“Where do you think you’re going?” he murmured. The final, dying glow of the medallion faded as darkness swept through her body, ice cold and racing like lightning.
Avelina fainted.
Avelina.
~*~
At some point, rain had come.
It slanted through the small port hole in the room where they’d locked her, hands bound in front of her. Drops pattered on her skin. Beneath her, the floorboards were dry. Bone dry. Warmth flowed through her skin. Healing heat. Avelina woke up, looked around, then passed out before the whisper finished.
Avel—
Many times she woke, felt the magic coursing through her as it greedily gobbled the rain, then fell back to sleep. The magic healed her. It banished the darkness.
Without the rain, she would have died.
The room—more like a closet— was empty. No accident. No fool, not even Drake, would leave a magic holder in a room with any sort of supplies if he didn’t know their source. The fact that the window was open meant he didn’t know.
The promised lands, she thought, desperately. Must get to the promised lands or all is lost.
Whenever she’d talked about the promised lands to Papa, he’d shake his head. Surrender. It’s not ours. You’ll be fine. Surrender.
The memory sent a ripple of grief through her. She shoved it away.
A thud outside the door made her jerk. She rolled onto her other side and peered at the thin sliver of light peeking in.
“When?” came a low, gravelly tone.
“An hour.”
“Think she’ll take her?”
“Dunno.”
The two voices were low and quiet. She. Her blood ran cold. The Wielder Queen, for certain. The thought of feeling part of her body and soul drained from her, ripped out like smoke and gas, sent a shudder through her. She bent her fingertips. The rope was thick. Thick and tied separately. Too thick to work out of now, but she could loosen it for later.
A thud hit the door.
“Get the girl,” came a third voice. “We’ve arrived.”
~*~
They shoved her onto sand with a sneer and a blindfold.
The sand was gritty against her knees, and hot. A sword pressed against the back of her neck. Behind her, water swelled from the ocean and ticked her toes. The moment the cool liquid touched her skin, it hissed. The heat flowed into her. She burrowed her toes deeper and kept her head bowed. A minuscule amount of water lingered in the grains of sand, then slid through her blood as magic.
The sound of shifting sand came, as if someone had walked closer. Avelina kept her head bowed, even though her eyes were covered. They were on an inlet, far from the mainland, with nothing but ocean and sand around them.
“This is the girl?” came a deep, resonant voice. Female. Cold as ice and twice as sharp.
The Wielder Queen.
“The one,” Drake said.
“Cinnamon,” she purred. “She wields the power of the ocean.”
“What?” he hissed.
“Her father is dead?” the Wielder asked.
“Confirmed dead,” he muttered. “My crew killed him.”
“Her mother?”
“Still on the ship.”
A silence stretched around them. Avelina felt it all the way into her bones, as if her very soul had been rocked.
Mother?
“The other is in your ship as well, I presume?”
“Yes.”
“Bring them to me.”
The sound of fingers snapping followed, but Avelina sensed that Drake remained. She had no mother. Her mother had died in birth. And how did Drake know about her father? Who was the other? No, Drake must be lying. Or he assumed that she was someone she wasn’t.
But were there any magic holders her age left?
Drake made his life out of killing, stealing, and trading for magic. He would know what holders were still alive. He’d track the announcements. The list of holder deaths was tacked to most village walls. He’d hunt the remaining powerful down.
She had to escape.
If she died, the last of the magic holders would go. There would be no promised lands, no free practice of magic.
No freedom.
Slowly, a mere inch, she scooted back. The feeling of something cold touched the back of her neck and sliced her skin.
His sword.
“Where do you think you are going?” Drake asked.
Avelina swallowed hard. She pushed her fingers as far into the sand as they’d go. A tepid warmth met her fingertips. She pulled on it, yanking it into her belly.
Grow, she pleaded to the magic. Grow, please.
Minutes later, the sound of several pairs of feet and grunts followed. Someone landed in the sand on her left. Then another beyond that person.
