The Heartwood Chronicles

“Hey. Have you been waiting for me all this while?” Amber peered down the corridor. There was no one there. Silence and sleep hung heavy in this place.

“Seemed a shame you missed your own welcome feast. I brought you dessert.” He indicated the platter at his feet. “I didn’t know which kind you’d like so I brought you one of everything.”

Amber sat down cross-legged next to him. Her stomach rumbled. “Thanks!” The pies were a little oozy and the cake sagging and the cream melted, but it was her own fault, after all. “Isn’t that one of the demented monkey monsters you were fighting earlier? Why do you have one now?”

“Oh, most forest yuka aren’t so bad on their own. It’s when they’re in groups that you’d better watch out. Hunger seems to be a trigger, but I don’t think it’s too big a problem.

“Not around you, at any rate.” Amber eyed the sleeping creature’s distended belly and blissful expression. “I’m glad you found someone else to feed. Not that I mind getting dessert.” She lifted a forkful of white cake with raspberry filling.

“Well.” He stretched and stood, carefully transferring the sleeping yuka to his shoulder. Its tail hung down his back and its triangular ears twitched. “I thought you’d want to see the memory moth. Say good bye to it before it leaves.”

“Goodness, yes.” Amber inhaled a mouthful of cake, before laying aside her plate. She got to her feet, a little creakily. She’d been sitting down half the day.

“This way, then.”

The academy was all hushed silences, cobwebby shadows, and creaking floorboards. Magic spells lay buried in stone and wood. Kael kept up a rapid pace, all the way to the roof Amber had jumped off so long ago today.

The cool night air held a bite. Amber hunched her shoulders and hugged herself.

“Cold?” Kael made a languid gesture, sparking magic. A layer of warmth wrapped itself around Amber. She was fascinated to see his magical energy pouring into the pattern around her, turning it orange, knitting it into something like a sweater. Of course, he couldn’t see himself what his spellwork did to the pattern, but he was capable of delicate work, occasionally.

“Thanks,” said Amber.

“No problem.” Kael led her towards a stone shape on the balustrade. It was probably fashioned in the likeness of some fantastical creature, but Amber’s attention was caught by the large silver-winged moth that clung to it.

Greetings. Its mental voice was much stronger, a silken shiver across her skin.

“Hi.” Amber crouched so that she was eye level with it. “I’m glad you’re doing better.”

Thanks to the two of you. You have my gratitude.

“Don’t worry about it. I’m just glad that… thing… didn’t get you.” She gave Kael a sideways look. “What was that shadow again?”

He grimaced. “Night crawlers. Nasty when they come together like that. They’re usually found deep in the forest. Why did they come after you like that?”

To Amber’s fascination, the moth gave a shrugging kind of twitch. Night crawlers are destroyers, not just of the body, but of the mind. Of love and hope and the bonds between creatures.

“Ah,” said Kael in an understanding kind of way. He squatted next to Amber. “You carry a memory to someone?”

Yes. One that means much to the receiver. It gave another shiver. I have slept overlong in the warmth and dark. I must be on my way.

“Of course. We won’t keep you,” said Kael. Amber nodded, though she was eaten up with curiosity inside.

But first… a small gift. The moth twitched its moon-slice wings, fluttered over to Amber. Up close to her face, it was huge. She closed her eyes, air stirred up by the moth’s wings cool against her cheek.

And then the moth did something. Amber felt it, something small yet strong, but she had no idea what. While she was still checking all around herself, it moved over to Kael. The boy stood still and braced, eyes open. Amber watched as his breath hitched, his shoulders tensed, and his eyes widened with surprise.

Then he was smiling. “Thanks, buddy. That was more than enough.”

But, what’s my gift? though Amber, privately and confusedly.

The moth fluttered up, in ever-widening circles. Kael sketched a wave in its direction, then hastily caught the sleeping yuka before it fell off his shoulder.

“I should return this little fellow to its home when I leave tomorrow morning,” he commented.

“You’re going away so soon?” Amber wished she could take back the words as soon as they came out. She realized she’d been counting on Kael to smooth her first few days at Heartwood. Without him, Lisette and Troi were the only other journeymen mages she knew.

At least, there’s still Ainsley.

“Yep,” he said cheerfully. “Don’t look so down, Blondie. I’ll be back soon.” He sauntered over to the door leading inside.

Amber spluttered, “Wha–? Wait, it isn’t as if… it isn’t what you think!”

“Early morning tomorrow. I’m off to bed.” Kael lifted a hand in farewell and was gone.

