Fractured Magic: Chapter Thirteen

Fractured Magic is a fantasy webserial about political and personal accountability, ghosts both figurative and literal, and a pair of estranged friends who act like they’ve gone through the world’s messiest divorce.

Maebhe didn’t know how long she waited, but it was definitely more than an hour. It was at least long enough to snoop around the trailer, get bored, take a nap, then uncover and start perusing a book on acting she’d found. Seeing Roman and Dinara’s long faces when they returned, she raised an eyebrow at them from the bed. “No luck?” she asked.

Roman sighed and flopped onto the open spot beside her, Maebhe yelping in surprise as the mattress bounced. He’d been so cheerful when he left; he must have suffered indeed in the time since. “Magistrate Ranulf won’t budge,” he said, voice muffled. “Gareth’s been trying to get your family released since they were first taken, but he's had no luck.”

“We learned some useful information, though,” Dinara said from the doorway. She lingered there, as unwilling to come inside as she’d been to tangle herself in Maebhe’s problems. Not that Maebhe blamed her. But where Roman was difficult to read, with his fluctuating moods and guarded smiles, Dinara was easy. Her eyes kept sliding over to Roman, emotions flurrying through them: concern, worry, fear. It was all because of Maebhe, and she couldn’t help but feel guilty.

“Your brother and his fiancée were detained on charges of conspiring against Unity. They’re being held on the island,” Roman explained, rolling onto his back and staring at the ceiling. “It’s nice to know where they are, but it doesn’t actually help us get them back.”

“Still, they’re alive! That must be a relief,” Dinara said with an encouraging smile. Maebhe didn’t much feel like smiling back, but Dinara had been so kind, it felt like the least she could do.

“Unfortunately, ‘on the island’ almost certainly means ‘in Unity’s prison,’ which is impossible to break into. With no Magistrate’s brother to ease the way for us, that poses a challenge,” Roman said.

“So what do we do? You’re not suggesting we give up?” Maebhe asked.

Roman shook his head. “I said impossible to break into. I know a secret way. I can walk us straight in, but it’ll be dangerous.”

Dinara opened her mouth, then shut it just as quickly, biting her lip, and Maebhe guessed Roman hadn’t explained anything more to her in their time away.

“Let’s go,” Roman said. “Maebhe, put that cloak back on. We’re going to visit an old friend of mine.”

Roman led them north, deeper into Gallonten. Maebhe should’ve been suspicious of their direction—away from Unity Island, instead of toward—but she was in too deep to question her choices now. For her, anxiety ran in a limited supply, and she’d used it all up crying and worrying about Kieran and Íde. So when this strange man, all secrets one moment and smiles the next, had given her the first glimmer of hope she’d felt since Kieran was taken, she decided she would trust him. Even if it led to her death, she would trust him. And she’d keep his secrets, too—a favor for a favor.

What else could she do? Strike off alone again? Not likely.

Beside her, Dinara had less faith. Her eyes never left Roman’s back, though instead of voicing the concerns that were clearly ready to bubble out of her, she followed along quietly. Roman wove through shortcuts and turned down hidden paths like someone who’d lived in Gallonten his whole life, managing to avoid all the major roads in the process. As they went on, Maebhe questioned less and less that Roman might know what he was doing.

Finally, they ended up in a quiet neighborhood—middle class, if Maebhe had to guess, though the architecture here was so different from that in Orean—filled with rows of tightly-packed, near-identical brick houses.

“Where are we going?” Dinara finally asked, keeping her voice to a whisper.

“I know a smuggler who lives near here. He can get anyone onto the island, only...” Roman trailed off, wrinkling his nose. “Ah, forget it. I just hope neither of you have sensitive noses.”

Being an orinian, of course, Maebhe did. Before she could ask what he meant, he stopped in front of one of the houses, this one utterly indistinguishable from the others. It could have just as easily belonged to a doctor or a merchant as a smuggler. With its curtains drawn shut, Maebhe couldn’t peek inside.

“If Ivey’s not home, we’ll break in and wait,” Roman said.

“Break in?” Dinara squeaked.

“Trust me, he’s not the type to mind.”

While Maebhe and Dinara lingered at the gate, Roman knocked twice, the bass knocker creaking in protest. He paused, then knocked three more times. Only upon the fifth knock, the door flew open to reveal an older, disheveled-looking man with a full beard and wild eyes. His hair, which stuck in every direction, was the sort of seashell-gray that implied it had once been a bright, vivid red.

Roman opened his mouth to speak, but the man cut him off, saying, “Code’s changed.” With that, he slammed the door in Roman’s face. Roman glanced sheepishly back at Maebhe and Dinara, then knocked again, more insistently. This time, when the door opened, the man was grinning. “Only kidding, Aim! It’s great to see you alive, my friend!”

