Relic Heirs: Chapter Thirty-Six

Chapter 36: Stolen, Sister, Safe

With an ear-splitting stroke that cleft the heavens, alabaster struck out at obsidian’s mournful visage, splitting a crack through her face from chin to crown. 

Bridget's insides quivered to match the wavering cord she just plucked. Watching the glow slowly paint the air with flesh-colored light, she didn't even bother to sit in the small provided armchair at the back of the room. 

Instead, her bookbag took up the seat and she paced, tugging on the ends of her hair as she waited for the connection to solidify. It had never taken this long for a Shivercord call to solidify a connection before, so Briddy’s stomach leapt like a skipping stone when the luminescence began to swirl into the shape of a head.

“Hello? Mother?” She drew close, trying to make it out. 

“Oh.” A voice came from the other side. The image sharpened, and Bridget made out the Vasily kitchen, one of its long counters taken up by an array of labelled jars and flasks being currently pored over by her sister’s blonde head. Her arm and shoulder were wrapped in a white sling, bandages peeking out from the side of the green leather jerkin she wore. 

Bridget waited a moment for more acknowledgment but was only rewarded with Adelaide’s back as her sister delicately picked up a few fistfuls from a jar and shoved it into the container in front of her. 

“Expecting someone else? Glad you’re not dead.” She tried, keeping her tone light. 

“Well, the spell identifier said it was… I don’t know.” Adelaide picked up a pestle and crammed it into her mixture unceremoniously. “It doesn’t matter.” 

Bridget’s lips pinched together, her eyes flicking towards the door she had left Warrin outside. “Glad you’ll pick up for them.” She said softly. 

Silence lay between them for a while, occasionally broken by the one-handed efforts of Adelaide trying to grind her ingredients down before finally tossing the pestle on the counter in frustration. 

“I’m all thumbs at this, and only one working beside.” She growled. Half-turning so Bridget could see a little of her face, she added: “You know how he is about having alchemists or healers around the house, so the rest of us make do.” 

Briddy slowly moistened dry lips. “So… he’s alive.” 

“Yep.” Adelaide’s voice was as flat as hers, raising Bridget’s eyebrows. 

She was about to ask more, but took in the flat, taut line of her sister’s shoulders, and switched tacks. 

“A Mountaincore, hm? Big kill.” 

Bridget could see the muscle knotting in the one good arm her sister had left, and knew she had somehow messed up even further. 

“What I meant was, glory aside, that must have been horrible to go through…” 

Adelaide scoffed, shoving the container she had been working on away and trudging out of view. Bridget briefly panicked, thinking she had chased her sister away, but then she heard the clatter of stoneware, soon followed by the long, hissing fizz of ale releasing from the keg. 

Then there was a pause, and the sound resumed, the pattern repeating several times as though a cup were being repeatedly refilled. 

“Adelaide?” Bridget wasn’t entirely sure if her sister still remembered she was there. 

A grunt replied, followed by the scraping screech of wood against stone. Adelaide shuffled back into view, a mug tucked under the arm she was using to drag a chair into full view of the Shivercord. With a sigh, she thunked it into place and plopped down, looking directly at Bridget for the first time since the call had started. 

Beneath the limp hair were shadowed eyes, guarded, gaunt, and ringed entirely on the right by swollen, purple-red skin. Bridget felt her stomach drop, the hollow left behind filled with ice that spread through her from root to stem. She followed the swollen flesh along her sister’s curved cheek, stretching almost to her annoyingly perfect rosebud mouth. 

“Addy what did he-?” Bridget choked out, her eyes stinging at the sight. 

“The kill. Wasn’t pleased.” Her sister frowned into the mug she had untucked from her arm, speaking into its depths. “We weren’t supposed to respond, you know. The letters.” She took a mouthful and swallowed it down before continuing. “Mother says you have enough to focus on, and with things how they are here well… you know.” Adelaide’s mouth twisted as she quoted: “‘Some days are better than-.” 

“Adelaide.”

Her sister stopped talking and looked at her, and Bridget looked back in horrified silence. There was so much she wanted to say, to fix, but couldn’t find the words to, especially not with Adelaide like that. The hunt had been over a week ago, and the mark’s coloring, its shape, every glimpse Briddy caught of it filled her with an amalgam of rage, grief, and revulsion. She may have been no healer, but she had read enough of Badger’s Vitalic Cycle to know what a fresh bruise looked like. 

Adelaide was the first to break eye contact, looking back into her mug and tsk’ing when she found it empty. “It’s fine, though.” She murmured, trying and failing several times to set the cup down on the table behind her. “I’m fine.” 

Blinking hard, Bridget stared at her sister as though seeing her for the first time. Adelaide’s hand trembled as she struggled with the cup, shoulders slumped under some invisible burden. Gone was the fierce warrior who sprinted across a battlefield to mount a Mountaincore, and in her place was a young woman who was anything but alright. 