“Well,” said Amber out loud, putting her hands on her hips. “What about all those dishes in the corridor? Am I supposed to find the kitchen at this time of night?”

Frank.

Amber stiffened. She looked around, then up. The moth was a receding glow in the moonless night.

Frank, it said again. We kept it safe just like we promised. Look inside yourself.

Stunned, Amber obeyed.

And there was something different about her own pattern, that internal web that made her Amber. Something glimmered tiny and gold within it.

A key.

For when you’re ready to unlock it.

“Unlock what?” asked Amber, thoroughly spooked. It wasn’t—shouldn’t—be possible to reach inside her skin and change her pattern. That wasn’t how things worked!

You will know when it’s time. The memory moth’s voice grew fainter, more distant. Frank… we kept… faith…

A chill-edged wind swept across the lonely rooftop. It was gone.

Amber stood rooted in place.

The moth had spoken his name. Thrice, and Amber was frozen, as if the name was a spell to hold her in place.

She had not expected this. Why here? she thought. What does he have to do with my life now? After all this time?

The roof top was not forthcoming with any answers. Amber found she could move again, and so she left, to clean up the dessert dishes and find a soft bed.

Tomorrow she’d begin searching for answers.

The next arc begins! Read Whispering Winds, Episode 1 here. 

Author’s Note: This episode wraps up the Chrysalis Arc, though it turns out there are more mysteries to solves and questions to answer. I’ll be taking a few weeks’ break to think about the next story arc and also finish revisions on a book that’ll release this summer. For the next arc, expect: classes and life at Heartwood; Amber and Kael’s first mission; and some of Troi’s backstory. 

If you’re enjoying these episode and want to support this serialization, you can donate using the form below. Tips will not only fuel my writing sessions (tea and chocolate!), but also help with the expenses of turning The Heartwood Chronicles into an e-book series. 

Many hours later, Ainsley stood in the doorway, surrounded by a cloud of paper birds. “Amber,” she said reproachfully, “you’re missing your welcome dinner.”

“Don’t bother me just yet,” said Amber, scribbling ferociously. “I’ve almost managed to talk him into giving me a sign-up bonus. This magic pen of yours works great!” She twirled it between her fingers as she waited. Her revisions hovered above the contract in blue swirls. If the Headmaster approved on his end, they’d turn black and sink into the paper. A counteroffer came through in green. Sticking points stayed stubbornly red until both parties agreed.

Maybe I should’ve been a lawyer instead. I am so enjoying this. Though negotiation via magical paper and ink was rather different.

“Aha!” The sign-up bonus clause turned black and sank into the paper with a sizzle.

“Now are you done?”

“Are you kidding?” The pen twirled even faster between Amber’s fingers. “There are still vacations, working conditions, and pay raises to talk about!”

“Your welcome dinner is over,” Ainsley informed her an hour later. “We had seventeen different kinds of dessert, by the way. In case you wanted to know. The whole school thanks you.”

“Oooh, he’s a tricksy one, he is,” murmured Amber. “Take job expenses out of my income, will you? We’ll see about that!” Blue and violet light flickered madly over the contract and her face.

“And now we’re going to have a singing contest. The rudest song about you wins.”

“Mmm, that’s nice.”

“I’m going to bed.” Ainsley wandered in, yawning, wearing flowered pajamas. “Here’s the key to the guest room.” She placed a large, brass key gently by Amber’s elbow. “It’ll guide you there. Fresh towels are in the bathroom. Watch out for the water-sprite. It likes to soak in the hot tub water.”

“Thanks, Ainsley.” Amber smiled distractedly. “You’ve been great!”

“I’ll see you in the morning.” Ainsley took Amber’s untouched supper tray. “I’ll just drop this off in the kitchen. Good night!”

Amber punched the air. “YES! An extra 2% performance bonus is mine! Oh, what were you saying, Ainsley–? Oh, yes, good night!”

This is it. Down to the wire. The last few minutes before the signing. That’s when people get cocky or forget to pay attention. Amber forced herself to scan through every sheet of the contract, looking for any hints of red, green, or blue ink. Not even an unapproved comma was allowed to pass by her notice.

She read through the passages she’d reworked the heaviest several times over, then perused the parts where the unspoken negotiations had been at their most touch-and-go.

These were the best terms she could expect to get for her ability and experience. Regular training and steady work?

She could put up with a few annoying colleagues and some eccentricities for that.

