Fractured Magic: Egil Interlude III

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.

224 Years Ago
Year of Unity 1656

During Egil’s first visit to Damael, he limped into the city with the setting suns, having to fight against a sea of farmers and tradesmen leaving after a long day at market. He hadn’t expected the crowds, but perhaps he should have. Damael was currently the safest city in the Ejeran province, the rest of it still reeling from the dissolution of an empire that had ruled since the Great War. While the empire’s scraps made desperate bids for control, quelling rebellions and establishing outposts, opportunity-seekers took advantage of the chaos to steal and fight and kill.

Even Unity’s grip on the province had crumbled. For the first time in over 1700 years, lawlessness reigned.

It was because of that lawlessness that Egil had come. He was drawn to pitiful places and powerless people, and he’d thought to help where he could. Instead, he’d arrived at the same time as Unity’s reinforcements and barely escaped with his life. That was why his first steps into Damael were slow and staggering, why a bruise bloomed along his jaw and a scarf was wrapped tightly around his thigh, slowing the flow of blood from a wound he hadn’t had time to stitch up.

He needed to find a place to hide and nurse his wounds, but he found Damael’s streets far too quiet. He disliked quiet. His thoughts were too loud, and he needed them drowned out. More than that, though, he always stood out in quiet places, and he couldn’t afford to do so now, not with Unity’s Enforcers on his trail.

He wandered the city until he found the loudest pocket of it, a district where strangers passed by in large, merry groups, where music and sweet perfume drifted out of questionable establishments, and where patrons of taverns and opium dens and dance halls leaned out from balconies, calling drunkenly into the night. It was loud and colorful and, most of all, fearless. And why should the people of Damael have any fear? Their oracle told them all would be well. Egil wasn’t so optimistic. He rented a room at a middling inn, busy but not flashy, and immediately retreated upstairs. Only hours later, when his wounds were tended, hunger clawed at him, and he could no longer stand the company of his own thoughts did he venture back down.

The common room was nearly full, strangers sitting in groups around mismatched tables. Warm firelight flickered over their faces and all the golden oak built into the walls, bathing the place in an orange glow. Egil’s attention was drawn to a group at the bar, the man at the center sharing local gossip in a loud voice. A woman in red hung off his arm. When Egil paused to listen, she met his gaze and a shiver ran down his spine, surprising him. He ducked his head and hurried over to an empty table in the corner.

That people could be so at ease in a time like this was because of the city’s strange figurehead, the Oracle of Damael. This oracle was not a fortune teller, reading fates in cards and bones, not a rosanin with an unusual gift, but a true oracle ordained by the church and consulted by empire, rebellion, and Unity alike. While the empire had ruled the province since the Great War, the oracle had ruled her city for even longer. Intrigued as Egil was, he had no time to investigate. By morning, the Enforcers would be here and he would be gone.

He jolted to attention when someone fell into the seat across from him, the knife at his thigh halfway out of its sheath before he recognized the red crepe fabric of the woman from the bar. She was nympherai—fae, Egil guessed, though she lacked the telltale wings. A thick white braid draped over her shoulder and a glittering pattern twisted over her bronze skin like dancing flames.

“You’re new here,” she slurred, batting all-white eyelashes.

“Is it that obvious?”

The woman gave a breathless laugh and tucked her long bangs behind a pointed ear. “No, but I’d remember a face like yours.”

“It’ll be better for you if you don’t.”

“Remember you? Lucky you, then. After all that wine, I won’t remember anything by tomorrow.” She leaned in, her heavy ears swaying with the movement. Egil expected the smell of booze to follow, but it never did. “Will you give me your name? We can make it a trade: mine’s Dev.”

It was a very fae introduction. Having just come from Lyryma, Egil felt right at home. “Egil.”

Dev gasped, her dark eyes widening. “The Hound of Unity himself, here in Damael.”

Egil stiffened. “How do you know that name?”

“Everyone knows that name. They just don’t know Egil belongs to it,” Dev said.

“But you do,” Egil said. Beneath the table, he eased his knife out of its sheath.

“I’ve heard rumors about you, Hound. For example, I’ve heard that you also have magic. Is it true? Can you show me?”

