Ex Magica, page 30
21
Nearly a month had passed since the fire sprites had terrorized the city. Mallory had spent a few days in the hospital for stitches, and then two weeks on crutches while her foot healed. Her mother and father invited Caleb and Alex to dinner for her eighteenth birthday, but it was not a joyous occasion; both of her parents cried. This should have been the day she ascended to her matriarchal apprenticeship with her mother, but of course, that was never really a possibility with Mallory’s curse, and even less so with everything that had happened over the preceding months. Just as in the days after the Dikaió was lost, she did not see her parents often, though this time they did not keep her completely in the dark. The City Council had been meeting daily to decide what should be done regarding the heirs of the Triad. The trial had been swift and certain, and the heirs were not offered the chance to present their side of the story; the verdict and the sentence having been decided before they ever entered the Governor’s house.
Now the time had come for the Council to announce its decision to the general public. The entire city stood in the Governor’s District facing the Governor’s House. Mallory stood, wearing jeans, calf-high boots, a long sleeve button-up shirt under a thick jacket and a backpack. Her curly hair was tied back in a bushy ponytail that was tucked beneath a wide-brimmed canvas hat. Caleb and Alex stood on either side of her, similarly attired. The Matriarch stood at the top of the stairs with the Governor at one side and Alex’s father—now, the Administrator—at the other. The City Council flanked out to the sides of them, and the three teenage heirs stood three steps below them all facing up toward the Triad.
The Governor spoke, “The Council has reached a decision in the trial, as well as an appropriate sentence. First, we have two orders to communicate to the city:
“Number one, this day shall forever be remembered as a day of memorial to those who lost their lives in the fire-sprite attack. We have commissioned the guilds to work together to build an appropriate memorial from the rubble of the building that fell. Should we find the remains of those brave firefighters who stayed atop the roof to save the Matriarch, they shall be entombed there and forever remembered.
“Second, the number of citizen representatives on the City Council will now be equal to the representation of both the guilds and the Triad. We have heard the outcry of the city, and without the Dikaió, we all stand equal as little more than Dikaió Choruses. As such, the citizenry must have more power in the decisions of the Council. Furthermore, the Triad will, from this point forward, submit itself to the vote of the City Council. We no longer stand above you by right of birth, but among you as equals.”
Murmuring trickled through the crowd, as the citizens digested the information.
Someone yelled from the crowd, “And what of the heirs who built the fire sprites? What will come to the traitors?”
Another voice echoed the word “traitors” and then another. Soon the whole crowd was chanting the word in unison, and Mallory felt her blood run cold.
The Governor held up his hand for silence, and the mob ignored him for a time, but slowly the chant puttered out, and he was able to speak again. “The Council has weighed their crime and its consequences: the destruction by fire, the loss of life, the treasonous disregard of our laws on one side of the scales of justice; on the other side, their bravery in stopping their creations, for without their ingenuity we could never have stopped the fire sprites. Unfortunately, we would not have had to deal with fire sprites at all if that same ingenuity had not birthed them. For the act of building the fire sprites, the Council has voted that the heirs be executed according to our laws—for the act of bravery, they have voted for a stay of execution and mercy.”
The crowd erupted in anger. Shouts of “No!” “Favoritism!” “Injustice!” rang out across the Governor’s District.
The Governor yelled now as well, “Please! Please! I am not finished!” The crowd slowly calmed, but Mallory looked over her shoulder, and she could see angry eyes darting around. Spittle was wet on their lips, and their hands were clenched into tight fists. If what the Governor said next did not satisfy them, they were liable to riot and tear them all to pieces.
“However,” the Governor yelled, “the Council recognizes that we cannot abide such a danger among us.”
Mallory grabbed hold of Caleb and Alex’s hands in anticipation of the Governor’s next words. The trial had been closed to the public this time, but the three of them knew exactly what was coming. They were given one day to prepare for it, and Mallory only hoped that she had anticipated enough eventualities in packing to survive the Council’s decree.
The Governor pronounced the sentence: “Henceforth, Mallory Knenne, Caleb Aiworth, and Alexandria Nelson shall be banished from this City, forever exiled to the dark forest at our borders. Should they return, the Council’s mercy shall be ended, and the initial judgment shall be carried out: The heirs shall be immediately put to death in accordance with our laws.”
The crowd murmured amongst themselves, and then voices began to signal assent. “Exile! Exile! Exile!” the chant began.
The Governor again waved for silence and then continued. “The memorial in the marketplace will list their names among the deceased, as they will be lost to us forever. They are to leave us today carrying only what they selected for their life outside the City. However, since no one has left the City in any of our generations, or for eons before, the guilds will now present gifts of their trade to help them on their journey.”
He stepped back, and the short Smith guild master stepped forward. “The Smith guild offers you a reminder of your houses.” He handed them each an ornamental broach of their house’s symbol: Caleb received a shield, Mallory a dragonfly, and Alex a scroll of law.
The Manager of City Services stepped up next and handed them each a flask of water and explained, “There are filters on the lids of these flasks that will remove the impurities and bacteria from any water source you find in the dark forest.”
