Nyte: Chapter 43 - Verso Illusionist

My arms are wrapped around Quell’s waist as we race across the desert on the footbird. The creature is a lot like a mix between an ostrich and a lizard: a two-legged thing with scaly legs, a long feathered tail, and an intimidating beak. Or maybe I just find all steeds intimidating. I’d never ridden on an animal before coming to this world.

There’s not much room on the bird’s back, thus my compromising position. I don’t really mind the closeness, though. We’re both pumped full of too much anxiety and adrenaline to be self conscious of our bodies. Even squeezed together we barely fit on the footbird’s back, and I’m sure this is quite a bit more weight than the animal is used to. Luckily, the Aegis agreed to let me put it in my Inventory for the ride, otherwise I doubt the animal would have been able to stand. At least we don’t have to go very far.

Quell is steering with one hand, urging the bird as fast as he dares. His other, the injured hand, is held against his stomach, and I’m holding my hand over his as I work another healing spell. I’m worried about the tendons and muscles Constance might have severed there, but there’s nothing I can do about it now. The least I can do is stop the bleeding.

My spell times out, and I let go. Quell holds his hand up to inspect its state: it’s a horrifying mess of a scab, much like Constance’s arm after I was done with it. Look, I’m not a healer; all I can do is make blood scab faster. But Quell doesn’t make a remark, instead taking hold of the reins. I notice he isn’t able to close his hand all the way.

“There,” he calls over his shoulder. “It’s just ahead.”

I don’t have to look far. The battle is already taking place. Archers and mages are positioned on the top of the city walls, raining arrows and stone down on the Duneshade soldiers. The soldiers in turn have made a wedge at the city gate; more stone and sand mages are attempting to give their fellows cover as they try to pry the portcullis open. Beyond them are Duneshade archers returning fire.

There are already bodies on the ground.

“Stop!” Quell shouts, though his voice is swallowed in the noise of the fight. We’re still thundering toward them. He takes another breath to yell, but I stop him.

“Get to higher ground,” I say, pointing at a nearby dune. One of the Duneshade generals is standing at the top of the hill, overseeing the battle. I also pull the Scimitar out from where it was pinned between us, still wrapped, and pass it around to Quell.

“Hold this,” I tell him. “Just be careful not to touch it directly!”

“I won’t,” he says, loosely gripping the wrap with his injured hand. He’s already turning us to the side, heading for the dune.

The general notices us when we’re at its base. She instinctively draws a sword, then hesitates when she sees the prince.

“Call off the attack,” Quell cries when we’re within earshot. “Order them to withdraw!”

“My prince?” she wavers. “Where is Prince Constance?”

“Hurt,” Quell says shortly, pulling the footbird to a stop beside her. I stumble off the side. Even with one hand, Quell manages to swing himself gracefully down. “There’s too much to explain and too little time. My siblings’ lives may hang in the balance. Right now, you have to call the soldiers back.”

The general frowns, eyeing us warily. When Quell steps toward her, she steps back, holding her sword between us. “Moonfall knows what the royals look like. Prove you’re not an imposter.”

“Proof?” Quell unveils the Scimitar, holding it up for the general to see. Conveniently, Constance’s arm is still obscured by the wrappings. “I’ll show you proof.”

Then he turns to face the battle that’s waging below. Lights spark before his lips, and when he takes a deep breath, he pulls the embers into his mouth.

“This is Prince Quell of the Duneshade Kingdom,” he says. But it’s not just said: his voice booms over the battlefield. Both sides appear startled, and while the fighting doesn’t stop, it certainly falters.

“I am ordering an immediate ceasefire. Duneshade soldiers, withdraw. There will be no more bloodshed today. And if I have any say in the matter, none going forward, either.”

He pauses, waiting for the soldiers to react. Some along the backline have stopped, but those at the wall, still engaged with the city guards, don’t break away.

“Duneshade,” Quell repeats. “I said, retreat.”

With the last word, a ripple goes through the air. Quell takes a step forward, gritting his teeth as he seems to lean against some invisible barrier. The ripple spreads down the dune and across the battlefield, buffeting everything it passes through. Then, all at once, the illusions shatter.

Duplicated soldiers dissolve into motes of light that swirl away with the breeze. Over eight hundred soldiers abruptly become less than one hundred. Lifespring guards find themselves targeting thin air. The crowd of Duneshade soldiers at the gate becomes a dozen individuals. Both sides freeze.

