Chapter Twenty
She saw one of her puppets sobbing, her skin tinged green. She went over to the woman and put her arms around her as the woman rocked back and forth.
“I-i-i-i-i feel it trying to eat my skin, it’s poisoning me,” the woman wailed.
Dahlia held her, stroked her skin, “You were so brave and it isn’t fair that you have to suffer, let me take the pain for you.”
The woman looked at her, “You would do that for me?”
“Yes, of course.”
“But won’t it hurt you?”
“Only for a little while.”
“Ok…” her voice wavered.
The woman vanished and Dahlia felt the cold chills and sweat pour down her again, just as she had when she’d controlled the sickened blood. The poison tore at her skin. This time she didn’t fight it, she let it hurt. She had chosen to hurt herself to save the men and women that depended on her to protect them and this was the manifestation of that choice, this was the price. She held herself and shook until she thought she would die.
She heard herself sobbing distantly but she endured until finally the pain receded. The sickness left her and she felt a hand on her shoulder. She looked up to see the same woman crouched in front of her.
“Thank you,” the woman said and then walked away.
Dahlia watched that part of her psyche go. Then she stood up slowly and walked the opposite direction. She felt something calling to her there.
Soon Dahlia came to a dark pool she’d never seen before. She smelled blood and fear. A woman who looked almost exactly like her sat at the edge, splashing her feet in the water. She was dressed in ragged clothes with Dahlia’s jet axes on her hips. Her hair hung in her face and she chewed her lip. Her hair was a more vivid shade than Dahlia’s and her exposed canine was unusually pointed.
Dahlia sat down next to her and touched her hand. The woman jerked back.
“Don’t touch me,” the woman snapped, long canines showing in a snarl.
“That might be hard. You are a part of me.”
“The part you despise.”
“I don’t despise you. How could I despise a part of myself?”
“So many people do,” the woman responded bitterly.
“Why do you think I despise you?” Dahlia asked, steeling herself again.
“You hate what I feel. I love power and everything that comes with it. Destruction of our enemies, domination over anyone who would challenge or threaten us. What you term darkness is my heart.” The woman kicked at the water. Dahlia saw pain and rejection in every line of the woman’s body. She was quiet for a moment as she struggled with her response
“I don’t hate it. What I feel is fear.” Dahlia finally admitted. Not just to the woman, but to herself as well. She truly didn’t hate it. She’d loved it. The allure still called to her so strongly that she had to hold herself back.
“So you are afraid of me?” The woman seemed curious now.
“I am afraid of what I could become. I don’t want to become like the first Puppet Master. I don’t want to be cruel.”
“So you do not trust me? You think me cruel?”
“You revel in destruction, power, and blood. It scares me to think how close that is to cruelty.”
“And yet you accept the strength it gives you. I cannot offer you strength without the desire for power. And yes, the desire to fight. If you do not want to fight then go follow the path of your old master.”
Dahlia looked down, “I can’t. I feel like I should but I can’t. I felt more alive than ever last night. I can’t find it in me to give that up. I feel like the desire would burn me up from the inside out.”
“Then accept what I offer and swim with me.”
Dahlia looked at the dark pool and braced herself, “Ok.”
The woman grinned and grabbed Dahlia’s hand, pulling her into the pool. Dahlia felt herself immersed in the exhilaration of a fight, the rush of power that came from domination over an opponent. She resisted for a moment but felt the other woman’s hand tighten around hers. She reminded herself that she had chosen this and let herself sink and open to the inundation of experiences. She felt the thrill from the night before returning, she felt her senses sharpen and the relief wash over her. She accepted this part of her and prayed what she had just released wouldn’t consume her.
She came back from the trance to find her face wet from sweat and tears. She was glad she’d opted to work on healing before sleep, she didn’t realize just how badly the sickened blood had hurt her. The lingering sickness had gone. She felt stronger. Despite her remaining hesitation, she had had to be honest with herself. She was a warrior, a fighter, it was part of her and she had to accept the brutality and feral part of that along with the bravery and willingness to sacrifice. The strength the woman by the pool had offered her had been welcome and Dahlia had accepted despite the cost.
