juniper_sky

She didn’t bother saying anything; neither did the others, if they’d even noticed the change themselves. All of them knew where they were going, not that Faeli had been able to figure out why, and all four of them had resigned themselves to it before they’d even stepped on board. Still, as they heard heavy boots slamming down against the rotted floorboards, Faeli couldn’t help but look to Tsutskiu, who met her eyes in just the same way, and for a moment, that nameless sense of understanding, of togetherness, seemed to pass between them once more. In better times, it would have brought smiles to both of their faces - oh, how Faeli missed seeing her smile.

The footsteps grew closer, and the moment passed, and rust scraped against rust as the door to their cell was unlocked. For a brief moment, at the start of their voyage, she had thought their captors fools for keeping the four of them together, but soon enough, she came to appreciate the irony of it. The four most powerful women on the continent, gathered close enough to embrace each other if they chose, and even all of their powers combined could do nothing. When it came to breaking their spirits, the wizard had spared no detail.

The door was opened by a gray-faced man in roughly-fashioned mail, carrying a short, worn-down sword in his other hand. A small crowd of similar men was standing not far behind.

“On your feet!” the soldier growled - though it was the kind of growl that came from a beast that was just as frightened as angry. Faeli slowly began to rise, her stiff legs straining and cracking as they struggled to lift even her ragged frame; apparently she wasn’t fast enough, because the man grabbed her by the neck and jerked her up. There was pain, but it was hardly worse than what she was feeling already. He dragged her out of the cell, her feet stumbling as she tried to keep up, and she noticed that most of the men had stepped off to the side, leaving a clear path up to the deck. In all, there were almost twenty of them. A few others pulled her Coven sisters out of the cell as well; it was the first time any of them had stood in days. Their flesh clung tightly to their bones (Faeli could feel her own skin sinking into her ribs) and their tattered robes hung in pieces from their shoulders and arms. They were the same robes that had once shown them as members of her Coven; another form of humiliation, perhaps.

They shambled along in turn, their guards holding tight to their limbs and chains. Now that she was standing upright, the emptiness in Faeli’s stomach was becoming harder to ignore. If she could just focus, if she could look at what was in front of her without jerking her head down in pain…She could move mountains. She could vanquish armies. But she was still a human, and the base limitations of her body had done what the strongest spells could not. They stepped up onto the deck, and despite it all, Faeli sighed at the fresh sea air against her skin. It seemed every man onboard had gathered to see them off. To see the great scourges of Eutracia at last serve their sentences. Even from the darkness of the cell, Faeli had been able to hear the occasional shouted order or irritated grumbling from the sailors, but now, there was only silence. And then there was the man at the center of it all.

He would have been easy to mistake for a common farmer - a bent, old, and destitute one at that. His gray robes were neat, but undistinguished, and his long beard was tangled and filthy. Even his face was lumped, dull, and weathered. But there was something about his eyes, the way he seemed to see everything around him at once - and passed judgement on all of it deliberately and without hesitation. He approached her slowly, and she could feel the arms of the soldiers holding her stiffen. Finally, when he was standing a mere foot away, he looked Faeli in the eye, holding his gaze without so much as a twitch on his face. If this had been meant to intimidate her, it had been a mistake. Gathering up all the mucus and saliva she’d saved for just such an occasion, she spat directly into face. She watched in spiteful satisfaction as he stepped back and wiped the fluid from his eye. But it passed quickly, and again, he seemed unflappable as stone. He gestured, and the soldiers let go. Faeli instantly lurched forward, weighed down by her own body, and would have fallen against the deck if a pair of hands hadn’t stopped her. She turned to see Tsutskiu standing at her side; despite the shackles binding her own hands, the darker-skinned was holding her steady, the worry plain on her face.

Faeli couldn’t meet her eyes, the shame of it all nearly squeezing out the few tears she had left. She was meant to be the strongest of the Coven. Her sisters had trusted her. It was her place to protect them. And she had failed. A failure so great that history would not remember it, for all those remaining would remember it as a triumph. There stood the First Sorceress, sobbing on the floor but for the hands of her own disciple.

