(Secondday of the Third Week of Krakrenra, 669 AC)
Just over a month later, Harriet found that Wanily was making good progress.
As Harriet had predicted, it took a few days for Wanily to figure out how to apply what they had talked about to actually getting an object to move, but she did figure it out. With that out of the way, Harriet pivoted to the more abstract magic, namely time. Time magic was a very useful skill to have, after all, and it took a while to learn. For Wanily and Harriet’s interests, it was a win-win.
It took about three weeks for Wanily to be able to even access the flow of time, but she’d been ecstatic when she finally managed to sense the hour. Harriet wasn’t proud, but she was pleased with Wanily’s progress. It told Harriet that she was a better teacher than she would have thought.
Since then, Harriet had Wanily trying to manipulate gravity. It was a discipline closer to energy in that it could also relate to motion, which is why Harriet figured it would be a good next step. Three weeks later, though, and Wanily hadn’t reported any success with it.
That was fine with Harriet. She spent the time mostly with Nicholas and an ever rotating cast of people in the city. The same day Harriet had started Wanily’s training, the priestess tried going out and publicly preaching. Of course, that was just asking for trouble, and from what the witnesses told her, the priestess got it. Varin, the teenage boy that had gotten violent with her, got himself beaten nearly to death for it. His friends, too. Harriet and Nicholas were able to get some potions for the lads, but with the amount of damage they’d suffered, they were still far from recovered. Even magic could only do so much.
People were outraged--Harriet was outraged--and rightfully so. But Nicholas called for everyone to bide their time, and they listened. Harriet did, too, but it was with more than a little grumbling and glaring.
She wanted to do something. Something more than talking about a grand future where Fris was free. She wanted to make that future happen.
But Nicholas said sit. So she sat. And fumed.
He didn’t like what Harriet was trying to do with Wanily either. They didn’t really see each other all that often, Wanily and Harriet, with Wanily only visiting once or twice a week to listen to Harriet lecture about the forces of gravity in an effort to help her understand what she was trying to do. But during that time, Harriet also told her about the state of Fris. The way the Empire controlled all their means of production, the curfew they’d place on every city, and the soldier they’d shipped in to enforce it all. Wanily listened without ever giving her opinion on that matter. She was usually such a chatterbox, but it seemed that was the only topic that ever got her to shut up.
Harriet currently stood in the town square with Nicholas beside her, watching the priestess try to preach to the masses that passed her, and thought. She thought about Wanily, about Dahlia, about how the both of them were such small pawns in this game the Empire was playing. How Harriet herself was such a tiny pixie compared to the hydra of the Empire. But even pixies could claw out the eyes of a hydra, she mused.
She glanced at Nicholas, waiting for him to say something. From their distance, they could only hear the priestess’s voice, not whatever she was saying. As far as Harriet had heard, she’d come here nearly every day for the past month and given her unsolicited sermons. No one in town had risen to the bait and attacked her again. Yet, at least.
Harriet couldn’t help but wonder what she was trying to accomplish. There were probably only a handful of people in the entirety of Fris that worshiped the new gods, and most of them were the missionaries the Empire had sent. The people of Fris were just far too practical--and far too jaded--to give a merfolk’s fin about the new gods.
“Someone is going to snap at her again one of these days,” Nicholas said, never looking away from the priestess.
Harriet grunted in agreement. “Doing what she’s doing, she’s just asking for it.”
“If she gets herself killed, what happened to Varin will look like a slap to the wrist. The Empire will rain its fury upon our city.”
“Then we get her to leave,” Harriet said. “I’ll rally the people, tell them to meet outside the church. We’ll--” she bit her tongue before she said what she actually thought they should do. Violence never went well with Nick. “We’ll hold another protest,” she said instead.
“The protests aren’t working,” Nicholas said, running a hand through his hair. “I was wrong about this priestess. Something’s put steel in her back. She’s not going to give up so easily anymore.”
Harriet sighed. “Then what do you want to do, Nick?”
