by Lisa Daniels
“Murder! There’s been a murder! The foreigners killed one of our own!”
He turned just in time to see the caller, a lean, blond-haired man, who caught his eyes. Even from the distance, Janus felt the sheer hatred emanating from the individual.
A set-up, he thought, as people began pouring down the corridor from both ends, and some of their crew members opened their doors in curiosity.
Chapter Seven – Evelyn
The cell was decidedly less comfortable than the bedroom. Evelyn didn’t much appreciate the single cell, or the angry, judgmental glares of the prison wardens who patrolled the cells. Anybody’s attempts to try and explain the situation were rebuffed. Meridas was missing, and Janus, she knew, was in a special prison that stopped him shapeshifting.
Funny how things turned out, really. One moment she’d been enjoying a rather vigorous sex session with Janus—the next, hauled out of her room by stone-faced authorities who seemed to think she might have had something to do with a murder in the corridor outside her room.
“It’s an obvious set-up,” Alex snapped from within one of the cells. The woman had been particularly agitated at being thrust into a cell. She’d unfortunately been on her way to inspect her rooms when she was caught. “There’s no benefit for any of us to get ourselves arrested. Someone wants us silenced.” Her brown-green eyes blazed in both fury and fear. “First we’re battered by a storm by someone who doesn’t want us reaching here, then within a day of arriving, we’re arrested for something we didn’t do!”
“Silence!” one of the guards snarled, banging his spear against her cell cage. A loud clang vibrated through the thin corridor, where about six of them were jailed. The rest of the crew were still at large, as far as they were aware. Unable to be implicated for a murder if they were on the other side of the city, naturally. But they were in the process of being found and brought in, due to group responsibility.
The gloomy little cell provided little light from within. All the light came from the orblights in the corridor where four black-clothed guards paced up and down, all wielding spears. At least two of them had magic—Evelyn smelled them using it constantly, and figured that the magic probably enhanced their physical fighting skills. Though she couldn’t be entirely sure, since she’d only read about it in school. They hadn’t had combat witches in the Isles for a while.
Alex looked as if she wanted to snap back at the guard, but thankfully held her tongue. Evelyn, however, couldn’t.
“We know we’re being framed, yes. We can assume the Conclave of Zamorka is behind it, as they’ve been seeking our fall for quite some time.”
The guard turned on her now, the physical magic thrumming through him.
“We haven’t got time for this,” Alex said. “The Creeping Rot’s killing our people and our islands as we speak.”
The guard, who was about to slam his spear against Evelyn’s cage, was stopped by the other guard humming with physical magic.
“Prisoner,” the second guard said in a baritone, “did you just say you’re having issue with Creeping Rot?” He continued to make aggressive silencing motions to the other guards, clearly wanting to listen further.
“Yes. One of our island’s floating cores is infected with it now. People with magic are being afflicted and killed. And...” she licked her lips, “I had an altercation with a Conclave member during my journey to try and heal the island.”
The guard crouched by her cell, leaning on his spear. Evelyn approached the cell bars and wrapped her hands around them, pressing her face as close as possible to eavesdrop on the conversation.
The guard rubbed his face. “You were hoping to get answers to the Rot here, I take it?”
Alex nodded, though her body language was hunched and suspicious.
“We shouldn’t let the prisoner speak, they will fill us with lies—”
“Shut up, Ket. If they have important information, let them speak it. Just because they’re foreigners doesn’t mean they’re lying.”
Between Evelyn and Alex, helped by a few pointers from the other four unfortunate sailors imprisoned with them, they related an accurate tale of their journey here. The most fascinating information came from Alex, who talked about the Red Woman, the dying core of one of the Six Isles, and the people who succumbed to the Rot. Like Janus’ parents. Both sets.
Despite themselves, the other three guards seemed wholly absorbed in the information as well.
“It does sound like they were set up, Ket,” the friendly guard known as Izek said. “And I don’t see why they’d be lying about this.”
