by Jordan Rivet
Most of the company hid in the grove while Dara, Latch, and Captain Lian scouted ahead. They crawled on their bellies to the edge of a ridge and looked down at the raging Granite River. The village on the opposite bank didn’t look like the sort of place to hide the secret power Commander Brach had used to conquer half the continent. The ground was uneven, so the gray stone and thatch houses nestled in little nooks and dips in the earth as often as not. They sloped up from the river, with the highest of the houses tucked right beneath the first trees.
Beyond Mirror Wells stretched the vast, sheltered expanse of Cindral Forest. After the desolate landscape they’d traveled through the past few days, the forest looked lush, verdant. The trees stood much taller than darkwoods could grow, making the interior of Cindral Forest more shadowy and gloomy than the Darkwood itself.
“Looks like business as usual down there,” Latch said, studying the little town sloping between the river and the forest. A few people strolled amongst the houses, but Mirror Wells wasn’t exactly a bustling settlement.
“I hope they’ll be happy to see you,” Captain Lian said.
Latch snorted. “That makes two of us.”
Latch had wanted to cross the river and enter the village alone, but with Vine and Vex’s disappearance, no one was feeling especially trusting.
“Keep an eye on him,” Siv had whispered to Dara before she left to scout the river with Latch and Lian. “And maybe you should take Rumy.”
“He’s not the stealthiest creature,” Dara had said. “But I’ll bring some of his Fire just in case.”
Siv had wanted to join the first group too, but Dara reminded him they couldn’t afford to have him stuck with an arrow over a misunderstanding right now. The people of House Brach wouldn’t be happy to see the Vertigonian king after the fall of their prized fort.
Dara tried not to worry about that as they surveyed the village, focusing instead on the rush of dragon Fire she’d collected from Rumy before departing. The more often she held it, the easier it was to get swept up in the sensations. It was as if the Fire were becoming more real than the outside world. When she folded herself into its warmth, nothing could stop her.
“No point in drawing this out,” Latch said. “Let’s go see who’s home.”
They scrambled down the bluff, sending rocks skittering away beneath their boots. The Granite River was wide and deep this close to the Ammlen Ocean. There was a large bridge back by Fort Brach, but here they had to rely on boats to ferry them across.
The dock was abandoned. Not a single boat remained on their side of the river.
“Expected as much,” Latch said. “They’ll be on high alert after the attack on the fort.”
“Swimming, is it?” Lian said distastefully.
“There’s another way,” Latch said. “Don’t talk for a minute.”
He strode to the edge of the river, so the water lapped over his boots, and closed his eyes.
A faint tingle whispered over Dara’s skin. Air. She knew Latch had some faculty with the ethereal power, though he was predictably secretive about the extent of this power. He only called on it in the vicinity of the Watermight, and he may think he was Wielding Watermight when he used the Air in this manner. Siv had gotten one thing right: Wyla would have been fascinated by Latch’s secrets. Dara’s father had always looked down on the other powers, but Dara could only imagine the potential if magic wielders would look beyond their specific powers. With proper training, it might be possible to use all three magical substances at once.
Dara wished Vine were with them. She’d be able to tell exactly what Latch was doing as he stared across the Granite River and coaxed the Air to carry a signal.
Before long, a boat with four well-armed occupants sped toward them, cutting through the current unnaturally fast. A woman stood in the prow of the little boat. A faint hint of silver at her fingertips matched the glow of Watermight beneath the hull as she powered the boat toward them.
“So it’s true,” she called, stopping the boat fifteen feet from the bank. “The prodigal son has returned.” The woman was middle-aged, with thick black hair and broad shoulders. She did not look happy.
“That’s your mother?” Dara asked.
“My aunt,” Latch whispered. Then he called, “Greetings, Aunt Chella. I have come home. Will you allow us to cross over?”
