Morwyn lifted a small glass jar filled with a dried herb and peered at it intently. Since the past week of travel had been blessedly uneventful save for a handful of wagon repairs, several shallow river crossings, and a few tense encounters with leery frontier crews hauling ore and lumber back toward the Southlands, she'd made time after each nightfall to study the components within Hazel's extensive collection of medicines. She already knew most of the common ones but the halfling was insistent that she learn them all by heart if she were to be of use in a crisis. Morwyn took to the task with enthusiasm; she'd always enjoyed learning new things, especially if they were of practical application.
“Serrated leaves in clusters of three,” she mumbled to herself as she slowly turned the jar around in the steady light of the nearby lantern. She opened the jar, plucked a loose leaf from within, and rubbed it between her fingers. She held it to her nose and inhaled gently. “Green on top with a fuzzy purple underside. Smells of lavender and cinnamon...”
She mentally cursed the fact that Hazel had removed the labels from her jars but she understood the purpose of the exercise. There were any number of reasons that one wouldn't be able to read a label in an emergency. If she were to be of use she'd need to identify the herbs at a glance, touch, or scent. With a sigh of frustration, she turned to the page in her journal where she'd taken to keeping neat, tightly packed notes on the different herbs with accompanying illustrations.
“No cheating!” Hazel called to her. Morwyn looked over to see that the halfling's back was turned as she combined various ingredients for a new potion in her large wooden mortar. She rubbed the back of her neck ruefully and closed the journal, focusing again on the confounding herb.
“Green and purple... lavender and cinnamon...”
Morwyn closed her eyes and rubbed her temples in frustration. There were at least three other herbs that shared similar features but Hazel had made it clear that even a novice could be successful by correctly identifying a distinct combination of at least three in a single plant. It was the sum of the parts, not any individual trait, that truly mattered. At least until one had enough practice, it seemed. From the way Hazel worked, Morwyn thought the herbs might as well jump to attention and fly to her hand as she needed them. Her mastery of the craft was maddening yet equally impressive.
“Leaves of three, sawtooth tree...” Morwyn whispered the fragment of the rhyme that Hazel had taught her the previous night. “Cloak of green and royal trim, with lavender and cinnamon...”
Though she was sure that Eronir would critique the rhyming of trim with cinnamon, she hadn't dared to question it. The mnemonic device was effective enough as the answer suddenly sprang to mind. She carefully returned the dried leaf to its jar and replaced the lid before standing up with a satisfied smile.
“Merry Prince Delandrin,” she declared triumphantly. The tent was silent for a moment except for the grinding of Hazel's pestle. After a moment the halfling looked back over her shoulder and raised an eyebrow.
“Correct. Where is it found and what is it used for?”
Morwyn's enthusiasm wilted slightly and she wracked her brain for the answer. It had something to do with fevers, that much she remembered, but there was something else that made this particular herb important.
“It grows on the banks of still waters like ponds and lakes in warm climates. It reduces fevers, suppresses coughs, and...” She rubbed the back of her neck as her mind went blank. Hazel chuckled and held out a hand, accepting the jar when Morwyn walked over quickly to hand it to her.
“It can restore temporary damage to the eyes from bright light,” the halfling finished with a chuckle. “I'll give that one to you, you got most of it.”
Morwyn sighed with relief and cracked her stiff neck before stretching her arms above her head, keeping them bent at the elbows to avoid hitting the ceiling of the tent. She rubbed her eyes which were sore from staring at numerous plants in the dim lantern light.
“That's the last one for the night, right? If so, I'd like to go stretch and warm up before taking the first watch.”
Hazel set down the jar of Delandrin beside her mortar and laid the pestle carefully beside it before brushing her hands off on her floral apron. She turned and appraised Morwyn with a critical eye and tapped one finger against her lips as she thought. Morwyn knew by now this was not an exaggeration or for show; when it came to the healer's craft, everything Hazel did was with strict intent. Eventually she nodded to herself and her austere expression softened into her typical cheery smile.