“Only if you tell me why you came here looking for me.”

“What makes you think I—” Swiftly, Egil drew his knife and drove it into the table—right into the space between Dev’s first finger and thumb. She squawked and yanked her hand to her chest, cradling it there. “What is wrong with you?! You could’ve stabbed me!”

“The Hound of Unity doesn’t miss,” Egil hissed, pulling his knife out of the wood. “Call me that again and the next one goes into your hand.”

Dev bared her teeth into a snarl. “You—“

“Wow. That was the first real reaction I’ve seen from you all evening,” Egil said cheerfully, pointing his knife at her. “No more pretending. now. You knew who I was the moment our eyes met. Somehow, you even knew to find me here. If you’re ready to talk like adults, tell me how.”

Dev sighed and straightened in her seat, her languid slouch replaced in an instant by cold authority. She draped an arm over the back of the booth and asked, “What gave me away?”

“I can always tell good acting from bad. Yours may be good, but it’s still acting.”

Dev smiled. It was sharp, predatory, and nothing like the saccharine one from before. “Is it so hard to believe I came over because I find you attractive?”

“I’m covered in dirt and blood, I haven’t slept under a roof in a week, and I’m long overdue for a bath. Yes, it’s hard to believe. Especially when I’m being hunted.”

“By the Enforcers, I presume?” Dev asked. She said the name so casually, fearlessly. Enforcer was a name sensible people whispered. “Aren’t you worried I’m with them?”

“No,” Egil said.

“Oh?” Dev asked, raising an elegant eyebrow. “Should I feel insulted?”

“I can always recognize an Enforcer by their eyes,” Egil said, ducking his head slightly to meet Dev’s. They were dark and warm. “The things they do for Unity makes them hollow. Their eyes are always cold, empty.”

“Like yours?” Dev asked. “The Hound was the best of them once, wasn’t he?”

“I was the first, and maybe once, I was the best.” Egil tipped his head to one side, letting the candlelight fall on the blossoming bruise on his jaw. “But the student has since surpassed the master.”

“Oh.” Dev leaned in to examine it. For a moment, Egil thought he saw anger flash across her features, between the candles’ flickering. “A gift from someone you knew?”

“My former apprentice,” Egil said. “Are you really here to chat about Unity, Dev? Do you prefer Dev, or should I call you Oracle?”

Devikra laughed. “From you, still Dev,” she said. “I was wondering how long it would take you.”

“In my defense, I’ve lost quite a lot of blood today,” Egil said, matching her smile. “To what do I owe the honor? Unless Devikra, the famed Oracle of Damael, finds herself inns in Damael’s pleasure district often.”

“Only when she has visions of promising young men dying in them. The Enforcers are coming for you, and sooner than you think,” she said plainly, making Egil’s stomach twist. He kept his smile carefully in place.

“I’ve escaped them before.”

“Not this time. Not tonight. You should know the oracle’s visions are never wrong,” Devikra said. Egil wasn’t sure if he believed her, but he wouldn’t risk it, either. He scanned the room, already planning a quick escape, but Devikra halted his thoughts with her offer: “Come back with me. They won’t find you at my temple. I’m feeling generous, so I’ll even lend you use of my guest room and bathtub.”

Egil narrowed his eyes. “The Oracle works with Unity. How do I know you won’t turn me over to them?”

“I consult with Unity because it would be bad business not to. It would be just as silly to turn you over to them when I could employ you instead, so come back with me and listen to my offer. That’s all I want in exchange for my hospitality,” Devikra said. She reached out, placing her hand over Egil’s, and Egil couldn’t bring himself to pull away. “Besides, I have a vested interest in keeping you alive. Don’t ask me more, because I can’t tell you.”

Across the room, a glass shattered on the ground. Egil jumped at the sound, and Devikra said, “Decide quick, Hound: this is the start of the vision. Will you come with me or not?”

Egil met her warm gaze. To his surprise, he found he wanted to trust her, if only to have someone to trust. He’d been alone for so long. Warmth flowed from her hand on his, and he couldn’t remember when he’d last been touched so gently.

He nodded.

