by Casey Odell
Her farce of an innocent, helpless woman was so convincing Claire almost believed it herself. However, she knew the truth: that she never wanted Lianna as an enemy.
The water was almost cold by the time Claire left the baths. She’d been so distracted, however, that she’d barely even noticed. She mulled over the events of the previous day. The Syndicate had found her. How?
Just thinking about it again sent a chill down her spine.
Her robe was tied tightly around her. She walked back to her bedchamber slowly, a half-bottle of burgundy in her hand.
The man was surely still down in the dungeons. At least, that was what Lianna had told her. But they hadn’t been able to get many answers from him.
Claire took a swig from the bottle before pushing open her door. She was just crawling into bed when a sudden inspiration hit her. What if she went to see the man? To ask him directly what he wanted from her. About the Syndicate. About her mother.
A fire filled her veins at that last thought. One she hadn’t felt for a while. It was possible that the man could know about her mother. And that was worth the try in itself. She was tired of inaction. Of sitting around and just waiting.
She dressed in a hurry, slipping into a pair of tan slacks and her green wrap around shirt and boots. She took one last sip of wine for courage before she slipped out her door into the dark hallways. It was close to midnight and most of the palace was asleep.
The dungeons were near the place where she had met the king, deep down under the palace. She vaguely remembered the way. But there would be guards. She needed a way to get past them. And an incentive to make the man talk.
Her mind went to the first thing she knew that could make many a men talk— and never shut up: alcohol. She turned toward the kitchens and the cellars. Surely the palace wouldn’t miss a few more vintages, would they?
Almost an hour later, she finally found the door, with two wine bottles in hand. A guard stood in front of it, a man not much younger than herself. His light armor gleamed in the bouncing light of the torches on the wall. He snapped to attention when he noticed her, wiping the bored look off his face.
“My lady.” He nodded his head.
She took a deep breath, straightening her back. She’d rolled her sleeves up on the way to show off her mark. If her plan didn’t work, she would have to resort to intimidation, or at least her version of it. “Good evening,” she said. “I wish to speak to the man brought in yesterday.” Straight to the point.
“I’m not to let anyone pass. Orders. I’m sorry, my lady.”
“Not even for a bottle of the finest wine in the realm?” She held up one of the bottles.
He eyed it, considering.
“I am the king’s woman,” she lied. Surely even he knew who she was, but probably not that little tidbit. It was worth a shot. “You don’t wish to anger him, do you?”
“N-no,” he stuttered.
“Then take this, and we shall speak to no one what has happened here.”
He was hesitant.
“Don’t worry, I only wish to speak with him. It was me he was after, remember? I’d hardly want to set the man free.”
The guard sighed. “Fine, my lady. But please don’t take too long. If you’re caught, it is me who will be punished.”
She nodded, grateful she didn’t have to use alternative means. “Thank you.”
He unlocked the door and let her pass, minus one bottle of wine.
Steps led down into a long corridor. Lamps lit the way sparsely, creating great pools of shadow. Stone surrounded her, cold and claustrophobic. Her chest tightened. Nothing good ever waited for her at the end of a dark hallway, she was finding. Hopefully, she wouldn’t stumble upon any sort of creature in the depths. If she did, then the king was hiding more than she’d thought.
The walls gave way to metal bars. Dark cells stood on either side. A foul smell reached her nose. In the dark, she heard light shifting noises. A whistle broke the silence. Her heart leaped. She hadn’t thought about other people being down here. Unsavory people at that. She walked in the middle, hopefully out of reach, trying to make out who was in the dark.
“Girl,” came a familiar voice near the end.
Quickly, she marched to the last cell on the left. The ones around it remained quiet.
The man from the Syndicate leaned on the bars, still wearing the plain clothes he wore when they captured him. Dirt caked his face. His right cheek was swollen to twice its size.
“Is that for me?” he asked, eyeing the bottle in her hand. His voice was hoarse.
“It depends,” she replied. She struggled to keep her voice even. Now would not be the time to show weakness.
“Ah, so you’ve come to torture me, is that the way of it?” He sounded more sad than amused.
“All I want are answers. How I get them is up to you.”
“Spoken like a true torturer. What makes you think I will give these answers you speak of when others have failed before you?”
“I have wine.” She held the bottle up.
He laughed. “The sweetest torture of all. If only more men knew that they could get more truths with a little beer and wine than with the rack or hot pincers.” His laughter faded. “And what is it that little Miss Tanith would like to know?” He sounded tired. Worn out.
She studied him carefully. It couldn’t really be that easy, could it? Perhaps he’d already been put through the wringer. “Why the sudden change of heart?
He shrugged, his hands gripping the thick iron bars. “A man grows weary down here. Especially when a pretty little maiden comes offering such sweet reprieve.”
His tongue may have been sweet, but she doubted the rest of him was. “Why do you want me?”
“I think you already know the answer to that.”
She did, sort of. For the same reason everyone else wanted her, she supposed.
“What about my mother? Do you know her?”
“Ah, the Red Rose. There are very few that haven’t heard of her. Her exploits in the Syndicate are legendary. She hasn’t told you of them?”
