The Heartwood Chronicles

Lisette thought she dreamed, but she couldn’t be sure. She thought someone picked her up, but it must’ve been a memory, because she was ten years old again, had lost herself in the night forest, and fallen down into darkness.

Voices ebbed and flowed over her head.

“…found a stray?”

“…you didn’t see—she lit up! She’s one of us!”

“Master Zoya said…”

The whispered discussion went on, but it didn’t touch Lisette. She floated in a daze, her body light, her mind drifting. She turned her head into someone’s chest, and half-heard, half-felt the rumble of a voice.

“She needs warmth and rest. I’m putting her to bed.”

The voice was quiet, not especially commanding, but the others fell instantly silent. Lisette was aware of their retreat, of distant bustling. She struggled to get past the uncaring haze that wrapped her around. She must’ve shifted a little, because the last voice said, “Go to sleep.” And Lisette did, her fingers curling into the fabric of someone’s shirt…

 ***

Lisette awoke.

Birds called in the pale dawn that covered the forest. Long hushes lay between their trills, as if the earth still slept, trees and bushes and plants still drowsing in the cobwebby shadows.

Lisette twitched and winced at the dull, heavy throb in her chest. Something soft slipped down her shoulders. Lisette grabbed a handful of fabric and held the garment up in front of her face.

A hooded grey sweatshirt.

Her guts knotted. Lisette sat up straight, ignoring the icy jab above her heart. She hadn’t crawled into this hollow on her own; she had been placed there, with dried bracken to soften her sleeping area and covered for warmth. Her wings, sadly bent, lay beside her.

The care with which it had been done left a sour taste in her mouth, set her teeth on edge.

Lisette struggled to her feet, the sweatshirt dangling from her clenched hand, and snatched up her wings. One look around to catch her bearings, then she headed due west.

Every sense was on alert for even a whiff of the sweatshirt’s owner.

***

Lisette was beyond surprises. All she felt was a kind of grim tiredness when she emerged into the clearing with the manmade building she’d seen from the air last night and found a figure standing in front of it, staring up at its metal roof, now buckled into shiny frozen waves.

“Ashe,” she said.

He turned in that leisurely manner he had. He looked the same as always, dirty blonde hair falling across his forehead, shoulders slouching, watching the world through reddish eyes. His pants were baggy, his long-sleeved shirt plain, his dark gloves fingerless. The only thing missing was the ubiquitous sweatshirt, and that she held in her hand.

His face held that same detached expression. It rubbed against the raw places of Lisette’s soul; she just managed to snap her teeth shut and swallow back the hot words that rose to her lips. Instead, she strode towards the building.

“It’s empty,” Ashe said as she approached the door.

“I want to see for myself,” Lisette snapped. She balled up the sweatshirt and threw it in his direction without looking. She set her shoulder against the door and shoved; it gave way into an interior of thin sunshine and green shadows.

She walked into a building that had obviously been touched by Chaos. Springy moss grew underfoot. The building was all one enormous room, punctuated by supporting pillars. Frozen white flowers had burst out of one pillar; another had been riddled by destructive magic until only a thin lacework remained. It would collapse before long.

There was nothing else to see. The building was, as Ashe had said, empty. Here and there were the remnants of furniture and apparatus—a broken chair on its back that sprouted several extra legs, a cloud of glittering glass shards in one corner, defying gravity without fuss. Lisette moved around the perimeter, careful where she placed her feet, avoiding the glass. The room had probably been partitioned with screens at one point; the low-ceilinged area at the back likely private cells for the occupants.

What the occupants had done here, Lisette only knew from what Acidia had let drop.

She turned back to the doorway and stopped short. Her nostrils flared.

There, on the whitewashed wall right next to the open door, was a giant insignia in bold strokes. A stylized dragon’s head in black. A red sphere in its mouth.

The Red Dawn.

Lisette studied it, narrowed-eyed.

Then she left the building.

Ashe still stood outside, now wearing his hoodie, his hands buried in his pockets. It reminded Lisette of the first time she’d seen him, but at least he didn’t have his back to her.

“Where is everybody?” she asked. “Did they have children with them? Where did they take them?”

Ashe lifted his shoulders in a shrug. “I’m only the clean-up crew.”

Lisette’s patience snapped. Kael was laid-back and Troi aloof, but at least she knew they cared about something. Ashe had always been so emotionless, as if he was just a shell over emptiness. As if he had no soul.

It infuriated her.

She lunged forward and grabbed him by the front of that thrice-blasted sweatshirt. “Where have you been for the past year?” she hissed. “And why are you here? Are you working with them now?”

He did not resist, regarding her without interest. “Why does it matter to you? I’m not with Heartwood anymore.”

Red ringed his pupils and bled into the brown irises. Ainsley’s vivid purple eyes were striking; Ashe’s disturbing. He was so quiet, so unassuming, you sometimes forgot the alien strangeness of him.

Or what his magic could do. Magic she had put herself in reach of.

Even at full health, she wouldn’t have been able to beat him. But Lisette couldn’t back down now.

She made a disgusted sound and let go of his shirt. Her gaze slid sideways as her eyes smarted. “What happened with Shade?” she asked.

“You saw the report.”

“I want to hear it from you,” she snarled.

“We went on a mission. I was careless. She died.” No change in his voice. Still soft, still even, still inexorable.

Lisette’s breath hitched. Darn. Why was she bringing this up now, heaping her sorrow over Shade on top of her anxiety for Micah and Amber and Naia?

“Did they expel you, or did you leave on your own?” she demanded.

“I couldn’t stay afterwards. Does it matter?”

“Yes!” she yelled. “Yes, it matters! She was my friend, and you…” she faltered. Ashe didn’t have friends—he didn’t invite that kind of connection. But he had been a staple of Heartwood, one of the original students, the first name on the list Tamsin had brought up a few nights ago.

Ashe regarded her with mild curiosity.

“You didn’t have to leave without a word,” Lisette said finally. Her anger, quickly stirred up, was just as easily quenched. She was too tired to sustain it anymore.

Her chest still ached.

Several silent moments went by. Ashe said, “I didn’t have anything to say.”

Lisette gave a bitter ghost of a laugh. “You never did. But maybe the rest of us wanted—needed—some kind of explanation, some kind of closure.”

He cocked his head. “Did you?”

She met his gaze. “Perhaps I did.” Her lips twisted. “I didn’t blame you back then.”

“But you do now?”

“How can I tell?” Lisette threw out her arm, encompassing the scene. “Not when I find you here. Not when it looks like you really did”—her brows drew together in a frown—“turn out bad.”

“Maybe I did,” he said. “That happens, you know, even at a place like Heartwood. Not everyone who goes there is good and admirable.”

Like Tamsin. Lisette averted her face. In the soft light of day, it seemed silly to feel so betrayed. It wasn’t as if Tamsin had handed her over to her mortal enemies. Perhaps she had really meant it for the best. And yet…

“Looks like you already found that out,” said Ashe softly. He stretched out his hand towards her. Lisette tensed, but she already knew that it was futile. She had put herself in his range, her suns were depleted, her magic twisted into something dark, and she was just plain tired.

