Realm Leaper, page 2
Raphael and Meliza headed toward the end of the table. Gavin glanced back at the pair before turning his attention back to the girl. She was so small. He couldn’t imagine what could have caused something like this. How she could have survived. He stared at her face, this impossible creature, waiting for her to surge back off the table as Raphael shoved her bone back into her leg before using his powers to help heal the tissues and sinew, stopping the bleeding. He knew Raphael could fix this; had seen him fix worse injuries with fewer advantages in the final battle with King Rankor. Gavin had only been fifteen then. A babe in the eyes of the fae.
Gavin glared at the girl. Willing her heart to beat strong, for breath to fill her lungs.
“Gavin,” muttered Zeke, as a breeze fluttered the wrappings on Raphael’s medical cart.
“Sorry,” replied Gavin.
Gavin had always struggled to manage his wind power in stressful situations. Gavin prided himself in being in total control, however, his connection with the wind was less controlled. The wind was his brother, had sung to him during the darkest nights as a boy. The wind had led him into battle, shielded him. But now was not the time for a raucous wind to bellow through the tower.
“Symon, ease up a little. I fear the numbing may be dimming her will,” Raphael said.
Her eyes began fluttering, but not with consciousness. Raphael rushed towards her head, pushing Symon and Gavin out of the way, while Meliza continued wrapping the injured ankle, the skin already beginning to heal.
Raphael placed his hands on the girl’s chest, light glowing beneath his palms.
“There is some internal bleeding. Gavin, keep air moving through her lungs. Symon, manage her pain. I will try to locate the damage and repair what I can,” Raphael glanced at her face and shook his head, clearly confused as to what could have brought her to him.
Gavin noticed it then. The stark differences between her and them. As fae, everyone in the room exhibited extreme physiques. Muscular, well-built bodies, honed for predatory lethalness. Each warrior, and healer, had the tell-tale fae tipped ears. And then there was her. She looked every bit the mortal of lands across the sea. Panchaia, the continent they were on now, was home to the fae, while Meropoli was home to the mortals, humans. Those without access to natural powers.
Gavin focused his energy on her breathing. Trying not to force air too quickly into her while Raphael worked to repair the damage inside. It seemed eternity stretched in front of Gavin while Raphael worked.
At last, Sage’s heartbeat steadied, her breathing stabilized on its own. Her face relaxed slightly and Gavin felt a moment of relief as Raphael turned and said, “That should do it. She is out of immediate danger. Meliza, Gavin, you can go. Zeke, Symon, a word. And then I will see to these burns.”
Gavin released his grip on her arms, preparing to leave.
“My dear, what have you done,” whispered Raphael into the strange girl’s ears, checking her burns and lacerations. Gavin had to physically force energy into his legs as he headed for the open door of Raphael’s ward. All of Gavin’s training was poured into not looking back to that strange girl lying on the table as he left her to Raphael.
He couldn’t wrap his mind around why she was here, or how she’d gotten inside a fireball. Her clothes didn’t look like those from Meropoli. Instead of a tunic and breeches or a chiton, she wore coarse blue pants and a striped yellow shirt, cut tight to her body.
And her pack. Not made of homespun, or leather. Something different. Something pliant and… different. Canvas maybe? With straps and extra pockets designed for long and efficient purposes. Completely different from the simple, homemade packs typical of the people of Meropoli. Who was this girl, and where had she come from?
Gavin reached the door, and despite his best efforts, he lingered, looking back at the girl. At her apposing stubborn will and diminutive fragility as she slept under Symon’s influence.
Meliza cleared her throat, standing just behind him in the door frame. She gently placed her hand on his shoulder, steering him away from the medical ward. There was nothing left for them to do. Gavin headed up to his room to try and gather himself, and pray to the Goddess for answers.
2
✧✦✧
She awoke.
Her mouth felt like it was full of gauze. Hot. And dry. She tried to swallow and grimaced at the thickness of the saliva pooled near the back of her throat.
