by Beth Alvarez
Rune swallowed, ignoring the handkerchief and drying his face with the heel of his palm. His cheeks were so unreasonably soft, sprinkled with a hint of prickling roughness where his sparse beard shadowed his jaw. “What about Vahn’s eye?”
Her face transformed into an unreadable mask and she turned away.
A chill settled in the pit of his stomach. “What?”
“He wasn’t with you,” she said quietly, folding her hands in her lap. “You were alone when we found you. When the pillar of light receded.”
He shook his head, his brow knit. “That can’t be. He was behind me. Even then, the magic went through me, it didn’t...”
“There was no one else there,” Firal said. “I had just reached Lore when the light faded.”
“Lore? You should have been in the Royal City, why were you in Lore?”
“I was part of the evacuation team. Lore was our landing point because so many of the island mages were familiar with it.” She paused and licked her lips. “We saved as many as we could, but we had to stop eventually. There was nothing more we could do.”
“Saved them?” He struggled to wrap his mind around the words.
Firal searched his eyes with an almost pitying look. “From the collapse. Edagan warned us. She insisted we try to evacuate the island. Now the ruins of Ilmenhith rest beneath the waves. Elenhiise... or most of it... is gone.”
He stared back at her in silence. He’d known the ruins would be lost, the tunnels around Core so numerous there was no way the labyrinth would escape collapse. But to think of the whole island caving in...
Rune pushed the blankets back and slid to the edge of the bed.
“What are you doing?” Firal caught him by the shoulders and pushed him back.
“Going to that hill.” Vahn had been right beside him, safe on the right side of the Gate. All the wild magic of the Gate-stone had channeled through Rune by means of his sword. They had to have missed something. Some indication of where he’d gone, tracks or a trail of blood or something. Perhaps Vahn had gone for help when the Gate-stone shattered. No one in their right mind would have let the man walk around with his eye bleeding. He had to be holed up in Lore somewhere, recovering.
Shoving her hands away, Rune stood and immediately lost his balance, stumbling backwards until Firal caught his arms and helped steady him.
“Stupid, stubborn man,” she growled.
Rune looked down at his feet and adjusted his posture, gripping Firal’s forearms for support. The textured wood felt strange against the soles of his feet, but stranger was the pressure on his heel. Muscles in his legs pulled taut. Tendons in his ankles and the backs of his knees stretched uncomfortably. There was no mistaking that he was alive now. He doubted that sort of pain existed after death.
“You need to take it slow.” Firal relaxed her hold on him, then shifted back to create a little space between them and force him to stop leaning on her. “You’ve been through a great deal. You shouldn’t be out of bed at all.”
He blinked at her twice before his brow furrowed. “You’re taller.”
She arched one eyebrow. “You’re shorter.”
Startled, he looked down at himself. Both his feet were flat on the floor. He raised himself to the balls of his feet, the ache in his legs subsiding as he returned to the posture he’d had his whole life. Then he sank back, feet flat once more, and met her eye. “I’m shorter.”
Firal cleared her throat. “You’re also naked.”
Rune pulled his hands back and teetered a moment before he found his balance on his own. “Nothing you haven’t seen before.” Then he paused, looking at his hands. “Though some of it’s quite new to me.”
She chanced a glance downward and a smile slowly cracked her features.
Unable to help himself, he laughed, and his heart swelled when her sweet voice joined in.
Rune wiped his eyes with the side of his thumb, sighed, and studied the way the moisture glistened on his skin. “Clothes. I need them. Help me.”
She spun away and caught her bottom lip with her teeth. “Of course. All your things will be upstairs, won’t they?” She picked up her skirts and hurried out the door. “Rhyllyn! Come help me!”
He watched her leave, then sank onto the bed again. He pulled the blankets over his lap and stared at his feet. Aside from the times he’d bound his clawed toes and stuffed them into oversized boots as part of his youth’s disguises, he’d never worn shoes. He couldn’t very well head for Lore barefooted and barely able to stand.
