Chapter 19: 18. The Death

Corvo fell asleep long before Eris returned. Aletheia had been through this too many times to feel nervous, but she wasn’t calm as she held him in her lap. The adrenaline hadn’t left her veins. Her mind thought over the battle again and again, and she considered what she might have done differently, or better, or more efficiently. The answer was mostly everything.

Her forearms and hands stung badly. The potion helped with pain, at least, but not with the ache in her muscles. She sat with her hair blowing in the breeze, staring ahead, with her eyes closed.

More trolls could be coming. She couldn’t rest until the others were back. But she could meditate.

She did her best to brace for Eris’ reaction. It would not be pretty.

“Aletheia,” Dorian said. “Can you help me?”

He had gathered up the dismembered troll in one of their blankets, but the dense muscle of the creature weighed too much for him to haul. It sank deep into the soft earth underfoot.

She traced her bandaged palm over Corvo’s face. She had forgotten how badly she missed him. There was no true blood between them, yet he was more than a nephew. He could have been her son. He should have been her son.

And it was her fault that something terrible had nearly happened to him. If it hadn’t been for the Shadow Man….

The thought was too terrible to have. She stopped it in its tracks and started to move. She lifted Corvo up gently and placed him on a blanket near the horses. First she checked to make sure he was still breathing, just in case, like she always did, but then she stood and went to Dorian.

She grabbed the opposite end of the troll blanket and lifted it an inch upward. That was enough.

“Thanks,” Dorian grunted.

They brought the troll’s body to the edge of the trees, wrapped it up tightly, and left it there out of sight.

“Do you think he’ll regenerate?” he asked.

“Not from that. That’s—too much, even for a troll.”

“But maybe not too much for a magician?”

She had been walking back to Corvo, but she glanced at him. She sighed. “Do we have to talk about it?”

“The boy’s asleep. Now’s a decent time.”

“It isn’t nice to pry,” she said. “You wouldn’t like it if I pried about why you were cursed.”

Dorian winced. “Eris told you, then.”

She nodded. She led him back closer to Corvo, where she could watch him, but where their voices would go unheard.

She stepped in troll soot along the way.

“Gross,” she said. But she faced him and sat down. “I’ll tell you the truth… if you tell me the truth back.”

“You might be disappointed in that trade,” Dorian said. “But I’ll accept that offer. You first.”

“You first,” Aletheia said.

“No, I think you should go first. You know that I can’t lie. But you could, if you changed your mind.”

“I couldn’t make up a more fucked up story.”

Aletheia tugged at the strands of her hair; her fingers sizzled when she did, and she yelped and let go. Where to even start? She had never told anyone. It was too painful. But at the same time, she wanted to talk about it.

“I died,” she said at last, blunt and direct. “The Vampire of Arqa? The one they wrote the play about? I was his first victim. My mentor was an elf, and she let him free, and then she let him eat me.”

Dorian stared as though he didn’t believe her. But her manner was so frank and serious that he couldn’t sustain his doubt.

“Let him eat you?” he asked.

“Like a snack. Or a dog treat.”

“I can imagine that’s unpleasant. Being digested.”

“That wasn’t the unpleasant part.” The memories were too hard to suppress, and she felt a tear in her eye. It was involuntary. But she held the rest back. “Astera—my mentor—she just let him have me. Because she was afraid. And that was that.”

“Sounds like that wasn’t that, though. Unless you’re a ghost.”

A deep breath helped her regain composure. “Rook and Eris came back for me. They learned a spell to make the Vampire vulnerable, and they killed him. It was really Eris. We never got along back then—she hated me. But she was the one who did it.”

“And that brought you back?”

Aletheia shook her head. “Astera was an elf. And… I don’t know. She felt so guilty that she gave her entire Essence to bring me back. To heal me. To resurrect me. It killed her. But it worked.”

She looked at her palm. It had worked, maybe too well.