He didn’t respond for a long time. Harriet gave him the space to think, letting her own ideas form on the matter. What if the priestess were to just disappear? But then, the Empire would likely assume foul play and punish their city for it anyway.
Damned if they did and damned if they didn’t. Harriet just didn’t see a way to get rid of the priestess without killing her and suffering the consequences. Would the payoff of getting the priestess out of their city be worth the Empire’s ire? Just how badly would they retaliate over the death of one lowly member of the church?
“I’m not sure what to do,” Nick finally said. At Harriet’s frown, he continued, “But I’ll figure something out, and when I do, you’ll be the first to know the plan.” He nudged her with his elbow, smiling slightly. “I’ve never been able to do this without you, Harriet. You know that, right?”
“Flattery will get you nowhere,” she drawled. Then, she smiled. “I wouldn’t have lived through the war without you, Nick. Wherever you go, I’ll follow.”
The priestess finally fell silent. She looked up at the darkening sky, and Harriet made note of the constellation. It was Dia, the sixth constellation that looked like two curves mirroring each other, almost forming a curvy X.
Dahlia deflated, like a sail losing its wind. She cast her gaze around the square once before turning and, with as much dignity as a defeated woman could, marched off down the street in the direction of the church. Harriet watched her go through narrowed eyes, thoroughly unimpressed with her display.
Nicholas grunted and nodded in the other direction, toward Stevan’s inn. Harriet followed him, just as she always did, and let the priestess escape.
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“Wanily?” Dahlia called out, the sound eaten up by the wooden walls of the church. She let the door shut behind her and her shoulders drop when she received no answer. Looked like Wanily was still out for the day--she mentioned during breakfast she wanted to visit with her friend today and tomorrow. Dahlia still had no idea who this friend of hers was, but she’d been spending more and more time with him the last couple of weeks.
Dahlia was just concerned. It didn’t sit right with her, the idea of a girl as young as Wanily constantly hanging around with someone that even she was apparently ashamed to even talk about.
There was nothing Dahlia could do about it at the moment, though. She walked to the closest pew and sat, burying her face in her hands. No one had so much as glanced at her during her preaching today. They didn't spit at or cajole her. She supposed she should be grateful, but it just told her the people of Shraven were becoming desensitized to her message. Was that better than outright spiteful?
She just didn't understand why no one would listen to her. But maybe the fact that they weren’t being overtly cruel was a sign that her words were starting to take hold?
It just wasn’t fair. Dahlia hated the thought, hated more that she was the one complaining. She hadn’t lost her parents or siblings to the war. She hadn’t gone hungry because of it. She didn’t live in constant terror of the soldiers that continued to patrol the streets. The suffering of Fris and its people was not her tragedy.
But then she thought of her brother. How she’d been denied the right to go back home to him before he died. How she was stuck here in Fris while his condition worsened, as told to her by the letters he sent her every week begging her to come home. How she tried to cry quietly at night so as not to disturb Wanily sleeping eight feet away from her.
Maybe it was becoming her tragedy after all.
At least she was here for Wanily, Dahlia told herself. She wasn’t sure what Wanily and Harriet’s relationship looked like, but Wanily still came back to the church every night. Dahlia doubted that Harriet was offering Wanily any type of housing.
Dahlia couldn’t help her brother, but she could at least help Wanily.
A knock sounded at the church’s door. Dahlia started, craning her neck around to look at it. Who could it be at this hour? Wanily always just let herself in with an announcement that she was back. No Frisians ever came to visit her, and there hadn’t been a mob since the day Wanily arrived--not that they ever got close enough to the church to knock anyway. There was no shipment due today, and it was too late in the day for that either.
Well, there was one way to find out. Dahlia got up and moved to the door, heaving it open. She faltered when she saw who waited on the other side, plastering on a smile when he greeted her with one.
“Commander Darik,” she said, with as much cheer as she could muster. “What a surprise.”
Clad in his armor and holding a helmet in his hands, he nodded to her. “Sister Dahlia. A pleasant one, I hope.”
Dahlia felt her smile tighten, but before she could say anything, he continued, “May I come in?”
