Clint
Clint had never imagined that dating Alexis Midas could be so exhausting. He even said this as someone who had breezed through what should have been several grueling months in the treacherous Lightning Ridge with her younger brother, Seth. But wherever the newly minted spellwarrior had gotten his stamina, Alexis had twice as much. It must be hereditary, Clint thought to himself as they finally stopped in the relative quiet of Palon’s outer foothills, some ancient trait that made their ancestors such monsters at fighting.
Alexis was not a fighter, but a nurse. Still, Clint remembered the legends of her lineage almost as well as his own. A descendant of the world’s first templar was he, but the legend of Karla Blackstone paled in comparison to the exploits of many generations of Midas warriors. Although the Midas Clan had not ruled the kingdom of Resta in over a century, nearly every single warrior who called themselves by that name had been responsible for protecting the young country in some way since before its founding with the unification of the nations of Coronos and Necros.
Now Clint understood why. As strong as he had always considered himself, a young farmer turned hunter, he never could keep up with Seth. Alexis had turned out to be much more of a challenge. So much so, that the end of their long and perfect date had brought him a desperately appreciated respite. As he slumped against an ancient pine, Alexis chuckled at him.
“How did you survive three months in the wilderness with my brother if you couldn’t keep up with me?”
Clint had been expecting her to make fun of him for tiring so easily, but even still had no retort. Alexis simply could have run circles around any of the deer who roamed the woods around his family’s farm and danced on their bodies after they passed out. Still, he could at least take comfort in knowing that the day had gone well. No other man he knew of could have kept up with her as well as he managed and he was sure to point that out.
Alexis smiled and knelt next to Clint’s limp form before poking him gently on the forehead with two fingers. “You’re not wrong, you know. I should be more impressed.”
Clint closed his eyes and chuckled. “We both know that won’t last. How’s Seth doing?”
Seth, a recent graduate of the spellwarriors’ Hem Academy, had been eager to go on his first peacekeeping mission, but it had not ended well. Although he had held up better than most fledgling spellwarriors, it was his brash overconfidence which led him into a trap. He had been hoping to bust a counterfeiter of divine relics only to stumble into the discovery of an entire syndicate producing the false talismans. He was a warrior of the Midas clan, though-- one of the last, in fact-- so he stood his ground as he was surrounded by twelve armed criminals.
The result was what one might consider a draw. The syndicate was brought down and the fake trinkets were all destroyed, but Seth had fallen into a coma which had, thus far, lasted for over a week. To be sure, no one seemed to be more concerned than Alexis, but there was little comfort Clint could offer. Seth would be commended for his bravery and skill should he ever awaken, sure, and Dr. Anthony Clark was taking personal care of the patient out of gratitude toward his favorite nurse. But nothing about Seth’s fate was certain and, to top it all off, their mother had not been seen in the village for over a month. For Alexis to have faced this suffering alone would not do, which was why the two of them had wound up together in the first place. Originally a loyal friend of Seth’s, Clint shared some of Alexis’ feelings over the very tenuous position Seth was in.
Alexis frowned, but it was not the dark expression that Clint had come to associate with the subject of her brother. “He’s doing better, I think. He hasn’t regained consciousness yet, but Doc says that the way he’s blinking lately might mean he’s getting better.”
Clint’s own brother would have described this as a symptom of REM sleep while his sister would say that he still had the ability to dream. Whatever insignificant words they came up with, though, ultimately led to the same conclusion. He wasn’t brain-dead.
“That’s great news!” Clint exclaimed sincerely, only briefly delaying the confusion that soon grew in his face. “But why don’t you seem happy about it?”
Alexis sighed and stared bitterly toward the ground. Just as Clint was getting a sense that he had made a mistake in talking about Seth, she replied, “There was a complication. While Doctor Clark was examining him, he found an infection of something called ‘wild source matter’.”
Again, the clinical voice of Clint’s little brother rang in his ears. He had long since grown used to Richard’s scholarly rambling, but he never imagined that he would recall him explaining, “Source matter is an indefinable element weaved into everything in this world. All we really understand of it is that it is meant to take whatever form is necessary for the Gods’ purpose. To observe source matter in its natural state is rare, but it is exceedingly dangerous because of…”
Clint could not remember why his brother had said that source matter was dangerous, but he did not need to in order to understand the severity of Alexis’ words. “Damn,” he grumbled, relatively speechless.
“Do you know what that means?” Alexis asked hopefully. “Doc sure as hell didn’t.”
Clint shook his head. “Nope. Only that it’s not the sort of thing you want to find inside a living body.”
