Ivy

The Council erupted into fighting. Ivy ducked under an Imperial fist as it crunched into the jaw of a young Wizard, and scampered under the cracked stone table to peer out at the mayhem from a place of safety. It was like that time her most recent Father had taken her to the tavern on cards night. Losing money brought out the worst in people, she’d observed, including him. Father had been there to stand between her and the flying fists and kicking boots, but he was not here to protect her now.

A purple crystal skittered across the floor, struck by a wayward boot. Ivy glanced around to make sure the coast was clear, then pounced on it. That made five! She squeezed the shards in her pocket, heavy and hard. It was a good haul. It would fetch her pockets’ worth of coin, more than enough to save Father and Mother. The man at the jail had said they’d be executed if the taxes on the farm weren’t paid by the new moon. Ivy knew how to read moons, and that was in two days.

All of the portals had been shut down, so she was about to make a break for the door when a Sky Engineer slammed against the chair in front of her, a Dwarf pummeling him. He slumped to the floor, red stains blooming across his light blue robes. Ducking deeper under the table, searching for a clear path, she spotted Bayne cowering amongst the tapestries at the back of the room. He looked more frightened than she was.

She liked him, despite having spied on him. He hadn’t thrown her away, even when he’d caught her in his workshop. He’d fed her and given her good clothes and boots for her bare feet. Father and Mother had made her work extra to earn those luxuries, as had her previous parents. The ones before that hadn’t even bothered. There hadn’t been any kindnesses in that home, not even small ones.

The door to the outside was just on the other side of the Emperor’s litter, beckoning to her. The tabletop over her head cracked, and she cringed and threw her hands over her head as white bolts of magic crackled across it. If she didn’t get out of here soon, she wouldn’t survive long enough to save her parents. And then where would she go? Who would take her in next? There was never any way to know.

A section of table collapsed over her shoulder, and she was forced on hands and knees out into the melee. She turned in a circle, searching for the way out. An elbow clipped her on the head. She raised one hand to shield herself, clutching her pocketful of shards with the other. A white-hot blast whistled toward her—Wizards’ magic! She leapt out of the way just in time. It struck the Emperor’s litter instead, knocking the thing on its side with a metallic crash. The yellow silk caught fire for a moment, before dying out.

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She scanned the room desperately. Where was the door? She spotted it and ran for it. Right before she reached it, two Imperials slid the bar in place, locking everyone in. Her feet skidded and she landed on her bottom. How would she get out now?

A pair of grappling women careened toward her. She tried to dodge, but the Emperor’s overturned litter blocked her way, its charred silks fluttering over a blown-out opening. She registered movement; the old Emperor was still alive in there. A wobbling axe flew her way, and, panicked, Ivy dove inside.

“Forgive me, Your Highness!” she blustered, keeping her head bowed as she’d been taught to do whenever nobility was present.

But as her gaze fell on the bent bare legs inside the slippery silk-padded box, the pale hands pressing against the walls, which were actually the silk-cushioned floor and latticed metal ceiling, her mouth fell open. The legs were not old and bony. Neither were the hands gnarled and arthritic. Ivy lifted her head. What she was looking at wasn’t an old man. It wasn’t a man at all. It was a boy!

His skin was pale as porcelain. The circles under his eyes were deep and blue, his lips registering only the faintest touch of pink. The Imperial crown glinted in the thin, dry hair of his head, like a treasure laid on a nest of kindling.

The litter shuddered with yet another assault. Ivy peered through the speaking slot and saw blue. Someone had activated a portal!

“Don’t go!” the boy cried in a nobleman’s accent, but Ivy was already crawling through the broken door. With one hand steadying the shards in her pocket, she got to her feet and ran, pumping her legs as fast as they would go, not looking right nor left, nor behind her, running without stopping towards the blue light.

A Wizard materialized in front of the portal. Not just any Wizard. It was the Alchemist—the leader of them all, the terrifying old man who had called this Council into being. His long-fingered hands stretched toward her.

Ivy’s oversized boots skidded on the stone floor as she spun to her right, cloak whipping around her. The Wizard seized the twirling cloth, and Ivy heard it rip. Stumbling forward into the portal, she dug her fingers into the cloth, fishing desperately for the pocket full of crystals to drag it with her. But she was already inside the portal and all around her the Council Chambers melted away, like when she jumped off the cliffs into the river. Everything erased by blue.

Ivy rolled out the other end of the portal onto a pine needle-littered path. She fumbled with the tatters of her cloak for the crystals, hoping she'd managed to hold onto some of them, but they were gone.