She pushed herself up onto pillows, arms trembling.
Pillows? She was in a bed. She couldn’t remember the last time she was in a bed. She couldn't remember…anything.
“Did you sleep well?” a quiet, husky voice asked.
Her head snapped to the direction of the voice, too fast, and bright stars popped before her eyes. She blinked rapidly, trying to adjust her sight as the room she lay in came into focus. Soft blue walls surrounded her, accompanied by full-length windows bright with sunlight on the far wall. The room was pleasantly furnished but felt foreign and strange. Like wearing the skin of someone else.
Goosebumps prickled her arms as she noticed the two figures sitting near her bed.
Two fierce-looking women sat in wingback chairs, mere feet from her. One woman wore coral red, the color of hot steel, and the other wore cold steel gray. Two opposites of the same coin. One radiant with warmth and fire, the other cold with biting resilience.
Something about the clothing seemed off. The shape and texture of the draping material made her wonder if the women were in costume. The gray woman, with skin like cream and hair like a moonless, cloudy night, wore a chiton, swept up to her shoulders and pinned with dark metallic brooches. Meanwhile, the red woman, with bright blonde hair and dark olive skin, wore a similar gown. Except it wasn’t a gown, but a one-piece that ended with pants cuffed at the ankles. The fabric pooled around her relaxed legs along the seat, and she could make out the strength hidden beneath the soft swaths of fabric.
“She said: did you sleep. Well?” replied the gray woman, ice coating each word.
“I don’t know,” was all she could reply. “Where am I? Who are you?” she muttered as she sat up further on her pillows.
Her body ached. Welts and bruises twinged as she pushed herself into a sitting position. Her left leg throbbed, and she wondered what accident she’d been in to cause the spinning sensation behind her eyes. She squeezed her eyes closed before opening them and focusing once more on the women.
“My name is Meliza. This is Petra,” answered the red woman. “You are in Veritasailles. You are not in danger, but we do have some questions for you. What is your name, and where are you from?”
“I don’t know,” she replied.
“Where are you from?” snapped the woman named Petra.
“I don’t know,” she answered again, more urgently. Her hands gripped her sheets. Sweat began collecting along her palms as she took deep breaths. The realization that she could not remember who she was or where she came from clanged loudly through her mind.
Meliza glanced at her body, scanning for something before whispering to Petra, “She’s telling the truth,” then shifted forward in her chair, “Do you remember how you got here?”
She paused, and tried to remember. The panic was rising in her veins and she took several calming breaths, trying to remember something.
Falling. She was falling. She clenched her eyes shut as tears burned behind her lids. Her heart threatened to beat right out of her throat.
“I remember falling. I remember hitting the ground. I remember him holding me down, not letting them take me away,” she replied through pants. A tear slid down her cheek and she clenched her teeth to keep her chin from wobbling. Gods, she felt like a fool. “I don’t remember anything else.”
“Here,” said Petra, shoving something towards her clenched hands. “We found this in your pack.”
It was a small note on a piece of paper torn from something, and Petra laid it beside her on the bed. The paper was bright white, but wrinkled with stains as if it had traveled at the bottom of a pocket for a long time. A spidery script scrawled, “Sage- Hope this helps. G’luck.”
“Sage. My name is Sage?” she asked.
“Looks like it. Does it feel familiar?” inquired Meliza.
She contemplated the question, rolling the question around in her body, around her mind and soul.
Sage.
Sage.
It did feel familiar. Like a sweater she’d had for years and years, or a blanket atop her bed every night.
Sage.
That was who she was.
Sage nodded. “Yes. I think that’s my name. But I can’t remember anything else. How’d I get here?”
The tears she tried so hard to hold in began a slow trickle down her cheeks. She tried, tried and failed, to meet their eyes with steel, but there was tangible fear cascading through her body. She could taste the fear mixed with panic as nausea began to claw its way towards her throat. They could do anything with her. Still, she lifted her chin, refusing to show just how terrified she felt.
