Acting on pure instinct, Harpyn said the word and threw himself sideways, hoping that wherever he teleported to, he would be able to run.
A second later, he landed on his backside with a painful thud, but he rolled and scrambled to his feet, stumbling into a run until he regained his balance. Behind him, the mages shouted. It was no surprise when they began appearing ahead of him, suddenly appearing where the path had been clear.
Somehow, he managed to dodge and dart around them until he came to a narrow aqueduct carrying water out to one of the lower branches of the structure. With a deep breath, he took his first step out into the stream, desperate not to look down. He quickened his steps, knowing that if he thought about what he was doing, he was sure to fall.
Behind him, mages gathered at the edge of the platform. Ahead of him, a new group of mages formed. He was trapped, balanced high above the ground, his feet growing wetter with every passing second.
He looked up, realizing that there was another aqueduct a short way above him, running roughly across his path. A second later, he had teleported to stand on top of it.
With a cheer, he broke into a run, knowing that if he stayed where he was, he would be surrounded once more.
Luckily, he made it to the next platform before the mages below began appearing on this tier, and he ran like his life depended on it. Deep in his belly, a queasy feeling had begun to form, and he worried that he might have overtaxed his magic already. He would have to save it in case he got in another pinch.
The platform he arrived on appeared to be some kind of residential area. There was a small pool where the water gathered, and Harpyn leapt out of it, taking to the dry walkways and bridges. He looked around, taking in the odd tree-shaped houses, suspended by dozens of ropes. They hardly looked large enough to sleep a small family, and most of them didn’t even have doors. Didn’t these people like their privacy?
Harpyn was still mulling over the strange structures when he reached a strange contraption made of ropes and a platform. Pulling a lever, he found that he could move the platform up and down. He hopped on, eager to move down toward the ground level. At least there, he might have a chance to escape before something really bad happened.
The platform dropped at an alarming rate, and Harpyn held onto the lever, unsure of when he should push it in the other direction, or if it would even be strong enough to stop his descent. But as he flew past one of the lower levels, his eyes caught on something that made him shove the lever forward and come to an abrupt halt.
A handful of mages in black robes were milling about, and between them, a large group of people stood shackled. One of the mages barked orders, and the shackled people shuffled forward. They looked stricken, their expressions at odds with the colorful skirts and scarves that adorned nearly every one of them.
Looking around, Harpyn didn’t see any sign of the mages who had been chasing him earlier. They were probably searching all of those weird houses for him.
Taking a step off the platform, he moved slowly until he could slide behind a large planter filled with dead plants. At least it was some kind of disguise.
He watched, holding his breath, as the mages pushed and shoved the shackled group. Once, he saw a mage pull out a long staff and touch it to one prisoner, zapping her with a tiny bolt of electricity. The prisoner shrieked in pain, but the mage only kicked at her and got her moving again.
As he watched, he realized what he was seeing. The colorful skirts and scarves. These were the Makara people. These were Anaya’s people. And they were being held prisoner.
But that didn’t make sense.
The guard in Torg Uyen had suggested that the Makara had been rounded up in their time. This world seemed to be hundreds of years in the past. Was it possible the Makara had been imprisoned once before? This whole time slip thing was so confusing.
He needed to know more. If he made it out of here alive, he had to be able to tell Anaya what he had learned. Moving closer, he worked his way around to the side of the gathered group, hoping to see more of their faces.
At last, he found a perfect hiding place, and he scanned through the crowd until his eyes landed on one face in particular. Anaya? No. Upon closer examination, he was sure that it couldn’t be her. Yet he was equally sure that whoever it was, she was directly related to Anaya. They could’ve been twins, if not for the time slip.
Harpyn was still trying to sort through this in his mind when a voice made his heart drop into his stomach.
Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.
“So, that’s where you’ve been.”
Harpyn gave a tiny squeak, turning to find a robed figure standing only inches behind him. He didn’t even have to move before the man threw out his arm and spoke a word, binding Harpyn’s arms to his side.
“Now, you’ll be coming with me. I think Vasileios will have some questions.”
Harpyn cast one last glance at the woman in shackles, wishing he could get to her. For some reason, he felt compelled to get a message to her.
“Anaya is coming! Stay strong!” He shouted.
The woman lifted her head, looking around in confusion. When she met his eyes, her face brightened some. He couldn’t be sure if she’d understood, but something inside him believed she had received the message and it was just what she needed to get through this.
The mage glared at him, tightening the invisible bonds until Harpyn struggled to breathe. He wanted to struggle, to break free and run again, but it was no use. So instead, he focused his attention on the path they took through the strange tree structure.
