THE JEALOUSY OF JALICE

Annilasia leapt past trees with a nimble ease that she had yearned to recover ever since leaving the Fortress. Overseeing Jalice had resulted in an abandonment of stealth and agility. Now, as her feet danced in step with the shadows, Annilasia slipped back into her old skin of dexterity. Her breathing synchronized with the persistent breeze, while skin and armor folded into the black of night.

Without Jalice bumbling through the brush, Annilasia focused on the silence that accosted the forest. She was careful to move with a precision that guaranteed a permanence of this quiet, all too aware of the treacherous hour she braved. Amongst her worries were the grimalkins she’d heard earlier, but they weren’t the only dangers lurking in the darkness.

Even still, her senses were invigorated by the hours of sleep afforded by the bunker. After Jalice had settled in, Annilasia waited to ensure the other woman was in deep sleep before joining her. Still unsure if Jalice’s exhaustion would be enough to keep her from fleeing, Annilasia took extra precautions. She carefully tied rope around Jalice’s wrist, knotting the other end to herself in case Jalice woke first. The precaution had been unnecessary though; Annilasia had woken early to find the chieftess still asleep.

Although refreshing, the sleep hadn’t been without its own distress. Nightmares concerning the Black House bombarded Annilasia with shifting scenes of horror. Upon waking, the disturbing visions still overlaid reality: Jalice crying and warning her not to go inside, Annilasia ignoring these warnings and walking the House’s confining steel halls. Although she had never entered the House in the waking world, the structure felt real in the dream, even familiar. Inside, she found Hydrim collapsed on the floor, blood pouring from a wound in his neck. In the blink of an eye, he transformed in front of her from a young man into a ghoulish creature bent on hunting her.

The lingering effects of the nightmares, exascerbated by observing Jalice’s sleeping figure, had driven Annilasia out from the safety of the bunker and into the forest. It had been an impulsive decision, but she had a destination in mind. Dread fed off every step that took her to it.

On her way out of the bunker, she’d removed the loose piece of hollow pipe previously barring the doors from within and slid it through the door handles outside to seal Jalice in. This was a one-way solution, and it’d be a problem if someone happened across the bunker. For this reason, she had to make her errand quick. Only a few hours remained of the early morning darkness cloaking her, and Jalice wouldn’t sleep forever.

As time passed and her distance from the bunker grew, she worried that she may have missed the sought location. She came to a gradual stop and observed her surroundings, not recognizing anything distinctive about the trees around her.

Where is that damn tent? Annilasia growled under her breath. She turned on her heels, ready to backtrack, when she froze. Erected only a few feet from her stood a cone-shaped tent. Its abnormal manifestation sent a shiver down her spine. She was certain it hadn’t been there moments before.

The tent’s pointed top, several heads taller than Annilasia, shot up towards the trees, a trail of smoke leaking from the roof. Her nose crinkled at the smell, unable to place the familiar odor. Her skin prickled, but she forced herself to walk through the tent’s entrance flaps. A new darkness, and with it a sharp panic, engulfed her.

A small blue flame sparked to life far inside the tent. Her short-lived shock at the tent’s unnatural depth dissipated as she recalled this aspect from her first visit. At least ten strides across, the space defied the confines of its external dimensions.

The blue flame, flickering at the end of a candle, illuminated the space dimly from the far end of the tent. The peculiar hue mingled hauntingly with the darkness, as if the blue would rather have faded back into the darker shades of black. Clouds of smoke bloomed under its smoldering light. Its meager glow revealed only a fraction of the expansive area. What little it unmasked left Annilasia with more questions than answers; small cabinets littered with trinkets, numerous piles of books, and eclectic paraphernalia cluttered the space between Annilasia and the flame. She squinted past the mess. A cross-legged figure sat just past the candle, cast more in the shadows than in the blue emanation.