“They are the ones,” the Wielder Queen said. Surprise colored her tone. “You have done well. We have been searching for them for a long time. How you managed to bring in all three at the same time, I’ll never know.”
“And shall be paid well, I assume?”
“As you deserve.”
The sound of a slicing sword followed. Gurgling, then shouts of outrage, came next. More swords. Cries of pain. Something hot fell on Avelina’s skin. She could immediately taste copper in her mouth.
Blood.
Chaos ensued in a heated battle. But who fought for the Wielder Queen? Likely no one. Someone that had taken so much magic from everyone else could fight a crowd of sailors. Avelina ducked her head closer to her arms and inched her blindfold off. Two people lay prostrate on their knees next to her.
A pair of eyes met hers
She almost gasped—would have—if the power of breath remained in her. She stared into a near perfect imitation of herself, only this was a boy. The same sloping forehead, bright eyes, full lips. Dark, ebony skin. Something about him was difficult to look at. Difficult to see. His eyes tapered into slashes. She had to look away.
Her mouth went dry.
A woman cried out. The boy spun to face a middle aged woman, thin, frail, with delicate, familiar features in her face. It could have been Avelina in so many years.
Mother, Avelina thought.
The woman stared at her, stricken, tears in her eyes. The battle continued around them. Sand flew in the air. Blood. Men streamed from the boat to fight the Queen. Knives flew with sharp whistles and the staccato of them hitting bodies.
“You,” Mother whispered.
A flash of white caught Avelina’s attention. She looked up. The Wielder Queen stood above her, looming with terrible presence. Strands of white hair, like strings of sand, trailed out on the breeze. Her skin, as alabaster as clouds, was almost translucent. Even her eyes were white, colored over as if by fog. No blood stained her robes, which were black as pitch and flowed to the ground.
“Avelina,” she murmured. Her gaze slipped to the boy. “Avel. I have been searching for you for...so long.”
Clouds built in the restless air, towering with dark promise behind them. The screams of the sailors had faded. All of them lay dead in the sand, their hot blood pouring into the grit. Avelina didn’t take her eyes off the Wielder Queen. One simple touch is all it would take to erase Avelina’s magic. To steal her soul.
But the Wielder didn’t reach for her.
She didn’t even move. Nothing but the restless shift of her garment in the growing breeze gave any movement. The sun faded behind the clouds. A murky darkness fell.
Avelina, whispered a distant voice.
The Wielder Queen’s voice.
“You may call me Mari,” she murmured. “You are the twins, are you not? Oh, but you wouldn’t even know, would you? Your parents split you up to keep you safe.”
Avel stared straight ahead, lips pressed, expression rigid. Just like Papa. Mari shifted forward a step. The sand didn’t move underneath her feet.
“I’ve been searching for you for a while now. Without you, I have no hope of completing my goal.”
“Of ultimate power?” Avel said. His voice was deep, even for someone so young. Avelina rubbed her hands together. Still bound, but there was some give in the tension.
Mari gestured to Avelina. “The power of water.” Then she gestured to Avel. “And the power of light. Without your gifts, I have no hope of controlling the magic of the four seas and five lands. Here you come. Together. Isn’t it...odd?”
Stalling, Avelina thought. She’s stalling.
Thunder raged overhead. Wind whipped sand into her eyes. The clouds thickened, filling the whole sky as if they encircled them in a tomb. The darkness deepened. Avelina sucked in a sharp breath. What they don’t have is the key! Papa had shouted once. What they don’t have is the key!
There was no reason for the Wielder Queen to delay. Why didn’t she grab them and take her magic right away?
Because she couldn’t, perhaps.
The Wielder Queen didn’t have the magic of the ocean.
“What do you plan to do with your power?” Avelina asked, spitting it out as if she were enraged. Her fingers burrowed deeper. The ropes rubbed against her wrists, raw, but movable. Her toes dug into the cool sand. She unleashed some of the magic in her belly.
Come to me, she sang. Set me free.
“Rule, of course.” Mari flicked an annoyed glance at them. “Create equality where there is none. When one person holds all the magic, no other can die for it.”
