by Amy Bearce
Corbin.
He stared at her, shocked. “Do you think that’s true?”
“I don’t know. The voice had said Shane was trying to take my magic. Mine, not theirs. But I don’t feel like I have magic of my own,” she replied, confused.
Micah said, “We must consider that the fairies could have begun a change in you as the voice’s vessel that’s only reaching completion now, like wind wearing away a stone until the gem inside is revealed.”
She couldn’t tell if Corbin was thrilled or jealous.
“Maybe,” she said, though discomfort curled in her belly like a snake. “I don’t know.”
“That’s okay. The answer can wait,” Phoebe broke in, dissipating the rising stress. “The sword will hopefully explain everything.”
“And we know the sword is up there.” Micah pointed in the direction of the mountains marked on the map.
Nell said, “Then we’d better move fast. We leave at first light.”
The next morning, they marched through snowfall. Faint sunlight streamed through the clouds now and then, but the thin beams didn’t offer any warmth.
They’d passed through the lower mountains, and the stretch of blue-white rising into the foothills of the taller mountains went on forever. The highest peak was somewhere among the tallest range but was hidden by clouds and seemed to be running away from them out of spite.
The spot under Nell’s heart throbbed, a steady discordant note now.
I don’t know what to do! Help us! She felt no hesitancy about begging the guardians anymore. Searching out a disembodied voice inside herself was the least of her worries. Her palm burned far worse than it did when she was first cut. The red stain was marbled with indigo, like a bone-deep bruise.
Nell grumbled and gritted her teeth so hard they should have exploded into dust, but she could only trust and follow the last directions she’d been given. Use the map. Go to the summit. Seek the sword and the Tree.
She pushed them hard, making fast progress, but by sunset, they were still too far from the mountains, much less the peak. They all knew it, but no one wanted to say it. Furthermore, the mountain was so sheer and high that getting to the top looked impossible anyway. Shane would beat them to it, easily, him with his flying beasts. And his icy wasteland would spread to all of Aluvia, sucking it dry of all its hard-won magic.
Nell’s moment of conscience may well have cost the world its freedom when she set the baby dragon free.
“Let’s get some sleep,” Nell grunted. She didn’t want to talk. She didn’t want to hear the light banter between Tristan and Phoebe, or see the loving glances between Sierra and Micah. She purposefully ignored the miserable expression on Corbin’s face as he stared at the ancient book, trying to puzzle out the scrawled message.
An hour later, Nell remained awake in her bedroll. She missed home. Would she ever see it again? Her little sisters? Her mother? Tears pricked her eyes. For her family, for her friends, she’d do anything. Give up every chance at being normal. Serve this strange magic for the rest of her life, in some forsaken land like this. Just save them, she begged. She received no response.
She stepped outside to the smoldering remains of the fire, hoping the icy coldness might help her breathe easier.
A figure sat by the fire. Corbin.
“I thought I was the only one who couldn’t sleep around here.” She sat beside him.
He gazed at the swirling red and silver lights in the sky, glancing at her once before returning his attention to their mysterious dance. “I was thinking about yesterday.”
“A lot to think about.”
“Yes. And while I’m so proud of you for escaping and saving that dragon… when you drew your weapon against the griffin like that, you took too big a gamble with yourself, the one and only prophetess Aluvia has.” His voice steadily rose from calm to sharp.
She pulled back. “What, you wanted me to let the griffin kill someone else? You do realize that I was right, don’t you? It was under Shane’s influence.” And not only had she been right, but listening to his fears had compromised her fighting. Fury bubbled up at the thought.
He lightly touched her hand. “Nell, answer me this: When you first drew on the griffin, did you know it was under Shane’s control?”
Nell was silent. She wrapped her arms around her waist and tucked her chin down. If he hadn’t gotten in her way, she could have shot the griffin, she knew it. It would be unfortunate, as it was a slave as much as the blue dragons, but she wouldn’t have been taken. She wouldn’t have had to feel this part of her that found Shane’s words… enticing, not even for a moment.