“Alive?” Maebhe asked, at the same time Dinara asked, “Aim?”

Roman stood at least a foot taller than this stranger, but that didn’t stop the man from dragging Roman into a hug. Roman squawked indignantly, struggled, and finally gave in, his whole face scrunching up as he wrinkled his nose. It was…cute. Maebhe hadn’t been sure when they first met, but she thought now that Roman couldn’t be much older than her.

“Roman? What’s going on?” Dinara asked.

“Roman?” the man repeated, pulling away to look Roman up and down. Holding Roman’s shoulders, he then peered around him to study Dinara. When his gaze finally landed on Maebhe’s cloaked form, curiosity ignited behind his eyes. He pushed Roman aside, toward the open door. “Come in, come in.”

Maebhe understood what Roman meant about sensitive noses immediately upon crossing the threshold. Beneath the smell of cigars and old furniture was something wet and rotten. It was overwhelmingly foul. Though Dinara seemed not to notice, Roman gave Maebhe a knowing look. Maebhe flushed and stepped inside so the smuggler could shut the door behind her. It was lucky that she still wore the hood. Her ears, the most expressive part of her, were pressed flat to her head, drawn back in distaste.

Her voice, she could at least keep even. “This is...nice,” she said. She didn’t want to offend the man whose help she desperately needed.

It was true, though, if you could get past the smell. This smuggler had eclectic taste, his front rooms filled with all sorts of strange collections—mounted rifles, pinned butterflies, framed photos and other ephemera. The decor was patterned and bright, giving the place a homey feel. Maebhe lowered her hood as she looked around, and the smuggler regarded her with even more interest now that it was off. “An orinian,” he said. “I might have known. Here, I’d hoped this was a social call, Aim.”

“Sorry,” Roman said, not sounding particularly apologetic.

“And you’re a maranet, aren’t you?” Maebhe asked. She’d never met one in person; they were rare, even here in Gallonten. In addition to being a mostly northern people, their long lives meant they didn’t have the same drive to reproduce as the other human peoples. It kept their population low.

When the smuggler grinned, he revealed a double set of sharp-tipped canines. “The name’s Ivey.”

“Ivey...?” Dinara asked.

“Just Ivey.”

“This is Maebhe Cairn and Dinara Condeh,” Roman said.

“Let me guess: Ms. Maebhe needs a swift exit out of Gallonten.”

“Nothing gets past you,” Roman said with a smile. He wandered into the dimly lit sitting room, and they all followed him without question, as if it was his house. Even Ivey. Though the street-facing curtains were shut, several lamps throughout the room gave them enough to see by. “Before that, we need to use your tunnels.”

“Tunnels?” Dinara asked.

Ivey frowned. “What for? If the route is unfamiliar to me, I’ll require time to map it for you.” He spoke formally, Maebhe noticed, like a character from an old book.

“You won’t. It’s the same route we used last time.”

“Last time? Surely, you can’t mean...” Ivey trailed off, then crossed his arms. “Wait just a moment, now. I’ve heard such stories about you that you wouldn’t believe, and it had been my belief that I’d never see you again. Now here you are, healthy and hale and not even a day older, besides, claiming you want to go back to that place? I’m owed some explanations, I think.”

“You’re not the only one,” Dinara said, crossing her arms as well. “What do you mean, ‘last time?’ How do you and Ivey know each other? Does this have to do with the Oracle?”

Maebhe took a definitive step back from the conversation, instead wandering over to Ivey’s pinned butterflies to separate herself from it as obviously as possible. He had an impressive collection. She recognized at least one specimen, gold and spotted, from the mountain forests behind Orean. She wished she was there, not here. None of this was fair.

“I’ll explain everything to both of you,” she heard Roman say, “But only when this is all over.”

Ivey folded first, rocking back on his heels and heaving a sigh. “Very well. I’ll grant you access to my tunnels, but only on the condition you dine with me afterward. You promised last time, too, right before you fled Gallonten with Unity’s Enforcers at your heels. I know you better now, you rascal, and won’t let you slip away again. I’m an old man; I demand my time to reminisce.”

“You had to flee Gallonten? What is he talking about?”

“Dinner is yours, as long as you pay,” Roman told Ivey. He perched on the arm of Ivey’s sofa and told Dinara, “Ivey helped me out of a toxic workplace. That’s all. About the tunnels, there’s a web of them running under the city—sewage tunnels, underdrains, even some old smuggling routes that predate Unity’s founding. They’re impossible to navigate if you don’t know what you’re doing, but Ivey was one of the original contractors on the project almost three hundred years ago, when they were first expanding Gallonten’s infrastructure.”

