by Amanda Twigg
One morning, Gertha ducked his head around the doorframe, and he threw a laundry sack onto the floor. “Last day, swampers. Strip your sheets. The room needs cleaning for the next candidate intake.” He left without waiting to see their reactions.
“Time’s up,” Jex said.
Landra’s stomach lurched. One way or another, this will resolve today. It should have been a tragic moment, but a small laugh bubbled up from her stomach. After years of fearing magic, failing to grow power brought disbelief and a good share of hysterical amusement. She had Soul sight, but now she knew it wasn’t the same, and Thisk had described the hethra as a Warrior skill. I don’t have magic. Shelk. She laughed again.
“I can’t see what’s funny,” Jex said. “Maybe you don’t care what happens next. I’d rather not head back to the underlevel.”
“None of us want that, but sometimes you have to roll with what life gives you.” It was a new approach for Landra, and speaking it aloud felt amusing too.
They fell silent and went about business like nothing was wrong. She enjoyed her final hours with the engineer, clearing rooms, eating in the food hall, and visiting the music room. She appreciated Jex’s sweet tenor voice more than she liked to admit, but her own efforts earned groans from Musician Pearly and laughs from Milleta. Eventually, one true note escaped from her throat, earning a disproportionate amount of applause.
Each place they exited, temple cleaners moved in to wipe away signs of their presence. Doors were locked behind them, and by the day’s end, only one room remained open.
Landra pushed through the panel that led to the testing room, her good mood and hysteria gone. Having failed to grow magic to further her cause, it was time to pay the price.
The right-hand door beckoned like a demon mist portal. There’d been searches throughout the day, so she would be facing the underlevel bereft of supplies. All she had left was the shelking elba pot.
“Ready?” Chanda asked.
Landra nodded toward the disgraced medic’s empty chair and whispered, “Is he late?”
“Candidate Maddon has gone on,” Chanda said.
To the temple, the underlevel, or the mist? No explanation was offered up.
The door opened again, and Musician Pearly, Medic Aven, Templer Grafton, and Administrator Gertha filed in. They lined up at the front of the class, as if in judgment. Gold braids on their fitted red robes gave them a ceremonial aspect.
Ossek stormed in last, his flashing blue aura displaying a particularly bad mood, and once he was inside, Gertha locked the door to the candidate level. Landra knew in her heart she would never visit that place again. She swallowed hard. It wasn’t home, but the place had offered a brief respite from her turbulent life.
“Seeds out,” Ossek said.
The four remaining candidates rummaged inside their pockets. Landra placed her elba pot on her desk, and she poked the flat soil with a finger. No swelling or cracking. You were right, Ossek. It’s dead.
“Any luck?” Jex asked.
She shook her head. “I guess the singing lessons didn’t work.”
Jex set his plant down, and its growth drew everyone’s gaze. The vivid stem looked a good three fingers tall, and offshoots boasted a flourish of sprouting leaves.
“That’s amazing,” she said. “Did you water it?”
“Didn’t need to. Sang a happy tune, and it grew.”
“I think my elba’s hiding from my voice.”
Jex didn’t laugh. Their fate was too close.
Ossek walked between the benches, his staff’s leaves shrinking away from each candidate as he passed by. “Dormant,” he said to Dennark’s seed. “Some signs of germination,” he said to the soil-bulge in Toby’s pot. The boy’s lips parted, showing off two decayed teeth, but it was more of a snarl than a grin. The gardener walked by Landra’s pot without giving it any attention. “Dead to the mist.”
He stopped by Jex’s shoot, his aura showing as much anger at the plant’s growth as it had at Landra’s failure. “Hmph!” He levelled his staff toward the sapling, encased the plant inside his aura, and probed the roots. Eventually, his lips crinkled in thoughtful consideration. A curt nod set Gertha into action.
“This way,” the administrator said to Jex.
“I…” Jex looked confused.
Ossek snorted. “Congratulations. Your elba is wonderful, and you’ve met our entry requirements. Move onto temple training before I change my mind.”
Gertha opened the door on the left and waited.
