There was a war, emphasis on was. According to Leo, the vicious, centuries-long one over magic that had divided the East Continent in half, had been put on hold. Peace talks had begun. He told her so the next morning, when she woke to crusty eyes, far too little sleep, and the rustling of a bag being packed. He hadn’t said anything to her, but she wondered if he’d been trying to leave.
Leo’s distrustful eyes were like a knife in Emily’s back as she traced a finger across the map he’d been looking at last night, following the lines of roads from one kingdom to the next. To hold it—pour over it in childish excitement—had taken not an insignificant amount of negotiation. Her eyes flickered up every now and then with unspoken questions, and, haltingly, Leo usually answered.
When five kingdoms had allied against the other two, their goal had been to destroy what they couldn’t understand. The war had been born, Leo said, anger joining in his perpetual disinterest, of ignorance and fear. There was an army, a small army of magic users speaking a now foreign tongue. They asked the magic for its help, and it obeyed. Hushed whispers even now spoke of enemies stricken by lightning, dragged into the depths of oceans, sealed forever in fissures underground. But casualties grew and the language shrunk. Until some unknown day, centuries ago, its last user, flickered and died.
The kingdoms were varied. Dracha, along the southern coastline, was apparently a trade hub. Ships of “foreigners” and foreign goods always docked there because the cliffs lining the continents’ western edge ebbed away at Dracha’s shores. For the other coastal kingdoms, goods had to be brought up using ropes. One of these kingdoms was Calam—apparently very devout in a religion of its own making—and the other was Beauvais—nestled in a forest and, with a king and queen who, according to Leo, hated magic the most of any other. In the center of the southern half of the continent was their location, Raziet—once a prosperous kingdom, it had apparently fallen on hard times due to new taxation. Emily crossed the dotted line that split the continent, a physical mark of the war, to the two pro-magic kingdoms. To the far east was Ivalis and, nestled in the foothills at the very top, label nearly obscured by a hastily scribbled in “x” was Mercié. Subtle.
Leo took the map back as soon as Emily looked up. He folded it across well-worn lines and slipped it into a pocket over his heart.
“Why Mercié?”
He didn’t answer. Again. If it weren’t for the way in which he carried himself, she would’ve thought he was shy.
Emily let out a small huff of exasperation, “You know, I did tell you my life story.”
“... Ivalis is run by a group of people, rather than one person, but it’s still corrupt. Mercié isn’t.”
Fair enough.
“Where-”
“We should go. Those guards had too much time on their hands, they could have sent someone.”
Emily stared out into the tree-line, realizing that the town was still visible, and they’d lit a fire. Oops. Then again, she’d been overwhelmed. Leo had been too, otherwise he wouldn’t have helped.
After a quick breakfast of some kind of flour/oatmeal/corn mush hybrid Leo had stored away, and some refreshing water from a nearby stream (Emily tried hard not to think about any waterborne diseases), they were ready.
As Leo strapped his bedroll onto his pack, Emily scattered the ashes of their campfire for good measure. She didn’t know how effective it would be, but those guards had seen Leo do magic and he’d, god forbid, looked at a knight which was apparently enough to warrant death. Which, you know, wasn’t great.
Once all that was left of the fire was an open patch of dirt, Emily turned to Leo, “So, where to?”
Leo restrained an eye roll, Emily was impressed, “We’re at the edge of Raziet so we’re close to the border as it is. We’ll have to head northwest to get to Mercié so we should try to take advantage of the main road north as much as we can. We can pick up some supplies, then find a covert route across. It should take about two weeks, fewer if we find horses,” he turned to her, “I hope you know what you’re getting into, traveling with a magic user.”
She did.
At least, she hoped she did.
Just like Emily, Leo seemed to realize the danger only as he’d mentioned it. He shifted slightly, the—now rather dirty—gold embroidering on his sleeve catching the light.
She knew getting involved was dangerous. Magic could explode things, knights and kingdoms were corrupt, a centuries-long war had just been waged. But she also had no idea what she was supposed to do. She hadn’t gotten Sylvia’s crucial information about what “it” was, and without that knowledge that Sylvia had been unable to give as the portal dragged Emily away, Emily was left lost. Leo had a purpose and a plan, and, even if it was dangerous, it would give her the direction she needed for now. Plus, she told herself, we could always go our separate ways if necessary.
“I’m ready.”
