by Brindi Quinn
“Before the Cascade arose from the ground, this place wasn’t hidden. Back then, it was called only Yel’ram,” Sanjuel explains.
The Cascade arose? And the islands were lifted into the sky? The question of how lingers, but a transformation of such magnitude would explain why this place, still called Yel’ram, differs from the Yel’ram of the past. I knew that we were close to the Yel’ram of old, but the land has changed much in a thousand years, and my knowledge of this region was never extensive.
“Pedj, inquire as to what . . . Oh.” I forget that I am yet unheard. One last time, I pass my body through my new confidant’s.
“Hoo! Fine!” he spouts, much to Sanjuel’s perplexing. At last the crystal enters his mouth.
“What caused the Cascade to rise?” I ask and Pedj repeats. “What form of magicks holds the central island in place and keeps the outer pillars from collapsing?”
Sanjuel looks to Feligo. “Is it just me, or is he talking different than before?”
The silverfox sniffs. “I’ve come to think of him as sporadic.”
“Mm.” This answer seems to please the periwinkle man, for he carries on, “A thousand years ago, there was an event. The event caused the Cascade to rise and Yel’ram to be veiled. Only those who commit to staying here for the rest of their lives learn the Truth. Those that learn it, must vow to protect it.”
“What event?” says Feligo.
Sanjuel shakes his head. “When the event happened, it was foretold that the Truth would someday come to light. The one would see to that. I’d venture to guess you won’t commit to staying here for the rest of your lives. Accordingly, I can’t tell you the Truth unless you’re the one.”
“And how’re we supposed to know if one of us is the one?” says Pedj.
“The one will be a dead raiser.”
Pedj tips his head at Feligo. “Guess that counts this guy out.”
“The one will present itself in a foretold way.”
“Wow. Vague enough?” Pedj scoffs.
A Truth. An event. The one. All of it is very hard to conceptualize. Something happened. Whatever happened, it was a secret. Whatever it was, it granted this place magical properties and shielded this place from view up until the sleepness hit.
“That is all well and good,” I say to Pedj, “but it is far from useful. All that we can say is that we were instructed NOT to come to this place. That might have been a diversion, for all that we know. Unless we find something useful, we must rethink our plan. Staying put for too long is sure to draw Ark, and there is still the matter of ‘Visitor’. If it is Techton, then we are in even more danger. If I could steal away to Dimensia once more, perhaps I could–”
“AAAAAARGH!”
From outside, there is a perilous scream.
It is the first of many.
And as the air quickly becomes laden with cries muffled through the walls, Sanjuel hops from the table, spectacles in hand.
“What’s going on out there?!” he shouts.
We have not answer for him, and while the others hurry to move out the door, I skip formalities, instead zooming straight through the woodwork and into the light of day.
Only, the light of day is not so light.
The grassy ground, previously open and clean, is filled with a hundred or more racing shadows. And that is not all. Above the shadows, an equal number of visible naefaeries flit.
The agents of Ark have arrived.
Chapter XIII: Agents
The villagers, men and women and youth, stand in awe of the army of silver. Beautiful, the agents flit the air. No one speaks. No one moves. Until one woman, wrinkled as a crone, shrieks,
“Faeries!”
And the village gives a gasp.
“He was . . . He was right!” Sanjuel stares at the agents with mouth hung wide as a gorge, and then proceeds, “VISITOR WAS RIGHT! HE SAID THEY’D COME, AND THEY CAME! EVERYONE, INSIDE NOW!”
It takes little to incite riot, as riot is already coming to fruition. Chaos erupts as the villages flee to their respective dwellings, clamoring and stampeding, just as sure as if they were escaping a fire or some other natural disaster.
But this disaster is far from natural.
“HOOP!” says Pedj. “THEMS ARE–! BUT THERE’S SO CRANKIN’ MANY!”
More reactive, Feligo unleashes his sword and directs at Sanjuel, “Visitor told you the fae would come?”
