by Talis Jones
She tilted her head playfully. “Aren't you even a touch curious about how I managed it?”
“Nyet.”
“Liar.”
Abel growled. “Why are you here?”
“To reclaim what is mine, of course.” Cassandra leaned in until their noses nearly touched. “Now get the hell out of my house.”
Rearing back with angry disgust he made to strike her but a blade touched his throat stilling his hand midair. “I'd rethink that if I were you,” Mikael warned. Slowly Abel lowered his hand and only then did Mikael re-sheath his sword.
“Your grip is paltry,” Abel sneered at Mikael's lack of swordsmanship.
Mikael shrugged. “It's pointy and will do the trick no matter how I hold it.”
“Move out of the way, Abel,” Cassandra ordered impatiently.
“Nyet. It is not yours to claim.”
Gesturing to the city standing with her she laughed, “I think you'll find the people disagree.”
“Only because you enslaved them,” he spat.
“Jealous?”
“At least I don't have to force anyone to like me.”
“It would be a waste of time if you tried,” she smirked. “And I didn't have to force them. I won them over that first round. The magic binds were simply a precaution. You know how fickle minds can be.”
“No one wants you here, Cassandra,” Abel hissed cruelly. “No one ever wanted you here. Why can't you understand that? Stop embarrassing yourself and just leave.” His tone almost soft, he added, “No one would miss you.”
In an instant a dagger of ice formed in her grip and she drove it straight through his heart. Blood poured from the wound, the light draining from his eyes, and even then he mocked her with a laugh. Her blood ignited with hatred yet before she could strike again an even less welcome voice broke in.
“Cassandra!” Medusa ran onto the scene, throwing her arms out protectively as she stood between her and Abel. Whispers hurried to remove the ice and carry away his body. He'd wake eventually, fully healed and angrier than even he thought possible. Medusa watched his limp form be dragged away from Cassandra's reach with something indecipherable in her eyes.
“If you thought you could tame me, you are sorely mistaken,” Cassandra vowed not once forgetting where Medusa stood in the situation.
The Whisper fixed her heavy gaze back upon her old friend, much older yet not much changed. “We will go. Quidel is yours. All Whispers will withdraw from the region without a fight. I promise.”
Looking down her nose at the girl she scoffed, “Your promises mean nothing anymore.” In a quieter voice she added, “You once promised to be my friend.”
Medusa looked away, a touch of color on her cheeks, then shook her head. “You don't even know what friendship is.” With that she turned and left.
Whispers darted around in haste and the crowd parted to allow them their shameful departure of defeat as they carried what few belongings they had and set out on foot now exiled from Quidel. Hours passed and darkness fell. Torches were lit yet the townspeople remained witness, too afraid to leave without a clear dismissal. When all had set out, save Medusa who lingered behind, Cassandra set her crew to disperse the crowd and reassure them.
“Where is Kenshin?” Cassandra wondered with a furrowed brow. She'd made note of each face that passed through the gates and yet the one she missed most never appeared.
Hearing her question Medusa walked over, dropping her sack by her feet and crossing her arms as she glared down at where her enemy sat perched on a stool someone had fetched for her leisure. “Cursed and gone. As if you care.”
Cassandra blinked. “I do care. He didn't betray me.”
“Perhaps not then, but he isn't your friend any longer,” she warned a touch smug.
“What do you mean by that?” Cassandra demanded.
“The curse Israfil set upon him became a burden that eventually showed him the error of his ways. He saw the foolishness of his loyalty to you at last. By curse and by choice he will stand by Titus and the Whispers. He is no longer Kenshin the Whisper. You killed that person.” Medusa's judgement burned through Cassandra's heart. “He is Ralph the Wolf now.”
Distantly Cassandra thought Ralph an awfully dull choice and wondered what made him choose it. Fine, if that was his choice then she'd ensure he did not change his mind. He was a weakness she could not afford to trust any longer. Ice in her gaze she looked up at the Whisper towering over her seat feigning heartless nonchalance. “Tell him that if he ever dares to show his face in my presence, ever dare try and crawl back into my good graces, I'll vomit at his new hideous visage and have him beheaded but not before locking him in a cage to allow ogglers by and make a little coin first.”