The thought of Lore made Rune’s throat tighten. His heart was broken and bursting all at once. The mix of emotion made him sick. He’d woken to a dream and a nightmare at the same time, everything he’d ever wanted at his fingertips, everything he’d known—his home, his reality, his dearest friend—torn away at the same instant. Elation and agony warred within him, sobering him.
“Rune?”
His head jerked up. Rhyllyn stood in the doorway, clean clothing folded over his arm.
“Come in.” Rune beckoned him nearer, then repeated the gesture more slowly, watching the way his fingers moved. He couldn’t get the last two to move independently of each other. When his smallest finger bent, his ring finger did, too. He stared at them and struggled to make them work as he knew they should.
“What’s wrong?” Rhyllyn padded in and dropped the clothing on the foot of the bed.
“Is it always this hard to move a fifth finger? I’ve never had one before.”
Rhyllyn stifled a nervous laugh. “It’s the ring finger, not the little finger. The ring finger is the weak one. It does what the two beside it do.”
Rune squinted and tried again. “Oh.”
“Don’t worry,” Rhyllyn said, “you’ll get used to it.”
“Do you miss it?” Rune drew the shirt into his hands, rubbing his thumbs over the fine gray material. He’d always thought silk soft. He’d only ever judged by how things felt when rubbed against his face—an attempt hindered if he hadn’t shaved, sparse as his beard may be—or his upper arm. Between his uncalloused fingers now, it was strangely rough.
“What, five fingers?” His brother laughed. “It might make playing my instruments a bit easier, but other than that, it doesn’t make a difference. I’ll let you get dressed. You should come downstairs when you can. Everyone will be happy to see you.”
“Who all is here?” Rune pulled on his shirt, smoothed the front and then reached for the pants. Those were gray as well. Rhyllyn must have chosen them. Firal would have put him in colors.
“A lot of people. Garam was here, but went back to the Royal City to check on Sera. They sent word to Umdal, but it will take a few days for Stal to return.” Rhyllyn shrugged. “A lot of the Kirban mages are here. Firal, of course, and... her daughter. Lulu seems to have taken a liking to me. Captain Straes is here. Alira is playing hostess and a woman named Minna is helping. She said her son is in council with Vicamros about the fate of their people.”
“A lot of visitors,” Rune said. “You should have put me upstairs. The manor’s big, but there aren’t that many guest rooms.”
Rhyllyn frowned. “Take you upstairs? Do you have any idea how much you weigh? Captain Straes, Garam and I could barely get you up here. There was no way we were making it to the loft.”
“Who undressed me?”
“One of the mages, I suppose. All we did was dump you in bed. They chased us out, saying they needed to be sure you weren’t in need of healing. They said we’d get in the way.” Rhyllyn clearly resented the suggestion. Of all his abilities, healing was one of the most developed. It made sense, Rune thought; it meshed with the boy’s compassionate nature.
“Sounds like all I needed was a bit of rest. Though I could go for some food now. I’m starving.” Rune’s stomach growled its agreement. He turned away. “Let me get dressed, but stay close. I don’t think I can walk.”
“You’ll get used to that, too,” Rhyllyn said. He slipped into the hallway and sh
ut the door.
Rune finished clothing himself, stood unsteadily and gave his pants a quick appraisal before he sat down again and cuffed the bottom of each pant leg. He’d had most of his pants made long enough to cover his clawed heel and just brush his toes. Now every pair made that way would be too long.
Using the bedpost for support, he stood again. “How did you ever walk on feet like this?” he called.
“I didn’t know any better,” Rhyllyn replied through the door. “I thought the same thing about you when I changed.”
“Seems like you went in the easier direction. Just standing hurts. Makes me feel like someone’s trying to pull my legs off, with how it stretches. Come here.”
“Maybe the mages will have some suggestions for that. You might want to rest for a few days while you’re getting used to it, though.” Rhyllyn returned and offered his arm.
Rune didn’t like it, but he accepted the help without complaint. He’d asked for it, after all. Complaining when it was given would have been unreasonable. “No time for that. Get me downstairs. I need to get to Lore.”