“You dare bring a Pendarkan here?” The woman glared at Captain Lian, sparing a brief glance for Dara as well. “And some northerner who dresses like a boy”—she paused, breathing deeply—“and smells like power?”
“This is Dara and Captain Lian,” Latch said. “They are here to help. But first, what news? Has the fort truly been captured?”
“Two days past,” Chella said. “Your damn fool of a father left us vulnerable. Your cousin Becham is dead.”
Latch winced. “I am sorry to hear that. And my mother?”
“Hostage to the Firewielders,” Chella said, “but we don’t have enough fighters to rescue her.” It was clear she meant fighters who could use the Watermight, though she was careful not to say so in front of the strangers.
Dara stepped forward. “We want to help you,” she said. “We’re here to defend this village and hopefully take back the fort.”
“What does this girl know of the village?” Chella asked Latch sharply.
“Everything,” Latch said. “The secret has fallen.”
He and his aunt looked at each other for a long time over the expanse of the river. Her boat stayed utterly still despite the current buffeting it. Their gazes spoke volumes. Soole would never be the same.
“It was bound to happen once your father got it into his head to turn conqueror,” Chella said at last. “You might as well come over.”
The boat glided forward a few more feet, and Latch, Dara, and Lian splashed out to meet it. There were three men in the boat apart from Latch’s aunt, and they offered grim nods as the newcomers climbed aboard.
“Has the capital been notified of the assault on the fort?” Latch inquired as the boat lurched back into the current.
“We’ll get no help from the royal family after your father’s foolishness,” Chella said. “They’ll enjoy watching House Brach burn.”
“I’m not going to let that happen,” Latch said.
His aunt sighed and laid a hand on his shoulder. Dara supposed that passed for affection amongst the Soolens. Maybe these people could use some of Selivia’s cheering influence.
The Watermight-enhanced boat carried them swiftly across the Granite River toward the unassuming village.
“It’s small, isn’t it?” Lian said as they drew nearer to Mirror Wells. His sharp eyes scanned the cluster of buildings scattering up the uneven slope. Dara wondered if he too was thinking the village looked rather unprotected despite being the site of the Brach’s power source.
“It’s out of the way,” Latch explained. “We can’t have people realizing how important it is.”
“Still, I expected a wall or something.”
“All that does is alert people we have something to protect,” Latch said, ignoring his aunt’s cutting gaze. “The vent itself is inside a cave, which is well guarded.”
“That’s where I should be then,” Dara said, grabbing the gunwale as their boat bumped against the dock—harder than was strictly necessary. She was already planning a barrier of Fire to reinforce the existing protections at the mouth of the cave. “I want to set up my defenses before we call the others over.”
Latch’s aunt raised an eyebrow and sniffed as if she could smell what kind of Worker Dara was. “You’re not Soolen or Pendarkan, are you?” Chella asked as she climbed out of the boat beside Dara.
“No.”
“She’s from Vertigon,” Latch said.
Chella hissed and began pulling a wave of Watermight up from the river. “A Fireworker!”
“Yes, but she’s on our s—”
Latch had no time to finish the sentence. A volley of arrows struck
the dock around them, one going clean through the torso of one of Chella’s men. A brutal war cry sounded as he fell, followed by the drumbeat of many hooves. They were too late. Dara’s father had found them.
Dara reacted without thought. The cur-dragon Fire she’d been carrying for the past hour oozed from her skin, forming into a rough golden shield. She flung it up between her friends and the second volley of arrows. One struck the shield in a flash of white light. Her first impression was incorrect. They were not being attacked with Fire, but with Watermight.
The thunder of boots and hooves drew nearer. Someone was advancing on the village—from their side of the river.
Chella Worked a quick shield out of Watermight, adding it to their protection as if she didn’t trust that Dara intended to hold off the attack. She spun another stream of Watermight toward her fallen man, attempting to stem the bleeding, though it looked as though it was too late for him. More arrows fell, striking the magical barriers.
“This way!” Latch shouted. “We need cover!”
