Broken
Eight Years Later
Rosethorn sat at the counter of an Air workroom, a tray of human essence before her, watching as the rain turned everything outside to mud. She sighed and looked back down at her tray. She was helping several other Air and Water dedicates create a cure for the dragon pox that ravaged the Mire each spring. It was incredibly boring. All they did was add a drip of this and a spoonful of that to the little wells of essence. There was no excitement.
She added marshmallow and valerian to the last row of wells, then corked her bottles and carried the tray to the cabinet where it was stored overnight. There wasn't really enough time to start another tray, but Rosethorn picked up a new set of wells anyways. People were dying and the least she could do was spend some time trying to help. She set the tray on her table and began unstoppering little vials of oils and herbs.
This should be exciting. I mean, no one's ever done this before and it's going to save hundreds of people. Rosethorn sighed. But this is going to drive me insane. Locked up in a little room. I'd be more useful with my plants, doing something...else. Like tea.
The door banged open and Crane strode in, hands hanging elegantly out of his sleeves, the black stripe along the bottom of his yellow habit perfectly clean. "All right, time to clean up. There's nothing more to be done tonight." He began to circulate through the tables, nodding approval or sighing deeply.
Rosethorn sat stiffly, hands frozen on her bottles. "Whatever do you mean, 'nothing more to be done'? There's always something we can do."
Crane came to stand by her shoulder. "We can't save everyone, my dear. We'll save more if we're rested and ready to use magic."
She bolted up. "If we use every drop of magic we have, every day, we'll save more. There are people dying right now!"
Her words echoed through the silent room. The other dedicates stared at her in surprise. Disagreeing silently was one thing. Talking back to a dedicate initiate was another.
The remembrance of the black stripe sent hot anger through Rosethorn's veins. "People are dying. Maybe if we worked through the night we could have save them. But we won't. Because we never do!" She screamed loudly.
"We do what we can." Crane's voice was ice cold.
"'What we can' seems to be different depending on who's being helped." She lowered her voice and made a guess. "I'm not stupid. I know you and the other initiates work overtime to try and figure out what's wrong with Froststar."
Crane went stiff. "Where did you hear that?"
Rosethorn glared at him and lied. "Isn't it obvious? Everyone knows. She's sick, and Mila strike me if any of you know what's wrong." It wasn't that obvious. Froststar didn't walk through the temple like she used to and she didn't do flashy magic, but she was old, and busy training a successor. Crane and most of the initiates were late to breakfast and left dinner early, but that could mean any number of things. But Rosethorn wasn't about to admit that.
Crane was pale, with fear or fury Rosethorn couldn't tell. "I'd appreciate if you would keep this to yourself, whether or not it's 'obvious,' as you put it," he hissed. "We are doing everything we can for everyone, the people in the... Mire... included."
Rosethorn glared at him. They weren't doing enough. And Crane didn't care.
She didn't even think as she reached out and slapped Crane across the face with a tremendous crack. An emotion (Fear? Surprise? Hurt?) flitted across his eyes before cold steel settled on his face. Rosethorn gritted her teeth and lunged at Crane, knocking him to the floor. She swung at him with everything Lars, Evan, and Dai taught her before he managed to shove her away. She fell backwards into her chair, which crashed down upon the two of them. Then the other dedicates were there, trying to pull her away. A tall man wrapped his arms about her, and she tried to kick his shins. He didn't let go, so she released a flood of magic into the floor.
Crane froze as long-thorned roses broke out of the floorboards and began to wrap around him. They snaked up his body and stopped at his shoulders. One threw a fine tendril around his neck. The vines blossomed suddenly, the buds along their lengths opening up into plate-sized, pale pink flowers.
The tall dedicate was distracted just long enough for Rosethorn to break away. She turned and ran, throwing open the door and bursting into the pounding rain. Someone called after her, but she ran faster, mud sucking her feet and splashing her habit. She had just passed the last Air workroom when she stepped into a deep puddle. She lost her balance and fell, face first into the mud. It soaked her habit and caked her bare skin.
Rosethorn swore and ripped her sandals from her feet. She could run better barefoot. The habit was dropped into the mud next to the sandals. Skirts were useless.
Voices began to clamor behind her, and she could her slapping feet. Suddenly, she had an idea. Rosethorn lay back in the mud and smeared grime across her gleaming white underrobe and ivory skin. When she was thoroughly brown, she rolled to her feet and dodged behind the nearest tree.
The tall dedicate who had held her was at the lead, and he paused to look at her habit and shoes. He rose and scanned the ground for footprints. Rosethorn swore silently, turned and scrambled over the fence behind her. She landed in someone's backyard when the dedicates realized where she had gone. She ran across the yard, climbed the next fence and began tearing across the temple. She followed the roads when she met them and ran through yards when the roads stopped. The dedicates' calls began to fade away, but Rosethorn kept running. It was one thing to yell at a dedicate initiate, it was another matter entirely to hit one and then use magic against him. She winced at the memory and tripped, falling face-down in someone's garden.
Breathe...breathe
Rosethorn gasped in a deep breath and tried to pull herself back up, but her legs refused to hold her. She sat down.
It's not too bad, just sitting in someone's garden. Whoever lives here isn't about to come out in this rain. I can just stay here until...she paused. Until I feel like leaving.
She dug a shallow hole in the bare ground and curled up into it, letting the rain wash cool mud back around her. She had no idea what time it was, but she ached with exhaustion and her eyes kept closing.
"Just for a moment..."
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