She couldn’t stop herself from continuing in the silence:

“I never held it against her. I thought she was afraid. I thought that maybe I would do the same thing, if I had a little girl with me, and I could use her to get away. Maybe—but then I saw Rook sacrifice everything he had worked for to save people he didn’t even know. And then Corvo was born, and—I would die for him. I wouldn’t take a second of his life away for a thousand more years of my own. And I don’t know what kind of a person would feel differently. But Astera abandoned me. Did she ever care about me? Or was I just cargo?”

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“She brought you back,” Dorian said softly.

Now Aletheia couldn’t hold her tears back. She had to cover her face. “Only because she felt guilty.” She snorted. “But I still miss her.”

Dorian watched her in silence for a long time. His face showed nothing, but sometimes Aletheia would glance at him again, to see if his expression changed. It never did.

“I suppose Trito and Melitas don’t know this story,” he said at length.

“Trito could tell. My Essence was changed. It’s—part elven now. I learned Astera’s spells, and… more. Some of her memories. But Melitas doesn’t know. And no one else does either, except Eris. And Jason. And one other. But everyone else is dead.”

She wiped her last tear away with her bandages.

“Are you happy now?” she asked.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “You lived quite the life. How old were you?”

“Thirteen.”

“Too young to be on an adventure.”

“Then what’s Corvo?” she said.

Dorian frowned. “In strange company, I’d say.”

Aletheia gave a long sigh. She glanced about the trees for any sign of movement, for hope that Eris was back, but saw nothing. So she said, “Okay. Your turn.”

“Oh, my story's nothing so dramatic as that. You’d outdone me as an adventurer by the time you were a teenager.” He chose his words carefully. “I had a group of friends. Companions, like you and Eris are to me now. We raided old—and not-so-old—tombs. Worked as mercenaries for princes and lords. Never fought a vampire, nor a demon, but there were goblins, and orcs, and other things.”

Dorian frowned.

“It’s funny how hard it all is to remember now. There was Alexios, and Sylvana, and… Kassos.” He shrugged. “I sold them all out. That’s all there is to it. We were looking after a merchant, and I was offered more to stab my friends in the back. And I didn’t care about anything except money. So I stabbed. I would have gotten away with it, too, but the damn halfling who was driving our cart got away from the ambush. He told the whole story of what I’d done, and when the wife of Alexios heard… I don’t know what she did. But it ruined my career as a scoundrel. I’ve been an honest man ever since.”

Aletheia’s best friend was Eris, who was one of the most treacherous witches who had ever lived. She had killed several of her friends for petty reasons, including an innocent young man whom she lured into a trap a decade ago. But Eris had been born that way—she had no sense of morality, no empathy for most others, and had been treated even worse in youth than Aletheia. It wasn't her fault. She had changed since she fell in love with Rook, and had changed far more since Corvo had been born. Aletheia believed people could change.

And she believed that a traitor like Dorian could change, too. So she wasn’t surprised, or shocked, or revolted. In fact she had expected something far worse. All she asked was,

“How long ago was this?”

He shrugged. “Thirty years. I’ve gone all over for a cure. Done plenty worse things since then, too.”

“…how old are you? Really?”

He smiled. “Sixty.”

“Will you betray us?”

“I won’t know until I’m tempted,” he said. “But Corvo—is a good boy. I like him. More than I thought I’d ever like a child. And Eris is…”

“Insane? Malevolent?”

“I was going to say busty, but those things, too. No man could backstab a woman who looks like her.”

Aletheia smiled. “Yeah, you'd have to stab her from the front. Were you two…?”

“Yes,” he said, quickly and quietly. “But not since the Shadow Man showed up.”

She was going to ask something else, when finally there came a noise from the trees. She became still and silent as she watched. If there were more trolls, she would have no choice but to risk the rest of her Essence to rout them quickly. Even then, more than three…

But then voices became audible.

It was Eris and Melitas, and they were shouting:

“I will not teach you anything,” Eris said. “Do I look so idle that I have nothing better to do than mentor impotent fools?”

“You know powerful magic,” Melitas said. “All I want is the impression of your spells.”

“You would be lucky to feel the impression of my palm slapping your face.”

“I’m a talented magician. You could do worse than me, you know.”

“If you want scraps, ask Aletheia. She is much more tolerant of puppy dogs than I. Also you have ridiculous red hair that makes you look like your head is on fire. It would make me angry to see it every day.”

