THE JEALOUSY OF JALICE

With an open book draped across her knees, Annilasia sat alone on the grassy hill. She reached across her chest to tug her cloak tighter. The breeze that’d drifted across the forest over the past few weeks had matured into a wind with a cold bite. The grassy fields of the open downlands that stretched out before her left the wind unhindered.

She spread out her fingers across the book pages to keep them from flipping. Her stomach knotted as she scanned the open page. She knew it was wrong to read it. Yet she couldn’t stop. Something had charged her with the task, and she had no choice but to obey.

The markings and symbols scrawled in black ink had meant nothing to her at first glance. She’d been prepared to shut the book and scold herself for caving in to the phantom monster in her head and its nightmarish demands. But then something had clicked—or snapped—in her mind. The hieroglyphics within the book made sense. To her amazement and horror, she could read them.

Ever since this discovery, she’d found ways to pore over the pages, such as at night when the others slept, or to sneak glances when no one watched. A phrase or two did the trick, like smoking a tiny reed of bischer’s stem for a quick hit, yet it left an insatiable need to partake again.

Faint whispers that weren’t her own scuttled across her mind every so often while she read. The voice bumbled about like a child chasing a pet with the intention of burning it. No—that wasn’t right. She meant a child chasing a pet and hoping to devour it. No—that wasn’t right either . . . Annilasia shook off the disturbing images. Too often she’d found her mind conjuring such scenes that had never before entered it prior to reading the book or hearing the voice.

As such, Annilasia despised herself. Every time she finished a session, whether a stolen couple of seconds or hours at night, she closed the book and swore never to open it again. No mirajin could have possibly written the violent rituals or aether drug formulas that tainted every page. The hieroglyphics were the scrawls of a truly twisted mind, and Annilasia wasn’t some filthy aethertwister. She wanted nothing to do with Korcsha, the book, or aether.

It was aether that had corrupted Hydrim and killed her tribe. Countless souls had suffered and died because of the foreign element. Deciphering the messages within the book’s pages only further convinced Annilasia that aether belonged in the Apparition Realm. If she ever had her way, all those who twisted it would be purged from the earth.

Still, the voice in Annilasia’s head countered her every move. Even when she wasn’t reading, she could hear its pestering urges to return to the book’s pages. Teeth-grinding screeches tore at her resolve with words that bit like fangs. The voice’s commands compelled her to obey.

Sometimes, she resisted. In the beginning, she thought she could suppress the urges to comply. During those few rebellions, bloodshot eyes and gashed lips had visited her in the shadows at night. They followed her into dreamless sleep to take full form with black bones half-glazed with peeling skin.

At least, it should’ve been dreamless sleep. The medresa should’ve negated any hallucinations while it funneled her dream energy into Korcsha’s wand. Yet somehow the dokojin—that had to be what it was—would find her in that dreamless place.

She’d been loyal in previous days with reading, just as the dokojin wanted. Whenever she complied, it refrained from giving chase during those nightly visits. Instead it simply stared at her with unblinking eyes. Terrifying, but tolerable over the alternative of an incessant pursuit that ended in fresh scratches on her shoulder upon waking.

Her shoulder—another mystery she’d pieced together. The mash of scabs and open scratches were thanks to her new companion and its way of taunting or punishing her. Sometimes, the dokojin would whisper a floundering of deranged phrases and growls during the act. Upon reaching the Flock of Tents, she’d made it a priority to purchase wound dressings to soak up the blood, as well as ointments to reduce any inflammation and scarring.

Thus far, she’d managed to hide all this from the others, and intended to keep it that way. The greatest challenge was Mygo. She’d seen the way he frowned whenever glimpsing the book, and he scowled at her satchel whenever it was tucked away. Now the book never left her sight, as she was convinced Mygo would burn the accursed item if he ever got his hands on it again.

Annilasia shut the book abruptly, certain she’d heard footsteps. Her cloak fluttered in the wind, but nothing else moved. She craned her neck and peered down the hill behind her. From her vantage point on the hilltop, she could look out over the forest. Her eyes trailed over the mass gathering of tents at the forest’s edge, just before the first slope of hills.

She turned to face the grassy downlands that dominated all sight to the west. Sparse patches of tree foliage streaked across the otherwise barren hills in a panorama of golden grass, rising and falling against a grey sky.

A lone figure riding a large megaloceros captured her attention as the steed and rider broke past a patch of trees on the other side of the hill. Annilasia scrambled to her feet and threw the book into the satchel. Standing alert, she watched the stranger’s gradual approach with mounting anxiety. As the rider came closer, Annilasia relaxed when she recognized Elothel’s distinguishing attire.

A sharp pain ripped across her shoulder. She gasped as scabs tore from her skin.

“Flee, Bloodspill!” the dokojin cried within her head. “A mirajin approaches!”

