Tales of Runeterra: Iron Maidenless

Tales of Runeterra

Chapter 12:

        Iron Maidenless      

                   Rell grimaced, taking special care to sidestep the people that bumbled carelessly past her. If she wasn’t careful, one of them could accidentally brush her shoulder, sending them spiraling painfully towards the ground. She wasn’t wearing her armor—most of it was tucked away in thick, tightly packed layers under her baggy pants—but that didn’t mean that she was fragile. Including her armor, she had weighed more than several tons, even if she didn’t look it. A careless traveler would find her an immovable wall.

                “You look stiff,” Carol said. Her voice was soft, and almost indiscernible amongst the din of the crowd. That Rell could hear it at all was a miracle in itself. “Try to lighten up.”

                The girl might as well have asked her to fly. It was hard enough to abandon enough of her armor to allow her to conceal its presence. But to ask her to lighten up? Well, she might as well hand herself over to Noxus now. She hadn’t lightened up since she had first joined the Academy.

                “I don’t like it here,” the metal girl said. Amber eyes surveyed the street. They were in a small outpost village, right on the edge of Noxian territory. If they really wanted to, they could travel north for a few miles and reach the frozen tundra of the Frejlord, but something told Rell that she would like it there even less. “It’s too crowded here. There are too many people. There could be spies anywhere. Or worse. There could be assassins.”

                Rell’s eyes roamed the crowds, looking for any gazes that lingered a little too long. She had been running for the better part of a year now, and every pair of eyes looked just as suspicious as the ones before them.

                “You worry too much,” Carol replied. It was hard for her to talk, even Rell knew that, but she also couldn’t stop the poor girl from trying. To say that her constitution was frail would be an understatement, but to bring that up would only invite anger. “You need to calm down. They hardly send soldiers out to Askovar. There is nothing of value out here.”

                That much was obvious, but even still, Rell couldn’t get herself to calm down. Her fingers flexed, and the metal hidden in her pant legs expanded just a bit before she was able to will it back under her control. She had become powerful—far more powerful than she ever wanted to be. She had precise control over the metal that lined her arms as pseudo-sleeves and ran down her torso before disappearing around her waist. Still, she couldn’t help herself.

                I mean, there were so many Noxians here, and they were all nearly defenseless before her. Even with most of her armor left behind, she was more than strong enough to raze this village to the ground. With one twitch, one pull of her finger, she could level the entire place, leaving a new flat plain for her and her little rebels to rebuild in.

                The thought crossed her mind. It ran back and forth in her brain like a newly born foal enjoying their new ability to run. She could feel the way her fingers twitched, and then she could feel the way that the overbearing Noxtorra responded to her will.

                What a delightfully ironic way to tear down the Empire, Rell thought. Using the metal laced stone that the warmasons left in Noxus’ onslaught of villainy, she could transform this disgusting slab of worthless junk into the slag heap that it was always meant to be. With just a thought she could spew the molten metal that was resting just beneath the village outward, taking the horrid lives of every twisted individual living in it and…

                Dainty, stick-like fingers wrapped around Rell’s wrist. Normally, Rell would prevent anyone from touching her, but the metal shards that she kept rotating around her body were some of the first things that Carol forced her to leave behind.  So, instead of pulsing her shield outwards in an impressive display of magical might, Rell fell back on her next biggest defense.

                Glaring angrily.

                “Don’t give me that,” Carol whispered. There was a small smile on her face now. A slight breeze could wipe it away if it were determined enough, but Rell was determined not to let that happen. “This town didn’t ask to be absorbed into the empire. They’re not the people who hurt us.”

                Rell’s eyebrows furrowed. That was where Carol was wrong. As long as these people were obedient, they were complicit. They chose to live comfortably under the banner of the wicked, rather than fight for the rights of everyone who died. That made them just as evil. Still, Rell tried her hardest to quell her rage. She pulled her hand away from the younger girl, taking special care while she did so, before shoving her balled up fists into her pocket. She could feel the metal surge with her anger, but she tried to calm that as well. There were very few things that still excited Carol, and visiting towns was one of them. While Rell couldn’t understand the need, she would grant her that pleasure.

                It was the least she could do.

“Estovan and Emily were from this village. I think I remember them saying how much they liked the honeyfruit that grew near here.” Carol then frowned, and her face scrunched up in confusion. “Or was that Entel and Rue? It’s hard to remember.”

Rell stopped walking, for once taking her eyes from the crowd. Carol had stopped as well, though Rell doubted that the girl noticed such things. Now lost in her thoughts, the frail girl moved her lips absentmindedly, with the only words being said likely in the girl’s mind.

