The Heartwood Chronicles

Shai Daan was gone. So were Doua, who had escaped when the teleportation spell activated, and Pod, who had apparently come around while Flavius had run to check on his Heartwood peers. Amber couldn’t scold him for that oversight, not since he’d already gone an earful from Master Zoya about leaving the infirmary in the first place.

The wind mages had left behind their minions, hired thugs with basic magic whose main job had been to lug supplies into the outer caverns. Shai Daan had brought them in under the guise of setting up for the tournament—a clever ruse, Master Zoya admitted, though her compressed lips showed her exasperation. As the instigators of the last wave of Heartwood-Torou violence, Torou Academy had insisted on taking care of the logistics of the tournament, allowing Shai Daan free hand in the Shattered Valley. Master Zoya didn’t say it outright, but Amber had the impression her hands been tied by the bureaucracy of three political entities—Carradia, Kaidan, and the Serepentine Isles.

She was not amused to have Shai Daan waltz in under her nose and use the tournament to hide all the magic it had taken to break into this cavern and steal what she was convinced was a dragon claw.

A dragon claw.

Amber sat on a pile of rubble, her arms around her knees, turning that almost impossible thought in her mind. Dragons, creatures of frightening power of a mythic past, whose remains had never been found, whom some believed were mere stories.

The reality was so much scarier. If that one part of a dragon, that one no-longer-alive part could contain so much power…

She couldn’t even fathom the power of an actual, living dragon.

Some speculated that dragons still existed in the Chaos in the middle of the continent.

Amber hoped, devoutly, they were wrong.

Master Zoya soft-stepped next to Amber, and sat down cross-legged. Amber glanced at the woman; she had a smudge of dirt on her chin, hair had come out of her bun, but Master Zoya still exuded that controlled calm and competence.

Her eyes, however, were tired.

There’d been six rock snakes, by the end. Master Zoya had fought off two by herself, from what Jex and Mistress Blunkett said.

“Sorry,” said Amber.

Zoya looked at her, a slight frown between her brows. “What for?”

“For not finding this sooner. For letting them get away with this.” Amber gestured towards the place where the claw—the dragon claw—had been.

She had better get used to thinking of it as a dragon claw.

Zoya shook her head. “No, the fault is mine, for sending you unprepared. I thought it was a scouting mission, nothing more. I certainly did not expect you would find a dragon relic, not here of all places.”

“You’re not surprised,” said Amber, “that one exists.” She swallowed. “Are there… that many in the world?”

Zoya raised her brows. “Have you not heard of the formation of the Serepentine Isles?”

“I thought it was a myth!” Amber burst out. “It… an entire archipelago can’t be formed out a dead dragon.”

“Not all of it, no,” Zoya agreed. “But some of it certainly is.”

Amber stared at Zoya. The Master looked serious enough.

Zoya went on, casually. “I have touched what remains of its mind, once or twice.”

Amber recoiled. “It’s… still alive?”

“No, it’s dead all right. But dragons aren’t like us, whose souls leave our bodies when we die. They are their bodies, and when they die, they… take a while to fade away.” Zoya shook her head. “From what I gather—I don’t think anyone can be sure exactly what happens. The Serepentine Isles dragon is very dead; it won’t awaken and start flying around.”

Amber eyed the Master. “You mean there are dead dragons that just might do that?”

“Perhaps,” said Zoya. “There’s so much we don’t know. What did you make of that teleportation spell?”

She was changing the subject, but Amber was glad to let her. She didn’t relish the idea of dragons waking up.

Not that she wanted to dwell much on that spell, either. The memory of the pattern twisting made her stomach clench. “It… it shouldn’t be possible,” she began, then she shook her head. “No. I should stop saying that, shouldn’t I. Here everything is possible.”

“We do need to stretch our notions of what’s possible,” agreed Zoya, “but let’s not throw all the rules of nature and magic out. Everything I’ve seen on this continent is built upon those, once I take the time to learn and understand. You have a unique view of magic, which will help us understand how these spells are done. Talk to Kristoff about what you saw.”

Amber nodded.

“And that place you saw, just for that one moment?” Zoya asked.

“I can’t remember any more, sorry.” Amber had given Jex all the details she could remember, but it wasn’t much. Not enough to pinpoint a location.

“You are probably better off following a trail through the pattern,” Zoya mused.

Amber looked confused.

“A spell like that,” Zoya explained, “should leave a large trail. For a fraction of a moment, two places were in one, long enough to make an exchange. Then they repelled each other, like they should, like two poles of a magnet. The trail left behind by the other place—you could follow it, though it would lead you deeper in then you ever have been.”

Amber shuddered, thinking of all those spaces between threads and nodes. Not nothingness, like she’d thought, but depths she had not plumbed. Depths she didn’t know if she wanted to explore.

“You have your life ahead of you to grow in knowledge,” said Zoya gently. “There’s no need to rush.” She got up.

“But there is,” said Amber. “Rush, I mean.” She looked up at Zoya. “We don’t know what Shai Daan and his associates are up to, but it’s likely it’s not any good. And now they have a dragon claw.” Saying it out loud should help her come to terms with the reality.

She hoped.

Zoya sighed. “That’s true. And… I’m afraid that it’s likely that Shai Daan is linked to the artifact smuggling ring we broke up in Hopeswell.”

Amber’s hands spasmed. “What?”

“The boxes and packs in the outer cavern contained magical artifacts, most drained of their power. That’s what Shai Daan used to power this spell of his.” Zoya grimaced. “People are better sources of magic, but it’s easier to transport and store artifacts.”

“I see.” Was that why Shai Daan had stopped her in the corridor at Heartwood? Was he her mysterious former employer or was it someone else? How wide was this criminal network?

“I must speak to that Kaidan girl,” said Zoya. “Naia, is it?” She strode away, to where Naia sat forlornly by herself, in a shimmering cage made of runes. As a Torou-affililiated mage, she’d been politely but firmly put under a lock-spell. She could neither see nor hear what was going on outside it.

Troi was moodily going around the perimeter, kicking rocks. Supposedly he was looking for more of those nasty air-explosion spells, but Amber didn’t think that was all that was going on in his mind.

Those spells were his brother Aivaan’s work.

Aivaan, too, was missing. After defeating the rock snake, he’d returned to the Torou students and taken them all away. The air ninjas, students, teachers, and journeymen alike, were probably back on their island, which was Kaidan territory.

