by K. Ferrin
“That woman is grievously injured, but she will live and she will fight. I can feel it in her, even as she sleeps—a seething fury at what has befallen your people. She will not give in to this desperation, and neither should you. You will continue this journey, and you will rain destruction upon the Dark Wizard, and you will free all of us who have lived hidden in fear for so long. You will be successful, and we will help you. All of us will help you. You will not fail. Vengeance will be yours, and peace will reign in Dorine Lillith for the first time in millennia.”
Freen’s words penetrated Magicless’ psyche despite his best efforts at beating them back. Their absolute conviction fed the guttering flame of hope in his chest. He looked at his companions. Leali’s face was lit once again with the internal fire of a believer, Ashier’s settled back into its typical evenness of temperament, lines easing from his forehead. Elisa’s eyes were wide with a tentative hope, while Jobin’s simmered with heat. And Tredon…Tredon’s eyes blazed from his face with shocking brightness.
“Go to your rest. Feel what you need to feel. In the morning, we plot our revenge.”
[ 22 ]
The snow was deep, clutching at her thighs as she moved.
She didn’t feel cold, just winded. The snow dragged at her with every step, clumping on her feet like icy weights tied to her ankles, clutching at her until she felt she was moving in slow motion. She didn’t know where she was. Nothing looked familiar. She walked along a huge expanse of ground, nothing visible in any direction but endless white. She paused, catching her breath, and glanced behind for some visible sign of where she might be. She thought she maybe saw the vague, shadowy shapes of trees in the distance, but she could not be sure.
She took a deep breath, turned forward, and kept slogging through the deep snow. She had no idea why, but she was suddenly absolutely certain this was the direction she needed to go. She had a nagging feeling that she’d forgotten something. Or forgotten someone. She wasn’t supposed to be alone, but the white plain stretching around her showed not another human form in sight. She kept on.
Her conscious mind retreated and her breath took on a meditative rhythm that danced in and out of her heavy steps. She had nothing for her eyes to focus on out there, so she kept them vaguely pointed at the ground in front of her and lost herself in the rhythm of her movement. She had no idea how long she traveled this way, but felt a lurch in her stomach when she realized she was uttering words out loud with each breath.
Oynnestre. Oynnestre.
She wasn’t sure how long she’d been speaking out loud. It bothered her. It made her feel as if she’d slipped out of her mind. Made her think of someone possessed who no longer controlled their own thoughts and their own actions. She stopped short, breathing hard, trying to determine if someone else was in her head with her or if she was alone. Was she possessed?
The heavy snow muffled all sound around her but she was certain someone was puffing hard right beside her. She spun in sudden fright. No one was there. They must have moved behind her. She spun again, but again, no one was there. She could hear someone panting as she was panting, but there was no one other than herself anywhere to be seen.
“Just because you can’t see it, doesn’t mean it’s not there.”
The voice came out of nowhere. She jumped, startled, and frantically searched around for the source. Disembodied laughter echoed around her.
“You have no idea how stupid you look right now. Jerking and staring around as if there were something to see,” the voice taunted quietly.
“Who are you? Why can’t I see you?” She demanded.
“You could see me if you had a mirror. Do you have a mirror?” The voice answered.
“Do I have—” Her heart lurched. “Say something again,” she said, her fingers resting on her lips. “Speak!”
“Oh you poor, confused, wretched creature. So powerful but so unbelievably naïve,” the voice said. Alekka’s head spun as she felt her own lips move beneath her fingertips. She was the one talking. The voice was her own, coming from her own throat, but she had no conscious memory of uttering it. Something was talking through her.
I’ve been possessed.
“No. Not possessed, silly girl,” the voice came again, “at least no more than usual.”
“What are you? How are you doing that? Why can’t I feel you inside of me?” She demanded.
“You really don’t know, do you girl? Some mage you are,” said the voice.
Something was controlling her body like a puppet, forcing its words out in her voice using her own lips and throat, but she could feel nothing inside of her that was out of place. That didn’t belong. There was nothing that wasn’t a part of her.
“Ah, now you begin to see,” the voice said.
“Have I gone crazy, then? To be out here alone talking to myself as if I were two people?” Alekka asked.
“No more crazy than any other person would be in your place. You are unconscious. Injured, but healing well. Think—what is the last thing you remember before being here?” The voice asked.
She thought hard, and could remember nothing but the endless white. She’d been in the white forever.
“Further back than that, girl.”
She pushed back further. The attack on Aclay. The journey. Her companions. Micah. She’d kissed him. Her hand flew to her mouth again, feeling the ghost of his lips on hers.
“Now forward, keep moving forward.”
She tried to concentrate. “The—the map, and Noz, and then...Tredon. He left camp. We went to find him.”
“Yes,” said the voice, moving her lips effortlessly.
“We were attacked, I think, by what Noz called Illes. They were able to ensnare us all in an illusion. Everyone except Micah. He made us see.”
“Yes. Then what?”
“He was fighting one of them. I wanted to help him but he was in the way. He told me to fire anyway. And then...I think one grabbed me.” She paused for several breaths. “I recall nothing after that. Only white.”
