Aliyah
“Nothing,” Lieutenant Qilin said, stabbing a pointed finger onto the map. “The scouts found remnants, but their outpost was empty.”
Aliyah kept quiet, eyes darting across the gathered faeries. Qilin hadn’t mentioned her as the source of this information and they were all gazing at her curiously, likely wondering why she was here. At least Kionah looked assured of her own place, standing confidently beside Luxon.
“So they must all be in the city,” Cygnus added. She had several bandages wound around her chest and across both wings, but she was up and walking, practically buzzing with nervous energy.
“It’s clear they originate from the desert mountains,” Lieutenant Hespero spoke. He looked far more weathered than Cygnus; he had an iridescent sachet strapped to his shoulder, feeding what Aliyah guessed was hemolymph into a port in his chest.
From forlorn whispers gleaned between Luxon and the dozens of faeries here, Lieutenant Drosera hadn’t been the only one to have succumbed to her injuries. Aliyah had caught an uneasy mention of General Perihelion’s critical condition, too.
Seeing the number of faeries perched in the branches of the upside-down tree had given her hope, however. It was a little unnerving to have them above her and at her back, but Luxon had set up a long table at the base for the benefit of all humans attending. Half a dozen acolytes were here, all from exiled factions and eyeing one another with distrust. There were about an equal number of representatives from other camps identified as being at risk.
“The cruel and the luckless; the ones no guild wants,” Kionah had started explaining in a low voice, but then General Nephele had called the meeting to order.
“We should establish communication with this suspected Hive of origin,” Lieutenant Hespero was saying. His spines were laid all the way back.
“There’s little information regarding this Hive,” Qilin replied. “No known communications recorded. Any intermediaries would be put at risk.”
Hespero flicked his wings, which were rapidly dulling in colour. “Use the fodder body method.”
“That would tell us very little if the Hive in question is both hostile and patient,” General Nephele said. “In other circumstances, I would try. Unfortunately, we cannot spare myself or any of my fellow Generals for such a venture at this time.”
She flared her wings gently as Hespero made to speak again. “Ordinarily, ten remaining would not be a problem. But two of us have already been compromised in an exceedingly short period of time. It’s a troubling pattern. Since this is not a necessary function of defending our Hive, any intermediaries must be volunteers.”
“I’ll go,” a voice spoke up. Sargas stepped forward.
A different faery hauled him back. “No. You’re too injured. I will.”
Another voice: “How stupid. You’re not even a scout.”
An argument broke out amongst the faeries, all whispers and hisses, rippling outwards from the table and up the branches of the tree.
“We’ll discuss this further at the Hive,” General Nephele interrupted. “For now, our primary objective is to preserve the safety and wellbeing of all city citizens at risk.”
That seemed to catch the attention of the human representatives.
“Lieutenant Qilin, if you would.”
Qilin unslung a scroll-holder from her shoulder and unfurled a different map. Jagged topographic lines sprawled over the expanse of parchment, and several points had been marked out in bright blue paint.
“The schismatists have been targeting large, isolated populations for their obvious utility as high-yield magical reservoirs. Our scouts have charted out multiple sites, starting near what is colloquially referred to as North-Shallow-Skymoss-Hollow. We advise citizens in affected and at-risk communities to form smaller groups and disperse themselves among these sites.”
“You mean you’re giving up on sending people to protect us?” one of the exiles said.
“A number of Hivers will be delegated to those who have been struck by the magic-draining phenomenon,” Nephele said evenly. “We offer to shield them from coming to further harm. We do not have the capacity for more at present, but we are working swiftly to create a larger taskforce. Until then, this is our solution. As yesterday’s events have shown, assembling in large numbers is unwise.”
“So we’re to fend for ourselves,” another acolyte spoke, his voice tight with anger.
“Don’t you hear her, fools?” a woman broke in—the one who’d followed Aliyah’s call for help. Her sword was sheathed now, hanging from a cord at her hip. “The way to be safe is to hide far and wide.”