Disgust twisted Medusa's face. “He could have saved you and yet you destroy him without a thought. I am glad to leave you and this place haunted with too many memories of your lies.”
Standing, Cassandra straightened her trousers and coat unaffected by Medusa's words. “Safe travels.”
Medusa ignored her. “You got what you wanted. I hope it proves everything you hoped.”
“Hmm,” she replied noncommittally. “The Whispers didn't put up much of a fight, did they? Powerful Guardians against common Jourdies? Losing your touch, I see.”
Standing on her toes to get in her face, Medusa retorted calmly, “This isn't over. We will find a way to undo this mess you have made, but rather than launch forwards in attack like a clumsy bull the way you have done we will heed caution and council patience with faith in the prophecy until our plans become a noose not even Titus could slip.”
Cassandra threw her head back and laughed. “Talking, talking, talking. Talking and planning seem to be the grand Council's only skills. All talk and no action. No wonder Oneiroi is in such poor affairs. Together we could have changed the world. Unfortunate you chose otherwise.”
“You wanted to crush the Island's promised freedom!” Medusa accused angrily.
“No,” Cassandra chuckled almost sadly. “I only wanted a voice. A seat on the Council. A force to bring talk into being. Instead you believed the prophecy, cast me as your villain, and pushed me to take. I hope you are happy in your cloak of ignorant righteousness, Medusa.”
“Go to Hell, Cassie,” she whispered. Slinging her pack over her shoulder she followed the distant line of Whispers marching out their exile and as she did a trickle of guilt slithered down her heart.
I did, she thought.
Chapter 31
The funny thing about villains, Cassandra pondered one evening, was that they were often efficient leaders and dependable promise keepers. Of course some lied and schemed, but by the blood when it came to their true goals they never let anyone waver their route to achievement. They didn't need distractions like friendship or pandering all in a desperate plea to be liked. True villains, the great ones that are remembered, latch onto what they want and cut through the currents of life until they possess it or die trying. Such whole-hearted perseverance was an admirable trait, Cassandra thought. So why did so many disagree?
When an entire region bowed in unbreakable obedience, one could get quite a lot done. Days were no longer mere building blocks to form weeks, they were feats unto themselves and with each one that passed Quidel grew more changed. Land was burned, crops were rotated, farms were razed and rebuilt into massive food production centers. Forests were marked and rationed for logging, mines were reinforced with better safety regulations and now worked until the sun set to retrieve the Island's provisions, and factories went up with each chamber dedicated to a different trade while inventors ruled in the highest floors. Quidel no longer sat back on the bank with a reed in its mouth watching the lazy river pass by. Quidel rose up into a prosperous region with the city of Mordréda at its helm.
Cassandra had only ever wanted more for the humble hamlets that scattered the rocky corner of Oneiroi and soon enough her people were forced to agree. The problem was that people so often lacked v
ision, but now that the fruits of her tireless commands had begun to blossom their resistance, no matter how futile, dissolved like smoke in the wind. Not only that but the rest of Oneiroi had begun to notice. True enough the banished Whispers had done their best to warn of the evil queen in the castle, the wicked witch in the west, but it became difficult to believe such tales when that same force had managed to clothe its people in riches.
A mere month into her rule and Cassandra wondered if she even required the blood oath anymore or if her people would follow her willingly. Of course she wasn't stupid or quite arrogant enough to find out.
Jealousy, greed, desire all swept the Island as curious visitors dared step foot into Quidel and left with wonder at all they saw. Quick to catch opportunity by the wings, Cassandra decided to travel to the other regions and lend some guidance. With Myrddin and Elijah by her side along with a small guard, they bore east on horseback (not yet trusting of the inventor's prototypes for strange horseless carriages that seemed to combust at random).
