The Heartwood Chronicles

White hot pain punched through Lisette’s body, pinned her in place. A distant boom echoed in her ears; a warm wind gusted against her face. White washed her vision.

Everything stopped: her heart, her lungs, her thoughts.

Her suns flared. Absorbed energy. Her sight grew dark.

Lisette drew in a shuddering breath. Even that small movement hurt.

She was on her hands and knees. An electric crackle danced over her. Something must’ve caught on fire—a singed smell was in her nose.

The darkness cleared, revealed blurred shapes.

One of these was Naia scrambling towards her.

“Stay away,” Lisette commanded. The words came out thick, slurred. Her ears rang. Her muscles jumped with residual energy.

Only one raw thought burned in her mind. They have to stay away! They can’t take it.

“Lisette! Grab a hold of this.” Something touched her hand, her fingers curled around it.

The crackling pain poured out of her body, her suns flooded her muscles with healing light. Lisette clutched the rope and just breathed. In and out, sharp pain receding to a dull ache.

Voices above her head:

“… couldn’t do anything in time… Will she be all right?… They’re still out there… we have to leave now.”

Fibers prickled against the palm of Lisette’s hand. Smooth metal cords were also woven throughout the rope. She forced her fingers to unclench, to sit up.

Her body protested the movement.

The hut was covered in debris and dust. Pieces of the roof littered the floor, their ends blackened and burnt. Lisette looked down at the scorch marks on her clothes and sniffed.

She was the source of the singed smell.

Naia peered out the glass-less window. “I don’t see anyone out there right now, but that doesn’t mean they won’t be back.”

Tamsin nodded, her face grim. She still held the glowing test tube in one fist. “That much magic from that great a distance? They may have had an amplifier. We won’t stand a chance against one of those. Lisette, can you go?”

Her eyes met Lisette’s, wide, desperate.

She’s afraid. The shock drove away the last of the fuzziness in Lisette’s mind, left her cold and taut. She nodded.

“What do you mean, amplifier?” Amber asked. The pattern mage had drawn her grey cloak tight around herself.

Tamsin didn’t answer. “Out the back, quickly. I’ll go first, Naia, you bring the rear. Amber and Lisette in the middle.” She thrust the test tube into her pouch and made a sharp gesture at her rope. It snaked ahead of her, its spiked front end raised, as if it could somehow see.

Amber helped Lisette to her feet. Her legs were a little shaky, but they held her up.

“Are you all right?” Amber’s face had a pinched, strained look. “You were hit hard by that lightning bolt. I thought your suns would fail.”

“I’m not that weak.” Was that really her voice, so raw and hoarse?

And she really did need Amber’s support after all. She had to lean on the other girl as they followed Tamsin into the empty sleeping chamber.

“If that had hit me, I’d be dead,” said Amber, staring straight ahead. “Thank you.”

“Just evening the score,” whispered Lisette as Tamsin’s ropes smashed through the flimsy exterior walls. Naia gestured, and a blast of air sent more boards flying in all directions. Lisette leaned away as a piece of wood brushed past her shoulder.

They hurried through the gap. Lisette’s back prickled as they came out into the open. Tamsin was heading towards the nearest wall, right for one of the boarded up mine entrances.

“Hurry!” Amber cried out.

Magical pressure began to build.

“Not this time,” muttered Naia and air stirred sluggishly around them.

“No time!” yelled Amber.

Tamsin was at the entrance, tearing at the boards. Wincing, Lisette quickened her pace as Amber tugged her along. Naia was close behind.

Splintered wood flew through the air. The girls plunged through the gap. Lisette’s hair crackled and lifted into a fine cloud.

“Further in!” Tamsin yelled. They stumbled down the tunnel. Amber tripped on the old rail tracks, nearly bringing Lisette down with her. She grabbed the pattern mage by the arm and hauled her a few steps, forcing her aching muscles onward.

An electric bolt slammed against the mountain. With a roar and a rumble, rock rushed down behind them. Rubble burst towards the girls; Naia flung out an arm, and wind sent the debris and dust whirling. Pebbles pinged against the walls, grit rained onto Lisette’s face.

She turned her head, blinking and coughing. “Watch out, Naia,” Amber choked out. In the darkness, the wind mage’s voice said sheepishly, “Sorry.”

Tamsin turned on her cryst-ring. A reddish glow illuminated the way they had come.

The entrance to the abandoned mine had completely collapsed. Rock filled the tunnel for several feet.

They were well and truly sealed inside.

 

Lisette hated the dark.

Hated the way it pressed upon her head, her shoulders. Hated its breath at the back of her neck, its musty scent in her nose, its cobwebby touch on her arms and hands.

She felt as if her suns were slowly dying inside her, extinguished by the overpowering dark.

The glower of Tamsin’s cryst barely made a dent in the tarry shadows. It was just enough to show them where to put their feet.

Lisette itched to release her magic inside in one bright burst. But absorbing the electric shock had taken a lot out of her. She had to hold her magic in reserve for whatever came next.

They walked in silence, single file. Tamsin led, her face painted with red light, a map of the mines hovering in front of her. The missing Stetson and Ray had done their work well, charting the old tunnels. Tamsin led them towards another exit, on the other side of the mountain.

They hoped no one was waiting for them there.

Naia followed Tamsin, her head up, as if sniffing for fresh air. Every now and then, her magic shifted and a cooler draft blew around the girls.

Lisette wished it would blow away the shadows. No luck though.

Wrapped in her cloak, Amber was a pale grey wraith. She twisted her fingers—she must be sending out another one of her ghosts. Trying to find a faster way, another exit. She turned her head, and Lisette saw her grimace.

No luck there either.

All around Lisette, her companions cast spells, used their magic. They all fought.

Only Lisette did not, oppressed by darkness. Helplessness lay stickily over her body and spirit.

This was just the same as before.

The same as being sent into the cellar or shut up in a closet when her magic manifested. The same as being hidden away by her own kin, lest she attract predators or worse, Chaos.

The same as being lost in the forest on a moonless night, hunted by beasts that showed only their creepy, glowing eyes.

Lisette’s skin crawled. Something rustled at the edge of her senses. In the lack of light, her hearing had sharpened unbearably—every step rang, every breath rasped, every shifting of rock scraped against her nerves.

“Blast,” said Tamsin disgustedly. She’d stopped and they looked past her to see why.

A pit yawned at her feet.

 

They stared down into the blacker-than-black mine shaft.

“This isn’t on the map,” said Tamsin.

Amber frowned. “All my ghosts have been sucked into it. The pattern’s really dense below.”

“Did we take a wrong turn somewhere?” Naia wondered.

Tamsin shook her head. “I’m positive we’ve been staying true to the map. They must’ve missed the shaft somehow.”

“Kinda hard to miss a gaping great hole,” muttered Amber.

