Rogue Beyond the Wall

by Giselle Jeffries Schneider

  At last his small office enveloped him, and he flicked his wrist through the air to ignite the single torch along the wall. Everything lit up, and to his right was his desk – nice and neat as usual with his schedule waiting on it. The gloomy morning shined just beyond.

  The schedule was new to him, but he was grateful for it as he strolled the few steps and snatched his notes up without stepping around to his seat.

  That’s right, he told himself as he looked at the first item. The pages and first year guards are coming through for their winter checkups. His attention went out the window, where the sky remained cloudy and the snow fell heavily. Good thing we set it up early. Did not see this weather coming.

  With schedule in hand, he went back out into the workspace and opened the door. Xander still stood off to the side as he said he would.

  “Would you like me to brew you some tea?” Isaiah offered.

  Xander looked over. “No, but thank you.”

  “You sure?” he pressed, taking in how the guard shivered slightly. The walls of the castle could still be cold despite the warmth spells. “I think the temperature is dropping fast.”

  Xander twisted to peek inside and out the workspace window, so Isaiah stepped aside to show the November day. “Sure. Why not.”

  With a nod, Isaiah headed over to the counter at the far end of the workspace, set his schedule aside, and began pulling out ingredients and cups. He had them for everything. “Anything special you want in yours?” he called into the air.

  “Mint if you have it,” Xander responded.

  “Sure do.” He pulled a cup closer. “Would you like that in place of sage?”

  “I like both together, actually.”

  Isaiah nodded even though Xander wasn’t in the room and began mixing.

  Then a jolt shocked its way through his body, head to toe. It gripped his insides. And his attention snapped back out the window.

  Only One Way Out (Nicholas)

  Nicholas adjusted his sight as he came to a stop before a dormant white field. The wall with his father’s spell was at the other end, and it shimmered bright and strong to him alone. From there he glanced around, surprised he made it without another sign of guards. Without a sign of bounty hunters. It had to be too good to be true.

  “All clear,” drifted over a small voice.

  “Same here.”

  He blinked away the magic and followed the voices to two guards walking in timed step along the top of the wall. It was quite far up, no way to climb it even if it wasn’t being watched.

  So what do I do now? His attention went left and right across the field. It was so open and naked, and an eerie haze was beginning to slowly drift across it. Then he returned to the bare, flat wall that possessed no other entrance or exit except the one he failed to reach. He took in the earth under him from there, which was hard as stone. I definitely can’t dig. Back across he looked, the shimmering entering his peripheral naturally, and he inhaled until his chest puffed out. Not even in good weather would that be possible. And it became clear just like that what he had to do.

  There was only one way out, though he was sure he would regret it whether he succeeded or not.

  He looked up at the guards again just as they passed each other once more with only a nod this time. Then to each guard in the near distant watchtowers.

  No one looked his way. It really did feel too good to be true.

  Oh well. I guess I will find out. So he took on the field, his feet moving cautiously as his gaze remained on the guards. It was possible no one above could hear his boots crunching in the snow, but it was better safe than sorry as the only sound for miles was his boots.

  Then his head began to tilt back to its limit, so he stole a final look around the bare field. Twisted to see only his own footprints forming a trail back into the village. But that sensation that all was not as it appeared gripped him until he trembled beyond the shivers of cold, and he halted before the wall.

  He shifted his sight again, nervously as his pupils were darting with every shadow of light, and the shimmer of magic appeared inches from his face. Each piece of the spell was clear for him here, so he slipped his palms along the wall as he had read in his father’s books.

  The smooth surface zapped him instantly. Tingles escaped across his skin, nerves, blood. The world he knew lit up black and silver as he gasped, his heart stuttered, and he barely managed to jerk away.

  What the…

  He stumbled back, the tingles still lingering in his fingers and arms. Breathing didn’t feel right. The way his chest thrummed didn’t feel right. On top of that, the spell before him was dancing and fading out of his sight. That jolt – he had forgotten about that part – had been designed to stun attackers, yet, somehow, he stood there conscious.

  Hmm. He risked a shaky step forward once more, an increasing tremble not meshing well with his current state, and set his features stern. It was hard to say if there was a fault in the protection spell, which caused it not to stun him, or if the spell simply needed updating. Either way, it was worth the risk. So he reached out.

  Except he hesitated, fingertips an inch from their goal, and twisted slightly to spot the castle far in the distance. Right at the head of the village. The grand structure towered over everything with its ever-protecting gaze, and the window that led to his father’s workspace was just visible from where he stood.

  There is no turning back. This is the only way. And he found himself wondering if his father was watching at that very moment. Knew it was him down there about to escape the wall illegally.

  His eyes fell back onto the wall, a tear escaping down his cheek as the desire to cry returned. “Goodbye,” he whispered. “I love you.” And he inhaled, determined to get this done and not feel guilty for his choices. Then he pressed his palms onto the wall.

