Fell Champions

Sami watched Sureya depart, heralded on her journey by applause and cheering. Sureya did not acknowledge it, but merely walked away with a blank expression, her hands firmly balled into fists at her sides.

Sami recognized that stance. It was someone holding on desperately to contain themselves, to allow no one to see what was going on within. It was the walk of someone at the brink, someone who was so close to breaking down either in fury, exaltation, or sorrow. 

Sami didn’t know which of the three Sureya was feeling. Only that she was teetering, and trying to keep from falling off the ledge. 

It was terrifying seeing so much of herself in someone who was so clearly a monster.

“What just happened?” Otter asked.

“We were set up,” Sami said. “All of us, not just Kir.”

“I don’t get it. This is good, right?”

“You only think that because you’re an honest person. Sureya’s the one who’s been giving Il-Su his marching orders.”

“What?” Kir said flatly, honing in on their conversation.

She must have been eavesdropping. A little rude, but hardly unexpected. Sami had to remind herself once again that Kir was an enemy. A very dangerous one.

Which made it even more frustrating that Sami really, really wanted to kiss her. Feather light kisses across her lips, her cheeks, the tip of her nose….

Someone cleared their throat, and Sami realized she’d been staring. Staring, and not answering the question. 

“I’m thinking,” she said, as a way of buying time. She’d long since pieced things together. 

“She’s entered her mind palace,” Otter said, nodding as if she had some sage wisdom. “She does this when remembering things, putting together clues, solving cases.”

Utter nonsense, but Otter gave her a circumspect wink. She was trying to save Sami from public embarrassment. 

“What is a ‘mind palace?’” Kir asked.

“A memory technique,” Sami said. “And one I have no intention of explaining. I think I have a good idea of what just happened.”

“Good,” Rua said, pushing through the crowd to finally reach them. “You can catch me up while you’re doing… is that Il-Su? Someone killed him? And didn’t tell me ahead of time so I could watch?”

“Sami beat him up,” Otter said. “And then Reyna stabbed him while his Tenacity was down. Also there was a vote to eliminate an old custom about soul crystals. Sureya was for it, despite being the custom lady.”

“Silayan customs,” Rua noted. “That one was a Crio wartime tradition. Tell me you didn’t actually vote to abolish it?”

Kir looked a little sheepish. “It seemed like a good thing to do at the time? Il-Su had come to claim Juala’s crystal. When Reyna killed Il-Su, preventing him from obtaining hers, Sureya made it sound like she was going to have Reyna punished, maybe executed, for breaking from it.”

“She probably would have,” Rua said. “She’s a pragmatist, but sticks to the letter of the law. Reyna was a fool for killing Il-Su, but… I’m glad she did. How much are we paying her? It might not be enough.”

“I want to hear what the Steelsinger has to say,” Kir said.

“Steelsinger?” Rua said, looking about.

“She means me,” Sami said.

“Wait, you’re a Steelsinger?” Rua whistled. “I’m surprised you’re not currently being propositioned by… everyone right now.”

Sami blinked.

“Do you have forging abilities yet? Metal detection? We could have you find ore veins, outfit–”

“Rua, focus,” Kir said. “We need to know about Sureya.”

Sami glanced around. The crowd was beginning to disperse, many of them heading to the bar, likely to follow Reyna’s suggestion of getting drunk and actually honouring Juala’s memory. No one was close enough to overhear, at least not without a serious investment in their Awareness.

“Il-Su was working for her, I’m sure of it,” Sami said. “Body language, mostly. But a few things make sense. Why he came here, how he knew about the tradition, and how Sureya was positioned to immediately agree to let him do it right up until he was challenged.”

Kir looked thoughtful. “It’s not a lot to go off of, but it explains how he got around my Pact.”

“What do you mean?”

“Her Pact allows her to copy the Pact abilities of others. If she’d copied my ability, used it on Il-Su, and then just ordered him to ignore orders from me…”

That made sense. That also sounded like a very dangerous ability.

“What are the limitations?”

“We don’t know. Presumably, it’s not at the same level of strength as the original ability, and she also probably has a hard limit on how many abilities she can copy at one time.”

“Hmm. It tracks. And also explains how Il-Su got played as hard as he did.”

“What do you mean?”

“He’s a coward at heart. He hates direct confrontation. Coming to a funeral like this, filled with people who want to see him dead? He’d never do it normally. Sureya probably ordered him here, knowing it would result in him being killed.”

“Why would she do that?” Otter asked aghast.

“Because he’s a loose thread,” Sami said. “He’s probably already served his part in her plans. And given how xenophobic she is, she was probably all too happy to be rid of him permanently once his purpose was fulfilled. Alive, he could’ve potentially been captured or reclaimed by Kir and made to talk about what he knew about her plans. Better to remove him.”

Kir looked sick. “Someone is using my Gracewarden ability, and isn’t being constrained by my morality?”

“Your morality is in question as it is,” Sami noted. “I don’t approve of what you’ve done to Rua. But your point stands. I don’t imagine Sureya is likely to be restricted in her use of any assets available to her. She strikes me as the type to do anything to achieve her goals.”

“She is.” 

The voice that spoke was unfamiliar. Older, female, rough around the edges. Sami turned, and found the woman’s appearance to be similar. She wore the closest thing to a uniform she’d seen on an actual Silayan woman, thought it was cut short, leaving both arms and legs bare, likely a nod to the Silayans’ love of swimming. She looked to be in her forties, maybe fifties, and her black hair had a solid streak of white over one brow. Her face had a friendly look to it, something like a mischievous air to it.

