Relic Heirs: Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter 32: Not Today 

With a grinding rasp, the Titaness bent down, eyes bigger than the watery arms of lakes taking in the faltering pilgrims prostrated before her. 

Brassy, loud, and far too triumphant for the pit in Bridget's stomach, horns signaled in the middle of the morning, summoning students from across campus towards the decorated facade of the Palisade. As the first years flooded out of their dorm, carried along by the eddies and currents of excited chatter, their older counterparts, sprouted out of hatches in the ground and hidden passageways built into the brick of nearby buildings, joining the conversation with matching elation. 

    Pennants were ringed across open arches, one for each of the Guilds, long tails flapping in an early morning breeze. The wind stroked the heavy folds of the flags that hung against the lower walls, richly-colored fabric stretching over a story high. Bridget’s eyes couldn’t help but linger on the deep sapphire of her family’s guild, the Gilded Down’s feather embroidered out in shimmering gold as though falling from height. Swallowing the bitter taste that rose in the back of her throat, she fidgeted with the top of her shoulderless blouse, adjusting the collar where it fell across her breastbone, and swopped to hug the tops of the sleeves on her arms. It was a pretty shirt, and nice to keep cool on any day in the desert, but Briddy rarely wore it because it didn’t fit. 

The blue thing had remained very intentionally stuffed at the bottom of her trunk, the “A” stitched into the tag glaring up at Briddy each time she chose her clothes for the day. Though neither of the Vasily daughters was of a narrow build, Bridget’s wide shoulders lacked her sister’s extreme musculature, making the top settle a little lower on her chest than Bridget would’ve preferred.  

    Adelaide… Her gut twisted again. Her perfect sister would be fine. They all would. Right? She waited for Vex’s arcane interjection to take her mind away from the memory of her father’s seeping leg from earlier that year, but got nothing in return. She was distracted from silence by another brassy blast and the surge of bodies around her carrying her forward. 

    “Move it.” An older boy dressed in Molten Flail orange shouldered past her, causing Bridget to nearly trip over her feet.

As the calling cries of clarions ushered the crowd up the steps, the lack of a uniform blurred the lines between who was in which class and made it exceedingly hard for Briddy to sort through the crowd in search of her friends. 

    “Excuse me.” She murmured, slipping through a cluster of students in the deep plum of Final Sunrise. They gave her a few smiles, allowing her to pass as they ambled along, talks of Gravelks and Nimbus Leopards sightings fading in her ears. A bobbing brown braid over a blue strapless top caught her eye, and Bridget darted off through the crowd, narrowly dodging a pair of boys dressed in bright red vests and a clod of mud that narrowly whizzed past her head. 

    Catching up to the girl she had spotted, Bridget frowned when she saw it was just Lianne, her arm hooked through Inanna’s. Briddy couldn’t help but give them a wave before going on, taking in the deep green wrap that covered the older alchemist like a dress. 

    Teradish. Not what I would’ve expected. She thought to Vex, and then held Gail’s face firmly in her mind.  “Lohkemi.” 

    The seeking spell shot off, a scarlet thread of light snaking through the crowd in a waving line that disappeared between a girl in red and a tall boy in brown. Setting off to find Gail, it occurred to Bridget that she hadn’t gotten a reply. 

    What, no sage, unbidden observations? She goaded, making her way through a kaleidoscopic fever dream of colors as she followed the spell. 

    When no reply came after several moments, Briddy stopped dead in her tracks. Ignoring the people that bumped into her as they made their way around her like a cold, uncaring river. 

    Vex? Hello? Vex! Bridget called out to the relic, but only silence answered, like the part of her that connected it to him was dull and full of fuzz. Not a wall, but there was something off, something wrong, something missing... 

    That feeling nagged at Bridget all the way up to the open-walled expanse of the Palaisaide dining room, her scarlet thread of light weaving its way through unnoticing packs of students segregated by color in six enormous packs. Weaving her way through the crowd, Briddy spotted Gemma amidst a swath of brown for Titan’s Breath and Kurtis’ golden curls amongst Imbar’s range of reds. Ducking her head down, she hurried along her way and spotted the back of Gail’s head before the end of the spell’s thread. 