She wanted to slam the door in his face for the way he handled that violent outburst a month ago. She’d heard what happened to those boys--that transpired under his watch. Instead, she moved aside to make room for him to pass. “Of course,” she said, though she shouldn’t have bothered. He had already begun moving.
“I see you have yet to find a home for the gifts General Magicks sent you,” Darik said, gazing about the room. Many of the items she’d received a month ago now had accumulated a fine layer of dust, and Dahlia winced.
“Ah, well, considering I don’t even know what most of them do...” Dahlia trailed off, chuckling uneasily. “You’re more than welcome to some of the astro-orbs though. But, um, I’m sure you didn’t stop by to discuss some enchanted doodads.”
“Right you are, sister,” Darik said, turning on his heel to face her. “I came to see if you had given any thought to what I said.”
Dahlia frowned. “You’re talking about..?”
Darik swept a hand through the air, gesturing to everything around him as he said, “This. All of it. Your presence here and your efforts to educate beasts to walk and talk. Have you thought about any of that?”
Dahlia hesitated. Of course she had thought about it, but it had always been with disgust and no small amount of frustration. How could she help the people of Fris if her own people didn’t even believe they could be helped? And how could someone--anyone--see someone else suffering and debase them into something not even human?
She must have taken too long to answer because Darik continued, running one gauntleted finger along the back of the closest pew. “I know about your poor brother. Quiv, is it?”
The sound of her brother’s name from Darik’s mouth sent ice down her spine. “How do you know?”
“Brother Pient wrote me and informed me.” The brother in charge of her mission. “He said that you had requested to go home and spend some time with the lad before he passed. But of course, you can’t abandon your post here.”
Dahlia looked Darik up and down. She hated the way he said it, all mocking and haughty. “That’s right,” she said. “My request was denied. I’ll stay in Fris until my five years are up.”
“Such a shame,” Darik said. “Of course, if someone of some authority were to write him and ask that he reconsider his decision, he might be inclined to do so.” Darik smiled. “Wouldn’t you agree?”
Dahlia became increasingly aware that they were the only ones in the church, and even if she screamed and cried for help, none of the Frisians outside would ever come to her aid. She swallowed hard and forced herself to smile back at Darik. “I’m not sure I follow, commander.”
He laughed. “You don’t have to play dumb, Dahlia. I know you’d much rather be in Tiranda than here. And I can make that happen.”
“What do you want?” Dahlia demanded, sounding much more steadfast than she felt.
“Nothing,” Darik said. “All I want is for you to admit that you have no business here in Fris, and I’ll tell Brother Pient that you should be sent back to Tiranda. Permanently.”
It sounded too good to be true. Maybe, once, Dahlia would have believed that a Tirandan commander was just looking out for her best interests, but after everything he’d said to her, she couldn’t believe that he was doing this just out of the kindness of his heart. What did he hope to gain from this?
More than that, she didn’t want to get sent back permanently. She just wanted to be able to see her brother before his passing and then come back. She didn’t want to quit or--or just give up. She would make a difference in Fris, and she just needed time to do that. She couldn’t do that if she was sent back to Tiranda.
Darik waited for her response, hands clasped behind his back, the picture of patience. “Is there a reason you want that?” Dahlia eventually asked. She didn’t have high hopes in getting a straight answer, but it didn’t hurt to try.
He tilted his head, eyebrows raising in what was probably surprise. “Do I have to have one?”
Right, so Darik wasn’t going to be forthcoming with his motives, whatever they were. Dahlia shook her head. “I don’t want to leave Fris permanently, commander. I just wanted the chance to say goodbye to my brother, and then come back. I want to complete my mission.”
Darik shrugged. “A shame, then. My conditions are all or nothing, I’m afraid. Either you go back to Tiranda, never to return to Fris, or you stay here in Fris until your time is up. It’s your decision.”
Darik had the power to help her, and he was withholding it. Dahlia would not forget that.
“Can I think on it?” she asked. Maybe it would be for the best to go home, but she just didn’t want to. The people of Fris had been trying so hard to get her to leave that doing so would just feel like an absolute failure. She wasn’t sure she would ever be able to forgive herself for it.