“It’s not fine.” Briddy clasped her shaking hands together as though they could clamp back the tears. “You know it’s not.” 

“Leave it, Bridget.” 

Bridget’s eyes shot up to meet her sister’s matching grey gaze, the pair locking in a silent battle of wills. Adelaide’s face was firm, an almost recreation of the stony mask they had learned to perfect, while Briddy silently pleaded, looking for a way in. She was a moment from turning away, leaving the wall intact, when her eyes settled on the mottled, angry skin of her sister’s face. 

No more silence. No more walls. She breathed in. “No.” 

The denial was weak, trembling like a leaf in the wind as it escaped her, but leave her it did, followed by the stream of a few rebellious tears. Adelaide watched them streak down her face, eyes softening at the corners before suddenly looking away, shoulders slumping further. 

“You have to get out of there.” Bridget began pacing again, wrapping her arms around herself as though for warmth. 

Adelaide didn’t respond for a moment, tucking one knee up into her chest. “They need me.” She said, voice muffled as she spoke into her leg. 

“No, they don’t!” Frustration uncurled hot, molten nail-covered branches in the pit of Briddy’s stomach. “What for, anymore? You’re a fully contracted hunter of the guild, an adult, and graduated to boot.” She flung out an arm wide in exasperation. “Anything they could’ve tied you down with is gone. You’re free!” 

Her sister gave her a long, hard look. “Yeah, you certainly saw to that, didn’t you?” 

Bridget shut her mouth, trying to hard how deep that one struck her. It wasn’t her fault that Vex had chosen her, and yet she bore the blame once again. 

“I’m sorry.” She sighed, beginning to say something else. 

“You’re sorry.” Adelaide flatly cut her off. 

“Yes?”

“You should be.” 

“I’m sorry?!” 

“Me too, for what it’s worth.” Adelaide gave a bitter chuckle, working her jaw. “Just, it’s not how you think.” 

Her laughter grated against Bridget as though someone had rubbed sandpaper against her skin, every inch of her burning for a response. “Fine!” She snapped. “Next time I won’t apologize for something that’s out of my control. Because the relic did choose me, you know, so maybe direct any future sibling hatred or grievances about the golden child’s lost future at the magic sword.” 

Breathing hard after she spat the words out, Bridget was startled to see Adelaide’s eyes turn watery as her sister pressed her lips flat, and shook her head. “You’re still so young, Briddy. This was never about my future.” She gave her a wry smile as though with great effort. “Mine was gone the day you were born, taking in the world with those big eyes, doubly taken when Nolan came toddling about, levitating books into Carroli’s head.” Her sister wiped at her one good eye with a fist, droplets leaking from the puffed, angry flesh around the other. “The damned sword was supposed to choose me because you were supposed to take Nolan and get out of here once you got old enough. That was always the plan.” 

Wetness pricked the corners of Bridget’s eyes as Adelaide continued: “He just needed to finish his apprenticeship and then you both could’ve gone to some bookshop somewhere, spending your days arguing over what stupid edition you put on sale. But now, well, now Nolan’s home to do commissions, and you…” Adelaide got up and walked close to the Shivercord connection, raising a hand as though she could touch Bridget’s face. “...You did your interviews, you’re at the school, you’re the heir and now you’re tied to him for the rest of your life.” She whispered, emphasizing one word as though it were bile leaving her mouth. “There’s no freedom for any of us.” 

Adelaide started to say something else, but a sob erupted from her throat instead, tears freely flowing between both sisters. Bridget wished so badly she could reach out and touch her, to make sense of everything swirling inside both of them right now, but all Adelaide was in that moment was a construct of waving light and humming air. 

Taking in a deep, shuddering breath, her sister lifted a bruised, tear-stained face towards her and spoke with great purpose. “I don’t hate you for stealing my future, Briddy. I hate that yours was stolen from you the second that damned sword cursed you with its name.”

“Addy…” Bridget wished more than anything that she was at home, in that kitchen. 

“It wasn’t supposed to be this way.” Adelaide shook her blonde head, leaning away.

Briddy hung her head, hating how far away she was, hating her parents for how they were, hating herself for not understanding her sister better. 

“I’m sorry.” Adelaide’s voice was hoarse as she sat back in the chair. “I failed to protect you from it. From all of it.” 

A part of Bridget screamed out that it wasn’t her fault, it wasn’t either of their faults, they were just children playing at a game of giants and being scolded when crushed under the expanse of their feet. Yet as much as that injustice cried out within her, she could not make her throat move to push the words out; it was swollen shut with the sobs it had swallowed. 

Adelaide stemmed her tears, slamming a fist into the table as she stared into some middle distance where maybe some happier fate awaited them, just torturously out of reach. 

