by Watson Davis
“Not as spry as I was when I was a girl, but my power is returning to me,” Che-su said, taking a deep breath, her hands rising, her fingers grasping invisible strands. Magic swirled around her. She chanted, focusing the magic, twining threads of wind and magic around Sifa’s waist.
Someone tried to open the door, but the webbing and kettle stopped it.
Alizadeh crouched, his sword at the ready, staring at the door. He whispered, “Hurry!”
Someone banged on the door. “Yal-ek? Far’san? What’s wrong?”
Sifa rose into the air and levitated out through the hole, into the driving rain. The wind and rain outside surprised her, knocking her sideways, and she windmilled her arms and legs, trying to regain her balance.
“Be still,” Che-su barked. “You’re not making this any easier.”
Sifa quivered with fear, but bit her lip, not allowing herself to scream in terror. She dropped toward the pavement, plummeting through the air, falling, but then the winds buffeted her, slowing her, setting her down with the gentle touch of a mother putting her baby in a crib.
Che-su thrust her head out of the hole in the tower. Sifa waved to her and smiled, giving her a signal with her hand that she was healthy and whole. Che-su smiled and drew her head back into the tower.
Sifa stood in the rain in the middle of the street that ran along the wall of the temple complex, hugging herself and shivering with cold, stomping from one foot to the next to warm herself, aware of the shop owners and citizens staring at her. Crates and wagons sat in puddles along the side of the street.
Shiyk’yath appeared at the hole, squeezing his eyes shut, his whole body rigid. He dropped down to the pavement, slowing as he approached the ground and stopping as he reached it. He stood there like a statue, clutching a bundle of robes and tunics in his arms.
“You can open your eyes now,” Sifa said, touching his arm.
His eyes flew open and he gasped, bending his knees and peering down at the ground before giving a relieved sigh. He looked up and limped out of the way as Alizadeh dropped down where Shiyk’yath had been standing.
“Come on,” Alizadeh said, gesturing to Shiyk’yath, his eyes darting to the shops and the few people on the street. “We’ve got to get going now.”
“Have they broken through?” Sifa asked him, darting to his side and looking up at the hole in the tower.
“Not yet,” Alizadeh said.
Shiyk’yath handed a robe to Sifa and one to Alizadeh.
Sifa slipped hers over her head, covering her head with the hood. Shiyk’yath pulled his shirt off and slipped into a tunic.
Alizadeh tossed his robe behind a crate and motioned for Shiyk’yath and Sifa to hurry, to get onto the path. “Come on. Let’s move.”
“What?” Sifa said, staring up at the tower. “Shouldn’t we wait for Che-su?”
“No.” Alizadeh grabbed Sifa’s arm and dragged her onto a narrow path between buildings, with Shiyk’yath behind them.
Che-su stepped out of the hole in the tower, her hands out, suspended in mid-air.
“There she is,” Sifa said, trying to squirm out of Alizadeh’s grip, but he pulled her on, not saying anything.
Che-su sailed through the air, her robes fluttering. She didn’t come down and join Sifa, but instead flew across to the main tower of the temple, disappearing into a darkened window.
“Where is she going?” Sifa said. “What is she doing?”
“I don’t know,” Alizadeh said. “But she told me to get you safely out of here and she was quite adamant about it.”
CHE-SU STREAKED THROUGH the sky, reveling in the rush of power, a sensation she hadn’t enjoyed in years. She pushed herself to her limits, but found herself woefully out of practice. She chose the dark window of one of the fire summoning rooms in the main tower of the temple, Gal-nya’s Tower, and hovered outside the window, peeking inside to make sure it was clear of thinking beings, as it should have been at that hour. Her magesight revealed a mesh of wards and alarm spells shimmering around the window.
Beneath her, priests and guards poured out of the doors of the basilicas and sprinted toward the Tower of Incarceration. Che-su pressed herself up against the window, careful not to trigger anything, and balanced herself on her toes on the edge of the window, hoping no one would look up or down and that no one would see her. She removed the wards one by one and opened the window before commanding the winds to ease her inside.
Her heart pounded from the unusual exertion of casting magic, from the thrill of being able to do so once more, and from not having been caught. Water dripped from her, puddling on the floor.
