"I suggest you don't move if you don't want your head to fly away from your neck."
Xanthy froze and called for her magic, instead. A spell flew out of her lips as the air between her and her attacker exploded in a loud blast. The pressure on her neck eased. Xanthy stumbled away from the wall, putting her arms forward to brace for retaliation.
A rustle of fabric. Xanthy swept her hands towards that direction. Another uttered spell bathed the room in a dim ambience. A shadow whizzed from her left. There. Xanthy sent another spell in that direction which met a wall. Sparks showered her as debris shook from the compact wall. Okay. That's not concrete. She's in an underground tunnel or something.
Xanthy stepped backward, throwing spell after spell at random directions. Light footsteps ensued in the darkness, almost like a scratching sound more than an actual fairy moving. A ball of light formed in her hand just as the spell left her lips. She lobbed at the figure that lunged for her.
The light shot in a straight beam but instead of recoiling, the figure extended their hand mid-flight and the beam changed course. Xanthy ducked as her own spell charged at her, searing the uprooting more debris from the wall of earth behind her.
That brief exchange gave Xanthy a perfect view of her attacker. A faceless mask with no holes save for eyes. Tall. Lithe. White, loose robes. Long dark hair. Sword.
Xanthy's eyes widened as her attacker slashed at her neck. Sword. Sword. Xanthy ducked, rolled, and swept her leg behind her attacker's knees. The person—were they a fairy, a human, a half-blood? No time to analyze—stood up and moved to lunge at her again.
An illumination spell echoed along the walls as Xanthy splayed her palms open. "I don't mean any harm!" her voice sounded clipped. Desperate. "I don't even know where I am!" She squeezed her eyes shut and waited for pain.
"You're not a pixie," the person's voice—feminine—said. Xanthy opened her eyes to find that the woman had straightened. "What are you doing in Peltra?"
Xanthy swallowed the taste of earth from her throat. Ugh. Had she eaten literal dirt within the last few minutes? "Um, I'm a wanderer," she twined her hands together in front of her. "I was just passing through Peltra when I happened on your caverns," she raised her arms again—a sign of openness and surrender. "I swear, I'm not here to intrude on your peace."
"What makes you think I'll believe that?" the woman angled her sword against Xanthy's conjured light. A lump formed in Xanthy's throat. "You're obviously one of them."
"One of whom?" Xanthy pushed herself off the wall of dirt and knitted her eyebrows. "The army that attacked your city?"
The woman's hand tightened around her sword's hilt. "There was no army," she whispered in a tone that almost sounded like a hiss. "Just that floating woman and her infernal spells."
Xanthy's chest tightened. Spells. Woman. Has the Heiress finally decided to show herself?
"I'm not one of them," Xanthy shook her head. "I'm never one of them," she held out a hand as she dared to step forward. "I'm Xanthiene. I can help you."
The figure sheathed her sword in a smooth motion and removed her mask. The doll-like face with a marquine complexion looked like a colorless moon in the dim light around them. The woman's dark hair was almost the same shade as her eyes—inky black and seemed to complement her pale skin. Her glare could stab a graspel just as well as her sword. "Where are you from?" the girl turned away from Xanthy. Her loose robes swishing against the silence of this...cavern. "Why are you wearing a cloaker?"
Xanthy touched the pendant hanging from her neck. Reeca and the moment the varichria gave her the cloaker came to mind. "I'm on the run too," a bitter taste filled Xanthy's mouth. "I'm lucky enough to have stayed alive because they wanted me to."
The woman turned towards Xanthy and made no move to extinguish the light that Xanthy had cast. The woman raised a curved eyebrow. "What do they want from you?"
"The same thing as yours," Xanthy lifted her gaze to meet the woman's. "My freedom."
A dark cloud passed by the woman's features. As all fairies, she didn't seem to be older than Xanthy but her eyes already carried a certain heaviness fit for someone who lived hundreds of years. Without a word, the woman turned and beckoned Xanthy to follow. "Do you have a companion? I heard someone call your name aboveground," the woman said as she led Xanthy deeper into the corridor flanked with more walls of dirt.
"Oh, that's my boyfriend, June," she blushed a bit when she said the word to describe what June was to her. "He's with me, of course, until I fell and ended up here."
"That magic," the woman hissed, her tone tinged not with fear but with intrigue and wonder. "I've never felt something as strong as yours. It broke through the protection spells I cast on the ceiling. What is it?"
Xanthy bit her lip. She hated it that June was becoming right about this. Maybe she couldn't control her power in the first place and she had only been deluding herself into thinking that she could. "I'm the Virtakios," she blurted, feeling no less like an idiot in saying that complicated, Ancient word. "I'm the one the Heiress wants."
