Fractured Magic: Egil Interlude II

Fractured Magic is a fantasy webserial about political and personal accountability, ghosts both figurative and literal, and a pair of estranged friends who act like they’ve gone through the world’s messiest divorce.

Present Day
Year of Unity 1880

Tucked in a shadowy alcove between two streetlamps, Egil felt along the grain of a door and crowed triumphantly when he found a symbol etched into its wood. There, almost invisible against the dark stain, was her symbol: an open eye with a set of dragonfly wings. He’d thought the Oracle of Damael would have changed her safe houses after Histrios; what arrogance, to assume Egil wouldn’t come for them.

First checking that the street was empty, he raised a leg to kick the door down. It swung suddenly open before he could, and the person on the other side shrieked and dropped their keys.

“It’s you!” they cried, then pointed at Egil. “Wait, were you about to break in?!”

“No,” Egil lied. “I came to talk to you. Did you visit Leandros?”

Aleksir Bardon crouched to retrieve his keys. Briefly, Egil could see past him into a narrow entryway with a set of stairs leading up. While it seemed to be a normal flat, Egil knew all the secrets it held. “Yeah, I talked to him. First thing this morning.”

“And he listened?”

“’Course. Some people actually take the oracle’s name seriously, you know. I told him all of it, except the bit about meeting you.”

“And how is he?” Egil asked. When Aleksir’s eyes widened, he wished he hadn’t. He cleared his throat and corrected, “Don’t answer that. What did he say after you told him?”

Aleksir scratched at the wispy beard on his chin. “Not much. He shooed me away when I asked him about Histrios.”

When Aleksir made to step out of the safe house, Egil blocked him with his arm. “You what?” he hissed. “Why would you do that?”

“Because you wouldn’t tell me anything!”

“That doesn’t—never mention it to him again. Never even speak to him again. Do you understand me?”

Alarmed at the venom in Egil’s voice, Aleksir took a step back and hastily nodded.

Coming here had been a mistake. Egil should have let his ghosts rest, rather than try to dig them up. But like a man prodding at a toothache, checking to see if it still hurt, he’d had to ask. Now, having confirmed that it did, he turned to leave.

“Wait!” Aleksir called after him. His voice was too loud; it grated on Egil’s nerves. They were alone for now, but if Aleksir kept shouting, he was bound to attract attention. Egil didn’t wait for Aleksir to lock his door, but he also made no attempt to stop the boy from catching up. “Are you seriously going, just like that? I thought I’d never see you again.”

“You should be so lucky. Now stop following me.”

“But I have more information for you!” Aleksir said. When Egil didn’t immediately shoo him away, Aleksir took his silence for curiosity and grinned. “I’m running late for a meeting. If you walk with me, I’ll tell you what I know on the way.”

Devikra’s visions had always been like a drug: as soon as Egil knew a little, he needed to know more. And so, against his better judgment, he fell into step beside the Oracle’s errand-boy and pointed down the street. “You have until that streetlamp to convince me not to leave.”

The street was quiet, the cobblestone and dark storefronts lit by the city’s new electric carbon arc lamps. The white light they produced was cold compared to the lamplight pouring out of second- and third-floor windows, occasionally filtering through the cracks between the drawn curtains. Unlike Aleksir, Egil eyed every shadow with suspicion. This city could be dangerous at night, and Aleksir made himself an easy target. The boy almost tripped over his feet several times, too busy watching Egil with a look that came uncomfortably close to awe to watch where he was walking.

“I met with Devikra’s Unity contact, the one you scared off last night,” he said, “And I found out what Unity’s planning. They’re—”

“Sending a team to Orean to investigate King Nochdvor’s disappearance,” Egil finished. So this wasn’t about Devikra’s visions at all. “Your deadline is almost here. Tell me something I don’t already know, and be quick.”

Aleksir grinned from ear to ear and spun to walk backward so he could face Egil as he talked. “I should’ve guessed—no one can keep anything from Egil! You know your Prince Nochdvor is leading the team, then, yeah?”

Egil frowned. He had not known. “He agreed to that?”