Rell rubbed at a sigil, now hidden, at the base of her neck. Even when her sigils were visible, spurned by the use of her magic, that particular mark was far more faded than the rest of them. It wasn’t completed, not fully, and thus it itched from time to time. When times were slow and her mind was allowed to wander, there was very little keeping her from thinking about it.

She hated thinking about it.

“Hey. Hey Carol,” Rell started. She snapped her fingers, pulling her friend out of her reverie. “What do these honeyfruits look like, again? I think you said they were green and soft?”

Carol’s eyes were wide as she was pulled from her musings. She looked at Rell, her entire countenance one of blankness. She stared, but not at Rell herself. Rather, at something that was and wasn’t there. At something that might have existed at one point but was now forever lost.

“Yes,” she eventually said. The fogginess in her eyes melted away as memories that she could actually recall started to arise. “The green ones are the ripe ones, I’m sure. But I don’t think we’ll be finding any at this time of the year. Do you think they’ll enjoy the unripe ones?”

Rell could not recall anyone by any of the names that Carol mentioned.

“I’m sure they wouldn’t mind.”

Carol’s smile was small, but that didn’t matter at all. Seeing her happiness was worth more than any jewel.

“If we hurry, we’ll be able to find some before they got bought up. I don’t think they’re in season, so there won’t be much being sold. So we have to hurry, okay?”

Rell nodded, then let the girl grab her wrist again. In truth, Rell couldn’t even feel the girl’s pull. She probably wouldn’t have felt it even if she wasn’t wearing several tons of armor. Carol could barely carry herself most days, so to pull at anyone else would be impossible for her. Carol led her further into the market, and it wasn’t long until they found a stall that was selling the honeyfruit. It was smaller than the others, and the woman selling them didn’t look too good herself. Her clothing was tattered and worn, and there were a few holes lining the base and the sleeves. There was dirt smudging her cheeks and the backs of her hands, as well as some gathered underneath her fingernails.

This woman was a farmer, by the looks of it. That didn’t absolve her of her sins, but it made her easier to interact with.

“Honeyfruit?” Carol asked. Because there was no one else there, the shop owner was able to hear her. “We’ve been looking for honeyfruit. Can we buy the ones you have in stock?”

The lady seemed almost surprised that that someone was talking to her, and Rell couldn’t blame her. She didn’t know much about agriculture, but she knew that whatever was on sale right now couldn’t have been good. The fruits were bruised, brown in some places and sunken in others. There was a sickeningly sweet scent in the air that ruffled her nose, and she knew already that these products were spoiled.

From the look on the woman’s face, Rell could tell that the shopkeeper knew it too. She pointed to the fruits, though she made sure not to let her fingers get too close.

“These?” the woman asked. “You want these?”

Carol nodded, her enthusiasm muted by her sickness, but still there in the rapidness of the action. She opened her mouth to speak again, but Rell decided that it was enough.

“These seem… out of season.”

The vendor looked at Rell, and for a second there was some hope in her eyes. She pointed at the obviously spoiled fruit once more and nodded her head vigorously.

“Yeah,” she said. “These are… old. I wouldn’t recommend them.” She was more talking to Rell now, having decided that Carol was a lost cause. “To be honest, I didn’t want to sell them at all, but my nana wouldn’t let me close shop without at least putting them on display.” She shrugged, then smiled. Rell could already tell that she didn’t like where this was going. “But… it seems like you guys really want this. I could give them to you. A sort of win-win situation. I get them off my hands and you get some free fruit. That sound good?”

Rell was about to object, but Carol was having none of it. She snatched the bag of rotting honeyfruit before Rell could open her mouth. A small bit of coin was dropped on the counter, regardless of the vendor’s objections, and soon they were walking down the main road of the outpost village once more. By then the roaring crowd had finally managed to die down—the rush of the merchants and travelers moving through the town had finally ended—allowing the two of them to move with relative peace.

Well, allowing Rell to move in relative peace. The champion wasn’t entirely sure that Carol was aware that any of these people could kill her with just a bit of unease. She trailed just behind Rell—not through choice, but through necessity as her footsteps lagged and she stumbled with every other step—but she didn’t bother to try and dodge anyone that came her way. A part of Rell wondered if the girl even cared. Her thoughts were probably sporadic at best.

She changed her course once more, angling herself slightly in front of the smaller girl. Noxians were the ruthless sort, willing to bowl over anyone in their pursuit of power or fame or glory. Sure, this village was recently conquered, but it didn’t make them any less Noxian.

