Fractured Magic: Chapter Sixteen

When the faerie and the screaming orinian followed that girl Maebhe over the edge, Evelyne could only watch, stunned. Used to winning, she hadn’t expected her quarry to escape so easily, and one in so spectacular a fashion. There were many things about today she hadn’t expected. She raised her sword and turned back to the dead man on the bridge with her only to find him gone, the prison door slamming shut behind him as he fled.

“Coward!” she shouted. She charged after him, past the still-bound guard.

While Roman fled, Maebhe hit the water. It was a smooth entry, all told, with minimal splash. Unlike her usual jumps, she hadn’t had time to doubt herself; it was old muscle memory that had her pointing her toes and engaging her abdomen. But even with all that, the impact hurt. Even worse, she hadn’t accounted for the water’s temperature.

Pressure closed around her, her muscles tensing and locking at the numbing cold. She almost couldn’t engage them, her limbs dragging and her heart pounding as she pushed toward the surface, swimming on and on until she thought she’d never breathe again. She’d die here, so close to freedom but stuck in Unity’s shadow.

After the show she’d just put on, how embarrassing would that be?

She broke the surface of the water only for the waves to push her back down. She couldn’t even feel the cold anymore. She couldn’t feel anything, but she forced her muscles to move until she surfaced a second time, managing a few heaving breaths. It took a moment to orient herself, to turn so the cliff loomed above her. She swam toward it, keeping her eyes on Kieran and Ide’s forms on the beach, waiting.

Kieran was crying when she finally hauled her sopping wet form out of the water, waddling toward him while the wind chilled her further. Behind him, Ide’s ears twitched toward the hidden cave Roman and Maebhe had passed through. “I can hear them coming. We have to run,” she said, before Kieran could start to scold her. If he started, Maebhe feared he’d never stop.

He seemed to realize the same, because he only shrugged out of his jacket and threw it over her shoulders. Beside him, Drys looked her up and down. “I’m surprised you’re still alive,” they said. Full of adrenaline, Maebhe only grinned and ran. She staggered, at first, her limbs stiff from the cold, but the group of Enforcers spilling onto the beach behind them spurred her on.

Fortunately, Maebhe, Kieran, and Ide were quick, and Drys had the advantage of flight. Though Maebhe’s entire body burned, the Enforcers had fallen far behind by the time their group reached the drain.

“Ivey!” Maebhe shouted.

The gate swung open for them and a grizzled, grayish head peeked out. Ivey stretched out his hand, catching Maebhe’s when she ran and jumped and hauling her up into the drain. “Aim?” he asked her. When Maebhe only shook her head, he nodded, expression grim, and turned to help the others. Ide and Kieran were next. Dinara and Maebhe swapped places, Dinara helping Ivey while Maebhe squatted in the tunnel and shivered.

In the end, the Enforcers reached them just as Ivey shut the grate and crammed his crowbar into the lock, jamming it from the inside. Maebhe stuck her tongue out at the Enforcers on the beach below, but yelped and ducked further into the tunnel when one of them drew a gun.

“Go,” Ivey urged, and Maebhe didn’t hesitate to obey. They’d had enough of a break that she could run again, the stitch in her lungs from the long sprint not so sharp. As they rounded the tunnel’s bend, Maebhe heard the clang of a bullet striking metal and looked back to see. Were they trying to shoot the door open?

“Where’s Roman?” Dinara asked suddenly, making Maebhe trip over her own feet. When no one answered, she stopped, dug her heels in, and repeated, “Maebhe. Where’s Roman?”

“He...he told us to go on without him,” Maebhe admitted.

Dinara drew in a sharp breath. They’d stopped under a manhole, the light filtering down through the cracks around it falling on Dinara’s horrified expression. “And you listened?!” She turned to Ivey. “We’re under the island now, right? Let me up.”

“Ms. Condeh, you can’t—,” Ivey started.

“Let me up!” Dinara repeated. “I need to see what’s happening up there. That’s all. I won’t cause any trouble. I won’t go to the prison. I just want to see.”

