“See?” He pulled out a chair for himself and sat down at the corner of the table. “Much better. At least your skin color is normal again.” He grinned.
Jemin had followed them and set down both their tea mugs on the table as he took a seat at the other side. “I did help.” He was speaking more to Maray than Heck, and as his lips curled at the sides, she couldn’t help but return his smile.
“I know,” she whispered, pretending Heck couldn’t hear her.
“Are you feeling better?” he asked, a crease of concern visible under strands of caramel on his forehead, and an echo of the blue fire returned for the blink of an eye.
Maray took a moment and searched for signs of weakness, but her body felt normal. It was her mind and heart that were struggling. All those lies… for years her father had lied to her… in her best interest, but still lied. She focused on her dagger next to the tea mug. The oval onyx with the ornate ‘C’ seemed alive with the orange and golden light of the pending sunset. And Jemin—
She nodded. “So, if the person who led me into the forest was an impostor, what happened to Corey?” It was easier to focus on other people’s problems than her own. Corey had seemed nice enough. She had helped her, let her stay in her house, given her clothes and food.
“Corey is fine,” Heck informed her, “apart from the fact that she is with Feris. And we know where that led for Langley.”
Jemin shook his head at Heck’s phrasing.
“Do you think he is going to hurt her?” Maray was anxious all of a sudden.
This time it was Jemin who answered, words chosen carefully as not to upset her, she could hear by his tone. “Corey is like a daughter to Feris.”
Maray thought about that for a couple of seconds. Family was supposed to protect one another. But, she had learned firsthand that this didn’t apply to her own family. Except for her father—
“So, what are you doing here, Heck?” Maray chose to not go deeper into what family members could be willing to do to one another for some insane fantasy of pushing the world—in this case two—into darkness.
Heck grinned, flashing his pearly-white teeth at her, and leaned back in his chair. “I thought it best if you have more than one protector.” He winked, and his chocolate eyes twinkled. “Who knows if Jem here is up for the task.” And to Jemin, he said, “You seem disturbingly distracted, man.”
Jemin coughed and straightened, face serious. “You know I am the better fighter. I could take you down with my little finger.”
“Not in this world.” Heck leaned across the table, mouth still set in a wide grin, but some tension flickered between the boys that Maray couldn’t name.
“If any of you want to fight,” she interrupted as she got to her feet, not caring to hide her annoyance, “why don’t you help me improve my skills.” And with surprising energy, she picked up the dagger and headed to the living room.
Corey
Feris was pacing the long room. All shelves were pushed to the side the way he liked it when he needed to think. Corey watched in silence the way she knew he expected it to be when he was thinking. She was sitting at the table, legs crossed, hands unproductively in her lap, waiting. This wasn’t as bad as the other times. There had been the day the princess had returned to help out when the queen had been sick five years ago. Feris had acted similar then, running into everything in his way. She had never seen Princess Laura, but she had heard about her kindness. Ferris had spoken highly of her.
Feris’ naturally curious expression was all drawn into patterns of strained thinking.
“What can I do to help, Master Feris?”
Feris didn’t look at her. Instead, he grabbed a book from the shelf and handed it to her the next time he paced past her.
“Gan Krai - Laws and Rituals,” Corey read. “What would you like me to do with it? Any section you’d want me to go to?”
Feris stopped and glanced at the lab desk. The equipment had been arranged into an experimental constellation for something he hadn’t filled Corey in about.
“Go to the rituals section.” Feris continued pacing, his long, woolen cloak sweeping the floor behind him.
Relieved Feris was hatching from his frantic silence, she felt hope that this time, she would get to hear what was actually going on. Obediently, she browsed the yellowing pages for ‘rituals’.
She knew the first half of the book by heart: ‘Laws.’ It was part of any warlock’s training, understanding the limits of magic—that cloaking in an illusion for too long can make your cells forget what they actually looked like, making it hard to transform back; or that certain types of magic were meant to never be used, such as necromancy, love potions, binding spells, and battle magic. Battle magic was even only a concept. No one had ever performed it. It was a theory developed by Gan Krai hundreds of years ago and had never proven to be practicable. The magic and number of spells and potions warlocks were allowed to perform grew with their ranks. Feris was a Master. He basically could do what he wanted; while Corey was an apprentice—even after living with Feris for over sixteen years. She ground her teeth.
When she reached the rituals section, Feris joined her at the table. “Go to ‘Binding Spells.’” He watched her expectantly as she flipped pages filled with ornate scriptures, hiding her face behind them.
“Master Feris?” Corey asked cautiously, reluctant to disturb his thought process but also eager to understand what was going on. “Does this have anything to do with Ambassador Langley?”
She had seen him in the forest; she was certain. Even with his shabby clothes and his longer and uncombed hair, she was certain it had been him. All she knew before was that he had died, and she hadn’t given it a second thought. He had been in his early seventies, an age that was normal for someone to go. She had even attended his funeral. A small ceremony for the official staff. The new ambassador hadn’t been invited. No one at court cared much for his presence, she knew that. Living with Feris had its perks. She heard more about the palace than any other person her age. The only one who might know more was Jemin—but then, he had a history of spying on the palace for his ‘traitor’ father. She herself didn’t care much for Queen Rhia. The queen held no kindness for commoners, and she definitely was a commoner. An orphan and definitely of no noble blood. Her strength was in her magic, and Feris was her patron so to speak. Without him, she would be on the street. After everything he’d done for her, she found it hard to believe he had anything to do with binding spells. They were forbidden.