Despite the conflict between brothers, it must’ve still been a shock for Troi to discover his brother involved in some criminal enterprise.

Kael, on the other hand, had fallen asleep, sitting up against the wall. Amber shook her head, but the sun mage had worked hard. He’d been the only one, really, to win a complete victory over his Whispering Winds opponent.

Lisette plopped down beside Amber. “You’re all right, I see,” she commented.

“I’ll live. You?”

She shrugged. “So will I.”

“Thanks, by the way, from saving me from Doua, back there.”

Amber expected Lisette to say she was just repaying her debt, but the other girl surprised her. “You’re a Heartwood mage, aren’t you? You’re practically family.”

“Family?” Amber raised her eyebrows.

Lisette lay down in a sprawl. The light from above seemed to be concentrated on her… or else she was really good at finding a sunbeam. “Family,” she affirmed. “Kinda like that annoying great-aunt who knits ugly sweaters and fusses over dumb stuff all the time, but still family.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“By the way,” said Lisette. “I didn’t have time to ask earlier, but any reason you were clutching that pack like a lifeline all throughout this cave system?”

Amber looked down at the pack next to her. It was the one she’d whacked Pod in the head with. She hadn’t realized she’d carried it with her through two tunnels and into two caverns until after all the dust had settled. “I forgot I had it.”

“What’s in it?”

“More drained magical artifacts, I suppose. Or maybe rocks.” Amber upended the pack and a jumble of items clattered onto the ground. Lisette turned over on her side and watched interestedly as Amber picked through combs, dishes, chunks of rocks, a ladle…

“Oh, this is cute.” Amber picked up a little cat statuette, made of some dark grey ceramic.

“Maybe Master Zoya will let you keep it,” Lisette suggested.

“Maybe. Look, she’s calling everyone over.” Amber slipped the statuette into a pocket and got up, dusting her clothes. Her mist cloak, she noted ruefully, was looking very shabby.

Lisette made a sound between a sigh and a groan and rolled to her feet. “What a day,” she commented.

“Come to think of it,” began Amber, “who won?”

Lisette’s mouth went sour. “I think it was Shai Daan. The jerk.”

“Agreed.” Exchanging grimaces, the two girls went over to where everyone else was gathering.

“So Shai Daan’s really gone?” asked Amber a week later, over supper.

Troi moodily stirred his soup. “Yeah. He was appointed to a governorship right before the tournament. His replacement at Torou came in a few days, so I’ve heard.”

“Darn,” said Kael. His appetite, Amber noted, was unaffected. He was on his third helping. “So I can’t waylay him the next time he comes into Carradia to buy tobacco.”

“How do you know he smokes?” Lisette wanted to know. “And he might have his own stash from Kaidan.”

“I made it my business to know,” said Kael, buttering a roll, then consuming it in two bites.

“I think I should point out to you,” said Amber, “not that I expect you all to pay the least attention to it, that it’s generally a bad idea to accost people in high power out in public.”

“Shai Daan has friends in high places, protecting him. Some of them are probably involved,” said Troi. Gloom had settled over him.

“Do you think the Kaidan government is behind this?” Lisette asked.

Troi’s shoulder twitched. “Parts of it, probably.” His mouth tightened.

“I know you want to fix this, but this isn’t the sort of situation you can go charging in, you and Kael,” began Lisette. “This requires planning.” A gleam had come into her blue eyes.

Amber scooted her chair back. “Annnd this is where I leave—”

“Too late,” said Kael. He pointed a spoon at the high table. “Looks like Master Zoya’s about to make a speech.”

Master Zoya was, indeed, standing. She hadn’t made any gesture for silence, but everyone went quiet anyway.

Zoya inclined her head. “I won’t deny that it’s been a trying time for Heartwood Academy recently,” she began, “and relations with Torou Academy are likely to be a bit strained for some time. Their new principal has assured me, though, that he intends to keep his students busy and focused on their own work. I expect Heartwood students to do the same.”

She paused and looked from face to face.

“I think we need to move on from the events of the last few weeks, and I have some good news to announce. We at Heartwood are a mixed bunch. Our teachers and students hail from all parts of the known world. I’m sure you will all welcome our latest student, who has come all the way from Kaidan. Naia Kentai, please stand up, so everyone can see you.”

Troi’s jaw dropped. “What??”

Naia popped up from across the crowded hall, dressed in Kaidan style, but in obviously Heartwood colors of red and black. She waved cheerily as everyone’s gaze turned to her. “Hello!” she sang out. “I’m looking forward to getting to know all of you. I’m sure we’ll get along famously!”

She grinned cheekily in Troi’s direction as she said this.

Her betrothed just sat there, horror written all over his face. Amber had dissolved into a fit of giggles, which she unsuccessfully tried to hide behind a napkin. Lisette was looking down, biting her lips, obviously trying not to laugh.

Kael just waved cheerily back at Naia.

“That’s not all,” continued Master Zoya. “We’re also pleased to add a new member to our staff, also from Kaidan. Please welcome Master Ilaan, who will, alongside Master Cinbar, work with our advanced students on combat and covert operations skills.”

A man with a shaved head, sleepy eyes, and very broad shoulders stood up beside Naia. He put his hands together, Kaidan-style, and bowed a greeting, then sat back down again.

Amber glanced at Troi.

His face had gone pale. “Him!” The word came out in a hiss.

Lisette gave him a worried look. “What is it, Troi?”

“He was… is… a spymaster for the Whispering Winds.” Troi got to his feet. “Master Zoya’s made a terrible mistake. I have to speak to her.”

Kael reached out and grabbed Troi’s arm. “Not now. Wait until dinner’s over.”

Troi’s entire body clenched, but then he nodded once and abruptly sat down, shoulders slumped, face in his hands.

Lisette nibbled her lip. Amber leaned to whisper to Kael, “Is everything going to be okay?”

“I trust Master Zoya,” he said simply.

Amber looked at Zoya, who had sat down again. Her dark eyes were fixed on Troi and a small frown creased her eyebrows.

She knows how he feels. What is she doing, bringing the enemy within the gates?

Talk had broken out amongst the students again, rising to the usual dull roar. Under it, rain pattered against the windows. And here was Naia, winding her way between tables, beaming, a tray in her hands.

“Looks like this one’s going to be another pain in the neck,” muttered Lisette.

