White Devil

by Janina Franck

  “We’ll go visit whatever is left of Arceolus. Any suggestions for a route?”

  The last part was directed at Maurice.

  “Arceolus? You’ll really go? Well, I wouldn’t suggest going by yourselves, but there are daily tours that head there, for the curious and the cultured. It’s one of the biggest tourist destinations in the area, you should know. I don’t think you’ll find your naginata there, however. You might have better luck in the museum. There are still some items that have been saved by survivors there.”

  “Tourist destination...” Selene muttered darkly, glancing at the maps they had spent all day poring over for information.

  “We will keep that in mind,” Lilith smiled. “Thank you. How may we join on of these tours to Arceolus, do you know?”

  Maurice disappeared back into the room in which he had interviewed Ayalon and Zero and returned carrying a small map and some paper. He drew out a pen and marked a place on the map, which appeared to be a plan of Nenbalon, with all boardwalks drawn in. Lilith got dizzy just from trying to figure out which paths connected, and which ones merely crossed over at different heights. She was glad for the color coding indicating the different levels. On the piece of paper, Maurice jotted a few instructions before handing both over to Lilith.

  “Here’s the place that does the tours, and here’s the museum. Just as a reference, this is where you are now, and here’s the steamrail station. I wrote down the name of the tour for you here, and if you mention at the museum that I sent you, they might let you see the stuff they have in the back. Things they’re curating or things that are too valuable to have on display for everyone, you know, that kind of stuff. Actually, let me just write you a quick recommendation letter.”

  Maurice began to scribble away on another piece of paper, his letters as illegible as some of the other writing Lilith had seen around. She wondered if it was actually some form of code, or if the museum would simply recognize that only one person would write like this.

  “Here we go,” Maurice said, handing over the note. “Oh, and make sure you don’t stay out after dark,” he warned. “There are always some unsavory persons around.”

  He reflected on this for a moment, before grabbing the note and ripping it up again.

  “Actually, never mind, you all stay here tonight again. The room you stayed in I normally keep for my assistants, and let out to tourists at other times. But I have neither at the moment because we’re in the off season, so the room’s all yours for as long as you need it. And if you want to go to the museum, I might as well come along. It’s been a while since I’ve been on a trip into town and no one’s going to come here anyway. Might be nice to be around people for once.”

  Lilith looked to Selene who indicated her consent with a quick tilt of the head.

  “We could split up and get both done quickly,” Selene said. Her stomach grumbled and she added, “Some lunch might also be nice.”

  *****

  Much later, a good hour after darkness had claimed the skies, Lilith found herself back in the archives together with her friends. After a simple lunch, they had split up to deal with their tasks quicker, with varying degrees of luck.

  Walking across the city of Nenbalon had proven to be a stressful experience. Lilith had been glad she had Maurice to guide her, because she had lost any sense of where she was and where she needed to go almost immediately. She found it difficult to move between the many people – there was no space to maneuver out of the way, and everyone was in constant motion. People paid no attention to one another, but focused only on their own steps, and occasionally there were groups standing and talking, or shouting, blocking half the boardwalk. Lilith was shoved and pushed and elbowed, and soon she thought her skin must be as green as Ayalon’s emerald hide. Another thing making the experience worse was the smell. The stink of people, sweaty and unwashed, mixed together with a light sewage smell rising from ground level in the heat.

  Lilith didn’t envy her friends needing to navigate their own way through this. They had parted ways at the archive – Lilith and Amethyst had gone to the museum with Maurice, while Zero and Selene had taken some of the money to book one of the tours to Arceolus starting the next day. Selene had also agreed to check the schedule for steamers toward Taquin for the next few days, as the tour office was very close to the steamrail station.

  Ayalon had stayed behind in the archives – they had only woken him briefly to tell him about the plan.