Dahlia could now sense the woman as a manifestation of a portion of her psyche. Her odd ability to create what had been called “puppets” stemmed from her ability to enter her own mind and manifest the different aspects of her personality. She’d found that when she had a deep internal conflict or experienced deep psychological pain she sometimes found a new aspect of herself. She was able to call on these manifestations physically for aid. They closely replicated her appearance and physical abilities and, as she deepened her own strength and abilities, they become closer and closer to replicating her strength. She called them as little as possible. Manifesting them came with all sorts of consequences. Mostly she didn’t want to draw attention to that ability though. People found her unsettling enough without them knowing that she summoned women who were products of her own mind.
She cupped water in her hands and splashed it over her face then stretched wearily, ready for the nap she’d promised herself. She pulled herself out of the tub, allowing it to drain as she pulled on a light wrap and fell into bed. She dropped immediately into a thankfully dreamless sleep.
She slept heavily until she was awoken by a gentle tapping on her door. Evening had fallen outside. She lifted herself out of bed, feeling groggy but otherwise recovered. She found her robe and pulled it tightly around her then removed the chair she’d used to bar the door. She slid it open to find a woman with a middle-aged, motherly appearance holding a teapot.
“Dr. Nallia, please come in.”
“Hello Captain DeMorra. I won’t stay long, I heard you might need some of my medicinal tea.”
Dahlia smiled warmly, “It would be most welcome, thank you.”
Nallia strode in and placed the heavy teapot on the table. She then busied herself locating a clean cup. Dahlia collected the chair, closed the door, and took a seat at the table. Nallia, successful in her search, sat across from her, poured the tea, and sweetened it with honey.
Dahlia blew on it and took a delicate sip of the hot beverage. Her eyes opened wider. It was the same brew Kenny had brought her but the bitterness was gone.
“It’s wonderful with the honey!”
Nallia looked smug, “Ravin thinks I don’t know what he does to my tea. He ruins it. The honey is essential to balance the acrid ingredients. I take it you’ve had a bit of his.”
Dahlia nodded, not eager to go into details. She changed the subject.
“Thank you, again. May I ask how Captain Lenoi is faring?”
Nallia’s brows furrowed. “She is healing but that was a psychic beating she endured. It will take more than my tea to have her set to rights.”
“It’s a pity we were only able to save the one, and he was exceedingly damaged.”
“Yes it is a pity, but neither she nor you knew that at the time and you were willing to step up and risk yourselves in hopes of recovering information. Do not take that away for her or yourself.”
Dahlia was quiet for a moment as she blew again on the tea, “Thank you, Dr. Nallia.”
“You are welcome, but it’s simply the truth,” she replied briskly. “Now, I have patients to see, I only wanted to bring the tea myself and be assured that you were alright. Recent events have not been easy on you.”
The woman rose and made for the door but paused with her hand on the handle.
“You didn’t hear this from me, but the abducted team member your barrack recovered has vanished. Ravin and Horan were assigned to track him down.” Then Nallia slid the door open and left.
Dahlia sipped the tea and thought. That the man was missing was extremely vexing and very odd. He had been detailed with a guard, how could he have simply vanished? And what about it made Nallia inclined to tell her? If she had merely wanted to give Dahlia the tea and check on her it would have made just as much sense to send an assistant. Unless it had been a cover and speaking to Dahlia had been the main purpose of her visit.
She turned it over and over in her head then decided to let it rest. If Nallia had needed anything immediate then she would have found a way to tell her. Dahlia now had the information and that would be enough for the moment.
She turned her mind to her next steps. She was confident in Sabir’s ability to manage her barrack without her for the day, she could catch up with him in the morning. Her time would be best spent, she reasoned, working on something to counteract the sick, green energy she had encountered twice already. She did not want to face another incident like the one that morning unprepared. It was reasonable to assume that this wasn’t over and if she’d already seen it twice…
“Fool me thrice, shame on me,” she muttered, possibly misquoting the aphorism.