“Over three hundred years now, Aim,” Ivey interrupted. “Quite a bit over.”

“Really? I didn’t realize,” Roman said, eyes wide. He shook his head. “The point is, Ivey knows a path to Unity’s prison.”

“Aim, to get to the prison from my tunnels, you’ll have to—”

“I know. It won’t be a problem,” Roman said sharply. When Maebhe met Roman’s eye, though, he winked and gave a cheerful smile. It was about as real, Maebhe suspected, as the “orinian” glassware Ivey had displayed on his shelf: convincing until you spotted the inconsistencies in the pattern.

Ivey rocked back on his heels again. “I know you love your swords, but you should bring a gun, too. They’ll all have them. I have one I can lend you.”

Roman wrinkled his nose, but nodded. Beside Maebhe, Dinara looked ill. When Ivey left the room, Maebhe pressed down on Dinara’s shoulder until the girl took the hint and dropped onto the sofa behind her, her skirts fanning out over the patterned fabric. As she laid back and closed her eyes, Maebhe decided to turn the conversation away from firepower. “Why does he call you Aim?” she asked.

“It’s just an old nickname.”

“How many names do you have?”

At that, Roman’s lips quirked. “A few.”

“A few?” Dinara asked, opening her eyes again. “Why do I only know the one?”

“It just...never came up?” Roman said.

Pivoting again, Maebhe asked, “How long will this take? Will we be able to get Kieran and Íde back today?”

“We?” Roman asked. “You’re not going.”

“What! You can’t mean to go alone?” Maebhe asked.

Dinara stood again in a flurry of fabric. “Roman, you can’t!”

“I’m not taking either of you with me. If we run into trouble, what will you do?”

“I can fire a gun,” Maebhe said, jutting her chin out. “My brother taught me.”

To her surprise, Roman didn’t immediately turn her down. Instead, he looked her up and down, considering. “Are you a good shot?” he asked.

“Decent. And I’m a good runner, too. If there’s trouble, believe me when I say I’ll just leave it to you.”

At that, Roman’s smile actually reached his cold eyes, making them seem somehow warmer. It was possibly the first real smile Maebhe had seen from him. “Fine, but only because I’ll need help identifying your brother when I find him.”

Maebhe nodded, glad she hadn’t mentioned that said brother was an identical twin.

“And what about me?” Dinara asked. “You can’t stop me from coming. If you leave me here all alone, I’ll worry myself sick. Roman, please.”

Roman sighed. “If I let you join, you stay down in the tunnels. No going up to the island with us. Agreed?”

Dinara nodded.

When Ivey returned, it was with a whole armful of supplies: a revolver, a canvas pouch with spare bullets, a pocket lantern, a rope, a crowbar. He passed Roman the gun and kept the rest for himself, tucking everything but the lantern into a satchel at his side. While Roman passed the revolver to Maebhe, Ivey delivered instructions: “While we’re down there, it is imperative that you memorize the route to the best of your abilities. If we get separated, or if anything happens to me, you’ll need to be able to return on your own. While we’re down there, do not speak needlessly. Sound carries in the tunnels, and despite Roman’s glowing praise, I am not the only one who knows these routes.”

“If we do meet anyone, run. Leave them to me,” Roman added.

“With pleasure,” Ivey said. “I hope you don’t mind, but I plan on staying in the tunnels this time. I’m not as young as I once was.”

“I was going to ask you to stay back, anyway. Dinara will be waiting with you,” Roman said. He clapped his hands together, then looked over their mismatched group. “Shall we?”

The entrance to Ivey’s tunnels, it turned out, was disguised as an old cistern in his basement. Maebhe expected water when Ivey first lifted the hatch, but the inside was hollow, a hole at the bottom leading deeper into darkness. More of that smell oozed out. It was impossible not to smell it, now, and even Dinara wrinkled her nose. Maebhe guessed, “That leads to the sewage tunnels?”

“Am I going to need a bath after this?” Dinara asked.

“It’s not too late to stay back,” Roman offered. In answer, Dinara scoffed and dug around in her pockets until she found a strip of cloth, then used it to tie her hair back. After a moment’s thought, she pulled out a second and passed it to Maebhe.

“Thanks!” Maebhe said cheerfully, piling her long hair into a messy bun atop her head.

“It’s not so bad, once you’ve grown accustomed. We’ll move out of the sewage tunnels quickly,” Ivey said while Roman swung his legs over the side of the cistern and dropped in.

The thin bar of the lantern’s light fell on the entrance at the bottom, just large enough for a single person to fit through, and Maebhe glimpsed the first prongs of a ladder leading down. Roman took the lantern from Ivey, looping the handle around his wrist before starting his descent.

