Lichgates

by S. M. Boyce

  Each morning, the sun would break through her open curtains and illuminate the small gift that always appeared overnight: a small satchel filled with fruits, cheeses, and a water flask. She never questioned it and hoped it came from Twin, who had vanished. No one else appeared to replace her.

  A week dragged by. Kara pried more secrets from the Grimoire while in her solitude, using the isolation to master the flame. She then graduated to fireballs and an intense technique she called sparklers, which set the ends of her hair on fire the first time she tried it.

  The waterfall served as her backdrop as she meditated, read, and practiced; with each new technique, her panic at what Ourea expected of her as its last vagabond ebbed ever-so-slightly. The Grimoire seemed to prefer lectures to lessons, unfortunately, and in her studies, she read more magical theories than she had time to practice. Still, it was valuable.

  Magic had nothing to do with spells and structured law, but was more a mastery of focusing her mind on a certain task and bending energy to control it. It was tiresome. She often walked back to the castle before the sun set just so that she could sleep, always slipping through the halls to avoid any communication on the way back to her room.

  On her eighth day of the solitary lessons, Braeden caught her attention as she walked through the door by the orchard on her way to the waterfall. She sighed. She still didn’t want any company, even his.

  “Can I join you?” he asked, grabbing her satchel from her arm without waiting for her answer. He snatched a roll from its depths and took a bite.

  “I—hey, don’t eat my food! And no offense, but I’d rather be alone.”

  “Be nice.” He nudged her and grinned. “If you let me come, I’ll show you a magic trick.”

  “Which one?”

  “Come on.” He winked, but didn’t answer her question as he jogged along the trail toward the waterfall with her food and water, leaving her little option but to follow.

  He slowed to a walk as she came up beside him, but they didn’t talk for a fair bit of the way. Birds chirped in the twittering forest, hidden in the canopy, and now and again one would dive into the underbrush beside the trail. The woods were sprightly today, the trees doing their lively dance with the wind. Little rodents with bushy tails as long as their brown bodies raced across branches, but she stopped herself from assuming that they were squirrels. Considering the other creatures she’d already met in Ourea, the little squirrel-things could probably breathe fire or something. She kept away from them.

  “Why have you kept to yourself this week?” Braeden asked. The breeze rustled his hair. He kept one hand in his pocket and wrapped the satchel’s strap around the other as he moved closer to her.

  “I like being alone,” she said.

  “Something tells me that isn’t true.”

  She shrugged. The distant roar of the waterfall started as they turned a corner in the trail.

  “I hope this doesn’t seem rude, but you should remember that you’re the Vagabond,” he said. “Most of the kingdom hasn’t even seen you. You’re supposed to be shaking hands and—well, what’s the phrase? You should be out kissing babies.”

  “I don’t like kids.”

  He laughed. “That’s not quite what I meant.”

  “I know.”

  They took a bend in the trail and the waterfall loomed in front of them, its mist rising as the day warmed. Braeden set her satchel on the boulder, but she picked it up and slung the bag over her shoulder. She missed her hiking pack; it was a thing of comfort to have some weight on her back.

  “So, what’s this magic trick you said you were going to show me?” she asked. She rolled up her sleeves as the sun climbed higher and toasted her skin.

  “It’s called blades. Have you learned it? You make an arrow from the air around you.”

  “Nope. Will you show me?”

  “Gladly.”

  He faced the woods and pressed his fingers together, settling his hands close to his chest. The breeze picked up as if in response to his movement and blew harder when he turned his fingers away from his body. His hands shook for a second, as if he was trying to steady them in an earthquake. A ripple of air shot from his fingers with a sharp hiss. It broke through a limb on a tree and sent the branch crashing to the ground.

  “That’s so cool!” She laughed, clapping before she set her hands in front of her to mimic him.

  “Whoa! Hey, now.” He shuffled out of her way before she realized that she’d been aiming at him.

  He stepped behind her, wrapping his fingers around her wrists so that he could angle her toward the forest. Her heart skipped a beat. She held her breath and tried to tell herself that she was just nervous about performing magic in front of someone.

  “Keep your arms relaxed and focus on your fingers. Pull the air toward you,” he said, his voice low.

  Water misted on the backs of her arms, carried by a strong gust that flew along the falls and tangled her hair. The wind poured over her hands and ducked through her palms. Her muscles tensed.

  “Don’t be frustrated if—”

  Braeden’s words were cut off by a dull thump in a nearby tree trunk. Kara jogged over to take a look.

  The top layer of bark had been stripped away, leaving a small nick in the tree. The clean sliver of wooden skin lay on the grass, and the wind picked it up and carried it deeper into the forest.

  “Darn.” She sighed and used the trunk to push herself to her feet. “That wasn’t nearly as good as yours.”

  “I—” He pouted in a stunned silence before he laughed.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “It took me two months to do what you just achieved on your first try. That’s just not fair, Kara.”

