Page 16
“At-Spellsaven, Mx., I’m so, so sorry. I can’t say it enough, I can’t say it in a more elegant manner… I just...”
Harlow felt close to hyperventilating from the stress and dump of emotions she was experiencing.
“Harlow, stop.”
Atlas raised a hand to silence her, a first in their relationship.
Shocked, she did stop, and she worried her lip in the only response. What would they say to her? Would it mirror anything that she theorized was in those unread letters?
“You have nothing to be sorry about. Really.”
Atlas’ throat was tight, but she couldn’t read anything more than Atlas being uncomfortable with speaking.
“I-don’t know if you know everything... if…”
Would Atlas know she was a thief, did it get revealed, and when and by who?
“You were caught between two places, two aspects of yourself and I certainly should have helped you, should have made you more comfortable with discussing things outside... us.”
Atlas tilted their head and managed to put on a gentle smile. They were searching her face and she was searching theirs.
Was that it? No yelling, no disappointed stares. They took on her problem as their problem too. It didn’t feel right for them to feel in any way responsible. She was the problem. But to hear the dip in the tone of their voice telling her that they wished she was more comfortable? More comfortable than losing herself in their sheets, in their arms, and in their infectious spirit? She wasn’t sure where it would go from there; she held onto the hope deep in her chest, right behind her heart. Equipped with hope she could imagine a future where she came clean.
The Guild Master must have felt uncomfortable because Harlow could hear him shifting his feet around. She had to admit having Kob as a witness to all this was not… ideal.
“But I didn’t do that for you, I went on because I was just so damn happy, Harlow.”
Atlas broke up in a wide grin as if drunk on the memory of them.
“I didn’t know what to do... I... he asked for something, and I couldn’t... I just...”
Atlas couldn’t know everything, right? Harlow had so much to admit to that not just one statement could really cover. Surely one statement could not explain the depth of her feelings.
“I know, Harlow.”
Their glow started to return to them and that effortless smile eased the tension in her chest.
“When... when did you know?”
“When we found the body for sure... when we had that misadventure in the vault… and then when Apprentice Lithon kept bothering House...”
Atlas ran a hand through their hair, tossing a bundle of it over their shoulders.
“Oh gods, I didn’t know you knew that he was looking for it during tea.”
Were both Spellsavens scrying on their apprentices, wondering why they weren’t back yet or what they were up to? Did they see them wrestling like children in the hallway?
“Wait, our tea?”
Atlas laughed. “I meant after you left, he kept trying and kept bringing House presents. I wasn’t worried until House started liking those presents. The relic, though? I left it out for you if you wanted to take it.”
Now it was Atlas’ turn to act shy by breaking eye contact and shifting their feet.
“I couldn’t just take it, Atlas.”
Harlow thought of all the different paths that split from that moment. Atlas brought her to it, showed it off, and constantly gave her tasks inside the vault. So, they weren’t tests to see if she’d lift the relic but to give her chances to do so. Why couldn’t they just have said that earlier? In the end, she didn’t think it mattered. She could picture herself standing in front of Kob with the relic in her hands and how HARD it would be to give it to a man like him knowing despite their history, he was not a man who should hold such a thing.
Atlas sighed. “I know. So, I brought it.”
Kob took a step away from the door and it creaked loudly, betraying his movement.
Harlow looked back towards the Guild Master. “To him?”
Atlas fought a grimace, but the corners of their mouth wrestled against it, desperately tugging down. “Yes, I exchanged it.”
“Exchanged? For what?”
she questioned as her mouth grew dry.
“So, you could get your council seat.”
They said so with a slight laugh as if it was the simplest thing.
“How did you know...”
She allowed herself a few moments to imagine a reality where Atlas knew of her ambitions, what would have happened if she just told them from the very beginning. Would a Spellsaven’s endorsement outweigh Kob’s?
“Lithon.”
“Gah, Dogmeat.”
Of course. He had told her just as much with the reminders of Atlas’s depression and generally mopey disposition. It was so easy for Lithon to tell them her secrets, the things she kept away from them.
“Why... do you call him that?”
Atlas nervously laughed. Perhaps they were wondering if they really wanted to know or not. It wasn’t a nickname she could see catching on.
Harlow laughed and went to explain but she was distracted by a hefty click as the Guild Master slid the deadbolt across the doorframe.
With slight growing distrust, she turned towards him. He took a step forward and they took an equal step back together. The atmosphere around them was thick and the world felt so quiet and yet so damn loud in its silence.
“What are you doing?”
Harlow cut into the stillness.
Kob patted his breast pocket. “Well, now that I do finally have the relic, I won’t be needing... well, either of you.”
He said it so simply as if it was an everyday fact or a conclusion so natural that it breached being considered human nature.
“You can’t be serious…”
This was Spellsaven Daggerroot. This was her, one of his foundlings.
