by Lana Axe
Jeya covered her mouth with her hand.
“I have to get back to the ship,” Danik said, leaving Pia in the care of her mother.
Chapter 2
Fevered dreams plagued Pia’s rest. A shadow, larger than any she’d seen, even larger than the largest ships, tracked her steps. She ran. Out of breath, she pressed on, her chest burning. Still the shadow pursued. High above, it sailed with ease, waiting for her to tire. She ran on and on, along the endless shore. The pain in her legs gave way, leaving no sensation at all behind. She dared to glance down, reassuring herself that her legs were still there. After only a few steps more, she saw her salvation. A massive spinning vortex called out to her. She reached for it, striving with every ounce of life left in her. But she could not reach it. She collapsed inches short of her goal, and the shadow descended upon her.
Pia shot up from her bed, sucking in a breath. Sweat drenched her skin, leaving her bedsheets soaked. She stood, prying the sticky shift away from her body and fanning herself with her hand. Streaks of sunlight poured in through the shutters. She’d slept through the night but didn’t feel rested. What had happened?
The memory hit her with great force, and she reeled, stumbling back to her bed. She had set fire to the sea. Or had it only been the reflection of the sunset? Her father had overreacted. Hadn’t he? Pressing the heels of her hands to her eyes, she tried to make the memory stop.
She had performed magic, but she didn’t know how. It had come, as it had before, unbidden, unwanted. What is wrong with me? She wept into her hands. She craved a normal existence, despite all her dreaming. Magic was real, but it wasn’t for her. The Red Council had declared it. It was only a dream, a child’s passing fancy. No more stories, she decided. From now on, she would refuse to listen to the sailors’ tales of magic and heroes. She was getting too old for such things anyway. It was time to put childhood away.
Tiptoeing across her small room, she retrieved a fresh shirt and pants from her trunk. Beside them was a blue dress, the fanciest item she owned. It was far too small now. She’d grown over the past year, and her pretty dress was no use. She would gift it to Sekai when next she saw her. At least its beauty wouldn’t go to waste. Jeya could sew another, but she wouldn’t. Until Pia finished growing, there would be no more dresses. The next she would own would be for her wedding, assuming she managed to find a groom. The entire town was convinced she was a witch, a disgrace to true magic.
But that was far away. Pia wouldn’t have to worry about such things for another four years. No one would expect her to marry before seventeen. Then she would be forced to leave her family and do as her husband commanded. She shut the trunk and took a deep breath. No, she would not marry. She would be her own person, living her own way. Without magic, she thought. Alone.
Pulling on her fresh clothes, she folded her dirty shift for washing. She might as well get started on that now. Pulling her sheets from the bed, she gathered them under her arm. The sound of voices drew her away from thoughts of chores, and she paused to listen. It was her parents, their voices low.
Moving to the doorway, she opened the door only an inch and pressed her ear to the opening. Holding her breath, she concentrated on the voices. There was a third, someone she didn’t recognize.
“I’m just saying there’s talk,” the man’s voice said. “I don’t want trouble, but I thought you should be told.”
“I appreciate it,” Danik replied.
Pia heard the front door close.
“What are we going to do?” Jeya asked.
“What can we do?” Danik replied. “She lit the harbor aflame. She could burn down the whole city.” He paused. “We have to send her away.”
“We can’t!” Jeya replied, her voice frantic. “She’s our child!”
Heavy footsteps sounded. “Listen, Jeya,” Danik said with force. “They’ll turn on her. It’s already begun. Do you want to watch her stoned to death? Burned? It will happen.”
Jeya wept openly.
“We’re lucky I was able to make her stop,” Danik went on. “Like last time when she nearly burned down the kitchen. I coached her to do what she did then and picture the flames gone. It worked.”
Pia remembered that day. She was baking bread with her mother, and the oven’s fire had gone out. In her attempt to bring it back to life, she had simply pictured it as it should be. The flames had burst out of control, spilling outside the oven and onto the floor. Luckily her father was nearby to stamp out the flames. Her mother had held her back, or she might have been burned.