“Easy for you to say, Kunzang,” the acolyte said harshly. “You’ll get their help.”
“You think it’s an unfair trade?” She touched her hand to the hilt of her sword and several of the nearest faeries tensed, fingers sparking spellfire. “How about you give me your magic, so they can send their helpers your way. No? I thought not.”
Another argument broke out. Nephele tapped a finger onto the table and a silence-field smothered the air. She released it once everyone’s mouths had stopped moving.
“Dispersing will allow us to track down and put an end to the ones threatening your wellbeing,” she said firmly.
Kunzang leaned in to peer closely at the map. “I agree with your plan, faery. But these sites you’ve chosen are unsustainable. Where will we get our food and water?”
“These sites are situated in the shallows of the Undercity for a reason. You won’t be more than a few minute’s travel from human suppliers and more importantly, from their aid in event of future attacks.”
A rumble of discontented murmurs spread amongst the camp representatives. Aliyah caught Kionah’s eye and recalled her mention of temple politics.
“We can’t afford to buy from shopkeeps,” one of the representatives said grimly. His face was haggard and his clothing worn, carefully patched up but fraying at the seams.
“You, at least, are welcome in the temple district,” an acolyte sneered. “Perhaps your children can suffer to beg for their charitable gruel.”
“They won’t leap to defend us, same as you cultist folk,” the representative shot back.
Nephele quelled the arguments with a flash of wing and another wave of silencing. “Then the Hive will arrange supplies in the meantime. This will only be a short-term measure. Once we resolve the issue, you are free to return to your home encampments. Now, shall we discuss the subdivisions?”
Representatives surged forward. Aliyah scowled as they jostled into her, vying for room at the table. She retreated to the crown of the upside-down tree, and Kionah followed. Luxon remained by the table, trying to establish a semblance of order. The sorting and allocation sounded as though it would take a while.
Aliyah shifted restlessly, gaze flicking from faerie to faerie. Who was safe to confide in? Could even Luxon be a loose ear, aligned with the schismatists? Every Hiver in attendance seemed to ooze disdain for the schismatists, but declarations of allegiance were so easy to fake. They were only words, after all.
The tracker-mark lay dormant on her arm. She furrowed her brow, instinctively searching for any hint of Zahir’s presence. Nothing.
Kionah nudged her with an elbow. “You’ve been doing that for the past three hours. He’s not going to take a stroll and happen across you. Don’t tire yourself out.”
He wouldn’t break into a conference of faeries to kill her, either. At least, she hoped this so-called Iolite wouldn’t order him to.
“I wish we were doing something more useful,” she confessed quietly.
“Were you listening to me, earlier?”
Aliyah had explained what happened in the aftermath, more or less—once Kionah had stopped firing a dozen questions a minute.
“You can’t map the city,” Kionah had said, shaking her head. “Too much breadth and width, let alone depth. These streets twist far more than the ones in your kingdom. Even if Salai stood perfectly still in his hiding place, you’re just one person. I only found you because I had information, and because you didn’t make it very far. Probably ran in a big circle, come to think of it.”
“Then I need a way to increase the, um…radius. When he left, I think I could only sense him for, I don’t know, a few hundred meters?”
Kionah shook her head. “That’s normal. Maybe even better than average. Sorry, but there’s nothing I can teach you about sensing your own magic.”
“Fine,” she said slowly. “If the Hive will help us find the schismatists, he’ll be with them. One of the Generals—you spoke to her?—invited us to a meeting at Luxon’s house. If we can entreat their scouting abilities and hire a Breaker—”
Kionah looked alarmed. “No. Don’t even mention Breakers or Breaking to the faeries.”
Aliyah recalled her first meeting with Luxon, the air of offense when she’d brought it up. “It’s a taboo of theirs? Why?”
