by Ben Alderson
“With enough time, they’ll see the ship and destroy it before it reaches land.” Marthil voice was unbothered, as if she hoped that would happen.
“Oh, I do hope so.” Gordex’s response shocked me and Marthil, whose head cocked back dramatically. “The ship, although grand, is merely a distraction. It will not be my means of travel. And it would be wasted breath asking more on the matter. You shall all see soon enough.”
No one uttered a word whilst Gordex tucked into the slice of meat slavered across his plate. Methodically he sliced it into pieces, red juices leaking from the cuts and oozing onto his plate.
“Marthil, why the face?” Gordex said without looking up. His comment had me looking her way and noticing the intense red tones that blotched her cheeks and neck. “I thought you would be happy to have a chance to return home, to show them just how much you care for the people who turned you away?”
“You promised me that I’d never need to return back there, yet you conspire these plans without involving me?” Marthil’s tone was pointed and sharp. I knew little about Marthil and why she had left, only pieces of story I had pieced together from Cristilia’s comments. Marthil had been exiled all because of the fear rotted in the Morthi’s people minds and hearts from the destruction of the previous Dragori. Even now, the story Cristilia told me lingered in the back of my mind.
“Retrieving the final Dragori is greater than any promise I have made you, Marthil,” Gordex replied simply. “I expected you not to have a problem with this. Not when the promise of you having revenge can be fulfilled sooner than later.”
Marthil frowned, contemplating his words. Her gaze was hard like frost. “Leave me here. I can look over the city and keep her rabble in check.” Marthil pointed her empty fork at Queen Kathine.
“What do you fear, dear girl?”
Marthil winced. “I want to stay here.”
“You will join us.” Gordex slammed his palms on the table despite the sweet nature of his tone.
The air in the room thickened, and the flames from the many candles flickered out of existence. I dropped my cutlery and gripped onto the arms of my chair.
Gordex raised his gaze to Marthil, his eyes had turned charcoal and runes leaked with black shadow.
“You disrespected me, Marthil, on more occasions than one.” His voice boomed across the room, followed by torrents of wind, my wind. I felt him pulling on my magick, twisting it for his own control. “Do not make me regret my choice to treat you with great kindness. I promised you the heads of those who shunned you, and that is what you shall get. Yet why you still defy me, I do not know.”
Queen Kathine showed her first signs of distress as Gordex unleashed his power across the table straight for Marthil. Nyah cowered, curtains of curly red hair falling out of her bun and across her eyes, as if she was trying to hide. Jasrov’s undead body sat still, unbothered, hands moving for his empty plate as the shadows inside of him kept him animated on an emotionless loop.
But Marthil did not cower or hide.
In silent protest, she kept her gaze on Gordex as he used our magicks against her. Flexing his control, he showed his use of air, fire and earth as he made the room quake once again.
“Don’t make me go back,” Marthil said, voice barely audible over the roaring winds. But the catch in her voice and the wet glaze over her eyes was not a result of the magick. It was the result of fear. Like a frightened child she began to crack. “Please…”
Gordex brows creased in their center as he too noticed the fear in Marthil’s eyes. Fear not created by him, but by the prospect of returning back to Morgatis.
“You are scared,” he said, tilting his head inquisitively. “I sense it on you.”
Marthil lowered her head as the room returned to normal. She didn’t admit her fear, nor did she need to. It was as clear as summer skies.
“There is nothing to fear, Marthil, not any longer. But I cannot say the same for those who exiled you. They will feel fear, and you will be the one to place that fear in their hearts.”
Marthil looked up slowly, her eyes dry and lips pinched white. “How?”
Gordex took his seat, shoulders back and chin held high.
“Something you will soon learn. Control is the only cure to the virus that is fear. And it is control that I—we will have.”
ONCE GORDEX HAD finished eating, he stood and left. Without another word Nyah, Marthil, Queen Kathine and I sat watching one another to break the silence. Nyah’s hand was on the table in front of her, inches from Jasrov’s pale, dead fingers. So close that a single movement of one would make them touch.
My heart ached watching her desire to feel him.
Marthil’s chair practically fell over as she kicked back out of it and stormed out. I watched her slip past the shadowbeing guards who burst into the room. Two grabbed me by the underarms and pulled me from my place. I tried to call for Nyah, but she was being dragged out as well.
I shrugged off the dead hands from my body and stayed steps ahead the remainder of the walk. My skin crawled whenever they touched me.
The palace was shrouded in an ominous cloud in the dark of night. The lack of flame only added to the frozen air and brisk winds that intruded from beyond the palace. Although it had been days since a fresh layering of snow, it would only be a matter of time until the next blizzard ate its way across Lilioira.
Once I reached my room, I slammed the door after me. The familiar shuffle of shadowbeings feet responded beyond the door but soon disappeared. Strange. I waited for a sign that they had followed but heard nothing. Opening the door once again, all I could see was the dark, empty corridor beyond.
This was my chance.
It was the first time I’d left my room after dark, and I moved through the palace unseen. I’d grown used to the four shadowbeings stationed beyond my door, the way they moved and the slight hum of the magick that leaked from their mouths.
