Chương 29: Chapter 28: Gund

Jorm's house looked as though a residential house had been swallowed by a chaotic storefront, or perhaps the other way around. The architecture was entirely disjointed. They stepped inside. The interior was a labyrinth of clutter. Countless worn-out books and rolled parchments lined the walls, stacked haphazardly alongside framed paintings and loose charcoal sketches. A few stray strands of glowing Solarvines had breached the masonry, wrapping around the heavy wooden ceiling beams to provide a dim, warm light.

Sitting in the center of the room, reading a thick tome in a wooden wheelchair, was a woman. One hand rested on the open pages while the other absently fidgeted with the watch hanging from a necklace around her neck.

"Mama!" Jorm cried out. The woman dropped her book. Before the heavy thud even echoed, Jorm had already sprinted across the room, throwing her arms around her mother.

"Oh, Jorm," the woman cried, wrapping her arms tightly around the maid. She immediately pulled back, her hands frantically checking Jorm's arms and face.

"Were you hurt? Are you okay?"

"It's fine, it's fine," Jorm reassured her, burying her face into her mother's shoulder.

"Don't worry. There are more guards now."

"I was so worried about you," the woman sobbed, pulling Jorm tightly against her chest.

"I know," Jorm choked out, tears streaming down her face.

"I thought I was going to die." The woman held her even tighter, one hand cradling the back of her head.

"It's okay. It's okay." Her voice broke.

"Thank the gods you're safe." For a long moment, neither of them spoke. They simply clung to each other and cried. Eventually, the woman pulled back just enough to look Jorm in the eyes.

"You promised me you would never sneak out again." Jorm lowered her head.

"I know."

"Do you know how dangerous it is outside? Or if you were found out?" Jorm's eyes filled with fresh tears.

"I just wanted you to know I was okay," she said softly.

"I didn't want you to worry."

"Jorm, it's because I worry that I tell you these things. It's because I love you." She gently cupped her daughter's cheek.

"Promise me you'll never do something like this again." Jorm swallowed hard and nodded.

"I promise." The woman immediately pulled her back into another fierce hug, as if afraid she might disappear the moment she let go. She wiped her tear-streaked eyes and looked past her daughter. She spotted Elma standing rigidly by the door, completely swallowed by her oversized, dark cloak.

"Who is this?" The woman asked gently.

"This is my friend," Jorm said. She wheeled herself slightly closer, leaning forward to inspect the tiny figure.

"They make you work at this age?" she asked, her voice laced with genuine pity.

"She's... um, older than she looks," Jorm interjected quickly.

"Correct," Elma stated flatly. She tilted her head, her eyes locking onto Elma's gaze.

"Your eyes are beautiful," the woman said, her tone shifting from motherly concern to the keen curiosity of a scholar.

"I've never seen irises like those before." She paused, then offered a small smile.

"My name is Merideth. May I ask where you're from exactly? And who are your parents?" Elma continued to stare at her. She offered no data. She calculated that the woman was observant enough to catch any lie Elma would make.

"We don't have time for that," Jorm interrupted sharply, sliding between Merideth and Elma before another question could be asked.

"I brought you something." Merideth looked back as Jorm reached into her apron and pulled out the heavy pouch of coins, dropping it into her mother's lap. The sheer weight of it made the canvas slump heavily against Merideth's dress. Merideth went completely silent.

"Where did you get this?"

"Uhm..." Jorm shifted her weight nervously.

"The lady of the house really liked my cooking and my hard work! So she gave me some gifts."

"Really?" Merideth gasped, her eyes shining with absolute awe. Maybe not that observant, Elma thought.

"I paid all our debt," Jorm said proudly, taking her mother's hands.

"And our taxes for the next four years. This is the remainder. We need to use it to make the house stronger before the Rain." Merideth laughed aloud, a bright, tearful sound.

"Oh my, Jorm... you really did it." She pulled her daughter into another crushing hug.

"I'll hire someone to get to it tomorrow." Jorm laughed proudly and returned the hug.

"See? All that worrying was completely unnecessary." Merideth pulled back slightly.

"I'll ask someone to walk with you when you go out. It's dangerous right now."

"We are fine," Jorm said quickly.