It didn’t make them any less guilty of their sins.

“Rell,” Carol said. Her voice was soft, like a deer. “They’re innocent. They didn’t do anything to me. Or to you.”

Rell frowned. She wanted to turn around and scream. How could Carol say such a thing? After all that these people did to her, to Rell. How could she say that they were innocent? While it may have been true that they weren’t a part of the mages that forced them into deathmatches, they still knew of them. And even if they didn’t, they were content to live their stupid little lives as long as they were blind to the tragedies that existed in the world.

They were just as guilty, all of them. And if Rell shoved a passing villager as she passed him by—sending him sprawling to the ground with all the produce in his hand— she pretended not to notice as she forged onward to the exit of the village. It took every ounce of willpower she had not to tear down the Noxtorra as she walked under it, but she endured. If not for her sake, then for Carol’s.

“Rell,” Carol continued once they were safely out of the village. They weren’t too far. If Rell really tried, she could still see the Noxtorra towering over the only path in. There were people around, but most of them were travelers and merchants that were far too self-obsessed to care about two girls walking a dirt path. “They’re not the ones who hurt us.”

Usually Rell was kind—especially to the Null she found. Most of them were victims of her own tragedy; forced to live half-life because of her own inattentiveness. There were many nights she laid awake, looking at the stars and berating herself for the stupidity of her past self.

She hated herself for her crimes. She hated her mother for making them possible.

 “No,” she said through grit teeth. “They’re all responsible.”

The Noxtorra groaned as her fists clenched, and she had to remind herself that the past was behind her. She had already dealt with those people. They were gone and couldn’t hurt her anymore. She closed her eyes, then took a deep breath as she tried to center herself. It was hard on most days—the screams of her classmates and the grating of metal filled her eyes and cast her thoughts into disarray more often than she would like—but today was a special day. She was out with Carol, and she would not waste such a day with wandering thoughts.

Breathe in. Let the air fill her lungs. Let the cool of the fresh wind, carrying the scent of dew and the brown of the soil, fill her and wash away the emotions plaguing her soul. Let the opportunity of something new flow into her, allowing her to forge ahead on new paths that she could not even consider before.

Breathe out. Let all of the stress flow out of her. Let go of the fatigue of her sins and the weight of her past. Let go of the paralyzing thoughts that kept her up at night, and the stares that haunted her dreams and pained her soul.

Today would be the one day that she didn’t allow them to consume her life. For today, and today only, she wouldn’t allow herself to live because of her past. She would live because of her future, and perhaps for things that she hadn’t dared to consider before.

Not for revenge, but maybe something else. It was too early for her to think about what that was just yet, but she had a good way to start thinking about it.

“Hey, Carol,” Rell started. She opened her eyes as she turned to her friend. For the first time in a long time she could feel the beginning of a smile stretch her face. It felt good. “What do you think we should do tomorrow? Do you want to go to the town again, or—”

Her words died in her mouth, followed quickly by her smile. They fell, crashing to the ground so hard they could almost be audible. They weren’t, of course, but if they were they would still be drowned out by wet thud of the blood hitting the dirt.

Carol’s eyes were wide, staring blankly ahead. Her pupils were shaking like a leaf in the wind, and for just a second her eyes met Rell’s, and a sinking feeling settled in the metal girl’s gut.

“Why?”

“I’m sorry.”

“I never had a chance, did I?”

These words always came before the wet gurgling of death, as blood rushed from their lungs and spurt out their mouths like water from a rusted faucet. Rell dreaded these moments—first when she had to make them in the Academy, and once again when she had to relive them in her dreams. The sound was horrible, made worse by the fact that she could hear it every time someone ripped a piece of fabric or bit into a piece of meat.

But for worse than that was the way it felt. Rell could feel every time she wrenched metal from the ground, and the resistance of the stone around it as she pulled it free. This feeling didn’t diminish when her ferromancy pushed metal through flesh, and she could feel every bit of skin and bone that she tore through.

That feeling wasn’t here, now. It wasn’t her sword that was poking out of Carol’s chest, but that didn’t matter. She remembered the sensation as easily as if it were, and the feelings of guilt that wracked her mind were enough to paralyze her.

“I’m sorry,” she sobbed, her words a shaking mess. She hadn’t meant to say them, but they came out all the same. She could feel the bile begin to rise in her throat. How she wished she could control that as easily as she did the metal. “I’m so sorry.”

