Fractures

by C S Vass

  “Maybe we could talk about this some other time. You’ve been through a lot recently and—”

  Sasha took Fiona’s hands in her own. “I need you to understand something, Fiona. I need you to understand it now. Two years ago—”

  “Let’s not Sasha. What’s done is done right?”

  “Fiona, we weren’t against you. I know you didn’t feel the support you were longing to have, but we didn’t want to see you get hurt. We didn’t want to see you…do something crazy.”

  Fiona pointed her eyes downward. “Do something crazy. I see.”

  “That came out wrong, but you know what I mean.” Sasha bit her lip.

  Fiona turned to leave but Sasha placed a hand firmly on her shoulder. “Please, just let me say what I have to say Fiona. I just want to see us all safe. I don’t want our lives to be defined by what happened two years ago. I don’t want your life to be defined by Rodrick. I don’t—”

  “You don’t want a lot of things,” Fiona interrupted. “But tell me, what do you want?”

  To Fiona’s surprise Sasha’s eyes reddened. “I just want things to go back to the way they were before all of this happened,” she moaned. “I just want things to be like they used to be.”

  Fiona moved herself away from Sasha’s grip. “Then you’re living in a fairytale. Things can never go back to being how they were. You want me to just move back into my old house, pretend not to know that somebody else used to live there? You want Reggie to go back into the knight that he used to be? These things cannot happen, Sasha. That’s the reality, and it’s time you accepted it.”

  For a moment Fiona thought that Sasha might honestly start to cry. Her face was a wreckage of emotion, but she managed to keep herself composed.

  “Maybe you’re right about some of that,” she admitted. “But things don’t have to be as hard as you make them out to be Fiona. We can move past this.”

  “Spare me the platitudes Sasha. I’m really not in the mood for them. I didn’t ask anybody for help two years ago. All I asked was that you all not get in the way. But apparently even that was too much.”

  “Don’t you get it?” Sasha yelled. “We would have helped, had you asked. But you were so busy locking everybody out.”

  “Maybe if I had a prince charming I could run away to then it wouldn’t have been so difficult for me.”

  Sasha looked at her as if she hadn’t ever seen her before. “How can you say that? Are you so heartless? I’ve told you what my time with Reggie has been like.”

  Fiona felt the humbling sensation of shame burning on her cheeks.

  “I didn’t know what he was going to turn into,” Sasha pressed on. “I was just trying to keep the people close to me safe and supported—and you can’t have it both ways! That’s not fair. You can’t be angry that we tried to help you and angry that we didn’t.”

  Fiona sighed. She was so damn tired. “I honestly don’t know why I even came back to this place,” she said.

  “Because you have friends here,” Sasha said. To Fiona’s surprise Sasha took her by the hand. “We can all still work through whatever is going on together. It doesn’t have to be like it was.”

  There was a warm wet bubble quavering in Fiona’s throat. To hide her emotions she simply embraced Sasha in a tight hug. All of the pain and betrayal, it still was there thrashing in her heart like a caged monster. But there was something more now too. There were better feelings as well. Maybe not hopeful, but it was as if a part of her that she had forgotten woke up.

  The two women sat down on the couch together, Fiona in her green hardened leather tunic and Sasha in auburn furs that matched her hair.

  “We have to figure out what’s next for you,” Fiona said. She gestured to the other room where Donyo and Martin were passed out. “We can’t leave you here with those two, that’s for sure. What about your father?”

  A pained look clouded Sasha’s face. “I don’t think that would be a very good idea. Her voice was small and scared.

  “Why?”

  “It’s just…his damn ambition. I’ve already told you. He wanted the marriage so badly for the sake of Reggie’s respectable name being attached to our own. But then when that was ruined—”

  “I know, I know,” Fiona said quickly. “But surely he can understand this?”

  “Well, he’s been so surprisingly happy with the arrangement,” Sasha said. “It turns out despite the disgrace of his father Reggie still commands a great deal of respect in the business community and has been able to help my father in many different ways. He’s surprisingly familiar with foreign merchants. To be honest I have no idea how. But in any case—”

  Fiona nodded sadly. “Sasha. When are you going to learn to put your own feelings in front of the men in your life?” She had meant the comment as earnest advice, but Sasha’s face darkened immediately.

  “Considering the feelings of others isn’t a weakness, Fiona. You might do well to learn that.”

  That night all four of them slept under the same roof. Donyo snored loudly in the next room, with Martin alongside him. Fiona and Sasha made themselves as comfortable as they could, huddled underneath a heap of fur blankets side by side. The house was freezing cold, but at least they were spared from the worst of the chill.

  Fiona could hardly believe that Sasha had come back into her life again. She knew then that she would have to help Sasha before leaving the city. She couldn’t leave her to the likes of whatever schemes Donyo and Martin would find themselves in. She could do that much at least. She could try to make just one thing right.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Frozen mud clung to her boots as Fiona made her way towards the pond. It was the day after Sasha had come to speak with her, and she needed to get out of Haygarden.

  The feeling was immediately liberating the second Fiona stepped outside. She had wrapped a thick black cloak over her tunic and though the day was frigid that didn’t stop the sun from shining in a sky as clear as glass without a single cloud to obscure it.