But the fire inside the oven had continued to burn, threatening to spew once more. Pia had closed her eyes, squeezing them as tight as she could. Go away, she repeated in her mind. Then she focused on imagining the oven unlit and cold. The flames died away.
The damage had still been done. The cabin was fine save for a few burned spots on the floor, but her parents never looked at her the same way again. They feared her. They had no idea what she might do next. All they knew was that she was an abomination. A creature without magic had managed to perform it, and not in a positive way. She was a being of destruction.
Do they still love me? she wondered. How could they? She didn’t deserve their love. Clasping her hand over her mouth, she stifled her pain. What’s wrong with me?
“Maybe we should send for a representative from the Council,” Jeya suggested. “Maybe they can test her again. Maybe they were wrong before.”
“You want to tell a bunch of mages they were wrong?” Danik asked. “They’ll hang you next to Pia.”
“I can’t send her away, Danik. I can’t.”
Her father sighed, and the sound of a chair scooting against the wooden floor suggested he was now sitting. Pia waited, counting the seconds before he replied. Her future was in his hands, as it had always been.
“How do we protect her?” Danik asked. “The town will turn on her. Remember the doll?”
Pia swallowed hard. The doll. Her only doll, the one she’d had since she was too small to remember. It had been her closest friend. She could tell that doll anything. Her love for the doll allowed it to talk and play as a real little girl would. When her mother discovered the doll moving and speaking, she had shrieked with fright. Danik came running and spotted the doll, dancing and singing. He snatched it away. When Pia tried to take it back, her father had struck her and knocked her to the ground. She touched her face, remembering the pain, and the red welt that had risen on her cheek.
When she asked what had become of her beloved toy, Danik told her he’d thrown it out in the sea. Pia searched the coast endlessly, hoping it would wash up, but it never did. With no way to control her magic, she couldn’t summon the doll. She had tried. She’d imagined it back in her arms. Remembering it now brought tears to her eyes. She still missed that doll.
“She must learn to keep her magic tucked away,” Jeya said. “She has to learn not to use it.”
“There’s no one to teach her,” Danik replied. “And I don’t think she’s using it intentionally. It happens when it happens.”
At least her father understood that much. How could she prevent it from happening again? She had no idea. What if she went to the Red Council herself? She could ask them to take away the power. Or to show her how to do it herself. She wouldn’t be asking to learn magic, and she wasn’t saying they were wrong. She would tell them something was wrong with her. Maybe one of their healers could fix her.
“The town will turn on her,” Danik went on. “They’ve been suspicious of her for years, but now it will be worse. We won’t be able to protect her for long.”
“What are you going to do?” Jeya asked, her voice growing so thin that Pia barely made out her words.
“I’ll start looking for work or maybe a foreign husband for her,” he said. “She can’t stay here much longer. She needs to go far away. As far as she can go.”
“She’s too young!” Jeya said. “She’s not yet a woman!”
“What would yo
u have me do?” he asked. “The only other option is to drown her myself!”
The anger rising in her father’s voice made Pia stumble backward, dropping her laundry. Would he really go that far? A chill moved along her spine, setting her body to trembling. Panic-stricken, she reached for the shutters and opened the latch. Climbing out the window, she ran without looking back. Anywhere was better than here.
Fleeing the cabin, she skirted along the edge of the woods, keeping her distance from the city. If anyone saw her, they’d be too ready to tell where she’d gone. She paused only once to look around before disappearing among the tall evergreens.
Darkness enveloped her, the light hidden by giant boughs. After a moment, her eyes adjusted, allowing her to see a short distance ahead. Where should she go? As far as she could get. She didn’t want to end up thrown into the sea like the doll she’d once loved.
Tripping over the dense undergrowth, she fell, landing hard on her wrist. Crying out in pain, she clutched the injured wrist to her chest. Forcing herself back to her feet, she walked rather than run. Running would only lead to more falls. Her heart was injured enough; there was no need to punish her body.
