by Brindi Quinn
WHAM!
The sound of a large thing making contact with the ground is followed by more silence.
“Nice going there, Lady!” Techton speaks up. “Did you get it?”
“Uh-huh.”
The campsite lights, for the crystal is freed from its hiding place. Techton and Pedj are crouched beside the tent, while Mael stands dusting her hands together. “Wasn’t sure if he was Gold or not,” she says, “so I had one of my kitties get him just in case.” Gesturing to a fallen ribcage, she trots to join her cousin and witch. Resourceful. Her manipulation of Gold is as skilled as her manipulation of Bloőd.
After making sure that Awyer is unharmed, I, too, zoom to join the others.
Upon the ground, a few yards from the outskirts of our camp, lies a man with hair so fair it appears silver in the light of the crystal. He sports silver-blue mail that is marked upon the chest by a swirled sigil of deep blue.
Pedj’s eyes widen. “Hey, isn’t that–”
I am caught by memory:
A fair-haired man of princely stature stands before an army numbering several dozen men and women armored in brilliant silver-blue mail, each of their chests marked by a swirled sigil of deep blue.
“The Maestro Feligo.” I finish.
His brows are darker and thicker than is natural for his fair complexion, and his hair is longer than I have previously seen on a man. It falls upon his downed body, covering his chest and shoulders like a veil.
Pedj is set into outrage. “THAT MOTHER-CRANKIN’ CRANKER! HE WAS LEADIN’ THAT ARMY AGAINST OUR COUNTRYMEN! ATTACKED THOSE FOLK SMACK BEFORE OUR EYES! AND THEY WAS NEXT TO DEFENSELESS!”
“So this is the knight you talked about, huh?” says Techton. “Never seen him before.”
I suppose that is not all that surprising. The Azurian was not with when we first encountered Feligo at Count Bexwin’s side in the Bloődite Rusticlands. Moreover, it makes sense that a self-exiled citizen would not be up to date on current political figures, even if from his nation of birth.
I think back to that which the gloer’s horn showed me in the Gloerlands.
Their leaders have split forces. Maestro Feligo is upon the Bloődite Capital with an army of thousands, while this much smaller collective, lead by Count Bexwin of Eldrade, is charged with searching for Amethyst deposits hidden deep within the Reck.
“Supposedly, this man was overtaking the Bloődite Capital at the time of the sleepness. What is he doing in the outskirts of Azurian territory? And how is he not asleep?” I ask via my confidant.
“Maybe the sleepness didn’t hit here yet?” offers Mael. She is far less outraged than her cousin over the violence against her people.
“Or could be he ain’t a normal croop?” says Pedj. He sets off muttering a string of curse words under his breath.
We will not know until we ask him. “Be prepared,” I issue. Then I swoop to the ground and pass through the fallen stranger. The action does as it is meant to. As the cold tingling of my body passes through him, Maestro Feligo jolts awake. The bolting open of his eyes allows for a view of their quality. Faintly blue, mixed with silver, they shine in the night.
At once, a rant settles on the awoken commander’s tongue. “You knaves! How dare you ambush me, Maestro Feligo of Azuria!?”
“Ambush?” Techton chuckles darkly. “That was hardly an ambush. If I’m not mistaken, you were the one sneaking around our camp in the dead of night.”
Mael nods in agreement.
“Nonsense! I was only searching for what you stole from me!”
Pedj puts on an act that is tough. “Hoop! We didn’t steal a thing from you, you old croop! Better watch what you say–” But before I can think him too tough – “Or Mael’ll ring you through!” He defers the responsibility to his cousin. How expected.
“Hah! An empty threat! You have never met my strength! Don’t be so quick to threaten!” The Maestro points a vindictive finger at us. “You took my agion, and for that you will pay!”
Growing annoyed, Techton waves his fingers through the air. I have seen that countenance upon him before. He thinks to conjure the aid of dark spirits.
“We need him, my confidant! Do not act with haste!”
Techton appears to have no intention of obeying me. Thankfully, Mael has a bit more clout in that regard. She steps between Feligo and her witch. In response, Techton drops his hand.