  “Oh. Sorry?”

  He shrugged. “No, it’s a good thing. This one can help you out of almost any situation, and it might even impress the Kirelm Blood. He’s not easy to win over.”

  “Have you met him?”

  “No, but I have heard stories, and none of them are very flattering. Mind, few of them are actually from his people, but the Kirelm Blood isn’t very fond of women in positions of power. I’m curious to see what he thinks of you.”

  “I caught that little compliment.” She poked his side. “You can’t get on my good side that easily.”

  He grinned. “You watch. I’ll win you over.”

  “So, are we supposed to go to Kirelm first?” she asked. It took an awkward, silent second before she remembered that he wasn’t going with her.

  “Yes, you will be going to Kirelm first,” he answered. “I will be hunting isen in the nearby villages.”

  “I forgot,” she said. “When are you supposed to leave?”

  “Yesterday. There was a delay in my travel plans.”

  “What was the delay?”

  He just smiled. “Try again.”

  “I, um—do you want me to rephrase the question?”

  He laughed. “No, try the technique again.”

  “So you’re not going to answer me?”

  “No.”

  She laughed along with him. “All right, then.”

  Kara turned to face the trunk, locking her fingers and pointing them toward the tree. He took a step closer, looming in her peripheral vision.

  “Try relaxing your fingers more this time,” he said, brushing his hand along hers to demonstrate. “Curve them, instead of locking them out like that. Focus your mind on your fingertips and pull the air itself into your palms. If you relax, you will be able to harness the energy in the elements instead of using your own. That way, you can fight longer. Just pull in the air and direct where you want it to go.”

  Kara settled into her stance and set all of her weight on her heels. The wind whistled by her ear and shifted through her loose hair, tickling her neck as she took a deep breath and cleared her mind. A pulse blinked in her fingertips, but it wasn’t hers. It beat at a much slower pace.

  She closed her eyes. The rhythm grew stronger, so she reached
out to it with her mind and tried to breathe in a deep, steady pattern. Her veins boiled, and a shock raced through her body. The zing reminded her of the spark which had blown Deirdre across the library. A hot breeze blew again over her shoulders, along her hands, and down through her palms.

  Another thin ripple broke from her fingers and cut through the air, but it was much more prominent this time. Wood split with a sudden whack, like an axe hitting a tree. A white slice broke across the bark, visible even from where she stood a dozen feet away. She hadn’t cut anything in half, but Braeden’s expression would have suggested otherwise. She threw her hands in the air in victory.

  “That is entirely unfair,” he muttered. “How can you improve so quickly?”

  “I didn’t do it right, though,” she pointed out. “I didn’t cut anything in half.”

  “I couldn’t even make the tiniest blade for ages,” he said, crossing his arms. “What else can you do?”

  “I’ve been working on a few fire techniques,” she said, shrugging. “And I think I found another one that can let me control roots.”

  “I guess I shouldn’t doubt anything about the Grimoire and its keeper.”

  He ran a hand through his hair and leaned against the boulder. After a minute, he stood and began pacing, his black hair slightly brown in the sunlight as he looked out over the waterfall and its river below. He bit his cheek as he walked, but otherwise, his carefree face was smooth. There was no way of telling from a glance just how much of his life was a lie. She sighed.

  “Braeden, I’ve been pretty selfish.”

  “What? How?”

  “You—” She stopped, uncertain of how to word what she wanted to say. “You’ve done so much to keep me safe, and I appreciate that. I figure that you must have plenty of questions for the Grimoire. I just want you to know that I’d be happy to ask it anything you wanted. It’s my way of saying thank you for everything.”

  “Thank you, Kara. I admit that I do have a question for it, but it’s not safe to ask while in Hillside.” A shadow crossed his face, but he rubbed his neck and looked away before she could figure out what it meant.

  “Oh,” she mused, glancing around the forest’s empty morning. “I thought this would be a safe place, though, if Gavin doesn’t even know about it.”

  “We’re still in Hillside,” Braeden said. “You’re almost never alone, even when you’re certain no one else could be around.”

  “Sure, but—”

  “There you are, Vagabond!” a woman shouted from beyond a curve in the trail.

  Kara jumped and turned to see Adele’s coppery skin as the muse walked along the trail toward them. Garrett was close behind, but while Adele walked with a smooth and carefree gait, his eyes flitted across the forest. His gaze would linger on a bush or in the canopy, his jaw clenched as he watched, before his eyes shifted again to examine the rest of the underbrush. He finally looked at Kara, settling his intense scrutiny on her. She curbed the impulse to shudder.

  Adele smiled. “We have convinced the drenowith Council to meet with you. It was not an easy task, so we must take you there now, before minds change.”

  “Where is it?” Braeden stopped pacing, his hand suddenly resting on the hilt of his sword. He was calm, but his smile was gone, and he rubbed his thumb on the handle. Kara balked. Where had the sudden tension come from?

