Chapter 5 | PoV: Sanya
“What in the name of Heliux!?” The guard with a knee dug into Sanya stumbled backward, off of her. His hands went to his eyes. His spear clattered against the sand.
“Run, get back-up!”
“I can't see a thing!” The third began emptying his stomach on the sandy floor.
The crowd around them shrank back, as well. They gave the whole scene much needed room.
The mage knelt down and extended a hand toward Sanya. W-who was this mage? Why were they helping her? D-did they possess the same magic as Sanya? What was going on?
And most importantly, in the back of her mind—Am I not alone in being a monster?
Sanya shook her hands, chains rattled behind her back, as if to say “hey, I can't!” Of course, she wouldn't let a word leave her mouth, if she could help it.
“Oh, right,” the mage said simply.
One of the guards swung and stabbed his spear blindly in the air, in the direction towards the mage.
“Get up,” the mage growled, knocking away the spear with their staff, somehow enough to loosen it from the guard and have him drop it.
Sanya moved her legs, getting one foot planted on the ground, then the other. She pushed herself off the floor with her feet. She swayed a little, finding purchase against the sand and balancing with her hands tied behind her back.
Did the mage have any plans for Sanya's bound hands?
Sanya glanced about. Guards converged from the market pathways, heading towards them.
“We're leaving.”
Guess not.
The mage chose a path and took off in a run, through the market bustle. Sanya dashed too, trying to keep up with them. Sanya noted that this was not, in fact, the closest path towards exiting the bazaar.
Where was she being taken? What were their plans? Could she trust this mage, wherever they were leading her?
Sanya's eyes darted around the market. Could she break off from the mage and go her own way? Was that the correct option?
Despite all of this, it could be interesting—a mage possibly like her, of an unheard magic. She thought it unlikely that they'd do all this for her just to kill her in the end, but what else? Sanctuary? Or would she be turned into some pawn or some victim of abuse?
If things got bad, did she think she could get away?
No, things wouldn't get bad. She . . . trusted this mage.
Maybe.
Okay, not really.
They came upon the edge of the market. The stalls ended into an open ring—a street with which to circumvent the chaos of trade. Sanya saw buildings beyond.
In their way, however, stood two guards. They flanked the pathway, nodding to each person entering and leaving the market.
They immediately noticed Sanya and the mage running. They closed off the pathway, spears at the ready, big meaty builds blocking off the exit. The mass of people around them thinned out, heading away from the conflict. “Oh's” and gasps circulated the path.
The mage stopped. Sanya halted at their side.
The mage waved their staff, incantating. The guards’ eyes lost focus, like they could no longer see. They clenched their jaws. They shifted their weights slightly, but held position.
Sabatons thumped behind Sanya and the mage. Sanya turned to see the pursuing guards getting closer.
“Hmm,” the mage thought, cutting out their incantation. They switched to a different one. The world held its breath.
The light around the pathway pulsed and flickered. Shadows consumed the stalls and the sand and the sky. Everything became dark and uncertain and cold, with a hint of . . . purple?
A shiver emerged among Sanya's profuse sweating.
The guards looked about to mentally break, just a little bit more?
The mage stepped forward.
The light continued to throb deep shadows. Sanya noticed hints of movement, the light and dark played together and created impressions of beasts moving in on the guards. Fangs and fur and a stalking gait.
The two guards shuffled.
Sanya glanced around. W-wait. Nobody manned the stalls. Nobody walked the pathways between. The guards rushing at them could not be seen. Where had everyone gone?
The four of them were alone in the darkness. Cold. Unsettled.
There was no way this mage's magic was Sanya's own. What in the name of our great Heliux? . . .
“Don't just stand there, get past them!” The mage prodded at Sanya.
She blinked. How would she get past the guards? The shadows and darkness weren't enough to get them fleeing or lose their resolve.
Hesitantly, she walked forward. Then she ran.
“Cast something!”
Huh? Sanya clenched her fists, targeting the guards in front of her. They had their spears down, pointed at her. Yet their eyes only checked on Sanya for moments, their eyes wandered to the shadows behind the market stalls. She had to admit, this magic did interest her—especially the hint of nightmares just out of reach. Could she learn to torment people like that? Maybe she could do that to her parents. A bit of a malevolent smile twitched across her face at the thought.
