Shadow Fire

by Wheaton, Kimber Leigh

  "Well you are making it a tad difficult," he says, leering at me.

  "You started it so don't blame me!"

  "No, this time I'm pretty sure you started it."

  He collapses, snickering at the dark glare I shoot his way. I know this isn't his fault, but I'm enraged at my village. When Elder Clements said only a maiden with a pure soul could touch the statue, stupid me thought he meant… well, something other than sex! To think they had to consider my sexuality before sending me. It's mortifying! How do they know I'm a virgin anyway?

  "Well, I'm furious right now so you might want to run," I snap at him.

  My eyes fall to the pillow lying like an innocent lump on the bed. Grabbing it, I vent my fury by striking Zane so many times I lose count.

  "I know, Love," he says, hands blocking his face as the blows continue to rain down. "I wish it wasn't this way. Believe me." He holds out his arms, and I toss the pillow aside to lie down with my head on his chest.

  "I'm just glad Freya is a griffin and not a unicorn," I mumble into his chest. "It would be way too cliché."

  "Ah, but it'd be so perfect!" he exclaims laughing. "The pure white unicorn gracing the chaste maiden with its presence."

  "Zane?"

  "Hmm?"

  "Quit while you're still ahead," I advise, glaring up at him.

  "Yes, Love," he replies, the laughter apparent in his eyes, though he manages to keep the smile off his lips.

  ****

  We spend the rest of the afternoon alternating between magic lessons and sparring. Though I'm not skilled with the sword, it's still much easier than magic. It's amazing just how much concentration is needed to produce a tiny flame, which extinguishes within seconds. For a change of pace, I try focusing on wind instead. A gentle breeze rustles through Zane's hair.

  I suppose I can cool Delistaire off if nothing else.

  Light magic is what interests me the most. But I don't understand what it encompasses. It's easy to picture fire and wind in the mind's eye, but how does one picture light? Besides, it's obvious magic is a lousy weapon. There's no way I could ever unleash a spell before an enemy was upon me. It's not like I can ask them to stand still for a minute or two while I cast the spell. They'd run me through with whatever weapon they possessed long before I could finish summoning the magic.

  "Zane, there must be a faster way to cast a spell." With a deep sigh I collapse back on the sofa and close my eyes.

  "I'm sorry but there isn't a shortcut. Even the most powerful mage needs time to focus. Magic is a poor melee weapon," he says. I hear him walk over to me but I refuse to open my eyes. "It's similar to fighting up close with a bow and arrows."

  "At least an arrow can be released in a second," I argue, glaring at him through one eye. "Casting magic takes too long."

  "Regardless, you need to learn light magic at the very least," he says with a sigh as he sits down beside me. "Eventually we'll have to fight Delistaire. Light magic may be the only thing that saves you."

  "I understand fire and wind. I mean they're obvious. But what exactly is light magic?" I ask, frustration apparent in my voice.

  "Light magic can be used for healing, curing ailments, attack, and defense," he says. "My mother only used it for healing and curing ailments. I think the pendant she wore kept her from using it to attack. I don't know how it's done."

  "So I have to attack with light," I ponder aloud. "I have to envision the light turning into something which would cause harm."

  "Try healing first. I can help you with that." He takes my dagger from its sheath and slices his arm before I can stop him. "Focus on this wound. Place your hands over it. You don't have to touch it, just hover over the injury. Imagine light flowing into the cut, the blood stopping, and the skin healing until the wound disappears."

  Taking a deep breath, I close my eyes and allow my hands to hover over his arm. I imagine the light as a soft ethereal glow. The warmth courses through my body and emerges from my hands. When my fingers start to tingle, I picture the wound in my mind. I imagine the light caressing the torn skin, binding it back together, until nothing is left to indicate there was ever an injury to begin with. When I open my eyes, I gasp.

  "The wound, it's almost completely gone!" I exclaim. There's a faint red line marking what had been a bleeding cut. "Did I really do that?"

  "You did," he answers, smiling. "It's amazing, really. You're quite powerful. Or perhaps light magic is just that powerful."

