by Tracy Lane
She shook her head. “I belong here, with my family, Kayne. That is my destiny. That is my fate!”
“Your family can’t nurture your enchantment,” he said, eyes wide even as he shook his head. “Your family can’t protect you from those who would seek to exploit your enchantment to do more harm than good.”
She bit her lip. “Why do I have to be protected from myself?”
She crumpled onto the rock, feeling its soft surface beneath her dirty pants. Hot tears stung her eyes, sudden and unwelcome. “Why should magic hurt me? Why can’t it help me?”
He eased down next to her, careful to keep his distance so that their skin would not ignite into another ball of sizzling power. “How long?” he asked, simply.
For once, she didn’t have to wonder what he was asking.
Or why.
“As long as I can remember,” she confessed, hanging her head as if someone high up in Mage City might hear her. “I learned to hide it quickly, thinking my parents might report me for witchcraft.”
“Report you for what, exactly?”
“I could move things, a little,” she said, looking at him quickly, and then back again, as if embarrassed. “And then a little more. A curtain here, a mug there, a piece of chalk in my Learning Place. Things were attracted to me, like the water pail or the pump handle. I would put my hand out and the handle would seem to rush to meet my fingers. I learned to reach for things faster, so no one would see.”
“No one ever did?”
She shook her head, but not convincingly. “A couple of the kids in my Learning Place, but no one ever reported me.”
“You were lucky,” he said, then seemed to change his mind. “But then, if you had been reported and assigned to Ythulia, we might have met… earlier.”
She shook her head. “I don’t know about you, Kayne, but I like it down Below. I like my family and my life. I may complain about my chores, but the farm is my home, and helping my family is—”
“What better way to help your family than to protect them, Aurora?”
“Protect them how?”
He stood, pacing in front of her. “Why do you think Ythulia exists, Aurora? It’s there to watch over Synurgus.”
She rolled her eyes. “It’s there to watch over our planet’s resources, Kayne. Our gems and jewels and gasses and ores and precious metals. It’s there to—”
“Mortals are precious resources too, Aurora. My family? My old friends? I sleep better at night knowing that one day I’ll have the power to protect them. Just look at us…”
He reached for her hand again and was too quick for her to pull away in time. She felt the sudden sizzle of their joined enchantment and was powerless to pull away. Not because she couldn’t but, for once, she didn’t want to.
The power filled her left palm, then wrist, then arm. It made her pulse pound and her hair flow around her head. Her legs felt lighter, as if perhaps she was resting just inches above the ground. Her clothes felt looser as her cells contracted.
When she opened her eyes, she saw that the white-blue glow that once surrounded just their hands now enveloped Kayne’s whole body. Looking down at her feet, they too were surrounded by a glowing, pulsing bubble of energy.
“Think of what you could do with this,” he said, louder now that the bubble surrounded them. “Think of what you could do against minions, mages or… worse.”
“There are worse than mages?” she joked.
“Not all mages are bad,” he said.
“Just the dark ones.”
“Not even all dark mages are bad, Aurora. Kronos, maybe, but there are others on the Council…”
“Stop!” she said, wrenching her hand from his and feeling the bubble dissolve around her. The energy broke apart, like sparks igniting the sky. She felt the ashes on her skin as they fell, harmlessly, to the ground beneath their feet.
“I’m here, Kayne. I’m here for you, for my family, for your precious Orb. But you can’t tell Iragos, or heaven forbid Kronos, about me. You have to promise me that. You have to.”
He smirked, and touched her shoulder with the very tip of his index finger. Magically, a spark of light sizzled between his fingertip and her collarbone, extending like a fine piece of thread as he inched his finger back until, at last, it fizzled and broke into another miniature shower of ash.
“I won’t have to tell anyone with a pair of eyes, Aurora.”
31
Iragos smelled the hot, wet mist of minion drool from high above and followed it, clear insect wings buzzing in his ears as he drew closer and closer to the ground.