The wizard at last spoke, sounding at once almost like a shout and a whisper, “Faeli. Succiu. Romalon. Kesender. You have transgressed beyond any notion of forgiveness.” He paused, remaining motionless, then continued, “You have broken the Paragon’s Law. Killed without threat. Unbalanced man and woman. Disrupted the servitorship of the lords. Abused your endowment. Corrupted the blessed. Violated the young.” Another mistake - not only equating being in the same room with violating, but reading the charges in the first place. Now, she could distract herself from her shame by fueling her anger.

“Why not kill us?” she managed to gasp out. “Why the theater?”

“All men are bound by the Paragon’s law,” he said simply, “Wizards are no exception.” It was a lie, of course, a blatant lie. Faeli had seen Vigos break “heretics” on the wheel with the same stoic gaze he wore now.

“If you think…” She choked, but managed to find her breath again, “If you think this mercy will earn you anything, you’re a greater fool than I thought possible.” At last, she managed to lift her head to lock eyes with him once more. “I will escape whatever you bind me with, iron or sea. And I will kill you.” It was an empty threat. That was clear to both of them. Still, she held the notion tight in her chest, like some  and somehow, in defiance of all sense and reason, she managed to believe it was true.

“In accordance with those same laws which you once profaned,” Vigos said, acknowledging her no further, “You shall be cast adrift on the Whispering Sea, and should you turn back toward the shore, Eutracia shall turn from you, and her lands will ever be out of your reach. Captain…?”

The ship’s captain, a stout, thin-lipped man who Faeli had only seen a few times, nodded somewhat shakily. “Throw ‘em in.” Slowly, the guards grabbed hold of the four women once more, shoving them toward a rowboat waiting at the ship’s side. Nothing more was said as they climbed in and the chains lowered them down into the Whispering Sea.

“The Paragon’s Law is clear,” he replied. He had, of course, said otherwise, depending on the circumstances. “The Paragon’s Law was not meant for such times as these” and “The Paragon’s Law can be interpreted in many ways” were other common explanations. But few had witnessed him giving more than one, and even then, it was surprising how little the weak minded cared about such things. He glanced behind, “It is not meant that they shall ever see the western lands again. Let any doubts in your mind be extinguished.” He turned back and said, in an absentminded tone, “Prepare to return to shore immediately. The wind will shift in but a moment.” The captain hesitated, then nodded, and walked off. Part of it was fear, of course. A simple raised voice from a wizard would command immediate submission from the common man, and the ship’s crew were no exception; Vigos had become quite good at such things, over the years. But then, there was what he represented. What wizards represented. A rock of certainty to cling to, in a frightening and confusing world. Once the people believed that a man could never be wrong, they would adjust all their thoughts and memories to match whatever he said.

Reaching into his pocket, he produced a small, metallic device, made of interlocking gears and shafts and several components that could not be seen by the mortal eye. An inverse weathervane, some called it. With a few precise twists, the wind across the sea split into two directions, centered just behind their ship’s mast. They would be blown west, back to port, leaving the haunted waters behind them, while the small boat they had cast away would be sent east, far beyond the reach of any land, or any rescue. But, of course, its inhabitants would not die. Killing them and attempting to conceal it carried risks of its own; the Brotherhood was frustratingly set in their ways, and the slightest mistake at such a time could leave them forever out of his reach. And besides, he was not ready to remove the sorceresses from the narrative just yet. In time, they would serve their purpose.

For the moment, though, he could not let them escape their sentence so easily. The Coven had always had an uncanny ability to tamper with whatever magical instruments they wished. Faeli, in particular, could adjust his own vane from a mile away if she were at her full strength. Summoning the required power and constancy, he crushed the device in the palm of his hand, and let its fragments fall into the ocean.

***