 Ashe’s hand stopped an inch from her chest, right at the place where the dull ache lay. “You’re hurt,” he said.

“Yes,” she admitted.

“I could take it away.”

Tears sprang to her eyes. Lisette shook her head. “No.” Her voice rasped. “The price is too high.”

His hand dropped. He shifted, settling his weight back to his heels. He turned, walked to the building, and placed his hands against its side.

The silence grew heavy, swollen with impending magic. It pressed against Lisette’s skin. The world seemed to hold its breath. She tipped her head up.

With a soft, soundless implosion, the entire building collapsed into motes. Lisette caught sight of an interior pillar, a fallen chair, before they, too, shivered into dust. A glittering cloud hung in place for a moment, then dissipated.

Ashe bowed his head. Lisette exhaled, realizing the tension in her back and shoulders. This was Ashe’s magic and his curse: the power to destroy something so thoroughly that all that remained was swiftly-vanishing dust.

And it wasn’t only limited to metal and stone and wood. She recalled the whispered warnings, the things she had witnessed.

Magic wasn’t meant to sit in your suns indefinitely. It wanted to be used, to be let out, to do something in the world.

In Ashe’s case, the results could be—had been—disastrous. Despite his care, despite his control, despite his quietness, no one could ever forget what he was capable of. What his magic could do if it slipped its leash.

Maybe that’s why he’d left.

With a twitch of his shoulders, Ashe turned away without a word and headed into the forest.

“Ashe!” Lisette called to his back.

He stopped. He didn’t look back at her.

“Don’t let them take you,” she said fiercely. “Don’t give in to the Red Dawn. It doesn’t matter what your magic is. What happened to Shade was an accident. You don’t have to walk a dark path.”

Ashe lifted a hand in acknowledgment. And then he walked on, disappearing under the trees, leaving Lisette behind in an empty clearing.

***

Naia and Amber were lurking at the top of the path that led into Cloud Village. Lisette felt a shadow lift from her heart when she saw them both. Naia charged down to meet her and hugged her hard. Lisette allowed the embrace.

“I’m glad you escaped the river,” said Lisette, as Amber joined them. The pattern mage looked pale and had some truly awful looking bruises on her face, but she seemed otherwise unhurt.

“So are we,” said Amber wryly, no sting in her words.

Naia, on the other hand, had a hectic flush on her cheeks. Her eyes were bright and her manner even bubblier than normal. She chattered on about the duo’s adventures, including something about a woman who knit the rain and two characters she referred to as Hooya and Wolf. Lisette guessed who they were as Naia described her fight with many dramatic gestures.

“I’m sorry you had to deal with two of them alone,” said Lisette.

“I don’t think I’d have been much use,” Amber put in.

Naia shrugged. “It wasn’t so bad. Chaos was killing them on the inside. But ooh, speaking of killing, there was a creepy guy on the road. Amber and I saw him touch a corpse—it had to be either Stetson or Rey from what they said—and it just vanished.”

Lisette nodded grimly. “I know. I met him. It was Ashe.”

Naia and Amber exchanged glances. “You know him?”

“Yes,” said Lisette. “He was one of the original Heartwood students.” She started back up the path and the two followed.

***

Cloud Village was a hive of purposeful activity, even in the early morning. Women and children scavenged whatever had survived from the ruins of their homes. The few men who remained walked the perimeter or hauled heavy loads. The rest of them would be out in the forest, hunting any Chaos-formed creatures before they became a nuisance.

Her people, Lisette thought, picking up whatever remained of their lives and continuing on. Enduring, as they always had. Something stirred inside her, maybe sadness, maybe pride.

Jonquil saw her and came over. “I’m glad you are safe,” she said simply.

Lisette nodded.

“The Snoutbeck?”

“Dead.”

Jonquil rested a hand briefly on Lisette’s shoulder. “You’re hungry. Sit down and I’ll get you something to eat.”

Lisette was too tired to disobey. She folded herself down on a tree stump and watched Tamsin use her ropes to lift a fallen tree from one of the cabins. The older mage gave her a relieved smile, but didn’t come over.

“She found us, you know,” said Amber quietly. Lisette looked up at the pattern mage hovering nearby, her tattered cloak on her arm. “This morning. Tamsin was out with a search party and felt the magic that brought Naia back together. She came and found us.” She hesitated. “Tamsin told us what she’d done, scheming to bring you back here. I think she’s sorry.”

Lisette stared off at where the trees overhung a slope dotted with grave markers. The Cloud Village cemetery, where her father was buried. She would pay her respects there later, allow herself to feel sad. Anything to take away the hollowness in her soul. “I’m not angry with her anymore, if that’s what she’s afraid of.”

“I don’t think that’s it,” said Amber. “It’s more like things won’t be the same between the two of you.”

“Not everyone who goes to Heartwood is good and admirable,” Lisette quoted and gave a scoffing laugh. A child brought her a bowl of hot porridge, and she dug greedily into it.

After several minutes, Amber said, softly. “Your suns are different.”

“You mean one is tainted,” Lisette corrected. “What does it look like?”

“Oily black. Twisted. What happened?”

“I was bitten by the bat-creatures that attacked us in the caves.”

“Does it hurt?”

“Yes.” Lisette dropped her spoon in the empty bowl and stared at its wooden interior. “Amber, I can’t fly anymore.” Her wings hung down her back, empty and useless. The heavy blockage in her chest prevented her from powering them with the golden magic that had always run in her veins.

“Don’t be defeatist,” scolded Amber. “Once you get back to Heartwood, the Masters will fix you up.”

“Maybe.” Lisette put the bowl down by her feet, and her gaze went to Jonquil, coming up with two pieces of layered cake. She gave one to each of the girls.

“I’m sorry for whoever’s celebration was ruined last night,” Lisette said. The seven-layered cake with prune jam filling was a staple of Cloud Village feasts—for weddings and wakes, holidays and namings alike.

“We made it for your homecoming,” said Jonquil quietly.

Lisette had nothing to say to this. She took a bite, and memories, sweet and bitter all mixed up together, swelled achingly inside her. She forced them back down. Someday, she supposed, she would need to confront them, sort them out.

But not today. Not while cobwebby greyness enveloped her, not with that obsidian fist clenched insider her chest.

Not with the urgency of the present throbbing in her bones.

Lisette put aside the plate and looked her mother in the eye. “Tell me what happened to Micah. Who was the mage who took him away to Heartwood?”

Jonquil searched Lisette’s face. Lisette didn’t know what her mother saw in her expression, only that Jonquil gave a slow nod, as if she, too, was accepting the reality of the way things were. “It was a girl who took Micah and Raoul away,” she said. “A girl with golden hair and purple eyes and a cloud of paper birds.”

Amber stifled a gasp. Lisette’s face grew stiff.

Ainsley.

Author’s Note: This was quite the packed episode to write, with so much of the past bubbling up. I’m excited to see where all these threads will go! Which questions are you most interested in seeing answered?