The woman paused so suddenly that Xanthy almost bumped into her back. "You know that woman?"
Xanthy played with her fingers. "She's the island's enemy. I am hers. I'm the one she wants and I'm the one who will be standing in her way. That's the Heiress," she jerked her chin in a vague direction away from them and then paused for a second to put her hand on her chest. "This is me."
"I see," the woman nodded before turning to continue their walk. "I shall get your lover from above. I shall meet you here once the mission is complete."
Xanthy nodded. No need to talk like a soldier, though. The woman disappeared into the maze of corridors until her white robe was no more than a sliver. Soon, Xanthy was alone. She sighed as she leaned against the wall of dirt. There were a thousand things that could go wrong from that encounter. At least, for now, she was alive.
The woman returned no more than a quarter of an hour later, dragging June by the collar. He sputtered, flailing and squirming against the woman's hold but she only tightened her grip until June was clawing at his collar for air. She shoved June beside Xanthy like his skin was made of acid.
"Why would you consort with a half-blood?" If a fairy could age in the past fifteen minutes, this woman certainly did. "They're a nuisance."
"Hey, lady," June dusted his sleeves. His tone was flat but honed to an edge. "I can hear you."
The woman stalked towards June and got into his face. "Then hear me, half-blood. If you aren't what you say, your soul will enter the afterlife faster than you can blink."
June puffed his cheeks before letting out a snort. "Is that how you make friends?"
Xanthy kicked him in the shin. The woman didn't bat an eyelash. "Follow me," she turned away from them and began continuing down the tunnel. "I would like to hear your proposition once we meet with the rest of the Generals."
"Proposition? You talk like a dictionary," June quipped. In a flash, he was pinned to the wall with a blade propped under his chin. Magic leaped to the surface as Xanthy called it.
"I warn you, half-blood," the woman snarled, her teeth bared. "Test my patience one more time and you'll soon regret having a tongue."
The woman let June drop to the ground. Xanthy rose from her stance and sidled next to June who rubbed his throat as if making sure it was still there. "Stop talking to her," Xanthy hissed at him. "She's obviously pissed."
June shrugged, which didn't give Xanthy any indication that he understood or would follow what she said. She sighed and shook her head. Boys and their thick heads!
The corridors twisted and turned. Once, they passed a pile of embers under a throng of black armor. Xanthy's gut swirled. Pixies turn into embers when they die. "Hey, what happened here?" she called to the woman walking a few paces ahead.
Without even turning to face them, the woman extended her hand and light spread in the tunnels as if one lit a thousand candles at once. "Renegades from Ok-sa," the woman said like it explained everything. They continued walking from there.
Okay, then.
Xanthy inclined her head and let loose a quick breath. The woman's loose white robe swished along her movement as she walked. Her waist-length hair tied by her nape reminded Xanthy of a dagrine tail as it swished back and forth with every step. Her slippers woven from straw and other magic materials scratched lightly against the floor made of hardened dirt, making faint schkk, schkk sounds.
Xanthy touched the walls again, feeling its coarseness under her fingers. How come Umazure had a lot of underground tunnels like this? Was this connected with the Queen's escape routes in Cardina?
Bile rose to her throat. She didn't want to go back to that place.
After three rights and two lefts, they arrived at a dead end. A rusty iron gate blocked their way. The woman stepped forward and pushed both doors with her hands. The gate swung open to reveal a large communal room filled to the brim with dirt-stricken pixies.
A knot formed in Xanthy's gut. Half the population was missing. So this was where they all were.
The room was as large as the dining room in the Alkaran palace. It's completely bare, except for a fireplace burning at the center of the wall at the far end of the room. The walls were scrubbed with what looked like a bloody mop with bits of dust, blood, and animal excrement still plastered on them.
Hundreds of discarded potion vials littered the floor, glinting in the faint light given by the crackling fire. The smell of burning flowers was the most prominent scent wafting in the air. It was cold and Xanthy rubbed her arms for heat when she felt it. There was no wind and even with the fire, the pixies huddled together in groups, sharing tattered blankets with each other.
June and Xanthy exchanged glances as the woman strode inside the room. No heads turned. A bunch of children on the far corner continued playing mutely. Adults were either asleep on woven cots or exchanging hushed stories with each other. Men ran sharpening stones against their unsheathed weapon but glared at the empty air. All of them were dressed in the same loose, white robe that the woman wore.
Xanthy spied a corner where at least fifty candles were lit. Some pixies knelt by it either staring blankly at the flickering flame or sobbing quietly into cloths or straight in their hands.
Mourning. They were mourning. For family? For friends? Xanthy wouldn't know. Losing either hurt, either way.
