Bacorium Legacy (6 page)

Luca looked down at his hands. The cold images flashed through his mind again. Arlea was dead. His father was dead.

“Zinoro.”

He said the name softly, as though his lips were testing it. He vowed never to forget that name. The man who had slain his father...

The door of the bedroom creaked opened. Luca looked up to see a girl stepping inside, carrying a bag under her right arm, and a pitcher of water in her left hand. She looked up as she stepped in, freezing and giving a small start as her gaze met his.

Luca found himself looking her over. The girl was pretty, but not beautiful. She had dark black hair, which ran down to just past her shoulders, contrasting well with her milky white skin. Her eyes were large and round, and as green as emeralds. She was dressed simply, in a plain white dress, which seemed to glow mysteriously in the strong moonlight. She was not wearing any shoes.

The girl watched Luca warily, not speaking or moving. She was waiting to see what he would do - like a wild beast. He found that strangely irritating, so he decided not to do anything at all. He simply sat there, and an indeterminate amount of time went by before the girl at last spoke, breaking the silence.

“So you are awake...” she said slowly.

“Your powers of observation are astounding,” he muttered dryly.

The girl blinked, and looked away from him awkwardly. “I don't understand why I... Well, I guess that's because of the...”

Her words trailed off, and she looked down at the floor, confused about something.

“I apologise,” she said finally. “I shouldn't just be standing here. Are you alright? How are your injuries?”

Injuries? He looked over himself to find that he was bandaged in several places beneath the bedclothes. It made sense he would be injured, after what had happened - he just hadn't noticed the wounds until she had mentioned them, so they must have been well-treated.

“It seems I'll live.”

The girl smiled.

“Excellent. I was just bringing your clothes up. I had just finished cleaning them. I also got you some water if you're thirsty.”

He was, actually. He sat up, and moved to the side of the bed as she approached. She placed the pitcher on the nightstand, and placed his clothes atop the dresser while he drank. He easily downed the entirety of the water in the pitcher, likely half a litre. A little surprised with himself, he set the pitcher down and turned to the girl.

“Thank you,” he said.

She smiled and bowed. “Of course. How are you feeling? Can I get you anything?”

He did not feel particularly well, nor did he really want anything. Something about the girl's presence was bothering him, some sort of strange feeling in the air between the two of them that he had never felt with another person. She was a stranger, and he was not comfortable with feeling such a thing with someone he did not know. This was too much, especially in the aftermath of the attack. He needed time alone to gather his thoughts.

“I'm fine,” he told her. “You can go, I don't need anything right now.”

He did his best not to sound rude, but some animosity may have slipped through regardless. The girl, if she noticed, did not show it. She bowed again, like a servant, and left the room quietly. She stopped at the doorway, and turned back to him.

“My name is Emila, by the way.”

And with that, she left, not waiting to see if he would tell her his own name. Somehow that bothered him. He felt as though she had just made a move in some unspoken game, securing an advantage over him, simply by telling him her name. He felt like he needed to regain some ground. He rose to follow after her, but stopped himself before crossing half the length of the room, realising how foolish the thought was. With a frustrated sigh, he threw himself back onto the bed, ignoring the aches in his bones.

“Emila...” he muttered.

He spotted his bags where the girl had left them. All the belongings he had meant to take with him when he left with Arlea. A pang of guilt struck him at the thought of the girl. He was supposed to have been her saviour - rescuing her from a life of unhappiness in a cold, empty place. Instead, she had following him to her death.

Perhaps the reason this Emila girl was bothering him was because he saw a bit of Arlea in her eyes.

He closed his eyes, deciding what he was going to do. A few minutes passed. After he had made up his mind, and once he was certain Emila was downstairs and not about to disturb him again, he rose from the bed and pulled his makeshift clothes off. He grabbed his fur garments and quickly dressed himself, ignoring the stiffness and pain in his body. He did not dress fully, for he would not need the extra layers in such a warm region, and it would only slow him down either way. He grabbed his bag, and threw it over his shoulder.