But would she be able to forgive herself for not seeing Quiv before he passed?
“Of course,” he said, pulling her from her thoughts. “I wouldn’t take too long, though. The journey back home is nearly a month long, you know.”
“I know.”
“Good, then,” Darik said, nodding. He hefted his helmet up, sliding it onto his head, and offered Dahlia another smile. “I hope to see you again, sister.”
If she never saw Darik again, it would be too soon. “You as well, commander.”
He took his leave, but Dahlia stood in the same spot for several more minutes, hands clasped in front of her chest as she thought. She would pray on the matter, she decided. She would pray before going to sleep tonight and it might not make things feel any more clear, but at least she would feel better. Knowing someone was listening to your woes was like that.
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“I just don’t get why I’m having such a hard time with gravity magic,” Wanily groused, sitting on the counter and swinging her legs as Dahlia prepared breakfast the next morning.
Oatmeal again--not that she or Wanily were complaining. Food was food, and Wanily had at least brought back two ducks last night for dinner. It had been a nice change of pace, though Dahlia had noticed she neglected to say how she caught them. Wanily might have just been able to get them with her magic, but she thought it was more likely that her friend had gotten them for her. Which only worried Dahlia more, the fact that he was apparently a sharp enough shot to have cleanly sliced their necks. A single cut on each, right across their throats, had been the only damage apparent on the ducks. The wound had looked too wide for an arrow, but Dahlia couldn’t imagine what else it could have been.
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Dahlia hummed in acknowledgement at the right points as Wanily continued talking about her inability to use gravity magic. Something about how it was similar to energy magic so she didn’t understand why she couldn’t get it to work. Dahlia nodded along, but her thoughts ran away from the conversation. She couldn’t get her conversation with Darik out of her head, and she still didn’t know what to do about it.
Should she just go home? Tuck her tail between her legs and admit defeat? What kind of message would that send to the people of Fris though? How would that reflect on Amera and everything love meant to Dahlia?
But then, Quiv’s condition was worsening. They didn’t even know what was wrong with him--just that something was. Dahlia silently cursed the limitations of new magic--it had been able to determine he was sick, but not which ailment afflicted him. And without knowing what the exact cause was, a potion couldn’t be brewed to cure him.
She wanted to be there for him. But could she justify abandoning her post in Fris? Not with the ramifications of what that would mean to Fris and the Empire.
“Dahlia!”
She jumped, whirling around to face Wanily. She’d been absently staring at the bubbling pot of porridge, completely tuning out Wanily’s voice. Judging by Wanily’s tone and her half-exasperated, half-concerned expression, it was not the first time she’d said her name.
“Um,” Dahlia said, clasping her hands together in front of her. She had no idea what Wanily had asked her, but considering her expectant silence, she had asked her something. “Yes.”
“You don’t even know what I asked you,” Wanily deadpanned. “I said, is something wrong?”
Wrong wasn’t even the beginning of it. Should she tell Wanily about her troubles? She didn’t want to burden the poor girl with things much larger than her and completely outside her control. But then, it did affect her, if Dahlia ultimately decided to go back to Tiranda. Wanily would lose her place to stay. Would that force her to move on to somewhere else in Fris? More than likely, and then who was to say she would be able to find another teacher?
But who was Dahlia going to put more importance in? Wanily, or her dying brother?
“Have you met the commander in charge of the troops in Shraven?” Dahlia asked.
Wanily tilted her head. “I didn’t even know there was a commander here.”
“What? Of course there’s a commander here. The soldiers have to get their orders from someone.”
“Oh. Well, no, then, I haven’t met him.”
Dahlia chuckled, but she quickly sobered. “He’s an... interesting man.”
“Is that your way of saying he’s a total asshole?” Wanily asked.
“Wanily!” Dahlia couldn’t believe her. “I would never call someone that. You should watch your language.”
Wanily shrugged. “I know it’s not proper for a young lady, but some people are assholes. You have to call them what they are. Why do you ask if I know him?”