He led the retreat to the thatch-roofed houses at the edge of the village while the two women pulled their shields along with them.
“It’s not my father,” Dara said. “This is something else.”
Latch grunted a Soolen curse in response.
They dove behind a sturdy stone house with one of the men who’d accompanied Latch’s aunt in the boat. Chella herself continued into Mirror Wells with the others, shouting for reinforcements. A wave of shivers curled over Dara’s skin and rippled away from them, a warning alerting the guards at the vent. The other villagers gathered in the shelter of the outer row of houses, grabbing whatever tools and weapons they could find to face down the surprise attack. A few faces appeared in the windows farther up the slope. Dara hoped they were all ready to fight.
The hoofbeats drew nearer.
“We have to hold them off,” Latch said. He peeked out from their hiding place and pulled back as another volley of Watermight arrows flew right for him.
“Who are they?” Captain Lian asked, clutching his sword tight.
“Enemies,” Latch said. “That’s all that matters.”
Dara crouched at the corner of the house and drew on the only bit of Fire she had, wishing she’d brought Rumy along after all. She broke the shield apart to form spiny spirals, like sea urchins made of pure gold. Sweat broke out on her forehead as she manipulated more individual bits of Fire than she had ever Worked in her life. And not a moment too soon.
Soldiers on horseback poured over a nearby ridge and hurtled toward the village like a breaking wave. The air thickened with dust and battle cries. At the head of the soldiers rode none other than Khrillin, clad all in white like a warrior-king from a story. The Waterlord’s eyes and hands glowed silver, and he rode his white stallion like the king he had become.
The archers kept shooting, forcing the villagers to flatten themselves to the ground or pull farther back into the shelter of the gray stone houses. They couldn’t do anything against the onslaught of the cavalry. Dara had to stop the charge!
She spun her tiny spirals of Fire toward the attackers, making the horses start in surprise. The front line faltered, feet skidding in the rocky earth, as hundreds of golden pinwheels sped toward them. Khrillin shouted at his men to keep riding, but a wave of confusion spread through the ranks.
The spirals of Fire hit the first row of riders directly in their faces. Men shouted and cursed as some of the tiny weapons found their marks. Dara couldn’t strike with perfect accuracy, and the archers managed to shoot another volley before she could press the advantage. She ducked behind the stone house again. Keeping control of all the pieces of Fire out there took every ounce of concentration she possessed. She couldn’t worry about dodging arrows.
Latch sat stock still behind the house, not even watching the approaching horde. He stared off at the far side of the village, eyes wide and unseeing as he called on the Watermight in the vent for help. She had lost track of Captain Lian entirely.
Concentrate, Dara. You have to make every hit count.
Khrillin used his power sparingly, mostly sending it to enhance the archers’ arrows. He should be deploying those silver webs of his or shooting streams of Watermight at the Mirror Wells villagers, who were finally returning fire. He must not have much Watermight left now that he was so far from Pendark. Dara could use that.
She peeked around the corner after the next round of arrows skittered against the stone house. Khrillin and his riders were almost to the village. Dara spun spirals of Fire toward the Waterlord, morphing them into spikes midflight. The Fire burned through his companions without slowing, but as they reached the Waterworker himself, the spikes combusted in a blaze of white light. A thin Watermight shield protected him. Wherever her Fire struck the shield, it was consumed. She’d run out of power entirely if she kept this up.
She changed tactics, going after Khrillin’s men again and trying not to waste any more Fire. If only she had Rumy! And what was taking Latch so long? She could use a little backup.
Wave after wave of Pendarkan riders crested the ridge and barreled toward the village. They hurled themselves through Dara’s fiery defenses—and kept coming. The first riders broke through near the riverbank and galloped straight for her. She couldn’t hold them all at once! The archers raised their bows yet again, arrows glittering with Watermight tips.