In silence, Naia watched Chaos roll off the distant mountainside. It didn’t pour and spread like a fog, but remained bunched. It swooped noiselessly over the forest and disappeared behind tree tops. Naia was glad it didn’t come near Argenta’s cabin. Even from afar it made her shiver.

Still Naia kept vigil, her eyes straining as gloom fell across the sky in folds. The quiet stretched. Glimmers awakened inside the walls and floors of the cabin and porch. They cast a soft silver light over the two of them. Argenta’s hands and knitting rested in her lap; she leaned forward a little, her eyes fixed unseeingly on the forest.

A distant shriek shattered the silence. Naia started. A nervous jolt ran through her body. Her heart pounded. In the distance, a dark shape, sinuous and winged, erupted from the canopy. It screamed again and darted towards the mountains.

“What was that?” Naia gasped.

Argenta took up her knitting again. “Some fool who thinks to master Chaos. She will pay for it, of course.” Her mouth set into a stern line.

Naia looked at her uncertainly. “Was that…a dragon?” She felt ludicrous saying the word out loud. Dragons belonged in fairy tales.

“No, child,” said Argenta gently. “Dragons are long gone, and you should be thankful for it. That was a creature shaped by Chaos. For a little while, she will be quick and powerful, but she will not survive long.”

Naia recalled the deformed corpse she and Amber had seen on the road, the talk of labs and serums. “Are people trying to manipulate Chaos?” Her eyes rounded. Chaos had kept humans from colonizing the mainland for centuries. Eventually, it had retreated enough for people to settle the eastern coast, but the vast, mysterious interior was entirely covered with the stuff. No one could survive the potent magic that existed there. That had been the realm of dragons.

“Of course,” said Argenta dryly. “That’s what people always do—for good or ill.” She cast off her stitches, then cocked her head. “Here come the others.”

An eerie howl rose from the forest. There was grief in it, and anger, and a kind of blind madness. A deeper cry followed it, this one shorter, not wavering on and on.

Naia blinked. She couldn’t be sure, but the second cry sounded like “Hooya.”

“Villages lie unprotected in the path of the Chaos-shaped,” said Argenta. “You must stop their rampage.”

Naia blinked again. “Me?” she squeaked. Argenta’s blue gaze slid to her face, and Naia added, “Uh, me, ma’am?”

“Yes.”

Naia was speechless. How to tell the other woman—creature—whatever she was—that she had grossly overestimated Naia’s abilities?

Argenta’s mouth crooked with humor. “You will not go unaided, child.” She shook out her knitting. Something rectangular and almost-transparent billowed out, the fibers flowing in endless patterns, knots and whirls and loops that made Naia almost dizzy to look at them. Without thinking, she reached out and touched the fabric. It was cool and slightly wet against her palm. The kinetic energy of millions of raindrops ran across her skin.

Without thinking, Naia grasped the whole thing and slung it across her shoulders like a shawl. The prickle of rain at the edge of her hearing grew to a swift, furious pelting. The tamed power of a thunderstorm thrummed through the fabric. Yet, the shawl itself felt soft and light, halfway between mist and drizzle. It kissed the skin at the back of her neck, brushed across her hands and wrists.

Argenta gave a nod of approval. She sat up straight in her chair, a tiny white-haired woman with a soft white complexion. But her eyes had shaded from vibrant blue to slate-grey, like the surface of a lake churning before a thunderstorm. Almost, Naia could see the white foam flecking her irises.

Argenta raised her hand, the gesture imperious. “Now, go.”

***

Naia moved swiftly through the forest. Moonlight silvered trees and leaves. The sky above held light blue tints. It was amazing how well she could see.

Or perhaps it was the shawl’s doing. Naia herself wasn’t any more surefooted than normal, it was more like she could glide over root and stone and hollow without harm or stumbling. If the trees were thick in front of her, well, she could always find a gap to pour into.

It had to be Argenta’s magic overlaying her body, giving Naia the grace and assurance she had always lacked. This power was only borrowed, but Naia intended to savor every drop of it.

Crashing sounds came from up ahead. Branches snapped. The ground shuddered.

They weren’t being careful, but they had no need of it. Naia’s nose itched with an alien scent, pepper and metal and electricity.

Was this the smell of Chaos?

She glided into a clearing and came face to face with the first of the Chaos-shaped.

Her heart slammed into her ribs. Thoughts of flowing, power, strength ran away, draining out of her muscles.

The creature before her was man-shaped, at least, but there the resemblance ended. For one thing, he was big, fully eight to nine feet in height, and covered with dark fur. The bulk underneath the fur looked alarmingly muscled, his limbs like tree trunks.

A musty, wet-dog smell emanated from him.

He glowered at Naia from small reddish eyes. His mouth opened, revealing large, blunt teeth. Naia bet they were yellowed and disgusting.

He said, “Hooya!”

Naia reared back. “Seriously?” she said. “That really was the sound I heard?” She glared at the creature and put her hands on her hips. “It’s not very intimidating, you know. Surely you can do better.”

The creature made a sheepish movement, hunching his shoulders and tucking in his chin. “Hooya?” he queried, in quieter, more abashed tones.

“I suppose you’re pleased with yourself,” said Naia severely, “playing around with Chaos like that. Just look at the mess you’re in now. You have leaves in your hair, and that fur is going to be a nightmare is keep clean and untangled. It’ll be matted before night’s end, mark my words.”

The creature made a very small sound. “Hooya.”

Naia’s optimism began to reassert itself. Poor Hooya had made a poor choice, and he seemed to be sorry about it. Maybe she wouldn’t have to fight him. Maybe she could just bring him to Argenta and let her turn him back to human.

“Now, let’s not have any of this village-destroying nonsense,” she went on briskly. “You should come along with me. I know someone who can fix you up.” She hoped. “Of course, you’ll have to promise to be good from now on out. What do you say?”

She stretched out her hand.

Hooya’s head swung from side to side. “Hooya,” he said sadly.

Naia didn’t like his tone. It sounded entirely too much like, “I don’t like what I’m doing right now, but I have my orders and I’m in too deep to stop.”

She retracted her arm and gripped the shawl. Its protection spell came easily into her hand and control. She nudged it, and the shawl lengthened and molded itself to her body. The rushing power of water protected her, misty against her skin, fierce and roaring on the other side. When she waved her spell-gloved hand in front of her chest, she felt its kinetic rush, a brutal thing that would hurt any punch or kick that landed upon it.

With Argenta’s power she could take on the brute. “Bring it on,” she said, dropping into a fighting stance.

Hooya bunched his hands into meaty fists. Naia tensed, waiting for the attack.

It didn’t come.

Instead, Hooya planted his feet wide, flexed his arms, and grunted.

Lightning crackled around him. His fur stood up. His eyes glowed.

Oh no. Alarm flared through Naia. It’s the lightning guy. Her stomach churned. Memories flashed through her: Lisette standing tall, an arm stretched up; the dazzle and crackle of slamming electricity; Lisette falling to her knees; the scorched scent after.

She had only an eye-blink of time to ready herself. Hooya held up a fistful of lightning.

His fingers opened.

Water, Argenta whispered in her ear, will fall or flow, no matter what. You can guide it, direct it.