    Seated on one of a multitude of blankets spread across the ground, Gail straddled the border of sapphires and emeralds, looking down at the sky-blue shirt she wore in her usual sleeveless style. When Briddy got close her eyes shot up, neutrally raking her over before she turned to say something over her shoulder to Tuck. 

    “Hi,” Bridget said, ignoring the queasy feeling in her stomach. 

    “Hey trouble,” Gail said. Although the words were familiar, the usual flicker of personality beneath them was gone. 

    “Can we talk?” Bridget asked, coming to a stop in front of her. 

    Gail’s eyes flicked down to the dark grey blanket where she sat, long legs tucked beneath her. “About what?” 

    “The other day?” Bridget crouched down and took a seat, lowering her voice with a glance toward where Tuck was enthusiastically chatting with Asher. 

    “No.” 

    “But-”

    “Briddy!” Asher’s grin twinkled over at her. “Good to see you.” 

    She didn’t miss the way his gaze darted down towards her drooping collar, and hastily plucked it up again. 

    “Glad you made it.” Tuck leaned back on his arms to speak over his broad shoulder. “We saved a spot for you.” 

    “Gail practically chucked Argus headfirst into Imbar over there,” Asher gestured with his chin to their right, opposite the cloud of green that bordered the left. “When he tried to take your place. Poor lad flew what, thirty feet?” 

    Letting out a snort, Gail rolled her eyes. “It wasn’t thirty feet.” 

    “You’re right.” Appearing from nowhere with a jingling purse in one hand and a heavily laden plate of food in the other, Warrin plopped down next to Asher and Tuck. “It was more like sixty.” 

    “Where’d you get that?” Tuck said, suddenly alert as he fixated on the plate. 

    “The money? Well, a few subtly placed investments here, some start-up capital from my parents there, but mostly taking bets for the Guildhunt. You interested Sanlaurant?” He jingled the bag again. “Odds heavily favor Gilded Down and Imbar for the highest count but with Tula Two-Hit fielding for Titan’s Breath-” 

    Bridget cut in. “The food, Warrin.” 

    His handsome face crumpled once he realized they weren’t interested in his gambles, and he shrugged a blue polo-clad shoulder. “Back wall over that way, if you can get through the throng of Teradish kids that were clogging everything up when I left before-” 

A voice boomed out, magically amplified to cut across the roaring buzz of excitement. “Sit. Eyes to the east, students.” 

    Bridget jumped, comforted only by Gail’s knee knocking into her leg to tell her she wasn’t the only one startled. “Terna’s terrifying even when you can’t see her.” The tall girl muttered, casting her eyes about their blue-colored surroundings. Bridget joined her, watching as the bodies slowly sank and shifted like so many wilting flowers to rest on the blankets and cushions spread across the floor. Once her field of vision cleared, she could see the Headmistress standing several rows of people in front of them, arms behind her back as she waited in a militaristic rest upon a wooden platform. Atop the planks, there was nothing but Terna, a slender wooden podium of delicate make, and empty space that seemed somehow full.

    Students began to settle, what few remaining stragglers that were standing darting to find open spots atop the blankets and cushions spread over the floor. On either side, Bridget’s small group was surrounded by the massive throng of Gilded Down supporters, each carefully dressed in their various shades of blues and cerulean. Bordering that group to either side was Imbar and Teradish, with the rest of the school behind them sorted into the colored segments of the remaining guilds. 

    “Ah-HEM.” Terna cleared her throat, the emphasis carrying to the far corners of the open room. “I should not need to remind any of you this far into the year what conduct is expected of the students of this university.” Her tone was mild, but the effect was potent. 

Students sat a bit straighter, plates of breakfast set down and conversations cut short immediately. “Today marks an occasion some generations never experience. To see such cooperation of guilds is the very spirit upon which Palanquin University itself was founded. You come here to learn. To grow, and then to graduate and go on to your greatness and your guilds.” The Headmistress took a step forward, taking a hand out from behind her back and placing it on the empty podium. “Your legends.” With a twist of her wrist, a Scrying stone materialized atop the wood where her fingers had been resting only moments before. 

