by Wendy Knight
They all failed.
Instead, their dull red spells hit each other, killing much faster than she could. Another spell burst through the smoke and the screaming and the flames, coming right at her. She leaped, tucking into a ball and rolling through the air. She felt it burn her curls as it sailed underneath her, blowing into the man chasing behind. She landed, fell to one knee as another spell blasted over her head, and burned the lirik, taking out the man so determined to stop her.
He would not attack her again.
The smoke and the flames were so thick now that it was hard to see beyond the hand in front of her face; her hand, but not familiar for its hungry flames at her fingertips. There were shadows, like wraiths in the mist, but they came and were gone before she could even burn a spell to chase them with.
The field was silent. Slowly, the hunger faded, the anger, the surreal force that had been driving her in the past… who knew how many days now. It slowly died, and the monster inside her quieted. She rose to her feet, suddenly exhausted. She was bleeding and burned, and she had no idea when she’d been hit. Or how many times.
The spell hit her in the back, knocking her forward so she collapsed on her own fires burning out of control. She screamed as it burned, but she could tell it wasn’t a lirik. Whatever she’d been hit with wasn’t a kill spell. She rolled, struggling to pull herself out of the burning grass. Whoever had thrown it was gone, and the field was empty except for the gray ash of those who hadn’t made it through the battle. Forcing herself to her knees, she stumbled to the forest — looking for Horse, watching for whoever had attacked her from behind. She felt the burns in her back. Christian was going to kill her. Hopefully he’d heal her first.
Always. Forever.
Horse stood at the edge of the fire, pulling frantically on his reins, still tangled in the branches. “I’m here. I’m here.” She held out a hand to soothe him, dodging hooves as he tried to rear away from her, eyes wild with fear. Ironic, that the finest horse of a flame-throwing sorcerer was afraid of fire.
Strong hands, much bigger than hers, reached above her, deftly untangling reins from the branch before shoving them into Ada’s chest. “That was stupid. Are you daft? You could have been killed.”
Ada blinked up at William. “What are you doing here?”
“I followed you. I didn’t believe you were really going to battle. I — I didn’t believe someone so tiny could be so—”
“Wicked?” she asked, her voice hollow around her exhaustion.
“Powerful.” He gave her a pointed look. “There is no wickedness in war. Only one side against the other.”
“You are very wrong about that, Mr. Langley.” There, she’d addressed him correctly.
He studied her for a long minute, trying to read her meaning before his eyes wandered to her burned, bloody shoulder, the same that she’d hurt in her first battle. “You’re wounded. Come to my estate and I’ll bring the doctor.” Without asking, he pushed her up onto Horse.
“No. Your doctors cannot heal me. I have to go home. To my healer.”
He took the reins and led the horse through the trees, jogging lightly. “A Carules, then?”
She frowned down at him. “You seem to know quite a bit about sorcerers for not being one.” Could he possibly be a sorcerer and she just not know it? They had no distinguishing marks. And whoever had thrown that last spell had disappeared before she could see who it was.
He shrugged lightly. “I’m fascinated. I always have been. Growing up with the mighty Duke of Adlington looming over our village makes one curious.”
His horse waited at the edge of the woods, pawing at the air as it watched the flames. “You need to tell your village to start a brigade or those flames will eat every last house.” She felt like maybe she would fall from her horse.
He glanced behind him, as if just noticing the inferno, and nodded. Mounting, he said, “Can you find your way to my estate? I need to sound the alarm.”
“I’m not going to your estate…” Her voice trailed off as he spun the big black and white animal and raced away. “Blast.” Defeated, she nudged Horse forward, following the road back to his manor. The bells on the church house peeled through the weak sunlight, and villagers emerged from their houses, bleary eyed, still in their nightdress, but racing for the fountain. And she heard them muttering about the Edren sorcerers and the trouble they cause.