“Forget the griffin. It’s not about just that, or the wolf, or your insistence on keeping up with your swordwork.” Corbin’s voice cut through her racing thoughts. “You’re a wonderful, beautiful person, Nell. I think that when he cut you, he did more than silence the voice inside you. I think he’s influencing you. Making you more like him, faster to anger, quicker to reach for your sword. And let’s face it, it’s not like you had a tight rein on your temper before.”
She sucked in her breath. “So, you think I’m bad now? Evil?”
Corbin’s jaw dropped. “No! How could you think―No.” He blew out a hard breath. “What I mean is that you’re amazingly strong. You can take care of yourself, and no one doubts it. But by the stars, Nell, you stood in front of a griffin out to get your blood―did you ever think how that makes me feel? To watch you risk your life like that in front of my eyes?”
“It’s not like that. Besides, you risked yourself, too.” But she was a fighter―he wasn’t.
“I know,” he said, voice calm as ever. “And I don’t want to argue. I just want you to be safe.”
She suddenly felt a great wave of tiredness. “I understand. It was scary, does that make you happy to know? I was terrified. I don’t want to die, and I didn’t want to lose you, either. But I escaped, didn’t I? Took three men down on my way, too.”
“What?” His voice went deeper with shock.
“Don’t worry. I only knocked them out.” She’d skipped over the skirmish in her retelling, knowing it would bother him and it hadn’t mattered anyway. But it did matter. It mattered that he was so upset.
“That’s my point,” Corbin said. “The sword can be necessary―and is sometimes, don’t misunderstand me―but it doesn’t need to be your first choice. In fact, I’d say drawing your weapon should never be a first choice, especially for a warrior.”
Her chest squeezed tight. Her throat ached, making her angrier. She wouldn’t cry because her beloved thought she was a monster. And a stupid monster, apparently, who couldn’t judge her own safety. “Maybe what you’re really saying is fighters are just less than you? Barbarians. I thought you understood me better than that, but maybe you’re just jealous because I have more magic and don’t need you to save me.”
He looked like she’d just slapped him, eyes wide, jaw loose. Even under his dark skin, he grew waxy with shock.
She’d gone too far. Nell wanted to apologize but couldn’t squeeze the words past her own hurt. So she sat there, stubborn, awkwardly angry and confused. Part of her knew she was being irrational and unfair, but she just kept picturing Corbin’s disappointed face. Would he ever understand what drove her?
In the silence, she longed for the guardians to give her insight into his heart again. But even if the voice had been able to speak, Nell doubted it would have. Love seemed to be beyond its expertise. It was obviously beyond hers.
Maybe the voice was already gone forever, destroyed by the second slice of Shane’s poison. She hadn’t heard a thing from it since then. Without the voice, she’d be truly alone if Corbin left.
Or if he died.
Finally, though, he spoke.
“I’d marry you.”
Nell gaped at him. “Excuse me?”
“You think I don’t love you. You think I look down on you because I disagree with your methods sometimes. I don’t know how to
make you hear me on this―I believe in you. I’m worried for you, because you’re not acting like yourself lately, at least in some ways. But I’d still marry you tomorrow if you’d let me, because I love you and always will.”
She wanted to shout it to the heavens: I love you, too! Because she did love him, and had for years. But the words felt trapped, stuck behind the pain in her chest, the hurt that still thrummed sharply at his hard words.
When she said nothing, he sighed and said, “It’s too late, and we’re both upset. Let’s talk tomorrow.”
She nodded, and they headed in. She stepped carefully, as if she were made of glass. And when she lay down in the tiny tent, she listened to his steady breathing. He fell asleep quickly―that was Corbin for you. Nothing could put him off food or sleep.
Nell, on the other hand, relived every word of their conversation. Her hope clashed with her fears, fighting a war in her mind that kept her awake far, far into the night.
ind screamed against the tent, sounding like the shrill cries of the sprites from the storm. Nell sat up with a gasp. She’d fallen asleep at some point, but it was still dark out.
Snow hissed against the slick fabric of the tent; the scent of it was thick in the air. Sweat dripped from her brow though the temperature was dropping fast. If this tent was destroyed, they’d all be dead within hours, and even if the tent survived, a bad storm could keep them trapped here for a week.