Dahlia huffed. “He offered to write to the brother in charge of my mission and get me sent home.”
Wanily perked up. “Isn’t that a good thing? You could go see your brother before... you know.”
Sighing, Dahlia turned to lean against the counter opposite of Wanily and crossed her arms. “I just don’t know. It would be permanent, Wanily. I wouldn’t be coming back to Fris.”
Wanily frowned. “Is that such a bad thing?”
She asked it so delicately, but Dahlia still felt like the words pierced her straight through her chest. “Of course it’s a bad thing! I can’t just give up on all these people. I know there’s good in them, Wanily. If I leave now, it’ll be like I’m admitting that there was never any way to save them.”
Which, she realized, might be exactly what Darik wanted. If Dahlia agreed to leave Fris, she’d leave the entire city in the hands of Darik and his soldiers. She already knew what he thought about Fris and its people--if she wasn’t here to keep an eye on him, what kind of violence could Darik justify carrying out against them?
“Okay,” Wanily said, drawing out the word. “Then you should stay, right?”
“But I wouldn’t get the chance to say goodbye to my brother,” Dahlia murmured.
Wanily grunted. “Okay, then you should go.”
Dahlia gave a wet laugh, looking away. “But then I would be admitting defeat. I’m stuck, Wanily. I don’t know what the right thing to do is.”
Wanily was silent. Dahlia glanced at her, noting her pursed lips and downcast eyes. “I don’t know,” Wanily finally said. “I don’t know what you should do.”
“I’m not asking you to tell me,” Dahlia said gently. “I just... you asked what was wrong, and now you know. And I thank you for listening.”
“Of course,” Wanily said immediately. “I got your back, Dahlia.”
Even though Dahlia had just discussed in length how she was considering abandoning Wanily. It made Dahlia’s gut twist with guilt.
“Anyway,” Wanily said, hopping off the counter. “Is that oatmeal almost done? I was going to visit my friend today, and he gets antsy if I’m late.”
Dahlia frowned, but Wanily never appreciated it when Dahlia asked for more details about her friend. She insisted he was good and treated her well, but Dahlia just had a hard time believing it when she said things like that.
Dahlia said nothing, just moved to fetch two bowls for them and spooned some of the porridge into each one. She handed a bowl to Wanily, who promptly moved to slurp it up.
“Hold on,” Dahlia said, laughing. “You’re going to burn your tongue if you eat it now. At least blow on it a little.”
Wanily rolled her eyes, bowl frozen an inch from her face. She obediently blew on the porridge, though, which was all that Dahlia could really ask for. Once the steam billowing from the oatmeal slowed to more of a waft, Wanily apparently lost her patience and tipped the bowl up.
She made a small noise, jerking the bowl away. “Hot!”
Dahlia laughed. “I told you so,” she teased gently. She held her bowl in her hands, letting the warmth sink into her fingers. Her thoughts returned to her dilemma. Could she leave knowing what it all might mean? And could she leave Wanily to fend for herself?
Well, maybe she wouldn’t be completely alone. She had that friend of hers, though Dahlia still didn’t know his true nature. But, maybe, she could find out. Then the guilt that plagued her might alleviate, knowing that Wanily would be in good hands even if Dahlia wasn’t around.
Wanily would no doubt refuse to let Dahlia tag along with her to see her friend, of course. So she wouldn’t know. Dahlia could follow her out of the city and into the forest, to wherever she usually met with her friend.
Dahlia smiled to herself, blowing on her oatmeal and slurping it up. It still burned her tongue.
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The people of Shraven didn’t glance twice at Wanily passing them by. The same couldn’t be said for Dahlia, trying to follow her as inconspicuously as possible. Wanily, small for her age, slipped through the crowd like a fish gliding through water. Dahlia, on the other hand, floated through the streets in a bubble as people gave her a wide berth. She tried to give Wanily more distance, hoping that would make it less likely for her to notice Dahlia, but that only put her at risk of losing Wanily amidst all the people. At least Wanily didn't seem to notice her, walking with a purpose to her stride and without turning to look behind her even once.
