by S A Edwards
He met me with a sombre expression, and a shiver of worry spread through me. “What’s wrong?”
“Kyne has some prisoners.”
A lump grew in my throat at the memory of his gift. I didn’t realise he’d taken any prisoners. “What’s he going to do?”
“You’re better moving to the back of the clearing.”
“Why? What’s going to happen?”
The destroyed shelters were piled by the trees, and smoke curled in thin wisps from the thick fabric. A group of Mage crowded ahead, their murmurs filling the open space.
I pushed toward them, ignoring Amicus’ protest.
Kyne stood by the cliff edge, a black cloak draped over his shoulders, a baby wrapped in cloth sleeping in his arms. Riparians swayed beside him, strangely silent without my gifts. A stab of longing hit me.
Two people, a man and woman, faced him, their hands bound with thin rope. The man slumped on the wet grass, his leg still broken, and tears streamed the fearful face of the woman. “Please,” she said, “please, let us go.”
“Let me explain the problem.” Kyne paced before them and silence fell over the watching Mage. “You come in the night. You attack us. Most of you have fled, and if I release you, what message would that give? What would there be to stop you coming again?” He smiled down at the baby.
“They have nothing to do with this.” The man tried to step forward, but he jolted, held back by some invisible force. “Do what you please with me but let them go.”
“After all the effort I put into bringing them here?” Kyne asked. “Don’t you know the risk I took to enter your village? The planning required to take your wife and child?”
A jolt tore through me. I twisted to Amicus. “Tell me he’s joking.” If he was, he needed a major change of humour.
He glared. “I wish he was.”
The woman trembled, and she reached toward the baby.
“But I’m feeling generous,” Kyne said. “I see no reason to kill you all.” He peered at the baby again with a purse of his lips. Then, he grabbed the cloth and hung the child over the cliff edge.
I gasped. Images of the rushing water raced through my mind, of the baby landing in the depths, unable to swim. I leapt forward.
Strong hands seized me, holding me back.
The parents both started talking at once, pleading for the life of their baby.
“Let me go.” I struggled, desperate to call my water, my ice, anything that would help, but still my gifts remained untouchable. “Kyne, stop this!”
“Silence!” Black flickered through Kyne’s eyes.
I twisted to where Amicus stood, now several feet away, but he wasn’t looking at me. Face cold and emotionless, he turned and disappeared into the woodland.
My cheeks flushed. How could he leave? How could he do nothing whilst Kyne acted this way? Did no Mage here have a conscience? If I had my gifts …
“An example needs to be set,” Kyne continued, his calm demeanour resumed. “I’m sure you understand. Feel free to spread the word. We will be free. No Mortal will stand in our way.”
I kicked out at the Mage holding me to no avail. “Kyne!”
He dropped the baby.
The mother screamed and sank to her knees. Pain stabbed through my heart at her suffering, and shock froze me to the spot.
A baby. It was just a baby.
The hands holding me let go. No one around me moved.
Kyne smiled at the parents. “You’re free to go. Someone escort them out of our clearing, please.”
Two men grabbed them and hauled them away.
I shoved past the crowd and half-ran, half-fell down the path to the river. The rain last night raised the water level, covering the narrow strip of bank. Rapids frothed on the surface, streaming downhill.
There was no sign of the child.
Water splashed against my boots. Too much time had passed. I’d never find the child before it drowned. Tears welled.
“Celeste.” Kyne stood on the path, an amused expression on his face.
I stormed forward and slapped his cheek. A satisfying crack cut the air.
“How could you?” I snarled. “A baby! Have you no morals? How can you justify that?”
Black flashed across his eyes for a moment, and a red print glowed on his skin. His teeth clenched. “I have people to protect.”
I swallowed back my fear at the glimpse of his gift. “So do they. Did it ever occur to you that they attack because they see you as a threat?”
“I am a threat, Celeste.”
“Clara!”
