Fractured Magic: Egil Interlude II

Hidden in a shadowy spot between two street lamps, Egil felt along the grain of a plain door, letting out a victorious laugh when his fingers found a symbol etched in its wood. There, almost invisible against the dark stain, was her symbol: an open eye with a set of veiny dragonfly wings. Apparently, the Oracle of Damael hadn’t bothered to change her safe house locations in nearly a hundred years. What arrogance, to assume Egil wouldn’t come for them.

He stepped back and raised a leg to kick the door down, but it swung open before he could, the person on the other side dropping their keys with a shriek.

“Ah! It’s you!” the boy cried, pointing at Egil. When Egil lowered his leg, his gaze tracked the movement. “Were you about to break in?!”

“No,” Egil lied. “I was just looking for you.”

“For me?” the boy repeated, dumbstruck.

“Did you talk to Leandros?”

Aleksir opened his mouth, then shut it again, then sighed and crouched to retrieve his keys. Briefly, Egil could see past him into the safe house — a normal flat, at first glance, though Egil knew how many secrets it held. “Yeah, I talked to him. First thing this morning.”

“And he heard you out?”

“’Course. Some people actually take the Oracle’s name seriously, you know. I told him all of it — everything I told you, anyway.”

“How is he?” Egil asked. He hadn’t meant to, and he only realized what he’d said when Aleksir’s eyes blew wide. Quickly, he corrected, “Forget it. What did he say after you told him?”

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

“You what? Why would you do that?”

“Because you wouldn’t tell me anything!”

“It’s not your business! Don’t mention it to him again. Actually, don’t even speak to him again. Do you understand? Don't answer with words; I don't even want to hear you speak, right now. Just nod: yes or no?” Egil asked. Aleksir took a step back, alarmed at Egil’s sudden intensity, but nodded. “Good.”

It was too much for Egil, suddenly, this talk of specters from his past. Having gotten what he came for, he turned to leave.

“Wait!” Aleksir called after him. The two of them were alone in the wide street — or so it seemed, at a glance — but the boy was too loud. It would attract attention. Egil waited while Aleksir scrambled to lock his door, letting him catch up — just to keep him from shouting again, he told himself. Breathlessly, Aleksir asked, “Are you seriously going, just like that? I thought I’d never see you again.”

“You should be so lucky,” Egil said. “Stop following me.”

“But I have more information for you,” Aleksir said. When Egil didn’t immediately shoo him away again, Aleksir grinned, realizing silence meant curiosity. “I’m running a little late for a meeting. If you walk with me, I’ll tell you on the way.”

Egil sighed and pointed down the street. “You have until that flickering street lamp to convince me why I shouldn’t just leave.”

Devikra’s visions had always been like a drug: as soon as he knew a little, he needed to know more. And so, against his better judgment, Egil fell into step beside the Oracle’s errand-boy.

The street around them was quiet, the cobblestone and dark storefronts lit by the neighborhood’s new electric lights. But the lamps were cold, and the only warmth came from the occasional second or third-story window, where golden light filtered out from behind drawn curtains. Egil watched the shadows as they walked, always wary. 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.

“Well?” Egil asked.

“Right. I met up with Devikra's Unity contact today, the one you scared off, and found out what Unity’s planning. They’re going to—”

“Send a team to Orean to negotiate King Nochdvor's release,” Egil finished. So this wasn't about Devikra's visions at all. “Your deadline is approaching. Tell me something I don’t already know.”

Aleksir didn't seem put off. Instead, he grinned from ear to ear, spinning 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 agreed to something like that?”

“It was his idea, far as I can tell,” Aleksir said. Glancing back and finding the final lamp post close, his next words came out in a rush. “How about this, then: there’s more to those magic rumors than I thought.”

“I’m listening.”

“The King of Alfheimr was abducted out of a tower full of people, all dead now except for the prince and princess. The only way out of the tower was down a single set of stairs; people saw her go up, but not come back down. That’s not even getting into the explosion.”