Once they reached the outer stretches of the city, it became easier to stick to the edges of the streets and still be able to keep an eye on Wanily's shock of silver hair. There were far less people out here, mostly those traveling into the center of the city where all the surviving commerce was. Shraven, close to the border of Fris, had been able to smuggle in more goods during the siege than most of the country. That wasn’t saying that there were still enough people for all the buildings in their city now.
Dahlia ducked her head and tried not to draw more attention to herself than necessary. Maybe she should have changed out of her priestess robes.
Despite the many glares she received, no one said anything to her, and eventually she reached the edge of the city. Wanily was at least forty paces in front of her, already moving off the beaten path and toward the forests to the east. Dahlia split her attention between watching where she stepped--especially when they reached the forest proper and a misstep could alert Wanily to her presence--and making sure she didn’t lose Wanily. She didn’t want to go through all of this just to fumble it right at the end.
Wanily had no such concerns, marching through the forest at a quick pace and forcing Dahlia to hurry after her. They must have walked for twenty minutes or more, Dahlia quickly working up a sweat from the summer heat despite the shade the trees provided. She really should have changed out of her thick priestess robes.
When they reached a small clearing that was nothing more than a fallen tree and some boulders strewn about, Wanily stopped. Dahlia scrambled to hide behind a thick enough tree to provide her some cover and peeked out at Wanily standing alone in the clearing. She frowned to herself, wondering what she was doing. There was no camp here, so this couldn’t be where her friend was staying. Unless they met somewhere besides his campsite, but why would they do that?
“Eko, I know you could hear a mouse fart from a mile away,” Wanily said, just loud enough for Dahlia to catch it, as she crossed her arms and turned about the clearing. Dahlia started, darting behind her tree before Wanily could catch sight of her. “You know I’m here, so where are you?”
Dahlia didn’t know what to make of that. It didn’t matter though, because the moment she stepped away from her tree to look back out at Wanily, something barreled into her side. She yelped as she was thrown to the ground, something on top of her, pinning her to the forest floor. She blinked up at her assailant, gawking at the sight of a griffin with its wings outstretched, its paws pressing against her shoulders with the barest pressure of claws threatening to pierce through her clothes to the flesh beneath.
“Wanily, run!” Dahlia cried, squeezing her eyes shut and preparing to exist only in Amera’s memory.
What was a griffin even doing here? They lived in the mountains in the central part of the country, or so she thought. Why was one in the woods of the south about to end Dahlia’s life?
“Dahlia!?” Wanily exclaimed. Then, “Eko, she’s not a threat. You don’t have to do all that.”
What?
The griffin made a shrill noise that Dahlia thought was something like a sigh through its beak. Dahlia had never seen a griffin before, but she was pretty sure this one was glaring at her. It didn’t budge, and Dahlia swallowed.
This was Eko?
Footsteps, and then Wanily appeared above her, a frown on her face. Her gaze slid to the griffin, and she patted him right between his large ears. “Yes, I appreciate you trying to protect me. But please get off of her.”
Eko finally tore his gaze from Dahlia, looking up at Wanily and making a small chirp. Wanily gave him an imploring look, and, with another one of those shrill noises that might have been a sigh, Eko backed away. Dahlia winced as she pushed herself up. She warily looked between Eko, still glowering at her but now sitting with his wings tucked against his back, and Wanily, standing above her with her hands on her hips.
“Okay, what gives, Dahlia?” Wanily demanded. “Why’d you follow me?”
“I--I was just worried!” And guilty, but she didn’t admit that. “You talk about this mysterious friend of yours and constantly leave to visit him but you never gave any details! What was I supposed to think? How could I have known that he’s a--”
She cut herself off, glancing back at Eko. He looked like he was ready to pounce on her again at the slightest provocation.
“I told you not to worry,” Wanily said, like saying that ever accomplished what it set out to. Then, suddenly, she looked like she was going to be sick. “You’re not going to... I mean, I kept him a secret because people tend to be scared of monsters. And there are hunters that would try to kill him for his parts. You’re not going to tell anyone, right?”