“This was all his idea, far as I can tell,” Aleksir said. Glancing back and finding his lamppost close, the rest came out in a rush. “How about this: there’s more to those magic rumors than I thought.”

“I’m listening.”

“Apparently, the King of Alfheimr was abducted out of a tower full of people, all of them dead now except for the prince and princess. The only way out was down a single set of stairs. People saw a single orinian go up, which Unity is keeping hush-hush, and no one saw her come back down. That’s not even getting into the explosion.”

“Explosion?” Egil asked. The lamp post came and went.

“It killed everyone. Charred the flesh right off those nobles’ bones and shook all of Illyon. The amount of firepower that orinian would’ve had to smuggle in there...no one knows how she did it, and that’s why they’re saying it’s magic.”

“How did the prince and princess survive?”

“The prince threw them both out the window in the nick of time,” Aleksir said, his smile growing wider the longer he kept pace with Egil’s interrogation.

“And what’s the prince saying happened?”

“Dunno. He’s being as tight-lipped as Unity. My contact is on his team and even they haven’t been told everything.”

The two of them turned onto a bright, noisy street full of taverns and lights and people. Though no one paid them any mind, Egil kept quiet, waiting until the lights and laughter had faded back into darkness and quiet to ask, “If your contact is on the team, have they noticed any shady characters among their teammates? Anyone that stood out to them?”

"What do you mean by shady?"

“Just...suspicious. They’d likely have a connection to Unity. Details in their resumes wouldn’t line up. They could have impressive, unexplained skillsets. Evasive natures, disarming charm. I can’t get more specific—something would just feel off.”

“I can ask. Why? Who’re you looking for?”

“Have you heard of the Enforcers?”

Aleskir shook his head. “What’s an Enf—”

Egil shushed Aleksir. “Gods, boy, you’re trying to join the game and don’t even know the most important players? You’re in over your head. Ask your Oracle about them. She knows.”

“But Devikra never tells me anything,” Aleksir whined.

“And?” Egil asked, smirking at Aleksir. Last night, he’d noticed how Aleksir reacted to his smirks—the flash of irritation that crossed the boy’s face without fail. He had a temper, and a great deal of pride, too. The more Egil could stir those embers, stoke them into a fire, the faster he could burn down Aleksir’s idol worship and dance in the smoke. “Don’t you have somewhere to be? What am I, your mother? Your assistant, that I have to keep your appointments for you?”

Aleksir’s cheeks flushed, but he ducked his head and hurried on. Egil followed him down a side street, then over a fence into a park he knew well. It was a popular meeting place in Gallonten among individuals who wished to go unnoticed: popular, but not too popular. Maintained, but not monitored. Dense, with foliage that formed quiet, obscure paths. Best of all, because of its location in Greysdale, Gallonten’s police paid it little mind. As he and Aleksir walked between the dark trees, the only sounds were the occasional crunch of early-fallen leaves beneath their boots and distant church bells. They walked until they came upon a pond, moonlight glittering off its surface and a dragon crouching at its bank. She lifted her head and turned when they approached.

At the painfully awkward wave Aleksir gave her, Egil had to bite his tongue to keep from laughing. Devikra’s standards really had changed, over the decades. In his day, she’d had strict policies governing meetings between her agents. Not only had Aleksir broken them by inviting Egil along, he’d failed to check the perimeter for eavesdroppers. While Aleksir sidled up to the dragon, Egil sank back into the shadows to do on the boy’s behalf.

“Nice weather we’re having,” Aleksir said.

“The Guardians have blessed us,” the dragon agreed. Unlike Aleksir, she followed protocol. Though the exact wording had changed over the years, Egil recognized the start of a passcode.

“May Ellaes continue to do so,” Aleksir said, finishing the code.

“Who is your friend?” the dragon asked. A dragon’s vocal cords were incapable of whispering, so her rumbling voice carried through the park. All the more reason to check the perimeter.

“He’s–” Aleksir jumped when Egil suddenly appeared beside him and shot him a warning look. “Uh. He’s all right. He’s with me.”

