The Heartwood Chronicles

Cloud Village had barely changed in the eight years Lisette had been gone.

There were still the same wooden houses with weathered boards and pitched roofs, brown all over, doorways facing dirt streets and the scraggly common. The same huddle of goat and sheep pens to the west, the same long gardens behind every house stretching into the forest’s shadow. The meeting hall stood on the eastern side of the common; it was the largest structure in the village, and the only one made of stone.

The same smell of livestock hung over the place. The same feel of magic suppression pressed down on Lisette from all sides. The bracelets on her wrists felt like manacles, despite the catch she could undo at any time.

The only thing that was different was…

“Where is everybody?” Her voice rang out, directed at Wulf’s back. Tamsin, who’d been talking to one of their escorts, stopped. The other men in the hunting party, all youths Lisette had known as boys, faltered as well.

Wulf said nothing. He didn’t turn, didn’t change stride. On he went, towards the meeting hall. After a moment, everyone trailed after him. Tamsin gave Lisette a pleading look, mouthed, “Come on,” and followed.

Lisette clenched her fists. That was Wulf, unhelpful as ever. What had she expected from the man who invariably found her when she used magic illicitly and took her back home to her mother?

“Lisette,” said a young man next to her. “Please come. You’ll see.” It was the first time any of the villagers had acknowledged her by name, the first time anyone had shown signs of recognizing her.

She narrowed a glare at him, but he stood his ground and met her gaze with a direct one of his on. His eyes were brown and concerned.

Her memory twitched. “Aiden, right?” she said.

He nodded, then ducked his head. “Olina and I were married last year.”

Lisette stared at him, speechless. He was now her brother-in-law. Of course, Olina would marry some time. Why had she never considered this? And Micah…he would be almost old enough to go on hunting parties.  Her head whirled, trying to assimilate all these changes.

“Congratulations,” she said finally, lamely.

Did his cheeks redden? “She wants to see you. Please come. Dusk falls, and there have been attacks in the village.”

“All right.” She had come this far, she should see it through.

But… Olina wants to see me? Lisette snorted. Not likely!

***

Everybody turned out to be inside the meeting hall. Lisette’s nostrils flared at the reek of cooped-up bodies. Nut candles burned inside lanterns, adding their own pungent aroma to the odorous atmosphere. Wavering pools of yellow light dotted the hall. Shadows gathered in between, thick as cobwebs.

Lisette had forgotten how meager light in the village was. At Heartwood, in Carradia, in big cities and small villages elsewhere on the continent, people used rune lanterns freely. They didn’t spoil their eyesight squinting in the dimness.

She felt a stab of anger. My people, stuck in the past. They’d rather be proud and primitive than accept that magic is not evil after all.

Suppression was built into the very bones of the hall, milk-white veins snaking through stone blocks. Its presence gnawed against Lisette and fanned her ire.

She was almost the last into the hall. Behind her, Aiden closed the door, shutting out the cool dusk and the fresh air. Lisette fought down the wild urge to hit him with her collapsed wings, wrench open the door, and run screaming into the night.

Instead, she lifted her chin, folded her arms, and waited as the people in front of her edged out of her way and into the rustling crowd. In her periphery were dim figures with pale faces. She refused to look closely enough to recognize anyone.

A small space cleared in front of her. Tamsin and Wulf stood in the middle of it. A tall, broad-shouldered woman strode forward to greet them. Her gray-gold braid swung behind her.

Mother. Lisette’s stomach clenched.

Tamsin smiled at the headwoman of Cloud Village and said something Lisette was too far to make out.

Jonquil turned. Her blue eyes met Lisette’s. Something flashed in them. Lisette steeled herself. The stares of a hundred people prickled her skin. The room seemed to hold its breath.

Jonquil said, “Daughter.”

Bile churned in Lisette’s stomach. A painful lump stuck in her throat. She couldn’t have said a word even if she’d wanted to.

She jerked her chin downward. The gesture was curt, ungracious.

“Oh, come now, Lisette.” Tamsin hurried over, took her by the arm, dragged her forward. “Everyone wants to see you. Don’t be shy.” She smiled at Jonquil. “It’s awkward for her, you understand, after all this time.”

“I suppose,” said Jonquil, still looking at Lisette. Her eyes were heavier-lidded than Lisette remembered, but still keen. Her eyebrows rose. “You are here unwillingly?”

“I have no fond memories of this place.” Lisette spoke through stiff lips, held herself tall and tight. Her neck ached, her head pounded. She looked past Jonquil, to the table behind her laden with food. She recognized the layered cake that was a staple of all Cloud Village celebrations. Had her coming interrupted a wedding feast or coming-of-age rite?