“You bet he did!” Sanjuel says. “And he did more than that; he told us they’d attack! We’ve got to get inside and board up the windows!”
Foolish man. ‘Inside’ will not spare him.
Feligo holds his position. “You go. We’ll stay.” The knight’s duty gets the better of him, and before I can speak against it – “Leave this to us!” – he has volunteered us for defense of the entire village. The directive is certainly worth questioning – after all, two men should not be able to keep an entire village from an onslaught of voided naefaeries – yet without questioning, Sanjuel takes Armani and flees into the home where my pactor yet rests.
“WAH?!” The zombie eyes Feligo for signs of insanity.
“On your guard!” the Maestro says with vehemence.
Is it just me, or is his bearing even more regal than usual? Without question, he is a man of extreme justice, but . . . his armor shines, though the light does not touch it. His hair blows from his face, though the overhead wind bids it stifle him. His voice booms, though the agents are deafening.
“On your GUARD, mancer!” he says again. “We must save these villagers!”
Ah. Perhaps, after everything that has come to light, he wishes to prove himself to the Bloődite in our midst. He wishes to prove that his motives side with what is right, no matter what peoples need saving. It is a gallant gesture.
Even so –
“We cannot hope to fight them all!” I speak at Pedj. “Last time there were not nearly so many and we barely got away! My confidant, are you able to release your light?”
“Not on cwankin’ command! Just does it when I’s in a freak!”
“Are you not in a panic now!?”
“‘Course I am, but– Argh! What’s is, is too much pressure! Quit lookin’ at me!”
As I thought. Our odds are slim. That does not seem to occur to Feligo. The vigilant maestro hops here and there, sending shots of Gold into the throng. “Very well.” I watch his effort and understand that we will get nowhere without trying. “Zombie! Concentrate on releasing a light bright enough to cover them all. I will do what I can to stall them!”
With that, I flit into the air to where my so-called sisters play. A cloud of Void forms where they flit. Silver beauties with eyes of vengeance fight for a cause I see no merit in. The wind of so many zipping bodies ruffles my ever-growing hair. I would do well to shorten it again. Shortened, it would not get in the way as it does now.
So I say, but if I think of my pactor . . .
When Awyer awakens, I know that he will like it this way. He will hold me close and sweep it from my neck and place his lips beneath its veil. He will bury his face in it when he embraces me. He will whisper secrets into the strands.
Pang!
Even in considerable danger, my strongest emotion is longing.
THWACK!
For my distraction, I am hit from the side by a rogue blast of sticky Void.
Or mayhap it is not rightly called ‘rogue’.
“I warned you!”
To follow the blast, a familiar silver face comes darting from the mass, donning a look of hatred. It is the lead agent from before, the one with the peculiar enchanting of hair! My first instinct is to show fear, for I know that this agent houses a particular unfondness for me. What is more, that unfondness has obviously deepened!
But for that exact reason, I CANNOT show fear. I must fortify myself for the sake of stalling. I will behave as boldly as she.
“I warned you, didn’t I, sister?” the faerie says again with androgyny. “And still you diso
beyed.”
“Was it a warning?” I retort. “I could not discern it through your threats.”
“Silence!” My defiance angers her. “Ark does not want you destroyed, but if you do not come quietly, you’ll leave us no choice!”
“He does not wish for my destruction?” I must keep her talking. “Do you not find that odd? After everything I have done to disobey him?”
“SILENCE!”
“If you are to speak, it is only fair that I should too. Or perhaps you fear what I have to say?”
“Ha! I don’t fear you or your light! If you so much as flick a wrist, we’ll be on you, regardless of Ark’s wishes! I was told to reason with you, but you are clearly unreasonable!”
My light? So the agents do not know from where it came? They do not suspect that Pedj is below attempting to cast it at this very moment?! I elate in the discovery! But there is more work to be done on my part. I cannot let my joy show.
