by K. Ferrin
“You’re up,” he said simply, his tone guarded. “I was going to strangle Jobin if he was lying to me, but he told true. How do you feel?”
Alekka stepped aside from Anet, giving him a glare. Why had he shoved her back that way, as if he saw Micah as a threat? She moved toward Micah again, her arms outstretched, but he backed quickly out of her reach. She stopped moving in confusion and glanced around the room at the others. They all avoided her eyes. They looked anywhere but at her or at Micah.
“What has happened? Why are you all looking at me like that?” She demanded. She narrowed her eyes at Micah. “Why do you move away from me, Micah?”
To her shock, his eyes filled with tears, which came spilling out and coursing down his cheeks.
“Micah—?” Alekka tried again, but she was met with only silence.
Anet pulled Alekka around until they were face to face. “What do you know about the Illes?” he asked.
Alekka tried to gather her wits. Has everyone lost their minds?
“Not much. Nothing really,” she answered. “Noz told us to beware of them. To avoid them. Otherwise I know nothing. I’d never heard of them before. There is no creature such as that in our wood.”
“They are not so common as they once were. They stick to the old forests now, avoid the new. Too much light for them. They thrive on darkness and they feed on magic,” Anet said.
“Feed on magic? How—?”
“They are like parasites. Like leeches. Leeches suction their bodies onto you, cut you, and drink your blood as it seeps from your flesh. Illes do the same. But they slice into your magic instead of your flesh and drink your power instead of your blood. You are fortunate. Most do not survive an encounter with them. The quick action of your companions saved your life,” Anet continued, his voice deep and gentle.
“I don’t understand. I still feel my magic. I still have it. Besides, I’d be dead if I didn’t. What does all this have to do with me and Micah—” Alekka stopped talking abruptly as realization began to bloom in her mind.
“You still have your powers, yes. But only because we stopped the bleeding. Put a bandage on it, as it were, or a tourniquet, more like. But we can’t heal the tear, Alekka. We can only block it with magic of our own. You must not use your own magic, my dear, and if our tourniquet fails, or if…”
Anet didn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t need to. Alekka thought about Micah’s ability to see through Noz’s illusions. How he’d been able to destroy the Illes’ illusion simply by touching one of the creatures. How her lightning bolt had slammed into him and still simply fizzled into nothing while gravely injuring the creature he held fast. She thought of stitches bursting, of old scars reopening, of the light leaving someone’s eyes as blood flowed freely from an unstaunchable wound.
If he touches me, I’ll die.
She felt hollowed—all her guts spooned out and left steaming on a pebbly beach near a bridge. She was nothing but a husk, a shell, no longer a real person but a creature that moves and speaks but is made only of mud and stone. She thought about the dream she’d had the night before, and the price she’d have to pay to restore balance to the world. She’d been so sure it was her life, but instead, she’d lost her magic, and with it, the person she cared for most. She’d be like Jobin now, but Jobin could be unbound. She could never be. For the rest of her life she’d be helpless to even light a fire. Was this the sacrifice, then? She’d lost the ability to be with Micah and her magic in one moment. From a single touch.
Her vision began spinning and the room lurched around her. She stumbled against the wall and held herself there, head buried in her hands. Suddenly she was punching the wall. She swung both hands with all her strength, gritting her teeth as the material cracked and broke beneath her pounding fists. An adolescent display of helpless anger, well below her, but that was how she felt. Helpless. Hopeless. Small. A fundamental part of who she was, gone in an instant. Tears ran down her cheeks as she strove to pound her fate to pieces with the beating of her fists.
“No, no, no!” She shouted as each punch landed. She half expected someone to stop her. Freen and Anet, at least, to stop her from damaging their home. But none interfered, and she finally collapsed, exhausted, her body aching. She slumped to the ground, head on her knees and back against the broken wall. She focused on breathing, sucking slow, long breaths in and exhaling as slowly as she could.
“Please,” Anet said quietly after a spell of stunned silence. “Micah, get the others, let us gather for some food. We have much to discuss.”
