by V. St. Clair
“We should probably get a good night’s sleep before we tackle the Forest,” Hayden rambled nervously. “We’ll need our wits about us if we’re going to stand a chance in there.”
Oliver rolled his eyes and said, “It would be smart for us to check our inventory of weapons and swap out anything on our belts that need to be replaced,” though he looked pale and worried as he said it.
Hayden agreed, and they opened their bags and spread out all of their magical instruments, regular weapons, and anything else they had brought with them on this journey. In the vein of being thorough, Hayden checked his pockets and was surprised when his hand closed around a piece of worn cloth.
Pulling it out and opening it, he immediately recognized the sorcerer’s sigla that he’d found at the Frost estate, which he had taken to carrying around in his pocket at Mizzenwald in case his rooms were ever searched. He had completely forgotten about it until now.
Oliver glanced at the elaborate drawing on the cloth with interest and asked, “Where did you get that?”
“It’s a sorcerer’s sigla that I found, but I don’t know which clan it belongs to,” he admitted, skimming over exactly where he had found it. “I tried looking through all the books in the library, but it wasn’t listed anywhere.” He traced his finger over the inscribed ‘M’ in the center of the circle, surrounded by elaborate curlicues.
“Whoever inked it onto that cloth must have been a Conjury major, because I don’t know anyone else who can draw with that much precision,” Oliver pointed out.
He was right. The drawing was perfect, from the circle itself to everything inside of it, all of the sizing and spacing, even the line-weight was consistent. Hayden had never really considered that before.
“I wonder if we should try to draw it on our hands, like the sorcerers do.” Hayden held it up to the fading light. “It might confuse anyone we encounter, and make them slow down and think before fighting us.”
Oliver considered that for a moment and then shook his head.
“You don’t know which clan that belongs to. For all we know, it’s from a rival group that these guys hate with a burning passion, and they’ll just kill us extra slowly if they catch us wearing it.” He frowned. “It’s a bad idea to mess around with politics you don’t understand. Besides, neither of us is skilled enough at conjury to draw it convincingly on our hands.”
Hayden didn’t bother voicing his wish that Zane was here right now, because he knew it would fall on deaf ears.
He and Tess are in a better place, safe and warm in Kargath by now. They’re being well-fed until their families come to pick them up, and then they’ll go back to Mizzenwald to finish up fall term.
He blinked and returned to the task at hand.
“I don’t know, we could maybe trace it…this cloth isn’t very thick.” He flipped the cloth over so that the sigla was face-down and rested it on the back of his hand to determine whether he could see any of the lines through it. He cried out when a burning heat seared his skin on both hands and flung the sigla away from him.
“What happened?!” Oliver grabbed his wrists to examine them, which was difficult as Hayden was rolling on the ground in pain with his hands tucked beneath him until the burning sensation subsided.
When he trusted himself not to cry any more, Hayden sat up and looked at the back of his hands. Somehow both of them bore the exact sigla that had been on the cloth, perfectly drawn in what looked like black ink. Mouth gaping, he picked up the discarded scrap of fabric and saw that it was now blank on both sides.
“I guess we weren’t meant to draw it after all…” he mumbled in a quavering voice. Oliver looked aghast.
“You had an active sigla and you just branded yourself with it?!” he hissed in disbelief. “Did you have any idea it would do that?”
Hayden shook his head slowly, trying not to imagine having to explain himself to the Masters of Mizzenwald—or the Council of Mages—if he survived this. Asher couldn’t have known how the sigla worked either, or he never would have let Hayden keep it in his possession.
Good thing he took the onyx prism away from me, or I probably would have found a way to accidentally kill myself with it, he thought ruefully.
“Well great, this is just what we need the day before we fight for our lives,” Oliver grumbled, while Bonk examined Hayden’s marked hands with interest. “You’d better keep your hands hidden as best you can if we encounter any sorcerers, and hope that your clan is a popular one since you’re claiming allegiance with them.”