“I’ll be a danger to anyone who threatens our freedom. And don’t pretend you’re so perfect. You have no idea what I’ve had to face.” His voice remained even, calm.
“This is wrong.”
“Then challenge me. See if you have what it takes to beat me.”
I shook my head. “I don’t want to beat you. I want nothing to do with you.”
“And yet, I am the only one who can help you free your precious Charlie.”
I glared at him, hating that he was right. I couldn’t find the Underworld Gate without him unless I could convince Amicus to take me. That is, assuming he knew the way. But after his cowardice just now, he couldn’t be counted on. He, at least, still had his gifts. I balled my fists. He could have tried.
“And for someone who wants nothing to do with me, here you are,” he said. “What’s with the eyes? What did they do to you?”
“Who?”
His expression darkened, and a hint of amusement glinted in his features. “Forget it. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a journey to prepare for.” He leaned closer. “And the next time you disagree with one of my methods, keep it to yourself.”
6
Istood at the edge of the trees facing the camp and stared at the peach sky.
Kyne bustled amongst the Mage ahead of me, gathering together the remaining shelters whilst boxes and crates were loaded above one another in a pile.
Three women with a large sheet spread between them approached the pile. With a stretch of their arms, the sheet rose above the crates, draped over them without a crease and tucked beneath them like a pillow.
The women nodded at a blue-cloaked Mage with deep-red hair and a square jaw. He snapped his fingers, and the covered pile shrunk until it was no bigger than a wad of parchment.
Despite my irritation, a smile crept to my lips, and I welcomed in the rush of energy their magic sent through my skin. The gifts here were so new, filling me with excitement and curiosity. Even with all the wonder of the magic back home, I’d never imagined anything like this.
The red-headed Mage stooped to pick up the storage and slipped it in a pack.
“Clara.”
I whirled toward the familiar voice.
Charlie stood behind me, his brown eyes wide. Dimples pinched his cheeks, and a piece of hair hung to his eyes. His tunic was torn at the sleeves, revealing his muscular build, and dirt-caked his skin.
My heart broke into a sprint. I approached warily and reached out. My hand passed right through him. He lowered his head, and sorrow tugged in my chest. “Are you …”
“Am I what?” he asked.
“In the Underworld?”
For a moment, he appeared thoughtful, and then he nodded. “I suppose you could call it that. It looks sunny where you are. Nice.” He shivered and rubbed his arms.
“Charlie, I’m so sorry –”
“No, don’t do that. We both know it couldn’t be helped. If you hadn’t banished me –”
“I know. Worldwide subjection, blah, blah, blah. So, what?”
“You don’t mean that,” he said.
“Don’t I? You’re stuck down there. And I can’t get you out.”
“It’s okay.” He stretched out a hand to me, then seemed to think better of it.
I frowned at his hand and bit down on my lip. How I longed to feel his warmth, to smell the forest-scent of his hair, and know he was safe. I
balled my fists. “It’s not okay. I can’t help you yet, but I will. I’m coming for you. I’ll get you out.”
“That’s not possible,” he said, though his eyes lit up. “The Gate is impenetrable. Zantos already tried it.” He flashed a grin. “Even with all his power, he couldn’t get through.”
A growl rumbled deep in my throat, threatening to unleash the Beast gift within me. Although, I doubted the Mortal Blade’s magic would allow it. “Is Zantos still in your body?”
“Yes. He keeps trying to suppress me.”
Anger flared and heated my cheeks.
“What?” he asked. “Don’t look at me like that. I’m strong. I can hold on.”
“You’re just a child, Charlie.”
“And your protector, don’t forget. Give me some credit.”
I shook my head.
“I’ll be okay, Clara. Just be safe, all right?”
“I’m coming for you, Charlie. I will save you.”
He sniffed and shivered again.
“Celeste.” Kyne’s voice pulled my attention to him. He beckoned from the gathered group.
