Rise (War Witch Book 1) (38 page)

Five minutes back, and she was the one hoping to be locked in a barn.

Ramora was greeted as a returning hero, the townsfolk all crowding her, welcoming her back. She took it the same way she always took the attention of large numbers of people. Nervously. Chara had sat on her horse and smiled as the Blessed had tried to reach the inn, waving and shaking hands, looking like a rabbit in a trap the whole time.

Not that she'd been ignored. With the Blessed passing them, those same townsfolk had turned to her, giving her the same treatment. She'd handled it better, she felt, but then again, after months of being away, she found she’d genuinely missed them.

Esteban, on the other hand, had simply been stared at. Shy, he tried not to draw any attention on himself, as much as a seven foot tall Werejaguar carrying a poleaxe could, at any rate. Things had gotten even more awkward when Chara had introduced him as her boyfriend.

She wondered if maybe she should've kept that part to herself.

With whispers running wild through the gathering of people, they'd pressed on and reached the inn, where her family had greeted them warmly. At first. Things went downhill pretty quick from there.

Daniel had tried to be macho to Esteban, which hadn't worked out so well for him when the Werecat had simply looked at him like he was crazy for a moment, then smiled broadly and offered a hand. Chara was fairly certain he would stop trembling in fear, someday.

Her mother had taken the news with tears, berating Ramora for allowing her daughter to be savaged by a wild animal, before fleeing to the kitchen wailing. It probably would've helped if Chara hadn't pointed out that at least she had a man.

Her father handled it slightly better, glaring at the Werejaguar in disapproval. Of course, she was pretty sure that was just a dad thing to do. Or at least, she hoped it was.

Lucy refused to even speak with her, and Melanie hadn't come within twenty yards of the inn. All in all, not as warm a welcome as she'd hoped. Of course, she supposed she shouldn't be surprised. It was decidedly not within the norms and traditions of the people of Rheumer to see Werefolk as a mating option.

They'd stayed for a week, resupplying for the trip to Lansing, where they would catch a ship to Ricmar and begin heading towards the Eastern Heights. The journey would be long, and costly, made all the more difficult by their dwindling funds.

First things first, though, was to rest from the trip back, and Ramora, at least, had that part down cold. Chara never would've believed the warrior could be so lazy as she was during their layover in Rheumer.

Sleeping till the morning was half gone, lazing around on the porch of the inn, and generally doing nothing in the early autumn breeze, while Kate pelted her daughter with an endless barrage of questions, comments, and motherly tears. It would’ve been enough to drive a monk to a life at the bottom of a keg of ale.

Esteban fared little better. Diem made certain of that. While he was never out-right belligerent, he was overbearing, giving the Werecat an endless glare and questioning everything he did.

When confronted about it, Ramora had simply shrugged, pointing out that change took time for some people to accept. She'd then proceeded to completely ignore the situation. Chara was fairly certain it was punishment.

Had she known, she might've felt sorry for thinking that way. Ramora spent the entire week trying to figure out how to go about approaching the daunting problem that was Draco.

Reaching him was proving tricky enough. As it stood, she knew they didn't have enough gold to afford to pay for a trip across the Yestin Sea to even reach the southern continent, much less to buy supplies to get them far enough south to deal with the Dark Blessed.

She wasn't famous enough as a Blessed to simply barter her way there on her reputation, either. It galled her to no end that just knowing his whereabouts was proving the biggest obstacle in defeating him.

Then there was the matter of what to do even if she did get there. He was obviously no pushover, not with the list of kills to his name, Collette among them. Defeating him would require more than just her sword and Divine Gift.

What, she couldn't guess, which did nothing for her mood. Chara and Esteban whining that the young woman's family wasn't being nice to the Werecat irked her more than a little, as well, though she knew that was just a bit of jealousy talking.

During the trip back from the keep, she'd more or less accepted that Chara wanted to be with him, and while it hurt, the ache in her heart had begun to subside. She missed the nights of curling up with her, listening to her breathe as she used the warrior’s shoulder for a pillow, and the closeness they'd had.

Change took time for some people to accept, though, and she knew that better than either of her companions might've guessed. It struck at the oddest times, too. She'd be smiling, in a good mood, and would see them holding hands, throwing cold water on her lightheartedness faster than anything as the sore spot reared up.

It made her feel bad when it happened. Chara deserved to be happy. The honorable thing to do, as Father would've said, was to be happy for them. She was, mostly, too. Just not all the time.

She knew she shouldn't pick fights with the Cat, either. She didn't like knowing there was a petty side to her. The harder she tried to still it, though, the more it seemed to come out.

After a week, no closer to figuring out what to do about the trip, or her own heart, she'd decided it was time to get moving. Sitting around Rheumer wasn't getting them any closer to their foe, and frankly, she was tired of Kate glaring at her.

She didn't know what had her so upset. Her daughter was with a man. If anything, the damn woman should've been delirious to all the Hells and back.

That thought had soured her even more. She didn't like having something in common with Chara's mother.

As they left, Ramora decided it was time to let the past be, and support her friends.

That ended up not going as well as she would've liked.

"I would remind you that I'm a far superior cook, so keep your hands off the rabbit," Esteban snapped, yanking the item in question away from Ramora.

Scowling, she made to snatch it back, only to have him keep it from her by holding it over his head. So she punched him in the gut, reclaiming it after he doubled over in pain.

Chara sat in front of the fire, watching the two of them in a boredom that was laced with simmering outrage. She was actually hungry, and didn't feel like watching them struggle for dominance.

"Give that back," the big Cat yowled, reaching for her as she dove away.