“She was far nicer to me as an opponent than you were my first week,” Amber shot back.

Lisette grinned at Amber. “I’m so happy that you like her already. Maybe this time, you show the newbie around.” And with that, she moved, making a space for Naia to squeeze into.

“Welcome to Heartwood,” Lisette said, very sincerely. Amber’s jaw dropped at this unwonted niceness.

“Glad to have you!” said Kael.

“I’m not,” Troi muttered.

“Of course, you wouldn’t be.” Naia rolled her eyes.

“Why are you here anyway?” Troi demanded. “Are you still following me around?”

“Nope. You’re a hopeless case, after all,” said Naia. “I’m here for me.”

Troi’s brows drew together.

“You said it, didn’t you?” said Naia. “I’ve always had an affinity for water. I’m not going to learn what to do with it on Kaidan, but I can here. Seems to be the place for all kinds of oddballs and misfits.”

Everyone stared at her.

Naia’s eyes widened, and then she clapped her hand over her mouth again. “Argh, I swear I didn’t mean it the way it came out!”

Kael laughed. “You’ve got that right.”

Lisette said, putting her elbows on the table. “So, really engaged to Troi?”

“And,” added Amber, “I bet you know all sorts of embarrassing tales about him!”

“Yes, and yes!” said Naia. “Do you want to hear some?”

Troi groaned, and the others laughed. And as Naia launched into what turned out to be a cute story from her childhood, Amber thought that for one night, she could push away all thoughts of dragons and magical conspiracies and personal danger, and just enjoy the time she had with her friends.

Friends, huh? Somehow they had all, brooding Troi and prickly Lisette and exuberant Kael and even the newcomer Naia, become friends.

And this place, this Heartwood Academy, had become home.

Author’s Note: Dragons, huh? I didn’t intend to put dragons–or dragon parts–into the story, but they showed up anyway. Probably had something to do with the fact that I was watching Fairy Tail around the time I started writing this story, and dragons stuck in my head. I’m excited for Naia to join Amber & friends, though. Her bubbly personality is fun to write! 

I hope you’re enjoying the Heartwood chronicles so far! Who’s your favorite character?

What happens next? Well, I have enough material to collect all the Heartwood episodes into a book. I’ve also planned a bonus short story introducing the Heartwood Librarian for the volume. Donors to the serial will get the e-book for free. If you’d like to donate, you can do so below:

A swift movement. A dark shape, low to the ground, flung itself at Pod, inhumanly fast. Pod’s expression changed to one of open-mouth surprised, and then was bowled over so hard, his feet and legs seemed to fly up.

The pressure on Amber’s body disappeared. Air rushed into her face; Amber gasped and spluttered and took long pulls of it.

Pod was on the ground, with some sort of animal growling and yipping and worrying at him. The boy had his hands around the creature’s neck, barely keeping the snapping, drooling jaws away from his face.

Pod’s suns flickered, sickly pale from shock. Amber sensed him trying to snatch the biting creature’s breath, but its fluid pattern, extending past its skin, wouldn’t be stilled, wouldn’t let Pod get a hold of it.

She knew that pattern. She’d spent hours leaning over it.

The creature was Flavius.

Amber didn’t waste any time wondering why he was here. Pod had almost wrestled him to the ground, and the younger boy was transforming back into a determined, but scared youngster.

She snatched up a likely looking pack (it was heavy and clanked). Just as Pod got on his knees, his suns back to full strength, she whacked him across the head with it.

The pack made contact with a sickening smack. Pod collapsed.

Pack dangling from her hand, Amber stared wild-eyed at Flavius, weakly lifting himself up on one elbow.

“You should be in the infirmary!” Amber glared at her erstwhile patient.

“Sorry.” The smaller boy hunched in on himself like a scolded puppy.

Flavius reprimanded, Amber dropped—okay, collapsed—onto her knees next to Pod, her stomach knotted up.

Please don’t be dead!

He still breathed. There was no blood that Amber could see. His suns were powered down, but not empty.

He was just out cold.

Thank the Sustainer I didn’t kill him. Amber sighed, then shifted her attention to Flavius, who watched her with a kind of hopeful wariness.

What a strange kid he was.

“What are you doing here?” she whispered.

Flavius shrugged. “Overheard Master Kristoff and the Headmaster talking about how they’d asked you to do something dangerous. Heard you were in the team to take on the Whispering Winds. Told Tai I wanted to watch, so he gave me a ride with him on his silfyl. Then I hid myself and followed you to make sure you didn’t get into any trouble. Couldn’t get to you in time when that wind mage knocked you off the rock, though.” His voice was gruff and he looked away, not meeting Amber’s eyes.

“Oh.” Amber was taken aback. “I… I didn’t notice you at all.”

“I’m good at hiding,” said Flavius simply.

“Why’d you do it, though?”

“You saved my life, didn’t you? I’m just returning the favor.”

“I…” I didn’t even like you much at the start, thought Amber with quick remorse. “Thank you. You… you’ve gotten better at managing your magic.” There was a controlled fluidity to his pattern now, instead of that horrible, pulsating flux.

Flavius lifted his left arm, which was still fur-covered and ended in a paw instead of a hand. “Not all the way better.”

A sizzling surge of magic made both of them turn their faces towards the tunnel. The hairs of the back of Amber’s neck rose up. Even the pattern seemed to lurch, almost dropping out from under her.

Flavius made a small sound, half-whimper, half-snarl.

“You stay here,” Amber said. “I’ve called for Kael and Lisette and the others. I’m going to take a look. If I’m not back here soon, or if trouble comes looking, you need to get out of here and wait for the others. All right?” She made her face as stern as she could.

Flavius’s pupils were very large, and his teeth were longer and more pointed than usual. His pattern whipped, almost like a cat lashing its tail, but it didn’t appear to be spiraling out of his control.

He nodded.

Amber jerked her chin down in response and slipped away to the tunnel, the swell of burgeoning magic drawing her in.

She had never encountered a spell as big as this. She had no idea what it did, only that it was enormous, expending vast amounts of power. It surged through the pattern, electrifying the threads. They swayed and writhed, stretched thin and taut, white-hot.

Amber didn’t dare touch them.

The tunnel was curved, but short, and spilled into a larger cavern.

Dozens of people, all mages, occupied it.

Amber hadn’t been able to make out their patterns in the sea of larger magic, whose source lay even further beyond.

