by Lisa Daniels
Were they partners, now? Evelyn regarded Janus with a critical eye. They hadn’t said anything out loud to indicate that. Just a slow dance until they pulled in tight to one another, and never quite let go.
“We should be getting close to the Mausoleum now,” their leader called. “But watch out for people from the Conclave. They may have a camp nearby.”
That was another nice way of admitting they might be ambushed. Evelyn didn’t like the notion of enemies lurking in the overgrowth, waiting for their time to strike. She felt vulnerable, even behind all these people with Janus clutching her hand, because of the nature of the strange magic in the air. The magic itself felt like an infection waiting to happen, forcing itself down her throat with every attempt at breathing.
They’d sent people to this Mausoleum before. And all of them failed. What would make their group any different? Because they weren’t Zamorkans? Because they had a life witch? Because they had dragons?
Either way, they seemed to think their chances increased with strangers in their lands.
“I can’t shrug off the feeling we’re being watched,” Rukia whispered, huddling closer to them. “Which is highly rude of those people if they want to watch but not say hello.”
“I think I’m fine with them just watching,” Evelyn remarked.
“I’m fine with them not being there at all,” Janus said. Evelyn noted that the whole group was becoming increasingly nervous, perhaps feeling that same sensation of being observed.
The magic in the atmosphere grew thicker, enervating the magic coating the wild forest. Things started blurring at the edge of Evelyn’s vision, like people just out of sight, but when she turned sharply, the blurs vanished. A quiet chittering entered her ears, like people whispering, or the wind rustling through leaves.
“Can you hear… people talking?” Rukia examined the people ahead and behind her, trying to see if they were the causes of the sounds.
“I can,” Janus said, jaw set tightly. “But nobody here is responsible for it.”
Evelyn couldn’t make out any words, but the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. “Anyone feel like they’re in the middle of a cursed forest?”
A general consensus of “Yes” came back.
Ahead of them, the sludgy, dense trees and vines gave way to lean-to shelters, and signs of people living in the area. Huts made out of thin branches tied together with twine. Cooking utensils, a stone pit for a fire. Maybe around forty or so buildings in total. All of them empty.
Abandoned? Or had the people here been expecting them?
Cautiously, the group prowled through the area. They needed to, because their destination was in the middle of the primitive settlement. A small structure made out of completely white stone, with a set of double doors that had a black circle with patterns inside it overlapping the stone. The arch above the doors had something written in a language Evelyn didn’t know.
The group advanced to the Mausoleum. Evelyn had expected something huge, something that might tower like the buildings in Leavenport, if this was meant to be the grave of the Red Woman.
She didn’t expect this little stone house, no bigger than a shed.
“Where are the people?” Rukia wondered. “This is the Conclave encampment, right? Surely there must be someone in one of those huts...”
There wasn’t. They’d checked every section of the camp to make sure of it. Janus still hadn’t let go of Evelyn’s hand, and he didn’t seem inclined to, either. “Stay close,” he whispered. “Something’s not right about this...”
“You’re telling me? It’s obvious something isn’t right, Janus. I feel like we’ve walked into a trap. That we’re not prepared at all.”
He leaned his head against hers, and let out a sigh. “I feel like we’ve been going in blind since the start, so...”
True, she thought, poised to access her magic at a moment’s notice. She didn’t mind the blindness too much. She did mind the idea of being cursed, of succumbing to something they couldn’t see, and only felt. She wanted to blame Janus and Meridas if something went wrong, because they were the ones who stole her from her old job.
Yet at the same time, her old job had nothing on this. And a part of her liked the danger. It resulted in a mixed bag of emotions.
Outside the Mausoleum, the leader of the Zamorkans touched his hand to the black painting, in the center where there was a space about as big as a head. The doors creaked open without any real force pushed against them, revealing a gloomy passageway—stairs that led down into a mysterious underground. Like the depths of the Underland.
“Oh, skies, no,” Evelyn hissed. “We’re not going into a crypt.”