Egil smiled at the dragon, hands clasped behind his back. “Just a trainee. Happy to be here.”

She seemed to accept it, fortunately for them both. “I have a letter from Our Lady in my bag,” she told Aleksir, lowering one shoulder so Aleksir could reach the bag strapped to her scaly side. “If you have any to return to her, put them in the front pouch.”

So that’s what this was. A delivery. To require an in-person trade-off, though, that letter must contain something interesting indeed. Aleksir climbed up and made the exchange quickly, but as he tucked his own letter in the dragon’s bag, Egil asked, “Did you mention me in there?”

Aleksir froze. “Um...”

“It’s fine. I’ll be gone from here before Dev can do anything about it.” The nickname slipped out unconsciously, and when both Aleksir and the dragon turned to gawp at him, Egil winced. That woman didn’t deserve nicknames, not from him. “I’m leaving,” he announced, then turned and walked away.

“Wait!” Aleksir called. Like the last time, Egil didn’t wait. He was over the fence and back in the city proper by the time Aleksir finally caught up, nearly falling from the fence in his haste.

“Does she really let you call her Dev?” Aleksir asked as he jogged after Egil. “I thought only Wil could call her that.”

Egil ignored him and snatched the unopened letter from Devikra out of Aleksir’s hands. When Aleksir made a grab for it, Egil simply held it far over his head. He had half a foot on the kid, and Aleksir seemed to realize he’d never get it back just by jumping. He settled for glaring at Egil instead. “Let me read it,” Egil said. “If Devikra’s written about any new visions, I want to know.”

As if to catch Egil by surprise, Aleksir suddenly jumped for the letter. Egil easily stepped out of reach, laughing and waving the letter around just to mock him.

“C’mon. She’ll kill me. You know she will,” Aleksir reasoned.

“Don’t be dramatic. At worst, she’ll pull you from the field and tell you how disappointed she is.”

Aleksir whined. “I hate disappointing her.”

“Let me read this and I’ll tell you about the Enforcers.”

Aleksir paused, weighing his idolization for Egil against his worship of Devikra. He looked between the letter and Egil’s face, back and forth. “And Histrios, too?”

“Absolutely not. Do not try to bargain with me.”

Aleksir grimaced. “Fine, fine. But I have to tell her you read it.”

“Fine,” Egil agreed, finally unfolding the letter. The familiar handwriting startled him; if Devikra was writing to this boy personally, he must be deep in her circle of trust. He walked as he read, Aleksir following his winding path back to the safe house without complaint.

Its contents were utterly useless. No new visions. Nothing interesting, except: “So that’s the name of your Unity contact.”

Aleksir swore and snatched the letter out of Egil’s hand. This time, Egil let him. “Please don’t contact him,” Aleksir begged. When Egil made no promises, he said, “Ugh, she really is going to kill me. Tell me about these Enforcers, then—you owe me that much.”

“I’ll tell you commensurate with the information I got from that letter.”

Aleksir’s pout turned into a glare. “That wasn’t the deal!”

Egil laughed, tapped the tip of Aleksir’s nose, and said, “Too bad.” If he couldn’t use the boy’s temper to alienate him, he’d use the madness. It tended to alienate people quickly. “The Enforcers are similar to Dev’s agents, but before that, they’re soldiers. The deadliest soldiers you’ll ever meet, trained to do anything Unity asks of them. They’ll have their hands in this mess, one way or another.”

Aleksir clearly waited for more, but Egil stopped there, noticing something strange down the alley he’d stopped in front of. Without giving Aleksir any warning, he turned down it.

“Huh? Egil?” Aleksir asked, following.

Gallonten’s streets were full of the downtrodden and houseless. It was, unfortunately, a common occurrence to glance down alleys and spot small encampments, though Gallonten’s police came down on them hard when they found them. Several feet ahead sat a small, shoddy shelter tucked alongside a dumpster. Sticking out of it was a pair of bare feet and, more notably, the tip of a tail. As Egil neared the makeshift shelter, both the tail and feet disappeared inside. Egil knocked on the wood twice. “I’m not with the police. I won’t hurt you,” he called, far gentler than he’d ever spoken to Aleksir. “You’re orinian, aren’t you?”