Water pooled at Avelina’s fingertips. Her skin greedily absorbed it. The heat in her belly soared. More water came. She pulled it all in. Next to her, Avel hummed. His lips didn’t move. His stony expression never faded.
The darkness became palpable now. Avelina couldn’t see the ship, the bodies, or even her...mother. Just the Wielder Queen. Her stark white skin stood in heavy contrast to the puddled sky.
“That’s why your sacrifice will be so appreciated,” the Wielder Queen continued. Her eyes flickered to the sky, where the sun had been. A blanket of clouds covered it now. Only a few remnants of gray slipped through.
When Avelina tried to look to Avel, her eyes recoiled. He was too bright. He teemed with light. It crawled through him like roots, illuminating his ebony skin from the inside. His eyes were closed, his body tense. The humming had increased into something like a painful moan. His eyes opened.
They locked gazes.
Avelina loosed her magic. It burned from her belly to her heart, then tore free.
The ocean surged.
Light split the air.
Water rushed around her. She dropped into it. Her skin soaked up each molecule. The power in her belly doubled. The bonds dropped from her hands. The Wielder Queen screamed, recoiling. Avel found his feet. His humming had increased into a song without words that came from deep in his throat. Avelina rolled away, blinded by his light.
The Queen fell back, collapsing on a dead sailor.
“Cease!” she screamed.
“Run!” Avel yelled. Avelina looked up, barely seeing the woman—her mother—scramble away. He turned to Avelina next, fear in his eyes. Something inside him dimmed. The song lessened.
Light. He had the power of light—which the Wielder Queen had blocked with darkness.
Avelina sprinted to the water and released the torrent in her belly.
Come to me, she sang. The waters collected, snaked onto the shore, and grabbed the Queen. She flailed, screaming. Coats of darkness pummeled the water that enveloped her, driving it back. One of them gripped Avel, who had fallen. The light ebbed from his body. His mother threw herself on top of him, beating back the strange wraiths.
Avelina threw her body into the water. Magic swept through her with breathless intensity. The Wielder Queen leapt to her feet, snarling.
“I will have all the power.”
So do I, Avelina thought. The pulse of the ocean banged behind her. Despite the breathless, out-of-control feeling, she tapped into the heavy current. The Wielder Queen lunged. Her bony fingers clamped around Avelina’s wrist.
Avelina gave herself to the waves.
The heat of what felt like a thousand suns poured through her body when the water closed over her head. The magic no longer resided in her belly, but in her very soul. It radiated out. She heard the call of the water. The crash of the waves synced with her heart. Avelina became the water.
The magic is not mine, she thought as the water swept her away from the beach. I am but a holder. The magic belongs to the sea.
It isn’t ours, Papa had always said. It isn’t ours. Surrender. It’s the only way.
The ocean bore them away, down, down to the depths by a swift current. Down where the sand didn’t interfere. Where the surge of ocean could take the Queen, and all her horrible, stolen magic, into the depths.
It isn’t ours, Avelina. Surrender that and you’ll find your way.
The magic.
Papa always meant the magic.
She had no choice. The ocean closed over her head now. The magic infused every particle of her body, threatening to tear her apart. Even the Wielder Queen held onto her, as if terrified herself.
Avelina shut her mind to the magic. The burn stalled, as if confused. When it tried to surge again, she forced it back.
Go to your home, she said. You are not mine.
For a moment, everything seemed to calm. Then, one vein at a time, all the heat left her body. It dissipated into the ocean, leeching away one morsel after another. Her body weakened. Drained. Darkness overcame her.
She surrendered to it.
~*~
The hiss of the ocean woke her.
Avelina felt the water curl around her body, then disappeared. The warm, lapping feeling surrounded her. Gritty sand irritated her back. Warmth, sunshine, light beckoned overhead.
“Dead?”
“Naw. Barely breathing.”
“She moved.”
Avelina sucked in a sharp breath and opened one eye. Two men hovered over her with long, salty beards.