“Most surveying is done with spells these days,” said Tamsin. Her mouth was wry. “That branch of magic is still in its infancy.” She jerked her chin towards the shaft. “I think we just found an error.”

“I’m sorry. I should’ve been paying more attention to what was ahead of us,” said Amber. “I was too busy looking for fresh air and light—a way out. Though”—she tilted her head as if listening to something no one else could hear—“several of my ghosts are tugging downward rather insistently. They think they’ve found an exit.”

Unease itched at Lisette’s skin. All her senses strained for that phantom tickling, that sensation of being watched and stalked in the dark. Didn’t the others see? Couldn’t they tell? It was too dangerous to stay up here any longer.

From their faces, none of them wanted to take the plunge into the shaft.

Naia said, slowly. “I think I can smell fresh air down there… or fresh something.”

“You could lift us down there, right?” asked Amber. “Like Troi with his air currents?”

Naia winced. “Uh, I don’t know about that–”

Warning screamed in Lisette’s ears. “We have to go now!” She lunged at Amber and Tamsin, grabbing them around the waists. Behind her darkness gathered into something with teeth and claws. “Follow us, Naia!” And she threw herself and them into the shaft.

 

Something swiped at Lisette’s hair as she fell—and missed. Amber and Tamsin yelped, but Lisette held them fast. Her wings and magic flared out in a blaze of light as they plummeted, slowing their fall. Shadows fled. The shaft became a great golden tunnel.

And then they were lighting down. “Landing,” Lisette warned and let the others go. She didn’t see them land, already draining her magic to go back up to Naia.

A swirl of air currents, and Naia came tumbling down, too fast, out of control. Lisette flew up, plunged through a stray wind, grabbed the Kaidan girl. Naia clung to her, the air went still, and Lisette struggled to keep them from falling.

She sent a last surge of magic into her wings to slow their descent. Rays of light painted the rock walls, then died. Rope snaked up to them, coiled around their waists, helped them down.

They landed, Naia with a soft oof. The impact reverberated up Lisette’s knees. Tamsin’s rope whipped away and coiled into her hand as she hurried over, enveloped in a ruddy glow.

“Are you two all right?” The vast space above their heads thinned her voice.

“Yes,” said Lisette.

“I…I think so,” said Naia shakily. A sheen of sweat covered her face. “I’m sorry. I lost control.” Her eyes were wild, troubled.

“It happens in times of stress,” said Tamsin. “You’ll get over it.”

Lisette didn’t share Tamsin’s confidence. Naia had fought in the tournament between schools. She was a competent wind mage. She should’ve had no trouble coming down the shaft.

Had Naia’s trouble with water manipulation spilled over into her air magic?

This isn’t good.

“That thing up there,” Amber looked up, then at Lisette. “I didn’t even feel it coming. It was moving in the spaces of the pattern. What was it?”

Lisette shook her head. “I don’t know. Growing up, there were always stories about mysterious creatures lurking in the mines.”

“It felt similar to something I saw in Heartwood once. Night crawlers. Kael knows about them.” Amber hugged herself.

“Can it come after us?” Naia asked.

Lisette’s shoulders tightened. She’d not experienced night crawlers herself. If you could fly, you could leave trouble like that behind.

Except she couldn’t take to the skies here, not underground. Could not escape the darkness. Could not even banish it anymore, not with her suns depleted.

“We shouldn’t wait to find out if it can,” said Tamsin briskly. “Amber, you said you’d found a way out. Let’s get going.”

“Don’t be surprised if the way out is a foot-wide hole,” Amber warned as she led the way through a tunnel branching off the main shaft. She’d found it with unerring precision, backed up by Naia’s ability to sense air currents. She went on, “I’m getting better at setting parameters, but the ghosts are still flimsy and unreliable.”

“An exit is an exit,” said Tamsin. “As long as there’s an opening, we can make it bigger. Unless–”

She broke off as they rounded a bend. Ahead of them was…

“Magic,” said Amber.

Light! thought Lisette.

Naia surged forward towards the bluish glow. “And…”

A musical tinkle came to their ears. Lisette realized how parched she was.

“Water!” exclaimed Naia, and the girls broke into a jog as the tunnel opened into a vast cavern.

Author’s Note: Ah, a mysterious cavern deep in the mountains. Whatever could it be? (Actually, to be honest, I got a little tired of the whole wandering around in the dark thing. Hence, the cavern.) Also, Naia’s shakiness with both her old and her new magic is concerning. She’s hit the point where she’s past the beginner’s luck stage, started thinking too much about what she’s doing and how she’s doing it, and getting herself muddled up. The timing of this is not good, but in a story, when is it ever?? And…Happy Thanksgiving to US folks! I’m scheduling this in early November, but you’ll get to read it on Thanksgiving Day!

Tamsin startled. Hot water slopped out of the pot she held, over her hand and into the fire. She yelped.

Amber shot upright and tried to stand and run at the same time. It didn’t work too well. The pattern mage tripped over her own cloak and landed on her face in the mud.

Lisette’s bladed fans were in her hands. Adrenalin rushed through her body, banished the vestiges of sleep. She scanned the camp for danger.

Naia sat up and beat at her coverings. “Get it off me!” she yelled. Something reddish scuttled out of her bedroll and crouched beside a nearby rock.

Lisette’s gaze fixed on it. Definitely a salamander, and a big one at that, the length of her forearm. But…

Tell me it isn’t a half et!

“It was in my bed! Right next to my face!” Naia shuddered. She thrust herself away from her bedroll as if it housed an army of unwanted critters. A gust of air sent a boot flying towards the salamander. It struck the nearby rock.

The salamander made an alarmed clicking noise.

“Shut up a moment,” Lisette ordered. “And don’t move.”

“Easy for you to say. No slimy creature was cuddling up with you,” Naia grumbled, but she stopped flailing.

The rust-red creature held its neck and tail out, stiff and rigid. Colors shifted in its skin and a throbbing noise emanated from its throat.

“Uh, Lisette?” Naia asked nervously. “Why’s it glowing like that?”

“It’s taking in magic very quickly,” said Amber from behind Lisette. “It’s probably going to explode all over the campsite.” She sounded resigned.

Naia gave a muffled yelp. “Lisette, it’s getting bigger!”

“Stop putting weird ideas into her head, Amber.” Lisette slowly bent down and picked up a nearby twig. “It’s not going to explode.”

“Oh? Then what’s it going to do?”

Lisette eased over to Naia, then past her, approaching the salamander from the side. This close, she could see the tell-tale thickening of its skin, the hint of ridges beginning on the crown of its blunt-snouted head. She glanced at its tail. At least that hadn’t begun to detach. If it had…

“It’s going to divide,” Lisette admitted. “When threatened, a half et drops its tail, which grows into another salamander and runs away. The remaining body transforms and becomes more aggressive.”