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

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

“How did the prince and princess survive?”

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

“And what is the prince saying happened?”

“Dunno. He’s being real tight-lipped. So is Unity. My contact is on the team and even they haven’t been told the truth.”

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 voices 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?”

“The whole team’s a bit eccentric, as I hear it. They’re supposed to be the best Unity’s got to offer, so I guess that’s not too surprising. What do you mean by shady?”

“I can’t really get more specific than that, I’m afraid. There would be something suspicious about them — they’d be too perfect for the job, have unexplained skillsets or ties to Unity. Strange gaps in their resumes, maybe. Evasive natures.”

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

“No one in particular,” Egil said. “Have you heard of the Enforcers?”

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

Egil clapped a hand over Aleksir's mouth and laughed, the sound cold. “Gods, boy, you’re in over your head. You’re trying to join the game and don’t even know the most important players? Ask your Oracle about them. She knows.”

Aleksir ducked away from Egil's hand. Sounding very much his age, he whined, “Devikra never tells me anything.”

“That sounds like her. It also sounds like not my problem,” he said with a smirk. When they met the other night, Egil’s smirks had made Aleksir want to punch him. This one was softer, somehow. The hero’s sharp edges had smoothed some — still sharp, but at least not enough to make Aleksir bleed.

When he slowed, staring again, Egil scolded, “Don’t you have somewhere to be? What am I, your mother? Your assistant, that I have to keep your appointments for you?”

Aleksir hurried on, duly chastised, and Egil followed — even over a high fence into a vast park, which Egil guessed had been closed at least since the suns had set. He knew it, of course. It was a popular meeting place among individuals who wished to go unnoticed: popular, but not too popular. Maintained, but not monitored. Dense, with thick foliage. Best of all, Gallontea’s police tended to look the other way. As they walked between the dark trees, the only sounds were the occasional crunch of early-fallen leaves and a distant church bells. Soon, a small pond came into view, moonlight glittering off its surface. A dragon crouched before it, silhouetted against the bright water, and she turned when they approached.

When Aleksir gave her an awkward wave, Egil had to bite his tongue to keep from laughing. Devikra’s standards had really changed, over the decades. Back in his day, there were rules that needed to be followed in every meeting between her agents. The biggest involved opening with passcodes, but Aleksir had already blown through a dozen others. He hadn’t even checked the perimeter for eavesdroppers. While Aleksir sidled awkwardly up to the dragon, Egil sank back into the shadows to do it for the kid.

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

“A blessing from the Guardians,” the dragon agreed. Unlike a human, she couldn’t whisper, and her rumbling voice carried through the park.

“May Ellaes continue to bless us,” Aleksir said, finishing the code. He sounded serious, at least, but that was the best that could be said for him. He didn’t even notice Egil had gone until he heard Egil whistling a tune among the trees.

"Who is your friend?" the dragon asked.

"Oh, he's–," Aleksir started, jumping a foot when Egil suddenly appeared beside him, shooting him a warning look. "Uh. He's alright. He's with me."

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

Satisfied enough with that explanation, the dragon shrugged. “I have a letter from Our Lady in my bag,” she told Aleksir, lowering one shoulder so Aleksir could reach the bag in question, strapped as it was 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, a letter from Devikra herself. To require an in-person trade-off, it must contain something interesting. Aleksir climbed up and made the exchange quickly, and 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 before Dev can try anything, anyway,” Egil said. The nickname slipped out unconsciously, and both Aleksir and the dragon turned to gawp at him. Egil cleared his throat. “I'm leaving,” he announced, then turned and walked away.

“Wait!” Aleksir called for the second time that night. And unlike the last time, Egil didn't wait. He was hopping the fence back into the city proper when Aleksir finally caught up with him, nearly falling from the fence himself in his haste to follow.

“Does she really let you call her 'Dev'?” Aleksir asked, out of breath. “I thought only Wil could call her that.”