Annilasia gritted her teeth. “Be silent.”

“Flee! Or I’ll keep scratching until you’re nothing but a pool of blood on this hill.”

Annilasia’s eyes widened as she realized that Elothel frightened the dokojin. She smirked.

“If you keep talking,” she said, “I’m going to have this mirajin banish you to the farthest star in the expanse.”

“Don’t insult me, Bloodspill.”

Annilasia winced. She hated that the dokojin had created a nickname for her. Hearing it curdled her blood.

“Bloodspill! Bloodspill! Bloodspill!” it chanted.

“Silence!”

Her words echoed across the plain, and she nervously glanced in Elothel’s direction. I wonder if fae heard me. She squinted at the approaching mirajin, who seemed unfazed by her outburst.

Her threat seemed to quiet the dokojin, but it still whispered in her ear. With each passing minute, it shared violent musings that only worsened as Elothel came closer. By the time fae reached her perch on the hill, Annilasia was contemplating cutting off her own head just to escape the dokojin’s voice.

“Sahruum’s peace on you, Annilasia,” greeted Elothel, boasting the same duality of both feminine and masculine tones heard during their last communication. Yet unlike the last encounter, the mirajin held none of the mystical cloud composition witnessed in the Apparition Realm.

Sitting rigid in the saddle, Elothel appeared at first glance a typical traveler. But closer inspection hinted at oddities. Strips of mesh twirled around faer hands and fingers, while numerous brown scarves wrapped elegantly around faer neck and head. A giant cloak swaddled several layers of various tunics. Paired with a set of leather goggles shielding the eyes, the garb left no skin exposed.

Annilasia gave a curt nod and ignored the dokojin’s hisses.

“Peace, Elothel,” she replied. “I’m half surprised you finished the journey. As I recall, you were dreadfully afraid to travel.” Her words bit harsher than the wind, and she flashed dark eyes at the mirajin.

“You know as well as I what brought me here,” fae said. No spite entered faer tone, and the words came out somewhat mournfully.

“Why are we here?” Annilasia scrunched her face. Her inability to glimpse the mirajin’s expression beneath faer clothing irritated her. Even the damn goggles offered no hint of the emotion likely gathered in faer eyes.

“We’ve been over this, starborn,” said Elothel.

“No, we haven’t,” Annilasia retorted. “You rambled about ludicrous commands and theories before you vanished. That wasn’t a discussion.”

“How has your friend fared since our last conversation?”

“She is . . .” Annilasia stalled. She snapped her jaw shut and glared.

“It’s gotten worse, hasn’t it?” asked Elothel. “She’s been having more lucid flashbacks and mental breakdowns, hasn’t she? I’m sure she’s lost sleep as well.”

“Vowt made a remedy for that,” Annilasia snapped.

Elothel tilted faer head. “Vowt—I’m not sure who that is, but medicines aren’t going to suppress the symptoms forever. The rest she’s achieved from herbs is merely sedative, which won’t give her the proper sleep she needs.” Fae paused. “You look exhausted yourself. Have you been sleeping peacefully?”

“Let’s skip my sleep patterns and stay on topic,” huffed Annilasia. “We shouldn’t even be here. You should be waiting for me at the Nova Oasis.”

Faer back straightened rigidly in the saddle. “Sahruum’s return, why do you have a medresa in your hair?”

Annilasia stomped her foot. “Stop dodging the conversation! We don’t have time to waste on your absurd tangents.”

“Why do you have a medresa?”

Annilasia blinked. Fae wasn’t going to let this go. “I’ll take it off tomorrow night. It’s not a concern of yours.”

“Anything that generates aetherwaste in my home Realm is a concern of mine.”

Annilasia flinched as a deranged howl sounded in her head. She focused on Elothel. Maybe fae hadn’t noticed.

“I’m sorry,” she offered. “I wasn’t thinking—”

“No, you’re not,” fae interrupted. “You’re letting emotions infiltrate your judgement in more ways than one it appears.”

Annilasia clenched her fists. The belligerent sound of gnashing teeth in her ears didn’t help, nor did the festering wounds her invisible parasite continued to reopen as she conversed with Elothel.

“Take off the medresa,” commanded the mirajin.

“If I do, I’ll have worse things to deal with than aetherwaste,” said Annilasia.

A heavy silence swelled like a blister between them as the wind beat at the loose corners of their garments. After a moment, Annilasia sighed.

“Elothel, why are we here?” she asked. “We had a plan.”

“And you failed,” said Elothel. “The instant you laced her body with aether and manipulated me into doing a soul coalesce, you forfeited that plan. Jalice is going mad. If I don’t help her, she’s going to get herself killed.”

“Well, your plan to take her back to the Black House will surely get her killed,” said Annilasia. “We’d be slaughtered before we arrived.”