“Just great,” muttered Naia, while Amber demanded, “Just how much more aggressive?”

Lisette winced. “The ‘attack everything in sight and fight to the death’ kind of aggressive.”

“I’d have preferred the explosion.” Naia sighed. Tamsin, holding a cannister, her other hand hovering over the tab, said, “I have a strong trap spell in here. Move out of the way, girls.”

Lisette shook her head. “Let me try de-escalating this first.” She sank down on her heels and began humming, the tune leaping from memory to lips with barely a stop at conscious thought. The half et turned its head towards her, its black eyes glaring.

She reached with the twig of maple leaves. Still humming, she brushed the creature’s back, stroking it over and over again in time to her wordless song. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Naia edging away.

The salamander’s throaty sound changed, matching the rhythm of her humming and stroking.

It was almost a purr.

Slowly, its angry red color faded to old rust. Its thickened hide became skin again, moist and glistening. Its body grew visibly smaller, its neck and tail relaxed.

It looked at Lisette out of beady eyes, then scuttled away on its sticky feet, whisking through leaf litter.

She let out a deep sigh.

 

“Stinging plants, hallucinogenic mushrooms, and rampaging monsters.” Naia beat aside a creeper that was sneakily trying to wrap its tendrils around her hair. “Anything else we should know about this place?”

They were back on the trail and moving quickly, despite their aches. Even Amber was keeping up. No one wanted to spend a moment longer in the forest than necessary.

Well, except maybe Lisette. It was scary, really, how the old instincts had come seeping back.

She shrugged. “If you leave stuff alone, it’ll leave you be.”

“I didn’t invite that salamander to share my sleeping bag,” Naia pointed out.

“No, but you’ve been using magic rather freely,” said Lisette. “That’ll attract most of the critters around here.” Her mind tossed up a splinter of memory, a sharp warning: You can’t use magic here. It’ll kill us all. She pushed it back down, ignoring the painful jab in her heart.

“Everything here is soaking up magic one way or another,” Amber broke in. She tilted her head up, though there was nothing to see through the canopy overhead. “We’re very near the Chaos here, aren’t we?”

“It’s over the mountains,” said Lisette. “It breaks through sometimes.”

Chaos was the wild magic that spread across the interior of the continent. It was too strong, too destructive for people to live in. Chaos changed people if they were caught out in it. Lisette had seen what it could do to plants and animals. And this was the Spines, where so many species had adapted to the proximity of Chaos.

A Chaos Storm in Carradia or Hampton would lay waste to everything.

“This is one of the highest magic areas people are capable of living in year-around,” Tamsin put in. A braided cord unwound from around her arm and smacked away a palm-sized spider with hairy legs and bright red eyes. “All the native species have a high resistance to magical change. Even the people have developed it over the generations.” She nodded towards Lisette.

Naia shuddered. “Why would anyone choose to live here?”

“They didn’t have much choice,” said Tamsin. “The settlers here are descendants of Frejalanders who fled their island after Mt. Ekla erupted. You know about that?”

Naia nodded. “The Summerless Year a couple of centuries ago.”

“Right. The surviving Frejalanders had to leave or starve. Some dispersed among other islands. Many others came to the continent, but it was far more dangerous back then. Between the wild magic, hostile natives, inimical wildlife, and their lack of preparation, many of the colonies died out. Some pushed further west, hoping to find better living conditions and dug themselves into the Greyridge Mountains. They made it work, too.” Admiration laced Tamsin’s tone. “They’re a remarkable people.”

A knot tightened in Lisette’s stomach. It was one thing to discuss the flora and fauna of the area, quite another to hear this text book summation of her people’s history. Even this brief account rubbed her raw.

Didn’t Tamsin remember what the Frejalanders did to make life in the Spines work?

But she said nothing, could say nothing past the lump in her throat. Lisette strode on at the head of the group, the conversation still continuing behind her back.

“I’m surprised this place worked for them,” commented Amber. “It’s chockful of magic.”

“Yes, it is. Magic’s been soaking into the ground for centuries,” Tamsin went on. “There are metal and stone and gems that are permanently magically charged. One of the more fascinating rocks blocks magic entirely.”

Lisette felt the phantom bite of suppression on her wrists, stinging and ice cold. She wouldn’t have called it fascinating.

“With these, we could industrialize magic on a scale never seen before,” Tamsin went on enthusiastically. “My clients are interested in acquiring mineral rights in this area, once we navigate the legal complexities. It’s hard to know who owns what—some of the Frejalander villages have legally recognized holdings, but most of these mountains is under a mix of different laws and treaties. Of course, my clients want everything to be as above board as possible.” Her voice grew distant.

Lisette realized she had quickened her pace, driving her heels into the dirt with unnecessary vigor.

She had also acquired a companion. Amber was close beside her, panting, but keeping up.

“What is it?” Lisette snapped.

Amber took a gulp of breath. “Just wanted… a change of scenery. Tired… lagging… behind.” The girl’s face was flushed.

Kael would not be happy if she killed the pattern mage. Lisette slowed, wondering how Amber saw the forest. Its aliveness wrapped Lisette around like a familiar blanket, smelling of wet earth and leaf litter. Its magic lay against her skin, a hair’s breadth from sparking.

“Also… wanted to see… how you were…” Amber grimaced and the word came out on a gasp. “…doing.”

“I’m fine,” said Lisette. “I’m just not interested in the history lesson. I already know all I want to about Frejalanders.” She squinted at a break in the trees up ahead. “Look, we’re almost at the camp.” She called back to Tamsin and Naia. “Look lively, you two! We’re here.”

Naia crowed and the entire party pressed up to the bare shoulder of the mountain. There Tamsin found another trail, this one steep and rocky, descending into a quarry stripped bare of all vegetation. Rubble heaps and rickety huts dotted the floor, and occasionally, a mine entrance yawned black behind several boards nailed across it.

As the girls found level ground, Tamsin led the way to a trio of huts that looked newer than the rest. The greasy static of magical spells prickled against Lisette’s skin.

“Something’s wrong.” Amber’s eyes narrowed. “The pattern’s been broken here, and recently. Spells are flapping loose.”

Tamsin broke into a jog, Lisette close behind her, every sense straining for danger. They ran up to the biggest hut of the group, the place that was supposed to have meant shelter and safety.

Tamsin checked in the doorway.

The interior was in shambles. Broken furniture and dented pots covered the floor. Crumpled, mud-stained papers had been trampled underfoot. Glass shards glittered near one wall.

Tamsin gripped the rope hanging in loops from her belt. Her cryst snapped on with a crackle of energy. “Record,” she said, and a lurid red light painted the inside of the hut. She moved in, scanning the room.

