Fyre Fly: Chapter 31 - Simmer

As soon as I think the words to Mirzayael, I recall the last thing Blair had said to me. She didn’t want me telling the Fyrethians of their visit. But Mir is different. She’s a leader—she’s my partner—and she deserves to know as much as I do.

Mirzayael stiffens. “What—”

“Don’t say it aloud,” I quickly think. At least I had only shared the thought with her, and not Ollie. Not that he’d be able to spread the rumor anyway, but I don’t want to alarm anyone I don’t have to.

“They said they were leaving, but I don’t know for sure,” I quickly explain. “I can’t see them on the Map Interface—that’s how I first knew something was wrong. But they could still be here and listening. They didn’t want anyone to know what they were.”

Mirzayael lets out a breath, letting me go to give me a searching look. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” I say, and I find I’m trembling again. They hadn’t even done anything, and I felt so helpless.

And I hadn’t even believed in them before now. Not really.

I’m such a fool. I’d told the Fortress I would protect them against the gods. I challenged the Jorrian prisoners, asking why their pantheon hadn’t yet intervened on their behalf. All that brave talk because some part of me still dismissed it as superstition.

I pride myself on being rational and open-minded. But in reality, I was just being shamefully ethnocentric.

“I’m sorry,” I tell Mirzayael, guilt swirling through me. “I should have believed you. I didn’t realize I was still harboring such biases. I didn’t know. No. I did know. You all told me. But—”

“Calm down,” Mirzayael says aloud. Now that I’m safe, her fear for me has leaked away, exposing a faint yet simmering anger. I cast my gaze to the floor in shame. “They’re gone, right?”

“I think so,” I say.

“Then we’ll discuss what they wanted later,” she says.

Not the response I was expecting. “Alright. What—”

“Why did you shut us out?” Mirzayael demands with a hiss, her anger boiling over. “How can we help you if you keep us away?”

I flinch as her distress lashes against my mind, shocking me like a slap to the face.

“I WAS REALLY WORRIED,” Ollie adds. “BUT NOT AS WORRIED AS MIRZAYAEL!” He’s too big for the throne room, his shoulder blades hitting the ceiling even when he’s flat on his belly, but he tries to shimmy further inside anyway. He makes it far enough to reach me, and he lays his head down at Mirzayael’s side.

I reach out and pet his nose. “I’m sorry. I was trying to compartmentalize. I needed to focus.”

“Making excuses is not an apology,” Mirzayael snaps.

I cringe. “You’re right. I was trying to keep you two away—I thought that would keep you safe. That wasn’t fair.” I shake my head, running my hand over his pebbly hide. Its texture is soothing. I try to force some of the wound-up tension out of my limbs, but that just makes them start to tremble.

“Ollie, that especially wasn’t fair to you,” I say. “Your Role is dependent on my safety. I can’t keep you safe by keeping you away. I’m sorry I did that. I’m sorry I scared you.”

“IT’S OKAY,” he says, but I can still feel the worry and sadness in his voice.

“No, it’s not,” I say. The poor kid only has me and Mirzayael to talk to, anyway. Cutting him off from being able to communicate with me—even if only for a few minutes—was cruel. “I’ll do better. I promise. I love you.”

He rumbles out a sigh, closing his eyes and turning his head so I can reach a better spot to scratch on his muzzle.  “I LOVE YOU, TOO.”

I have to wait until my throat is no longer tight. Then I look up at Mirzayael. “I’m sorry. We’re a team, on the throne and off. Shutting you out doesn’t help anything. You need to know what’s going on just as much as I do.”

She nods curtly. Her anger is still there, but it’s gradually simmering down. “I’m glad you understand,” she says aloud. But privately, she adds, “However, I don’t understand why they would only take you. If they’ve been watching, they must understand we are both rulers of the Fortress.”

“This wasn’t about Fyreneth’s legacy,” I tell her. “Well, not entirely. It involves the Dungeon Core. But they didn’t only wish to speak with me because I’m connected to it—they cornered me because they know I’m from another world.”

Mirzayael blinks. “Why would they care about that?”

“I’m not sure,” I admit. Though I’m starting to form some theories. I sigh, leaning against the side of the throne. Its cold stone presses against my back.  “I’m still trying to sort through everything. I’m not sure I understand it all yet.”

Mirzayael sighs as well. I can tell she’s itching to ask a hundred questions of her own, but she holds back. “Come. You should get some rest. We will discuss what transpired when you’re ready.” She pulls a silk spider messenger construct out of her satchel. “I’ll inform the guards the situation is resolved.”

I quickly sit up. “Oh—the trade talks!” I had forgotten about our planned descent into the city amongst the chaos. “I should get back—”

“You can go tomorrow,” Mirzayael says firmly. “We still have three more days over Hetopolis. “I’ll tell Torim and Nek to take your place.”

I’m not sure if rest is what I want, but when I glance up at the Dungeon Core, I realize the idea of leaving it miles away makes me uneasy. Not that my presence would do anything to stop the gods if they wanted to take it.

I’ve never felt so powerless.

“You won’t be going on my behalf?” I ask her.

“No,” she says simply. “The others can handle it. Ollie?”

He opens his eyes. “YEAH?”

“You don’t have to accompany them down today if you don’t want to,” she says. “You can stay here instead.”

Since I’ll be staying, he’ll probably want to keep near me. I’m sure Mirzayael realizes the same.

But he surprises us. “CAN MERITIS RIDE WITH ME INSTEAD?” he asks. “I WANT TO SEE THE CITY, AND SO DOES HE, AND HE DIDN’T GET TO GO DOWN WHEN WE WERE IN THE LAST CITY.”

That’s because in the last city, they came to us.