“What’s an agion?” she asks.
Feligo points to her chest. “That!”
“These?” says Mael.
Techton’s eyes flare dangerously.
“No! Of course not those! Between them! You stole it!” Feligo accuses.
“Guessin’ he means the blade?” says Pedj.
“Oh, this? Oka.” Mael gingerly nips the grassweed from her chest and hands it to the Maestro.
Feligo is confounded over her easy cooperation. “And . . . the other one?” he says with uncertainty.
“Gone missin’,” says Mael sadly. “Tried to keep it safe, but it got on missin’ when I slept.”
That is because a certain jealous witch disposed of it. Not that I am able to communicate so to the others.
“For real? Where’d it go?” Pedj asks.
“Dunno. Had it when I went to bed, but . . .”
“I’ll get rid of him.” The guilty party seeks to take the focus from the missing grassweed. He does not ask for permission, merely opens his palm and begins to mumble under his breath.
“Wait, wait, wait a sec!” says Pedj. “Sure that guy’s a bad guy, but you can’t just– I mean, you wouldn’t just . . .”
I am in agreement.
“Whatever happened to heloõs brolee, aquis brolee?!” I charge.
But it does no good. While Techton continues to mumble, a darkness weaves in and out between his fingers. Perceiving what is to come, Feligo hops to his feet. From his sheath, he unveils a sharp blade of silver. This blade is not grass. It is metal. Cold, steely metal.
I ready myself to cast Gold at my confidant. There will be repercussions, yes, but I cannot allow Techton to so quickly dispose of this man. His ties to Count Bexwin are proven; not to mention, he has survived the sleepness in some way. His knowledge is valuable to us!
“This is your final warning, witch. I implore you to speak peaceably with this man!”
Feligo’s silver blade shines unnaturally. Around the exterior, a gilded cloud forms. It holds Gold!?
“We do not know what power this man may possess! His hostility is spurred from your own!”
My words land upon unwilling ears. I am ignored like the nonexistent creature that I am. As Techton furthers his incantation, the blade lights greater. The two great powers of the world are on the verge of clashing, Gold and Void, and there is no telling which will be victorious.
If this continues, disaster will rain down!
I alter my plan to one of defense. To my pactor’s side, I go. I will shield him from the offsprays of power. I will defend him when he cannot defend himself. Awyer is most important. He matters more than the rest!
I am worn from the day and from my various exertions of power. The rupture of the Eternity Vessel has thrown everything into chaos. I am nowhere near as powerful as I once was. That is why it takes every ounce of will within my veins to drive power from Awyer and into existence.
“Do not worry, my sphinx! I will not let you come to harm!” But I find that moisture has settled into the bottom of my eyes. Dewey tears form out of frustration over our situation. All I want is to be heard and seen by he who holds my heart. All that I want is to exist alone with him away from the chaos of the world.
“Please awaken. And then I will tell you the words that you need to hear.” This I issue, just before I clench my spine and pull my will and begin to conjure a cloud of Gold.
“Don’t, Techt. Don’t.”
Salvation comes in the form of a breezy voice. I am not made to cast the last of my energy away – Mael has taken it upon herself to lay a
hand to her witch’s arm. “Don’t, oka?” she says again, then turns attention to the sword-bearing newcomer. “Stop too, you. I’s gonna help you.” Her previous willingness to return the grassweed is rewarded. Feligo exhibits trust in the form of a dimming weapon.
“I can’t leave without my other agion. Reveal it, mancer,” he says.
Without questioning how the stranger knows that she is a necromancer, Mael hangs her head. “All my fault. Didn’t know the blade was yours. Shoulda left it alone. We’ll look all night if we gotta. Won’t we, Pedjram?”
‘Pedjram’ jumps over being addressed unexpectedly. “Uh, y-yeah! ‘Course.” His vendetta against the Maestro melts in favor of avoiding disaster.
Eyes set upon hostile Techton, Feligo lowers his head darkly into a nod.
From my protective stance over Awyer, I lay charge at my confidant. “Did you not hear them, witch? They say that they will search all night if they must! Do you not think it time you told them what you did!?”
