A single, slender hand burst from the leaves, grasping for his, and he heard her voice in his mind, answering in that same silent speech. Elan?
Stonewall grabbed for her hand, but it slipped out of his grip and disappeared back into the vines and flowers. I’m here, he tried to shout, but again he could only think the words as he groped for her in the jessamin again. Kali, hang on! I’m coming.
It hurts, she called back, but her voice was fainter.
Panic seized his heart but he tried to ignore it, instead yanking the vines free of the wall and tossing them over his shoulder, furiously trying to get to her. Spade-shaped leaves and tiny yellow flowers cascaded down upon him, but he ignored the gentle fall. At last, at last he spotted her bare shoulder, and then curve of her jaw, and then, thank Tor and all the gods, her face. Kali’s dark eyes were closed. The vines had coiled around her naked body, holding her upright and tight against the bastion wall, her skin streaked with red and pink where they gripped. Handfuls of jessamin blossoms, bleached to bone by moonlight, clung to her dark hair.
Was she breathing? Stonewall gripped her shoulders. Kali, look at me. Kali, can you hear me?
Her eyes flew open and the world turned to starlight. Blinded, Stonewall staggered back and lost his grip on Kali. No! When he looked again, twin stars burned in the darkness, as if they’d sucked out all light from the world. Stonewall reached for her once more, but pain flared in his side, sending him reeling, and when he righted himself, the vines had crept over Kali again, slithering around her body, coiling between each limb and finger, lacing through her hair and over her face. But her eyes still burned with starlight.
*
Stonewall gasped and sat upright in his pallet. His stitches burned again, but he didn’t care. Surely, he was delirious, for even though he was awake now, he could still feel her in the back of his mind, as if she stood at his side without speaking. Kali teetered between panic and dread; the latter held a strange curiosity that he did not understand, nor trust. How much of that curiosity was Kali and how much was the Fata? She was always inquisitive, but now? In this state? His gut roiled again and he clenched his jaw against the urge to retch.
Perhaps he was a lost cause, but Kali was alive, which meant he could still help her. Or try to, at least. He saw her face in his mind’s eye, pale with fear, jaw trembling as she clenched her teeth against some phantom pain. Her voice reverberated in his mind; a silent speech. Stop! Please! Leave me alone…
Stonewall tried to ignore his own discomfort and focus only on his breath, but all he heard were Kali’s ragged gasps. Her terror prickled along his palms and down the small of his back. As much as he wanted to believe the feelings were a hallucination, he knew they were real. She had said the Fata had recognized him, but what did he have that the Fata would recognize? He was just a man, and not a noteworthy one at that.
Unless what Drake had told him of his father was true. Did he really have Fata blood?
If so, maybe he could use it to his advantage. If not…well, only the shadows would hear him speak.
“Kali,” he whispered to the empty air. “Kali, can you hear me?”
As he spoke, he tried to reach out to her, picturing her face and focusing on the residual emotions from his dream. He likened the action to grasping for a fishing line sunk beneath murky waters. Kali? Are you there?
No response, although he could somehow still feel her emotions. Was she truly lost, or was he worse off than he realized?
Stonewall’s stomach churned and he sat up, shuddering, unable to fight the urge to retch this time, and leaned away from his sleeping pallet. When he was finished, he collapsed back down, head swimming, each limb leaden. His lips were dry and cracking, his muscles burned. He did not think he would rise again. He tried to calculate how much longer this life might last, and grimaced.
Think of something else.
He clutched the river-rock—it had never left his grip—and tried to reach for her yet again. Kali?
No response. Again. Anguish filled him but he had no water left to weep. She was gone. Everyone he had ever loved was gone.
Hopeless. Stonewall lay in the darkness, alone, and the river rock slid from his hand.
Then, like a flicker of candlelight around a corner, he recognized Kali’s answering plea. Not directed at him—was she even aware of him, as he was of her?—but far reaching and aimless, a dark mirror of his own despair.