The fabric beat back and forth against the willow poles. Beside her, Phoebe thrashed. It was too dark to see much, but the younger girl let out a low moan of pain that had Nell shooting out of her bedroll. Phoebe’s hand was cold and unresponsive.
“Sierra! Something’s wrong with Phoebe! Tristan!”
Tristan was at her side in an instant. Queenie and her fairies spun up like a small tornado around the tent, and Nell squinted against the golden light of their magic. Phoebe’s shadow writhed against the tent wall.
Then came another cry from within the tent. Corbin. Red light bloomed, radiating from Grace in a rage. The fairy and her wee ones darted around, screeching. Micah, sitting in his bedroll, restrained Corbin as he screamed. Leaving Phoebe in Sierra’s capable hands, Nell scrambled to Corbin’s side.
A ghostly form roiled around him. She stared hard and made out the faint features of a snow sprite, one of Shane’s with shriveled skin.
Her heart stuttered in her chest. Unlike the last storm, she was sure the wraithlike creature wasn’t her imagination. She really wished it was. Another sprite flowed around Phoebe.
“Snow sprites, changed ones! Do you see them this time? Shane sent them after us!”
Phoebe moaned, and Sierra screamed, “I’ll kill him!”
“There’s two of them. I see them now. They’re more powerful than before.” Tristan reached for Phoebe with arms that glowed with magic, casting its blue light into the red and gold of the fairies.
Corbin cried out again, sweat slicking his skin. Nell reached toward him, uncaring if the sprite hurt her, but her hands touched nothing, moving right through the transparent air elemental. Corbin kept thrashing, eyes squeezed closed.
“What’s it doing to him?” Nell yelled. She squinted and caught a clearer glimpse of the white-eyed ghoulish sprite. It seemed to be feeding on something, eyes narrowed, jaw working. When the sprite grew clearer, she shouted, “It’s biting him!”
The creature’s long teeth were buried deeply in Corbin’s shoulder, and its empty eyes met hers with a snarl. She snarled back at it. “Stop it!”
“The sprites’ magic is hungry, warped by the Dragon to bring death to any he chooses,” Micah said, eyes closed, hand outstretched toward the sprites.
Sierra shouted, “Get off her!”
She sounded furious, which meant she was terrified. Queenie and her fairies had turned a blazing red as well.
Corbin’s fairy queen’s cries of distress were high enough to break glass. Every time she tried to land on Corbin, the snow sprite swiped a hideous claw at her. The fairy danced back and hissed, but her stinger could find no purchase in a creature made of air. She couldn’t save Corbin.
Nell glanced over to see Tristan and Sierra holding Phoebe. The red lights of the fairies were like a kaleidoscope inside the tent, spinning in their agitation.
“You will not take her.” Tristan thundered at the sprite and placed his hands on Phoebe’s shoulders. He whispered in his ancient language, and blue light flared bright. The light seeped from his hands into her, settling into her body as the magic recognized her. Her tattoos glowed blue, and the snow sprite flung itself from her and flew away, straight through the tent’s walls.
Her tattoos slowly faded back to black, and Phoebe drew in a deep, quivering breath. A hint of color returned to her cheeks, and she fell into a heavy sleep.
“You saved her!” Sierra hugged Tristan hard.
“We’ve shared magic so closely as to be almost one. The sea knows her as one of us, and its magic will always protect her even if it cannot reside in her as it once did.”
Looking hopeful, Micah tried to send his magic to defend Corbin, but the faun’s golden power was simply blown back by the air elemental. Tristan’s magic was blocked as well. “Corbin isn’t tied closely enough to either one of us,” Micah said. “Perhaps if his fairy stung him―”
“No!” Nell interrupted. “He could die. You know he could.”
“He will most certainly die if we don’t stop this madness,” Micah said.
Corbin cried out again. Hopelessness boiled up in Nell like a toxic elixir.
“Why them? Why not attack me?” She ran her hands along Corbin’s clammy arms, her stomach in knots.
