Blood of the Sea, Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter 27: Plasma

Vance

If he thought the buildings in Kildangan were tall, the walls of Seyune were something else entirely. Over the tops of the trees, the city’s skyline had been hinted at, toying with Vance’s imagination. The ever decreasing distance as the road wound its way toward those shining gates taunts him.

Emerging from beneath the trees’ shady canopy, Vance has to shield his eyes against the light reflected from the gates before them. The kid-driver grunts on the bench next to Vance, “It’s something, ain’t it.”

Vance blinks past the tears forming in his eyes and squints up at the gates. Double-doored, the light stone of the gate shimmers brightly with the illumination of the sunlight. Leaving the shade of the trees behind, the heat feels almost oppressive in contrast; the wind too minimal to make much of a difference. On the breeze, however, Vance hears the clamor of many voices, people going about their lives in a bustling city. As the gates stand open to foot traffic, including that of the cart he rides upon, it is guarded high above by people who seem to bear no weapons, but look down upon him as the cart rolls through with a sort of disdain that cuts almost as deep as being struck by an arrow.

Beyond the gate, there are towers which gleam and glitter. Made from a light white stone, the buildings are almost as much transparent as they are stone and mortar. Glass fills doorways and windows, even some entire floors of towers - the people working inside moving about without a care in the world. People walking in the street have on long sleeved robes which brush against the ground, or if not robes, then long gowns of sorts, tied off at the waist by different styles of belt or ornamentation. There are people with tunics and pants, but they are those riding atop large beasts with both - to Vance’s amazement - hooves and paws. The creatures move quickly and steadily as they wind around people and carts, heading deeper into the city as they bear their riders on toward a huge plaza, visible even from this distance, which stands before an even larger, multi-storied building glinting like a jewel.

“Where are they headed?” Vance asks, finally addressing his driver after what has felt like ages.

“To the home of the Queen Mage; the red palace.”

“That’s where we will go as well.”

The kid-driver turns to Vance, a frown upon his brow. “I agreed to bring you here, and even back if that’s what you choose to do, but between now and then, we will part ways. I have things to do.”

Vance glowers at his driver but swings down from the cart, letting his distaste fall to the dirt, and leaving the cart behind as the threskel pulling it turns and patters down a side street toward the hawking of merchants. Drawing himself as tall as possible, Vance strides down the long, wide main thoroughfare, in the footsteps of the riders - who have, by now, finally disappeared from sight. The ground under his feet is smooth, not time-worn or troubled by dips, and he imagines that if one should wish, and if the ground was sloped at all, that someone could slide from one end of Seyune to the other, provided they didn’t run into a passerby, cart, or creature. Everything about the city appears shiny. Clean. New.

Some small part of him feels nostalgia grip at his chest and he imagines a faint overlay of his home island, Montoro, and the weathered longhouses, piers, and water stained, wind-whipped ships.

People mill about him as he makes the walk. Some of the islands back home feel shorter than this one, singular road, but perhaps some of that is more a sense of familiarity, and less of the dreaded anticipation that weighs down his footsteps now.

Finding himself in the center of the stone plaza leading up to the grand staircase which permits entry into the palace itself, Vance suddenly finds himself feeling small. Second guessing what he is doing here. If the Mages have all this… how can I compare to the ruler of such a city? He knows in his heart that his magic sets him apart. Steeling himself with this knowledge, he curls his fingers into fists, squeezing to remind himself that he is truly here and that if the mages here are given such esteem, it shouldn’t be too far outside of his reach. He takes the first step upon the staircase, and then another. Climbing the stairs makes the back of his neck prickle as though he is being watched, but he ignores the temptation to turn around. To justify that someone and their questioning gaze. I belong here, now.

He raises his hands and pushes open the double doors, being greeted inside by cool air, kept out of the heat of the sun. It shadows across his arms, sending goosebumps across his forearms at the temperature difference. At the same time, his eyes raise to take in the room. Large enough to be imposing to strangers, it isn’t so big as to make the throne at the back seem small. Windows at the back make him squint as he strides forward with a slow, measured pace. Sunlight streams in, illuminating the currently extinguished candelabras placed at intervals throughout the room. The burgundy carpet under his feet gives just enough to speak of luxury, and he is tempted to bend down and run his hand over it - but again, he ignores the impulse.

