Spark (Legends of the Shifters)

by J. B. North

  With that, he shut the door, leaving us there alone. The man's bed was pushed against the wall, but I really didn't want to sleep there. On the other side of the room was a long sofa, almost big enough for my body to be able to stretch out. I decided to sleep there.

  Roland grumbled about the village not having a decent inn as he pulled the covers up so that he could sleep on top of the man's blankets.

  I don't know how long it took me to get to sleep, but I remember mulling over the man's words over and over. What if they were true?

  *****

  I woke up the next morning when the night-watcher's scratchy voice penetrated the air. “Time for you to leave,” he said, shaking Roland from his sleep.

  Not wanting to suffer the same fate, I slid my feet to the ground quickly. When I stood up, I felt weak. My legs and arms were still sore from the long day yesterday. The man set the lantern down on the floor with a clank, and opened the door once again, waiting for us to go.

  Roland led the way outside, and I followed closely.

  Before we left, the man began to rattle off a few last words. “You will be able to see the island from the shore, but not until noontime. I suggest waiting until then for safety purposes. You'll know you're close when you get to the trees and shrubs that are bare of leaves.” With that, he slammed the door. I was glad, knowing that I would probably never have to see him again.

  It was extremely foggy. Even more so than it had been last night. I had to look down at my feet for most of the time to make sure that I didn't trip over a branch or a rock.

  I stopped when I saw the bare branch of a shrub, the first one that we had encountered.

  Roland and I looked at each other warily, and then studied our surroundings. Fog curled around the feet of the dead trees and shrubs like a snake choking them to death.

  We continued on slowly. The trees ended only a little while later, and with them went our vision. The fog expanded over our heads.

  The fear of our surroundings trumped the fear that I'd had of Roland. I gripped his shirt sleeve tightly, not wanting to get lost. I had never encountered fog quite like this. It made the air chokingly humid to the extent that I didn't want to breathe at all. We took another step forward, but something made me jerk back, pulling Roland with me. I looked down and was met with the sight of clear water lapping at the shore.

  “We’ve reached the lake,” Roland confirmed.

  I nodded and breathed in deeply, trying to regain my composure. I attempted to look through the fog, at the island, but I could see nothing, like the old man said.

  “I suppose he was right,” I said. I was so close to finding the plant. I didn’t have the patience to wait for a few more hours, but it would be stupid not to.

  I backtracked away from the water and sat down on the sand to wait for the fog to diminish. Time ticked by slowly.

  “Do you think that Kurt is still alive?” I asked Roland. He knew the enemy better than I did. In fact, he was the enemy. It was easy to forget that with his oddly believable act.

  I clutched my knees to my chest. Everything was so confusing right now.

  “Definitely,” he replied. “They’re probably going to use him as bait to get you back.”

  I shivered. That didn’t make me feel any better.

  Roland looked at me. “Don’t worry. I’m sure we can get him out of there.”

  I was silent for a long time. He was acting as if he were on my side again, but his words were lies. I knew they were. As soon as we get the plant, I would need to leave him in the dust. After all, he did just about the same thing to me, and with the power of flight, it would be almost effortless.

  I broke from my thoughts to notice that the fog had diminished noticeably, although it still wasn’t clear enough for traveling. Just a little longer.

  I dove down into my thoughts once again, and they brought me to the conservatory. I had fond memories of taking the survival tests with Liana and Natalia...and Roselle, too, before she was sent away. My mind wandered to the summer festival, and I remembered The Sticky Wicket, the dancing, and how much fun Roland and I had had that night, especially when the rain had started to fall. “When I recollect life at the conservatory, it isn’t as bad as I once thought,” I spoke aloud, surprising myself.

  Roland looked over and smiled. “I remember hating it...but it really is better than most of the quests we’re sent out to do. The only thing that makes it a little uncomfortable is Niko and the headmaster...and some of the other trainers.”

  I nodded. “Did you know that Niko was sided with King Ciaran? Surely you did since you were working with him...”

  Roland narrowed his eyes, but didn't answer immediately. Finally, he said, “I don't work with Niko. I truly have no memory of the past several days.”

  My mind spun as I mulled over his words. I would've loved to accept them, but accepting them only invited danger into my life. It was better for me to forget that we had ever been friends. I hardened my gaze and looked away.

  A few minutes later, the fog was almost all the way gone and the sun was now shining high above us, causing the clear water of the lake to shimmer at us invitingly.

  “Are you ready?” Roland asked, standing up and holding out a hand to help me to my feet.

  I ignored his hand, and stood up on my own. “Yes,” I said, my voice lacking feeling.

  He let his hand drop to his side, and made his way back to the waterline. He stepped into the water, continuing until it reached shoulder level. After that, he dove in and began swimming.

  I transformed and took off above him, soaking in the sun that shone on my wings. The sun could make me forget about my problems, but only temporarily. The island wasn't far ahead. It was much closer than I expected, and bigger too. A mountain climbed it's way up into the heavens, and the shore stretched farther than I would have thought. I wondered if we would have to climb it to find the natives, and more importantly, the plant.