Petra’s eyes slid to Meliza, and Meliza nodded confirmation. Sage supposed she had somehow convinced the women she told the truth, despite having no reasons to be untruthful.
Meliza began to stand and announced, “I know this is very difficult for you, but we have the best healer in the city here. He will visit you later and see to your injuries as they continue to heal. Perhaps he can help with your memory loss.”
Leaning back against the pillows, Sage opened her mouth to ask where she was, but Meliza held up her hand to quiet Sage. “I will see that your pack is delivered to you soon. You should rest. If you need assistance, rest assured you are welcome to stay here until you have an idea of where you need to go.”
“If you remember anything, you should tell my sister,” quipped Petra who stood as well, glaring at Sage.
Apparently, Sage was not to be trusted, even with Meliza’s approval. Sage took the brunt of Petra’s stare and willed herself to return the sentiment.
With a soft click of the door, the two women exited the room and Sage sank into her bed again, letting herself succumb to bone-deep weariness and despair.
Minutes, perhaps hours, passed before the tears dried up. Slowly, Sage peeled herself from the bed to make her way to the large windows flanking the side of her room. She was halfway there, limping on her sore leg, before realizing her bladder was full. Gods, she hoped one of those doors on the opposite wall was a bathing room.
Sure enough, two of the doors held closets, and the third opened to a modest bathroom complete with a tub, toilet, and sink. All you could hope for, she supposed as she went about her business. She tended to her needs, swished her mouth with a tonic supplied in the bathing room, and gulped down several glasses of water before finishing her trek to the windows.
Finally making it to the windows, she admired the floor-to-ceiling panes glinting in the sunlight. She peered out over the city below. The view had her stomach dropping completely from where it belonged. She had to be at least fifty floors off the ground. So high up. If she leaned against the window, it almost felt like she’d fall again.
She teetered, her legs quaking beneath her as she made to step away from the window as a gasp escaped her lips.
The door burst open behind her, just as Sage’s knees lost the battle to keep her upright. A dark figure ran towards her at astonishing speed and scooped her up before she hit the floor.
He gently set her in one of the wing-backed chairs. As he moved away from her, she took deep breaths, willing herself to calm down.
“Are you Zeke?” Sage asked, as she gathered her senses, reminding herself she wasn’t actually falling.
He almost blushed as he replied, “Me? No. I’m Gavin. Zeke sent me with your pack. Let me get it for you.” He hurried to the door where he had dropped the bag.
It was made of stiff, olive-green canvas. The bag was covered in pockets and zippers. It was marked in dark patches from their fall but was otherwise unharmed.
She jolted. She had clutched it to her in the final moments before she hit the ground. Praying to someone that they’d send help.
“Here you go. Meliza told me your name is Sage?” Gavin set the bag next to her as he moved to a chair next to hers.
Sage stared at Gavin, slowly taking in the male sitting in the chair next to her. He was well built. Clearly meant for something athletic. He wore his thick, dark hair cropped just long enough for him to brush his fingers through. His skin was olive-toned and kissed by the sun, and Sage could just make out warm hazel eyes rimmed in a brown that reminded her of dark tea.
His body was honed from training, but still showed the signs of youth. Not young like adolescence, but young in a way the two females before were not. Males and females. Sage began to notice the striking differences in Gavin she hadn’t noticed before. Tipped ears, a stillness to his posture more like a wolf or a jungle cat than man, and an alertness she hadn’t quite experienced before.
He just sat there while she examined him, and he examined her back.
“I’m sorry. What is with everyone here? What are you wearing? Is this some sort of play-acting place? Are you guys, like, antiquity actors? Gods, that clothing belongs to several centuries ago.” Sage demanded with a huff, standing up and walking towards the fireplace. What was with this place? And who put a godsdamned nightgown on her?