“Yes. The Illes touched you. Your companions saved you. You are sleeping now, in a comfortable bed at the bottom of the river. A good thing, too. We have much to talk about, you and I.”
“How do you know these things? If you are me and I’m unconscious, how could you know?” Alekka asked.
“I am a part of you but I am not you. I am aware even when you sleep. I know things you don’t know. I know things you don’t want to know. Things you fear to know.”
“You are my subconscious.”
“Close enough for our purposes, yes.”
“And we have much to discuss, you say?”
“Oh yes. You refuse to acknowledge what it is you journey toward, but this must change. You need to accept your fate if you are to find success in your journey.”
Alekka waited for the voice to continue. Fear vied with curiosity. Was this real or was she hallucinating? She’d been injured, she remembered that now—perhaps they’d given her some medication that was causing hallucinations. But then again, she was a mage, and she knew that during many rituals it was common for hallucinogenic drugs to be taken to open the imbiber to the divine, to the words of the spirits and the wisdom of the world around them.
She wasn’t sure she wanted to hear whatever it was this voice wanted to say. Dark things lurked in the recesses of one’s mind. Scary things. Things one might not want to face.
“You are the Oynnestre, Alekka. You will have to make sacrifices to restore balance to the world,” the voice continued.
Oynnestre. Oynnestre.
“The imbalance is large. The price to pay to restore it is high.”
“What does that mean?” Alekka asked.
“What do you value most, girl? That will be the demanded price.”
Her heart started to pound in her chest. What did she value most? Her magic? Her family? Micah? Her own life? She didn’t know the answer. Not for certain. She loved all of those things dearly. Which would hurt
her the most to lose? What would be taken from her?
“Not taken, dear. Given. It must be given,” the voice said.
It must be given. Willingly, then. A knife slid through her belly, leaving a trail of iciness in its wake. She could give only what she owned, and she owned nothing but what was within herself. It was her life, then. It had to be. She would die on this journey after all.
“Take care you don’t jump to conclusions, girl,” the voice warned. “The future is forever in flux. But you need to move forward with your eyes open. Be aware. Do not turn your back on what you know in your heart to be true.”
Despite the voice’s warning to not jump to conclusions, Alekka couldn’t stop thinking about it. My life. It has to be my life. It’s the only answer that makes sense. It’s why I’ve always had those dreams. It’s what they’ve meant all along. There’s no other explanation. Her thoughts tumbled and tripped over themselves, mixing with and bumping up against the still-constant litany of Oynnestre, Oynnestre whirling through her body like a heartbeat.
She couldn’t tell the others. They’d force her out of the group. Make her stay wherever they were now or make her go home to Aclay. Combined, they were strong enough to bind her if she refused to leave them, strip her of her power and leave her no choice but to do as they commanded. She’d have to lie to them. They could not know there was a price to pay, and they could not know she was the one to pay it. Especially Micah. He could never know.
Her eyes teared up at the thought of him. At the thought she’d have to lie to the others. She never lied. But she had no choice now.
“You need to wake up,” the voice said.
[ 23 ]
The landscape moved around her, spinning faster and faster until it blurred and she could distinguish nothing in the streaking whiteness. She slammed back into her body, eyes jolted open with the force of it. She was lying on a bed, blankets tucked neatly up under her chin, head cradled in a soft pillow.
She stared at the room around her. She could hear no sounds of movement anywhere. There was barely enough light to see the dim shapes of a dresser along the wall beside her, a door across the room, and a small privy on the far side of the bed. There was a vague window shape beside the privy, but it was too dark to see anything beyond it.
She lingered as she was, feeling that something was missing but unable to determine what. She moved through her body, testing for the pain of injury, but felt none. Whatever injury she’d sustained from the Illes had apparently passed. How long had she slept? She pushed the covers back and moved toward the window. Water slicked the outside of the glass, making it impossible to see anything through it. She couldn’t hear it raining, but it must be raining quite hard for the window to be so covered with rainwater.
Exhaustion weighed heavy on her and her legs began to tremble with the effort of standing. She needed sleep. Everything could wait on some sleep. She moved back to the bed, pulled the covers up under her chin, rolled to her side, and immediately fell back into a deep, dreamless slumber.
She woke and slept several times—she didn’t know for how many days. Oftentimes, hot tea or food steamed on the bedside table beside her, and she ate and drank everything offered. She never saw or heard any sign of other living things, though she felt certain her companions were nearby. She also never saw who brought her food or cleared away the dishes. She was fine with this. There was plenty of time to deal with what she had to deal with. For now, she would enjoy the time she had to rest.
When next she opened her eyes there was finally some light in the room, and she felt fully refreshed. Her eyelashes didn’t feel as if they weighed five pounds each, her hands didn’t feel like anvils, and her mind didn’t feel like there was a wet wool blanket draped over it. She was awake and alert and ready to figure out where she was and what had happened. She recalled brief snatches of the dream she’d had, but could no longer piece the strange fragments together.
