“Jordan! Wake up!”
With a gasp of fright, Jordan answered the summons, surprised to consciousness by Norae shaking her.
“Get up! Get up!”
The urgency in Norae’s tone sparked a surge of adrenalin and Jordan leapt to her feet, alert immediately despite heavy, lingering sleep.
“What’s wrong?”
“Slumbered too long!” Norae exclaimed, her tone grim and frightened as she threw their belongings back into their packs.
She swung her gaze about the small shop they had sheltered in, jumped up to commandeer a large cloak hanging by the door. She shook it, filling the room with specks of dust that shone in the light of glowing lumostones. Jordan coughed as she tossed it to her.
“Put hood up,” Norae instructed. “Will help go unnoticed. Hair conspicuous.”
Jordan held it up.
“It’s too big,” she said doubtfully.
Norae paused in her activity. “Are serious?”
Jordan blushed, “Right, right, sorry.” Of all the stupid things to worry about – but her mind was wont to ponder silly things when she was under stress. She flung the garment on and raised the hood, and Norae nodded in satisfaction.
“Come,” she said, “No time! Must find Thallo and leave city fast.”
Jordan nodded, shouldering her pack awkwardly over the bulk of the cloak. It really was too big, hampering her movements, but if it helped her blend in she wouldn’t complain. Norae furtively studied the streets on either side, hefting her glaive in her hand and drawing comfort from its familiar weight. Her brows drew down, heavy with concern, for the streets thrummed with people despite the late hour and the day’s terrible events.
She chose a moment when no passers-by were too near, bundled Jordan out, and adopted an easy posture that belied her steel-sprung nerves. She turned them away from the shop, in the direction of the castle. Jordan followed as nonchalantly as she could.
“Why are there so many people?” Jordan whispered over Norae’s shoulder as she sidestepped to avoid yet another hurrying individual.
“Do not know,” Norae returned uneasily, “Something happening.”
“I hope we don’t get caught in the middle of it all,” Jordan muttered.
The crowds thickened, inexorably forcing them to follow along, deeper into the city, pushing them towards the castle. Norae kept trying to make headway through the throng, to push them out of the uneven centre of the road towards the shadowed buildings, but they were boxed in. Jordan followed as close as she could so as not to be swept away by the rivers of people, trying to keep her feet over shattered cobblestones in the dark. At sporadic intervals, the street lumostones that had survived the Lat’Nemele’s attack listed, throwing long shadows over the treacherous footing.
“Cannot get through!” Norae snarled through gritted teeth. She pressed against Jordan’s shoulder. “Crowd too thick. Stay close – stay on feet, could get trampled. For love of Malevelyn, keep hood up!”
Jordan nodded, clutching the rough brown fabric tight over her luminous hair with one hand. She reached to clasp a strap of Norae’s pack with the other. They were pushed past the street that led to the castle stables, and Norae gritted her teeth, crowding closer to Jordan. They had no idea where they were going, but they would go together.
The stream of people flowed onward, drawing them with it, until at last the pace slowed. The river of people pushed through the bottleneck of the last narrow street, flooding into a massive square at the foot of the castle. Jordan glanced around, trying not to unsettle her hood. The open area was many times bigger than the square Nerys had decimated, and looked to be untouched by the Lat’Nemele’s tirade. Giant marble statues of fantastic beasts dominated the sides of the quarter, rearing high above the heads of the puny crowd. Castle-side of the plaza, a giant stage had been erected. It was bedecked with ostentatious décor, hung with fantastic swathes of red and orange, and dominated by three immense white fabric screens above it.
Norae clicked her tongue, scowling. “Oh, not good.”
She reached back to take a fistful of Jordan’s oversized cloak and pulled her bodily through the crowd as it settled, taking them as close to the furthest edge as she could manage. Her scowl darkened as she realised the exit was guarded, as they all were, by soldiers in the livery of the Third Kingdom. She hissed through her teeth as she spotted Gryphon Knights, on foot, scattered throughout the crowd, calmly watching for instigators of unrest. One looked in their direction and she shouldered Jordan under the wings of a gryphon statue, tucking her against the plinth.
“No choice but to wait it out,” she said grimly.
“Wait what out?” Jordan asked, but a thunderous fanfare answered her instead.
The stage hummed, exploding with tongues of fire. Acrobatic dancers in outrageously revealing costumes leapt wildly. A roar went up from the watching crowd; music filled the stadium, seeming to come from every direction at once. Electric, alive, it tumbled through the masses, setting their blood to racing. Lights flashed and the dancers cavorted, dominating the stage, working their way in ever-widening circles until they teetered on the edge. There, they assumed athletic poses and froze in place, and the music stopped on cue. In the sudden silence, the rush of crimson smoke was audible even from where Jordan and Norae stood.
