Beyond Boundaries

Despite the roughness of the road, the carriage glided along fairly smoothly, the lavish curtains swaying slightly, the scenery outside its large glass windows passing by rapidly. The ride inside the enclosure was silent, devoid of the sound of the horses’ hooves or the wheels racing along the road. When approaching crossroads or towns, the carriage would slow, its expected mundane sounds returning. Then, once clear of expected prying eyes, it would accelerate again into silence.

Anna tried not to look ahead at the duchess, however, motion sickness was a lifelong struggle for her. On the plush seat beside the deceptively young woman rested her wicker box. The box reminded Anna of a picnic basket, though she assumed it contained nothing pleasant. Dilara constantly kept a hand atop the lid, guarding it, but trying to be casual about it.

All Anna could think of was Clayton sitting in that spot instead, looking anxious but still present to lend a hand and face the fear alongside her. Now Clara was her only emotional support as the time of her execution drew near.

“There is no need to stare at me like that,” Dilara replied coolly to Clara. “We are all witches here.”

“Do you think that will somehow make me trust you?” Clara asked firmly.

“You speak to me like I am the villain here.”

“You are,” Anna remarked.

“Incorrect,” Dilara replied flatly. “The Great Undeath is. And that is the sentence you wanted.”

“No. What we want is for you to stop the carriage and let us out to live in peace,” Clara clarified.

The duchess’s eyes flicked to Anna. “She is far more useful to me dead than alive.”

Anna folded her arms. “Then that makes you the villain.”

Dilara shrugged. “Think of me what you will.”

“I think you are an abomination,” Clara remarked. “You should be long dead, but you abuse magic to live unnaturally. Your very existence fuels The Great Undeath.”

“Abomination? Hardly. You will soon see what an abomination looks like. Must I remind you this is a realm where men command and women endure? I am merely trying to survive. I do not wish to age. Does anyone? Consequently, I use magic to live on.” Dilara pointed an accusatory finger at Clara. “I really am a good person, if only you would not prejudge me.”

“If you are a good person, then you would release us and face The Great Undeath yourself.”

“It cannot be defeated. Therefore, I have no intention of doing so.”

An uneasy silence filled the enclosure. Anna just kept looking ahead through the glass, as the carriage slowed to a mundane speed, bouncing across ruts, hooves striking the packed earth, the conjured driver occasionally calling to the illusory horses. Trees gave way to fields of golden stubble, where laborers harvested and threshed wheat.

“They toil so you may live in comfort,” Clara said.

“What can I say? I am blessed,” Dilara replied with a smile.

“You have the means to help them.”

“If I help them, then who do I not help? I am not a god. I have my limits.”

“Choosing to help none because you cannot help all is a fallacy. You help those you can when your paths cross.”

“Do not lecture me, commoner.”

“I thought we were all witches here,” Clara replied.

Dilara frowned.

The carriage continued on, crossing the valley. Laborers near the road would look up, momentarily attracted to the display of wealth, then return to the hard work of ordinary living. Anna looked out at them, thinking of her own ordinary life. Too many customers at one time. The espresso machine acting up and forcing the café to fall behind fast. Standing for hours on end. Having to smile even when the day was terrible and all you wanted to do was hug your body pillow under the covers.

The carriage slowed to a stop.

Dilara’s expression changed, indicating that this was unexpected. A voice called out to the carriage. The duchess picked up the wicker box by its handle and exited, leaving the door open behind her. She stepped out of view.

“What is the meaning of this interruption?” she said.

“I am sorry, Your…”

“Your Grace. I am Duchess Dilara. Why is this road closed?”

“The Great Undeath, Your Grace.”

“We are still miles from that.”

“Beyond this point the earth has become unstable. Steam vents are opening up at random. The gases are sickening. Everyone has been ordered out of the area. I am sorry, Your Grace. The road is no longer safe to travel.”

“I have a witch bound for execution. Clear this barrier at once.”

“As you wish, Your Grace.”

Dilara returned to the enclosure, appearing uneasy. She shut the door loudly behind herself, then sat down abruptly, keeping the wicker box close.