  "It felt good," I whisper. "The light flowing through me felt peaceful. It felt right. Like something long missing has been found."

  "Your magic was sealed," he says. "It makes sense that part of you mourned the loss. In a way you're finally whole again."

  "I wonder who sealed my magic?" I voice the question, but the answer eludes me. "My parents always taught me that magic is dangerous and unpredictable, good people stayed away from it. Do you think they knew and were trying to protect me?"

  "It would take a very powerful archsage to seal your magic. I know of only two archsages on the entire continent, my father and my uncle," he says, appearing lost in thought. "Perhaps you were born with it sealed. A latent ability that would never appear unless needed."

  "I guess it doesn't really matter at this point," I say, moving over to the bed. "I'll keep thinking about how to attack with light."

  "I have faith in you," he says, walking over to me.

  When I don't turn around to face him, he enfolds me in his arms. I lean back into his embrace and close my eyes. A knock sounds at the door. Zane crosses the room to answer it. Two men enter the room wheeling a small cart. They set up dinner on the small dining table in silence before exiting the room. Zane lights the two candles on the table, and I sit down across from him.

  "You've gotta love room service," Zane says, leaning back in his chair, his dark eyes sparkling in the candlelight. "I hope you like pork."

  "I had a feeling we'd be eating pork tonight," I say, smirking. "As a matter of fact I love pork chops."

  The pork is juicy and tender. Too bad the boars I shoot at home never taste this good. Perhaps it's the preparation and cooking which makes this pork so delectable. There's a light scratching at the patio door and Zane gets up to open it. Shadow races into the room, sitting by the table with his head tipped to the side.

  "I thought you might show up," Zane says, uncovering a third plate. "Freya wouldn't share?" He tosses the pork chop in the air. Shadow snatches it midair and carries it to the far corner to enjoy.

  "You know you're spoiling him."

  "He deserves it," Zane replies, smiling. "He watches over us every night without complaint."

  "True," I agree. "Dinner is wonderful. Thank you," I manage to say through a yawn. "Sorry, I guess I'm pretty tired."

  "Using magic can sap your strength quicker than physical activity. New mages have it particularly difficult," he says while stacking our dishes. "I thought there'd be a good chance you'd be exhausted. That's why I arranged to have dinner served in our room."

  "It was very thoughtful," I remark through another yawn.

  "I'm heading to the bathhouse. Since you bathed earlier you should go ahead and sleep. I'll be back before you know it."

  He kisses my cheek, grabs his pack, and walks out the door. Sitting on the side of the bed, I remove my boots before curling up under the blankets. Shadow jumps up on the bed and settles down next to me. My thoughts wander back to my light magic dilemma. How can I form light into a weapon? A rainbow is made up of light. Could the answer be so simple? Maybe I can make a spear or a sword by picturing a rainbow of light. With a smile, I drift off to sleep excited about trying my new weapon in the morning.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Descent into Madness

  Gentle kisses along my neck awaken me from a deep sleep. I roll over in Zane's embrace to face him, finding his lips with mine in the darkness. Insidious laughter echoes throughout the room, and my muscles tense as my flight reflex tries to kick in. A bright
flash of light blinds me, illuminating the entire room. Gasping in horror, I focus on the man in bed with me. It's not Zane. He's older judging from the small wrinkles framing his eyes. His long, straight hair is dark brown, falling over his shoulders to pool on the bed around him. He's leering at me with dark red eyes, so much like Zane's, but lacking the warmth I associate with his sultry gaze. With a start I realize who this man is. Delistaire. I open my mouth to scream but no sound emerges. Delistaire continues laughing, a high-pitched cackle, mocking me. I try to back away but find I'm unable to move. As darkness overcomes me, I can hear him shouting my name.

  "Ashlyn!"

  "ASHLYN!"

  My eyes fly open. The room is dark again. I try to move but I'm trapped, my arms and legs pinned down. Icy panic grips me, and I buck against the body holding me down.

  "Please, Love, calm down. It's a dream."

  Love? I stop fighting and try to calm myself. Zane? Burying my nose in his neck, I inhale vanilla and cinnamon.

