Fractured Magic: Chapter Nineteen

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.

A flat, alien face emerged from between the branches and leaves as the leg’s owner bent to examine Drys. Yelping, Drys stumbled back into Maebhe, stepping on her foot in the process. Alarmed by the noise, the creature straightened, disappearing back into the foliage. After a long, tense moment where neither party moved, the creature pulled one of the branches aside and looked down at them again. They all stared at each other, Maebhe with an armful of faerie wings, the creature with its free hand on its chest in an affronted gesture, and Íde and Kieran watching from the back with open mouths.

“What—,” Maebhe squeaked. But no, that would be rude. “Um. Who are you?”

Before the creature could respond, Drys’ feathers puffed indignantly. “Leileas, you startled me!”

The creature’s face scrunched up as she bared her teeth at Drys. It took Maebhe a moment to realize she was smiling. “I hardly recognized you, Drys. You have been gone so long,” she said. Her voice was softer than Maebhe expected.

Drys huffed. “Don’t be sarcastic, Leileas. I haven’t been gone four months; that’s nothing to your kind.”

Leileas was covered in shaggy brown fur dappled with white spots. Her legs were like a goat’s, the same shape as some of the other nympherai Maebhe had seen in Gallonten. Her face was like a deer’s without the snout, with a wide forehead that blended into a flat nose. There was something almost cute in the twitch of it and flutter of her eyelashes, which had to be longer than Maebhe’s entire hand.

Even as Leileas met Maebhe’s gaze, two of the creature’s ears swiveled away from the group, picking up something in the forest that the orinians couldn’t hear. They were similar in shape to an orinian’s, long and round like a cow’s, but she had three on each side, each weighed down by a collection of small earrings. A pair of twisting horns sat atop her head.

Leileas must be frìth. Maebhe had seen drawings in dusty old sketchbooks, but those never accounted for scale.

“You two...know each other?” Íde asked.

“Leileas is a friend from Home,” Drys said.

“Are you bringing them there?” Leileas asked. “Why?”

“Just a stop on the way to Orean. They need to get through the forest quickly, so I’m guiding them,” Drys said. At Leileas’ inquisitive head tilt, they explained, “I’m repaying a debt.”

Leileas nodded and eyed the orinians. Maebhe fidgeted under her stare, her large black eyes reminded her of Roman’s—seeing her, seeing through her, making her feel for a moment like she mattered in the grand plot of the world. “You trust them?” Leileas asked.

“Enough for them to see the way to Home? Of course,” Drys said. “They’re orinians, Leileas. Unity hates them almost as much as they do us. They won’t harm Home.”

Leileas’ ears all perked up at once. “Orinians!” She squatted to examine them all closer, branches snapping as she went down. Even crouching, she was big as a shed. “I’ve never met an orinian. Forgive me. I thought you were of Unity.”

“If you ever wonder in the future, orinians are the only ones with tails,” Maebhe added, grabbing Kieran’s and holding it out for inspection. He slapped her hand away.

“They’ve never met any frìth, either,” Drys supplied.

“You will meet many in Home,” Leileas said, standing again. Pointing at the path behind her with her chin, she turned and pressed into the wood, making a trail through the brush. Drys didn’t hesitate to follow, but the others did, all staring after Leileas with awe. Over her shoulder, she called, “Come. Orean is a long journey—a week, with no complications.”

“Complications?” Kieran asked, finally hurrying to follow and dragging Íde along with. Not eager to be left behind, Maebhe jogged after them.

“The forest is dangerous, especially for little ones. Even more so than usual, of late,” Leileas said, her voice like wind through the ancient trees. When she ducked out of the way of a branch, a bird flew out of it to perch on her shoulder, remaining there as Leileas kept walking. Her ears twitched when the bird chirped, but she didn’t otherwise react. “While Drys can get you through safely, safety requires caution. That caution may slow you down.”

“I suppose it’s still faster than going around would have been,” Kieran sighed. “There would’ve been no taking the train, anyway.”

