Shrilynda

Shrilynda hated being ordered around, but she did hate everything, and some concessions were necessary for ultimate success.

“So?” Issabeth demanded, waving at the hazy sky like it—or Shrilynda—cared about her impatience.

“I’ll demonstrate,” answered Shrilynda, raising her hands. “But I’m not a limitless source of power on my own. If you make a move to leave without me, I will destroy the tear.”

“I get the idea,” spat back the grumpy Sorceress.

Tapping into the last bit of her strength, Shrilynda focused on the sky in front of her with fingers outstretched, straining to make use of the lingering dark magic still clinging to her. White wisps trembled and scattered. A faint dark line appeared where the line between worlds weakened. Shrilynda mustered a surge of power, and the air cracked as she tore through, a jagged, dark line no bigger than a fist. She managed not to collapse, but just barely.

A voice rang out. “Issabeth, it’s Cedric.”

Issabeth scrambled closer to the tiny rip, and the voice grew quieter as if it had followed the Sorceress forward. Shrilynda, nearly collapsing again under the effort of a few steps, stumbled back within hearing range. “I can’t hear you,” Cedric’s voice continued. “It’s just a message in case you manage to crack open a portal, which Athena insists you can’t do on your own. Considering I’ve never seen anything you can’t do, it was a safe bet you’d get it open eventually. It’s actually kind of amazing how I was able to target a long-range signal to become audible only on contact with your genetic—anyway, never mind.”

Issabeth’s hand stretched toward the portal but then jerked back. She shook away the stinging pain of the dark magic. Shrilynda stifled a chuckle of glee. The Sorceress was motivated. Shrilynda would be out of this place soon, for the first time in a decade. What would she do first? Eat food? Murder the Sorceress? No, no, the Sorceress was more than a match for Shrilynda in the condition she was in. Shrilynda had to make her immortality potion first. She would make do, gather strength, and then find one of those children—so magical, so the embodiment of everything she despised. She almost loved them, she hated them so perfectly.

Cedric’s message was still going: “Basically, we can’t do anything while the portal is closed, and things are a mess out here. Everybody’s disappeared, but nobody’s taking credit. We all suspect the Flifary and Daniella, but that’s just terrifying. You probably know more than we do.”

“Nope,” muttered Issabeth.

“Oh, last thing. I’m certain that’s a Nether World portal, so watch out for Shrilynda. If my people could survive in there for a hundred years, she can handle ten, assuming she hasn’t broken out already.”

“Thanks for the warning, Cedricowen,” replied Issabeth sarcastically. “Very timely.”

“Actual last thing,” he said, voice hesitating. “Stay safe. I— I’m worried about you.”

He voice vanished, and the Sorceress swiped her jagged blond hair out of eyes betraying the slightest hint of emotion.

“Are we ready to leave now?” Shrilynda asked.

“We leave on my terms,” growled Issabeth. “You’re not using my blood to fuel your crazy dark magic until I’m sure there are no other options.”

The air cracked again. They spun to face a new tear the length of a house splitting through the world of white. “Are you—?” began Issabeth.

“No,” breathed Shrilynda, eyes glowing.