  Within an hour, we had reached the shores of the island. It was a small victory compared to what we were about to face, but it was a victory nonetheless. I folded my wings in and dove down toward the sand.

  As soon as I landed on the island, pain erupted in my head. I cried out and collapsed to the ground, changing form to clutch my head in my hands. I heard a distant roar, but I wasn't sure if it was inside my head or not. The pain ebbed away slowly, and I stayed in that position until it was just about gone.

  I heard footsteps coming from the direction of the water and turned to see Roland hurrying toward me. I started to get to my feet, and Roland helped me up. His touch stung. “What’s wrong?” he asked. “I saw you fall to the ground as soon as you landed.” He leaned down and checked my ankle for a break or a sprain.

  “No. My ankle is fine.” I forced out a breathy laugh. “I’m just tired is all.”

  He studied me disbelievingly. “It was only a short distance,” he said. “You’ve gone far longer than that without any problem.”

  I shrugged. “All this traveling must be taking its toll on me.” For some reason, I felt like I shouldn't tell him.

  He studied me for a while longer, but then shrugged. “If you say so.”

  I turned to look at the woods. It was densely populated with trees and underbrush. It didn’t look so bad from the outside, but when I stepped under the canopy of leaves, my eyes had to adjust. It was that dark.

  From deeper in the darkness, I heard rustling, and a black bird flew out of the foliage, cawing loudly. I jumped in surprise before calming myself and continuing. I couldn’t decide if I wanted to be the leader or lag behind and let Roland take the lead. In the end, I decided that I might as well stay up front. It was my quest, after all.

  Every now and then, another bird or squirrel—and on one occasion, a fox—would jump out of the brush and scare me. I could see why there were many rumors spread about his unnerving island.

  When the brush beside me rustled again, I tried to ignore it. I forged ahead, but stopped sudd
enly when I heard something heavy hit the ground. I looked back to see Roland sprawled on the ground, unmoving.

  I hurried to him. “Roland?” I asked. Was he playing a trick on me? But as I studied him further, I knew that it couldn't be a trick. There was something small sticking out of the side of his neck.

  I fell to my knees beside him. Something whistled as it flew by my head. I scrambled backward, tripping over my own feet and falling clumsily back down to the ground.

  I hastily scanned the trees until I saw the very thing that I had dreaded seeing ever since I started the journey. One of the natives was staring directly at me, pointing a dart gun at my neck. His face was painted with a black raccoon mask and three stripes going down either cheek. One blue, one green, and one blood-red.

  The weapon made a thwa! sound and then there was a sharp pain in my neck. I fell, but before I was even down, I was out, thrown into a black pit of unconsciousness.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  When my mind swam back to awareness, my surroundings were as silent as the grave. For a moment, I wondered if I was dead. That thought whirled away as soon as the pain kicked in. I was up against a wall in an uncomfortable position, and my back was aching. A spot on my neck stung slightly. I cracked my eyes open. It was icy cold, causing my breath to form clouds in front of me. It had been a lot warmer the last time I was conscious.

  I sat up slightly and studied my surroundings. I was in a small wooden shack. There were two windows, one to my left and one to my right. When I saw them, I tried to stand, but stop when I heard the rattling of chains. My feet and hands were shackled. The chains on my wrists were so short that I could only stand if I were bent over, therefore keeping me from looking out the window.

  Beside me I heard a moan, and I looked over at Roland. He was sweating and sticky, his hair sticking up at odd angles and his eyes flicking wildly under his eyelids. He breathed hard, his hands clasping his shirt tightly.

  I reached over and felt his temperature. He was hot. Extremely hot. I leaned closer and studied his neck. There was one spot where skin was red and swollen.

  I knew that he was in trouble. He needed medical care immediately.

  “Help!” I shouted, hoping there was somebody, anybody that could hear me. I struggled to get out of the manacles, but they were too tight. I only ended up rattling them noisily. “HELP!”

  The door opened suddenly and a young man peered in skeptically. He was dressed in a bearskin that looked especially warm and his face had black paint formed in swirls around his eyes, nose, and mouth. As soon as he spotted Roland, his eyes widened. He stuck his head back outside and began talking to someone rapidly in a different language.

  Footsteps hurried away. “Hello?” I asked. There was no answer. Perhaps these strange people thought that they would catch whatever illness Roland had gotten.

  I was relieved when they finally came back. A different native with white paint on half of his face and red paint on the other peered in at Roland, stepping inside. He had with him a bowl of water and a satchel, hopefully full of medical supplies that would help Roland.

  “Do you speak the language of the kingdoms?” I asked frantically. “Do you know what's wrong with my friend?”

  The person looked up at me, and then began to speak without the slightest accent. “Yes, I speak your language. And as for your friend, judging by his swollen neck, I would guess that he's had an allergic reaction to our sleeping draft.”

  “Will he recover?”

  The man looked down at Roland and started to dig around in his satchel for something. “There's only one thing that I can think of that would help him. If it doesn't, then we'll have to leave the rest up to the Father in Heaven.” Finally, he found what he had been looking for. It was a dark green leaf. He put it in his mouth and chewed on it until it became a paste. Then, he spat it out into his palm. I looked on doubtfully as he caked the paste onto Roland's neck.