  The zap got him again, the tingle stronger as it escaped through every fiber of his being with a speed never before known. As it leaped across into his chest to steal his breath.

  No! He slammed his eyes shut, lids crinkling and forehead scrunching, before the spell could get the better of him.

  The chapter said to assert command, he recalled. He didn’t feel he had any anymore as he stood there now, desperate. A true criminal for the first time. It made him wonder if maybe he never did if his own right-hand man betrayed him. But this protection spell was his father’s work and that he figured was something.

  I am Isaiah’s son, he chanted with that thought, his subconscious praying this plan would work while also praying the spell didn’t notice his lack of confidence. You shall let me pass. And with that he visualized the essence that was his father. A piece of that essence would have been stored with the spell for extra strength.

  It appeared before him readily. The blue-gold shade he, himself, held flickered with life.

  Perfect.

  He sent forward his own essence, and the wall folded inward. At least it appeared that way when he felt cold stone not just under his palms but around them. It had become some strange form of water. From there the warping wall inched its way across his arms brick by brick. He could almost hear it all building along his frame with liquid precision.

  And then the world went black and silver all over again.

  His body stiffened painfully. No… the wall hardened. He was aware his jaw flew open for a silent scream as all around crushed downward with intent purpose, allowing his hold on the jolts to release and let them escape across every fiber of his being.

  This is it, a thought managed to escape. I’m dead. The chapter had clearly marked how those who weren’t stunned died by this point. The wall literally squished and shocked them to death. This was the most dangerous spell even for a master caster.

  And just like that his body dropped. It was as if something had swiped the wall away… and the ground. Everything was simply gone. The jolts and tingles, the trembling and shaking. His heartbeat. There was nothing to say he
lived. That he had made it through the wall. For all the gods knew, he had been sucked away to never be seen again.

  There were worse things, he guessed. Having his life redirected away from his plans was one. Disappointing his father was another.

  Will he figure it out?

  An icy cold swept him. His body hit something hard, yet soft. He hadn’t realized he had been falling the entire time, and he gave in to the dark silvery world that danced through his vision.

  Part 2

  November 12, 4464

  Footprints (Nicholas)

  White tuffs of snow sat delicately on Nicholas’ lashes as his lids fluttered open. More laid on his arms, nearly covering the grey of his sleeves. He was sure more coated his back as he felt weighed down by a cold, wet blanket.

  I’m alive?

  He lifted his head, a throb radiating through his temples, and seethed. But he managed to raise himself enough to look about and see he was on the other side of the wall. The trees of the surrounding forest were yards away.

  His head fell back into the snow, meeting the frozen earth below, and he sighed in relief. I made it through alive. Then he chuckled internally. If only he could tell his father. Laugh with his father about it.

  The amusement ceased, and he pictured his father standing in his workspace. Daily routine halted. He no doubt knows something happened. His essence was merged with the spell.

  He shifted, the snow falling away, and stiffly pushed up onto his knees. Then onto his feet.

  But most likely he doesn’t know it was me, which means if he knows anything at all…

  A twist and he leaned awkwardly to see up the wall to the guards. There was no sign of them. That meant they couldn’t see him, either. That was good for now, but he had two new problems no matter how he looked at the situation. Those problems were: one, the news of his magical escape was most likely being discovered at the moment; and two, he had to get across this second field.

  He motioned backward into the wall, pressing himself against it until he was as out of sight as possible. The guards would have to lean over and risk falling to see him now. Then he licked his lips and gulped, tasting the adrenaline infused sweat beading at the corners of his mouth despite the cold drying it out. His gaze instinctively shot to his goal from there – the line of trees.

  I did walk up to the wall unseen, maybe I could just walk away from it no big deal. But he quickly shook that idea away when he visualized what the guards would do if they spotted him. And his breathing quickened, heart making its way along his chest to his throat. He frantically sought about for another path.

  Except the exterior field was larger and more wide open than the one he just exited. And that wasn’t even the worst of what he noticed. It also occurred to him that he would be within the boundaries of Haven for miles. He wouldn’t be free until he entered Roupan, which was a month away on foot in this unexpected weather.

  There must be a way to not be seen… He leaned his head back against the hard stones to see up the wall. It was far harder now to see the top. The grey sky and heavy snow made it even more difficult. He wondered if it was possible to time their steps, figure out when they looked over.

  And that was when it hit him.

  He grinned diabolically. It filled him right to his bones, and he bit the inside of his cheek to keep from squealing. Then he clapped his hands together quietly and gave them a quick rub to warm them up.

  A cloaking charm. That meant the guards could look over and not see him. That is, as long as they didn’t do so directly while he was in motion.

  That squeal nearly escaped, and the jump that usually came with it tried to follow. But he restrained himself with a single breath in. This was no lower-level charm, so taking it lightly was not an option. Not even if he had recited the words nightly since discovering it. Practiced the sounds of each syllable every chance he got as they were in the old language, the most confusing language to have existed. Then he breathed out, closing his eyes to keep his focus and not lose himself to the excitement of casting his first mid-level charm.