Tears sprang to Alexis’ eyes for the first time. “I hate this. First my mom disappears without a word and now I might lose my brother. I can’t stand not doing anything, but I don’t know what to do!”
Clint encircled the trembling woman in what he hoped could be considered a comforting embrace. “Focus on the good. He’s getting better. Doctor Clark is the best physician in the kingdom and he’s giving Seth the finest care he can manage. I don’t know what this source matter thing is about, but I don’t think it’s necessarily fatal.”
Alexis took a deep breath and returned the hug, evidently beginning to relax a little. She did not say anything, but Clint was finally starting to feel as if he had said the right thing. The two of them curled more tightly together and began to watch the sun set in reverent silence. After such an exciting day and firm, gentle reassurances, Clint had every reason in the world to feel good about himself, but he was too tired to appreciate this. As it was, it did not take long for him to doze off in that position. But before his consciousness faded, he thought he could hear a chuckle from close by.
Clint stood at the foot of a tower none would ever call cozy, staring into the sky above it. There, a dark cloud loomed, growing steadily larger. He didn’t know what he was looking at, but he instinctively knew that to touch it would mean death. He thought he ought to be afraid of what he was looking at, but couldn’t bring himself to flee. Behind him, he felt a presence nearly as intense as what hovered in front of him. No, more like several presences.
He attempted to turn around, but as he faced these others, he nearly felt blinded by their radiance. Before he was forced to turn away, he was able to identify three human forms. Two appeared to be female and the other male, but he could not be sure because their glowing skin made it impossible to study their features. But in that moment, he was sure that he could tell what they were feeling.
The man was slightly shorter than he and gleamed with power. He held a halberd that Clint felt sure could have easily been used to cleave the tower. His long hair reminded him of someone he knew, but for all Clint could tell, he might have been staring Ragos himself in the face. And yet, he did not feel himself burning into a smoldering pile of cinders.
The shorter of the two women was a jumbled mess of conflicting feelings. Clint could hardly have made sense of it all, but was certain of her rage and savage pleasure. Whatever the cloud was, this woman hated it with all her heart. He searched for a cause and found only the shock of betrayal and grief over a tragic loss.
The other woman was the most pleasant of the three presences. She appeared to be extraordinarily calm considering the danger that she and the others faced. This calm seemed to reassure him as well; as if standing in her presence blocked his ability to feel fear. He felt himself inexplicably drawn to her and could not help being more curious about her identity than anyone else’s.
With all of the power at his back, his brain spun all the more quickly to make sense of what was going on. But there was no logic to any of it; only certainty. He had felt as if he stood in the presence of three deities, but that wasn’t the case. The man and two women each stood in the presence of a single deity, but so did Clint. He did not need to reason long to understand. Crane, the God of Knowledge, seemed to be watching over him.
Clint wanted to talk to the deity, sure that this was no ordinary dream, but as soon as the idea occurred to him, he realized that it would be impossible. Even the clergy, who could decipher the Gods’ language, had trouble hearing their voices. It didn’t matter, though, because something about this dream had made him instinctively aware of what he was seeing. It was as if he was Crane himself and no secret hid from his knowledge. He tried to picture something about his sister which had always made him curious, but was quickly disappointed. He knew then that he was not here to abuse Crane’s powers; he had a message to decipher.
So, decipher he did. The cloud represented something evil, even without his temporarily enhanced intellect, it might have seemed obvious. Then there were the four people who stood at the base of the tower. Crane, Ragos, Serenity, and Salica seemed to have each chosen someone to face this cloud, which may have been a threat to them as well. So, whatever this evil was, it seemed as if he’d be expected to help put a stop to it. Clint could tell that this realization pleased Crane. As he was now, he could not have imagined having trouble understanding this message, but apparently he wasn’t expected to so easily.
Crane had made the right choice.
Clint woke up abruptly, feeling a pair of hands roughly shaking him. He looked up into Alexis’ eyes blearily. He was quick to come up with an apology for falling asleep on her, but it turned out not to have been needed. She looked like she was on the verge of panic.
“Wha…? What is it?” Clint asked tensely.
“Someone just fell down the Whitebark hill,” Alexis said urgently as she pointed toward the limp form far below the strange white tree. “I’m going to go help her.”
Clint shook his head to clear the numbness in his brain. “I’ll come with… you know, in case you need help.”
Alexis helped Clint to his feet and the two of them rushed toward the fallen woman that the former had pointed out. Alexis dropped to the ground beside the unconscious form of Sara Marle and checked her out.
“She seems to be breathing, thank the gods,” she murmured as she brushed back some of her auburn hair and studied the bruise that had formed on her forehead. “We should get her to the infirmary.”
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