by Tenaya Jayne
“How is that possible?”
How is it possible you don’t know there are infinitely more worlds than you’ve just listed? She looked desperately at Merhl. You know them, don’t you?
He looked apologetic and shook his head. Then his eyes brightened. “Have you reached the Everpath?”
Tesla nodded.
“The what?” Rahaxeris demanded.
“I…” Merhl looked at her with total amazement. “I never knew if it was real or just a myth. When I was a boy, my father told me that one night he tried to push the boundaries of the strata to see if it would give more. He was just experimenting, thinking nothing would come of it. Then he said he broke through a level no one ever told him about and ended up in a strange grey place. An endless hallway of doors. Terrified, he quickly fled back through the hole he’d made. He said he feared losing himself there. And when he got home he just knew the place was called the Everpath, even though no one told him that. He tried to go back many times but was unsuccessful.”
I go there all the time. It’s the only way to go beyond the second atmosphere. She looked at Rahaxeris. All the worlds you have jumped to are close to home. The Everpath is the in-between, the hub.
“How did you discover it? What did you do to find a place so very far away?” Merhl asked.
The Everpath is tied to everything. It called to me. I could see the entrance to it every time I jumped.
Rahaxeris abruptly got to his feet. “Take me there.”
I can’t. There is no way to open a channel there. If you cannot see it, there is nothing I can do to show you.
His cheeks flushed, and he turned and left the room. Tesla sighed and looked at Merhl. Why is he angry?
“I don’t know. I’m sure he’ll tell us when he comes back. If every world is connected to the Everpath, then the blood lock is protecting the entrance to Regia there as well?”
Yes. I was terribly worried about that the first time I went there, but there is nothing to be concerned about with that. If the wizards can access the Everpath at all—I don’t think they can—they could not get through…Is there anything, anything at all you can think of to help me, Merhl?
“When you jump, don’t always go for the obvious. Chose to visit worlds that seem weak as well as the strong ones. Go places that have no magic, for you might be surprised at what you find…I wish I could do something more. Do you think perhaps you could show me how to see the Everpath? I would go with you. Protect you.”
She smiled warmly at him. If your father was able to discover it, perhaps you too have the ability locked inside you. But I don’t know how to instruct you. I see it. I could always see it. She wiped the red light image of the blood lock away with her hand and sat back down, feeling more hopeless than ever.
“Maybe you’re overthinking it, Tesla. Try to just go with your instincts. Turn your head off and let the magic in your heart lead you.”
Chapter Two
Contarren.
Barbaric human world.
The hungry flames surged through the dry wood and up, grabbing on to the hem of the old woman’s dress. She looked down, the fire reflected on the surface of her eyes. Tied to the post, there was no way for her to evade the death now crawling up her clothes. Her craggy voice began to cry out as the smell of her legs cooking filled the air. The fire ate up her clothes until she was naked, and then it began peeling away her skin.
“Death to the witch! Death to the witch!” the crowd shouted over and over.
Alex hung back from the cluster of people pushing forward to see the tragedy better. He crossed his arms over his chest and scowled, trying his best to exude a nonchalant indifference. His friends, Paul, Marcus, Stephan, and Troy, followed his lead, like always, and stood next to him. He hoped none of them could see the conflict he was going through.
He wanted to leave. The old woman was no witch. She was just an aged spinster suffering from the beginning effects of dementia. But killing her would make everyone feel better and help them to sleep that night. His stomach turned partially from the smell, but also from the way the people acted. He knew them all. Most of them were mild, kind people. But on days like today, they transformed into monsters. Gathered together, they rode on each other’s emotional waves, going temporarily insane with a lust for violence.
Determined to not lose face over what he was feeling, instead of watching the woman die, Alex focused his eyes on the flames at the base of the wood pile and tried to let his mind drift onto something else. It was hard with all the shouting from the people, the screams of pain from the woman, and the nasty smell filling his nostrils. The whole damn world was full of injustice, or at least it seemed that way to him. But what could he do? Nineteen years old, he was barely considered a man. And why would anyone listen to him anyway? He wasn’t a politician, he was a blacksmith.