  "Zane?" I cry, fearing he's but a fleeting phantom.

  "Yes, Love," he whispers, his lips brushing along my ear. Relief floods me, and my racing pulse finally slows, my heartbeat no longer echoing through my head. "You had a nightmare."

  "It felt so real," I whimper, my voice catching in my throat.

  "I'm here. I won't let anyone hurt you," he coos, stroking my hair.

  Violent tremors wrack my body. I cling to Zane, desperate to banish the awful vision, yet the image of the sorcerer has been seared into my mind.

  "I saw your father. He was in bed with me. I thought it was you at first. He kissed me," I murmur, bile rising when I realize I can still taste the repulsive bitterness of his lips.

  "What did he look like?" Zane asks with a hard edge to his voice.

  "He had long dark brown hair, completely straight. The way it pooled on the bed made me think it was down past his hips." I stare into Zane's eyes in the dim light of the room. "His eyes were like yours, same color, but icy, lacking any trace of warmth."

  "Have you ever seen the man in your dream before?"

  "No. Other than a resemblance to you, he wasn't familiar."

  "Sounds just like Delistaire," Zane says, his eyes darting around the room as if the evil sorcerer might be lurking nearby. "I'm afraid it most likely wasn't a dream."

  "A vision?" I ask, though I've never had the gift of prophecy.

  "Perhaps, but I don't think so."

  "Then…" I trail off, unwilling to complete the awful thought.

  "He projected himself into your mind, controlled your nightmare."

  I blanch at his words. He can invade my thoughts? What horrible evils could that awful man do to me when I'm trapped within my own mind?

  "You need to work on creating a light shield to keep him out."

  "How?" I whisper.

  "Imagine a bubble of light surrounding you. It's completely impenetrable by anything seeking to harm you," he says, stroking my hair again. "Do this every time you wish to sleep. I know you can do it. Mother always said light magic practically wields itself, that it's merely an extension of the user." He pauses. "You must protect your mind from Delistaire. Don't give him an opening to shatter your psyche."

  "He could do that?" I ask, though I already know the answer. The echoes of his immense power are still pulsating through my body. The darkness surrounding him was an inky black abyss.

  "Get packed," he orders, lighting the lamp by the bed. "We need to get out of here before he arrives."

  "What?" I shriek, leaping up. "He's coming here?"

  "I don't want to wait around to find out. Do you?"

  He starts throwing our belongings into the packs. I pull on my boots and gauntlet then help him into his armor. After attaching my sword to my hip, I search for my dagger. Where did I leave the blasted thing? I locate it over on the table by the sofa and return it to the sheath. When I turn back, Zane's ready. He hands my pack to me and I follow him out the patio door.

  The sky is dark, the moon low in the western sky. Dawn is approaching. Zane strides to the stables, forcing me to jog to keep up with him. When we reach Freya's stall, I breathe a sigh of relief. Shadow and Freya are curled up together on the soft hay. Freya opens one emerald eye as we enter the stall. Shadow jumps to attention having sensed our anxiety.

  "We need to get out of here quickly," I inform both animals. "An evil man may arrive shortly."

  Freya rises and both animals follow us from the stable. When we arrive outside, Zane boosts me up onto Freya's back. To my surprise he picks up Shadow and places him behind me on the griffin's back. Then he mounts behind us.

  "I'm sorry for the extra weight, Freya," Zane tells her. "Please carry Shadow until we're out of sight of the inn."

  She appears to nod her agreement and takes off into the night sky. Within minutes she lands again. Shadow leaps to the ground.

  "Shadow, take the quickest way you can to the base of the mountains. Look for us on the merchant trail when you reach the foothills." Shadow races away and Freya takes off to the sky again.

  "Do you think Shadow understood?" I ask, worry clouding my mind.

  "I hope so," he answers. "We can't wait around to find out. All right, Freya, to the base of the mountains."

  Freya shrieks and dives through the air. My hands grip her mane so tightly my fingers start to cramp. Zane leans into me and grabs her mane when she dips hard to the right. This flight is no pleasant joyride. The griffin must have sensed my panic and is now reacting to it. I close my eyes, pleading over and over: Don't fall off.