Corey lowered the book.
Feris remained silent. Again. He hadn’t said anything about Langley on the way back from the forest, and he hadn’t spoken about the incident in the woods ever since. It was the third day now, and she was beginning to worry.
“This one.” Feris reached over the table as he spotted the page he was looking for.
The page was filled with circles and symbols, but no written word—at least no language she could identify. It didn’t look as if it had initially been part of the book.
“Are you sure this is what you are looking for?” She examined the page more closely, finding burn marks and pencil lines on the edges.
Feris reached over the table and took the book from her hands. “You are asking too many questions,” he noted with mild irritation.
Corey bit her lip until it was almost bloody but couldn’t keep her mouth shut. “This is a binding spell?”
She peered over the table, curious about the unusual page. Gan Krai didn’t give many instructions on magic but more the boundary conditions of their usage. Magic, to most warlocks, was a highly theoretical concept, hardly any of them able to conjure as much as a drop of water. Just because someone had magic didn’t mean they were actually capable of performing spells. Illusions were for more advanced warlocks; the ones who had been studying for years after coming of age. She knew. She had watched them come and go. They came with high expectations for their magic when they asked to train with Feris, and they left with
deep disappointment when they figured out that their magic wasn’t going to change their lives. She knew their looks of hope when they entered the warlock quarters and their looks of devastation when they crossed the threshold after their training.
Feris was probably the strongest warlock she knew. She had seen him do things others didn’t even dare dream of. He was a master of illusions and an excellent healer, skilled in potions and herbs as well as rituals and protection spells. Basically, he was a master of all defensive magic. Corey hoped she would one day reach the same degree of skill. For now, all she was allowed to do was assist with ingredients and do the healing spells for some of the guards in the palace. Half of her days were spent cleaning flasks and instruments, and the other half was spent enchanting the guards’ bracelets with basic spells for healing and keys to pass through the borders to the other world.
Feris still hadn’t answered.
Frustrated, Corey pushed herself to her feet and moved to the lab-desk. There was always something to clean up there, and she had neglected her duties since she had seen Langley in the woods. As she picked up a conical flask, which had been shoved aside alongside with the rest to make room for Feris’ new setup, she noticed the purple crystal was gone. She froze. She’d left it on the desk, right there by the flask that still held the remainders of Krai salt and Mary’s and Queen Rhia’s blood. She was certain about it.
With a glance over her shoulder, she checked if Feris had noticed her moment of stress. To her relief, he was still absorbed in the page in the rituals section of Gan Krai’s writings.
Corey took the flask and carried it to the sink in the multi-purpose room on the side. Her heart sank as she saw the bed Maray had slept in. She had straightened the sheets the morning she had vanished and burned her clothes in a burst of magic fire so no one could find traces of her. But she had forgotten the crystal—the most significant artifact of her existence.
With a snap of her fingers, the water started flowing out of thin air into the basin. A nagging feeling of threatening exposure haunted Corey as she filled the flask to the rim and rinsed it a couple of times. The purple remains faded sluggishly, making her want to smash the glass to make it disappear faster, but Feris would have noticed. If he hadn’t been so absent about Langley’s sudden appearance, he probably would have noted the leftovers of her small one-woman-show experiment to determine Maray’s blood-relation to Queen Rhia.
She wondered what had happened to Maray. Who had taken her? Langley? Or had it been an impostor, too? It could have been any warlock strong enough to conjure illusions.
Now all she needed to do was find the crystal so Feris wouldn’t realize the queen’s granddaughter was in town.
As she was done, she placed the flask back where it belonged, and her heart almost stopped when she saw a piece of paper between the tubes and cylinders behind it. She picked it up with shaky fingers. How could she not have noticed it before?
It was clean paper, the type you got in the other world. The parchment-like paper that was the standard in Allinan wasn’t bleached the way this one was. There was only one person who had recently been here and traveled to the other dimension.
She opened the note. ’Corey,’ it said, ‘I am taking the crystal so I can find the treasure. Whatever you do, don’t tell anyone about her.’
There was no name, but she recognized Jemin’s clean handwriting. She had gotten some notes from him a while ago; notes which contained content she’d liked better than what she was reading now. ‘Treasure.’ Was that what he was calling her? His ‘treasure?’ Or was it just a code word so no one would know what the note was about?
She kept herself from throwing the note in a corner by ripping it in quarters and stuffing it into her pocket.