“You were like a baby rabbit scurrying about for the first time out there,” a voice murmured with light apathy. It dragged through the air as if bored. “Loud and clumsy. Although I am flattered at how desperate you were to see me, sweetling.”

Annilasia cringed and placed a hand on the hilt of her sword. Opening her mouth to speak, she inadvertently inhaled the smoke and musty stench that permeated the air. The invading pollutant provoked a harsh cough, and she spent a moment adjusting to the atmosphere.

“If you heard me coming, then why hide the tent?” she asked as she wheezed from the smoke.

The stranger hummed, and Annilasia grew impatient. The urge to draw her sword became more enticing with each passing second, but she resisted. Eventually, the humming stopped.

“I didn’t hide the tent on your account,” replied the stranger. “If I made it easy for people to find me, I’d be long dead.” The figure stirred to rise and chuckled at Annilasia. “You should relax, sweetling. As much as I revel in your fear of me, I’m more interested in business than your potential pain.”

The smooth words didn’t ease Annilasia. She swallowed uncomfortably before the figure laced in blue aura. The aethertwister, who went by the name Korcsha, towered at least eight feet tall. Twig-like arms dangled down past the waist, and an equally thin neck supported an elongated face.

As if the height and spindly features weren’t remarkable enough, Annilasia couldn’t place Korcsha as either male or female. The aethertwister exuded androgynous traits that blended various characteristics of various genders. Gathered from conversations during her years of assassin training, Annilasia used the zir pronoun for Korcsha, an insufficient but expected show of respect toward those of other-gender. The mindset was hardly equivalent to a true appreciation. Korcsha was an aethertwister after all.

A full bearolf hide ran across zir back, serving as a fur cloak. The beast’s face, fixed in a frozen snarl, wrapped atop Korcsha’s head. The twister’s wispy hair flowed out from beneath the makeshift hood. Beginning as frost white at the scalp, the strands darkened to a black that sparkled in the candlelight. Annilasia silently marveled at the oiled gleam produced in zir hair as it fell across the shoulders.

The front paws of the bearolf served as a joining segment of the cloak, both limbs crossing along zir chest. An amethyst dye tinted the fur, adding an exotic allure that matched Korcsha’s silk trousers. Despite the weather, the cloak served as the sole garment over zir torso, leaving abdomen and arms exposed. Annilasia shivered as her eyes ran over the pale skin, a coloration more suitable on a corpse.

Korcsha brought zir hands together to form a steeple of spindly fingers, a smirk tugging at zir lips. The crisp smile further agitated Annilasia, and her hand burned as it coiled tighter around her sword. Don’t do anything stupid. She wasn’t sure whether the advice was meant for herself, Korcsha, or both.

Korcsha’s eyes darted down to the sheathed sword. Zie chuckled, a strange melodic sound riddled with unspoken mischief. “Come now,” zie said playfully. “We’ve been over this. Your blade would never reach me in time. I deal in the art of aether, not sticks and stones.”

Annilasia didn’t loosen her clutch despite the half-truth that rang in those words. Korcsha would be able to disarm her before she could strike the aethertwister with the weapon. But zie was conveniently leaving out how fatal Terrestrial elements—like the blade of her sword—could be to an aethertwister. So, despite the low odds of a triumphant strike, it brought Annilasia a small sense of comfort to have her sword at her disposal.

When she made no move to relax, Korcsha’s thin smile broadened, although Annilasia detected a fresh frustration in zir voice when zie spoke next.

“There are whispers in the leaves that an attempt was made to kidnap the Tecalica,” zie said. “I suppose that’s what our first quaint meeting was in preparation for.”

Dying screaming stars, zie’s figured it out. Annilasia maintained a stone-cold stare at Korcsha. Zie was toying with her. Zie was already aware of a large portion of the plan—a necessary cost to ensuring the more difficult aspects of it worked.

The first visit had been just as perturbing, but at least Delilee had been present. Annilasia winced at the memory. The experience had been far more unpleasant for the chieftess’s decoy.

