When His Magick Exploded ✓

28: Steppenchellia for a bunch of criminals.

When the forest thinned, Cypur and Precense crossed muddy terrain. Soon, a rocky field opened up before them. Above, the clouds had broken apart. Stars shimmered across the indigo canvas, but a black band interrupted it, stretching from one end of the horizon to the other. It was the Sixth Ring, home of the black, smokey race with the red eyes and no set form. The shapeshifters that cause the Massacre of the Third Ring, creating the mayhem of two years ago, were called the Shaa and the only race that could live in that Ring.

Cypur had never met one and didn't know if he wanted to. Sorcerers were twisted enough.

"Just beyond there." Precense pointed to the edge of the path. It looked like a drop off, but when they approached, the moonlight illuminated a set of stairs carved into the cliffside. Narrow or wide, and all were tremendously steep. He practically had to get down on his hands and knees to make his way to the bottom.

Once there, a string of lights came on, guiding them into a tunnel snaking this way and that deep into the rock. Little clay figurines of Humans or animals stood sentinel on the sides, guarding or guiding. As the tunnel widened, Cypur could pick up voices, and an occasional drum beat or the sound of a flute. He peered around Precense to find the tunnel here had been carved into a strict corner. When they turned, a torn white sheet divided the beyond.

Precense pushed the cloth aside. Orange firelight illuminated the rock walls where elongated shadows danced or tumbled around each other. Ahead was the exit blocked by a wall of bodies stomping in place or swaying in motion. Occasionally, the Humans would give high-pitched cry ending it in laughter as if in celebration for something.

"Excuse me," Precense said, and the Human wall paused. Several pairs of eyes turned to scrutinize them in a glare. "I need to speak with Marchis," he said, and the wall separated, letting them through. But their song died out and their stares bore into his back. Cypur reached out to Precense and stopped himself. He was a grown Sorcerer. What was he so afraid of Humans for?

But I'm no different now. He bit his lip as they pushed through the crowd. One by one, Humans stopped and stared, quieting until Cypur and Precense' presence became known throughout. Logs layered crisscross on top of each other formed the base for branches of various sizes. A massive bonfire devoured its meal, creating smoke the escaped through an opening in the stone ceiling above. Here, it was more like a cave with the rock curving over them like a roof.

"Marchis." Precense knelt on one knee. Before the bonfire, layers of rock made natural steps to a stage where a male with broad shoulders, a big square head, and a thick black beard stood with a Speecher on his head. Precense yanked Cypur down to join him on the ground.

"He hates Sorcerers. Don't anger him," he whispered.

When the male called Marchis spoke, his gruff voice bounced off the walls in awkward echoes. "Ya interrupt us, better be—"

The pause followed stomping footsteps. "Oy, get up," he said. Cypur kept his head down, not knowing who Marchis was talking to when Precense nudged him.

"Get up," he hissed through his teeth.

Cypur sucked in his lips and stood before Marchis who was not so much taller. Marchis torn jacket covered a torn white shirt with smears of red on it. His hairy feet were exposed through broken shoes. Bulging muscles stretched his sleeves when he moved.

"Crimelight," he said with a grin, exposing yellowed teeth. "The newbie, eh?"

Cypur gritted his teeth at the name. He was not going to stand down being mocked by Humans.

"I didn't do anything wrong." He narrowed his eyes. "And my name is—"

"Says we all!" Marchis shouted to the crowd and gave a boisterous laugh. The Humans all joined in, both male and female. "It doesn't matter, boy. You're here. You're a crim."