At least a half hour passes.
The Anima never reappear.
And Soren still hasn’t emerged from the stillness.
“I can’t take this anymore,” I say, jumping to my feet. Liam doesn’t try to stop me this time—which is probably a good thing for both of us.
I jog toward the last place I saw Soren, my heart hammering and my breathing coming in sharp gasps. The grass around the area is scorched, still fuming in some places. There are carcasses littering the ground, half-devoured and shriveled up after having their magic sucked out. I hold my breath until I’ve done a thorough sweep and determined that none of those wrecked bodies resemble Soren’s.
I don’t find him at all.
But his sword is resting in one of the charred bushes I stumble across, looking as though it was haphazardly flung there.
Liam and Carys catch up with me, and they help me scour the battlefield for any other sign of him. We follow a faint scent that leads us toward the river. I spot human-shaped footprints in the black mud, and I follow them.
I’m the first one who spots his body.
And the other two keep searching for at least a full minute, because I can’t manage to call for them, to tell them what I’ve found.
He’s completely still. Halfway in the water, one side of his body cradled in mud while the other side bobs gently up and down with the movements of the river. The water splashes over his face again and again, washing over his closed eyes and paled lips but not waking him. Those waves start to pull his lifeless body deeper into the current’s embrace, threatening to carry him even further away from me.
I should go to him, pull him to stable ground, at least.
But I can’t move. I can’t speak. I can’t breathe. This is not how any of this was supposed to go. I should have tried harder to stop him.
Why didn’t I try harder to stop him?
“There you are,” says a smooth, chilling voice.
I spin around and see Casandra walking toward me, Liam and Carys flanking her on either side.
Rage blinds me.
Why wasn’t she here to save him?
She saved us before, I know she could have saved Soren, if only she’d wanted to.
“We’ve been searching for you for nearly an hour,” she says. “That must have been some spell he put over you. He’s lucky it didn’t kill him.”
Didn’t kill him?
“Although it left him weak enough that those Anima almost did that for him.” This second voice—Elric’s—comes from the river. I look back and see him crouching next to Soren. His staff is hovering next to his hand, and he seems to be using it to direct more of that river water to wash over Soren’s body.
The world spins a little slower, and I manage a semi-normal breath.
“It didn’t kill him,” I repeat. I still don’t entirely believe it, but somehow I manage to move, to walk over to Elric as he carefully lifts Soren into his arms.
“Got about as close as it could have,” he says grimly. “And there’s still a chance this doesn’t end well for him.”
I stare until I see Soren’s chest rise and fall. The movement is so subtle I almost miss it. But it’s there. He’s alive.
Barely.
The others fold in around us, and I lift my eyes to Casandra’s.
“He used a spell to hide me?”
“Didn’t you realize?”
“I…No. He touched my arm.” Suddenly I remember that moment and the surge of warmth it sent through me, and I realize she’s telling the truth: it wasn’t luck that kept those monsters from finding me. “I thought he was just trying to calm me down. I didn’t realize he was casting a spell…”
“One powerful enough that it helped hide your other friends, too. He should have just run at that point, but it seems he was determined to make sure you had every chance to get away.”
My gaze falls back to his body.
I swear his breathing has become even slower.
You idiot, I think, taking care to keep it to myself. Why would you do something so reckless for me?
“This river is old and powerful,” Elric says softly. “He’s been cleansed by it and by my magic, so let’s just cross our fingers and hope for the best, yes? We have some allies nearby who are securing a new campsite for us. We’ll head toward it and get some rest.”
During the entire thirty mile trip to our new camp, I hardly take my eyes off Soren.
He hardly breathes. His body is cold. I keep him awkwardly cradled in my arms while also trying to keep myself balanced on Liam’s back; not the most comfortable of rides, and by the time we stop I’ve lost the feeling in my legs. My attempt to slide down to the ground ends with me nearly crumpling under the weight of him.
But the jarring motion causes his eyelids to flutter a bit, and my heart flutters along with them.
Maybe there’s still hope.
Hours later, I’ve given up on trying to poke and prod him awake. Liam and Casandra are taking the first watch, working together to tirelessly circle the camp’s perimeter. Carys has gone with Elric to study and search for any other ingredients or energies that he might be able to work into some sort of healing spell.
And with nothing else to do but wait and hope—both of which I’m getting tired of doing— I decide to attempt sleep. I curl up next to Soren at the edge of the tiny, safe bit of light that our magical, cloaked but warm fire is giving off, and I toss and turn violently for about five minutes.
Then his exhausted, slightly grumpy voice interrupts me.
“It’s hard to enjoy waking up next to you when I’m afraid you’re going to crush me in the middle of all that flailing you’re doing.”
I stop abruptly.
“You’re alive.”
He rolls over so we’re face-to-face. The small movement causes him to wince, but he gives me a small smile through the pain. “Yeah. Despite what I can only assume was your best attempt to smother me and make it look like an accident.”
“I should smother you for scaring me like that,” I say, frowning.