He could sense the work of Kronos in every ounce of minion sweat, every huff of wet, hot steam from the leathery nostrils of the giant Squeakers as they slithered through the forest, long pink tails covered in boils and spikes and warts that slashed at tree bark and rock moss as they passed.
There were five of them, Squeakers as big as steeds, tails as big as sapling trunks, claws as long as dinner knives and teeth twice as sharp and ugly. The spikes from their back quivered with shattered edges and yellowed husks, their leathery hides slick with sweat that gave them a ghastly green glow.
Their frantic nostrils clung close to the soft, brown dirt, sniffing out a trail as they hunted down their prey. He buzzed closer, until he could see the red glow of their eyes and feel the heat from their pores.
The ire grew in him. He was a light mage, but a mage nonetheless. He was sworn and bound to protect the mortals of Synurgus, and the sight of five enchanted beasts made his light mage blood fairly boil.
The use of minions was strictly regulated to approval by the Council of Light, and with all Council activity canceled in the wake of Jaroch’s death, Iragos knew that Kronos hadn’t sought the sanction of the Council to craft his minions. Besides, such magic was only to be used against those invading Synurgus, not its innocent citizens.
The orb could wait! Iragos flew toward the minions, increasing in size with every flutter of his clear wings. By the time he reached the tree line he was massive, the power surging in his insect veins as his giant wings fluttered the leaves on the trees and kicked up the grass at the minions’ feet.
They looked up, startled, to find the giant Stinger at their backs. They squealed, a painful sound that echoed through the forest and rattled through his sensitive Stinger ears. His wings grew larger, beating back the brush as the Squeakers scattered.
His crusty arms hung, sharp and severe, from his widening body. His eyes grew larger, noting every speck of blood on the Squeaker’s teeth, noting every glow of their giant, rheumy red eyes.
One swiped at him with colossal, ragged claws and he grabbed it with crisp pinchers, snapping bone in two as the Squeaker squealed and lashed out with its fat, hairy pink tail.
Iragos felt the impact on his furry red and black torso before he was batted into the next tree. He raged, and grew larger still, until at last his pincher arm could snap the Squeaker’s neck in two.
But he had to fly low to fight the rest, and they circled him, eager for a taste of Stinger blood as they sought their guttural vengeance. They were fearless, these Squeakers and, despite the dying body of their fallen friend, they crowded over him, paws slashing at the air, drool flying, teeth clattering as he danced and bobbed through the air, his massive wings beating them about the ears and eyes.
Paws slashed at the air as Iragos wheeled and stung, his massive stinger piercing the glowing red eye of one unfortunate Squeaker as it howled and bellowed, falling to the ground in agonizing pain. Its massive tail whipped through the air, damaging one of Iragos’ wings.
He fluttered in an awkward circle, the other three Squeakers smelling blood in the air and surrounding him, eyes glowing and nostrils flaring and teeth chattering. He dashed above, struggling to stay aloft as he stung one more.
The squeaker died with a gasping breath, tearing Iragos’ damaged wing once more so that he could barely stay aloft. He fluttered helplessly, the last two Squeakers approaching as
he clung with frantic pinchers to a low-lying branch. He struggled to get higher but almost fell to the earth, and grabbed tightly to the creaking branch.
The Squeakers parted, dancing around the tree, scratching at its trunk, digging massive claws in until they began to climb. Struggling to watch them both at once, Iragos turned his back only to receive a staggering blow to his midsection from the Squeaker behind. In violent desperation he skewered the beast’s leathery hide with his jagged stinger, breaking it off in the beast’s massive shoulder.
It died and fell from the tree, hitting the ground with a massive shattering of bones as blood spluttered from its poisoned teeth. Iragos felt a slice of his good wing and turned, pinchers raised as the final Squeaker bore down with cracked and giant teeth.
