Duplicitous Magic

by Linn Tesli

  The house went quiet.

  Only the sound of breathing could be heard. An eternity seemed to pass before the women heard the soft gurgling from the newborn. Strangely, however, the baby didn't cry.

  Sereana raised her eyebrows. “It’s a girl.” She hugged the baby in her arms and went to wash her.

  Aurora fell back and sighed with relief. A lock of auburn hair fell over her face, and Everine gently brushed it aside. Everine swallowed her sorrow and leaned in close to Aurora. “Have you thought of a name yet?”

  Aurora had closed her eyes, but her face was flushed and calm. She gave a slight smile and whispered, “I’ve named her…Ayva.”

  “Perfect,” Everine said.

  Aurora’s chest still rose and fell in slow breaths, but she didn't speak again.

  For what seemed like hours, Everine sat by her sister’s side, clinging to every last bit of hope. There was nothing left to do, however, but stare at her younger sister as life seeped away from her. Everine’s throat choked up. She had failed as Aurora’s guardian. In all the years she had spent protecting Aurora, Everine had always found a way when circumstances grew dire. Everine didn’t know how to save her from bleeding out. There would be no one left of her family now, and without Aurora, Everine would have no purpose. The hope slipping out of Everine mirrored the breath leaving Aurora’s body.

  Sereana’s cooing traveled through the room and was answered with soft gurgles from the newborn. The Sirens were well-known for their brilliant voices, and Everine had always loved listening to Sereana sing. Now, however, she wanted silence.

  She didn't know what to do. Caring for Aurora since the death of their parents had been difficult enough, but an infant required so much more than Everine could offer, especially alone. How would Everine feed her? And with Aurora unmarried, no one would acknowledge the baby as anything but a bastard with no right to live. Everine would be hard-pressed to find anyone to help her, and Sereana had other obligations. The Siren’s master would not allow her to attend to a bastard.

  Everine bit down hard on her bottom lip and pulled at her skirt. The baby had taken her sister’s life. Perhaps it would be better to kill the infant now and be rid of her. Surely such a tarnished life could cause nothing but grief, considering the way she had entered this world. She probably wouldn’t even survive her first year. It would be merciful to spare her now.

  Everine could smother the child during the night while Sereana rested. It could be easily dismissed as a natural death caused by the trauma of such a difficult labor.

  Sereana never put the baby down, however; the Siren would not rest. She seemed utterly enthralled by the newborn and continued singing to her—songs of the Old Lady of the West—the once Queen of Ûnda. As the night grew old, Everine became impatient. She needed to have this done with quickly. Absently stroking her sister’s damp hair, she steadied herself and spoke to Sereana.

  “You know, I’d like to tend to her for a while.” Everine turned for the child, her eyes set on the slender form of Sereana cradling the infant carefully in her arms. Tears of joy ran down the Siren’s face.

  “She’s so beautiful.” Sereana sounded blissful. How could she be so happy when her best friend had died only a few short hours ago on her watch? “I’m so sorry about Aurora,” Sereana said as if reading Everine’s mind.

  “Me too.” Everine rose from the bed and stepped toward Sereana. “You look white as a sheet, darling. You should rest.”

  “I don’t…” Sereana hugged the infant closer to her chest and stepped away.

  “Come now.” Everine made a welcoming gesture with her hands. “She’ll be here in the morning. I’ll take good care of her.”

  “I’ll be back tomorrow to help with everything.” Reluctantly, the Siren handed the small bundle to Everine. Everine saw Sereana blink away tears before she left the house.

  When Sereana had gone, Everine stepped quickly across the room and lay the infant down in her crib. She pulled away the blankets encasing the child and met her dazzling eyes for the very first time. Her hands stilled as she reached for a pillow. She beheld the vision of her newborn niece with a gasp. An infant should not hold one’s gaze, but this one did. Ayva stared at Everine as though she held all the wisdom of someone who had known a thousand ages of men. The child glowed like a small sun, and her entire body shimmered with what appeared to be tiny stars, like jewels embedded in her skin.