  However, despite the many difficulties Lilith faced that afternoon, her trip had not borne fruit. Maurice had led her to the museum, an impressive, large, cylindrical building, connected to the rest of the city by many walkways on the upper levels.

  He had then proceeded to show her through all the exhibits, and even managed to get access to some of the restricted areas. Everything he had told her was certainly interesting and Lilith had learned a lot; there were many things she would like to learn more about as well, but there had been nothing of relevance to her current cause. There had been a few small relics, everyday items about whose uses Maurice ventured educated guesses, yet none had the faintest chance of being related to the Hellfire Naginata.

  Eventually, Maurice, Amethyst, and Lilith had returned to the archives in low spirits. They were there met by the other group, who had made it back a little earlier.

  Selene looked her usual calm and calculating self, which immediately reassured Lilith, and Zero had turned into a large dog and lay panting next to Ayalon, who had a large book lying in front of him.

  Studying a map, Selene sat on a chair, her feet crossed atop a footstool, a cup of water next to her on the table. Upon noticing Lilith, Selene put the map down and got up to greet her.

  “Have you found anything of use?” she asked.

  Keeping her eyes to the floor, Lilith shook her head.

  “And you?”

  Selene pulled out some flyers.

  “We booked us on a three-day tour starting tomorrow morning, meant to be back late afternoon of the third day. There are two steamers to Taquin every day, one in the morning, and one in the afternoon. We probably won’t be able to make the one tomorrow.”

  “You’re of course welcome to stay here again,” Maurice chimed in, repeating his offer. “I’ll go make some tea.”

  “I am glad things went smoothly for you,” Lilith sighed and sank into a chair.

  Selene hesitated.

  “Well,” she started, “I wouldn’t say smoothly.”

  Lilith looked up at her questioningly, but Selene was viewing the ceiling with a mild, pensive frown.

  “There was that small incident with a low-life.”

  Amethyst shuddered.

  “A non-bird,” he stated. Selene shrugged.

  “It wasn’t a big thing. Just some fool who thought he could take advantage of us. Turns out we were a little more unsavory than him.”

  Lilith made the decision not to ask about the incident. It was probably safer. She noticed Maurice standing just behind Selene, his eyes wide with concern and confusion, mouth parted as if in preparation of speaking. In an instant, she saved him from asking the question she knew he wouldn’t like the answer to.

  “Maurice, would you like some help with making the tea?” Lilith asked him. His gaze wandered over to her and after a moment of staring, he snapped out of it and nodded.

  “Oh, sorry, I was going to ask what type you would like, but it might be easier to just show you, if you like. I should get started on making some dinner for us all in any case.”

  He bustled off and Lilith followed swiftly, glad to be able to turn her attention toward something else for the moment.

  Something strange occurred one evening, after which Colm had stopped using his fireplace. He had been tutoring Milly, Balthasar sitting beside them to keep an eye on them, when the fire had suddenly taken on a purple hue and a female voice had called out as though from far away.

  “Colm? Colm, plea
se answer, you must answer… Colm? You can’t be… no, Colm, please…”

  With one swift hand movement Colm had engulfed the fire with his own, green, magic. He’d marched over to the bookshelf and taken the figurine of a bear, placing it facing the fire and whispering something. Balthasar had needed to strain his ears to make it out, but he was sure that Colm had said, “I’m sorry, Phee.”

  After that, the mage avoided making fires in the hut. However, Balthasar had noticed that Colm increased the frequency with which he was tutoring Milly. At first, he presumed that it was simply a continuation of her training to become a skilled mage, but the girl became more serious after every lesson, more thoughtful, and sometimes she said things that girls her age shouldn’t even be thinking about yet.

  So, he had begun to keep a close eye on her whenever possible. James had noticed as well, and he and Balthasar had worked out a schedule, ensuring that at least one of them always knew the whereabouts of the little girl and was nearby to step in, should anything happen.