“No one’s home,” Amber said. “I don’t see any suns.”

“Any live people, you mean,” corrected Naia. Amber didn’t answer.

They found no bodies, dead or alive. The hut was composed of only three rooms, a central living area and two sleeping chambers. One of the chambers had obviously been occupied—it was still full of clothes and male sweat. The other was clean and bare—meant for Tamsin, they surmised. Not far from the hut was the outhouse and another flimsy structure that turned out to be the showers. Naia sighed with regret when they left it and returned to the debris in the hut.

“Any chance they just live like pigs and have gone out for a bit?” Naia asked Tamsin.

“They do live like pigs, but they wouldn’t have left broken glass lying around.” Tamsin plucked a ceramic shard from the debris and turned it in her fingers. “No, someone got to Stetson and Ray.”

“Can you track them?” Lisette asked Amber.

She shook her head. “If I knew them, or the direction they might’ve been taken, maybe I could pick up a trace outside the quarry. But something blasted the pattern in here and there are no threads to grab onto for a trail.” She grimaced. “Kael might’ve been able to do it, perhaps. He uses other senses.”

“What got to them, though?” Naia wondered, straightening a chair. It leaned drunkenly on its broken leg. “Those Frejalanders?”

“Frejalanders don’t use magic.” Lisette turned away to poke into a corner that had already been explored.

“We’ve been respectful of the villagers’ boundaries,” said Tamsin. “It could have been a rival company though. Some of them play dirty.” She crouched near the wall and pried up a floor board. “Ah, they didn’t find the samples.” She pulled up a rack full of stoppered test tubes, each containing a sliver of rock and labeled in spiky handwriting. She set it in front of her and began pulling out the stoppers.

“Uh, Tamsin, is this really the right time to be conducting experiments?” Naia asked.

“Yes.” Tamsin’s face was tight and focused. “We won’t stay the night; we’re too exposed. But I can’t leave without making sure I confirm Stetson’s findings.” She pulled out a small opaque bottle from a pouch and swiftly put three droplets of silver liquid in each tube.

Two tubes steamed, one sample turned blue. No effect in the next three. But the one after, labelled CV…

It shone.

Suspended in the thick liquid, what had looked like a piece of chalk now glowed like concentrated moonlight. Tamsin let out her breath, a smile of grim triumph curling her lips.

Amber spun towards the window. “Careful! It’s-!”

Magic surged around the hut. The air turned greasy, sparked electric. Lisette’s hair crackled and rose from her scalp.

There was no time to think, to plan, to create a defense.

“Get down!” Lisette yelled. Her wings snapped out, inviting. She braced her legs.

The roof blasted open and an electric bolt slammed into her.

Author’s Note: Poor Lisette, ouch! And here’s where the “easy” job goes off the rails. Also, I went Icelandic for the inspiration behind Lisette’s people, the Frejalanders. Lisette’s got a bit of a valkyrie vibe going on with her, so it fits her character. Next time, things continue to get worse! 

Lisette flew over an undulating forest rippling in shades of green. Her wings stretched out from her back, catching the light she drew against them. Thin and metallic, they were composed of several narrow horizontal sections she could manipulate either singly or in groups. They flashed as she bent and broke light around herself, generating both lift and forward motion.

If some hunter in the forest below looked up right now, would he think she was a mythical Snoutbeck? A small smile tugged at Lisette’s mouth.

Up ahead the verdant foothills gave way to taller mountains, blue in the distance. The highest peaks were an ice pale wall, masses of cloud bunched up against the top of it.

There’d be rain coming, but that was nothing unusual.

Lisette bent the light in front of her face and the Wall sprang into closer focus, showing individual mountains and summits wreathed in the mist. The cloud stuff was an innocuous white, with no ominous tinges of green or purple.

Good. Lisette released the rays, and the Wall once again retreated into the distance. She banked and turned back the way she’d come. The railway they’d ridden on earlier climbed down from Last Chance Pass to come to an end in Dismal Hollow, a dingy town about as attractive as its name. After spending a restless night in the town’s best hotel, the four girls had hitched a cart ride to a village several miles down a narrow dirt track, then hiked into the woods on foot to an empty rest area for the night.

Tomorrow they’d be in the wilds. A nervous quiver ran down Lisette’s spine. For one panicked moment, she wanted to arrow straight towards the Pass, to flee homewards.

She gave her head a savage shake. You’re a Heartwood mage, she told herself. The thought is unworthy.

Besides, how could she leave Tamsin all alone with the two newbies?

Below, the woods gave way to a clearing, the steep-pitched slate roof of the rest area starkly visible. Lisette changed the angles of her wings, swung her legs. She hovered in the air for a moment, then drifted down to land feather-light on her feet. The magic drained out of her wings, and they fell limp, whisper-sighing against her back.

Naia stood next to the nearby well, a bucket on the ground in front of her. Lisette watched as the Kaidan girl screwed up her face in concentration. A ribbon of water arced out of the well and dove for the bucket. The stream lost shape as it entered the container. Water slopped over the rim and spattered down the sides. Naia made a frustrated sound.

Lisette grimaced in sympathy, but Naia was already calling up more water from the well. Leaving the girl to her training, Lisette ducked into the rest house.

Inside, Amber was arranging her pack and bedroll upon one of the wooden platforms that served as bunks. Not a wrinkle marred the smooth surface of her precisely-folded blanket. Her unrolled bedding was so precisely lined with the edges of the platform, Lisette wondered if the other mage had used a ruler.

Amber’s spellwork brushed like cobwebs across Lisette’s face. She almost swiped them free of her cheek, then thought better of it. No doubt Amber was setting up mosquito-repellent spells, among the rest. Lisette approved of pest control.

Tamsin squatted near the hearth, coaxing a flicker of fire to life. Back in sensible shirt, trousers, and boots, she looked more like herself. Her hair no longer had that unwonted golden sheen.

She looked up at Lisette.

“I didn’t see anything amiss,” Lisette reported.

Tamsin nodded. “Thanks for checking.”

“No problem,” said Lisette, though they both knew that the only reason Tamsin had sent her out was to work out her nerves.

Tamsin tilted her head towards a sack of supplies. “Help cut up the vegetables?”

“Sure.” This would be the last hearty meal they’d have until they reached the surveyor’s camp where Tamsin’s two associates waited.

Naia bustled in behind Lisette. “Got the water!” she called out cheerfully.

“I’ll scrub the potatoes,” Amber announced, and soon the little camp was bustling with dinner preparations.

 

After dinner had been cleaned up, Amber sat cross-legged on her bunk and said, “Tamsin, you said you’d been called before there was even a Heartwood. What’d you mean by that?” She leaned forward slightly, her braid over one shoulder, her face half in shadows, but her eyes intent, focused.