I clenched my teeth and twisted back to Charlie.
He was gone.
I rubbed my hand across my neck, swallowing back my tears.
Hanrel met me with a smile when I joined the Mage and handed me a flask. “Have a drink of this. It’s Healer’s water. It’ll give you strength.”
“Yeah, I know.” I regretted it the moment I spoke the words. My Healer’s gift remained a secret. Although, surely it was no surprise that pure water held such an effect? Or was that knowledge only known to Healers in this world?
He watched me in silence, his eyes narrowed.
The group moved off, packs slung over their shoulders, stamping the already down-trodden grass.
Hanrel waited.
“What?” I asked.
“You said yer a Refiner.”
“Yeah.”
“I seen yer flames an all.”
“Okay …” My pulse pounded in my ears.
“Well, what I mean is,” – he leaned closer and took my arm – “there’s more. I can sense it. Sense the Healer.”
I stared at him and cleared my throat. “The Healer?”
“You know what I’m talking about.” He released my arm. “I sensed it the first time we met, but it was so faint, it took a while to work it out. Yer a Healer, aren’t you? Yer got two gifts. I don’t know how, but yer do. Is that why you’ve got golden eyes?”
My lips tightened, and I risked a glance at the surrounding Mage. No one appeared to be taking any notice, chatting together as they walked. Could I deny it? No. Hanrel’s intent expression confirmed he was already sure. “Could we just keep this to ourselves?” I whispered.
“Aye, probably not a good idea having him know you’ve two.”
“Him?”
“Kyne, of course.” He cast a dark glance at the leader.
Kyne strolled a short way ahead, his cloak swaying with each step.
“You don’t seem to like him very much,” I said.
Hanrel sniffed. “Most here do, but then, they’ve been with him for years. Twisted to his way of thinking.” He lowered his voice and shifted farther away from the nearest Mage. “He means well, but he’s not the best of leaders. Don’t get me wrong, I wouldn’t want his duty. Don’t reckon there’s anyone here what could do what he does. Keeps us safe. But there’s no second chances. And those Mortals …” He gritted his teeth. “We’re Healers. It’s our job to heal. To help. And watching what he does …” He shook his head. “Well, you know what I mean.”
I did. Kyne’s actions were despicable. Just remembering them sent heat through my cheeks.
I glanced at Amicus a short way behind us, his pace slower than the others. He paused for a moment, and then slunk through the trees away from the group.
I narrowed my eyes. What was he up to?
“You okay?” Hanrel asked.
“Huh? Yeah. I’m fine. I’ll catch up with you in a bit.”
“Well, where you going?”
“You know. Bathroom break.”
He chuckled and carried on after the rest.
I sidestepped to a nearby bush, and after checking to ensure no one watched, hurried in the direction Amicus had gone.
Weathered bark and tangled roots filled my path, complicating my route. There was no sign of him.
I paused and listened. Sweet maple and damp dirt tingled on my tongue and the croak of insects and buzz of fireflies reached my ears. The distant sound of footsteps crunching on leaves echoed somewhere ahead.
A smile grew. My gifts were returning.
I pushed on, struggling to gain steady footing on the rough terrain.
Amicus walked between a patch of shrubs. Silently, I followed, curiosity tugging me on.
He stopped. “If you’re going to follow me, you might as well catch up.”
I froze, heart pounding in my ears.
He twisted, and his gaze fell on me.
My lips tightened. “I didn’t think I was making any noise.”
“More than you think. I can hear you breathe.”
I blinked. “Really?”
“Really.”
I scuttled through a patch of thick grass toward him. A half-hidden, white bundle rested in his arms. “What’s with the bundle?” I asked.
He peeled back a layer, and I gasped. The baby slept soundly within its folds. A wisp of blonde hair curled over his forehead.
“How did you –”
“I slipped down to the river when I saw what Kyne was planning,” he said.
