Nyrissa’s broken toys…

  While idling in Tatzlford and waiting for Darlac to arrive with the rest of the troops, Guelder couldn’t help but think about Armag and other pawns Nyrissa might be playing her games with. She already had the Skylark by her side, fallen from grace since he'd disrupted the sacrament of the Kingdom of the Cleansed. After obtaining and destroying the Oculus of Abaddon, he'd ceased to be useful for any other purpose than luring Guelder into Silvershield Fortress. Armag Reborn, Nyrissa's wolf pup, was next on the list.

  Barbarian tribes were among the best tools to make kingdoms fall. Even if Armag didn't make it to Restov, he could still raze Nightvale and earn a grain for its fall, or if he failed, for his own. And who knew how many other menagerie beasts were still roaming free? Guelder was increasingly sure that Irovetti was one of them. It would be great to have a meaningful talk with him for a change, instead of eyeing each other suspiciously across the East Sellen. But how would she make him do that?

  Waiting was hard on Guelder's nerves. She'd spent the previous night heavily drugged with edelcup root, closed up in a single room of the Tatzlford inn. Tonight, however, she could roam the outskirts of the settlement to her heart's content. Letting Pangur go and enjoy his dinner stashed up a nearby tree, Guelder settled down on a boulder by the riverbank, listening to the breeze in the reeds, the song of frogs and warblers, and the sound of the water lapping at the rocks, absorbing the light of the lopsided moon.

  These moments of communing with nature were what kept her going, and still, she was getting the feeling that she was wasting time. She should be doing something productive instead. Check again on the troops that had already arrived, encamped outside the town. Make another attempt to squeeze some information out of Sotha Aldori, Kassil's aide, who was for some reason not by the General's side but leading a detachment from Bronzeshield Fortress on her own, suspiciously tight-lipped about Kassil's plans and moves. (Sotha looked too traumatised for Guelder to ask for Jaethal's assistance, and she felt bad for even considering it, but the temptation was hard to resist.) Befriend the frogs in the reeds and try to discover their secret of body regeneration in a non-invasive way. Open the package she'd received from Sharel, the promising young half-elven tailor about to replace Morhalan as the main clothing supplier of her court. She had so many tasks to get on with. What was she even doing, trying to enjoy a moment of peace when, for all she knew, Armag's hordes could be pulverising the Brevan troops right now?

  Her ears perked up at the sound of quiet footsteps approaching. It was Hazel, of course.

  "Feeling restless, Guel?"

  How did they know? Was it her body language, or her scent? She turned back to meet them, and attempted a smile that died halfways on her face.

  "Trying and failing to convince myself that it is okay to just exist tonight."

  Hazel settled down on another boulder across from her, and looked her deep in the eyes.

  "It is okay to just exist, Guel. Tonight and any other time you need rest. With special regard to the first night of the waning moon. I would love to coexist with you, if you do not mind."

  For a little while, it almost felt like the old times, or at least the short rest at Silverstep Village before Jhod's Sending had disturbed the peace. No state to govern, no war to fight, just the two of them and nature.

  If only she could relax.

  The sound of a punting pole hitting the water broke the silence. A raft was drawing near. A dirty old man stood on it, who faintly reminded Guelder of Remus the Rancid. A second glance at him confirmed that the similarity was only superficial. Remus had been a lot better equipped in the dental department. The face of this old man had collapsed to half the original size due to his lack of teeth.

  "Greetingth, warrior queen," he lisped.

  At first, Guelder was not sure if he was talking to her. Despite her eventful life as an adventurer, she didn't consider herself a warrior, and she was definitely not a queen. Still, despite being a peace-loving baroness, she was the most likely candidate, since Hazel was even less of a warrior queen than herself.

  "Greetings, raftsman," she said. "You seem to know me. Have we ever met?"

  "Hanthpur told me you'd come, theeking your enemy. Armieth will clash, but you mutht find and face your foe alone. Hanthpur can help you find him."

  Guelder cast a bemused glance at Hazel, silently asking for their input on who the hell could this Hanthpur be.

  "A river god," they mouthed in Elven.

  That made sense. If this Hanthpur surveilled all the watercourses in the Stolen Lands and beyond, Guelder must have been living before his eyes ever since she'd started to follow the rivers northbound to heed Lady Jamandi's call for heroes. He'd seen her drink from the Shrike after breaking free from the Stag Lord's clutches, balance on a log above the rushing waters of the Murque, track wild boars at a backwater of the Thorn overgrown with duckweed, herd people away from their dwellings along the suddenly murderous Gudrin, battle a hydra in Lake Tuskwater, catch drowsy pikes in Lake Silverstep, coax the sulphur-smelling waters of the Skunk into a healing spa for ailing people, wade through the Kiravoy barefoot, fight for her friend's life in a death chamber inundated by the Little Sellen. In fact, it was strange that the river deity hadn't contacted her earlier. Still, it felt advisable to start off on the right foot with him, considering that she would soon have to get an army across the river. And as to the prospect of facing off against Armag alone, somewhere else than the battlefield... it didn't sound too reassuring. Guelder decided she needed all the help she could get.