Dahlia wanted to laugh. “Wanily, I’m still grappling with the fact that you somehow tamed a griffin. Are you a sage?”
“No,” Wanily said, petulant. “It would be way easier if I could actually understand everything he said, but I’m not a sage. And I didn’t tame him, he’s not a pet. He’s just... my friend. Or like a brother.” Wanily offered Dahlia a hand up, which Dahlia took.
She brushed herself off, looking between Wanily and Eko again. Eko still seemed like he was trying to kill Dahlia with his eyes, so Dahlia focused back on Wanily. “I’m sorry. I guess I should have trusted you, but you’re young and I just thought--”
Wanily waved her words away. “Don’t worry about it. I probably could have just told you before this, but I was worried, too, of what you might do. I should have trusted you.”
The griffin chirped, his tail lashing behind him. Wanily laughed, and Dahlia smiled uneasily. “I think that’s Eko’s way of saying he’s a little unimpressed.”
Dahlia’s smile became more genuine at that. “I’m sorry I frightened you,” she told Eko, whose eyes narrowed. She wasn’t sure how much he could even understand of what she was saying, but it felt like it was all of it. “I’m not going to hurt you or Wanily. In fact, I’ve been keeping an eye on Wanily while she’s been in town. You can rest assured that I would never let anything happen to her.”
Eko continued to glare at her for another beat, but eventually, his stance loosened and his gaze softened. It must have been the right thing to say--which made sense, Dahlia could tell he was very protective of Wanily. He chirped again, but the sound was less biting this time around. Maybe that was his way of giving Dahlia his approval? That’s what she chose to believe, at least.
Wanily wandered over to one of the boulders in the clearing and sat down. Eko followed her, laying at her feet and curling his tail around his front paw. Wanily smiled at Dahlia. “I don’t plan on doing much today except practicing magic, but you’re already here. If you want to stay, you’re more than welcome.”
Well. It wasn’t like Dahlia was particularly welcome anywhere else. She smiled at Wanily and moved to sit on an unoccupied boulder. She watched as Wanily picked up a nearby pebble and began tossing it up and down, brow furrowed in concentration. Right, she was trying to manipulate gravity. Dahlia wasn’t entirely sure what that entailed--the topic hadn’t been covered much in her Empire schooling--but Wanily hopefully did.
Dahlia leaned back on her boulder and let herself just relax in the peaceful forest atmosphere. Birds chirped in the treetops and there was the buzz of bugs all around them. It was still hot, but now that Dahlia wasn’t fumbling around the forest, it was much more bearable.
Her thoughts didn’t stay still for long, however. She needed to decide on what to do. Every day that she didn’t make her choice, she was only choosing inaction. She only had so long to make her decision.
She sighed to herself, letting her head loll back as she gazed at the treetops. Her efforts in Fris weren’t bearing fruit. But why?
“You’re sighing,” Wanily said, never looking away from her rock. Up and down, up and down it went, her eyes doing the same. “Why are you sighing?”
“I just don’t understand why the people in Fris hate me so much,” Dahlia said. “Well, no, I do understand. But I just want to help them. Why can’t they see that?”
Wanily hummed. “You know,” she said slowly, “Harriet talks a lot about the Empire. All the ways they’ve been wronged by the Empire, all the reasons why she hates them so much.”
And you, Wanily didn’t say, but Dahlia heard anyway.
“And, well, I’m not from Fris or the Empire. None of this stuff is personal for me. But I’d like to think that I get to have some perspective because of that. I’d say that if you want to help the people of Fris, first you have to warm them up to that idea.”
Dahlia frowned. “What do you mean?”
“The Empire has taken a lot from them,” Wanily murmured, finally pausing in throwing her rock up and down. She looked at Dahlia. “Maybe you start by trying to right those wrongs.”
Dahlia sighed. “I’m only one person, Wanily.”
“Sure,” Wanily conceded. “But it’s like, all these people have just been burned by this giant fire, and then you’re coming through trying to sell fire crystals. It’s not the same, but it represents what they hate and fear. Maybe instead, you could try selling light crystals. Or getting them used to the idea of fire again.”
