Allie

While Micah toured the compound with Gaillard, Allie was left with Geir, who explained the current state of the Vanguard. It appeared he was trying his best to keep together a movement that was conversely attempting to collapse like a house of cards greased in butter.

“It’s not that we’re unorganized,” he was saying. “We have some degree of organization, but each group is a hydra’s head, if each had a separate goal from the rest.”

Allie had a strong impression of the other’s suppressed frustration as he led her into a cavern that had been haphazardly made into a sort of kitchen, in which there were two fae already.

“We have Danica and a bellicar from Sitis in charge of our weapons stockpile, and a small group in charge of ‘procuring’ funds from various parts of the city, a small communications team and a medical team, and--” he interrupted himself to call, “Claudien!” and then continue, “--probably most importantly at this point, the ones in charge of food supply: some of it from the gardens here, and some smuggled in from Sitis and Olympus. This is Claudien,” he introduced Allie to an exceptionally big fay, who had a smile as bright and genuine as the breaking dawn. He and Allie exchanged pleasant greetings.

“Claudien, this is Aeliana--”

Allie shook her head.

“Just Allie,” she corrected him.

Claudien had already connected the pieces, however, his face lighting up as he put thick hands on his hips.

“Aeliana the lost heir, hm?” he said. “It’s a good time for a leader to emerge from the darkness.”

Allie felt her cheeks burn a little, and subconsciously she bowed her head, hair obscuring the blush.

“Don’t be embarrassed!” Claudien chided her with encouragement, misinterpreting her shame, “There are plenty here who will love the return of the lost princess. You know what they say, ‘Oft the loudest cry comes from fewest mouths’ -- there’s not so many here that say you’re a traitor, really.”

Allie’s eyes shot back to him in an instant, completely horrified at this information that Geir and Gaillard had been thus far carefully skirting.

“A traitor…?” she began, but Geir interrupted.

“Neither this nor that are of import, Claudien,” he said, his voice stern. “She has consented to become a central head for the Vanguard, which means you’re to report to her when it comes to the food stores and supply levels. She needs a good idea of the situation here, and between you and external intel, there’s a lot of information that gets lost. Speaking of which, did we receive that shipment from Sitis?”

Claudien’s lips set in a grim line.

“Sitis sent about only a week’s worth but it’s something. The gardens are flourishing, which is good, but still ripening. At this point, money’s become more a problem than food. Only food comes from Sitis, and neither they nor Olympus have been so generous this time as our budget runs low. Without it, the trickle of medicine and food will run dry.”

Geir nodded as he thought.

Allie realized that she had a short-term solution.

“Geir,” she said, getting his attention. “The bag I brought with me -- I think I left it in the first cave -- has some things in it, gems and money. It’s not exactly the Wayne family fortune, but maybe we can stretch it until something else makes itself...” she faltered, the Cotidean word for ‘available’ slipping her mind. She blushed. “…until we have more money.”

Geir thanked her, and Claudien gave her a brief, peculiar look before acknowledging her and returning to work.

Geir and Allie left the kitchen and returned to the main hall to retrieve the pack; meanwhile, Geir filled her in on some of the structure of the Vanguard, and some of the current problems it faced.

A sizable portion of the food needed to feed the ninety-odd members came from the outside, smuggled by scouts and city-runners. Medicine to counteract the scurf’s withdrawal symptoms sometimes arrived with the food, but it was scarce. Weapons were likewise hard to come by, not even enough to fully arm the current population of the caverns, let alone the slow increase.

This population was another asset in itself, the one most needed to grow, but also wholly dependent on the other resources. As the numbers stood, outright assault, or even contact that would arouse more than a vague suspicion of their presence, was too costly. The only tactics they approved for use in the city were the subtlest of sabotages and reconnaissance. More than a few of their members, Geir said, had become disillusioned with the Vanguard’s capabilities.

The areas they in which they operated were limited to three districts in the Lows, the outermost ring of Atlantis, where those that remained after the purge had been herded. The Middling districts were almost completely abandoned. There was a small team of fae that worked aboveground in the Lows, siphoning money and undermining the Pale Guard as best they could by discreetly robbing local financial centers, usually near the crucial food distribution markets. They had been working on a way to steal local food before it was poisoned, but thus far had not figured out a way to do so.