For a second, Landra considered running through the gap. The administrator would surely unleash his staff’s power, but she could fight.
“Lan?” Jex said.
She found a genuine smile of encouragement. “This is what you’ve wanted, Leeman Jextan. Live well and enjoy life.” Their gazes locked for a moment. Jex blinked first, and he turned to leave.
“Don’t forget your pot,” Ossek said. “We have enough orphaned elbas on this floor.”
Affront widened the engineer’s gaze. No one could doubt his love for his plant. He claimed the pot and went to the exit, but he stopped to give one last look over his shoulder. Landra knew she wouldn’t see him again and swallowed against her tightening throat.
“Come find me when you pass, Lanya,” he said.
A hopeless cause, but they were better parting words than saying goodbye.
“Aw, sweet,” Dennark scoffed as the door thudded shut.
Landra ignored him. Three of us left. She’d never imagined attempting the final test without Jex at her side. They’d seemed destined to share the same fate, but she couldn’t begrudge him a new life. He’d chosen the temple willingly and deserved success.
“On your own now,” Dennark said.
“I’ve got you,” she replied, bitterness riding her tone hard. “Why is that? Aren’t you supposed to be the Templer here? Looks like you’re heading back to the underlevel with me, and don’t think I’ll help you this time.”
“Enough,” Chanda said. “Let’s finish this.”
Gertha set lifeless chains on their desks. In the half-glow, wide-eyed fear showed on Toby’s round face, and his artifact shook in his trembling hands. The lines of Dennark’s face twisted with resentment. Landra checked out the Templer tutors too. Pearly had the decency to looked mournful, Ossek’s aura raged with angry lines, Gertha’s face was set into a mask of indifference, and Chanda had started to read a book. Grafton’s forehead wrinkled with a permanent frown, as if he was trying to recall a lost thought.
Don’t think I’ll go easy. When I don’t pass this test, you can expect a fight. The Templers’ staffs brimmed with power, so she expected the battle to be short. She closed her eyes and set the links across her palms.
Conjuring memories of her pleasant day with Jex came easily. She hoped they would evoke warmth in her links, but cold metal still touched her skin. Time was running out, so she hunted older times. There’d been a good day building models with Dannet. Pushing her thoughts back further, she remembered soft arms cradling her young body. Mother? You’re gone, just like Father, Dannet, Thisk, and now Jex. Everyone abandons me. What do I do wrong? No matter how she tried searching for happiness, sadness tinged her memories. She suddenly wondered why this fate full of abandonment and sorrow had claimed her. Her eyes cracked open, and grief colored her Soul.
“Time’s up,” Chanda said.
Landra’s stomach clenched. Time for the underlevel. Filth. Disease. Freezing cold. Is this all I’m worth? Forget being a Warrior or a spy. Can’t I just live? Despair squeezed her chest as people moved around her. She didn’t want to face the inevitable. This isn’t fair. Nothing’s gone right since Father made me fight for his shelking knife. This is all your fault, my glorious Chief Hux.
Her mental defenses failed, and her worst memories surfaced. They were a part of her past that she couldn’t contain any longer, and surging frustration broke her nightmares free. She relived her kidnapping, the abuse, her stomach-curdling
illness, and desire to die. Her breathing rasped as she relived every physical and mental blow that her kidnappers had inflicted on her body and Soul. You made me kill. That hurts the most.
“Why does everyone desert me?” she shouted into the room. In the harsh light of her reality, even Thisk could be blamed. She’d been loyal, so why had he left her to this? Every abandonment replayed in her mind. “Why?” she screamed, feeling the chain warm in her hands. Warmer, warmer—burning.
Disaster struck too fast for Landra to assimilate. An explosion of fire catapulted her over the desk at her back, and her eyes snapped open. She saw debris fly. A cloud of blue smoke grew out of the explosion with white-hot coals at its heart. Templers charged about the room, and muffled screams accompanied her descent into oblivion. She didn’t know what had happened, and she didn’t care.
So, this is how it ends. Had to be different.
“No, you don’t,” Chanda said, dragging her up and slapping her face.