Create a channel.

Lightning hit water, and water swept all the charge, all the angry destructive energy of it, across Naia’s shoulders. The current flowed down her right arm and gathered at her hand.

She flung it out and the lightning bolt, magnified by Argenta’s power, arrowed straight into Hooya’s chest.

She caught the look of surprise on his face as it hit. The impact sent him flying backwards. He landed with a thud, a bounce, then lay still.

Naia didn’t need to go over to check on him. The scent of burning flesh and the impact crater in his chest told her everything. Even if it hadn’t, the black bubble of Chaos eating away at Hooya would’ve clued her in.

Her lips peeled back from her teeth. Bile scoured up her throat. It left a sick taste in her mouth. But she had no time to recover, because another dark shape bounded out of the forest. Snarling, it launched itself at her. Naia threw up her forearm to protect her face, and salivating jaws closed around her wrist. She caught a far too up-close view of mad yellow eyes, bloodstained muzzle, and canine teeth.

The wolf-thing yelped and darted backwards. The great grey head swung back and forth, lips wrinkled, long black tongue wiping its teeth.

“Didn’t fancy having your teeth knocked out by the force of a hundred waterfalls, did you?” said Naia, facing the Chaos-formed creature squarely.

A low whine emitted from his throat. The wolf-thing stood on two legs, short skinny arms hanging down at his side. Patches of leather and fur covered his hide, a bushy tail swiped behind him. Incongruously, silver ringed his throat like a collar.

“A walking wolf?” said Naia. “Now that is really disturbing.”

A growl rumbled in the creature’s chest. His ears went forward. Snapping sounds came from around him. Spikes rocketed through the air and hit Naia. Most of them deflected off the rain armor, but one clipped her cheek, drawing a stinging cut.

The mutter of the rain-spell had died to a soft hiss. It wouldn’t protect her much longer.

She half-turned and sent a wave of water behind her, knocking the silver bullets out of the air as they pelted towards her back. The water arced in a circle around her, clearing space, before wrapping whisperingly around her body.

Wolf raised his muzzle in a howl. His hide rippled, his fur bristled.

“Now what?” asked Naia, exasperated.

Silver burst in spikes from inside him, making him look like a porcupine. Myriad needles, sharp and silver, stained with blood and Chaos, stuck out all over him. He made a grunting sort of whine, half agony, half defiance.

The message was clear. He was going to take her down, no matter what the cost.

Looking at his eyes, Naia thought he was beyond all rational calculation.

He charged.

Her body tensed, ready to brace.

No. That was the wrong move. Water parted. It flowed.

You couldn’t hit rain, could you? Naia relaxed her muscles, loosened her grip, opened her suns.

Argenta’s spell soaked into her. Like thirsty soil, her suns gulped it up.

A sudden lightness came over Naia. She felt buoyant, like she could shoot up in the sky, in a way that air magic had never been for her. With this, I can…

Wolf hit.

… be rain.

Naia scattered.

***

In the delicate dawn of the next morning, all pale gold and blush tints, the woman calling herself Argenta turned around in her chair.

The girl Amber stood in the doorway of the cabin, one hand on the jamb, leaning heavily for support. Her color looked better, though the bruises still stood out against her fair skin. Her eyes were clear and focused and narrowed in suspicion.

A skeptical one, thought Argenta, without surprise or disapproval. Well, soon she will see for herself.

“I know you,” said Amber abruptly. Her voice was still hoarse. “At least, I think I do.” Her gaze turned inwards, as her mind searched for something that was buried deep inside her, hidden from her grasp.

She wasn’t ready yet.

“You do,” said Argenta tranquilly. “But now is not the time for you to know it.”

Amber’s grip on the jamb tightened. “Where’s Naia?”

Argenta transferred her gaze back to the forest. “I’m bringing her back right now.”

A mist, no, a low cloud, drifted out from among the trees and hovered above the ground. Argenta raised her hand and made a twisting motion. “It’s time to return, child.”

The mist coalesced, shivered, withdrew.

And in its place, crouching on a damp patch of grass, was Naia. Her clothes were damp, her face pale, her eyes the color of rain.

Amber ran to her, bare feet thumping across the porch and down the steps. She bent over the Kaidan girl. Naia grabbed her sleeve, tugged her closer. “Amber,” she whispered, “I danced.” And then she began to laugh, long and loud and joyful.

Amber glared at Argenta. “What did you do to her?”

“Showed her the possibilities.” Argenta stood up, a small silver-haired woman with a graceful, erect carriage. “I think, my dear,” she said to Naia, “you will find things easier from now out. It will be a while, though—if ever—before you will be rain again.”

Naia sobered, dark color returning to her irises. Understanding flashed between the two of them. Amber looked on, biting her lip.

Argenta tilted her head in Amber’s direction. “Give my greetings to Viridius, when you see him. Farewell, children.”

The name tickled something in Amber’s memory. She began, “Who is–?” But Naia tugged at her cloak and demanded, “Help me up, Amber, so I can say goodbye properly. My legs are all wobbly.” In her exhilarated state, she was more likely to pull Amber down, and it took a few moments and a sharp comment or two before both girls were on their feet.

They turned to the cabin. Amber drew in a sharp breath.

Argenta no longer stood on the porch. And the porch itself and the cabin behind it were quietly dissolving to mist.

Author’s Note: Ooh, mysteries. What is Amber not ready to know? Who is Viridius? I’ve been wanting to tease these for a while. Along with the Red Dawn from last time, they’re part of the overarching plot of the Heartwood Chronicles. Also, writing magical fights is a stretching experience for me. Luckily I have lots of anime-watching to draw on, ha ha. 

If you’re enjoying this arc so far and want to support this serialization, you can donate here:

Chaos looked like a cloud, but it moved like a tiger. Scarcely had the shout gone up than it bunched like a sleek predator and sprang across the treetops. Hovering above the village, Lisette thought it had taken on the shape of an enormous cloud cat, green fire in its eyes, grey shadows rippling across its grey hide.

Though it was far deadlier than any cloud cat.

Lisette drained the magic from her wings and dropped to the ground, a safe distance away from the enemy combatants, the meeting hall behind her. From this vantage point, the Chaos boiling towards them through the treetops looked even more menacing.

She cupped her hands around her mouth. “Come on!” she shouted to the mages. “We’ll give you shelter!”

That was the rule: You always gave anyone shelter from Chaos.

For your own sake, as well as theirs.

Acidia was half-turned towards the Chaos, staring up at it. A throaty laugh bubbled out of her. “Now it comes. Better late than never, I suppose!” She flung her arms out as if to embrace it.

Ominous crackles came from the forest. Lisette felt things shift, change, as Chaos engulfed trees, plants, animals.

“Don’t be an idiot!” Lisette yelled. “You need to get to safety! You have no idea what it could do to you.”

“Don’t I?” Acidia called back. “I’ve spent years studying Chaos. Now that it’s here, I’m finally ready for it.”

Yellow Mask folded his arms and stood still, stoic waiting in every line of him. Wolf Mask bounced on his toes. The eyeholes of his mask flickered as his gaze darted from the Acidia to the leading edge of Chaos coming over the last line of trees.