The scent of sandalwood and cinnamon incense confirmed this workroom as a place for summoning of elementals and deities of fire. Five braziers lined the wall across from her, with shelves of components above them, a bookcase to her left, and a workbench to her right.
Che-su hobbled to the door, her ankle aching, her hip throbbing, and she stopped there, waiting for the sound of footsteps and voices to pass. Once clear, she limped out with stooped shoulders, trying to appear even older and more pathetic than she was, her soaked robes pulled up to her chin to hide the fact that she didn’t have a collar. Her head bowed, she closed the door behind her. Magelights illuminated the hallway, and she blinked to acclimate her eyes to the sudden brightness.
“Who is that there?” a woman’s stern voice asked.
Che-su whirled around, ready to summon her magic and defend herself.
Yama’anks, one of the vicars of Basaliyasta, a tall, dark-skinned woman of Aroet descent, stood glaring at Che-su.
Che-su bowed and said, “Only me, ma’am. Che-su.”
“Oh, thank the queen of spiders,” Yama’anks said with a sigh, one hand on her chest and the other on her hip. “Everyone is walking on broken glass with Dyuh Mon here on some special mission. Guards have been called up and stationed in every nook and cranny. Alarms were set off over in the Tower of Incarceration. Everyone rushed over there. Good to see someone with sense enough to remain calm.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“From the way you whirled about to face me, the alarms have set your nerves on edge as well.” Yama’anks smiled, showing her yellow teeth had been filed to points in the style of Dyuh Mon and the Ancient Librarians of Arenghel. “You looked almost spry, you old devil.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“But wait, you are soaking wet,” Yama’anks said, stepping to Che-su’s side and setting her hand on Che-su’s shoulder. “Where did you come from?”
“Instructor Liyng ordered me from the acolytes’ barracks to come search her workroom for her ring,” Che-su said. “But sadly, I must return to her and tell her I did not find it.”
Yama’anks snorted. “The gods have smiled on me, running into you like this. I’m working on an important experiment, but I have a case of the nibblies. Hurry on to Instructor Liyng’s and then go by the commissary and get me some cream rolls and a bottle of red wine.”
“Ma’am?”
“Hurry up,” Yama’anks said, waving her hands at Che-su as though shooing a cat, “I grow hungrier by the heartbeat.” Yama’anks turned and placed her hand on the door, opening it.
Che-su glanced up and down the hall, verifying that no other people were around, and then she charged forward, pushing Yama’anks through the now partially open door, knocking her to the ground. A brazier in the center of the room glowed blue and a cauldron bubbled, blue steam rising from the liquid inside.
Che-su chanted, summoning her magic, and grabbed the bowl of a brazier by the door, one empty of flame, and slammed it against Yama’anks’s head, against the back of her head, against each side of it. Yama’anks curled up in a ball and Che-su kicked her in the stomach and in the back. Each blow punctuated her chanting and her volume increased.
Yama’anks cried out in pain, covering her head with her hands and arms, trying to shield herself.
Che-su dropped onto Yama'anks's back, wrapping her fingers a
round the younger woman’s neck. Mindworms, summoned by Che-su’s chanting, popped out of Che-su’s skin, from her hands, forming a ring around Yama'anks's throat that hardened into a collar that pushed Che-su’s fingers away. Che-su fell back, exhausted.
“What have you done, you bitch?” Yama’anks yelled, struggling to her feet, looming over Che-su, her left hand gripping the collar, her right hand in a fist ready to pummel the older woman. The collar sparked and Yama’anks yelped.
Che-su held up her hand and said, “Be still and be quiet.”
Yama’anks stopped moving.
Che-su sighed and lay back, taking a deep breath and looking up at the burn marks and stained spots on the ceiling. She held her arm out and said, “Help me up. Easy. You may breathe.”
Yama’anks gasped, took an awkward step forward, and then bent down. With gentle care, she aided Che-su in getting to her feet. The younger woman backed away, gritting her teeth in an almost smile-like rictus, her eyelids quivering with fury.
“How does it feel to be a slave?” Che-su grinned and patted Yama'anks's cheek. “You may speak freely but be quiet.”