  Her eyes were like nothing Everine had ever seen. At first, they had appeared to be the color of emeralds, though they were ever-changing. Soon they were covered in a purple haze, and they gleamed with blinding rays of sunlight at their centers. It was like staring into infinity. Like Aurora and the rest of the Vargens family, this baby had auburn hair, but thin streams of silver ran through it.

  The baby looked so much like Aurora and unlike her at the same time. Shame and then concern welled up inside Everine.

  Abandoning the pillow, Everine picked up the infant, cradling her in her arms. Warm flashes of light flowed around them, illuminating the house. The experience was astonishing, though Everine didn't rejoice. Fear settled deep within her heart as she realized the child was magical. But then Ayva smiled up at Everine, and the ice around her heart melted. Everine studied her niece’s familiar features as she held Ayva close to her face. The resemblance to Aurora left her regretful and hopeful all at the same time.

  She had been a fool. She could never hurt the girl, and Everine made a silent vow to dedicate her life to protecting her niece. She would care for Ayva as if she were her own. In truth, Everine had always wanted to mother a child. As Aurora’s guardian, always struggling to keep their heads above water, she had never found the time for romance—and she would never settle for anything less than epic love in any case. Already eighteen years of age, however, she would likely soon be too old to be considered for marriage.

  The joyful sound of chirping birds signaled the sun’s rising. Everine could not wait much longer. The outskirts of Beregend—anywhere near the eyes of the Heartless King—would not be safe for Ayva. Everine filled a pouch with coins and what few things they were bound to need and pulled on a cloak.

  She wrapped Ayva close underneath her garments in hope of hiding her from unfriendly eyes. Since the Fall of the Elemental Rulers more than two centuries ago, the world had become an extremely dangerous place, especially for magical beings.

  The coins jingled in the pouch as Everine turned for one last look at her sister. Both her body and the state of the bed bore witness to the recent trauma of Ayva’s birth.

  Everine’s mouth turned dry. This was the last she would ever see of Aurora. The excruciating sight of her sister unlocked the pain she had shoved away all night, and Everine wept.

  Everine was unable to bear the sorrow of looking at her sister for another second. She feared she might lose her nerve. Walking across the room, she knelt next to the bed and folded the bloodied sheets over Aurora’s body with care, covering her face last.

  A small hand brushed against Everine’s collarbone, reminding her of the present urgency. A magical child like Ayva should be kept far from prying eyes in Êvina.

  Everine stood, rubbed her bleary eyes defiantly, and raised her head. She sniffled and took one deep breath before stepping, for the last time, out of her home and into the sleeping streets of Beregend.

  8

  Lycobris

  The Land of Fire

  - Everine -

  Everine had never cared much for the ocean.

  It was unpredictable at best. Those who travelled it were not only unfriendly, but also unhygienic. Furthermore, the ship’s lavatories were non-existent, though she chose not to dwell on that too much.

  She had paid the captain more than she thought she could spare for their passage. At least he had supplied her with water and soap every morning, as well as a couple of passably clean rags. She submerged her hands in the tepid water and splashed a handful across her face before she washed Ayva’s cheeks.
>
  Everine scanned the small cabin where they had slept during their time spent crossing the Feardorach Ocean. Barrels of whiskey and thick ropes filled one corner, while two cots and a small table served as the only furniture. The salty scent from the ocean and the lingering stench of drunken nights crawled up her nose.

  She and Ayva had been aboard the small merchant ship for a few days when Everine laid eyes on the coastline of Lycobris. Through the circular port in their cabin, she watched the smoke and fire rising from Vulkan Mountain to the south. A dark mist blanketed the Land of Fire. Foreboding flames cast gloomy light against the smoke clouding the morning skies, also illuminating the large village of Vulkan, which lay at the mountain’s base. The vision of it sent burning shock waves through Everine’s bones. She cleared her throat and licked her chapped lips.

  She was glad they would be traveling in the opposite direction of the fiery mountain once they disembarked. She didn't intend to stay in the Land of Fire any longer than necessary.