“Uh, I don’t know, Acidia,” he began, backing away towards Lisette. “Maybe we’d better…”

Sticky tentacles shot out from the woman, wrapped around his waist, legs, arms. Her mouth curved up in a hard smile. “You’ll stay.”

In one savage movement, Chaos pounced upon the three mages. Lisette didn’t wait any longer. She sprinted for the open door of the meeting hall, her wings chiming behind her. Jonquil waited in the doorway, her face white and strained. She reached out her hand and caught Lisette’s as she ran up the steps.

At the top, Lisette whirled around. The cloud of Chaos engulfed the mages. She could barely make out their forms in the clinging greyness, dark forms writhing in the wild magic.

Shrieks of agony rang out, torn from twisted throats. Enfolded by Chaos, the mages shuddered, clawed at their faces, beat at their limbs.

Jonquil tugged Lisette’s wrist. “Don’t look,” she whispered, as if Lisette was still a small child. “Come away.”

But Lisette couldn’t tear her horrified gaze away from those silhouettes. The Chaos shrank around the mages, becoming denser, more compact. It wrapped around them in wet, shining plates of obsidian It pried open their mouths and poured itself into their bodies.

And then it changed them.

The mages’ forms swelled and rippled, engorged with Chaos. Wings burst out of one of them—Lisette thought it was Acidia. She threw her head back with a ringing cry, her neck elongating rapidly, her face lengthening to end in a sharp beak. Her body grew to the size of a horse or a cow, and kept growing. A scaled tail lashed behind her and her feathered wings swept wide.

“O, Protector,” whispered Lisette, just as Jonquil said, low and hard, “Snoutbeck.

One of the other mages raised his head in a howl. His height had not changed but his body was far more muscled, his shoulders rounded, his chest huge. Fur covered his entire body and his hands had clenched into paws. He dropped to all fours and bounded away, into the forest, a tail streaming behind them. The second man, now grown to an impossible height for a human, also covered in fur, arms and legs thick as tree trunks, lumbered after him.

Chaos clung to them all.

The Snoutbeck, her eyes glowing yellow, craned her long neck. Her eyes met Lisette’s, the beak opened, and the creature sprayed acid over the nearest house.

It disintegrated in moments.

Jonquil gasped.

A knot tightened in Lisette’s stomach.

Fear. Resolve.

The Snoutbeck swept her tail, smashing into yet another Cloud Village home.

Lisette knew the creature would not leave until it had destroyed everything—even the meeting hall and the villagers inside it.

She stepped forward.

Jonquil’s hand tightened around her arm, holding her back.

Lisette turned and met her mother’s eyes. “She won’t stop, you know. I’m your best chance right now. I was trained for this.” Her gaze shifted to the mass of people in the hall, to the impenetrable Wulf, to Olina worrying her lower lip with her teeth, to Tamsin who could not meet her eyes at all.

“I’ll keep the Snoutbeck busy,” she said, raising her voice. “I’ll lead her away if I can.” She looked back at Jonquil. “You should get them to safety.”

Jonquil gave a stiff nod. Her hand fell away from Lisette’s arm.

Without that pressure she felt…somewhat empty. Alone. Lisette banished that fleeting thought.

They both had work to do.

They turned away to their respective tasks. Lisette heard Jonquil’s voice give orders, but the distinct words were lost as she sent magic into her wings and launched herself upwards.

She flew over the Snoutbeck. Acidia’s beaked face, now all eagle, tracked her, twisting her sinuous neck.

Lisette called down, “So you think you’re all superior, now that you can fly?” she mocked. “I can still beat you in the air.”

Acidia gave an enraged cry and shoved off the ground. Her great wings flapped, she shot up into the air, faster than Lisette had anticipated. Whiffs of Chaos, crackles of wild magic, brushed against Lisette’s face.

She turned and sped away from the village, Acidia following close behind.

***

Up above the forest, Lisette dodged. The Snoutbeck’s acid spray, now more powerful and longer in range, missed her by inches. The long arc of it fell into the trees and across a clearing with a scorching sizzle. The acrid scent nearly choked Lisette. She half-whirled away and caught sight of a rectangular building, all straight lines and sharp corners, by itself. It looked out of place, nothing she’d seen in a Frejalander settlement…

No time to think about it. Lisette zoomed above Acidia—she was the more experienced flier, faster and more agile than the newly-formed Snoutbeck. Acidia craned up her neck as Lisette targeted her wings with blades of light. If she could ground the beast…

Her attack glanced off the Chaos-made wings, making no cuts, no scores. Acidia’s mouth opened in a sneer. Her enormous wings beat the air, her body rising rapidly to Lisette’s position.

Lisette’s teeth clenched. She was almost out of magic, and she couldn’t pull light from the great blank moon face that stared down at her. She blurred herself, darted up to the Snoutbeck. Acidia snapped, her aim thrown off by the blurring. Lisette had a great up-close view of the sharpness of her beak as she sliced across her neck with bladed fans. Black blood bubbled and steamed out of the cut. Acidia shrieked and thrashed. A wing caught Lisette and sent her tumbling through the sky and into a tree top.

Lisette hit canopy and fell through leaves and branches. She fed magic into her wings and slowed her fall, landing on her feet with a jarring thud. Up above, the Snoutbeck circled, trumpeting a taunting cry.

Lisette could easily curl up and hide herself, but then Acidia might get bored and return to the village.

She couldn’t let that happen.

With a twist of her suns, Lisette sent out a pulse of light. The flash momentarily gilded the trees around her. With a shrill cry, Acidia plummeted down, talons extended.

Lisette sprang back, and Acidia hit the ground. Her huge talons clawed earth, throwing up clumps of soil. Fire jetted out of her open beak.

Lisette ducked and rolled. Trees went up in flames, twists of light and heat and smoke.

Lisette greedily sucked the meager light, but it could barely replenish her supply.

It’ll be enough.

She concentrated her magic and shot a flare of light into Acidia’s eyes. An agonized shriek tore out of the creature’s throat—Lisette knew the attack felt like twin stabs to the brain.

No time to waste. Lisette sprinted for the Snoutbeck’s side, vaulted up to her back, climbed up the neck. Under Acidia’s scaled and feathered hide, Chaos twisted and sparked. Lisette’s hands hurt, but she got herself into position behind the Snoutbeck’s head. She summoned the last of her magic into her closed fans. They sang out with vicious gladness, each a stabbing line of sun-dazzle.

There. Right behind the head, where the scales gave way to feathers. A joint line, a weak place.

Lisette took aim and stabbed.

Acidia bucked. One fan drove through hide and flesh, hit bone. The other slanted sideways, away from the creature’s brain.

Chaos mushroomed from the wounds, right into Lisette’s face. She shut her eyes just in time; it prickled against her skin. She took in one quick, shallow inhalation. Faintness came over her. Her grip slipped, her head felt dizzy…

Lisette fell.

No magic came to her aid this time. No light bloomed inside her, to buoy her up.

She hit the ground with a heavy thud, a metallic crumple.

Her muscles tensed. Move!