A tear dribbled down from the younger woman’s eye. “I am going to kill you for this outrage.”
“Ah,” Che-su said, “I know that feeling well. Now tell me, Dyuh Mon took a necklace from a shepherd girl. Have you heard of it?”
Yama’anks nodded and through gritted teeth said, “Yes.”
“Excuse me?” Che-su raised an eyebrow and moved her hand, activating the collar.
The collar glowed red and Yama’anks fell to her knees, crying out in pain.
“Be quiet!” Che-su ordered, and Yama'anks's cries ended, but she writhed in agony, her mouth opening and closing in a silent scream until Che-su made another movement with her hand. “Let us try that again. Have you heard of the shepherd girl’s necklace?”
On her hands and knees before Che-su, sobbing with pain, Yama’anks said, “Yes, ma’am, I have.”
SIFA SCURRIED THROUGH a narrow alley following Alizadeh with Shiyk’yath’s hand in the middle of her back, urging her forward. Alizadeh snatched a pole holding up the middle of an awning. He tossed it back to Shiyk’yath, who used it as a walking stick.
Alizadeh strode through the street with a purpose. Shiyk’yath hobbled along behind as best he could, scrabbling to keep up, forcing Sifa, with her shorter legs, to run.
They wove through the crowds of people, citizens of Basaliyasta, who continued with their lives as though nothing was wrong, buying spices, vegetables, and meats from merchant’s stalls. A few people glanced at Alizadeh and Shiyk’yath; a few smiled at Sifa. Sifa blinked, realizing that for them everything was normal.
“So where are we going to go?” Shiyk’yath asked, turning his head and looking back the direction they had come from.
Sifa looked back as well, but could only see the fragile apartment buildings looming over them, not a patch of sky or the temple.
Alizadeh slowed and turned to them, hunching down closer to their height. “She told me to go to the Charming Jackal and wait for her there.”
“The what?” Sifa asked.
“It’s an inn that’s popular with the students,” Alizadeh said. “It’s not far from the docks.”
“What if she doesn’t come?” Shiyk’yath asked, leaning on the pole. “How long are we supposed to wait for her?”
“We wait until she comes,” Sifa said with a finality she hoped would end that entire line of thought. “She will be coming soon. She’ll probably beat us there. Just wait and see.”
Alizadeh led them down a narrow path where they could only walk single file. “She told me to wait until the Bright Fox falls below the horizon.”
Sifa peered up to the sky, looking for the small moon. She shook her head. “That’s not long enough.”
Alizadeh shrugged. “I don’t want to be the one getting into an argument with her.”
“And when we stop waiting?” Shiyk’yath asked.
“We are not going to stop waiting,” Sifa said.
“Hop a ship north,” Alizadeh said. “I’ve heard Shria has plenty of work for Nayens.”
“I am not going to Shria,” Sifa said. She touched her chest. “Besides, I feel her right here in my heart. And she is feeling quite satisfied. I am sure we will see her almost as soon as we sit down.”
Alizadeh stopped at the exit from the alley, his arms out, blocking the way. Sifa ran into him and Shiyk’yath ran into her and Alizadeh; they both bounced off his solid bulk.
“Nine Hells,” Shiyk’yath said, hopping on his good foot with his hand on his nose.
“We might have a problem,” Alizadeh said over his shoulder.
Sifa craned her neck to look around him.
A priestess and a handful of guards had blocked off the street, and people stood in a ragged line before them. The priestess glanced at her palm, and motioned for one after another of the people to continue.
Sifa asked, “What are they doing?”
“They’re checking for us,” Alizadeh said, backing up, forcing Sifa and Shiyk’yath back into the shadows. “That priestess arrested me. This is a problem.”
“That was fast,” Shiyk’yath said.
Alizadeh set his hand on the top of Sifa’s head. “They want her. They want her bad.”
“What are we going to do?” Shiyk’yath asked.
“Head back,” Alizadeh said. “I know some places we can hide, and some people who can get us out of here. Take the first left.”
Shiyk’yath turned in the narrow alley, staggering back the way they’d come.