She trembled in anticipation, so longing for a little black-haired, purple-eyed child. Issabeth stretched out her pearl, ready.

~~~~~

Rosaliy

“That was impressive,” said Cliff as they walked along the sunny coast outside town.

Everything about Seavale was beautiful, except for everything about Seavale. The endless glistening blue-green water lapping up to warm, white sands was a poor trade for being frequently threatened.

“Thanks?” said Rosaliy, not sure she appreciated the praise. “Threatening a gang is new for me.”

Cliff grinned. “You’ve only been in Bayselle a day, and you’re already threatening criminals. Drake must be rubbing off on you.”

She suspected the bizarre demands of the trip might have more to do with it.

“Tell me about Senira Luza,” she said.

“The Senira lives by the sea caves outside town. She’s something of a town curiosity, our resident Old Coaster. People head out to her for potions and advice. Kids sneak out there to find out who they’re going to marry someday. You know the type.”

No, Rosaliy did not know the type, outside of her short briefing from Drake when she was pretending to be one.

“How does Drake know her?” she asked.

Cliff shrugged. “Drake knows everyone.”

That did seem to be true.

“How did you two meet?” she asked. They had quite a walk to the caves outside town, and when left to his own devices, Cliff seemed to begin rambling about politics.

“Oh, ha, that’s a funny story,” started Cliff.

As it turned out, Cliff’s story was not funny by any definition.

Cliff had watched his father struggle for years under the growing influence of the organizations battling for power in Seavale and nearby coastal towns. Cliff’s father spoke out against the gangs and the pirates, getting enough support to start a little coalition of merchants who agreed to stand firm against the rampant black market trading and the demands of the local criminal groups jostling for power.

When Drake had arrived in Seavale, Cliff had no idea who he was. Drake expressed interest in working for Cliff’s father and learning all about the Lansilia coalition.

“I was naive,” Cliff admitted. “Drake was collecting information on us before the Escorpias moved into town. In my defense, he was an expert in everything, about the handiest fake friend a guy could have.”

“How did you find out?”

“I didn’t,” said Cliff enigmatically. “But the leader of the Scorps crashed a secret meeting where the coalition was recruiting new members and the Ingobernables—the pirates—showed up to crash the crashing. Threats turned to a full-on battle, and just about everyone was killed—the Scorp leader, Zara, I think her name was, enough of the pirates that the survivors had to limp back to their palace and hole up for a long while, and my father, of course.”

“That’s awful,” said Rosaliy, aghast by the situation and his matter-of fact portrayal of the grizzly situation. “I’m so sorry. Who killed him?”

“Who knows,” said Cliff. “Everybody? Nobody? So many merchants joined the organization after that, including my patron, which made the coalition strong enough to stand up to the weakened pirates and the gangs trying to fill the power vacuum. My father would have been thrilled to know his life did that.”

Rosaliy was confused by the end of this story. “I’m not sure I understand why you and Drake are friends,” she admitted.

“You and me both,” said Cliff, scooping up a handful of stones. “I forgot what story I was in the middle of. So I had no idea Drake had been the Scorps’ informant. He disappeared for a while, and then he came back into town like nothing had happened.”

Rocks sailed into the waves, disappearing with little plops.

“Why did he come back?”

“Why does Drake do anything?” Cliff chuckled. “Guilt?”

“You don’t think he was the one who—” Rosaliy couldn’t finish her thought.

Cliff threw his last stone. They both watched it disappear. “Not really, but he’s beating himself up for it either way.”

“How did you find out about what he was?”

“Oh, right, the story. The Scorps were still in control of town, and I could tell Drake had a weird relationship with them—strained, but he and anything he was involved with were clearly off limits to them. One day, one of them came by to tell me if my Scorp lapdog wasn’t protecting me, he would have handled me a long time ago, and I finally figured it out. I’d been ignoring a lot of signs. Drake knows that I know, and I know that he knows that I know, but as long as we don’t actually talk about it directly, we do alright.”

Cliff’s nonchalance was alarming, but oddly sweet. It could not have been easy to be friends with someone who had built up so many walls around himself. Drake had been comparatively open with her, in his own way.

The shore grew rockier as they left the town behind, and soon a tall rock wall rose from the sandy beach. “If we walked the cliff, you’d be able to see the palace around the bend,” Cliff pointed. “But we have to stay on the water.”

They kept the towering rock wall on their left and continued along the shrinking shore. Soon, Rosaliy noticed she was walking on packed, wet sand, and the shore really was shrinking.

“Is the tide coming in?” asked Rosaliy with worry.

“I suppose it is,” said Cliff, looking around him like he was noticing the water for the first time. “We should have timed this trip better.”

We? Maybe they both would have been safer if Rosaliy had left Cliff in the Crocs’ care.

“How far do we have to go?” she panicked.

The answer was exactly far enough to be able to run across the last few lengths of rolling water to arrive at the doorstep of a seaweed-draped hut out of breath and with soaked feet.

Before Rosaliy could knock on the door, it swung open. No one came to greet them, so she moved to peer inside. “Hello?”

A brown ball of fur dropped down from the door frame, launching itself at Rosaliy’s face. She screamed and fell backward onto the rocks. The little monster landed on her chest. It shrieked at her as if it was mad at her reaction.

Cliff reached down an arm to help her up. The little brown ball with a long tail took this as an invitation and scrambled up Cliff’s arm in two leaps, perching on his back. The ball of fur appeared to be a small monkey. “Well, that’s…unpleasant,” muttered Cliff, managing to help Rosaliy to her feet this time.

Laughter rolled from the doorway of the hut. Cliff, Rosaliy, and the monkey all swiveled to see a small, bundled woman standing there.