Alekka looked up. Micah was standing a few feet from her, expression blank, one hand raised slightly as if on its way to her shoulder. They held each other’s gaze for a moment longer in silence, and then his hand moved slowly back to his side. Alekka dropped her gaze to her feet. There was a soundless pause and then she heard steps as he moved down the hall. A door closed solidly somewhere in that distance. She heard chairs sliding across the floor, cupboards creaking open, dishes being put on the table, felt a hand on her shoulder. She ignored them all, struggling to find an anchor in the storm that raged inside her, struggling not to be overcome by the flood of tears pressing against her eyes.
They all came and gathered at the table. Stepping around her, everyone touching her to offer comfort as they passed her slumped form. Everyone but Micah. She felt warmth at her side as someone settled next to her. She blocked the touch from her mind and refused to look up to see who it was. It didn’t matter. It wasn’t the touch she longed for the most. She’d not feel that touch ever again. She pushed that thought away desperately, focused on breathing, pushed them all as far away as she could until nothing existed but the rough wood at her back, the smooth floor on which she huddled, and her slow, regular breath.
[ 24 ]
Leali was the first to speak.
“You mentioned last night that your people tried defeating the Dark Wizard once, Freen?” she asked. “We have no stories of this amongst our kind. Can you tell us more?”
“Our story has been mostly lost to time, as we have been. Amentis has been working his dark ways for ages. Longer than many realize. He has gathered power to himself over all those long years. Some say he gets stronger and stronger with each passing season, and others think he only barely sustains what power he has to keep himself alive.”
“That is what he does, with the women he takes. We do not understand how, but he uses their magic to build his own. We do not know how powerful he is now, and none here can tell you how to gain the upper hand.” Here Freen paused, his eyes moving to Alekka’s huddled form. “It was our hope the Oynnestre would know. Could guide all of us.”
Alekka did not stir. Freen shared a look with Anet before continuing. “What we know is this: we attacked directly. We were young, impetuous, overly confident of our own power, and we dearly underestimated his. He killed most of our companions and sent Ragers after the rest. They hunted us around world. There was no escaping them. We survived by fleeing to the water—we were comfortable on land and sea in those days. But it was a mistake, fleeing here. He trapped us. Cursing all of us that remained alive. None of us have set foot on dry land since that day. We will shrivel and die if we do. We’ve never been able to identify the spell that makes it so, let alone destroy it.”
Magicless huddled in misery, arms wrapped around his waist, eyes staring blankly at the table in front of him. He’d made his way back out to the others after he’d had a moment to compose himself. He heard the conversation swirl around him but couldn’t focus. His eyes and his mind kept going back to Alekka, to her despair, her huddled form still crouched in the hallway, Tredon’s silent form hulking beside her. He bled for her loss. He bled for himself, too, for what he’d had, so fleetingly. Despair threatened to overwhelm him and he pushed back at it viciously, trying to focus on the conversation going on around him.
“You can’t identify the spell?” Elisa asked.
Magicless glanced at her and saw her leaning into Jobin
, his arm casually draped across her shoulders. He jerked his eyes back to the table in front of him and clasped his arms harder around his middle.
“No. There is nothing that has been cast on or near any of us as far as we can tell. Nor is it at the water’s edge. We’ve travelled to every body of water in Dorine Lillith and attempted to return to land. We find the same barrier everywhere we travel.”
“On every water boundary in Dorine Lillith? Every single one?” Elisa asked.
“Every one. Believe me. We have had many long years to search for an escape. There is none,” Anet said.
“How can we even hope to defeat someone with power such as that?” Leali asked, her voice thick. “How can we fight something that can curse an entire people anywhere they travel no matter how far? We are strong, and we’ve come far, but none here could do a thing such as that.”
They were silent for a time, lost in their own private thoughts. Magicless glanced around the table, plates loaded with food no one was eating. Steam billowed up from the mug in front of him. He looked to Alekka once more. She’d given everything for the success of this journey. Everything. He could not allow that loss to be for naught. They had to be successful. They had to at least try. They could not stop now. They could not stop, not ever. They had to keep trying, even until every last one of them was dead if that’s what it took.