“I’m fae,” Gavin answered slowly. “We’re in Veritasailles. In the Kingdom of Felysia. Under King Symon?” Gavin delivered each answer as if it were obvious. A slow smile spread across his face as if he were trying to hold his laughter. He leaned towards her and whispered “Do they make plays about us in Meropoli? Put on costumes and pretend to wield our power?”
“Meropoli? Where’s that?” Sage replied, shaking her head as she sat back in her chair.
“So, you truly can’t remember? You have no idea where your home might be?” whispered Gavin, almost to himself, as if he were assessing her and what awaited them.
Home. Pain lanced through Sage’s head, and she crumpled over herself, laying her head in her hands. Flashes of streets bustling with machines, covered in steam and mist flooded her sight. A familiar hand passing her a book with a note; a whisper of “Be safe,” rang in her ears as Sage gripped tight to herself, folding into a ball.
“Hey, hey, hey…what do you need? Should I call Raph?” Gavin was in front of her in an instant, offering a glass of water from the side table that hadn’t been there a second before. His hand rested gently on her knee.
“How’d you do that?” demanded Sage after taking several hasty sips of cool water, nodding to the glass she placed on the table.
“Probably Raph. He’s likely eavesdropping, trying to be sure I don’t disturb you too much before you’re fully healed. You were quite a mess when we got to you.”
“I’ll try harder to make myself presentable next time I fall from the sky,” muttered Sage.
Sage looked down, her cheeks warming as she suddenly remembered she was in a nightgown and glanced at Gavin who was staring back at her as if he, too, had just realized. They stayed there for a long moment, eyes locked, with Gavin in front of her on the floor, his hand resting on her knee. Gavin jerked his hand away, clearing his throat while tucking his hand behind him as if it had embarrassed itself.
“Would you like some food? And if you’d like, there’s clothing in the closets. Pick whatever suits you, and I’ll be back with some food.”
“That’d be great actually. Thank you.”
Gavin jumped up from his spot and practically marched to the door, before turning back, lingering by the door.
“I’ll be back in twenty minutes. If you need help dressing, just yell for Raph. He can help you dress; he got you into that nightgown. Don’t worry about modesty with him. He’s a healer and immune to naked bodies.” Gavin winked as he opened the door and strode out.
Like hell was she going to ask a stranger, a fae stranger, whatever the hell that meant, to dress her. She could do this.
Sage strode to the closets and opened them again, scanning for familiar clothing. Hanging from the racks were various chitons, some in dress form, some in jumpsuit form ending in banded pants legs. She chose a dress of pale sea green, and carefully removed her nightgown.
There was a vanity with a large mirror across the room, and Sage took a moment to assess her body. There were marks along one side of her face, and what looked like welts that had almost fully healed down the backs of her arms. Bruises littered her torso, arms, legs, and under her chin. Her leg all the way to her ankle was wrapped in stiff dressings that made it hard to move freely.
How long had she been asleep to be healed over so much? She remembered, suddenly, her leg had been badly broken. Bone stuck through her sock when the three warriors found her. She knelt to feel her leg. It was still the slightest bit tender, but didn’t feel broken at all. A break like that would take surgery and six weeks to heal back home.
Home. The word drummed through her head again as she slipped the dress over her head. The straps didn’t attach, and she selected two copper-looking pins to fasten the straps atop her shoulders to her liking.
Home. She couldn’t remember it at all, beyond those flashes earlier when Gavin said the word.
But she knew it was much different from this place. For one thing, these clothes. No one dressed like this where she was from. And machines. Machines had been everywhere. Large vehicles on the ground, and planes in the air. Clanging and beeping devices dominated the surroundings and large bright signs on nearly every surface.
This is what she knew as home.
Sage slowly hobbled to the large windows again and peered out on the city below her now. If she steadied her breathing, she could hear the sea. Not a machine to be heard.
Instead, the streets were populated with people on foot, or horseback. Horses pulled wagons loaded with people and goods.