    Briddy could feel the anticipation could become palpable around her, her classmates leaning forward to eagerly await their first glimpses of the hunt, and felt herself sliding down where she sat, stomach curdling. She looked anywhere but at Terna, finding herself focusing past the Headmistress's red-clad shoulder and through one of the many open archways that bordered the Palasaide’s room to let in the breeze. She could see the dunes beyond it, the sun just beaming over to illuminate the headmistress from behind. 

    “...if you hear nothing else today, hear this and hear me well.” Terna’s tone became sharp as she raised a hand over the large jade-green sphere, easily the size of a ripened summer melon. “What you see today, in its entirety, is your future. This is the path you choose, both edges of the blade you hone to wield.” She let her fingertips fall, fluttering silently before they touched the stone, and a light sparked from within as though a match had ignited the sun, tearing upwards and then out like the twisted, fiery facsimile of an iris. “This is the future of the path you would walk.” 

Terna closed her eyes, and images flashed past the light, blurring past faster and faster until it suddenly collapsed inwards, the luminescence folding in on itself before exploding out into the biggest scrying image that Bridget had ever seen. 

Spanning hundreds of feet from wall to wall where Terna stood, light trickled down like so much paint left in water after a brush is rinsed, melding together until it clarified into a moving view, like that of a bird flying high over an enormous, sprawling encampment, segregated into colors, not unlike the very room in which Bridget sat. Bordering the tents at all sides were rows and rows of massive pine trees, their tops tightly packed together to create a canopy of blue-green needles. Cheers rose up around her, and chants and jeers were thrown back and forth while others excitedly pointed at the timer in the upper right hand of the image which held golden numbers that slowly counted down. 

“Calm down!” Terna barked, lowering one hand from the stone and gesturing with another. At that, black shutters quickly unrolled themselves across the archways behind her, black ties snapping out and neatly knotting themselves into place around the stone. “I realize asking you all to behave today is taxing on what little control you may have, but let me warn you, students, keep yourselves contained, or we will. Am I clear?”  

    The Headmistress shot a steely gaze out across the assembly, eyes narrowed. 

    Bridget swallowed, her head snapping around when she felt a certain someone shift behind her. Sure enough, Asher was kneeling up, mouth open as though to make a cheeky reply. 

    “No!” She hissed, poking him in the stomach before he could get whatever horrible jibe he was about to release out of his mischievous mouth. He fell backward into Tuck, and a small scuffle ensued as the large boy tried to help Bridget keep the squirrely alchemist from breaking free. 

    “Good,” Terna said, turning back to the orb. 

    Briddy breathed a sigh of relief and glared over at Asher, who had escaped Tuck’s headhold and was innocently grinning at her from his spot behind her once more. “You just got done being punished.” She whispered. 

    “Terna wouldn’t have been able to tell it was me.” He murmured back. 

    “And if she did a spell?” 

    “Hmm? What? Bridget, I can’t hear you I’m trying to watch this.” Asher’s eyes were intently focused on the Scrying image suspended in the air in front of them, but his smile said he knew exactly how infuriating he was being to her. 

    Briddy took a moment, looking him over. He seemed to have mostly recovered since his whole ordeal with the Muckeels, especially if he was back to his old ways. Slowly, she turned her head back towards the feed of the guild camps, only to meet Gail’s quiet, watchful eyes. 

    “What?” 

    Her friend let out a sigh, shaking her head slightly. 

    Scooting closer, Bridget tentatively reached a hand out. “Gail…”

    “Later.”    Gail knocked into her fingertips with her solid shoulder. The bulk of her muscle felt sold, reassuring, but the touch was over too soon, taking the sensation with it. “And not in front of the entire school, yeah?” 

    Bridget nodded, wishing the pit in her stomach had grown any lighter with the promise. Instead, her eyes were drawn back to the golden numbers at the top of the swooping image, which now dove closer between tents of rich plum, past campfires and huddled figures emerging from tents tacked tight with yellow ropes into the dew-covered ground. Not too much longer before those numbers would reach zero. 