Though she tipped her head curiously at the word train, Leileas didn’t ask. “What are your names?”

“Maebhe,” Maebhe said, pointing to herself. “And this is Kieran and Íde. It’s nice to meet you.”

“What do your tattoos mean?”

Subconsciously, Maebhe touched her birthmarks. Leileas had tattoos of her own; while her neck, chest, and inner thighs were covered in fur, other parts were covered in hard, bark-like armor—shins, arms, shoulders, back. Blue drawings were etched across the armor, depicting strange creatures—big cats with three heads, elk with twisted faces, and more. Swirling, intertwining borders ran between them.

“They’re not tattoos,” Kieran answered. “We’re born with these.”

Leileas’ tufty brows drew into something like a frown. “I was under the assumption that humans tattooed themselves, too. Don’t they?”

“Some. Some orinians do, too, to accentuate their birthmarks. Or to cover them,” Íde said. She held her arm out in front of her, looking at the scratch-like markings on her hand and exposed wrist. While the others were turned away, Kieran took her hand and kissed it.

“Do yours mean something?” Maebhe asked.

Mirroring Íde’s position, Leileas looked over her own arm disinterestedly. “Some, not all. This one was my first hunt. I wanted to remember it, even a thousand years from now,” she said, pointing to the three-headed cat on her shoulder.

The journey passed in pleasant conversation, Leileas quietly inquisitive about the orinians and Orean. She knew more than Maebhe would have expected about the outside world; when she asked, Leileas said it was because of the fae. While frìth never left the wood, the fae could get away with doing so. Now and then, they checked on the state of things outside and reported them back to Home. After the old human traditions, they jokingly called it “setting out to seek their fortunes.”

It was what Drys had been doing when they’d been caught by Unity. From Leileas’ teasing about it, Maebhe learned it was only Drys’ second excursion, and that made Drys quite young for one of the fae. From Drys’ teasing reply, she got the sense that Leileas, too, was considered young.

After a full day of walking, they reached the hidden city of Home. Maebhe ached from the exertion, but when she saw Home, she forgot her pain. If magic really existed in Lyryma, it existed here. She’d expected a towering city like Orean or Gallonten, but instead, Home was built deep into a canyon. The trees cut off abruptly at the canyon’s edge, where the grassy forest floor changed into a steep, muddy slope. Dreamy layers of mist hung over the city, but from where she stood, Maebhe could still make out the size of how massive it was. Bigger than Gallonten, bigger than Orean. Bigger than both combined, probably.

Below them, Home fit snugly in its nook, as colorful and lively as the forest rooted around it. The brick buildings were covered in the moss and flowering vines of hundreds of years of growth.

“How many frìth live here?” Íde asked, voice stained with awe. A river ran through Home, bisecting the old buildings. The grander of these ran along the river’s bank, and at the center of the city, Maebhe could make out a swath of green.

“Less than you would think. Less than there are orinians in Orean.”

“But it’s so big,” Maebhe said.

“It’s busier during the dangerous seasons, but most of these buildings have sat empty since the Great War. Our population still hasn’t recovered,” Leileas explained.

Íde bit her lip. “I’m sorry.”

Leileas shrugged. “I wasn’t alive to see it.”

The way she said that made Maebhe wonder... “But others were? Are there really frìth that were alive during the Great War?”

“Oh, yes. There are five or six of them still, though only Muir and Senga are in Home today.”

“But that was almost two thousand years ago!” Kieran said. Of the human peoples, not even maranet could reach a thousand. While Maebhe marveled over this revelation, she followed Leileas along the canyon edge to a stone staircase leading down into the city. As far as she could tell, it was the only accessible entrance from this side. It was also, she noticed with dread, frìth-sized. Each step would be a jump for them.

Kieran groaned at the sight.

It was then Maebhe noticed the melodies drifting up to them from the streets below, impossibly complex. Maebhe felt them calling her.