His father's sword rested against the dresser. He went over to it, and picked it up slowly, testing the weight of it. In all their years of travels, his father had never let him touch his sword once. Now, with Lodin's death, the blade was his.

Luca looked briefly, but he couldn't find his old short sword, which he remembered Zinoro's Rixeor Fragment blade slicing in half. It mattered not. He only needed one sword, and it was fitting that he use Lodin's blade to avenge him.

After sheathing the sword at his belt, he turned and went to the bedroom's sole window. He unlatched it as quietly as possible, then climbed through and jumped from the second storey. He landed on the dirt road below without a sound. Thankfully, the arrow in his leg was gone now, so the landing was soft.

The town was deathly quiet and empty, even for midnight. Not a single soul was visible on the streets, nor was a single window illuminated. It was as though he and Emila were the only people in the town. If that were true, then he would be leaving her by herself...

He shook his head. It didn't matter.

He took off at a run.

<> <> <>

Emila returned to the inn's kitchen and flicked the light-switch, activating the electric lamps on the walls. It was strange that the plumbing in the town was down, but the magitech was still functioning. She decided she would look into it tomorrow. Life would certainly be easier in the abandoned town if she could get the toilets and sinks working.

Well, she actually wasn't sure what would happen on the morrow. Her unexpected guest had thrown her short-term plans into doubt. What if he didn't want to stay in Forga?

“No point in worrying about that yet. I'm sure we'll figure this out.”

She started the stove and rummaged through her belongings until she found the wrapped tea leaves she had brought with her. After such a long night, she decided she deserved a treat.

As she was measuring out the water, she wondered if her new friend might want some. And with that thought, she also realised that she hadn't even asked his name. She had given him her own, but she had been so nervous and eager to get out of the room she hadn't waited for a reply.

“Stupid...” she berated herself.

Deciding to return to his room and apologise, she turned off the stove and left the kitchen. However, as her bare foot touched the first step of the stairs, she felt a wrenching nausea in her gut, and a feeling of panic hit her.

“What...? Oh no! What is he doing?! Stupid! I should have told him right away!”

She ran to the entrance, threw the door open, and took off after him.

<> <> <>

Luca estimated that he had run half a kilometre from the town when he was forced to a sudden stop.

A feeling of unease and worry had been filling him as he ran. He had ignored it, and continued running, trying not to notice that it grew the farther he went. The feeling had gradually turned into pain, but he had written it off as aches from pushing his injured body into action.

He realised now, as he could go no farther, what a mistake he had made.

Luca's stomach heaved, and he doubled over onto the ground. He began to violently cough, and red drops of blood sprayed the dirt below him. The pain in his chest grew in a crescendo, and he felt something within his ribs moving. His head spun, dizzy from the overwhelming pain.

His breathing was suddenly laboured, and came in thin gasps. It felt like his lungs were pulling themselves apart. He would have screamed were he able to breathe.

This suffering continued for several long minutes, but gradually lessened. By the time he saw the raven-haired girl drawing near him, it was all but gone.

“Thank goodness,” she gasped. “I'm so sorry! I didn't think you would take off, but I still should have told you...”

Emila offered her hand to him, and he reluctantly took it. She helped him back to his feet, and he moved to a tree and leaned against the bark for several minutes, catching his breath. Emila watched him with a strange expression, but she said nothing.

Once he was recovered, he turned to her and glared.

“What the hell - did you do to me?!”

Surprise crossed her features for a moment, but that quickly vanished. Emila's eyes narrowed, and her lips tightened to a thin line.

“I saved your life,” she said firmly.

Luca blinked in surprise, then looked to the ground in shame.

“I did what I had to do,” Emila continued, her voice softer than before. “If I hadn't - you would never have made it. It was a taboo magick, and for good reason. But it saved you.”

“What exactly did you do?” he asked.

Emila hesitated, but she told him.