The woman spurred forward, dragging Xanthy and June along with her with just her purposeful steps. They all came to a spot in the wide room where a pile of pixies clad in muddied, golden armor discussing in hushed tones among themselves. They were all sitting cross-legged and sipping from small cups with what looked and smelled like...alcohol. Xanthy wrinkled her nose.
"Crown General," a bald man with an eye-patch set his cup aside, stood up, and approached the woman before dipping half of his body in a deep bow. "Where have you been? The entire populace is distraught in your absence."
"I go wherever I please, Commander Faira," the woman gestured for the man to be at ease. Her voice was as flat as an ornamental plate. "I inspected the disturbance by the South Quadrant that's supposed to be Commander Sanxor's jurisdiction."
Another man with cropped black hair and clean-shaven face shot up and bowed. "Please forgive me, Crown General. This will not happen again."
"Commander Sanxor, at ease," the woman glanced at the bowed man and gestured to him as well to relax. She blew a heavy breath—one that reflected the state of the people around them. "I'm not my father. You are excused. Go attend to your wife and child."
Relief flashed across the man's face. He bowed deeply once more. "I thank your benevolence and grace, Crown General."
The girl waved her hand as a sign of dismissal. The man wove through the throng of pixies and came to sit beside a woman with the same cropped hair. A child swaddled with dirty cloth slept in her arms. Xanthy's stomach tightened at the sight. No matter how scary and formal they were, they still had a life. If she had been here earlier, these people might have stood a chance against the Heiress.
"Where is Commander Neradan?" The woman turned to the other seated commanders and they all shot up and bowed as well.
"Here, Crown General," a woman with long, straight dark hair came from the gates and bowed her head. Some of her rich locks fell forward as she did so.
"What is the death tally? Are we nearing total?" The woman's tone was clipped and tight. Yeah, talking about death tallies wasn't easy.
Commander Neradan straightened and shook her head. "There's still a lot of ground to cover, Crown General, given that both Yin Alora and Xai-Ren are the ones heavily affected. I shall head out with my division later tonight to continue the search."
The Crown General nodded, signaling the Commander to step back. "Commander Kherol," the Crown General called.
"Here, Crown General," a man with a dozen piercings on one ear said, his jewelry jangling as he dipped his head at the Crown General's direction. "The traders are safely secured in a separate room."
"And the correspondence with the other kingdoms about their transportation?" the woman asked.
"Carleon, the Sprites' Territory, and Alkara on behalf of Penleth agreed on your proposition," the Commander cocked his head to one side, thinking. "Dwanzeig and Helinfirth have yet to answer."
The girl massaged her temples. "Keep trying," she cast a look at the pixies fixed on the floor. "We have too many mouths to feed. We couldn't afford any more than this."
The man bowed and walked out of the room. Xanthy and June stepped aside to let him pass. He didn't seem to notice the both of them. Xanthy directed her attention back to the woman. Who was she? What in Umazure was a Crown General?
"Commander Dithal," the woman frowned as her eyes moved around the room.
"Canelis," a reedy, masculine voice said behind them. Xanthy turned and saw a boy close to June's age with hair like Nyxis and narrow eyes like the woman he just called Canelis. He stood a full head over June and he inclined his head when he saw them.
He winked at them before turning to the girl, Canelis. "I'm not late for your daily round calls, am I?"
"Commander Dithal," Canelis, the Crown General, growled. "How many times must I tell you to address me as the Crown General in all transactions? Even if I am the authority, I can't bend the rules just for you. The others need to see that they're following a capable leader. You calling me by name won't help in any way but lowering the army's respect."
"Aw, come on," Commander Dithal punched Canelis's arm lightly. "You love it when I call you that."
The Crown General's face remained blank and passive. "I will not repeat my request, Commander. I suggest you adhere to it," she turned away from him and clasped her hands behind her back. "How was the rescue mission?"
Commander Dithal straightened. "There's still too much ground to cover. Commander Neradan and I will be working together now. We will probably reach the center of Xai-Ren by midday tomorrow given that the sun still gives us its light."
Canelis regarded Dithal with a weary look. The Commander's face softened. "Attend to your duties," Canelis ordered, turning away before the Commander could say a word. He bowed and walked towards the gates. Before the door closed, Xanthy swore she saw the Commander linger. Then, he shook his head and caught up with the departed female Commander named Neradan.
Canelis played with the pommel of her sword. "Someone please fetch the Colonel from the kitchens," she ordered. "I need to speak with him regarding the potion proportions."
A small boy ran from the room and out into the gate. Would he be alright? Xanthy flinched when Canelis turned to her with a grim expression. "Disregard what you saw," she clenched her fists by her sides. "This isn't Peltra. This is a field for war."
With that, the Crown General motioned for them to follow her and strode into yet another room. Xanthy fixed the bow slung across her chest and dusted her satchel. Here goes nothing.