“Wild magics take us,” Ket spat. “Our laws state they’re to be executed without trial if within reasonable suspicion of murder. And because they’re foreigners… people won’t believe them.”
“We’d be… executed?” Alex’s voice suddenly sounded small.
“It is a perfect solution to their prodding around in Leavenport, isn’t it? Especially if we’d stuck to our instructions and not allowed them to speak, or listen to them.” Izek appeared deeply uncomfortable. The originally aggressive guard, Ket, now paced up and down in agitation.
“I don’t know what we should do. We break our own rules if we listen to them and argue on their behalf. But if the Conclave is continuing to meddle with people’s lives...”
“I take it this mysterious, shadowy organization causes you issues as well?” Alex posed the question in a dry manner, though she did appear more relaxed once the guards had shown some sympathy towards their cause. Evelyn noted how the guards seemed more inclined to listen to her in general compared to everyone else. Was it because of the Zamorkan blood inside her?
“The Conclave’s been assassinating people in Leavenport for years,” Izek said, letting out a big sigh. “Most of their members have gone into the wild magic at some point, and come out changed. We don’t really know why. They make some statement about changing civilization for the better… but from what we’ve seen, the wild magic makes them… destructive.” He held one hand over his lips. “We need to say this. We can’t just pretend nothing happened.”
Ket let out a growl of frustration. “Want to bet they don’t have anyone listening in on us right now?”
A deadly silence permeated those words. All four guards exchanged meaningful expressions with one another. One of the guards, Evelyn noted, seemed to be sweating more profusely than the others. He also had what seemed to be a nervous tic in his eyelid.
“How long did you say you were working here, again, Paul?” said Izek, now standing and prowling to Paul’s side. Ket honed in upon him like a predator seeking flesh.
Paul cleared his throat. “That’s none of your concern. I’ve half a mind to report you for speaking with the prisoners.”
“You were listening, too,” Ket pointed out.
“Yes, because you made it clear you didn’t want us interrupting them,” Paul replied. His voice quivered at the end.
“What do you think, eh, Paul, about this whole Conclave business? Eh, friend?” Ket’s smile became sinister, and the physical magic rippled through him.
In response, sudden magic whipped from Paul, striking out at the remaining three guards. One of them collapsed with wounds springing all over his body, as if cut by invisible blades. Ket and Izek resisted the blows with their own magic, though blood trickled down from their arms and cheeks. Both men lunged at Paul, and Alex desperately tried to reach the fallen man, her fingers just short of grasping something of him. She strained harder, asking the man to move a hand to her, stretch a hand, anything, if he was still conscious.
Also, Evelyn now felt a pretty good incentive to access her magic.
So far, she hadn’t wanted to risk aggravating the locals. Now seemed like a pretty good time to help. Calling upon the winds, faint as they were in this place, she helped shunt the body closer to Alex, so she could grasp the unconscious man and attempt to heal him.
Next was trying to help the fighters, but she didn’t have precis
e enough control to try and separate them, and she wasn’t entirely sure if that’d be smart, given what the attacker could do. Her pulse hammered faster as she concentrated on the fight, trying to follow the fight, on the alert to attempt to protect herself and Alex. Not that she thought wind powers would help against invisible slashes. The physical magic pair managed finally to overpower the slashy guard, clamping manacles upon his hands that seemed to have some kind of nullifying effect on his magic.
“If you’ve killed Burton,” Ket said with a sinister growl, baring his teeth, “damnation will be nothing compared to what I’ll do to you.”
Alex lifted her hands off the fallen guard, and sagged against her bars. “I can’t,” she said. “He’s dead.” The words grated out of her. She didn’t want to say them, to admit she didn’t have the power to save someone.
Ket let out a scream of anger and pummeled the attacker’s face, not stopping until Izek yanked him off and told him to go get some help.
