Paragons of Ether

by Ryan Muree

  “You’re unbelievable.”

  “Does he have a strong heart? A strong mind, too?” she pressed.

  He had all those things. In truth, her mother would probably love Grier. He was just as tough, just as focused, but softer on the outside, or at least softer to her.

  Or he had been.

  A pit opened in her stomach, and her heart cracked a little.

  Had been.

  Maybe not anymore.

  Probably not anymore.

  She had to find a way to deal with it. It was better this way. Really.

  Not really, but she had to find a way to believe that.

  Her mother cleared her throat. “I’ll leave Ched in town. I told your father to come get him after sunrise.”

  Jullnta Harbor was a bit more than a few docks and a fishing house. It was a tiny sea village east of Neeria. Though Neerians came there often for emergencies, the town was still all Revelians.

  Her mother pulled their cart up to the side of one of the outer buildings and tied Ched to the post. She brought him a bucket of fresh water and placed it on the ground beside him.

  “So, now, we have to see if they’ll lend us a boat,” her mother whispered as they stepped out into the center of the village toward the boathouse.

  “Just let me talk,” Emeryss said.

  The ramshackle buildings held together by driftwood and crude planks with thin, metal sheets for roofs reminded her of Scuffle’s house in Ingini. Everyone had to make do with what they had, and they didn’t have much.

  The stench off the boathouse was strong since the seaweed liked to collect under the docks and rot.

  “If they harvested their seaweed more regularly, it wouldn’t smell so bad,” her mother whispered.

  “They don’t eat the seaweed,” Emeryss muttered back.

  Something was off about the town, though. Sure, it was early, and it was never very friendly, but it looked empty. The buildings looked charred in places. The village was silent. There should have been at least a few citizens at their boats.

  They opened the screen door to the boathouse office and stepped inside. The ether-lamps overhead blinked off and on, barely dangling by their strings. Several aisles were overturned, and products were scattered all over the floor. They’d looked ransacked.

  Emeryss approached the counter and tapped a small bell.

  An older gentleman with silver sigils on the inside of his arm came out from a back room, wearing a stained white shirt and dark pants while wiping his greasy hands off on a towel. He stopped and stared at them.

  There were whispers across the room. It’d come from two men leaning against the wall.

  “I need to borrow a boat,” Emeryss said, chin up.

  The owner didn’t say anything.

  “I can pay in fire rocks.” She dropped three small stacks of rocks in beige bags onto the counters.

  No bigger than the man’s palm, fire rocks were volcanic discs carved from the seabed and smothered in a briny concoction her people had discovered to be flammable. Rocks that could ignite and stay lit or warm for long periods of time didn’t require ether or fire Casters to use. It wasn’t the most convenient, but it was good in emergencies or grimoire rations.

  The man glanced at the counter and back at her and her mother. “We don’t have any boats for rent.” His voice had been uneven.

  “You have plenty of boats. I’ve just seen them out at the docks,” Emeryss said.

  Her mother straightened and crossed her arms. She was going rigid, stern… angry.

  “We’re kinda in the middle of something.” He eyed the fallen aisles around her.

  “What happened?”

  Another man in torn shorts and an old shirt walked up from behind a wall and leaned on the counter near her. “Ingini. They attacked last night. Destroyed a lot of things. They looked like regular people, too.”

  Ingini were regular people…

  His eyes roved over them.

  It didn’t make sense. For the Ingini to make it all this way, to these remote parts, would be top Messenger news. And the Ingini wouldn’t bother with a little village and one boathouse.

  “They’re hitting up everywhere,” he continued. “Takin’ out the king’s advisors now, too. Looks like we’re going to have to start doing curfews just to make sure our people are safe. The war’s here.”

  The war wasn’t there yet, though. It was fabricated and unrealistic to be this far north and west. This was most likely local vandals, and the people were so convinced otherwise, the fear of Ingini was taking a life of its own.

  But there was no explaining it to these men by a couple of outsider women.

  Emeryss nodded slowly. “That’s unfortunate. So, you could really use the fire rocks, I think.” She pushed them forward.

  The man beside her squinted. “He already said no.”

  She ignored him and kept her focus on the owner.

  “Those boats out there aren’t for Neerians.” The owner dropped his towel on the counter.

  There it was.

  She felt her mother tense beside her and tried again. “We’ve rented from you before—”

  “Not these boats. They’re for Casters only.” The other man placed both hands on the counter and glared back at her. “No water Casters to help either.” His wrist had blue sigils.

  No Casters to help them. No boats for them.

  “We’ll make do.” Emeryss lifted her chin. “We’ll row if we have to.”

  “Hey!” The man shouted. “Didn’t you hear us? We aren’t renting to you. Get on with it!” He jutted his finger toward the door behind her mother.

  Emeryss swiped the fire rocks off the counter, stuffed them in her bag, and made for the door.

  The thin wooden frame around the screen slammed against the wall of the building with a bang.

  “What is your plan now?” her mother asked at her heels. “I let you handle it—”

  “I am handling it,” Emeryss bit through her clenched jaw. “Get Ched home.”