I don’t have to go home now. I can stay here, in this wonderful place, and explore magic for the rest of my life.

She could never turn her back on the crackle and color of it. No mage worth the name would.

Here goes. Amber pressed her palm onto the paper. A slight coolness, a feathery tickle, and patterns changing. She was signing with the very core and essence of her, and her stomach tightened at the gravity of it. She lifted her palm, saw a mix of lines in gold.

My pattern, flattened and turned into a signature.

The contract burst into orange and yellow sparkles.

What the–?

A thin sheet of something clear and hard lay on the desk. The sparkles drifted, then rewrote themselves into lines of fire on the sheet.

Welcome to Heartwood, Amberlin Shelburne!

This is your personal cryst. Please activate with your palm print.

Amber gently put her hand over it. The crystal device beeped and hummed. She peered at the screen. Several boxes had appeared on it. TRAINING SCHEDULE, FINANCES, JOBS, REFERENCE MATERIAL. Amber touched the FINANCES button and was pleased to see a sign-in bonus already in her account.

This magic is really awesome. Only really rich people have these in Ravin—I can’t believe they hand these out to journeymen here!

Papa would be so jealous.

Look, and it folds up, too.

Grinning, Amber tucked it into an inner pocket of her jacket. She stood up, stretching stiff muscles.

Outside the room, the hallway was dim. Amber paused at the door, surprised at the sight of someone sitting against the wall opposite her.

Kael looked up from the monkey-like yuka he’d been petting. “Yo.”

Read Episode 11.

Author’s Note: Amber’s contract negotiations were a lot of fun to write–several years ago! This part is largely untouched from the first draft. I’ll be wrapping up the Chrysalis Arc next week, so keep an eye out for it!

I was asked in comments if I’d consider a Patreon for the Heartwood Chronicles. I’m not making any big changes to the serial right now, but I wanted readers’ input about the possibility. What do you think?

In the meantime, I’ll be putting up a periodic tip jar, if you’d like to support this project. Donations would go toward creating an ebook of the first 2-3 arcs and buying me a snack or a hot beverage at the coffee shop I work at while my daughter’s at the horse barn!

To Amber’s surprise, Kael’s directions did, in fact, take her back to the corridor the Headmaster’s study was on.

Without any detours into damp underground caverns or battles with shadow monsters.

She didn’t make it as far as the Headmaster. Ainsley, eyebrows drawn together in concern, lurked in the corridor. She brightened when Amber appeared. “You made it!”

Amber noted with mixed feelings that the paper mage also looked relieved. “I suppose I did. The way out wasn’t as straightforward as it could’ve been.” She looked down at her mud-spattered, torn skirt.

“But the Headmaster approved you!” Ainsley beamed as if that was all that mattered. “Look!” She lifted Amber’s right hand. A complicated yellow rune glowed on the back of it.

“When did that happen?” Amber wondered, but Ainsley was running on like a bubbling brook.

“I’m so glad. I do like you.” Ainsley clasped Amber’s hand and did a little skip. “Though I shouldn’t be so surprised. Usually the applicants who end up not coming out of the Headmaster’s study are girls who fall instantly in love with Troi or people Kael dislikes on sight.”

“I didn’t come out of the study,” Amber pointed out. “Or at least not to here. Does everyone have to undergo some weird trial?”

“You’re right. You didn’t. That’s strange.” Ainsley cocked her head. “There is a test, of course, but it’s different for everyone. We don’t all have the same magic.”

“I see.” Are failed applicants still wandering around the underground caverns, or worse? Were their bones crunching under my feet down there? She shuddered.

Ainsley giggled. “It’s not what you’re thinking, silly. The failed interviewees wind up back at the train station or the docks, along with all their luggage. We don’t make them do the long trek back.”

Amber was not reassured. “And how would you know they end up at those places? It’s not like you can see them.”

Ainsley hesitated. “I haven’t personally seen it. But the students do test the system, you know. Last year, Troi sweet-talked this rich tourist girl into interviewing. She ended up back in her hotel room. Kael saw her after. Though”—Ainsley tapped her chin—“both Troi and Kael got into trouble for wasting the Headmaster’s time. Stable duty,” she added darkly.

“Oh.” Amber rubbed her fingers across the rune, magic tingling against her skin. I’m still not sure about this. What was that strange test back there?

It was not one of mine. The Headmaster’s voice was so close, it was as if he spoke in her ear.

Amber jumped, startled. Mindspeech?

What do you mean? Tentatively, she placed her palm atop the colored rune.