“I suppose that aught to do it for tonight, you've done well. I'm impressed with how quickly you've picked it up! If every healer put as much dedication into their study, I'd be out of a job.”
Morwyn grinned and folded her arms across her chest with satisfaction. Hazel's praise was not idle nor was it given lightly.
“However,” Hazel said as she pressed a finger firmly against Morwyn's sternum, “you've still got much to learn. Don't go getting a big head about it.”
As much as she wanted to roll her eyes, Morwyn knew the other woman was deadly serious and with good reason. A mistake borne from carelessness overconfidence could be painful or even fatal in medicine, much the same as it was in her profession. Morwyn's smile dimmed slightly but she was still pleased with her progress thus far.
“I'll take that to heart,” she said earnestly. Hazel gave an approving nod and took one of Morwyn's hands in both of her own.
“Alright, business is concluded,” the halfling said with a wink.
Morwyn bent down and placed her free hand on Hazel's cheek.
“Time for pleasure,” she whispered back, finishing the code they'd worked out to keep a strict separation of work from personal matters. She gave Hazel a delicate kiss, not as deep and breathtaking as their first, but tender all the same. Warmth blossomed within in her chest as it had the several times their lips had met since that first terrifying, wonderful contact.
Though she still felt a stilted awkwardness at allowing herself to express affection, the motion came more easily now than in the first few days. She was no stranger to intimate acts but for years she'd rarely seen her partners again after a night of fleeting passion. Hazel had been patient and understanding of her hesitance, particularly after Morwyn had explained her separation from Heather in the briefest of detail. In that new space, that soft and safe haven she'd found in Hazel's arms, she was beginning to remember what it was like to be a smitten young woman again.
Morwyn had allowed herself brief moments to forget the pressures of her work but couldn't afford to lose her focus entirely or be distracted by her newfound infatuation. Either of them could be called to action at a moment's notice so they'd been sparing with such moments. Rather than making her yearn for more, Morwyn found that the structure helped her ease into their new circumstance. Between that and their agreement to refrain from intimate contact until they were both ready, Morwyn's fears had begun to ever so slowly abate.
It helped that Hazel was particularly adamant about putting their personal connection aside when it came to teaching the healer's arts. When she put on the mantle of the teacher she was as stern an instructor as Morwyn had ever met.
When their lips parted, Hazel gave her another quick peck on the nose and shooed her off to don her equipment in preparation for her night watch. Several minutes later Morwyn stepped out through the flaps of the tent and began her routine of stretches to warm her stiff limbs for her patrol.
“Thought you'd be in there all night,” came a gravely voice from the moon-shadow cast by Hazel's wagon. Morwyn flinched and her hand flew to the hilt of her sword. She let out an exasperated sigh as Argoth stepped from the shadows with a knowing grin. Morwyn had expected him and Eronir to tire of their teasing regarding Hazel after the first few days, but she'd discovered to her horror that they seemed to enjoy it more with every passing day. She thought it was an odd thing for the stoic defenders of the caravan to fixate upon but at least Trux hadn't joined in on their fun. The dwarf had remained quietly supportive, even admonishing the men when they jested at her expense.
“I swear to the gods, Argoth, one of these days you're going to give me a heart attack,” Morwyn growled, though with good humor. “I thought I was hired for defense, not entertainment.”
Argoth looked hurt by the accusation.
“Hey now, you've got your fun, I've got mine. Gotta have somethin' to keep me sane with how damned safe everythin' has been.” Despite the orc's constant complaints about the lack of action, there was an uneasy consensus amongst the caravan that such fortune could not last. Even as the threat of the rogue mage had begun to fade from their minds, a sense of impending danger hung over the wagon train like a storm cloud that could unleash its fury at a moment's notice.
“Alright, alright. How was your watch? All quiet?” Morwyn asked as she resumed her stretches.
“For now,” Argoth replied, his smile returning. His eye glinted red in the moonlight. “Change of plans for tonight. Eronir's coverin' your watch on top of his own. You're comin' with me.”
