by Tracy Lane
“I guess I reached out just as you were releasing that ball of energy,” she surmised. “Maybe… maybe that’s what happened?”
He shook his head fitfully, blond hair rasping against the folds of his fallen hood.
“No, Aurora. My power was faltering. It always does that, in training. I’ve never, never summoned a ball of power as big as that before, Aurora. Let alone shot it out of my hand like that!”
She chuckled, rocking back on her haunches and satisfied with her fire as it crackled, giving off much-needed light and heat.
“Fear will do that, Kayne. These woods can be scary, I should know. And it’s not like Ythulia with its crystal walls and swooshing doors and—”
“No!” he exclaimed, inching forward, face wild in the flickering orange firelight as their faces grew closer and closer. “Here,” he said, reaching for her. “Give me your hand!”
“Stop!” she said, tumbling back from him. “Just… stop. I want no part of your spells or incantations. I want my life back, Kayne!”
He paused, eyes wide, hands reaching for her. He was on his knees, thin body covered by his white cloak, when his face just… fell.
“You’re right,” he said. “I’m… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. I just… don’t you want to feel that, again?”
“You’re the magical one, remember?” she chuckled, slumping down on her backside at last and crossing her legs to sit by the fire and dig through her pack. “You just need to be more confident in your own powers.”
He eyed her carefully. “So do you,” he mumbled, easing back down by the fire.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” she asked, fumbling with the slices of her mother’s breakfast bread she’d wrapped in cheesecloth and slid into her pack. She handed him one.
“Nothing,” he mumbled, accepting her offering and biting into it gratefully.
“It’s not much,” she said around a small mouthful of the rich, hearty bread that often served as her midday meal. “But it’s full of fruits and nuts and heartier than it looks.”
They ate silently for a few moments until the bread was gone and they were sharing the leather bladder full of fresh spring water she’d filled a few miles back.
“I’ll have to hunt sooner than later,” she said, mainly to herself, as she admired the fire they’d built, quite literally, with their own two hands. “We can’t live on bread alone.”
“I can help,” he offered, handing her back the bladder. She took one last sip before sliding it into her pack.
She chuckled, easing back against a fallen log. “What? You’re going to shoot fireballs at forest creatures?”
They both chuckled, then grew silent. The road had made them both weary and she felt the pull of sleep making her eyelids heavier and heavier as the fire crackled. He thanked her for the meal and pulled the cloak over his head like a blanket, so that she could barely see the bridge of his nose flickering by the fire.
She turned toward him, watching as sleep took him, smiling as his breath grew heavier and heavier. He was a squire, a squire from Mage City, accustomed to cloaks and fine threads and finer meals served by those in the Doing class.
He’d soldiered on bravely through their day long march, but she’d heard him breathing heavy to keep up with her, and wasn’t surprised he’d sacked out the moment they’d stood still.
Still, her legs felt sore as well and she was happy for the rest. Trouble found her, though, just before sleep as she remembered what he’d said: “So do you.” He had mumbled that, thinking she might not hear, as they talked about magic.
His magic.
Her magic?
As she drifted into a fitful sleep, she wondered what he meant.
22
Kayne woke early, or so he thought. Steam from the fire filled his nostrils and, as he sprang to his feet, he found Aurora, washed and pressed and ready for another long day on the road.
“Wake up, sleepyhead,” she chuckled, pointing to the steaming carcass of a small forest creature lying on a clean, large leaf next to him. It smelled like grease and flesh and a little bit of Ythulia brought Below. “Breakfast is ready.”
He barely had time to fold his long, white sleeves up past his elbows before tearing into the still steaming creature. Its flesh was musky and full of bones, its skin crispy and dripping fatty grease, but he devoured it, head to toe.
He wiped his hands on the leaf and then gratefully accepted the leather bladder full of fresh, cold water. It was heavier now, and he knew Aurora had found another stream with which to fill it. The cool spring water quenched his thirst and finished the perfect meal.
“You’ve been busy,” he said, standing up to his full six feet and straightening his cloak.
“I’m used to getting up early,” she said. “Back on the farm, I’d have half my chores done already!”
She looked fresh and fit for the day, her long, black hair drying across her shoulders as if perhaps she’d washed it after hunting for their breakfast.
He was struck by how her face looked softer, sweeter in the morning light than it had last night when they’d squabbled by the fire. The last thing he needed was to complicate their quest with strong feelings, but he had to admit he found her quite beautiful. Not that he would ever, could ever, do anything about it, but he couldn’t hide his feelings, least of all from himself!
Before he could blush and give himself away, Kayne’s eyes quickly scanned the horizon, finding little but an orange seam along the woodsy horizon to signal that dawn was about to break.
“I’m thoroughly impressed,” he said, watching her face brighten. “And do you always hunt your own breakfast?”
She chuckled. “When I want more than Clucker eggs and cold porridge on the table, I do. Forest Rodent is easy prey, if you know the right bait.”
“Which is?” he asked as she rustled around in her knapsack.
“Which is…” she winked, digging deeper in her pack, “…something I’ll tell you when we get better acquainted.”
He looked around the campsite. “Better acquainted than sleeping on the same log together?”
