Mistress of Helena

Chapter 2

16 August 149 Third Age

The garrison’s fortress was perched atop an ancient structure buried from the winds of age, its origin lost to the mists of time. Carrack had initially designated it as an underground storage area, and on occasion, a prison. Alaina, however, had transformed the ancient labyrinthine rooms into her own sanctuary since she’d fled the mainland’s turmoil.

She’d initially claimed just one room, but as the need for her research, medical space, and collection of varied artifacts and books expanded, so too did her subterranean domain.

Alaina had assumed the role of the garrison’s healer, precisely the function Lord Carrack had foreseen when he offered her asylum from the island’s often suspicious and hostile townsfolk. But her responsibilities evolved further with the onset of the food shortage. Despite the restrictions placed on her magic use by a wary Carrack and his magic-leery soldiers, Alaina was now called upon to employ her arcane skills to alleviate the threat of starvation.

Her endeavors dominated most of the underground space. Room after room was filled with soil and an assortment of plants engineered to yield a variety of food. But their growth was painstakingly slow. The only plants that seemed to thrive in these conditions were mushrooms, providing enough sustenance to stave off immediate starvation, but insufficient to sustain the island’s stability.

Carrack found Alaina immersed in her laboratory, buried deep in collection of texts and meticulously crafting formulas for new ingredients in her unending quest to accelerate food growth. The sharp odor of mint was first to greet him in her quarters, a smell that foretold her coming presence and often lingered as a sign of her being somewhere for a time. As he surveyed the room, his eyes caught a few scraps of paper strewn around—each one peppered with hand-scribbled notes and complex equations.

Carrack shook his head, his eyes roving over the chaos of notes and intricate diagrams. “You know,” he said, “I miss the days when magic was about incantations and enchanted objects. Simpler. More … magical.”

Alaina, her back to him, chuckled at his sentiment. “Ah, the innocence of youth.”

He sighed, leaning against a table. “The most fleeting of life’s gifts. Once it’s gone, it’s as if a color has vanished from the world.”

“Poetic,” Alaina replied, her gaze wandering around her frenzied workspace. “If it helps, that old style of magic is still practiced. Likely by reclusive druids in the older forests.”

His eyes lit up. “I’d love to see that.”

She shrugged, her eyes returning to her notes. “If you find shuffling husks riddled with tumors appealing, then sure, it’s a sight.”

Carrack grimaced, his mind briefly picturing the grotesque image she’d painted. “I suppose I’m thankful for the advancement in magic then, or what’s it called … ?”

“Fawkian Physics,” she supplied, not looking up from her work. “If you want to be precise.”

He snapped his fingers in recognition. “Right, Professor Fawkes, who developed that scientific approach to magic.”

She chuckled again, though it sounded wearier this time. “Fawkes was his cat. The actual man was Professor Marcus. He named the method after the cat, a black one. The irony isn’t lost on me.”

A faint blush colored Carrack’ cheek. He prided himself on his knowledge, but science was a gray area. “Well, I guess I’ve learned something today.”

Alaina turned to look at him, her eyes serious. “You learned that same ‘something’ last week, Lord Carrack. You’re working too hard, and I know you’ve been refusing your rations.”

At her words, Carrack sighed heavily, slumping into a nearby chair. The sound of crumpling paper echoed in the room as he sat on some discarded notes. He confessed to sacrificing his food for the garrison’s sake.

Alaina’s voice became sharp, a hint of frustration seeping through. “That’s foolish. How can you make sound decisions if you’re exhausted and starved?”

He looked at her and said, “Leaders eat last. We learned that at the academy.”

She rolled her eyes, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “Noble, sure. But there’s nothing noble about starving.”

He raised his hands in surrender, a faint smile on his lips. “Alright, alright. I get it. I’ll eat more.”

Her features softened then, and she grimaced, cradling her writing hand that appeared to tremble. “Hopefully, we won’t have to worry about this for much longer.”

Carrack watched her, concern evident in his eyes. “Alaina, if you’re feeling overwhelmed—”

“No,” she interjected quickly, her voice tight. “It’s not about that. It’s just …”

The room became quiet, the tension palpable. Her past was a subject rarely broached, but she occasionally let out portions of her story.

Alaina had previously recounted her past from Afonland in bits and pieces. The civil unrest, and the starvation that ravaged her home. Carrack listened, his face grave. He knew of Afonland’s political turmoil but hearing it from Alaina’s perspective painted a more vivid, horrifying picture. But today she spoke of her friend, Savoca, a brilliant mage who had tried to fight starvation using her magic. Alaina’s voice wavered slightly as she concluded, “By the end, she was so riddled with tumors I could hardly recognized her.” Her eyes were glassy, but she held back her tears, her voice falling to a soft whisper as the memory seemed to consume her.

Carrack remained silent and grasped her hand gently, his warmth seeping into her cold fingers. From her fingers came a faint vibration that made his hand feel a sort of numbing euphoria.

She withdrew quickly, the faint remnants of her magic crackling between them. “No, I’ve just finished working. Prolonged exposure isn’t good for you,” she cautioned, a hint of concern coloring her voice.

Carrack simply smiled, trying to alleviate the tension. “It’s like a hum, a low vibration. Not unpleasant.”

“Not unpleasant, hmm,” she echoed, her face stern. “That’s how it starts. Next thing you know, your heart’s seizing up.”

Carrack rubbed his hands together as though trying to rid them of the sensation. “Well, you have a point. Can’t be too careful. Say, do you think there’s a way to reduce hunger? Maybe slow down the need for food?”

Alaina shook her head, a pained expression crossing her face. “I would never recommend that. It’s one thing to make a pain reliever, but meddling with a basic function of the body like hunger is dangerous.”

“I’m not suggesting removing my stomach,” Carrack said, chuckling at her seriousness. “Just a small appetite suppressant. Like how coffee can make you feel less hungry.”

“I see what you mean, but remember, everyone’s different.”

He laughed again, his warm sound softening the atmosphere. “You always think of the extreme scenarios. That’s my job.”

She returned his laugh, the tension dissipating further. “I think it’s best if we both keep our heads away from catastrophizing thoughts.”

Carrack mimed a thinking pose, a playful gleam in his eyes. “Can you create something to help me sleep? In exchange, I promise to accept my rations. Is it a deal?”

She rolled her eyes at his proposal. “First, you should always take your damn rations!” she asserted. Carrack nodded in silent agreement. “Second, I do have a formula that could help with sleep. It’s powerful, though. It’s called ‘The Dreamings’.”

“Excellent!” he exclaimed, his immediate disappointment tangible when she hesitated.

“I can’t give it to you—it’s too potent for regular people. It could lead to hallucinations, paralysis … even a coma. It was designed for those already in a comatose state, in the hopes it could stimulate dreaming. But there’s no way to know if it works.”

Carrack sank back into his chair, deflated. “Well, that’s a shame.”

Her eyes sparkled with a familiar determination. “But you know me, always the tinkerer.”

His weary face broke into a small smile. “Anything you can do, Alaina, would be greatly appreciated.”