Chapter 20 #2
As he watches her, he reflects on her explosion during the conscription announcement.
Naturally, one could easily chalk that up to her being someone who loves her kingdom and refuses to believe it would outright deny such a diplomatic request, but with Nuri, it seemed deeper than that.
Like the current of mistrust and scrutiny running through her stems from something different than simple disbelief.
She knows something. Something specific about the Anatolé Kingdom, leading to her outburst.
Of course, one small thread is not enough to suspect a spider.
However, when there are numerous threads all leading to the center of a hidden web, it’s logical to then believe a spider is out there somewhere.
At face value, there is no reason to suspect Nuri of anything and attribute her outburst to dedication.
But when remembering her essence flower—Goldenlight, a flower which has only bloomed for exceptional, longstanding magical bloodlines since its conception—and the lavish sun pendant forged in materials far exceeding what a simple merchant’s daughter should have access to, Gray finds it perfectly reasonable at this point to have questions about Nuri.
Though he chooses to let all that go for now and focus on their task at hand.
He turns to Kiran. “How were you able to get approval to recruit wielders outside your aggregate? This is a Castaria assignment, meaning it should be fulfilled only by members of Castaria, according to Bathara’s rules. How’d you pull it off?”
The corner of Kiran’s mouth tugs up. “Bathara is in a very delicate state at the moment, and this is a very delicate mission. I needed wielders I could trust, and so I made personal pleas to all three of their presiding captains. They signed their consent, and once I showed that to Josiah, he signed off as well. A lot more work than I typically like, but it’ll be worth it.
” Kiran glances at Klytis, his smirk shifting into something more like a helpless smile.
“Plus, Klytis here is the most experienced aether-wielder Bathara now has. Being that he previously served King Alastair, he has been far across the Three Kingdoms and thus can open more portals than any other aether-wielder here can.”
Klytis drags his fingers through his auburn hair—bordering more brown than red—as his pale blue eyes drop to the ground, a twitching smile consuming his lips. “Thanks,” he mutters, seeming suddenly shy.
And…
Gray has never known Klytis to be shy with anyone.
Rhea snorts from her side of the room. “I’m surprised my asshole of a captain signed off on me being here.”
Though it takes a few seconds, Kiran finally drags his eyes away from Klytis to look at Rhea. “Your captain is indeed an asshole, but in the case of you, my dearest, I did not leave him much of a choice. ”
Rhea’s answering smirk is purely wicked. “And that’s why I love you.”
Kiran winks at her. “The feeling is entirely mutual.” Then, he claps his hands together, skimming his eyes across every face in the room. “Now then, shall we be on our way?”
Ninmere is a small coastal city built on lush green scattered across undulating hills, the unignorable red mountainous rock of the Burning Bluffs hovering in the western background, the sight at once eerie and magnificent.
Luckily for their group, Klytis has been to Ninmere once before.
A few years back, King Alastair was seeking to strike a trade agreement on the mineral resources Ninmere sits upon.
According to Klytis, they stayed with the governing lord over the area, which is why he is able to open a portal directly in the heart of the clustered city—with the presiding Lord previously insisting on a full, merry tour.
When they arrive, the sky is an odd mix of gold, blue, and red.
Gray guesses it is a result of the radical heat emitted from Illithious Lake and the Burning Bluffs surrounding it.
It leaves the sky to look as though it is fading into a sunset, despite them arriving midday.
Truthfully, it’s breathtaking and unlike anything Gray has ever seen before.
They raise their hoods on the nondescript cloaks Kiran provided each of them before beginning their trek through the city’s cobblestoned streets.
A mix of stone buildings—some built with brown bricks and terracotta roofs while others are carved in smooth beige stone with red-tinted roofs—cluster around the streets.
As they walk, they pass a lively market filled with stalls selling fresh seafood, salted fish, jewelry, fruits, and baked goods—the buzz floating from the area a soft tune which seems to be the heartbeat of the city.
A peculiar smell of sea salt, fish, and marine wax floats through the streets, and Gray isn’t quite sure if he loves it or finds it abhorrent.
Kiran leads them deeper through the city, toward the coastline overlooking Glass Water Gulf, Klytis following him in stride.
Nuri and Rhea walk a few paces behind them, and Marcella trails behind them.
Gray takes up the rear, casting wary glances as he maintains sharp vigilance of everything around them.
He slams into a body directly in front of him.
“What the—”
Marcella stares up at him, and though her face is covered by hooded shadows, he can still make out her taunting look of disapproval. “Focusing too hard on everything beside you will result in you missing what’s directly in front of you.”
Gray frowns. “I didn’t think I had to watch out for someone from my own team.”
“Mistake number one.” A pause. And then, “You can let go of me now, Gray.”
It takes him a few seconds to process her words.
A few pounding heartbeats to realize his hand remains tightened on Marcella’s waist, bracketing the dip of her curves while his other hand is curled around her shoulder from his attempt to balance her after their collision.
“Oh,” he mutters, thankful for his hood now more than ever as heat scorches his cheeks.
“Apologies.” He removes his hands and clears his throat.
She laughs. “You’re fine.”
They regard each other, the rhythm of their breaths slowing as the world dims into a quiet lull.
He thinks he should say something. Perhaps she feels the same, seeing as her lips crack open then close.
Yet before either of them musters any courage, instead only seeming capable of studying the other, shouts erupt in the distance.
“Rogues! The Rogues are here!”
