Summoned A Hundred Years Too Late

Alexandra walked down the main street of Esmera with a hood covering her hair. She moved slowly, careful not to attract attention. There were fewer stalls than usual, and the merchants that were there talked in hushed voices to customers purchasing in bulk.

The news had spread.

She kept her eyes forward. She was getting closer to the temple.

There was no line this time, and the door was closed. She knocked.

A few seconds later, a priest opened the door. He looked her up and down, and invited her in.

She followed the priest down a short corridor and into Arame’s office. The head was at her desk, working through a stack of documents with a quill. She didn’t look up. A candle had burned low on the corner of the desk, wax pooled around its base.

”Sit,” Arame said, turning a page.

Alexandra pulled the chair and sat.

“I gathered the money.” She set the five gold coins on the edge of the desk.

Arame finished her line, then looked at the coins. She set down the quill.

”Did you?”

”I also have a new sickness,” Alexandra said. ”Empathy.”

Arame was quiet for a moment. She picked up one of the coins. ”I’m afraid I won’t be able to help with this one.” A pause. ”How did you even—” She shook her head. ”Forget it. I don’t want to know.”

”I can gather more money.”

”That’s not the issue.” Arame leaned back in her chair and looked at her. ”Miss Alexandra, I’ve never encountered this sickness outside of books. Much less a cure for it.”

”Never? Didn’t Apple tell you?”

Arame’s hand stopped on the desk.

”How do you know that name?”

Alexandra frowned. ”She said she would report to the temple. I assumed—”

”Report to the temple.” Arame repeated it slowly. She stood and walked to the window. Outside, the street was quiet. ”When did you speak with her?”

”Two days ago.”

Silence.

“The day of the incident.” Arame turned. “Miss Alexandra, I haven’t heard from any of the Hands stationed in the plains since then. The people I sent to the closest villages all speak of verdant beasts. Apple was the furthest away from Esmera. You couldn’t have come and gone in such a short time.”

Arame studied her for a moment. Then she moved back to her desk and sat down. “I would appreciate your cooperation.”

Alexandra bit her lips. “I was in her village when it happened.” She paused. “A coincidence.”

”A coincidence,” Arame said.

”A pack of Duskmaws came through the village. One of them was blessed.” Alexandra paused. ”By the Yshant.”

The room was very still.

”You saw this.”

”I fought it.”

Arame looked at her for a long moment. Then she reached for a fresh sheet of parchment and began to write. ”Then I have to assume all the villages met the same fate.” She didn’t stop writing. ”Where is Apple now?”

”I don’t know. We won the battle. Killed the beast. She was fine, tending to the survivors.”

Arame set down the quill and sanded the parchment. ”Then I’ll assume the worst.” She folded the sheet. ”You should leave Esmera, Miss Alexandra. The next boat departs today. I’d be on it.”

”I’m not leaving.”

”The Hands will.” Arame set the folded sheet to one side. ”Every one I have left in this region. So not many. I won’t keep them here to die.”

”You’re abandoning the city.”

”I’m preserving what I have left to preserve.” She met Alexandra’s eyes. ”I will naturally forward a letter to the actual Wardens, not the fools ruling this town. Act carefully, Alexandra, Yshants are powerful beasts, but they don’t coordinate like that. Something is afoot, and neither I nor you have the power to stop it.”

”I can handle myself.”

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”I have to disagree. With all due respect.” She shook her head. “If not the Yshant, the Wardens who’ll come to restore order will get you. Don’t forget the situation you’re in. Just because the Saint has chosen not to be involved doesn’t mean the other heroes won’t act.”

Alexandra rolled her eyes. “And if not them, their subordinates. I know.”

“It’s your choice,” Arame said. She closed her eyes. “Bamir already warned you.”

Silence.

“He was a nice man. Too nice to climb up the ranks,” she continued. “But I digress.” She stood up from her desk, and walked to a cabinet against the far wall. It was tall and narrow, every inch of it divided into small drawers, each one labeled. Arame ran her fingers along a row near the middle, reading the labels, then pulled one open and removed a small glass vial. The liquid inside was dark, nearly black, with a faint reddish cast when the light caught it.

She held it out.

Alexandra took it.

”For the mana sickness. Drink it after a meal. Sit down when you do it. You’ll feel it move through you and it isn’t pleasant, but it won’t last long.” She turned back toward her desk. ”I have to insist on the meal. It doesn’t mesh well with an empty stomach.”

Alexandra turned the vial over in her fingers. ”Thank you.”

”Leave the coins behind.” Arame sat down and drew the stack of documents back toward her.

