by Jeramy Goble
Jularra stood. Though she seethed with fury, she maintained her hold on her magical traps as she walked towards the suspended siblings. Her deliberate steps gave her time to think, and to maintain her magic. The room, previously filled with the violence and energy of dozens of people, was eerily still. All but Jularra floated, powerless, writhing like newborns under her absolute physical command.
Jularra walked up behind Melcayro. He could barely twist his head, but strained his eyes to keep Jularra in his periphery. Abranni could not see her at all.
“You have one chance to explain why you captured my people.”
The Queen of Acorilan still had her arms out, but slowly brought them down to her sides. They remained rigid as she worked to retain control over everyone in the roofless barn. Releasing her hold on one would release them all.
“One chance!” Jularra repeated.
Melcayro’s neck jerked and shook as he tried again to face her.
“You won’t break that hold,” she said, confident. “As you can now see, the rumors about my superior magic are true. Now: explain yourself.”
Melcayro merely rolled his head a few inches to the other side. Jularra circled around to Abranni.
“Or you," she whispered in the woman's ear. "I don’t care. One of you will tell me why you attacked my people, or I’ll crush you both where you float.”
Abranni remained as silent as her brother. Jularra strolled back out into the middle of the floor.
“Nothing? All right, then. Have it your way!”
One of Jularra’s arms remained rigid at her side. She brought up her other hand, and began to twist it into an increasingly tighter fist.
Abranni began to scream, emitting knives of shrill sound as Jularra started to crush her head. The woman's cheeks flattening out beneath the invisible pressure.
“I just want an answer. Better hurry, or this will get messy!”
But instead of Abranni’s head being crushed, the sound of Melcayro smacking against the magical barrier clapped through the air. He had freed himself.
What? How?
Jularra swung back to Melcayro in bewilderment. Abranni relaxed as Jularra let go of her face and left her once more to the suspended stickiness.
Melcayro's eyes blazed beneath his weighted brow.
“Let her people go, or I’ll start roasting your people!”
A ball of fire sparked into existence just above Melcayro’s open palm. It grew rapidly, and off to his side, the flash of another spark caught Jularra’s attention. Abranni had freed herself as well, and was following her brother’s lead.
Impasse, Jularra thought. Again. She was exhausted, and now her people were under threat again. Never meant the Messyleians harm anyway. Need to talk with them.
“I just came here to talk,” Jularra said with perfectly feigned calm.
Melcayro and Abranni stood silently, eyes glimmering in the light of their summoned fires.
Here goes nothing.
Jularra started to release the walls suspending the combatants in place. A few inches here, a few feet there, and soon her people--and the Messyleians—sank to the ground. Her arms relaxed. She turned slowly to face Melcayro and Abranni.
“I need your help.”
Melcayro and Abranni shared a suspicious glance, though their flames had stopped growing. The recently released Acorilinians and Messyleians slowly assembled around their respective leaders, confused as to whether or not they should prepare to fight again, or ease off. For now, they stood and watched.
“You’re not here to take the city?” Abranni asked. Her voice rang with accusation.
Jularra’s eyes drifted to the recently-cleared sky as she searched for why Abranni would suspect such a thing.
“We’ve had no official business with Messyleio in generations,” Jularra said eventually, letting her perplexity show. “No hostilities, diplomatic issues, affiliations with its enemies—nothing. Why would you think that?”
Abranni looked at Melcayro. They shared more unspoken communication.
“What is it?” Jularra barked. “Why?”
“All right, all right.” Melcayro sniped. “Hold on.”
Melcayro allowed his sphere of flame to wither and snuff itself out. Abranni held on to hers.
“We’re having to fight off attacks from Hignriten almost monthly,” Melcayro admitted. “We thought you might be another raiding party—or that you were helping Hignriten.”
Jularra sighed. “You couldn’t have just asked? Met us on the road, or at the gates? Something?”
“When it comes to the safety of our city and our people, Jularra—”
Abranni finished Melcayro's thought for him.
“We fight first, and ask questions later.”
Understanding soothed Jularra’s nerves. “I can respect that.”
Abranni looked at her fire sphere with one last hint of doubt, then allowed it to extinguish.
Melcayro spoke frankly. “All you needed to do was have a message sent to us. An envoy. A courier…”
“I knew what the possibilities were,” Jularra said with a slight roll of the eyes. “I didn’t have the time to go about this a different way, and I didn’t trust messages to arrive unread.”
“And I can respect that,” Abranni offered.
The mutual concession and reasonable discussion sent a shiver of relief sliding across Jularra’s shoulders. She sheathed her sword.
Melcayro took a step forward, his head tilted in curiosity.
“So, why have you come? What is it that you need from us?”
“I’m looking for a witch by the name of Leona. We were told she lives in or near Messyleio. Do you know of her?”
Melcayro stepped back, and Abranni’s face froze. Some of the surrounding Messyleians muttered and mumbled in disbelief.
Melcayro licked his lips and swallowed.
“We know Leona.”