  Of all the Aradrian lands, Lycobris had suffered the most after the Fall. Next to Êvina, it had enjoyed the most wealth, but it was now corrupt to the core. The land had become overrun with thieves, con artists, and dangerous creatures, such as the Vulkan hawks, black bears, and bobcats. Lycobris was even the preferred dwelling for mercenaries.

  The lord of the land, Hadeth, cared for nothing but his own wealth. He had eyes everywhere, ensuring that any who opposed him never did so again. Unfortunately for the Aradrian people, those eyes also reported back to one other—the King of Aradria. Though he was more commonly known as “the Heartless King,” none dared say it to his face—even speaking the words might cost a person his life. Or worse. The personalities of those who had met the king often changed, and not for the better.

  The king could not be allowed to receive any knowledge of Ayva if Everine wished to keep her alive. Of that she was certain. The Heartless King didn't allow the extraordinary to live freely without his interference. He had been known to imprison, kill, or experiment on those who exhibited any uncommon form of magical abilities. If able, he would also enslave their minds. Everine could not imagine a grimmer fate.

  The roads in Lycobris were dangerous, and the forest even more so. Even discounting the many menacing creatures and robbers often found there, the land itself was treacherous. Earthquakes and wildfires plagued Lycobris. There was also the risk of getting caught by the Vulkan guards, or even worse, encountering Silverlings, the king’s own foot soldiers.

  Everine shuddered, hugging Ayva close. They might stand a chance if they could cross the northern borders into Caradrea, the Land of Air, but even then their chances would remain slim. Still, anything was better than staying in Êvina and risking exposure.

  Right now, however, Everine’s most pressing concern was feeding the baby resting on her chest. She had heard tales of magical newborns surviving up to a week without nourishment, but she was beginning to worry. Ayva was not prone to fussing or crying, which worried Everine, even as she was thankful that it eased their journey. It was not normal behavior for an infant. She should be able to find a wet nurse in Lycobris, but how would Everine explain Ayva?

  Everine sat on the cot, still holding the infant. Her eyes darted nervously around the cabin. She expected everyone to be on deck, but she had to make absolutely sure she and Ayva were unobserved. They would be captured quickly if anyone noticed the shimmer of Ayva’s skin.

  As Everine unwrapped Ayva, she felt a slight sting on her breast. The baby had found her way to Everine’s nipple. She stroked Ayva’s head and tried to conceal her worries.

  “I’m sorry, little one, but there’s nothing there. I know you must be famished.”

  Her breasts ached when Everine pulled Ayva away. A drop of white ran down the side of the infant’s mouth. Everine frowned. Ayva parted her tiny lips, searching for Everine’s breasts again. Everine hesitantly squeezed her nipple with her free hand, and a thin stream of milk spurted out at her touch.

  “By the powers of Emblanyiêa!” She stared at her niece with distrust. “What are you?”

  The infant beamed.

  Ayva was entrancing, beautiful like no other child Everine had ever known. Abundant hair and rosy lips complemented her wide, sparkling eyes with their long, auburn lashes. Luckily, the gleam of her skin had faded, even if it still glowed softly, and Ayva looked far more normal now than in the first dawn of her life. Still, no one could fail to notice that Ayva was anything but ordinary.

  How could Everine not love her?

  Ayva’s magical abilities were beyond anything Everine had known existed. Everine studied Ayva carefully as she ate. Even though Ayva looked like Aurora, there was something very distinct about her features. She didn’t look entirely human. Aurora had never told Everine who Ayva’s father was, only that he had left before she could tell him about the pregnancy. If Everine had known, it might have helped her to understand what kind of magic Ayva possessed. But as she didn't there was no point wasting her energy thinking about it anymore.

  Everine relaxed as she allowed Ayva to feed. Was this Ayva’s doing? What other powers did she possess? While it was a strange feeling to be nursing a child when she had none of her own, somehow her newfound motherhood felt very natural. It was not the life Everine had pictured when Aurora fell pregnant. She shut her eyes hard and wiped away a tear.