And then the Duneshade soldiers flee. A cheer goes up from within the Oasis.

Quell slumps. “Lifespring guards, I would appreciate it if you would spare the lives of my soldiers as they collected the wounded and withdraw. There is much turmoil in our camp, as you have just witnessed, however I have no desire to escalate tensions. In fact, I would like to initiate a parley to discuss further relations between our people. As a show of good faith, I am willing to meet on your terms, provided I am accompanied by my personal knight. Please send up a signal if you are willing to engage in an armistice, and I will approach to discuss stipulations.”

With that, he lets out another breath, and sparks of light are exhaled with it. He turns to me, smiling wearily. “I guess we’re not done yet.”

“They might take the opportunity to kill you,” I point out.

“That’s possible,” he agrees. “Which is why I’m taking you with me. But I don’t believe they will.” He turns back to the general, who bows her head.

“My prince.”

“Head back to camp,” he tells her. “Inform the others that until my siblings have recovered, I am in charge. We will be relocating to within a mile of the Lifespring so as better to treat the wounded who will not be capable of making the trip. The top priority is saving as many lives as possible. Understood?”

“Yes, Prince Quell.” She retreats as Quell looks back to the Lifespring. A moment later, a purple light launches into the air. The firework explodes in the shape of a blooming poppy.

Quell turns to me with a tired smile. “I guess that’s our cue.”

#

As it turns out, my services aren’t needed after all. We descend the hill on the footbird, where we dismount outside the gates. An emissary emerges to meet with us and deliver terms of the conference to come. Quell informs them of his siblings, still injured and trapped within the city, which seems to catch the messenger off guard. He asks that they be taken in and treated well, which is more faith in Moonfall than I have. Even so, the messenger leaves with this information, and we leave with the terms of the treaty. He glances at it just long enough to confirm we have a day before the official meeting, then slips it into a shirt pocket. We head for the Duneshade camp next.

On the way, we pause to address the wounded. There’s about a dozen, all told, who won’t be able to make the march back to camp. Quell gathers them together, leaves his shade cloak and half a skin of water with them, and then we continue our ride. Now that we have a mount, we make much better time. Even so, my neck and arms burn painfully beneath the sun. When we reach camp, I can already feel blisters forming.

By the time we arrive, they’re already in the process of breaking tents down. I’m a little surprised they listened to him. Then again, as he strides through camp, I notice the gaze of his soldiers fall to the Scimitar still grasped in his good hand, and any hints of skepticism fade away.

“Commander,” Quell greets a black and brown arachnoid. “Where is the Ambassador? I’d like to speak with her.”

The arachnoid seems caught off guard. “The prisoner?” he asks.

Quell frowns. “Wrongly detained, I suspect. Take me to her—and have someone send extra rations and a skin of water.”

The commander bows. “Of course, my prince.”

He leads us to a small tent toward the back of the camp: it’s not even tall enough to stand straight within, so after Quell ducks inside, he pauses to look back out. “Nye and I can handle this alone.”

The commander seems nervous. “It would not be advisable to speak with her without protection.”

“I have protection,” Quell says, gesturing to me. “And she’s restrained, anyway. Actually, speaking of, who spelled her shackles? Send them here at once.”

“Yes, Prince Quell.” The commander reluctantly withdraws, already calling to another soldier to carry out the orders Quell had given him.

Orders. Like he’s a real leader, or something.

Following Quell into the tent, we both sit heavily, sighing in relief as the shade falls over us. The ground is bare clay and sand; I guess they felt their captive didn’t deserve the comfort of a canvas or rug. I grimace at the thought of her living like this for the past month.

Ambassador Ashla is wearing the same clothes I last saw her in, though all their splendor has been lost to the grit that now smears their surface. The cloth is frayed and torn, and her gray skin is covered in a layer of brown dust, only interrupted where tear tracks have clearly washed the sediment away. Her intricate braids have since come undone, spilling tangled black hair over her shoulders.

Ashla is secured to a stake stabbed into the ground at the center of the tent. Her wrists are bound together with a rotating yellow spell circle, which is connected to the central post by a glowing thread. Her feet are not tied, though given how short the chain is, she probably wouldn’t have been able to stand anyway. She glowers at us as we take a seat, though she also sits up, back straight, chin lifted, as if she refuses to look up at us.