She finished the cup of tea and placed the pitcher in her large cooling jar. Another useful product of Rezzi’s training. She’d reasoned that if he could put heat in one thing then he could pull heat out of another. As a result, she had a large jar that radiated heat, making the inside cool. He’d had yet to control it enough to use it as a weapon but she thought with a couple more years of practice the dualism of his ability would fully manifest and prove a devastating set of weapons. In the meantime she could keep things cool.
She wondered how she could bribe Nallia for a larger supply of the brew. It worked wonders on her overtaxed psyche and with the honey rather than the alcohol the taste was quite pleasant.
She left her room and went to her office. She had a small garden walled in behind it that she often used for work. The calm energy there supported her while the contact with the earth grounded her.
She knelt down in the grass and brought up her memories of the sick energy. After dealing with the lingering results, she could now examine it without any revulsion or pain. It was only a memory that she could hold and examine, detached from the experience.
Her first instinct was still the strongest. The energy had a property to infect and either sicken or dissolve but it was not malicious, taking no pleasure in the pain it caused. It was neutral, it was simply created to consume. She’d been lucky. Had it been created with the intention of causing pain she might not have been able to turn it back on itself.
Satisfied, she settled on an expansion of the strategy she’d used to destroy the scythe. She would isolate the infection then turn it on itself with a slight manipulation of its purpose. Why waste the strength forcing something when a gentle nudge would suffice?
She took off two of the plain, silver bands she wore on her fingers and began to wrap the energy of isolation and redirection into each. With time, peace, and no pressure she was able to create a tool that was subtle and precise with minimal effort. She wrapped two uses around each band then sealed them so they would give off no hint of their use. She slipped the rings back on, placed her left hand on the ground, and released any fragments of energy that had built up during her work.
Then she slipped off the band on her right index finger. This one was a permanent construct she used to focus her aim when targeting a precise strike at someone’s psyche. It was one of her oldest and most stable constructs and she used it instinctually at this point. When she had manipulated Horan and when she had shot the soldier she had been using a small amount of very precise energy and had used the ring to help sharpen and aim it.
She quickly inspected the energy woven into the band and repaired any cracks or flaws that had appeared. When it was done she renewed the seal, grounded any stray bits of energy, and replaced that ring as well.
She returned to her room and returned to bed. While she wasn’t needed she might as well store up energy herself. She was drifting off when she again heard a soft knock on her door. She reached out and sensed Traedon’s presence.
“It’s not locked,” she called out. Not like she could lock it now. Thanks, Kenny.
He slid the door open then closed it behind him. He came over and sat back on his heels in front of the bed, entwining his fingers with hers.
“I didn’t mean to wake you, I came to see how you were after this morning.”
She smiled and curled the bottom of his mane around her fingertips.
“I’m fine now, been asleep half the day.”
He rose up and nuzzled against her neck, “Good. I didn’t even see what was in their heads and it was unsettling enough.”
She dropped the hand from his hair to run down his arm. “You can stay if you’d like.”
“Just ‘til dawn.” He lifted himself lightly over her and settled behind her back, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close. The gentle rise and fall of his chest soothed her back into sleep.
True to his word, he awoke at dawn and slid out of her bed. She propped herself up on one arm and watched him in the pale light. He prowled silently around to her and cupped the side of her face in his hand.
“I was trying to sneak out so I wouldn’t wake you again.”
“I slept enough yesterday.”
He leaned in and kissed her. Dahlia felt her heart tighten painfully as she kissed him sweetly but pulled away rather than deepening it. He was so gorgeous, red hair kissing the tattoos on his perfectly sculpted shoulders. She could feel the desire she’d had for this man but somehow the heat from the fire didn’t reach her lips. She ran her fingers through the ends of his hair, feigned a satisfied smile, and lay her head back down, gazing up at him as he slipped out of her room.
She was just stressed, she reassured herself, nothing had changed. She lay for a few moments longer then rose and pulled out more of Nallia’s tea. She sipped the cool brew and watched the dawn break outside her window. The strange night they’d chased the soldiers through the forest and the gruesome scene she’d found in their minds seemed like distant dreams, scoured away by the clean morning light.
When she’d finished her tea she sighed, pushed back her chair, and set about preparing to face the day, leaving the peace of the morning behind.