  “I’m coming with you—”

  “I don’t have time for this.” She made for Ched and the rest of their stuff.

  Her mother untied him, turned him back on the path toward Neeria, and swatted him a few times on his hind end. “Get on home.”

  The animal grunted and started trotting alone.

  “He’ll get lost,” Emeryss said, leaving her for the docks.

  “Your father will find him first.”

  A few small boats bobbed on the waters. She could even see from the shore that they had wheels to turn the water for Neerians, and it burned her.

  The Ingini weren’t the enemy. Neerians weren’t the enemy. All these enemies were made up.

  Some people just needed—no, wanted—something to fear. It wasn’t enough to want better things for themselves and let motivation grow from that. No, like Tully, they had to have someone to feel better than, someone to put under themselves so they could always look back and say that at least they weren’t the people below them.

  Her mother hurried behind her. “Emeryss—”

  “Are you coming or not?” She walked across the dock to the farthest boat and jumped inside.

  Her mother tossed her bag onto the deck and stepped in. “They’re coming.”

  Emeryss looked up from the rope she was untying.

  The owner, the guy from the counter, and the two other men had followed them out. They were rolling up their sleeves, ready to cast and stop her.

  “Get the boat out of here, and I’ll stop them.”

  “They’re going to attack,” her mother warned.

  “So am I.” She dropped the veil of ether around her.

  Two of the men pulled at the water, dragging the boat toward them so that her mother couldn’t turn the wheel and get the propeller moving. The owner and his counter friend were running up the docks toward them.

  Emeryss formed the sigil for Gust with her left hand and shoved it at the two men on the shore.
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  They were knocked back several feet, and their connection was severed from the waves.

  Their boat propelled forward quickly, but two ice spikes pierced the deck by her feet.

  Emeryss had side-stepped them easily and advanced to the bow, dodging Air Slices and sending out her own into the owner’s shins and thighs.

  His friend rose his fists, encasing himself from foot to neck in icy armor, and threw ice balls and spikes toward the boat.

  One went into the deck. One just missed the hull.

  The boat rocked.

  “Keep going,” Emeryss told her mother.

  She needed something to push him, something to knock him off the dock to break his concentration.

  His armor made him too strong for a Gust to take him out, and she wasn’t looking to kill these men with a Spark or Fireball.

  She needed hands. Bigger hands. Something like giant fists or arms would be better.

  The whispers echoed in her head, and the ether formation in the water matched the sigil she was drawn to make.

  Her finger worked quickly on the air.

  Tentacles.

  Instead of pushing the sigil out at the owner, she gripped and lifted it.

  With her movement, two arms made of water rose from the surface of the ocean.

  The man’s mouth gaped as he stumbled back in awe.

  She swung her arms and knocked him with the tentacle arms.

  His ice armor shattered, and he flew into the ocean toward the shore.

  She released the ethereal veil, but it lingered. A haze sat over every aura in the ocean, the dock, the sky, her mother’s right eye twitching as she stared at her.

  “What?” she asked, rubbing her forehead. Her eyes were too slow to adjust.

  “You know what,” her mother said, still working the wheel. “Did you kill them?”

  Emeryss took a seat opposite her mother and helped turn the wheel to keep them moving out to sea. “No.”

  “Where’d you learn to do that?” she asked.

  “I told you already I taught myself.”

  “No. I mean where’d you learn to lie to us, to steal a boat, to hurt those men—”

  “I’m not perfect like you, okay?” Emeryss bit, channeling her anger into her arms. “I, apparently, make the wrong decision every time. So, stop asking and just assume I’m going to do the wrong thing according to you no matter what.”

  The veil still hadn’t lifted completely.

  “Your eyes look different,” her mother said.

  She never knew to leave well enough alone.

  “Why are they different?”

  Emeryss turned the wheel harder, faster. “I can see ether in everything. It happens when I cast.”

  “Can’t you cast something and get us there quicker?”

  “I could,” Emeryss said, turning her side of the wheel again. “But doing it this way might wear you out, and then you’ll stop picking on me.”

  Her mother half-laughed, and they continued pushing the boat out into the Endov Sea.

  Chapter 14

  Lower Aurelis — Revel

  Adalai groaned and crossed the street.

  Koy was like a damn kid in a sweet shop, bouncing on the balls of his feet and putting his dark hood over his head.

  “You look like an idiot.” She adjusted her jacket over her top and shifted her hair to a deep black-blue as they rounded a corner into an alley.

  “I’m just excited. I finally got you to come to a REV meeting.” Koy smacked Cayn on the arm. “And Cayn, too. Man, they’re going to be so happy to hear that one of the people they rescued is here to help them.”

  “I’m not a hero,” Cayn said, adjusting his own hood. “I’m just trying to find my way back to family.”

  Adalai’s heart thrummed.

  He looked nothing like Clove. There were probably plenty of Cayn’s in the world. Probably even more so in Ingini. Of course, she wasn’t stupid. It was somewhat possible that this Cayn was Clove’s Cayn.

  She looked over at him for the hundredth time.