  At least the issue of food had been solved. What they needed next was a place to hide Ayva for as long as necessary.

  When Ayva had finished, Everine wrapped her close to her chest again and stepped out onto the deck of the ship. The few passengers had all gathered to prepare to disembark, even though the docks were still a good distance away. The men who worked the ship were preoccupied, tending to their duties. A few merchants scattered around deck were checking their wares, all the while watching each other with suspicious eyes. Protecting their cargo was clearly their main concern. They paid Everine no attention.

  They kept their trade secrets close to their chests and would trip each other up if given the opportunity. A lot had changed since the old times, when the traders would have been friendly toward one another.

  An unfamiliar man stood by the rail, facing the busy harbor. He looked more or less human, with a dense build and square features, but as the first morning light touched his skin, it radiated.

  His skin appeared to be made almost entirely of warm desert sand blended with tiny specks of gold. Neither his orange leather vest nor ragged black shorts could hide his brawny body. The man was also exceptionally large—more than any human or Devling Everine had ever encountered. He fascinated her beyond her understanding.

  One of the crew offered her a drink of water.

  “No, thank you. But if you don't mind me asking, what is he?” She nodded toward the traveler. The sailor followed her gaze and frowned.

  “He’s called Birken. An Earthling, miss. I would not approach him if I were you. A lady like yourself should not get involved with Devlings in his line of work.” The sailor excused himself and went back to his chores.

  The Devlings, though related to humans, were not quite the same. Devlings, including, among others, Sirens and Silverlings, possessed similarities to humans, such as a shorter life span than most creatures. They differed in appearance and strength, however. Earthlings were among the most secluded Devlings in Aradria.

  Everine had heard stories about the Earthlings. They had, against all odds, remained independent when the Heartless King had claimed dominion over most of Aradria. The Earthlings of Bermunnos Mountain had once lived in peace with the peoples both to the west and east of the mountain. After the Fall of the Elemental Rulers, however, the villages on either side of Bermunnos had been destroyed, forcing them to retreat far into the mountain range.

  The Earthling caught her staring, and Everine shifted her eyes awkwardly. He twitched his lips upward and, turning his face to the sky, revealed bold geometrical shaped patterns in evidence where his scalp was exposed, The pa
tterns were framed by sun-bleached curly hair, cut close to his head.

  The Earthling waved at her. “Feel free to join me, miss.”

  Everine absently reached under her cloak and stroked Ayva’s head, making sure she was out of sight. Reluctantly, she went to his side, as invited.

  “And what’s a woman of Êvina doing traveling to these parts of the world?” Birken had a thick northern accent, yet his tone felt welcoming.

  Everine fumbled with a response, as she hadn’t taken the time to construct her story yet. “My sister died.” Everine’s gaze trailed the waves of the Feardorach Ocean. “She was all the family I had.”

  The Earthling tilted his head. “And so you figured on trying your luck in Lycobris? Lady, you’re off your blazes.”

  “Maybe so,” Everine snapped.

  “Besides,” Birken spoke under his breath. “This is not a place one usually brings one’s younglings.”

  Chocolate brown eyes flickered to the little hand reaching out from Everine’s cloak. She quickly tucked Ayva’s hand back underneath the wrappings. As long as they remained here there was no place to run to if the wrong people spotted her.

  “Secret’s safe with me, miss.” He hummed cheerfully.

  Relaxing slightly, Everine stepped closer. A big Earthling like Birken might be exactly what she and Ayva needed to keep safe while crossing Lycobris.

  “The name is Everine—Everine Vargens,” she whispered. “What can I offer you to accompany us to Caradrea?”

  Arching an eyebrow, Birken pulled a long-handled pipe from his belt. He lit it carefully, shielding it from the wind and ocean spray. As he inhaled, he looked deep into Everine’s eyes. The flame from his pipe glowed against his face, exposing the cracks and crags in his skin. The shadows left the impression of a stony surface, much like the face of a mountain.

  “I believe, mayhap, the pleasure of your company would suffice.” He grinned, but Everine kept her composure.