Your magic pointed you towards a creature in need; it was your character that responded to it, answered the Headmaster simply.

Even so… Amber hesitated.

Unusual magic leads to unusual situations. Magic is not a safe path; but this world isn’t safe either. Heartwood will prepare you, at least.

In the corridor, Ainsley chattered on, oblivious that her companion was no longer listening.

The Headmaster said:

Ask yourself: Do you wish to walk this path?

 Amber was silent, thinking.

Then, she thought, Yes, I do, and removed one hand from the other.

She turned her attention to a complicated story about Kael and a herd of pigs that was just drawing to an end.        

“Anyway.” Ainsley snapped her fingers, and a stack of cream-colored papers appeared in her hand. “Here’s your contract. Come into this room to sign it. Then we can celebrate tonight! The kitchen staff always outdo themselves when we get a new student.”

The room in question was small and quiet, smelling of wood and dust. Most of it was occupied by a large table ringed with chairs. Amber sat down on one and spread the contract out before her. It was huge, and dense with writing. The paper crackled with strong spells.

“Here’s the pen. Make changes with it, if you need to—Headmaster will respond right off, mostly–and then do a palm-sign right at the back.”

“This may take a while,” Amber warned. “This contract is huge!”

“I’ve never seen it take longer than half an hour to scan through,” Ainsley said. “Of course, most people just flip right to the end and sign.”

“Ainsley,” said Amber ominously, “please don’t tell me that you’re one of those people.”

“Well.” Ainsley smiled mischievously. “I did spend a lot of time in here with the contract, but I was mostly trying to figure out how the spells in the paper worked.”

Amber tugged her braid. “Argh! People! Really! You HAVE to read your contracts, especially ones with this many magical spells on it. Do you really want to end up promising your first-born child to the school without meaning to?”

“Oh, the Masters would never do anything like that.”

“Your faith in humanity is touching, yet very misguided. How do you think lawyers make their living?”

“I’ll be back for you in an hour.” Ainsley waved at Amber. “You’ll be done by then, I’m sure.”

Amber looked at the stack of paper in front of her. Don’t bet on it.

Read Episode 10.

Author’s Note: Sometimes, it’s not so easy deciding where to break up the episodes. This week’s could easily have been about twice as long, but I opted for two smaller episodes over one long installment. Just from my experience, people reading online (either on the website or email) prefer shorter material with lots of white space. I could be wrong, though. Let me know which you like more: Two 800ish-word episodes or one 1600ish-word episode?

Amber barely had time to brace herself for impact, much less throw together a shielding spell. Darkness lunged towards her face, sharp-edged and fanged.

Silver light, harsh and sudden, bloomed in the room. Amber squeezed her tearing eyes shut. A high-pitched screech reverberated in her skull. She clapped her hands to her aching ears.

It took Amber several moments to clear the light spots from her vision. The room darkened once more. Behind her, the creature in the cocoon, its energy spent in that one burst, hung quiet and exhausted. In front of her, its shadowy predator writhed on the floor and skittered under a tub.

Drat. It wasn’t dead.

Whatever it was.

“Thank you,” she whispered to the winged creature that had saved her. “I’ll take care of the rest.”

Her attacker under the tub was a dark blot in the pattern. She had hardly pinpointed it when it arrowed at her again, aiming for her feet.

Amber shook the pattern, sent it tumbling over into a corner.

Had she really heard it snap its teeth together as it missed her ankle by an inch?

She shuddered.

No time to think. It was back.

Amber retreated, almost into the closet. Its teeth snagged the hem of her skirt. She kicked it away, the motion emphasized with a magical push. Material tore as the shadow scudded back, then caught itself, a puddle of darkness upon the floor.

Amber breathed hard. The shadow was a fraction of her size—it shouldn’t be so pernicious and hard to get rid of!

I need help. Her mind flipped through faces—not Lisette nor Troi, couldn’t bring Ainsley into this, definitely not Master Zoya, Jex had already been kind enough…

And what if this was a test? Shouldn’t she succeed or fail on her own merits?

No. There was more at stake than a passing grade. There was a helpless creature behind her. The shadow’s teeth would tear it to shred.

Her brain settled on Kael’s face, complete with grin. She didn’t like owing him, but still…

Swiftly, she imposed her memory of Kael on a stray wisp in the pattern. Find! she commanded and pushed it through the threads.

Memory was fast, quicksilver. The spell disappeared and Amber eyed the shadow, lying too quiescent on the floor.