Hayden nodded, not trusting himself to speak. He had been warned that anything he found in his father’s house would be dangerous, but of course he hadn’t heeded the warnings until it was too late. Now, even if he survived, he was going to be branded with these ugly siglas for the rest of his life, and he had no idea if they would affect his magic. The last thing he wanted was to walk into a war zone not knowing whether his Foci would work properly anymore, or if the sigla was like a time-bomb waiting to go off on him.
“I’m going to try and get some rest. Wake me if we’re under attack,” Hayden said mulishly, curling up on the hard ground and closing his eyes against the fading sunlight, though he didn’t really expect to sleep that night.
He was right.
14
A Captive Audience
The night seemed to last forever, with Hayden only catching a few minutes of sleep at a time before snapping awake and trying to examine his marked hands in the darkness again. Bonk slept like a baby, clearly unperturbed by Hayden’s plight, which he tried to draw comfort from.
If I was in danger from these siglas, surely Bonk wouldn’t be resting so soundly…
Then again, they were about to walk into a war zone, which was about the most dangerous thing they could possibly do, so maybe Bonk wasn’t the best judge of the situation. Oliver slept fitfully, but was still more rested than Hayden, and Slasher kept a silent watch over them all, his small frame silhouetted against the moonlight.
They got up before the sun was visible over the horizon line, eating a cold breakfast of leftover duck meat and some nuts and berries. They both agreed that it would be a bad idea to light a fire or do anything to draw attention to themselves now that they were so close to the Forest of Illusions. It had been months since reliable word came from within the Forest, so they had no idea whether the enemy was advancing to the borders, preparing to invade the mainland, or if they were still being held back by the mages of the Nine Lands. The Forest of Illusions was a huge place; it was entirely possible that the fighting was still contained within the woods.
“Surely we still have fighters alive and resisting,” Hayden postulated as they finished their breakfast and began walking, taking care to stay concealed wherever possible. “If not, the sorcerers would have flooded through by now and they’d be attacking the towns in Wynir and Osglen.”
“We don’t know that they aren’t,” Oliver pointed out, “just that they aren’t here. Osglen is a long way away, and if that’s where they came out at, then they might be raiding the mainland while we wander uselessly through the Forest.”
“Thanks for the good cheer,” Hayden grumbled. It was true that they had been walking for many weeks now, and that they’d been avoiding towns deliberately, so if an attack had begun on the mainland they would have no idea until they searched the Forest and came up empty-handed.
“Maybe they’re lost in the woods,” he continued hopefully. “They don’t have familiars like we do, from what I’ve read in the library, so they shouldn’t be able to navigate very well inside the woods.”
“That’s true,” Oliver allowed mildly, still not sounding terribly encouraged.
Before mid-day they’d walked as far as they could go without crossing a wide field to the outskirts of the Forest. There would be no cover for them once they stepped out into the open, which would make them vulnerable to attack by anyone who was hiding inside of the tree-line.
“Well, there’s nothi
ng for it but to run,” Oliver sighed. “We’ll just have to move as fast as we can and try not to present an easy target. Keep your weapons ready and we’ll hope for the best.”
Adrenaline racing, Hayden nodded and equipped his violet prism, because it gave him the most diverse range of spells without him having to compound. With a final look at each other, they took off running into the open field, zig-zagging back and forth to avoid presenting an easy target and all the meanwhile eyeing the tree-line for signs of activity. Bonk and Slasher were coasting behind them, seemingly at ease, not bothering to sway back and forth as they flew; apparently they weren’t worried about being attacked.
Hayden was glad that they’d spent weeks living rough and walking miles on end, because under normal circumstances he would have become winded halfway across the field and had to stop and rest. As it was, he and Oliver made it to the Forest before pausing to catch their breaths, stepping into the canopy of oddly-colored trees for cover. Instantly, the field disappeared from behind them and they could see nothing but trees and water and undergrowth on all sides, as though they were miles inside of the woods.
