by J. D. Wilde
“You are carrying a scythe!” Adira points out, and as much as her complaining is bugging me, she has a point. We certainly do not fit in with the crowd of refugees we are trying to hide within.
Last night we arrived at a thin shore with the help of some of Grace’s soldiers who took the boat back to the ship after we made it. Grace appointed an acting captain before we left despite her crew’s protests to not leave. He will see to the safe return of the men and women under his command and give word to Grace’s commanders as to what she is doing.
We spent the night camping within the lush, green forests near the small town of Silvercoast. There was nothing odd about this because there were already hundreds of people doing the exact same thing. When I woke up, I found a set of clothes laid out waiting for me. Grace had packed them for us, and although they are a little plain, I don’t really mind them. I’m wearing simple khaki pants, a crisp white collared-shirt, and a royal blue jacket over it. Grace and Adira are wearing almost the same thing, only their shirts are black and blue respectively. The only major difference is Adira is having to walk all this way in a brand new pair of boots since she normally went around barefoot, hence the complaining.
In Adira’s defense Grace’s scythe isn’t the only thing making us stand out. I’m carrying my bow, and our clothes are not plain enough given the circumstances. The refugees around us are wearing glorified rags with holes and stains all over them. Letting Adira walk around barefoot might actually help us blend in more.
“We aren’t trying to blend in with these people,” Grace explains. “We want to blend in there.” She points ahead of us, and over the sea of Oriare’s fleeing citizens, I see mountainous gates carved out of stone.
Adira gawks and asks where exactly we are heading. Grace responds, but I already know the answer. Those are the main gates to Saphira, Jo’s last city of residence and the capital city of Oriare. An intense heat encompasses my mind as images with no context rush through.
I see Jo, that same woman from before, and several other men and women I don’t recognize flash by one right after the other. They are all incredibly blurry. I have no idea how I know who is who, but at the same time I recognize them all. I try to move my hands to cover my ears as they are bombarded with music, terror filled screaming, laughing, arguing, and normal conversation all at once, but I no longer have control of my body. It would not matter anyway; all of this is happening in my mind and my mind alone. At this point, I don’t even know where my body is. We can already be in Saphira.
“Lux. Lux!” Grace yells as she shakes me. Her eyes are full of concern, but her screams are filled with anger. “What just happened?” she shrieks at me, and some of her spit lands on my face.
“Are you well?” Adira asks as she pulls Grace out of my face.
I respond that I’m fine. I’m sitting on the ground, and a few of the refugees have stopped to see if I am all right. Grace politely dismisses them, and Adira performs a quick exam to see if I really am as good as I say I am.
“What happened?” I ask her as she looks over my head.
“You fainted,” Adira says.
“You were murmuring a lot of gibberish, too,” Grace adds. “What was going on? Was that a vision? What did you see?”
“I don’t know,” I give one honest answer to all of those questions with that statement because it was a lot of different things. They did not make any sense being lumped together, and I doubt they would make more sense if I had seen them separately.
Grace wants to keep moving before traveling guards or soldiers pass by, but I feel lightheaded. My face is drenched in sweat, and my legs are mushy. This doesn’t deter her. She hoists me up and starts to drag me along.
She is correct of course. We cannot afford to have the guards catch us, but come on. Pulling someone along with their feet dragging on the ground is just as suspicious as me laying there. Adira comes to my rescue and takes the other side of me. For a few minutes I let them carry me like this until I know I can continue onward. Thankfully, I do not feel nauseous like before with Jo’s memory, and I am soon back on my own feet.
When we get a few hundred feet away from the gate, a guardsman appears at the top of it. To the dismay of the citizens who find themselves homeless, he informs them no one will be entering the city’s gates. Disgruntled yelling and screaming erupts throughout the crowd and they start to push against the wall. Of course, it doesn’t do anything. Human strength is not going to do anything to this unmovable wall. The guards yell down a warning, but no one is listening.
The next thing I know, Grace is pulling me out of the crowd. I manage to grab Adira’s hand, and the three of us make it safely off to the side. Grace’s timing could not have been better, as the guards unleash a forceful amount of water on the crowd, sweeping several of them far enough down the road to become little specs.
Adira gasps. She is completely shocked at how leaders of this country treat their people as if they are pests. I’m not only as taken aback as she is but also confused as well because Jo’s memories were never like this. Something is happening in Oriare, and I need to figure out what it is.
Grace bitterly tells us they have tightened their security even greater than anticipated, which causes Adira to ask if Grace can actually get us in. The irritation is evident in Adira’s tone, and it is returned to her by Grace when she responds she does not think she can. None of these guards look familiar. According to Grace, Saphira must really be on its edge if they’ve put this much security up. The entire country depends on trade to function, but it does not look like they are letting anything but the bare essentials in and out. Adira vents her frustration at how this whole trip is pointless, and while Grace agrees the trip is pointless, she turns the blame to Adira.
Their arguing is beginning to give me a headache, so I ask them both to be quiet for a while. I’m sifting through what I can remember about Oriare, but none of it involves this. According to my memories, Jo never came this way, which is complete and utter ox manure. She had to have. This is the only gate that connects to the farmlands where she is from. Every time I think of Jo traveling it goes back to the claw and moving from portal to portal.