    “Where’s the sound?” Warrin craned his neck around to look at the surrounding students before settling back and picking up his heaping plate. “If we can’t hear it here, there’s no way that lot behind us will.” He indicated the chattering mass of other supporters seated behind the small crowd in blue. 

    Watching as the Scrying spell’s focus silently slid past a cart pulled by a well-muscled young woman in orange, Briddy looked back down to the empty platform which held the podium and its stone. “No one’s feeding the spell on the orb.” She jerked her chin once at the sphere, and then over to where Terna had joined the teachers in the front left corner, her grey head tilted towards Hennigan. “So that means they’ve tapped into a broadcasted one that doesn’t have noise.” 

    Asher leaned in, a curl flopping over his eye and brushing her cheek. “Yet.” He added. 

    “Yet.” She amended, trying to ignore the fiery heat erupting on that side of her face. 

    “And yet,” Gail said, lifting two fingers and pushing his forehead till he sat back away from Bridget once more. “You’d think there’d be sound for something this big.” The grinning alchemist out of her way, she turned her attention to Warrin’s plate, eyes narrowing like a predator about to strike. 

    “Uh-uh,” Warrin said, parrying her attempts to snatch his food with his one free hand. 

    Taking the opportunity, Bridget’s fingers darted in and snatched a small tart from underneath his elbow. 

    “Oy! Give that back!” He protested as Asher and Tuck erupted in laughter. “It’s not fair, you two teaming up.” 

    Briddy glanced over at Gail, who met her eyes with a quick, half-cocked grin. “Told you she’s trouble.” Her friend quipped. Cracking the small hand-sized pastry in half, she tossed the other portion to her friend, who snatched it out of the air with ease. 

    “And your Bestiary grade thanks you for providing compensation for all those notes you copy,” Bridget added pointedly. 

    Warrin closed his mouth, tilting his head from side to side. “Ok, that one’s fair enou-OY!” 

    Asher gave him an affectionate smile through the mouthful of bacon he had just pilfered. 

    “I’ve done one charitable act for the day, and that’s it for me. Hand over the rest of the bacon or I’m setting your eyebrows on fire.” 

    Swallowing, the Alchemist lifted his chin. “You know, I did take the blame for that whole business with the monstrosity breakout…” 

    Tuck leaned in, placing a hand on Warrin’s shoulder with a deadly serious face. “Warrin, remember last week when you needed help moving all those crates you got from home?” 

    “Beasts!” He swatted them away, “Carrion Serpents, the lot of you, picking over my humble offerings-” 

    “There’s literally a pile of food,” Bridget said, raising an eyebrow. 

    Before Warring could protest, a flourish of trumpets unfolded through the air, sending them all jumping in their skins, heads whirling to look back around at the enormous scrying image. Now counting down from twenty, the numbers had begun to sprout golden flourishes that twirled and grew around the very edges of the image, forming a thin, fancy border. Joyous music crescendoed, drowning out any conversation the students might have been having, so Warrin’s haul was silently divided between the group. 

    The border around the edge of the image continued to grow, pushing the swooping feed that darted in between tents of orange and green until it shrank, the image resizing into a small box in the upper right where the numbers had been moments before. Taking its place was the image of two familiar faces, their torsos impeccably perched behind a wooden desk. 

“Good greetings and great morning!” The gigantic image of the man who had waylaid Bridget and her father for an interview back at Whittop wavered in the air over her head, his teeth winking down as he beamed. Beside him sat her Common Scenarios teacher, ruby hair impeccably swept in a series of waves and curls that ultimately crowned the back of her head with a bun. Both were dressed in identical, matching suits of pressed plum velvet, neatly tailored to match their frames with buttons of bronze twinkling out. 

    “I’m Lord Carmine, coming to you live from the Final Sunrise’s Tent in Windslost Gulley with my beautiful wife.” His dark, coiffed hair seemed to sheen even brighter blown up that huge. 

    Shifting forward slightly, his partner leaned forward. “And I’m the Lady Carmine, here to help bring you the two hundred and thirty-second Guildhunt, proudly sponsored by Fennel’s Potion Outpost.” 