The white stone buildings, pieced together with red clay mortar, dazzled in the bright sunlight. Many of the buildings sported colorful domed roofs. Those closer to the sea were crowned with cyan blue domes, while those in the center of the city displayed patinated copper domes. Further still, the buildings on the border of where Sage assumed the city ended were capped with ruby red domes.
Gavin glared at the girl. Willing her heart to beat strong, for breath to fill her lungs.
“Gavin,” muttered Zeke, as a breeze fluttered the wrappings on Raphael’s medical cart.
“Sorry,” replied Gavin.
Gavin had always struggled to manage his wind power in stressful situations. Gavin prided himself in being in total control, however, his connection with the wind was less controlled. The wind was his brother, had sung to him during the darkest nights as a boy. The wind had led him into battle, shielded him. But now was not the time for a raucous wind to bellow through the tower.
“Symon, ease up a little. I fear the numbing may be dimming her will,” Raphael said.
Her eyes began fluttering, but not with consciousness. Raphael rushed towards her head, pushing Symon and Gavin out of the way, while Meliza continued wrapping the injured ankle, the skin already beginning to heal.
Raphael placed his hands on the girl’s chest, light glowing beneath his palms.
“There is some internal bleeding. Gavin, keep air moving through her lungs. Symon, manage her pain. I will try to locate the damage and repair what I can,” Raphael glanced at her face and shook his head, clearly confused as to what could have brought her to him.
Gavin noticed it then. The stark differences between her and them. As fae, everyone in the room exhibited extreme physiques. Muscular, well-built bodies, honed for predatory lethalness. Each warrior, and healer, had the tell-tale fae tipped ears. And then there was her. She looked every bit the mortal of lands across the sea. Panchaia, the continent they were on now, was home to the fae, while Meropoli was home to the mortals, humans. Those without access to natural powers.
Gavin focused his energy on her breathing. Trying not to force air too quickly into her while Raphael worked to repair the damage inside. It seemed eternity stretched in front of Gavin while Raphael worked.
At last, Sage’s heartbeat steadied, her breathing stabilized on its own. Her face relaxed slightly and Gavin felt a moment of relief as Raphael turned and said, “That should do it. She is out of immediate danger. Meliza, Gavin, you can go. Zeke, Symon, a word. And then I will see to these burns.”
Gavin released his grip on her arms, preparing to leave.
“My dear, what have you done,” whispered Raphael into the strange girl’s ears, checking her burns and lacerations. Gavin had to physically force energy into his legs as he headed for the open door of Raphael’s ward. All of Gavin’s training was poured into not looking back to that strange girl lying on the table as he left her to Raphael.
He couldn’t wrap his mind around why she was here, or how she’d gotten inside a fireball. Her clothes didn’t look like those from Meropoli. Instead of a tunic and breeches or a chiton, she wore coarse blue pants and a striped yellow shirt, cut tight to her body.
And her pack. Not made of homespun, or leather. Something different. Something pliant and… different. Canvas maybe? With straps and extra pockets designed for long and efficient purposes. Completely different from the simple, homemade packs typical of the people of Meropoli. Who was this girl, and where had she come from?
Gavin reached the door, and despite his best efforts, he lingered, looking back at the girl. At her apposing stubborn will and diminutive fragility as she slept under Symon’s influence.
Meliza cleared her throat, standing just behind him in the door frame. She gently placed her hand on his shoulder, steering him away from the medical ward. There was nothing left for them to do. Gavin headed up to his room to try and gather himself, and pray to the Goddess for answers.
2
✧✦✧
She awoke.
Her mouth felt like it was full of gauze. Hot. And dry. She tried to swallow and grimaced at the thickness of the saliva pooled near the back of her throat.
She pushed herself up onto pillows, arms trembling.
Pillows? She was in a bed. She couldn’t remember the last time she was in a bed. She couldn't remember…anything.
“Did you sleep well?” a quiet, husky voice asked.
