by James Stone
‘From Ranvirus,’ Magmaya explained. ‘The city of Orianne. I doubt many of you here have heard of it.’
‘My lady, quite the opposite’ She shook her head. ‘I’ve so many questions!’ She took a pause. ‘If you would give me a moment?’
‘Yes…’
‘You’re so kind, my lady.’ The handmaiden scuttled out of the room, her plume of coloured hair swaying as she did.
Magmaya reclined in her seat, felt the warm leather burn her back and caught her mind wandering; how did she know about Ranvirus, let alone Orianne? The Divinicus had claimed she’d looked like her father! It felt as if the south knew more about her than she did herself.
Footsteps clattered through the archway as the handmaiden returned, a smile creeping on her lips. She had something in her hand. Something delicate. Something red.
‘Allow me.’ She ambled around Magmaya and took her hair again. But this time something prickled against her left ear and ruptured her locks.
‘What is it?’ Magmaya asked, but she feared she already knew.
‘A rose, of course, my lady,’ she said. ‘The emblem of your city.’
‘Thank you.’ Magmaya grit her teeth, but her heart was sinking. ‘It’s an honour you knew.’
‘The Lord Commander travelled to your city not long ago, yes? We all heard about it,’ the girl explained. ‘Did he take you back with him, then?’
‘Something like that.’
The servant nodded and rushed around to face her. ‘One last thing, if I may.’ She plucked a small, feathered brush from a table beside the baths and ran it through some greasepaint. She crouched to face her and swept it across her eyelids, black spilling down Magmaya’s milky skin. She stepped back, nodded and said, ‘Now you have the eyes of the Great Burned Lady.’
‘I don’t know much about your Inamoratan gods, but I can only hope that was a compliment,’ Magmaya remarked.
‘They’re not my gods. Mine are from the Summerlands, far across the seas,’ she corrected her. ‘A woman grown without burning eyes was to be cast out and never courted—’ Her face went pale. ‘Sorry, my lady. I shouldn’t keep speaking ill of the Summerlands. It is a beautiful place, truly.’
‘I once thought that anywhere south would be beautiful,’ Magmaya muttered. Highport proved me wrong about that. Perhaps I should stowaway again and go to the Summerlands. She smiled to herself and paused. ‘I’m not still in Highport, am I? Where exactly are we?’
‘Where are we?’ The handmaiden looked shocked. ‘We are in the Prism Manse.’ Magmaya raised an eyebrow, so the girl carried on: ‘At Hardingham Reach…? How little have you been told?’
‘Less than you might expect,’ she said. ‘I haven’t seen Fabius in a long while, and going by the size of this place, it’s looking like I never will again.’
‘The Lord Commander is a busy man.’ She shrugged. ‘But you’re right, my lady; Master Fabius’ abode does rival the palaces in the capital, even—there are hundreds of people here, if not thousands. It’s where the angels reside and depart upon their great arks. Connoisseurs from all around the world make the pilgrimage here to drink, speak with or court the Lord Commander and his nobles. I presumed you were perhaps one of the latter, being a high-born girl and such.’
‘I’m not here to court Fabius.’ Magmaya laughed at the very thought. She could trust this girl, yes? Then what did she have to hide? Have your fun. But after that, you must do what is best for your people, the words rang in her ears. ‘If I am here to speak with him, then I have to break him.’
The handmaiden led her through a complex of dizzying lilac halls, each more intoxicatingly vibrant than the last. Marble columns shimmered around her feet, dwarfing the pathetic monuments her home had insisted on erecting, all while she watched herself wander in the clear, checked floors. The servants and Divinicus alike stared down her dress; it was a flowing thing like a blossoming flower, and it was beginning to make her uncomfortable.
‘They’re staring at me.’ Magmaya turned to the handmaiden. ‘It’s like they’ve seen a ghost.’
‘It is the rose in your hair, of course,’ she humoured. ‘Eyes tall, my lady.’
‘Forgive me for not asking sooner,’ Magmaya started, ‘but your name…?’
‘Anclyn,’ the girl whispered, groping her robes. ‘Anclyn of the Water.’
Magmaya grinned. ‘Now I’ve a name to curse if you let me come back talking like one of them.’