Aztlan was the first on her list, downtrodden and desperate as it was. Whenever they stopped to rest she took out her valise of papers and reviewed the geography and trades of the area, plotting the best ways to imbibe them with the same energy as Quidel. Granted they would have to willingly put in the work as no blood oath bound them to a leader, but she suspected seeing what their neighbors had and they had not was enough incentive to at least get them started. Only witnessing the rewards for themselves would push them to commit to the change.
A leader...a key piece on the board that had not yet been chosen. Cassandra was determined to make such a selection herself, carefully and to her advantage, for she had plans that did not stop at Quidel's border. Her ambitions would never be contained. She wouldn't let them.
“Have you any idea who will rule Aztlan?” Mikael asked curiously as he sat on the fallen log beside her.
Cassandra let her gaze rise from the blurring papers with a tired sigh. “Not yet,” she admitted. “Someone people might already look to as a leader. Someone in an already influential part of Aztlan. Someone with enough vision to lead, but not so bold as to lead without my guidance.”
Mikael nodded, his eyes looking into the distance lost in thought. Thick forests had long begun to flatten into grassy plains, the light somehow more golden as they approached the eastern lands. Quidel was beautiful in a spine-chilling way. Aztlan was simply lovely in a homey way that put Cassandra on edge. She'd seen so little of Oneiroi before being cast out and despite the indifference she kept carefully upon her face, she drank in every detail with wonder. She yearned to visit and explore, to run her fingers along the petals of each new flower she spied, to try what foods she smelled on the wind as they passed through villages and towns. But choosing that was like choosing friendship, a wasteful luxury.
“Have you anything useful to share?” Cassandra asked Mikael suddenly. “Or might I sleep for the night?”
His lips quirked up at the sharp tone she used in defense. “The other soldiers are not all Quidelish born,” he began. “Some crossed from Aztlan or towns near enough.”
“And?” she prompted.
“They say to go to Jardín. It is one of Aztlan's largest cities and the one most likely to convince its sisters to follow.”
Cassandra bowed her head in thought before nodding sharply. “Thank you.” After a slight hesitation she added, “And thank them as well.”
Mikael patted her knee. “We believe in you, Cassandra.”
She sighed as irritation straightened her spine. “Not the Whispers. They haven't returned even once to bear witness to what I've done.”
He shrugged. “You did banish them,” he pointed out carefully.
Cassandra ignored him. “They haven't returned. Not even once.” Shaking her head, her hands curled until her nails dug painfully into her palms. “As if I truly have the power to banish them. Together they could've stopped all of this. Together they could parade across Quidel and peek into its every nook and cranny yet they stay away. If they'd just come see what I've done, see the vision they never understood...”
They sat in silence for a moment then Mikael asked softly, “Are you thinking about Ralph?”
Something impossible like guilt flashed in her eyes, but it was so quick he couldn't be sure. Instead she lifted her chin. “His name is Kenshin,” she snarled. “And nyet, I'm thinking about Medusa. Abel. All of those who turned their backs on me simply because I saw a different future than they did. One that required more than whiling away the days plucking daisies and sitting in meetings that did nothing but puff their own feathers. It was boring, Mikael. I woke with the sun, I scrubbed the floors, I ate my flavorless meals when the bells chimed, and eventually when it became my turn to sit on the Council I would have wasted hours talking and talking and doing nothing.” An angry puff of air blew through her nose. “Why couldn't they understand that there could be so much more?” She searched Mikael's face as if it might have answers and her breathing finally steadied. “Why couldn't they just listen?”
He would never understand this woman. Cruel and merciless, broken and lonely, inviting and addictive. To those in her favor she exuded a warm charisma that took root in the blood. To those against her only death lurked in her eyes. He wondered if the Whispers had listened to her, loosened the leash a bit, if things wouldn't have ended up the same in the end. Cassandra wanted too much, she wanted everything, and the world would never relent.
