Who The Fire Favours (ONC2023) gxg

Chapter 9: Rider

Rider opened her eyes, the large flash of light from the building opposite waking her from her slumber. 

It took her a second to familiarise herself with the musty, wooden barn she had tucked herself away in. Her neck cracked from resting in the same place for too long, her grimoire lay open within her lap with a waiting message written in a familiar golden hued scrawl. Putting it aside, she stretched her aching limbs and clutched her head in her hands.

“Dammit all to Hellgrind that hurt.”

Rider swore, even as her head spun with everything she had heard from the arguing Regent and Throneholder. It took her brain several moments to adjust from the snippets of conversation her shadows had given her, no longer hidden within the cracks in the wall and beneath the hearth in the main room. The last thing she heard was Skyla’s voice interrupting their argument.

Skyla had orchestrated the protests to overwhelm the Excelliars long enough to redirect them and spent most of her time stealing supplies and hoarding the necessary information to give her regular updates. But she had been strangely silent for most of the night and her fatigue had gotten to her until she nodded off, despite being on a stake out for any fact finding.

“Okay Skyla. Let’s see what you’ve got for me.”

Slowly but surely, her Shadow Trait returned to her in a winding cord of electrical cable that could reach far more than she ever could. Being holed up in an abandoned hay loft wasn’t ideal, but it was the only unoccupied building opposite Peddler’s Inn that allowed her shadows to infiltrate the safehouse undetected. Well, as undetected as she could be with a volatile Light Traited hot on her tail.

Contrary to popular belief, a grimoire wasn’t simply a battery to keep Traited alive. It was a book, after all. It could be used to write, record, and even communicate to others with the knowledge to do so. Far too many Traited saw the relationship between Traited and grimoire as shield and sword, but it was far from the truth. 

The grimoire wasn’t just an empty vessel. It was the catalyst for everything.

Shifting her weight, Rider thumbed through the pages and sifted through Skyla’s familiar looping script outlined in her electric blue and gold Trait.

 “Oh shit.”

She bolted from her position, her legs collapsing underneath her even as she scrambled to keep herself from falling. Rider hit the floor awkwardly, pain rushing up her back, but she ignored it, cursing her lack of mobility and stubbornly fighting back her fatigue. Catching her breath for a few minutes, she had no choice but to rely on her Trait once again.

“Come on, come on.”

With a growl of exertion she pulled herself upright into a sitting position and tried to settle her racing heart rate. Frustrated, she took a few deep breaths and listened to the sounds of the nightlife. The steadily pelting rainstorm strangely put Rider’s mind at ease, the gentle winds winding their way through the dust ridden streets of the Labyrinth.

“That’s it.”

The dwindling Brinehearth festivities were still alight with the traditional lanterns outside their doors. Where there was light, there was shadow. Ever so gently, her Shadow Trait emerged from its slumber like a shy child daring to crawl out of its hiding space. All of it needed to be treated with the greatest of care and maybe, just maybe, it could take her where she needed to go.

“There we go.”

Flickering embers danced against the rain strewn lantern glass in the slowly dwindling hearth within the rickety Peddler’s Inn. . The moonlight peeked through the cracks in the boarded up safehouse. The shadows shifted nervously under the windowsill, rearing their head at the already decrepit building, but Rider clamped them into place with her hand, gently shushing their temper tantrum and smoothing them back into a suitable platform.