Maela stared at the rose, afraid to approach it, let alone touch it. She wondered if she was drugged with the powder from the Outlands that made you see things or if her dehydration had caused her to see what clearly could not have occurred—a rose appearing out of thin air and then floating to her table. Yet there it was.
She finally reached out and picked it up. It was a rose, freshly cut, and as solid as the rose that Polo had left with her. Taking a deep breath, Maela considered this new reality—there was a city on the other side of the mountain from Ness. It, too, was called Ness. There was a road that once connected the two, but it was blocked. Finally, there was a guild of wizards that ran this other Ness, and they were true wizards—able to do magic.
Placing the rose back on the table, Maela pondered her next steps: Her immediate goal was to check on Darla and make sure she was okay. At this point they were a team and, after having only each other for so long, perhaps even more than that. Maela could not comprehend any move without her. After that she wasn’t sure what to do. She wanted to explore the city. She wanted to walk through the massive forest. She wanted to visit the other cities. And she wanted to learn as much as she could about the wizards and their magic. But she also needed to return to Ness and report back to Ralan and Alard. She was the Blade of the Guildmaster, after all.
Of course, all those options assumed that Maela and Darla were free to do whatever they wanted. Yet from Traville’s words it seemed likely that the two of them would be prisoners for some time. Worse, the name “Forbidden Tunnel” made it clear that heading in the direction toward Ness—her Ness—was not allowed.
I need to talk to Darla was Maela’s final thought on the matter. She couldn’t make any decisions until then. With nothing to do, she walked to the window and looked out once again, only this time she assessed things as a Blade on a mission. She was high up, but the tower was ornate, and there were plenty of handholds and footholds. I can escape easily, she thought. But could Darla?
The next day the healer Lin entered with food and more water. Maela didn’t wait and walked over to take the pitcher from the healer. “Thank you,” she said before pouring a glass and gulping down the water. Lin smiled.
“Cora will be here shortly to take you to see your friend. She is doing well.” She looked Maela up and down. “You look better, too, but you should eat. The mountain was not kind to you.” She placed the food, which was comprised of meats, bread, and vegetables, on the table.
“Why is it called the Forbidden Tunnel?” Maela asked with a nonchalant tone.
Lin shook her head. “It is not for me to answer questions. You should ask Cora or Traville.” The nurse left without saying anything else.
The mountain was not kind to you. Maela looked at her arms, which were thin and weak. No, it was not, and how long were we inside it? Maela had no idea.
Maela had examined herself and assessed her strength in the previous hours. She was thin still, but she was getting stronger as she ate and drank. Healing did not mean healed, however, and Maela was no longer confident of her previous assessment of being able to easily climb down the outside of the tower. She simply wasn’t strong enough.
She had just finished the final piece of bread when there was a knock, a click, and the door opening to a tall woman in the same red as Traville. She was statuesque and carried herself with an almost liquid smoothness, her red robe—or was it a gown—barely moving as she walked. No, she didn’t walk, she flowed. Her dark skin was a similar shade as Alard’s, and her long black hair was in natural plaits. Her sharp cheekbones and bright smile completed what Maela considered one of the most beautiful women she had ever seen in her life.
“I am Cora, and I am here to take you to your friend, Darla.”
“Are you a Wizard?” Maela replied, breathlessly. She considered herself nearly impossible to fluster, but the elegance of the woman seemed almost god-like.
The woman’s laugh was a gentle ringing of bells in a spring breeze. “Yes, I am. Everyone who wears red is a wizard. It is one of the few traditions that has remained from our days on the other side of the mountain.”
Maela sat up, her mind clear as she focused on the tidbit of information she was just given. “You were once a guild in Ness?” She quickly added, “The other Ness.”
“Indeed. Many centuries ago we were driven out of the city. Or abandoned it. It depends on who is doing the telling.” Cora leaned forward a bit. “How do they describe it over there?”
Maela had no idea how to answer. She didn’t think anyone in Ness had even known that there was a Magic Guild. “They don’t,” was her simple reply.
Cora nodded. “The successors did well, then.” Standing up straight, Cora brought her hands together. “But enough questions, let’s take you to your friend.”
Maela considered herself nimble, but she was a bumbling child next to Cora, who appeared to float as they descended two flights of stairs. The staircase itself was simple stone with very few decorations. It was modest in comparison to the towers in Ness.
Thinking of Ness—her Ness—made her curious about this new Ness. “How do things work if there aren’t guilds? Who tills the land and crafts the clothing?”