“Unreasonable?” I make my voice calm. “And who is the one shouting? You do not wish to reason with me any more than you wish to surrender. Furthermore, I do not believe you truly ever intended to follow your master’s order. I predict that you will end me even though he forbade it, because–”
Her eyes sear with hatred. True, I provoke her, but for a soldier she does not hide well her emotions.
That is because . . .
Why should you be different? They say you remind him of his mother, but I don’t see it, and it really gets under my skin!
“You are jealous,” I conclude. “Hmph. Maybe he would approve of you more if you defied his wishes.”
“ARGH! ENOUGH! We’re going to end you now before the Queen gets here!”
Before the Queen gets here . . .? Before MAEL gets here?!
She is close!?
I think rapidly of what else to say to make the agent stall. Perhaps I have made a mistake in angering her further! Her bloodlust is deeper than anything I have seen! I look down at Pedj, and he is concentrating with eyes shut.
Hurry, zombie! Hurry!
And when I look again, he is not alone. A figure approaches. I cannot be concerned with them, however. I must think. Something to say to stall the agent.
Something to . . .
It is too late. With a flick of her vindictive wrist, the rest of the naefaeries move into action. They circle me. I am the focal point of their target!
“Wait!” I cry. “I wish to know what you meant when you said that I am alike Ark’s mother! If Ark’s mother was a naefaerie, then what of his father?! Perhaps if you tell me, we can understand together why he allows me special treatment!”
Alas, it does not stint her attack. With a second flick of her wrist, the other agents close in.
. . .
“NOW, STRIPLING!” From below comes a voice. Melodic and low, it is a voice I have not heard in many, many weeks.
. . .
Closely to follow is a blast of sun’s light.
. . .
Cries possess the village as agents are subjected to Pedj’s light. Blind, I release my flight and fall to the ground.
“Gwim!” Pedj’s voice calls me. “GWIIIIM!”
“She’s there!” the melodic voice says. “I’ve got her.” Around my waist, a rope of blackness appears. It tugs at me, alike a leash, drawing me after its holder. “Quickly now, before they wake!” the holder says.
“Wait!” Feligo’s voice speaks. “What of the sphinx?”
“That stripling?” the melodic voice turns sneering. “A fine mess he’s caused. We should leave him, for all he’s done. I warned him not to sit on the throne, but did he listen? Foolish prat!”
I cannot wrap my thought around what his happening. The leash of Void pulls me away from the rest.
“Pedj!” I cry. “Do not leave Awyer!”
“We ain’t leavin’ him, croop number two!” says Pedj obediently. “You’re off your nut if you think we is!”
“FINE,” sneers the melodic voice. “Fetch the boy. See if you can carry him alone.”
“But–!”
“I’ll do it,” says Feligo.
“Always the righteous one,” the melodic voice says. “Fine. Do so if you must. Take the end of this. It’ll lead you out of the light.”
Their voices grow distant as I, too, am led out of the light.
The snake of Void pulls me blindly a ways, and when I am at the edge of the sun’s power, I begin to see green plant life again. The blinding light shows signs of breaking. That is when I begin to panic.
The distance between Awyer and me grows. I can feel it straining on our pact! The farther I am drawn, the more I ache for him! The slither of Void winds me tightly, pulling further from him! I wriggle against it. I fight to break from it!
“MY PACTOR!”
But before I need struggle too greatly, our bond slackens to signal that the distance between us has lessened. Somehow, Awyer moves toward me at a speed greater than I travel?
Then it would seem the Maestro has followed through on his offer!
“Awyer.” I close my eyes. “Come to me.”
I am first to be spit from the light.
Into a cleared patch of jungle, the voided rope throws me, and I am free. The outskirts of the space are overrun with thorned vines and springy beanstalks. I flit to and fro frantically, in search of pursuing agents, and waiting for Feligo to appear with my pactor or for anyone else to materialize from the light. I do not need to wait for long. From where I have just come, Pedj breaks through a snarl of weed.
“Ouch!” He cradles a pricked hand.