Ramora tried to sign something, but got cut off in the middle as he lunged for her, forcing her to scramble around the fire. Growling, he gave chase, but she eluded him, using her Divine Gift.

Her Rabbit whistled about that being very immature.

Her head throbbing, Chara finally snapped to her feet and punched Ramora in the face as she went by, taking the uncooked dinner from her with a deft hand. Esteban hovered behind her, grinning, until she hit him in the nose with it.

"I don't care who cooks the damn dinner, just someone cook it," she snarled. "Now!"

The two looked at her sheepishly, nodding. Handing it to Esteban, she shook her head, giving the Blessed a glare. Ramora sat there, rubbing her nose, sulking as the Cat set about fixing them their meager meal.

"If she'd just let me do it from the start," Esteban muttered.

"That's it!" Chara bellowed. "I've had it with the two of you! I'll see you in Lansing! Provided either of you ever figure out where it is, or manage to get there without killing each other!"

Grabbing a blanket, she stormed off into the woods, leaving her companions staring after her in shock. For several minutes, neither of them moved, not sure how to react. When they did, a bard could've written an epic poem about the absurdity of it.

"Tend the rabbit," Esteban said. "I'll go talk to her."

Ramora stopped him, pointing out that sometimes, women needed to sort things out with other women.

"Perhaps," he replied, having gotten use to her manner of communicating. "But she's my beloved. I'm the one who should speak with her."

The Blessed rolled her eyes at that.

"What's that supposed to mean?" he balked. "You really think you can understand her in a way I can't?"

Ramora nodded, reminding him again that women could talk about things with each other that men simply couldn't grasp.

"You're making that up," he said, dismissing her with a wave. "Stay here. I'll bring her back."

Grabbing him by the tail, she told him to stay, while she went and got her.

After that, it was a tussle, the two wrestling each other over who was going to go and tell her they were sorry for acting immature. Somewhere in the middle of it, they both realized how stupid they looked and stopped. This was followed by several minutes of not speaking.

Yeah
, Ramora thought,
I'm a real honorable warrior here.
Her Rabbit hummed its agreement. That didn't help.

Finally, taking a deep breath, she waved Esteban to go.

"No, you were right," he sighed. "You should be the one to speak with her."

She insisted. He deferred. This went on for a while until they realized Chara had been gone for a half an hour, and the rabbit was burned. Neither of them felt very good about that, and decided to go look for her together.

By the time they found her, an hour later, she'd managed to catch two rabbits with the bow she'd taken from Imicot's armory, build a fire, and had cooked and eaten both. Her glare was something they both felt wary of as they approached.

"We, um," Esteban started, rubbing at the back of his head absently. "We came to apologize."

Ramora nodded emphatically. Her Rabbit thought it could do with more groveling, and sang a song about it she chose to ignore.

"You should," Chara replied, not moving from where she sat. "I've taken all of this I can stand. You two get that, right?"

"We do," Esteban assured her, the warrior nodding as well. "We completely understand."

"I don't think you do," she sighed, rubbing her eyes. "Esteban, you're Daniel. Ramora, you're me. Me, I'm my mom. That's what you've done to me. You've made me into my mom."

The Blessed grimaced as Esteban tried his best to look very sorry.

"Honey, you're over forty years old, and Ramora, you're in your twenties," Chara continued, waving to them each in turn. "I turned eighteen last month. Eighteen! If anyone here should be acting like an immature brat, it's me. But, oh no, no time for that. I've got to play parent to you two."

Her companions stood, shuffling their feet and looking anywhere but at her.

"If you can't get along, then either fight it out, or don't talk to each other, or do whatever it is you two need to do," she told them. "But I'm done dealing with it. Enough. You're making me crazy."

"We'll try harder to get along," the big Cat offered. Ramora nodded eagerly at his side.

Chara shook her head. "No. I don't want you to try. I want you to do it. Starting now."

Esteban nodded quickly. "We will. Right now. Yes, Ramora?"

She gave the Cat a big hug. He didn't look very comfortable with it. Neither did she. Chara groaned.

"We're doomed," she moaned as she fell back, staring up at the stars. "I'm doomed. Doomed to wander in an endless circle with the two of you."

Feeling more than a little ashamed of herself, Ramora sighed and shook her head. Looking up at the Werecat, she offered her hand. After a minute, he took it.

Chara really hoped this meant things were going to be better.

DESPITE HER DOUBTS,
the next day, the two of them were at least making an effort to get along. Mostly by avoiding each other, but it was better than the constant arguing. Somehow, Chara didn't think this was going to be a matter that was easily resolved.

She glanced ahead as Esteban padded along the road, a good twenty feet in front of them. By her side, Ramora rode, staring at nothing. Tired of the distance that'd existed between them since Imicot's keep, Chara decided it was time to bridge it.

"What's with you lately?" she asked, knowing well her version of tactful could do with some work.

Ramora glanced at her and shrugged.

"Seriously, Ramora," the other woman pressed. "Talk to me."

The Blessed gave her an annoyed look.

"You know what I mean," Chara snorted. "Don't play dumb with me. You aren't that blonde."

Getting a slight smile from the warrior, Chara felt a little better. It faded after a minute when her companion made no effort to say anything at all.

"Are you mad at me?" she asked.

Ramora gave her a sarcastic look, shaking her head.

"Then what?"

She shook her head again, waving it off.

"I'm trying here," Chara told her. "I know things aren't good between us, and I'm sorry for that. I didn't mean to hurt you. I know I did, and I'm grateful you let us come along with you to try and help, but I don't like how things are between us now."