A long pause answered Egil’s question, then a messy head of hair peeked out from the shelter. It belonged to a girl, barely older than Aleksir. When she saw they didn’t wear uniforms, the tension in his shoulders eased, though she bared her teeth at them all the same. “Go away. Leave me alone.”

“I will if that’s what you want,” Egil said, crouching, “But you have to know Gallonten’s not safe for you.”

“No shit,” the girl said. Aleksir frowned and opened his mouth, probably to do something stupid like defend Egil’s honor, but Egil held a hand up to silence him.

“What do you need? Money? A ride out of town? How can I help you?” he asked.

“You can’t. I need my brother back.”

“What happened to him?” When she didn’t answer, Egil ignored the feel of Aleksir’s eyes on his back and pressed, “Neither of us will know if I can help or not unless you tell me. Give it a chance.”

“Who do you think you are, Egil? Unless you can break onto Unity Island and free prisoners, there’s no point.”

Aleksir chose that moment to jump in. His eyes were brimming with excitement, and Egil felt all the work he’d done disillusioning the kid fade into oblivion. “He is, actually! And he can! You’d be lucky to have his help!”

“Shut up, Aleksir,” Egil hissed.

But the damage was already done. The girl looked between Egil and Aleksir, her expression closing off. “Great. You’re crazy. Just so you know, I was the star boxer on my college team. If you try anything, I’ll punch you.”

Egil crept back from the shelter, giving the girl more space. In her, he saw a fellow victim of Unity, another life blackened by their cursed touch. This girl was why Unity needed to be destroyed. “Ignore him. We work for the Oracle of Damael,” he said, brushing his dark hair aside to reveal the mark tattooed under his ear: an open eye and a set of dragonfly wings. After a beat, Aleksir did the same. “You know what the tattoo means, right?”

Eyes wide, the girl nodded. She leaned out of her shelter to see it better. The Oracle’s purple ink could never be replicated, the pigment produced only in Damael and the ink made with secrets guarded by her temple. It bothered Egil, sometimes, knowing that he was forever branded with Devikra’s mark, but he couldn’t regret getting it, either. Not when it did him good, in moments like these. “Your brother—did they arrest him?”

Another nod.

“After the king’s kidnapping?”

“Yes,” the girl said, voice barely a whisper.

“If he’s on the island, I know how to get him back,” Egil said, watching hope reignite behind the girl’s gray eyes. It made him uneasy. He wasn’t a hero anymore, so playing at one felt wrong. But the words came too easily to his tongue, even half-forgotten as they were; he was speaking them before he could stop himself. “I know you have no reason to trust me, but at least trust that this is better than waiting for the police to find you. The oracle has a safe house near here. I’m afraid I can’t come with you, but Aleksir will help.”

“What!” Aleksir said, biting his tongue when Egil threw a cold look at him over his shoulder.

“Why? Why would you—why help me at all?” the girl asked.

Egil smiled at her, as warmly as it could manage. That wasn’t much, but it was enough to make the girl tentatively smile back. “What’s your name?”

“Maebhe Cairn.”

“Well, Ms. Cairn, I help because it’s my job. It’s what the oracle does,” he said, the oracle’s name bitter on his tongue. To Aleksir, he said, “Take her back to Dev’s place. In the morning, go to the Rinehart Festival Grounds. Find the camp east of it and ask for a man named Roman Hallisey. He’ll help.”

“What if he won’t?” Maebhe asked, her long, cow-like ears pressed flat to her head.

“He will,” Egil promised her. He shrugged out of his cloak and passed it to Maebhe. “Hide your ears and tail with this.”

“Thank you,” she breathed.

“Who’s Roman Hallisey?” Aleksir whispered while she shrugged it on.

“He was an Enforcer,” Egil said, standing again. “In fact, he was once the strongest of them.”

OHO Roman twist! What do you think his relationship is with Egil?

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