And I am an idiot.
I literally have a key to the entire world on my wrist, and we are standing here wondering how we are going to get in. I motion for the two to follow me after I tell them I know how to enter into the guarded city. The three of us travel along the wall taking care to stay near the forest trees and brush while I look for a part of the wall that isn’t covered in guards. We have to travel quite a distance, but eventually manage to come to a part that does not appear to be being watched. I clench my fist bringing the four sharp blades out.
“What exactly are you doing?” Adira asks.
“Getting us in,” I respond automatically, and Grace rolls her eyes. At first I’m peeved because I thought she did it towards me. As it turns out, Grace’s majestic eye roll was meant for Adira’s question.
“Are you ever not going to question us?” Grace asks. “I feel like I cannot lift my pinky finger without you wondering why.”
“I would just like to be more informed about what we are doing. For example, when we get in there, what exactly is our plan? You said it yourself this place is heavily guarded,” Adira answers. “What are we going to do if we get caught? How are we going to find the shop? How is a hidden claw going to get us inside? I feel these are all valid questions.”
“I’ve been in Saphira dozens of times, and I’ve past this shop. I know where it is,” Grace retorts.
“Are you sure about that?” Adira continues her barrage of questions, and I hope this stops soon. It’s like these two love to fight each other so much, they will go at each other’s throats over anything.
“What happened to having to trust one another? Lux, are you going to tell her off?” Grace huffs, and I sigh. Honestly, are these two really going to bring me into settle every argument they have?
“Adira, we are here b
ecause we trusted you and respected your customs. You can at least return the favor,” I say.
Adira's arms flounder in the air defeated, but she nods ending what is now our argument instead of hers and Grace’s. Grace’s smug smile shows she is satisfied with the outcome, and I am really beginning to become concerned about our ability to work together as a cohesive team. Nevertheless, I continue and draw a line straight down against the wall. The portal that opens is easily tall enough, but only one of us will be able to go through at a time.
To nobody’s surprise Grace elects to be the first to enter and all but charges in. Adira and I share one more look between us before she goes in, and I bring up the rear. Once I exit, I nearly pee myself. We are in a dimly lit small room surrounded by guards who appear to be filling out various papers. I try to step back, but the portal has disappeared. Even if I did open it again, I do not think Adira and Grace will be able to get out in time. One of the guards dressed in navy calls out asking if we really just broke into the guard’s barracks. Adira looks concerned, but I’m sure Grace is amused. She appears to be trying her hardest not to laugh as she covers her face with her hands.
I quickly examine the room to try and find our escape. Shelves line the left and back walls and are full of books and documents. There is a single desk with papers stacked high sitting on top, and soldier with an astounded look on his face sitting behind it. This room is tiny and more importantly there is only one exit. The exit undoubtedly leads to more guards, but there isn’t much more of an option. Either we fight our way through, or Grace and Adira hold off the guards while I make another portal.
Another guard enters through the doorway and is equally shocked as the others to see us. The guards greet and address their captain as they draw their weapons. The captain orders them to arrest us, so I reach for my weapon. Oddly enough it is Adira’s and my first instinct to fight, but Grace ends up stopping us.
“If you two start fighting them, this will turn into an international incident with unfathomable consequences,” Grace hisses.
“You would rather us be arrested?” I question.
Apparently yes. A diplomatic incident is the last thing her nation needs especially since it makes most of its money through trading its goods with Oriare. On top of that, the tiny room doesn’t provide much leeway to successfully weave and dodge our way through. We will have to hurt and potentially kill them to make it out.
Adira sides with Grace and lowers her weapon claiming she liked to avoid killing innocent people. I do not let go of the tight grip I have around my bow, and I keep my arrow tensely pulled back at the ready. I understand the consequences of starting a fight here. I am willing to accept them. Adira is not. And although Grace is the one that cannot stand Oriare and its people, she also is not. Even though the two of them are right about causing these guards deaths, a few guards lives are nothing compared to the entire planet’s population.
They are being naïve. If we are locked away in a cold jail cell, we cannot save anybody at all! That is truly unacceptable, and I am torn. I don’t want to ruin my sister’s lives in the process of saving the world, but there might not be a way around it. I refuse to be locked away. I lift my bow up and center it directly between the eyes of the scared guard in front of me. My duty to protect the world is greater than my desire to be friends with my sisters.
Chapter 11
The captain orders us again to drop our weapons to the ground and kick them away lightly while the guards cautiously inch closer. Adira and Grace immediately comply, but I do not. Grace shoots me a menacingly look, and Adira looks dumbfounded. I give them both a glare because I think this is the by far the dumbest thing we can possibly be doing. The captain gives me another stern warning. I’m tempted to put an arrow through his skull just to prove a point, but all of sudden I don’t want to.