Her head snapped to the direction of the voice, too fast, and bright stars popped before her eyes. She blinked rapidly, trying to adjust her sight as the room she lay in came into focus. Soft blue walls surrounded her, accompanied by full-length windows bright with sunlight on the far wall. The room was pleasantly furnished but felt foreign and strange. Like wearing the skin of someone else.
Goosebumps prickled her arms as she noticed the two figures sitting near her bed.
Two fierce-looking women sat in wingback chairs, mere feet from her. One woman wore coral red, the color of hot steel, and the other wore cold steel gray. Two opposites of the same coin. One radiant with warmth and fire, the other cold with biting resilience.
Something about the clothing seemed off. The shape and texture of the draping material made her wonder if the women were in costume. The gray woman, with skin like cream and hair like a moonless, cloudy night, wore a chiton, swept up to her shoulders and pinned with dark metallic brooches. Meanwhile, the red woman, with bright blonde hair and dark olive skin, wore a similar gown. Except it wasn’t a gown, but a one-piece that ended with pants cuffed at the ankles. The fabric pooled around her relaxed legs along the seat, and she could make out the strength hidden beneath the soft swaths of fabric.
“She said: did you sleep. Well?” replied the gray woman, ice coating each word.
“I don’t know,” was all she could reply. “Where am I? Who are you?” she muttered as she sat up further on her pillows.
Her body ached. Welts and bruises twinged as she pushed herself into a sitting position. Her left leg throbbed, and she wondered what accident she’d been in to cause the spinning sensation behind her eyes. She squeezed her eyes closed before opening them and focusing once more on the women.
“My name is Meliza. This is Petra,” answered the red woman. “You are in Veritasailles. You are not in danger, but we do have some questions for you. What is your name, and where are you from?”
“I don’t know,” she replied.
“Where are you from?” snapped the woman named Petra.
“I don’t know,” she answered again, more urgently. Her hands gripped her sheets. Sweat began collecting along her palms as she took deep breaths. The realization that she could not remember who she was or where she came from clanged loudly through her mind.
Meliza glanced at her body, scanning for something before whispering to Petra, “She’s telling the truth,” then shifted forward in her chair, “Do you remember how you got here?”
She paused, and tried to remember. The panic was rising in her veins and she took several calming breaths, trying to remember something.
Falling. She was falling. She clenched her eyes shut as tears burned behind her lids. Her heart threatened to beat right out of her throat.
“I remember falling. I remember hitting the ground. I remember him holding me down, not letting them take me away,” she replied through pants. A tear slid down her cheek and she clenched her teeth to keep her chin from wobbling. Gods, she felt like a fool. “I don’t remember anything else.”
“Here,” said Petra, shoving something towards her clenched hands. “We found this in your pack.”
It was a small note on a piece of paper torn from something, and Petra laid it beside her on the bed. The paper was bright white, but wrinkled with stains as if it had traveled at the bottom of a pocket for a long time. A spidery script scrawled, “Sage- Hope this helps. G’luck.”
“Sage. My name is Sage?” she asked.
“Looks like it. Does it feel familiar?” inquired Meliza.
She contemplated the question, rolling the question around in her body, around her mind and soul.
Sage.
Sage.
It did feel familiar. Like a sweater she’d had for years and years, or a blanket atop her bed every night.
Sage.
That was who she was.
Sage nodded. “Yes. I think that’s my name. But I can’t remember anything else. How’d I get here?”
The tears she tried so hard to hold in began a slow trickle down her cheeks. She tried, tried and failed, to meet their eyes with steel, but there was tangible fear cascading through her body. She could taste the fear mixed with panic as nausea began to claw its way towards her throat. They could do anything with her. Still, she lifted her chin, refusing to show just how terrified she felt.
Petra’s eyes slid to Meliza, and Meliza nodded confirmation. Sage supposed she had somehow convinced the women she told the truth, despite having no reasons to be untruthful.
