The Silver Pear (The Dark Forest Book 2)

by Michelle Diener

  There was nothing. Nothing but the roaring in her ears until warm hands grasped her shoulders, pulled her upright. “Mirabelle.”

  He said her name forcefully, and she gasped. Fought the darkness that swam at the edges of her vision and took a deep breath.

  “It was all I could think of,” she said, half-gulping the words. “I thought he had me, and I didn’t have much strength left. It had to be somewhere close . . .”

  “It’s all right. Even if the door isn’t closed, they have no reason to go looking for it. It’s nowhere near the front gate.”

  She gave an uncertain nod. “But anyone could take it. Sell it. Give it to someone like Eric or Nuen. I was entrusted with its safekeeping.”

  He pushed back hair that had fallen over her face when she’d collapsed, his fingers gentle as they stroked behind her ears. “It’s all right. I know the feeling of losing something very powerful and important. I did it myself not that long ago.”

  “Did you get it back?” She couldn’t help her hopeful tone.

  He looked at her, as if considering what to say, but in the end, he shook his head.

  “What was it?”

  He sighed, leaned back against the bars. “The golden apple.”

  * * *

  She squeaked. Actually squeaked.

  He was glad he was facing away from her so he could hide his smile.

  As a sorcerer, Mirabelle was not the menacing, intimidating scourge of Middleland Soren delighted in bringing down.

  “Eric the Bold’s golden apple?”

  He nodded. “Well, technically, it’s my brother Rane’s golden apple. He won it in a tournament. But during a fight with Nuen, I dropped it, and Nuen has it, now.”

  He heard her sharp intake of breath. He ran stiff fingers through his hair in agitation.

  “The golden apple and the silver pear are both said to have been given to sorcerers long ago for great feats of bravery by a goddess.” Her voice was soft. “Hirst Red Tongue had the golden apple until Eric killed him for it. Handed down from his great-grandfather.”

  “And the silver pear?” Soren was sitting a little straighter now. He’d never heard of either the golden apple or the silver pear until a few days ago.

  “The silver pear . . .”

  He was sitting so close to her, he felt her shrug.

  “My father wouldn’t tell me its providence. And I always suspected . . .”

  She trailed off, and he sensed her discomfort, her unease.

  “You think he stole it, like Eric did?”

  She nodded. Her hair brushing his arm in a quick up-down caress.

  “What does the silver pear do?”

  “You’ve touched the golden apple?”

  It was his turn to nod. “My brother’s betrothed brought it with her to rescue me. I was being held for ransom by Jasper of Harness. He wanted my brother to bring him the golden apple in exchange for me but my brother was enchanted by Eric the Bold, and Kayla came instead. I was in a dungeon—”

  “Another one?” She half-laughed.

  “This one is pleasant by comparison,” he said, his voice dipping lower. “I was hurt. Even though there was a spell in the cave where I was kept, one that stripped magic from anyone who entered, the golden apple healed me when Kayla touched it to my skin.”

  “My father told me the golden apple was immune to sorcery. The silver pear, too. The power that forged them is way beyond what even Eric and Nuen are attempting these days. Although they are certainly trying to bend the rules of magic.”

  She still hadn’t told him what the silver pear did. They sat in silence, and he didn’t push her any further.

  She sighed. “When a sorcerer creates a spell, there is usually a little power left over. It’s hard to judge exactly how much power is needed. If the spell is big enough, the excess magic forms into a purple ball of light. What people call—”

  “Wild magic.” Soren didn’t bother hiding his bitterness.

  “You know?” She curled tighter into her ball.

  “Wild magic killed my father. I made a point of finding out what it was.”

  She was quiet for a long time. “The silver pear absorbs that left-over magic as long as the sorcerer is touching it when they cast their spell. So no wild magic. Before I used the silver pear, it was my father’s. He insisted on giving it to me when I became a full sorcerer.”

  Soren thought about it. “Can you draw on the magic it absorbs later?”

  “Yes,” she whispered. “That is why someone like Eric must never get hold of it. I don’t need to call sky magic for most small spells, I just draw from the store of magic in the silver pear. And for the big spells, nothing is wasted, there is no wild magic, threatening havoc and needing to be banished to the Great Forest. It is all contained, and ready to be used later.”

  Soren thought of what Nuen would do with something like that. The havoc either he or Eric could wreak.

  “We need to make sure your silver pear is safe.”

  “Yes.”

  Soren had waited through the whole night and day for Mirabelle to wake up, looking for a chance to steal the keys to the cell, but the guards had kept hold of them, and done nothing more than check she was still breathing and then left.

  He would have to be a bit more forceful about it, now.

  “Scream,” he said to her.

  “What?”

  “You heard me. Scream as if you’re dying.” He looked toward the small, barred window. “We need someone with a key to come running.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  MIRI SHOOK HER HEAD. “Even without the silver pear, I should be able to open the lock without creating a lot of excess magic. We won’t get wild magic forming, but there will be a flash of blue light. I won’t be able to hide what I’m doing.”

  “You can open the door?” Soren frowned.