Claire just shook her head. There were many things Mother had kept from her.
“That’s a shame, really.” He leaned his forehead between the bars.
“Where is she?”
He nodded towards the bottle. “That answer would require a little bit of that sweet wine you are so disinclined to share.”
“You’ll get your taste when I get my answers,” she snapped, glaring. She didn’t want to get in arms reach of the man.
“A cruel torturer indeed.” He frowned, the lines in his face deepening, making him seem older than she’d originally thought. “Then I’m afraid I cannot answer anymore. My throat grows sore and my mouth dry.” He started to turn away.
“Wait!” Claire cried. “Fine, you can have it.”
She took a tentative step towards the cell, then another, and set the bottle down on the floor. He watched her quietly, his eyes scrutinizing her every move. She straightened and was about to take a step back when the man grabbed her. His hand shot between the bars faster than she could react, clasping her right wrist tight. A gasp escaped her mouth and echoed down the hallway. Her heart sprang up to her throat. The guard outside would come to her aid, wouldn’t he? Unless he was already drunk off her little gift to him.
He pulled her close to the bars. A wild look took over his face, then it softened almost instantly.
“It’s a shame,” he said, his voice low. He stuck his other hand through the bars and stroked her cheek.
She tried to jerk away, but his grip was surprisingly strong. She thought about yelling for the guard, but she still hadn’t gotten the answers she was seeking. Who knew if she would ever get the chance again?
He touched her cheek again. “That such power is wasted on a pretty little flower like you. What men could do with it…” he said with a wistful look. “But I suppose that was the whole point of it, wasn’t it?”
“D-do,”
she stammered, struggling to keep her voice even, but failing miserably, “do you know why we were made?”
“To hide magic from men like me.” He released her suddenly.
Claire stumbled back into the bars of the cell across the hall.
“Don’t get close to that one,” the man warned. “He has a fondness for young maidens such as yourself.”
“I like ‘em younger, but down here, she’ll have to do,” mumbled a rough voice behind her in the dark.
Claire scrambled to her feet and stepped well away from the cell.
The man picked up the bottle and worked the cork out. He took a long drink, wine dribbling down his chin. After he was done, he said, “Sweet, just how I like it.”
“What do you know about us?”
“Not much.” He shrugged. “They don’t tell us lower level members all the details, in case we end up in such a… predicament.” He motioned around him with a hand.
Disappointment settled in. She should have expected that, but she’d hoped that he would know something about what she was. But there was the possibility that he could be lying.
“But I suppose even you could learn if you knew where to look,” he said.
“What do you mean?”
“Go to the beginning; there is where you will find your end. At least that is what my late master always told me. There is wisdom in old age. Strength in knowledge. But that didn’t keep him from getting killed.”
“Vatrian?” she whispered, her mind racing, recalling Farron’s words in the library. The first ones to use magic. Could they be the beginning the man was referring to?
“Perhaps.” He took another swig of wine. “Not even the elves had known how to fully tame their magical powers. If the ones in the forest knew what you were, surely they would have never sent you away with so few guards. No,” he said, eyes drifting back down to her hand. “That reeks of old magic. But the elves are no fools. They were on the right trail, or so it would seem.”
“Uru Baya?” The place Aeron and Farron had been tasked to bring her to, to look for answers on what she was. Could there be more to that place than they’d thought?
The man smiled and drank. “The Syndicate was determined to not let you reach your destination. I wonder why?”
Wonder why, indeed. Perhaps she should have convinced Farron to take her there after all. She thought back to the stone in her room with the ancient writing. Maybe there would be someone there that could read the script. It was a slim possibility, but it was the best she had at the moment.
“Do you know where my mother is?” she asked.
The door at the end of the hallway opened then, followed by the heavy footsteps of the guard. “My lady, the hour grows late,” he said softly. “You must go before we are both found out.”
Claire looked at the man behind the bars, a pleading look on her face.
“There have been whispers,” he said.
“Come, my lady, we must go.” The guard took her by the arm and started to pull her away.
“Wait!” she gasped, pulling out of his grip.
“Of a maid with fiery hair.”
“My lady, please, I beg of you,” the young guard pleaded. He snatched the wine bottle from the man and turned to her, grabbing her tight this time. “I need this job for my family. I am sorry.”
As he was pulling her away, back down the dim hallway, the man in the cell called out, “Look to where the blue gill fish swim. Perhaps there you will find your answer.”
The blue gill fish,
she repeated in her head, hoping he wasn’t lying. It was a lead, however, and probably the best one she’d gotten since her mother had disappeared on that dreadful night.
Her blade cut through the air.
She was dressed for practice, but it had quickly evolved into more of a stress relief session, swinging her blade ruthlessly around her, slashing with all her might. Sweat dripped down her skin, soaking into her green shirt. The courtyard was quiet, as usual, the only noise coming from the wind howling off the tile roofs high above.
The sun hid behind passing clouds, casting the world in darkness, and then light, and then darkness again.