  “We have discussed your joining us, prince,” Garrett answered. “And you may. However, you may not come into the Council.”

  “But—”

  “There is no debating this,” Garrett interrupted. “It’s not your world, Braeden, and you aren’t welcome there. It took us this long to even convince them to see Kara. Verum would never allow you as well.”

  “Is Verum really someone’s name?” Kara interjected. She stepped between the men and nudged Braeden’s shoulder in what she hoped was a subtle warning for him to relax.

  “It’s more his purpose than his name,” Adele answered, glaring at Garrett. “There are three sides to every story: yours, your foe’s, and the truth. Verum always knows the truth. The Council wants to see your intentions before they will make any further decisions regarding you.”

  “What decision do they have to make? I don’t matter to them.”

  “The Grimoire matters to everyone, Kara, as does its keeper,” Adele corrected. “Even those as old as the dirt have something to learn.”

  “We will take you, but we must blindfold you both.” Garrett cupped one hand and reached into it the other one, like a magician pulling cards out of his sleeves. Instead of cards, though, he pulled two red silk scarves from the air.

  “Braeden, you must stay hidden once we arrive,” Adele said. “The Council can never know that you were there.”

  “I may not know much about drenowith, but I’d imagine it’s a crime to lie to your Council,” Braeden said. “Why should I hide?”

  “Sometimes one must disobey in order to protect those who simply don’t yet understand,” Garrett retorted, glaring at the prince whose hand wound ever-tighter around his sword. Kara wondered who would win if they fought, though she was fairly certain Braeden would lose in a matter of minutes.

  “Come,” Adele said. She turned up the trail, her hair billowing behind her, but Garrett stood motionless.

  Kara finally set her hand on Braeden’s arm. He snapped his head toward her, his eyes even darker than before, but his gaze melted ever-so-slightly when he saw her expression. Garrett turned without another word and began up the trail after Adele.

  “What is wrong with you?” she asked.

  She made to follow Garrett without waiting for an answer, but Braeden wrapped his fingers around her arm and pulled her back. He moved in between her and the drenowith and leaned in to whisper.

  “Kara, how did they know to come to the rescue? The Stele isn’t a place to be infiltrated, not even by muses. The timing was too perfect.”

  She huffed, but stumbled over a response when she couldn’t think of any reasonable explanation. Her heart beat a little faster at the realization.

  “We shouldn’t go,” he said, his voice urgent. “And you definitely shouldn’t go into their Council alone.”

  “Look, you have a point, but there is such a thing as coincidence. We were lucky, Braeden, and we should be grateful. Some things you just can’t explain. I mean look at this place!” She gestured around to the waterfall and to the glowing blue clover pendant on her neck.

  “It’s foreign to you, but not to me. I fully understand this world,” he said.

  She spoke quietly, so that only he could hear. “You understand your world. Not theirs. They may live in Ourea, but you don’t really know anything about them. There is no possible way for them to have coordinated us both being kidnapped like that. So, since it’s more likely that they were just passing through when they saw us, the fact remains that they didn’t have to save us. You could still be there, locked in shackles or already dead. Who knows what would have happened to me. If we can’t trust them, we can’t trust anyone.”

  “If those are our choices, then we can’t trust anyone.”

  “Well I trust them, Braeden. You’re wrong.”

  “I hope so,” he mused.

  “Are you with me or not? I can’t make you go.”

  “Of course I’ll go,” he said, grumbling.

  “That was the least encouraging ‘yes’ I have ever heard.” She turned and walked toward the muses.

  The red silk scarf Garrett had summoned from thin air was cool when Adele wrapped it around Kara’s face. The fabric pressed on her eyelids, so she kept them closed and just listened. She heard Braeden groan as a breeze scurried by, thick with lavender and maple. The waterfall still thundered nearby. Twigs cracked as the muses finished tying the blindfolds.

  The air to Kara’s left shuddered. A sleek limb slid underneath her, lifting her feet off of the ground. It rose and she slid downward along it until it leveled out into what she assumed was the base of a neck. She grabbed
it in instinct, and the thin crevices of delicate scales were as soft as a cotton shirt. Her stomach rocked and wind gushed in a cold gust over her face. The steady beating of wings flapped beside her.

  She leaned into the neck and took a deep breath, hoping with all her heart that Braeden was, in fact, wrong.

  The Drenowith

  Wind pummeled Kara’s face as she soared, blindfolded, on the back of whatever creature Adele—or was it Garrett?—chose to become this time. Her hair whipped and stung her neck. The current of air swarmed past her ears with such ferocity that after a few minutes all she could hear was an incessant ringing. The frigid wind numbed her cheeks and the tips of her ears, and it wasn’t long before she couldn’t feel her skin at all. The loss of feeling did, however, distract her from the biting cold that raced up her sleeves, along her back, and out her collar, and for that she could only be grateful.