The Vanguard had very few connections in the Guard, and only a single one among the nobility, working within the archiater’s own consul; these served as their internal intelligence units.

They stopped in the great cave that served as a sort of lobby, seeking the packs that had been left behind.

“Claudien said something about some thinking of me as a traitor,” Allie said finally, unable to let the comment slide.

Geir hesitated, then explained, “It’s not about you, specifically--”

From behind them came Danica’s voice as she strode into their midst, “She’s not a child, Geir. Give her the benefit of the whole truth.”

Allie stooped for her pack as Geir carefully considered his choice of words.

“There will be those who think of you as a turning point for this revolution, and others who will have difficulty accepting your leadership, especially as they find out your...lack of experience,” he admitted. “There are as many motivations to be here as there are people, and you can well imagine that some of them don’t necessarily want the monarchy re-established when Drexel is ousted.” He faltered as Allie’s face betrayed her emotional turmoil.

“They’re going to expect a lot from you,” added Dani as she reached them, “regardless of how they feel about you personally.”

Allie cursed softly, then looked up to the ceiling in frustration. “Damn it, this is exactly what I was... Dammit. Why?” she cursed, first in Cotidean, but devolved into English.

Dani’s look for Allie was one of cool regard, expectant and keen. Allie made eye contact with her and swallowed, realizing as she stared at the taller fay that she no longer had a choice.

It wasn’t that she was being coerced or intimidated by anyone, even though in that moment Allie had a powerful urge to hide behind her hair from the other’s intense hawk eyes. When Allie committed to the Vanguard in the city with Gaillard by her side, the boy’s mark gripped fiercely in her fist, she had made her decision. From that moment, backing down would mean the evisceration of her self-respect, likely for the rest of her life, and she knew she wouldn’t be able to bear that choice on her psyche. She knew this with every tenuous fiber of her spirit, and she could see it more clearly than she had allowed herself to look at reality in a long while.

She took a breath and tried to channel her agitation into her hands.

Danica’s gaze softened a bit and the moment passed. The captain gestured down to Allie’s side, where her left hand was flexing and unflexing seemingly subconsciously, the glow from the tips of her fingers extinguishing and reigniting repeatedly as she did so. “I see that you’re practicing, which is good, but I’m going to guess your exposure to the Overworld means you’re quite a bit weaker now.”

Allie forced herself not to look away, to meet the other’s gaze, but she felt a hot blush sear across her face, shame like a fever.

“I will train as much as I need to,” was her reply.

“Good. I’ll take the time to train you, and we both know Gaillard will have you continue training in magic.”

“For now, let’s get her her own nook to sleep in, and let them get some rest,” Geir interrupted. “No one’s any good to us without sleep.”

Dani nodded in agreement and beckoned to Allie to follow her to the barracks.

Later, finally left on her own, Allie lay on her cot in one of the smallest caverns, no more than a closet really, but certainly the most private of all the spaces. She wasn’t sure she really even wanted the privilege of privacy; it made her feel set apart from the rest of the Vanguard. She felt lonely already; not because she was alone at all, but because she felt split apart from her homeland.

Her brain wanted to revert to speaking in English rather than Cotidean, and when she forced herself to dredge up the old words half-buried in her memories, she felt as though her command of the language was as tenuous as her command of anything, obvious to anyone who listened.

She turned on to her back, staring at the dark cave ceiling.

“Didn’t belong there, and I guess I don’t belong here, either,” she murmured, then scowled. Well, it would help if you didn’t reference Overworld pop culture as a substitute for a sense of humor.

She turned over, then swung up to sit on the edge of the cot. Her foot hit the corner of something solid in her rucksack, tucked beneath the cot. She bent and pulled out the maroon journal she had taken from the house before it was burned.

It was Essie’s journal; she had written in it infrequently but had kept it near her always. Allie ran her hand over the soft paper cover, noting where its thick edge had been worn by fingers or caught on edges.

Without thinking about it, she opened the book to a spot in the middle, making her fingertips glow to read by their light.

Arranged in neat stanzas on the paper were the precise dots and flags of the written Cotidean language, each set of lines looking for all the world like alien music.

Can’t even read the last connection I have to Essie.

Allie felt tears well in her eyes again, but she concentrated as hard as she could to force them back and succeeded.

“Come on, enough of that,” she chided herself, trying to make her voice sound lighthearted.