“‘fraid I am, Kips. ‘fraid I am. See, it’s nothing personal, but this.”
He patted it again, “only really works if no one knows I have it.”
He gestured with palms up indicating a lack of options. “If anyone knows I have it... well, I’ll be just as hunted as your wizard lover there. I’d be so busy keeping track of all that, I would really lack in my performance as Guild Master. And I can’t have that, now can I?”
Harlow’s lip turned up in disgust. “How could you do this... you helped raise me, you were like a father.”
“Like a father and being a father are two vastly different things, Harlow.”
He looked down at her in every sense of the phrase.
Atlas reached quickly to grab her and spun her behind them without warning... that she could tell. The Guild Master lurched forward. The patting of his pocket might have indicated where the relic was but it was also a distraction from him drawing his short blade with the other hand. Misdirection was a rogue’s greatest feat and it was dizzying to see it on this side.
Defensively, Atlas had cast a small shield; it was as tall as them and twice as wide but it was not a permanent solution, just a reaction.
Sirens from the building sounded around them, too shrill to be silent even through these thick walls. Atlas triggered it with their reactionary spell and now everyone knew there was some trouble happening somewhere within the building.
Kob cursed under his breath. “Really wish you’d hadn’t done that, Spellsaven.”
“You’re outmatched here, Kobby. Not only do we each hold more skill than you could ever dream of, we are both also equally more charming than you.”
Atlas spoke brightly but their face was serious, watching his moves, but Harlow could see the Guild Master tracking her.
Were they checking on her deception, who she would back up? Unlikely, but just the thought that they could be thinking that...
Kob dove again but this time out of the way towards Harlow; instinctually she summoned a razor edge leafed dagger, launching it towards his neck. She missed as Kob turned with realization from her physical announcement of which side she was on and it buried itself hilt deep in his shoulder. Just like he taught her.
“I gave you that knife,’’ he sneered.
“Yeah, and you can have it back.”
It felt like a childish retort to Harlow. Still felt good though.
There was a pounding on the door. The Guild Master flinched for a moment but ignored it and the muffled yells behind him. The wizards had security and they had already narrowed down the room of the disturbance. But why the hell could they not open the door already?
Fucking arcane locks. See, this was why she was so passionate about it before, why even though she was pretending to be an in-depth, lifelong wizard that she did find something that was not only fascinating but NEEDED. THIS WAS CASE IN POINT.
If she could get to the enchanted deadbolt, she could throw it open, but the mountain of a man between them and the door was not something easily avoided. She had also been stubborn enough to not share her arcane knowledge with anyone, and see where that got her.
The Guild Master reached his left hand into his duster and retrieved a set of throwing knives before patting the pocket again with the back of his hand. “See, I can do this all day. I can do it until... damn, till you’re both dead.”
“Sure and then they’ll eventually get in here...”
she rebutted, aghast.
“And what? They’ll prosecute ME for a lovers’ quarrel? For a Spellsaven’s apprentice being so brokenhearted and filled with rage over not being an apprentice that she attacks her very lover and blames them for why she did not secure a guild council seat? Please. I won’t even have to say a thing. Funny thing is you’re the most untrustworthy person in this room, Harlow.”
More dust fell from Harlow’s pocket. Damn, she kept forgetting to clean that out, as she frantically pulled reagents from their pockets. Kob rolled his eyes. “See, this is why you’ll never succeed. You were a great thief, legendary even, my dear little Harlow, but you make a shit wizard.”
The man vaulted toward her only for his wrist to snap back behind him and a loud crack fill the room so loudly that Harlow’s shoulders instinctually went to her ears to cover them.
He was suddenly on his back and being pulled back by a white cord of lighting. She followed it to a rather pissed-off Atlas. Whatever source they used, it was not one built on gathering infinite pieces of reagents like Harlow. They were floating slightly off the ground, the tips of their boots ever so slightly drifting off the floor, and their hair was frizzy and floating around like a feathered crown. There was no wind in this room but their clothing was whipped about in a frenzy.
Fighting for his fucking abysmal life, Kob flipped to his belly and dropped all but one of the knives. He sliced at the bolt and it severed. An enchanted blade that acted in ways that could counter spells. Harlow had a few herself but spells cast outside the typical range of power were usually unaffected. This blade blocked one of Atlas’ spells and it surprised her there was even anything capable of such a thing.
He launched himself off the floor towards Atlas and together there were fists and legs and all a giant ball ebbing between violence and defensiveness.
Harlow could choose to open the doors right now; there would be enough time, but not to also help Atlas. Yet again, that waterfall of choice was before her. She had to choose one, for nothing at all was death for them all.
The door shook suddenly and there was a point of bright light surrounded by a tense red and yellow glow. It was traveling slowly around the frame of the door. A sorcerer or wizard was using a molten spell to breech the door. Help was coming.