A cold wind brushed through, like a cohort of ghosts flying through the market, completely unrelated to Sanya's or the mage's magic. Sanya and the mage controlled the light (maybe?), not wind. Did it come from a guard? Or something else?
At Sanya's magic, the guards jumped, looking around, confused. If their eyes gazed upon Sanya's location, they didn't actually see her. She had intended to blind them, yet it seemed more like she had gone invisible.
She had no clue how she did that. How did any of this work? For the hundredth time, what was going on with this mage and their magic—and Sanya's?
She walked right past the guards. The mage did too. Sanya spat at the closest guard on her way. Finally, she got away with it!
“Hurry, before the spell stutters out!” The mage urged her forward.
Light pulsed through the darkness. Then, like a candle flickering, but inverted, the darkness began to choke, dancing like candlelight.
As Sanya headed onto a normal street, the darkness got yanked away, like a dust sheet being pulled off of old furniture. Sanya jumped.
People returned. The torturous warmth of the distant tempest and the two suns flooded back. For some reason, her breath quickened and her heart beat faster than in those strange shadows, facing down the guards. It appeared that they had lost the guards . . . that was nice.
The mage overtook Sanya's position. “Follow me. We go southeast.”
The mage rushed through the streets, taking shortcuts through alleyways whenever they could. Even Sanya did not know where the two of them stood every few streets or alleys, and she thought she knew the city. Obviously not.
She hated the alleyways. They smelled of filth. Unhoused people clung to the walls, covered in rags, hair unkempt. She hated Glorestra for leaving them all behind. She hated herself that she could barely take care of her own body, and not others too. Nobody deserved to live like this.
Her fists clenched and her face went red, and made sure not to accidentally cast a spell. Moving her fists felt like an easy shortcut to her innate spellcasting ability. A visualization and an intent that she meant to cast something, not unlike people's incantations. Yet, where this made up her basic ability, incantations went beyond and into the fancy and specialized spells. If she incantated, could she cast like the mage leading her?
The mage moved across a street and into another alley—one of numerous twists and turns. Sanya had a feeling that this pathway was convoluted on purpose. They neared the walls, ever so tall and imposing, with towers scraping out to the tempest above, a murderous veil cast over the city, draping down into the horizon beyond the walls.
Here, in the alleyway, nothing but walls surrounded them. The mage stepped up to a particular spot and knocked against it in a unique rhythm—a code? Sanya noticed clean cuts in the brickwork—a door had been cut into the wall here.
Hmmm. A complex pathway through an alley. A hidden door. A secret code. Sanya's heart jumped in her chest, she breathed quickly. What had she gotten herself into?
The wall-door swung only a hair. An eye peeked out from the new crack in the wall.
“Ah!” A voice exclaimed.
The door fully opened, revealing another mage in full light-blue robes, staff in hand. The staff did not stand out to Sanya, like the other mage's had. It was . . . well . . . incredibly standard. A metal staff with a hint of blue, cloth wrapped where one might hold it. It ended in one wing of metal styled like a wing of feathers. aeolian mage. Well—mages could hold a staff not of their magical type, but they usually didn't. It was a matter of identity and camaraderie.
“Do come in!” The new mage stepped to the side. Their hood was up, revealing a jubilant face with blue eyes and—weirdly—immaculate blond hair. They had a shade of tan skin, like every other surface denizen. Not a single hair poked out from his smooth face. He looked like a story book prince. Yeah . . . Sanya was going to assume he was a guy. Heterosexual women and gay men alike would fall head-over-heels for this man.
Which meant he was probably a bad guy.
Sanya’s . . . escort—to differentiate the two mages—nodded in thanks and stepped inside the dimly lit abode. Llumifruits glowed on the other end of the room, where the wall met the ceiling.
Sanya’s escort turned around. “Are you going to stand around all day or are you heading inside?”
“Picked another one, did you?” The new mage asked, excitement in his voice.
Picked? Another one? What did that mean?
Sanya walked inside. The new mage closed the door behind her. She looked around, keeping her breathing and heart in check. She snuck glances back to the door, considering whether she should bolt or not. How much danger was she in?
“Now,” Sanya's escort began. “The matters pertaining to why I brought you here . . . I have a most interesting deal for you. One that will pick you off the streets with no ill will toward yourself . . .”