Devikra had already planned an escape: out the back, a messenger dragon waited to bear them to safety. He bowed when he saw them, cheating one shoulder down so Devikra and Egil could climb onto his back. Egil winced as the movement jarred his leg, but he didn’t have much time to think about it before the dragon was off, cutting higher and higher into the sky and treating Egil to an aerial view of Damael.

It was bigger than he’d realized, with a massive temple situated right at its heart, and he leaned over as far as he dared to watch the city pass by below. Devikra glanced back at him only once, smiling at the awe on his face.

“My city,” she called over the warm night air whistling past their ears. “I hope you like it.”

Eventually, the dragon made a circling descent right into the Temple of Ellaes Egil had seen before. It was a brightly colored building inlaid with gold and surrounded by high walls. As he climbed to solid ground, he craned his neck to admire the statue of the goddess that stood in this courtyard, with her enigmatic smile and dragonfly’s wings spread in invitation.

Ellaes, the patron goddess of the nympherai. He hadn’t realized the oracle made her home in one of her temples.

“All of the oracle’s work is to honor Her,” Devikra explained, as if guessing his thoughts.

Devikra led him around the building, then down a hidden staircase. The door at the bottom swung open before she’d even reached it, hold by an alfar woman with long ears and close-cropped hair. She glanced over Egil curiously before dropping into a curtsy.

“My handmaiden, Wilhara,” Devikra told Egil, skipping the last few steps to where Wilhara waited. “Did anyone notice I was gone?”

Wilhara answered with another curtsy, then stepped aside to let them in. “All was quiet.”

“Thank you for watching the place, dearest. I know you don’t like being left alone,” Devikra said to the girl, dropping her voice low. Egil looked away, not sure he was supposed to hear.

The room beyond was wide and comfortable, lit by a smattering of candles and a lively fire in the stone fireplace. Near it, so many pillows were piled up that Egil could barely see the sofas beneath them. A corridor at the back led deeper inside, the faint smell of incense wafting through. “I’m sure someone noticed our arrival,” Devikra said, heading for that corridor. “Wait here; they don’t like me leaving unannounced, so I have to go smooth some ruffled feathers.”

Once she was gone, Wilhara dismissed Egil entirely and sat near the fire, on a cushion on the floor. She pulled a large book into her lap and didn’t so much as glance up at Egil again. He paced the room a few times, looking around, then finally wandered to the sofa across from Wilhara, foregoing it at the last moment to join her on the ground. When he winced at the movement, Wilhara looked up, watching his mouth and not his eyes. “You’re hurt,” she said, more fact than question. “The Enforcers found you on the road today.”

The Enforcers again, mentioned so casually. “Does everyone here know about them?”

Wilhara dropped her gaze. “The oracle has seen them many times.”

“She tells you what she sees?” Egil guessed, subconsciously lowering his voice to match Wil’s soft tone. She relaxed, at that, looking back up at him.

“Dev tells me everything.”

“I see,” Egil said. Wilhara tugged nervously at the fabrics of her skirt, jostling the book on her lap enough that he could see the pages of a sketchbook covered in charcoal. “What are you drawing?”

“I don’t know yet.”

“Do you mind if I watch?”

Wilhara bit her lip, considering, then shook her head. When she drew again, her eyes were distant, her hand seeming to move across the page without conscious thought. Egil felt content to watch in silence, enjoying the rare peace of the moment.

“She must like you. She never works with other people present,” Devikra said. Her appearance didn’t startle Egil—he’d heard her coming down the hall—but he tensed at the sound of a voice coming from so close behind him. He fought the old urge to turn, so his back wouldn’t be to her.

“Works?” he asked.

Devikra didn’t explain further, coming around the sofa and sprawling out on the one behind Wilhara. Her head tipped back, her eyes closed, she asked, “How much do you know about my operation here?”

“I know you take appointments and that people ask you about their futures,” Egil said.

“There’s much more to it, though I do try to keep the rest quiet. If the general populace knew everything, they might think of me as...well, not a false prophet, but perhaps a disingenuous one. The oracle’s visions predict the future. That much is true, but the visions are only flashes without context. There’s no controlling what’s seen or when. I’m sure you can imagine how inconvenient that is, seeing only fleeting glimpses of such a great world.” She looked over at him. Same as back at the inn, he found it difficult to look away from her dark eyes.