The World Queen appeared – her image projected ten times larger than life onto the three giant sails above.
The crowd went wild, sobbing and screaming, in a way that Jordan expected a stadium full of fans would react when their favourite popstar took the stage. She frowned at the analogy, watching as Fayne preened along the length of the gigantic stage. Her images echoed her; crystal clear, brighter than life – more intricately defined than anything Jordan had ever seen on any screen on Earth. Jordan squinted, unable to see a trace of cameras anywhere, and wondered how they did it. As she watched, the Firekin flourished herself back along the stage the other way, basking in the adulation of her subjects. At last, she held out her hands for quiet.
A pregnant silence reigned, and then the Queen spoke. Jordan jumped, for it sounded as if she was standing right behind her. Norae stilled her with a hand upon her shoulder. She steadied, and the Callkin pointed to a small crystal that was set into the statue behind them.
“Whisperstones,” she explained. “See, Fayne wears King Crystal for this set, on choker. The stones echo every word, so all may hear.”
Jordan turned for a closer look at the insignificant little stone, which resembled nothing so much as a shiny chip of gravel from where she stood. Another intriguing use for the malleable anerradite crystals.
“Do not touch,” Norae warned quietly.
Jordan nodded, standing on her tiptoes to peer at it. Up close, she realised that the stone was more quartzlike, translucent – shot through with greenish strands. She imagined it was quite pretty in the sunlight.
“Amazing,” she said, shaking her head as she listened to the melodious strains of the Queen’s voice floating out of the whisperstone. “I really have to get myself a piece of anerradite.”
“Will buy you one, if live that long.”
Jordan shot her a scowl, but Norae shrugged with a lopsided smile.
They turned their attention back to the proceedings. The Queen, a vision of remorse and regret, spoke in velvet tones that caressed the ears of her enraptured audience.
“…this tragedy is recognised by the Crown as the worst thing to befall the Kingdoms in a decade. I, myself, am consumed by sorrow for those poor souls who have lost their precious lives!” The back of her hand pressed against her brow; her mouth downturned in misery.
“Man, she’s good,” Jordan muttered, “No wonder the people love her.” Norae made a derisive noise deep in her throat, but Jordan shrugged. “It’s good to know what your enemy is capable of – killing is easy, this… is hard. She’s clever, that one.”
No matter what else the Queen may or not be, she was an accomplished dramatist. Her performance was mesmerising to watch. Fayne lamented some more, sympathising and crooning, promising retribution while the crowd lapped up her every word. She even went so far as to denounce Nerys, claiming that she had been sentenced to death for her crimes. Jordan and Norae exchanged a glance.
“The Lat’Nemele served me faithfully for many years,” Fayne sorrowed in a sing-song voice, “She is filled with regret by her errant behaviour and has agreed to aid me, one last time, as penance for her sins.” She paused, looking thoughtfully into the distance. “As you are all well aware, wild-magic is loose on Andoherra. It has been for some time.” The crowd followed her gaze to the horizon, where distant lightning flashed with frightening rapidity as if to illustrate her point. She turned her gaze back down again, noticed their malcontent.
“Hush, hush,” she crooned, “There is no need to fear.”
She snapped her fingers, and four men dressed in yellow robes leapt to her command. They took up positions on raised podiums, north, south, east, and west around the plaza. As one, they began a synchronized dance in place, their hands swivelling with practised ease. Magic flashed, luminous in the darkness. Around them, the wind picked up, murmuring, whispering, condensing. Beads of sweat graced their brows, but in short moments a dome of air, visible by reflected light from lumostones, encased the entirety of the square. Beyond it, the lightning ricocheted, thwarted.
“You see,” Fayne smiled, “I will keep you safe. That is my duty, as your Queen.”
The crowd murmured their approval as the four men remained at their posts, feeding the shield. The Queen went back to her musings.
“Of course, simple shields cannot keep us safe indefinitely…” She paused for effect, letting the weight of her words sink in. “But, I have discovered a solution, hidden deep within the archives – an ancient spell which will be our deliverance.” The crowd sighed in happy relief, nodding to each other, whispering of their all-knowing, benevolent Queen. Fayne’s smile broadened as she continued. “This spelling will ensnare the wild-magic and put a stop to the spread of Chaos. The realms will sleep easy once more.”