I didn’t wait around to question why they had not arrived, nor did it matter. I only needed time to get answers, and there was only one person here that might be willing to give them. Cristilia.
The route we had taken when our group was imprisoned before the escape was clear in my mind.
My new, black uniform Gordex provided helped me slip in and out of the shadows as I made my way towards the catacombs beneath the palace.
Unlike my own imprisonment, Cristilia had no guards to keep watch. Once I made it down the curling stairs into the pits of the dark place, I felt no presence of anyone else but the woman curled on the floor in the cell before me.
“I thought visitors were not a luxury I would receive,” Cristilia whispered, sensing my arrival before I had announced it. “Nor did I think it would be you who would come down to see me. In fact, you were the last person I ever thought would visit.”
“No shadowbeings to keep you company?” I shot my comment across the dark space between us. Standing beyond the thick bars, I could see how wild Cristilia looked now. Her hair was matted and glistening with grease. Her body was hollow and bent. As she rolled over and looked up at me, her eyes no longer held the shine to them that once hypnotized with their fake kindness.
“I am no threat, Zacriah, not to the Druid or anyone up there. Not anymore.” Her eyes trailed my entire body. “Has he taken you and distorted your mind like he has with my dear sister?”
I ran my hands down the uniform, self-conscious beneath her stare. “No. This—this means nothing. I am on the side of what is right unlike you. You did all of this. Your actions allowed Gordex to take control. May the state of this city and the world beyond it be heavy on your conscious.”
“You do not need to remind me,” she muttered. “I am no threat, not anymore.”
“Because you have been stripped of your abilities? That is a mere fraction of what you deserve.”
“And pray tell, what do I deserve? Death? For wanting nothing more than to be returned with my own blood? My Marthil. Do not pretend you would not do the
same if faced with my dilemma. I may not have known you for long, but even you know just what rules you would break, did break to be with your prince.”
“Do not compare my story with yours Cristilia, for they are none alike. I have not killed for Hadrian—”
“Not yet,” Cristilia interrupted. “But this chapter of the story has only just started. Many more events will take place, many more lives will be taken.”
Cristilia pushed herself up from the floor, wincing as she did so. “Why are you here, Zacriah? What are you willing to do to save those you love?”
Cristilia, after everything she’d done for her sister, had ultimately failed. I wouldn’t admit it aloud, but in truth we were no different, two people seeking to save those they love and do anything to complete that task.
“Tell me everything you know about Morgatis.”
From the expression that contorted her face, that was not what she expected me to ask.
“And can I ask why it is you seek knowledge on my home land?”
“Tell me everything,” I repeated.
“He is taking her back there, isn’t he?” Cristilia swallowed. “She will refuse him. She will never return home.”
“Well, it pains me to say it, but we are all going. Although I am unsure about you, I have a feeling you will be left in here to rot.”
“It is my just punishment,” she muttered, eyes darting around the floor as if she searched for sympathy.
“The story you told me of the Dragori who unleashed destruction across Morgatis… is that the only thing you can tell me about the land and its people?” I sliced Cristilia with a stare as she raised her empty eyes back to me.
“Listen closely. Morgatis and the Morthi people are different than you may believe. Do not be fooled by their distaste for magick, for what they fear is what they also desire. My people will protect you as long as you are not a threat. The moment you remind them why they hate the Dragori is the moment you seal your own fate. They will know the Druid will be arriving, no matter what wool he tries to pull over their eyes. My people will know, for tricks are wasted on them.”
If what Cristilia said was true, the Morthi will know either way. I couldn’t hide the smirk that pulled the corners of my lips. “And their magick? I know little of it, only what you’ve shown me.”
“You are hoping that they have enough power to tip the scales of this fight in your favor?” Cristilia questioned, catching me off guard.
I shouldn’t trust her, not after what she did to us. But something told me I could regardless.
“I simply need to know if they have enough strength to hold Gordex at bay. Enough to cause a distraction.”
“You have a loose tongue. You tell your secrets to easily.”
“What are you going to do, reveal them to the walls?”
“I could use what you tell me to gain grace with the Druid, have my power restored to me.”
“Yet you will not.”
Cristilia grinned, flashing her stained teeth. “Are you certain?”
“More than certain,” I replied, testing the waters. “Because you know that is not how your sister will be saved from him.”
“Keep going.”
“We are the only chance of saving Marthil now, and from the reaction she gave Gordex this evening, I think we are not far from doing that. You know this is true, and you’ll not risk interfering again.”
Cristilia held my gaze, some shine had returned to her eyes. She tipped her head in a nod and provided me with the final insight I would need.
“My people once lived in the sun, providing them with the power to will it for their own desires. Now, since your ancestors drove them underground, they have will over the dark. Two conflicting magicks, power that no one else in this world has. Remember that. My homeland is a divided nation between old and new views. But their memory of what the Dragori did to my peoples ancestors is still as fresh as you could imagine. That is all I have to say.”