“And you think it’s not irritating for us, to see you dressed like that? Your breasts bouncing everywhere? Your son is going to grow up thinking his mother’s a prostitute.”

“You do not seem to mind the sight overmuch.”

They marched into the center of camp. Trito followed silently behind them. He seemed to notice the burnt grass and smell of blood before the others did; they were too preoccupied with their bickering.

“I—I think you’re not nearly so impressive as you make yourself out to be,” Melitas said. “Throw away that staff. Cut off a few years. You would be weaker than I am, for certain. I have killed hydras.”

“Not this again,” Eris groaned. “You are delusional, and you are going to upset Corvo. Be off!”

“All right. I will. And I’ll take the acorns with me.”

She stormed up to Aletheia. “Where did you find this imbecile?”

“The pound,” Aletheia said. “They were going to put him down. I couldn't leave him there.”

“Very funny. He—do not dare take that pack with you! You will leave it in the camp, with us!”

“Fuck off!” Melitas cried.

Eris groaned. She made a gesture with her staff; across the clearing, Melitas’ pack was ripped from his shoulders. It levitated some feet toward Dorian, when it flipped itself over, unlaced, and all its contents fell out.

“You—you bitch!” Melitas cried. “Gah! What are you—”

Nearly twenty golden acorns rained to the grass.

Eris tossed the pack back to Melitas. “Now go to sleep. You are lucky that I am so gracious and will share this victory with you, despite that you have done nothing all day but whine and leer. Push your luck further and you may find that I tell the Boyar’s mother that you were busy picking your nose while we retrieved these things.”

Aletheia rose to her feet. “You found them,” she said. “Acorns?”

“So it would seem. Not branches after all.”

“Where’s the sword?”

“Gone. One was required for the other.”

Dorian came nearer. “Is that it, then? Do the acorns—do they work? Will they cure the Boyar?”

“Oh, who cares? Does it matter? We have done what we set out to do,” Eris said. “Now this distraction is over. We have other matters—”

She finally looked at Aletheia. Then at Dorian. Then toward Corvo, who had been awakened by the shouting and sat waiting for his mother to come greet him.

Her demeanor had seemed younger than normal. More carefree. Lighter. But now she became very serious.

“What happened?” she said. “Were you attacked?”

“There were trolls!” Corvo said.

She went to him right away. “What has happened? There—Corvo! Your lip—”

“Look! My tooth!”

Eris brushed a hand along his mouth, staring briefly into the absent tooth. It was just a baby tooth, it was meant to fall out, but she had a look of horror to see its absence.

She embraced him.

“I am sorry I was gone so long,” she said. “I should not have delayed myself.”

“It’s okay,” he said. “The Shadow Man saved me.”

“What?”

Aletheia came near to them, and she explained to Eris what she had missed. The arrival of the trolls. Their failed negotiations. The Shadow Man’s intervention, and the message left for them in the biggest troll’s entrails.

She expected the worst in response. Anger, at least. But Eris only clutched her fingers around Corvo’s hair and pull him in tighter. She kissed him on the head, and she said nothing.

When she was pregnant, Corvo’s father’s sword had been stolen, along with her staff and focus. An entire city had been burned to the ground in her outrage. Aletheia had begged her not to go, but she went anyway. Dozens of people were killed.

She had great power. And she had a terrible temper. And however much she had wanted to retrieve her things, she would toss them all into a forge to soothe a moment of pain for her son. She was obsessed with him.

So Aletheia expected her to vent her frustration. When she didn’t lash out at her companions, she thought for certain she would find the remaining trolls to exact vengeance upon. These woodlands were doomed to go up in smoke.

But she didn’t. She only shook her head.

“You should have let them take Sinir,” she whispered. “We could have retrieved him later. It was not worth the risk.”

Aletheia thought back at the fight, some hours past. She shrugged. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

“It is okay. He is safe now. And I think it is too late for you to be awake, my little crow. Let us pitch our tent and go to sleep.”

“Night-night,” Aletheia said, and she left them. They would decide what to do with the acorns, and the Shadow Man, tomorrow.