Uh oh.

Amber ducked back into the tunnel, but not before one of them tipped back her head and looked at Amber with eyes as cold and dark as a shark’s.

Doua.

Invisible wires, sharp and thin and cold, grabbed Amber around the wrists and upper arms, her waist and legs. They pulled her forward, dragging her almost down to her knees. Chill breathed on her neck, whispered in her ears.

No fair, thought Amber, scrambling at the pattern, trying to pry the air-made wires loose. She can do that with her magic?

And now Doua was stalking towards her, still in her high platform shoes, her face shadowed by her hat, her hand moving to the hilt at her side, thrust into her sash.

A knife? She really means to kill me, doesn’t she? Unable to wrestle free from Doua’s control, Amber searched the pattern around the girl, trying to find something she could work with.

She didn’t think tickling spells would work on the girl.

Doua removed the wooden hilt from her sash—an empty handle with no blade. Her magic flicked, there was a sharp metallic cling and hiss, and a thin blade of air sprang from the hilt.

Amber braced herself.

And then the ceiling exploded.

Amber had seen this before.

Suns unshielding. Debris raining down. Combat mages plunging down, surrounded in vibrant colors of magic.

She threw up her hand to shield herself from falling rock and dust, but gusts of air swept them aside and flung them at the enemy mages. A blaze of light, and Lisette swooped down like a bird of prey, all shining wings and bright glow. Metal fans sliced through the air, aiming for Doua’s neck and torso.

The wind mage arced back, impossibly fluid. Lisette’s blades missed her by a hair’s breadth.

The kick didn’t.

Lisette swept the girl’s legs out from under her. Doua’s wind wires whipped back to her, leaving stinging trails across Amber’s skin. They rushed at Lisette, but the girl cut through them with her light-bladed fans.

“You all right?” Lisette called over her shoulder.

“I think so.” The words didn’t come out as confidently as Amber would’ve liked.

In the middle of the cavern, whip-like winds around two darkened figures showed Troi and Naia (why Naia? Amber wondered) creating havoc amongst the enemy mages.

And of course, there was Kael, happily punching his way through a group of mages who’d been stupid enough to charge him.

His golden eyes, full of a fierce light, caught Amber’s gaze. “Come on,” he called. “Let’s see what this magic is all about.”

Amber climbed to her feet, took a few shaky steps. Kael grabbed her hand, and they broke into a run, going down the path he had cleared. Spells came to life on one side, but were abruptly cut off with a yelp as Troi swept up two more mages into what looked like a miniature tornado. Naia had found water from who-knows-where, and encased another enemy’s head with a bubble full of it.

“Don’t kill him!” Amber called as she and Kael ran past.

She was sure Naia rolled her eyes. “Worry about yourself!” the Kaidan girl called.

“Will Lisette be okay?” Amber whispered breathlessly to Kael as they crossed the cavern to yet another tunnel, this one sparking with energy. “Fighting that Doua?”

“Troi’s there,” said Kael. “But we gotta see what’s going on here. And stop it, whatever it is.”

Amber nodded and together they plunged into the tunnel, magic running like static all over them.

No time for caution—and with Kael, it seemed like there was no need for it. They burst out of the tunnel and into an enormous cavern, far larger than the one preceding it. Light fell into it from above, illuminating an enormous lopsided fossilized tree,  its roots gripping the upthrust rock it stood upon. The vast trunk ended abruptly, as if its canopy had been sliced clean off. Magical lightning crackled around it.

A sharp scent of dragonsbane came to Amber’s nose. Looking down, she saw the floor of the cavern was carpeted in the stuff, now bent and leaking underfoot.

This is it. The place my ghosts found.

Kael had stopped, his head tipped up to stare at the tree. “Amber,” he whispered, his eyes wide and his expression one she had never seen before—awe and excitement and maybe fear, “do you see what I see?”

“The tree?”

Kael shook his head. “It’s not a tree, Amber.”

Amber stared at the thing, creeping realization leaving a chill down her spine. That pale trunk wasn’t made of petrified wood, but of bone. Those enormous roots weren’t roots at all, but…

“Talons?” Amber whispered. “It’s a giant… claw?”

“Look at it with your mage sight. What do you see?”

Amber twitched it on, then gasped. The world unbalanced around her.

The tree… claw… had no pattern. It was just a claw-shaped hole in the surrounding threads, dark and pulsating.

But not empty. No, not at all empty. Restless energy moved in that darkness… was the darkness… was a kind of dark magic Amber had never encountered before.

Its vast power raised prickles all over her skin. She felt herself tilting, as if to fall headfirst into it. There was nothing under her feet, at all, and no up or down or right or left…

Kael put an arm around her shoulders, steadying her. With a jerk, Amber switched off her mage sight and leaned, panting, against him. Her legs felt like jelly and shivers ran down her spine.

“How can it be?” she whispered. “It’s material… we can look at it, probably even touch it, but it’s all made of magic. There are no suns or threads in it at all!”

“Worry about that later. Our immediate problem are these.” Kael nodded towards the six large mirrors set in a ring around the pedestal, tilted up, facing the claw. Silver chains connected them together, magic crackling across the links. The mirror backs that Amber could see each had a different rune inscribed on them. Amber didn’t know what they were, couldn’t even recognize the style of them, but she could feel the magic of them.

And how they were skewing the pattern of the area inside the ring. Rotating the whole of it in an impossible way. Amber felt sick to see it.

The mirrors blazed, shot out beams of light, concentrating them on the claw. Amber, tearing up, turned her gaze away from the claw, caught sight of a figure hovering halfway up the cavern, watching from a distance.

An air ninja. Shai Daan?

“What’s going on, Amber?” asked Kael.

“I don’t know. That spell is changing the rotation of the pattern inside the ring, as if it it’s trying to tear it out of this geographical location altogether…” The ground vibrated underfoot, rocks crumbled down the cavern wall.

Amber, focused on the pattern despite the nausea in her stomach and the throb behind her eyes, gasped. “There’s… another pattern rising to meet it? Something that’s not from here, but elsewhere… And now the two are super-imposing on each other…?”

“I’ve heard enough,” said Kael. “It’s going to bring the whole place on our heads.” He ran for the nearest mirror. His suns blazed bright and hot, turning into infernos. He raised his fist and swung…

“No, wait!” Amber wailed just as the two patterns, the one within the ring and the one from who-knows-where, clicked together.