Seeing that glint in her eye, Ivey rocked back on his heels, which Maebhe was beginning to recognize as the sign he was about to give in. Maebhe decided for him, standing up on the tips of her toes to lift the manhole cover, then twining her fingers together and holding them low, so Dinara could step up for a boost. “Go on. I’ll come with you,” she offered.

“You’re soaking wet, clearly freezing, and you’re an orinian. Don’t be silly, Maebhe. Get somewhere safe — that’s what Roman wanted, right?” Dinara asked.

Unable to trust her own voice, Maebhe nodded. Her extremities were still numb, but she certainly felt the sting of tears behind her eyes. “Good luck.”

“Thank you,” Dinara said. She stepped up onto Maebhe’s hand, then gasped when Maebhe hauled her up. She peeked the top of her head out first, making sure no one was around, then pulled herself up and through.

Looking at the buildings all around her, she gave a start when she realized where she’d ended up: in an alley behind the theater, of all places. Frantic bells rang somewhere in the distance, and Dinara partially slid the cover back on the manhole with her boot before setting out in search of information.

No one seemed to have any. The island was in disarray, the people in an uproar. Who knew when they’d last heard the prison’s bells ring like this. Dinara passed one woman wailing about escaped murderers. then a man assuring everyone the bells were a routine drill. On top of that, Unity guards patrolled the streets, their rifles resting on their shoulders, but whenever Dinara tried to ask them any questions, they simply told her not to worry and to get inside.

The people apparently took that to mean, “Get to the courthouse.” They all flowed in that direction, only Dinara pushing against them like a salmon swimming upstream. When that became too conspicuous, she ducked into an alley, continued on by weaving between buildings. It was in one of these back alleys that she rounded a corner and collided bodily with someone — a sturdy someone who let out a familiar “oof.”

Dinara stumbled back, more dazed at the voice than the actual collision. “Roman!” she cried.

Roman clapped a hand over her mouth and pressed a finger to his lips, Dinara going cross-eyed when she noticed his tie, now tied tightly around his palm. Then she noticed his sleeve, torn and bloody. A bruise was blossoming along his cheekbone, but his eyes twinkled when he smiled at her. “It’s alright, it’s alright. It’s not as bad as it looks,” he whispered, not removing his uninjured hand from her mouth. “Di, what are you doing here?”

Only then did he release her. “I had to find you. Roman, you’re bleeding.”

Maybe it was the tears pooling in her eyes, but he didn’t scold her, only sighed. “Not all of it is mine. I’m okay, see?” he said gently. He moved his hand to her arm, gave it a gentle squeeze. “Did you come up through one of the grates? Where?”

“Back at the theater,” Dinara whispered.

Roman nodded and took her hand, leading her back the way she’d come. Now that he was here, now that he’d taken the lead, her fear melted away. They wove slowly through the streets, Roman peering around every corner before pressing on, keeping them to alleys and avoiding the bigger Unity buildings — with their dark, inscrutable windows — entirely. They’d have to cross Main Street to get to the theater eventually, though, and Roman seemed to realize it would be easier to do so here on the outskirts than close to the courthouse, the beating heart of the island.

They waited for a break in foot traffic, made sure no guards were around, then dashed across the street together. But when Dinara felt Roman’s hand slip from hers, she looked back.

She had never seen that expression on his face before.

He’d frozen halfway across the street. Dinara followed his gaze to a tall alfar man standing on the steps of a nearby building. He was certainly handsome — tall, blond, and broad-shouldered, but he had a stern look to him, with pale eyes and wicked scar curving up one cheek. Dinara looked at Roman again, feeling something uneasy churning in her stomach.

“Roman,” she urged. At that, Roman finally moved again, shaking his head and slipping into the next alley. Dinara lingered, though, looking back at that alfar once more — and finding him looking her way, brow furrowed. He couldn’t have heard her. Uneasy, she swallowed and ran after Roman.

She had questions, endless questions, but they’d have to wait a little longer. She tugged Roman down the path she’d come from, then to the partially-covered manhole. He nudged it aside with his foot, but before either of them could climb down, a voice called, “Hey!”

