Wyvern Tails and Phoenix Feathers

The Cortège, Chapter 6 - Annette

She was prepared to journey alone to the town of Green Marsh. Among the supplies on the shelf in the snail shell were a handful of vials with handwritten labels. Some promised to erupt into a cloud of poisonous gas, others to explode. She figured that she could hurl them at any highwayman who stepped into her path. Truthfully, the prospect of surviving the journey on her own was exhilarating. And so, as Eloise slumbered, Annette returned to the curved wall with the intention of speaking the passphrase and emerging into the outside world.

But it was not to be.

The Archmage and the wyrd woman Miranna entered the snail shell instead. They took Oran's body and carried Eloise out as well. They didn't say much to Annette, only that they were happy she was alive.

When Annette exited the snail shell, she found herself far and away from the carriage trail in The Firgladen Forest. She was told the blue woman took the form of a vulture and carried the snail shell north to Miranna's hearh tree. She was also told the blue woman's name was Vulka. No one explained why she had behaved so mysteriously.

It was Annette's first time seeing a hearh. It was imposingly tall and wide, taller than The Blue Keep of Port Shorishal, with great arching roots that leapt from mossy knolls and plunged deep into the earth. She could feel its connection with the arcaén. She could nearly understand it as it spoke to her. It was old, she knew, older than most things in the entire world.

She was left outside of the hearh along with the Archmage's apprentice.

"Time behaves differently within the hearh," the Archmage had said to her. "We shan't be long." Then, he bled into the trunk as if he or the hearh were made of air.

As the sun rose and sank in the sky, Annette decided that she and the Archmage had different definitions of long. She found a place to sit, a fallen long, softened from decay. There was a disturbing amount of snakes weaving through the ferns and mushrooms. She considered going back inside the snail shell, but that meant being alone. The alternative was preferable and the Archmage's apprentice was surprisingly good company.

Bryn Golsane, as he was called, was not much younger than The Princess. He was boyishly handsome, lanky, but with strong shoulders; promise of the frame he would one day grow into. He was an attentive listener, kind, and optimistic. They chatted while he collected herbs and practiced his spellwork.

In the afternoon, she watched him focus his staff on a boulder about the size of his body and lift it from the earth. Doing so did not require his full concentration, a testament to his innate power. She couldn't help but wonder what control she would have were it commonplace for girls to train. She wished it wasn't so taboo. She promised herself that as queen, she would work to change public opinion.

As she watched clods of dirt fall from the hovering boulder, she recalled what the blue woman had said about her power; Annette was not limited to manipulating flora, but also rocks and dirt. What had she called her? A geomancer?

"How are you doing that?" She asked Bryn. "How are you making it fly?"

"Practice," he said. He smiled cutely.

"I mean to say," she specified. "Is it geomancy?"

He looked impressed to hear the word come from her mouth. Royalty classically knew very little about magic.

"No," said Bryn. "I'm manipulating the air beneath the stone to lift it. Geomancy's a rare gift. I wish I had it."

"You do?"

Her cheeks flushed. She had only ever treated her power as an abnormality. She looked away, not wishing for him to see her affected.

"Geomancy would have come in handy where I come from," said Bryn. "Golsane's a mining town. The guys at the quarry would've worshipped me."