So, that’s why he’d snuck away. He couldn’t fight Kyne, but he could catch the baby. I bowed my head in shame over my anger toward him. “What are you going to do with him?”
“Her, actually.” He smiled. “I’m taking her back to her parents in their village.”
“But won’t that put you in danger? They’ll attack.”
“I’ll stay hidden.” He moved on a few paces, then peered back. “Are you coming?”
I hurried after him. He wasn’t a coward. Only someone helping in silence. But even that bothered me. “Why don’t you stand up to Kyne?”
“It isn’t my place to interfere.”
“What’s that supposed to mean? You’re part of the group. And since no one says anything, the reputation of Mage is getting worse all the time.”
“I don’t expect you to understand. I’m there to observe, and I’ll do my bit but not with an outburst.”
My rage at Kyne flitted back to my mind. Had the Mage in the camp overheard?
The trees broke ahead, and fields of growing crops stretched out.
“You know,” I said, “this world isn’t all that different from mine. We have fields like this full of lemon-corn and silberries and …” I sighed. What I wouldn’t give to be safe at home with Charlie. Assuming we could get back through the Void after all of this.
Cobbled streets and old, brick houses lined the far side of the field. The voices of morning preparations for fieldwork floated on the air and heads bobbed between the crops.
Amicus kept to the shadows, sneaking warily toward the village. The closer we drew, the louder the voices became, and my stomach fluttered.
A low wall marked the entrance to the village. He slipped inside and paused at the first house, surveying the empty street with sobriety.
“They’ll be close,” I whispered. “How will you avoid them?”
“Like this.” He freed one hand and reached up. Electricity sparked and tore skyward over the field, and then erupted in a shower of light.
7
Screams and shouts signalled the villagers’ response to the unexpected lightning.
Amicus dashed between two of the buildings, twisted round a bush, and slipped through a curtained doorway.
I followed close behind.
Candlelight streaked through an open window and pooled on the stone floor. The remains of the night’s fire
smoked on charred ash in a fireplace. The stifling air drew sweat to my neck. Pushing out a single thought repelled the heat, and I relaxed into the cooling comfort of my chosen temperature.
Amicus didn’t react.
“Why are we cutting through houses?” I asked. If we walked like we belong here, who would know the difference?
“They know my face. We’re safer if we stay hidden.” He slipped to another door, sidled down a hallway and back out onto a cobbled road.
“Well, they don’t know me,” I said. “Why don’t you let me take the baby?”
“Do you know where you’re going?”
“Tell me.”
“It’s too complicated. I know the village. I can keep us hidden. And how would you explain it if someone recognised the baby?”
Someone barked orders from the direction of the field, but Amicus showed no concern, winding through the streets with confidence, pausing every now and then to avoid an oncoming villager.
After several minutes, he stopped before a door with peeling, green paint.
“Is this it?” I asked.
“It is.”
“How do you know?”
“I told you once before, I sense the presence of others.”
“But that doesn’t explain –”
“You’re a Healer,” he said. “Connect with the emotions here.”
I frowned but pulled on my gift, reaching for pain, anything that needed healing. There it was. A deep, aching sorrow of what I could only assume was a grieving mother. And another. Sorrow for loss, and sorrow for the grief of the other, as well as physical pain. Her husband?
“I feel pain naturally,” I said. “Why did I have to reach for it now?”
“The Mortal Blade. Your gifts will be numb for the next hour or so.”
Great. And here I thought they’d returned properly.
Amicus ventured closer and laid the baby on the doorstep. He rapped against the wood, and then skittered behind a nearby bush.
I wasted no time in joining him.
The door opened. I recognised the tear-streaked face of the woman instantly. At first, confusion touched her flushed face, but then her gaze flickered to the bundle. She shrieked and scooped her child into her arms, releasing a stream of uncontrolled sobs. All at once, her agony vanished in overwhelming joy. Tears filled my eyes, and I had to pull away from my connection with her.