Roman and Dinara turned to find a maranet woman with red hair marching toward them, face twisted with fury. Guards flanked her on either side, and Dinara’s heart hammered to the beat of their steps. Before she could ask Roman what they should do, he suddenly grabbed her from behind. She heard a click, then felt cold metal press to her temple. The woman froze, holding up a hand to halt the guards, as well.

“Good choice,” Roman called from behind her, his voice cold. “What would the Magistrates say if you got a civilian killed?”

The woman’s eyes narrowed. “You won’t shoot. It’s not your style.”

Roman laughed, his breath warm against Dinara’s neck. It wasn’t his usual laugh; it was sharp, desperate. For a terrible moment, she wondered: would he shoot?

“You don’t know a thing about me,” Roman said to the woman, echoing Dinara’s own thoughts. But then he pulled Dinara closer, hand on her arm gentling, and whispered “Trust me,” only for them to hear. How could Dinara have doubted him?

She pretended to struggle as he backed them toward the grate. When he reached it, he shoved her suddenly forward and made her stumble into the maranet woman, who caught and steadied her with surprisingly strong arms. And while the woman’s hands were occupied, he made his escape.

“Shit!” the woman swore, passing Dinara off to one of the guards and running to the drain. She didn’t bother climbing down herself, just stomped her foot and repeated, “Shit!”

“Should we go after him?” one of the guards asked.

“Being with him in a narrow tunnel? That would be as good as suicide,” the woman said. She turned on Di and stomped over, her green eyes furious. “Where was he going?”

Dinara fell back a step, holding her hands up between them. “I— I don’t know,” she said.

“Who are you? What were you doing back here? Were you helping him?”

“Ms. Corscia, that’s enough,” a new voice said. Dinara and this woman — Ms. Corscia — turned to the newcomer, who stood calmly at the alley’s mouth. The guards parted for him as he approached, and Dinara saw it was the alfar from before, the one with the scar on his face. “What is going on here?”

“With all due respect, Captain Nochdvor, this is official Unity business. I’d thank you not to interfere,” Ms. Corscia said through gritted teeth.

“Normally, I wouldn’t, but I’m curious what reason Unity has for accosting the actress it just hired.”

The maranet’s eye twitched. “What?” she asked.

“We are outside the theater,” the man pointed out, stopping beside Dinara, “The day after the Webhon Players’ performance here, no less. If you want to know why she’s here, I’d say that’s answer enough.”

“You’re certain you’re not mistaken, Your Highness?” one of the guards asked.

Your Highness. Dinara tried to remember who that honorific applied to. If “Majesty” was the king or queen, then...a prince. Dinara felt her soul escaping her body.

The alfar — the Prince, Prince Nochdvor, no less — inclined his head in a nod. “I saw the show myself. This woman played the leading role; I could hardly confuse her.”

The other guard timidly raised a hand. “It’s true. I saw the show last night as well, with my husband,” he volunteered.

This time, the maranet woman narrowed her eyes at the prince. “I know what you’re trying to do,” she said, jamming a finger at his chest. “Where were you these last two hours?”

The alfar blinked, surprised to find himself suddenly the suspect of an unknown crime. “Meeting with the Magistrates. Enlighten me, Ms. Corscia; what am I doing?”

Instead of doing so, the woman only huffed and stormed off, clicking her tongue and signaling for her guards to follow. Once they’d gone, the alfar used his boot to close the storm drain. “I wouldn’t recommend going that way again, lest you rouse her suspicion further,” he said, casually.

Dinara had suspected as much, but now she had it confirmed: he knew she wasn’t here for the theater. He even knew about the tunnels. He was only covering for her. But why?

“Thank you,” she said, her voice coming out as only a whisper.

The alfar nodded. “That person who was with you just now,” he started, carefully, “Who was he?”

“I really don’t know,” Dinara said. In a way, she was being honest. If she were to be even more honest, she didn’t want him to know.