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Cheering met her words, but she held up her hand for silence. The hubbub died away at once. High above, the storm descended in a crash of thunder, the first eddies of rain pelting the shield. They flashed where they collided.
Fayne bowed her head as if the weight of the world rested upon her shoulders. “There can be no great deliverance without great sacrifice,” she said. “Magic of this magnitude requires no less than the price… of life.”
Ragged gasps gripped the crowd. Terrified whisperings stirred like leaves in an autumn breeze. Fayne let them wallow for a long moment, her gaze rippling across the square.
Lightning flashed in the dark sky.
“What happened here” – she gestured at the expanse of the city – “was a terrible tragedy. The Lat’Nemele sorely regrets her loss of control – indeed, wielding such great power can be its own burden. To redeem her soul, she has agreed that her execution should be in the best interests of the people.”
Fayne stopped, sweeping her gaze across the masses once more, ensuring that every soul present hung upon her words. She let her expression grow grave, the face of a hero who has done what they must – and at great personal cost.
“The spell has been cast,” she said softly, “Nerys has been Marked, and she will take Chaos with her to her grave.”
An explosion of sound met her words; the roar rocked the city. The shouts of jubilation echoed, again and again, off the walls of the air shield, even as sparking rain hammered the outside of it. Thunder rippled, the electric air whipping the crowd to a near frenzy of exultation. They were beside themselves – Chaos and the Lat’Nemele, both gone from the world at once? Fayne smiled benevolently down at her legions of faithful subjects. She basked in their adoration as a flash of lightning illuminated her proud visage.
Jordan spared a fearful glance for the storm as she leaned over to Norae. “They really don’t like Nerys, do they?”
“No,” Norae agreed, leaning on the butt of her glaive as she watched the crowd, “Responsible for too many atrocities. Odd, though. Did not think cared much for ‘common people’…”
Jordan made to reply, but the whisperstone vibrated behind her as Fayne cleared her throat. The Firekin straightened her crown, assuming a business-like pose.
“Now, there is just one more teensy-tiny thing I want to get out of the way…” She planted her fists on her hips. “It has come to my attention… that there is a traitor in our midst.”
The crowd gasped, each person shooting suspicious glances at their neighbours; Fayne swept a steely glare across them all.
“This woman,” she continued, “Brazenly insults our dear Queen Asbeth – Malevelyn keep her – by impersonating her murdered daughter.”
Seething murmurs followed her pronouncement, growls of anger, whispers of injustice. Jordan’s face drained of colour as she turned to Norae, hugging her hood close about her head. Norae set her jaw and sidled protectively up against Jordan, pinning her tight against the statue base to shield her from prying eyes. Far above, the ominous rumbling of the sky grew louder. Fayne’s bright gaze swept the plaza once more, her face a picture of righteous wrath.
She lamented, the sorrow in her voice pervasive. “We all mourn still, for Asbeth, cut down before her prime…”
Pensive, she advanced to the head of the stage, almost close enough for the crowd to touch. They reached out to her, restive, eager to show their loyalty to both the old queen and the new.
“I wished to tell you, darlings, that such an affront will not be tolerated.”
She crouched down, silk dress fanning gracefully around her, her eyes hard as cut gems. She held out one slender hand, ran it through outstretched fingertips, bestowing her blessing as the people fawned their concern.
“I beseech you, fine people of Nova Azuros, do not fear. I will root out this insidious upstart before any damage can be done.”
She rose – to cries of distress from the front lines of the crowd – and snapped her fingers. There was a commotion to one side of the stage, and three guards hauled forth a white, spotted gryphon. On either side stood Callkin in royal livery, each with a hand extended, forcing the creature to obey. Norae gave a strangled cry, her face tight with horror.
The gryphon – Thallo – was made to bow down before the Queen, and Fayne loomed over her entrapped head. Unwilling disciplinarian, she besought the crowd.
“This creature is innocent,” she said, flourishing a hand, “But… she is tainted. She belonged to a disgraced Gryphon Knight – a treasonous wretch – who fled the capital under suspicion of conspiracy. This Knight is here, in Nova Azuros, playing accompaniment to the impersonator.”
Shocked gasps agitated the crowd, setting it to buzzing. Fayne let the tension build for a long moment as she scrutinized the sea of faces. Norae and Jordan shrank back, sheltering in the shadow of the stone gryphon above them. The air hummed, electric with storm and emotion.
Someone shouted, “I’ll find them! Let me kill them for you, Majesty!”
