4. Road Watch

"You may only die when we decide it'll happen, which should be soon."

She wasn't sure if that was supposed to be a comfort or a threat, and it didn't matter - the actions did. The wounds, the derision, the strange substances. The flames.

She didn't know how she was alive, and neither did anyone else, it seemed. They were hesitant to kill her though they so desperately wanted to. Even now. Because such a weapon, such a shield, might never be found again if it were destroyed.

Her body had been heavily scarred, yet now much of that had faded. It seemed impossible with the amount of damage done. It had all seemed impossible, yet before her eyes and those of her enemies, she'd kept getting back up. Maybe if she'd been nothing more than ash, that would've ended things. But They were afraid to end her, afraid also to let her continue.

That's why They just watched from a distance, always searching for her, tracking her, analyzing. Trying to find her weakness.

Surely she was weak enough to be killed. She felt the weight of her smallness every moment. Her uselessness. Whatever the people expected or needed, she could not give it to them.

But. She would not stop. She had to at least exist as long as she could.

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Finally, she had a direction to point to and ride. Jack had told her of a den of old, battered, probably mad wizards that were somehow left to their own devices. Maybe just another project the King had going, to see if some spontaneous type of power could be brought in and used.

Obviously, They would be watching the estate. Still, she saw and heard nothing out of the ordinary as she approached.

She rode straight up the wide dirt path, not bothering to hide her presence in the least. Even broken wizards would be able to sense her coming unless she took great measures to prevent it, which would only damage any potential trust. There was a stone brick wall surrounding a large compound with beautiful gardens and probably much more inside, along with the plain but solid building in the center of it all. She approached the gate as she slid off the mare and looked at the brass-colored gates.

"What do you want?" a voice came almost immediately.

Lina was unsurprised and looked over at one of the two griffins at each side of the gate. Stone griffins, of course, but one spoke all the same.

"Just to talk. There is much to talk about, if it's not already too late." Her reply was calm but very firm.

The griffin turned its head back to its original position, stairing straight down the road that approached its home. Without another word spoken, the gates swung steadily open, and she walked alongside Myrna into the world of lush green mysteries.

As they went along the neat path between everything from tiny white flowers to towering, gnarled trees, she was on alert for any human or non-human presence. She could find nothing even with her strange Sight.

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"You haven't seen my hat, have you?" a voice asked when she was only partway to the building.

She looked over, this time being caught completely by surprise though it didn't show. "Sorry, no. No hats. Do you keep these gardens?"

The voice belonged to a man who was older than you would think one could live in the kingdom of Ashira. He was thin, bent at the neck and shoulders, hobbling along almost painfully. Slowly.

Yet his eyes still burned. They were so aware, so keen.

"I help out sometimes, but we all have to help with such a project. We're very proud of it," the Old Man said. He had come from behind some fruiting trees and now stood a few feet from her, hands on a beat-up cane, straightening himself as much as his body allowed.

It crossed her mind to ask about trading for some food, but now was not the time. Already she could sense that. That this conversation had some significance, something was here for her.

So instead she said, "Self-sufficiency can mean survival now. It's beautiful here."

"Thank you. And why are you here?" He smiled freely now. His dark eyes crinkled at the corners, and his mouth formed a just slightly-feral smile. His teeth were pretty straight although yellowed somewhat.

"I'm looking for someone," she answered. Only now realizing this was true. After being sent after one person after another while serving, she was finally searching for someone for her own purposes.

"Aren't we all." The wizard let the smile relax somewhat, and looked a pleasant sight now. Like a kind grandfather or uncle.

She nodded, smiling some herself. Apart from the banquet last night, she hadn't smiled much at all in...at least a month? Two, maybe? The man began walking ahead of her on the path, now seeming to be far less bothered by his physical ailments. He walked almost smoothly like years had dropped away.

"We've been preparing a nice lunch for today," he began, seeming not to care that she was silent still. "We have some foods we can't eat - some of us have been hurt or ill in a way that prevents a full life. So there's quite the variety on our table! You're hungry?"

"Yes, usually," she answered, a laugh in her voice. It was one of the things that irked her most about this new life of hers.

"Good, we make too much. We're told we need to slow down or even stop, but we always do the opposite. We're just stubborn that way." The old man sounded a little chuckley himself. "It works out well enough, usually, whatever our dear King's men think. Sometimes we even have fun!"

"I hear that's important." Her tone was dry now, but she was smiling a bit. The idea of fun hadn't crossed her mind really in a long time.

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It was going to be wonderful, but of course that's why it was ripped away from her.

No, she thought. Not despair, don't go into that place!

She began to back and forth in the wagon, ignoring the voices of the soldiers up in the front. They seemed pleased with their catch, but not in a malicious way. Not that she gave a fuck about that.

She hugged her own arms as she sat alone in her newest prison. On her way to, to what she knew not. Only that she had been kept from going where she needed to. Kept from understanding, finally, what the hells was going on. Who was behind all this.

The inside of the wagon was unbearably hot. It had been sunny out, but what a poorly designed machine to slowly roast all its occupants - guards included.

She wanted to scream at them, ask what this was, where they were going. But they probably didn't even know. They probably knew nothing like the rest of them.

She looked at the wall across from her, her eyes picking apart every detail, knowing she could break loose if she wanted.

But then what? Kill the guards. Run. Have a reason for people to fear her again.

The Bloody One would have to be set loose for her to get through it. So the price...would be too high. Again, she had to choose death or at least being picked apart over her own interests. To keep that beast locked away where it belonged.

She wouldn't cry.

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Sometimes, a person just had that feeling about their life - the feeling that whatever they did, however things turned out, there was always some kind of "missed shot", something that could have changed (maybe everything), but where (or when) fate had failed.

"And I had only just been released from the very same dungeon a few weeks before that!" the Old Man, Negan, told her. He was able to laugh about it, but the experiences had clearly taken a heavy toll, just like hers had done to her.

"They couldn't even decide what to do with you. Pathetic," she said, almost spitting the words out. Trying to keep from getting to enraged just from looking back at the King's crimes.

"No, clearly not. They accused me of being intoxicated on contraband, some strange foreign potions, and running amok. I couldn't remember much, but I knew I hadn't taken any such thing." The wizard sighed, now seeming tired at the discussion. Yet he pressed on.

He clasped a richly-colored and decorated staff at the middle as he sat with her a little away from the group. The cane had changed to this glorious symbol of his actual strength once they'd settled indoors. "One fellow came at me swinging his sword for my face! That was during my second capture, mind. I told him what I thought of him and his mother and most of his family, before I turned his legs into those of a small dog. But by that point they had exhausted and poisoned me enough to get me on the ground, at which point..."

Lina fidgeted only a little as the ghastly story went on and on. She was having a hard time not imagining every instant, getting drawn in and then maybe ripped apart a little as she listened to his true stories.

She was sure they were true. The wizard exuded a power and honesty that she'd rarely ever known. There was no way to fake something like that, not to her.

"I'm going to get a little more to eat," she said, though, when he paused for effect at one point. She just couldn't stand sitting there for that long getting into that kind of headspace.

He seemed to understand. "Right, I need to look some things over!" He made it far less awkward by getting up and walking off with a purpose as well. She slowly made her way to the enormous wooden table.