An explosive blast of air hurled Kael back from the mirror. A shimmer ran over the claw and the rock. For a fraction of a moment, Amber caught sight of some other place—all metal, smelling astringent, with tiny white-clothed figures.

The mirrors exploded in showers of glass. Links snapped. The two patterns flung apart. The one inside the ring snapped back into place; the other vanished back to where it had come from.

Inside the ring of broken mirrors and chains was an empty space.

The rock and the claw were gone.

Amber whispered, “Teleportation.”

Kael climbed to his feet, grim tension in every line of him. His gaze was turned upwards, to where Shai Daan still floated in the distance. His knees flexed, to jump.

More snapping in the pattern. All around the cavern spells triggered. Winds tore, howling, around the place. They knocked Amber back, right into somebody running in from the tunnel.

A steadying arm went around her waist, pale suns shone, and Naia swept a barrier of air in front of the two girls. Lisette and Troi rushed from behind them, both launching up, to where Shai Daan had been. A cloud of dust hung in the air; pebbles rained down upon the girls, bouncing off the barrier above them.

“I’ll say this for them,” said Naia, grimly. “They’re persistent. But it’s too late. Shai Daan’s too careful to not have several escape routes. He’s gone.”

Amber, gingerly feeling the pattern, could only agree.

Author’s Note: Our protagonists are finally getting an inkling about what they’re up against, and it’s bigger and more well-organized than anyone expected. Also, Flavius is a sweetheart. One more episode until the end of the arc! 

Whee! Heartwood is back and this time, you will get episodes every Thursday until the arc is over! If you need to refresh your memory, check the series page for links to previous episodes. And now, back to the story:

“A dragon!” squeaked Amber, clutching Naia’s arm for support.

“No.” Naia shook her head. “It’s a great rock snake. But I’ve never seen one so big!”

The creature shook itself free, scattering stones. Its long serpentine body glimmering in the sun, it slithered into the valley, arrowing for the place where the younger mages fought.

Amber had barely time to register the reality of it, its hugeness rippling through the pattern, when another yank on her senses caught her attention.

To her left, near Troi and Aivaan, another formation exploded into rubble. Yet another rock snake, this one pale and marble, struggled out of the debris.

Naia hissed. “They’re everywhere.”

Amber focused on the pattern, caught the barest flick of swift and sharp-edged magic. Another snap, a net of hidden magic came free and slipped loose, and another rock snake swept the blunted end of its tail like a bludgeon across the valley floor. Water and stone burst into the air. The ground shook.

“Someone’s setting them off,” said Amber. She met Naia’s eyes and saw the same suspicion in them.

Doua.

And under orders from Shai Daan.

Naia smacked a clenched fist into her palm and made an exasperated sound. A gust of water-flecked air made a quick circle around her and Amber.

“I’m going to help Aivaan and Troi,” she announced. “You help your other friends.” She jerked her head towards the right, where light and heat flickered around the dull gold of the third rock snake.

Lisette and Kael.

Naia didn’t wait around. Grabbing twists of air, she kicked off from the rock formation.

Right. She was still an air ninja.

Left alone, Amber hesitated. Lisette and Kael had their hands full up ahead. Down the valley were the younger students and the teachers of Heartwood and Touro.

Masters Zoya and Cinbar are down there, Amber reasoned. The kids will be all right. They don’t need me.

Kael and Lisette, though…

They were both tough, and Amber didn’t think she could help them much beyond cheering from the sidelines.

That left the one thing that was her job.

Find out what was in the Shattered Valley.

The pattern tugged at her, insistent. It caught her curiosity, tempting her with that scent of dragonsbane, a glimpse of a shadowy cavern and a great tree with massive roots clawing into the ground.

Inside her mind, Amber felt the key the memory moth had given her shift, just a little bit. Something unwrapped, a layer, as translucent as an onion skin. A sudden excitement flooded her body. Her mouth was dry and her heart hammered. Her feet ached; there was a phantom blister on her right heel from boots whose soles had worn far too thin.

Finally. After all this time, I’ve found it.

The thoughts were not her own, but it didn’t matter. The compulsion propelled her onward.

The edge of the rock formation was separated from the next by a gap of only a few feet. Amber ran for it without hesitation. Phantom adrenaline surged through her body as she soared across it, landed with only a slight wince at the jabbing pain in her foot.

Was this, Amber wondered, what it was like to be brave? Did people like Kael and Lisette feel this same rush of excitement that washed away all caution?

Her body moved in time with the memory. The far edge of this formation was broken into rubble; it sloped down to the valley floor. Amber picked her way nimbly from boulder to boulder, bounding without hesitation. Her own confidence exhilarated her.

And then she jumped onto a rock that had shifted in the time between past and present. She landed on the edge, arms windmilling, her body unbalanced.

All the hot excitement rushed out of her, replaced with icy alarm. Amber saved herself, scooted her feet firmly onto the rock. Her legs had turned to jelly. She put her hands on her knees and panted, both from that reckless dash and the shock of realizing just how perilously close she’d come to drowning in that memory.

No wonder the memory moth hadn’t just given it to her. The vividness and immediacy of it would’ve been overwhelming.

Frank, it had said. Frank, I’ve kept the faith.

Amber’s hands clenched around her knees.

Was it his memory she’d been caught up in? Had he been here, that distant, half-remembered shadowy figure from the past, the one she knew only in flashes and splinters of memory, the one who’d died when she was just a small child?

Had Franklin West been here?

Was she following in her father’s footsteps?

Amber straightened, shook her head.

Now was not the time to get lost in unanswered questions. She had a job to do. She had to let the memory guide her, not posses her.

Following both the pattern skew and the memory tug, Amber made her way more slowly down the slope of broken rock and to the valley floor.

An inch of water covered the ground. Amber squelched through it, the ooze grabbing her boots. The pull on her body was so strong she had to brace herself, or else she’d pitch forward onto her face.

Not so hard, please, she told that golden key in her head, and to her surprise, the tug eased. That memory from the past took on a greyish tinge and became translucent. She had to check it against both the present landscape and the feel of the pattern.

The pattern. It had brought her here, but to what? Its threads wound round and round the area, like a labyrinth, not bringing her straight to the point. Amber walked beside the base of one stone pillar, her fingers skimming its damp surface. It was dim and cold down here; every now and again, a shiver ran down her back.