Meliza began to stand and announced, “I know this is very difficult for you, but we have the best healer in the city here. He will visit you later and see to your injuries as they continue to heal. Perhaps he can help with your memory loss.”
Leaning back against the pillows, Sage opened her mouth to ask where she was, but Meliza held up her hand to quiet Sage. “I will see that your pack is delivered to you soon. You should rest. If you need assistance, rest assured you are welcome to stay here until you have an idea of where you need to go.”
“If you remember anything, you should tell my sister,” quipped Petra who stood as well, glaring at Sage.
Apparently, Sage was not to be trusted, even with Meliza’s approval. Sage took the brunt of Petra’s stare and willed herself to return the sentiment.
With a soft click of the door, the two women exited the room and Sage sank into her bed again, letting herself succumb to bone-deep weariness and despair.
Minutes, perhaps hours, passed before the tears dried up. Slowly, Sage peeled herself from the bed to make her way to the large windows flanking the side of her room. She was halfway there, limping on her sore leg, before realizing her bladder was full. Gods, she hoped one of those doors on the opposite wall was a bathing room.
Sure enough, two of the doors held closets, and the third opened to a modest bathroom complete with a tub, toilet, and sink. All you could hope for, she supposed as she went about her business. She tended to her needs, swished her mouth with a tonic supplied in the bathing room, and gulped down several glasses of water before finishing her trek to the windows.
Finally making it to the windows, she admired the floor-to-ceiling panes glinting in the sunlight. She peered out over the city below. The view had her stomach dropping completely from where it belonged. She had to be at least fifty floors off the ground. So high up. If she leaned against the window, it almost felt like she’d fall again.
She teetered, her legs quaking beneath her as she made to step away from the window as a gasp escaped her lips.
The door burst open behind her, just as Sage’s knees lost the battle to keep her upright. A dark figure ran towards her at astonishing speed and scooped her up before she hit the floor.
He gently set her in one of the wing-backed chairs. As he moved away from her, she took deep breaths, willing herself to calm down.
“Are you Zeke?” Sage asked, as she gathered her senses, reminding herself she wasn’t actually falling.
He almost blushed as he replied, “Me? No. I’m Gavin. Zeke sent me with your pack. Let me get it for you.” He hurried to the door where he had dropped the bag.
It was made of stiff, olive-green canvas. The bag was covered in pockets and zippers. It was marked in dark patches from their fall but was otherwise unharmed.
She jolted. She had clutched it to her in the final moments before she hit the ground. Praying to someone that they’d send help.
“Here you go. Meliza told me your name is Sage?” Gavin set the bag next to her as he moved to a chair next to hers.
Sage stared at Gavin, slowly taking in the male sitting in the chair next to her. He was well built. Clearly meant for something athletic. He wore his thick, dark hair cropped just long enough for him to brush his fingers through. His skin was olive-toned and kissed by the sun, and Sage could just make out warm hazel eyes rimmed in a brown that reminded her of dark tea.
His body was honed from training, but still showed the signs of youth. Not young like adolescence, but young in a way the two females before were not. Males and females. Sage began to notice the striking differences in Gavin she hadn’t noticed before. Tipped ears, a stillness to his posture more like a wolf or a jungle cat than man, and an alertness she hadn’t quite experienced before.
He just sat there while she examined him, and he examined her back.
“I’m sorry. What is with everyone here? What are you wearing? Is this some sort of play-acting place? Are you guys, like, antiquity actors? Gods, that clothing belongs to several centuries ago.” Sage demanded with a huff, standing up and walking towards the fireplace. What was with this place? And who put a godsdamned nightgown on her?
“I’m fae,” Gavin answered slowly. “We’re in Veritasailles. In the Kingdom of Felysia. Under King Symon?” Gavin delivered each answer as if it were obvious. A slow smile spread across his face as if he were trying to hold his laughter. He leaned towards her and whispered “Do they make plays about us in Meropoli? Put on costumes and pretend to wield our power?”