Morwyn froze for a moment and stood from stooping to reach for her toes.
“Trouble?” she asked, her body tensing as she glanced to him with concern. Argoth grumbled a quiet laugh and cracked his knuckles before tucking his thumbs into his sash.
“Remains to be seen. We're gonna get some trainin' in tonight.”
***
Morwyn adjusted her grip on the hilt of the new sword that Argoth had borrowed from Gildur for their training session and gave it a few experimental swings to judge its movement. It was a bit shorter than her own and also lighter, though the balance was excellent. Satisfied, she looked up just as Argoth flexed one massive hand and his black blade coalesced from the shadows. Though the moon was only a week past full, the night the sky was overcast and both the orc and his weapon seemed to fade in and out in the uncertain light on the high prairie. Lightning flashed in the distance and she counted three seconds before the thunderclap boomed out across the plains.
Argoth swept his falchion out to the side with one hand as he gave a brief bow, which Morwyn returned in kind.
“Before I have you try your magic I need to show you something,” Argoth said, gesturing casually to her sword with his own. “Give me an overhand cut. And before you think of holdin' back, just know that I will not do the same. I want you to try and kill me. Understand?”
Morwyn nodded and took a deep breath as she focused on the orc's massive body rather than his blade. If anyone else had made such a request she would've thought them insane, but she'd seen the man fight and knew he was the superior swordsman. Beyond that she could never hope to match his sheer bulk and ferocity. His request made her worry more for her own safety than his, but she also trusted his judgment.
She took several quick steps to the left and right, testing to see if he would react, but he remained completely still in a high guard. His face was a mask of unnerving calmness even as her blade flashed forward toward his neck. Argoth parried the blow easily but in a way she didn't expect- rather than using the flat of his blade, his sword met hers edge to edge. Her arms vibrated from the impact but her sword didn't immediately rebound. Argoth rotated his arms to disengage their weapons and stepped to the side, lowering his guard as Morwyn shook out her wrists and inspected her blade.
Where his sword had intercepted hers it wasn't simply notched or dented, there was a void that cut nearly to the fuller. Morwyn's eyes widened with shock and curiosity; she'd seen his blade slice easily through armor but had attributed that to the orc's impressive strength at the time. Now that she saw what it could do by simply parrying her own attack, she was once again grateful that they were companions rather than foes.
“I see why you borrowed a sword for this,” she said in amazement, noting that Argoth's weapon was completely unscathed by the exchange. “Though I doubt Gildur will be thrilled with the condition of its return.”
“He ain't gonna want that one back when we're done. I'll pay him for it, don't worry.”
Argoth stepped forward and slapped his palm against the flat of her blade, causing it to flex back and forth and jarring her wrists. He held up one finger and pointed at her face to drive his point home.
“Here's the first lesson. No matter how well made, weapons and armor that don't have magic cannot compare with those that do. Had this sword been enchanted there wouldn't be a mark on the blade, at least from that parry. Couldn't say the same would be true if I was swingin' at you. The point is that weapons made of magic, or weapons with magic properties, interact differently than you're used to. They're more durable by a mile, so it changes how you fight with them and how you fight against them. Make sense?”
“I think I do,” Morwyn said as she held the blade up to inspect the damage more closely. The cut was so clean that it looked to have been done by the smith himself during the forging. “Magic doesn't simply give one an advantage, it changes the entire fight. I expected my blade to deflect but it was bound firmly instead, that's a nightmare for a swordsman. I imagine that two magical weapons might behave more similarly to what I'm used to, their durability balancing each other out.”
Argoth's calm facade cracked slightly as an approving smile tugged at one corner of his mouth.
“Exactly right, that's the first lesson. The next is to consider all the nasty things a magic weapon can do when it hits flesh.”