***
After the battle in the barn, the mixed group of Acorilinians and Messyleians filtered back out into the streets. No longer empty and intimidating, the avenues and corridors teemed with people. Now that the threat of an attack had been assuaged, Messyleio took on a completely different atmosphere. Residents stood before open doors, sipping on drinks as the strangers strolled by. The disturbing grunting which had emanated from an unknown source in the dark could now be identified as an old man conditioning a pile of swords on a stone sharpening wheel. Laughter trickled through the streets, and scents of heated lard and roasting pork filled the air. Messyleio had come to life.
That was one hell of an enchantment, Jularra thought, impressed. “Where are we going?” she asked.
Abranni called over her shoulder, “To Messyleio.”
Jularra turned to Vischuno and Wona.
“Aren’t we… already here?” she asked.
Melcayro looked back with a grin. Before Jularra could challenge their mystery with more questions, the group stopped in front of a nondescript home. Melcayro and Abranni approached the lampposts, one on each side of the house. After coordinating their movements with a glance and a nod, they grabbed hold of the lampposts and closed their eyes. Their hands started to glow as they transferred a portion of their energy to the posts. With a quick, sliding action, the lampposts descended into recesses in the rock foundation. As they slid down, the entire house began to flip up as if on a hinge, revealing a massive staircase leading up.
Abranni pointed at a neighboring corral.
“You can leave your horses here for now.”
Jularra’s eyebrows shot up as she leaned forward, fascinated. While the house finished lifting into place, Abranni offered more information.
“We obscure the heart of Messyleio to make attacks even less likely to succeed.”
Jularra placed her hands on her hips and approached the base of the stairs in fascination. Melcayro and Abranni flanked her, beaming with pride as she passed.
“Come on up,” Melcayro offered.
The group
climbed the stairs, massive blocks of limestone which looked to have been set many decades ago. As they ascended, Jularra could see the skyline of the hidden portion of the city. It wasn’t low and drab like the perimeter of Messyleio appeared. Robust structures many stories high rose into the air. Made of intricately carved logs and chiseled stone, the buildings were connected by wooden bridges, and in between the various levels were arches that glowed with currents of fire flowing through and around them.
Citizens traveling through this portion of the city looked healthy, happy, and proud. Their clothes were clean, their armor well kept. Numerous magically-imbued charms, jewelry, weapons and armor glowed in various shades of color and consistency, indicating a wealth of magical knowledge.
The existence of this part of Messyleio had been completely unknown to Jularra and her people. She stopped in the middle of the street, hands still on her hips, jaw wide open with wonder. The dense creaking of wood caught her attention as the house that concealed the staircase lowered back down behind her.
“The heart of Messyleio is protected by enchantment,” Melcayro explained as they walked. “The perimeter is a disguise to protect us. This house is our bridge between the two areas.”
“Why do you have to hide like this?” Wona asked.
Abranni stared at her.
“Messyleio claimed independence from Hignriten years ago,” Abranni began. “Most of the citizens in Messyleio lobbied hard for years to have a separate government and region dedicated to the practice and preservation of magic, but we were refused. When our grandparents’ generation saw that our way of life was threatened, they took action and claimed Messyleio for themselves as a sovereign nation.”
“And Hignriten has been trying to take it back ever since,” Wona inferred.
“Precisely,” Melcayro affirmed. “Some of Acorilinian’s past queens even voiced their support of Hignriten.” His tone deteriorated to agitation as he looked to Jularra. “Your country sought to diminish magic just because of your experience with it.”
Jularra shuffled her feet to gather her patience and develop a diplomatic response. She kept it simple.
“I do not feel the same way about magic,” Jularra responded. “Or about Hignriten’s treatment of Messyleio.”
Melcayro stared quietly at her, his face relaxing, if only slightly.
“We’ve been lucky so far,” he continued. “Our visible, exterior defenses have always held off any sieges, but we’re always trying to bolster and enhance those defenses with resources and tools we develop in secret.”
Jularra stopped and peered suspiciously at the town’s leaders as they kept walking. When Wona and Vischuno noticed Jularra had fallen behind, everyone else came to a stop and spun around.
Jularra shuffled her feet, sensing what was coming. “Why are you telling us your biggest secrets when you have so much to lose by doing so?”
Melcayro sucked air through his teeth and glanced at Abranni.
“You need our help, right?” Melcayro asked.
Jularra nodded.
“Well, we could use yours, too.”
Fifteen
Jularra had prepared for something less diplomatic. She was caught off guard by the simple notion of an exchange of help.
“Come on,” Melcayro said suddenly with a wave. “Who’s thirsty?”
The question prompted Jularra and the other Acorilinians to cast their eyes on the towering monolith ahead. It stood out from the other massive structures with its carved wooden accents, chiseled rock slabs, and extra metal rods, alight with energy that flared out from its corners.
On the outside of the walls, great ledges extended out from the main structure, connected by staircases linking them to the inside. Torches lit most of the bends, making the building an impressive kaleidoscope of design.
“What’s in there?” Vischuno asked.