“Evaquita,” snapped the woman wrapped in billowing brown cloth with colorful scarves peeking out everywhere. She waved her arm and called to the monkey in a stream of flowing language. Despite what Rosaliy recognized as perfectly rolled r’s, the monkey hunkered down on Cliff’s back, digging her little hands into Cliff’s hair and hiding behind his head.

“Quita’s taken liking to you,” the woman said through her thick accent.

“Senira Luza?” asked Cliff.

She laughed a deep, guttural laugh which was about as serious a response as the question deserved. Who else would she be? “Why so urgent?” She pointed to their soaked feet. “Is happy couple seeking love potion?”

“No,” Rosaliy objected quickly. No more love potions for her. Especially not in present company. Cliff seemed the type to profess his love by throwing himself in the ocean, and then she’d have to rescue him. Her swimming abilities were not that strong. “We were hoping you could get us some of your healing draught.”

The visible patch of the Senira’s face darkened. She tightened her brown sheath around herself, and her voice was suddenly chilly. “You are not hurt. You don’t look like pirates or street gang, so I’ll ask why before sending you on your way.”

Sending them on their way meant swimming at this point, so Rosaliy wished she had phrased her question with more tact.

“I’m sorry, Senira,” Cliff apologized. “We didn’t mean to insult you. We’re not with the Ingobernables or one of the Crocodillos.”

She crossed her arms. For such a small woman, she was really very intimidating. “Bring person who needs healing, and I’ll see what can be done.” She turned to go back into her hut.

“We don’t actually need to heal someone,” Cliff tried to explain in a rush. “Perhaps you’d be so kind to let us come in and hear the whole story?”

The Senira was not going to let them into her hut.

“We’re friends of Drake’s,” blurted Rosaliy. Why she thought the association might work to their advantage, Rosaliy had no idea.

The woman stared back with her deep ocean blue eyes, suspicion softening into curiosity. “Now that is hard for believing,” she murmured. After a moment’s thought, she stepped out her door onto the rocks of the cave. She was inviting them in.

Her hut was a single room packed with odds and ends draped on walls strung with nets. The fireplace roared as the sea air rushed in the door, nearly catching a wall full of bundled herbs on fire.

“Best remove boots and dry feet, friends of Drake,” said Luza, removing a teapot from one low stool and shooing a large seagull off another. “How do you get in here?” Luza chided the bird, sweeping it out the door while it squawked at her. “Every time I turn around,” she muttered.

Rosaliy and Cliff peeled off their boots and warmed their chilly feet by the fire that died down to a manageable warm glow when Senira Luza shut her door. Luza thrust a tray full of nutty brown muffins under their noses. Rosaliy felt like there was some fairy tale rule applicable here about not eating food from a fortune teller’s house, but Cliff had already consumed half of his in a bite. Evaquita the monkey pulled the rest from his hands and scurried to his back once more, ripping into the muffin and spraying brown crumbs all over his hair. Rosaliy took one of the offered muffins cautiously.

“I did not make these,” Luza assured Rosaliy. “They are payment from last customer. She is baker. Eat them. They have orange peel. Very good for skin.”

Rosaliy nibbled a bit of an admittedly tasty edge. Satisfied, Luza settled into a large chair padded with mismatched cushions.

“I have not seen Drake in many moons. Why he send you?” asked Luza. “You don’t look like scorpion folk.”

“No, we’re not with the Escorpias,” said Rosaliy. “And he didn’t technically send us.”

“You are puzzle,” she said. “A Sorceress and a local champion. I see trouble surrounding you.” She raised her hand in Rosaliy’s direction. “But nothing healing would fix. Explain.”

Cliff took another muffin from the nearby tray. “The Crocodillo gang wanted Drake to get healing draught from you to pay the pirates,” he said through a crumbling mouthful. “It sounds like you’re familiar with the routine.”

“Norca,” spat out Luza. “I do not give healing potions to pirates for hoarding and lording over others. I do not give healing potions to criminals to pay pirates.”

“They’ve been threatening Cliff,” Rosaliy added tentatively. “They wanted him to track down Drake to talk to you, but—”

“Our friend Drake does not get healing potion from me,” interrupted Luza. “This is story he tells. His grandmother and I were old friends. He came, he asked, and I reminded him his grandmother made me a promise.” If she had reminded him with that same flashing, ominous look in her eyes, it was no wonder Drake had not taken anything from her. “He agreed to keep promise.” No doubt. “I give no healing potion to selfish pirates.”

“Oh,” said Rosaliy, confused, “but if you’re the only one who makes it…”

Luza’s eyebrows rose. “This untrue. My sister is also trained in the old medicines. Pirates have what they stole from her.”

“Ok,” said Cliff. “Where is she?”

“She is in desert somewhere,” dismissed Luza. “Why would I know? She is not as nice as me. She would turn you into hairless moles. Do not go to her.”

“I don’t mean to be rude,” said Rosaliy, really not meaning to be rude, “but how is it possible that you have the only healing draught around and you didn’t give any to Drake. He must have paid the pirates somehow.”

“Ah,” she said, jabbing a wrinkled finger in the air. “You make so many untruth statements. I do not have only potion around.”

“Sure,” chuckled Cliff, “but the only other option is the pirates, and he’s not going to get it from them to pay them.”

“Oh?” said Luza, eyes boring into him.

Cliff gasped. He startled the monkey on his back and sent her shooting to the top of his head. “Are you saying he stole healing draught from the pirates and sold it back to them?”

Luza shrugged and ruffled one of her scarves. “I say nothing, but sometimes problem with no solution has solution after all.”

“But how?” asked Rosaliy. “That’s crazy.”

“Perhaps his friends should ask him,” suggested Luza.

His friends could not ask him. Rosaliy was starting to feel like this might have been wild goose chase.

“I know how,” interjected Cliff. The monkey craned her head to look down at him. “Esmona.”