  What would've been a two-day walk down the mountain trail only takes a few hours on Freya's back. The morning sun is already high in the eastern sky when the grassy foothills come into view. As we're circling down, I notice a merchant caravan leaving the mountain trail for the openness of the foothills. There are five wagons all led by horses. Zane tells Freya to land a good distance behind the caravan. When her feet hit the ground, Zane leaps off and pulls me down from her back. He pats Freya then tells her to go search for Shadow. She appears to nod before flying back up the mountain. Zane takes my hand and starts walking swiftly toward the caravan.

  "Try putting up the defensive shield I told you about earlier," he says. I concentrate for a moment and picture a pink bubble surrounding my body. "Good. You managed to mask your aura," he compliments. "Do you feel like it's draining your energy?"

  "No. It's strange but I barely notice it at all. Everything just looks a bit rosy," I say with a tiny laugh.

  "Rosy?" he asks, raising an eyebrow at me.

  "I pictured the bubble being pink so everything appears rosy," I say, feeling the flush of embarrassment stain my cheeks. "I can't seem to make clear tangible."

  "It's okay. This way you'll know if it's still up or not." He releases a chuckle. "Try to keep the shield up for a while. But remember the shield is slowly sapping your strength whether you feel it or not."

  I nod and he picks up the pace again. He seems almost desperate to reach the merchant caravan. We follow the deep ruts in the trail until the wagons appear in the distance. The longer I keep the shield up, the easier it becomes to maintain it. A strange thought occurs to me.

  "Zane, you can't see my shield can you?"

  "No," he replies. "But I can sense it. It completely disrupts your aura."

  "Oh good," I sigh in relief. "I was worried the pink bubble might be visible."

  I can just imagine how odd it would appear. It would be impossible to remain inconspicuous walking around encased in a pink bubble. That thought, perhaps combined with the immense stress of the morning, causes laughter to bubble up inside. Hysterical giggles pour out of me, forcing me to stop when I'm doubled over from the laughter. The bewildered expression on Zane's face just makes me laugh harder. His head is tipped to the side, and he has the most comical, inquisitive gleam in his eyes. In fact, I think he may be dumbfounded. He kneels down on the dirt road next to me.

  "Ashlyn?" he calls out, placing his h
and on my shoulder. "Are you okay?"

  "Does it look like I'm okay?" I manage to ask between shaking bouts of giggles. "What's wrong with me?"

  "You're overwhelmed," he says, pulling me into his arms.

  I collapse against him and the laughter subsides. Now that the laughter is gone, I can feel tears start to well up in my eyes. Closing my eyes, I meditate the way Zane taught me yesterday. Just a few minutes in my serene forest and I'm feeling much better. Cracking one eye open, I hazard a glance at Zane's face. His brow is creased in worry. Reaching up, I caress his cheek bringing a smile to his face.

  "Sorry about that," I mumble, refusing to meet his eyes. "I'm fine now." I start to stand and he helps me up. The surroundings still appear rosy so at least I managed to keep the shield up during my breakdown.

  We catch up with the merchant caravan when they stop for their midday meal. Lucky for us, Zane knows the two mercenary guards so we're welcomed immediately. We sit down by one of the wagons, and I pull out some bread, cheese and jerky for our lunch. After I hand Zane his share, we eat in silence, listening to the gossiping merchants. When he finishes eating, he leans over and tells me to drop my shield. I do as he says, though I wonder if it's wise. Sensing my doubt he reminds me the shield drains me whether I realize it or not.

  "All these people will mask our presence better than any shield can," he whispers. "You need to save your strength."

  It seems reasonable so I don't argue. Instead, I lean back against Zane's chest and listen to the different conversations around me. The happiness and excitement the merchants are feeling makes me a bit wistful. Everyone is enthusiastic about reaching the seaside town of Palma. Based on various comments, it appears we should make it there by nightfall. While the merchants are relaxing, the two mercenaries approach and sit down next to us.

  "There's something you need to know, Zane," the guard named Rigel says. "Delistaire's asking around about you. He's offering a large bounty for information on your whereabouts."