Jonquil nodded her head, accepting. “Still, I am glad you came.” She turned to Tamsin. “Thank you for bringing her.”

“Oh, no, well, I…” Tamsin stammered.

“Wait.” Lisette’s eyes narrowed. “Have you two met before?”

Surprise flickered in Jonquil’s eyes. “Did Tamsin not tell you?”

The pieces clicked into place. Jonquil’s lack of surprise at seeing Lisette. Tamsin arriving at Heartwood and asking Lisette to come along to the Spines. Her airy assurance that they wouldn’t go near Cloud Village, her insistence that Lisette get over what happened in the past.

The vial that Tamsin had held earlier, the one with the label: C.V.

Cloud Village.

Tamsin was speaking, very quickly. “Oh, for goodness’s sake, Lisette, I had to get permission from every village chief to survey their territories. It’s not a big deal—”

Her words nibbled at Lisette’s hearing. She only half-comprehended them. Lisette watched Tamsin’s mouth move and her hands flutter, and all she could think was how much the other girl resembled a puppet. A puppet with desperate impatience in her eyes, while her hands and mouth moved in meaningless ways. A puppet whose veneer of sophistication covered only self-interest.

Her chest felt tight.

“Frejalanders,” said Lisette distantly, “have nothing to do with magic. They wouldn’t allow strange mages to just dig in the area. What did you offer Cloud Village, Tamsin?”

Tamsin’s mouth remained open, but no more words came out.

It was Jonquil who answered. “A chance to meet my daughter again. A chance to…mend bridges. It was not my intention to trick you into coming here.”

Lisette gave a bitter laugh and held out her hands, showing the suppression still upon her wrists. “Is this your idea of mending bridges?”

Jonquil gazed at her steadily. “It is still the best way to protect our people. Magic use attracts predators. It attracts Chaos. That has not changed, though since you left, our thinking on other matters has.”

The bands around Lisette’s heart melted to fire, ran molten into her veins. She welcomed the heat. “Lies,” she snapped. “I have no idea why you dragged me back, but I’m not going to play happy families with you.”

“Lisette!” appealed Tamsin.

“Don’t talk to me.” Her words flashed with anger, but Lisette couldn’t even bring herself to look at the other mage. “You used me. Bringing me to the Spines was only a part of your business deal. You don’t care a jot about Amber and Naia, about rescuing them.” She snatched the bracelets off her wrists and hurled them to the floor. They landed with twin thuds.

A blaze ran through her entire body. Good. Anger was better than…the other thing.

“I’m through here.” Lisette whirled on her heel, her wings flaring and sparking behind her. “I’m finding Amber and Naia, and we three are going home.” She glared at Aiden, frozen by the door. “Unbar that door right now, before I smash it into splinters myself.” Magic snaked through her veins and whispered in her suns. It wasn’t the glad goldenness she was used to, but something with a burning and venomous edge, like the bite of a copperhead.

Aiden’s gaze flickered beyond Lisette’s shoulder. Lisette gritted her teeth, her fingers twitching with power.

“Wait!” The voice wasn’t Jonquil’s, but younger, higher, more ringing. And also familiar.

Lisette took in a breath so sharp, it hurt.

“Wait,” said Olina again. Lisette didn’t—wouldn’t—turn around to look at her sister. Let Olina be just a voice in the darkness behind her. She was leaving, and they couldn’t stop her. She was a trained mage now. They could no longer cage her.

So why was she still stuck to the floor, her body shaking with rage, dangerously close to tears?

“You’ve been gone for eight years,” Olina went on, steady, controlled. “Things have happened, things have changed. Don’t you want to know about them?”

No! yelled Lisette inside. But her traitorous lips were locked tight, her treacherous ears wouldn’t stop listening.

“Almost two dozen people were taken by Chaos. We’ve had three successive years of bad harvests. Papa died—we sent a letter. Did you receive it?”

Yes, Lisette had. She’d had no answer to make. With Papa gone, there was more, not less, reason to stay away from Cloud Village, away from the people who had rejected her. He had been the only one to give her his blessing when she’d left with Master Zoya and the rest to go to Heartwood.

Her voice throbbing with controlled emotion, Olina continued, “And yet people got married and had children.” She recited a list, the names falling on all of Lisette’s raw places, filling her with a swelling ache. “I got married, too. I’ll thank you not to explode a door all over my husband.” Wry amusement touched her tone.

The next moment, it was gone. Her voice dropped to a whisper. “How is Micah? At least tell us that.”