It was unfair toward Maray, she knew that. It wasn’t the girl’s fault that she was even more beautiful than the iconic picture of the queen. And yet, she wanted to rip her face off when she saw how both Jemin and Heck had looked at her. It wasn’t quite obvious if there was more than just that plain fascination with a legend coming to life or if there was more. She also knew that Jemin wasn’t hers, so whatever more there might have been, it wasn’t her place to be jealous. Even if he had kissed her—
Maray
The dagger weighed heavily in Maray’s hand; heavier now that she was nervous. When she had trained with her father, her worst concern had been to get that thing under control. Now that she was working with Heck and Jemin, she felt as if she needed to control not only the dagger but herself almost as much.
Heck’s chocolate eyes sparkled as he lifted his sword for the hundredth time. She was glad she was fighting him and not Jemin, but Jemin’s motionless posture as he was leaning at the wall between the large windows was a greater distraction than if she had actually been facing him with a weapon. She felt his eyes on her and tried hard to focus less on the fact that while she was drenched in sweat—Heck was dry as paper—and more on not losing control of the dagger.
“Why is this so difficult?” she complained aloud even though she had intended not to say a word.
Heck stopped the dagger with an elegant swing of his blade and lowered both their arms with it.
“It’s a Cornay weapon,” he said as if what that meant was common knowledge.
Maray glanced at Jemin for help, hoping he would have an explanation that would actually be helpful.
“Unlike our boring blades—” He drew his sword and shoved it in between Heck’s sword and Maray’s dagger, separating the two blades with a twist of his wrist. Heck protested, but he ignored it, forcing Maray to face him instead, “—the royal weapons were forged with magic hundreds of years ago.” While the sharp blade of his sword was held against her dagger, his free hand reached across the crossed weapons and wrapped around her hand on the hilt of her dagger, his eyes locked on hers, shining bright, blue fire back in place in contrast to the orange light of the sunset.
At his touch, the electric current returned into her hand, spreading through her skin up her hand and right into her heart.
He shoved her fingers aside half an inch and nodded at their hands. It took more willpower than it took to control the dagger for her to free her gaze from his and look down at where he had pointed.
“The stone is not a stone. It is the blood of your ancestors, frozen in a crystal-like substance. Not unlike the leftovers of your blood-test,” he explained in a business-like tone, but Maray heard more there. There was the sizzling of the blue fire in every syllable. Well hidden under a layer of seriousness, there was a boy who was enjoying the moment of their touch.
Maray couldn’t suppress a smile.
“What does it do, exactly?” she asked as she studied his long slender fingers over hers. She didn’t mind that there was still dirt on them. He had come here on a mission to save the world from darkness. Dirt looked like gold on a hero.
“It gives the weapon its own strength. When one of the same blood fights with it, it makes them stronger, but—” His fingers tightened around hers almost painfully tight, but she didn’t dare move for fear he would retract his hand completely.
“There is a downside—”
“There always is,” Heck answered and stepped to Jemin’s side, nodding at him with his elbow as he planted himself there.
“It gives you strength but only if you are stronger than it.” Jemin freed Maray’s hand, and the pressure on the dagger disappeared, followed by the sound of his sword going back into its sheath.
Maray’s eyes, now undistracted by Jemin’s hand, examined the onyx crystal more closely. The C was there, engraved into the glasslike surface, reminding her of her bloodline.
“What if I am not strong enough?” Her voice sounded defeated, not at all the way she had intended.
“Then your strength will transfer into the dagger,” Heck said bluntly. “That means that if you don’t use it, nothing will happen. If you use it, you’ll either have a strong ally in battle, or—”
“Heck,” Jem
in stopped him.
“No, I want to know,” Maray objected. “Or I’ll die?”
Neither of the boys spoke, but she knew she had guessed right.
With a sagging stomach, she thought of her father and what he had said about her mother not using the weapon much. Only when she needed to defend herself. Did he know?
And then there was something else that just didn’t fit into the rest of the puzzle. “Corey said magic goes dormant when crossing into this world.” She looked back and forth between the two faces; one olive-skinned with an almost permanent grin on its lips, and one serious and pale with a new type of pain in its bright eyes. “How can the dagger affect me here? Isn’t it supposed to not work unless in Allinan?”
“This is magic confined in an item,” Jemin said, expression hardening. “Remember when I told you I have an item that allows me to travel between worlds and heal?”
Maray nodded. How could she forget anything he said? And that wasn’t just because it had been him who had thrust her into this new reality, but also because any word from him, even if it was as little as a sigh, seemed to stick with her forever.
Jemin held his wrist out to her and let her examine the silver bracelet. Maray shoved the dagger into her belt, easily able to bend it to her will and put it down with the prospect of looking at Jemin’s hand without having to hide her gaze.
As she bent forward a little, Heck held up his arm next to Jemin’s. “Suit yourself,” he offered and pulled up his sleeve with the other hand.
Maray ignored Heck’s expectant look and Jemin’s deep breath as she reached out with both of her hands and grabbed one of the boys’ forearms with each.
The bracelets looked a lot like elegant watches in a fine metal that reflected the fading sunlight. They were completely inconspicuous except for the fact that she now knew that they stored magic.
“They heal wounds, let us pass the border, and they make our arms look way better,” Heck commented. “Well, Jem’s arm, at least. Mine is perfect with or without the bracelet.”
Two Worlds of Provenance Page 14
