by Trudi Jaye
“Yes, you’re in the Forest of Ghosts.”
“Argus as well?”
“Argus? Your friend?” She paused. “He was hurt.”
Nate sat up straighter. “What happened?”
“He was hit by a tainted arrow. We managed to slow the poison down.”
Nate thought of the black death that had spread around the arrow he’d seen. “Will he recover?”
“We’re doing our best.”
It wasn’t the reassurance he’d wanted. Those arrows had been full of rotten black death. Nate tried to sit up, but fell weakly back to his pillows. Soft skirts rustled and he felt her soft hands across his forehead.
“We kept you asleep so you could heal faster, but it was a hard knock you took on that branch.”
“I wondered what happened,” he said, putting one hand absently to the back of his head, once she’d lifted her hand away.
“You’ll be weak for another day or so, but it’s just the after effects. You’ll be fine.”
As she tucked him in, Nate asked, “Can I see Argus?” He had grown used to the big man in the short time they’d spent together.
“Not yet. You’re still too groggy.” She looked down at him, sympathy in her eyes. “And he’s not up to visitors.”
“What happened to the creatures hunting us?”
Her eyes darkened. “They wait at the edges. The forest is more powerful, but they wait with the patience of a stone.”
They were waiting for him.
He closed his eyes, feeling suddenly weary. “How long before I can get up?” Before he could leave?
“Not long.” She walked back to the door. “I’m going to visit Argus now. I’ll let you know how he is.” She left the room, closing the door quietly behind her.
Nate felt himself dipping back down into sleep, tired from even such a short visit.
He dreamed of huge flames, and a crown that fit his head perfectly. Long fingers reached out to him, but they couldn’t find him.
Someone screamed from a long way away.
***
Once again, the sleep lifted slowly from his mind. Groggy, Nate opened his eyes, peering around the room. Low lamplight came from one corner. Lifting one hand to his head, he realized his headache was gone, and he felt rested.
Despite a lack of light, his small room seemed cheerful and clean. In the distance voices murmured and children laughed and played.
He caught movement out of the corner of his eye. A woman sat in an armchair at the edge of the room. Her head was leaning slightly to one side, her eyes closed. Her long, dark hair fell around her face, and she almost seemed to glow in the lamplight. She wore a dark skirt and a thick tunic top and looked more suited to working on a farm than sitting with a sick patient.
Beside her stood a ghost, an old man wearing mage robes, but with no tattoo. Nate frowned. No tattoo meant he wasn’t a true mage, and shouldn’t be wearing the robes. He opened his mouth to say something and then stopped. The man was dead. It was no longer an issue.
He tried to sit up, getting as far as leaning on his elbows before the woman opened her eyes. As her hair fell back off her face, he saw brilliant blue eyes, and burn scars down her cheek and neck. He was mesmerized by both.
“How do you feel?” Her voice had an odd lilt he couldn’t place. Her attention was focused on him, and he struggled to think of an answer.
“I’m... better.” He frowned in concentration. “My head doesn’t hurt anymore.”
A small smile appeared, then disappeared. “That’s good.” Her eyes seemed full of knowledge.
“I’m Nate,” he said.
“Jena,” she replied.
“Jena.” He savored it on his tongue.
She bowed her head in acknowledgement, those blue eyes taking him in. “You’re a mage?” she said, gesturing at his tattoo.
The ghostly mage beside her seemed to shimmer, catching his attention. He nodded, momentarily distracted. “I’m more often a salt collector. But the tattoo makes it hard to hide in a crowd.” He glanced at her burns.
“Everyone remembers my face,” she said, acknowledging his look.
He flushed, not wanting to embarrass her. “You have an extremely striking face,” he said. There was an awkward pause, and Jena’s eyes refused to meet his.
“In a good way,” he added desperately.
“Thank you,” she said, her tone making it clear she didn’t believe him.