Lisette, pleasantly full, was lying on her back on her own not-as-neat bedding, but she turned over on to her side to see how Tamsin would respond. Naia, sprawled on her stomach, propped her chin onto her hands, her eyes bright and curious.

Tamsin sat with her back to the wall, her legs stretched out. Her mobile mouth, always ready to laugh, quirked in an amused way. “Well, before there was a Heartwood, there was only the tree on the hill and a shack beside it. The Headmaster lived there back then—only he wasn’t the Headmaster, of course. It’s a place of strong magic, and that’s what attracted kids like me.” She glanced at Amber. “You know the kinds of kids that end up at Heartwood, right? The outcasts, the misfits, the ones with nowhere else to go.”

“You don’t have to tell me about your past, if you’d rather not,” said Amber hastily.

Lisette raised her eyebrows. So she’s learned not to pry, huh?

“Eh, it’s no big deal.” Tamsin stared up at the ceiling. “I have a pretty mundane past compared to some. My dad died when I was little—he was crushed by machinery at the factory where he worked. Mom couldn’t keep us kids all fed and clothed and sheltered on her cleaner’s pay, so she got us older ones positions and apprenticeships were she could. I went into to service at a great house south of Carradia, where my aunt was the housekeeper. It was miserable work, so when my magic awoke and I got the call, it didn’t take much for me to answer.” Her mouth quirked. “Of course, I didn’t have far to go, only a few miles’ walk. I’d gone into Carradia a time or two before and knew it was the place up on the hill that was calling to me. I wasn’t like some of the others who traveled for days and weeks to get there.”

Amber frowned. “What exactly was calling to you?”

“The tree, the hill.” Tamsin shrugged. “The Headmaster would know. He’s been there a while, called by the same thing. He’s been studying it for decades, twining his magic with it. That’s why he can’t travel far from it any more, did you know?”

Naia’s eyes were round. “No, I didn’t.”

Lisette said nothing. She hadn’t known—not in so many words—but it made sense, and it was fitting. The Headmaster belonged at Heartwood; he was one of its few unchanging features. Other people might move on—even Master Zoya might be called back to Serepentina—but the Headmaster would always remain.

As it should be.

Amber was still frowning. “I don’t think it’s quite that.”

“Oh, you do, do you?” Lisette broke in, half-exasperated. “Then tell us about it.”

“When I’ve figured it out, I might,” said Amber coolly. Lisette shrugged; it didn’t matter anyway.

“How many of you were there at the start?” Naia asked. “Was it all kids?”

“There were only ever about half-a-dozen of us at a time,” said Tamsin, “and the Headmaster, of course. Not all of us were children, there were some youth and even an adult or two. Most moved on—the hill was only a place of temporary refuge or instructions. The adults never stayed longer than a week or so. Until Master Zoya came along, with Kael in tow.”

Lisette, watching Amber, didn’t miss the sharpening of the other girl’s interest. “Kael was Master Zoya’s ward,” she explained. “The karth—do you know of them?—gave him over to her guardianship.”

“But I—and a few others—were there first,” Tamsin broke in, her eyes gleaming briefly as the firelight caught them. “Zoya persuaded the Headmaster to create the Academy with her. We were the first students. That was about, oh, nine years ago? Lisette joined us just a little bit after.”

Amber raised her eyebrows. “So recently? The house feels so much older.”

“You students nowadays have it cushy,” commented Tamsin. “Back then, it wasn’t much of a house, and it couldn’t make up its mind what shape it wanted to be. You remember, Lisette?”

“Of course,” said Lisette fervently. “The kitchen was up in an attic for a while, and the bathroom was outdoors. The Headmaster didn’t seem to care much—he’d have lived in the gardens all year round. Master Zoya had to get very stern with him so he would make the house behave.”

“The rooms changed all the time,” Tamsin went on. “Except for the Great Hall—we would keep all things in there in case a room disappeared, carrying away our clothes and shoes and books.”

“I slept in the Hall most nights,” Lisette confessed.

Naia sighed. “Wish I could’ve been there. It sounds exciting. A mysteriously changing school!” Her envy was in marked contrast to Amber’s slight shudder.

Lisette grinned. “It was fun exploring all the new parts, but I’m glad it settled down before we lost any students.”

“I was glad when they built the dormitories,” said Tamsin. “Nothing magical and mysterious about them at all—all constructed with brick and wood by Carradian workers.”

“Who were the other kids who started with you, Tamsin?” Naia asked. “Will we meet them? Do they come around much?”

Lisette tensed, but Tamsin stood up, brushing her trousers and shaking her head. “No more questions tonight, ladies. We have an early start tomorrow morning.”

A chorus of groans answered her.

 

“This is the way?” Amber stared at the trail that threaded uphill and into the forest, away from the cart track they’d been following for half the morning.

Lisette looked over her shoulder. “What did you expect? A paved road all the way to the surveyors’ camp?”

Amber didn’t respond, but her expression clearly indicated her unhappiness.

Tamsin consulted the glowing red map that hung in the air in front of her, produced by a twist of the magic bracelet she wore on her wrist, an upgraded version of the crysts used at Heartwood. “Yes, we need to follow that route. Lisette, can you lead the way and make sure we don’t wander off-course? You know this forest best.”

It had been eight years since she’d been here, but Lisette nodded. She could name every tree and vine and fungus in the landscape unscrolling before them. The drone of insects in her ear and the cool, clammy feel of the air on her skin was as familiar to her as if she’d left only yesterday.

“Let’s go,” she said, setting her feet upon the trail. Behind her, Naia exclaimed over the cryst Tamsin’s employer had provided, and Amber made an unhappy resigned remark. Lisette ignored them both as she headed up the trail, the forest closing around her in a way she couldn’t decide was welcoming or ominous.

 

“Oh, how pretty!” Naia stopped to look at a scattering of bright purple mushrooms.

They’d been hiking for over two hours, Lisette watchful and on edge, Tamsin alert but relaxed, Amber grim and silent, but not even the hard toil could dampen Naia’s enthusiasm. Now the Kaidan mage reached out a finger to touch the downy cap of a fungus.

“Don’t,” Lisette said. “Unless you want to think you’re a chicken for the next day or so.”

Naia froze. Her crouched posture and outstretched hand sparked a memory—

A small boy, towheaded, not even four, staring at a ring of dew-speckled brown mushrooms. Herself, sing-songing the rhymes she’d learn to distinguish between edible and poisonous varieties…

Ruthlessly, Lisette suppressed the image, sent it plunging back into the past where it belonged.

“Actually,” she went on, “I think it’s another similar fungus that has hallucinogenic properties. You’d have to eat it, though.”

Naia gave her a look.

“Seriously,” Lisette said, “don’t touch stuff if you don’t know what it is. Remember the burning creeper from before?” She’d been just in time to prevent Naia from handling a plant that secreted a strong irritant.