“Meropoli? Where’s that?” Sage replied, shaking her head as she sat back in her chair.
“So, you truly can’t remember? You have no idea where your home might be?” whispered Gavin, almost to himself, as if he were assessing her and what awaited them.
Home. Pain lanced through Sage’s head, and she crumpled over herself, laying her head in her hands. Flashes of streets bustling with machines, covered in steam and mist flooded her sight. A familiar hand passing her a book with a note; a whisper of “Be safe,” rang in her ears as Sage gripped tight to herself, folding into a ball.
“Hey, hey, hey…what do you need? Should I call Raph?” Gavin was in front of her in an instant, offering a glass of water from the side table that hadn’t been there a second before. His hand rested gently on her knee.
“How’d you do that?” demanded Sage after taking several hasty sips of cool water, nodding to the glass she placed on the table.
“Probably Raph. He’s likely eavesdropping, trying to be sure I don’t disturb you too much before you’re fully healed. You were quite a mess when we got to you.”
“I’ll try harder to make myself presentable next time I fall from the sky,” muttered Sage.
Sage looked down, her cheeks warming as she suddenly remembered she was in a nightgown and glanced at Gavin who was staring back at her as if he, too, had just realized. They stayed there for a long moment, eyes locked, with Gavin in front of her on the floor, his hand resting on her knee. Gavin jerked his hand away, clearing his throat while tucking his hand behind him as if it had embarrassed itself.
“Would you like some food? And if you’d like, there’s clothing in the closets. Pick whatever suits you, and I’ll be back with some food.”
“That’d be great actually. Thank you.”
Gavin jumped up from his spot and practically marched to the door, before turning back, lingering by the door.
“I’ll be back in twenty minutes. If you need help dressing, just yell for Raph. He can help you dress; he got you into that nightgown. Don’t worry about modesty with him. He’s a healer and immune to naked bodies.” Gavin winked as he opened the door and strode out.
Like hell was she going to ask a stranger, a fae stranger, whatever the hell that meant, to dress her. She could do this.
Sage strode to the closets and opened them again, scanning for familiar clothing. Hanging from the racks were various chitons, some in dress form, some in jumpsuit form ending in banded pants legs. She chose a dress of pale sea green, and carefully removed her nightgown.
There was a vanity with a large mirror across the room, and Sage took a moment to assess her body. There were marks along one side of her face, and what looked like welts that had almost fully healed down the backs of her arms. Bruises littered her torso, arms, legs, and under her chin. Her leg all the way to her ankle was wrapped in stiff dressings that made it hard to move freely.
How long had she been asleep to be healed over so much? She remembered, suddenly, her leg had been badly broken. Bone stuck through her sock when the three warriors found her. She knelt to feel her leg. It was still the slightest bit tender, but didn’t feel broken at all. A break like that would take surgery and six weeks to heal back home.
Home. The word drummed through her head again as she slipped the dress over her head. The straps didn’t attach, and she selected two copper-looking pins to fasten the straps atop her shoulders to her liking.
Home. She couldn’t remember it at all, beyond those flashes earlier when Gavin said the word.
But she knew it was much different from this place. For one thing, these clothes. No one dressed like this where she was from. And machines. Machines had been everywhere. Large vehicles on the ground, and planes in the air. Clanging and beeping devices dominated the surroundings and large bright signs on nearly every surface.
This is what she knew as home.
Sage slowly hobbled to the large windows again and peered out on the city below her now. If she steadied her breathing, she could hear the sea. Not a machine to be heard.
Instead, the streets were populated with people on foot, or horseback. Horses pulled wagons loaded with people and goods.
The white stone buildings, pieced together with red clay mortar, dazzled in the bright sunlight. Many of the buildings sported colorful domed roofs. Those closer to the sea were crowned with cyan blue domes, while those in the center of the city displayed patinated copper domes. Further still, the buildings on the border of where Sage assumed the city ended were capped with ruby red domes.