“Please don’t.”
I can’t help but smile back at that idiotic grin he’s giving me. I reach forward and run a hand across his cheek, just so I can feel the warmth in his skin and really, truly believe in it.
I finally let relief overwhelm me, and my voice breaks a bit as I say, “I thought I’d lost you for good this time.”
He reaches up and presses his hand against mine, holding it to his skin. Just as before, the slight motion makes him cringe, and he closes his eyes as if he needs to rest afterward.
“Why did you do it?” I whisper after a minute. “We were even, remember? I jumped into a parallel universe for you and helped you get into this world, then you saved me…but now you’ve gone and messed that up. Now I owe you.”
“You don’t owe me anything.” He manages a faint smile, but his eyes stay closed, and he’s silent for a long time after that. It looks like he’s slipped back into practically-a-corpse mode.
I sigh. “I still don’t understand why you did it.”
I don’t think he’s heard me. But then he speaks again, barely a mumble this time: “You want to hear something that sucks?”
“What?”
“I don’t think I’m going to find my family, Elle.”
I keep silent, still afraid to tell him that I heard the things Casandra said to him by the fire.
“I don’t…I’m not sure they’re here anymore. So I don’t know what happens now. I don’t know where I go from here, or what I should do next. All I know is that I don’t want anything to happen to you.”
He’s still mumbling. His eyes are still closed. Maybe he’s delirious. Maybe this isn’t the best time for this conversation.
“I can’t let anything happen to you,” he murmurs, “because you might be the only thing I have left.”
I draw my hand away from his cheek and clutch it against my chest.
I’m speechless for a long time
after that, and I’m selfishly glad that he’s too out of it to really notice.
“Did you get knocked on your head a few times during that battle?” I finally manage to laugh. “Because you’re talking like a crazy person. We’re still going to find your family. We’ve only just started searching for them, really.”
His only reply is a slight curve of his lips. Barely a hint of a smile, and it still makes me blush.
“Rest,” I command.
“Good idea,” he agrees, the words slurring slightly.
I don’t have to tell him twice. He’s out of it again in no time. I rise slowly, being careful not to disturb him, and I turn my attention to my wrist. The skin is clear; no hint of a mark showing through even though I feel unsteady. Being able to unleash some of my magic through my sword must be helping even more than I realized.
I look up and see that I’m being watched; Casandra is standing a short distance away, her staff held rigidly at her side. I have to keep myself from jumping at the sight of her. I’m not sure how I didn’t hear or smell her coming.
“Sorry if I frightened you,” she says. “I just wanted to check on him.”
She seems genuinely concerned as she watches him resting peacefully at my side—perhaps more genuine and vulnerable than I’ve ever seen her. So I forgive her for creeping on me, and I quietly say, “He was awake a few minutes ago. And coherent. Well, for the most part.”
Except for that part where he basically said I was everything to him.
“Good.” There’s a strange look in her eyes, suddenly—a yearning, almost. And I don’t know why, but it makes me uncomfortable.
Then again, most things about this woman make me uncomfortable.
Although, now that I’ve had a chance to think about it, I’m pretty sure she is the one who saved Soren, and that earlier almost-rage might have been misplaced. She might be unnerving, but she also might the only reason this world hasn’t yet managed to kill me and all my friends.
“Was it you that drove the Anima away?” I ask quietly. “That explosion of magic, and the way they scattered…There were too many for Soren to deal with on his own, I thought.”
She nods. “I tried to reach you before any of you could do anything foolish. I wish I’d gotten there sooner.”
Soren stirs a bit. Not wanting to wake him, I get to my feet and move closer to her.
“Don’t beat yourself up about it,” I say with a shrug. “He’s lightning quick when it comes to doing stupid things.”
The smile she gives me is small, but it’s as genuine as her earlier concern.
“He seems to care about you a lot,” she comments.
“We’re just business partners,” I say, hugging my arms against myself. It’s something the two of us have been saying since we first met—since what feels like forever ago now. I’m not sure at what point, exactly, it started to be a lie.
A lie that Casandra obviously sees right through.
“Indeed,” she says, her smile quirking a bit before falling back into its usual cold line. She rearranges the grip she has on her staff. “I’ll let you continue your business, then. I should get back to patrolling.”
I nod.
But her eyes linger on Soren for a long moment before she turns away.
And there’s definitely something strange about them.
I’m too tired to guess at what might really be shining in her gaze, but my curiosity is burning fiercely enough that I’m still watching the space where she disappeared when, five minutes later, a white wolf trots into view.
(What’s up?) Liam asks, his head tilting with concern at the preoccupied look on my face.
“Keep an eye on Soren, will you?” I ask, grabbing my sword—you know, just in case. “Make sure he keeps breathing.”
(Where are you going?)
“I want to talk to Casandra.”
I find her ‘patrolling’ on the other side of a hill that overlooks our campsite. She’s leaning against a large boulder. Her staff is lying on the ground beside her, and her face is buried in one hand while the other hand braces against the ground, her fingers digging in as if that grip is the only thing holding her to this world.