  Nowadays, Balthasar saw Colm and Milly more often with thick books than with herbs or other magical utensils. He looked for the books afterward in Violet Cottage and found that they were handwritten encyclopedias, outlining the different countries, their political systems, imports, exports and their economic value, as well as legends, mysteries, tales, and some historical information.

  Balthasar would have felt bad about spying on his friend, if it wasn’t for the fact that he’d been a pirate and had done far worse. As things stood, he was concerned about Colm’s motives for teaching those things to a little girl. There was no doubt in his mind that he was preparing her for something, but what?

  He had a guess, but he didn’t dare to say it out loud, especially not to James. It would only increase his worry for his sister. For the moment, Balthasar let Colm do as he pleased without saying anything, only keeping a constant watchful eye.

  Instead, he focused his attention on his crew.

  Griffin and Maco had told him what had happened in Tsoaluo. They hadn’t been there for the crucial part, but they had seen Lilith fly out of a broken tower window on wings, white as spume, carrying Selene. Not only were they wings, but they were bat wings. Balthasar deemed it significant, though probably just because it reminded him of their ship.

  The Bat had taken a lot of damage when they had left Jianlah, but Griffin was working on repairing her. Additionally, he had begun to tinker with smaller things. Apparently, the young man had drawn up some ideas during his time in the capital, inspired by local technology. Balthasar frequently saw him with books, reading some, filling others with notes and on a regular basis, the young man asked advice from Robert Ference, which the old grumpy scarecrow was only too happy to give. Balthasar couldn’t imagine what help Ference would be that he himself, couldn’t give just as well, but he didn’t push his advice onto Griffin. Lingering nearby whenever Griffin was working on one of his projects was the only form of protest he would engage in.

  The cat had noticed, and often, when Griffin was too engrossed in his work, she would come sit by Balthasar and together they would watch the young man and try to figure out what he was doing.

  Once, Balthasar found Griffin at the blacksmith’s, asking for some lessons and offering his help in return for being able to use the smithy whenever the smith was taking a break.

  Despite his lack of understanding of what Griffin was up to, Balthasar was impressed at how diligently and excitedly the young man was working and studying.

  But Griffin was by far not the only person making efforts.

  Ryo was working hard on forming the young minds and bodies of the volunteer army. He was up with the first sunlight, drilling the volunteers and keeping fit himself. Surprised, Balthasar found that for once, there wasn’t even any fighting between Ryo and the Klabautermann. Instead, the little blue man joined Ryo and provided support – or sometimes mockery – to the volunteers. Balthasar was glad to see them working together. He had always known they had each other’s backs, but seeing them work together like this was different.

  Joe on the other hand could only be found in his hut or the forests and fields of the Highlands. With help from several nurses from the area, the man was shaping up to be a botanist on top of a doctor. He studied local plant life and its powers diligently, continuously creating new powders and creams for various purposes. Every now and then, he joined Ryo and the Klabauterman, offering some new healing creams to the hurting volunteers. Balthasar was somewhat dubious about the expression on Joe’s face whenever he offered a new cream to one of the young people. It was too excited, too curious.

  Maco was still grieving. Balthasar knew it was going to take a while before the troll would finally be himself again, but he took little steps forward at a time. His short trip to Tsoaluo had definitely helped to distract him, and even now he was helping the others out wherever he could – be it with the repairing of the Bat, collecting plants for Joe, or sparring with some of the volunteers. Whenever he worked on these things, he seemed a little more content than before, and Balthasar had taken to requesting his friends to employ Maco for as long as they could every day.

  On the few occasions when Balthasar found some time to himself, he spent his time in a small, cozy café named Cliodhna’s Corner, where the owner sometimes slipped him a delicious piece of fresh fruit cake on the house along with his coffee. There, he contemplated his new situation in tranquility, until his sense of duty beckoned him once more.

  The mage was taking time to heal, although she was regaining her composure quicker than Death had expected.