He wondered if there was a real witch. Was she here, in the crowd? Was she someone he’d known his whole life? Hiding in plain sight? Or did she live out in the dark forest? Everyone was so terrified of magic users, but he wasn’t. He’d never seen the effects of magic. And he wasn’t sure he believed the stories.
Troy elbowed him in the side. Alex looked at him questioningly. Troy smirked and nodded in the direction he wanted him to look. Alex turned his head, knowing the second his eyes hit the target of what his friend wanted him to see. Isolde.
She glanced his way from the side of her eye, and her pouty lips curved slightly. She filled her lungs, her cleavage rising higher over her bodice. She shook her long blond hair off her shoulders, giving him a better view. She licked her lips slowly, damn girl. She was killing him, and she knew it.
“Lucky bastard,” Troy whispered in his ear.
Alex elbowed him roughly in the chest. “Stop looking at her.”
Troy coughed once. “Bloody impossible, mate. She’s so choice.”
“Yeah, well, she’s mine. You’ve got your own.”
Troy rolled his eyes. “Don’t remind me. I’m going to have to be shitfaced drunk to marry Joan, let alone the stuff after. Guess it’s just your luck your parents would betroth you to the most beautiful girl.”
Alex smiled. “Yep. Nothing can touch my luck. I had my doubts about Isolde a few years ago, wasn’t sure she’d grow into her front teeth. Remember that?”
“I’d take her with her beaver teeth any day over Joan.”
“At least Joan is sweet. Isolde can be…”
“What?”
“Nothing. Never mind.”
Alex looked back at the old woman engulfed in flames, and his stomach turned again, this time with guilt. She was dead. He should have done something, spoken up when she was sentenced. Surely he wasn’t the only person to know she hadn’t really been a witch. Was he?
He looked away. It was all right for him to leave. No one would think anything of it now. He looked back over at Isolde, and then at his friends, who waited for him to tell them what they would do now. He glanced back at her, and all of them looked.
“I’ve got some important business to attend to now, boys.”
“Yeah, you do,” Troy said, and they all smirked and laughed.
He strode toward her, leaving his friends behind. She turned fully to face him, taunting heat in her eyes. He took her hand and pressed his lips against it, since it was contrary to social standards to kiss her mouth in public, betrothed or not.
“Alexander.” She drew his name out slowly. “Care to escort me home?”
“Hmm.” His voice rumbled in his throat. “Shall we go the long way?”
Her eyes flashed, but this time in anger, not desire. “Of course not!”
He scowled at her. She had no idea how flexing her newly found power over him was making him feel. Anger slammed hard into his stomach. “Tease,” he accused coldly.
She pulled her hand from his and lifted her chin defiantly. “I am not.”
“Why do you keep doing this to me? Hot then cold then hot. You know exactly what you’re doing when y
ou flash your eyes at me like that. You’re driving me mad.”
“Good.” Her voice went all dark again, making him curse her.
He sighed raggedly. “We’re going to be married in three months. What are we waiting for? You know I love you.”
“I’ll think about it,” she said lightly, turning on her heel and striding away.
He caught up to her and took her hand. People smiled at them as they passed. Alex hardly saw them. He was trying to force his mind to go blank and his body to go numb. Isolde liked power, but she was careless in the way she wielded it. She was trying to break him, make him beg. He wouldn’t.
“I’m so happy they finally caught the witch. I was so scared.”
“It’s nonsense, Isolde. If there is a witch at all, that poor old woman certainly wasn’t her.”
“You’re wrong.” Her voice was cold.
“No, I’m not. How can you believe—”
“What?” she demanded. “How can I believe what? You’re blind if you think anything other than justice was done back there. The witch is dead, and good riddance.”