Those few words broke through the horrible immobility smothering Lisette. She swung around, the movement jerky, unbelieving. Her eyes met her sister’s for the first time in eight years, clashing against Olina’s blue gaze, so like her own. “What do you mean by that?” Her voice was a strangled whisper.

Olina stood there, gold to Lisette’s dark. Her head was held as proudly as ever, her face smooth and unlined, but something crept into her eyes.

Trouble.

Jonquil, at her older daughter’s shoulder, said, “A year ago, Micah began showing magic, the same as you. It was bad. We couldn’t control it, not without burying him in suppression. A mage was passing through, and we spoke to her. She agreed to take Micah to that school of yours, and we sent Wulf’s grandson Raoul with them. We had a letter from Raoul saying they had gotten there safely a month ago. We haven’t heard anything since. Raoul hasn’t returned.”

Lisette felt all the blood drain from her face, rush to her feet. The world tilted.

She said, still in that tight whisper, “He never came.”

The air seemed to grow thin in the aftermath of a collective inhalation of breath. The candle flames wavered, casting flickers all over everything. Tamsin made a move, checked. Olina’s mouth and eyes rounded.

But Lisette’s eyes were on her mother. Jonquil’s expression hadn’t changed, but all of a sudden, she looked older, heavier, grayer, as if the sun had hidden behind clouds and taken away its gilding warmth.

Lisette opened her mouth, snapped it shut. A sudden pressure shoved against her back. The hairs on the back of her neck rose. Urgency thrummed in her bones, shook her out of the moment.

Outside the hall was a buildup of magic.

Lisette whirled and lunged at Aiden. His mouth gaped open as she shoved him to the side. “Everyone, get against the walls and get down!”

The thick oaken door exploded.

Time seemed to slow down as magic surged out of Lisette. The flesh around the puncture wounds in her neck burned.

A wall of light, dark gold, its edges streaming black, sprang up in front of her. Wooden debris and metal bullets crashed against it. Lisette’s insides flared; she fought to stay planted, keep from reeling back.

The spell rippled, held just long enough to stop the barrage.

The wall disappeared. Lisette took a staggering step backward. Her entire body felt as if she’d been mercilessly pummeled.

The gaping doorway opened into a grey dusk. Three figures stood in it, out on the tiny common. Magic pressed against Lisette, including a familiar, ominous crackle. Her muscles twitched, remembering electricity jolting through them.

“Stay back, everybody,” she ordered, and strode out of the building.

Author’s Note: This scene was troublesome. I wrote it, moved it to a different place in the sequence, added stuff to it, revised it. There’s so much going on with Lisette’s emotions, revelations and betrayals. And now Lightning Guy is back. Urk. 

I’m back! WITCHBLAZE released at the end of January, and now I have time to spare for finishing up this arc. Hooray!

The way out took Naia and Amber into a tunnel where they had to crawl on hands and knees in the close darkness. It widened at the exit, enough that Naia could stand up with hunched shoulders and bent head. She clawed apart the vines covering the hole, disturbing a cloud of midges.

Naia stumbled through the vegetation, emerging into…

Afternoon.

After the dark roar of the river and the glowing silence of the lake, the bright sunshine and insectile drone felt as if they belonged to another world. Naia stood rooted to the spot, blinking like a daylight-stunned owl.

A hand pressed between her shoulders, and Naia moved aside for Amber. She smiled at the other girl. “Well, we made it out.”

Amber gave a slight, exhausted nod. She looked even worse in the daylight. A bruise was forming on the right side of her face, stretching from temple to jaw. Her lip was puffed up and scratches covered her other cheek.

“You look terrible,” said Naia, worried. Amber, she remembered, was rather fragile, more like an ordinary human than a mage. She’d forgotten about that.

“I got into a fight with a raging river.” Amber whispered. “I lost.” She limped over to sit on a nearby rock. She clutched the tatters of her damp cloak closer around herself and shivered.

“I’m sorry. I lost control,” said Naia. Her hands balled into fists. She’d been doing so well. Then all of a sudden, the raging current had gotten away from her, the water bridge had sunk, and Amber had stopped to help.

“We were attacked,” said Amber. “You couldn’t help that.” With a tiny grimace of pain, she closed her eyes. Her voice was raspy and tired, as if it, too, had lost a struggle with rock and water. “What happened to Lisette and Tamsin?”

“They were safely on the other side. They must’ve gotten away. All we need to do is meet up with them again.”

Amber made a soft sound, a ghost of a laugh. “How?”