Tears streamed down her face as she pushed on through the woods, the light growing dimmer. When she turned, she could no longer see the shoreline, nor hear the lapping of the waves. But she hadn’t gone far enough. Not yet.
Trudging forward, her steps grew heavier. A rustling ahead stopped her in her tracks. The low needle-covered boughs waved on a tree only steps away. Something was there.
“Who’s there?” she asked, her voice too small to be heard. She cleared her throat and tried again. “Who’s there?”
The movement grew more pronounced, a shadow stepping from behind the tree. Two small shadows moved behind it.
Frozen in place, Pia couldn’t even scream. She wanted to run, to flee and find safety. The figure moved closer, the outline of a bear standing before her. The she-bear tilted her head slightly and sniffed at the air.
Pia summoned her courage and managed to shout. “Go away!” she shouted. The second shout was louder.
The bear’s muscles tensed. It took two steps, charging toward her, but Pia stood her ground, knowing not to run. The bear was only bluffing. It turned away, leading its cubs into the thick of the forest.
Pia’s legs gave way beneath her. She puddled on the ground, grasping at her knees. I’m so stupid, she thought. Why did I think I’d be safer here? Where was I going to go? She buried her face and wept. When she looked up again, the rising sun was shedding its light amid the branches. She must have slept through the night, undisturbed by the forest’s inhabitants.
Brushing herself off, Pia stood and slowly turned her gaze toward home. There was nowhere else to go. She’d have to go back and face her father. He would know by now that she had run away.
“Pia!” someone shouted as she emerged from the woods. Squinting against the sudden light, she made out the smiling face of Sekai.
“Why ever did you go in there?” she asked, picking pine needles from Pia’s silver hair. “There are bears and wolves in there, you know. My Papa said never to go in there. Didn’t yours ever tell you that?”
Pia nodded slowly.
“You’ve been crying,” Sekai said. “What’s wrong?”
“You didn’t hear about last night?” Pia asked. “The rest of the town obviously has.” She would not forget the cold words of her father, planning to send her away, or worse. “They want me to leave.”
“I don’t want you to leave,” Sekai said. “Don’t listen to rumors and gossip.”
Pursing her lips, Pia grabbed her friend and hugged her. She was wise for her age. “I should go home,” she said.
“I’ll come with you.”
Pia squeezed the young girl’s hand. She was glad to have her support.
“Pia!” Jeya cried when the girl came into view. “You had me scared to death.” Clutching her daughter to her breast, she squeezed her as hard as she dared. Pulling back, she said, “And look at you! You’re a mess.”
“I’m sorry, Mama,” she replied.
“What sent you running out the window like that?” her mother asked.
Pia looked down at her feet. “I heard you and Papa talking,” she said. “He wants me gone.”
“That isn’t true,” Jeya said, kneeling before her daughter. “He wants you here, with us. But there’s trouble, and he’s afraid for you.”
“So he’d drown me?” Pia asked, sticking out her chin.
“He didn’t mean that,” Jeya said. “That was his anger talking. Not anger at you, at the town. They’re foolish and hateful.”
“Maybe your whole family should move away,” Sekai offered.
“An easy thing for a child to say,” Jeya replied. “There are responsibilities we can’t walk away from. Life isn’t as easy as it seems to a child’s eyes.”
Though Jeya’s tone was well-meaning, the young girl clearly took it as a rebuke. She shrank back, biting at her lip.
“Mama, I don’t want to go,” Pia pleaded.
“Nothing is settled yet,” Jeya replied. “Come inside and get cleaned up.”
“Can I give Sekai my blue dress?” she asked as she stepped inside.
“Of course,” Jeya said. “You’ve no use for it now.” She looked at the smaller girl. “I think it’ll fit you nicely.”
Pia went inside and scrubbed at her face with water before retrieving the dress. Sekai’s eyes sparkled when she presented it to her.