“Point taken,” said Naia ruefully and moved on to follow Tamsin, now in the lead. Rope hung at her side and twined around her arm. One of the loops had a bunch of metal hooks dangling from one end. Tamsin’s weapon, designed to take advantage of her magic—her ability to manipulate woven cords.

Lisette dropped back to where Amber straggled in the rear. Out of them all, this trek was hardest on the pattern mage. Not only did she lack physical conditioning compared to the rest of them, she didn’t have the strength and endurance sun mages took for granted.

I should’ve thought of that. Lisette watched as Amber panted up the slope, cheeks red and damp from heat and exertion, hair strands plastered to her forehead. “You okay?” she asked the pattern mage.

Amber raised her head, and unease wriggled inside Lisette. The other girl’s eyes held a bright, almost feverish gleam.

“So much… to… see,” she gasped, “if only… I could… take… all in!”

She wasn’t just talking about the scenery. Lisette grasped Amber’s shoulder and gave her a hard shake. “Snap out of it,” she ordered. Some of that alien gleam faded from Amber’s eyes; she looked at Lisette with her Why are you touching me? expression.

Lisette thrust a strip of dried fruit pulp into her hand. “Eat,” she ordered. “You need your strength.” She jerked her head in the Tamsin and Naia’s direction. “And get a move on. I’m going to be in the rear now, and I don’t want to have to keep running into your heels.”

 

***
The next day was even worse, but Naia bore the brunt of it this time. They woke stiff-limbed and ate a plain breakfast of bland oatmeal, washed down with tea. By the time they cleaned up and broke camp, rain was dripping through the leaves overhead.

It rained all day, sometimes a misty drizzle, sometimes a downpour. Lisette, used to damp and discomfort, put up with it without complaint. Amber’s faint gossamer spells kept most of the rain off her, though she obviously didn’t relish the mud spattering her boots and trousers. Tamsin endured it with a few muttered complaints.

Naia, on the other hand, was soaked to the skin. Having decided not to miss a practice opportunity, she was trying to manipulate the rain and failing miserably.

Lisette didn’t think Naia was intentionally trying to attract the rain, but the results would not have been any different if she had.

“Enough of that now,” she scolded as she kept Naia from losing her footing in yet another stream, swollen with rain water. “You’ll have plenty of time to practice later. Right now, try not to break a leg. I don’t want to have to carry you.”

“Besides”—Amber splashed past the pair, her gaze directed groundward—“you’re not doing it right anyway, Naia. Your suns are all in funny shapes. I don’t think they should be like that.”

Naia and Lisette looked at each other.

“What she said,” said Lisette. “Also, magic use attracts predators in these parts. Don’t give them any reason to attack us.” Naia, water trickling down her cheeks, blinked owlishly and nodded.

They spent a miserable night in a small clearing that was more mud than anything else, but was still the driest place they’d found. They huddled together in the shade of some boulders and ate handfuls of dried meat and dense brown bread. There was no cheery, warming fire; instead they sat against the rock and tried to get whatever sleep they could as the leaves overhead dripped water onto their heads.

It wasn’t much, but Lisette, waking up in a grey dawn, felt a light freshness in the air. She didn’t even have to peer up at the sky to know that it would be clear and cloudless.

It had rained itself out last night.

Lisette pushed herself off the rock, stretched her arms above her head. Beside her, Amber was still wrapped in her shimmery cloak, frowning in her sleep.

Maybe she’s dreaming about scolding Kael. Lisette grinned.

Tamsin was already up, boiling water over the fire. A small sack with a loosened top sat on a nearby flat rock. The smell of coffee rose into the air.

Naia had given up on the boulders last night and was stretched out on the ground, regardless of mud. She was burrowed into her bedroll, her loosened hair over her face.

They’d better wake up soon, but maybe I should collect some dewberries for breakfast. It’s the right season for them. Lisette squinted into the shade under the trees, probing for the sight of the silvery berries.

A scream shattered the morning quiet.

Author’s Note: Were you surprised to learn that Heartwood is a lot younger than you’d thought? My husband called that out as a “huh” moment for him when he beta-read this episode. There’s still a lot of mystery about the Academy’s origins (and what is with this “being called” stuff?), but I’m excited to explore it more–in future arcs. In the meantime, I had fun writing Lisette and company’s “Miserable Wilderness Experience” from the warm, dry comfort of my own home! Questions or comments? Let me know!

The new Heartwood arc begins! Enjoy.
Lisette ran in the dark, blundering through undergrowth and tripping over roots. A darker shape loomed suddenly in front of her; she veered, but not in time. Her shoulder clipped the tree trunk. Pain jolted through muscle and bone. Lisette gasped, and kept going.

Her shallow pants rasped in her burning lungs and filled her ears. Her muscles ached.

If only it wasn’t so dark! If only she could see!

Night smothered the forest. The sky above was layered with dark clouds, hiding moon and stars. It would storm soon—the scent of rain mingled with that of pine. Thunder growled in the distance.

Down on the forest floor, trees pressed their shadows upon Lisette’s tight shoulders. Nameless things rustled at the edge of her hearing.

They’d been keeping pace with her.

Lisette forced herself onward, fighting through clinging branches. Where was the village? Where was home? Desperately she scanned the unrelieved darkness for some hint of light.

Nearby, branches clattered together, went still. Dread crawled over Lisette’s skin. Fear was a hard, tight fist in her chest.

Something was stalking her. She felt its presence, clammy against her skin. A stirring of air brought its fetid breath to her nose.

A shape, darker than darkness, sprang towards her.

Lisette screamed.

Fear turned to liquid, ran hot and molten through her body. With it flowed something else.

The bracelets upon her wrists snapped.

Light erupted, a white blaze exploding outwards. It caught the creature leaping for Lisette full in the face. She caught glimpses of green eyes, sharp-toothed snarl, smoke-textured body. The creature twisted mid-leap, fell to the side, whimpering. Trees, tall and stark, cast sharp, elongated shadows behind them. Eyes stared from within bushes—glowing green, yellow, red.

Lisette stumbled, her gaze sweeping down to where the ground dropped into darkness. Her foot slipped on damp grass.

The light vanished. The darkness rushed back. And, with a sharp, hopeless cry, Lisette plunged down the sheer drop into the unknown—

Lisette jerked awake, her stomach still clenched with bad memories. Her body had gone tight, rigid. Her fingers clutched grass, tearing it from the sod. Its scent was sharp in her nose.

No, no, no.

This wasn’t the forest. It wasn’t night time. She was no longer ten years old.

Lisette was behind the girl’s dormitory at Heartwood, and that memory was years past.

The present returned to her in bits and pieces. The rough weave of the rug under her stomach. The press of her cheek against grass. The sharp warmth of the sun against her bare back. The golden light of spring and the twitter of a distant bird.