She closed the journal and slipped it back into the bag, then proceeded to leave the cavern.

She used her hair as her shield and ghosted past soldiers in two of the caves before hearing a faint, constant noise that she followed, ending up in the bridged cavern with the waterfall. The air was cool and damp.

On the other side of the bridge she saw a familiar face. Micah sat on the edge of the bridge with his feet hanging off over the yawning maw of the darkness below. She crossed and went to sit next to him, and they both watched the waterfall tumbling endlessly from out of sight above to out of sight below.

“Hey,” she said.

“Hey.”

There was a pause.

“I feel guilty that I was relieved you stayed,” she confessed.

“Why is that?”

“Just seems selfish, that’s all. It gives me an anchor, something — someone — to hold on to.” It felt good to speak in English. “Because I feel caught between there and here, not comfortable in either.”

Micah turned his head to look at her. Her face was dimly lit by the light from the cavern she’d come from, but he could see how exhausted she looked, drained by a day that had already asked so much of her.

“I thought about that too, when I was deciding. I thought how you wouldn’t be there when I go back, and I wouldn’t be here while you face everything. So I don’t think that’s selfish,” he said.

Allie leaned back on her palms to stare up at the darkness above them.

“I don’t think I have the confidence in myself to face everything. There’s just so much. Look at it all. How the hell do people stay strong in the face of adversity?” she asked.

“I think…you just keep going. As long as you don’t give up and you try your best to make good decisions, and you just keep going, then eventually stuff passes,” came the reply.

“As long as you’re here suffering with me,” Allie said, smirking, a shadow of her normal spirit surfacing briefly.

He put up his hands in surrender and said, “I don’t know what you mean. I’ve got a lot to learn about magic and fighting and a new world, so I’m about as happy as I get.”

“You would be.”

There was silence between them for a moment, each continuing an independent train of thought, listening to the voice of the waterfall.

“Things are about to become different and difficult,” she predicted, out of nowhere. “Try not to change too much, Micah.”

He gazed at a stalactite, wet from errant water, and nodded his head.

“Yeah. We’ll get this, together,” he said, and she smiled.

They were quiet again, taking solace in each other’s company, the last, familiar remnants of the Overworld.

The next morning, true to the Dani’s prediction, Allie was already training with Gaillard, though not in the way she had expected.

There was a smaller cavern with a sparring area and a selection of the most blunted, least useful weapons on one side, and on the other, a group of straw and wood targets shaped crudely like people.

Allie was using none of these.

She had already proudly showed the mage her glowing fingertips that morning, which she was able to maintain for up to a minute. Gaillard had seemed satisfied for one half-second at her progress, and then immediately directed, “Now, I want you to begin making different colors. By the end of the week, you should be able to make each finger a different color — if you want to move on.”

So she sat amongst the training dummies, glaring intensely at her hand, each finger lit in white. She was beginning to get a headache in her temples and forehead, but the blood throbbing in her skull could not change the stubborn light.

Gaillard didn’t even stay to watch her, to her chagrin, but left to go do something else, leaving her quietly seething.

When he came back, she griped at him, “What’s even the point of making colors? Shouldn’t I be learning how to cast a glamor, or maybe how to do a laser?” The English word sat stark among the Cotidean.

He look nonplussed. “Lay-zer?” Then he dismissed it with a shake of his head and said, “In order to learn a variety of light-focused magicepts, you need to develop your familiarity and understanding of light and its properties. Were you by chance listening when Micah and I were talking about magicepts?”

“Some, here and there.”

“But not what you thought you knew already,” he said, giving her a knowing look.

Allie looked away, disguising it by lighting her fingers back up and assuming highly interested concentration on them.

“Nobody likes to start at the bottom, but no house should be built without a foundation,” remarked Gaillard. “Also, you don’t have to brute force it. Know the light, get inside of it, if you will.”

She took a deep breath and nodded, making a distinct effort to dismiss her misgivings and frustration, and then continued.

As Gaillard left again, she stared at her palm and flexed the fingers, thinking.

What do I know about light?

...Crap. I wish I had paid more attention in physics class.

Then her head popped up as she realized.

Can knowledge from the Overworld apply to magicepts in Sidhe?

She tried to recall everything she could about the science of light, which wasn’t overwhelming but enough to serve the purpose.

Light is just waves, and colors are different lengths. Let’s start there.