Something big and heavy slammed into Lisette. Pressure on her chest. Heat and animal reek in her face.

Acidia peered at her out of globular yellow eyes, pupils narrowed to slits. Her foot pinned Lisette to the ground. Lisette made a feeble movement, and the claws tightened, pressing in from all sides.

A sullen glow limned the Snoutbeck. Dark, stringy stuff oozed out of the wound and down her neck. Lisette saw one of her fans, still buried behind her head.

She had no idea where the other was.

Acidia bent her head, retribution in her eyes. There were so many ways the snoutbeck could kill Lisette here, right now.

Desperately, Lisette scrabbled in her suns for magic and came up empty. She heard the crackle of the fire, smelled the smoke of it, but its light slipped away from her grasp.

Blood pounded in Lisette’s ears. Her heart beat like a drum. Her vision narrowed until all that existed was Acidia’s cruel head. The Chaos-stuff from inside the creaure’s body splattered near Lisette’s head, raising smoke.

An ice-coldness seized Lisette. Shadows pressed in on her. She was back in the caves, weaving in and out of darkness, while nameless things chittered at her.

Inside her.

Lisette thought, I don’t want to die. The puncture wounds in her neck burned.

Her desperate, grasping mental reach found something, tangled in it, pulled.

Darkness rushed into Lisette’s body. Its leading edge pierced through her skin, sank into her chest. Something cold and hard and heavy burned above her heart. Lisette breathed shards of ice. Agony was a ball of lead behind her sternum—one of her suns, overfull with something she can hardly stand.

Darkness swept across her vision. Forest and fire and sky vanished. Acidia’s body sprang out at her in fluorescent colors, in eerie purple, ice blue, vibrant green. Inside the Snoutbeck’s chest spun a ball of glowing yellow, tangled in Chaos stuff.

There.

Lisette didn’t think. She grasped the dark energy inside her throbbing sun. It slid down her veins and into her fingers in a wave of pain that left her gasping. A solid shaft of darkness formed in her hands.

Acidia’s head swung down, beak open.

Lisette flung the spear into the snoutbeck’s chest. It pierced through the glowing yellow sphere.

Acidia screamed. The foot holding Lisette down was wrenched away. The thick darkness and the fluorescence disappeared. Lisette was back in the forest, and the Snoutbeck thrashed in agony nearby, leaking magic and fluid.

Lisette half-scrambled, half-crawled away from the creature’s throes. Her chest hurt with every movement. Her aching arms trembled.

She wanted to be sick. She thought about throwing up darkness and her stomach heaved, twisting dryly. There was nothing left in it but bile. Lisette choked and spat in some nearby bushes as the Snoutbeck’s thrashing grew weaker and stopped.

After a while, Lisette stood up on shaking legs and staggered to where Acidia lay, smaller than she had been, neither human nor Snoutbeck. One of her arms was a shriveled limb to her side, the other outstretched was a limb that did not belong to her frame, a long thin arm with a fringe of feathers dangling from it. Her eyes were human again, staring blankly up at the canopy. Something wet and dark spread from the back of her head.

Lisette was glad she couldn’t see her body clearly. It would make her sick again.

Acidia’s eyes focused on Lisette face as the girl crouched beside her. Her mouth, human again, twisted. “So strong,” she whispered. “Frejalanders are so strong. So resistant to Chaos. I wish”—she coughed—“that I had dissected more of you.”

Lisette’s nostrils flared.

“They wouldn’t let me,” she continued on a fluttering sigh. “They wanted the children for the camps.”

A pit opened up in Lisette’s stomach. “What do you mean?” she rasped. “What camps?” Which children?

Was Micah one of them?

But Acidia was fading away, lost in her own thoughts, her own world. “It would take so long to raise them up, provided you could even do so properly. My way was faster, more efficient,” she insisted. “I was on the right track, I know it. If only I could adjust the serum, just a little more…”

Lisette grabbed the woman’s shoulders. “Tell me about the children. Where are they?”

Acidia twitched. “Not my department.” Her smile twisted. “They closed me down too early. I knew I was so close…”

Frantic impatience fluttered inside Lisette, almost banishing the pain in her chest. She had so many questions. “Who is they? Tell me!”

Acidia’s wandering gaze came to Lisette’s face. Recognition crept into her eyes. “Half-baked mage girl,” she whispered. Something thin and dark dribbled out of her mouth. “You cannot stop what’s coming.” Her breath hitched. “You cannot stop”—she gasped—“the Red Dawn.”

The malicious spark died from her eyes. There was no tension in the shoulders Lisette held. She let go of the dead woman and wiped her hands on her trousers. She felt the Chaos drain out of Acidia’s corpse, felt tree roots and small burrowing things reach for it, as they had for centuries. The inhabitants of the Spines, flora and fauna, could handle the periodic incursions of Chaos.

Supposedly that included the people, too. People that Acidia’s group—this Red Dawn—had stolen away to study—dissect—or put into camps.

That building she’d glimpsed above the forest. The one that looked out of place in the forest. Was that Acidia’s base?

Lisette planted her hands in the soil and pushed herself to her feet. The forest was wet from all the rain; Acidia’s fires had died down to smolders. Good. She didn’t need to worry about that now. She could find that building and…

Lisette swayed. A fist of ice rammed into her chest and stayed there. Cold and darkness swept over her. She felt herself falling, this time into unconsciousness.

She thought someone reached out and caught her before she hit the ground.

Author’s Note: I’m finally done writing the first draft of this arc! Three more episodes after this one will wrap it up. I also finally picked a name for the shadowy nefarious group behind some of the odd goings-on we’ve seen so far. Red Dawn was not on my original list of names, but I like it so much better than Cabal and Conspiracy and New Order (yeah, I clearly needed to clear away all the terrible, no-good names before I got to something good.) 

All three mages wore masks. Lisette scanned the two in front, both of them men. One was short and wiry, dressed in leather and fur, face hidden behind a snarling wolf mask. Silver bands encircled his arms and legs, chains looped around his waist. The other was larger, bulkier, shouldering something that looked like a hand-held cannon. An electric hum emanated from him. His yellow mask leered at Lisette.

But the one at the back, a woman with loosely-bound dark hair, was clearly the leader. Her entire body was coated in a thick pearlescent substance that came up to her neck. She wore a half-mask over her eyes, a bronze thing fashioned like an eagle’s head, fierce and beautiful.

“Who are you?” Lisette demanded. “What do you want?” A taut energy filled her body, hot and bitter at the same time.

Something had happened to her in the caves, when she’d been bitten. She couldn’t worry about that now. Couldn’t worry about Naia and Amber. Couldn’t even worry about Micah. Not while facing down these unfriendly masked mages.

Under the beak of her mask, the woman’s lips curved into a smile. “So, this miserable village found a half-baked little mage girl to protect it. How truly pathetic.”

Jonquil strode past Lisette. Lisette put out a hand to stop the older woman, but Jonquil ignored it. Her mother faced down the mages, her arms folded and her gaze narrowed. “You are the mages who destroyed Misthollow and Bern’s Landing.”