Carol didn’t say anything in return. The blood had already started to pool in her mouth, evidenced by the way the red bubbled out through her lips. But she didn’t need to. Rell’s mind was enough to fill in the gap in words that she wasn’t able to say.

The silence stretched, and that was the worst for her. Rell would have at least liked to know what their final words to her were. Carol, unfortunately, didn’t have any. She was always soft-spoken, even before the trials that took the liveliness out of her and reduced her from Rell’s rival to her tagalong. Still, Rell found herself wishing for the words. Wishing for the same monotone vitriol that every of her calm sentences seemed to carry. She longed for the triple-layered insults that took her several days to understand. She even longed for the pale imitation, the mere shadow of the girl, that lingered behind her. The old Carol wouldn’t be caught dead relying on anyone, much less her, but even that much camaraderie was preferable to the endless silence of the other Nulls.

But she got none of that. Instead, the silence seemed to stab her directly in her soul, rooting her entire body into the ground and freezing her limbs. She saw Carol smile—it was full and beautiful, stretching her cheeks like it used to before the ritual that placed her half-finished sigil on Rell’s neck—before falling to the ground as her assassin pushed her off his blade.

She landed face-down in the dirt, and it wasn’t long before her blood started to flood the dirt. It was all Rell could do to look at the girl, even as the assassin, half covered in shadows, turned to make a hasty retreat. Her mind was gone, and all she could do was think about all the times they had, and all the ones they were now bereft of. Her mind started to spiral—

—and then it started to flare.

The sigil at the base of her neck burned as the ritual completed, finally, with Carol’s death. Fresh new power rushed into Rell’s body, running through her veins and alighting to the complicated array of sigils that traced her body. It felt like lava to the girl, but it was a feeling she was long used to. Her teeth grinded against one another as, finally, the faint feeling of earth magic was introduced to her.

It was quickly snuffed out, absorbed into her own ferromancy and then forgotten, as it was never there. That was the nature of the sigils that covered her body. She couldn’t even remember how many wonderful and new magics she had cannibalized.

Rell looked up, tears streaming from her eyes as she watched the assassin flee. He was running towards the gate of the village, but he was not running towards his salvation. Rell lifted her hand, and she could feel the strength of an entire academy of gifted students fill her as she clenched her fingers like one might clench a throat.

For just a second, the sigil at the base of her neck burned even more. A bit of earth sprung up, like mole out of the dirt, and tripped the assassin just as he was about to cross the threshold of the Noxtoraa.

“I’ll see you in hell,” Rell whispered. Her fingers clenched shut.

And the entirety of the Noxtorra crumpled inwards, looking for all the world like a ball of paper, rather than the several thousand tons of relentless steel and stone that it was meant to be. The assassin hadn’t the time to even feel his death as it collapsed around him—and ending Rell felt was entirely too good for him.

Rell turned from it, and her eyes caught the now blank face of her friend. They weren’t friends at first, rather, they were enemies. But even that was a relationship that Rell cherished. It was gone now, just like any bit of emotion on the girl’s face, and Rell hated the familiarity of the situation. She hated the ease at which she was able to kill her emotions, and the ease at which she was able to erect the metal coffin that cradled her friend. She hated how small Carol looked as she fixed her in the simple thing—the coffin was the same size she always made it, and the rest of her friends completely dwarfed the poor girl. She hated the way she had to close the girl’s eyes, as well as the way that stubborn smile refused to leave her face.

But more than any of that she hated herself. Why had she let Carol convince her to leave behind her metal? Why had she done it? With just a little bit of pressure she could have hit the metal against her stomach of under a cloak, but she allowed herself to do it anyway. She could have protected the girl if she brought her arsenal along. She could have protected them if she hadn’t been so stupid.

If she hadn’t been so sentimental for the life that Carol had promised. One where she was allowed to dream and hope and live.

It didn’t take long for rage to overcome sadness. The metal grave was finished with an unmarked tombstone, meaningless to everyone else but all the more important to Rell. She closed her eyes to say one last farewell to her friend, then turned with more force than necessary. The metal around her legs exploded through her pants, forming the wide-arcing metal dress she was used to wearing when not astride her metal horse. It clanged noisily as she made her way back to the hidden camp, where the rest of the Null waited. They, of course, were not as responsive as Carol was, and upon thinking that a fresh new wave of emotion hit her.

Rell took a deep breath, then killed that emotion. Feeling it never got her anywhere, anyway. She trudged forward, her eyes looking not towards her camp, but to the future she was fighting towards.

And if the metal of her armor rang louder in her ears than the screams of the town behind her, well… That was purely coincidence.