“They’re made of magic, Aliyah. More than we are, anyway. Breaking would be like torture, or murder, if used on them. It’s like…” She paused. “I suppose it’d be like if a mage went around with the power of fleshcrafting, but was only able to use it to take people apart.”
Kionah hadn’t pointed out that there were only a few trivial choices separating her from such a hypothetically reviled mage. If Kionah knew about the Calamistrum, would she make no distinction at all?
Her eyes had met Aliyah’s then, warm and honest. “The meeting’s starting soon,” she’d said, too kindly. “Just listen, alright? I’m sure they can do something to help you. And if nothing else, I can ask around some more. I owe you that much.”
And so here they were. Aliyah watched as General Nephele sorted the representatives with surprising swiftness and sent them on their way. A dozen faeries peeled from the branches overhead to serve as guards. At length, the room quietened. They made their way over to the table as the remaining Lieutenants drew closer.
General Nephele launched into a summary of the schismatists and the attack: an illusionist, an amphora, a rogue General, and the Healer at the heart of the operation.
“We have lost four of our own, with a dozen more injured,” she concluded. “Additionally, General Perihelion is—”
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
Qilin interrupted her with a strained hiss.
“Yes, Lieutenant?” Nephele tilted her spines questioningly as Qilin gestured unsubtly at them.
“We are not in the presence of a fully Hival audience.”
“Luxon has given me her assurance that these humans are not affiliated with the Silken Circle or otherwise intend us harm. Indeed, they may be able to provide unique assistance.”
“How can they restore Perihelion when even Luxon cannot?” Hespero snarled bitterly.
“While it is imperative that Perihelion’s magic be returned to him, that isn’t the key to bringing down these schismatists.” Nephele met Aliyah’s gaze. “Mage Scionsong. You were able to resist the red mage’s attack, correct? What magics aided you? I am willing to devote a substantial portion of Hival resources toward acquiring any reward you seek in exchange for this information.”
Aliyah swallowed uneasily and cleared her throat. “I use a type of magic from Shadowsong. The desert kingdom, by the salt plains. It’s what some people call fleshcrafting, but I can’t teach it to you. It wouldn’t be possible.”
Faint hisses emerged among the watching faeries.
“The place of crooked thaumaturges,” one murmured.
“I’m not a Magician—not what you call a thaumaturge. I only know the magic I was taught, the same magic used by who you call the red mage. Zahir was my mentor. I know him. He’s under a thrall.”
“Really?” Cygnus said. “Humans can’t be controlled like fodder bodies—”
“And magic can’t be stolen, or so everyone used to say,” Hespero interrupted.
“How can you be certain that’s true?” Cygnus argued. “Regardless, the effect is the same. The mage is a threat! Why can’t we learn the technique of opposing his sleep-curse?”
More murmurs in the gathered faeries, and she heard another whisper of poor Perihelion…
“Perihelion was brought down by some rogue upstart.” Cygnus leaned forward, her voice strained. “It’s a valuable secret to be sure, but do you not understand the significance? Did you not hear General Nephele pledge her aid? If you truly want your mentor saved, you must teach us!”
“It’s not that simple,” she said, tension threading through her temples. “I can’t show you, and I can’t force you to—”
“The incantation, then. Or the initiation. You must know something!”
Aliyah took a deep breath and planted her hands onto the tabletop. “Look inward. That’s all it was, for me. Feel…each branching vessel, every synapsing nerve…the spaces between your organs and the way it all surrounds your soul and keeps you alive. Feel it, know it, reach in and change it. That’s all it is, and if only if it were that easy.”
Cygnus sagged, wings and spines both. “Those are pointless words, Mage Scionsong. We can imagine things as easily as you. You may as well tell us to set the Hive alight and keep from burning through sheer force of will alone.”
“Enough, Cygnus,” Qilin said gently.