  The first day, the mage had cried, lamenting her loss loudly, violently, so the servants thought her possessed. Then, she began to refuse food. At night, she couldn’t sleep and started talking to fictitious figures only she could see. Her eyes sunk deeper into her skull with every passing day and her hair lost its sheen.

  Death wondered how much time the mage had left. The paths were crossed – an end was near, but it could be pushed away.

  Meanwhile, the Black Dragon’s followers spoke and swindled and slyly used their wits to convince, to deter, and to frighten the people near the mage.

  Curious, Death kept watching, while she took many souls to where they belonged – a wyvern from the mountains, a Stelrian merchant, a mayandalu in Evarain – she could remember them all.

  After two days, the mage realized the necessity of taking up her position once more. Her first priority was to lash out at those who led her toward the act she now regretted so greatly. Banishing them from her lands, she swore to never let the Black Dragon gain a foothold in Pbecrah, for in her eyes, he was to blame for her life’s tragedy, as was the devilish winged girl.

  Still beside her child, Death said to herself, She worries and frets, but a warrior she is not. I wonder if she has wandered from her path.

  “Now that we’ve taken off, I would like to thank you all for choosing Skytours as your Tourism Group today and hope you will enjoy your trip. My name is Partenis and I will be your guide today.”

  The purple dragon ahead spoke with enthusiasm and energy that made Lilith listen with interest to all she had to say. The group was made up of Lilith and her friends, as well as a few other tourists, among them a pair of centaurs, a troll, a family of dwarves and some humans dressed in various different styles. Upon arriving at the meeting point for the tour, everyone had been provided with a mount, meaning a flying creature associated with Skytours. Selene and Ayalon had declined, and decided to pair up together instead, while Zero and Lilith shared a friendly gryphon by the name of Z’hna. Lilith had been wondering how the centaurs would be carried, as she imagined they would have the greatest difficulty, due to their four legs, however a young mayandalu, a flying turtle twice as long as Lilith was tall, had offered its services. Once a saddle with two rider satchels large enough for the centaurs to lie in had been strapped to its back, the group had lifted off the ground.

  “Today
, we will travel to the lost city of Arceolus, a town that fell to ashes one fateful day. You may have heard legends about the lost kingdom of the Fae, the technology that has been lost and the beauties they had to offer. If not, don’t worry, I will be telling you all about it on our trip. But before we get to any of that, please take a look below while we circle around this rock formation here. The wastelands below are what you may know as the Cursed Lands. I would suggest you not travel through here. This strip of land is dangerous not because of magic or unfounded rumors of curses, but because of criminals, and the marshes themselves. You’re lucky we can take a proper look today, as thick mist isn’t uncommon here, which adds to the treachery of the topography. But here’s fun fact number one for today – the Cursed Lands actually used to be quite bountiful agricultural land, used by the people of Arceolus.”

  On went the purple dragon’s happy chattering, while flying impressive maneuvers around the group to guide everyone’s views. A few of the flying guides also translated for creatures from other countries.

  The Cursed Lands looked grey and dead from above. Mostly it was short grey grass, interspersed with boulders and even some larger rock formations. There were parts where the grass gave way to water in the same swampy color, sometimes small bushes and ferns still peeked out from the water. Not only could Lilith not see any animals, she also didn’t hear any. Except for Amethyst, who rested on Partenis’ back when he wasn’t copying her flying maneuvers, there were no birds in sight. The few bushes between the scree and boulders weren’t disturbed by any movements, not even by wind.

  However, there was a limit to the joyless view – in width, the strip of land was no more than a day’s steady march, although Lilith supposed the time may be doubled when it was misty or rainy. As they were airbound, and traveling faster than walking would allow, they made it across in a mere few hours.

  While their tour guide described more about how the Cursed Lands came to their name and their history and former glory, they crossed over to what must be Velsalia. The grass slowly mixed with dark sand, at first almost unnoticeably, but soon the grass gave way and left only the black dunes.