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After testing several more magical solutions, the pair eventually found success with a stick of astral chalk. Mari drew around the obelisk over the rough, dried mud and its form sunk into the black void that opened at her feet. Once it had been wholly taken in, Mari severed the circle with her shoes and the portal vanished.
“I’ll keep a hold of this,” said Mari, stuffing the piece of chalk into a small leather pouch strapped to her hip – pushing aside a few tinctures and other spellcasting ingredients. “Lose this and we lose the obelisk.”
“I’m quite aware of how astral chalk works. If I remember right, Gustov and I stuffed a salted ham in there last time we used it. If you wanted, we could reopen the portal and have an early dinner.” Ifan smiled up at Mari as he collected the half-used collection of magical goods back into his rucksack. Fastening its belt loops, he swung it back over his shoulder.
“Hmm, maybe next time.” Mari walked to the edge of the island and kicked off her shoes. The dusty sand like dirt collected under her toes as she stepped towards the water’s edge.
“Do we not want to grab the horses first?” Ifan looked across the bridge, squinting to see how his equine companion was faring.
“I suppose.” Wriggling her toes in the cool lake water, Mari walked along the island’s coast and collected her shoes.
“Hopefully we’ll get across the bridge without any more interruptions,” replied Ifan, watching as Mari climbed up the sheer edge of the island, her feet struggling to get a good grip in the loose dirt. “Up you go,” Ifan offered a hand to Mari, who gladly accepted it.
“Ta.” Rubbing her feet off in the shrubbery, Mari dropped her shoes back down and slipped them on.
The pair made their way across the bridge without struggle and retrieved their horses. The two had been grazing along the lake’s edge, seemingly unphased by the battle that had occurred earlier. Ifan patted his horse’s neck and stroked at her nose; she released a whinny in appreciation as Ifan moved to grab her reins. Mari followed suit and the two walked the horses around the lake edge before finding a nice, sandy part of the coastline. Leaving them to graze again, Mari lead Ifan to the water’s edge, taking off her shoes once more and quickly casting a spell. Mari offered Ifan a pair of newly conjured bathers, alongside her own one-piece swimming costume.
“I thought you said you weren’t allowed to make new clothes.”
“I said ‘I try not to’. This is a bit more of a necessity than a holey dress, and if you’re that worried about the damage to the economy, mister boy-scout, I can always magic them away once we’re done.”
“I’m not complaining,” Ifan grabbed the trunks from Mari and dashed off behind a nearby tree to get changed. Returning soon after, he could see that his sister had also managed to slip into her swimming costume. “Race you to the other side of the lake!” Ifan sprinted past Mari and waded into the water, releasing a pained exclamation; “Holy-shit-it’s-freezing.” Pushing forward, he leapt into the water, and, despite her laughs, Mari followed suit.
“One day?”
“That’s all you’ll have.” Fenerra picked the detritus out of her teeth, flicking the remnants of her last meal on the oaken floor.
“Ma’am. I struggle to see how Holiwier won’t be aware of what we’ve done and erect another defence system.” Fendrick stood opposite his queen, scratching at the thick blackened beard coming out of just his chin.
“He’s an old, over-confident, fool. Trust me – it will take him at least a day to notice our dismantling of his wards.” Standing from her throne of gnarled wood, Fenerra approached Fendrick. Her hands danced over his bare chest, teasing his muscles with her sharpened fingernails. “Are you scared, Fenny?”
Clearing his throat, Fendrick replied, “Of course not, Ma’am. I have full trust that your plan will work. But my men, they’ll need… Persuading.”
“Is that not your job?” Fenerra stopped in front of Fendrick, her fingers tracing the outline of his face. “Is that not what I’ve entrusted, you, with.” Her lips pressed against his cheek and his breath quivered in his throat.
“Yes, ma’am. I’ll get them in line – you have my word.” Fendrick sighed quietly as Fenerra pulled away from him, her hands tugging away at his loose cotton shirt before letting go and returning to her throne. Its form was twisted; it exploded out of the wood floor like a mass, its spiralling branches rotting in the thick miasma that hung in the room.
“Thank you, Fendrick. You are dismissed.” Fenerra waved Fendrick out, and with a bow he took his leave.
“You’ve placed a lot of trust in that man, Fenerra.” An impish figure appeared in the shadows behind the throne, their dark red skin hidden in the darkness.
“He is worthy of that trust, Dezan. His lack of sensitivity to raw magic betrays his strength of spirit. You and I have been twisted by its allure, yet his form remains unchanged. You of all people should be aware of what a feat that is.” Fenerra waved her right hand through the miasma, plucking a shadowy goblet out of its midst, its shape materialising in her hand. Pointing her left finger into the goblets mouth, Fenerra pulled the miasma into a dark, black substance. She waited as it slowly filled her cup.
“It is indeed a marvel. But trusting this work to a human? Do you not think him likely to betray you? To betray us?” Dezan stepped forward into the murky light of the chamber, his bare torso revealing a mangled set of leathery wings peeking out from behind him.
“He understands why we do what we must. He has pledged his fealty to me – on more than one occasion.”
“What you do in your bedchambers are of no concern to me. Your majesty.”
“Such a prude as ever, Dezzy.”
“Nevertheless – after our successes in the northern continent we mustn’t be complacent. He played no part in those victories, but you still have faith in him. Why not Hovarth, or Tristan? Tried and tested warriors.” Dezan watched as Fenerra greedily swallowed the black liquid from the goblet, licking her lips to ensure she savoured every last drop.
“Perhaps you should be commanding our armies then, Dezan. After all, my having picked Hovarth and Tristan for their maiden expeditions seems to have slipped from your memory. As I trusted them before, I now put my trust in Fendrick.” Fenerra swung her legs over the side of her throne, lifting the cup in the air to catch the final drops of the liquid on her tongue. “The magic here,” she sighed, “it grows weaker by the day.”
“My lady.” Dezan bowed sheepishly, his sharp ears pointing at Fenerra. “You have my deepest apologies. If you trust this man, then I shall.”
“Thank you. Now leave me. You know how I don’t like people to see me undergo my cravings.”
“Your majesty.” Bowing deeply again, Dezan slipped backwards into the shadows, leaving Fenerra alone.