“We’ve got a lot of talking to do,” Izek promised them. “And I’ll see to it myself we get you out of your cages and interviewed instead.”
Evelyn smiled, though felt cold at the thought that they might have just sent them to their deaths without even a chance to plea. Maybe they had a good reason for doing so, but right now, it worked against them completely. They hadn’t even found out a single thing about the Creeping Rot, other than the fact that people here knew what it was, and hated it as well.
If they hadn’t been allowed to speak… Janus would be dead along with them. Everyone on the expedition would vanish, and they’d be chalked up as another group lost to the curse of Zamorka. It’d be so much easier if they just wiped the stupid country from the map. Because Evelyn had been here less than a day, and her wonder had already turned into a sullen hate.
“You did all you could, Alex. Don’t feel bad about yourself. You always try to help people,” Evelyn said in an attempt to comfort the stiff life witch. No response came, and Alex didn’t turn to face anyone. Evelyn groaned inwardly, but let Alex have her moment. Evelyn didn’t know what it was like to have the power to heal but still fail, but she supposed Alex certainly did.
I do know what it’s like to fail, though. Evelyn closed her eyes, until she heard more footsteps coming.
Chapter Eight – Janus
Sound traveled far in the small, domed room. Paintings on the ceiling resembled a starry night, full of color and wonder. Seats spread in a circle in the middle of the room, and most of them carried occupants. Janus didn’t like going into this situation blind, but everyone who’d been imprisoned needed to be interviewed alone.
Evelyn and the rest had already been. He’d caught rushed words from her about them almost being executed or something, and a hasty embrace, before they were separated, and then waited awkwardly outside the interview room for what felt like hours.
One of the interviewers happened to be the same man that had bumped into them earlier, with his cryptic message and leftover address. That helped make things a lot easier, at least.
“I must apologize to you for this undue situation,” the white-haired stranger said, striding towards him to shake hands. “I was just arguing your people’s case to the precinct. I daresay I might not have succeeded, had there not been an attack in the cells proving that what I said was correct.” He waved Janus towards a seat. “Sit, sit.”
“Your name?” Janus cautiously settled himself down and eyed the group of strangers. Eight of them in total, and all of them white-haired like the man, though of varying lengths and shades. All wore a soft, ceremonial-style robe, with gold embroidery around the edges. These Zamorkan types really liked their long robes. The Red Woman, a lot of the witches… it made them look pompous and impractical.
“Verran,” the stranger answered, with a small bow. “And I will be quick on the matter, since we’ve already gone through the same deal with everyone else. If you seek to stop the Creeping Rot, you’ll need to visit a mausoleum located in the wild magic area. You can’t completely stop it, because no one knows where it originates, but there is a powerful cure in there that is capable of healing even rock.”
Narrowing his eyes, Janus clasped his hands together. “Sounds easy enough for even you to get.”
A nervous giggle followed his statement, out of place from the otherwise wise-looking Verran. “In theory, it shouldn’t be that difficult. But right now, the Conclave have complete control of the area. And those who are… taken by the wild magic tend to join the Conclave. So it’s been somewhat of an embarrassing issue on our behalf.”
“I’d say,” Janus said, smelling a proposition on the wind. They needed the foreigners for something that the natives couldn’t do. No wonder this guy had been so keen to address them. “So you want us to do something about it? Go into the extremely dangerous area by ourselves and see if we can do what they can’t?”
“Not quite like that, no,” Verran said with a wry smile. “We’ll help prepare you a group to go with you. We have people all over Leavenport falling ill as well. We’re, to put it bluntly, desperate to find the cure. And the Red Woman’s Mausoleum has been the only place we’ve ever known to have the cure. You can’t grow it anywhere else, and if you strip the entire crop, well, it’ll never grow again.”
“Interesting,” Janus said. “So… if we agree to go with this… I’d like to make a preposition back.”
The group of Zamorkans looked baffled, and Verran frowned. “What kind?”