Naia began, “Your ghosts—”

“Aren’t good for searching an entire forest, take too long, and are unreliable,” finished Amber. “Also, I have no magical energy left to speak of. I used it all up fighting the river.” Her words ended on a sigh. Her shoulders drooped.

“Then we’ll start by seeking shelter in one of the settlements in these mountains.”

“You mean ask the people who hate mages for help?”

“We won’t do any magic while we’re there,” said Naia stoutly.

Amber opened her eyes. “Naia, let’s face reality. We’re stuck out here with no supplies. We have no food—”

“We can eat berries and mushrooms.”

“Do you mean the poisonous ones or the hallucinogenic ones? Our clothes are wet and torn—”

“We’ll dry off in the sun.”

“And there are magical predators all over the place, along with one lightning mage who, last I checked, was aiming to kill us,” continued the relentless realist.

“We’ll just have to dodge them,” said Naia, “or fight them. What other choice do we have?”

For a moment, Amber stared. She laughed, then grimaced as the movement hurt her face. “I suppose you’re right.” She examined Naia with narrowed eyes. “Your suns are still misshapen, though.”

“It doesn’t matter. I’ll still fight if I’m cornered.”

“Well, if nothing else, you’re still a crescent moon in raikiji,” Amber pointed out. “That should help.”

Naia frowned at her. “How will flower-arranging help us now?”

The pattern mage’s eyes widened. She sat up very straight.

Naia remembered when she’d told Amber that, what she’d let Amber think. She said softly, “Oops.”

“You-you-you…,” spluttered Amber.

“Now, calm down,” Naia pleaded. “You were an enemy combatant, and—”

“You let me think you were a martial arts master!”

“I told you the truth! I can’t help it if you don’t anything about Kaidan culture! You should join my Cultural Appreciation Club. We covered raikiji just last meeting.”

“This is not the right time to be recruiting members, Naia!” Amber made a disgusted sound. “To think I was fooled by an expert in flower arranging.”

“Actually,” said Naia meekly, “crescent moon is the lowest rank. I’m terrible at flower arranging. I’m terrible at any feminine graces, really.” She bit her lip. She hadn’t meant to say the last part out loud.

Amber raised her eyebrows. “I don’t see that at all.”

Naia shrugged. “I’m about as far from the Kaidan ideal of an accomplished woman as you can imagine. I’m not exactly svelte and graceful, as you can see.” She gestured to herself. “I’m loud, I’m unrestrained, I have a black thumb. My paintings are blobs, and I sing about as well as a crow. The only thing I was good at was magic, and even now that’s gone.” Tears stung her eyes. She sniffed. “And I’m babbling on and on. I talk too much, I know. Everyone tells me that.” She pressed her lips together, determined to say no more.

Her words still hung in the air, heavy and awkward. Naia nearly groaned out loud. Why had she unloaded all this on Amber? They were on a mission, for goodness’s sake. She should be focused on that, on finding Lisette and Tamsin, not throwing herself a pity party.

Mahoe would’ve never lost control of her feelings like this. Mahoe would’ve never chattered on. Mahoe would never have a runny nose and never need to hunt through her tattered clothing for a handkerchief.

Naia tugged off a ripped part of her sleeve and blew her nose defiantly. She was not her beautiful, graceful, and accomplished older sister, and she would never be.

“Well, I admit I don’t know much about Kaidan culture, but I don’t think you need to change yourself when you’re fine the way you are,” said Amber finally. “You’re kind and you’re cheerful, and you’re good at organizing and bringing people together.” She grinned. “Lisette and I don’t always get on, you know. It’d be a lot more tense between us without you.”

“Yeah, sometimes you’re sour and uptight, and she’s abrasive and impatient.” Naia clapped her hand over her mouth in horror. “Oh, my wretched tongue!” Her words came out muffled.

“Sour and uptight, huh?” said Amber dryly. “Since you were so down on yourself earlier, I won’t return the compliment.” She got up. “Let’s go.”

“What? Where?” Naia looked around, as if expecting to see a newly opened pathway.

Amber pointed into the forest. “I scraped up enough magic to send out a ghost out while you were talking. It found people nearby. Let’s go check them out.”

***

The girls lay on their stomachs upon a bank, looking down at a bend in the road below. A train of mules passed slowly by, each animal laden with baskets and bundles. Naia couldn’t tell what was in any of them. She wondered if Amber could.

The pattern mage’s bony shoulder and hip pressed against her. Amber’s other hand gripped a fistful of her cloak. A ticklish feeling spread across the back of Naia’s neck. She assumed that was Amber’s magic, concealing the two of them.