“I just remembered that this place gives me the creeps,” Hayden wheezed softly, leaning against a silver tree with purple leaves and resting his hands on his knees to catch his breath.
“That makes two of us,” Oliver concurred, plucking a transparent leaf off of a bright blue tree and examining it with interest. “It looks like we’re alone for the moment, which is a good thing.”
Hayden nodded, and they snacked on the last of their berries and sipped from their canteens until they felt rested.
“I guess we’d better get moving,” he suggested hesitantly. “Bonk, Slasher, you’re going to have to lead us to where our friends are so we don’t get lost.”
The dragonlings took flight and hovered in front of their respective masters, making sure they were ready before turning and flying slowly into the woods. Hayden and Oliver followed as closely as possible, trying to ignore their surroundings since they kept changing on them. One minute they were next to a stream of pink water, and the next they were in a completely different part of the forest with no water in sight.
“It makes you wonder how big the Forest of Illusions really is…” Hayden said softly. “Since it keeps shifting and changing on us, does anyone really know how large the inside of it is?”
Oliver shrugged and whispered, “No idea.”
They came across a variety of magical creatures, though mercifully none of them seemed to want to attack them. They stopped for five whole minutes while Bonk and Slasher seemed to communicate with a pot-bellied pig of unusual intellect, and Hayden was struck with the odd notion that maybe they were asking for news about the fighting. He had no idea how magical creatures understood each other, since the dragons emitted low screeching noises while the pig oinked like one might expect, but they seemed to manage it somehow.
The pig inclined its head respectfully towards Hayden and Oliver and then sidled off, walking straight through a tree and vanishing, which then made Hayden wonder whether it was even real in the first place.
“Did that pig just disappear?” he asked out loud.
“It was a yale, but yes…” Oliver answered doubtfully, and the two of them shared a strange look. “Forest of Illusions; they got the name right at least.”
Bonk and Slasher flew very low to the ground now, occasionally leading them on foot as they wended their way around trees and bushes with bright orange berries that Hayden wouldn’t have eaten for all the money in the Frost estate. Bonk and Slasher picked at them and seemed to enjoy them, but anything that grew in such a magic-seeped location was probably not safe for human consumption.
They were crossing over a river full of giant piranhas when Oliver stopped in his tracks and closed his eyes, clenching his fists tightly.
“What’s wrong?” Hayden whispered, guiding him forward so that he didn’t step into the water and get his leg bitten off.
“It’s only an illusion…just an illusion…” Oliver chanted quietly to himself, eyes still shut tightly. Hayden grimaced, wondering what horrible thing his companion was seeing and thankful that he was so far unaffected by the illusions.
He had to eat his words almost immediately, as the next thing Hayden saw was Tess sitting at a campfire with his mother, knitting socks for some strange reason. He stopped in his tracks and stared at the pair of them; they looked far too solid to be illusions.
“Tess? Mom?” he whispered gently, and both ladies looked up at him.
“Don’t worry, Hayden, I’ve sent Tess after you,” his mother assured him, setting down her knitting. “You’ll have help when you need it.”
Tess made a face at him and said, “I can’t believe you tried to leave me behind; Worst. Boyfriend. Ever. You’d better not die until I get there or I’ll dig you up and kill you again. By the way, I’m bringing Zane along too.”
Hayden was about to argue that he and Tess were just friends, until he realized that he would be arguing with an illusion that was conjured from his own mind anyway.
“Come on, there’s no point in talking to them,” Oliver drew his attention by pushing him forward. “Nothing you see here is real.”
“Except for the sorcerers,” Hayden mumbled, but when he looked back at Tess and his mother they were both gone, along with the campfire and the socks.
“True,” Oliver concurred. “They’ll be real enough.”
