by James Stone
So Magmaya did. And Nurcia laughed.
The guards called for her, threw the door open and tore Magmaya away. Nurcia laughed even harder then.
Don’t let her see you cry, she cursed herself. Don’t let her see the tears, dammit.
She slipped into the forest again and traced her path around the pond, and then to where she’d found him. There she could cry at least, and no one would be there to taunt her. She sat down in a bundle of leaves and sifted the snow through her hands until it burned her fingers. Her ears pricked up for a moment, as she swore she heard the calling of her brother; she heard his cries when she awoke that night to his broken legs.
Magmaya sighed and pulled herself up, wiping her eyes, finding them red. The day was drawing to a close, and she had a meeting with Rallun on the morrow. She heaved herself up and slumped back into her bed.
Council came and went in the boardroom, with no starry maps to gouge over nor even Siedous by her side on occasion, and Magmaya felt as if she was losing herself to the chancellor. She caught herself kissing bottles even more often than she did before the siege, and her dreams failed to turn to nightmares for they just started as them.
In time, they agreed (if agreed was the term she’d use) on a date for exchanging the prisoners. In two weeks, Nurcia would disappear, mocking her as she did. Not to mention, Magmaya’s folly in the dungeons had cost them the price of another Mansel prisoner—the turncoat had been right—no one wanted a girl with broken ribs.
When she returned to bed each night, it seemed as if Rache always slumbered in another world, far, far away, and when she looked to him, the glint burning through his eyelids reminded her that perhaps he was sailing the cold seas and swimming with the fish-women—him against the world.
Each day, she returned to the pond in the forest’s centre, and each day, she found it frozen over as even the heat of spring grew meek. And when she walked on its milky surface and eyed herself in its reflection, the seas didn’t seem so big any longer. Orianne looked as if it was shrinking about her feet as the days passed her by.
But when she watched the stars, they didn’t move an inch, save for glowing of the moon when it swam against the heavens or faded into the daylight. No wine spared her what loomed above. If a day comes when the seas swallow the ice and only the tips of mountains remain, then I’ll at least be able to depend on starlight, she told herself.
It had been perhaps a month since she’d met the shadowed-eyed man, but Magmaya woke in a cold sweat all the same. She wiped her forehead clean with her wrist and sat up, bathing in the fumes of long-dead candlelight, while a myriad of rosy incenses carried through the halls and blinded her to the harsh light of the morning sun. It hurt to smell it, though; it had been there when she’d found Albany, and she feared it would be there until the day she dropped dead.
The morning was clear enough without the sun; she could even see through the fog from the tower tops and make out children basking in the freshly-fallen snow, eyeing the sky ahead. Strangely, as she watched around, she found others doing the same, forgetting themselves as they cried to the blue heavens in the west.
Whatever now? she asked herself and ran to her window, threw it open and stared out into the city. It was then her smile dropped, and her heart began to shudder.
There was a scar across the sky, hanging below the mountains and bleeding the soft skin of the seas as if it were still cutting, forever frozen in the moment the knife struck.
The shadow-eyed man hadn’t quite been the fool Magmaya had thought; while the others stared in wonder, she did so in horror—a star was moving.
She made her way to the palace windows, finding a thousand scribes, each demanding her to explain exactly what was going on. And when she hazarded no reply, they came to their own conclusions.
‘It is a sign from the gods,’ one told her, hand twitching. ‘When the world turns red with the blood of stars, the end is truly upon us.’
Who were the nameless gods anyway? Magmaya asked herself. And why would they, at the end of all things, strike an orange smear across the sky? Was watching their people scream in fear so enjoyable that there would have to be an omen before the end?
She watched as villagers chattered and children played, and the sky turned a cool red. The faint glow seemed to twist and twirl around the wound on the horizon as if it was broken and out of place.
‘It was brighter this morning,’ another scribe interrupted her thoughts. ‘The sky is clearing. It’s only a falling star.’