“Mausoleum,” Rukia said.
“What’s even the difference between a crypt and a mausoleum, anyway?” Evelyn snapped at her, and she shrugged in response.
“I don’t know, but we’re going in it.”
Just great. Cursed forest, creepy underground place that didn’t have any light, while moving through a camp of what probably was the enemy, except they were currently missing in action. Maybe they had moved somewhere else while the wildstorm raged. Maybe they had died. Or maybe…
“Wait. Wait. What if they’re inside?” Evelyn snapped at the leader. “The people who are supposed to be a part of this camp?”
That possibility swam through the others, suddenly making them nervous.
“Last resort, be prepared to use your magic,” the gray-robed leader said. Evelyn hadn’t bothered to learn their names, neither did she want to. Just twenty nameless Zamorkans. Rukia tensed at her side, and Janus’ lips curled back in a partial snarl. Ready to go. If there was even the slightest chance they could come back out with a cure for the Creeping Rot…
Then Evelyn doubted that Janus would let go of the opportunity. She wondered if a part of him intended to sell the cure, monopolize it, somehow, or whether he genuinely wanted to help people. She believed he did… but there was always that nagging thought at the back of her head that questioned otherwise.
They left four sentries waiting outside the Mausoleum, and everyone else poured into the underground resting place of the Red Woman. Footsteps echoed in the claustrophobic space as they all shuffled down. One of the witches in their company used their light witch gifts to illuminate the way for the others, as it was pitch black within. The stairs led to a huge underground room, big enough even for Meridas and Janus to transform into dragons. The light witch floated her lights all around the room, until they were left with a perfect view of white, solemn walls with murals carved into them, usually in spiraling shapes, and etched images of people sitting or standing.
Nobody else other than them seemed to fill up the space. So the people who lived in the camp probably didn’t make it down here, unless they found another place to hide. Something stirred in Evelyn’s soul, something akin to terror. The cloying magic felt stronger here, like it wanted to push into her, and whisper more words…
The group spread out, leaving mud trackings near the bottom of the stairs, though the main interest was in the tomb that rested at the end of the room, with a carved white statue bowed over the tomb as if in prayer. There didn’t seem to be any more hidden places, just a massive chamber, and a resting place. Still, Evelyn couldn’t help but feel like she was trapped here, somehow. She wanted to get out before something bad happened. She also didn’t see anything that resembled a cure in this place, and the paranoia grew.
Eventually they flocked around the tomb, noting that the figure bowed over the tomb clasped a stone basin, and within that stone basin was a cupful of murky water.
A loud, terrifying thump echoed through the chamber—doors slamming shut. The sound of footsteps running down the staircase receded into silence. No one emerged from the stairs.
“Hello?” Meridas called, walking away from the group towards the source of the former noise. “Is everything okay?”
No response. Nothing but silence, and the increasing unease within th
e group.
“They were running to us. Why did it fall silent?” Meridas reached the stairs and disappeared up them. He came back into sight a moment later. “The door upstairs is shut. I think we’ve been locked in.”
The group leader cursed softly. “No matter. We’ll use our magic to force our way out if necessary.”
“Seems the enemy were waiting for us, after all,” Evelyn said. “But we didn’t spot them at all. How?”
“Those taken by the wild magic have access to all sorts of powers,” came the quiet reply. “Rarely any of them are safe. Let’s focus on the tomb for now. Who can see the water?”
Evelyn glanced at the man. Blond, light-blue-eyed, who sweated profusely to the point where it drenched his collar. “What do you mean, who can see it?”
“Not everyone will be able to.” He tapped the basin with one finger. “In here, if anyone can see water, they are meant to cast it upon the tomb.” He now traced the pockmarks within the white tomb.
“But… why would we even need to do this?”
“You think we know? It’s how it’s always been. Should we make it here without incident, the waters will appear only to someone of magic, and only if they are considered to have the right mindset, according to the Red Woman, who watches over the tomb.”