“You’re quite capable of taking care of some Ikaul warriors.”

Annilasia forced a mocking laugh. “It’s not warriors that should scare you. There are flayers out there—some sick joke from the mind of Dardajah or some other demented celestial. They have a nasty habit of carving up their victims, and only incineration seems to stop them.”

The cloth and goggles masked any shock fae might have expressed over this revelation. “What is their origin?”

Annilasia shrugged. “No one seems to know. I asked around the tents. One tamer said they’re guarding something out there.”

“Perhaps these flayers are tied to the Black House somehow. They might be guarding it,” Elothel suggested. Annilasia raised her eyebrow while fae continued. “Regardless, Jalice’s memories are latched to the Black House, and it’s the only way I can think to exorcise the parasite in her.”

Annilasia turned her back on the mirajin. Just looking at Elothel gnawed away at her patience. Dardajah’s spit, I should’ve stuck to my plan and never summoned this blasted star flare.

“You could leave her,” said Elothel.

Annilasia blinked. “What are you talking about?”

“You kept her safe, but now I’m here. I can take her to the Black House myself, and you can return to the Fortress.”

Annilasia turned around, and her nostrils flared. “When I found you, you were a coward, practically begging like a kicked dog for me not to kill you. Just convincing you to aid in all of this—with Jalice—was nearly impossible. Now you try to tell me you’re willing to brave that cursed forest and the monsters inside it without me?”

“I’m giving you a choice, Annilasia. Your plan can still go on. I’ll expel the dokojin and remove the wards as we discussed. There’s an order to these things, and getting Jalice healed takes priority over the wards. But you don’t have to be around for all of it. You can leave now if you wish.”

Annilasia stared at the open sky as if her answer resided somewhere above. If she took the offer, she could be on her way back to the Fortress within the hour. She could even redact her agreement to Korcsha to deliver the book.

Still, she wondered about her new counterparts, Mygo and Vowt. Although the woodsman seemed fully capable of protecting Jalice, Annilasia wasn’t sure if he was enough. If the rumors proved to be true, along with Elothel’s deduction, the Black House would be swarming with flayers, and the group would be surrounded. Jalice’s survival would be in jeopardy.

Elothel’s presence wasn’t much of a reassurance either. Fae wasn’t dependable, and Annilasia knew faem to be a coward. Fae wouldn’t last two seconds when finally faced with flayers. Vulnerable to earthly metals and elements, mirajin carried no weapons. Elothel could wield aether but chose not to—even in self-defense. Violence created aetherwaste, and Elothel refused to participate in it.

Which all meant Jalice might very well perish at the Black House, if the group even made it that far. If Jalice perished, her wards would break and no doubt signal to the Sachem that something was amiss. In turn, Delilee’s cover would be shattered.

Annilasia closed her eyes. She needed to finish the mission. She’d return to the Fortress once Elothel had safely removed Jalice’s wards. Delilee could survive another week, and Korcsha’s delivery of lyprow would maintain the ruse.

“I’m coming with you,” Annilasia sighed as she opened her eyes. “You have no idea what you’re walking into. After you’ve done what you promised with the wards, you’ll take her away from here. Then, I’ll return to the Fortress.”

“As you wish,” replied Elothel with a nod. Faer scarves and garb folded with the motion. “I wouldn’t take us to this place unless I thought it absolutely necessary, starborn.” Fae paused and tightened faer grip on the megaloceros’s reins. “Remove that blasphemous thing from your hair.”

“The medresa is almost finished,” she growled. “I’ll be rid of it before we reach the House. It’s not harming anyone.”

“You’re more a fool than I thought. There is nothing harmless about it. Medresas collect the aether energy of your dreams. If I’m not mistaken, twisters utilize medresas to fuel their wands. This land is littered with twisters using those wands—gifts we gave to your kind—and plaguing my Realm with aetherwaste, which in turn affects your Realm in ways you can’t comprehend.”

“What would you have me do?” she asked stubbornly. “I’d be tracked down if I discarded the medresa prematurely. Is that better than wearing it: having an aethertwister hunt me?”

“I would never have agreed to league with you had I known the sins you’re willing to commit,” said Elothel as mournful remorse entered faer voice.

“You don’t have to do much more,” Annilasia retorted. “Let’s expel this damn dokojin from Jalice, and then you two can be on your way. I’ll save the tribes by myself, and you can show your gratitude when the Sachem lies dead at my feet.”

Elothel didn’t respond. Instead, fae looked in the direction of the forest as Annilasia turned her gaze in the opposite direction towards the rolling hills. A new silence commenced, and only the distant sound of the milling people around the tents bled into the quiet. The megaloceros stirred, and tossed its shaggy main. Its giant antlers swayed with the motion.