“Zombie!” I am glad to see him, and I show it by making a pass through his body – for which he is not grateful.
“Gwim!”
“What just happened?! The person with you – I recognized his voice! Was it Cou–”
“Phoo!” Pedj cuts me off. “Am I glad to see you! Was a skosh worried the cwoop was lyin’ ‘bout havin’ caught hold of you. I mean, it’s not like we can trust him as far’s we can toss him.”
“That voice!” I say again. “The figure that approached you! Was it Coun–”
I need not ask. At that moment, a familiar person emerges from the light, confirming my suspicions.
The man is dark beneath the eyes, with sleek black hair that has been combed to the side, and a plum cloak to mark his class. Though he does not appear olden, an elder of Eldrade he certainly is.
Standing before us is the Count Bexwin.
“Ah!” I fly to where my confidant stands, unsure whether or not to prepare for enchants. “It IS he!”
“Yeah, it’s that cwoop. Kinda forgotten ‘bout him to be honest . . . Eh-heh.” Pedj laughs uncomfortably before proceeding to size the elder up. “By the hoo, your magick’s dark, ain’t it? Saw you cast Void right before my eyes. So why aren’t you writhin’ round like what the rest of them dark buggers are?”
The Count smoothens a hair that has become disheveled in the action. “Not so fast, stripling,” he says. “I’ve a few questions of my own first.”
“Got him!” Last to leap from the brightness is a certain heroic silverfox. Within his arms he carries a certain resting sphinx.
Much has happened in a small helping of minutes. There is much to process. But at the sight of Awyer safely retrieved, there is only one thing on my mind. I forget about the fact that the missing Count has just made a sudden appearance. I forget about the fact that we have yet again dodged a harrowing onslaught of agents. I forget that Ark, Techton, and Mael are in pursuit of us and could show up at any given moment.
I forget about all of it in lieu of being reunited with my love.
Before Feligo has finished placing him against a tree, I am upon Awyer, kissing the only flesh I may in the absence of enchants. I kiss him firmly upon the mouth and will foolishly that he would be able to kiss me back, and when I am finished I rest my forehead against his. “Our bond was strained,” I whisper. “Did you feel it? I never want to feel that way again.”
“Gwoss, Gwim! Get a crankin’ room!”
With the crystal in his mouth, Pedj plays witness to my affections. And he is not the only one. The person who leashed me and pulled me from the fray, he too is touched by Void. He, like Techton, like the dark agents, can see me. His eyes fixate on me unmistakably. They do not pass through. They do not skim. “There it is,” says Bexwin. “It all makes sense now.”
“You can see me?”
“Hardly. You’re dim.”
“What makes sense?” says Pedj.
Bexwin is not given a chance to answer. Having released Awyer and gained firm footwork, Feligo unsheathes his sword and, in one fluid motion, points it to the Count’s throat.
“Magister Bexwin, you’re the person the people of Yel’ram call Visitor.”
Bexwin’s smile curls in a manner amused. “That’s right.”
“Truly?” I say. “From their description, I was certain it was Techton!”
Feligo cannot see and hear me. Thus, he does not react to my claim. Instead, his full attention is placed on Bexwin. “You set me on the Bloődites knowing full well that they were innocent!”
The Count’s smile curls deeper. “Right again,” he says.
The point of Feligo’s sword makes contact with the soft flesh beside Bexwin’s Adam’s apple. “Then answer me this if you hope to live: What is your agenda, Magister?”
The Count says nothing.
Feligo’s brows bend forebodingly. “What is your agenda?” This time when he asks, it is through bared teeth.
“Isn’t is obvious?” Count Bexwin responds, singsong. “Why, to save the world, obviously.”
“Ha!” says Feligo. “You lie, knave! Your actions distracted the royal army from the real threat! You pointed us elsewhere when we could have stopped this whole thing from happening!” From the tip of his sword, the first drop of blood is drawn.
Bexwin does not flinch. “Kill me if you like,” he says, “but I’m warning you, valuable information will die with me.”