Leo turned, walking wordlessly into the trees. She followed, falling into a quick pace beside him. According to Leo, they were at the outskirts of a town not too far from where Raziet met the main road. All they had to do was follow its edge until they got there. Easy enough.
Where Leo stared resolutely ahead, footsteps assured, Emily turned to their left every now and then, to watch the town fade into fields, then into livestock, villages, and towns once more. She also looked back sometimes, paranoia over trigger-happy, or in this case pommel-happy, knights weighing at every step. At first, their footfalls were sharp in the untamed underbrush, Emily’s shoulders tensed at every snapping twig and dried leaf, but as the sun began to beat on their heads directly, their footfalls became more muffled. The trees became sparser.
“There are a lot of settlements along the roads. People need wood.” Leo said by way of explanation as they passed through a stump-filled clearing. He said little else.
They took a break in another clearing, sitting on stumps as Emily nearly drained an extra gourd Leo had on him (apparently a stream ran along the main road).
Something had been nagging her. Leo was sitting a few stumps away and intently staring at the map again and she hated to interrupt but this question couldn’t wait—
“So, hypothetically speaking, could I use magic?”
—for obvious reasons.
“Magic’s hereditary,” Leo was still engrossed in the map, “if you’re really from another world then I doubt you’d be able to.”
“Oh.” That was, to put it lightly, a bummer.
Sometime in the late afternoon, they accidentally stumbled onto someone’s farm. The owner, a bearded man who had been planting potatoes, wasn’t very pleased. Clearly Leo’s map didn’t account for everything, and even after a thorough explanation of Google Maps, he didn’t believe that one could. Nor did he believe in Google Maps, but she’d keep trying on that one.
Phones didn’t even translate—though if someone randomly showed up in her life saying they’d come through a magic portal and started talking about “touchscreens” when cars were a foreign concept, Emily would be confused too. And probably concerned. So she talked about people instead. Claire, the comforting side of Sylvia away from her secrets, the neighbor down the street who Emily babysat for, the people who didn’t gossip or stare. Leo just told her he was from Beauvais. He wasn’t exactly an over-sharer.
They broke through the trees and onto the road in the half-light of dusk. Even just before sundown, the wide expanse of dirt was crowded with travelers. Many were, well, traveling, but the makeshift stalls and even occasional stores showed it to be a lively trading hub as well. On one side, boldly marking the border between Raziet and what lay beyond, was a massive stone archway. It was cracking in places but carved with unrecognizable symbols that Emily could easily make out from hundreds of feet away. The road vanished on the other side, twisting into the trees and people beyond where Emily could see.
A nearby stall advertised an impressive assortment of deadly objects, some which Emily recognized, others which she decided right then and there she’d rather never think about ever again. A smell, some kind of bread, wafted towards her.
She considered the weight of Leo’s pack, “I think it’s time I pulled my own weight a bit more, plus more food is always good...”
They hadn’t really discussed supplies. Leo was staring at the stall-of-death but with a considerably more thoughtful expression than Emily thought possible.
“That would be nice. Here.” he reached into a pouch on his belt and deposited a heavy stack of gold coins into her palm. She stared. “What?”
“Are these real?!”
“Yes.”
“What the heck are we camping for?”
“I’m going to go buy some things. Meet you back here.”
People in Wisconsin didn’t exactly trade in gold coins anymore, so Emily hoped she wasn’t being ripped off. On the plus side, she now had a pack and bedroll of her own and a burlap sack of cornmeal. All at the expense of a burning face from all of the staring. Restraining herself from running yet again, Emily noticed a stall that would ease that burden at least. Waiting in line, she noticed another group of knights passing on horseback, their leader even more distinguishable than the other had been. He wore a plumed helmet paired with a boldly emblemed purple cape. The symbol was different from the ones worn by the Razietian knights who had harassed Leo. Behind him trailed a company of knights in v-formation, though each was far less decorated than he was. Quietly, she stepped back a little, bringing the pack in front of her. She’d rather skip any future run-ins. The group cantered past, clearly in a hurry, and she watched their retreating backs without incident.
Wanted posters were tacked to a post next to the vendor—an arsonist, a runaway prince, and a magic-user wrecking havoc in Raziet—were just some highlights, reminding Emily just how crazy her situation (all of this) truly was. She watched them flutter in the breeze as she stuttered through a few requests. She hoped she’d asked for the right ones.
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