“We’re protecting you. Don’t you realize that?” Ada murmured, although no one was near enough to hear her. Their words hurt. She’d nearly died, and many others had lost their lives. All to keep the war away from their village. Let the sorcerers fight, and protect the knights, the dukes, earls, villagers, peasants. Everyone.
William hadn’t returned by the time she reached his estate, and she guessed he was helping with the brigade, which was admirable. “He said you would be hungry.” Harriet met her at the front gate. “He also said he doubted he’d be able to talk you into staying. So I packed a basket.” The girl wasn’t glaring at Ada anymore, and Ada wondered what had changed. She was too tired to care, though.
“Why did he follow me? Is he also a sorcerer?” Ada asked bluntly.
Harriet laughed. “No, m’lady. He used to pretend. When we were younger…” She hesitated, and Ada had a brief flash of what Harriet remembered — they had been friends as children, just as she and Christian and Charity had been. But William had grown up and moved on, as Ada should.
But Ada refused.
“Thank you,” she said, taking the basket gently and trying to give Harriet a real smile. She could be Charity, in Ada’s village.
Harriet blinked, seemingly confused by Ada’s kindness.
“I need to be on my way. I have to get to my healer. Thank you for the meal.” Ada tried her best not to sound as exhausted as she felt.
“Are you sure you won’t stay? We can summon the doctor. He’s very good.”
Ada just shook her head, too tired to argue. Then she turned Horse away, loosening the reins and letting the big black animal pick his own pace.
He leaped into a gallop and ran like the hounds were after him.
****
Christian could finally see as the sun set on the second day. There had been no word on Ada, although her father had finally gone looking for her and had sent several of his finest guards as well. The pain in his head had abated, but his heart seemed not to have recovered, no matter how often his mother tried to heal him. He had a suspicion that it would not heal until Ada returned.
If she returned.
When the bell started to sound, echoing across the near-empty courtyard of the estate, Christian pushed himself to his feet, following his mother as she picked up her skirts and raced from the house. He recognized the peal of the bells — it was a warning. They were under attack.
Under attack without the duke or Ada to protect them.
He paused in the doorway to grab his boots, wrenching them on. From where he stood, he couldn’t see anyone — even his mother had disappeared. Behind him, Charity made a noise. He looked toward her while fighting to keep his balance. Her silver eyes were glowing. “She’s coming, Christian. You just have to fight them off until she gets here.”
Ada is coming home.
He nodded, straightening. “Stay here. Hide in the crawl space until I get back,” he called over his shoulder. He didn’t hear her reply as he let the door swing shut behind him.
He heard the screams before he even found the battle, and he ran, nearly tripping as he rounded the corner.
The courtyard was in chaos. The front gates were hanging on their hinges and the trees were on fire. She’s coming, Christian. You just have to fight them off until she gets here.
He’d only had one lesson in Edren spells. His mother could fight, but she couldn’t do it alone. “Hurry, Ada.”
Running down the drive, he passed Vivian, whose spells were so weak they almost didn’t make it to their target — an angry man with a large ax. So these were merce
naries. Assassins. But not sorcerers. Christian nodded to himself. He could handle that. He didn’t pause as he ran, but burned the lirik Ada had taught him, thrilled as it caught, and shoved it at the man attacking Vivian. His blue flames looked odd in such a vicious spell, but it hit the man in the side faster than Vivian’s spell that she’d pushed several seconds before. The man screamed as the magic ate through him, and then he was nothing but a leftover shell of a body and ash in the air.
Christian felt strange. He looked for his mother. His power felt different — not the calm, healing flames he usually had, but a hunger. A handful of the duke’s guards-in-training flanked her, fighting off the main force of the mercenaries, but none of them were doing any more than getting in her way. Scarlett faced at least twenty men, and Christian could hear the sound of pounding hooves — lots of them. More were on their way. A fiery arrow, fueled by regular flames, shot through the guards, slamming into the one closest to Christian. He watched the man go down as blood bubbled on his lips, and then the guard lay still. Christian whirled, searching for the archer. He caught sight of him in the trees beyond the gate. Without hesitating, Christian went after him. He rounded the guards and raced past his mother. “Christian!” she screamed, but he didn’t hesitate. She couldn’t burn a spell fast enough to stop an arrow if it came after her. Christian had to get rid of the archer.