Either that, or a spider was creep-crawling over her.

Naia tensed. She really hoped it was magic. Her shoulders twitched. Amber nudged her with a sharp elbow, and Naia forced herself to lie still.

A figure passed beneath them. Like all the other handlers, it was wrapped in a dark cloak, face covered with a cloth mask. Naia felt that soap-bubble-pop feeling against her skin that told her the people below were mages.

They were definitely not settlers or traders.

The mule stopped, halted by a tug on its halter. It dropped its head and began to graze on the short spiky grass at the side of the dusty trail.

A man prowled on the mule’s near side, a restless energy radiating from his compact, muscled frame. He was dressed in leather and fur, and a wolf’s mask covered his face. Silver bracelets encircled his wrists; silver chains looped around his waist. More silver studded his vest and pierced through his ears. Naia was surprised he didn’t jingle.

He took five swinging strides one way, made an abrupt turn. Five strides back, turn again. He repeated the movement over and over until Naia felt like screaming for him to stop. His impatience was palpable.

The mule—and indeed the entire forest—ignored Wolf’s tension. Dappled sunlight slanted onto beast and road. An insectile hum overlay the scene.

Wolf swung around mid-way through his walk, looking over the mule’s back, chin lifted up as if scenting the wind. “Oh, so you’re finally here, are you?” he called to someone out of Naia’s sight. His voice held a raspy snarl.

Another man walked into view, about the same height as Wolf, but slighter. The hood of his light-colored sweatshirt was up and his hands buried in its pockets. His head was bent, so Naia couldn’t make out his face and hair.

Wolf said, a sneer in his voice, “So you’re the new guy, huh.”

The other man ignored him, strolled around the mule’s head, and stopped. Naia dropped her chin so she could see better. The hair peeking out from beneath the newcomer’s hood was blond.

“Not the talkative type, are you,” said Wolf. “Well, you’re only here for one thing. Get to it, then.” He tugged the strap on the cloth-covered bundle upon the mule’s back.

The strap came undone, the cloth unrolled, Wolf shoved the mule’s burden.

A body tumbled into the road with a thud.

Naia bit down on her sharp intake of breath. Amber went rigid.

Both stared down at the hideously deformed face of a dead man.

Green scales covered the bulging left side of his face. His left eye was small and screwed up, his forehead a livid color. His jaw appeared to unhinged, and a long black tongue protruded from it. The left side of his body was misshapen, the arm elongated, blackened, and claw-tipped, the leg bent at an unnatural angle. His foot had torn through the boot; it, too, was covered in scales and topped with claws.

The newcomer squatted beside the corpse. “Where did he come from?” He had a cool, quiet voice. It reminded Naia of clear pools in Kaidan rock gardens.

Wolf grunted. “A surveyor from one of those bloody mining companies in Hampton. Mountains are crawling with them.”

Naia’s nostrils flared. Was the corpse below Stetson or Rey? What had happened to him?

What a horrible way to die. It could’ve been one of us, if we’d come earlier.

“You tried the serum on him,” the newcomer observed.

Wolf shrugged. “Why not? Poor sod wasn’t strong enough. Died partway through the transformation. Acidia was disappointed.”

“Why didn’t she clean it up herself?”

“No time. She’s got other things on her mind. You don’t really expect her to handle garbage disposal, do you?”

Outrage sparked inside Naia. How dare that awful man call another human being garbage? Her fingers clenched in soil and leaf litter. A wind stirred around her head. Amber pressed her elbow hard against Naia’s side. With a start, Naia dismissed the draught.

The newcomer did not deign a reply. He removed his hands, covered in black fingerless gloves, from his pockets. They made a stark contrast against his light jacket and faded-to-gray pants. His fingers were long and slender, like a musician’s.

The newcomer rested his fingertips lightly against the dead man’s forehead and bent his head. “Rest in peace,” he said.

A shiver ran over the corpse.

It broke apart into dust.

Naia stared as vapor and heat streamed up from the empty spot where the body had lain. Another moment, and the cloud-shimmer was gone. Warmth puffed against Naia’s cheeks; then, it, too dissipated.

Gone. He touched the man, and now he’s gone. It was a good thing she was lying down already because her legs had jellied. What kind of magic is this?

Even Wolf seemed taken aback by the newcomer’s power. He took an involuntary step backward, caught himself. “Looks like you’re the real deal, after all.” The sneer in his voice was half-hearted with a side of shaken.

The newcomer unfolded himself to his feet and glanced up at where Naia and Amber lay behind a screen of overhanging vines.

