The Heartwood Chronicles

It was Restday, and Amber was on her way home from chapel. Carradia boasted a large number of them, each worshipping a different Aspect of the One. Amber, like most Ravinians, had grown up worshipping the Sustainer, but the more she experienced the mainland, the more interested she was in the other Aspects.

The Chapel of the Sage was on the outskirts of Carradia, near the sea, and Amber, after being cooped up on the school grounds for far too long, took the opportunity to meander along a narrow path on the cliffs. Below hair, waves dissolves to foam on a ribbon of sandy beach. Seabirds arrowed through the sky, riding currents.

Amber let her magical senses skitter out, first one direction, then another, observing a tangle of plant roots here, the heaving of the sea there. Patterns danced and shone, and she was pleasantly surprised at how little effort it took to see them. The hours she’d spent training with Master Cinbar and laboring over the exercises Master Kristoff had left in his spiky scrawl were paying off. She was better able to filter information, able to step back from the complexity of pattern and the attraction of nodes, keep her senses on low alert all the time. For example, there were baby birds in a nest on that ledge, and a boat out at sea, and some people past the curve ahead—

Suns, sullen and red, intent on malice. They gathered around someone else, someone whose nodes flickered alarmingly, whose pattern pulsed in a way both strange and familiar. Jagged splinters drove into Amber’s head. She gasped and stopped, fingers pressed into her temples.

Sobbing words came to her snatches. “… please… no… leave me alone….”

Mocking laughter. “Deadwood scum.” “Weakling.” “Let’s see what they teach you at that low-brow school of yours.”

Torou Academy boys! And it sounded like they’d cornered a Heartwood student. Not just any student, but that unstable boy, the one she could not bring herself to like. Flavius.

For one second, Amber stood rooted to the path, on the brink of turning around. Excuses flashed through her head. I’m no hero… I’d be better off getting help rather than getting involved… I just don’t want to…

And then Flavius squealed and his pattern started to change. It tore, nodes swimming in a sea of flapping strands. Amber had never seen anything like that. She bolted down the path, took the curve in a scatter of stones.

A voice, high with incredulity. “What in Chaos…?”

Another, “This freak. He’s changing. Hold him down, quick.”

Amber stumbled down a small slope into a hollow, pebbles skittering under her sandals. Two Torou boys held Flavius down. The Heartwood boy’s clothes were torn, and he sported a black eye and a split lip. He writhed in his captors’ hold, muscles moving with an inhuman fluidity. A low growl emanated from his throat.

“You demonspawn,” cursed the third Torou boy, aiming a kick at Flavius’ head.

“No, don’t!” Amber called.

Flavius moved, so fast that he was just a blur. He threw the two Torou boys off him and fastened too-large jaws and saliva-drenched teeth around his attacker’s ankle.

The air ninja howled as he went down.

Flavius growled and shook the boy’s leg savagely. His back was hunched and heavily muscled. Too-large eyes rolled in a blotched and distorted face.

Amber stopped, horrified. Flavius’s pattern changed and reformed at a rate she’d never seen before. Transformation? That was the magic of evil magicians in folk tales and popular novels. She’d never thought that it was possible.

Like a beast, Flavius worried at the Torou boy’s foot. The other boys tried to drag him off, but Flavius wouldn’t let go. Lashes of air magic cut him, but he shook them off as if they were nothing. His face and back were covered in bleeding red lines.

Amber reached into the maelstrom of Flavius’ pattern—ouch, it hurt!—and pinched… hard. In his state of flux, it was easy to slip in—he seemed to have lost all control of his body. The pattern rippled grotesquely, and Amber’s stomach heaved in response.

Flavius snarled and dropped the boy’s leg.

Amber motioned vigorously at the three boys. “Get out of here.”

Flavius’s head turned toward her. There was no humanity, no intelligence in those eyes. He shuffled on his hands and feet, both of which melted into limbs that belonged to no animal Amber had ever seen.

He lunged, and Amber grabbed fistfuls of his pattern, gasping as if she’d just plunged her hands in acid.

The Torou boys stared at her, panting and white-faced. The boy on the ground let out a moan of pain.

“Well?” she yelped. “Quit standing around and get out of here.” They hauled the injured boy up between them and scrambled away. “Get help!” She yelled after them.

It was all she could do to hold Flavius in place. His pattern was slippery in her hands and he fought her hold fiercely. Amber could neither run away, nor could she beat him. All that was left was this awful stalemate.

Stupid, stupid! Amber berated herself. How in the world do you expect to get out of here, you two-coppa witch? Everything ached with the effort of keeping Flavius away from her. His panting breath was hot and heavy, and his drool smoked as it hit the ground. He strained against her magical hold, his pattern flashing with bloodlust.

And worse, it was hardening. His transformation was nearly complete; soon Amber would be thrown out of his fluid pattern entirely. She’d not be able to hold him then.

Can I disable him before then? Do I have the power?