“For a long time,” she continued, “I struggled with how to use this gift. The visions would predict terrible things, and I didn’t know enough to be able to interpret them, to recognize what was happening —not until after they came to pass. I’ve come to realize I can’t save the world unless I see and know as much of it as possible. The more I see, the better I can recognize what the visions predict. I found you today because an acolyte knew the tavern when I described it—goddess knows how. That’s not my business. I send agents across the world, have them listen and report back to me. I consult with world leaders and put names to faces. If they ever appear in the oracle’s visions, I will know them. Such is my business. It’s a business based in the collection of knowledge.”

“This is your offer? You want me to be a spy?” Egil guessed.

“Atiuh above, no. I imagine you’ve had enough of that.”

“Then what do you want from me?”

“There’s another step in the process, one that comes after the visions. If I can interpret them quickly enough, I can soften the damage. If a vision shows a house burning, while I can’t stop the fire, I can evacuate the building before the match is even set. But I’m only one woman, and I can’t be everywhere at once. I need help.”

“Why me?” Egil asked. “Knowing who I am? What I’ve done?”

“It’s because of your work for Unity that I’m interested in you,” Devikra said with a smile. She sat up and leaned forward, her eyes bright. “In all the world, there is only one information network better than my own: the Enforcers. And you used to lead them! I won’t make you do what they did. I want you to help, not hurt. That, and you remind me of someone very dear to me.”

Wilhara looked up at that, searching Egil’s face closely. When Egil met her eye, she ducked her head.

“What do you say? If you work with me, I can make you a hero,” Devikra said.

Egil dropped his gaze to the woven rug, tracing the interlocking pattern with his eyes while he thought. He’d done terrible things for Unity. No matter how much he wanted to, he could never fully atone, but that wouldn’t stop him from trying. He wanted the Hound dead. He wanted Egil to be someone who does good. He wanted, so desperately, to be a hero.

“Count me in.”

_____

Present Day
Year of Unity 1880

Aleksir jumped at a sudden clang in the darkness. Light flooded the hallway beyond his cell as a door was opened, and Aleksir hastily stood when he heard footsteps headed his way. He may be cold and hungry, dirty and disheveled from his day spent in the county jailhouse, but damn it all, he still had his pride.

The constable who’d been on duty all day stopped at his cell door, his wide mouth pulled into an ugly frown. “You’ve got friends in high places, kid,” he grumbled. “You’re lucky.”

Aleksir’s breath caught. Had Devikra sent someone to rescue him? So quickly? Glad as he was to get out, a part of him hoped she’d never learn of this. She’d almost certainly pull him from the field for causing so much trouble.

Then another voice spoke. It wasn’t Devikra’s. “And you’re lucky he’s in one piece. If you’d hurt him, I would’ve been very unhappy.”

The speaker stopped in front of Aleksir’s cell, his black eyes unusually bright and his dark curls falling into his face. His smile was softer than Aleksir had yet seen it, forming two perfect dimples on his cheeks. He snapped his fingers, an impatient gesture that was directed at the constable. “Well?”

The constable scrambled to unlock the cell door.

“Eg—” Aleksir breathed, but Egil held a finger to his lips. His hand was heavily bandaged, Aleksir noticed.

“Come on, kid,” Egil said, once the door was unlocked. “We’re leaving.”

Aleksir didn’t hesitate, shooting the constable a glare as he scurried past. “How?” he asked Egil, once they were out of earshot.

“I called in a favor,” Egil said, simply. He glanced at Aleksir as they walked, and after a moment, ruffled Aleksir’s hair. “You did well today.”

Aleksir almost tripped over his own feet. It was almost alarming, how quickly tears sprung to his eyes at the compliment. “You... really?”

“I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t mean it.”

Aleksir scrubbed at his eyes while slowly, a smile spread across his face. By the time they left the jail, there was a new spring in his step. “What about Maebhe? Did your friend get her family back?”

“He did,” Egil said. “They should be on their way back to Orean, by now.”

🙂

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