His hair was indeed blonde, and a grey bandana covered the lower part of his face. He looked to be a lot younger than Naia had thought, close to her own age.

His eyes held a reddish gleam.

Naia held herself very still, hoping that Amber’s spell hid their pale faces from view.

We should’ve smeared them with dirt.

The youth’s gaze scanned across the top of the bank, not lingering on where the Heartwood mages hid.

Then he turned and walked away, past the mule. “I’m going to the lab now.”

“You know where to find it?” Wolf called to his back.

The newcomer threw up his right hand in assent and strolled out of sight.

Wolf stared after him and rubbed his chin. “Weird guy,” he announced to the mule.

Author’s Note: I’ve been waiting over a decade to use the “So, you’re the new guy” line. It’s from a cut scene in Xenosaga, a video game I remember very little of. For whatever reason, that one line has been stuck in my head all these years. And now I get to use it! Also, villains are coming out of the woodwork. First Lightning Guy, now Wolf Mask, Disintegration Dude, and Acidia. Just what is going on in these woods?

Hello, Heartwood readers!

You may have noticed that no episode went out yesterday like it was supposed to (I know, I’m sad about it, too). That’s because I’m currently stuck in Line Edits Purgatory, trying to get WITCHBLAZE, Book 3 of The Reflected City, ready for release this month. I have fewer than a hundred pages to go, so the end is in sight. Once WB is wrapped up, I’ll get back to Heartwood ASAP. Good thing Naia and Amber got out of the water and are safe for now. As far as pauses go, this is not a bad place for a brief stop. Be back soon!

PS: I started a Discord server to chat with readers. If you want an invite, contact me.

Lisette stumbled through a nightmarish world of shifting shadows and jagged splinters. Frost hardened over skin, cold sank into muscle and bone, turning them to stone and ice. If it hadn’t been for Tamsin’s urgent voice in her ear, Tamsin’s ropes around her body, she would’ve fallen, cracked, broken into a thousand pieces.

Her joints crackled with every movement. Shafts of cold pierced through her arms, her legs, her torso. Twin points of agony burned in her neck.

One last stagger, almost pitching onto her face, caught, held up. Darkness giving way to light… a thin distant light. Her eyes blurred with tears, she saw nothing at all. Felt nothing but the deep burning cold. Shivers ran over her body.

The world tilted around her—she could no longer tell if she moved through it or it moved around her. A babble rose above her head. She made out nothing at all, save the sound of Tamsin’s voice, glad, relieved.

Words slurred out through het stiff lips: “Amber. Naia.”

Hands grabbed Lisette by the shoulders. She would’ve winced away, struggled out of reach, but she was mostly ice. Even her lashes were frozen, her eyelids immobile, unblinking. A face, aged, weather-beaten, with deep-set eyes of a pale icy blue, swam into focus in all that white nothingness.

A name came to her: Wulf.

Fingers dug into her cheek and chin, pried her mouth open. Lisette nearly choked on the pastille they shoved into her mouth. It leaked bitter honey, tracing a thin line of fire down her throat.

She could move again, a little. Lisette brought up her hands—oh, how her icicle arms creaked and chimed—but it was too much. Her bones melted to water, and down she went, into darkness.

Lisette screamed as the ground fell away beneath her. Her stomach was an open pit, her entire body a clench. Wind whipped through her hair and howled in her ears.

Please, she thought, please.

And then something stirred inside her, a brightness. She felt light, as if she’d been turned to feathers. She drifted slowly downward.

Lisette unscrewed her eyes. A pale light bathed the trees, turning them into silver-gilt.

It took her a moment to realize the light came from her.

Lisette held her hands in front of her face, turning them in awe. They shone.

A terrible thought came to her: Am I dead? Am I a ghost?

The light vanished. Lisette plummeted. Her eyes caught sight of something moving within the trees—a figure.

  She gasped out, “Help!” Then she hit the ground with a thud and blacked out.

“Wake up! Wake up!” Someone patted Lisette’s cheek, soft but insistent. The voice was unfamiliar.

It took some moments for Lisette to blink away the fuzziness from her eyes and mind. Then she shot up with a yelp, her heart thudding.

She had escaped the cellar, run out into the forest again, gotten lost. Oh, what would Mother say?

“Hey, take it easy.” Someone put a hand on Lisette’s shoulder and pressed her back down, against something soft.

Lisette stared up at a freckled face, greenish eyes, a ruddy braid, and a big, warm smile.

She said, blankly, “Did I fall?

The older girl chuckled. “No, it looked like you flew. Or, more like, drifted down. Good thing we came to find you. It’s dangerous this deep in the mountains.”

