Page 90 of The Ballad of a Bard

West cursed himself for his nagging impatience. If only they’d stayed in the Empire for a little longer, they might have crossed paths with him.

But then as he was thanking the man for the news, he’d seen Crimson get up and follow the female out of the corner of hiseyes. Watched with piqued curiosity as they exited the tavern. He steadily rose from his seat as the merchant departed, heading towards the bar for another watered down ale.

West slowly approached the back door that Crimson had left through, hands casually reaching down to the sword at his side. He knew that she could handle everything thrown at her, thanks to her time training under War and the alias of Red Lyric. Not just anyone could enter the Blades of Blood and still walk out of the Pits each and every time. She was armed with a couple of weapons, not to mention that the lesser Saint was a weapon herself.

West was curious to see if her heart-controlling powers, emotion-changing magic would work on the same sex. He didn’t see any reason why they wouldn’t, but he’d also never seen her try using them on anyone besides men before. Perhaps now would be an unprecedented first.

He kept his steps light, low, unheard.

His ears picked up on the soft signs of a struggle, then the scrape of steel against stone. Within a second, he darted around the corner and halted as he saw what unfolded before him.

Crimson had the woman on her knees, a knife pressed into the main artery in her neck. She panted heavily, and her red hair had come unbound from the tight bun at her nape, but other than a faint scratch on her cheek, she was unharmed. The woman was bleeding in several spots, however.

“You alright there, Crimson?” He didn’t make for her, instead standing an inch or two away.

“Fine.” She exhaled, flicking a loose strand out of her eyes. “She had the drop on me but it was nothing I couldn’t handle.”

West dipped his head once before crouching on his knees and meeting the women’s brown eyes. “Want to tell us why you tried to kill my friend here?”

If the woman knew who he was, she made no show of it. But then again, he supposed that most folk expected to see a brilliant blond man with glowing white skin and cerulean eyes. If West ever saw Rapscallion Voss, he had mental plans to make that author correct the very incorrect image and description to something more factually correct. He’d seen the book out on his dresser a couple days before they’d left, noting the random male etched into painted inks. It had given him a good chuckle, but nothing past that.

“You’re searching for Heartache.” She said, as if it was an answer within itself. “So am I, and if he hears that three people are looking for him, then he’ll vanish off the face of Hisaith for good before anyone can get their hands on him.”

“Four, actually.” Crimson muttered under her breath. “But it doesn’t matter.” She removed her blade, flipping it back into the sheath at her waist and kneeling before the woman. “Because you’re going to stop looking for him.”

Her fingers skittered towards the woman’s wrist, brushing the sleeves back. The woman made to move but Crimson latched on before she could escape. Cinnamon eyes dilated, fluttered and drooped.

“Forget about Heartache.” The lesser Saint almost sang, humming the words quietly as she ran her thumb back and forth. “Forget that you’re looking for him.”

“Ohh.” The woman sank back, her body going limp as she met the stone wall behind them. “How lovely.”

West leaned forward to catch a better glimpse of Crimson’s powers in effect, studying the female as she seemed to forget everything, not caring about a thing in the world as Crimson controlled her every whim and wish. It answered his question about how her magic worked, but it was still fascinating to seeit in effect. Heartache had never used his powers in front of him before.

“That’s enough, Heartstrings.” He placed his hand on her shoulder, murmuring it into her ear. “Anymore, and she won’t remember her name or how to find her way home.”

“I know.” Crimson shrugged him off, standing and wiping her blood-dribbled hands off on her dark brown trousers. “I was finishing up. If I don’t set a- a lock in place, then it erases everything I’ve done.”

Curiosity struck a claw down his back.

“A lock?”

She bobbed her head. “It’s hard to explain. But I have to find every little segment of her heart, the connecting vein that pumps the blood to her head. I have to follow that flow upwards, until I find the correct place. Then I can select whatever bit I want and use that blood from the heart to change it. If I don’t close the tap, then everything I did is erased and she’d blink it off in a couple of hours.”

“I see.” It was all fascinating to him, to understand the elements of someone else’s powers. It wasn’t as though the other Saints were silent on how theirs worked, but they weren’t particularly loose lipped on the subject matter either.

“Did you find Heartache?” She asked as he rose and started messing with her hair until she was able to let it all down from the bun. He eyed her fingers as they wove in and out of the tangles, returning the length to a straight curtain of scarlet.

“You’re not going to believe this, but he’s in Tazali supposedly.” West groaned. “The merchant said he’d seen the Saint leaving Valkrigge and heading for the Empire. Based on the time frame of the events, he would have been crossing into Tazali maybe a day or two after we left, if the weather was kind.”

“We just missed him.” She breathed, and he could see the visible disappointment as it painted across her face in vivid blues of sorrow. “Of course we did.”

“I’m sorry, Crimson. But at least we know where he is now.” He inhaled sharply and let it go, enjoying the way the air added pressure onto his lungs.

Her hands nimbly began to braid the three strands of red, one over the other. “You mean right back where we started?”

“I know. It’s not the best that could have happened. But he could have sailed elsewhere, and then we would be left chasing him across the world.” He said. “I consider the fact that he fled to Tazali of all places to be a blessing.”

Crimson finished off her braid, tossing the long length over her shoulder as she began to fiddle with the collar of her cream shirt. “It’s not a blessing.” She pulled out a silver chain. “It’s because of this.”

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