I don’t want to talk to her, all of a sudden.
And I don’t want to be seen. So I sink low to the earth and creep toward the cover of some nearby bushes. A misplaced step snaps a twig in half, and I hold my breath as her head jerks upright.
She doesn’t look back at me.
After a few more cautious moments, her attention drifts back to the hand that’s now splayed out in front of her.
And as I watch, silver and white strands drift up from her palm, twisting into birds that soar upward and dissolve into the sky.
Chapter Thirteen
My gasp gives me away.
“I know you’re there,” she says.
I straighten to my full height as she glances over her shoulder, watching me with a smile similar to the one she studied Soren with earlier.
Needless to say, I don’t return it.
“Who are you?” I demand.
The smile fades. She grabs her staff and stands as well, studying me. “What are you talking about?”
“Those birds. That illusion. Who taught you how to summon it?”
Realization dawns slowly across her face.
I turn and start to sprint, thinking only of reaching Soren, of how he needs to be here and making sense of this with me—
She gets in front of me somehow. Her staff is jammed beneath my ribcage before I can dodge it, and I freeze, still desperate to reach Soren but also paralyzed by the memories of what I’ve seen that staff do.
“I’m surprised he would share such a personal memory with a mere business partner,” she muses.
I knock the staff away.
She bristles, but she doesn’t immediately move the weapon back.
I still don’t chance any sudden movements. Not yet. Instead, I study her face—those eyes that had seemed so strange earlier. I realize at least part of what was off about them, now: they’ve changed color.
They’re the same brilliant green as Soren’s true eyes.
And as I stare at her, I think I see a few strands of her long, silvery blue hair darkening to black—like the spell that’s covering her up is slowly coming undone.
“Are you his mother?”
She laughs, bitterly. “Canath hasn’t been kind to me, has it? I look much older than the fifteen years I would have gained had I remained on Earth. I could have worked anti-aging into the illusions I used to disguise myself, perhaps, but it’s been exhausting enough just changing my appearance enough to fool him. So just try to imagine me as a twenty-two year old, won’t you?”
Not his mother, then.
His sister.
“Anika.”
The sound of her true name seems to rattle her for a moment, but she quickly recovers. “He always called me Ani. People used to think we were twins.”
“I don’t understand. Do you realize how badly he’s wanted to find you? The things he’s done? The things he’s been through? How could you? You, you…” I back away, my gaze darting in the direction of the camp. I might not be able to outrun her, but I can scream, and Liam and Carys will both be able to hear me.
Anika clamps a hand over my mouth before I can.
So I bite her.
Hard.
I’m blaming it on instincts, on the wolf that’s getting pissed off and restless inside me, and also the fact that the lying witch freaking deserved it.
She should just be thankful I left my sword over by those bushes.
I’m about to attempt to call my friends via thoughtspeech when her hand grabs my jaw and attempts to pry my mouth open and shove me and my teeth away—which my inner wolf really doesn’t like. I feel fangs sprouting and blood rushing. A slight burning in my wrist isn’t far behind. My head spins as I try to get a grip. I jerk my mouth away from her arm and aim a punch at her stomach instead.
S
he twists away quick enough to avoid my fist, but loses her balance and hits the ground in the process.
I start to run.
She gets a hold of my ankle and tries to yank me down. “You can’t tell him,” she hisses.
“Watch me,” I growl, kicking her off.
“It will destroy him.”
Her words make me hesitate enough that, on her second attempt, she manages to wrench my feet out from under me. My second attempt at thoughtspeech fails as my knees slam into the ground, probably permanently lodging at least one wickedly sharp stone into my skin as they do. I swallow a yelp of pain and turn furiously back to her.
“What are you talking about?”
“Don’t you think I wanted to tell him the truth? Time passes differently here. It’s been over forty years since I saw my little brother. And some nights—so many nights— I have nightmares about our father killing him because my mother and I aren’t there to protect him anymore, and because he was never the bloodthirsty prodigy that Maric Blackwood and the rest of our coven wanted. He’s too soft. I used to tease him about that all the time, but when he showed that softness and he started crying or whatever, I was always the first one to comfort him. Always. So the second I saw him in this awful, hard world, the only thing I wanted to do was just that: hold him and tell him everything was going to be okay. But I couldn’t.”
I picture her on that hillside with her face buried in her hand, and my stomach unclenches a bit, reluctantly releasing some of my anger.
I still can’t completely forgive her.
“He’s had nightmares too,” I say. “And I don’t understand why you hid from him. He isn’t going to understand either.”
“I know.” Her eyes are shining, and her smile is defeated, helpless. “But if he knew who I was, what do you think his first question would be?”
I don’t even have to think about it. “Wait…Where is your mother?”
“Exactly,” she whispers.
She gets to her feet, brushing dust from her knees and then turning away like she’s finished with this conversation.
Silver and Shadow (The Canath Chronicles Book 2) Page 13