Alex pursed his lips, a guilty weight settling inside his head. He’d hoped…but he couldn’t even speak his mind to his fiancée. He sighed, trying to let it go. She tugged lightly on his hand. He looked down into her face. She smiled easily at him for a moment, then her eyes flashed dark and seductive again.
“Eight points, Alex,” she whispered. “Bring me an eight point buck by tonight, and I’ll give myself to you.”
He stopped walking and faced her. “Odd price for your virtue.”
“I need the antlers for my bridal jewelry. If I have them, I will best Lucinda’s. No bride will be able to match me for a very long time, if ever.”
“I see. This is about your pride,” he said flatly, not bothering to hide his annoyance. She was making it cheap. Selling herself to him for a price, like a whore.
She moved forward and pressed her chest against him. “What does it matter? You bring it to me and we both get what we want.”
“Is this how it will be after we are married? Always bargaining?”
That jerked her up short, and she frowned. “No,” she said slowly. “I’m sorry… That came out wrong. I regret it. I do want the buck, and I thought…” Her cheeks flushed. “I thought it would excite you if I was, you know, forward, improper. I’ve seen older men, heard their talk, they want…”
He huffed and shook his head. “Stop trying to be something. You’re going to be my wife. You don’t have to lure me. You have me. All I want is for you to be faithful, and just…” What? Kind was what he really wanted to say, but he didn’t. “Just be yourself.”
She looked down and nodded.
“Hey.” He tipped her face up. “If you want the buck, all you have to do is ask. I can get it for you. But I won’t buy your body, Isolde. You give it freely or not at all.”
“Okay, Alex.” She was contrite for a moment, then she smiled, placing her hand on his cheek. “You know I’m happy don’t you? It was destiny that our parents paired us from infancy. If you weren’t mine, I’d scheme until you were.”
“If it was your choice, you could have anyone.”
“And I’d still choose you. All the girls envy me.”
He smirked, his ego swelling. “All the men, young and old, envy me when they look at you. You’re so beautiful.”
She smiled. “I’m glad I please you.” She glanced at the house. “My mother will be wanting me soon. Will I see you tonight?”
“I’ll come when the sun sets, with your buck.”
“Thank you.” She framed his face with her hands. “I love you, Alex. I can’t wait to be your wife.”
“I can’t wait for you to be my wife, too.”
“I want to come and look at the house again, but Mother insists I have to be escorted, and she never has the time to go with me.”
“What do you need to see it again for? You’ve told me many times it was to your liking.”
“Yes, but I want to start making my mark on it. I made curtains for the windows. It’s not fair that you get to live there before me,” she pouted.
“Last night was my first time to sleep there. The roof wasn’t finished until yesterday.”
“Was it wonderful?”
He chuckled. “No. It was lonely and weird. I’m so used to my brother’s snore I could hardly sleep without the dumb sound. The place is really bare. I was cold during the night.”
“That’s why I need to go over there. I can make it more comfortable for you. When you come this evening, I’ll have some things for you to take back. I would prefer the first time the quilt I made was used was our wedding night, but I can’t have you being cold.”
Moved by her unusual show of concern, he leaned down and kissed her lips.
“Alex!” she whispered as though scandalized. “We’re outside.”
“Sorry.” He stepped back from her. “I better get going. Apparently, I have some hunting to do.”
“Eight points,” she said sternly. “Absolutely no less.”
“I’ll do my best, Isolde. There’s no knowing what the forest will yield to me on any given day. I might be unlucky.”
Her temper, always so close to the surface, lit small sparks in her eyes. “A real man makes his own luck.”
He sighed, turning away from her before she started nagging at him and a quarrel began. “Until this evening,” he said over his shoulder.
Alex jogged home to get his gear and a bite to eat before heading out into the forest. His mother stood, stirring stew in a large pot on the stove. She looked at him over her shoulder and smiled. He kissed the side of her head.
“Hello, sweetheart. What are you doing here this time of day?”
“Do I need a reason to see my loving and beautiful mother?”
She snorted. “Save that charm for Isolde. And yes, I’m sure you do have a reason.”