  "How can Hanthpur help me?" she asked. "And for what price?"

  "Hanspur," whispered Hazel, hiding their face in their palms. Brambles. Guelder was proud of her fluency in Common, but deciphering a toothless man's mutterings was apparently still a bit beyond her abilities.

  "Protect the riverth. Thith ith the price. Hanthpur can help open the mind'th eyeth. Even the path of the thmallest vein of water He theeth."

  "I do and will protect the rivers. I can promise that. How can Hanspur make me see what He sees?"

  "He needth thomeone with keen eyethight, a pair of healthy lungth, and the Gift."

  "The Gift?"

  "People who went through enough thuffering can leave their body behind and let their thoul rise above it. Hanthpur tellth me He will evoke the Gift by the river'th embrace. But beware! Should the perthon perish in the ritual, they will take their knowledge into a thilty grave, unleth thomeone shareth their vision."

  Guelder glanced at a spot on the riverbank where the reeds were thickest. She caught a whiff of a sweet floral scent coming from there, very out of place in this environment.

  "Come here, Linzi, I will need you to take notes."

  Two little hands opened the curtain of reed stalks, and a flustered head peeked out from between.

  "Your Grace, how did you know I was here?" piped the bard, scrambling closer.

  "I have my own methods," said Guelder with a mysterious smile. "Hazel, will you share my vision and forward the information to Linzi?"

  Hazel swallowed uncomfortably. They seemed a bit pale, even under the moonlight, and... were their hands trembling? Guelder braced herself for another outburst of her ever worried, overprotective friend about her being reckless and irresponsible.

  She was surprised to hear their actual words.

  "That will not work, Guel. I am sure you went through as much organic waste as myself in your life, but you never mentioned finding yourself outside your body. That means you are not suited to do this. You need me to replicate what I did in Silvershield Fortress, on a larger scale."

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  Guelder's stomach tightened into a knot.

  "No, Hazel. I do not want to expose you to this. I communed with Nyrissa's memories in the Pool of Tears and emerged unscathed. I think I can deal with the river's embrace just fine."

  "Guel, think like a ruler, just this once. As for you, there is a slim chance you can do it, but if you die trying, it is over for Nightvale and all of us. As for me, success is almost guaranteed, and if I do not make it, you can still replace me with Ekundayo on the field team and Kjerdi of Varnhold in the government."

  "But I cannot replace you in my heart!" she blurted out, almost despite herself. "You are not some consumable resource, Hazel. You are special to me, and I do not want to put you through such an ordeal. Is that so hard to understand?"

  The raftsman sat down cross-legged on the raft, and was now immersed in cleaning his ear with his little finger, wiggling furiously.

  Heat suffused Guelder's face. This was a mistake, a serious one. Hazel would misinterpret her words so badly. It was already happening. She could see it in their eyes.

  "Show me, then," they said, switching to Elven. "I shall overcome my fears for your sake, and I want you to overcome your fears for my sake. Make that leap of faith into the darkness. I will be there to catch you and hold you."

  She pressed her lips together, barely holding herself back from lashing out. This felt so... underhanded. Hazel was right. Even though she wasn't worried for her own life, she did have a lot less chance for success than they did. She needed them to undergo the ritual and deliver their best performance in a life-threatening situation, and they were willing and ready to do it for her. All the intimate moments they'd shared, saving each other's lives, having each other's backs, staving off each other's nightmares, seemed to lead up to this moment, unbeknownst to her and, strictly speaking, against her will. She felt cruel pangs of guilt for never giving a chance to a relationship with Hazel, for bristling against their request even now.

  "Say it," she said softly, struggling against the tension in her jaw. "Make it clear. What are you asking of me?"

  "I want to be your first one. Once you defeat Armag and we are safely back to Tuskdale, I want us to make it happen. I will go with you to that shrine in the Kamelands and offer some of my blood, if that is necessary."

  "I see," she cut them short. "I will... think it over."

  Hazel held her gaze, cocking an eyebrow. "You can do better than that, Guel."

  "I warn you, Hazel. When I feel cornered, I bite."

  "I am not afraid of your curse. In fact, I think I –"

  "Enough!" This conversation was getting more and more disturbing by the moment. Guelder turned to the raftsman, quickly before Hazel could get the idea to underperform in response to her lack of enthusiasm. "My friend has the Gift. They will go into the river's embrace, and I will be the one to convey the message to my scribe. How do we do this?"