The thinness of the pattern in this valley bothered her. There was not much of it in the air, and the one in the rocks was buried so deep. There were hardly any living creatures in the vicinity. The vibrations of mages fighting rock snakes was a distant throb; a deep silence was flung over the whole place.

Silence. Amber stopped, remembering the substance that wrapped around the magical artifacts in the Hopeswell warehouse, hiding it from her magical senses.

But the pattern was everywhere, wasn’t it? Even if covered in silence, it was still there, just buried deeper.

She’d just have to look harder for it.

Amber closed her eyes and let her mage sight take over. The darkness behind her eyelids lightened to an evening blue, pinpricked with small star-like nodes and glimmering white strands. They pattern molded itself onto the landscape. There, at her feet, was a wide band of moving threads and bobbing lights. That was the water. Around her were the geometric shapes of the rock formations, with deep wells of darkness inside their outlines.

Amber focused on those wells, holding onto the sharp green scent of dragonsbane. On top of her mage sight, she let her father’s memory unfold, letting the sights and sounds unroll around her, while she stayed still.

Memory and scent sharpened to one point, one place in the pattern. Amber grew deaf and blind to all else as she probed that dark space.

And out of the depths, rising up to meet her (or was she sinking to meet it?), was the pattern of a hiding spell, a tavern puzzle of a spell, with the key dangling from it. All she had to do was remove it from the surrounding spellwork and the entire thing would come undone, revealing the secret.

Amber smiled. The creator of the spell had sacrificed complexity for secretiveness. Now that it was revealed, it wouldn’t take long for someone who’d spent hours on visual-spatial puzzles to undo it.

She cast her senses around the spell. She simulated movements in her head. She wouldn’t touch the spell until she knew what the solution was. Her father’s memory at this point carried a promise of pain. Franklin West’s first exuberant encounter with this particular lock-and-key had resulted in hours of unconsciousness and a throbbing headache.

Amber didn’t have that time to lose.

I have it! I think.

Amber could feel her real palms become sweaty. She didn’t dare wipe them, though, in case the movement jolted her out of the world of the pattern. The lock-and-key spell wavered, tenuous, almost slippery.

If she lost her concentration, it would dive back into the depths. She didn’t know if she’d be able to fish it out again.

Slowly, carefully, Amber took up the key part. It was cool in her mind, a metallic silver line. She moved it through the lock-puzzles, twisting the key first this way, then that, then the other. The effort took more out of her then she’d expected, her mental grip trembling with nerves and exhaustion.

One more move. Don’t drop it now, Amber cautioned herself.

One last concentrated stream of magic, one last twist, one last move, and the key came apart from the puzzle with a final, satisfying click.

The lock-spell slid apart, smooth and silver, leaving a gap in the middle. The key dissolved into sparkles, then nothingness, tingling against her skin.

Amber opened her eyes.

There, ahead of her, was a crack in the base of the rock formation, where none had existed before.

She grinned, squelching eagerly towards it. Curiosity gripped her, pushing her on. It was her own, her own desire to discover, to find out, to know.

Maybe I’m more like him than I thought.

Amber paused at the entrance and looked over her shoulder. She could still sense the rock snakes in the pattern, all three—no, four of them. Doua had set off another while Amber was solving the puzzle-spell.

All this chaos of rock snake and bursts of magic was a perfect cover for whatever Shai Daan was up to. Everyone was preoccupied, and whatever magic he used could easily pass unnoticed as spells were slung around.

Still. Amber gathered up some strands of pattern, pressed her fingers into them. One, two, three, four, five spells hung like paper flags in her hands.

Wait for this long, she told them, then find.

They fluttered off her hands and slowly threaded down the pattern. They were fragile things at best, but they’d have to do. She couldn’t wait for help. Shai Daan might already be on his way out.

Amber plunged into the gap.

A narrow path inside the rock formation took Amber up in a lazy spiral that seemed to follow the outer walls of the formation. It was hot and close inside, but not completely dark. Grey suffused the tunnel, a lightening that came from one side of the path, as if the outer wall was translucent, not opaque. Amber was terribly curious about this strange one-directional light filtering, but she could not stop to puzzle it out.

Because an occasional breath of fresh air brought with it the sniff of dragonsbane. Her pulse quickened.

It was hard to tell, but Amber didn’t think this particular narrow path had been used in a while. No footsteps scuffed the packed earth ahead of her. Every now and again she came to a narrowed spot where she had to turn sideways to get through. Somehow she didn’t see Shai Daan doing this.

Probably, he had found another way to whatever lay inside. She wondered if his spells had been timed to match the rock snakes’ explosive entrance onto the battle field.

The spiral tightened as Amber went ever higher. Would it lead her to some vast central chamber?
Amber went around another bend. A muffled boom came from up ahead.

She froze.

A draft, slightly cooler and tinged with herb, quested down the tunnel. Amber held her breath, but it puffed into her face and dissipated. She sensed no magic in it; it was just a stray current of air from some vented space ahead.

Amber crept down the last several feet of tunnel and peered out into a small cavern.

Now this looked like someone had been here, and recently. Footsteps and tracks covered the packed earth; packs and boxes were stacked against the wall. Two paths led into the space, one came from Amber’s left, the other led off to her right.

A crackle of magic emanated from the righthand side tunnel. It felt greasy and urgent on her skin.

What’s going on? Amber emerged from the tunnel, a cool, watery feeling washing over her as she exited. It felt a lot like that lock-and-key spell; she realized that she had opened both ends of the tunnel when she’d solved it.

And what if there had been someone else here to see a tunnel silently open up when she had?

The back of her neck prickled. Amber retreated, or tried to, as stormy suns of blue unshielded.

Pressure all around her body, clamping her in place. Amber squeaked, or tried to. Something snatched her breath away—and slowly sucked away the air around her. Everything went grey and still, pattern threads disintegrating and falling to the ground like snow.

Pod emerged from the twilight, regret written all over his face. “I’m sorry about this, I really am.” His words were distant and tinny, funneled to her ears through a barely-vibrating line of air particles. “You should’ve stayed away.”

Amber had no answer to this, even if she could’ve spoken. She was too busy trying to keep her bodily patterns from collapsing, an attempt she knew was ultimately futile. Her head was light, her vision dark-washed.

A distant part of her noticed that Pod’s pearl pin was all black.

Kael took him out after all. Good.