‘I’ve never seen one so bright,’ Magmaya whimpered to herself. She remembered escaping the palace to watch a rain of stars fall from heaven one night, but they lasted for seconds at best. This gouge in the horizon had persisted for hours.
‘Aye.’ One of the scribes smiled wickedly. ‘It’s a demon.’
Magmaya scoffed and ambled away, making her way through the winding, white corridors and up a complex of stairwells.
‘My chancellor,’ a voice crooned as she made her way into the boardroom.
Magmaya hadn’t time to comprehend the others in the room before Siedous made his way to her. The night before, the palace had been empty. Now it was overflowing with Tyla, scribes and advisors she’d never remembering employing. She noted as well that the old knight was armed.
‘We were about to send for you, my chancellor,’ Rallun spoke grimly.
‘The star,’ Magmaya quipped, ‘I thought I noticed something strange on the horizon.’
‘You’re acting callously, girl,’ Rallun warned. ‘It may be no blood of the gods, but it’s lasting far too long to just be a falling star.’
‘There’s a woman in the city that tracks the heavens,’ Siedous explained. ‘I’m going to find her. Perhaps she can tell us something of worth.’
‘Is that why you’re armoured?’ Magmaya asked.
‘Orianne is not the place it once was.’
‘I’ll come,’ she decided after a moment. This is the most interesting thing that’s happened in weeks, she thought. And the first thing that hasn’t made my blood boil.
‘This woman isn’t worth your time, Magmaya,’ Siedous said. ‘She’s perhaps a maddened hag with a number of old maps. We’re going to her out of desperation.’
‘If she’s so insignificant, why didn’t you just summon her?’ she asked.
‘Her terms,’ Rallun groaned. ‘Like Siedous said, it’s a desperate measure.’
‘It must be the end of days for you to solicit an astrologist,’ she said, turning to the old knight. ‘I shall join you, my lord.’
‘Very well,’ Siedous mewled, and the pair left the palace together.
They found themselves out in the grey streets again, tattered banners beating against the wind. The snow fell softly, and Magmaya watched as it formed a barricade between her and the commoners. She was beginning to feel as alone and cold as she had that day when she rode back from the Sultide.
Siedous and her arrived in a small alcove, the crowds long behind. She swore she had been there before, but then again, much of Orianne looked the same at first glance.
‘Through here.’ Siedous gestured to a small entrance in the walls. It was flanked by a pair of leering stone gargoyles, sporting broken wings, buried beneath a thick layer of frost.
Without a word, they ambled inside and felt the cold fade as they were met with roaring fires and a great orange blaze. Bookshelves were pressed neatly against the brick-walled interior, alchemy jars were overflowing, and red rugs ran beneath their tread, trembling in Siedous’ armour.
In the room’s centre, a rather plump woman sat at an old wooden desk, near-impossible to make out beneath the heaps of sextants and globes. She was robed with a cunning smile, as the fire from the forked candlestick behind her shed its shell with each movement and reinvented itself anew.
‘My chancellor,’ the woman croaked. ‘I thought someone might be joining us soon, but I never expected to be blessed by you. Could
it possibly be that queer star?’
Siedous ignored her and said, ‘My name is Lord Harluss, and on behalf of Orianne, we’ve arrived—’
‘I remember you. You only enquired this morning,’ she crooned. ‘You never said you’d be bringing the chancellor with you, though.’ Magmaya felt her spine go cold as a chubby finger was poked at her. There was something unnerving about the woman.
‘Sit.’ She gestured to a chair, as if bored. Siedous did as she said, and Magmaya followed, finding herself staring into her eyes. ‘You like the candles?’ She motioned to them.
‘They’re pretty,’ Magmaya answered dryly.
‘Aye,’ she spoke. ‘The pyromancers of the south claim that in the fires, there shall be truth.’ She smiled. ‘But I am yet to find it.’
‘What’s the star then?’ Siedous asked, ignoring her. ‘Does it mean us ill fortune?’