Tor, help me.
*
Sweet blood. Sweet magic. Give it to us. Now.
Kali clenched her jaw against the urge to scream. Screaming would make no difference to the Fata, whose voices trilled in constant cacophony. When she opened her eyes, the stone walls of the garrison cell were illuminated too well. She had no desire to see the dark stains upon the stones, nor the fear in her cellmate’s face, so she kept her eyes closed and tried to think of something else if only to calm herself.
Her efforts were in vain, for she could still feel the city guards’ iron grips; one had smelled oddly of lavender, while the faint scent of biri smoke had clung to the other. She could still see the whites of their eyes rolling back as she stole their lives to help her friends.
For all the good it had done.
As much as Kali wanted to believe the Fata had killed those two guards, she knew the truth. She was a murderer – several times over now. First Neff, then Shada, and now these poor souls who had been unlucky enough to cross her path. It didn’t matter that she had slain them in self-defense, nor that she had used their energy to save the man she loved. No doubt each guard had family and friends who would mourn their passing and foster a new hatred of mages.
Tears crept to her eyes again. She swiped at them, the metallic cuff scraping her cheek. No. She could not lose herself to the Fata. She could not give in to despair. She had to keep fighting. For despite how she was jailed, despite how both her and Stonewall’s lives—not to mention Beacon and Rook’s—were probably forfeit now, she still had a mission. She had to learn more about the Fata. She had to find a way to stop them.
A male voice said her name. His accent reminded her of Stonewall’s, but she could not spare the attention to reply, or even nod in acknowledgment. She only curled closer to the cell wall, shackled hands pressed against her midsection. A pity that hematite did nothing to dull the Fata’s persistent, silent mind-speech.
Kali’s palm still stung where she’d grabbed Foley’s hook, but she wasn’t sure if the pain was real or a memory from the Fata that prowled the edges of her mind.
“Poison,” the Fata growled, but the sound emerged from Kali’s own throat as a rasp.
“What now?” Drake asked.
But Kali barely heard the other mage’s voice, so lost was she to her efforts to withstand the Fata possession. She snapped her jaw shut and counted each deliberate breath. She was still Kali. She was not a thrall yet.
There will be more thralls, as you call them, the Fata whispered in her mind; no single voice, but a chorus. Until we take back what is ours.
Did the Fata understand her thoughts? If she could understand their silent speech and feel their emotions, it made sense that the connection went both ways. The notion sent chills down her spine.
“Please look at me, at least.” Drake sounded closer, but Kali did not open her eyes.
Instead, she tried to think calmly and clearly, and directed her thoughts to the Fata. What are you talking about? What will you take back?
It was beyond strange to communicate in this way, but her gambit was rewarded with the Fata’s bewilderment. The foreign presence started, giving Kali the impression of a sleeping person jerking upright after being tapped on the shoulder. Perhaps this confusion was the reason for the Fata’s reply. This world is ours. It has always been ours. Your kind are invaders – a plague upon our home. We destroyed you once. We will do it again.
So much to glean from the words! Kali’s thoughts spun in a hundred different directions, but she seized on the most logical quest
ion that came to mind after all her research. Invaders? Do you mean the strange storm cloud? What happened? What did they do to your people?
With the silent speech she tried to pass on the image from her dream and from Artéa Arvad’s journal: the massive, dark cloud that blotted out the sky.
The Fata recoiled from the image and threads of anger and fear snaked around Kali’s heart, tighter and stronger than before. She gasped aloud. Drake said her name again, but again, she could not spare even a second to reply. Within her mind, the Fata seethed in fury. You came from the sky, from another world. You stole our sky, our world, our way of life. You brought disease and death, and drove us to this shadow of existence. The Fata’s hatred pulsed from every word and their vengeance resonated through Kali’s bones. This world is ours. We will take it back again – for the last time. We have already begun.