Before Dara could re-form her shield, a huge wave rose from the river, glittering like diamond in the sunlight. The wave swallowed up the group of attackers from behind, sweeping men and horses off their feet and pulling them into the river. The Brachs were fighting back at last!
Dara renewed her efforts to hold off Khrillin’s riders, but there were too many of them. She sent her Fire—no more than tiny darts now—at the men. The darts became smaller every time they burned through another soldier or sent a horse bolting for the trees. It wasn’t enough.
More of Khrillin’s men reached the village, fighting with steel as well as Watermight arrows. Screams rent the air as the villagers fell before the Waterlord’s army. The man himself shouted orders from behind his shield. His cry was rousing and self-assured, and his men responded with enthusiasm.
But Latch had finally gotten control of his family’s Watermight. He shot icicles from the river, sharper than daggers and faster than arrows. He made the earth beneath the enemy riders explode in showers of ice and stone. He pulled another wave of Watermight and diamond-bright water from the river and used it to sweep away a group of Pendarkans before they entered the streets of Mirror Wells. But still the invaders kept coming.
A shiver swept over Dara’s skin, ice cold against the burning heat in her veins.
“Behind you!” she shouted.
Latch dove to the ground as arrows shot from within the village itself. Dara hit the dirt beside him, sparks floating before her eyes. She tried to pull some of her Fire into a shield, but she didn’t have enough left to protect them fully as another shower of arrows descended. One zipped into Latch’s knee.
“Rock-eating bastards,” he growled.
“Let’s get to higher ground.” Dara leapt up and slung Latch’s arm over her shoulder, burning another arrow out of the air before it pinned them both to the wall. More of Khrillin’s men broke through their defenses. The village was compromised.
Dara hauled Latch up the path between the houses, seeking a haven. She spotted an open-topped stone structure on a rocky outcropping, which seemed to be an animal pen. She dragged Latch up to it and through the solid wooden gate to take cover.
“Dara, he’s grabbing for the—” Latch went rigid and let out a curse far worse than the first one.
Dara poked her head over the top of the wall in time to see the reason for his distress.
The wave of Watermight Latch had pulled from the vent was spinning into a huge vortex at the bottom of the village. Khrillin had used Latch’s surprise at being shot to snatch control of the power. He stood on the dock now
, his white clothes blazing in the sunlight. His men were regrouping, rallying around him, as the vortex of Watermight grew.
The clash of steel rang through the streets, indicating that some villagers were still fighting. Chella and few other Waterworkers held off a group of Pendarkan soldiers at the vent on the other side of Mirror Wells. But Dara’s Fire was almost gone, and that vortex was spinning faster. She needed more power.
Knowing it would leave her and Latch vulnerable, she drew the last of the Fire back from her pitiful shield and into her veins.
“Latch, I need Watermight,” she said.
“I don’t have any left.”
“You have to try something. I’m not strong enough to grab it from him.” She hauled Latch up, ignoring his groan of pain, and helped him see over the wall to steal a little power back for her. Controlling Watermight from a distance had largely eluded her so far. There were still too many gaps in her training, but she had a Waterworker ally now.
But as Dara and Latch straightened, a wave of Watermight hit the stone pen. It broke over the wall and thundered down on them, filling the enclosure with furious power and sweeping Dara and Latch off their feet. They tumbled around the pen, knocking into each other, unable to find their footing as the Watermight and icy river water obscured their senses. Dara opened her mouth, trying to pull in enough power to use, trying to breathe. She couldn’t let Khrillin defeat her. Not again.
But the torrent of Watermight was furious, overwhelming. It leached the warmth from her bones, threatening to extinguish the last drop of Fire she held within her. She fought for focus, for control.
Pain exploded in her left shoulder as she was bashed against the wall. A rope of power snaked around her waist and flung her into the wall again. She held on. Clinging desperately to the stone, she focused on the tight cord of power around her waist. She knew it would hurt, but she had no other options. She gritted her teeth and pulled the Watermight into her body.