"My friend is a very powerful Resonant." Merideth looked past her daughter toward Elma, then back.

"There's a boy out there who attacked the Silver Bastion headquarters three nights ago. Walked straight in. Sekar fought him—a long battle, apparently—and he still managed to escape." Jorm went very still." Fought Sekar?" Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more. She was supposed to tie him with ropes. Sekar. Elma remembered hearing the name before. He was one of Valerius' generals, one of the most powerful people in Veraxys. The boy was strong, Elma thought.

If this was the Other then he was already operating above her current ceiling. Why would he attack a military installation? That made no strategic sense whatsoever. What was he after. Three nights ago.

Elma ran the timeline. Jorm had said he'd followed Rita and the other maids the night before Valerius' arrival. The dates matched. He was one of the most wanted criminals in Veraxys, and they still hadn't caught him. If Sekar couldn't do it, Elma couldn't either. Rita. She was the only constant variable in this chaos. She would start there.

"Why are you both so quiet?" Merideth asked, studying them. Jorm laughed, the sound slightly too bright.

"We're just shocked, that's all. Who wouldn't be?" Merideth looked at her for a moment longer than was comfortable, then let it go.

"Oh, right!" Jorm suddenly gasped. Without another word, she turned and aggressively sprinted down one of the adjacent hallways, disappearing into the depths of the house.

"Where are you going?" Merideth called out, but no answer came. Left alone in the front room, Elma's legs finally gave out beneath her. She stumbled half a step before shifting her entire body weight onto a solid wooden display crate near the wall, bracing herself to prevent a total structural collapse. She lifted her head, letting her eyes wander across the cluttered walls to distract from the burning numbness in her joints. Merideth wheeled herself closer.

"So, you're her friend," the woman said warmly.

"I know she might seem annoying sometimes, or stubborn, but she really is a good person inside. I just wish more people were like you. I'm glad she's having a friend there." A friend. Elma didn't answer. Her eyes had drifted to the small statue of Arkanahra positioned near the door—the same dysmorphic figure, the same woman sitting relaxed inside the hollowed torso. Someone had placed a fresh garland around the base.

"You don't look at her the way most people do," Merideth observed.

"I am simply looking."

"No reverence." Elma considered the statue for a moment.

"If the gods are as powerful as the stories suggest, why couldn't they stop the Tide?" The room went quiet. Merideth studied her for a long moment, then slowly wheeled herself to Elma's side. She looked at the statue too, her expression thoughtful rather than offended.

"A god is a contradiction," she said.

"People imagine an all-knowing, all-powerful being, but those ideas cancel each other out. Consciousness requires change. It requires wanting, learning, discovering something it did not know before. An all-knowing being cannot learn because there is nothing left to learn. If it knows every past, present, and future event, and exists through them all at once, then every desire it could ever have has already been fulfilled. It cannot truly choose, act, or change." She folded her hands in her lap.

"People like to feel safe. That is why the term god was created in the first place. But the truth is that nothing is truly all-powerful. Living requires a medium. Consciousness requires change." She paused.

"You see what I'm getting at?"

"I think I do," Elma said. Merideth glanced back toward the hallway, checking that Jorm was still out of earshot, then looked back at Elma.

"You seem smart. Smarter than you should be at whatever age you actually are." A faint, dry smile.

"People aren't particularly receptive to the idea that the gods they worship operate within limits. But they do." She lowered her voice slightly.

"The Equitors forbade the gods from confronting the Tide directly. Because through them the Tide could reach the heart of the world itself." Heart of the world — A sharp scrape of metal on wood cut through the silence. Jorm returned, her face set in a mask of determination. She was hauling a giant, rusty slab of metal that was easily the size of a grown man.

"What are you doing with that?" Merideth asked, her voice trembling.

"I… I want to use it. I'm a Resonant now mama, Geo like papa," Jorm said, her voice strained as she fought the gravity of the steel.

"Absolutely not," Merideth snapped, the scholar's mystery replaced by a mother's terror.

"You are not using weapons. Not now, and that is final."

"Please… Mama."

"No." Merideth left no room for debate. Elma watched the exchange from her perch. She looked at the sword—pitted with age, the edge jagged and orange.