Perhaps they spoke of one of the most common myths of how humans came to exist: that the One created them from the stars. A fantasy, of course, but why would the Fata believe such a story? Kali’s thoughts spun, but she tried to focus on what she deemed the most immediate threat. What exactly did we steal from you? she replied. And how? Or–
Her silent speech died as the Fata seized her, snarling a reply in a voice that was not Kali’s, though the words came from her throat. “We will take back what is ours, sweet blood.”
“Ea’s balls,” Drake gasped. “You really are a thrall, aren’t you?”
“What’s going on?” another man called, his voice vaguely familiar.
Kali, struck with horror, did not hear Drake’s reply, as she clapped her hands over her mouth. Her heart pounded but her body was cold, as if the Fata had leeched all warmth away, but she fought to gain control over herself. Such control was almost impossible to come by when she had to act as both audience and speaker. But her persistence had paid off: the Fata were really talking to her now, not just spouting that same litany. This might be her only chance to gain information before she was lost.
And what then? She was locked in a cell, deep in the bowels of the garrison. Who would she tell? What good were her efforts?
A memory of Stonewall’s voice reverberated through her mind. You’re not alone.
Perhaps Kali didn’t need to speak and listen to the Fata all on her own. Perhaps her cellmate could help.
Kali took more deep breaths until she was certain she could speak normally, and then she risked opening her eyes to look at Drake.
Thank the stars, her eyes did not cast any light now, so they regarded each other only through the dim lamplight. She’d expected him to be pressed against the far corner of the cell, as far from her as he could be in the small space. But instead he sat within arm’s reach and watched her with a serious expression that reminded her so much of Stonewall, her heart ached.
“Drake?” she whispered.
“I’m here,” he replied, although he did not move. “Are you?”
“For now.”
“Glad to hear it. Are you all right?” He exhaled sharply. “Sorry. That’s a stupid question.”
“It is,” she said. “But I don’t care. No, Drake, I’m not well. I need your help.”
He held up his wrists, bound together and attached to the wall by a long chain. “I’ll do what I can, but I’m afraid it won’t be much.”
“I only need you to listen.” Kali glanced around the rest of the detention area, suddenly aware of the full cells.
Drake cleared his throat. “I’m not sure how much you, ah, remember, but the sentinels have brought in some new guests.”
Of course. Kali called out to the other mages, then to Aderey and Ytel.
Relief was plain in the Sufani man’s reply. “We’re here, Kali. In one piece. More or less.”
Tears pricked Kali’s eyes; she thought they were from joy at his familiar voice, although she should not be happy that Aderey and his family were imprisoned. But they knew her; they trusted her. Perhaps her mad plan had a chance to succeed.
“Now’s not the time for your jokes,” Ytel said to her husband. To Kali, she said, “Drake has told us you’re…” She hesitated. “A thrall. What can we possibly do to help you?”
“We can’t use magic,” Sirvat added tearfully.
“Just listen,” Kali said. “Listen well, and be prepared to share what you learn to whoever will hear you later.”
She dared not say more, for if the Fata could sense her thoughts, they might sense her motives and stop talking to her. Instead, she looked at Drake again, gathering her courage. He seemed to understand, for he moved closer after only a brief hesitation and began to wrap one strong arm around her shoulders.
But Kali shoved him away. “Keep back. Other mages aren’t safe around me when I’m…like this. The Fata want your magic.”
Drake held up his bound wrists. “Even without these, I don’t have much magic to speak of.”
“I can’t risk hurting you.”
“You won’t.” Drake offered one dark hand. His voice was gentle. “Trust me.”
Fear clawed at Kali’s throat, at her heart and mind, seeking victory over her whole self. Would she let that fear win? Besides, Drake was much stronger than her; perhaps if the Fata within her tried to harm him, he’d be strong enough to slip out of her grasp. Kali stared at his calloused palm, torn between seeking comfort and the fear she would attack him, too. Even if Stonewall was still angry with Drake, he would never forgive her for hurting his brother.
“I know I’m not him,” Drake murmured. “But I’m here.”