“I see her,” Alex said, looking to the side. Evelyn whirled to look as well, but saw nothing.
“Me, too,” Rukia said, puzzled.
Only Evelyn, Janus, and Meridas couldn’t.
“You three don’t have Zamorkan blood,” the group leader said. “That’s who can see her. Now… who is able to look upon water?”
A moment’s pause. “Me,” Evelyn said. “I see water.”
“Me as well,” Alex admitted. So could Meridas and one of the Zamorkans. Not Rukia or Janus, however.
“So what do we do with the magical water?” Evelyn asked. She was gestured over to the basin, and instructed to pour the water over the tomb. When she did so, to her astonishment, flowers bloomed out of the little holes, flowers with bright, glowing purple petals, about a dozen of them in total. Creation magic? She’d only read about that back in the academy. And all of it was speculation, that yes, there probably were creation witches, but such powers might get them hung, due to their gifts touching directly upon some sworn religious systems that acknowledged all creation to belong to the gods. Jarithas was one such nation that believed in a pantheon of gods, and took great offense to creation witches.
Except… no one here was responsible for making this. Once she plucked the flowers, under the encouragement of the Zamorkan leader, the others who saw water did the same thing in turn—tipping the basin, which now seemed empty to Evelyn’s eyes, then plucking at something invisible, which appeared as the purple flower in their hand once removed from the tomb.
“This is so weird,” Rukia said, bending close to the tomb to try and watch it clearer, although she obviously saw nothing until the final stage each time. “I have no idea how it works. It’s hurting my head even thinking about it.”
“We’ll have another challenge before long,” the group leader warned them, his face set in a grim line. “The people who locked us in will want the flowers. To stop us being able to heal.”
“We should have waited near the entrance,” Janus growled, wrapping a protective arm around Evelyn, which she much appreciated. “Or responded instantly.”
“No point,” the leader replied. “They’re prepared for us to come here. They’ll either expect to starve us out, or kill us the moment we step through. We’ll be easier to take out coming up the stairs than we will in the open.”
Which left them with flowers. Magical flowers, apparently the cure to a disease that haunted nations and brought them low. Tiny, cursing flowers.
Something whispered in Evelyn’s ear, stronger, more insistent, and she saw several of the Zamorkans’ faces glaze over. Magic welled up in them, and when the three women examined the flowers in Evelyn’s hands, an ugly sneer crossed their lips. A mad gleam lit up their eyes.
“We’ll be taking that,” one white-haired woman declared, raising her hand, a sword forming in it.
Chaos ensued. The group exploded into shouts, and Evelyn delved into her magic at the same time as Rukia, both of them launching into the air and away from the fight. The moment Evelyn activated her magic, the whispering grew stronger, maddening, and she hunched over, gasping. The atmosphere drowned in the stench of wild magic, and now shapes and illusions appeared in the group of fourteen people, like the shadows of people with wide, insane smiles, expressions contorted with bloodlust. Meridas sprang to protect Alex, and Evelyn focused on trying to deflect any projectiles she saw.
“What the skies is going on?” Rukia yelled at Evelyn, but Evelyn had no rational answer for her. Possession, maybe? Did seem like possession from where she floated… plus…
Stop them, a voice whispered in her mind. They’ll take the magic for themselves. Leave your body rotting in the forest.
Her gaze shifted to Rukia.
Screams and calls for calm were lost in the confusion—people not knowing, not understanding, why their allies were suddenly attacking them.
You won’t be able to save your family. You’ll go back and they’ll all be dead. She’ll do it. She’ll do it!
Evelyn raised her hands and sent a jet of air into Rukia. The woman tumbled sideways, before righting herself, and to Evelyn’s eyes, Rukia shifted from a surprised, scared woman to a demon with glowing red eyes, and a voice distorted by dark magic.
“Evelyn...” Two different statements came out of the demon’s mouth. What are you doing? Mixed with, I’ll kill you. You deserve to die.