He burned a rikil, one of the three kill spells Ada had taught him, as he ran. It took him two tries, and the second time his hand shook so badly he wasn’t sure it would hold. But hold it did, and he shoved it toward the trees with all the fury pulsing through him. How dare they come here and attack his home — his mother? The spell shot through the air, burst through the tree the assassin hid behind, and slammed into the man’s skull. Christian watched with a sick satisfaction as the man grabbed his head, screaming as he plummeted to the ground. Then he spun, finding himself at the backs of the other soldiers. He burned spells, one after another, everything Ada had taught him, and shoved them at the mercenaries in front of him. They went down screaming, those big, seasoned warriors who should have been fighting the queen’s battles, not here attacking an Edren estate.
He felt the arrow plunge into his shoulder and he bellowed in pain as it tore through his flesh, scalding the skin as it burst from the other side. His mother screamed his name again, but he ignored her, instead scanning the trees behind him for his attacker. The archer rode on a big, armor covered horse, but the man’s head was bare so he could see to notch his arrow. Christian didn’t hesitate. Burning the lirik into the air, he pushed it, watching as it rocketed straight toward the uncovered flesh. The man’s head burned as he screamed until the flames devoured him and there was nothing left to scream with.
But there were more behind him. Christian leaped into the trees, clambering halfway to the top the way he and Ada had done a thousand times before. From there, he attacked. Burning spell after spell, he threw them at the men riding in, until they broke formation and raced around in chaos, trying to find him. While they were distracted, Christian went after the men still fighting with Scarlett and her pathetic gathering of guards.
“There! He’s in the tree!” He heard the yell, and the arrows followed it. By now, the air was thick with smoke and the smell of burning flesh, acrid against his tongue. He dropped from the tree and flung another lirik, the spell coming more easily every time. The world spun, just a bit, and he realized his entire chest was covered in blood. He couldn’t keep fighting much longer before he’d pass out from blood loss. He met his mother’s eyes over the soldiers and nodded grimly. He’d do what he could for as long as he could.
****
Ada and Horse meandered through the thick forest. She hurt too much to keep up their frantic pace for long. The sun was sinking in the western sky and she struggled to keep her head up and her heavy eyes open.
Hurry, Ada. We need you.
Charity’s voice nearly split her skull and she screeched, grabbing her head. The pain was gone almost as soon as it’d begun, but Ada had seen a flash in those few seconds — what Charity could see, undoubtedly. The estate was under attack, and Christian and Governess Buttercroft were the only ones fighting to save it.
“Horse? How much do you have left? They need us.” Her voice shook in fear, pleading, exhaustion… she wasn’t sure what. But Horse heard, and somehow, he understood. Taking the bit in his mouth, he lunged forward, lengthening his long strides until he fairly flew over the dirt road.
I’m coming, Charity. Just hold on. I’m coming.
****
The sun had set, but it didn’t matter. The inferno from the trees, the outer buildings, and the gate gave them plenty of light to keep fighting. He saw some of the men had torches, and were lighting fires of their own, as if the sorcerers’ spells weren’t enough. He burned another rikil — the spell felt completely natural now — and shoved it at the man closest to him. Christian had been forced back until he stood beside his mother, and now they fought back to back, trying to keep the men from getting past the courtyard. Charity was beyond the courtyard. Servants and the duke’s personal staff had joined the fight, but they were all Carules and knew absolutely nothing about offensive spells. Vivian had collapsed long ago and now lay unmoving on the manor steps. Christian just caught a glimpse of movement and turned toward it in time to see Charity racing across the once-beautifully manicured lawns to Vivian’s side, sweat already dampening her hair. She grabbed the woman and pulled, trying to tug her to safety.
