Chapter 3

“We’re nearly there now,” Micki said, pointing down the dirt road they were walking on. True to her word, she had gotten out of the village somehow—she wouldn’t say how—and tracked down Naomi and Henry. She was directing them to the person she called her source, far to the east of the village, near the edge of the Tall Woods. In Naomi’s opinion, Micki was also being incredibly annoying, but Naomi had no idea where to go otherwise. She and Henry had tried losing Micki and going it alone, but they ended up wandering directionless for a few hours then sitting in a field until Micki found them again. So, without any other real option, Naomi was deferring to Micki’s directions.

“Hey, let me see the Glaive again,” Micki said to Naomi.

Naomi gave her a cold look. “Why should I do that?”

“What’s with that look? Didn’t you steal it from your village?” Micki put an arm around Naomi’s shoulders and gave her a squeeze. “We’re accomplices now.”

Naomi shoved her away. “I didn’t steal it. I just forgot to give it back. There was a lot going on.”

“I think you just wanted to keep it,” Micki said while she held up and inspected the piece of the Glaive she had taken from Naomi’s pack. She laughed when Naomi cried out and grabbed it back.

“Don’t do that again,” Naomi said. She felt angry because there was some truth to what Micki said. She did want to keep the Glaive to herself, and perhaps the most frustrating thing was that she didn’t understand exactly why.

“What even is a glaive anyway?” Micki asked. “I thought it was some sort of big spear thing.”

“The Glaive of Hope is a throwing glaive,” Henry said helpfully.

“A throwing…?” Micki frowned at him. “You’re just making this up as you go along, aren’t you?”

“It is an incredibly powerful artifact,” Henry said. “It was made as a throwing glaive to represent the willingness to release that power once it’s no longer needed.”

“It sounds like that didn’t work so well,” Naomi muttered as she sheepishly put the Glaive back into her pack. Then she looked up as something occurred to her. “You said it was an artifact and was made as a glaive. What does that mean?”

“The form it’s fashioned in isn’t important,” Henry said. “It’s not really a weapon, after all, and you wouldn’t use it that way.”

“How come you know so much about the Glaive of Hope?” Micki asked Henry. “I thought you lost your memory or something.”

Henry shrugged. “My purpose is to protect the Glaive of Hope, so the knowledge is useful.” He glanced down and tightened his lips. “Maybe anything else isn’t useful.”

Micki hopped in front of him and stood in his way. “What, like you’re just supposed to be some Glaive-saving machine and nothing else?” She shook her head emphatically. “No, that’s too depressing. I’m forbidding you from that kind of thinking. Anyway, we turn off right over there.”

The group left the road at an unremarkable spot and began slogging through the tall grass. After a mile or so they came to a small hill. Once they crested it, they saw a hedgerow dividing the tall grass from a field of flowers. The variety of colors took Naomi’s breath away, and she stood for a moment even as the others began to descend. She noticed a cottage in the approximate center of the field, and beyond that a dark smear of trees which she thought must be the Tall Woods. Though it was hard to tell at a distance, the trees did seem tall to her, and the woods spread as far as she could see across the horizon. She started down the hill, where Micki was waving and hollering at her to hurry up.

The hedgerow looked impenetrable to Naomi, but when she said so, Micki grinned. “What would you do without me?” she asked rhetorically and started walking along the hedgerow, looking for something. “Here we go,” she said finally and disappeared into the hedge. After a moment her head popped back out. “Well? Come on.”

Naomi and Henry walked over while Micki disappeared back into the hedge. The area she disappeared into didn’t look special in any way to Naomi. She glanced at Henry then reached her hand towards the hedge. Micki’s hand came out, grabbed Naomi’s arm, and pulled her into the hedge. Naomi stumbled into an archway of branches. In front of her was the field of flowers. When she turned around, she could see Henry as if the hedge leaves weren’t there. She realized that from the outside there was some sort of illusion that she had never seen the like of. She tried to keep the surprise off her face and act like such things were commonplace for her, but suspected she failed; Micki was grinning at her—what Naomi began thinking of as the thief’s grin—and motioning to keep quiet. Naomi turned back and walked towards the flowers as Micki reached out to pull Henry through.

“What kind of person is your source?” Naomi asked. She couldn’t imagine a thief would get information from someone who lived here. She thought a thief’s source would be in a city and conduct business in an alleyway or maybe the tidier part of a sewer.

Micki stepped out of the archway with a smug look on her face. “The simple answer is that my source is the Seer Lacrima.” She patted the hood over her head into what she though was a more appealing shape as she enjoyed Naomi’s shocked face. “I guess that tells you all you need to know.”

“Is that an important person?” Henry asked, ducking slightly as he left the archway.

