by Amy Bearce
He winced. “Both. I’m sorry if I’ve made you feel like I don’t trust you.”
Her heart felt like it was hovering in mid-flight, about to soar… or crash.
Corbin squeezed her hand. “You’re a smart, strong person―you know I believe that. Of course you can take care of yourself, but I worry for you anyway. I’ve made you mad plenty of times in the past, but you’ve never gotten this upset. Is there something else going on?”
Only that she hadn’t heard from the voice in so long she feared the Dragon’s poison was winning. And even if they won this fight, Nell didn’t think she’d be able to live like Corbin wanted her to and still be happy.
“I—I…” The words hung on her tongue, but a quick glance at his gentle expression had her swallowing them. “I miss warm weather. Our mountains back home aren’t nearly this bad.”
That was the truth, if not all of it. And it wouldn’t hurt either of them.
She wasn’t going to bring up the flashes of fire she saw in the sky, either. She was tired of being the strange one, and if it was indeed more magic Corbin was missing out on, mentioning it would only ruin the tentative stitching up of their torn trust in each other.
“Me, too. Right about now, the meadowlarks would be calling with the sunrise, and we’d be in short sleeves.” He sighed.
“And then later, we could sit by the beach and watch the sun set over the waves.”
“That’d be nice.” He bumped her shoulder with his. “I am sorry, you know. I don’t want to fight.”
“I’m sorry, too,” she whispered.
Words sprang unbidden, as if jostled loose from his touch. “What if I can’t find this sword? If I can’t defeat him? Or if any of you die because you came with me? It’ll all be my fault.”
“Hey, now! That’s not true! No one blames you for our choices.”
“Choices made because of me.”
“Because you were choosing the right thing, and I wanted to support you. We all do.”
“It didn’t feel like much of a choice.” She couldn’t believe she’d been secretly excited to battle again, even against a foe like the Dragon. So stupid of her. This trip wasn’t a sword duel. It was a grueling, exhausting marathon to prevent a war.
Corbin looked at her steadily, calmly. He’d always anchored her, the one who first saw beneath the surface to the real her.
He said, “You know the reasons why you chose to come here, to seek the sword and fight. You know them better than I do. Why don’t you tell me?”
She kicked at a rock. “Save the world, save our magic, blah blah blah.”
He laughed. “That’s the Nell I know and love.”
She unbent enough to smirk, but then her smile faded. “My family needs me still, Corbin. And if something were to happen to me, if this poison does something to me―”
She cut herself off. That was a distraction Corbin couldn’t afford.
“We’re going to stop that from happening.” He sounded serene, so sure of himself.
Anger sparked, fast and sharp. She snapped before she could stop herself. “What makes you so sure?”
“Because I know you,” he said simply, taking the heat from her sudden fury. He took her other hand. “I know us.”
They walked in silence after that, but it was an easy one, not the dreaded thick silence that had been spooling into an inky pit between them. Everything else in her life might be going up in flames, but at least Corbin still knew and loved her even at her worst. She’d nearly forgotten that, but it was as clear now as the mountains before her. And she loved him, even when he was being ridiculously idealistic. Maybe they balanced each other out, if she could figure out a way to serve both her mission and her heart.
By the time the sun was setting, everyone walked closely together, eyes trained on the ground for any weaknesses. Another fall at this stage would be more dangerous, with energy and resources already low. Far fewer words were spoken. Even the little fairies had stopped their frolicking and flew straight as arrows alongside them.
Urgency nipped at Nell’s heels. Faster. Faster. Faster. A full week had gone by already. Two blizzards full of malice and an attempted dragon attack―who knew what their enemy would send next? Every day, he grew stronger and more entrenched in his power.
Nell ignored the sting beneath her heart.
A long howl echoed through the dusky air. Everyone halted.
A second howl poured through the rocky hillside, followed by another wolf picking up the call from the other side of the valley.
Nell kept her voice low and calm. “They’re close.”