“Ah,” the alfar said. Though he tried to hide it, Dinara could see his disappointment. “You’d better be on your way. With those bells, the bridge’s security will be flooded with people leaving. It’ll be a good chance to slip away.”

Dinara nodded and fled.

By the time she finally made it back to Ivey’s, several hours of waiting in lines and answering the Bridge Guard’s questions later, her fear had faded, leaving only disquiet. Unity, which Dinara had always believed to be good, was rounding up orinians without cause. Roman, her sweet traveling companion, not only worked for the Oracle of Damael, he seemed to be a longstanding enemy of Unity. The people were talking about war, and if things like this kept happening, the talk might turn true. It was all more than she knew what to do with.

She knocked at Ivey’s door, remembering only after that Roman had done a special pattern for it. Before she could try again, the door flew open anyway, Roman there and immediately pulling her into a hug. She stiffened and pushed him away, reminded of the cold bite of steel against her temple, and watched his expression fall. After everything she’d uncovered about him that day, it still made her heart twist with guilt.

“I’m so sorry, Di,” he said in a rush. “That woman — she never forgets a face. She saw you with me, so making you a hostage was the only way to keep you from being implicated. The gun wasn’t actually loaded, I promise.”

Some of the tension in Dinara’s chest eased, but not enough. “I understand. It’s okay. That alfar we say — he helped me get out of trouble,” she said. It was an experiment, one that yielded results: Roman stiffened, his expression smoothing to something so neutral it could only be fake. Unable to stop herself, she asked, “Did you know he’s a prince?”

“I’m not even sure who you mean,” Roman said, stepping aside to let her in. Dinara’s heart clenched all over again.

As Dinara stepped inside, Maebhe popped her head into the foyer. She wore a large wool blanket around her shoulder, her long hair still vaguely damp. “You’re back! If you hadn’t shown up soon, I was sure Roman would march right back to the island to rescue you.”

Dinara smiled at her. “I’m glad you’re safe. Are any of you injured?”

Maebhe shook her head. “Only Roman, but Ivey patched him up. You’d think stitches couldn’t be worse than being stabbed through the hand, but the way Roman whined about it, you’d never know.”

Roman wrinkled his nose and waved a bandaged hand. The bruise around his eye had darkened, but beyond that, he seemed whole. He’d even changed shirts, no longer stained crimson. Still, Dinara couldn’t bear to look at him long, so she followed Maebhe into the sitting room. There, she found the blond orinian spread on Ivey’s couch, fast asleep on the other’s shoulder. Maebhe, blanket and all, shuffled over to them and dropped onto the sofa on the dark-haired orinian’s other side.

“Wasn’t there another one?” Dinara whispered to Roman. She’d been distracted with the escape, but it would have been impossible not to notice the faerie with the group.

“Drys is bathing. Their wings were in a state,” Roman answered. “I was about to go buy supplies for their journey, while we wait.”

From his writing desk in the corner, Ivey looked up, mouth pulling into a wide frown. “Easy, my dear fellow. You mustn’t go anywhere, not after that show you put on today,” he said. “Not only are you hurt, the entire city will be looking for you. Tell me what you need and I’ll go.”

“I’ll help,” Dinara offered. She’d been so eager to get back to Ivey’s, but now she couldn’t wait to leave.

“Thank you, but we can’t afford to pay you back,” the dark-haired orinian said, craning her neck as much as she could to look at them. She was short and delicate, different from the twins all the way down to her birthmarks.

Roman waved a hand, already taking out his pocketbook and passing Ivey a few laminate bills. “Don’t worry about it, Ide. Ivey, do you have pen and paper? We can make a list.”

After Ivey retrieved his stationary and they had their shopping list, Dinara and Ivey were ready to go. They spent half the walk in silence, the awkwardness building between them until Ivey finally asked, “So, pardon my asking, but are you and Aim...?”

“Why do you call him Aim?” Dinara interrupted.

Ivey started like a rabbit. “Why do you call him Roman?” he asked defensively.

“That’s his name.”

“And Aim is his nickname.”