  Roland's eyes stopped flicking and his breathing slowed. I looked up at the healer. “Is that a good sign or a bad sign?” I asked.

  He watched Roland a little longer. “I think that it must be a good sign.” He stood back up. “I have other things to tend to, but if his condition worsens once again, yell to the guards. They will come get me.”

  He went to the door and glanced back at me before speaking quietly to the guard.

  The guard nodded respectfully and watched him leave. When the healer was gone, the guard came back into the shack and unchained my hands. Once my hands were free, he did the same thing to Roland. Seeing as Roland was unable to move, I didn't see what the point was. The only thing he left shackled was one foot with a chain long enough that I could walk around. If I wanted to, I could change form and escape, but I think that the natives knew I wouldn't leave without Roland.

  I watched him closely for a few minutes, but he seemed to be resting peacefully for now, although his expression was still slightly pained. Even after everything that had happened, my heart still hurt to see him like this.

  After about an hour passed, relief hesitantly spread over me. Surely if Roland hadn't had any problems for this long, he wouldn't get any worse.

  I leaned my head against the building and closed my eyes for a few minutes. “Ivy?” said Roland's voice beside me. It was thin and weak. I was immediately at attention.

  His eyes were half-closed in exhaustion. It worried me.

  “Yes?” I asked.

  “Ivy, what happened?”

  I wanted to comfort him, but I didn't know how. I ended up taking his hand. “You were shot with a dart that was dipped in a sleeping draft,” I explained softly. “You've had an allergic reaction.”

  He knitted his eyebrows together. “You know...after all the missions I've been on, I don't think that I've ever been shot with a dart.”

  I stayed quiet.

  “Are we in the camp of the natives?” Roland interrogated.

  He was looking at me, so I nodded. “Their healer came and put some kind of plant on your wound.”

  He felt his neck with the hand that I was not holding, and barely touched it before his hand flinched away.

  Ouch,” he rasped.

  I gave his hand a small, uncertain squeeze. “I'm sorry that you're hurting,” I said, feeling useless.

  He shook his head. “Don't be. I'm actually glad right now. We've gotten to where we've been trying to get.”

  I thought for a moment before speaking. “Roland...why did you volunteer to come with me? What's the real reason?” I questioned.

  He smiled tiredly. “I suppose now would be a good time to tell you. I came mostly because there was something here that I knew could help me. The native people are said to work miracles through God...I needed one of those miracles.”

  “Why do you need a miracle?” I asked.

  “This is probably something I should have told you a long time ago,” he said. “I didn't know if you would understand, but now...you have to. When I was training with Niko, he took me away from the school... He told me that we were going on a quest, but he wouldn't tell me where we were headed or even what it was. Then, things became a little clearer when we reached the castle of King Ciaran.”

  I squinted my eyes. “And why did Niko take you there?”

  “You may have already guessed this, but King Ciaran is trying to gather up a powerful army. That ritual you were talking about? Well, the same thing happened to me. It's just that I had no choice but to be branded with the blood of the wizards.” Roland took his hand from mine and pushed his shirtsleeve up. On the inside of his upper arm, there was a burn mark, shaped like a circular, spiky ball with the initials CAG in the middle. “It's Ciaran's way to give magic to those who lack the ability. That's what he's been doing to the people he recruits into his army.”

  “So you really are on Ciaran's side?” I questioned sadly.

  He shook his head weakly. “No. You misunderstand. I truly have no memory of taking you there. Someone had taken over my mind.”


  I thought about his words for a few seconds. “And how does this have anything to do with a miracle?” I asked.

  “These people,” Roland gestured to the door. “They know how to fix someone like me. Someone who doesn't want the powers of a magician anymore.”

  “So you came on this journey to be rid of your powers...” I concluded. I didn't want to tire him out by asking too many questions, but this was something I felt like I needed to know. “Is there a particular reason that you don't want the power of a sorcerer?”

  His eyes darkened. “The power of a sorcerer is born out of evil. The thoughts that swirl in my head are sometimes not my own.”

  I stared at him. That must have been what happened when he was forcing me into Ciaran's dungeon. “How do you know that?” I asked. His answer had only brought more questions.

  “Because I can feel it,” he said quietly, his eyes unfocused.

  I watched him nervously. “You should get some sleep,” I said.

  His focus centered back on me. “Yes, I suppose you're right.” He let go of my hand and turned onto his side, away from me. Before he went to sleep, he lifted his head to say one more thing. “If anything seems to go wrong, you have to tell them my wish...Do you promise?”

  “I promise,” I answered in a whisper.

  Once his breathing evened out a little, I stood up to look out the window. Our surroundings were beautiful. The pines were especially green and the natives had gathered up all the needles around them so that grass grew. The land was slanted downward from me in an ongoing, rocky slope, and clouds settled around us. The natives must have taken us up the mountain. Far up.

  I rested my arms against the ledge and continued watching the grass sway. As I was looking on, snow started to fall down in flurries, quickly coating the ground with a light dusting of white.

  I didn't know how long I stood there, looking out the window at the familiar sight of snow. But I did know that when I heard Roland moaning, it was not a good sign.