Dahlia mulled over this for a moment. “What would you suggest I do, then? To get them used to fire again?”
Wanily shrugged. “Like I said, they lost a lot to the Empire. Not everything that was lost can be replaced, either.”
Dahlia nodded, her thoughts running at about a hundred miles an hour. “What about a memorial? For the people of Fris that lost their lives in the war.”
Wanily brightened. “That sounds like a good idea. What would it look like?”
“I don’t know,” Dahlia mused. “But maybe I could talk to some of the local artisans. I’m sure they don’t want to help me, but maybe they can be persuaded to help their community.”
“Yeah!” Wanily grinned. “I think that would be better than trying to preach to them. At least for now.”
Dahlia smiled despite the pang that sent through her chest. But Wanily was probably right. And now, Dahlia wanted to help her. “What about you?”
“What about me?”
“You’re still having trouble with your gravity magic, right?” Dahlia asked, leaning forward. Wanily’s eyes flicked to the rock in her hand. “Walk me through it. Maybe we can figure out what the problem is.”
Wanily pursed her lips. She glanced down at Eko, but the griffin was either sleeping or just doing a convincing job of appearing asleep. Dahlia would bet that it was the second.
“I’m trying to slow the fall of the rock,” she said, tossing it up again. Dahlia watched it with her this time, but she didn’t think it slowed at all in its descent. “But without using energy magic. 'Cause usually I would just use energy magic, you know? I could redirect some of its energy or even just take some of it away. But that’s not how gravity works.”
“How does it work then?” Dahlia asked.
“I’m not sure,” Wanily huffed. “Harriet keeps trying to explain it to me. Gravity is like a net, she says. Everything gets caught in it. But I don’t know how to reach out and touch the net.” Wanily narrowed her eyes. “If that makes sense.”
Wanily fell silent, and Dahlia took the opportunity to think. Gravity was what kept them all on the ground, she knew. And it helped to control motion, but it didn’t seem like it was the only thing that did. She would be lying if she said she understood everything that Wanily said about energy, but, well, maybe Wanily was thinking about energy too much?
She said as much to her, but it only made her furrow her brow. “I’m thinking about energy too much? But I’m focused entirely on gravity.”
“You keep relating it back to energy. How you would do it with energy, and how it doesn’t work like that for gravity,” Dahlia pointed out. “It sounds like the me that gravity needs to be separate in your mind. They’re completely different.” Dahlia pursed her lips. “Right?”
Wanily grunted. It was a thoughtful noise rather than an irritated one. “Yeah,” she said. “Maybe.”
She glanced down at the rock in her hand before tossing it over her shoulder. Dahlia stared at her, but she just shot her a grin.
“I think we’ve both been stressing out a little lately,” she said, which was understatement if Dahlia ever heard one. “Why don’t we play a game?”
Dahlia arched an eyebrow at her. Wanily seemed a little old for such things, but maybe a person never outgrew needing a distraction. “What kind of game? There’s only two of us.”
Without opening his eyes or lifting his head, Eko chirped. Which proved that he hadn’t been sleeping at all.
“Three of us,” Dahlia amended.
Wanily hummed. Her gaze darted to Eko at her feet, and she suddenly grinned. She tapped him on the head before jumping to her feet with an exclamation of, “Tag, you’re it!”
Eko cracked an eye open, watching Wanily as she took off deeper into the forest. Dahlia started as he turned his gaze onto her.
“I’ll just, uh--” she gave what was hopefully a pacifying smile before she scrambled after Wanily.
Barely a moment later, she could hear Eko bounding after her. It was strange--Dahlia couldn’t remember the last time she’d ran--but it also felt like exactly what she needed. And now, she had a plan. When their game wrapped up and she and Wanily headed back to the city, Dahlia would request some money from the church for a memorial. She would talk to the local artisans to make something beautiful, and hopefully, it would begin to soothe some of the pain the Empire had inflicted upon Fris.
For now, though, Dahlia sprinted across the forest floor with all she was worth. And, she realized, she was grinning.