Kali surrendered. She moved closer to him, allowing him to pull her close, though he had to drape the chain between his cuffs across them both to do so. Warmth spread through her body and she relaxed against his side. “Aye, and you’re better than nothing,” she whispered back, letting her head fall upon his shoulder.
She felt rather than heard his low chuckle of amusement. “My greatest aspiration in life.”
Kali allowed herself a smile in return, took a deep breath, and concentrated on the foreign presence within. The Fata were still there, lying in wait, but Kali sensed their bewilderment at her sudden calm – and their interest in Drake. She bit back her alarm; would they seek his magic? Would they sense his Fata blood? If he was Stonewall’s brother, and Stonewall had Fata blood, Drake might well share it. But Stonewall had told her that he and Drake had different fathers, so perhaps the Fata wouldn’t recognize Drake as kin.
Even so, Drake was a mage. Kali readied herself for the onslaught of desire for magic, but it did not come. Instead, she felt the Fata’s attention skim this new presence and then discard it as unimportant. She could not help but smile in relief.
“Are you smiling because you’re about to kill me?” Drake asked.
“They don’t want you.”
“Familiar story,” he said wryly, hugging her closer. “Very well, then, Kali. Do what you must. We’ll listen.”
She nodded and fell back into concentration. But this time, she spoke aloud and did not try to sear the responses into her memory. “Where did my people come from?”
The Fata’s surprise flooded her, and perhaps it was this feeling that spurred their reply. “Your kind dared set foot upon this world—our world—dared to cross our borders and press barbarian hands upon our skin. You are a plague; an infection to be burned away.”
Surprise faded into familiar fury, blended with a hate that made Kali’s eyes sting. She whispered, “When?”
“Not so long ago, for us,” came the growling reply. Before Kali could respond, the Fata added, “Enough of this. Your history is your own.”
The foreign presence in her mind did not fade, but she got the impression of someone turning their back to her. No! She had to keep them talking; had to learn everything she could, even if it made so little sense to her right now. She’d sort through the information later – assuming she had a later. But if not her, then hopefully someone else in this wretched place would remember these words.
Hoping
to goad the Fata back into conversation, Kali forced her voice into Eris’ imperious tone “How can you hope to defeat us? We have strong armies. Besides, we fought you once. We’ll do it again.”
The Fata’s fury broke over her anew, strong enough to make her head spin, and she was grateful for Drake’s solid presence. A sense of satisfaction colored the Fata’s next words, although they were still laced with fury. “We walk between worlds, where your kind cannot follow. Our shadow selves dwell everywhere, within and without you, but you are blind, deaf, and dumb, and even if you scour the veins of the earth, you will never find us.”
An answering chill moved through Kali, but she tried to keep her dread at bay. She had the Fata talking now; she needed to keep up the momentum and learn what she could. “What do you mean, ‘walk between worlds?’” she said in her own voice. “There is only one world.”
“For you, perhaps,” the Fata replied, and Kali’s throat burned with their laughter. “Not for us. Yet,” the voice turned considering, “you are strong in your own way. But we are stronger now than when your kind came. Even with your sweet blood, we will defeat you this time.”
“If there’s one thing my people are good at,” Drake said suddenly. “It’s killing dregs like you.”
Kali started at the vehemence in Drake’s voice, but she was lost to the Fata now, and could not form a reply of her own. Was he trying to goad the Fata as well?
It must have worked, for the Fata spoke through her again, sneering. “Barbarian cur. We have weapons you cannot imagine; we have our shadow selves. We have your own foolish minds and molded memories. We have poisoned your weak bodies. You are ours, already. We need only take the final steps to defeat you.”
“We have weapons, too, and magic,” Drake said, snorting. “What do you have? A bunch of mindless thralls who can’t even hold a sword.”
Anger burst through Kali’s heart, strong enough to make her gasp aloud. But she couldn’t speak, could hardly move, for she was a prisoner in her own skin. “We do not need weapons to destroy you.”
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