That’s right. She’d come out here to soak up the sunlight. I must’ve fallen asleep. That was only a dream.

But why now, after all this time?

Lisette caught a damp scent and shifted her head. Amber had emerged from the back door, holding a basket against her hip. She walked over to the clothesline she’d put up for herself.

Oh, yeah. Lisette folded her arms and propped her chin upon them. She’s weird about her laundry.

Amber glanced over and raised her eyebrows. Here it comes, Lisette thought. “Uh, Lisette? You do realize you’re not, um, fully dressed, right?”

“Yes, Amber, I’m aware that I took off my shirt and pants,” said Lisette with exaggerated patience. She stretched her legs and wriggled her toes, enjoying the glide of light on her skin, the heaviness of it soaking into her suns. She hadn’t realized how depleted she’d been. Even all the third and fourth helpings she consumed couldn’t quite make up for the lack of real sunshine. “But I still have some clothes and a deflection spell on. If people are close enough to see anything, they shouldn’t be back here anyway.”

She gave Amber’s back a pointed glare.

“Shouldn’t be or won’t are two very different things.” Amber clipped a tunic to her clothesline. “Flavius wanted to carry this basket for me. I turned him down, but I could’ve said yes. Are you really okay with him seeing you like this?”

Lisette ignored the question. “He’s taken quite the shine to you. There’s no accounting for taste, is there?”

“I didn’t ask him to!” Amber spun around, her eyes narrowed in annoyance. “It’s all his own initiative—oh.” She saw Lisette’s grin and sighed. “Stop teasing—you’re as bad as Kael.” She turned back to her laundry.

“Kael is right,” Lisette called. “You are fun to wind up.”

Amber gave an exasperated scoff. Lisette chuckled. She’d found the pattern mage uptight and annoying at first, but Amber wasn’t a bad sort underneath all that rule-following primness. She had worked hard to help Flavius with his difficult shape-shifting magic, and Lisette didn’t question Amber’s courage, even if the pattern mage had a tendency to complain.

Yes, to her surprise, the new girl was fitting in just fine.

Actually, Amber wasn’t the new girl anymore, was she?

“Hey.” Lisette sat up cross-legged. Amber protested, “Lisette!” but Lisette’s mind was on something else. “How’s Troi’s girlfriend doing?”

“I think neither of them would appreciate you calling Naia Troi’s girlfriend.” Amber hung a skirt with unnecessary vigor. “And she’s doing quite fine, thanks. She already has two hundred friends on her cryst, joined five committees, and is leaning country dances on Tuesdays and card tricks on Thursdays.”

There was silence as Lisette digested all this. “Two hundred?” she asked finally.

“Yep.”

“I didn’t think there were that many students at Heartwood,” Lisette went on.

Amber shrugged. “The staff have crysts, too. Including the pastry chef, the head cook, and the housekeeper. Naia’s friends with them all on her cryst.”

“Wow.” Lisette frowned. “What are the committees for?”

“Hmm, I don’t remember them all, but there’s one for the Midsummer Ball and another for the Heartwood-Carradia Goodwill Society. She also started a club called Kaidan Cultural Appreciation. Didn’t you get an invite?”

“Nah, I turned off all social notifications. I only want to hear from the people who want to actually talk to me.”

“And you’ve been gone a lot.” Amber tilted her head inquisitively. “Where’ve you been?”

“Are you being nosy again?” Lisette demanded.

“Unabashedly so.” Amber grinned. The mischievous look on her face was a far cry from her usual expression of guarded skepticism. She looked bright, even pretty.

Lisette found her own lips twitching into a smile. “I’m mostly running errands for Master Zoya, taking letters and parcels back and forth. Don’t ask me what’s in them, because I don’t know. But I’ve been up and down the coast from Blacktop to Hopeswell, so I think she’s gathering information and allies over the business in the Shattered Valley.” She rubbed the base of her neck, grimacing. She loved flying, but she’d been doing a lot of it recently.

Amber sobered up instantly. “I guess she wouldn’t tell us even if she found out anything.”

Lisette shrugged. “Master Zoya will tell us when Heartwood’s actually ready to do something about it. Until then just go on as normal.”

Amber sighed. She did a lot of that, Lisette thought. “Aren’t you at all curious?” Amber demanded.

“Yeah, but I’m not losing sleep over it.”

Amber huffed and stabbed a clothespin into another of her garments. “Oh, by the way, I heard a former Heartwood student’s back. Kitchen staff was quite worked up about it.”

Lisette stilled. “Who is it?”

“Hmm, I don’t quite remember.” Amber wrestled with a wet bedsheet, the last of her laundry. “Maybe something with a ‘T’? Tammi? Tamlin? Something like that?”

“It’s Tamsin.” Lisette lunged for her clothes, and wriggled into pants and shirt.

“Yeah, that sounds right. Friend of yours?”

Lisette laughed. “You could say that. She’s one of the very first Heartwood students!” She slung her metal wings over one shoulder and grabbed her shoes with one hand. “Hey, can you take this rug inside for me? It’s going to rain soon.”

Amber spluttered. “Wha-why? There’s not a cloud in the sky!”

“Trust me, I smell it. Thanks!” A light, happy feeling bubbled up inside Lisette as she waved and ran towards the main building, Amber’s protests soon left behind and forgotten.

Finally! Tamsin’s back!

 

Tamsin had indeed returned, but, Ainsley informed Lisette, she’d gone immediately to an appointment with Master Zoya.

Lisette’s shoulders drooped.

“Check your cryst,” Ainsley suggested helpfully. “Maybe she left a message.”

“I don’t know if Tamsin even kept hers,” Lisette muttered, but she pulled it out anyway. The crysts had been rather unreliable at first, and their communication spells still didn’t work long distance. They weren’t very useful outside of Carradia, so most sun mages left them at home when they went on jobs. Tamsin didn’t live at Heartwood anymore—she resided in Hampton, the largest city in the middle section of the coast.

But Tamsin had evidently kept hers, because a blue-edged message invited Lisette to join her in the main hall for lunch at—here Lisette checked the time. “Darn, I’m ten minutes late! Bye, Ainsley!” She hurried out of the lobby as Ainsley yelled, “Have fun!” to her back.

Lunch was always the least-attended of Heartwood meals, with the journeymen usually out on jobs and Masters eating at their desks. By the tail end of the lunch period, students were back in classes.

Lisette spotted Tamsin immediately, standing by the buffet table. Even without the sparse attendance in the dining hall, Tamsin stood out in a business suit of grey jacket, white blouse, and pencil skirt. Stockings and high heels completed her ensemble. Her red-brown hair was pulled into a sleek bun, the ruddy highlights shinier than Lisette remembered. Even Tamsin’s green eyes seemed brighter, and the freckles that had once speckled the tops of her cheeks were gone.