“I linked us through magick. Essentially, I tethered your spirit to my own. A small blade had found its way into your lung, and even after removing it, you would never have made it.”

A small blade - ah, the top half of his old hunting sword, which Zinoro had cut in half. He remembered now that he had fallen and stabbed himself with it.

“The wound was too severe,” Emila continued. “You could never breathe with your own lungs. Regular healing repaired the damage, but your lung won't work without the magick's support for a while. The Soul Tether sends my mana to you, filling any gaps in your life energy. The only way you're breathing right now is because the magick is doing it for you.”

Luca took a breath, feeling air fill him. “It still feels the same...”

“If the tether were to be severed, you wouldn't be able to breathe anymore. That's what nearly just happened.”

Another question had entered Luca's mind, and he wasn't sure he would like the answer. Still, he had to ask.

“How long must we remain connected like this?”

Emila thought about it. “Well, until your lung heals. Ordinary healing can't fix that - only time. A week or two, at the least.”

He swore silently.

“And until then, I have to remain in your company,” he muttered. It was not a question.

Emila nodded. “If there is too much distance between us, the link will break and you will die.”

She cast her gaze down at the ground where the dirt was stained brown with blood.

“I'm sorry,” she told him. “Please understand, it was the only way. You were dying, and I didn't know what else to do.”

He turned to her, feeling suspicious. “Why even save me in the first place? I was nothing but a stranger to you. Why put yourself in such a risk to save somebody you don't even know?”

Emila shrugged. “Do we always need a reason to help people?”

Luca sighed. Emila looked up, as though suddenly realising where they were, and went to his side. “We should get back to the town. Monsters will be out.”

He nodded, silently cursing his fate. To be chained to this weak girl for so long... Whatever time it took him to heal was time wasted. Every day that passed would be another day that Zinoro walked with his head in the air, unpunished for killing his father.

As they walked back to the town, he looked over at Emila. She still wasn't wearing any shoes, walking over the dirt road in her bare feet.

Still, she did put herself at great risk just to save me. I suppose I should be grateful.

She noticed his staring, and met his gaze.

“I'm Luca,” he told her.

<> <> <>

“This town is called Forga,” Emila told him as they made their way through the city streets, on their way back to the inn. “As you can see, it's empty. Nobody lives here.”

“What happened to them?”

Emila shook her head, frowning. “Nobody knows. One day, out of nowhere, everyone in the town just vanished.”

Luca looked to her. “So this isn't your home, then?”

“Oh, no. I was just travelling, and I stopped here to rest for a few days.” She didn't meet his gaze as she said this. “And then, out of nowhere, you showed up with an Acarian.”

Luca stopped.

He remembered the brief fight with the large axe-wielding Acarian - a hazy fever dream that blurred with the other nightmares of before. Though he was having some trouble putting together what had happened, he was sure that much was real, at the very least.

But Luca and that Acarian had been at the Arimos before, standing at the snow-covered ash of the village. And there was no chance that the Acarian had travelled with him all the way to Saeticia.

Which meant that somehow, they had travelled several hundred kilometres in only a few moments.

“What is it?” Emila asked. She stood a few paces ahead, looking back at him in confusion at his sudden stop.

“It's nothing,” Luca told her. “Go on ahead. I want to take a look around this place.”

“Alright,” Emila muttered. She left him a moment later. Things were still a bit tense between them - neither of them really had a definite impression of the other yet.

Once she was gone, Luca looked around the town. The moonlight above illuminated the village well. Though it was - as Emila had said - empty, the town was in fine condition. There were few signs of conflict visible, save for the occasional broken window or kicked-in door. Whatever had happened to these people, it had happened quickly and efficiently - in contrast to the bloody massacre Luca had witnessed earlier.

“What drew me here, of all places?” he wondered aloud.

Some magick had transported Luca and that Acarian from the Arimos to this town. Did it have something to do with the disappearance of the villagers? Did it have something to with this girl who had a spell that could avert a fatal wound?