  Fiona had been to the pond several times as a child and moving to the path was more like the pull of some subconscious magnetic force than an exercise of her will. There was a reason she had left Haygarden after all, and being back in the city reminded her all the more strongly of it.

  Immediately upon exiting the Southern Gate she passed through houses that clung to the city walls like barnacles on the bottom of a ship. Two dogs were tussling with each other over what Fiona would have guessed to be the the bone of a horse. Their yapping growls echoed through the otherwise serene silence of a winter day. She continued onwards past the shamble of houses and beyond the hodgepodge of tents and encampments the commoners dwelt in until she was barely within sight of the city.

  When she arrived Fiona found a comfortable log on the edge of the woods. During busier times of the year miscreants, murderers, and merchants (her father used to say it was impossible to tell which was the worse of them) would prowl the area to prey on those without the means to protect themselves. Today though there was no sign of such nonsense. All Fiona had for company was the refreshing frosty air and her thoughts.

  The water was clear and frozen, a giant mirror that gazed unblinkingly into the expansive sky. When she was adequately satisfied that she would not be interrupted Fiona reached deep within herself and started prodding at the manjeko.

  The magic orb immediately reacted to her. She could feel it purposefully and with intent now. It was no longer an accident for her to stumble into, but more like a second heart, throbbing and sucking a network of magical energy through her being. Fiona allowed herself to be thrust into the manjeko. She flew wildly, chaotically inside of herself and then her consciousness ballooned outwards. She was inside the true sight once more, and this time she felt highly in control of it.

  Tearing through the air like a hawk she zoomed back into Haygarden. A floating ghost, she stalked the streets, searching past rows of houses packed together like books on a shelf.

&n
bsp; His essence was there. She could feel it, almost like a smell, almost like a coloring of the otherwise grey world around her, but not quite either. It was impossible to tell if she was getting nearer or farther, but the sense of him was clear enough. Fiona felt as if she were some vicious territorial animal sniffing out an enemy. She had to find him. Revenge was what started the journey, and rage was what fueled it.

  “I see you’ve gotten more comfortable with the manjeko, Fiona.”

  The words, spoken softly, shattered her concentration. She turned and saw the Beast standing there with his doglike snout and pulsing red eyes.

  “It still isn’t enough,” she said.

  The Beast grinned. “You have much more to learn.”

  “Oh?”

  “Don’t think that just because you can handle the basics of the true sight that you have even started to touch the depths of its power. There is little difference between you now and a common scryer. But the true sight is meant for so much more. The ancients summoned it for purposes of a much higher caliber. Those masters of days long gone used the true sight in their courts of old to see into the hearts of men. To identify treason. They used it in battle to anticipate the attacks of their enemies before even they knew them. The most practiced and powerful could even see through the veil of time, bending their perception to see the acorn, tree, and firewood all at once.

  “Do you understand, Fiona? You have been successful perhaps in wielding the manjeko as a child is successful in playing with a wooden sword. It is a necessary step, but by no means does it mean you are ready to handle the fight ahead.”

  The Beast spoke calmly and deliberately. It sounded to Fiona like the words of a fanatic, but his eyes were not wild or drunk on ideas of power. On the contrary he seemed more like a schoolteacher patiently explaining a simple concept to a student.

  “If the manjeko can truly do all that, then how do I obtain those powers?” Fiona asked.

  “You face your fears.”

  The Beast launched himself at her, his sword gripped in two strong hands and thrust forward with deadly intent. Her own demon-pommel blade was spinning from its sheath, and she deflected the blow with a sideways slash.

  “Always so eager to fight me,” Fiona said.

  “It’s the only way. The depths of the manjeko’s power is too much for you to calmly approach. Only when the strain of a life or death situation is put on your body and mind will you be forced to tap into your deepest potential and unleash the manjeko’s true strength.”

  “So long as I live,” Fiona said. The Beast nodded.

  They fought for what felt like hours. The Beast was an annoyingly deceptive opponent. Much of the savagery of their previous interactions had been replaced with a strategic cunning that left Fiona fumbling after him like a clumsy thief stumbling through darkness.

  “Watch me!” The Beast shouted as he leapt behind her and swept Fiona’s legs out from under her. She dropped to her hands and cartwheeled her feet to buy herself time to stand.

  “I’m not a rookie,” she said. “I know how to anticipate moves.”

  “You anticipate my moves by watching me with your eyes. The problem is, my body can lie. When I said watch me, I meant you must watch me with the manjeko.”

  “What are you now, my teacher?”

  The look he gave her made Fiona shudder.

  “We are bound together, Fiona. For better or for worse. You made the decision to draw the manjeko into your body.”

  She huffed. “I was under the impression that that would be the end of the ceremony, not the start of whatever this is.”

  The Beast stepped towards her, red eyes glowing like hot coals smoldering in his face. “Your impressions are of no interest to me. Your ability to use this magic is.”

  “Then what do you want me to do? Why are you here? What the hell even are you?” The questions rolled out of her one after the other. She had wanted to maintain a distance from whatever the Beast was, but once she asked the first question the rest came pouring out like water bursting from a leaky dam.