“Try not to listen,” Leileas told the orinians. “Drys, will you fly ahead and tell Muir and Senga to expect visitors?”

“Of course. I’ll see you all at the bottom,” Drys said with a lazy salute and an unsympathetic smile. With that, they spread their wings and took off, leaving the others to start their slow descent. Leileas waited patiently for the orinians after each step, apparently in no rush to reach the bottom.

“Drys likes you,” she said conversationally. “That’s a lucky thing. If a faerie dislikes you, they’ll make you miserable. And if they don’t care, that’s even worse. Who is their debt to?”

“A friend of ours. He broke us out of—” Kieran bit his tongue when he remembered Drys’ advice. “Well, he got us out of some trouble.”

Leileas only nodded.

At the bottom of the stairs stood a statue even taller than their frìth friend. It depicted a woman in an elegant, draping gown, a thousand small flames etched into her skin and a pair of dragonfly wings flaring out on either side of her. Her stone gaze seemed to settle directly on Maebhe. While Kieran and Íde caught their breath, Maebhe approached her, eyeing the flames on her skin, the marble vines crawling up her dress. “Ellaes?” she guessed.

“Yes,” Leileas said approvingly. “As Atuos is the patron Guardian of your people, Ellaes is ours. She created this forest for us during the Great War to keep us safe from the outside world.”

As they continued on, Maebhe glanced back at the goddess, watching her fade back into the mist.

Leileas led them into the heart of the city, through winding streets, past houses more plant than brick, and to the river they’d seen from above. Somehow, the industrialization of the outside world had not touched Home. There was no electricity here, no factories, no lanterns or carriages. Above the trees surrounding the canyon, the air was clean, without a hint of smog.

“This Muir and Senga we’re meeting,” Kieran started as they walked, “They’re the ones you mentioned earlier?”

Leileas nodded. “The current leaders of Home,” she said. Noticing their nervous looks, she said, “You have nothing to fear from them. If you feign interest in their stories, they will love you.”

Maebhe laughed. “Our Nana’s the same way.”

“I’m sure there’ll be no need to feign anything,” Íde said warmly.

They turned another corner to find a small crowd gathered in an open, grassy field—the green Maebhe had seen from above. Drys stood between two frìth even larger than Leileas, one with Leileas’ red fur and the other with the same twist to their horns. Leileas inclined her head respectfully as they reached the group. The orinians, unsure of how to act, dropped into awkward bows, half-hidden behind Leileas.

“Welcome, little ones,” the red-furred frìth said, crouching to examine them. “Drys was just informing us of thy arrival.”

“Hello,” Íde said, when the twins were too stunned to speak. “We’re sorry to intrude so suddenly.”

These two frìth, older than Unity, older than the forest, older than even the Great War, bared their teeth in those strange frìth smiles. “Thy people are always welcome in Home,” the other said. “But Drys warned us of thy hurry. I pray there is no trouble?”

Seeing Drys’ expression tighten, Maebhe said, “No trouble. We’re just feeling homesick.”

Given the frìth’s curious head tilt, Maebhe guessed it wasn’t a problem they frequently experienced. “Well,” said the red-furred frìth in her thick, curling accent, “We shall help thee forget thy homesickness, at least for tonight.”

That night, Home threw a party for the orinians complete with music, drinking, and dancing. It was more of what Maebhe had expected from Home, given the stories she’d heard: melodies that soothed and stoked, wine that danced on the tongue. None of the orinians were ever able to figure out where the music was coming from, even after Kieran and Maebhe made a game of it. It came from everywhere at once, from above and below, in front and behind. It was unlike anything they’d heard before.

There were dozens of frìth and even more fae present, spread across the grassy field at the center of Home. Watching the frìth dance was a delight in itself; they twirled and stepped to the music like their strange legs had been made for it, weaving between each other in patterns too complex for the orinians to follow.