“Thank you,” I said, putting my hand in my pocket and pulling out the vial of Forbian Marthil had given me. “You should take this. It will help with your ailments.”
I extended my hand through the bars, but Cristilia did not reach for it. “No, that is for you.”
Screams sent bolts of terror coursing through my blood, waking me from my slumber in fits of gasping breaths. I threw myself from bed and ran to the balcony. There I’d have a greater vantage point of the city to see what caused such a noise.
The cold morning air kissed my exposed arms. Dense snow clouds hovered high above, eradicating all source of blue that would normally grace the skies. They hummed with ice, yet not a single flake fell from the heights.
Peering across the city, I could make out the dark shapes of elves filling the streets. They shouted and screamed, attention directed towards something I could not see from this place.
Leaving the shouts of Alorian people, I ran back into the room. Stripping the black uniform from my body, I chose to put on mismatched clothes. I didn’t want to wear the uniform that Gordex had provided any longer. The thought made my skin itch with discomfort.
The need to visit the city was the only thing that flooded my mind.
I had no weapons, nothing I could use if needed. Only my magick that still dwelled within me, laced with the darkness that urged me to cause pain.
Reaching for the door, I yanked hard on the handle after unlocking the bolt, but it didn’t open. Confused, I placed an ear to the wood and listened. My guards were not waiting beyond it. I could not hear there shuffling and raspy croaks.
I slammed my hands on the door to get someone’s attention. It was a wasted effort, but my need to leave was growing by the second. With each bang, my palms came back red and no one listened.
I opted for another idea. Closing my eyes, I extended my awareness into the air around me. Pulling on such power gave me a sweet rush that almost made me laugh. I pushed my concentration until I was air. Then I reached far beyond the door for a sign that someone was close. But the palace was still. I felt no shift of shadowbeings, no use of breath in the corridors beyond. I was alone. Whatever was happening in the city had pulled all the shadowbeings around me into it.
If there was no one to let me out, I would have to leave through other means.
I turned on my heel and faced the balcony. It was not the first time I had jumped from a height and landed without a scratch. This time I had wings as backup. I let my body ripple as I took wide steps towards the open air, allowing the beast to come free. The closer I got the faster I ran. Only a few more strides until I was airborne.
My wings sprang free and my fists clenched with tension. I grappled for the wind’s embrace when a shuffle sounded behind me.
“Wait,” two voices chorused.
My hands gripped the frame of the balcony, talons cutting into brick, as I regarded to the two hooded men that stood in the shadows of my room. They were not shadowbeings, nor men in the grasp of Gordex.
“Who are you?” I growled.
“Claws away, kitty,” one said.
“I think you’ll wanna stay and hear us out,” the other added.
They both raised their heads, and I caught intense green as their eyes shone through the shadows of their hoods. The color of emerald I’d looked into so many times before.
BOTH MEN WERE dressed in black. Their jackets reflected the dull morning light, catching the many clasps and buckles that held the leather straps in place. The hood they both wore covered half of their face, and the half I needed to see the most. I could see their sharp chins and gaunt cheeks, but that was it.
Although they were both similar in height and equally broad, the only difference was the weapons they held. One had a broad sword held in his hand, the tip touching the stone slabs of my floor. The other held two shorter swords, half the length of his bulking forearms. It was he who stood forward and spoke for them both.
“We don’t have long with you,” he said, his accent reminding me of ho
me. It was rough like mine, crafted from years around the farms and intense labor of Thessolina’s countryside.
The presence of sharp steel was what put me on edge.
“Is there a need for those?” I said, pointing a talon towards the swords. It was my own way of flashing my weapon as they were doing with theirs.
“Cautionary, yes.”
“Who are you?”
The first man with the two short swords turned to the other and nodded. Then they sheathed their steels and removed the hoods, giving me my first view of faces I was certain I’d seen before.
“Negan, and this is my brother Neivel. Apologies for the sudden appearance, but if it makes you feel any better, we’ve been around a while now. It’s only thanks to the distraction out there that we have time to chat with you,” Negan said, closing the space between us. He didn’t even flinch at my wings, horns or the many scales that clustered across my skin.
“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” I questioned.
“We don’t have time for this, Negan, get to the point,” the other brother, Neivel, said. His face was expressionless and bored.
His face was so familiar.
The brothers both had hair of fire, deep red with hits of a lighter auburn. Negan had more freckles dusting his face than his less welcoming brother. Twins, they must’ve been. Their appearance mirrored one another, the only difference being that Negan’s chin was rounded then his brother, Neivel’s.
We all turned to the balcony when a chorus of shouts raised into the air. Lightning panic raced down my arms.
“Hurry,” Neivel hissed.
“Yes, do hurry,” I said, urging for answers to who they were.
“We are here to help. The noise from the city is our peoples doing, one we have been planning for days.”
“What plan? Whose plan?” I asked Negan, gesturing to the open air behind me.
“That is the many who are sacrificing themselves to give us the time to have this conversation with you,” Neivel said, voice deep and tempered.
“You are risking lives for a measly conversation?” I said. “Why?”