She screamed.
They leaped back, wielding broken oars. Avelina jumped to her feet and crouched.
“Not a magic holder,” one of them said, nose halfway in the air. “Can’t smell anything.”
In a panic, Avelina turned to her mind, but nothing was there. No extra life teemed inside her. Nothing else moved and flowed. One of the men dropped an oar and held up both hands in a gesture of peace.
“Calm down. We won’t hurt you. Came to see if you were part of the massacre.”
One muscle at a time, she calmed. Her breathing came faster; the memories faster. The Wielder Queen. The ocean. The sheer power of the magic...then nothing.
It isn’t ours...
“Massacre?” she said carefully.
They gestured to the beach. “All those filthy pirates left dead.”
Avelina straightened. Empty. She felt...empty. But strangely...free. As if she owned herself for the first time. She touched her arms, her face, then her belly. It growled.
Empty.
The magic had forsaken her.
“There were two people,” she said. “A boy, a woman—”
“Gone.”
“Everyone is gone! They’ve all gone to the mainland to celebrate.”
“Thought I saw a boy, though,” said the other. “Looked like you.”
“Sure. With an older lady. They left this morning but hovered around for a while. How long have you been here?”
“I-I don’t know. Why is everyone celebrating?”
They nudged each other in the ribs, scoffing. Avelina felt like she’d been turning cartwheels over and over again, her mind whirled. There were so many pieces...so many things that didn’t quite come together.
One of the fishermen scoffed. “Where’ve ya been? The war is over. All the magic holders are getting their gifts back.”
“If they’re still alive,” muttered the other one.
“Rumors saying the Wielder Queen is dead.”
Her thoughts spun. The magic had go
ne back to the ocean—but the ocean must have claimed the Queen.
The magic holders were free.
Her family would still be alive.
She pressed her fingertips together, missing the buzz of energy that had hummed in her body. When she looked up, both men had lifted their oars again, as if shielding her off.
“Where is the mainland?” she asked. “I need to find my family.”
~***~
Katie Cross has a passion for writing stories about women finding themselves. Also food. Magic captivated her the moment she held her first book. She has lived many lives scouring story after story, searching for adventure, dragons, and magic. Now, she writes fantasy books so you can seize the light, hold magic in your fingertips, and forget the shadows of real life to live your wildest adventure.
LOW IS THE LAND
FULVIO GATTI
The day Luigi left the family to join the freedom fighters, Ida felt there was something wrong in the air. As the oldest son of Giovanni and Jolanda Cassola hugged everyone goodbye, in the windy spring morning, big dark clouds slid over the sun. As a result, the bright colors of the countryside, from the bare lawn that surrounded the humble Cassola family shack, up to the blooming vineyard, seemed to vanish in the blink of an eye.
It was a feeling that went beyond the obvious worry that Ida felt for her older brother. Before disappearing three years ago, taken away at night by the Elves, their father, Giovanni, had been able to teach Luigi how to use a sword. Now, sixteen years old, the oldest child in the family was tall and strong enough to overwhelm any human servant of the Elves. Chances were high that he could even survive a fight with an Elf warrior.
No, Ida didn’t fear that Luigi could be killed in a terrorist attack. At thirteen, she was old enough to know that many leaders of the Rebellion were former Elf servants who had switched sides, bringing to the freedom force both their military skills and a deep knowledge of the enemy. Hopes that soon the humans would be able to kick the pointed eared demons out of their land were growing day after day.
When Luigi finally hugged his mom Jolanda, after kissing or talking to each one of his siblings, from Giulia to the barely talking Quartiglio, Ida couldn’t help shivering. She got one puzzled look by her sister Teresa and ignored her as usual. Luigi might never come back, Ida thought, like their father hadn’t. Outside their poor home, beyond the hill that held their vineyard, dwelt sinister presences compared to which the Elf occupation army was just a bunch of noisy kids. Ida could feel them. She had inherited from her grandmother, and her dad, the ancient power of nature. That power, when she was old and strong enough, would free them all.
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