She smiled and turned, glimpsing a shimmer of broken glass from across the halls—and then she saw Kurulian, marching amid an ocean of acolytes. She caught his eye as he crossed her path and mouthed his name, looking for some semblance of the angel she had seen fall from the sky. But he just spun around, and a moment later, he was gone.
Magmaya looked back and frowned, stole a deep breath and carried on.
From beyond the great double doors she had been planted in front of, she could make out the pleasant chirping of birdsong and beating of insect wings; the sound soothed her like the suckling of honey or the glistening of freshly fallen rain, and for a moment, she was home again.
She took another breath as the guards either side dropped their staves and hauled the doors open, light spilling in from the heavens. She was met with a dazzling yellow and brilliant white as whatever lay before her let itself be known: a broken marble pathway submerged beneath a horde of flowers, sporting striking violets, reds and golds, all convulsing gently under trees as red as summer wine.
The stench of raw pollen bit her nose as she stepped out. And then a spray of water lapped at her neck from a pair of ornate fountains. She passed over a small stream as it ran clear beneath a tiny wooden bridge below—she was beginning to feel like a giant. It was only a garden but walking in it felt like stepping into a painting. The same fear struck Magmaya that had done as she had boarded The Golden Damnation—a vivid excitement she couldn’t ignore. But newfound humidity engulfed her and, in an instant, sweat had soiled her forehead. The garden somehow felt more real than the inside of the manse—even the clouds were looking as if she could reach out and tear them from the sky.
Anclyn wished her luck before falling away behind the doors. They shut with a pleasant click, and Magmaya looked back to the glowing pathway; from somewhere beyond the purple skies, she swore she heard a swelling of music and chatter of voluptuous whispers. But when she moved, the voices stopped, and she thought for a second the whole thing might have been a ruse.
She had all the fear of the world in her, but she forced herself to keep on walking. A chiming of water from crinkling leaves made her shudder as she followed the winding trail, passing beneath candlelit arches and wicker houses. It was beautiful, all of it—but the flowers and trees were almost suffocating as they loomed over her, dragging her farther inwards until she was intoxicated.
That was when she found the chair waiting for her in a clearing ahead. It was made of ochre and lined with a velvet that would’ve suited royalty. The table was no different, nor the stone gazebo that hung over her, nor the man sitting on the chair across from hers.
And it turned out, it wasn’t as easy to break a person as it was to fall in love with them. It was difficult to argue with an angel once you stepped foot in heaven.
‘Magmaya,’ he said, smiled and stood, gesturing to the table. His robes fell to the unending rows of platters, symmetrically arranged around a number of tall candles, burning bright. All around her there were herbs she didn’t recognise, meat she’d never seen walk and silverware she wasn’t sure what to do with.
Fabius plucked a grape from a basket on the table and pursed it between his lips. ‘Pray sit.’ He gestured to the empty chair. ‘Help yourself to whatever you may please.’
‘Thank you.’ She did as he commanded and found herself staring into those starry eyes of his again. ‘It’s a beautiful dress,’ she stuttered.
‘A beautiful dress for a beautiful girl in a beautiful garden,’ he said, laug
hing. ‘What do you think, Magmaya? I had my landscapers import trees from the Summerlands and stones from Glassrock just to lay the foundations.’
‘Impressive.’ Bile began to build in her throat.
‘Wine?’ he asked, groping at a bottle and pouring her a glass before she hazarded an answer. ‘The grapes in this were broken down to make this wine perhaps a century ago.’ He set the bottle down, smiling. ‘There is no finer gift I can think of to give back to this world than wine.’
‘Perhaps grapes?’ Magmaya suggested. ‘Not everyone enjoys spirits.’
‘No,’ he agreed, ‘but they miss out.’ He raised his glass. ‘You and I both drink, do we not? We’ve nothing to miss.’
‘Nothing,’ the girl uttered, chiming her glass against his. She downed the drink. ‘To good health,’ she said, wiping her chin.
‘Good health.’ Fabius smirked, lapping at his wine and wiping his lip. ‘Look at you—chancellor of Orianne! How quickly you’ve again become a high-born woman from that dusty little girl in the depths of the Damnation.’