Aliyah shook her head. “It isn’t like a rune or a spell-slip. There’s no word of power, or even a ritual as far as I know. The Healers pass it on somehow, but I found out by accident. I was very badly injured. The most pain I can remember, in…more than one way. Maybe that had something to do with it, or maybe it was just the place I was in. I don’t think I could, or should, replicate the situation for anyone else.”
“You said the mage was one of your people,” Nephele said. She drew herself tall and still, the colours of her wings paling to a solemn grey. “We will be even more glad to offer you a place in our schismatist hunt. We understand vengeance very well.”
Out the corner of her eye, Aliyah saw Kionah raise an eyebrow. She hadn’t been the only one to notice.
“Sadrava?” General Nephele asked.
“Not that I’m any use to you,” Kionah said. “But I think I should ask. Are you going to be paying her for this?”
“We’ll provide resources. A way to remove the tracker-mark, protection in the meantime.” Nephele gestured at Luxon. “And of course, some degree of compensation for services rendered. The Hive only carries minimal quantities of human currency, but I suspect you’ll be satisfied with much of what I can requisition. All I ask is for your effort and cooperation. We’re in this mess together.”
“You’ll send her into the next fight you come across,” Kionah observed archly. “Like a fodder body to intervene, never mind how she was bleeding from eyes and nose and mouth when she returned—”
“They have to,” Aliyah broke in, startled. “I mean…it makes sense…” The strangeness of Kionah coming to her supposed defense threw her off-balance, enough for Kionah to interrupt again.
“It’s clear you’d pay them to be included if given the chance,” she said and turned back to Nephele. “With all due respect, General, it seems to me that the Hive is taking advantage of Miss Scionsong’s sentiment. If you don’t have money banked away, then find some. Five hundred gold crests ought to do it. I also suggest you requisition some better armour for her, among other tools.”
Nephele didn’t bristle, but Luxon did.
“Kionah! The Hive has extended a generous offer—”
“No need for more arguments,” Nephele interrupted, gesturing with her spines. She looked suddenly weary. “I’ll see it done. Mage Scionsong is to be protected. Any scouts catching scent of a suspected schismatist must remove themselves from the area and send a warning signal. Direct engagement is strongly advised against until we have adequate countermeasures in place. Luxon, I want the best information you can find about that artefact they used.”
“I’ve heard of magic-eaters,” Luxon said slowly. “They come in many forms, most weaker than this one. Used very rarely in the first wars. If the schismatist’s tool is what I suspect, then it must be centuries old. Fortunately, I believe there are ways to construct a defense. I will need to enter the Archives—”
“Of course,” Nephele said immediately. “Titania Segin has also extended your authority to synthesis stations for the forseeable future. I trust you’ll be up to the task of guiding Mage Scionsong?”
Luxon gave a hurried flutter of her wings. “I’ll do my best, General.”
The meeting trickled to a close. Most of the faeries followed Nephele out the door, but a dozen stayed behind. Luxon ordered half to guard the Emporium entrance, and the other half to scout the streets outside.
“Come here,” she said to Aliyah, pointing down the corridor. “You too, Sadrava.”
“You never let anyone in here,” Kionah said.
Luxon pushed open the door to her laboratory and sighed. “As General Nephele keeps saying, we’re in a perilous situation.”
The laboratory looked like the inside of a hollowed eggshell. Brewing equipment gleamed across the walls and atop gently curving benches: brass pots, titration glassware, ticking gears which looked as though they’d been scooped from the guts of a mage-chariot. Shelves overflowed with tattered scrolls and jewel-encrusted loupes, their gems soaking up the runelight.
Luxon gestured vaguely at the room. “As you can see, I’ve been very busy. Thanks to your help with sourcing ingredients, I managed to complete a task Qilin set me. Now, I trust you won’t go yattering on about what I tell you?”
“No,” Aliyah said warily.