Micah said. “They have the fewest defenses of all of us, and the Dragon knew well whose pain would hurt you the most.”
“What can I do?” she begged. “Tell me and I’ll do it. Anything but having Grace sting him.”
Tristan said, “I fear a third type of magic is at work, as Corbin thought. Magic of the air, maybe, given the sprite belongs to the sky. If that’s the case, Nell, you are the only one who can defeat it, if you do indeed have magic like Shane’s. It is the only possibility.”
She couldn’t think clearly. Fancy talk about magic meant nothing to her. How could she have believed all those horrible things about him last night? How could she have said those hateful things? He said he’d marry her―and she’d sat there, silent.
He was Corbin; he loved her. Tears were ready to fall, but she refused to let them spill. Not now. They served no purpose, and she had to stop this attack.
“Can I make it let go?” She thought of the way she’d made the hatchling obey. But she had no more idea of how to save Corbin from the sprite than she did of how to defeat Shane.
She placed her hands on Corbin too. She tried to imagine her power radiating into him, as Tristan’s had into Phoebe. Come on, come on!
But her hands remained powerless. Human. And if she couldn’t give Corbin magic, she couldn’t save him.
Ignoring the white misty shape wrapping around him, Nell leaned down close and whispered in his ear, “Corbin, hang on! We’re going to figure this out! Don’t die! I’ll kill you if you die on me!”
A rough chuckle mixed with a moan of pain. “Nell.” Corbin opened his eyes.
“I’m here!” She gripped his hands.
“Nell!” His voice grew urgent. “I figured out the translation from the book!” He coughed, and blood welled on his lips.
“Not now, Corbin! Save your strength!”
“But it’s the way to reach the sword! To heal us all! You’ve got to fly… up… and claim the sword. Use the windsteeds! You saw one; you can find one!”
Another corrupted snow sprite blew through the tent walls. It latched onto Corbin, next to the other, its transparent body merging with his in places. The creatures’ coldness seemed to sink right into Corbin’s body, turning his face even paler, shading his lips blue. He screamed.
Nell couldn’t even think about Corb
in’s gasped message―only his suffering.
“Go! Go to the sword!” Corbin yelled again, eyes opened wide but unseeing. “Only you can do this! It’s for you to finish!”
“If you know where to go, do it!” Micah urged. “We will care for him.” The other two young men wrapped Corbin in a thicker swath of blankets. They firmly ignored the snapping teeth of the snow sprites, which couldn’t reach through the faun’s and merman’s own magic to wound them.
Corbin’s eyes drifted closed, and his teeth clanked in the cold. The color of the fairies made him look coated in blood.
Shane had done this. Someone she’d once admired, even trusted. His disgusting magic sent this threat right into her camp, and sweet, peace-loving Corbin was the one to suffer. It should be her.
“Come get me, then,” Nell yelled to the screaming sprites.
“No…” Corbin murmured.
“I’ve got a lot of magic for you, don’t I? More than even a fairy keeper,” she taunted. Those milky white dead eyes rolled back in their heads as they fed on Corbin’s strength.
Corbin arched his back on a silent scream. Something stabbed her heart, and she winced. Shane’s magic was burning deeper. Not now. She didn’t have time to collapse.
Micah whispered, “We must stop his suffering soon. This coldness is directed at the heart and will rapidly steal his life. Does not the voice have any words for you? Perhaps the guardians can use your desperation to reach you?”
In her panic, she’d forgotten to even try. If she could just hear the voice, even faintly, she felt sure they could save Corbin from Shane’s magic. Nell turned her attention inward, focused as hard as she ever had. Please! she pleaded. Anything!
Silence echoed.
“Here,” Micah said. “You’ll need the strength to reach them.”
She nodded. He put his hands on her and sent a burst of magic into her, a flood of strength. The world was tinged with gold and silver.
The voice rose immediately, though faint and muffled as if it spoke through a thick wall.
Listen carefully, Nell…
Relief flooded through Nell, as well as a joy so powerful it almost hurt from hearing the long-silenced voice call her by name. She never knew how much it had become a part of her until she thought it might be gone forever.