“You need to get to a cobbler before anything else. Not even a street urchin like me went barefoot.” Rhyllyn guided him down the hallway, murmuring instructions as they walked.
Rune stayed silent, watching his toes as he followed his brother’s directions. Land on his heel, not his toes, roll forward from there. He repeated each motion with care, struggling to retrain himself. It felt strange, and counterintuitive, besides. It made much more sense to land on his toes—though they weren’t as springy as they’d been when they were elongated and clawed—and sink back from there. Walking as a normal man was clunky, noisy, and graceless. “I’m going to have to learn to dance all over again,” Rune grumbled.
Rhyllyn laughed. “Oh, is that high on your list of concerns?”
“A man’s allowed a few guilty pleasures.” Rune paused at the top of the stairs.
Rhyllyn descended a few steps before him. “All right, here’s where you will want to walk like you were trying to. Toe down, then sink down. Stop trying to put all your weight on your heel, the rest of your foot’s there for a reason. You’ll balance better if you use it. No, not like that, you’ll roll your ankle. There, perfect. Keep doing that.”
Rune had a better sense of himself by the time they made it to the floor. He straightened and let go of Rhyllyn’s arm, though he appreciated that the boy stayed close with his hand hovering under Rune’s elbow.
The cheerful conversation in the sitting room quieted when he came around the corner.
Rhyllyn hadn’t exaggerated; the house was crowded. Every chair and couch held mages, some of them familiar, some faces he wasn’t sure he’d ever seen. Ordin Straes stood beside Temar now, instead of Firal, both their expressions sober when they looked at him.
“Well, come in, boy,” Edagan said. “Let them get a look at you. Goodness knows I’ve seen more than enough already.”
Rikka giggled and turned away. Kytenia elbowed her in the ribs and stood.
“Where’s Firal?” Rune skimmed the faces of those gathered before he returned his attention to the Archmage.
Former Archmage, he corrected himself. If the temple was gone, there was nothing left for her to lead. He wasn’t sure he believed that, either. Elenhiise was an island of reasonable size. It couldn’t have just fallen into the sea.
“In the kitchen with Minna,” Kytenia said. “They’re kneading bread, I believe.” She paced closer, barely looking at his new fingers and toes. She focused on his eyes instead. “Has your vision changed?”
“I don’t think so.” He glanced past her to study the hanging baskets at the edges of the railed room. “Or not much, at least. It’s a little brighter, maybe. The light seems more intense.”
She nodded. “I’m not surprised. I think your pupils were more effective as slits.”
“My eyes are different?” He locked on to her face, startled. His vision focused the same. Colors looked the same. Only the brightness seemed different.
“Yes.” She smiled. “Odd, they appear darker now. So much more color showed before.”
Rune forced a smile in return. “I suppose I had to have one appealing quality.”
Kytenia laughed and lightly slapped his chest. “Oh, hush. You’ve always had a face to make the ladies swoon. I would know, me and half the temple fawned over it. Would you like to sit down?”
“In the kitchen,” he replied. “I need to eat. Then I need someone to open a Gate to Lore for me. I don’t think I’m strong enough to manage one on my own yet.”
Or maybe at all. He hadn’t even stopped to think about the seal on his power. Was it gone, too? He was so weary he could barely feel the magic riding the air currents around him.
“No one is helping you go anywhere,” Alira protested. “Not after the headache you gave us. You’re staying here and recovering.”
“Then you won’t deny me food.” Rune gave her a hard look before he moved on. The hallway was easier to navigate on his own. The rail along the open wall of the sitting room provided all the help he needed.
Rhyllyn had returned to the kitchen ahead of him. He was at the counter when Rune reached the door, already back to work.
Wiping her hands on a rag, Minna turned to greet him with happy tears in her eyes. “Come, sit. Sit! Two days with naught but water poured down your throat and I’d bet you’re starving. And after all you’ve been through!” She clicked her tongue, herded Rune to the small kitchen table and pushed him into a chair.