Lisette drew in a breath. Both were nearby settlements.

The woman shrugged, dismissive. A ripple went down the thick substance covering her arm. “Their people got a little too nosy. You should’ve learned their lesson and kept to yourselves, but then you had to go and allow other mages into this area. And we can’t have that!”

“Who’s ‘we’?” Lisette demanded. “Who are you with? What are you doing out here?”

The woman wagged a finger at Lisette. “Tut-tut, dear. You don’t want to know. Then we’d really have to kill you.”

Wolf Mask snickered. “Why wait, Acidia?” He gestured with one hand, and Lisette jerked to the side as a silver arrow darted past her face from behind. The silver smacked into the man’s upraised arm, shivered into two blobs which curved into two bracelets.

Silver manipulator. Lisette’s gaze flickered to Yellow Mask. Lightning mage. Then to the woman named Acidia. I can guess what she is.

Jonquil said, “We may not be mages, but we don’t go down without a fight. You won’t find us that easy to beat.”

Lisette caught movement off to her side. Figures darted in the shadows of houses, flickered among trees.

They’d have magic-resistant arrows, tipped with suppression heads. But three mages would still be too strong, unless she could even the odds a bit.

That same energy still churned inside her, restless, demanding. Do it, do it, it seemed to say.

Sorry, Master Zoya, Lisette thought, even though you told me that spell isn’t ready yet. I have to try.

Lisette unloosened her magic. It flooded her entire body. Her toes and fingers tingled; she was suddenly light and untethered.

Now!

Lisette flung herself forward. Everything else slowed down; she caught the minute shift of Yellow Mask’s body, the slow movement of Wolf Face’s eyes behind his mask as she flashed past them, inhumanly fast.

A twist of her magic and Lisette slammed to a stop behind the woman, her bladed fan at Acidia’s pale throat. Pain flashed up her leg, stabbed into her torso. She grimaced. She hadn’t mastered that magic-induced super speed yet, but at least she wasn’t writhing in pain or bleeding from the inside.

Arrows flew from the shadows. Wolf Face’s silver bracelets broke apart into scatter shot; lightning crackle streamed off Yellow Mask. They stiffened with surprise. Lisette’s lips twitched into a grim smile.

Charmstone tipped the arrows. They attracted magic to them, drawing it out of the mages.

The next instant came the suppression arrows. The two mages ducked and weaved, but there were too many to dodge. One buried itself into Wolf Face’s calf, another dug into Yellow Mask’s shoulder. They yelped.

Held fast by Lisette, Acidia sucked in a gulp of air.

She chuckled.

Lisette threw herself backward. An arc of liquid jetted from the woman’s body, clipped Lisette’s wrist, burning as it drew across the skin. Lisette hissed, then jumped into the air as another acidic whip swept where her knees would’ve been. Gold-black magic poured into her wings, leaving trails of soot in her veins.

Acidia tipped back her head. “You can fly, but you can’t escape.” The thick substance covering her body rippled again. Whips lashed at Lisette; she dodged and flew out of range. On the ground, the two men had recovered; even with the suppression burning ice-cold in their flesh, they sent magic all around them in an abundance of destruction. Silver bullets smashed through wooden doors and oiled-paper windows. Electricity danced upon roofs, blackening tiles.

Wulf had pulled Jonquil away from the scene, right up to the entrance of the meeting hall. Lisette sent a barrage of light darts—edged black—at the three mages. Acidia swept her arm, and a wave of viscous substance absorbed the darts. Droplets scattered across the grass, hissing as they landed.

Pain throbbed in Lisette’s neck. Her body felt heavier than she was accustomed to, and her muscles leaden and tired. Her super-speed spell had drained her almost dry. Light and dark magic warred inside her.

In the growing gloom, Lisette could no longer make out the enemy mages’ features. They were just sinister, dark figures with magic coming off them in waves, destroying the place she had grown up in.

Acidia flicked a tentacle across a wooden façade, scoring a deep line across the house that the village healer had lived in. Still did, if he hadn’t died. “You won’t be able to do anything, little girl,” she called. “This village is doomed.”

Jonquil stood at the entrance to the meeting hall, still stubbornly staying outside. Wulf was recognizable next to her, and that slighter figure had to be Olina. Every now and again, archers shot arrows at the mages, who brushed them off as if they were flies.

Anger bubbled up inside Lisette, buoying her for just a little longer. How dare they? The magic that rose up in response was all restless shadows, but she would take anything that would help her now…

Someone shouted from the trees, loud and alarmed, “Chaos! Chaos is here!”

***

Naia and Amber stayed on the bank for a long time after the mules had passed by. Long enough for the golden afternoon to shade to a greyish dusk, before they cautiously climbed down to the track. By mutual, silent understanding, they turned down the road, following the hoofprints, instead of the way the lone mage had gone.

The track slipped them down the mountains and into yet another hollow. The clouds rolled across the sun as they walked, and soon it was dripping again. Amber clutched her shredded cloak to herself and walked with her head bowed. She looked as wet and miserable as a half-drowned cat. Every now and again, she swallowed back a cough. The bruises on her face stood out lividly and the knuckles of the hand that held the cloak were very white.

Naia frowned. Amber was cold and exhausted. She needed rest, and soon. Naia found herself mentally explaining to an image of Kael how they’d let Amber get in such a bad state, and shook her head. No, she didn’t really want to do that.

Naia herself was in better shape, but then she had always liked the rain. Had always loved the water. While her peers had been tumbling around in air currents, Naia had preferred playing in a pool or going on a long, hard swim. She loved the feeling of being in water, of being light and buoyant the way she wasn’t in air. In the air, she always felt heavy, the air currents so slight and on the verge of slipping out of her magical grasp. A teacher had once described her magic as “ponderous”; even after all this time and the dedicated practice that made her a good air mage, a squirt of embarrassment ran through her at the memory.

Something to their left caught Naia’s eye. She stopped. “Look.” She pointed at a thread of a track running in that direction, through some trees. Despite the haze of rain, she made out the dark, damp side of a building. The mules’ hoofprints continued down the main track—they hadn’t turned off in that direction. Naia thought that was a good sign.

Amber raised her head and took on a listening sort of look. “I don’t sense anyone in that direction. It’s abandoned—I think.” She gave a little shake of the head. “I’m sorry. I can’t sense much right now. Everything’s a muddle.” The gesture seemed to be too much for her, for she stumbled and Naia took a firm hold of her arm.

“We need a place to rest for the night,” she said. “Somewhere dry.” She had to get Amber out of the rain. She had a fleeting wish she was a fire mage. Then she could’ve offered the other girl a chance to get warm.

Naia sighed, feeling useless. The sensation pressed on her, too familiar. She pushed it away. She would take care of things as they came. First, get the tired pattern mage into shelter.

Still holding on to Amber, she headed down the winding track. Water dripped from leaves overhead, pattering onto her bare head. Droplets ran across her scalp and down her neck. A rushing sigh filled the canopy overhead, the world seemed to hold its breath, the rain came down harder.