“Jobin,” Magicless said. All eyes turned toward him and waited.
“Jobin is the most powerful among us. He’s been training. He’s ready. We must unbind him and allow him to train more fully. We have surprise on our side, and combined we have no small amount of power. We’ve allies we never knew we had. We can’t stop now. Otherwise...” He stopped and wrapped his hands around the steaming mug in front of him, taking a swallow as he tried to collect himself. “Otherwise it is all for naught. And it can’t all be. It can’t,” he concluded on a whisper. It was all the strength he could muster. He hoped it was enough.
“You’re right,” Elisa said. “We can’t give up. Not for any reason. We need to keep going.”
“Of course we need to keep going,” Leali snapped at them. “We cannot let his kidnapping of our people continue. We are not simply to be used as fuel for the Dark Wizard’s twisted fires for all eternity. The question is how. How do we defeat him, if an entire species attempted it and failed in the past?”
“I don’t know, Leali, but we will figure it out as we go. That’s what we’ve always done, and that’s what we’ll continue to do. We’ll all figure it out together. We need to keep moving. We can’t linger here,” Elisa said.
Magicless couldn’t help it. He felt laughter bubbling up from deep in his chest. He’d tried to stay calm for the sake of everyone’s sanity and morale, but he felt the seams coming loose inside of him and was powerless to stop it. He’d made up his mind to follow them all on this quest, even knowing none of them wanted him there. He’d fought alongside them, slept next to them and woken up next to them, shared meals and laughter and injuries and tears. He’d wrestled with the map, had been so proud that Noz had chosen him as navigator, felt important, capable, needed. He’d been a part of something, an important part of something bigger than himself. He’d seen Alekka’s love and pride and acceptance in her beautiful brown eyes when she looked at him.
It was too much. Something deep inside him lurched. Laughter bubbled out and he couldn’t stop it. He doubled over, head near his toes, and laughed until tears squeezed from his eyes and his cheeks ached.
He glanced up and saw his companions around him, mouths open in astonishment, eyes wide with concern as they watched him. That made him laugh all the harder. He realized he was making them uncomfortable, but he couldn’t stop.
“That is quite enough of that.”
It was Tredon. He grabbed Magicless by the shoulder and pulled him upright in his seat. “Enough. Let it go.”
Magicless could barely form words he was laughing so hard, but he knew that a cold glint of anger shone in his eyes, belaying his mirth. “Let it go?” He let his head fall back on his neck, allowing the tears to drip down toward his ears. “Let what go, Tredon? I have nothing left to let go of! You’ve seen to that. Are you happy? You’ve finally broken me, Tredon. You’ve gotten what you always wanted.” He doubled over again, muscles weak.
Tredon yanked his hand back is if Magicless had suddenly turned to a pillar of fire. His face paled, making the dark circles under his eyes much more pronounced. He looked hurt, but Magicless couldn’t care at all for his hurt. He deserved every bit of it he got. More, in fact, for what he’d done. This was all his fault. All of it.
“I—I...” Tredon began, trembling, his face turning a brilliant shade of red.
Ashier glared at Magicless. “It’s alright, Tredon, he doesn’t mean it. He’s hurt. He’s lashing out.”
“Lashing out he may be. But he’s right, Ashier. He’s always been right.” Tredon’s voice was low. Defeated. He slumped in on himself. “I’m sorry. I apologize to all of you. For every wrong I’ve done you. I wish I could fix what I broke last night. I would give anything to undo the last day. Anything. I’m sorry.”
“Anet, Freen, what is the Oynnestre? You’ve used that term many times in reference to me, but I don’t know those words.”
Magicless’ mad laughter cut off at the sound of Alekka’s voice. He looked up at her through red-rimmed eyes. “Alekka—” he choked.