    Without missing a beat, or a waver in their smile, they said together: “Fennel’s Potion Outpost. No matter what you do, they’ve got a potion for you!” 

    The feed above quickly cut to another filled with potion prices and locations flashing about while a potion shack sat in a swamp somewhere. 

    “I would’ve quit before getting that out with a straight face,” Bridget muttered, brushing the last of the crumbs from her lap. Her remark was met with more than a few snorts. 

    “You would’ve lost me the second you whipped out the matching suits,” Gail muttered. 

    Crossing his legs so that his ankles were folded underneath his seat atop the blanket, Tuck grimaced. “Well that’s why they’re in a tent somewhere, and the real heroes are getting ready nearby.” He said comfortably. 

    “Welcome back.” Lady Carmine’s amplified voice purred out overhead. 

     Now restored, the pair of purple-suited hosts took over the screen once more. Briddy barely had time to note the golden pins on their lapels shaped like the sun before Lord Carmine cheerily announced: “We head now to the live coverage of the Guild Muster, brought to you in six separate feeds by Rapidew! The Healing Potion of choice for all hunters! Rapidew! When you don’t have the time to heal, yes you dew!” 

    A huge chorus of groans arose at the slogan (though Bridget caught a quiet yes from Tuck), quickly giving way to cheers as the small image in the upper right, which had continued to swoop and fly over the pine needle-covered ground and between tents, grew large once again, swelling to fill the hanging image of light that filled the cantina’s air from wall to wall. Just as it looked to completely take it over once more, the image split, neatly dividing itself into six rectangular segments, each with its own perspective. 

Shooting up from the border that still flourished around the image, golden tendrils quickly divided the borders of the perspectives in thin lines, making each one distinguishable from the next. Briddy’s eyes danced between the different views, taking in flashes of armor, or curls of beard, desperately searching and yet not wanting to find what it was she sought. 

“How’re we supposed to te-” Asher began, but Gail shut him up with an elbow to the ribs and a jerk of her chin. 

Curling downwards from the top of each outlined segment like branches laden heavy with fruit were more tendrils, twisting to form a number and symbol atop each feed. “And there’s Tula Two-Hit and her Headringers, fielding from the Titan’s Breath alongside the Merry Anvil Company.” Lady Carmine’s voice slid in from somewhere unseen, the commentary continuing even though the purple-clad duo was no longer in sight. Bridget honed her focus on the third feed from the right, which had a cracked hammer and the number ‘3’ atop it. 

Her eyes skipped over a grinning figure swinging a blade back and forth, drawn down the fifth Scrying perspective, where an inverted gold feather seemed to point downwards to a craggy figure with inscribed bracers that shone in the late morning light. Striding back and forth as he barked orders, the spell briefly focus on her father’s broad face, sending cheers up around Bridget that threatened to deafen her. 

Tit-a-ni-um! Tit-a-ni-um! Her schoolmates roared. 

Briddy could feel herself shrinking, feel the urge to hide from glances thrown her way even though she had done nothing, said nothing, other than be born into sharing his last name. At least her friends settled for wordless cheering, though still failed to hide their excitement at her father’s face.  

The feed shifted away from her father to Warrin’s, who let out a loud whoop once his dad’s heavily freckled visage appeared. Whoops changed to whistles of appreciation when it winked past Adelaide, dressed in metal-plated leather armor with golden buckles and embellishments holding different sections strategically together, stretching out her sculpted arms while she hopped from foot to foot. Briddy briefly plucked at her blouse again, pulling the too-loose neckline back up. Nolan must be at home, working on some commission.

All of the perspectives seemed to flit back and forth, jerking between whatever was most interesting for that guild at the moment, which largely seemed to center around the famous figures that had taken the field. Glancing about, Bridget spotted Hasin the Wanderer plucking his harpstrings in front of Teradishs’ green banners, and Roddy Heelbane spinning her chakrams with her blade dancers by Imbar’s flames. 

Big names for a big hunt. She thought, reaching out to Vex. It felt like her message was received, but she heard nothing back yet again. 