Shrieking, Evelyn darted at the demon and grasped the demon’s neck with her hands. “Oh no, you won’t! I’ll stop you!”
A faint whisper, that sounded like please, stop, flooded with a hysterical cackle, yelling more promises of death, describing how they planned to kill her. Wind whipped into Evelyn’s face, tearing her away from the demon. No—she had to stop it.
Had to—
“Listen to me!” the demon screamed the words, and its face morphed back into Rukia’s again, with her light brown, reddish hair, her frightened blue eyes, rubbing her throat. “Evelyn, I’m not your enemy!”
The demon began covering the air witch’s face again.
Violently shaking her head, Evelyn squeezed her eyes shut, horror raking through her. She wanted to both launch herself at Rukia and scream at the fact that something was urging her to forget everyone around her.
When she opened her eyes again, Rukia appeared normal. “It takes over our minds,” Evelyn gasped as Rukia drifted cautiously nearer, avoiding one magical projectile flung her way. “It made me think you were—you wanted to kill me.”
“I can see that...” Rukia yanked Evelyn away from the fight, watching it intently, her body tense. Evelyn ignored the whispers as best as able, trying to pick out the sides. Meridas and Janus served to make matters worse when they shifted into their dragon forms, white and sinuous as they thrashed around. The Zamorkans were at each other’s throats. As for Alex… she clung to a fallen person, trying to heal them. Evelyn directed her winds to pick up Alex and her target and bring them close. The four of them together drifted away from the rampaging dragons, and Alex continued to try and pump her magic into the group leader.
“Why does it not affect you two?” Evelyn asked. “For a moment, I saw nothing but enemies. I still hear something urging me to attack.”
“I hear something, too,” Rukia said, eyes constantly shifting to the battle. “I just figured it’d be that wild magic they keep warning us about, so I ignored it.”
“Same,” Alex said, and Evelyn glowered at them.
“You just… ignored it. Of course you did.” Her eyes sought out Janus, who swept one of the maddened witches aside with his long tail. Meridas bit down into someone until they went still.
“Do you think the dragons will turn on us?” Rukia a
sked.
“I don’t know.”
They watched, trying to pluck people from the fight one by one. Alex’s magic succeeded in healing the group leader, but when he opened his eyes, his teeth were bared in a vicious grimace. He thrashed at Alex, and her expression went dark. Rukia dropped the man’s body, and he attempted to leap up at them, falling just short.
“I was so close to using my magic to kill him,” Alex whispered, licking her lips, now appearing more anxious than before. Evelyn said nothing, only expending her magic to one person at a time, focusing on the ones who didn’t have magic. She pinned them against the walls, about three struggling witches. The last of the fighters died as the dragons finished them off. Leaving five dead.
The ones pinned against the walls continued to writhe and scream that they were dangerous, that they needed to be put down, and Meridas and Janus reverted to their normal forms.
“We need to get out of here,” Janus said, panting. “We’ll fly out. Screw it. If we’ve got the cure...”
“I don’t understand what in the Six Isles just happened,” Meridas said, breathing hard and fast. “They… everyone just started attacking. One got me in the arm, see?” He held up a bloodied shoulder.
Evelyn hastily explained about the possession magic, before bringing their four captives together, suspended in mid-air. “They’re taken by it. I think they can be… untaken.”
“I’ll kill you before you kill me!” the group leader said. He thrashed like a puppet, not doing much with his physical magic. Alex let out an annoyed growl, and attempted to swim through the air towards him.
“Let me try. Maybe I can cure it.”
Cautiously, Evelyn nudged her along, watching her approach the man from behind, who seemed oblivious to her advance. When she grabbed him, the man shook violently for a moment, before his eyes cleared.
“Looks like I can stop it.” She folded her arms, though appeared greatly agitated. “But if any one of those other three take a swipe at me, I swear I’m making them lose a body part or two.”