Techton does nothing to show he has heard me. Meanwhile, Feligo returns the sword to its sheath and offers a hand to Mael. “Aid me and your transgressions shall be forgiven, mancer.”
It is an unwise move. At another man’s touch upon his lady’s hand, Techton pitches forward, throwing his arms around puzzled Mael. “Don’t touch her. You won’t need her aid. Apologies, but the thing you’re looking for doesn’t exist. I got rid of it.”
“Got rid of?” asks Pedj. “Meaning . . .”
“I destroyed it,” sneers Techton.
The confession turns the Maestro livid. “CAD! How will I find my way back without it?!”
“Whaddaya mean?” says Mael, tearing gently from her captor’s arms. In the aftermath, Techton’s sneer curdles.
Rubbing his forehead, the Maestro begins to pace about animatedly. “Agions are used for enhanced acuity! When placed, they give me a better sense of an area, but without all of them I can’t move on from here. Until they are returned to me, my perception will be off!”
Pedj mulls it over. “So what you’re sayin’s you’re easily lost?”
“It isn’t a matter of being lost easily, ignoramus! It’s that I can’t accurately acclimate my body to the environment without them near! Thanks to the rash stupidity of your colleagues, I’ll be uncoordinated until it regrows!”
“Regrows?” says Mael. “Ooooooo.” She gives out a coo. “Like whiskers.”
Pedj snorts.
“Of course not!” But Feligo does not seem to be able to refute the comparison entirely. “Just . . . at least tell me where you destroyed it!” Again he supplies an aggressive finger, this time directed at Techton. Fortunate for him, the witch’s mood has cooled greatly. Either that, or he is putting on an act.
“Hey now, no need to get bossy,” says Techton, his old self again. “If you want to know what happened to it, look no further.” He bares his stance open.
“You . . .?”
He opens his mouth to further portray the agion’s fate.
“YOU CAD! YOU ATE IT?!” Feligo marches up to the culprit, taking Techton’s collar in his fist. “No wonder I feel hot!”
Techton grins evilly.
So it was an act after all and now that Feligo’s guard is down, the witch strikes. Ignoring Mael’s cry and Pedj’s stammered protests, he grabs Feligo’s wrist and begins to wrench. The skin of the Maestro’s arm, where held by Techton, begins to darken.
“Enough of this, Techton!” I say to him. “You have wronged this man! He may possess valuable information regarding our situation! Do not shame yourself further! Do not give in! Set eyes upon the necromancer! You will no longer hold her favor if you continue as you have!”
Aye, Mael is the key. In the days following the murder of her naefaerie and the fall of the world, she has shown weakness, silently mourning her contribution to the state of the Vessel and her clouded trickery of us all.
No more.
Her thought is cleared. Although she has hidden behind her former nature in the weeks following the sleepness, her mind is not as it once was. With the fall of Chast, Mael’s mind is free. It is time she release her façade. It is time she stop relying on the comfort of the past. As I watch Techton fold under the pressure of the Void, I also see something else folding – a transformation that gives me renewed hope in the company I keep.
Mael releases her guilt, turning instead to clarity of mind, and as she does, her eyes turn from teary to firm.
“Stop it, Techton! You should be stronger than what you are!” Her mouth speaks not with a voice of disconnect. As I have heard only in glimmers until now, her words are grounded and rich and filled with force. “Let him go, or you go.”
The ultimatum hits Techton with shock. Also hitting Techton is a blast of golden power from Mael’s palm. In the wake of the blast, Techton is pushed to the ground, allowing Feligo to go free. For him, freedom means unsheathing his sword.
Pedj watches with admiration. “Decided to get rid of that blind eye, eh, cousin?” he mutters.
Even with Techton on the ground, Mael does not appear to be finished. She takes stance over him, straddling his torso, while he looks up at her without sufficient reply.
I fear I must monitor the situation. There is no telling what the fury of a witch might drive him to do. Leaving my pactor’s side, I flit to where they are.
“Keep hold of yourself, Techton! The rage you feel is not your own–”
But here I find I am wrong.