A raucous crescendo of agreement followed, rising beneath a tide of ominous thunder. But Fayne held up a hand, and they stilled. In the shadows of the thickening storm, a harpy shrieked, thumping against the air shield like a vulture against glass.
Fayne ignored it, gesturing magnanimously. “Your courage is commendable, darlings, but I have no wish for any of you to put yourself in harm’s way for my sake.”
Her eyes flashed; lightning echoed.
“I only wished to warn you, that you might protect yourselves, your families, from the evil that stalks at our door. Tonight, in keeping with my solemn oath to you, I will make an example of this tainted gryphon. Let it be known that the same fate shall befall these two lurking traitors!”
Norae sagged against Jordan, her breath left her in a desolate rush.
“Will kill her…” she whispered.
Fayne drew herself up, flicked a finger in summons. A gravid hush sank over the watchers as the executioner stepped forward. She presented her great sword to the Queen, lighting it aflame with her magic for Fayne’s approval. Thunder growled, rocking the shields.
Expressionless, Fayne nodded her command. The Callkin pushed Thallo to her knees and held her there, her ears flattened in fear, beak snapping her distress. The executioner raised the wicked blade, illuminated by a triple flash of lightning.
Jordan leapt to the top of the plinth, bellowed across the square.
“STOP!”
Below her, Norae’s face was stricken with immeasurable disbelief. “Jordan, NO-!”
But the words, the warning, fell on deaf ears, and it was too late. Across the sea of people, Fayne’s head swivelled in their direction.
“Ahh…” the Queen purred, dropping all pretence of duty and demureness. Her smile grew wide, rapacious as a lioness, “… there she is.”
Lightning flashed once more. The crowd surged, but was checked by the Queen’s Knights standing staunch at their intervals throughout the square.
“Jordan!” Norae yelped, clawing at her face in agonized dread, “Get down! Run!”
Jordan ignored her unhappy, terrified friend. She cried out, with as much vehemence as she could muster, “Release the gryphon!”
The crowd buzzed, a swarm of angry wasps, but Fayne collapsed into laughter, and they quietened uncertainly. Mid-stage, the Firekin clapped jubilant hands. Her dress rustled, the gems at her fingers tinkled. She wiped mirth from her eyes, smiling broadly.
“Come, child,” she beckoned, voice lilting with amusement. “Come here and let me look at you.”
Jordan stood her ground, teeth gritted. Norae shuffled below, unsure what to do. Above, the storm roared.
“You said you wanted me,” Jordan called as the thunder paused, “Release the gryphon, and I’m yours.”
Fayne hooted, entertained by her audacity.
“Oh, very well.”
She flicked a disinterested finger at the executioner, who still held the flaming blade aloft. Disappointed, the woman lowered it and stepped back. The Callkin eyed their Queen hesitantly, lowered their hands as she raised an impatient brow. The white gryphon snarled at the handlers who held her captive, forcing them away. She lifted herself to her feet, shook out feathers and fur. Her beak snapped in warning, and the guards dropped her leads as she bounded away. She took flight, sweeping low over the heads of the crowd. Those in her path ducked as she banked sharply, and she glided to land on the statue above Jordan. Her claws sank into the stone, and she lifted her wings high with a hooting roar of challenge.
“Well?” Fayne gestured at the newly-freed gryphon. She held out her hand to Jordan.
Jordan nodded, took a deep breath, and slid off the plinth. The hissing crowd parted before her, standing aside to grant her passage to the Queen. Above, a deep booming threatened to crack the dome. Lightning sundered the sky, and fat, poison drops of rain hammered at the shield. Norae shrank against the statue, stared with longing at her gryphon, and then, offering a small prayer, pushed forward to accompany Jordan.
But Thallo launched herself off the statue and swept down to land in Jordan’s path. Jordan stopped short in surprise, just out of range of the heckling wings and claws of the white gryphon. Thallo plunged in warning, and Jordan glanced sideways at Norae.
“Make her move,” she whispered.
Norae swallowed the lump in her throat, stepped forward – against her base instincts – to oblige. Thallo snapped her beak, flattening her ears. Norae lifted a steadying hand, crooning to her, but the gryphon lashed out to drive them back the way they had come.
Norae retreated, shaking her head, and whispered, “Won’t!”
Fayne tapped ringed fingers upon her folded arms. Her warning whisper echoed from all quarters through the whisperstones. “I do not appreciate being kept waiting…”
Jordan widened her eyes at Norae, who gave a helpless shrug. She tried again, but Thallo became further agitated, refusing to relinquish her blockade. Behind the gryphon, Fayne ignited a ball of flame in her palm, bouncing it like a toy. Her affable expression darkened.