She scanned the area. So little to see in the purple-shaded dusk, at first. But then she noticed a jagged opening alongside one of the cliff-like chunks of ice to their left. Beyond the small cave, black hills dotted the ice, like lava cooled and frozen.
The howl filled the air, and this time was answered by a chorus. Nell and the others circled up, back to back.
“Do you see anything?” Tristan whispered.
“Not yet,” Corbin said.
“How many can we expect?” Nell asked, gaze roaming the land.
“They hunt in packs of up to a dozen,” Corbin replied.
“And just think how hungry they must be. We’re starving, and we’ve only been here a week,” Phoebe said.
“These could be sent from the Dragon, too. Like the storms―and the dragons.” Nell pulled out her bow and drew an arrow.
The first wolf to slip forward was almost invisible: White fur from nose to tail, but the eyes were black as coal. The animal stared at them from the opening in the ice which had to lead to a cave.
Icy cold ran up and down Nell’s back. The wolf’s eyes looked angry, like the eyes of the face in the wind. This beast wanted to kill her, too. “Sierra, do you have Queenie nearby? It’s an attack.”
“No, don’t use the fairies!” Corbin grabbed her arm. “Look, it’s a mother wolf. You can see she’s been nursing pups. We can scare her away; her pups will die if we kill her.”
Was he kidding? Let her friends be attacked? She growled.
The wolf growled in response, and its fur bristled.
Sierra said, “I don’t know, Nell. Queenie’s not sensing―”
“I know what I know,” Nell interrupted. “That man wants us dead, and Aluvia under his foot, or have you forgotten? If I have to take down some of his creatures to defeat him, so be it.” She took aim.
“Stop!” Corbin pleaded.
He was going to get them all killed. Her vision tinged red with fury.
Then singing filled the air with poignant, heart-rending notes. Her anger floated away on the music. She’d forgotten about Micah’s skill. Using his magic, he sang a song of peace that held power beyond its beauty. His song had been lovely the first time she’d heard it, but now her heart fluttered at the haunting melody, as if something inside was trying to take flight.
Like dust motes in the breeze, Micah’s song drifted through the air as a glowing series of lights, bright gold with hints of green like moss in springtime.
Nell’s eyes widened. No one else was watching the colors. Was she the only one who could see the magic carried along by the power of his singing? It was breath-taking.
The magic shimmered, vibrant and full of life. It sank into the wolf, fading under its skin, bringing with it a deep sigh of relaxation from the animal. The bristles of its fur settled, and the wolf sat, tongue lolling like a pet dog.
Throat full, Nell closed her eyes. She’d been wrong. She’d nearly killed an innocent creature.
Even without the use of her sight, the colors still swirled in her mind. Goose bumps tingled along her skin, and her hands loosened on the bow and arrow. The pain that never left her faded to a distant noise. Even her guilt slipped away in the beauty of the song.
Micah stopped singing, and the golden notes softly faded into the fast-darkening sky.
Two white pups trotted out of the cave and pressed up against the bigge
r wolf. The mother yipped at the babies and then padded away into the cave, the pups trailing behind.
The danger was over, but Micah’s power still filled the clearing.
Tied into the rush of magic around her, Nell saw flames along the edge of her vision, clearer this time. She spun toward the flash in the sky.
A glorious mare―rippling white body and mane, clear muscles flexing as she pawed the sky. Wings twice the length of her body extending from her back, with licks of gold, orange, and red flames lighting along the length of them. She was magnificent.
If she were real. Because the next instant, she was gone.
The dark-blue sky was stunning―but empty.
“Did the rest of you see that?” Nell asked, her voice cracking. Sierra had once seen strange things during their first journey together. That had been her fairy queen calling her, though, and Nell had no such creatures to care for.
Corbin said, “Let’s move on before we talk. Other wolves may decide to attack if we stay. They may be natural, but they’re still predators.”