Due to the cistern’s size, Maebhe had to wait for Roman to climb down before she and Ivey could follow. Dinara, small enough to squeeze in next to them, brought up the rear. She, Maebhe, and Ivey leaned over the hole to watch Roman climb and saw the faint glimmer of light hitting water at the bottom.

“Shit, that smells,” Maebhe complained, plugging her nose.

“Your word choice might be more fitting than you intended,” Ivey said. With a good-natured pat on Maebhe’s shoulder, he started his own climb down. The joke startled a laugh out of Maebhe. It struck her, finally, that these tunnels would lead to Kieran and Íde. For that, she’d wade through as much shit as she had to.

“If I can handle Kieran after he takes his boots off, I can handle this,” she said, mostly for Dinara’s benefit. The girl had been looking uncertain, but Maebhe’s comment at least made her crack a smile. Before Dinara could lose courage, Maebhe asked, “After you?”

One at a time, they descended the ladder. It was almost exactly as Maebhe expected—narrow, dark, smelly—but the one pleasant surprise was that she didn’t have to walk through shit, after all. A dry sidewalk ran parallel to dark water Maebhe tried not to look at closely. Trickles of natural light reached them, too, so that they didn’t have to rely entirely on the lantern.

“I’m going to be sick,” Dinara mumbled.

“If you need to throw up, rest assured it won’t be the worst thing to have gone into this water,” Roman said cheerfully, earning a chuckle from Ivey.

“Not helpful, Roman.”

Maebhe laughed, too, but when the sound echoed, her ears pressed flat to her head. She remembered what Ivey said about silence. They all seemed to, after that, and it settled heavily between them. Together, they pressed onward, following Roman’s lead just as they had on the walk to Ivey’s.

To Maebhe, it felt like hours had passed before the tunnels changed, one flowing into another: the ceilings stretched higher, the water deepened, flowed faster as more trickles from branching tunnels converged. Then Ivey redirected them, turned them down a narrow path—so narrow that Maebhe had to turn sideways, inching through while holding her cloak so Dinara wouldn’t step on it from behind. In that tunnel, the path tilted downhill, the texture of the walls changed. Smooth, vaguely slimy brick changed to rough stone that caught on Maebhe’s clothing. It reminded her of cave exploration; if she closed her eyes and ignored the smell, she could imagine she was exploring the cave systems outside Orean, Kieran right behind her.

Then they came out the other side and found themselves in a new tunnel system entirely. The tiled walls struck Maebhe as old, depicting some sprawling pattern she could only see a fraction of at a time. It was the darkest it had been since they started their journey, no more diffused sunslight to keep them on their path, so Maebhe grabbed Dinara’s hand and the back of Ivey’s jacket. She’d almost grabbed Roman, instead, but something stopped her at the last moment. For some reason, even facing the darkness felt easier than touching him.

“We’re under the bridge, in the old smuggling tunnels,” Roman whispered. “If we’re going to run into anyone else, it’s going to be here. Remember what I said back at the house: leave them to me.”

“How did they build this?” Maebhe whispered back. “Aren’t we underwater?”

“Dragons. Negotiating those contracts was a chore, let me tell you,” Ivey answered.

Dragons. Maebhe gave a wistful sigh. “I didn’t get to talk to a single dragon on this trip. I was ready for it, too; I took draconic in school. I can understand ‘how are you’ and ‘the washrooms are that way’ and even ‘please get off my tail.’”

Ahead of them, Roman snorted, but Dinara gave Maebhe’s hand a light squeeze. “This must be so hard. I’m sure all of this will blow over quickly. War will never really happen. I’m sure of it.”

Maebhe wasn’t. Still, she smiled at Dinara, even if Dinara couldn’t see it. When Roman and Ivey kept quiet, Maebhe chose to believe it didn’t mean anything. It wasn’t that they disagreed, they were just focused. That was all.

Before long, the tunnel climbed gradually upward. Water re-entered the tunnel at some point, too now flowing past their ankles. This water was clean, too—Maebhe guessed they were in the storm drains under the island, now. The hints of sunslight that streamed down through grates above confirmed it.

“Are you sure you can do this, Aim?” Ivey asked, just enough light hitting his face to reveal the concerned set of his jaw.

“I’ve done it before.”

“That’s not what I asked. Last time—”

“Don’t remind me,” Roman interrupted. His voice was harsh, cutting above the rushing water like a blade. He laughed, then, as if to soften it. “Don’t worry, Ivey. This time will be different.”

Ivey nodded. “Then all that’s left is to find you a way up.”

Roman's secrets deepen even further! What do you think about this upcoming mission of theirs? Think it'll go smoothly?

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