My hand loosens ever the slightest, and my angry stubbornness disappears. For some reason, I no longer believe I should kill this man. My mind may have switched sides, but body has yet to. I am still standing at the ready with my bow drawn. The captain gives me one final warning, and Grace harshly curses me under her breath. I comply, but not before shooting them all a look to let them know if I wanted them dead they would be.
As I hand over my bow and quiver, the tense guard in front of me carefully picks them up. I hope they fail to notice the claw, but of course they see it after a quick scan and order me to take it off as well. When I hand over Jo’s old armalo, the guard yells for the captain to come over. The captain takes the claw out of his hand and looks at me with stark, serious expression.
“Where did you get this?” he questions through a tightly clenched jaw. He is trying to maintain a calm demeanor, but it is clear he is seething. His body is shaking as he raises his voice asking again where I got it from. I keep a stone face, but on the inside the confidence I had only moments ago has disappeared. I’m now unarmed, and for some reason this captain is about to lose it after we have already complied with his demands.
I’m guessing he knew Jo and cannot wait to hear about how I managed to snag her own one of a kind magical item. Thankfully, one of his troops taps his soldier, and he slowly backs off. After a moment’s pause, he abruptly storms out yelling back at us that the queen will handle this. Four of the remaining guards form around us and order for us to follow them out of the room. They warn if we try to make a run for it, they will shoot our backs without any hesitation.
When we get outside, the Sun’s brightness causes me to squint my eyes, and I have to occasionally glance at the ground to give them a break. However, this does not stop me from observing my surroundings. All of the buildings here are pristine and clean. The majority are made of white bricks and several have deep burgundy flags with a golden stitched design of a ship following a bright star hanging from the window seals.
Others appear to be residences with beautiful flower pots hanging out the windows and off of balconies. We are walking along the road, and the citizens either step to the side or cross the road completely when they see us approach. I can see what Grace meant about blending in inside the actual city, our clothes are much less conspicuous here. To be honest, I feel underdressed compared to most of the people I see walking around.
They are wearing various different colored silk shirts and dresses. The laughter and pointless conversation quiets when we draw near and is replaced with gossip immediately after we pass. The guards are leading us to a large white building with long flags hanging from its entrance way. A burgundy dome made of stained glass sits at the top with intricate flowers, vines, and tree limbs etched into it.
The city’s noise grows louder as we walk more towards the central hub. Sturdy horses’ hooves clop against the ground and carriages swish air around causing dresses to fly up as they rush by. It is at this moment Grace decides to elbow me and ask what the captain was going on about back at the wall. I forgot I never told Grace about how and why I have so many of the armalos, so I rapidly whisper it was passed down to me and hope she doesn’t have any more questions. Of course she does, but she is hushed by the guard before she can ask me any of them.
The area in front of the dome building is filled with soft, dark green grass and small trees covered in light purple and blue blossoms. We walk up the white painted stairs and pass the heavily guarded entrance way to find ourselves in the well-lit interior. Natural light due to the abundance of tall and wide windows softly glows on to the elegant light wood furniture and darker ascent cloths and rugs. Exquisite vases with bright flowers fresh from the gardens sit neatly atop every cabinet runner and table in the room.
While the dome is decorated to impress, this is not where we are being led. One of the guards opens a door on the left to a walkway that is a stark contrast from the rest of the building. The path they wish for us to follow leads to crumbling stairs surrounded by darkness with moist air and a foul stench. This appears to go to a jail cell or dungeon.
Grace takes a step down when another guard comes i
nto view behind us. He rushes past and barrels through people as he yells at us to stop. As he regains his breaths and wipes the sweat from his brow, he hands a note to the guard in charge of us and explains the queen wishes to speak to us immediately.
“Why?” Grace is uneasy, and Adira appears anxious as well. I guess I should be, but I am not. I think having Jo’s soul connected to mine is making me far too comfortable here. I try to remember the queen, but I can’t. Honestly, although this all feels familiar, none of it looks so. The lack of memories is starting to drive me crazy. I should know who we are about to speak to because Jo worked diligently for the queen for years.
Instead of continuing down the stairs to what I am assuming is the dungeon, the guards turn around and walk us towards the back of the room where twin staircases covered in burgundy carpet curve up to the next level. We walk up the stairs and they open the doors to reveal a throne room, or at least I think it is a throne room. It is not overly large or sophisticated, and when compared to the rest of the city, it is underwhelming. Even the actual throne is a just a single redwood chair with burgundy cushions.
The guards close the tall doors behind us, leaving us with about ten other guards and the queen in charge of the nation we are currently trespassing in. After a few seconds of staring, I find myself unable to speak for I do know this woman. This woman is the same from Jo’s memories!
The queen’s light brown eyes are glaring daggers at all of us but me especially. Her auburn hair is in a pulled back away from her tan face into a debonair bun, and the silver crown sits perfectly on top. Her dress is fitted on top in a tinted shade of red with a flowing cream-colored bottom. She looks both stunning and absolutely pissed.
“Your majesty,” Grace begins but the queen interjects.
“I will get to you Grace Wheeler of Elsen, but first I must discuss with your friend here how she came into possession of this,” she says as she stands and grabs the shadow claw from one of her men.