“We’re being rude,” Íde announced, standing. They’d been sitting off to the side for most of the evening, watching but not participating, talking only to those who talked to them first, even if that number was quite high. Maebhe was on her third glass of wine. “They threw this party for us; we must try to enjoy it. Kieran, dance with me.” She held her slender hand out, pulling Kieran to his feet when he took it. He dipped into a gallant bow, wobbling a little from the wine, and let Íde drag him away.

“I’m coming for you, next!” Íde called back to Maebhe.

“No, she’s probably not!” Kieran added, pulling Íde to his side and making her laugh.

“I’ll just sit here alone, then,” Maebhe grumbled. “Who would want to dance with them, anyway?”

She was only alone for a minute. Leileas squatted beside her, balled up so she and Maebhe were almost on the same level. “You seem upset, little one. Do you not like parties?”

“I don’t feel like celebrating right now. Thank you for arranging this, though.”

Leileas nodded, accepting the explanation without question. “The fae did most of it. Our good neighbors seize every opportunity to celebrate, and now they have outsiders to perform for. I’d offer to dance with you, but I’m afraid I’d crush you. I take after Muir when it comes to dancing.”

Maebhe looked over to where the old frìth was twirling and hopping about and giggled. “As funny as that would be, I like living.”

Leileas laughed as well, her furry nose wrinkling.

“Wait. What do you mean, take after?”

“Muir and Senga are my parents,” Leileas said. She dropped onto the ground fully, spreading her long, hoofed legs out in front of her. “They are pleased to meet you, little one. They’ve always liked orinians.”

“Really? I feel like we’re intruding. You’ve all been very welcoming, but Home feels so private.”

“You could not intrude here. You’re orinians. You’re like us, so you’re welcome. We outsiders must stick together, just as Unity’s people stick together. One day, we may need to come to each other’s aid.”

“Do you really believe that?”

Leileas frowned, tufty eyebrows jutting out. “Of course.”

Maebhe inched closer to the frìth. Alcohol making her mind tip and twirl like Muir’s dancing, she said, “There’s a reason I don’t feel like dancing. And why we’re in such a hurry to get home. My people are in trouble.”

Leileas nodded slowly. “Drys warned you not to tell? My people…they are not very receptive to news of the world outside, but if it needs to be said, little one, then say it.”

Maebhe did. She told Leileas everything. She told her about the alfar king, Kieran and Íde’s arrest, the war-mongering newspapers, and their escape from Unity. Leileas remained expressionless throughout.

“I must tell Senga,” Leileas said when she’d finished, moving to get up.

Maebhe stopped her with a hand on her arm, surprised at the softness of her fur. “Don’t. Let them have this party. Let them have tonight.”

After studying Maebhe for a moment, Leileas nodded. “Morning, then. But rest assured, Maebhe Cairn: we frìth will help you.” They fell into silence after that, Maebhe watching Kieran and Íde dance. They looked so happy. Maebhe wrapped her arms around herself.

Drys chose that moment to join them, sitting on Maebhe’s other side and holding something out to her. Maebhe took it and examined it. It was a chain of pink flowers, tied to form a circle. “What—”

“It’s a crown. You wear it on your head, like so.” Drys took it back and placed it atop Maebhe’s head.

Maebhe couldn’t help but laugh, adjusting the flower crown. “This is for me? But what about you?”

“I made one for myself, too, of course,” Drys said, pulling out a second crown and placing it on their own head. The golden flowers matched the feathers in their wings. “I would’ve made one for you, Leileas, dear, but I don’t think there are enough flowers in all of Home.”

Maebhe laughed. Drys stood and held out a hand. “Dance with me, May-vuh.”

It may have been the wine, but Maebhe found herself agreeing.

Thank you for reading, as always! We'll get back to the boys (Roman and Leandros and Gareth, too) next week!

If you've been around since Fractured Magic 1.0, you might have noticed that the names of characters are a bit different in this chapter. I'm trying to pay more attention to the frìth on this rewrite; they were sort of all over the place, before.

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