Micah nodded. “We must camp away from here, and quickly. My calming influence will be short-lived.”
The sun had dipped below the horizon, and the temperature was dropping.
The group of friends backed away from the cave, picking through the craggy land. Nell followed, swept along by their urgency, shock still reverberating.
She had seen magic. Magic must be growing in her, even with the voice silenced.
ell kept the words bottled inside until the tent was up―no cave tonight―and the fire going. Then she grabbed the conversation by the reins. A girl had to take her medicine when it was time, no matter how bitter. “First of all, Corbin was right about the wolf. She wasn’t sent from the Dragon, or Micah’s magic wouldn’t have calmed her. I’m―sorry. For refusing to listen. A good leader always listens to her team, and I didn’t.”
Corbin nodded. “We understand. You’re on edge.”
True. No one else bore the responsibility she did, did they? It was all well and good to be kind and generous when it wouldn’t cost anyone’s life. But Nell had to hold the line. Pleased with this logic, Nell allowed herself to feel soothed by it.
“And no harm was done,” Phoebe pointed out.
That’s right. No one and nothing was actually hurt. Sometimes toughness was necessary. Nell still believed that was true, but she could admit―at least to herself―that being too quick to use her weapon was something to watch out for. She’d try harder to listen to Corbin next time. Irritation flared at the thought. Being wrong galled, even with the grace the others offered so easily.
“There’s something else, something really important,” she pressed forward. “Did anyone else see something while Micah was singing? I think… I saw… his magic.”
Sierra said, “Really? That’s new, isn’t it?”
“You could say that.”
“Hmm. Well, I didn’t see anything,” Sierra said. “I don’t see magic most of the time. I have to focus on Queenie and our bond to see it. It takes work.”
“I saw it,” Tristan said.
Nell sighed with relief. “Was it golden?”
Tristan nodded. “I assumed it was Micah’s magic. Ours is always blue.”
“Why couldn’t I see it before?” she asked, licking lips dry from shock.
Micah pursed his lips as he thought. “I suspect the magic Tristan and I have shared with you has sensitized you. Add in the voice’s own magic and the Dragon’s, whatever his power springs from, and it is actually unsurprising you would be able to see some form of magic.”
“There’s more,” Nell said, stealing herself for the hurt Corbin might feel. “Didn’t someone say something about a”―she coughed into her hand, feeling ridiculous―“flying magical creature much like a horse?”
Corbin nodded, a new chill in his eyes that had nothing to do with the weather.
Feeling humbled, she took a deep breath and tentatively wrapped both hands around his. “Could you tell me about it? It’s relevant; trust me.”
His eyes thawed a bit. “Windsteeds are in the old stories, creatures made from the wind itself, temperamental and wilder than any unbroken stallion. They can wink out of existence and reappear in another place far away, instant travel through the air. But the stories of them faded many years ago, far longer than those of dragons and even Baleros among the merfolk.”
“The fauns have passed down stories of them throughout their history, along with many other magical creatures,” Micah offered.
“And did these windsteeds have wings of fire, by chance?” Nell asked.
Corbin stared at her, eyes huge. “You’ve seen one? Tonight?”
Nell shrugged, trying to downplay the intensity of the moment. “I’ve seen something a few times. This was different than those faces in the blizzard. Like a mirage of fire playing at the edge of my vision. When I looked straight at it, it disappeared. But I caught it clearly once during Micah’s magic. And I realized maybe it wasn’t just a hallucination. Maybe it was real.”
“What did you see, exactly?” Corbin enunciated each word a little too clearly for Nell’s comfort.
“Well, about what you described, honestly. A great white steed, high in the sky. Strong, confident―you could tell. Its wings were huge and flamed brighter than a midwinter bonfire.”
“You saw a windsteed,” Corbin confirmed, with an unusually flat tone for such an occasion. Being left out of the magic again had to sting. “There’s nothing else like it.”