She startled back to full consciousness. Stop? That hurts. I want to…
He slapped her again. In the settling dust, she took in the devastation. Separated and contorted chain links littered the floor. A stench lifted from the scorched and splintered edges of her sundered desk. Toby slumped on the floor, a wooden shard through his arm.
“Take her through to the temple,” Chanda said.
“What?” Ossek said. “You can’t be serious. Her magic’s perverted and wrong.”
“She’s dangerous,” Grafton said.
Chanda’s face split into a manic grin. “Yes, but powerful and useful too. Didn’t you see that explosion of magic? It had more power than all of our efforts combined.”
Magic? I did magic?
Landra didn’t know whether to vomit or cheer. Before she knew what was happening, Gertha had shoved the elba seed pot into her pocket and dragged her toward the back of the room.
“Just think what you’re doing,” Ossek shouted, and an argument between the Templers ensued.
It didn’t stop the administrator from dragging her away. She didn’t think the blast was how magic was supposed to work. There’d been no good memories at all, but she wasn’t going to tell them that. Shelk, she’d not say a word. The door to the main temple loomed before her and with it the potential for escape. Her change in fortunes sank in.
“Wait,” she said, halting by Dennark’s crumpled form.
“Demon,” he snarled.
She leaned down to whisper in his ear. “No, not a demon. You’ve been out-magicked by a Hux.”
The old man goggled. “But you always said…” Loathing colored his aura to nearly black as he clenched his fist. “I’ll tell.”
Landra shot him a grin that was all Griffin. “You already did, old man, and what good did it do? Haven’t you noticed? No one cares about my name.”
She turned from him and stepped through to her new temple life, a perverted pleasure making her aura glow.
Chapter 38
Previous temple visits hadn’t prepared Landra for her new status. Appreciative nods greeted her as she passed and welcoming smiles followed as she walked the corridors. Instinct made her return the gestures, but superficial respect couldn’t change the diseased victim who lurked beneath her skin or the dark lines of pain that distorted her Soul. Despised as a swamper, treasured as an apprentice. Doesn’t seem right.
She assembled with a group of white-robed apprentices in a forest clearing to the rear of the main platform. Tree shadows blocked what little evening light filtered through the canopy, but free-standing torches brightened the area with magical temple fire. Time to find my bearings. Are you here, Jex?
Wandering around unguarded felt stranger than she could explain, but she didn’t intend to run yet. For her escape to work well, she needed a plan. She picked her way through the new Templers and discovered that white robes made everyone look the same. “Excuse me,” she said, squeezing between two girls. Cherry-shaded robes on the other side made her rock back on her heels. Deliberate obstruction. Fight?
“Wine?” the red-robed man said, proffering a tray.
She breathed deep and claimed a glass of pink liquid. The delicate stem wobbled in her swamp-toughened fingers, so she grabbed the bowl in both palms. “Thank you, sir.”
Angled eyebrows showed the waiter’s surprise.
Surprised at manners or that I called you sir? Need to watch what I say. She took a polite sip, and he moved away. With him gone, she swigged down three gulps and then coughed. Good stuff. Third City produce. Wish it was scute.
A flaw in her spying plan emerged when the ceremony began. Glorious pink flames brightened the torches, burgundy-robed Templers cleared a path through the crowd, a fanfare trumpeted a welcome, and Chief Templer Vellion made his way onto a small stage. She’d dismissed him in rude fashion during her promotion party. Remember that, Chief Templer? Remember me? Best that you don’t.
His appearance set her nerves jangling. She understood a bastard-born Hux being useful to the temple, but the disgraced daughter of Chief Hux offered power of a different kind. For once, she was grateful for robes to hide her twitching knees.
“Lan,” a voice said.
She rocked forward, but the brush of Jex’s aura eased her anxiety at once. You found me.
“You’re here,” he said. “I thought…” His long jaw dropped away at an angle.
I know what you thought. Dead in the underlevel.
Despite his obvious joy, Jex held back from a hug, and she was glad for that.
“Silence for Templer Chief Vellion, High Lord of Magic and Supreme Master of the Soul Arts,” a temple guard announced.