Do I have it in me to kill him if it comes to that? Not that it would be easy. She didn’t have the massive amount of energy it would take to overwhelm a pattern and kill a person. Even though the sea was right there….

… If I can only channel…

Flavius took one slow step toward her, then another, moving as if in a bog. Sweat plastered Amber’s hair to the back of her neck and soaked her shirt. She squeezed her eyes shut, so as not to see that hideous face or those large teeth lunging for her neck, but she couldn’t shut out that all-wrong pattern pushing its way toward her.

I knew I shouldn’t have tried to be the hero.

And then she felt the electric brush of a powerful and familiar magic. Her eyelids flew open.

Kael bounded toward Flavius, calling over his shoulder, “Keep a hold of him, Amber!”

“I’m trying,” she said through clenched teeth. Flavius twisted, shot out of her grasp. Before she could shout a warning, Kael punched him. Twice. Hard.

Flavius dropped like a rock.

Kael knelt beside the deformed body. “Poor kid.”

Amber’s knees felt like jelly. She flopped ungracefully to the ground. “Just… what is he?”

Kael’s gaze flicked towards her, expression unreadable, before dropping back down to Flavius, whose pattern was already starting to reform. “Just a kid with a difficult kind of magic.”

“What kind of magic turns a person into a monster?” Amber demanded. “I’ve never heard of anything like that. It shouldn’t be possible.”

Again that golden-eyed flick, not cold like Troi’s or disapproving like Lisette’s, but uncomfortable nonetheless. “It’s the continent,” Kael pointed out. “Magic is different here.” He leaned over Flavius, rubbing the once-hands. His energy flowed over and into Flavius’ pattern, warm and strong, like concentrated sunshine.  “Give me a hand here, Amber. You can see where his pattern’s gone wrong.”

“His pattern’s always been wrong,” said Amber bluntly. She limped over and stood behind Kael’s shoulder. The throbbing in Flavius’ pattern intensified her headache. “I’m not sure if I can do anything to help him. This is beyond my skill level.”

“Can you at least calm him down? His heartbeat’s erratic, so’s his breathing. Come on, Amber. Don’t just give up.”

Amber reached back into Flavius’ pattern, flinched as his magic burned her like a spray of acid. “It hurts.”

Kael took her hand in his. “Let me give you some—”

She pulled away, violently. “I told you—I can’t do it. Take him back to Heartwood and let someone in the infirmary look at him.” Flavius’ face was a melding of boy and beast. She retreated from the pair. “How’d this happen to him, anyway?”

“Born with it.”

Amber shivered. “What a horrible curse. Does this sort of thing happen here a lot?”

She felt, rather than saw, his shrug. “More than in the islands, at any rate. Does it bother you that much?”

“To see a human being turned into a beast like that? Of course it bothers me!”

“Is that what you see him as? A beast?” Kael lifted the unconscious boy into his arms and got to his feet.

“It’s not right. I pity him.”

“Sounds more like you’re revolted by him,” Kael commented, still in that calm, even tone.

“You may be used to this kind of thing, but I’m not,” said Amber stiffly. “There are some lines that just shouldn’t be blurred.”

“I see.” Again that quick golden glance. “All right, time for us to get back to Heartwood.”

Amber hung back as she followed Kael, watching her footing on the narrow, stony path.

A graceful swoop in the sky, and Lisette glided down to the ground and ran toward them. Her wings snapped shut behind her. “You found him, Kael!”

“Amber found him first.”

“Oh, Maker. Just look at him.” Lisette ground her teeth. “Did those Torou bastards do this?” She smacked her fist into the palm of her hand.

Kael didn’t reply, so Amber said, “Yes. They were roughing him up and I think that triggered—this.” She gestured towards the boy’s limp body.

“I’ll take him back.” Lisette laid a gentle hand on Flavius’ forehead. Amber had never seen the acerbic mage so sisterly and concerned. “Kael, you’d better see about backing up Troi. He’s gone to confront the Torou band’s ringleaders—Flavius is not the only student who was targeted today. They got Vane and Alyssa, too.”

Kael relinquished his burden. “Yeah, I can feel him. Not bothering to shield himself, is he?”

Amber widened her sensory net, then winced. Troi’s suns were dark cyclones of frigid anger.

“Make sure he doesn’t kill anyone, will you?” Lisette leapt into the air. Amber watched her become a dark dot in the sky, then disappear from sight.

“I suppose I should head back to Heartwood, too,” Amber said.

“No, you stick with me for now. We let our guard down and too many of the younger ones got hurt.”

“How is me going into a fight with you and Troi going to keep me safe?” Amber wanted to know.

“If you really want to go back to Heartwood, feel free to. I just thought you’d want to see this thing through.”

“By beating up on Torou Academy students?” Amber shook her head. “That’s not my style, thanks.”

“Fair enough.”

Sun mages. Can’t understand why the rest of the normal world would prefer to stay out of their conflicts.