The head of the Mercantile guild stepped forward. She presented them each with a heavy woolen cloak and full-length leather gloves. “Should the days turn cold, you’ll need these to keep you warm.”
The Head of the Science guild followed her sister and presented Alex with a compass, “so you can find your way when you need it.” To Mallory, she gave a miniature tool kit, “for whatever new inventions you may make.” To Caleb, she gave a flint and striker, “for the one who likes starting fires,” she said with a wink.
The Sprite Master walked up next and handed them each several feet of rope. “I wish I could offer you a sprite, but this may prove more handy when you need it.” She paused in front of Caleb and looked deep into his blue eyes. He stared back, and Mallory wondered what secret message passed between them, but then the Sprite Master returned to her place.
The Culture guild came next. He handed them knapsacks full of nuts, dried fruits and various jerkies. “You’ll be hungry at some point, no doubt. Should you find open land, you may also need these.” He handed Mallory several packs of seeds. “I’ve written the directions for tending the crops on the packets.”
The Governor then stepped forward. He presented them each with two blades: a long-serrated knife and a short sword. “May these help you in times of need, whatever that may be.” He reached his hand up and cupped his son’s shoulder. There were tears in his eyes, but he blinked them away quickly and stepped back to his place.
Alex’s father, the new Administrator, stepped forward now, looking anywhere but at his daughter and the other heirs. “For the exiled heirs, I offer the protection of the magistrates’ armory in their exile.” Mallory’s father stepped forward, wearing the uniform of the Chief Magistrate. A member of the familial Triad was required to hold the role, and he was the only one who had training as a magistrate. The City Council had agreed that he would hold the title for as long as an heir to the Administration was absent, or until the Matriarch’s daughter was old enough to hold the role of Matriarch. Then Mallory’s mother would join her husband as the wife of the Chief Magistrate. He stood in front of the former heirs, holding holstered belts with magistrate weapons and three pouches of spare ammunition. “Whatever dangers are out there in the dark forest; may these weapons protect you.” The pair of fathers hugged their respective daughters and then stepped quickly back to their places.
Finally, the Matriarch stepped forward. Tears choked back her words, but she took Mallory’s hand, and then reached out and took Caleb’s and said, “As my gift to you, and with the power granted to me as Matriarch and the voice of the Dikaió, I give you marriage—if you’ll have each other.” She paused and waited for their responses.
Caleb looked at Mallory and said, “I will.”
Mallory’s heart beat fast, and her mouth went dry. She thought that she should take time to consider what was happening, but while her mind was occupied, her heart spoke of its own accord, and she said, “I will.”
The Matriarch smiled. “Then it is so. Let it be recorded that Caleb Aiworth and Mallory Knenne were bound one to the other before they were lost from the city.” She nodded to Caleb, who reached gently for Mallory. Drawing her close, he whispered, “I love you, Mallory Aiworth” and kissed her.
Mallory looked up into his clear, blue eyes and answered his warm embrace with a smile, “I love you, too, Caleb Aiworth.”
The Matriarch turned to Alex, who had lost her composure and was crying profusely. “Dearest, Alex. I wish there was something equivalent that I could give you, but to you I give the charge to protect the future of this pair. Children are the life of the city, and they will be your life beyond its borders. Will you accept this charge?”
Alex wiped her eyes and nodded, “I will.”
“Then, while you will no longer be present with us, if you cherish these sacred promises, the city will be with you wherever you might go.”
The Matriarch turned to the citizenry then. “The Triad has committed to giving you new heirs to replace these that were lost. You can see that I carry a child; she will be the Matriarchal heir. The tradition of the city will continue through her; the city will continue through us and through our children. Though the loss of the Dikaió has left us all equal as Choruses, still the city will live.”
The crowd shouted in agreement. “The city will live!”
The Matriarch looked again toward the former heirs, “And now you must leave. I love you, my daughter. She smiled at Caleb. “And my son. A mother should never outlive her children. I will remember you forever.”
The three teens descended the stairs, and the crowd parted in front of them. They walked down Silver Street, leaving the Governor’s District behind them for the last time. The crowd followed behind them. Musicians worked their way to the front. They had cobbled together rough instruments in workshops that resembled the ones that the Dikaió used to make out of light: One had a stringed guitar made of a sprite’s un-birthed husk and wires, one had drums made of silver sprite heads, one held a flute whittled from a tree branch, and the last played a violin made from what looked to be an old chair, some dried leather, and a cow-hair bow. The music was not as clean as the Dikaió’s, but the imperfection of the sound imbibed the music with more emotion than Mallory had ever heard before. As they turned onto Main Street, the crowd’s footsteps began to fall in tempo to the beat. Children ran beside them as they walked, laughing and dancing, and in another less somber circumstance, Mallory might have joined them. It felt a lot like they were walking in a Christening procession.
Mallory bit her lip and tilted her head as a thought struck her: Her mother was a Matriarch who was a Chorus now. She was the one who had defeated the final fire sprite and saved the city. She had fulfilled the Dikaió’s prophecy when Mallory could not.
Mallory smiled.