Naomi gave Henry an incredulous look. “They’re the most accomplished, powerful seer there is. Their predictions are always correct. Important doesn’t even begin to cover it. Even the king of Remara would seek their advice.” She turned to Micki. “This is really where they live? You must be lying.”

“You’re just jealous someone like me knows such an important person,” Micki said, her smugness increasing. “Come on, I’ll show you they’re not actually that impressive.”

(Hello, it’s me. While our trio are crossing the flower field, let’s hang out and talk a little bit. I mentioned earlier that you would be vital in this story, and I wasn’t joking. It’s vital for any story to have someone paying attention. If you think that’s stretching the truth, then I don’t know what to tell you. I assure you that I am no liar. Sometimes when you deal with divine beings—and those who brush against the divine realm such as Lacrima—you are told things which are true in unexpected ways. Don’t worry about it. Look, they’re nearing the cottage now. We’ll talk again later.)

Micki approached the door. “Be on your best behavior,” she said cheerfully. As she turned to knock on the door it suddenly swung open, and she took a step back in surprise. A small elderly person stood on the other side with closed eyes and a disapproving look on their face. Their white hair was cut short, and they wore a shapeless garment which Naomi thought could either be a dress or a robe.

“Come in,” they said and immediately went back into the cottage. Naomi and the others followed them, and Naomi couldn’t help but think that this was the coziest home she had ever seen. The space they entered seemed primarily like a kitchen and smelled like a combination of flowers and cinnamon. Everything in it—the table and chairs, the dishes, the curtains on the windows—was simple but well-made. Naomi watched Lacrima—the actual Lacrima, which Naomi still had a hard time believing—maneuver across the room to the stove. It was clear to Naomi that this was a person who enjoyed taking care of their home.

“So, you’ve brought guests,” Lacrima said. “You must be Naomi. I was expecting you. And you…” they trailed off as if unsure of something. “I was not expecting you. How very unusual.”
Henry looked around, confused. “Do you mean me?” he asked. “How are you—"

Lacrima cut him off with a laugh. They pointed to their closed eyes. “They don’t work anymore. But there are other ways to see. Well, Micki, these are a pair of unusual guests you’ve brought me. Don’t just stand there, get some cups.”

Micki hopped to the cabinet and dragged down several heavy mugs. Lacrima took a jar of dried leaves from the counter and placed a few in each cup, then poured boiling water over them. “Drink up.”

Naomi took a sip of tea. The flavor was like nothing she had ever had before. It seemed like a confusing combination of rose, cooked ham, and lemon, and she felt like it didn’t stay in her mouth but went clear to the back of her head. She hastily put down the cup. “What is that?” she asked.

“Awful, isn’t it?” Micki said. “It’s one of their tricks to peer into your soul.”

“To think anyone would describe what I do as tricks.” Lacrima slowly shook their head. “Tell me a little about why you’ve come.”

Naomi briefly went over what had happened in the Cave and how the Glaive of Hope was broken and the rest of it was missing. “Micki said you might help us locate it,” she finished.
Lacrima nodded. “I could at least get you started. But I would like something in return.” They moved away from the stove and over to a bookshelf on the other side of the room. “I am studying the aspects of the soul,” they said, running their hand along the book spines. “Are you familiar with the idea? Everyone’s soul has a dominating aspect to it. Sometimes it’s a simple concept. In the case of Micki there, her soul has a wind aspect.”

“Quick and free,” Micki said proudly.

“My own soul has a plant aspect,” Lacrima said as they pulled a book from the shelf. “As you might notice, I am especially fond of flowers.” They came to the table and placed the open book on it. Naomi saw the pages were blank, but when Lacrima began running their hands across the pages she noticed small bumps on them. “There are many ways of seeing, but some are more mundane than others,” Lacrima chuckled. “Now then, keep drinking your tea.”

Naomi apprehensively picked up her cup and took another sip. The tea tasted differently this time, like warm bread and rotten fish. She noticed Henry was looking at his cup with dissatisfaction on his face. “What is this tea?” she asked.

“What does it taste like?” Lacrima asked, and Naomi bristled a little at them not answering for the second time.

“It’s confusing,” Naomi said. “The taste keeps changing, and I can’t figure out quite what it is. It’s never good.”

“Mine doesn’t taste like anything,” Henry said. “Not even how water tastes.” He took another sip and shrugged. “We did get the same thing, right?”

Lacrima was flipping pages of the book and running their hands across the pages. Naomi opened her mouth to ask a question, but she wasn’t sure how to phrase it. “These are my notes,” Lacrima said, answering the unspoken question. “I can’t remember everything, you know. I have developed a method of feeling the words on the page. They help me confirm that this is a very unusual case.” They sighed and closed the book.