‘It depends how one defines ill fortune,’ she said. Magmaya cocked her head, and the woman laughed. ‘But if you’re asking if the gods have finally decided our demise,’ the hag continued, ‘then you might find yourself disappointed.’ The woman’s smile dropped, and she began to finger a globe on her desk, tracing the lines with blackened fingernails. ‘I’ve tracked the stars since before you were born, my chancellor. And that’s not a star.’
‘Then what is it?’ Siedous asked.
‘It’s the same thing it was twenty years ago.’ The astrologer span the globe on its axis, and Magmaya watched it twirl before the realisation hit her pounding chest, and she looked up to the crone, eyes wide.
‘It can’t be,’ she protested. ‘The southern ships abandoned us!’
‘Things never happen just once,’ the woman said.
‘The ship before was never so vibrant,’ she persisted.
‘The chancellor is right,’ Siedous said. ‘When that vessel came, it was quiet and cold. It didn’t put on a light show.’
‘Did the ship before not have torches at all?’ the woman asked. ‘Perhaps this one is of a different origin or different design. Still, I have no doubt—that is no star. The southerners are coming again to Ranvirus.’
‘Well… how long until they arrive?’ she asked with a stutter.
‘Days, I would imagine.’
Magmaya found herself thinking back to all the times she’d gazed longingly from the palace, praying to see the same ship seep through the clouds again. She had dreamt of seeing the snowy mountaintops and brazen spires disappear so that she could be forgotten amid the waves. But it was always warmer when you wanted something, rather than had it. The thrill of the chase did something to her.
Now, though, she dreamt only of the warm, quiet nothing. Orianne, Rache and Siedous were a part of her; they always had been. She couldn’t run now. She couldn’t flee herself.
There was a scream of wood against steel as Siedous stood abruptly, his expression grim. As Magmaya looked to him, she saw that his armour was darker, despite the flames from the fireplace still raging.
‘My chancellor,’ he started, ‘let’s take our leave.’
‘Going so soon?’ the witch asked. ‘Am I not privy to these matters?’
‘You know as much as we do,’ Siedous replied.
Magmaya stood and turned to the hag as the strange thing looked up with a crooked smile, cleared her throat and held out her palm.
‘I’ve a family to feed too, my lord.’ She looked to the old knight.
Magmaya sighed. ‘Pay the lady,’ she said, and so Siedous flung a silver on her desk and bid her goodnight.
They were back in the streets again without another word, and her heart was pounding, though she couldn’t quite decide whether it was with excitement or fear. Her dreams never made her sweat so much.
Magmaya looked back up to the light as it bled across the sky. If the southerners were truly to be coming, then who would they be? Would Albany’s mother return to the north only to be told both her lover and son had been slain? Or would they be far more sinister?
‘Are they going to kill us?’ she asked at last.
‘I don’t know if they mean us harm,’ Siedous admitted. ‘But all those years ago when they arrived, the north changed. I fear all will not be the same again once these travellers arrive either.’
‘We should’ve stayed with her,’ Magmaya said as they began to make their way back to the palace. ‘Perhaps she might find more to tell us.’
‘Perhaps,’ he answered. ‘Perhaps not. She can only make out little stars moving, not who is in them.’
‘She might’ve not been exact,’ Magmaya said. ‘She could’ve been wrong.’
‘Tell me, chancellor,’ Siedous said, ‘have you ever seen a star grow so close to the shore?’
Not for a hell of a long time, she admitted to herself and made her way to Rache’s chambers.
There at least, she could just watch the candlelight flicker without any interruption. The warm glow soothed her as if it were a solid thing, rebuilding itself with every passing second. But in the moments it stayed still, Magmaya saw herself in-between the flames, and she couldn’t help but watch as her skin was burnt to ashes, only then to be forced to dance again in the flowing white wax. The mirage was lulling her to sleep.
The night before, she’d dreamt about the temple for the first time in what felt like forever. This time, though, there had been a woman standing atop it, watching her and smiling. She was oh so red and oh so gold, but before she had a chance to speak a word, daylight struck Magmaya through the windows.