Ignoring him, Egil snatched the unopened letter from Devikra out of Aleksir's hands and tore it open. When Aleksir made a grab for it, Egil simply held it over his head. He had half a foot on the kid, and Aleksir seemed to realize he stood little chance, settling for glaring at Egil instead. “Let me read it,” Egil said. “If Devikra's written about any new visions, I want to know.”

Trying to catch Egil by surprise, Aleksir suddenly jumped for the letter. Egil easily danced out of the way, waving the letter at him just to mock him.

"Look," Aleksir said, slow and clear. Maybe he finally believed the stories, believed that Egil had lost his mind. It was about time, if so. "She'll kill me. You know she will."

“Hmm. How about this: in exchange, I'll tell you about the Enforcers.”

Aleksir looked between the letter and Egil's face. “And Histrios?”

“Absolutely not. Don't try to bargain with me.”

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

“Sure, sure. Tell her I took it by force, if you have to,” Egil said, pulling the letter out and unfolding it. The familiar handwriting startled him; he’d surmised as much already, but if Devikra really 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.

It had nothing. No new visions. Nothing useful, 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 pouted. “And tell me who the Enforcers are.”

“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 only laughed at the look on his face. "Too bad," he said, pondering where to begin. “The Enforcers are a lot like Dev’s agents, except that first and foremost, they’re soldiers. The deadliest soldiers you’ll ever meet, and 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.

Gallontea's streets were full of the downtrodden and houseless. It was, unfortunately, a common occurrence to glance down alleys and spot small encampments, though Gallontea's police came down on them hard when they found them. Several feet ahead sat a small, shoddy one, tucked alongside a dumpster. Sticking out of it was a pair of bare feet and, more strangely, 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, and 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 was a girl, barely older than Aleksir. When she saw they didn't wear uniforms, she relaxed, 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 Gallontea's not safe for you, right now.”

“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.

“What do you need? Money? A ride out of town? How can I help you?” he asked. Now eye level with the girl, he saw her mouth draw into a pout.

“I need my brother back.”

Egil blinked. “What happened to him?”

“Why should I tell you?”

“Because I can help.”

At that, the girl laughed. “Yeah? You’re going to help me break onto Unity’s Island and rescue him? Who do you think you are, Egil?”

Aleksir chose that moment to jump in. “He is, actually! 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 once more. “Great. You’re crazy. Just so you know, I was the star boxer on my college team. If you try anything funny, I'll punch you.”

Egil held his hands up and crept back from the shelter, giving the girl more space. “Ignore him. We actually work for the Oracle of Damael,” he said, brushing a lock of his dark hair aside to reveal the small mark tattooed under his ear: an open eye and a set of dragonfly wings. After a moment's hesitation, 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 purple ink was irreplicable, the pigment produced only in Damael. Small wins, Egil supposed. This thing still did him good, now and then. “Your brother — did they arrest him?”

Another nod.

“After the King’s kidnapping?”

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

“If he’s still alive, 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; playing at one felt wrong. Still, the words came too easily to his tongue, even half-forgotten as they were. “I know you have no reason to trust me, but at least trust that doing what I say is better than waiting for the police to find you. I’m afraid I can’t come with, but Aleksir here 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 he could manage. It at least made the girl smile back, if tentatively. “Because that’s my job. That’s what the Oracle does,” he said, practically feeling Aleksir’s eyes bore into his back. To the boy, he said, “Take her back to the safe house. In the morning, head east until you reach the Rinehart Festival Grounds. Past that is a camp. Ask for a man named Roman Hallisey.”

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

“He will,” Egil promised. After a moment’s thought, he shrugged out of his cloak and passed it to her. “Hide your ears and tail with this.”

“Thank you,” she breathed, running her hands along the fabric in a nervous gesture.

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

“You remember those people we were talking about?” Egil said, standing again. He smiled. “He was the strongest of them.”

Oh ho, who saw that Roman twist coming? What do you think his relationship is with Egil? And here's an even bigger question: do we think Egil really did lose his mind? 🤔

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