  Only that was when a soft giggle left his throat, and he breathed in once more. It took all he had to let the air out slow and steady, the grey morning seeping through his lids to remind him he was in plain sight.

  Then he mumbled the words he was sure he knew forward and backward. It wasn’t long but actually rather short and straightforward. Just three stanzas. The hard part that worried him was adding his desire in the right places, making sure he understood each word perfectly. Adjectives and verbs couldn’t be misplaced, either. He didn’t want to turn himself inside out.

  Finally, he got to the last bit. This part was tricky, too. He took a step forward as he spoke the words for it, spun on his toes as directed, inhaled slowly, and stopped in the direction he started.

  His lids opened, pupils darting down, and saw nothing but snow. He knew he stood there, of course. His mark on the white stuff was as plain as day. So he held out his hands, and saw those, too, were gone.

  The smile he held broadened, a surge of accomplishment rose, and he bolted from the safety of the wall.

  “Hey!” boomed across a voice. A force of command emanated with it.

  Nicholas stumbled, swayed. His fingers brushed the snow, but then he caught his balance and held it. He had just barely made it into the visible zone, and now he was in the most awkward position imaginable – balanced on one foot with his arms out.

  “What?” answered what sounded to be the second guard along the wall. This one’s voice rang out over the cold air and into the trees ahead.

  Nicholas fought the whimper that built up as he saw how much further he still had to go and prayed to the gods the guards simply went back to walking.

  “I saw something!”

  “Where?”

  The thudding of his heart beat into his ears, and his body decided it was summer and began to sweat.

  “Over there!”

  He swayed a bit more, his arms flailed.

  “Did you see it? It moved just now!”

  He caught himself once more, nerves on the verge of ditching him.

  “No. All I see is…”

  Footprints, Nicholas finished to himself when the guard didn’t. Shit!

  “Bows out!” that second guard strained to holler. “Someone is out there!”

  “Where?” the two watchtower guards hollered together.

  “Just beyond the wall! Follow the tracks!”

  Nicholas collapsed, sending snow flying.

  “It’s Nicholas!”

  A bell went off, the sound similar to a gong as it broke the cold fall day, and nested birds took flight. Both Nicholas’ arms and legs slipped about frantically, his hands and feet searching for ground. Somehow, though, he got up, and then an arrow darted past his face.

  He fumbled, falling right back into the snow much more heavily, and a drop of blood spilled onto the white snow under him.

  Gods! You would think I committed murder!

  He shoved himself up, surprisingly with much more ease, and a sting seared his shoulder.

  An arrow landed before him. Then another.

  Bloody hell!

  He clasped his wound, a second sear slicing his thigh to spill hot liquid down his leg, and he took off again. His eyes forever remained on the forest as he proceeded to zig-zag his way across to them.

  Out the Window (Isaiah)

  Isaiah tucked the half-made teas away and made his way to the window. Something had crossed his protective shield, or attempted to at the least.

  “Are you sure there is nothing I can do to help?” he asked Xander, hoping whatever poor soul had taken on his shield hadn’t gotten himself trapped inside.

  “Nope. You are safer here.”

  He stopped, the beautiful winter view of Haven before him despite the fact it was actually fall, and darted his attention to the east wall. His eyes scanned along it, following its pa
th into the key shape it formed. It was difficult to say if what passed through the shield went in or out. And from this distance and height, he was unlikely to see much. Particularly if it was at the gate, which was beyond his view.

  Then something in his peripheral moved. Glimmered, in fact. He snapped his attention over, landing on the west wall and the bare, dead field between it and the village.

  Nothing.

  Isaiah took the liberty to scan the west wall further, taking it a bit more carefully, and spotted two guards. They were mostly blobs out there, but they clearly weren’t doing their usual duty. Both had stopped a short distance from each other. Isaiah’s forehead furrowed, but then he sucked in a breath, chest thrumming nervously at the prospect of oncoming violence, and shifted his sight and squinted.

  The wall came into focus, revealing one guard he couldn’t identify pointing out to the field. The other guard, just as unidentifiable, searched frantically for what his partner was pointing at. That thing appeared to be a figure, which stood under a cloaking charm that distorted his features completely.

  A mid-level spell caster? he wondered. It had to be. He was the only master level caster in Haven, and his son was a lower level. That is what this is all about? A mid-level spell caster?

  And the figure fell.

  Isaiah jumped out of his own skin, his magic sight faltering as he saw himself down in the snow in place of that poor soul. Then the bell went off, echoing into his bones; arrows flew; and his hand smacked over his mouth to keep the gasp at bay.

  Such unnecessary violence.

  The figure fumbled about, the arrows miraculously missing their mark.

  Isaiah couldn’t watch anymore, but he didn’t dare not watch. So he simply readjusted his sight back to normal, placing everything to the blob state. But he could still see when the figure managed to rise from the snow because whoever it was took off toward the forest.