It seemed fitting that her mother, who embodied the Matriarchy so well should be the hero the city needed. Even now, in bearing a new Matriarch, she was giving herself in service in a way Mallory never would. Whatever children she and Caleb had would never be heirs of the City. Mallory’s destiny suddenly looked much like the forest they were approaching: dark and mysterious. Oddly enough, Mallory felt as if a weight had been lifted off her shoulders.
Suddenly, a swarm of dragonflies flitted past her, spinning and darting amongst the dancing children. She took hold of Caleb’s hand, squeezed it hard, gave him a smile, and laughed heartily. As she laughed, she let the music take hold of her, and ran ahead with the children and dragonflies, dancing into the unknown.
Epilogue
The darkness was nearly impenetrable at that time of night in the forest. The moon and stars barely shone through the thick canopy above them, and when it was cloudy, like it was that night, their eyes could not adjust to the dark. Caleb was striking the flint behind Mallory and cursing under his breath. She and Alex stood close to one another, sensing each other’s warmth in the cold of the night more than seeing each other.
They had their magistrate weapons out, but it was impossible to get a bead on the noises in the woods. Leaves rustled, and grunts and growls moved among the undergrowth. The four-legged beasts of the dark forest had surrounded their little clearing every night for the last three weeks since they set up camp there. The creatures would stay away if they kept the fire going, so they had been sleeping in shifts to continue tending the flames. It was Caleb’s shift to tend the fire, and Mallory was not sure what had happened, but when he called for help, both she and Alex had sprung out of light sleep and grabbed their weapons. Now, they were standing in the dark trying to figure out what to fire at.
“Caleb,” Mallory hissed. “Hurry up!”
“I’m trying,” Caleb hissed back. Then a spark caught in the kindling, and Caleb blew it to life. The flame slowly climbed up through the smaller sticks. The tiny blaze was reflected in multiple pairs of eyes. The beasts had left the underbrush and were slowly making their way toward them from every side.
An explosion tore through the tense silence as Alex opened fire and hit one of the animals directly between the eyes. It winced and dropped dead. The rest of the pack hesitated then, and one nuzzled its fallen companion curiously. When the dead animal gave no response, the beast looked up at Alex with menace and leapt for her. She fired again, and the beast fell at her feet.
Mallory followed suit then and began firing haphazardly at the pack. She had not trained in using the magistrates’ weapons like Alex had, and she missed her targets until the beasts charging her were within a stone’s throw—then she hit one, but two more were closing in quickly behind it. Immediately, Caleb was beside her with his magistrate weapon in one hand, and his short sword in the other. He fired at one beast and stabbed the other as it lunged. As the beast’s weight thrust against the sword, it knocked him off balance, and he stumbled backwards.
Just as he fell, Alex yelled, “I need help!”
Mallory turned to see four of the creatures creeping toward her. Alex fired at one, and it fell. Mallory fired at another and grazed it. However, she knew that they would never be able to stop what was coming. Caleb reached up and grabbed Mallory’s hand, and she braced for whatever death and suffering these creatures had in store for them.
Without warning, a white light illuminated the clearing. Mallory’s eyes were blinded in the brilliance, and she squeezed them tightly closed. The certain death Mallory thought they were going to face never materialized. Soon, behind her eyelids, her pupils adjusted to the light, and she cautiously peaked out at the campsite. The rest of the beasts lay on the ground dead—they had been torn apart just like the ones that had attacked the cattle when the light went down in the city. The white light was emanating from two small orbs floating in the darkness. Then they vanished, and Mallory’s eyes had to once again adjust to the change in luminescence. The small campfire had a comparably dimmer glow, which gradually revealed a strange little bronze sprite.
The sprite looked like it was made of clockwork parts; gears and springs ticked and clicked as it moved toward them. Caleb was still holding Mallory’s hand, and he squeezed it tighter now. After all the trouble they had faced with sprites, seeing a strange one in the dark forest at night was unsettling. Seeing what it had done to the creatures of the dark forest did not help. If it chose to attack them in a similar fashion, they would be helpless against it. They would have stood more of a chance fighting off the fangs and claws of a pack of beasts than the unforgiving, nigh-indestructible power of sprite steel.
The sprite stood between them and the fire now, and it eyed them—the dimly-lit orbs focused and refocused on them. Then it came slowly forward, and reached out for Alex’s scarred hand, which she had not covered with a glove as she usually did because of the confusion. Its eyes focused on the arm, then moved back from them and in a metallic voice asked, “You are from the Lost City?”
The three friends looked at each other with their eyebrows raised. Then Caleb answered, “We are from the city, yes.”
The sprite ticked and clicked, and its eyes scanned over their campsite, their weapons, their broaches, and when it seemed satisfied with what it saw, it said, “You bear the symbols of the Triad of leadership. The Dikaió Archivist requests the city leaders to send a Chorus, that they may study the ancient ways.”
Mallory spoke then, “Our lineage is of the Triad, but I am a Chorus.” She paused and looked at Alex and Caleb, felt a tinge of guilt, and continued, “We are all Dikaió Choruses.”
The sprite responded, “Will you answer the Archivist’s call?”
Caleb and Alex huddled around Mallory.