The ordeal had been instigated by the discovery of Jalice’s wards. The term ward itself encompassed an array of invisible spells, ranging from traps to barriers of protection. Upon reflecting on how entangled the Temple and its towers were with such intricate defenses, Annilasia had wondered if the Sachem had created similar measures on his most prized possession—the Tecalica herself.

With the aid of Elothel—the individual Annilasia now planned to meet at the Nova Oasis—they’d uncovered that Jalice was indeed coated with the invisible spells. The most pressing of which offered a compass-like connection between the Sachem and Jalice. To Annilasia’s dismay, it permitted Hydrim to sense Jalice’s location in some fashion.

For Delilee to take Jalice’s place, they knew it’d be necessary for the decoy to hold the same aether wards guarding the chieftess. Annilasia had gone to great lengths to procure the details of these wards and decipher them. Even then, there’d been no guarantee her interpretations would inspire wards that perfectly mimicked those on Jalice, and a tight timetable had prevented further investigation.

Dire times demanded dire solutions, leaving Annilasia and Delilee no choice but to seek out the aethertwister. Korcsha’s skills had been utilized to replicate the wards onto Delilee. Further complicating matters, Korcsha claimed zie couldn’t remove Jalice’s original wards. Apparently, it was a nearly impossible feat to undo aether spells placed by someone else—in this case, by the Sachem himself.

Annilasia shook herself, banishing the distressing memory. She watched as Korcsha moved one of zir arms slowly through the smoke as zie spoke. The vapor swirled, and a curious sensation lightened Annilasia’s apprehensive mood. Her eyes floated along with the smoke. A pleasant relief slowly replaced her paranoia. Unsure of how to respond to this sensation, she concentrated on Korcsha’s words. Strange—she didn’t recall there being this amount of smoke during her last visit.

“Again, none of it a surprise,” Korcsha continued. “I’m still quite honored that you came to me with your dilemma and entrusted me with your diabolical secrets.” Zie smiled, which revealed teeth more akin to fangs. “It may take more convincing now to keep your secret, of course. A temptingly hefty bounty is sure to be placed on your head. Besides, I can’t risk implication in such treasonous actions.”

Annilasia snorted. “I’m sure you’ve got ways of covering your tracks.”

Korcsha’s eyes glinted in the candlelight. “My, how you know me so well, and on only our second meeting.” Zie paused. “I trust you found my bunker and the supplies.”

“Are you sure no one will find it?” She wanted her tone to sound more serious, but her response came off as insouciant.

Zie sneered. “You’ve either got a terrible memory or you don’t trust me. The bunker’s nifty ward hides it in plain sight. The only reason you found it is because I allowed you to.”

Annilasia nodded, surprised by how easily she accepted Korscha’s assurance. Everything felt tempered—her emotions, her thoughts, her words. The previous sense of urgency had all but evaporated. Although she was aware of the change, it didn’t strike her as important. It simply was. Tepid thoughts swam with unusual leisure through feather-light air. The alluring blue hue of the candle’s flame caught her attention as it decorated the swirling tendrils of smoke.

There was a moment of silence. Korcsha cocked zir head, a look of realization springing to zir face.

“There’s something more that you need,” zie purred, taking a step forward.

Annilasia’s instincts drove a sharp intrusion through the ambient calm. She retrieved a concealed knife and flashed it between herself and Korcsha. Even as her muscles responded with innate reflex, shame flooded her. She blushed under Korcsha’s disapproving frown. If there’d been a way to put the knife back without looking foolish, she would have.

“Come now, sweetling,” Korcsha clucked. “You can’t expect me to do dealings with you if you’ve got a pointy stick shoved up my nose.”

