hint of desperation to the name. “Do you know… Anya?”
“No,” Cassie replies in a heartbeat. “Who is that?”
“My… sister.”
A sister, he says? Cassie’s eyebrows rise with intrigue.
“Do you wish for a message to be passed on to her?” Cassie inquires.
“Ah… sure. Just that I’m here.”
“Alright. Mitch!”
The fabric to the small resting spot is pulled back, and Mitch’s face appears. He says nothing, but his intent stare makes it clear that he’s waiting for her to issue her orders.
“There’s a girl. Anya. Brunet, blue eyed, Cryomancer. Came from Gardall so she might be in the tents. Pass on the message that her brother is here in the infirmary.”
“At once,” Mitch nods, disappearing from view and the fabric he lifted falls back down in place once more. Cassie laces her fingers together and flashes Mathew a smug grin as he stares back at her in mild disbelief.
“The gemstones in your scabbard are from Gardall,” Cassie hums casually. “Crystal sapphire aren’t commonly exported. And judging by your hair, you used to live by the ocean at one point. Most likely during childhood, correct?”
Silently, Mathew nods.
“Ah, wonderful!” Cassie stands from her stool and brushes off her skirt. “I also imagine you came from a Guardian ship as well.”
Mathew blinks once, taken aback by her suggestion. His lack of outright denial says it all. She’s hit the nail right on its head.
Cassie lets out one of her low, sly chuckles as she runs her nails across her bottom lip. “Curious. I’d pry for more of your story, but it’s getting late and I’ve put off my other businesses for far too long. But don’t worry, my dear Mathew. I won’t turn you in just yet. Now just lay here like a good boy and wait for your sister to arrive. I’m sure she’ll show up eventually.”
With that, Cassie leaves the cot-bound sailor’s side and emerges into the wider make-shift infirmary space. Mitch is standing nearby quietly, just as he should always be.
“I sent a healer with the details,” he tells her as Cassie lets out a long stretch.
“Good,” she hums.
“Who is he, then?” Mitch inquires.
“That’s not your concern just yet,” Cassie answers. She takes a quick look around the infirmary to see if Yumi is still in the area, but that Feni girl is nowhere to be seen. “Did Yumi return to the office?”
“I think…” Mitch starts, though he catches himself and clears his throat with a forceful cough. “Yes, she did.”
“Oh well,” Cassie sighs, shaking her head. That girl needs to learn not to just run off whenever she pleases. But Cassie can teach her that lesson some other time.
”Mathew!”
The cry makes Mathew open his eyes once more. They’re sore and crusty, yet he has no energy to lift his arms to wipe them clean.
Before he can even begin to process his surroundings, he’s jumped on by his sister, sobbing into his shoulder as she gives him an awkward hug. Her embrace makes his sore body ache, but he doesn’t care much for his condition with his sister now by his side. The other woman in red is long gone. He hopes he doesn’t see her again.
“Hi, Anya,” Mathew whispers, his throat still stiff and dry. He wants to hug her back, but his arms feel as if they’re full of weights.
Anya sits up and pulls closer to the cot some sort of seat, where she stares down at him with a red, wet face.
“Mathew…” she mutters quietly, savoring his name. “Mathew… why are you here? How are you here?”
“I…” he breathes, “I got lucky.”
But a part of him doesn’t think he was lucky in the slightest. Thinking back to his confrontation with Lorn on the deck of the Island Destroyer, he said that he thought that Mathew had called for his “Patron of magic”. Could the great Spirit of Shadow have been watching over him in that moment? Could He have guided Mathew back to land so swiftly? Or maybe it was simply just dumb luck that he drifted in this direction.
But Anya wouldn’t even be able to understand him if he started spouting such nonsense, so he decides to keep it to himself for now. At least until he’s able to walk about again and think clearly.
Anya’s hands stray for his, and she laces her fingers tightly between his own. “Are you alright?”
“I… think so?” he croaks back. He’s not talked to any other being aside from the girl in red, who somehow knew so much about him from so few questions. Anya is the second being he’s seen since he left the Island Destroyer. “I’m sore and I’m tired.”
“I see that,” she nods. Then she turns her head and called out, “Isaac?”
There’s a moment of silence, then a boy glides into view, with bright blond hair and glowing golden eyes. He regards Mathew with a slight look of sympathy, but otherwise he remains composed.
“Hello, there,” he says.
“This is Isaac,” Anya explains to Mathew. “He’s been looking after me since…” Her voice chokes, and tears spring back into her eyes in an instant. Isaac quietly places a hand on her shoulder, and with that she seems to calm back down again. She flashes Isaac an awkward smile and shakes her head to get her thoughts back on track. “I’ve missed you, Mat.”
“Don’t…” Mathew moans, rolls his head ever so slightly. That nickname reminds him of Ingum too much.
“I spoke with a healer,” Isaac says, though mostly to Anya, “and they said that he’s suffering from magic deficit. He won’t be feeling very well for a couple of cycles.”
Anya nods, not seeming to care much for his words, her eyes still transfixed on her younger brother.
“What was it like?” she asks him. “Living on that ship?”
“The ship…” Mathew echoes. He tightens his grip on Anya’s hand at the mere mention of the Island Destroyer. He’s in no condition to regale her with stories at the moment, even with his memories of the place still burning themselves into his mind. “Maybe later… When I’m better. Okay?”
Anya nods.
“Go rest,” he tells her.
Anya shakes her head. “I’m not going to leave you again.”
“You can’t… sleep with me, though,” Mathew manages to chuckle. “Isn’t it late?”
“It is,” Isaac confirms, giving Anya’s shoulder a firm shake. “Let him rest. We can come back at first light.”
But his sister still appears reluctant to move from her seat. She continues to sit and stare quietly for a long moment, drinking in the sight of her brother almost in a daze. Then, without warning, she stands and leaves his line of sight, not even bothering to say farewell.
Isaac, however, lingers just a little longer to assure him, “We’ll be back. Get some rest. You… You certainly need some.”
“Thank you,” Mathew replies. With a brief grin, Isaac, too, leaves the area, and Mathew finds himself drifting easily back into his deep slumber, excited to see his sister once again.