"It's not in good shape."

"She will not be using it in any shape, any time soon!" Merideth's eyes flew to Elma, her composure fracturing. The sight of the blade seemed to have invited an unwelcome ghost into the room. A man's sword left to rot under a bed, a widow in a wheeled chair, a daughter desperate for power. What happened to Jorm's father?

"That's true…" Jorm murmured, looking down at the rust.

"Then we should clean it."

"Jorm!" Merideth shouted.

"You'd rather she stay unable to defend herself?" Elma said, without inflection. Merideth's gaze snapped back to Elma. For a moment, the two stared at each other.

"No. I know what she wants," Merideth said.

"She should learn without using weapons then." Jorm lowered the sword with a heavy thud. She moved to her mother's side and took her hand.

"I'll be careful, I promise." Merideth patted Jorm's head, a single tear escaping her eyes.

"Jorry, my sweet child… you don't have anything to prove. You are still so young…" Jorm's face tensed, her jaw locking as her fist tightened around her mother's fingers.

"Of course," she said, raising her head with a sharp, forced clarity.

"I just want to be able to protect you."

"You don't have to…" Jorm pulled away. She reached for the hilt of the massive sword.

"You can't even carry it," Merideth shouted. Jorm spread her legs in a wide stance. Her face reddened, the veins in her neck bulging as she tried to heave the iron upward. It didn't budge.

"You can't do it," Merideth repeated. Elma continued watching Jorm's uncalculated decision. If she couldn't carry it the first time it wouldn't change by the second— Elma's eyes widened. She felt it. Jorm's field was retreating. It was being sucked inward, coating her bones and weaving into the fibers of her muscles. Jorm grunted, a low, guttural sound of pure effort. The floorboards beneath her small feet began to groan and crack. The sword started to rise. Elma blinked. Internal Reinforcement.

Jorm was doing it by sheer stubbornness. With a final, explosive heave, Jorm raised the sword. She held it upright, the tip pointing toward the ceiling. She was gasping for air, her eyes burning. Slowly, she lowered one hand. She swung the massive slab of iron effortlessly with the other, the weight of the metal cutting a violent arc through the air. Merideth went silent. The protest died in her throat.

"Let's go," Jorm said, the sword resting on her shoulder as if it weighed nothing at all. Elma looked at Merideth. The woman looked away, her face a mask of quiet mourning. As Elma crossed the threshold, Merideth's voice followed her.

"Please... don't let her get into meaningless fights. She listens to you more than she does to me." Elma paused. She stood for a moment in the cool night air before continuing into the shadows. Jorm walked ahead, the massive slab of iron swinging in her hand. Elma watched her with a narrow, calculating gaze. She had judged Jorm's intellect poorly, perhaps, but she had underestimated her. The sword had moved before Jorm absorbed her entire field. That meant Internal Reinforcement didn't require total compression.

Only a fraction of the field needed to be drawn inward. The strength gained would scale with the percentage absorbed. A quiet relief settled in her chest. She wouldn't have to use her entire TRO in Internal Reinforcement if she wanted to go that path. She could reinforce her body while a portion of her field could remain active outside. If she ever managed to learn Internal Reinforcement.

"How can we clean it?" Jorm asked. She held up the sword, the rust flaking off in orange scabs. Elma didn't answer with words. She stopped in the center of a darkened alley and spread her arms. She wove two water auxiliaries. She took the sword from Jorm's hands. The auxiliaries coiled around the blade, constricting with violent force. Elma induced high-frequency micro-currents within the water, scrubbing the rust off.

She narrowed the currents at the edge of the blade, moving fast enough to shave the surface of the steel. The water turned a muddy, sickly brown. When Elma was finished, the water splashed onto the cobblestones, leaving behind a blade that gleamed with a cold, predatory silver. Jorm caught the hilt, her eyes wide, reflecting the moonlight off the now-polished steel. The excitement on her face was almost blinding.

"Are you sure you want to use that?" Elma asked, watching her student silently admire the weapon. Jorm ran a thumb along the flat of the blade, her expression shifting from excitement to something deeper.

"Gund," Jorm whispered.

"Its name is Gund."