“I know better than to be unarmed in your presence,” Annilasia said firmly. “You’d think less of me if you found me as gullible as your other customers.” Still, she felt helpless. She couldn’t justify her knife’s disrespect or dismiss how silly it felt to hold it now. She couldn’t recall ever feeling this way before and wondered if her flippant disposition was to blame.

Korcsha drummed zir fingers together, the wry smile creeping back. “My, how I’m growing fond of our little interactions. I like a customer who recognizes my”—zie paused and inclined zir face as if searching the air—“influence. It’s a shame you must run off. None of my regulars are as fun as you. We could’ve made this a normal thing: meeting, chatting . . . scheming.” Zir eyes glinted.

“I just have questions, and I need quick answers,” said Annilasia. She attempted to lower her arm discreetly, fighting the itch to chuck the knife away. “What can you tell me about blocked memories?”

“Blocked memories,” repeated Korcsha, rubbing zir chin. “That’s normally a psychological reaction. Although I’m flattered you deem me an expert on the subject, I’ll humbly admit that it’s not a particular passion of mine.”

“I think it’s more than post-traumatic troubles. There’s something about this that’s tainted with aether. If it is, I need to know how to undo it.”

Korcsha cocked zir head. “That’s a tricky business, sweetling. It will require you to translate, and you’ll have to go inside the soul to remove the block. If it’s psychological, a different set of tactics will be required that I can’t assist with. Even if it’s aether, there are several causes for a memory block, and thus a variety of remedies dependent on the cause. Without the victim present, I can’t single out the cause, and thus cannot provide a correct remedy.”

Annilasia groaned. “So, you have nothing that would help me?”

“I didn’t say that. But the solution under the circumstances would be a manual extraction—much like surgery on the body. You’ll most definitely have to translate to the Soul Realm.” Zie raised an eyebrow. “Are you willing to do that?”

Annilasia’s breath caught in her chest. The Soul Realm—that’d require her to translate to the Apparition Realm first and remain there while vulnerable as she entered Jalice’s soul. Annilasia forced an affirmative answer, void of conviction, from her lips. The previous alleviation in her spirit collapsed under the weight of Korcsha’s announcement. Yet a lingering numbness persisted that kept her from fully embracing despair. Her eyes followed the billows of smoke, hypnotized by their fluid dance. Maybe Elothel would be willing to help with this and go into the Soul Realm in my stead.

Korcsha paused, perhaps waiting for Annilasia to change her mind. Zie shrugged.

“Your risk, sweetling. The Soul Realm is . . . vividly complex compared to the Apparition Realm. Without an aetherwielder to guide you, I fear you’re taking a risk you wouldn’t normally condone.”

Annilasia’s stomach clenched at Korcsha’s use of aetherwielder—a self-proclaimed term used by those who now ran around the tribes with glass wands. Annilasia refused to encourage it. These blasphemers weren’t wielding aether; they were tainting it. Twisting it. She favored instead the slang used amongst the Vekuuv in referring to Korcsha’s kind: aethertwisters.

Zie placed a finger on zir forehead. “This is where the memories are stored. If she is under a spell, there will probably be obstacles preventing you from removing the blockage. I cannot say what those obstacles might be. But if you can maneuver past them, you might have a chance at succeeding.”

“What can you give that’ll help with translating?” Annilasia asked coldly. “And what is your price for it?”

The risk would be worth it. Jalice needed to remember what she claimed to have forgotten. If nothing else, the chieftess might be more cooperative if she understood the pain she’d caused. Perhaps she’d even confess what all had transpired in the Black House as well.

Korcsha graced Annilasia with a look of surprised appraisal. “You want a quick solution that bypasses the natural, meditative route? There’s a number of conduits I can offer: aether leeches, their venom to inject.” A knowing glimmer entered zir eyes. “Hopper’s weed.”

Annilasia narrowed her eyes. “Why’d you say it like that?”

“Oh, sweetling, haven’t you noticed?” Zie giggled. “You’ve been inhaling the substance since you entered my tent.”