“You think you can ignore The Great Undeath, but it is slowly coming for us all,” Clara said softly, trying to temper her contempt.

“This is a new development,” Dilara murmured, looking outside and avoiding both Clara and the issue.

“You have caused this. Did you think magic was free? You push nature long enough, it pushes back.”

The carriage resumed mundane movement, passing through the roadblock. Outside the window, Anna could see the guards staring after them in bewilderment.

Ahead, the scenery started to transition from valley to rolling hills dotted with oaks. Plots of ready wheat waved gently in the breeze as the carriage enclosure filled with the mild, sweet scent of drying grapes hanging unharvested in abandoned vineyards. In the distance, columns of steam rose from geothermal vents among empty farmsteads, the eerie landscape framed by a background of sharply rising peaks.

“You do not say much,” Dilara said, addressing Anna.

“I have nothing to say.”

“Usually, those who are going to die like to make lengthy monologues.”

“As I said, I have nothing to say,” Anna repeated.

“Are you going to stand there and be cut down, or will you make some sort of attempt to fight The Great Undeath?”

“What does it matter to you?”

The duchess frowned. “We can at least be civil.” She reached into the wicker box with one hand, careful to lift the lid only slightly, obscuring the contents.

“What is in the box?” asked Clara, sounding deeply suspicious.

The duchess produced a pair of scissors. “Your hands,” she told Anna.

Anna kept them atop her lap.

“Do you mistrust me that much?”

“Yes.”

“Yes.”

Both Anna and Clara answered in near unison.

Dilara abruptly reached out and grabbed one of Anna’s hands. Anna tried to yank it away, but the sharp scissors darted in. There was a loud snip, and the cloth bindings loosened. Dilara set the scissors aside and began unwinding the cloth until Anna’s hand was freed.

Anna slowly flexed her fingers, which she had not moved in days. It felt strange.

“Your other hand.”

The carriage slowed as it turned from the established road onto a narrow, rocky path. It started its ascent, shuddering and rocking from side to side as it progressed slowly over the uneven ground. Geothermal vents fumed nearby, the scent of rotting eggs noticeable.

“Were you behind the wolf?” Clara suddenly asked.

“What wolf?” Dilara replied.

“A wolf pack encircled us during our journey to the capital.”

“Oh. That.” The duchess gave a small, mischievous smile. “Tell me, why did my Dementia spell not work on you?”

Anna adjusted her pall, pulling it higher up her shoulders.

“Was it your funeral pall?” Dilara guessed.

“I want to know how to return home,” Anna asked.

“So we are trading information now, are we?”

“You said you wanted things to be civil,” Clara answered. “Be civil.”

The carriage suddenly tilted heavily to one side. Everyone braced. It threatened to tip over for a moment, but steadied and continued climbing.

“Yes, I have an associate whom I sent. I afflicted her with lycanthropy. I was hoping the pack would have scattered you and she could take the stylus in the confusion,” Dilara explained.

“Is that the same noble who spoke out against Anna during the trial?”

“I was not expecting her to remove both stones.” Dilara frowned and looked away. “Apparently she can think for herself.”

“You think you can control everyone. You cannot.”

“Had you done nothing with her, the vote would have gone as you wanted,” Anna pointed out.

“Not necessarily. It was a calculated risk. I wanted my finger on the scale. She then broke the scale.”

“Is she going to be okay?” Anna asked.

Dilara’s expression said she needed further clarification.

“You said you afflicted her with lycanthropy.”

“Oh, yes, that.” The duchess drew a breath as if annoyed. “I will cure her when I get back.”

The carriage swayed from side to side, then stopped completely. Iron wheels scraped loudly against stone as it fought to climb but only spun in place.

“Should I get out and push?” Clara jabbed.

Dilara made a face.

After several attempts to ascend, followed by rolling backward, the carriage finally climbed higher.

“You surprise me by asking about my associate. Why?”

The carriage finally reached the top of the mountain pass, halting with a loud crunch of gravel.

Overhead, Anna heard the unmistakable sound of a jet airplane.