She turned to him, eyes sad but stern. “We cannot be together, my love, but know I care for you still.” She glanced around at the others. “This changes nothing. We still have a job to do, all of us. We need to put this behind us—it doesn’t matter, not really. Destroying Amentis is what matters. The costs we pay personally are nothing to that.”
She turned to Tredon, putting a hand to either side of his face and looking deeply into his eyes. “This is not your fault, Tredon. Stop carrying it as if it were.” She looked a moment longer and then moved to sit at the table. “Can I have some tea, please?”
Magicless stared at the woman he loved. She was pale, her face stained with tears, her hair in disarray. So beautiful and so far away. She looked at Anet and Freen expectantly, slowly sipping at her tea.
Anet stood and walked to the enormous window looking out over a watery landscape. The tall sea grasses swung lazily in the soft water currents and fish darted about their business. The light shone through in patches and Anet’s scaling flashed iridescent wherever the sun hit it.
“The natural world requires a state of balance to function. Everything in nature is designed to attain a state of maximum balance. Heat transfers from something warm to something cold until the two things are the same temperature. If a population of animal breeds overly successfully a new predator will move in to take advantage of the plenty and simultaneously reduce the population, or disease will strike, or famine—something to restore equilibrium.” He turned to look back at them. “The world is really a constant war, a never-ending pull, an endless quest for the balance needed to keep everything working in symmetry. Amentis has destroyed that balance. He has collected an inordinate amount of power, more than any individual should have. The Oynnestre is the force created to restore the natural order of things.”
He finished speaking but remained where he was, studying those gathered at the table. They all looked back at him in silent consideration of what he’d said.
“I am the predator. I am the disease. I am the famine,” Alekka said, her voice flat.
“You are the one who will bring forth balance. There are an infinite number of forms that can take. Death and decay is a part of that balance, but so is birth and life. Do not confuse the concept of a destroyer with that of one who brings balance back to the world,” Anet said gently.
“How do you know it’s me?” Alekka shot back.
“We don’t. Not for certain. But the signs are all there.” Freen answered. “The prophecy speaks of one who would come from a place of smoke, carrying with her a grievous injury. We can smel
l the smoke on you, on all of you.” He did not explain the obvious part about the grievous injury.
“Does your prophecy say how, or the price that will be extracted for this restoration? What if this Oynnestre doesn’t want to be the one to restore balance? What if she simply wants to live out her life in quiet and peace?” Her words were short and clipped, her eyes flinty.
Anet and Freen looked at her with twin expressions of gentleness.
“We had no desire to see our people destroyed or trapped forever in this watery prison. It is possible we get little choice in our place in time, and are thusly victims of destinies we cannot hope to understand. It is equally possible you chose to shoulder this mantle in a previous life, and have simply forgotten as you settled into this one. It is a heavy burden to carry, and you can choose to set it down. This choice, just as any other, has consequences. You all can see clearly what they might be,” Freen said.
“Look, I don’t know about this Oynnestre business, but we cannot just set aside this burden because we are tired or afraid of the cost. When we set out on this journey we knew the risks. Every one of us understood that we might have to pay a price. I agree with what you said moments ago, Alekka, this changes nothing,” Leali said. “We can’t let this continue.”
“That is easy for you to say, Leali. You have not lost anything on this journey,” Tredon said.
Magicless expected an angry outburst, but Leali’s response was low and her voice tight with emotion. “Tell that to my mother and my sister. And tell that to the women who were most recently taken, to whom I made the promise of safety. And to our town, and the survivors who lost everything because of my foolish idea to stage a resistance. I may not have experienced some of what you have on this journey, Tredon, but I have lost plenty. We all have.”
Magicless couldn’t say what it was or how it had happened, but it seemed as if Leali’s comments had closed the discussion and that a decision had been made. If you could call it that. None of them could just give up and go back to living a normal life. Not knowing what they knew now. They were trapped, driven forward by the invisible hand of fate or by their own exaggerated sense of responsibility. None of them were capable of stopping now, regardless how badly they might want to.