Nate felt his face redden. He searched desperately for something else to say. “Do you know how Argus is? The healer was unsure when we last spoke.”
“He’s ill, but he’s still alive. He took an arrow from the Riders, and the poison is still in his body.”
“So those... things... that were chasing us, they’re called Riders? I’ve never heard of them.”
Jena nodded. “They shoot arrows with a deadly poison that eats you alive. Most don’t survive.”
“So he owes his life to you?”
Jena shook her head. “To my sister. She’s a talented healer. But he’s not out of the woods yet.” She glanced around them, as if she could see outside the room. “Literally,” she said with a tiny curve of her lips.
“Tell her thank you. From me, as well as Argus.” Nate could still feel the echoes of the fear that had pumped through his veins during their mad race into the Forest of Ghosts. They were lucky to be alive.
“I will.” Jena moved to the door. “I’ll leave you to rest before dinner.”
“Jena. Wait. Where am I?” Nate gestured around the room.
“You’re in the Forest of the Ghosts. Probably the safest place to be right now, given who was chasing you.”
“But what about the Riders?” Nate held his breath while he waited for her reply. Were they still waiting by the edge of the forest?
Jena frowned at him. “Why are they chasing you?” she asked.
Letting out a frustrated breath, Nate shook his head. “You need to ask Argus that question; he understands it better than I do.”
Jena nodded and left through the door before he realized she didn’t answer his question.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Bree was waiting for Jena in the corridor outside Nate’s room.
“How is he?” she asked.
Jena paused, thinking through her first impressions. She’d felt strangely awkward around him. “He seems to be getting better,” she said neutrally. “How is his friend?”
Bree’s smile disappeared. “I haven’t dealt with anything like it before. He’s hurting, I know that much. The tainted arrow went deep.”
“Will he die?” Jena’s chest tightened. She had risked being found out for him; she wanted him to survive.
“He might have already, if you hadn’t acted quickly. Whatever you did, it saved him.” Bree put her arm around Jena’s shoulders.
Jena gave a short laugh. “I had no idea what I was doing.”
Bree raised her eyebrow. “For someone who didn’t know what she was doing, you did an awful lot.” She paused, then said quickly, “Jena, I’m your sister. Family. I feel the power pulsing around you. I know you cast a mage spell to help that man. You’re hiding it, and you don’t need to. You can trust me.”
Bree’s words sent Jena’s mind whirling. She had power pulsing around her? People could tell? Her breath quickened in panic. She frantically tried to think of something to fend off her sister. “I lived with Thornal for a long time; it was hard not to pick up certain things. Perhaps what you’re seeing is your connection to me. You’ve got healing skills, and you’re very empathetic.”
Bree gazed at Jena with disbelief in her eyes. “I just thought...” She blinked. “Forgive me, I shouldn’t have spoken.”
Jena hoped her face didn’t reflect the guilt she felt. For a moment, she even considered giving away her secrets; but the idea of putting Bree in more danger kept her silent. “I’m glad to have you looking out for me,” she said softly.
They began to walk down the hal
lway toward the healing room where the other wounded man was resting. Argus, Nate had called him.
“What can you do for him?” asked Jena, trying to cover the awkward silence.
“He’s not improving. There is something I haven’t tried, but it’s difficult. I might need your help.” Bree’s face was serious. “It could be dangerous,” she said.
Jena nodded. “Of course I’ll help.”
When they entered the small healing room, their patient was sitting up in bed watching the door. Jena had a feeling he’d been like that for some time.
Bree frowned. “What are you doing? You shouldn’t be sitting up. You’ve no more strength than a kitten.”
He raised his eyebrows, watching with dark eyes as she hurried over to his bedside and placed her hand on his forehead. His face was pale, and a sheen of sweat glistened over his skin.
“You’re burning up,” she said.
“I’m not a child. You, however, are a child. How old are you? Should you be in here with a patient by yourself?”