Looking at her, Bridget felt her mouth move. “It’s not your fault.” She rasped, shaking her head. Adelaide turned tired red eyes to look at her. 

“‘T‘s’not yours either.” 

“I know,” Briddy whispered. 

“Then stop apologizing.” Her sister’s mouth quirked into a wobbly grin. “Not to me, or him, or to-” 

Adelaide was cut off by the sound of the kitchen door swinging open, followed by their mother’s voice. “Who are you talking to, Adelaide?” and then, after a moment’s pause, “What’s with the tears, sweetie, is it a love spat again? Who’s on the other end there? You said after the last one-” 

Both girls snapped to attention, Adelaide shoving the unwounded side of her face into her jerkin to wipe away the tears while Bridget desperately grabbed at the cloth of her Shroud, which dodged out of the way whenever it got close to her wet face. Settling for the collar of her shirt, she frantically did her best to make sure her hair was patted back and clothes tucked tidier before her mother walked into the view of the Shivercord. 

Adelaide mumbled an excuse about a potion making her woozy (overdid it on the Wainwort again, she muttered) and exited the room with one last glance at Briddy, who desperately wished she had stayed. Ruba took her spot, grandly reclining in the seat as she glanced over her younger daughter, red lips quirking down in a frown. 

“The spell identification says this call is from Badger’s boy,” Ruba stated, sounding actively disappointed.  

“Hello, Mother,” Bridget said flatly, feeling a stony mask cool on the surface of her face like the crust on molten magma. 

“Should you be wasting others’ money in this manner? Sustaining these spells strains the caster greatly. You’re already causing enough stress around here with the incessant messages, and we have enough to deal with right now that the additional load you’re adding is of no help.” She gave her daughter a withering look. 

“Perhaps if I had been made aware?” Bridget let venom slip into her words. “Hence the letters?” 

“None of your lip, young lady. There’s no time for letters when I have not one, but two invalids to attend to, and a traumatized young man who needs my support and love to process what he had to force himself through in order to save his family! Not all of us can traipse off to school and abandon the ship in the storm!” Her mother’s nostrils flared. “It’s exactly this kind of attitude that causes you problems in the-” 

Bridget stopped listening somewhere around the point that her mother insisted that Nolan ‘forced himself’ into the hunt, his canary and sky-blue ensemble still quite fresh in her mind. Instead, she pursed her lips and held down the boiling heat within her while waiting for the finish of Ruba’s lecture on the hundred and one ways in which she was not an ideal young woman. 

“So, if I just do all that, I’ll be good, right?” She cut in the second her mother paused for air.

“Good doesn’t even begin to describe what you need to accomplish young lady-” 

“Like Adelaide right? She’s ‘good’?” Bridget’s voice was quickly taking a horrible turn, and she saw her mother’s eyes narrow. 

“Adelaide is well accomplished and hard working. You could stand to learn from her.” Ruba replied, notes of warning sounding in her voice to Bridget like the trumpets to the hunt. 

The lava erupted, pouring out of Briddy’s mouth in hot, flaming spikes. “Why, so I can grow up to be just like her and still get bludgeoned by Dad like a training sack?” 

“Bridget Vasily!” Ruba gasped.

Bridget refused to back down, a strange humming strength filling her from within that lifted her chin and carried her back straight as she glared back at her mother. 

“Was I wrong?” She said, lowering her voice. 

Ruba summoned a small glass full of clear liquid to her hand with a murmured spell, drinking the whole thing in a gulp. “Hold your tongue.” She said after, “You’re a child, and children shouldn’t speak on matters they don’t understand.” 

“No, I have a pretty good understanding of what it’s like to be beaten by Kerr.” Bridget said, “And-” 

“There was no beating.” Her mother gave a high, tinkling laugh. “You’re so dramatic Bridget. It was a simple accident when we were treating his wounds, a kneejerk reaction to some pain, that is all.” 

Bridget said nothing, staring at her mother in a long, unamused silence. 

“Well don’t give me that look, young lady. You’ve always had a penchant for wanting a better narrative, it’s all those books you and your brother love to read-” 

“Sure mom.” Bridget shook her head and turned away. “Whatever you say, mom.” 

“Don’t pout because-”

“I’m not pouting! There’s always an excuse! There’s always a story! He was tired or having a bad day, we disturbed him at the bad time, ran too loud, laughed at the wrong thing. No! You’re feeding me the same lies you feed yourself, and I’m done sticking around to swallow them.” Briddy grabbed her bag and then whirled around to jab a finger at the projection. “No. You know. You’ve always known and you choose not to. Don’t expect the rest of us to follow suit.” 

Then she slapped a hand around the Shivercord, ignoring its sting against the skin of her palm as the finger-thick metal came to a stop, and left the room. 