A rotund man with a balding head and long sideburns barrels between Gray and Marcella. Gray grabs him, spinning him around and bracing him by the shoulders. “What’s going on?” he asks, trying to calm the hysteric man.
A mix of impatience and urgency flickers in the man’s eyes. “Take shelter. Board your windows.” His gruff voice is quickened. He does a fast inventory of Gray’s body. “Traveler, I suspect. Your inn will know what to do. Get there immediately. The Rogues are moving!”
With that, he shakes off Gray and runs down the street. Not more than a few heartbeats pass before a resounding boom echoes through the air as magic clashes against magic.
“Shit,” Marcella curses under her breath.
“Come on,” Gray says, realizing their group is no longer in sight. “We need to catch up with them.”
As they sprint toward the noise, Gray can’t help but wonder how they fell so far behind in the first place. It couldn’t have been more than a few passing seconds that he and Marcella stopped…
Right?
He shakes his head, frustration coiling in his chest as he is forced to acknowledge his thoughts scatter when he is near Marcella. She is the unbidden Moon and he is the bewitched Tide—her magnetic force capable of pulling him in whichever direction she pleases.
Their sprint leads them to a sprawling stone quay, the buildings now far behind them while the stretch of oceanic water glistens in front of them.
A series of fishing boats and sailboats rest docked in the small marina.
One such boat finds itself caught in the crossfire as a wielder with a half-shorn head and a tattoo stretching across his cheek slams burning wind magic into its wooden frame in an attempt to deflect Kiran’s flames.
The flames mostly die in the water, but a small ember catches the cloth sail, spreading up and up as it chews the ship’s structure away with fiery teeth. Gray curses under his breath.
They didn’t bring a water-wielder or an ice-wielder with them.
Not to mention, Marcella’s magic would only feed the flames, and Gray’s illusions can do nothing to stop the truth of destruction.
Nuri is a healer. Klytis an aether-wielder.
Rhea would have been able to stop the fire if she were able to reach the flames before they made contact with the sailboat, but now that the element has collided with something else, it is no longer magic fueling it. Just pure, reactive science.
“Shit,” he mutters again.
Gray quickly assesses everyone’s positions.
He counts nine rogue wielders, and he doesn’t sense any others.
Nuri is locked in hand-to-hand combat with a man featuring slimy black hair and a scar marring his left eye, her daggers moving swiftly and efficiently.
He remembers when Nuri said she was quite proficient with daggers. She wasn’t exaggerating.
Rhea wields dual daggers as well, fighting against two men and one woman at once.
By engaging them in combat, she is well within her range to nullify their magic, and Gray can visibly see the frustration and confusion on their faces as they are forced to go blow-for-blow with Rhea while reaching for magic that won’t answer.
Klytis has taken on a supporting role a small distance behind the battle, attempting to redirect magic attacks where possible by opening small portals and casting the magic out over the water in the middle of the gulf, away from anyone or anything.
Gray suspects he took up the position after the sailboat caught fire.
Which still leaves the matter of the burning ship. If left unattended, the growing blaze will soon spread to the other ships, and a raging inferno their group is incapable of extinguishing will tear across the marina as a result, destroying everything in its wake.
Gray balls his hands at his sides, spotting Kiran last as he battles at the center of the chaos.
He fights against a wind-wielder—who, at this point, can reasonably be deemed the strongest of the Rogues—a water-wielder, and a fire-wielder.
While wind and water is not an ideal match up for Kiran, from what Gray sees, he is handling himself fine.
It leaves Gray feeling confident in what he’s chosen to do.
Marcella takes a quick step, preparing to sprint toward the ongoing battle, but Gray reaches out and grabs her wrist, pulling her back toward him as gently as he can manage. “Wait.” At her sharp glare, Gray releases his hold on her and exposes his raised palms.
“I swear to the gods, Gray Nightenjoy, if you just stopped me to spew some bullshit about safety, I—”
“No,” Gray interjects, cutting her off, not wanting to waste time.
“That’s not it in the slightest. I have a plan, but I need your help.
” His eyes bounce between Marcella and the burning sailboat, the fire becoming an increasing threat to the other ships surrounding it.
Time is against him, and it makes him jittery with anticipation.
A wrinkle forms between Marcella’s brows, and she traces Gray’s line of sight to the burning ship.
She shakes her head. “That isn’t our priority.
The ships can burn for a bit while we neutralize the Rogues before they harm anyone.
The ships are on the water, away from buildings and pedestrians.
This is as straightforward a decision as they come, emphasized in our classes. ”
Gray shifts on his feet. “From a tactical standpoint, I know you’re right, but—”
“—but nothing, Gray! We’re in our first active assignment, acting as Jurafen would. Don’t mess it up. Leave it alone.”
Gray flexes his jaw. “These people, this city—they are fishermen. It is a fishing town, Marcella.”
“So?!” she asks, eyes wild and voice incredulous.
“So those boats are their livelihoods!” His arm makes a sweeping gesture toward the burning sailboat and the docks awaiting an untimely demise.
“If they’re destroyed, most of the families residing here will lose their source of income.
It will plunge them into poverty, and who knows if they will even be able to scrape together the resources to replace their burned ships.
Children will go hungry. Men may result to crime.
And who can say how it might affect the trade markets. Is that really what you want?”
Marcella slides her tongue along the grooves of her teeth. Eventually, she darts her narrowed stare to the now burning mast, then at Kiran and the others—who have already rendered two Rogues unconscious, someone already having bound them in magic blocking manacles.
She rubs at her forehead, blowing out a long sigh after. “Tell me what to do.”