Harlow sprinted towards the others, her foot finding placement on a table, intended for peaceful discussion, that was now a launching point for her to jump towards the rising battling foes. She brought out her first blade.
It was ugly and slightly misshapen. She found it when she was younger, learned how to shape with it, used it to eat with, sharpened her first quill with it, she lived with it. She had also been ashamed of it as she dove into wizardly studies. It was one also equipped with a spell counter. There was no way the Guild Master would go anywhere near anyone without some sort of magical thickened armour or shielding; it could be something to pierce through that.
And as she sprang and brought both of her hands to its hilt, preparing to bury the hooked end of it into her previous mentor’s back, Harlow noticed she was crying. It was almost dizzying as her body fought to process all the conflicting feelings, the adrenaline, the shock, the grief, and the love she had for Atlas.
The tip of the blade hit between his shoulder blades but didn’t pierce him until her body swung against them both, adding to the chaos. That momentum must have been enough and with a sharp snap, whatever protection he had before was gone, and the blade of her youth found purchase.
Kob bellowed and flailed. She could not have possibly stayed with them, they were their own moving force, so she was flung around the pair and Harlow crashed against the empty corner, her hands burning from holding so tightly to the hilt.
The man fell to his side, pushing his feet along the ground, arms unable to assist in his crawling away. But Atlas.
Atlas fell.
They fell onto their back and held the collar of their linen shirt in their hands.
Harlow was slightly mesmerized by the fact Kob was moving, he was still alive, she hadn’t landed the shot. How had this man made her feel so inadequate when she was anything but? Reeling that Atlas wasn’t moving, she pushed off the marble floor, scrambling quickly to their side.
Her head shook quickly side to side. “Atlas...”
She moved their hands and noticed blood seeping from their chest. Kob had managed to land a blow, and a fatal one. She unclamped their hand to hold it, failing to find any more healing spells to come to her mind and she beat her head with a closed fist, as if she could knock some memory from it. She wanted to hold their hand and as she unfurled it, she found the relic.
Confused, Harlow looked back over her shoulder to the mewing Guild Master and back to Atlas. Atlas’s eyes were half opened and they managed a grin. “...surprise.”
They were weak but still managed a half music fingers wiggle.
Harlow gasped and pulled the relic from their hand, slipping it on her finger to use it, but Atlas clasped a hand around hers.
“Harlow...”
They begged.
“No, no don’t worry, I’ll just use it once, it’ll be fine... don’t worry. Help’s coming... I got you; I got you.”
She pulled from the very core of herself to be steady. To be that person she knew was calm in a storm. She could do that here. It would work out if she could just control the next few events. Control given readily with the relic upon her finger.
“Harlow...”
“Not really the time to ‘Harlow’ me, my love.”
She used her other hand to peel Atlas’ fingers off hers. “I’ll just do it once.”
She paused to think more. OK, if I can go back, I need to focus on pulling Kob back my way BEFORE they even get to Atlas. I don’t know when he actually stabbed them but yes, I could also cast something and we could pull back and forth…But what, I don’t know the lightning spell. But...
“Harlow...”
They uttered her name so reverently.
“WHAT?!”
Why were they stopping her, why couldn’t they just let her help them?
“It’s only five minutes... and it’s already been eight, Harlow.”
To give them credit, there were no tears in their eyes, but the sorrow was so intense, Harlow knew that it would be etched throughout all time. If time were to slip, the universe could ground itself on this one look.
A sob broke from her, one she wanted to fight until her own last breath to keep it from escaping, but now she couldn’t stop.
“But then... I could have five more minutes with you.”
They managed a sweet smirk; their eyes still held a sparkle. A sparkle not as bright as the last time she’d felt it warm her heart.
Harlow’s sobs slowed and she managed a week laugh, her attention pulled from Atlas to the relic and she slipped it off her finger, holding it in her hand. Atlas waited patiently, letting the silence between them speak loudly.
Without warning, she dropped it to the marble floor and picked up the dagger that had been dropped by Kob, smashing it to bits with the hilt. It was so much more fragile than she anticipated.
Tears blocked her vision so when Atlas lightly cupped her jaw and slid down to gently turn her chin to face them, they whispered, “That’s my Harlow.’
She leaned forward.
The sounds around them were muffled, non-existent.
This universe could have stopped but she wouldn’t have noticed because all there was was her and Atlas.
Harlow didn’t dare close her eyes, not wanting to lose sight of Atlas and the life within them.
Her tears made it difficult, and anger mixed with despair as her vision blurred.
Her own body not wanting her to watch, to see life drain from them.
Her lips went to kiss them goodbye, a lover’s kiss to remind them that they meant something to her, that they were always and would always be hers.
When her lips met theirs, she startled.
They were not cold yet but the presence of what she could only determine having been their essence had left.