She nodded and tossed him some rustic clothing. “Here,” she said, looking his cloak up and down with a frown that forced dimples into her cheeks. “Get changed before we head out. You stand out like a field Squeaker in a Howler’s den in that thing.”
“But…” he protested, looking down with disdain at the rustic rags she’d bestowed upon him. “I’m duty bound to dress in squire attire unless—”
She rolled her hand in a “hurry up” gesture while interrupting, “Unless you’re in possession of some all-knowing Orb, on a quest to the land of Oracles, hunted by nasty minions and an all-powerful black mage. I’m thinking all bets are off, Squire Boy!”
He frowned, making no move to change into them.
She rolled her eyes. “Look, they’re my father’s. I… I packed them by accident. They should fit.”
At last he nodded. The girl made sense, he had to give her that much. “Okay, fine…” he began, expecting her to turn around so he could change.
But when she made no motion to move, he arched an eyebrow until at last she turned. When she did, he slipped from his long robe and tunic and into the clothes. They smelled faintly of the farm, but fit fairly well and he instantly realized they would be far more comfortable than what he’d been wearing.
He cleared his throat and watched her turn, the rising sun gentle on her pretty face, the off-white sweater she wore beneath her jacket hugging her tender curves.
She smiled, just then, regarding him from head to toe and back again. There was something Kayne liked about making her smile, something that made him want to do it over and over again.
“You approve?” he asked, handing her the cloak and tunic for her pack.
She shoved it in without ceremony and said, without looking, “Very much so. Those look much better on you than they ever did on father.”
He nodded and they started
walking. She stayed slightly ahead of him, as she had the day before. He liked it that way, liked following her orange leather jacket and long brown hiking pants. He wondered, idly, if there were any ex-boyfriends in Aurora’s past.
Judging from her looks, he figured so. More than that, she was confident, agile, lean and worldly. Kayne struggled to keep up, in more ways than one.
He was little more than a boy when the Council recruited him to become a squire on Ythulia, and had never so much as kissed a girl before he was taken from the land where he’d been born.
There were several female squires in Mage City, and attractive ones at that, but most were so intent on pleasing their masters they had little time for fellow squires like Kayne.
He wasn’t sure what to make of Aurora, or what to do about her once he did. On one hand, he felt bad for dragging her into this. On the other, he couldn’t have asked for a better guide. While he knew where Morgis, the land of Oracles, was, Kayne wasn’t sure he could get there without a navigator, companion and cook!
He was smiling to himself, admiring her rear view when suddenly Aurora stopped in mid-stride. He bumped into her, muttering, “Hey, look out—”
“Shhh!” she hissed, crouching down and sliding her left pants leg up to reveal a hidden sheath strapped to her ankle, from which she slid a knife. “Something is following us.”
Kayne stiffened, cursing himself. He’d been lulled by the bucolic setting and the uneventful night into forgetting – or at least half-forgetting – the minions he had no doubt Kronos had unleashed to find them and the orb, before reaching the Land of Morgis.
Now, silently, crouched down below low shrubs next to Aurora, he too heard the soft crackling of underbrush as something, or from the sound of it several somethings, stalked them.
“Hold my hand,” he whispered to Aurora.
She turned, wrinkling her nose. “Timing is everything, Kayne!” she said half-seriously. “If you want to court me, why didn’t you say so last night when we were all alone!”
He ignored her joke and grabbed her knife-less hand, repeating one of the earliest spells Kronos himself had taught him. “Hide us well, oh spirit world, from those would do us harm. Make us silent, invisible and odor free, to cause no undue alarm.”
Almost immediately, he felt the power between them grow as electricity flowed through their fingertips and circled around their entwined hands. It was as if, when holding her, Kayne felt twice as brave as when he was alone.
In his mind, the words “Hidden Power” seemed to fit.
“Hide us well, oh spirit world, from those would do us harm. Make us silent, invisible and odor free, to cause no undue alarm.”
Kayne repeated the words, slowly, quietly, almost silently, watching as a soft white glow encased them both, spreading out from their fused fingertips up their forearms, coating their biceps, covering chests and heads. Finally they sat inside a glowing ball, crouched low but covered completely by the power of his incantation.
Aurora looked startled but he squeezed her hand gently and explained, “A protection spell, to make us invisible to whatever is stalking us.”
She shushed him but he smiled. “They can’t hear or see or even smell us while the spell holds.”
“How long is that?” she asked, a little louder this time.
He shrugged. “I’m not a powerful squire, but if they are truly minions then the spell doesn’t have to be that powerful to fool them. If it’s Kronos, that’s another – look!”
He pointed through the hazy film that surrounded them and watched as her eyes widened, with good reason. Just on the other side of the brush, sniffing with giant snouts, rodents as big as steeds inched through the forest.
Their teeth were oversized and dragged the ground as their red, oozing snouts sniffed the earth. Yellow whiskers, covered in drool, dragged low while razor sharp claws dug into the dirt and made little work of roots and shrubs.
Their backs were hunched, bony spines sticking out along the humps and out of their thick skulls as well. Their eyes, an evil red, glowed in the early morning light as they passed within inches of where Kayne and Aurora knelt, hands still clasped as their entwined courage gave the young squire the power to hold a spell he’d never really used as long before.