“Ah, yes.” Melcayro clapped his hands together and looked at the building, apparently seeking the right words to describe it. “This is where we… relax.”
Wona raised an eyebrow and grinned. Jularra smirked back, but she was distracted. While the interior of the city was obfuscated by the Messyleians’ magic, the view from within remained unobstructed, and Jularra watched as the onyx curtain of night began to give way to the bruised plum of dawn. She wanted information; wanted to meet with Leona, and get home.
“Let’s see what your idea of relaxing is, then!” she said with false cheer.
Together with their Messyleian hosts, the Acorilinians passed between gargantuan columns made from hundreds of thin energy streams. Throngs of people flowed through and ebbed out. Raucous laughter, music, and food fragrances spilled out into the entryway. When the Acorilinians crossed the threshold, Jularra found herself stunned by the thriving complex inside.
An open atrium was capped by a high, thin glass roof which revealed the early dawn sky. Around the interior walls were huge balconies and ledges hosting games, food, and drink. The Acorilinians were met with occasional glances of distrust, but were otherwise ignored.
Melcayro and Abranni stopped at table after table to shake hands, pat backs, and kiss cheeks. The white noise of joy and drunkenness rippled throughout the chamber, and Jularra sensed her soldiers warming to their previously enigmatic hosts. Melcayro reached an empty table and beckoned for Jularra and her people to sit.
“What would you like?” Melcayro shouted.
An exhausted-looking bartender approached. Damp hair stuck to his brow; he pushed it away from his face while he waited on their order.
Jularra extended her hand, prompting Melcayro to order for them.
“Messyleian stout for everyone, then!”
The bartender nodded and weaved his way back through the crowd.
Melcayro held out his hands at the surrounding chairs. He himself sat at the head of the table, with Jularra beside him on his right. Jularra panned around the room again. She appreciated the Messyleians' newfound hospitality, but while she could have asked questions about the architecture for hours, time was not a luxury she had.
“So, what is it you need from us?” she prompted.
Melcayro chuckled.
“Right to it, eh?”
Jularra looked away. “I don’t mean to offend, but I need to be honest with you,” she said. “I don’t have time to linger.”
Melcayro’s jovial face fell. Across from Jularra, Abranni leaned closer. “But you have time to insert your forces into our city?”
“I explained this already,” Jularra shot back. “There was no time to arrange a formal visit.”
The bartender returned quicker than expected. Then again, Jularra considered, this is Melcayro and Abranni’s table. They simmered in silence while the bartender passed out their drinks.
“Anything else?” he asked innocently.
Melcayro waved him away. Neither he nor his sister took their eyes off Jularra, who sighed.
“Do you know why I’m in a hurry? Do you know why my mission is so urgent?”
Melcayro shook his head, but Abranni sat back in her seat. “Let me guess: the blood pact with the Voidwarden.”
Jularra said nothing. She didn’t need to. Instead, she reached for her stout, staring into the mug before taking a quick sniff. With a solemn, approving nod, she held up her mug to Abranni before doing the same to Melcayro. The siblings responded in kind, and together the three of them took deep gulps of the dark, strong ale.
“That’s good,” Jularra said softly. She took another quick sip and then sat her mug on the table.
“So, let me ask again: what do you need from me?”
Melcayro and Abranni shared another silent exchange.
“We need your help in defeating Hignriten,” Melcayro said flatly.
Jularra blinked a few times in disbelief. Then she chuckled without humor. “I just need to know where Leona is!” she said sharply. “And you’re wanting me to go to war with you?”
Melcayro had clearly anticipated her reaction.
“Jularra. I know it seems like an incredibly unbalanced request, but we could make it up to you - make it up to your people. We have resources, magical knowledge, relics. It wouldn’t be such a one-sided arrangement forever.”
Jularra scoffed. “I have no idea when, or even if, I could commit to an actual assault—and that’s if we came to such an agreement.”
“We assumed as much, Jularra,” Abranni said, matching her brother’s new-found submissive diplomacy.
Melcayro added to his plea.
“Our people have had no real sense of peace since the separation. We’re constantly having to defend ourselves. We're tired of losing innocent lives, and we want to make a decisive break, once and for all.”
“Or at last threaten them with war if they don’t recognize our independence,” Abranni added.
Jularra grabbed her mug and sat back in her chair.
I wish I could run this by Korden.
She turned to Melcayro.
“I can’t give you an answer right now. I want to, but I can’t." She heard her voice rising and didn't try to control it. "I don’t even fucking know if I’ll be alive in six months' time!”
The table fell silent.
Abranni stared at Jularra. Her eyes shone with empathy.
“Just… think about it, please,” Abranni pleaded. “Like Melcayro said: I’m sure we can come up with something to make it worth your while.”
Jularra straightened in her chair and looked at them both. The siblings exchanged a final glance, then Melcayro gave in.
“We’ll tell you how to find Leona.”
Jularra’s heart soared. She closed her eyes and sighed in relief.
“Thank you.”
“In fact,” Melcayro continued. “If you’ll give us a few hours to prepare, we can go with you.”
“Oh, there’s no need for—”