Above, a bright flash of lightning threw a monstrous shadow down into the square.
The crowd quailed. Every eye turned to the storm, searching for the source. A deathly silence fell, drawn out along a refrain of muted thunder. Fayne shifted her attention, ignited a second ball of flame, and scowled suspiciously at the oppressive sky. The four Airkin holding the shield around the plaza renewed their efforts at her unspoken command, and four more joined them to strengthen the buffer. The silence stretched out, even the storm seeming to hold its breath.
Norae tugged at Jordan’s cloak, trying to pull her away while the Queen was distracted, but Jordan’s boots were rooted.
An ear-splitting roar rent the air, borne forth upon a tide of indigo flame that smashed through the shield like the aircushion it was. The Airkin were blasted off their feet by the backlash of their magic as it was obliterated; they crashed to earth amidst the rising screams of the crowd. Howling wind and driving rain made short work of the remnants of tattered power. A swarm of harpies breached the gap, falling upon the defenceless people below with gleeful shrieks. Fayne erupted with flame, snarling orders. Gryphon Knights leapt to their steeds, bristling with weapons as they took to the sky.
The disembodied roar sounded again. Witchkin of all elements converged around the Queen, igniting their magic against the unknown foe, ready to defend her to the death. Lightning illuminated the colossal shadow once more. The panicked crowd fragmented in every direction, colliding with each other, trampling the less fortunate, screaming and wailing beneath the lash of the storm. Exuberant harpies cackled, dodging Gryphon Knights, swooping down to feast with voracious delight. Thallo bundled up close to Jordan and Norae, shielding them with her wings, keeping the harpies at bay with vicious swipes of her talons.
Suddenly, a gigantic dragon dropped to ground behind the gryphon, roaring in displeasure. The catbird hissed in fright and whipped round to face the beast; the mob of harpies were blown clear by the downdraught of the beast’s great wings, tumbling over each other to disperse like flies. Jordan yelped, crouching beside the gryphon to prevent herself from suffering the same indignity. Norae held fast to her cloak on the other side, staring up at the silver fiend. The dragon lashed its tail, obliterating a statue, but paid them no mind. It swivelled its sinuous neck to the stage, roaring fury, and belched fire at Fayne. A shout went up from the Witchkin defending her. Shields of earth and air and water leapt around her in instant response, colliding, solidifying, protecting the World Queen. Fayne roared her frustration, thwarted by her own guardians, closed off behind protective shields. The dragon snorted derisively as the Witchkin cowered behind their defences with their accidentally trapped Queen. It turned instead to the only two people left in the vicinity, who trembled beside a snarling Thallo.
“Norae!” Jordan squeaked, “What do we do?”
Norae did not respond, her face pinched, eyes blank and misty. Abruptly, she reanimated, shaking herself. Her expression turned grim and determined.
“Quickly, we go!”
She grabbed Jordan’s cloak, raced forward, hauling her onward.
Towards the dragon.
Jordan screeched in protest, digging in her heels, but Norae was relentless. She towed her friend right up to the dragon’s scaly side. Jordan, shaking, stared up as it turned its head in her direction. Rivulets of rain turned to steam upon its smoking snout as it stared back.
“Hurry up!” Norae pushed her around the beast’s side, “Climb!”
Jordan’s jaw dropped. She leaned into Norae’s shove, unwilling. “What?”
“Oh, will challenge Fire Queen, but not ride dragon?” Norae snorted, bundling her up the ridges on the back of the beast’s foreleg. The Callkin was stronger than she, and Jordan had no choice but to climb. Her protests were lost to the whistle of storm-wind.
“Thallo!” Norae shouted, clambering up behind Jordan, “Follow!”
The gryphon took to the air with a sharp call, circling them.
And then they were settled between the spines on the beast’s back, holding on for dear life as it launched itself into the sky. Rain lashed, lightning flared, thunder boiled around them. Jordan cried out in terror, hugging the spike in front of her, clinging to it with every ounce of her strength. The wind whipped her wet cloak to smother her face, but she didn’t dare shake it loose – instead, she took comfort in burying her sight in it.
What she couldn’t see wouldn’t kill her, right?
Whistling filled her ears as the dragon climbed away from the earth. It gained height with powerful wingbeats, closely flanked by the white gryphon. From somewhere far below, half lost to the noise of the storm, came Fayne’s scream of fury.
But they were away, and the Firekin was left shaking her fists at an empty sky.