“What’s the big deal? Naomi’s aspect is water, right?” Micki said, then added with a grin, “Dirty water, probably.”

Lacrima made a small grunting noise. “A very basic observation. If you had become my apprentice when I asked, you would know how completely wrong you are. The shifting appears to be like water, but it’s actually two aspects of the soul in conflict.” They opened their eyes then, milky white through and through, and pointed them at Naomi. “And what you say confirms what I see: these are two enormous aspects fighting for dominance.”

“I don’t feel conflicted though,” Naomi said.

“You might not,” Lacrima said. “You won’t always be conscious of the conflict. But know that it is happening.”

“Can I resolve it? What are these aspects?” Naomi was beginning to feel panic growing. She had never heard of these aspects of the soul before, but if someone like Lacrima was telling her she had an enormous conflict in her, she felt she had to believe it, and it worried her.

Lacrima rubbed their chin. “I can’t tell you what aspects are at war within you; the conflict is too great. And though I have seen such conflicts before, I have never had the privilege of witnessing their resolution. I can tell you that if you’ve gone this long with such a conflict raging in you, you will be able to continue with it indefinitely.”

Naomi nodded, not exactly put at ease, but at least assured that her soul was not about to go up in flames. Lacrima turned from her and directed their eyes towards Henry. “Now you are truly interesting. I have never seen the like of you before.” Henry started back at them with wide eyes.

“Let me guess,” Micki said. “He’s rock. No, metal!”

“I said it was something even I had never seen before,” Lacrima snapped. “Try again and actually look this time.”

“It’s hard,” Micki complained. “It just seems flat. That must be metal, right?”

“You can see our souls?” Naomi asked.

“Not like Lacrima. I can see a little. But I’m not being tied down to an apprenticeship, especially with them.” Micki crossed her arms and sniffed.

Naomi stared at Micki and began to reassess her. This thief had some quality which made the great seer Lacrima offer to teach her. She couldn’t understand why anyone would turn that down, but it did seem clear that Micki wasn’t a run-of-the-mill purse snatcher.

“Hush,” Lacrima said. “A lifetime of training wouldn’t be enough for you to understand this. I can barely understand it myself.” They approached Henry and put their hands on his shoulders. “Henry. You are certain the tea didn’t taste like anything? Nothing at all? Even a little bit?”

Henry took another sip to be sure, then shook his head. “Absolutely nothing. I’ve never experienced anything like it.”

“So what’s the big deal already?” Micki asked.

“Henry has no aspect,” Lacrima announced. “Absolutely nothing. His soul is a void.”

“Wait, that’s not possible,” Micki said. “Everyone has something.”

“Yes, that’s right. Yet he has nothing.” Lacrima frowned. “And I didn’t know he was going to be here. It’s unusual and troubling.”

Henry looked down at the table. “What does that mean? There’s something wrong with me?”

“No,” Lacrima said forcefully. “While void might sound like a bad thing, I believe it can be very good. You have an empty field that anything might sprout from. I think more than anyone you will be able to shape your own destiny. It is possible that not even the Creator can see what is in store for you.”
“He threw fireballs at us,” Micki said.

Lacrima frowned. “I can’t say that couldn’t happen—we’re in uncharted waters here, after all—but that seems like another oddity. Normally an evocation like that requires the appropriate soul aspect. Is it an effect of the curse that made him attack you? Or the Glaive itself?” They began muttering to themselves. Naomi and Henry looked at Micki, who shrugged back. After another moment, Lacrima sighed and closed their eyes, then sank into a chair. “You have brought me many questions I need to answer. This is much more than I expected. I will help you without reservation, provided you visit again sometime. I would like to see how your souls might develop.”

Naomi inclined her head. “Thank you for your assistance.”

Lacrima grunted and waved the thanks away. “It will take me some time to discern everything you will need to know, but I can tell you what is readily available to me. The Glaive of Hope has been broken into several pieces, probably five or six. I don’t know when or by who yet. There is a piece of it relatively close, in the Tall Woods.”

Henry stood up, excitement all over his face. “Let’s go right now!” he exclaimed and started for the door.

“No!” Lacrima’s commanding voice stopped Henry in his tracks. “It’s too far to get there today, and while you could sleep there, it’s better to stay here and be fully rested. You don’t know what you will encounter. You will need a guide anyway, and I doubt they will want to leave tonight.”

Micki started. “You don’t mean…”

“I think they’re outside right now,” Lacrima said, waving towards one of the windows.

Naomi went to the window and looked out, then jumped back at what she saw: it was a bear at least as big as a wagon, and it was pacing only ten feet from the window.
Lacrima laughed at Naomi’s reaction. “Meet your guide,” they said. “That is the guardian of the Tall Woods, Armel.”