The walls are white washed with bright red banners hanging from golden bars mid way up the wall. The room draws him in, but at the same time, the strangeness of the situation, the lack of another four thrones, the stillness in the room, throws him off.

A door to his left opens and through it walks a woman who radiates life and energy, clad in a deep red, floor-length dress. Her slender arms are left bare, the collar of the dress high around her neck, and the train of her dress follows her across the ground, a step or two behind. Her auburn hair is piled high on her head, curls framing her face and leaving more room for her sharp cheekbones and red lips. Lips which part in a dangerous smile, making Vance feel like a cornered animal instead of a visitor, all before he even meets her eyes. Eyes which are so red as to be unnerving. The kind of red sailors warn each other about when it shows up in the sky.

“It’s rude to stare, stranger.” Her voice is smooth and warm; her hands clasping in front of her.

Vance bows, the movement stiff but compulsory, especially as he tracks the movement of two other mages joining them from the same doorway, flanking the red mage and staring him down. “My apologies…”

The red mage tilts her head to the side, “You don’t know me?”

“I’m a stranger to your lands,” Vance stays bowed, his voice softened. “My people arrived by sea and I have come to pay my respects. I didn’t know there were people here with magic.” He glances up, “Or that they ruled… It is a sight to see.”

“Indeed,” she steps forward, placing her finger under his chin, urging him to straighten. Her red eyes search his, and as he stares back, something in the red of her eyes swirls softly behind her pupil. Like something shifting, living, waiting. He stiffens, and she shushes him softly, her fingertips brushing along his jaw. “Easy, let me look at you.”

“My Queen, he is armed.” One of the mages behind the queen steps forward, pointing at Vance’s sword.

“It’s not a problem. He would never use it on me.” The queen stares deeper into Vance’s eyes until it feels like all he sees is red. She leans forward and kisses his cheek, a whispering sensation trailing down his throat and settling across his collarbones like a necklace would. He frowns, reaching up to feel his neck, but the sensation dissipates and there’s nothing for his fingers to rest upon.

“What…” he starts.

“Why are you here, darling?” the Queen asks, stepping back from him and turning toward the throne. It clicks for him. This is her throne room. Her palace. Her city. What sort of magic does she possess? What would bring the others to heel?

He steps after her before he knew he wanted to, finding himself halfway across the floor of the throne room by the time she is turning and settling into the grand chair. Her fingers curl around the pommel of each arm rest, one leg crossed over the other, the dress sliding up to show some of her shin, her feet - now visible - clad in short boots. “I have magic.”

“Then you’re in the right place.” She smiles down at him, “Seyune is a city of magic. This is where we reign.”

“We?”

“Mages,” she gestures toward the other two in the room, both of whom stand by the front door, hands folded, watching. “Please ignore them, they’re overly protective.”

“How come?”

“They think my life holds more… how shall we put it.” Her nails tap against the arm rest. “Weight. They think if something were to happen to me, that their city would fall apart.”

“Why would it?”

The queen’s eyes sharpen as she eyes him. “I don’t have an heir.” She smiles, teeth flashing like some kind of warning signal. A lighthouse beacon shining in a storm. “I haven’t found a suitable match in magic, so they fear my line will end with me. And the poor things do enjoy consistency.”

Vance realizes, then, that he is on one knee several steps away from the dais the throne sits upon. He doesn’t remember getting here, but it feels right. I’m making my case. She holds the power right now.

The queen dismisses her line of thought, waving a hand through the air, “You said you have magic. What is your expertise?”

“I’m a water caller. That is, I can control the tides and predict storms. I navigate ships through rough waters and can map out unknown shores.”

The queen’s brow raises, “Water magic, then?”

“Simply put, yes.”

She leans forward, “Do you know what also has water, my dear stranger?”

Vance’s voice is almost breathless when he asks, “What?”

Her eyes glitter like twin gemstones. “Blood.”