He took several steps back to give himself some room and dismissed his shadow weapon, calling another to his hand a moment later. This time the black blade was wreathed in bright orange flames that illuminated the dark grassland for a short distance around him like a lethal torch, giving the already menacing orc an even more intimidating aura. When that sword melted into the darkness as well, the one that took its place crackled and hummed with streaks of reddish purple lightning that wound around its length like writhing snakes. Morwyn's jaw dropped and her eyes went as wide as saucers as she watched the display. Argoth chuckled and he returned to the plain black blade with which he'd started.
“Nothin' around to demonstrate that on tonight, but you get the idea. A man or beast might be able to take a few wounds and keep fightin' before they bleed out, but if you catch 'em on fire that tends to finish things real quick.”
“How often can you do that?” Morwyn asked, gesturing to Argoth's sword. “And long can you keep it up? I haven't really put mine to the test, but I can only call on it for a short time.”
The orc rubbed his chin thoughtfully for a moment then simply shrugged.
“Haven't thought about that in a long while... best way I can explain it is that it's like a muscle, to me anyway. The more I used it the stronger it became. It's second nature to me now and I can use it as often as I like for as long as I choose. Perhaps that's different from yours but we won't know til we find out, so let's not put it off any longer. Show me what you've got.”
Morwyn gave him a nod and turned her attention inward to the ever-present knot of cold within her center. It seemed to perk up as she reached for it and this time it required no coaxing to flow forth. The now familiar chill rushed down her arms and along the blade as before but it felt eager to do so in a way that made her uneasy. It was as if the well were overfilled and begged for a release of pressure. She gave Argoth a worried glance but saw that his eye was fixated on the azure blade and he bore a grin of wicked anticipation.
“Oh, I like that,” he growled. “This is gonna be fun.”
She had no time to respond as he lunged forward and slammed his weapon sideways against her hers toward the tip, nearly wrenching it from her grasp. The report of the swords colliding sounded like a mixture between a screeching wail and the crack of glacial ice breaking off and crashing into the sea. Morwyn stumbled to the side but caught her footing and instinctively retaliated with a side cut aimed at Argoth's middle. He batted the attack aside with ease but stepped back rather than pushing forward, spreading his hands wide in a magnanimous gesture as he began to circle to her left.
Quickly concluding that it was time for action rather than words, Morwyn didn't hesitate as she pressed the attack. Their blades clashed again and again with resounding cracks that mirrored the thunder in the distance. She could tell that despite his earlier words Argoth was holding back, fighting mostly in a defensive manner with the occasional strike of his own, deliberately avoiding overpowering her with raw force as they paced out their deadly dance in the darkness.
Swept up in the heat of the exchange, Morwyn grew increasingly frustrated by the fact that none of her blows seemed remotely close to landing. Though she didn't want to actually hurt him it incensed her that the orc's void black blade met hers with consummate ease regardless of her angle of attack. She flowed easily from one form into the next, her muscles remembering their decades of training even as they began a natural bond to the frost that flowed from her core, but Argoth's defense was impenetrable.
An intrusive thought sprang into her mind as she parried a lethal thrust and she acted on it without time to consider. Before Argoth could recover from his lunge, she stepped sideways and brought her blade down against the spine of his with all her might, pouring forth a burst of energy into the swing rather than the steady stream of power she'd been struggling to keep in balance. Argoth grunted as the impact sent tremors up his arms and a fraction of a second later his weapon shattered with a boom that shook them both.
Smoking black shards burst through the air and whizzed off into the darkness. The pair of combatants froze in place, their chests heaving for breath as they took in what had happened. Morwyn smiled in grim satisfaction and the high of battle danced in her eyes as she slowly turned to look at Argoth. The orc grinned like a child about to receive their favorite treat as he stared at the broken sword in his hands before reaching up to his face and pulling a long splinter of black shadow out of his cheek. He held it up to inspect for a few seconds before dismissing the broken sword and immediately calling another in its place, unfazed as usual by the pain of the bloody wound.
“That's never happened before,” he huffed between breaths. “I came out here to teach you, seems you taught me somethin' as well. Do that again!”