“This would be good news indeed!” Micah said. “Windsteeds could carry us to the mountain immediately. They could be the answer to our time and distance dilemma!”
“Have you ever actually seen one?” Nell asked the faun.
He shook his head. “No one I know ever has. They are legend only. But we who were also thought to be legend know well that many things exist that would shock humans.”
“I’ll keep looking, then,” Nell said. “Though I wish Aluvia would stop all the surprises.”
Corbin leaned closer. In the cold air, heat emanated from his body like rays from the sun. He said, “Speaking of surprises, do you have anything else to tell us?”
She sighed. It was time to tell them about the visions of the red-robed women. Past time. It was the only way to repair any breaks she might have caused by keeping silent.
“Remember how I told you all the voice was talking to me? Sort of privately?”
“Yes?” Corbin’s gaze narrowed.
“It also sort of, well, showed me things. Visions. Things from the past, I think. I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want to sound like a lunatic.”
“Look at the company you keep. None of us can throw stones,” Sierra said, putting her hand on Corbin’s tight shoulders, as if giving a silent warning. Then she waved to her fairy, Micah’s faun legs, Tristan and Phoebe’s tattoos, Corbin’s keeper mark.
“I know, but these visions seemed a bit much for even me to believe.”
“What is it you couldn’t tell even me?” Corbin asked slowly.
“When we were in the old temple at Port Iona, I had a vision of red-cloaked women studying in the secret room. Before you found the picture of them.” The words came out in a rush. Tingling in her chest spread to her neck. Her cheeks burned even in the freezing air.
“What were they studying? Did you see?” Micah asked, the only one not glaring.
Corbin was more than glaring. His eyes were dark with hurt. Betrayal. She should have told him sooner; she really should have. By trying to spare his feelings, she’d made things worse.
“I don’t know. But I knew it felt familiar. I think it’s tied to the voice. It’s like she… it’s… they’ve”―she decided to use the singular pronoun since it usually sounded like one person when it spoke―“she had woken up more fully, and I was getting some of her memories.”
“What, like a haunting?” Corbin asked.
“No. More like sharing my min
d with her. It’s always been like that, but it had grown stronger, just as the magic in the world has. Until the Dragon’s magic silenced her, like I said.” Nell met his eyes. “I saw them wielding the sword, and she said they were the guardians. Guardians of Aluvia’s magic.”
She couldn’t quite bring herself to mention anything about the souls in the sword.
“Then it’s good these guardians are on our side, isn’t it?” Corbin let out a deep breath.
True. But what if saving the world required a sacrifice? What if that was what the voice was preparing her for? The guardians weren’t alive and weren’t quite dead. Whatever they were, Nell didn’t want to be like that.
The lights boiled above them again, as they had each night, like a bubbling soup pot about to spill over. Nell wished she knew if that would be good or bad.
The next day passed without major problems, if one discounted the constant freezing wind and two distant dragon sightings. The Dragon assuredly hadn’t given up, though. Not a man like that. Maybe he was too busy conquering the ports back home, laughing at how their group was walking through never-ending snow. Nell glowered at the thought.
They were barely into the second week of this journey, and already it seemed endless. The tallest mountains were still too far away. Food was stretched thin, even supplemented with hunting and gathering. She woke daily with her heart on fire, smothering her cries so as not to wake her friends. Her gaze roamed constantly, watching for dragons, wolves, ice patches or any other dangers.
They stopped to debate which way to take toward the highest peak. The map showed two possibilities―one took them by the unknown circle on the map; the other avoided it. Corbin wanted to scope out what that symbol represented, but Sierra felt it best to avoid any possible risks. Despite the urgency thrumming in Nell, tiredness weighted her down like piles of rocks in her boots. Her friend’s drawn faces suggested they felt the same.
Corbin held the book now even as they walked, leaving him no free hands to hold hers. He muttered to himself as he walked rather than engaging in conversation with anyone else. She told herself it didn’t matter.