“Christian!” Scarlett snapped. He spun away from Charity to face the battle again as an ax swung toward him. He leaped back, dragging Scarlett with him, but the ax still managed to graze his chest. Even as he yelled in pain, the lirik flew from his hands, smashing the ax-wielding soldier and knocking him backward as he screamed and clawed at his face, trying to put out the flames.
At least no more soldiers had come, but there were still far too many for an untrained boy and a Carules governess.
“Ada!” he heard Charity scream behind him, and he risked a glance over his shoulder at the road. There was nothing there.
“Oh mercy. Ada, no,” he heard Scarlett moan, and he pushed another spell away as he looked over at her in confusion. When she didn’t acknowledge him, he followed her gaze to the steep mountain rising behind the estate. Alexios, the duke’s favorite horse, was rearing at the crest.
Ada was on his back.
“Ada, no!” Christian screamed, but there were a dozen other screaming men and she couldn’t possibly hear him.
The horse leaped over the rise, racing headlong down the nearly vertical decline. He’s going to fall. He’s going to break a leg. He’s going to pitch her over his head and trample her… Christian couldn’t tear his gaze from her as they roared down the mountain. Alexios leaped, tucking his legs under him as he soared over a felled tree, and landed hard on the other side. He barely avoided a boulder and crashed over deep rivets in the bare earth. The giant horse tossed his head, and despite the yelling, the screams of the dying and the crackle of hungry flames, Christian could hear him pant with every leap. They weren’t going to make it.
Christian felt the arrow hit him, sliding into his already torn shoulder. His vision swam, blinded by pain, so that he could no longer see Alexios’ death race down the jagged hill. He threw the lirik in the direction the arrow had come from, but they had closed in on him while he had been watching the giant horse fly down the mountain like he had wings. He and Scarlett were surrounded.
Christian threw another lirik, and then a rikil, but it wasn’t enough. Beside him, a pole slammed into Scarlett’s stomach, knocking her backward. She landed hard in the dirt, but immediately forced herself to her feet.
It was too late. The mercenaries moved closer, the nearest swinging his sword at Christian’s neck. Christian jumped backward but felt the blade of another sword against his back. Scarlett was forced to the ground, a torch held to her face. Christian could smell her hair burning.
They were going to die. He had failed his mother and his sister.
The man holding the torch to Scarlett’s face suddenly screamed, a hole burning clear through him as Alexios raced around the corner of the manor, Ada kneeling on his back and burning another lirik. She shoved it forward, but her horse nearly outran it, he was so fast. His feet attacked the soldier closest to him, beating him into the ground as more of Ada’s spells came, so fast and so many that they burned Christian’s eyes. He barely recognized her — she was so angry, so driven. Her eyes were wild, her long black and red curls fell free around her face. And already, she was bloody. And burned, if Christian’s eyesight was to be believed.
She leaped from the back of the horse, landing hard on one of the mercenaries, tackling him to the ground. His ax flew from his hands, skittering across the rocks in the dirt. And then she punched him, her small fist connecting with his nose and Christian distinctly heard it crack. He spun away from her, his hand flowing through the spell as he moved, and pushed it into the man who sought to run him through with his sword. He jerked around again, his feet twisting in the dirt, throwing more spells, protecting himself and his mother. Scarlett was barely able to stand now, but she refused to give up, although her magic was spent and she had nothing to defend herself with.
Except Ada.
Ada left a pile of dead, burning bodies behind her as she whirled through them like a small, incredibly deadly demon. “I learned something new,” she panted, arriving at his side. She dropped her hands, igniting the grass around her, and jerked her hands above her head. The flames roared, rising around her, and then she pushed them away from her, lighting the several men around them on fire. They screamed, trying to escape, but she did it again, catching them as they ran. Christian leaped to her aid, burning more liriks and sending them after the men who hadn’t gone down yet.