Lisette’s wondering gaze traveled beyond the girl’s shoulders to two teenaged boys at the campfire behind her. One, a pale thin youth with messy black hair and spectacles, stared back in interest. The other boy was facing away, hood drawn over his head, shoulders hunched, hands plunged into his coat pockets.

She had never seen them before, but all three radiated unfathomable energy. The girl made a small gesture with her hand, and a braided cord wrapped around a nearby mug, snaked over to Lisette, and offered it to her.

Magic. They were doing magic. Freely, openly. Unafraid of Chaos.

Dazedly, Lisette took the mug. It was hot in her hands. “Who are you?” she whispered. Her gaze clung to the girl’s face.

She gave a merry laugh. “I’m Tamsin. The tall dark one behind me is Keon, and the unfriendly one is Ashe. We”—pride rang out in her voice—“are Heartwood mages.”

Lisette woke with a violent twitch, stared wildly up into a leafy canopy covered in sunlit gleams.

Overhead, a bird twittered.

Her neck throbbed. Lisette put her hand up to it and felt bandages. Her nose was full of an astringent smell. For a moment she was back in the small nook off the kitchen, with the dried herbs hanging from the beams and clay pots of salve lined up on the shelf.

No. Lisette shook away the memory, winced.

Then she remembered again. The underground river. Her friends. The shadow descending, the water overwhelming. Her stomach clenched.

“Oh, good, you’re awake.” Tamsin dropped to her knees next to Lisette. “Can you sit up?”

“Yes.” The word came out a croak. Lisette grimaced as Tamsin helped her sit. She said, “Amber and Naia?”

She saw the regret in Tamsin’s eyes before the other girl spoke. “We were lucky to be found by a hunting party from one of the villages. They’ve sent out some of their men to scout out the nearby area, but they won’t go into the mines.” Tamsin took a deep breath, looked away, then back. “I’m sorry, Lisette.”

Lisette’s insides were still heavy and cold. The light slanting through the canopy couldn’t seem to penetrate her skin. Everything about her felt off, from the greyish cast to her vision to the strange leadenness inside her. She could still feel darkness threading through her muscles.

The part of her that did magic felt numb, asleep.

So what? “I’m going back inside,” Lisette said. “I have to find them.”

“Don’t be silly, Lisette! You’re in no condition to. You were bitten by just one of those bat creatures and look what that did to you!”

“It doesn’t matter. They’re my friends. I still need to go.”

“So you can die a stupidly heroic death?” Tamsin glared at her. “Is that going to help them?”

Lisette levered herself to her feet. “It might be stupid, but I can’t do nothing!”

“Nothing is all you can do!” Tamsin exclaimed. “Or have you recovered your magic already?”

Lisette bit her lip. She felt light-headed, short of breath. She wouldn’t get far.

“You nearly died in there,” Tamsin pressed. “If the villagers hadn’t found us, hadn’t had an antidote, three of us would’ve been lost.”

“They’re not dead!” Lisette’s voice lashed, whip-like, through the clearing. She glared at Tamsin. “Naia and Amber are not dead.” Her look challenged Tamsin to naysay her.

Tamsin didn’t take the challenge. She made a placating gesture. “All right, all right, Lisette. But please be reasonable. You’re in no fit state to return to the mines.”

But you could. Lisette said nothing out loud. Heavy silence hung between them.

Tamsin was the first to look away. “They’re both strong mages. Naia manipulates water, for goodness’ sake!” Her tone became more confident. “I bet they’re just fine. They’ll come find us, even.”

She went on in this vein for a while. Lisette didn’t know whom she was trying to reassure—herself or Lisette. Through the heavy greyness upon her soul, Lisette felt the prick of something sharp.

Disillusionment. She had always looked up to Tamsin, always considered her strong and smart and brave.

She could’ve done something more to save Amber and Naia. Lisette quashed the thought. She herself had been of little help. Wasn’t she just being unfair to Tamsin?

Still that feeling persisted, pinned to her chest.

A discreet rustle in the bushes ahead. A man came walking around them, an old man with grey hair tied in a braid and pale stubble on his chin. Yet his back was straight and the icy eyes he trained upon the pair hadn’t changed an iota.

Lisette stiffened. So it had been him, after all. All this running around, steering clear from her former home, only to fall into the hands of the Cloud Villagers

Wulf’s gaze passed over her with no recognition. He addressed Tamsin, “We’re returning to the village now. Are you coming?” His voice had roughened with age, but his tone was supremely indifferent. Lisette felt a familiar frustrated anger in her stomach.