For the first time since Jena had met her, Bree look flustered. “I’m one of the best healers here,” she said. “I’m more than capable.” She pulled her hand away from his forehead, her hands fluttering for a moment, before falling to her side.
Then she seemed to give herself an internal shake and glared down at him. “We’re not children, and we know what we’re doing.”
“I hope so.” Argus continued to watch Bree’s every movement, his face impassive. He was obviously in a great deal of pain, but he wouldn’t admit it.
“How do you feel?” Bree asked.
“Like I’m rotting away.”
“The poison from the arrow is still in your body. We stalled its progress, but to get it out, I will have to do a Seeking to find the source and destroy it.”
Jena gave Bree a swift look. She was surprised her sister even knew what a Seeking was, let alone how to do it. Jena had only seen Thornal do it a couple of times; it was an extreme form of healing, and she was almost certain it was an exclusively mage skill. Perhaps her sister wasn’t telling her everything either?
“Is there any other way?” Argus asked.
“The poison is too strong. It’s your only choice.” Bree was calm but firm, her expression serious.
He nodded abruptly. “Do as you must.”
“Then we start now. No point in delaying.” Sitting down on the wooden stool next to his bed, Bree gestured to Jena to sit across from her on a matching chair.
Jena narrowed her eyes. Why was Bree rushing this?
“Jena is going to help me,” said Bree. She turned to Jena. “You’ll be connected to me. I’ll need you to watch me, and pull me out if something happens.”
Jena nodded. “How do I pull you out?” she asked, leaning forward in the chair. She knew the answer, but was curious how much knowledge Bree actually possessed.
“Focus really hard and yell my name in your head. It should be enough to help me find my way back.” Bree sounded certain, but she was nervously twitching her hands on the coverlet. Jena was sure Bree didn’t know as much about Seeking as she was making out. She reached across the bed, over Argus’s legs, and grasped Bree’s hand in a comforting touch. Bree glanced up, her eyes shadowed. Jena tried to let her sister know that it was going to be fine. For anything that Bree didn’t know, Jena had the Book of Spells to guide them.
Jena leaned back and settled into her chair, waiting for Bree to begin.
Taking a deep breath, Bree began counting backward.
Whispers of Bree’s mind swirled around the room. A soft tendril linked a piece of Jena’s thoughts to her sister’s. At first, everything was blurred; then it came into focus, but with a strange double vision that made her eyes water. It was like being in two places at once: she could see through Bree’s eyes, and her own. Then it disappeared and all she could see was a bright white light. A flash of pain made Jena jerk back in her chair, and then they were inside Argus’s head.
Thoughts and feelings floated around them. Controlled emotion was heavy and sticky in the dim surroundings. Jena felt the blood pumping through Argus’s veins and his heart beating at the center.
It was an overwhelming, disembodied feeling that made her head spin and her knuckles turn white. Jena’s heart started beating faster, and her breath came in ragged gasps. On her stomach, she felt a pinch of pain as the raven used its sharp beak to calm her down. She took several big breaths, using the control methods Thornal had taught her. Her thoughts settled and she was able to focus, again, on what Bree was doing. How could her sister cope so easily?
Through Bree, Jena could feel Argus’s pain and the dark bitter taste of the poison throbbing in his shoulder. Grasping the affected area with her mind, Bree soothed the pain with a wash of cool thought.
Argus relaxed as his pain was eased.
Bree then concentrated on the poison itself. It was sitting on his shoulder, bubbling and seething, trapped by Jena’s original spell. A lump attempted to seep out past the barrier and into the bone and muscle around it. It jumped back as if stung, and the black, poisonous mound roiled and turned in anger.
With her gentle healing magic Bree attempted to smother the invading black poison. It struggled against her, surging forward like an attacking army, eager to grasp a new and possibly more fertile host.