Quell sets the Scimitar down between us, and Ashla’s attention shifts to the blade. She narrows her eyes.

“Is that your brother’s blade?” she asks, skeptical.

“It is.” Quell nods to me. “My knight cut it from my brother’s hand.”

She leans back, eyebrows raised. She stares at us for several moments in silence, and Quell seems content to wait.

“I was expecting another visit at some point,” she finally ventures. “But from your brother, not you. I suspect I may be missing context for this meeting.”

“Context is what I hope to gain as well,” Quell says. “You were not a part of the abduction attempt on me and my siblings, were you?”

Ashla’s expression darkens. “That is what I have been saying since the start of this.”

“I believe you,” Quell says.

Ashla pauses, her tone skeptical. “You do?”

“Yes. Because my brother is the one who was responsible.” He glances down at the blade. “Or perhaps it was this sword. Though I am not sure even its influence can absolve him of his actions.”

Ashla looks less surprised by these reveals. “This would explain much. He’s repeatedly visited me over the last month, always to ask strange questions about Moonfall and the Lifespring. He never outright admitted he was behind the attack, but certain questions… The way he spoke about things. I had my suspicions.”

“Excuse me,” a voice says from outside the tent. A young human soldier ducks their head in a moment later, holding a ration back and water skin. “I was told to deliver these.”

“Yes, thank you,” Quell says, shifting to the side to allow the human access. They don’t even look out of their teenage years. The same age as Álvaro, I’d guess. Too young to be a soldier. “You can place them here. I also requested the mage who set this shackle spell.

“Um, that’s also me,” the teen says.

“I see. Good.” Quell gestures to Embassador Ashla. “Please dispel her bindings.”

The kid looks nervous. “Are you sure?”

Ashla looks equally skeptical.

“Entirely,” Quell says. “Now, if you would please.”

Nervously, the soldier creeps forward, as if Ashla is a dog who might snap if they got too close. But she doesn’t move, and as the soldier touches a finger to the spell circle, the binding breaks, and the cuff and chain dissolve into nothing. They snap their hand away and shuffle back. Ashla lets out a sigh, gingerly rubbing her wrist.

Quell dismisses the soldier, and they are more than happy to flee from the tent.

“Here.” Quell hands over the food and water next. “Please. If there’s anything else you need as well, let me know.”

The ambassador looks at him strangely, carefully taking the pack. “You are not much like your brother.”

Quell chuckles. “I’ve heard that one all my life.”

“It was unsafe to free my magic block,” she says. “You could equally have held this conversation without such risk.”

“He’s always doing stuff like that,” I say with a sigh. “You’d think he’s trying to get himself killed.”

Ashla looks at me as if she’d only noticed I was here. “And you are?”

“His knight,” I say. “Which is why undoing your magic block wasn’t completely stupid. Just, rather stupid.”

Her mouth twitches in a faint smile. “Oh, I don’t know. Perhaps he’s wiser than you credit him for.”

“Now that would be the first time someone’s called me wise,” Nye says, chuckling. And just like that, a thick tension within the tent begins to dissolve. “Now, I’m not going to make you say anything, but I would very much like to prove your innocence, so whatever information you have on the abduction plan, or Constance, or anything else you can think of, would be extraordinarily helpful.”

Ashla unwinds the twine that keeps the food ration secured, removing the cloth covering used to keep the sand out. She cracks open the box, and her eyes water at the sight of the food. She reverently removes a chunk of dried, spiced fruit, and puts it in her mouth. She chews, sighs, and hangs her head. Then she starts to cry.

Quell doesn’t say anything. He waits, giving her all the time she needs. It takes a few minutes for her to compose herself. She used the cloth from the rations to wipe her face, but when she finally looks up at us, it’s with a grateful smile.

“I’ll tell you everything I know,” she says. “And I hope you can do the same. Perhaps together, we can untangle this web.”

Over the course of the next hour, we do exactly that. Ambassador Ashla reveals that over the last year, a variety of Moonfall loyalists had been contacted about a plan to deal a decisive blow to the Duneshade Kingdom. The Moonfall Kings quickly became aware of these plans, and kept a sharp eye and short leash on all who had been contacted. Interestingly, each individual brought into the scheme harbored a deep hatred for Duneshade, and opposed the ongoing peace talks. The Dynasty realized they likely had not found every contact, but kept an eye out regardless.