Say no! she wanted to shout, but one look at Tamsin’s scratched, dirt-stained face silenced her. Dusk would be falling soon, and predators prowled this part of the mountains.

“In a minute.” Tamsin looked at Lisette, pleading.

“Decide now,” said Wulf, folding his sinewy arms. “Snoutbecks, yowgrims, and cloud cats hunt after dark. Chaos breaks through, invisible. We leave, with or without you.”

Lisette’s teeth clenched. It took all she had to stay upright, to keep her head up. Tamsin was right. She had to hope that Naia and Amber had saved themselves. If she thought she could find them herself, she would search, dark or no dark, magic or no magic.

But she knew her chances of being of help were almost nonexistent.

“Fine,” she gritted out. “We’ll come.”

“If you seek shelter with us, then you must follow our customs.” Wulf’s gaze clashed with Lisette’s. “No exceptions.” He held out whitish rings in his fist.

Bracelets of suppression. Lisette drew in a breath.

Tamsin put a hand on Lisette’s arm. “Please,” she said softly. “Just put up with it this once.” Outside from the camp, something—probably a yowgrim—raised an eerie howl. Green flashed in the mist surrounding the peaks in the distance.

Lisette let out a harsh sigh. “All right.”

***

Naia struggled.

Her head broke the surface. She took in a half-gulp of air, then water crashed over her again. She flailed, fingertips skimming across rock. The current swept her on before she could grab a hold of anything.

Once, her shoulder and head smashed against a protrusion. Pain sparked white in front of her eyes. Momentarily immobilized, she couldn’t grab the rock before the river dragged her on.

Do something! she yelled at herself. But even her magic was in chaos. She tried to grab hold of something—anything—but the water whipped through her grasp. She gasped, spluttered, was swept away.

In her ears, the river roared. In her eyes, nothing but darkness.

And then the bottom dropped out from under the river.

Water plummeted, and so did Naia. Tangled in a thick sheet of it she fell… fell…

Once more, Naia hit water. The force of her fall plunged her down… down… down…

Blue glimmers in the darkness.

Light.

Naia unscrewed her eyes.

Beneath her, under more and more water, the rock glowed. Blue light covered the bottom of the water, as far as Naia could see.

She floated above a sheet of shimmering blue, speckled with silver.

The current that had pushed and pulled, crashed and dragged her along was gone. She was no longer in the river, but some kind of lake.

And just out of her reach was magic, emanating from its bed.

Please. Naia opened herself to it. She felt it move through the water, brush against her skin. It wrapped around her like a silky scarf. The pressure in her lungs from holding her breath eased.

Naia stretched out her arms and the magic pooled into her hands. The water sparkled blue; the entire lake seemed to be aglow. Dark fish shapes whispered through every now and again. Naia looked up and saw a shadow falling in through the water. Tattered wings seemed to outline it.

The blue light touched a pale face, eyes closed; a cloud of fair hair.

Amber! Gathering the magic to her, Naia darted through the water. It made way for her at the front, pushed her along from behind.

Right here, right now, manipulating water felt so easy. Easier than it ever had. The whole lake lay under her control; in fact, it seemed eager to help.

She grabbed the unconscious girl around the waist, shot up towards the surface. Their heads broke water and Naia inhaled cool, musty air. Amber’s head lolled against her shoulder; she spluttered, coughed up water. Her eyes opened to slits, she took in a shuddering breath.

Naia drew up thick ropes of water around the two of them. A watery tower lifted the girls up out of the lake, then rolled across the surface to the edge of the lake. Naia made a one-handed gesture, and the ropes eased the girls onto the shore.

Magic and water slipped away from Naia. The feeling of power vanished as the blue-flecked ropes lost shape, fell back into the lake with a small splash.

“Thank you,” Naia said.

They sprawled at the edge of a glowing lake that lay like an opal in the center of yet another cavern. On the far side, a white cascade crashed into the lake, churning up water into a white froth.

Amber moved, weakly, drew away from Naia. Her eyes were enormous in her scratched face. Her clothes, like Naia’s, were torn, the mist cloak in ribbons.

“Well,” she whispered, her voice hoarse as if it, too, had been scratched by rock. “We survived. Now what?”

“I smell fresh air,” said Naia, tilting her head in that direction. “Let’s finally get out of here.”

Author’s Note: Merry Christmas! By the time you see this, it’ll be Christmas Eve. Right now, as I write, it’s early December and we have our tree up, lit, and decorated. I’m enjoying sitting on the couch and looking at it. See you in the New Year!