“It’s good to see you, too, Minna. I heard all of Core had been abandoned, but I didn’t believe it until I saw it myself.” Rune closed his eyes and leaned against the table as weariness swept over him. Food, then a Gate to Lore. Exhausted or not, he couldn’t afford to wait. Any signs he could track were at risk of vanishing under wind, rain, or the footsteps of passers-by.
“Aye, and a good thing we moved when we did.” She patted his cheek, then hurried to the pantry. “Rhyllyn, be a good boy and fetch a good stout drink from the cellar.”
Rhyllyn gave her a dubious frown. “I don’t think he should—”
“Oh, hush. Nothing gets a weakened fellow back on his feet faster than a good shot of spirits with his supper.” Minna deposited an armful of food on the table and fetched dishes to go with them. She cut slices of bread and wedges of cheese, arranged them on the plate and added slivers of fruit and a thick slab of smoked ham.
“He should have broth,” Alira said from the doorway. “Nothing more.”
Minna scoffed. “You want to starve the poor man?”
“I want to keep him from vomiting everywhere when you foolishly hand him a bottle.” Alira scowled at Rhyllyn, fresh back from the cellar with a bottle of amber liquid in hand.
“I’m tired, not ill,” Rune said around a mouthful of food. “But I wouldn’t mind something else to drink, as well.”
“I’ll pull up some fresh water,” Minna said with a smile. “Miss Firal just took the little one out to the yard for some fresh air. I’ll let them know you’re up and about while I’m out there.”
“She knows.” Firal knew he’d need something to eat, too. Rune tried not to think anything of it. After everything they’d been through, he didn’t blame her for wanting to avoid him. If Elenhiise was destroyed—a possibility he didn’t want to think about—avoiding him in future days might be harder.
“Oh. Of course.” Minna’s cheer never faltered. She bobbed her head in a polite near-curtsy, then hurried out the back door.
Alira huffed. “Fine. I’ll give you a few minutes to eat, then we’ll see you back upstairs. You’re not doing anything until we’ve had a chance to inspect you and be sure it’s safe.”
Until they’d had a chance to study him and try to determine what happened, she meant. Rune shot her a knowing look.
Alira huffed again and turned to leave.
Rhyllyn glanced after her once, then put the whiskey on the table without any fuss. �
�Do you really intend to go to Lore after this?”
“I’d be there already if I thought I could manage,” Rune said between mouthfuls of food. “But I need to get back my strength. I can hardly stand.”
“I can send word to Garam, if you want. He’d probably be happy to join you out there, but I don’t know how soon he could come.”
Rune shook his head and uncorked the whiskey. “I can’t wait.” He took a swig straight from the bottle and winced at the burn. He stoppered the bottle and pushed it back across the table. “Minna was right, that’ll put a fire right back in me. Put that in the pantry, would you?”
Rhyllyn picked it up. “Not the cellar?”
“Might want it when I’m back from Lore.” No matter what Rune found, he didn’t think it would be good.
Minna returned with a pail of fresh water and filled a cup for Rune before she rejoined Rhyllyn at the counter. The two of them chatted pleasantly about spices and cooking methods until Rune cleaned his plate.
He wiped his fingers on a napkin and levered himself up from the table. “Are you coming?”
Startled, Rhyllyn picked up a rag to clean his hands. “Yes. Give me a moment to clean up. I’ll be right there.”
Rune drained the last of the water from his cup. That had helped. Already he felt a shade stronger, if no less tired. This time, when he entered the parlor, the mages didn’t stop to gawk.
“Gate me to Lore,” he ordered none of them in particular.
Indignant, Alira turned in her chair. “Have you already forgotten what I just said?”
Kytenia was a little more gentle. “After everything that happened, I think it’s best if you stay here and rest a while.”
“Oh, let him go,” Edagan said with a sniff. “He’ll have to see it sooner or later.”
The other mages looked away, abashed.
Rune hesitated. “See what?”
“Balen, help me.” Edagan rose and waved a few seemingly random mages to her side. “Alira, you’ll need to Gate him back here. Pick a few to go through and aid you.”