My parental instincts briefly summon an objection to my lips. I don’t want to let him go by himself. I’m worried about him.

But he won’t be by himself. He’ll have Dizzi, Meritis, Nek, Torim, and all the others to take care of him. I can still contact him—and even look through his eyes—if I need to. If this is him interested in exploring a bit of independence, I shouldn’t punish him for it.

“Alright,” I say, trying not to grimace. “As long as Meritis’s parents agree.”

“YAY!” Ollie lifts his head with a happy rumble. “OKAY I’LL GO ASK. WELL, MERITIS WILL ASK. I WISH I COULD TALK TO HIM. ARE YOU READ TO DO THE MIND LINK WITH US, YET?”

“I’ve got something else in mind,” I tell him. “But I do think I’ll find a way for you guys to speak soon. Just a bit longer, alright?”

“ALRIGHT!” Ollie begins wiggling backward, and I have the Dungeon Core remove some stone around the balcony’s entrance to help. Mirzayael sends off her messenger spider as Ollie slides back out of the throne room.

“How did you get up there?” I suddenly realize. She and Ollie had come in the same way.

“I rode on the saddle,” she says shortly.

I blanche, aghast. “But it’s not designed for you.”

“It was very difficult to stay on,” she agrees. “The experience was terrifying. I will never do it again.” She stands up, pulling me to my feet, and the two of us wearily leave the throne room.

“I’m sorry I scared you,” I repeat.

“I know,” she says softly. “But I’m glad you’re alright.”

She leads us back to her chamber instead of mine. I don’t object. Inside, she settles into her nest-like bed, and I wordlessly climb in with her, curling up against her chest. She pulls a blanket over the two of us and wraps her arms around me.

Her limbs enveloped me in a warm fortification, as if she’s trying to shield me from the world.

I wish it made me feel safe.

#

I doze restlessly, disrupted by vague and anxious thoughts that don’t quite resolve into dreams. Eventually I rouse, too agitated to nap any longer. Mirzayael gets up with me, and we head to the dining hall. It’s not really near any meal time, but the cooks graciously throw something together for us, and we sit down to eat. Over the course of a seemingly silent meal, I tell her everything.

Mirzayael is just as baffled as me. “Are you sure they were gods?” she asks when I’m done.

I recall the stats I’d seen on their displays. “Pretty sure. It described both of them as having the title “God” and they were both level 100. Lisari’s class was Anarchic Alchemist and Blair’s class was Temporal Paladin.” Interestingly, they both also had a Role, like Ollie and I. They’re the first other people I’ve seen with a Role stat.

They both also clearly had access to the System, since they were able to see my and Ollie’s Roles and deduce information about my spells. Was that the connection? Only people who could see and interact with the System had Roles? But why? What were they for?

“It’s strange,” Mirzayael muses. “I am no expert in the gods, but I don’t recognize either of those names. And the fact that they made reference to Lorata in some sort of disparaging way… I don’t understand it.”

“Blair called Lisari something else,” I recall, trying to think back. “A different name or title. Shirasil, I think.”

“Oh.” Mirzayael takes another bite of our smoked fish, frowning. “That name does sound familiar. They’re a god of chaos, I think. And knowledge.”

“Chaos and knowledge?” That was an odd combination. But given a class like ‘anarchic alchemist,’ it does sort of fit. And their Role had been the Inquisitor. I have no idea what that might mean. They did seem curious, if nothing else.

“Do you know anything else about them?” I ask.

Mirzayael shrugs. “They sometimes appear as a man or woman, though I believe man is more common. They’re blind. They wield power over wind and shadows.”

“Oh.” I had begun to believe that Lisari’s blindness was an act. To what end, I have no idea, but I suppose I had just assumed that a deity wouldn’t have disabilities. “Can’t she fix her sight, if she’s a god?”

Mirzayael shrugs again. “Perhaps she doesn’t want to. I don’t know much more about her than what I’ve already said. She’s often trouble, I think.”

“Trouble for mortals, or gods?” I wonder. “If she has some disagreement with Lorata, could that be a good thing for us?”

Mirzayael shakes her head. “I don’t know. But I don’t trust the motive of any god. They wouldn’t be here if they didn’t want something.”

“Like the Dungeon Core,” I muse. I also have to shake my head. “I can’t sort through it all. Blair suggested taking the Dungeon Core from us, but stopped when I told her how that would doom our city. That seems to be the opposite of what happened with Lorata in the legends—burying the city seemed to be the point. Yet, they still wanted something with it. Or with me. Or the both of us, since we’re connected. And that feeling when they got too close…”

I don’t know what to make of it. “If they’re testing my control over the Dungeon Core, to what end? And why did they want knowledge of their presence to be concealed? If this is being done against Lorata’s will, or without her knowledge, why?”

“I have no answers,” Mirzayael says.

Me neither. But perhaps there will be a way to get more. “We should gather texts on the pantheon while we’re still over Hetopolis. Perhaps that will help prepare us for their next visit.”

Mirzayael’s face darkens. “We can prepare in more ways than one.”

“I don’t think it would be a good idea to antagonize them,” I tell her. She already knows that, of course, but her pride won’t let her suggest it. “But we might stand to learn something from them if we play along.”

“We will not align ourselves with the gods,” Mirzayael snaps.

“Even if some might be working against Lorata?” I ask.

“No,” she says firmly. “I don’t care who is aligned with whom. It is against everything we stand for.”

“Maybe,” I say. But I’m not convinced the pantheon is as monolithic as Mirzayael sees them. Not from the clues Lisari was dropping.

Was that intentional? Blair kept inferring Lisari was saying too much. Loose lips, or trying to send a message?

I guess I won’t know until they return. And hopefully when they do, they’ll continue to just want to talk.