They moved upward, crossing platforms and riding lifts until they arrived at the very top of the tree. There, they stood on a broad landing with a little fountain of water pouring forth in the very center. Around them, pillars formed a wide circle and Harpyn could look out over the land, following the ocean to where the horizon swallowed it. In the other direction, the delta stretched out before them, crisscrossed by the wild rivers and streams that he had followed on the map.
A tall, dark-robed figure stood opposite him, looking out over the horizon as well. He turned, slowly revealing his face, and in an instant, Harpyn recognized him as the man from outside.
“What have we here?” He asked, his voice scratchy and unnerving to Harpyn’s ears.
“I saw you kill a man!” Harpyn gasped.
“Did you?” The man asked, shrugging with indifference. “That’s entirely possible. After all, what else am I to do with those who don’t do what they’re told?”
Harpyn balked. The man was admitting to murder?
“Now then, tell me how you got here. And remember… you watched me kill a man.”
Harpyn shuddered, but strangely, the bonds holding his arms loosened and he could breathe a little easier, or he would have if not for the panic racing through his veins.
“I don’t know how I got here,” he answered honestly, knowing it wouldn’t be enough.
“You don’t know? So you’re saying you didn’t take one of the ancient artifacts? And you didn’t bring it to the well of Ashamsikunu?”
Harpyn’s mouth dropped open. “N-no. D-did you?”
The man smiled, his teeth gleaming a little too bright in the dazzling sunlight. “Why, of course. Years of study and worming my way closer to that old buffoon, Alazax, and the moment I got my hands on what I wanted, I came straight here. This is the Andrysfal we were meant to rule over! This was the Andrysfal the mages deserved!”
Questions tumbled through Harpyn’s mind, crashing into one another until he was too confused to even know where to begin. And then, of course, there was the fact that he was the prisoner here, and he doubted this man would be answering very many of his questions. At least not without making him pay.
“I want to change my answer,” Harpyn announced, grabbing the man’s attention once more. “I did possess one of the weapons, but it was an accident. And I did not bring it to any well. The well came to me.”
The mage quirked his head to one side, pondering this for a moment. As he did so, a dark shadow fell over the platform momentarily, and then a dragon swooped down and folded its wings, landing between two of the pillars with a mighty cry.
Harpyn tried not to let the dragon shake his resolve. If he had to guess, the dragon was a product of one of the artifacts, just like Osric. Which meant that this man still had one of the ancient weapons. But how had it gotten through the portal? His own sword had remained behind. Or at least it had changed into something else. Maybe this man’s weapon had changed, too.
“This is all very interesting. My name is Vasileios. And despite what you may think of me, I think we are going to be very good friends.”
Harpyn tried not to shudder at the thought as Vasileios strode toward him. He held out a hand, waiting impatiently.
“Well?”
“Hm?”
“The sword. Let me see the sword.”
“Oh.” Harpyn gave a start. He loosened the makeshift scabbard and handed it over to the mage.
Vasileios drew the weapon out of its sheath, but before he had even freed the whole thing, he began laughing a wicked laugh.
“What’s so funny?” Harpyn ventured.
“You fool. You fool! What were you thinking?”
Harpyn frowned, confused through and through, while Vasileios continued to laugh. At last, the man seemed to get past whatever was so funny and simply shook his head in disbelief.
“Didn’t anyone warn you? The guardians’ weapons choose their wielders. Anyone who does not possess the power necessary will be destroyed!”
“Destroyed? How?” Harpyn really didn’t need to ask this question. For one thing, he had already seen the sword zap the life out of that man in the village. But it had never tried to hurt him?
“I don’t know. Maybe by dropping you straight into the front lines of the coming war with only a pitted old bit of iron and no other defenses?”
“Coming war? What are you talking about? The war already happened.”
Vasileios broke into another hearty laugh. “No, my friend. The War of the Seven Citadels was a mere scuffle compared to what I mean to do. Us mages are finally going to have the respect we deserve! We are going to rule Andrysfal through the ages!”
Puzzled, Harpyn knew he had to gather more information.
“Who are those people you have chained up down below?”
Vasilieos eyed him suspiciously. “Spying, were you? Don’t play stupid with me. Those are the Makara, and they were the first step in my plan. By conquering Olanyi, we have taken a strategic location. This is where I shall build my army. This is where we shall launch our assault. The other citadels will fall, and it will all be because the world turned a blind eye when the Makara begged for help.
“Now, enough of this talk. I think it is time for you to get some rest. We’ll talk more, but for now, I have planning to do. This war isn’t going to start itself.”