For the next three or so minutes their combat evolved as Morwyn grew increasingly confident in her ability to maintain the steady stream of frost while giving it the occasional burst of additional power. When her timing was just right she managed to replicate her earlier feat and broke his shadow weapon half a dozen more times. Argoth adapted to the newfound threat as he learned to anticipate it and adjusted his movements accordingly to avoid the whistling tip of her dark blue blade as it passed through his own. Though this novel form of combat gave Morwyn a slight edge in their swordplay for the first time, Argoth moved with far more grace than seemed possible given his massive form and he outmaneuvered even her fastest blows. It was satisfying to have him work for it rather than putting up an effortless defense, at the very least.
When she could feel the well of power within her approach its limit, Morwyn emptied it in one final explosive burst as she swung a final side cut into Argoth's weapon. As her blade passed through his she noticed his rear foot slip backward on the dew-covered grass. He instinctively shifted his weight onto his front leg, leaving him unable to step back out of the path of her sword. She had no time to pull the blow and her mouth began to open in a panicked shout.
Just as she felt her sword bite into the metal of the blackened steel armor that covered his midsection, Argoth disappeared in an explosion of black mist and was gone.
Morwyn stood frozen in shock, mouth agape in uncomprehending horror as she desperately looked for any sign of the orc. The ice on her blade cracked and fell away, her power spent. Her pulse roared in her ears and she couldn't seem to catch her breath no matter how much her lungs heaved. A handful of eternal seconds passed with no sign of what had happened.
She was on the verge of collapsing in a fit of panic when she saw a familiar hulking form materialize out of the darkness a few feet from where Argoth had been standing a moment before. All the air left her body with an overwhelming sigh of relief as the orc walked forward to stand in front of her. He bent over with his hands on his thighs, a wild grin still on his face as he panted for breath.
“I'm sorry, I didn't... mean to do that,” Morwyn said shakily. “But what in the name of all the gods just happened?”
“I told you to try and kill me,” Argoth replied, still smiling as he stretched back to his full height and rolled his shoulders. There was a deep gouge in his armor where her attack had landed but thankfully it hadn't cut through the metal to the flesh beneath. “Didn't think you'd get so close. Had to jump to the Shadow Plane to avoid that last one. It's not an ability I like to advertise though, so I'd appreciate a bit of discretion.”
Exhausted from the combination of the late hour, their physical exertion, and the draining of her power, Morwyn closed her eyes and fought off a sudden wave of nausea with several deep breaths. She wiped away the sweat that clung to her brow and swept back the loose strands of hair that had escaped from her braid during the fight.
“No problem boss, my lips are sealed. Thank you for taking the risk to train me, I didn't realize just how much of a risk it would be.”
“Neither did I,” Argoth replied with a chuckle. “But in the end there was no harm done, and we both learned from it.”
Morwyn could hear the pride in his voice, which dulled the lingering worry of how close she'd come to gutting the man. She studied the edge of the sword in her hand, noting that there were several more nicks in the blade but nothing nearly as substantial as the first.
“True enough. I'm starting to get a grasp on directing the flow of the magic, and it lasted quite a bit longer than before,” Morwyn said, her brows drawing together in a slight frown. “I'm just worried that it could get out of my control. It wants to be let out... and I want to let it out.”
Argoth paused to light a pair of smokes as he pondered his reply. When her breathing evened out Morwyn gratefully accepted one and took a long drag of the fragrant herbs to steady her nerves.
“I certainly know that feeling,” the orc murmured. “But I tell you what, the route east is long. We've got plenty of time to train and plenty of cause to use it for real. If you lose control with me, well, I can handle it as you've seen. If you lose control against an enemy, I hope they've made their peace with the gods. What you've got in you is somethin' special. I pray I'm never on the wrong end of it.”
“Likewise,” Morwyn said with a tired laugh. “Now if you don't mind, I'd like to wash up and get some rest before I fall flat on my face.”