She used the privy and stepped out of her room into a brightly lit hallway of some kind of finely lined green substance. For the first time since she’d awoken in this room she heard sounds of life—the clink of dishes and the low murmur of voices came from her left, and she moved toward them.
Suddenly, the fully formed contents of her dream slammed back into her mind, sharp and painful as a knife’s twist. She knew she’d have to lie to her companions, to Micah, if the topic came up, but that was one of many prices she would pay. A small price, really, in the grand scheme of things, she thought ruefully, still not quite able to reconcile with the fact that, if her interpretation of the dream she’d had was correct, she’d have to give her life for this quest. The idea of her death felt distant, wrong, not quite real—like a painting that had been abandoned halfway through to completion. But for the continuance of life, to keep the darkness at bay for some while longer—to stem the tide of pain and loss her people had endured for the gods knew how long, she’d have to accept it. She’d not asked for this, but it was hers now, and she’d carry it with dignity.
She stepped into a large kitchen. She found Jobin and Elisa chatting with two very strange-looking creatures. Tall, willowy, covered in fine and brilliantly hued scales with delicate-looking fins draping from their forearms and calves. She stopped where she was, a bit dumbfounded at the sight, and wondered if she’d actually awoken or if she was still in a dream. The smiles that lit both Jobin and Elisa’s face belied that thought.
“You’re awake!” Elisa cried as she stood from the table and folded Alekka in a full embrace. “I’m so happy to see you up, Alekka.”
Alekka resisted for a moment. Now that the reality of her apparent fate felt more tangible, an urge to seal herself off from the others asserted itself. But something inside her had cracked open, too. She understood she needed them just as they needed her, and she draped her arms around the other woman in a burst of answering affection. “I am happy to be awake,” Alekka said, smiling at her companions at the table. “Now, how long have I been asleep?”
Elisa looked at her in surprise. “Only the night,” she replied as she placed her cool palm on Alekka’s forehead.
“Only the night? The Illes...that was only last night?” Alekka asked.
“You were spelled, child. To you it feels much longer. That is as it should be,” one of the creatures said.
“I’m going to go get the others, let them know you’re awake,” Jobin said. He reached out and grasped both her hands in his as he passed, lingering to look into her eyes. His features held an odd sadness she didn’t understand, even though he was smiling his handsome smile.
“Is everyone alright?” She asked, a thread of trepidation settling in her midsection.
“Yes, everyone else is fine. You’re the only...I mean, you were the only one injured, Alekka.” Elisa answered.
Alekka nodded and stared at the two creatures standing together near the sink. Her look was frank, theirs equally so. She felt as if she were being measured up, but up against what she hadn’t a clue.
“It is wonderful to see you awake, Alekka. Welcome to our home. I am Anet. This is my mate, Freen. We are so pleased to meet you, Oynnestre.”
Alekka’s answering words of greeting froze in her throat and she struggled not to choke on them. They knew? Were they the source of my dream? Had they told the others? For a moment she struggled to find words amidst her thoughts, and eventually she forced a smile onto her lips and found refuge in courtesy.
“It is a pleasure to meet you Anet, Freen. Thank you for allowing us into your home and for allowing me to rest here,” Alekka said, moving forward to clasp hands with each of them.
“They did more than allow us to stay at their home, Alekka,” Elisa said softly. “They healed you after you were touched by those things. They brought us here, to the bottom of this river, to protect us. They are going to aid us, too. They can help us get to the Dark Wizard.”
Ah, so Anet and Freen knew of their mission, then. Alekka supposed they would have demanded some in
formation before bringing seven strangers into their home. She wondered exactly how much they had been told and how much they had already known. Clearly they knew more than they let on.
“At the bottom of the river?” She asked.
Elisa smiled—that particular wide, blindingly bright smile she reserved for things that delighted her utterly. “These folks know some real magic, Alekka. More than any of us know…more than our elders. They brought us here in a bubble. Micah’s powers couldn’t touch it. They were more than his match.”
Powers?
At Elisa’s words, a flash of Micah confidently assuring her that he’d be fine if she attacked the creature he’d been holding at bay sparked in her memory—of him deflecting the lightning bolt she’d launched like it had been nothing, reducing the Ille to ash in seconds but leaving Micah unharmed. Not without magic, after all, Alekka thought. Just possessed of magic of a different sort. She smiled to herself at that. I always knew there was something special about him, even if no one knew what it was. Even if we all refused to see it.
Alekka drew a long, steadying breath, pulling herself from her thoughts. She appraised their hosts a bit more closely. So, their magic was immune to the annulment of magic? How could that be?
“Come,” said Anet. “There is hot food cooking on the stove, and you must have many questions. Sit—I’ll get us all some tea, and we can talk while we wait for the others to join us.”
Alekka didn’t have a chance to respond to Anet’s invitation. From down the hall she heard an excited shout and the pounding of running steps. Her heart leapt in her chest, and she stepped forward as Micah came bounding around the corner. She was smiling from ear to ear and ready to step into his embrace.
In a single fluid movement Anet flowed forward, shoving Alekka back behind her and out of reach of Micah. Anet’s movement was unnecessary, however, as Micah came to a skidding halt still several feet away.