She nearly hit Warrin in the face with the door as she slammed it open, the wood flying back before her fingertips so fast that he threw himself back and to the ground to avoid its arc. 

“Bleed me.” The boy said, picking himself up off the stone tiles. “I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve the attempt on my life, but we’re even now, yeah?” 

Bridget didn’t say anything, stalking out of the Administration building in a fugue of conflicting emotion. She nearly barrelled directly into Tuck’s chest and found Asher and Gail waiting close by in the shadow of the structure’s enormous doors. 

“How was it?” Her large friend asked as he disengaged her from his chest. 

Bridget stopped in her tracks, looking up at him, and then back at Warrin, who was still straightening his Shroud as he followed her out. 

“Right, I may have told a few people about my good deed, but is it really a good deed if people haven’t told you how good it is?” He gave her an unabashed grin. “Figured you could use the company either way.” 

She gave him a long look, and then glanced at her friends. There was no way she could handle this all at once. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath. Adelaide’s mangled face immediately swam in her mind, mottled flesh angrily pulsing at her. 

“Briddy?” A hand touched her arm. 

Her eyes opened, and Bridget found Gail, her face pulverized and swollen in lumps, her dark skin flooded with blood a pulsating blackberry. She sucked her breath and jerked away, blinking several times until her friend’s face went back to its usual harsh lines of loveliness.

“Fi-it was great.” She managed to get out, ducking around Tuck. She needed to get to class. Not to think about this. Anything but this.“Everyone’s alive. Don’t want to be late.” 

Bridget could feel the looks being exchanged behind her back as she walked away, but she was content to let distance shrug off the weighty touch of concern up until she heard Asher say: “Right. So, we’ve upgraded then. We’re ‘great’.” 

Classes went by the fastest Briddy had ever felt them pass, lessons seeming to barely start before their teachers were turning them out, pushing them ever closer to the end of the day where Bridget would be stuck, alone with her thoughts and something worse. She was trudging along, dreading this very thing as she approached the last class of the day, and Asher was prattling on about long-range magic. 

“You could see me being an artillery mage, right?” He nudged Gail, who groaned and shook her head. “Slinging around some potions? Maybe a few Magnification Incantations?” 

Tuck nodded enthusiastically, and Asher’s bright eyes slid toward Briddy. “Like your mom’s big balls, Briddy! I loved your mom’s big balls!” 

Gail swatted at him, and he ducked under the hand only to be caught by her follow-up jab to the ribs. “I meant the spheres! From the hunt!” He coughed.

Startled from thoughts of home, Bridget looked over at him and shook her head. “What is wrong with you?” She asked, “Why would you say it like that?” 

He gave her a dazzling grin from where he was doubled over. “I have a disease.” 

Bridget clicked her tongue. Despite everything going on, she could still feel the corners of her mouth twitching at his antics. “Go see Cardenas then.” She murmured. 

Asher straightened immediately. “Not if I can help it.” He said. “She’s terrifying.” 

Warrin joined their group as they headed toward the Somnasium’s gilded dome. “Pretty sure she runs that place on pure terror.” He remarked. 

“Is this because of that time with the barrel?” Tuck inquired.

“Barrel?” Gail glanced over at Asher with a cocked eyebrow. 

“Listen, I got banged up real bad.” The curly-haired boy waved his hands. 

“Doing what?” The tall girl crossed her arms. 

Asher glanced over at Warrin, who looked at Gail and then back at Asher, who looked at Briddy and then back at Warrin before eventually saying: “Dishes.” 

The way he said the word and drew it out left some extreme doubt in Bridget’s mind. “Dishes?” She repeated, looking at him. 

“I sense this is not a safe place to share,” Asher said. 

“It isn’t,” Gail smirked. “Now talk.” 

The alchemist grinned, miming locking his lips and throwing the key away. “Point is, I got this excretion on me, yeah? And she sticks me in the vat of yellow pus-like goo and made me just sit there and whenever I tried to move, I got a staff to the face.”
They entered the Somnasium, thick roiling clouds already billowing across the circular room. Before they could split into their respective Cells, Gail turned to Asher. 

“Cardenas’ staff, it looks a lot like the one you use.” She stated.

“Collapsable, standard issue to Teradish.” He grinned. “You interested?” 

She snorted, trudging off toward where Niles was already doing intricate spins with his spear. 

Bridget followed, numbly tethered to the tall girl like the dinghy to the dock in a storm. She had taken in some of the banter her friends had thrown about through the day, but her heart was elsewhere, bitterly frozen and burning in turn. The answers she had sought were hers, but things seemed even worse now that she had them. Kerr was alive, Adelaide had survived, everyone’s life was saved, and Bridget was safe, so why did nothing feel safe?