‘Well, your baths are luxurious.’ Magmaya felt sick complimenting him as if she was betraying herself with each breath. Perhaps it was his intoxicating perfume or the aroma of rich food, but she felt uneasy all the same. She almost wanted to go home.
‘Everything is luxurious here,’ he said. ‘The north has long been isolated. You seem to have forgotten the finer things in this world. The commoners call it decadence. I call it living.’
‘Oh,’ Magmaya remarked, unsure.
‘I can see why you would want to escape that miserable place.’ Fabius smiled, then looked to her as if sensing her blood growing hot. ‘Oh, I’m sorry. I mean not to insult you. It is only that the mountains insisted on casting terrible shadows and there were no stars to look upon—I love watching the stars, watching them move. You know the shamans say we used to travel across them? I doubt upon any of them there was ever a place as grand as my gardens, though.’
‘Things fall from the sky, sometimes,’ Magmaya said, growing annoyed with his arrogance. ‘They did in Ranvirus anyway. The priests said it was divine punishment.’
Fabius laughed at that and asked, ‘So is that why you’re here, then? To get a better view of the stars?’
Magmaya almost laughed too. If I looked up at the stars for but a second, I’d probably find a sword through my back.
‘Ranvirus wasn’t the place for me,’ she admitted with a sigh. ‘I abandoned my people, yes, but… it’s better that I disappeared. I told you, I made mistakes.’
‘Not everyone’s born to lead.’ Fabius nodded. ‘But you fought for your home, did you not?’
‘My… Siedous taught me,’ she said. ‘I can swing a sword good enough, I suppose. But nothing like your angels.’
‘I’d worry if you could,’ he remarked, lulling the glass between his fingers. ‘Knives on the other hand? You seem to be handy with those.’
So that’s what this is about, she realised and looked down, half-embarrassed, half-angry. ‘I know.’
‘It was quite something that happened at Highport,’ Fabius remarked. ‘Spider was a…’ he paused, ‘…friend of mine. It’s unfortunate he had to die the way he did. He was a valuable asset to us.’
‘I’m sorry,’ she stuttered. ‘I should’ve thought. But—’
‘You were reckless.’
‘There was a girl about to be raped.’ She frowned.
‘She was a sell-maiden. That’s what they’re for.’
‘You weren’t there,’ Magmaya insisted. ‘You didn’t hear her scream.’
‘A lot of screaming comes from those whorehouses—you think that was any different?’ Fabius shook his head. ‘There’s a silent order in Highport; one which rules from the shadows, and I thought you’d have better sense than to piss them off.’
‘I wasn’t thinking.’ She sunk into the chair.
Fabius nodded and took a deep breath, sat back and closed his eyes. ‘You’ll learn the ways of the south in time,’ he said. ‘But this whole escapade was unnecessary, girl.’
‘It wouldn’t have happened if your angels stepped in. You could end all the crime in Highport on your own,’ Magmaya remarked.
‘There’s a fragile balance to these things, girl. You think you can shake a tree without the leaves falling off?’
‘That balance can be changed,’ she protested. ‘If anyone in this world could change that, then it would be you.’
‘You seem to have the wrong idea about us,’ Fabius said. ‘Has Kurulian been whispering to you?’
‘Excuse me?’ Magmaya asked, feeling a bead of sweat run down her flank.
‘Look, the Divinicus Order was established long ago, Magmaya. And it was established under a single Lord Commander,’ Fabius explained. ‘But it was decided that a single seraph would not be enough to command all of the powers; there had to be cherubs and thrones and all ranks of us.’ He looked to her with a smile like ice. ‘You may eat, still.’ He swallowed another grape before continuing, and Magmaya slumped into her seat.
‘Anyway, three Legatus were appointed to command where their Lord Commander couldn’t—an extension of his will, if you may. I have come to watch over Rael, Akanah, and my most exalted Legatus and perhaps the greatest swordsman in the world—Kurulian.’
‘And why am I being told this?’ Magmaya’s voice was shaking.
‘It seems you do not fear him as you do the rest of us, girl.’
‘Fear?’ she scoffed.
‘Fear.’ Fabius nodded. ‘When a little girl sees a flock of angels descend from the clouds, she may stop for a minute to stare in wonder, but only before she runs away.’