  “I think so, if I use just enough power. I’ve recovered a little from the fight in the courtyard. I don’t have an oak staff, though. I’ve always used the silver pear instead of a staff to draw sky magic.”

  “I can’t believe you haven’t already opened it, then.” He tried to keep his voice neutral, but the incredulity sneaked through. As if he couldn’t understand why she’d stay in the cell a moment longer than necessary.

  Of course, he’d been kept in a dungeon much worse that this one, helpless and alone, whereas she was neither. It explained the scene in the courtyard. His terror of the dark.

  She touched the lock with her fingertips, keeping the spell as contained as she could. Blue glowed from her hands and then blinked out. It was a small spell, but the control needed to get it just right gave her an instant headache and she bent over a little. She was more drained than she thought.

  Soren pulled the door open, and before he could speak, before she could think too much about the pain, she did the same to the outside door.

  “What’s wrong?” He was watching her, a deep groove of worry between his eyebrows.

  “I need to get a staff if I’m going to use sky magic without the silver pear, that’s all.” Except that getting the right oak staff was no easy task.

  Soren gave an uneasy nod, and then braced a hand on the outside door before he pushed it open. “There’ll be a lot more guards out than the last time we escaped, patrolling the grounds.”

  “Why? What has William to fear now?” Surely everyone was either injured, escaped or dead?

  “He doesn’t realize you let us out and set that spell in here. He thinks another sorcerer is involved, and that his prisoners are skulking about the stronghold, trying to take it by force.”

  Miri sighed. “And what did he expect to do with me?”

  Soren grinned suddenly. “Woo you back to his side, is my guess. Didn’t you see the nice pallet and food and water they left you?”

  Miri turned, saw the cup of water and plate of bread and cheese she’d missed, and shuddered.

  When she turned back, Soren had vanished, but she could feel his body alm
ost touching hers, feel the heat of his skin.

  “I’ll go first,” he whispered, and she nodded. He didn’t move, though. She heard him take a breath.

  “I don’t think I can go through the secret passage.” His lips brushed her ear he stood so close, and she sensed his tension. “It’s the easiest way, and I’m sorry I can’t try again, but I can’t risk . . .” He took a deep breath. “I can stand the dark, but the dark and the walls closing in . . .” He shuddered. “I’ll get you to the courtyard, and then I’ll walk out through the front gate. I’ll meet you at the outside entrance to the passageway.”

  She nodded and he squeezed her arm in response.

  He opened the door and she let him go ahead to check it was safe, waiting until he came back for her and took her hand, leading her up the steps.

  The stronghold was quiet, and she thought dawn must only be an hour or so away.

  There was a new guard posted in front of the courtyard. Soren let go of her hand, and she felt his lips on her ear again.

  “Wait until I deal with him. Then run for your secret door.”

  She nodded, but he was already moving.

  He was quick and utterly silent. The guard collapsed what seemed like moments later. Invisible arms dragged him through the entrance to the small courtyard.

  Miri ran. As she entered the courtyard, she saw Soren had propped the guard up against the inner wall.

  She reached the secret door and fumbled for the metal pin, felt Soren’s body heat as he came up behind her.

  She had the sense he was standing, feet apart, eyes on the entrance behind her, guarding her, even though she couldn’t see him at all.

  When she finally found the thin piece of metal and pulled it, she looked back and up. “Got it.”

  “I’ll wait until you’ve made sure William hasn’t found the door on the outside wall, and set someone to wait for you.”

  She hadn’t thought of that. She’d been shaking with the need to have the silver pear again, desperate to make sure it was safe.

  She opened the door wide, forced herself not to look for it, and quietly moved to the other end of the passageway. The door was closed.

  She couldn’t decide if it was good or bad news.

  She’d thought it had been open, last time she’d seen it. She remembered thinking she could use it being open to reassure Soren, to help persuade him to come in the tunnel with her, but it could have swung shut.

  Or someone came later and closed it.

  She found the pin and opened the door, looked out.

  There was no-one that she could see.

  She shuffled back, stuck her head out. “It seems safe. I’ll look for the silver pear, and see you on the other side.”

  She couldn’t see him, couldn’t see his response, but he brushed a hand over her shoulder and then was gone, and Miri pulled the door closed behind her.

  Darkness enveloped her, and she set about feeling every inch of the floor with her hands, starting at the door and moving back on her haunches.

  By the time she’d reach the other side, she had to accept the truth.

  The silver pear was gone.

  * * *

  He didn’t like to leave her, even knowing that she was a sorcerer.

  Soren kept close to the walls and the shadows, through habit rather than necessity, now he was invisible. The gate was closed, but there was a smaller door inset into the massive portcullis, and just within the guard house, the key hung from a hook.

  The two guards on duty were playing dice to keep awake, and Soren took the key quite brazenly.

  He spent precious minutes inserting it into the lock as quietly as possible, and turned it slowly, listening as the tumblers caught one by one, until the door was unlocked. He decided to take the key with him. It would be handy if they ever needed to break back in.

  He eased the door open, wincing as the hinges groaned, and slipped through, locking it behind him.