And then Amber wanted to laugh, hysterically, because why did she care about a stupid tournament when she was about to die and the last thing she would see was Pod’s sad, hang-dog face that seemed to be pleading for forgiveness?

Author’s Note: I divided the remainder of the arc into episodes, and there are only two more left after this one! I’m excited because now I can go back and make some edits. 🙂

Amber snatched at the pattern threads around her, reacting faster than she’d ever thought.

The threads whipped through her seeking fingers, blowing out of reach.

Oh, Sustainer, I’m going to—

And then something thick and cool wrapped around her waist and legs, cradled her gently, slowed her fall. It thrummed with energy—Amber felt it vibrating through her bones.

She looked down and gasped.

Water leapt up from the valley bottoms in a kind of reverse waterfall, splitting into gushing tendrils that coiled up her legs and around her torso. The hiss of moving water replaced the sound of rushing air.

The main column of water, a white fountain that shed droplets like diamonds, rose higher. It lifted Amber up and up, finally depositing her on the formation she and Troi had fought Aivaan and Naia on.

Naia herself set on the very edge of it, her face scrunched up in fierce concentration, twisting and untwisting the fabric of her skirt. Her silver suns had turned so white they were nearly clear. Tiny rainbows gleamed in their hearts.

With a last heave, the water pushed Amber onto the rock. The main fountain, spent, fell the long, long way down into the valley with a distant crash. The watery ropes around Amber lost form, splattered, and drenched Amber from the waist down.

Naia grimaced. “How artless. That part needs work.”

Amber stared at her. Now that the sounds of wind and water had died, she could hear the rush of her own blood, the pounding of her own heart. Her legs had turned to wobbling jelly, and her hands and feet were cold and bloodless.

She’d nearly died and Naia was sitting here, critiquing her rescue effort?

Amber started to giggle. She laughed so hard, she couldn’t hold herself up. She collapsed onto the ground next to Naia, who looked at her with amused amazement. Amber drew her knees up to her chest.

It was then she realized that the laughter had given to tears.

Her shoulders heaving, Amber rested her forehead on her knees and wept.

Beside her, Naia shifted closer and patted Amber comfortingly on the shoulder.

The gesture brought Amber to herself. With a sniff and a gulp, she wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand, then hunted through her pockets for a handkerchief. She blew her nose with a final, decided kind of sniff.

She was not the type to melt into a puddle, even if her day so far had been very trying. Thank goodness she hadn’t done this in front of her team mates. At least Naia she would never see again after this day.

The Kaidan girl’s eyes were full of sympathy, but for once she held her tongue.

“I’m all right now,” Amber reassured her. “It was just a momentary… weakness.”

Naia raised her eyebrows. “You nearly plummeted to your death. You can be forgiven for wanting a good howl after that. I would.”

Amber gave a watery chuckle.

“And,” Naia went on, eyes narrowed, squinting into the distance, “for what it’s worth, I’m sorry about what Doua did.”

“Ah… well, accidents happen sometimes,” Amber assured her.

Naia sniffed. “That was no accident. Not where Miss Perfect Control Doua is concerned. She may be a nasty piece of work sometimes, but her skill is the real deal. Unfortunately.” The Kaidan girl made a face.

Amber was silent, remembering that swell of murderousness around Doua. She hadn’t mistaken that, after all. “It’s only a game, after all,” she said out loud. “Why’s she so serious about it?”

“Because of Shai Daan, I expect.” Naia got to her feet. “Doua’s the daughter of one of his family retainers. The Shai clan must breed them for fanatical loyalty, if the stories from the Clan Wars era are to be believed. She takes Shai honor terribly seriously—more seriously than the family themselves, it seems. If Shai Daan expects her to win, she’ll do whatever it takes, even if it means taking out an opponent–permanently.” Naia dusted off her skirts with unnecessary vigor, head down, voice even, but the set of her mouth was angry.

Amber shivered. “She didn’t need to go that far. It’s not like I was any competition for her. She could’ve disabled me with a snap of her fingers.”

Naia straightened and considered her for a moment. “Probably,” she said. “Your magic is unusual, but it isn’t very strong.”

Amber had said as much herself, but it still stung coming from someone else. She twitched her shoulder in a half-shrug, but Naia widened her eyes and suddenly, sharply slapped her hands against her cheeks.

“Sorry!” The Kaidan girl exclaimed. “I said too much again! Ugh, things just slip out sometimes. I didn’t intend to put you down.” She looked ready to throw herself on the ground in apology.

“It’s fine,” Amber said hurriedly. “I know I’m not much good at combat. I have other skills.” She cringed as the last words slipped out of her mouth. No matter how nice Naia was, she was still an opponent. The last thing Amber needed was Naia thinking about why Heartwood had sent a weak battle mage into the tournament.

Maybe I should slap my cheeks!

Naia raised her eyebrows. “More secrets, huh? Don’t worry—I’m not interested in political machinations. I’m only here to make Troi see sense, but that was always going to be a long shot.” She sighed, and for a moment, she looked tired and dispirited. Then, shaking it off, she said briskly, “I’m Naia, by the way. I don’t expect Troi mentioned me.”

“Uh, you’re right about that.” Amber felt bad for the other girl. “I’m Amber.”

“You’re from Ravin, right?” Naia put her hands on her hips and surveyed Amber. “You don’t look like you’re in love with Troi, though.”

“Wha..?” Amber spluttered, heat rising in her cheeks. “I am most assuredly not!

“Good,” said Naia. Then, seeing Amber’s expression, she hastened to add, “Oh, it’s not on my account, though. He’s just a hard person to be around these past several years. Any girl foolish enough to give him her heart will find the experience painful.”

Amber blinked. “But aren’t you engaged to him?” It felt so odd, saying it out loud. She couldn’t really see the two as a couple.

Naia shrugged. “Yes, but it’s not a mushy-love thing, it’s a family-duty thing. As you can tell, Troi’s not big into family duty right now.” She peered into the distance. “I think the battles are still going on.”

Spells tugged and pulled at the pattern. Amber couldn’t stretch her magic senses very far yet, but that warm distant glow had to be Kael. And that writhing, angry blot of suns and magic all tangled together—Troi had caught up with Aivaan.

Behind them more magic vibrated through the pattern—the spellwork of younger Heartwood and Torou mages still fighting it out.