Under tubs and in the corners, movement fluttered, darkness flowed.

This has to be a joke! Amber’s eyes widened.

The thing was trying to grow.

Not while I’m here! Amber poured power into parts of the pattern, holding them rigid. The threads became rods, crystallized into geometric shapes, keeping the shadow thing apart. Its dark myriad parts strained against the strangely heavy air. Amber nudged a rod here, shifted a surface there, trying to cage them one by one.

Her brain throbbed, her head threatened to split. Her mental grip on the pattern was slick with strain and panic; she was barely holding on as it was. Something snapped and several shadows slithered over to join the central part. It spiraled up into a column of darkness, gaining more edges. The sense of sharpness emanating from it increased, as if the contents of a hundred knife blocks had been consolidated into one burgeoning monster.

Amber gave up the losing battle, pulling all her senses back towards her. She gathered threads, leeched grey, around her in a kind of armor. Armor made of cobwebs, but at least it was something.

She raised her chin and said to the growing thing, “Bring it on.”

Shadows coalesced into a monstrous form. Wings bladed out from its back. Eyes gleamed red.

It roared.

The roar echoed. Behind the monster, the air turned red and yellow and orange. A blast of heat nearly shriveled Amber’s eyeballs.

Fire engulfed the shadow creature. For a moment it was a black twist of agony, then it shivered into a million specks of ash.

Amber gaped.

The flames died down, but the light remained, incongruously yellow and cheerful.

“Hey.” Kael strolled across the laundry. “Got yourself into a spot of trouble, huh?”

Amber shut her mouth and eyed the blackened walls, singed sheets, and one half-melted tub.

“So have you,” she commented.

He looked around and groaned.

“And what’s worse…” Amber spun around and hurried to the closet. “You’ve near fried this poor thing!” Not only was the silver creature exhausted, it was now also dehydrated. She looked in dismay at its crumpled greyish wings and collapsed body.

Kael peered over her shoulder and let out a low whistle. “Wow. It’s a memory moth. The caterpillar must have made its way here last autumn.”

“We need water for it, quick.” Luckily this was the laundry. Amber hurried over to a faucet in the wall, scooping a bucket along the way. She had to twist hard, but plenty of water clanged into the bucket.

She placed the bucket on the closet floor.

“I don’t think immersing it is a good idea,” commented Kael.

She gave him her best do-you-think-I’m-an-idiot look? “If we can get the moisture in the air, it’ll help. Can you heat this so it turns into mist? Gently?”

He made a face at her, but squatted down willingly enough. After a bit, water bubbled and vapor rose into the air. Amber channeled the heat of it out of the closet, through the pattern, and into a far wall. Stone could handle it.

After some time, Kael rose and examined the moth. “It does look better.”

The creature waved its legs and flicked its wings. Amber thought it was grateful, maybe too much so. After all, Kael had nearly fried it.

He frowned. “It’s all tangled up, though. Reminds me of that Hopeswell bakery.”

Amber sighed. “I know. I’ll take care of it. Keep the light on.”

Working slowly, delicately, Amber unknotted, unraveled, and snipped away the last of Stunning Spells’ horribly clinging magic. Kael looked on interestedly over her shoulder.

“Your magic is amazing,” he said. “I knew you’d fit right in here. Did you sign the contract yet?”

“Contract?” Amber echoed. She struggled to put the bits and pieces of her interview with the Headmaster together. She had the nagging feeling that something important had faded from her memory.

Memory. Memory moth. She looked at the half-emerged creature, fully the length of her forearm, its wings lacy and shot with iridescent blue. A tenuous idea was beginning to form in her mind…

“Yes, contract!” Kael took her by the shoulders, turned her around, and gave her a gentle push towards the doorway. “I’ll keep an eye on the moth; you get yourself properly registered. Turn left, upstairs, then the second right. Go on.”

“But…” Amber began, then stopped when she caught his unwontedly stern expression. “All right, all right.” Propelled by Kael’s urgency, she hurried out of the laundry, her mind spinning with questions.

 Have I even been offered a position here? Is it time-limited? What’s up with the underground levels of this place?

One thing is for sure: I’m going to need some answers!

Read Episode 9.

Author’s Note: Happy New Year! Sorry this is a little late–I wrote most of this on Wednesday, but it was missing just a little something and it wasn’t until today that I figured out what. Memory moth, huh? I don’t know much about it yet, but it’s definitely Magical and Important. Actually the whole theme of remembering is becoming rather important in this story. I wonder how it’s going to play it over time!