  “I don’t waste my breath on lost causes,” the Beast said. “Prove you won’t die on me and maybe I’ll tell you.”

  In an instant Fiona felt a stinging pain and she had no idea what had happened. As she somersaulted backwards she realized that he had sucker punched her right in the face. “You bark a lot, but you don’t listen.” The Beast was shaking his head with his arms folded. “I’m not surprised. What should I expect when you haven’t even faced your fears yet?”

  “Stop saying that,” Fiona bellowed. “What does that even mean, face my fears? I don’t know if you’ve noticed but I don’t exactly walk away from fights! I’m tired of hearing you spout your nonsense.”

  The Beast did not look amused. The world around them seemed even more forlorn than it usually did. “You’ll never get to Morrordraed,” he muttered.

  “Morrordraed? Why the hell would I want to go to some godforsaken swamp?”

  “I see that you’ve grown belligerent, Fiona. Let me offer you what help I can, most likely for the last time.”

  The world dissolved. Fiona thought this was just her going back to her body, but after a while she found herself sitting in blackness, surrounded by void. Her heart began to beat faster.

  An uneasy feeling spread through her chest, as if she just drunk something syrupy hot and the tentacle warmth was expanding over her body. Slowly the world around her came back into focus. She didn’t recognize where she was, but the sky above her was still a velvet red.

  More of her surroundings entered into Fiona’s field of vision the longer she stood there. Trees scattered the horizon, though they were largely decimated as if some wild beast had tried to trample them. She realized she was standing on a battlefield, with broken bodies all around her. It had been a massacre. Dead soldiers had fallen everywhere with arrows in their bleeding corpses.

  Her eyes widened when she saw Rodrick.

  He was underneath her, dead as well. His lips were bent into a single curious line as if he were mildly amused by something, or perhaps perplexed. Part of the crown of his head was missing. Fiona reached for her sword, as if the corpse might spring back to life, and found that she was naked.

  Is this the future? If it was it meant that Rodrick’s death would come with a very high price. She stood there, uncertainly. Was the Beast trying to make some point? What was he to gain by showing her this? Was this vision for his benefit, or for hers?

  Yet nothing emerged from the dead chaos around her to give Fiona any insight into the nature of what she was supposed to glean from this bizarre experience.

  She stumbled into the thought with the same feeling as if she had been walking at a quick pace without paying mind to her surroundings and stumbled off a cliff by accident. What was she to do now? Whether this was a prophecy, a truth, or just some insight into her own desires, if Rodrick lay dead before her and revenge was satisfied then what was she to do?

  Even though she knew she was only in a world of mirage and shadow the question now seemed more profound with Rodrick splayed before her. The obvious thing would be to work out her deal with Smiley, obtain her passport, and leave wretched Tellos forever. But was that truly what she wanted? It was easy to imagine that as the goal, but when really confronted with it could she leave?

  Then again why would she stay? Donyo and Martin were basically lost and the court was in ruins. She supposed that it would largely depend on if Sandra Redfire actually held onto power long enough for her to eliminate her brother. If so, maybe she could help. But then again, maybe Smiley would make sure she wouldn’t. It’s not as if he would come offering her a passport out of the kindness of his own heart.

  Fiona’s nostrils flared at the thought of being manipulated by that golden-toothed snake. It made perfect sense that he was simply trying to be rid of her. But of course she couldn’t ever really trust him. She couldn’t really trust anyone, and she was raving mad if she hadn’t learned that lesson by
now.

  “Do you begin to see?” the Beast asked.

  Fiona turned, and he was striding towards her confidently, arms behind his back.

  “You think you’re some profound guru to raise the question of what happens after his death?” Fiona asked. Her voice was sharp. “This wasn’t even subtle. I thought visions were supposed to work in metaphor.”

  “What would be the point of that?” the Beast asked. “I have better things to do with my time than watch you piece together your life Fiona. But the fact remains, you don’t have an answer. Not truly.”

  “What’s that to you?” she asked.

  The Beast sighed and spit on the ground. “You really lack any sense of appreciation for your situation. After all this time, to think you’d be the one to make it this far. Fiona we are dealing with things bigger than your personal happiness. To make the strides that you’ve made with the manjeko…nobody has done it in fifty years. To wield this magic, you have a responsibility to—”

  “I have a responsibility to my own mission,” Fiona snapped. They were all the same. Every damn one of them. She was so tired of being manipulated. “After I complete it, I might entertain requests. Or I might not. It’s not really up to you, now is it?”

  “Arrogance is not a pretty color on you, Fiona. Nevertheless, I am impressed with how far you have come. It won’t be long now before the manjeko fully opens to you, and you will either thrive or burn in the bloom of its power. We will see each other soon.”

  * * *

  The pond was much drearier to Fiona when she returned to herself. Whatever charming memories of youth had been there had dissipated into the frost. Somehow a deal of time had passed. It was almost nightfall and her stomach was throbbing with the pangs of hunger. A low-burning sun sank gracefully into the horizon beyond the bare branches of scattered treetops scratching at the sky.