But none of those accounted for that odd skew Amber had noted, that permanent stretch and slope of the pattern.

There was something else deeper in this valley, something whose magical weight Amber couldn’t even fathom.

Naia was still turned towards the battles ahead of them, the ones they could not see. Amber didn’t know what she could sense, but the girl’s body was tense and alert. Despite what she had said earlier, she cared at least a little about the outcome.

And I have a job to do. In a way, her job had only just begun.

Naia turned to Amber, eyes sparking with mischief. “We’re both out of the tournament, but no one said we had to go back. Want to come with me and see how the others are doing?”

“Sure!” said Amber, relieved. She’d figure out a way to shake Naia off later—maybe take her to Troi and Aivaan’s battle and leave her there to sort out the brothers’ issues.

“Great! And” —Naia grinned, raising her hands. A watery bridge rose from the valley floor, arching from their rock to another—”I want to practice some more!”

“He didn’t used to be like this, you know,” said Naia as she and Amber traversed yet another stomach-twisting gap between formations. Amber swiftly wound pattern threads around the bundle of silver-grey water, holding it more firmly together, anchoring its ends into rock. The other girl’s bridge spell had improved exponentially, but Amber couldn’t entirely trust the new spell.

Not with the other girl chattering so much as she worked, her hands moving in empty and careless gestures. How in the world did Naia do magic this way?

And for someone who claimed that her engagement was only a “family duty thing,” Naia sure talked a lot about Troi.

“He used to be such a sweet, serious boy,” Naia went on over her shoulder as she led the way. “The perfect little gentleman, really. I thought I was sooo lucky back then.” She shook her head at her younger self’s delusions.

“What happened to him?” Surely with Naia freely giving up all this information, this didn’t really count as prying into Troi’s past, did it?

Naia shook her head. “His grandfather died.” She hesitated. “Well, it’s all the stuff that happened before his grandfather died.” She paused, then turned around to face Amber, her expression serious. Amber stopped, too.

The bridge undulated under their feet, bobbing gently. Aside from the occasional slosh of water and sigh of air, it was so very quiet. Amber’s ears strained the silence for even the smallest sounds.

“His grandfather went mad,” said Naia, voice low. “He called up a terrible storm and destroyed an entire island. People, houses, trees—all swept away. From what I heard the whole place—an island that had once held a thousand people—was scoured clean, left completely empty. Not even a scrap of clothing nor a stick of wood remained.”

Amber’s head whirled trying to imagine the magnitude of that disaster—and the magic required to produce it. “Why?” she whispered. “Why did he do it?”

Naia’s mouth went wry. She twitched her shoulder. “I told you he went mad, didn’t I? It happens, sometimes, with those of us who have strong suns. It’s not only Serepentine High Mages who suffer from insanity.”

“But…” began Amber, still wrestling with the idea of great magic breeding great madness. “The Serepentine mages fed their magic with twisted appetites. It’s not the same thing. Is it?”

Naia looked at her with sober kindness, as if trying to letting a young child down as gently as possible. “Most Ravinian magic is runic, yes? Perhaps that’s why. But it’s not unheard of for sun mages to suddenly snap. That’s why there are… procedures.”

Amber narrowed her eyes at the way Naia spoke the last word. “And what are those?”

“Mages who go mad have their suns removed and their magic scraped away.” Naia looked away. “It’s not painless.”

Amber winced.

“Troi’s grandfather never recovered from the procedure,” Naia went on, tonelessly. “He lived, but he was just a husk of a man. He could barely recall his own family. His health was fragile; his mental capabilities reduced. A year later, he became sick and died.”

“And Troi?”

Naia shook her head. “He couldn’t accept it. Couldn’t accept that his beloved grandfather had done that terribly thing, couldn’t accept that the procedure was necessary. He blamed his parents, his uncles, all the Irekai elders for doing that to his grandfather. All this time, he’s seeking to make sense of it. Idiot.” Naia’s tone was weary, not heated. “The simple truth has been under his nose all the time.”

She turned and continued across her bridge. The waters within had darkened to match her mood, rushing in circular currents throughout. Amber’s feet squelched, leaving dimples on the water’s surface as she hurried after Naia.

Naia spoke again as they reached the other side of the bridge, Amber thankful for solid ground under her again. “Troi’s let this poison his mind too long. He despises everyone involved in the removal of his grandfather’s magic.” She shook her hands with vigor, as if scattering water. Her bridge shivered into droplets, rained into the valley below. “And most of all he hates the one who performed the procedure—Shai Daan himself.”

“So that’s why—” Amber exclaimed, then bit her lip.

“Exactly so.” Naia nodded. “Troi couldn’t stand to be a Torou under Shai Daan. He kept running to Heartwood.”

But Amber was thinking back to the beach, back to Troi’s words to the Kaidan girl. You have no idea what you’re talking about, and you don’t know what’s happened between me and Irekai.

What if the truth wasn’t as simple as Naia made it out to be? What if Troi did have other, better reasons to feel the way he did?

Suddenly, the pattern shuddered, flashed, snapped. Disoriented, Amber stumbled. A great shiver ran through the rock, as if it were suddenly coming alive. A noise rumbled in the girls’ ears.

Naia spun and faced the way they had come. “What in…?” she began.

A rock formation further down the valley cracked apart. Rocks cascaded down its sides. Out of the heaving mass of debris, a great snake-like head thrust itself upward. The sun gleamed on its bronze scales. Black and beady eyes stared blankly out into the world. The creature’s mouth opened in a soundless roar, revealing fangs.

Amber caught a whiff of something in the pattern. That scent again, bitter and green and familiar.

And this time she recognized it as it bloomed throughout the pattern, as if a spell had awakened.

That’s right! It’s dragonsbane.

Read Episode 15. 

Author’s Note: Sorry for the long hiatus! Fall’s the busiest time of the year for me with being back-to-school and I *always* end up thinking I can got a lot more done than I do. And, honestly, wrapping up this arc isn’t as easy as I thought it would be. I have all–okay, most–of the pieces and I know the end I’m driving towards, but it hasn’t been coming together as well. I expect that I’ll end up reworking parts of this for the e-book release. If there are any rough places you struggled to get through or understand, PLEASE let me know! Part of the rationale in releasing this story in episodes is getting the feedback!

Heartwood updates will likely be sporadic, since I also need to work on my main writing project (Book 3 of THE REFLECTED CITY).