“I’ve only ever wished you peace, starborn,” said Elothel, breaking the silence. “I owe you a great debt for the mercy you showed during your Hunt. But while you’ve asked for my aid in return, you don’t heed my wisdom. I hope that changes. Hear me on this—be rid of the medresa at the soonest moment. You don’t understand the havoc it has on my Realm nor the danger it places on you.”

A loud cackle erupted in Annilasia’s ears, which made her shiver. Elothel noticed this time.

“Is everything well, starborn?” fae asked.

“Translate!” the dokojin in her head yelled. “Let’s squeeze out faer aether until it’s nothing but waste!”

“I’m fine,” Annilasia lied. She was thankful not to be in the Apparition Realm. Elothel would have easily read her emotions and dismantled her deception. She could only imagine the mirajin’s reaction upon discovering Korcsha’s book, her aether vow to deliver it, or the dokojin voice that harassed her daily.

“Come,” she said. “It’s time to introduce you to the others.”

“Others?” Elothel asked cautiously.

Annilasia began strolling across the hill, in the opposite direction of the tents. “Two men I stumbled upon in the forest. They don’t trust me with Jalice.”

“They sound like wise men,” murmured Elothel as fae directed faer steed to follow.

She ignored the snide comment, although the mirajin’s snark was an incredibly rare trait from an otherwise enlightened being. “I thought they’d leave when we got here, but they’ve lingered over concern for Jalice’s state of mind.”

“Can we trust them?”

Annilasia mulled over her response. “They’re no friends of the Sachem—but I’m still not sure we can trust them. They don’t have Ikaul ink designs or Vekuuv slave markings on their wrists. Until we determine their allegiance, we should assume the worst of them.”

“How far is your camp?” asked Elothel. “You’re welcome to share my steed.” Elothel gently ran faer hand across the megaloceros’s neck. “She’s a strong one.”

“No need,” said Annilasia. “It isn’t that far. We didn’t want to be too close to the Flock, so I decided it was best to set up camp farther up the river, about a mile.”

Elothel hummed in agreement. “The Flock’s infested with Ikaul warriors.”

“We still made a couple trips down to the tents. But someone had to stay back with Jalice. She’s . . . not doing so well. So, the two men I mentioned—Mygo and Vowt—made the first venture while I watched over her. When they returned, Vowt offered to stay with Jalice so I could go and purchase my own supplies. I was hesitant to leave her with him, but eventually they convinced me she’d remain safe in Vowt’s hands.”

“Well,” Elothel commented, “you must trust them since you left the chieftess under the guard of someone other than yourself.”

Annilasia shrugged. “I suppose they’re not all that bad. Mygo’s got the pride and stubbornness of a goat, but he was kind enough to purchase food and new garments for Jalice and me. I’m not exactly clinking with coin at the moment.” Annilasia looked down at her new ensemble: trousers, buckskin tunic, and freshly shined black boots, all courtesy of Mygo.

Part of her wondered if Mygo gave her the clothes to get her in debt to him. Without coin to pay, she was at the mercy of his generous offering. She shook her head, unwilling to concede to that prospect.

“I’m sure he’s thankful you’re not parading in Ikaul armor, especially of tillishu design,” said Elothel, disrupting Annilasia’s thoughts. “It would draw unwanted attention.”

Annilasia raised her eyebrow. “Aye, but it feels strange to march around without the weight of armor. Basic clothing like this makes me feel like I’m floating around like a specter.” Her hand instinctively went to the sheathed weapon at her side. “It does feel good to have a sword again though.”

“How’d you afford that?”

Annilasia sighed. “Another gift from Mygo.”

Elothel’s voice bubbled with caution. “It sounds like he’s either courting you or trapping you in debt.”

“I had to have a weapon,” Annilasia snapped. “As I’ve stated, I don’t have any coin.”

“How did he manage? Only Ikaul are permitted to purchase and possess weapons. Did you reveal your warrior status among the tents?” The tone in Elothel’s voice betrayed alarm at the possibility. “If you did, then it’s possible someone identified you. You’re a fugitive, and I expect you to be more cautious because of that.”

“You are full of questions,” Annilasia said sarcastically. “Mygo had a connection with someone at the Flock who was willing to make the trade in secret.”

Elothel made a low humming sound. “New garments, new sword, fresh food—that’s a rather long list for a stranger you don’t know if you can trust.” Fae snickered. “Then again, perhaps you have an admirer after all, starborn.”

Heat radiated through Annilasia’s cheeks. Dying stars, is Elothel onto something? The mere suggestion that Mygo would entice her seemed unfathomable. She reasoned that the mirajin had yet to meet Mygo, so fae was jumping to conclusions. Yet she couldn’t shake the prospect as she and Elothel headed to the camp.

If Mygo tries to land a kiss anywhere on me, he’s going to be walking around lipless for the rest of his stubborn life.