  Despite just recovering from a dozen sleeper stings, he walked with confidence like she’d seen RCA officials do. There was no way he was related to Clove.

  “Why do you keep staring at me?” he asked.

  She jerked her head. “Just not sure whether or not to trust you.”

  “Still?” He smiled. He was actually attractive. Like really attractive. Nothing like Clove.

  But he had been tortured and brought into Halunder, which was where Clove had thought he might be. Those facts lined up at least.

  And so, what if he was that Cayn? Was she going to hunt down Clove for him?

  No way.

  Her stomach burned.

  What was that? Guilt? Fear? Did she owe it to Clove to send him her way?

  Probably.

  They walked down a lone, quiet street while Koy checked over his shoulder for nosy onlookers.

  She could help Cayn with transport routes to get home. She wouldn’t go with him or anything, but she’d give him directions. That was an honorable thing to do, right? Something Grier would probably do?

  But before she did anything, she had to know for sure, and she’d ask him after this meeting.

  And the part where Clove—if she’s his sister—pledged to kill her the next time she saw her for using her in a ploy that destroyed an entire Ingini city… Well, she’d just leave that part out.

  “This way.” Koy pointed down a side street, and they followed.

  Curfew time had come. RCA would be checking streets soon. Getting to the REV meeting was a test in and of itself. Its rotating location was given in code, passed from member to member, so only those who knew actual REV members could find the place. And if the RCA somehow got the code and tried it, they’d be out of luck and one step behind.

  She looked over at Cayn again.

  He looked nothing like Clove. Not at all.

  She was being a baby about it. What was she afraid of? That somehow bringing Cayn to Clove would mean the end of her life?

  She can’t kill me.

  She could, though, if Adalai let her. And she’d be lying to herself if she hadn’t considered it.

  When everything was stacked with hol-shit so high she couldn’t see the light, why shouldn’t she consider letting Clove end her life?

  Because she—Adalai—was weak.

  Another truth she’d hidden from herself.

  Had she been strong, she would have been able to ask for help, accept the team’s input, not been the shittiest leader in all of Revel.

  She was weak.

  “All right, here we are.” Koy slid over a large poster recruiting RCA troops, pushed in a wood plank stuck near the ground, and slid between a false wall that had popped out.

  Adalai and Cayn followed.

  “Did you see anyone when you closed the door?” Koy asked.

  Adalai shook her head. Cayn did, too.

  “Pull your hoods down low over your forehead so no one can see you,” Koy said. “It’s usually dark in these meetings, and we sort of already know what each other looks like, but it’s just a precaution. We’ll sit in the back anyway.”

  “Why?” Cayn whispered.

  “Because even though we trust each other to be real REV, there’s always the chance that one of the RCA have infiltrated into it. They don’t want identities to be obvious.”

  Adalai could go with that. She pulled the hood of her jacket over her head, fashioned a dark, ethereal mask with her casting, and followed Koy into a room with several rows of benches.

  After they took their spots in the back, Koy leaned over. “The leader will come up and give announcements first. Then, they’ll go over what the next plan is.”

  “Is any part of that explaining that murdering advisors is dumb?” Adalai asked.

  The massive mistake of murdering an advisor and his wife during a raid wasn’t exactly the best way to gather support from the people, and she knew a thing or
two about that.

  “It’s starting,” Koy whispered, his knees bouncing. Like she said, a dumb boy in a sweet shop.

  Adalai tilted her head up just enough to barely see from under her hood.

  It was definitely dark. There were old torches lit along the walls, but several heads sat in shadow, and the benches were more filled than she’d imagined.

  “May we take the dawn,” the speaker said in a deep voice. He wore a hooded cloak, his belly poked out through his robe, and his gnarled hands had small cuts.

  Worn?

  Worn was a leader for the REV?

  She eyed the other shadowed figures in the benches around them. How many had she known since she was a girl trying to survive? How many had she bought from, won bets against, walked past?

  “First, we have a birthday today…”

  Is Worn kidding?

  The group murmured in unison: Congratulations, friend.

  Cayn snickered under his breath but tried to pass it off as a sniffle.

  Adalai bit back her own smile.

  “The raid on Master Ednor’s house,” Worn continued, “was a small success.”

  Small mutters of agreement went around the room.

  “Unfortunately, we had gotten the timing correct for his announcement, but our estimation of the timing for the RCA’s response was… well, lacking.”

  Koy leaned his shoulder into hers. “See,” he whispered, “that’s something you would have known.”

  “This,” Worn continued, “led to fewer rescues of Ingini from the manor.”

  Cayn sat up straighter.

  “How many were there?” a member asked from the right.

  “We believed seventeen,” Worn said. “But only four were found after. Two died later of complications, two have stayed and joined on with us.”

  “Where are the rest, then?” another said.

  Worn shrugged. “We’re not sure. We think they probably ran, which is understandable, or died in the fight.”

  “We need a better way to communicate with them,” another voice said. “I know they don’t trust us, and I don’t blame them, but we need some way to tell them what we’re trying to do so they can maybe stay and help free others.”