She looked grownup, professional, and quite unlike herself. Lisette stopped, suddenly shy of this almost stranger. The gulf between them was wider than the year since their last meeting.

Tamsin glanced up, saw Lisette, and a smile spread across her face. “Lisette!”

“Hey,” said Lisette, not moving.

“What’s the matter?” Tamsin asked. “Aren’t you going to give your big sis a hug?”

“I’d mess up your clothes.” Lisette nodded towards Tamsin’s immaculate jacket.

“Oh, don’t be silly.” Tamsin swept Lisette into an embrace. After a moment, Lisette returned it with a hard, fierce squeeze.

“Now come sit down and eat,” Tamsin invited. “Tell me what you’ve been up to all this time.”

 

In the end, Tamsin did most of the talking, clearly enthusiastic about her Hampton apartment and the perks of city life. “You should really come visit some time, Lisette! I’ll take you shopping—every girl needs a show-stopper outfit in her wardrobe. We can go see a show—not a play, but a musical, and…”

Lisette let Tamsin chatter on in this vein for a while. When the older mage paused for breath, she asked, “So, what do you do in Hampton, Tamsin?” She couldn’t picture Tamsin—or anyone, really—fighting yuka or traveling in that outfit. Most of the sun mages she knew were in high demand as bodyguards, monster hunters, or involved in massive defensive or construction spells, none of which could be comfortably done in business attire.

“I do survey work for businesses based in Hampton, mostly Kaidan and Ravinian ones. Honestly, I’m out on the frontier up to my elbows in muck about half the time. Makes me appreciate my gargantuan bath tub even more when I do get home.” Tamsin laughed.

“Are you traveling for work right now?” Lisette asked.

“I’m in between jobs. I had something to discuss with Master Zoya, so I decided to make a quick stop in Carradia.” Tamsin’s eyes narrowed in memory, and her lips tightened.

“Something wrong?”

“Oh, things didn’t go as well as I’d hoped. Master Zoya is just stubborn and old-fashioned, but it’s not a big deal really.” Tamsin shook off her dark mood. “Hey, I just thought of something. I’m off on my next job—why don’t you come along? I could use the help—and the company. The people I work for pay very well.” She leaned forward, eyes brightening. “Do say yes!”

A job with Tamsin? It had been ages since she’d spent time with the older mage. Lisette had been afraid that Tamsin still thought of her as the clingy tagalong child she’d been when she first came to Heartwood. It warmed her that Tamsin saw her as an equal. “I don’t have any other commitments, so yeah, I’m interested. Where’s the job?”

“Greyridge Mountains. In the Spines area.”

Lisette froze. Her mind stuttered. Had Tamsin just said the Spines?

Tamsin saw her expression and exhaled loudly. “Oh, Lisette. You can’t keep running away forever. You have to face it some time.”

“But…” Lisette’s thoughts were in splinters; she couldn’t come up with anything to say in the face of Tamsin’s pragmatism. The remnants of her earlier dream clung to her like glue.

She’s right. But still…so soon? Another voice in her mind argued, It’s been eight years. You’re not a child anymore. They have no hold over you.

“Besides,” Tamsin went on, “I was serious about roughing it. We’ll bring carry our own supplies—we won’t need to go into any of the settlements at all. It’ll do you good just to get used to the area again. Come on, Lisette.”

Lisette stirred her cooling soup unhappily. Tamsin was right. She couldn’t avoid the Spines for the rest of her life. Employers would laugh in her face if she refused jobs in that location in case she might run into someone she’d known. Tamsin was offering her a way to get over her irrational fears. She should take it.

“Lisette!” exclaimed a bright voice. Lisette looked up as Naia, beaming, bore down upon them, tray in hands. Amber, looking annoyed, was behind her. She grabbed Naia’s shoulder, staying the Kaidan mage. “They’re busy,” Amber hissed. “Don’t bother them.”

“It’s fine,” Lisette assured them. Right now, even an interruption by Miss Prim and Proper was welcome.

“You must be the new journeywomen.” Tamsin smiled. “Ainsley told me about you two: a Ravinian pattern mage and a Kaidan wind mage, right?”

“Yep. I’m Naia and she’s Amber.”

Amber hung back, wearing her usual guarded expression. She gave a noncommittal nod.

At least Naia made up for it with her puppy-like enthusiasm. “Are you really one of the very first Heartwood students?” she asked eagerly, as if Tamsin had stepped out of some mythical past.

Tamsin laughed. “I was here before there was even a Heartwood. And when they made the school official, I was third on the list—and only because they went by alphabetical order.”

“Wow,” Naia breathed.

Amber frowned. “You were here before Heartwood Academy formed? How’d that happen?”

“Oh, I was called,” said Tamsin with a wave. “Tell me about yourselves, girls. How do you like Heartwood? Have you gone on many missions yet?”

“I just got here.” Naia made a face. “I changed my magical style recently, and it’s not stable yet. I’ve just been practicing.” She let out a gusty sigh. “It’s kinda boring, actually.”

“I’ve done some stuff around town,” Amber confessed when Tamsin looked at her. “With Kael, usually. I didn’t really want to go to the mines with him when he asked, though.”

“I don’t blame you. Kael’s idea of a good time doesn’t match up with most people’s.”

“He’s all right,” said Amber.

“Tell you what,” announced Tamsin. “Lisette and I are going on a job. Why don’t the two of you tag along and see for yourself what a real Heartwood mission looks like?”

“Wait—” began Lisette, but Naia clapped her hands together. “Oooh, like a girls’ trip? It sounds fantastic!”

Amber looked at Lisette. “You okay with this?”

“I don’t mind if you come along,” Lisette said, “but I haven’t decided if I’m going or not.”

A faint frown appeared between Tamsin’s brows. Then she shrugged. “Well, I’m happy to take anyone who wants to go. Unfortunately, I can’t give you too much time to decide. I leave tomorrow morning.”

“What?” Lisette protested. “But you just got here!” We barely had time to talk!

“Sorry, Lisette, but I have to work to eat.” Tamsin’s expression was sympathetic.

Lisette’s hands clenched in her lap. “Then I guess I’ll come with you.”

“You sure?” Tamsin gave her a searching look.

“I’m sure.” Lisette nodded at Naia and Amber. “You can come, too, if you want.”

Naia cheered. Amber said dryly, “I thought we were already invited.”

“Draw up some chairs, girls,” Tamsin spoke briskly, but she looked pleased. “We need to plan.”

Author’s Note: New arc, new point of view, new character! I don’t have Lisette’s voice pinned down yet, but I hope it will become clearer to me as I go on. I’m excited about a girls’-only mission, too. What do you think so far? Let me know in the comments.