Bree’s presence seemed to strengthen the poison’s desire to get out, and it started to batter against the weakening barrier provided by Jena’s original spell. Repeatedly it hammered against the barricade, until, with a sound like a pop and a faint sting, the spell broke, and the blackness oozed out.
For one terrifying moment, the surprise of its escape allowed the black infection past Bree’s defenses. Jena pulled in a deep breath, ready for a fight. But then Bree pushed back with a surge of power, her green softness surrounding the black, and it was forced to retreat again.
But despite pushing with all her magic, Bree could only contain it. Jena felt Bree’s rising desperation and fear, as well as her exhaustion, as she shoved against the powerful infection. She couldn’t destroy it and now it was no longer trapped by the spell.
Another strong surge from the black ooze broke part of Bree’s defenses and the mass seeped down Argus’s arm. In the distance, they heard a groan of pain, and Bree again shoved desperately at the blackness. She prevailed for a moment, and then the black ooze buzzed in triumph as it pushed her further back.
Bree began to panic, her usually stable mind darting back and forth.
Without thinking, Jena took over, using skills she had honed with Thornal. Pushing more of her own power into Bree’s mind, she moved after it along the thread that joined the sisters. There was an unexpected surge of power pressing against her, pushing her even faster toward Argus and Bree. She recognised it as the same power that had caused the white fire spell in Thornal’s home. She pulled it all into her mind without question, knowing they needed everything they could get.
The bright white light, more powerful than any of the rest, danced and screamed at being set free from the constraints of Jena’s mind. Close behind she heard the cawing of the raven. Thornal’s creature was helping as well.
Jena moved with the light, happy to have the extra assistance, even if she wasn’t entirely certain where it came from. The black oozing disease wasn’t just attacking Argus; now Jena and Bree were at risk as well.
She spoke the final part of the Seeking spell, and her whole consciousness landed inside Argus. Jena merged with Bree’s mind, and together they formed a pointed arrow, their combined force easily pushing the black ooze back up Argus’s arm and into his shoulder. It hissed and spat, but it was no match for the onslaught. Once it was contained, they stamped over the poison, crushing it dead.
As they watched, the black infection dried up and turned to dust.
The raven cawed in triumph, then pulled itself and the glowing white light back through the connecting thread and into Jena’s body.
Jena was slo
wer to return, trailing alongside Bree, both sisters exhausted by the confrontation. As they were about to leave his body, an unusual mist from Argus’s internal landscape started to curl around them. She sensed other pain within the big man, and realized the mist was a spell, binding him to a master. Bree pushed against the spell, trying to break it, but the pieces of the floating mist simply separated, only to regroup again. When whispers of the spell tried to attach themselves to Jena and Bree, they quickly withdrew, too exhausted to fight another battle.
Jena opened her eyes. She and Bree were back in the small healing room. She trembled and wiped the sweat from her face, waiting for the dizziness to subside. Directly across from her Bree was pale and limp in the morning light.
They didn’t speak for a long while. This time Argus broke the silence. “Thank you. I no longer feel the pain. Your method was... unusual.”
Jena glanced at him. There was a brittle tension in the air. His eyes were dark and hard. He knew they had seen things he would prefer to hold secret.
Bree stood, wiped imaginary dust off the front of her robe, and nodded. “We must check on our other patients,” she said.
Jena opened her mouth to tell Bree to rest for a moment, then saw her face. She nodded at Argus and then followed her sister out of the room.
As Jena closed the door, Bree took two steps, then collapsed onto the stone floor.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Nate managed to sit up on his bed. He was feeling claustrophobic and disorientated, which made him determined to get dressed and leave his room. He could feel all sorts of magic swirling around in this place, and it made him nervous. It reminded him of being back at Mage Training School. He’d rather face a live volcano than his old school masters.
He managed to get his trousers on and his shirt over his head before the room started spinning uncontrollably. He lay limply back on the bed with his eyes closed, pushing the sick feeling away.
“You shouldn’t push yourself like that,” said a stern voice beside him.