There is not rage upon Techton’s face. There is dumbfound. His prey is over him, no longer prey, really. More so, it is she who is the predator. Not waiting for invitation, she drops onto her hunter, knees on either side of his waist. “Can’t watch anymore. Gotta be stronger. Me and you, Techt.”
And then she kisses him. Deeply, her mouth moves with his.
Ah.
AH!
I am quick to return to resting Awyer. If it were he and I in that position, I would not appreciate careless on-looking!
If it were he and I . . .
My cheeks flush. In Awyer’s absence, I risk forgetting the way it feels to exist as a girl – to lead with my young heart over my old soul. I risk it each day of his slumber. But imagining intimacy with him, I am returned. I will not fade. I will exist as much as I can so that when he awakens, he will make me feel real again.
It is with jealous remembrance that I watch Mael and her witch from afar.
Not so discreet is Pedj. With an open jaw, he ogles the pair of them, looking as though he wishes to speak something, but unable to muster. Instead, he makes a few strange noises whilst frowning at the Maestro in our midst who has yet to return his weapon.
“I’s responsible,” Mael pulls her moistened mouth away to say. “I’m the one who made you drink the black stuff.”
“Whoa now, Lady. You were only trying to make up for what your faerie did. I don’t blame you.” Techton’s mood really IS cooled this time . . . or mayhap his heat is merely spent elsewhere. He goes on, “If it wasn’t for you and Mistress, I’d be out cold over there with Awyer. What you did was probably for the best.”
Truly? He cannot sincerely think so.
The dishonest Azurian diverts with a chuckle. “I’m just having a hard time keeping it down, you know?”
Mael nods. “I’ll keep you good. I’ll feed you.” And with that, she presents her palm before his face, where rests a small conjured ball of Gold.
The declaration arouses the party.
“Are you crankin’ NUTS?! Put that away, Mael!”
“Look away, my confidant!”
“DON’T!” Even Techton protests and scoots backward from her. “I’ll lose it if you tempt me like that . . . Don’t . . . Just . . .” Too late. The power has caught his darkened eyes.
“It’s oka,” says Mael. “This’ll connect us. This’ll give you a little to tide you, and then I’s gonna give you more when you need it again. Only till we figure out a way to get you back, oka?”
I cannot tell the naïve girl that there is not a way to revert him to what he once was. All that I can do is offer an objecting, “DO NOT!” as, wrists shaking, he takes her hand in his, brings it to his face, and inhales the cloud of Gold.
The addict indulges, first swallowing the enchant, then licking the place where it once was. He does not stop there. With a growl, he continues up Mael’s arm, settling upon her neck and sucking at her skin.
“Oka, Techt. That’s all.” She pushes him away.
When his face is shown again, his eyes are golden for a brief passing of time. His mouth sports a stupid, ecstasy-ridden vacancy. Pedj’s attitude has not increased in the least. Upon his face rests an expression of disgust. The newcomer in our presence fares no better. Off balance, he sways under the weight of his sword.
“Techton, there is something wrong with the Maestro!”
Alas, my confidant cannot hear me in his state. Dread. What is worse than being heard and seen by no more than one is being heard and seen by no one. I feel more unreal than ever.
Awaken, my Awyer. Awaken and return to me.
Luckily, Pedj notices Feligo’s demise even without prompt. “Hey, hey, are you oka? H-Hey! Mael, mind stoppin’ your snoggin’ and gettin’ over here? The croop’s all dizzy or somethin’.”
Mael arises, wipes the saliva from her neck, and rushes to the teetering stranger’s side. “What’s is wrong with him?”
“Unhand me!” In an attempt to step away from them, Feligo stumbles and drops to a knee. He places his hands out from his body to steady himself. I was correct. He is off balance.
“This is what he meant!” I shout at no one. “Recall! He spoke of losing acclimation for the environment! I believe he suffers from vertigo! Aid him, for he may hold the answers we seek!”
No one. Not a person acknowledges me. But there is something that they will acknowledge because they will not have a choice. I am frustrated. After being heard and seen and felt, I cannot go unnoticed in this way.
From my palms I will that a series of Gold blasts would erupt.