“You alright?” Asher murmured in her ear, sending Bridget jolting forward.

“Gah! Why?” Her hands fluttered upwards to cover her flushed ear, and she glared back at him. 

“You’re sitting like there’s a rod through your spine.” 

“Or Niles trying to grapple with the elusive concept of humor,” Gail said under her breath.

Bridget snorted, her lips almost quirking into a smile– “And of course, we have Titanium Kerr of the Gilded Dawn, looks like he’s made it quite the family event today, eh? His daughter Adelaide will be her for the first time, but at least Ruba Wrathcrusher’s around to keep them safe.” He paused, winking at the screen. “Along with our own Final Sunrise healers, of course! Can’t wait for the show!” She squirmed as Lord Carmine went on to comment on some of her father’s most notable past hunts. 

“Right, your dad went on his first hunt around our age, didn’t he, Briddy?” Warrin cocked back his head, searching the stone ceiling of the Palisade in thought. “That was the one with the horseshoe and the hammer if my recollection’s right…”

Bridget pinched her lips and looked away, her mouth tasting sour. It felt like some invisible string pulled at her gut as she listened to everyone talk about her dad, twisting her tighter and tighter while she helplessly watched and listened while his greatness and legend loomed large once again. 

“...and then he comes at its side–” Warrin’s recollection was cut off by a horrible choking noise, and she turned to find Gail shoving the last of her breakfast roll into his mouth. 

“Shut it, fanboy.” She growled. 

Warrin gave her a garbled response that was made more or less made unintelligible by the sound of horns, different from the calling cries that had ushered the students up the steps earlier. The blaring brass seemed to note warning this time, apparently coinciding with horns near the Windslost Gully, as a roaring cheer seemed to go up from the assembled hunters, their arms waving in the air. 

“And that would be the signal from the scouts of the Final Sunrise, confirming that the pack has entered the ravine.” Lady Carmine’s voice cut in overhead. 

“It won’t be long now.” Her husband agreed, “Even though our guild doesn’t field combatants, we’ve been preparing this location for days, ensuring that the monstrosities have been steered away from any settlements or towns. All that remains is for the leaders to move out.” 

The groups in question seemed to be getting their opening speeches, though no sound was coming through from the six split perspectives. Bridget supposed such a thing would have been messy unless the spell’s caster were magically sorting the sound to each individual who was watching each different feed at all times. 

Watching Kerr stonily address the group, his arms pulled behind his back and his tawny salt and pepper mane twitching with the morning breeze, Bridget felt the pull to be in Adelaide’s spot. To be spared those small glances of pride as he strode back and forth saying Sculptor knows what to raise their spirits. Suddenly he stopped, raising a fist as his bracers winked an enormous, two-handed golden sword into existence that he then rose high in the air. 

Vex… Bridget through, gazing upon the relic in its full form, the blade glowing with power all from the tip of its light-edged blade all the way down to the massive gems that glittered in its crossguard. It looked so different in his hands. Truly, like a weapon of legend should. 

Then Titanium Kerr’s mouth moved, forming a familiar phrase: “Are you ready to die?” He strode back and forth, before suddenly slashing Vex down through the air, pointing at the squad and repeating his question. “Are you ready to die?” He had asked her that once. 

Not today. Her answer hadn’t changed. 

Bridget didn’t need sound to hear the response of his hunters, of her sister and mother, because it was echoed all around her by young people clad in blue. 

“Not today!” 

Not today. 

The chant repeated, echoing in Bridget's heart and drowning out the raised choruses and anthems of other guilds while she watched the perspectives pull out, and the march into the piny woods begin. There were roughly twenty hunters that she counted for each guild, and if she took away Final Sunrise’s healers and scouts, that left a fighting force of around a hundred. Those should be good odds, and yet as she watched the shadows and boughs of the forest close in around them, there was one terrible realization that kept nagging at the back of her mind. 

There they were, her family, so far away, so great in their glory and legend, and there she sat, just another pair of eyes, so helplessly watching their light in the sky, waiting for what would come next. 

Keep them safe, Vex. They can get what’s coming to them, but not today.