He tore the beast limb from limb, growing with enchantment as his fear turned to rage, his rage to revenge, his spell growing in proportion to his ferocity.
When at last the creature fell back to earth, savaged and torn in two, Iragos lost his grip on the branch and joined him, ruined wings damp with minion blood as he lay, gasping, his body returning to human form amidst the carnage he himself had caused.
He pulled his cloak around him, crawling from the pile of bodies he’d left behind. He found a wooded area and crawled inside, grateful for the tight cluster of trees and greenery that insulated him from the rest of the forest, dangerous as it had grown of late. Blood dripped from his wounds, for those he’d suffered while transformed always transferred to his human form.
He cast a healing spell to repair the damage done by the massive minions, but it would take time to heal completely. Time he desperately needed and could ill afford.
As the cells of his enchanted skin knitted together, creating a slightly itchy sensation around the wounds, he only hoped that Kayne and Aurora were safe from the rest of Kronos’ minions.
For if he’d stooped to turning Squeakers into giant, hairy beasts, he was sure to have turned beasts even bigger, and badder, to find the Orb and kill those who possessed it.
32
Aurora heard the squealing and shivered, rising to find the fire steaming and Lutheran beckoning her with a fresh slab of beef from his morning hunt.
“Hurry,” he said as she wolfed down the musky, greasy meat. “Those Squeakers aren’t too far off, and they sound as big as the Bleaters we battled yesterday.”
“If Kronos had anything to do with them,” Kayne said, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he drank from the leather bladder she offered him, “they well could be bigger.”
As if on cue, the giant, enchanted beasts squealed again. The sound was awful, vibrating through the ground, filling the air, shaking the leaves in the trees.
“What’s gotten into them?” she asked, quickly stuffing her pack and strapping it to her back.
Kayne traded Lutheran the bladder for a wedge of still-sizzling Crawler flesh and downed it in three gulps. As he was wiping his greasy lips with the back of his sleeve, he surmised, “If I’m not mistaken, it sounds like they’re being… attacked.”
“By what?” Lutheran asked, leading them in the opposite direction.
“By something bigger than themselves,” Aurora guessed, shivering at the thought. They inched through the brush, listening as the battle raged on until, at last, silence.
It seemed even louder than the squeals, and Kayne shot her a troubled look.
“How far is the Land of Morgis from here?” she asked, sliding up beside him.
He shook his head, drawing the Orb closer to him as he cinched his pack tighter around his shoulders.
“Just over that mountain range,” he said, pointing to the edge of the forest as Lutheran led them ever onward.
“I’m no fan of heights,” she confessed, trying to cheer them both up. “But at least if we’re high up in the mountains, Kronos’ minions can’t follow.”
Kayne followed her eyes to the highest peak of the Hidden Crest Mountain Range, the nudged her in the side. “Not unless they can fly.”
Aurora stared at the mountain range and frowned. She hadn’t thought of that…
33
Lutheran followed closely behind as Kayne led them up the first incline at the base of the Smoldering Mountains. The air was chill at the foot of the mountain, the sky gray above as rich dirt scattered with each footstep. He paused momentarily, cinching the laces of his leather boots tighter and, truth be known, to catch his breath.
Thanks to his life spent working in the fields or toiling on a farm, Lutheran was far from out of shape, but he was hardly a teen anymore, either. These kids had the stamina of six steeds in front of a plow, and all the agility of a pack of Squeakers blitzing up a tree!
They’d been walking since early morning without a pause, and he’d been struggling to catch up since noon. He was glad at least for the mountain, which would hopefully be the last leg of their impossible journey.
He peered above, to the highest peak of Smoldering Mountains, hidden behind a gray-white cloud of fog that never quite dissipated, regardless of the weather.
It sat like a sentinel, watching over the land Below, visible for miles but reachable by very few. It would be a long and arduous climb, he knew. As he stood up straight and took another step, he wondered idly if he was up for the journey.