“But what does it mean? It doesn’t make sense.”

“Must nicknames make sense?”

“They at least have stories,” Dinara argued. She could see the sign for a large general store down the street, and Ivey was hurrying toward it, as if he could escape her questions.

“If you must know, the nickname comes from his skill at the game of darts,” he said with the air of a man picking a story out of a hat and committing to it.

Dinara frowned after him, jogging a little to keep up, huffing when the door nearly swung shut in her face after Ivey refused to hold it for her. “Right. Well, why was he on the Island before? Why did he need to flee? I know you know.”

“It’s really not my place to say, Ms. Condeh,” Ivey said. “In my line of work, I hear a lot of secrets. Because I don’t share them, people have come to trust me. I pride myself on that reputation.”

Dinara sighed, looking around while Ivey passed the shopping list to the attendant. Outside the gritty windows, people passed by, oblivious to the chaos on Unity Island, to Orean’s struggle, to the storm in Dinara’s mind. Their thoughts weren’t occupied by smugglers, spies, and dark secrets. They lived normal lives, and they seemed happy for it.

“I will say this,” Ivey began, watching the attendant flit across the store, gathering supplies. “I consider Roman a dear friend, and I imagine I’ve known him for longer than anyone else alive today. Even so, I know only a fraction of his story. Only what he had to tell me. I doubt anyone in the world knows all of it.”

“Oh,” Dinara said.

“But he obviously cares for you. He’s changed a lot since I saw him last. He was…in a bad way, then. It would’ve taken someone really special to draw him out again.”

Dinara stared at Ivey. “It wasn’t me,” she said. “He was like this when I met him.”

“Oh,” Ivey said, scratching his nose. “Ah, well, he obviously cares about you, all the same.”

“Maybe,” Dinara said.

Loaded down with bags and parcels, they arrived back at Ivey’s house to find Kieran awake and Drys among them, their gold wings almost sparkling except for the few bandaged spots. Dinara and Ivey dumped the parcels on the dining table.

“Here we are. Food, travel gear, and a change of clothes for each of you,” Ivey said, sorting through the various packages.

“Is this enough food to last us to Orean?” Maebhe asked doubtfully.

“No, but it’ll last you to Home,” Roman answered.

“Home?” Íde asked, eyes widening. “Isn’t that in—”

“Lyryma,” Drys finished.

“Lyryma?” Kieran hissed. Lyryma Forest, the vast tangle of wood south of Gallontea, was largely avoided by outsiders. If you were not born into its secrets, it was not for you. Danger lurked not only in the flora and fauna, but in the people too, and that wasn’t even to mention the magic. Orean alone had so many stories and superstitions about the old wood that no orinian with any sense would go near it.

“You can’t exactly travel in the open, especially not after today’s escape. Unity will have warrants matching your descriptions sent to all major outposts by the end of the day,” Roman explained. “But cut through Lyryma Forest and not only will you avoid Unity roads, you’ll reach Orean faster.”

Íde bit her lip. “The extra time would be wonderful, but we’d never survive—”

“It’s safe if you have a guide, and I’m calling in a favor. Drys Homeborn, will you see these three safely to Orean for me?” Roman asked.

Drys’ lips quirked into a smile, and they bowed. “A debt owed, a debt repaid. I will.”

“Good. Ivey, I need that paper again. I have a letter to write.”

While Roman sat down with paper and pen, Ivey addressed the orinians: “There’s still enough light that I can get you out of Gallontea today, but if I were you, I wouldn’t head into those woods until morning.”

“Thank you, Ivey,” Kieran said, still looking faintly ill at the idea of approaching the forest at all, let alone at night. “The sooner we can get out of here, the better I’m sure we’ll all feel.”

“What did they want with you?” Maebhe began, eyeing her twin. “Unity, I mean.”

“Good question,” Kieran answered. “I wish I knew.”

“There were friendly, at first,” Íde said. “We were in nicer cells, they brought us three meals a day and never hurt us. I could’ve almost believed they were doing this for our safety, like they claimed, but then they started asking questions we couldn’t answer, and they grew hostile. Especially so when they found out Kieran works for the city guard.”