“Then you should know the situation is worse than it seems. Not long after you were attacked at the bookbinder’s, an attempt was made on our Titania’s life. A General was compromised and fled into the Archives. Orion—the Archivist—was also implicated. Collusion is likely, though he denies it. Pity he’s the Archivist, because what use would inflicting his own stockpile on him be? My truth potions won’t be ready for a damn long while.” She ground her teeth together. “The Hive has been unable to locate the missing General, even with my attempts at taming the Archival paths. My other task was to identify the method used. Aliyah, are you familiar with the poisons of the desert?”
“The Killing Field mists?” she hazarded.
“Precisely. I separated some ghastly organic neurotoxins from the brew, and they all matched records of caustic flora linked to that place.”
“Magicians deal with the salt,” Kionah said. “And a few come to Glister every now and again. But they loathe the idea of faeries. It’s practically a requirement for being one. They’d never cooperate with schismatists.”
“It must be the schismatists themselves,” Aliyah said. “That night we left, there were hundreds of faeries, and the Magicians were definitely killing them. Even if they were fodder, isn’t that a huge waste?”
“Then these aren’t the usual sorts of schismatists,” Kionah said, frowning. “Not even a faery lord could coordinate like that, right Luxon? You’d need a proper Hive for so many. So a whole Hive’s corrupted, then? Nephele sure was nervy about sending anyone.”
“After recent events, we’re almost certain this could be the case. The venom was brewed, you understand.”
Aliyah frowned at the strange choice of emphasis. “I don’t understand.”
“Brewed by a highly skilled hand. If not the work of mages from your homeland, this implies the existence of a rogue Archivist. We can’t discount other traitors lurking in the rhythms of our own Hive, either. A group as large as three or four could be hiding…” Luxon trailed off. “What night were you referring to, Aliyah?”
Aliyah recounted the sudden swarm, the ships falling out of the sky. “Zahir told me it happened because the kingdom encroached on the mountains. But if the outpost was evacuated and the schismatists here now…it’s too big of a coincidence, right?”
Luxon tapped her tail against the benchtop, an agitated beat. “You should have mentioned this at the meeting.”
“Traitors everywhere, though,” Kionah prompted. “Who do you trust?”
Luxon’s spines drooped. “I can’t be sure, anymore. Thankfully, you two aren’t Hival in the slightest. Nephele also holds to her promises, so I can be reasonably sure you can’t be out-bribed.”
“She’s made no promises of paying me,” Kionah mused.
“You’re a friend,” Luxon said quietly, and grimaced. “Even if you have a propensity for monetary greed. The schismatists know your face. You deserve to understand the danger.”
“I won’t say no to spare potions if you have any.”
Luxon strode over to a shelf and withdrew a bandolier of filled green vials. “Restorative potions. The best I have. I know you have that fandangled pistol of yours, and I advise you refill the ammunition. Try not to get into any fights. As you for you, Aliyah, we should get rid of your tracker-mark.”
Aliyah hesitated. “You’re sure there’s nothing the Hive can do to trace its source?”
“Certain. That type of spell’s a one-way trick. Even if Orion were innocent and amenable…” She shook her head. “The potion’s done and it should work this time. I know you said you wanted the link in place, but the Hive is actively searching for the schismatists now. You’ve endeared yourself to General Nephele, and that’s better than your idea of luring the illusionist to you.”
Aliyah thought of the tenuous thread of magic she’d given Zahir and wondered how long it would last. “If you get rid of it, the faery who placed it will know.”
“Ultimately, you’d prefer the element of surprise, correct? I was hoping to take you into the Hive as soon as possible. I can’t do that if they know where you are. It would neutralise the advantage Nephele has given you.”
Aliyah frowned. “I thought humans weren’t allowed in Hives.”
“It is the safest place you can be until they need you,” Luxon answered. “Keeping you anywhere else would be a tactical disaster, especially with the tracker-mark on.”