A few steps in front of him, Aurora chatted amiably with Kayne. The two seemed hardly to notice the chill air around them, the gnarled roots that cracked through the granite mountainside at their feet, or the treacherous climb that faced them.
Both were dirty from their travels but their faces beamed whenever they turned toward one another, which was frequently since, or so it seemed to Lutheran at least, they rarely ceased talking to one another. Aurora looked particularly fetching, the very picture of her mother when she was younger, with her high cheeks and pert nose and laughing eyes.
They laughed even harder every time Kayne turned her way. Lutheran smirked: leave it to a road trip to turn puppy love into true love. He chuckled and, hearing him behind her, Aurora smiled and turned to face him.
“What’s so funny, Lutheran?” Aurora asked, dropping back a step to stand by his side.
Kayne loped ahead, furtively searching for a quicker route up the mountain. Lutheran saw his chance and took it. “I was just admiring the way you were admiring Kayne, Aurora.”
She blushed immediately and slapped his shoulder playfully. “I’m not admiring anything but his leadership skills,” Aurora responded in a hushed tone.
Lutheran smirked. “I’ll be sure to remember that when I toast you two at your wedding.”
Aurora shook her head. “You sound just like my father. Every boy I brought home, even if it was just for a class assignment, turned into a future husband. I do have a mind of my own, you know!”
Lutheran chuckled. “I see that, dear. I’ll just remind you that we’re on a quest, not a day trip.”
Just then a massive screech echoed through the mountainous cliffs, curdling Lutheran’s blood and causing Aurora to reach for his sleeve instinctively.
They both looked to the skies above, where massive shadows painted the mountainside black. Searching further, Lutheran saw the massive claws of what looked to be a giant Hooter.
“Is that…?” asked Aurora, releasing her tense grip on Lutheran’s arm and using her hand to shield her eyes from the sun. “Is that what I think it is?”
Kayne appeared behind them, face as severe and cold as the mountainside itself.
“If you think it’s a giant Hooter, then you’d be correct.” He pointed with unsteady hands as, behind the first massive, winged beast, four more flew into view. “And he’s not alone.”
“More of Kronos’ handiwork?” Lutheran asked, turning back to the trail as Kayne reached out and protectively dragged Aurora closer to his side.
The usual crackle of energy met the melding of their skin and yet, this time, the two seemed better able to control it. Around their hand wove a white-blue-hot glow with the occasional crackl
e of electricity, but little more.
Kayne met Lutheran’s eyes and nodded. In them he saw fear, but there was also something else in his young eyes: determination. Lutheran knew he was no match for winged beasts or giant talons, but there was something about this young man that said he was more than up to the task. Particularly with Aurora close by his side.
They nodded to each other before Kayne turned and led them up the next stretch of mountainside. Lutheran dutifully followed, pledging to do his best to protect them all the way to the top.
Even if it cost him his life.
34
Aurora hung fast to Kayne’s hand, feeling the surge of electricity that always greeted their touch. But this time it felt… different. It was not so violent, as before, but instead a gentle kind of hum, like a Whiskers’ purr or the vibration of her father’s grist mill in full swing.
“How can we touch like this?” she asked as Kayne pulled her farther up the mountain, the Hooters circling high overhead. “Without balls of power flying from our fists and catching the mountain on fire?”
“I’m not sure,” he said, pulling her closer still as they wrangled around a granite outcropping sticking out of the mountain like a sore thumb. “I think, I think our bodies are getting to know one another’s.”
She considered his answer for a moment. “Is that… is that even possible?”
He chuckled and paused, looking at her closely. Behind them Lutheran struggled, still a ways down the mountain but well in sight should a Hooter attack and he need their help.
His face was serious as he replied, “Are giant Hooters possible? Or massive Squeakers or bloodthirsty Bleaters? Or glowing orange orbs with the power to change the course of history? Or squires or mages? I only know so much, Aurora, and most of this is new to me, too.”