She turned to Rache and watched his eyes close and flutter with his beating heart, smoothed back his hair and left a kiss on his forehead before rising from the furs and out of the room. Magmaya looked back to him with a smile; while he lay in ignorance, the boardroom shrieked, and she stood in silence. She wished she could’ve joined him, closed her eyes to the world that threatened to swallow her whole and yet, the siege had laid waste to the old Magmaya that would have allowed herself that luxury.
When Vargul had come for her home, she had been broken and bleeding, without a choice. But now as she stood in leisure, the world seemed more strenuous than before. She had never felt more alive when she was so close to death, and she had never felt more dead than when she was living in paradise.
By evening, Siedous had sent for her, and again, she found herself in the boardroom. Maps flooded the tables, detailing Ranvirus’ landscape: where the seas began and where the mountains stood tall and where the Deadfields continued on forever and ever south. Rallun looked down at her as she studied, eying her every move as she traced the map, his cold stare unflinching.
‘The vessel is still making its way east,’ the Tyla announced after a short while.
Magmaya looked up. ‘How many men can we afford to send?’
‘Enough to boast our strength,’ Siedous replied. ‘It matters not how many arms we bring, though. If they want war, this broken city will be shattered in a moment’s notice. We’re nothing to them.’
‘Neither of us are anything compared to this frozen hell,’ Magmaya said under her breath. ‘Whatever that vessel disgorges, I shall be there to see it.’
Siedous nodded. ‘When they make land, they must meet truly the best of us.’
The chancellor smiled warmly, stood from the map and announced, ‘Orianne rides.’
Nine
The night before they left was the coldest she had ever felt. Usually, her mornings were lit with starlight, but the coming of the southerners had blinded Orianne with something of a fire.
It was making Magmaya restless. The mere thought of it was exhausting her, yet the day insisted on forcing her to get up again.
And when she did, the corridors seemed to tremble beneath her. Even her summer furs were failing to protect her from the cold of the cells. She just had to remind herself that an hour later she would march to the star on the seas, and maybe then she’d be able to quell the feeling of nausea that had been building in her.<
br />
‘I was beginning to think you’d forgotten me,’ the traitor said when she entered.
‘Almost,’ Magmaya lied.
‘I dread to think what would’ve happened to me if you had.’
‘It doesn’t matter,’ she said. ‘It’s been decided.’
‘Oh.’
She ambled across the cell and eased herself onto a mound of broken cobblestone. Magmaya thought for a moment before deciding to look down at her, some wretched thing grazing on the floor. No longer was she huddled up, though, but sprawling, nude and pressed against the wall, her sheet tossed away, along with her modesty. She was still beautiful, Magmaya realised, despite her scars, and she caught herself still wishing she looked like her; she wished she had such rounded breasts and ripe thighs. She almost shied away. And Nurcia noticed it.
‘Am I making you uncomfortable?’ she asked. Magmaya ignored her and said, ‘We have made an agreement to have you and another of our captives exchanged for our men held by the Mansel.’ She sighed. ‘You will be marched there in a short number of days, but until then, you’re a prisoner of Orianne. Is that understood?’
Nurcia closed her legs and stood, confused. ‘What?’ Her lips curled up into a ghost of a smile. ‘I almost feel sorry for you,’ she said, looking to the ceiling. ‘My prayers have been answered! Vargul Tul watches over me still.’
‘Vargul Tul is dead,’ she snapped.
‘I was waiting here,’ the turncoat continued on, ignoring her, ‘waiting for the day you would come and gloat about how you were to take my head off.’
‘You have a committee to thank.’
‘A committee? You’ve been doing less as chancellor than I thought.’
‘I had the final say.’ She was losing her temper already. A voice inside of her kept telling her to leave—but she couldn’t yet; she had something to prove still.
‘And that say forced you to agree with the others, no doubt.’ She nodded. ‘You wouldn’t want to make your situation worse after all. The masses disliked your father, but they’ll hate you if you’re to keep your pride over your own men. It is difficult for us women, I suppose.’