She tried to imagine that she could feel her source as it supplied the magic that became light, to get intimate with the brightness that emanated from her body. She found she could isolate it somewhat, and by concentrating further, she could feel a sort of pulse reverberating there, quickly and softly but there nonetheless. She psychically poked at it, testing the boundaries of what the inner light responded to, and then she began attempting various tactics to change the wavelengths.

After a few minutes, her fingers glowed red.

Allie grinned, a little giddy.

Once she figured out how to scale the waves, she was able to change colors, but she had no skill in gradient, so she was missing entire hues as her fingers jumped from red to green to dark violet.

She was still trying to figure out the intricacies of gradual adjustment when Danica dropped by, calling her name and tossing a breadroll that Allie fumbled. She saved it from the cave floor only by accident, crushing part of it in her fist as a result.

“Whoops. Thanks,” she said, ripping off a hunk of the bread with her teeth. It was dark and tasted slightly sour, like pickles.

“Geir’s got somebody he wants you to meet,” said the other, beckoning her to follow. “Are you ready to start training first thing tomorrow?”

Allie got up from the floor, stretching and proceeding to follow Dani from the room.

“I won’t get any readier the longer I wait,” she answered Dani’s question. “Hopefully I pick it back up quickly.” Then she shuddered. “I still remember the look on my father’s face when I showed him my swordplay the first time.”

The pair crossed into the main foyer cavern that served as the primary locus for the compound.

Danica blew heavily through her lips as she recalled the event.

“Gods, I remember that. He was so angry that he came and chastised me for not training you well enough.”

“Really?”

“Merrick was harsh sometimes. I didn’t like him much, and I suspect he never liked me.”

Allie did a double take, shocked at the other’s response.

“But you were in the Atlas Guard,” she protested.

Dani gave a small snort of derision as they crossed through a cavern.

“No amount of prestige would have made him respect me. Do you know how hard I had to work for him to condescend to let me in?”

Allie shook her head. Danica had already been an integral part of the kingsguard by the time Allie was old enough to remember her.

“I was fascinated by the Atlas Guard when I was a child, growing up in the streets with—” she paused and then glossed over whatever she had been about to say, “— I trained endlessly, took it very seriously, and when I was old enough and good enough, I applied to be part of the Guard. I was rejected. Merrick said it was because I was still too green, but I believe it was because he didn’t see the merit of a female warrior. I could have waited to prove myself to them, but I didn't.”

They passed into one of the training rooms, pausing at the entryway to continue their conversation.

“So what did you do?”

They paused walking, Danica’s face thoughtful.

She replied, “I realized I didn’t feel like I was in control of my destiny unless I pursued something immediately. I can’t wait; I’m not a patient person. I left Atlantis and went to Sitis, where I was able to get Firenze’s sire to train me in the strigamyr.”

Dani’s eyes were distant, recalling old memories.

“I spent so long out there, it felt like. They were good to me. Anyway, I came back, and I spent time fusing what I had learned in Sitis with the agility and acrobatics that the Atlas Guard preferred. My re-application was denied until I told Merrick that I would defeat his entire precious Atlas Guard right in front of him.”

Allie smiled as Dani’s sharp face became exuberant with remembered triumph.

“And I did,” she said, relishing the memory. “They accepted me, and I was the best they had. I could even defeat the captain in sparring.”

She seemed to remember how the conversation had started. “— but no, your father never respected me. But that’s okay; I never respected him, either.”

“And here I thought misogyny was an Overworld thing.”

“Misogyn—?” Dani half-echoed.

“When men are prejudiced against women just because they are women.”

Danica processed the meaning for a second, translating it into her experiences in Sidhe.

“What an odd concept. Is that common?”

“According to their history books, extremely, but slightly less so in the time and place I lived in.”

Dani replied, “Well, your father was certainly a misogyny, but fae are generally more civilized than that on the whole.”

Allie had to consider that for a second, turning over her memories of her father for closer examination through this new lens. They continued on through the great cavern.

They reached Geir and another fay clad in white armor, the slitted helmet of the Pale Guard under his arm. Allie started in surprise at first, but since the newcomer was talking casually with Geir, there was obviously nothing to be alarmed about.

“Ah, Allie. This is Gallo,” said Geir, introducing the other fay. “He and Drian are our Vanguard within the Guard.”