“We don’t have time for this.” Alizadeh snatched Shiyk’yath up like an infant and ran through the twisting streets, glancing back every few steps, Sifa chasing the orc and panting for breath.
Alizadeh slowed down and set Shiyk’yath on his feet. The three walked out onto a broad street, out of the warren of buildings, out beneath the cloudy sky, with the central tower of the temple visible in the distance.
Sifa touched her chest and grabbed Alizadeh’s forearm. “Something’s wrong with Che-su.”
A bolt of lightning skipped from one cloud to another, more bolts hopping between other clouds, until a monstrous bolt of lightning coalesced in the sky formed from all these smaller bolts. So bright, Sifa squeezed her eyes shut. The whole world seemed to shake around her.
“Oh, no,” Alizadeh whispered.
The buildings along the street shook, the bricks and mortar rained down, the merchants in their shops and their customers ran out with their hands over their heads. One building tilted to the side, its roof bashing against a building beside it, and then the building collapsed from the middle; another caved in, seeming to implode.
“Maegrith’s spiky beard!” Shiyk’yath yelled.
Alizadeh scooped Sifa and Shiyk’yath up, one under each arm.
“No!” Sifa screamed, wriggling in Alizadeh’s arms, bouncing up and down with each of his steps as he ran toward another alleyway. She reached her arms back to the temple, her heart feeling Che-su’s pain but also a sense of satisfaction, and a sense of finality. “We have to go back! We have to save her! She’s in trouble!”
Flames blew out from the now windowless main tower, and the fiery outline of a dragon soared into the sky. Bolts of lightning crashed down from the clouds, slicing through the ethereal dragon’s wings. The dragon roared, flinging its head back, sending flames flying into the sky, up into the clouds.
“Out of the way, bull fuckers!” Alizadeh bellowed and he sprinted into an alley. Sifa craned her neck, trying to watch the battle at the temple as long as she could.
The clouds flashed light and dark, and a huge bolt of lightning smashed down, impaling the dragon between the wings. The dragon disappeared.
She squeezed her eyes shut and curled into a ball around Alizadeh’s thick arm, focusing her concentration on that bit in her heart she knew now was Che-su, and she poured her love and all her wishes and hopes into it.
Sifa felt Che-su’s glory, Che-su’s gratitude, and Che-su’s love. And then she felt Che-su no more—just a pain in her heart. She gasped, and clutched at her chest.
Alizadeh sat her and Shiyk’yath down at a corner and she sank down with her back against the wet plaster wall, pressing her palms into her eyes, sobbing, tears flowing. “She’s hurt. She’s hurt bad.”
Alizadeh looked at Shiyk’yath and said, “You two stay here. I’m going to go find some friends who can hide us and get us out of this rat-fuck town.”
“Getting out of this rat-fuck town.” Shiyk’yath grinned and pointed at him. “There’s a plan I can get behind.”
Alizadeh disappeared into the darkness.
Sifa leaned her head against the side of a dry wall, the rain coming in at an angle so that it hit the wall across from her. She squatted with her hands on her knees, leaning back, lifting her chest to give her breaking heart more room.
“That was very brave and very honorable, what she did back there,” Shiyk’yath said, grimacing and grunting as he crouched down before her. The rain dribbled down his bruised face, his black hair lying limp over his forehead and down into his swollen eyes.
“We have to go save her,” Sifa said, her voice choking. She looked away from him, down the shadowy alley with only the occasional light from a random window open and spilling into it.
“She would not want us to do that,” Shiyk’yath said. “She wants you safe and as far away from the empire as you can get.”
“She’ll die,” Sifa said, shaking her head. “I just found her. Finally. I found a piece of my family, a piece of my soul. I can’t let her die.”
“Yeah, well.” Shiyk’yath sighed and lowered his head. “We all die sooner or later. And everyone we love dies, too.”
Sifa stared at him. “If you are trying to make me feel better, you are failing miserably.”
“Your feelings are your feelings,” he said, raising his eyes to her, a tired exhaustion lurking within them. “I’m just telling you how it is. At least you’ve got your love and your pain and you remember them. I lost a daughter and a wife and had even their memories taken away so I would be a more productive drone in the Empress’s hive.”