They continued on with Bonk and Slasher as their guides, stopping occasionally and staying very still whenever they thought they heard noises that might be other people. Usually it was just other animals (a badger followed them around for half an hour for some reason), but every now and then Bonk and Slasher would become very still and poised for a fight, and they knew they were near enemies.
Oliver’s face grew paler the longer they walked, and Hayden knew that he was seeing illusions and trying his best to ignore them. Hayden himself didn’t see anything of significance after Tess and his mother until another hour elapsed, and then he stopped in his tracks at the sight before him.
For the second time this year he was seeing a projection of himself, only this time he wasn’t looking into the past, from what he could tell. It looked like he was staring at his present-day self—he was even wearing the same clothing—though it was a little hard to confirm since illusion-Hayden was sitting high in the air on top of a heap of corpses. Trying not to retch, Hayden took a step closer to examine himself.
Upon closer inspection, the illusion-him was sitting on top of the faceless, unrecognizable dead bodies like he was perched on a throne. Everything about his body-position suggested that he was proud—victorious even. This sat at odds with his face, which was tired and streaked with tears, like he had never been more weary or miserable in his life. He was wearing a crown, but it was broken and chipped and rusted on one side. Something about the sight made his stomach tighten unpleasantly, like it was trying to tell him something important that he wasn’t smart enough to understand.
“It’s not real…” he whispered to himself, closing his eyes and opening them again, hoping that the vision would disappear. It didn’t, and it wasn’t until Bonk cuffed him lightly on the ear and perched on his shoulder that he had the willpower to turn away from the macabre sight.
The forest changed on them again, and when Hayden looked back, the horrible illusion was finally gone, though he still couldn’t shake the feeling it left him with. He forced himself to focus, because their familiars had become very alert and still, and even Oliver stopped walking.
There were torches ahead, set into the ground on tall sticks at intervals of ten feet or so. They formed a wide semi-circle for as far as Hayden could see in any direction, almost as though marking a boundary-line of some sort. He didn’t need to ask Bonk where they were; he knew they had found the fight.
He and Oliver exchanged a wary look and then Bonk and Slasher took flight in unison, silently gliding higher and high
er and disappearing into the trees. They didn’t return.
Alarmed, he and Oliver shared another worried glance. They had never counted on entering battle without their familiars, who were at their strongest in the Forest of Illusions and would be immensely helpful in a fight. They waited a few minutes longer, but the dragons still didn’t return, and eventually they decided to move on alone.
Maybe they know how hopeless it is and they just don’t want to die with us…Hayden mused darkly. No, Bonk is my familiar, he’s supposed to act in my best interest. He wouldn’t leave me to die if I needed him; he’s probably off scouting with Slasher.
He just wished that the dragons had thought of some way to communicate their intentions before mysteriously disappearing when they were most needed.
Hayden and Oliver crept closer to the torches, but still didn’t see or hear anyone, so they stepped cautiously over the threshold.
Hayden was immediately hit with the sensation of having a heavy, itchy, wet blanket thrown over him, knocking the magic straight out of him. His Foci felt strangely heavy and congested, and even his sinuses felt weird. It was like wearing the strongest damper of all time, and he didn’t like it one bit.
One look at Oliver confirmed that he wasn’t the only one to feel the effects of whatever magic was active in this part of the Forest. He had no idea whether it was a natural effect of this part of the woods, or if the sorcerers or mages had done this to slow down their enemies.
Silently, he tried casting Suspend through his violet prism, aiming at a nearby leaf on the ground. It hovered weakly for a moment and then dropped back down, and Hayden grimaced at Oliver and shook his head.
My magic has never been this weak before. I hope Asher and the others didn’t have this same problem…
If so, he had no idea how they could still be alive, since he had a fairly powerful Source and his magic was nearly useless right now. Maybe that was why Bonk and Slasher took off, because they knew they wouldn’t be able to help much without their magic. He tried to push that unpleasant thought from his mind, thinking that at the very least he owed it to the magical community to scout out the situation here and report back, even if everyone in here was dead, including Cinder.