“Trade,” Janus said. “I run a trading business, and we don’t have any trade lines to Zamorka. Everyone’s half convinced they’ll die of some horrible curse if they make it here. We can offer Jarithan spices and herbs, exotic animals, furs… and freshly grown hoverstones.”
Verran’s face split into a wide smile. “Well, if you do agree and survive your journey to the wild magic, then perhaps we can arrange something.”
“Oh, yes, that reminds me. Who was responsible for the storm we encountered? Our air witches couldn’t control the direction of our skyship.”
Several of the Zamorkans muttered, and Verran grimaced. “The wild magic can sometimes flare out tropical storms of that nature. We actually have storm calendars to track the surges. If you don’t know when a surge is coming, and get caught in a wildstorm… usually it ends in your death.”
Shifting in his seat, Janus tried not to betray more of his excitement. This was the answer! This was the riding mystery behind the shroud of Zamorka—and the strange storms that formed over the seas. If they gained access to calendar records… then he could open trade.
He’d be the first person to officially facilitate trade between the Six Isles and Zamorka. His mother and father would be bursting with fierce pride at such an achievement.
And he’d likely have a monopoly on the market for quite some time, since people wouldn’t shake off their prejudice of Zamorka that easily to begin their own trading attempts.
Great. Just required them walking into death for yet another dodgy magic session. He bit his lip, wondering if he could somehow leave Evelyn out of it. She’d want to come. She’d likely be enraged if he just went up to her and told her to stay away, unless he came up with a good excuse, like they needed at least one air witch to remain safe to take all of them back across the sea.
“Do we have a deal, dragon-shifter?” Verran asked, cocking his head expectantly for an answer.
“We do.”
“Then we will assemble our team. It will take us at least two weeks.”
“Two weeks?” We might not be able to afford to wait!
“We want to time it so that you will enter the forest once a wildstorm has petered out. That way, the wild magic will be at its lowest ebb, and hopefully, all witches will be able to resist the call of… whatever it is in the magic that affects them. We will do this properly. I have no interest in losing more decent men and women than we already have.”
Janus gnashed his teeth, but couldn’t think of a way out of it. It’d
be suicide to go alone. Which was what we were intending, anyway, when we first set out upon this trip. And the locals clearly had some sense of decorum and laws that might be violated if they made any hasty moves.
The best course of action really did seem to be to stay put.
At least I’ll have more time to persuade Evelyn to stay away, I suppose. And figure out just what exactly is going on between me and her.
It was something.
* * *
“Who do you think you are?” Evelyn posed the question to him, during another one of their city walks. Playing the waiting game grated on all of their nerves, and the locals didn’t want them stepping onto the Elegant, just in case any of them reneged on their plans and flew away. Others treated them with marked hostility, perhaps not fully believing they had nothing to do with the recent spout of murders—but others still enthusiastically showed their goods and many-hued robes. “When you’re not being presented to the court, and living up to your family’s expectations?”
He gave a small shrug. “Exactly what you see. A person who can shift into a dragon, wearing a nice suit, attempting something called a date. Handsome, I hope, too.”
A short sigh of irritation greeted his words. “I’m trying something serious. A little more than surface level talk, if you know what I mean. Let’s sit here...” She pointed at a small park bench, one of many, where other people sat feeding ducks which had waddled out of the park lake, hopeful for food. Janus and Evelyn took up the entire bench, and Janus felt a kind of unease building up in him, though he couldn’t quite put it into words.
“Do we have to talk about this now? I’d rather enjoy our time exploring.”
She gave him a rather peculiar look. “Why must you assume that doing some talking won’t be enjoyable?”
“It’s…” He paused. “It’s just… I’m a man. I don’t do what you women do. Sit around and talk feelings. There’s better things for us to do.”
“I’m sure,” she said, with a bite of annoyance in her voice now. “You do realize, though, that you do have feelings, right? That being a man doesn’t suddenly exempt you from them?”