Kayne had only heard of mages using minions to do their bidding, but had never seen one up close. These beasts were surely magical; nothing that ugly and unnatural existed in the mortal realm.
“Squeakers,” Aurora still whispered, not trusting the protection spell completely. And with good reason. Kayne knew from experience; it should have faded by now!
“What?”
“Barnyard rodents, like the ones we used to have back on Pa’s farm. But these look… altered.”
“By Kronos, no doubt,” Kayne said, listening to the slick, appalling sound of the last Squeaker’s giant, pink tail slither along the ground as they hustled off in search of the Orb. On the ground beneath it remained a trail of slime long after the creature had waddled forth.
Kayne shivered as Aurora turned to him, eyes wide with fright. “What are they after?” she asked.
“Us, unfortunately.”
23
Aurora felt the faint sizzle in the air dampen and then, at last, extinguish itself. The Squeakers had left, all six of them, waddling like giants through the forest, knocking down saplings and shrubs in their path, drooling and clacking their giant teeth as they departed in what amounted to a herd of massive, unholy beasts.
Kayne looked tired, spent, perspiration dotting his forehead and throat as he knelt, bending to catch his breath. She helped him down against a tree trunk, dousing a rag in water from the leather bladder and damping it across his forehead.
“Kayne?” she asked as loud as she dared, fearful the Squeakers might return at any second. “Are you okay?”
“I’m sorry,” he said, smiling weakly, skin ashen as his eyelids fluttered and his lips sputtered. “I… it’s just that I’ve never held a spell that long before.”
She looked down at him, humble in his borrowed work clothes, blond hair damp against his flushed forehead. He was so confident and mystical, she often forgot he was merely a squire.
“What can I do?” she asked, kneeling beside him, knife at the ready in case Kronos’ minions returned.
He nodded toward the knife in her hand and said, “You’re already doing it. Just be wary until I catch my breath. I just… just need a few minutes…”
His chin touched his chest and soon he was breathing heavily. Aurora sighed and stood, inching just past the line of brush to find the Squeakers nowhere in sight. Even so, her heart was still pounding.
Hers was a mortal world, free of beasts and fangs and spines and Squeaker tails as long as fence post railings. Up to now, Kayne’s visit had been little more than a distraction. Ythulia, the maroon cloaked mages, balls of fire and Kayne’s chiseled face had lulled her into thinking no harm could come to her.
But the sight of Kayne trembling and soaked after casting a spell left her confused and anxious. What if one of the Squeakers had seen them before he cast his spell, or strayed too close to their safe haven of white light? Could she fight off half-a-dozen savage beasts with her hunting knife? Could Kayne’s little puffs of fire do little more than annoy such vicious creatures?
She dabbed at his forehead with her free hand, feeling the heat from his glowing gently subside. His breathing steadied, his color returned and she was sitting, cross-legged, across from him when his eyelids, soft and tender, fluttered open.
“How long?” he asked.
She looked at the sun, then the shadows beneath. “Fifteen minutes?” she guessed. “Maybe twenty.”
He nodded. “Long enough for the minions to get a good head start,” he rasped, voice hoarse from the effort.
She nodded, then used her knife to point to a shady stretch of deep woods to their left. “It will take us longer that way,” she explained, “but we can’t just follow those… those… bea
sts. We can get to the Land of Morgis through there.”
He nodded, struggling to stand. She stood quickly and reached out a hand to yank him to his feet. “I’m sorry,” he gushed, cheeks looking flushed again. “I’m not quite the mage you may have expected.”
She chuckled, taking his arm. “This time last week,” she assured him, “I hardly believed mages existed in the first place. You’re more than mage enough, Kayne. We just have to be careful, that’s all.”
“I agree,” he said, steadying himself to match her pace. “I doubt those were the only minions a force like Kronos would create. We must be ever on our guard now.”
They walked until Kayne felt better, and could keep up on his own, without leaning on her shoulder quite so much.
“We must have a plan,” she said, eyeing him carefully. “We can’t rely on your spells alone, Kayne. Not when they take so much out of you.”
“I can protect us,” he assured her, somewhat defensively.
“Of course you can,” she agreed. “Under normal circumstances. But if the Orb is as powerful as you speak, and Kronos as determined, and his minions so horrible, then these are sure to be far from normal circumstances. And my knife is only so big.”
He nodded, hanging his head slightly. “Perhaps together,” he offered, “our spells could be stronger.”
“How do you mean?”
“Like last night,” he explained, “with the fire. I know you helped create a larger power ball, Aurora, I just know it.”
“Not that again,” she scoffed, nudging his shoulder with her own.
He shook his head, nostrils flaring with passion. “And just now, back there. I said I’d never held a spell that long, and I meant it. It was more powerful, and last longer, I think, because… because of our entwined courage.”
She snorted, caught off guard. “Our what?”
A blush rose to his face as he waved a hand in the air. “Nothing, just… together, you and I, there is something more magical when we work together.”
“It was a fluke of timing,” she assured him, assured herself. “Nothing more.”