Evidence suggested the plans were coming from someone in the Duneshade Kingdom. Ambassador Ashla had gone to continue developing relations with Duneshade, but was also instructed to poke around about the mysterious contact who was attempting to incite violence within their Dynasty.

Quell shakes his head. “If I hadn’t heard it with my own ears, I never would have thought Constance was capable of this. But he seemed to think that war was the only path to permanent peace. But to go after Liz and I…”

“If his goal was war, that would all but assure it,” I point out. “But he couldn’t be the one to take the fall. Moonfall had to be the aggressor.”

“I’ve thought on this every night since my imprisonment,” Ambassador Ashla says. “And only he could have been capable of hiding so many soldiers and allowing them to draw so close without warning. Of course he had to take you and your sister out first. You’re the only two who might have noticed the illusions, or known that they were his.”

Quell lets out a breath. “At least his plan was only to abduct us, not kill us. He easily could have done that, if that were the goal.” He frowns. “But why take us into the Lifespring at the end?”

“Because of me,” I say. “My appearance threw a wrench in his plans. Not only did I stop the abduction, but I showed up with the Aegis. The first part was frustrating enough, I’m sure. We stopped the catalyst of war he was hoping for. But the Aegis—that might have been the Scimitar’s want. These weapons, they… pull at each other. Like two poles of a magnet. I don’t know if they want to destroy each other, or somehow… become one and work together. But whatever it is, I’m sure it threw the Scimitar into a frenzy, which likely didn’t help Constance’s mental state. It probably played off his desire for power; it made him think that if he could retrieve the Aegis, his conquest would be all but certain.” The scary thing is, that might have been the truth.

“But the Lifespring ‘source’ was a sham,” Quell points out. “He didn’t really think he could magically remove it from you.”

“He was planning to kill me,” I say bluntly.

“But why bring us with?” Quell wonders.

I look at him sadly. “Because he still needed a catalyst for war. What better way than two dead royal children in Moonshade territory?”

Quell goes silent. I put a hand on his knee and give it a reassuring squeeze.

“The real irony is that we had Moonshade troops stationed within the Lifespring to work with local authorities specifically to investigate this ploy,” Ashla says. “And Constance seems to have known even that. He was going to use our covert presence there—in conjunction with the attack on you and the princess—as proof of our conspiracy. If it had worked, it would have looked extremely damning.”

Ashla sighs, pausing to take a drink. By now her ration box has been completely emptied. “We were inches away from war. Prince Quell, you have saved countless lives from both of our countries.”

“No,” he says, finally speaking up. “It wasn’t me. I just got lucky.” He meets my gaze. His eyes are tired, sad, but also relieved. “Without Nye, I would be captured at best, dead at worst, and either way my people would be plunged into war.”

I squirm beneath his words. It doesn’t feel like I just saved two countries from going to war. It feels like I cut off his brother’s arm and killed a lot of innocent people. “That’s more credit than I deserve.”

“If what the prince says is true,” Ashla says, “then I think perhaps you are due far more credit than you think.”

I look down, avoiding their praise, and my gaze lands on the Scimitar. “What will we do about that?”

“Give it to Moonfall,” Quell says immediately.

I look up in surprise. “What?” Ashla and I say at the same time.

“To maintain the balance,” Quell says. “Each kingdom should guard half of the whole. It will work well as a visible peace offering, too. Something tangible.”

Maybe Quell becoming a leader isn’t so far-fetched after all.

“It’s a good plan,” Ambassador Ashla says. “A charitable plan.”

“It’s one idea, anyway,” Quell says. He pulls out the treaty papers he had been given and passes them over to Ashla. “Tomorrow will be the real test. We’ve much to prepare for. Even if the worst is over, the politics are only likely to become more dense. I would like your help in negotiating my soldiers’ and siblings’ return. I think having your support would greatly assist in these matters.”

Ambassador Ashla unfurls the scroll and skims through the details. “The terms are fairly standard. They had to whip them up quickly, it seems. Yes, I think we can work something out.” She rolls the scroll back up, then gives the two of us an appraising look.

“You’re not what I expected,” she tells Quell. “But I’m glad for it. I look forward to continuing our relationship going forward.”

I watch Quell as his face splits into a grin, and I can’t help but think the very same thing.