She had just missed them.
Harlow wailed and clutched at the fabric of their blouse, balling it up and tugging it around as if handling it roughly would bring Atlas back.
This life, this life she built trudging through discontent, pulling through the mud of what everyone else wanted of her, not for her, had been for nothing.
She had waded through the hells and for what? Two sides of her collided as she knew that it was all built upon deceit and if Harlow could have been honest with herself long enough to actually make a damn choice for herself, then she and Atlas wouldn’t be there.
They’d be with House.
It was love that tales were written about and it took now, when it was gone, that Harlow finally realized it wasn’t adoration but the love she always thought she wasn’t allowed to have.
She knew it.
And it was all her damn fault.
Harlow released the shirt only to lay over Atlas, pulling them into her lap as much as possible.
She bent over, shoving her face in the crook of their neck, desperately memorizing the small of them, the way their hair felt on her cheek, memorizing what she could before all she’d have left was the ghost of them.
There was a mighty bang as the door with now molten edges flew forward into the hallway and Lithon ran into the room, hands still burning white from casting.
Followed by security he paused, seeing the scene before them.
“What’s going on!?”
a voice croaked from the hall and finally a woman pushed their way through. Bethal shouldered more than one security wizard to come to Lithon’s side. “Ah fuck.”
Bethal and Lithon avoided even acknowledging the Guild Master, which was no small feat as he had turned on his side, reaching for assistance from anyone close enough but unable to lift more than his fingers. He was begging and there were already people casting stability spells. Unless there was a complication, he would live.
Bethal kneeled beside Harlow, who was hunched over Atlas, her head resting on a chest no longer rising and falling. Lithon stood; his hands had cooled and now were found clenching his own hair in despair as he seemed to process the scene.
The room was in chaos, but Bethal was steadfast and gentle. She placed a hand on Harlow’s back and rubbed it. Harlow slowly sat back so Bethal could see the mess upon her face, tears and blood, grief and despair.
Bethal pulled out the hem of her apron. Yes, she was still wearing it, but instead of gardening supplies, there were various pipes, rolling papers, candies, and a slew of coupons. Bethal must be who Lithon got his sorcerer’s smoke from.
She pulled the hem of apron up, smearing around Harlow’s face, more an in effort to calm her than clean her up judging by the absolute mess still left behind.
She reached for Harlow’s hand while the thief wiped her eyes with the other. Bethal pulled them both to her and held them. She jutted her chin to direct attention back to Atlas. “What good is the plant I gave you if you won’t utilize what’s gifted to you?”
Harlow, fucking offended, shot a look that could kill towards Bethal, who only smiled warmly. Bethal opened her hands and slid something into Harlow’s.
With shaking hands she opened her palms and revealed a dried cutting of Bleeding Heart. The colors were of her plant. Bethal’s hands wrapped around Harlow’s and pressed them together.
Harlow felt the stem, leaves, and bud crush between them with her tear-slicked palms. Bethal leaned forward, still holding them, and placed Harlow’s hands over Atlas’s wound.
The gardener leaned on her knees to press Harlow’s hands harshly down, causing Atlas’ body to shift. Instinctually, Harlow pulled back but Bethal held her hands tightly. How did she get so strong?
In a voice only spoken for spellwork, she whispered in Harlow’s ear.
“Crush the bleeding heart flowers and tears,
And hope the fucking wind is with you dear.”
Behind them, Lithon’s earrings chimed as he must have been shaking his head. “That’s a terribly written spell.”
“Shut up.”
Bethal’s words were as curt with him as they were with Harlow the day they met.
Lithon reached into one of his breast pockets and pulled out a small trinket box. Joining him, the gardener pulled out a rolling paper from her stained apron, handing it to the sorcerer. In silence they rolled a stick of sorcerer’s smoke and took turns to calm their nerves. This did not happen without a few wizards murmuring about it being inappropriate or that this was “hardly the time for sorcerer nonsense”.
Atlas’ chest heaved and Harlow leaned back on her feet, hands outstretched, completely worried she hurt them further. Their eyelids fluttered open and Harlow was frozen in place.
“Ahem…”
They coughed. “And just who might you be?”
The color drained from her face. This spell? It-it erased their memory. But by how much? Did they know who they were, did they even remember magic? Forgetting her would be a different pain but all Harlow could ask the gods, time, and space about would be that they would be okay. So, if this is how the universe answered, then so be it.
Atlas lifted a very weak arm and their hand wiped away at the tears held hostage on her face. “Oh, there you are, my Harlow. There you are.”
Breath left her lungs heavily and Harlow felt so frail she almost collapsed. She had been holding on so hard and now she could finally let go. She leaned over them and buried her head into the side of their neck, sobbing heavily. Atlas wrapped an arm around her and the other hand held the back of her head. They were complete.