“Do you really?” Dinara asked, curious.

Kieran shrugged. “I just watch over old buildings.”

“What kinds of questions were they asking?” Maebhe asked.

“Whether we were here under orders, why we were sent to Gallontea, what Orean might want with the alfar King.” Kieran ticked the questions off on his fingers. “I don’t think they knew the meaning of the word ‘vacation.’ After they found out what I do, their questions got stranger. They asked about things like Orean’s defenses, the size of its police force. Weapons factories, research centers, magic.”

“Magic?” Roman asked sharply, looking up. “What about it?”

Kieran shrugged. “They only mentioned it. In the middle of asking about the kinds of guns and swords we produce in the city, they mentioned magical weapons. I’d assumed they were just trying to unsettle me into giving a real answer.”

Roman frowned to himself, then continued writing. After a minute, he finished and held up a hastily penned letter, fanning it so the ink dried faster. “This isn’t the first time I’ve heard rumors of magic, of late. Apparently, King Nochdvor was abducted under strange, inexplicable circumstances. Unity’s plan is to send a team to Orean to dig deeper.”

“How do you know all of that?” Dinara asked.

“I’ve been listening to the chatter,” Roman says, unhelpfully.

“What’s in the letter?” Maebhe asked.

Roman looked between her and Dinara, exasperated. “You can’t join a game without knowing the key players,” he said, folding the letter carefully. “This explains everything I know— and suspect— about the situation. Give it to your king; I’m hoping it will help him play. Do not open it yourselves.”

Roman stuffed the letter into an envelope, then sealed it. He passed it to Maebhe who, knowing she’d lose it in a day, passed it to Íde.

“We should get going,” Ivey said, eyeing the envelope with open curiosity.

“Good luck. I wish I could go with you— Home is probably the safest place to be right now. And I do miss it,” Roman said, wistful.

“You’ve been?” Drys asked.

“Mm. The oanai took me in when I had nowhere else to go— after Ivey helped me out of Gallontea, in fact.”

“Don’t you want to come back into the sewers with us?” Maebhe asked with a small smile. “It’s such a lovely walk! And truth be told, we’d all feel safer having you with us.”

Roman laughed. “I’ve had enough of that for today. You’ll be perfectly safe, and besides, there are things I still need to do here.”

Maebhe nodded, her expression turning thoughtful, her gray eyes serious. “Tell your friends from last night thank you, from me. And if you see Aleksir, tell him I believe him.”

Roman snorted. “I will.”

“This is goodbye, then. Thank you for all your help,” Kieran said, shaking Roman and Dinara’s hands.

They waited for the group to leave before seeing themselves out. While they headed down Ivey’s front steps, back in the sunslight once more, Dinara said, “I can’t wait to get home.”

Roman nodded his agreement, but when Dinara started down the street, he didn’t follow. “I’ll meet you there. I have some things I need to do.”

Dinara stopped. “Are you serious?”

“Sometimes,” Roman said, expression unreadable. Not that Dinara had ever been able to read him, apparently. “Right now, yes.”

“What could you possibly have to do?”

Roman shifted his weight from one foot to the other, grimacing slightly. “Maebhe mentioned that boy that helped her find us. I’d like to make sure he didn’t end up in a jail cell somewhere.”

“Why is that your job? Roman, haven’t you done enough today?”

“I won’t engage,” Roman said calmly, talking to her like he was soothing a startled cat. “There won’t be any risk. I just want to find him. And I did already promise Ivey dinner, after.”

“Ugh,” Dinara said. When she pushed past him, he made no move to follow. “See you at home, then.”

Roman’s answering smile was sad. “I’ll see you.”

As a heads up, there will be no new chapter next week (December 23). I'm traveling for the holidays and decided to take a week off.

LOTS happening in this chapter! Lots of interesting interactions, especially with Leandros and Evelyne slipping into the mix! What do you think of all these interconnecting threads? What do you think Roman's history with these two looks like?

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