It was only two more days to the ball. She’d asked almost everyone in the palace where the blue gill fish swam, but no one seemed to know what she was talking about. The small library yielded no answers either— at least none that she could read, anyway. Perhaps someone at the ball would know. Or perhaps it didn’t even exist and the man down in the dungeons was playing her for a fool.
Claire swung her dagger horizontally.
No. It was a clue. It had to be. She could feel it in her gut.
“It is a wonder that Razi came out unscathed from all your practices,” Lianna said from behind her.
Claire gasped and spun towards Lianna, her heart beating frantically.
Instead of one of her stunning dresses, she wore the head-to-toe armor Claire had first met her in. Brown leather creaked lightly as she walked. Her blonde locks were pulled back into a high ponytail.
“What’s this?” Claire asked between breaths. “Have you finally decided to teach me?”
Lianna’s perfect pout curled into a smirk. “Has the sun set in the east?”
With a sigh, Claire sheathed her dagger. “Then to what do I owe the honor?” She’d already asked Lianna about the blue gill fish. She had only given her a strange look in response and asked if she looked like a fish monger.
Lianna stopped in front of her, heels clicking loudly on the stone, and held up a clenched hand. She opened her fingers and a pendant swung down, attached to a golden chain.
Claire gulped. “That’s Farron’s,” she said, her eyes watching the light blue stone swing through the air. Had she brought that here to taunt her? Or had she heard news from Farron?
“It was,” Lianna admitted. “It still can be if he wishes.”
“Why are you showing it to me then?” Claire asked, annoyance stirring inside of her.
“Because I believe it could help with your little… problem.” Lianna’s eyes drifted down to Claire’s mark.
It had grown longer still. The tendrils reached further past her elbow.
Claire looked past the pendant to Lianna, her hopes suddenly lifting a little, but she still remained skeptical. “How?”
Lianna took Claire’s arm and stretched it out to examine the dark lines. “It is not a sure thing, but I have been thinking. This pendant, I am able to imbue my magic into it. The wearer can then use the powers. If they know how. Perhaps the mark could draw off the necklace instead of you.”
Claire considered that for a moment. It could be possible. She was willing to try almost anything if it meant slowing down the mark.
“Would I be able to use magic then as well?” she asked.
Lianna shrugged and dropped her arm. “I suppose if someone taught you.”
And there was the catch. There always was one, she supposed.
She held her hand out for the pendant. Lianna handed it over reluctantly. Claire held it up to examine it closely, something she’d been wanting to do ever since she’d discovered it on Farron. The stone was vibrant in the sun, the facets sparkling.
Deep down, a longing stirred within her. She had tried not to miss Farron. But it was hard. She missed him. His presence at night, the way he spoke in that pretty language of his, even his japes at her expense. Her throat grew tight. Even if he did come back, she couldn’t have him. Not anymore.
“However, it is not that one you can use,” Lianna revealed, breaking Claire from her thoughts.
She looked up at the taller woman, confused. “Why not?” It would feel strange wearing a pendant another woman had given to him, though.
“Because that one is his.” Lianna plucked the stone from Claire’s hands. “Besides, I think it would have a greater effect if the talisman is bound to you. I will have to make a new one, imbue it with a spell so that your mark will draw off of it instead of you.”
“You can do that?”
“Of course.” Lianna looked a little offended. “I am the one that made this one, aren’t I?”
“How do you do it— make one, I mean?”
A mischievous look took over Lianna’s face. “Now that is the exciting part.”
Claire took a step back. She wasn’t sure she liked the expression on the other woman’s face.
Lianna tucked the pendant and chain into her bosom, then held a hand out. “You do want one, do you not?” She took a step toward Claire. “I can make you one, but I will not do it without your help.”
She was about to take her hand but hesitated. “Is it dangerous?”
“Of course it is.” Lianna snatched her hand and the winds started to swirl about them. “The heart of a Beast is not an easy thing to come by.”
Claire’s eyes grew wide. She tried to wriggle out of Lianna’s grasp, but it was already too late.
Their feet landed moments later on dirt. The air around them calmed. Lianna released Claire’s arm suddenly and she fell to the ground.
“What is this place?” she asked, looking around.
The sky was gray, dreary. A small village surrounded them. Tiny huts stood abandoned on stilts a few feet off the ground. They looked like they hadn’t seen life in years. Mold grew up walls, many of the wooden doors and roofs were rotting away, grass slowly starting to reclaim the dirt paths. Mountains stood relatively close, imposing and dark except for the white caps.
“Strealla,” Lianna told her. “Deep in the northern Arenae Mountains.”
Lianna marched down the road towards a lake. Claire got to her feet to follow her until they stopped at the muddy banks.
Pine trees surrounded the serene waters. Two great stone spires jutted out from the middle. Ropes connected them in a rather haphazard way like a web, with multi-colored streamers tied across them, blowing lightly in the breeze. Dark writing scrolled down the pieces of cloth.
“What is this place?” Claire asked.
Lianna gazed out over the mirrored water. “I think you know what this place is.”
Claire’s pulse picked up. She had hoped Lianna was just joking about the beast. “You mean…”