“It’s pretty,” she said, stroking the fabric. It was simple, but lovely to a girl who ordinarily wore plain white and brown. “Thank you.” She offered her friend a hug, which Pia gladly accepted. At least she could make someone else happy. It seemed she would never be happy herself.
“Run along, now,” Jeya said to Sekai. “I need to speak with my daughter.”
As soon as the girl was outside, Jeya closed the door. “Someone has sent word to the Red Council about your magic,” she said. “Do you know what that means?”
Pia shook her head. All she knew was the Red Council judged whether a child was worthy of training in magic. She had not been selected. Why would they come again? Would they now consider teaching her?
“To be honest, I’m not entirely sure either,” she said. “All I know is that once a child is rejected for magical training, the mages don’t change their minds. If someone is coming here, it means danger. They could accuse you of conspiring with dark forces, and that’s a crime.”
“But I don’t know anything about that,” the girl protested. She truly didn’t. Was magic separated into dark and light?
“I know, little one,” Jeya said. “They might think dark forces are using you against your will. I fear the punishment is the same.”
“Worse than drowning?” Pia asked.
Her mother nodded. “I’m afraid so.”
Chapter 3
Soaring high over the countryside, the onyx dragon looked for any sign of danger. Below him there was devastation, but it wasn’t caused by the enemy he sought. Trees felled by the hand of man were strewn, smoke rising from piles of discarded limbs. Such waste, he thought. If only they knew the true heart of trees. They had feelings, a spirit of their own. Each had a life, though the dryads had long gone from them.
The world had changed. And the onyx dragon had witnessed it. How long had he lived? He couldn’t remember. The only way to be sure would be to return home, to find the documents from his years in training. It was too long since he’d been there, but it was too painful to return.
One day, he told himself. When the world was as it should be, he would rest awhile. He would visit his old home. He would honor his former master.
Thoughts of the old man pained the dragon’s heart. How he missed the eccentric old fellow, gone now for centuries. He’d left him his most prized possession, and the dragon had placed it safely where none could reach it, not even the shadows.
The landscape altere
d by man was soon behind him, and he flew on toward the mountain. A rocky path snaked around it, at times stretching over lower areas. None set foot on the peak. It was a favorite stopping point for a dragon to think, but there was no time for that now. He continued toward the forests along the edge of the mountain.
This land was primal, untouched, and beautiful. There was no sign of man, elf, or otherwise. The darkness had yet to reach this forest. There was still time, but evil was coming. And neither mountains nor the mighty sea would stop it.
Smoke rose in a single line, the remnants of a campfire. He swooped low, then rose higher, his shadow briefly falling over the small campsite. His heading now was the coastline, but he must slow his flight. There was a path beneath him, but was it safe? There was no sign of danger, not by man, not by the darkness. It was safe. But it still wouldn’t do.
Widening his eye slits, he allowed the light to enter. Reaching for his magic, he spied the ground below, scanning, searching. There it was. Nearly overgrown but still traversable by the daring. His companions would complain at first, but they’d follow him. It was time to return.
Making a wide arc, he returned to the campsite. An opening amid the trees was barely wide enough for his body, but he had learned a few tricks over the years. He didn’t need to reach the ground in dragon form. Hovering at the treetops, he slowly descended, changing as he went. It was not the softest of landings. He’d begun his change prematurely.
Landing on one knee, his hand smacking against the ground, he kept his head low. Nothing was injured. He rose to his feet and dusted the grass from his cloak.
“We need to leave now,” he said. Tugging at his hood, he positioned it over his head. The scales along his neck never went away. Not any longer. There was a time when no one could tell he was a shapeshifter. His human appearance had been as ordinary as any other. Brown hair, brown eyes, average height, slender build. Not much to look at. Now, however, he had lost that hard-won ability. He was a dragon, his blood hot, his appetite yearning for only raw meat. No spell could reverse it. His merger with the symbol had given him a mighty gift. And for that, he must pay. In time he would remain a dragon, but not yet. There was still work to be done. Work he could perform only as Taren, the human sorcerer.