  Dawn was already lighting the sky to the east, and he ran along the outer wall. Because he was looking for it, he was able to make out the door, half-open, and Mirabelle, on her hands and knees in front of it.

  He dropped the moonstone into his pocket, and dropped to his knees next to her so he could whisper. “What is it?”

  She looked at him, and even in the darkness, he could see the absolute devastation on her face.

  “It’s gone.”

  He didn’t ask if she was sure. He turned to look at the forest, then up to the guard tower looming above them. It seemed safe enough.

  He helped her to her feet, pushed the door closed and then took her hand, pulling her along as he ran for the trees.

  She resisted him when he wanted to draw them deeper in, stubbornly turning back to the part of the wall where the secret door lay as if somehow she would see the silver pear lying on the ground.

  “William hasn’t set a guard here. So I don’t think it was him who took it.” Soren gave up the struggle, and stood beside her.

  She gave an uncertain nod.

  “That means it was one of the men from the dungeon.”

  “Why would they come back?”

  Soren thought for a moment. “Perhaps they were worried about us. Came back to help us?” It was the only thing that made sense. And the only one who he could think who would do that was Garth. Travis would have run into the woods and not looked back.

  She crossed her arms over her chest and shivered. “What will they do with it?”

  Soren shrugged. “I only met them a few hours ago, myself. I was the last one who came through.”

  “You were friendly with the big man. The woodcutter.”

  Soren nodded. “Garth. He seemed a good man. But I honestly don’t know what any one of them would do with something like the silver pear. They won’t know it was yours, although they might guess it is, as it was in your passageway.”

  “Garth saw me hold it when I cast the spell, I’m sure he did. Where do you think they’ve gone?”

  She was shivering, and he rubbed her shoulder awkwardly. “Garth and his friend Jon are from Jerat. If I were them, that’s where I’d head. And if he is keeping the silver pear safe for you, he knows I know where he lives.”

  “I’ll have to go after them.” She raised stricken eyes to his.

  He took her hand, and at last she let him pull her deeper into the protection of the trees.

  “I have to find my brother. And get the golden apple back from Nuen.” He meant to sound matter-of-fact, but to his surprise, his words came out frustrated, as if he was sorry he couldn’t come to her aid.

  She pulled his arm, forcing him to stop, and nodded her head to a narrow pathway that snaked off the main way. “Do you want to sleep a little first, before you set out? I know I need to.”

  He’d only slept in brief snatches while he’d watched over her in the dungeon, and he hadn’t slept at all the day before that. He needed rest.

  He gave a nod.

  “Come. I have a place we can go.”

  She held out her hand, and as the first silver edge of light broke the horizon, Soren took it. And let her lead the way.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  KAYLA AND RANE

  They approached Ylana’s cottage with caution.

  Rane moved silently, knife held ready in his hand. The dull, gray blade looked like it would have a hard time cutting an apple, but Kayla knew it could change in an instant, lengthening, sharpening. She had seen Rane take down a troll with it.

  Even so, she didn’t think a knife would save them, if Ylana had broken free of the enchantment Kayla had placed on her and was interested in revenge.

  Beside her, Sooty gave a happy chirp, as if the gathering tension was cause for celebration. She bumped her massive black head against Kayla’s hip, then leaped after Rane, as silent on her feet as Rane was.

  Kayla knew she was the noisy one. Crunching leaves and snapping twigs as she went.

  She hadn’t grown up in the forest, wasn’t able to
move as quietly as her betrothed or her unusual cat, but she did have a weapon of her own.

  Wild magic.

  Tight-woven purple balls of light that held the occasional spark of green floated behind her, bobbing and drifting, sometimes hovering in place.

  Kayla could feel the power of them humming just at the tips of her fingers.

  She may need all the skill she’d learned in the last few days in wielding wild magic when she released Ylana. There was no telling what an enraged witch could do. Especially one as old and powerful as Ylana.

  “Are you sure you want to do this?” Rane had stopped, right at the edge of the clearing where Ylana’s cottage stood. Sooty sat next to him, licking a paw, quite content in the late afternoon sun.

  Kayla came up beside him, close enough to feel the warmth of his body, and nodded as they both took in the thatched roof, the wooden walls; neat and unassuming.

  There was no smoke coming from the chimney, which there wouldn’t be if Ylana was still enchanted, but it meant nothing.

  If Ylana had gotten free, she could create any illusion she liked to lure them in.

  “It’s gone very quiet.”

  Even the wind in the trees had died, and no birds sang.

  It made the sound of large wings suddenly flapping behind them all the louder. A bird screeched and rose between the trees, and Kayla turned to look.

  Sooty was off to the side, looking up with a fixed expression at the heron she’d scared away.

  Kayla narrowed her eyes, watching until it had disappeared, and silence fell again.

  “What is it?” Rane was looking at her with a frown.

  “Something attacked Soren at a stream when we were coming to rescue you from Eric. He called it an asrai.”

  She hadn’t forgotten the incident, but so much had happened since then, this was the first time she’d mentioned it to him.

  “An asrai?” He suddenly focused all his attention on her, ignoring the cottage completely.

  She shrugged. “That’s what Soren said it was. I turned it into a heron after I got it off him.”