“I need my bow. I’m going hunting. I had hoped to grab something to eat, too.”
“Sit down. This stew is ready if you want some.”
He parked at the rough kitchen table. “I was hoping you’d say that.”
She set a steaming bowl in front of him and ruffled his hair. Too eager, he scalded his tongue on the first bite. She brought him a cup of water before he could ask.
“Thanks, Mom.”
She took a seat next to him and watched him for a moment. Then her chin trembled slightly.
“What’s wrong?” He shifted immediately into protective mode.
She patted his hand. “Nothing, son. I was just thinking how much I’m going to miss you… You’re a man now. You don’t need me anymore.”
“Sure I need you! If you hadn’t made this stew, who knows what I’d be eating right now. Moldy bread and poisoned water, I’m sure. I’m totally pathetic. I’ll always need you.”
She chuckled as he hoped she would. “Tis a bad mother I am if you’re that helpless. I should have taught you better… Oh, well. It’s too late. You’re completely ruined. But soon you’ll be Isolde’s problem, and I can focus my attention more to your brother. He’s not quite the jackanapes you are.”
“Brenden is a little too capable. I always knew he was your favorite child.”
Her expression went totally serious. “You’re right.”
The next second they both laughed. She got up and kissed the top of his head and began scrubbing the counter. “You better hurry, Alex, if you’re going to have enough time to hunt.”
He scarfed the last of his food, grabbed his stuff, and hugged his mom goodbye.
The golden afternoon sun streamed through the tree branches in bright beams, lighting Alex as he ran through them, teasing out the red undertones of his dark brown hair. His heart lifted as his muscles sang with exertion. He pushed himself to run faster and deeper into the forest than he’d ever gone before. His bow and quiver slung across his body, and the new hatchet he’d completed yesterday hung off his belt, the handle tapping against
his leg in time with his stride, as if it was impatient to cut something.
He could almost thank Isolde for this. In the sensual solitude of the woods, he was able to let go of the irksome irritation of his feelings, leftover from the witch burning. Guilt with touches of sorrow had been lingering in the background of his heart, but now he was totally distracted. He set his mind on his goal as he vaulted over the stream in one long leap.
Suddenly, lines of ice slid down his back, like someone with freezing hands caressed his bare skin. He skidded to a halt, alarmed by the sensation. Goosebumps lifted on his forearms. Spooked, he held still, his eyes cutting through everything around him. There was nothing to see, just the ordinary. But there was something else, beyond sight…the shivers continued. What was wrong with him? There was nothing to be scared of.
His instinct argued otherwise. He waited, not breathing, his heart galloping.
Bracken crunched on the ground.
He grabbed his hatchet, holding it up at the ready. Movement in his peripheral vision. He pivoted toward it, his grip tightening on the hatchet’s handle. Breath gasped into his lungs and his fear was replaced by excitement and awe.
Alex had never seen a more magnificent beast. The sunlight made the fur covering the massive buck glimmer golden. Forget eight points, that was nothing compared to the fourteen on this animal’s rack. Slowly, making his movements as smooth as possible, Alex lowered the hatchet and slid it back into the loop on his belt. He lifted the bow and strung it with an arrow.
The buck’s eyes turned on Alex. Time stopped dead. He’d looked into the eyes of his prey before, but this was different. He shouldn’t kill it. It was too special. But if he let it go, no one would believe him. He didn’t listen to his conscious, his heart stinging as he let the arrow fly. It sank through the fur and flesh, embedding deep and perfectly behind the shoulder. A ripple went out all over the buck from the arrow’s point of entry. It staggered once and then ran.
Alex dropped the bow and ran after the buck, snatching his hatchet back out. Again, guilt smarted in his chest, but he had to finish it now. The buck jumped a fallen tree and sprinted into a clearing. He skidded to a halt, took aim in the span of a heartbeat, and threw the hatchet. It spun through the air, blade over handle, over and over. He held his breath, waiting for the fateful moment... but he never saw it.