Cora replied, her voice calm and soothing, “People do. They just don’t need to be part of a guild. If someone wants to become a blacksmith, they train or apprentice with a master. It is a matter of opportunity and dedication.”
“But that sounds like chaos! How is order maintained?”
“There is order, Maela.” They reached a landing but didn’t stop and continued down the stairs. “It’s just not based on the archaic form of guilds.” Cora didn’t explain further, but Maela remembered both the awe in the voice of her nurse when discussing Traville and his subsequent display of magic. No matter what Cora said, Maela knew the truth—the wizards ran the city, and Traville was their leader. He may not have been a guildmaster, but he was the leader.
This is the kind of city that Larsen wants to create, Maela thought as Cora turned and entered a hallway. They were still high in the tower but two levels below where Maela was kept. The hallway was longer than Maela had expected. How big is this tower? They stopped in front of a door halfway down the hallway. After pulling out a key from somewhere in her flowing dress, Cora unlocked the door.
“I’ll leave you two alone,” she said, as she pushed the door open and stood aside. Maela ran in.
Darla was barely recognizable. The sad and hard warrior that Maela had met in her prison in the Mines had turned into a beautiful woman with a simple and elegant white tunic. She was thin, but that added a vulnerability that made her seem more feminine.
Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.
Maela was about to compliment her when Darla tugged on the tunic and said, “Can you believe what they’ve put me in? I’m surprised you recognized me!” And then with a big smile, Darla leapt to her feet and ran to Maela. The two hugged for a long time, and as they pulled apart Darla leaned forward and kissed Maela on the lips. It was soft and warm and Darla smelled nice. Feeling confused over the fact that she liked the feeling, Maela lowered her head and whispered, “I was worried about you.”
“Me?” Darla replied. “Look how thin you are. I knew you were giving me more and not splitting the food evenly.” Taking Maela’s hand, Darla tugged her toward the bed. “Come sit down. We need to talk.” The light joy in Darla’s voice was replaced with a sudden seriousness.
Her own arms were thinner than Darla’s, but Darla was larger than Maela, so it was difficult to assess if that was just from their nearly fatal trip through the mountain or not. Whatever the reason, Maela had to admit that Darla looked healthy. She had given her more food while they made their way along the underground road, but she didn’t remember it being that much. The thought made her once again consider how long they had been underground. She had thought it days, but her body had wasted away considerably, and if she had given Darla a bit more food every day, it would have a much bigger impact over a longer time.
“How long were we on that road?” Maela asked as she sat on the edge of the bed. “It was so difficult to measure time.”
“A few weeks,” Darla replied. “It seemed shorter, didn’t it?” Maela nodded. She had estimated the time was a week, at most, with their weakness due mostly to lack of water. “I was keeping track of our sleeping and eating cycles. It wasn’t entirely accurate, but after living in the Mines my whole life I have a good sense for it.” Darla patted Maela on the leg. “It’s close, though.”
“I thought it was less than a week,” Maela admitted. Her respect for Darla, which started as a sympathetic connection over the often brutal reality of being a woman in a man’s guild position, had increased as she watched Darla handle her knife and basically keep them alive on the road through the mountain. Hearing and watching Darla speak filled Maela with even more admiration for her Harvest Guild friend. She was as tough as the finest iron swords.
Darla shrugged. “What does it matter? We made it.” Without waiting for a reply, she added, “Where are they keeping you? Do you know where our clothes are? I feel like a nursemaid in this—” She once again tugged at her tunic.
“I think you look pretty.”
“Really?” For the first time since Maela arrived, Darla’s look returned to the tentative guard Maela had first met in her prison cell. She caught Maela looking at her and lowered her head.
“Yes, but I like you better in armor. You seem more comfortable and natural in it.”
“Thank you!” Darla beamed, looking up again. “So where are they holding you?”
“Oh yes, you asked me that. I’m two floors up. This is a very tall tower.”
Darla’s faced clouded, and she stood. “I had thought of that.” She started to pace, aiming whispered comments toward Maela. “I’m not sure how we can escape. The walls have plenty of hand- and footholds, but I’m not as agile as you are. And I doubt we could fight our way out without weapons, even with the wizards unarmed.”
“So you know they are wizards?”
“Well, the one named Traville explained that to me, but it is just a name. Maybe they are entertainers, and this is a city of leisure. I have heard of such things in the Outlands.”
“No. They are wizards.” Darla stopped pacing and looked at Maela.
“As in able to do magic? You are still weak and can’t think straight.” Darla said it so matter-of-factly that it took a moment before Maela realized what Darla had said she was weak.