Which was a relief, considering she was holding a struggling Reyna in one hand by the scruff of her shirt. 

“Admiral Soorong,” Kir said, with a polite bow of her head.

“Kirhaela,” she responded, also nodding her head. “I’m told you’re the enemy these days.”

“I should hope not. If that were true, it’d be dark days for the Isles.”

“It would be a short fight. You pirates aren’t nearly as good at fighting on the seas as we are, and we outnumber you.”

“About that,” Rua said with a wince. 

At Kir’s urging, Rua briefed them on what she’d discovered on Pruana Isle. The Wayfaring station, the slow influx of Mikovians into the Islands, the construction of a permanent settlement. All done in secret, with the very obvious intention that the Mikovians were no longer just garrisoned in the Islands. They intended to stay. 

All the while Kir spoke, Soorong’s expression grew darker. Sami watched her, hoping to be able to gauge her response. 

It wasn’t difficult to decipher. Sami had asked around during the funeral, and found out that Soorong was one of the few admirals who was against Sureya’s plans. She had a reputation as a fighter, but also as someone laid back and easygoing. Someone who anyone could make friends with, if they made even a half-hearted attempt.

As Rua spoke, all traces of that friendliness vanished, and for some reason, her grip on Reyna grew tighter. 

“Perhaps Sureya is right,” Soorong said once Rua was finished.

“I had nothing to do with this,” Kir said. “I’m… I’m trying to fix it. But Sureya can’t be allowed to attack us. If she does, it’d be disastrous.”

“Disastrous?” Soorong spat. “Your people have brought an army in secret to our Islands. For all we know, they intend to attack. Can you tell me for certain they won’t?”

“I’m… I’m not privy to my father’s plans. And especially not King Erathawk’s.” 

“So, this comes straight from Erathawk, does it?”

“It does. Specifically, from Haran, his Dream-touched advisor. I don’t know much beyond that.”

Soorong hissed out a breath and then swore. “It’s ordained, is it?”

“I don’t know,” Kir said. “But if it is… the Silayans will lose. I want to make sure that another Occupation doesn’t happen. That you don’t get conquered again.”

“If Erathawk’s personal Dream-touched has foretold that Mikovia will invade the Islands, there is only one way that will end. Sureya is right. We need to assemble the fleet, get everyone to attack.” 

Reyna jerked away from Soorong’s grip, and scowled at the woman. “Don’t be an idiot, Soorong.”

“‘Soorong?’ Is that what you’re calling your mother now?”

Otter coughed, muttering, “Awkward.”

“I’m sorry… mother,” Reyna said through gritted teeth. “There’s an obvious answer to all of this.”

“An obvious answer, you say. When I just caught you drinking. Again. When you know that you can’t be trusted with it. Tell me, little one, what obvious answer am I missing that you managed to find while addling yourself yet again when you’ve promised me a dozen times that you’re done with alcohol?”

“I’m not…” Reyna made a frustrated noise, and then glared at Kir for some reason. “You had to bring that bald idiot, didn’t you?”

“Yurgen? Yes?” Kir looked just as confused as everyone else.

“Never mind. Stupid Dream-touched idiot, why does everything always have to be so complicated. Okay, so, everyone here thinks Mikovians with an unrestricted Wayfaring gate is bad, yes?”

There was a general murmur of agreement.

“And we can’t just launch a fleet at the Mikovians because then it’d be war, and who knows who would win, but it’s all bad, right?”

Another rumbling of agreement.

“Then we just need to send a small strike force to Pruana Isle and destroy the gate. One ship, built for speed, with a team full of heavies that can get the job done. Hopefully with some insider assistance to get us around Mikovian patrols and guards. Fewer people who die on this mission, the better, that way no one gets their britches rubbed into their craw.”

Soorong gave Reyna an appraising look. “When did you become so tactical?”

“Oh, you know. I sat around Juala enough. Listened in on her plans and stuff. Something must have rubbed off.”

Rua made a sharp inhalation of pain, but said nothing. Sami’s gaze locked on that, and then went back to Reyna. Her fingers drummed on her sword’s hilt.

She was about to say something, about to ask Reyna a pointed question, but a window flashed in front of her, opening up all on its own and displaying Holt’s face.

There was no mocking grin this time, no playful nature. Ingram Holt looked like fury barely contained, a volcano about to erupt. He stood straight, his hands clasped behind his back.

“Attention all players,” he said, his voice even and neutral. “The next round of eliminations is about to begin. Prepare for transport.”

“What?” Otter exclaimed. “Not now, we were just about to get to the org–”

Otter’s figure blurred, looking like a smeared bit of paint, streaked two-dimensionally in a three dimensional space, before disappearing. Was that what that looked like, when they were teleported? 

Kir took a step backwards. “What was that?”

Soorong and Reyna similarly looked on their guard, hands going to weapons. Everett, who’d mostly been silent until that moment, raised his hands as if to calm them, but then he too took on the appearance of streak of colour that had been clumsily wiped away before vanishing.

“Rua?” Kir said, her eyes wild. She grabbed onto her arm.

“Don’t worry,” Rua said. “This happens some–”

Rua vanished as well. And Kir, holding onto her, vanished with her.

“Oh dear,” Sami said, and then looked at Reyna and Soorong apologetically. “We’re fine. We’ll be back. It’s just a–”

And then reality blurred, taking Sami with it.

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