The girls broke into a stumbling run. The building Naia had seen before loomed ahead of them, but it was no good—it had lost half its roof, and huge holes gaped in its walls. There were other huts around, all in ruins and just as depressing. Naia’s heart sank. She would rather sleep under a tree than in any of them.

Wait. Naia’s eyes were drawn to a shape on the far edge of the settlement, washed with a weak light from a break in the cloud cover. It was small, but seemed whole, with a thatched roof, sturdy walls, and a covered porch.

There was a rocking chair on the porch, and someone sat in it.

A shiver of strangeness ran over Naia. An old woman knitting on the porch would’ve been a common sight in Carradia, but was out of place in this desolate settlement. And not only that, but the light-bathed house and the area surrounding it were completely dry.

No rain fell upon the roof.

Beside her, Amber coughed. Naia felt a tremble go through the pattern mage’s body. Her concern for the other girl won out over her wariness. The old woman might be a foe, she might be a friend. Naia wasn’t going to find out which one by hanging back.

She strode towards the house, towing Amber with her.

They broke through a curtain of rain and into the sphere of dryness. The old woman’s needles went on busily clicking. Her knitting was only a faint shimmer in her lap, and Naia caught a sense of magic, a deep magic that existed in a behind-everything-sort-of-way.

It was magic that was familiar in a strange, exhilarating way. Something inside Naia rose up in glad recognition, but she couldn’t think why or how.

And then the woman looked up. Her eyes were a glowing, vibrant blue, and Naia knew.

Amber said, soft and sighing, “Ohhhh.”

She fainted.

Naia caught the other girl before she fell to the ground, surprised by the sudden deadweight. She stood uncertainly, not knowing what to do. Should she lay Amber on the driest patch of ground? Or…

“Hey,” she called to the woman. “Can I put her on the porch?”

“You’d better bring her inside,” said the woman placidly. Her voice was murmuringly musical, like the susurrus of water. Her silver needles still flashed as she worked, though her bright gaze was on Naia’s face. “It’s warm and dry. Put her on the bed.”

Naia half-carried, half-dragged Amber up the steps and to the open doorway. The old woman bent her silver head over her knitting. It was still mostly invisible up close, made of clear, fluid strands.

Naia peeked into the house. It was only one room, with silvery wooden walls and whitish wooden boards. There was little furniture in it—one chair, one table, one chest. On the far side was a pallet, covered with a quilt in hues of blue. It added a homey touch to the room.

Naia brushed aside the quilt with her foot, and eased Amber onto the pallet. She tried to remove Amber’s cloak, but it was in such bad shape, she was afraid she would rip it. Besides, it was already dry and Amber’s clothes underneath it only a touch dampish. The pallet itself was warm, as if it was being heated in a way Naia couldn’t make out. She tucked the quilt around the pattern mage, and felt a far-off brush of magic. She couldn’t be sure, but she thought the quilting blocks flowed into each other, in constantly shifting blues. Waves of silver stitchery stood out across the quilt.

Naia looked down at Amber. The girl had stopped shivering and lay in relaxed sleep, the color returning to her face and her lips slightly parted. She seemed to be breathing fine, and her forehead, when Naia put the back of her hand on it, was cool.

Naia returned to the porch and asked, “Will she be all right? Should I fetch some water to bathe her face? I’ve never had anyone faint on me before.?”

“Oh, yes,” said the woman absently. “She had a trying day, and then a shock. It was kinder to put her to sleep. She will wake up much better rested.”

Naia turned over the implications in her head. “Are you going to put me to sleep?” she demanded.

“No. I want to talk to you.” Having said this, the woman seemed to be in no great hurry to continue. Her needles moved on, though slowly now, and her gaze was fixed upon the rain-blurred forest.

Naia decided, in a rush, that the woman meant her no harm. And even if she did… well, Naia wasn’t planning on borrowing trouble. Right now, both she and Amber were far better off than they had been ten minutes ago. She sat down on the top porch step and put her arms around her knees.

“I recognized your magic,” she remarked to the woman, not looking at her. Those bright eyes were intense. Even Ainsley’s purple eyes were easier to meet. “It’s the same as under the mountain.”

The woman nodded. “My bones rest there,” she said matter-of-factly.

What are you?  Naia opened her mouth to say. At the last second, she changed it to, “What’s your name?”

“You can call me Argenta.”

Naia craned her neck to look at her. The woman’s hands rested on her lap, still for once. Something shifted into those blue eyes, not a quick flicker of a small darting thing, but the turning of a leviathan, a giant shadow falling across the land…

Naia blinked, and the woman’s eyes were eyes once more. Once again, she took up her knitting. It flowed across her hands and lap. The needles flashed. Naia smelled rain. The swell of water filled the air, as if a cloud had come visiting.

Across the clearing, the rain thinned.

Naia sat up. “It’s the rain,” she said. “You’re knitting the rain.”

“Indeed,” said Argenta.

There didn’t seem to be anymore to say. Naia had never heard of—never suspected—such a technique, but there was such as sense of rightness to it. It was right for Argenta to be sitting in her rocking chair, knitting rain.

“I wish I could do something with the rain,” said Naia. “Anything at all.” She sighed.

“Why can’t you?”

“Because it’s so slippery,” said Naia gloomily. “I try to hold it, and it slides right out of my grip. I try to cup water in my hands, and it falls through my fingers. I thought it would be easier than manipulating air—and it was at first—but now, I can’t seem to figure out how to control either. Every time I try, it goes awry.” She sketched gestures in the air with her hand and let out a frustrated sound.

“You had to work hard to control air,” said Argenta, stating not questioning. “It didn’t come easy to you.” Her blue gaze pierced Naia’s.

“No, but I got good at it. Not brilliant, not like Mahoe and Troi and others, but good. But to see me now, you’d think I was some hamfisted novice.” Tears pricked her eyes. Naia sniffed. “A ponderous blunderer.”

Argenta did some looping things with her barely-there yarn. The sky above was clearing rapidly, clouds dissolving into the blue.

After a while, Naia said in a tired way. “I always felt like my winds were on the verge of slipping out of control. I always had to fight them, to bend them to my will. Like I was bossing them around—no bullying them.” Her vision swam, but she raised her chin, inviting Argenta’s reprimand.

It didn’t come. Instead, “Water,” Argenta mused, “will fall or flow, no matter what. If you try to hold it tight, it’ll always slip your grasp. But you can guide it, direct it. You can create a channel. You can be a channel. If you’re willing to let go and let it carry you.” That unsettling gaze pierced Naia, seeming to peel back the layers of her mind.

Naia sucked in her breath. She opened her mouth, but Argenta shifted, leaning forward a little, her gaze on something in the distance. “It comes.”

Naia followed her look. The tall mountains in the distance were covered in thick fog, grey with lightning flickers of green and purple. She felt an electric crackle in the air, one that raised the hairs on the back of her neck. Within the fog was something blind, restless, devouring.

“What is it?” she whispered.

Argenta replied, “Chaos.”

Author’s Note: The rain-knitting woman, finally! I had this image of her since the beginning of the arc. I’m glad she could give Naia some advice about her water magic. Hope it’ll help her–especially with Chaos descending down the mountains!