Gallo smiled brightly at her, the brilliance and sincere cheer of it catching her off-guard.

Dani pulled Geir aside to begin discussing something.

“Good-den, Allie,” Gallo said politely in greeting. “It’s good to see the Vanguard picking up new members.”

Allie subconsciously pulled her hair over her shoulder.

“Yes, well,” she said, not knowing what else to ask or say. “What is it like in the Guard?” she forced out, finally, awkwardly.

He scratched his short brown hair, looking thoughtful.

“Some dockalfar but mostly Atlanteans comprise the Pale Guard. The dockalfar were brought in from Saguenay, and they do not associate with us lyosalfar, too good for that. But they are mostly assigned to the inner ring, keeping the nobles in line and protecting the palace. Drian is stationed in the Lows, and I go between the Lows and the Middling districts.”

“I thought the Middlings were abandoned?”

“We still patrol them to prevent squatters. The original story told to the citizens was that the Middling districts were structurally unsound, and they needed to relocate to new homes outside those areas. Naturally this was a ploy to herd the remaining Atlanteans into a smaller space, to better manage them and the food supply in the markets,” he answered.

“I see,” she said, absorbing the information.

“But yes, day to day in the Guard is boring. We walk around, look intimidating, and make sure people know we’re present. It’s really just psychological reinforcement; they’re not likely to do much in their condition.”

“The other Atlanteans in the Guard are just okay with this?” She was consternated.

“Most fae you see in better positions, like the foremen for the farms, the shopkeepers, and the Guards, are just slightly better off than the common citizen. We had to swear our loyalty to Drexel’s regime, and in return for our services, we receive a mid-grade variant of the scurf, which is not quite so… suppressive as the low-P available in the markets.” He looked at her and his smile dropped for a moment, replaced by a plaintive chewing of the lip. “Most of them are aware enough to know that something is wrong with the system, but they’re unable or unwilling to fight it.”

“Ah,” she replied, looking down. He dipped his head below her gaze to get her to look at him, and then he smiled at her again.

“Head up, we’re doing something about it, even if slowly.”

“How do you find it in you to smile?” she asked, lifting her head to look back at him. “To be so cheerful?”

So many others in the compound seemed so grim. But Gallo, Claudien, Danica, and a handful of others seemed to hold their smiles, and Allie felt a deep-rooted jealousy inside her reach with desperate claws for that externally-independent resilience.

He shrugged.

“I can’t let them take everything.. I can choose to keep my humor and goodnaturedness about me. I’m doing as much as I am capable of doing to make a difference, at least right now.” He gestured around to their solemn collaborators. “My attitude does not have to detract from the seriousness of the circumstances, but it allows me to keep a modicum of myself inside of me. I will fight to protect that.”

Allie look away again, thoughtful. She’d felt so serious, so unlike herself the last few days. True, she was grieving, but she’d also felt as though it was out of place to be anything but serious.

“Thank you, Gallo. I appreciate your words,” she said, with all the sincerity of someone given ponderous food for thought.

“I’m glad they may be of service to you. I will be back as soon as I’m safely able. I look forward to seeing what the Vanguard can accomplish with you at the helm.”

She blushed, which he found endearing; he grinned at her and then walked over to Geir and Danica, preparing to depart the compound.

That night, after training again and continuing absorbing the inner workings of the Vanguard from Geir and Danica, Allie studied a short book in Cotidean that she had pilfered from Gaillard’s cluttered caverns, going back and forth between it and her map of Sidhe — the only Cotidean document she could read — attempting to identify and memorize individual chunks of the written language.

So far as she could tell from the first few lines she had managed to translate, she had unknowingly selected a book on the effects of hysteria and madness on magicept casting. Indifferent to the content, she translated a page in an hour, until exhaustion caused the lines of triangles and dots to blend together, ceasing to be words and instead becoming flags on clotheslines.

She yawned, closed the book around the map, and set it down on the cavern floor next to her cot.

Allie turned on her back, lighting the fingers of her left hand in sequence, each a different color, lost in thought as the glow illuminated her face in red, then orange, then yellow, as she adjusted the wavelengths. She hadn’t quite figured out how to keep a different wavelength steady on each finger simultaneously, but she would keep trying.

In her right hand she gripped the mark that the boy had given to her. She lay there until sleep whisked her away from her thoughts into sleep laden with manic, frustrated dreams.