Before he could respond, Cassandra stood and approached her bedroll laid out between Eli's and his own where she could rest safely. Everything in this strange world captivated him from the near enchanted terrains to the very way of life on the Island. Magic widened his eyes and diversity quickened his pulse. He hungered to explore his new home knowing he'd seen barely a sliver of all it offered, but it would have to wait. He had his whole life to wander, he promised himself. For now he had a duty to preserve that promise.
He tipped back his head and drank in the sight of the enormous moon and so many stars the sky turned shades of navy and violet. A sight after which the shop had been named. The Eye of Oneiroi. He did not miss his old life, especially now when he'd stepped within one of Ol' Jonathan's stories, but he did sometimes wonder who his old boss had been to have known so much. He wondered what he'd say if he could see him now.
Likely nothing. Ol' Jonathan only let slip stories when blasted drunk. Mikael continued gazing at the stars from his perch and for the thousandth time wondered why.
Chapter 32
The city of Jardín rose up to greet them when still miles away, waving merrily from its perch upon a gentle hill. Green and gold shone everywhere and Cassandra took note. A city it may be but Jardín had a relaxed air about it. People on the streets with places to be and things to do, yet not a single soul in a rush. There was an intoxicating calm, an impermeable happiness she'd noticed often in Aztlan. Doubt drummed its fingers in her mind and she looked harder to see beneath the relaxed facade, seeking the erosion beneath it, for surely it was exactly that, a facade.
Halting her guard she turned to a man with reddish hair whom she'd come to learn hailed from this very city as a boy. “Take me to those who need me most,” she commanded.
With a brusque nod he led her off the main street and after several twists and turns the sun seemed to dim, the buildings ceased to gleam, and the faces stared weathered and hungry. All ages regarded them warily yet resigned to lose any fight they might bring. The imbalance of money, spirit, life, it jarred her. Tiers and slopes were natural and to be expected, but this sudden drop would do the city no good. She smiled for now she knew Aztlan would listen.
That first day Cassandra devoted to meeting the impoverished, the hungry and beaten. She charmed them, she made them dust off their smiles and laugh, and most importantly she listened. Only after listening with a child in her lap and clasping an old woman's hand who suffered from a chronic cough did she begin to weave stories of Mordréda into their conversat
ion. She took every lament they laid at her feet and offered them hope. Every problem they believed insurmountable she smashed with proof of Quidel's new riches. With every hour that passed by, as she was ushered from home to home by relatives who wanted to introduce her around, she won their hearts and with them in her pocket she could at last begin her search.
“I have shared with you all that can be,” Cassandra prompted in a popular pub. “Now tell me who I must meet with to make it happen.”
“I thought that's what you were here for,” a man spoke up frowning. “You were going to make things happen.”
Cassandra smiled reassuringly. “I am here to help, but I have my own people to take care of. Show me who might suit leading Aztlan and I will guide them all I can.”
A girl not much younger than Cassandra had managed to hold suspicion in her eyes all evening. Deciding to voice whatever thoughts plagued her she shouldered her way forwards. “Oneiroi is ruled by none. We all contribute and the Guardians keep the peace should the need ever arise. You are telling us to willingly surrender our freedom to a Crown?”
“In a manner of speaking, yes,” Cassandra grinned though her eyes grew cold.
“Madness,” the girl spat. “You must think us fools.”
Cassandra laughed. “I already think you fools for not demanding better before now. Look at yourselves. You're tired, filthy, and starving. The Whispers aid only when blood is spilled, but what of your spirit? It looks to me as if it leaks from a thousand cuts and yet you do nothing.” She swept her gaze across the room and raised her voice a bit further. “Perhaps you think my ideas mad, backwards, counterintuitive even. I am telling you that I don't care what you think. My vision led Quidel out of the pits so why not you? Quidel kneeled before me and I returned the honor by leading them into prosperity. I came here to see if I might lead the way for Aztlan. I came here to see if you might listen. I came here to see if you might yet live.” Pausing, she added, “I cannot save that which wishes to die and I have no interest in wasting the effort.”