  "You hold'em under water," he said. "The shoulder and the back. Preth firmly downwardth."

  The baroness nodded, steeling herself for the task ahead.

  "Are you sure you'll be fine, Hazel?" asked Linzi, shuddering.

  "I am sure they will be fine," said Guelder sharply. "Prepare your notepad, Linzi, and jot down whatever you hear from me."

  Hazel undressed (thankfully, on their own), down to their underwear, and descended into the rushing water, wading in until the water reached their ribcage. They lowered themself to their knees. Guelder followed them in, biting her lips to stop them from trembling, laid her hands on Hazel's bare shoulders, and gave them a reassuring squeeze. Once the raftsman finished chanting his introductory prayers and gave the sign, she threw her weight against Hazel's back to push them down under the surface. She closed her eyes, attuning herself to her friend and breathing deep for both of them.

  The ritual was in full swing now. Guelder was faintly aware that she was speaking, shaping the vision into words to be noted down, but she had no idea what her lips were saying, or what Hazel's consciousness saw. The only thing she was aware of was the river water encompassing Hazel, squeezing their lungs, filling their open eyes, draining the warmth from their body. The raftsman's voice droned above the water, murmuring his prayers to his god and ignoring Guelder's anxiety as she was holding the seer firmly down, fighting back against their body struggling for breath. She sensed buck fever taking over Hazel's mind as it was closing in on the target, gritted her teeth and pushed down... until the struggle finally ceased. The vision was still going on, but Hazel's body became as calm and quiet as a piece of driftwood.

  Then the words stopped, and the soft noise of Linzi's scribbling did, too. Guelder waited a few more seconds before she let go.

  Hazel didn't rise from the water.

  Guelder fumbled to get her arms around Hazel's chest and dragged them out onto the riverbank, stumbling in the current. At the edge of her vision, the raftsman waved goodbye and floated away on his raft, whistling a tune.

  "Thanks and goodbye, weird old fellow!" cried Linzi after him, eager to make up for Guelder's rude negligence of their benefactor.

  Finally, Guelder dropped Hazel's limp body onto the grass and felt for their pulse in panic, to no avail. Groaning in helpless rage, she positioned herself astride Hazel's hips, laid her hands on their stomach, and pushed with all her weight to force their diaphragm upwards. A mouthful of river water gushed from their mouth, otherwise there wasn't much change. She repeated, again and again, with less and less force, wild-eyed, desperate. There was no more water flowing out, but Hazel still didn't stir.

  "Do Breath of Life!" suggested Linzi in a trembling voice.

  "How?" snapped Guelder. "I am no cleric!"

  "Do the move! It always works in the stories!"

  "Brambles, Linzi! Just... shut up!" exclaimed Guelder in frustration. She moved her hands above Hazel's heart and continued the pushes there. "You are not going anywhere, Hazel. I need you."

  Hazel's muscles twitched. Guelder slipped off them and turned their body to the side, letting nature take its course from here. They groaned and retched, throwing up river water from their stomach, and after a short struggle, they regained consciousness.

  The last thing Guelder expected was an attack. Next thing she knew, her head hit something hard and she was pinned to the ground, her wrists in a snarling Hazel's iron grip.

  "Damn you, Guel, you almost killed me!"

  "Please, stop!" screamed Linzi in Common, covering her mouth with her hands.

  "Indeed," hissed Guelder. "You said you could do it, and I held you to your word. Did you think I would settle for anything less than top quality information?"

  Tension was building up in her body as she felt Hazel's cold, wet skin press against hers. All her nerves protested. If there was an opposite of being in heat, this was it. She wanted to shapeshift as badly as ever, to put a protective layer of fur between her own skin and theirs, but their tight grip made it impossible.

  "Stop!" cried Linzi. "She brought you back to life! Is this your way to say thank you?"

  The pressure ceased. Hazel let go, as suddenly as old bandages being ripped off a wound.

  "Fair enough," they muttered. "My apologies. Thanks for holding onto me, Guel."

  Guelder scrambled to her feet and wrapped herself up in her cloak.

  "You did well, Hazel," she said. "You made it, and that is what matters. Now let us dry ourselves and get some rest. Linzi, what do we need to prepare for?"

  "Erm..." Linzi giggled nervously. "You mean you can't remember anything you said? Just because I didn't understand a single word of it."

  "WHAT?"

  "I wrote it all down, but... it's up to you to make sense of it, because I couldn't."

  That meant either Elven or, worse, Druidic. A daunting task awaited Guelder later on. She could only hope Linzi was good at high fidelity gibberish transcription. Otherwise, all Hazel's torment and her own anguish would be in vain, not to mention the strain tonight's events had put on their relationship. Still, dry clothes were higher priority at the moment.