‘You’re all terrifying,’ she remarked. ‘But what’s your obsession with Kurulian? I only said his name! I was sick, I wasn’t thinking.’
‘My obsession is that this would not be the first time a Legatus has turned against his Lord Commander,’ Fabius snapped.
‘If your Legatus turns against you, then that’s not my doing,’ she said. ‘I was just a girl who had lost her father. I won’t be accused of… whatever you’re accusing me of.’
‘An accusation reveals one’s true nature in time.’ Fabius looked to the flowers around him as the last of the sunlight shed down on them.
‘Your soldier said he knew me,’ Magmaya remarked, breaking the silence. ‘He said I looked like Kharon Vorr. How would he know? I never saw him in the north.’
‘Akanah.’ Fabius nodded. ‘Your home may have felt like a lonely place; it did to me. But you were far from alone. Your freezing royal cities weren’t forsaken nor forgotten. They were maintained by favours from the south. While Kytheran ships ran to you, afraid, we may have well been your gods, keeping tabs on your folly.’
‘If that’s so then why did I have to stand alone against a warlord?’ Magmaya grit her teeth, feeling anger boil in her. ‘If your Legatus was watching over me, then why were we left alone for so long? It wasn’t just Highport, was it? It seems you’re intent on abandoning everyone.’
‘I wouldn’t get into a conflict that brought me nothing. I would expend none of my men for that.’
‘To save others is nothing?’
‘To save outsiders is nothing.’ Fabius raised an eyebrow.
‘Then why am I still here?’ she spat.
The Lord Commander paused, pondering something before he turned back to her. It looked as if his façade was to crack in two. ‘Allow me to tell you something, Magmaya.’
‘I fear nothing can stop you from doing that,’ she said under her breath.
‘I once awoke to a great upheaval in my home too,’ he started. ‘I escaped what remained of my village and travelled to the altar which stood atop a nearby plateau. I had scarcely left the house before and the next I knew, the world around me was on fire and under the sunder of pirates—you can imagine how afraid I must have been.’ He laughed.
‘You can be afraid?’ she aske
d, only half joking.
‘Apparently.’ He paused. ‘But that’s beside the point; I was half naked and covered in bruises, but I dragged myself up that mountainside, feet swollen with pores, white and burned. I stayed for the night once I made it halfway, where I swear I died. By the next sundown, freezing rain had lashed away half the skin on my back, but I reached the flat of the peak.
‘And what did I find there other than a pair of Divinicus, heavy with the blood of the pirates? They guarded the plateau as if it had been their babe, but as I approached them, I fell at their feet like the helpless bugger I was. I cried to them, and I wept in the mud and ashes and asked those angels something I’m sure a girl like you might’ve.’ He smiled.
‘And what was that?’ she said.
‘What would any orphan ask?’
‘Are the pirates dead?’
Fabius scoffed. ‘Why did you not save my mother and father?’ he spat. ‘Why, when two men from paradise above could ward off an entire raiding party, could they not spare a working man and his pregnant woman? Why did they save the cottages, the churches—the bloody whorehouses from the pirates, only watch them burn from the hilltops?’
‘Why?’
‘Why is the most dangerous question a man can ask,’ Fabius answered, taking a sip of wine and swilling it around his mouth. He swallowed and smiled. ‘They told me angels had no cause for the common man. They told me there were larger triumphs at stake, beyond me. Perhaps I didn’t understand at the time, but if I were at that plateau now, dressed in pearly-white, I do think I would make the right decision.’
‘The scriptures the Kytherans brought said that every man was a gift to their mothers and gods alike.’ Magmaya frowned. ‘I don’t think I believe in any god, but if you really are an angel, then perhaps you better try to read a holy book.’
‘Like the church does?’ Fabius boomed. ‘We make our own gods.’
‘Your family died because the men you lead are heartless,’ Magmaya scorned. ‘What use is the bigger picture if the frame is burning?’
‘Look. I didn’t fall to the fires.’ His teeth shone, and his eyes widened as he spoke. ‘As Akanah studied the children of Ranvirus, I decided to let nature take its course. I stood by the teachings of those angels I had met, and I stand by them today.’