Jex bent to whisper. “Quite a title. I saw Toby in the group. D’you think Den made it too?”
“Don’t think so.” Hope not.
“Shame,” Jex said. “Shall we head up front for a better view?”
“No.” Demon-mist shelk, no.
She edged behind the engineer’s shoulder and peeked at the stage. Swirls disturbed Vellion’s aura, and foliage from his staff grew over his shoulders in a grander display of power than he’d shown at their previous meeting.
“My new apprentice Templers,” he said, blood-red fabric draping from his raised arms. “Welcome to Engagement. You’ve been through Awareness, where you gained an understanding of our skill, and Enlightenment, where you found your magic. Here in Engagement, you will learn to use your power. This is where you become true priests.” Sparks danced through the trees like feast-time fireworks, and a red sphere grew out around the stage.
“Clever magic,” Jex said.
A parlor trick. No aura about that.
“Journeys to the light differ,” Vellion said. “We have temple children here, travelers from distant cities, and transfers from soldier ranks. Others followed less glorious paths, assuming temple duties due to perceived flaws. Some arrived from the underlevel.”
Disapproving murmurs disturbed the group, and Landra felt Jex’s muscles tense.
“It doesn’t matter,” Vellion said. “However disciples come to us, we have one thing in common. Magic is our calling. It connects us in a way that can’t be broken. It drives us and unites us to our cause.”
What? Not me. Surely. She remembered Pedra saying that finding her magic was binding. It didn’t feel true. A glance around didn’t find the old woman, but that meant little. Pedra had looked barely able to get out of her chair. She was a problem to solve later.
A mood change jarred Landra’s Soul. Templers broke into song, apprentices cheered and then hummed to the tune, and an aura cloud around the group built like a power reserve. Surging joy filled Landra, and a unity of purpose battered her aura’s edges like it was a party invitation. Its allure twisted her aura out of shape and tempted her with bliss.
I could join. No one else wants me. But…
Jex’s humming body vibrated against her chest. Ecstasy transmitted through his aura, and she recognized it as something to cherish. She could be with him and
with the temple where everyone was loved.
Don’t I deserve happiness? I can let go of my past. But…
In the moment when Landra readied to succumb to the power, she recognized the shape of the magical glamour that was tempting her Soul. Old loyalties reared up and set hooks in her heart, and past longings reasserted a pull.
What am I doing? This isn’t me. I want to go home and be a Warrior. She shook her head and woke from the daze. Even as she acknowledged her true self, tears stung her eyes. In one moment, she’d shared the group’s hope, Jex’s euphoria, and the collective peace that beckoned. Now, she had to give it all up. Harder than relinquishing the pleasure was separating her Soul from her friend.
Oh, Jex. Please understand why I can’t share this.
Inside the aura cloud, only Landra’s Soul maintained azure vibrancy, firm boundaries, and individuality. She gritted her teeth, flinched away from shots of pink power that bounced off her limits, and wiped tears from her cheeks.
“My new Templers, it’s time to swear allegiance,” Vellion said. He raised his staff high, and the foliage lengthened to remain connected with his body. Templers copied, their lifted staffs weaving foliage into an intertwined mass above their heads. Most apprentices raised their empty hands, but some flourished short staffs. Jex took his potted shoot from his pocket and lifted it high in his clenched fist.
Landra emulated their actions, more relieved than she could describe that Pedra wasn’t here to witness her deceit.
“Repeat after me,” Vellion said. “I swear my life to Templer rule.”
I can say that. “I swear my life to…” No. Hm. Maybe I can’t. She hoped no one noticed her unfinished oath. In Templer robes with emerging magic strength and ancient Soul sight, she longed for her knife and the familiarity of home. Misplaced. Still a soldier spy. Always a Hux.
“Your job is to build your Soul,” Vellion said. “Every drop of power adds to our magic and increases our power.”
A wall at his back had once contained the raging magic well. Now, dregs escaped through ducts to form a weak tide on the clearing floor. As Vellion’s aura expanded, his edges melded with the tiny sea of power. Energy flowed from his body and deposited its strength into the well.