She hesitated again. An unrelated thought arose, unbidden: any spire witches searching for lost-looking Songian girls wouldn’t be able to find her if she were in the Hive. It would be a safe place to rest and practice, to hone her attempts at vasodilation and excision into something worth fighting with in what little time she had left, before…
Before she needed to face Zahir again.
“Would I have guards, in the Hive? You did say there could be traitors.”
“Certainly, and I will ensure they are assigned at random. But you have to understand, the Hive has a rhythm. You are a human and distinct enough to be aware of at all times. We would know at once if even one person were to attempt attacking you.”
“Alright,” she said, pushing up her sleeve. “Do it.”
Luxon plucked a different bottle from the shelf, filled with deep blue liquid. It splashed over the tracker-mark in a wave of cool smoke. The dark lines wavered. Magic seeped through Aliyah’s skin, trickled through muscle and soaked into bone. She blinked as the tesseracts flaked away. Perhaps it was just her imagination, but her arm felt lighter for it.
“Thank you,” she said. “I’d like to talk to Kionah in private, before we leave.”
“Certainly.” Luxon recapped the empty bottle and surveyed the room. “I’ll wait in the front; find me when you’re done. Don’t touch anything.”
“So,” Kionah said once Luxon was gone. “You’ve got yourself a good deal, then.”
Aliyah looked at her helplessly. “I’ll help you heal more urchins once this is over,” she said.
“That wasn’t that I was worried about.” Kionah punctuated the statement with a grimace. “You’re dealing with worse than schismatists or spire folks come knocking or what-have-you. Even if you’re not worried about getting injured or dying, there’s a very real chance you could get your magic stolen. I didn’t extract Nephele’s promise of coin for nothing.”
Aliyah furrowed her brow. “Do you…want the coin? You didn’t have to ask so aggressively. I think Luxon’s still offended.”
Kionah smiled briskly. “You grew up in a castle, Aliyah. Believe me, when it comes to something as risky as this? You want every last scrap you can get, and more.”
Aliyah sighed, rubbing at a spot of tension building between her eyes. “Look—I need a favour. Can you find me a Breaker? I know they’re rare, but you’re the only person I can ask. You can dress up as a court lady and commission a noble or something, I don’t know. I’ll give you half of whatever money they give me.”
“Half?” Kionah drawled. “I want two thirds. You’d best send some along soon. At least fifty crests. I can’t hire anyone with what I have on me, and most of their payments are half up-front.”
“Alright. Where do I ask them to send it?”
Kionah gave her a strange look. “I thought you’d be bartering.”
“I don’t care, and I don’t have time.”
“Aren’t you worried I’ll run off with the money?”
Aliyah shrugged. “Not while I’m capable of sending you more.”
“Just half is fine then,” Kionah groused. “More if I’m shot or stabbed. Ask the faeries to deliver to Shasta at Whistle House so long as my name is marked; I trust him to hold and pass it along.”
“Alright. Don’t forget your restorative potions.”
“Mhm.” She slung the bandolier across her chest. “Skies be with you. Don’t let Luxon talk your ear off.”
“I think I could reattach it,” Aliyah answered mildly.
Kionah laughed. “Good luck, then. I’ll…send news. In codespeak.”
Aliyah’s thoughts flicked to the problem of faeries and Breakers. “Right. Thank you.”
They headed back out the front. The shop bell chimed as Kionah slipped out with half a glance over her shoulder. Outside, the sky was as bright as a blade. Aliyah watched as she disappeared among the crowd in lithe strides.
And then it was just her and her festering dread, and Luxon hovering anxiously over by the counter. Aliyah thought of Zahir lunging again, no recognition in his eyes. She’d always been skittish around Healers, even more after she learned the extent of what they could do. But as his apprentice, she’d never been afraid of him. He’d been funny and kind, for a heedless highborn. It wasn’t fair, she thought numbly. Couldn’t it have been anyone else?
“I’m here,” she said, turning to Luxon. “I’m ready.”