“I watched Traville create a rose out of the emptiness of air and then float it over to my bedside table. The magic is real.” Maela spoke the last comment in the tone of a challenge. Darla calling her weak had hurt.
“Yes. You are an agile thief, so you would know if it were the sleight-of-hand of a street magician.” It was a statement and not a question, and Maela realized Darla had recognized she had hurt Maela’s feelings with her earlier dismissiveness. Darla walked over, her voice once again a whisper. “So what do we do? How can we fight magic?” She waved her hand in the air. “I don’t even have my dagger!”
“Perhaps we should just wait. I don’t see a reason to fight them. They will let us go, and then we can do what we want.”
Darla was shaking her head before Maela had even finished speaking. “No. They will not let us go. You forget that I am a guard. I see how they manage our food and drink, how they handle the door. Have you noticed that they always scan the room before they enter? No? Well, that’s how you treat a cell and a prisoner. Have you asked to leave?” Maela shook her head. She hadn’t thought of asking as Traville had explicitly said they were prisoners.
“Well, Traville told me we weren’t free to leave, but that it was because we were strangers. It made sense to me.” Even as she said the words, Maela wanted to kick herself. When did being told you were a prisoner ever seem reasonable for the prisoner?
“Ah, he didn’t say that to me. He must have sensed I wouldn’t react well to such words.” Darla stood up again. She was a ball of nervous energy, barely able to maintain her whisper. “So we are prisoners. That means we need to find a way to escape.”
Maela held up her hands. “Isn’t that moving a bit too fast?” Escaping and assessing unknown situations was something she excelled at. “We should see if we can find out more of their intentions, try to get more information about the city, and see about any other ways to get back to Ness than the path we took.”
Darla nodded. “That makes sense. I’m just nervous.” She paced a bit more. “You are obviously better at this than I am. I just want to run. This whole place feels so alien and puts me on edge.” Pausing and turning to Maela, she continued, “Don’t you feel it?”
The truth was that Maela didn’t, and that worried her a bit. She was aware of the risks and the unknown power of the wizards. But she assumed that if they wanted her and Darla dead, they would have been dead already. Beyond that, she felt more excitement at investigating this new world than getting back to Ness. The entire conversation made her feel guilty. She had a duty to the guild in Ness to return, and she had a duty to stand by her friend. Running off to investigate a forest was a child’s fantasy.
“I sense distrust from the wizards, but not ill will.” Maela stood up and walked over to Darla, who reached out and clasped Maela’s hand. “I agree we need to escape, but there are too many unknowns to do it effectively or safely. We will be separated soon. Let’s both ask questions in the guise of innocent curiosity, and then when we are next together we’ll be able to plan better.”
“Yes! That is wise.” Darla threw her arms around Maela. “We’ll make it out. The two of us survived the mountain. We can escape a city.”
Maela nodded, but her experience told her that a city was as dangerous a place as a mountain. “We just need to be careful. If they want us to consider ourselves as guests, we will need to act like guests.”
Letting go of their hug, Darla looked at Maela. “Do you think they would move us into the same room? That would make everything easier.”
The thought stunned Maela. She had not considered being with Darla, although they had experienced so much together already. There was nothing to bring two people closer together than complete and total trust and faith to help each other survive, but Maela had started the whole process by feigning romantic interest in Darla. She still considered that part of their relationship a lie, and the idea of living in the same room had not crossed her mind.
“They may,” Maela stammered as she considered what else to say. Conflicting thoughts rattled around in her head. She had considered herself as fancying men her whole life, but the truth was that such a thought had no basis in reality. She hadn’t favored anyone in her pursuit of her personal goals. Relationships were for the weak, so she considered them in the same way as she considered the flow of the Great River—something that just happened to go in that direction, even if she never entered the water.
The very presence of the question of being together with Darla confused Maela, as if she entered the Great River and realized that some of the currents below the surface flowed in the opposite direction. So, she saw no reason not to be with Darla, but the entire concept was so alien that she needed time to figure it out.
“I will ask,” Maela finally added, to which Darla replied she would, as well.
They had more time to themselves, so the two decided to compare as many notes about their trip through the mountain as they could. If they could make sense of the very existence of the road, perhaps they could find the secret to using it to return.
But as the two talked, Maela’s thoughts drifted back to light kisses, tight embraces, and the desperate trust she and Darla shared. What did it mean? And how would it affect the very dangerous path that was ahead of them?
Maela wasn’t sure, but as Darla reached out and held her hand as they talked, she realized Darla’s presence made everything seem better. She didn’t know what would happen, but it was a start.