“I got my second sickness defending Apple’s village from the beasts. She was going to request compensation for me.”

Arame looked at her. “Apple is now presumed dead. I have a great deal to prepare, Miss Alexandra, and very little time. You know the way out.”

She had already picked up the quill before Alexandra reached the door.

Five gold coins. What a rip off. At least it wasn’t her own that she spent. I guess I can’t complain about the compensation.

The idea that the people she’d helped not long ago were dead anyway didn’t sit right with her. But she’d seen what happened in Lanterne, and nothing stopped more beasts from attacking the already weakened village.

She walked down the street to the harbor. She stopped by a stall where a woman stirred something in a clay pot suspended over a brazier. Fish soup by the smell of it. Alexandra sat at the stall, bought a bowl and a heel of bread. The soup was good. Saltier than she’d have liked.

Sera dropped onto the bench beside her.

”That looks acceptable,” the Katori woman said, and flagged down the seller without waiting for a response. She ordered the same.

”How did it go?” she asked.

”She couldn’t help with the sickness of empathy.”

Sera accepted her bowl from the seller and blew across the surface. ”I’d have been surprised if she could.”

”You knew?”

”It’s an obscure curse.” She broke her bread in half and dipped it in her bowl. “I wouldn’t expect a provincial Hand to know about it.”

Sera ate without pressing further. Alexandra glanced toward the soup seller, who was ladling out a bowl for a merchant two stalls down.

”You can speak,” Sera said, without looking at her. ”She won’t hear us.”

Alexandra looked at her.

”She won’t,” Sera repeated. “Not if I don’t want her to.”

Alexandra lowered her voice anyway. ”Arame is pulling her Hands out. All of them, whatever she has left in Esmera. And she’s sending word to the real Wardens.”

Sera was quiet for a moment. She tore a piece of bread and soaked it in the broth. ”That tracks.”

”You don’t seem concerned.”

”I’m concerned. Not surprised that she made the connection.” She set the bowl on her knee. ”Merinus and the Yshant. That’s not natural behavior, and the temple of Fanon has been around long enough to know that.” She ate the bread. ”They can’t stop it. So they’re removing their people and handing it to those in charge of Baleria.”

”And when the Wardens come—”

”They’ll move fast.” Sera finally looked at her. ”That’s the problem. The moment that letter reaches them, the clock starts. Real Wardens. They’ll want answers.” A pause. ”They’ll see you.”

Alexandra looked down at the vial in her coat pocket, the faint outline of it visible through the fabric.

”How long do we have?”

Sera glanced at the sky, as if calculating. “Merinus will accelerate once he notices they’re leaving.” She picked up her bowl again. ”Not long. Finish your soup.”

They left the stall when the soup was gone. Sera walked half a step ahead, hands in her coat pockets, and didn’t seem to feel the need to fill the silence. Alexandra didn’t either.

The harbor end of the street was busier than the market had been. Dockhands moved crates faster than usual. There was only one merchant boat on the docks, the one Arame told her to board.

They cut inland, moving through the side streets to avoid unwanted attention.

”The Hands,” Alexandra said. ”How many do you think she actually has left here?”

”Half-a-dozen.” Sera didn’t turn around. ”That’s what towns the size of Esmera get.”

They walked back to the hideout in silence. Sera pulled the trap door open and went in first. Alexandra sat on the edge of the bed, took the vial out of her pocket, and looked at it.

”Go on,” Sera said.

Alexandra pulled the stopper and drank it in one go.

Sour. It tasted like medicine, the kind that lingers in your throat for a while. For a moment, nothing happened. Then it hit her stomach like a coal pulled from a fire. She set the vial down on the bed and put both hands on her knee.

The heat moved up through her sternum, into her throat, behind her eyes. She could feel her blood pump through her limbs.

She breathed in.

Something slammed on her chest. Her lungs emptied. Then again. And again.

Her eyes met Sera’s. “That’s perfectly normal. Just endure.”

It was like a battering ram was shattering her insides. Again and again.

Until it broke through, and she felt a small stream trickle from somewhere deep.

Her mana.

It was back. There wasn’t much yet, but it was back.

”Better?” Sera asked.

”Yeah.” Alexandra picked up the empty vial and set it on the desk. “Yeah, that’s better.”

“Good.” Sera stood up and pushed the trap door leading out of the city open. “Let’s change that.”

“Excuse me?”

The Keeper flashed her a smile. “You still have sickness of empathy. Training Dark Bolt is going to suck.” She gestured at Alexandra. “Come on. Let’s go. I also have to teach you how to use your mana.”

Alexandra stood up.

To think I took Adventuring Party for him. Louis, you better pay me back in full.