   “Troi’s really… piling it on, isn’t he?” Wind tugged her braid, lashed it into her face.

“Yeah, let’s go make sure the idiot doesn’t go too far.” Kael took Amber’s wrist and pulled her along behind him. They ran down a path on to the beach, rounded cliffs, and came out upon a spit of land that jutted out into the sea. Magic-powered winds twisted all around, shrouding the dark figures of the air ninjas, whipping the sea into white-capped waves. They howled in her ears, buffeted her body, snatched away her breath. Amber’s braid unraveled into a writhing mess of strands, but she was too occupied with holding her skirt down to deal with it.

The wind tousled Kael’s hair and clothes, but he was not having nearly as many issues as Amber was. If she squinted, she could see a slight shimmer around him, a subtle shifting of the pattern as the wind currents bent around him.

Three more air ninjas dropped out of the sky and joined the fray. Troi was at its center, surrounded by an armor of whirling winds, cold and dry.

“Troi!” Amber yelled, but Kael put an arm in front of her and shook his head.

The air ninjas had nothing against Troi in his cold rage. His magic lashed them in coiled whips, plucking them out of the air and dashing them to the ground. No matter how many times they staggered to their feet or tried to dodge, his winds were there, shredding their clothes, slapping their faces, driving them onto their knees.

Amber winced, smelling blood in the pattern. She put her hand on Kael’s wrist. “Kael, please,” she whispered. “This is getting out of hand.”

He nodded, strode forward. Amber’s pattern senses shatter against the vortex of Troi’s angry unreason and called after him, “Kael, be careful!”

An air ninja reeled into Kael; Kael caught and thrust the boy behind him, out of the range of Troi’s relentless attacks. The Torou boy almost fell into Amber’s arms; she lowered him to the ground and distractedly began ripping long strips of her underskirt for his bleeding head.

The winds shifted as Kael blasted a hot wide path through the one-sided slaughter. His energy, hot and golden as the sun, shielded the beaten Torou boys. He came to stand in front of the maelstrom that was Troi wrapped in his storm wind armor.

“Out of the way, Kael.” Troi’s voice was cold, weirdly amplified.

“You’ve made your point, Troi. Time to stop this.”

“I made my point before. The lesson didn’t stick. This time I want them to know I’m serious. Out of the way, Kael.”

Kael folded his arms, as calm and as relaxed as if he were picnicking on the beach. “Nope.”

Troi made an angry sound. Dark grey whips fell upon Kael. The sun mage took them calmly on an upraised hand. Amber felt Troi’s attack bite deep, but Kael didn’t even flinch.

His friend’s non-reaction maddened Troi even more. He went after the other sun mage with a barrage of vicious long-range attacks. Kael took them all, deflecting some, letting others fall on him, keeping them off the Torou boys. Amber saw how his shielding ripped and tore, and she struggled to bunch the pattern into hardness around him. It was hard, with so much wind slipping out of control.

“You’ll have to do better than that, Troi,” called Kael with a laugh in his voice. “Come at me, then.” He gestured with his hands, a cocky bring-it-on beckoning of his hands.

Amber gasped as the magic around Troi shifted. His armor of wind became a weapon, a sledge hammer of energy that bore down upon Kael.

The idiot didn’t even try to dodge it. He took the impact, staggered, nearly dropped to his knees. He grinned at Troi, who’d dropped to the sand. “Now that’s more like it.”

“You fool,” said Troi, tiredly. The cold mask of his face had given way to something more akin to grief. He took a few steps, and Amber saw that he had not gotten off lightly, either. His shirt was in tatters, and small cuts covered his feet, hands, and face. He took a few steps, sagged.

Kael reached out, caught his shoulder, and shook him roughly. “Get a hold of yourself, Troi.”

“I got it.” Troi shoved Kael away.

Amber thought it was time to step in before this devolved into a scuffling match. Thankfully, the winds had lessened. She stepped forward, opening her mouth.

And then, suddenly, quietly, unnaturally, everything went still.

Read Episode 9. 

Author’s Note: Congrats for making it this far! This was a long episode and it looks like Heartwood is in an all-out war with Torou. Poor Flavius. I’ve been hinting all this while that continental magic is wild and weird, and I used him to show it. Amber doesn’t know what to make of it… it’s going to take her time to get used to what magic can look like here.

As always, I love feedback!

One didn’t expect the Headmaster of a magical academy to be puttering around in the greenhouse, wearing overalls and boots, but there he was anyway, hands full of potting soil. The air was redolent with the scent of earth and green growing things. Amber thought she could almost hear the plants whisper contentedly together on the shelves and tables.

The Headmaster looked up, his heavy-lidded eyes as sleepy as ever. “Ah, Amber, come in.” He didn’t seem at all surprised to see her hovering nervously in the doorway.

Amber obeyed, bracing herself. The Headmaster did have the power to expel her for her part in the escapade. It was even in the contract she’d signed, in a clause about penalties for criminal activities.

“What can I do for you?” The Headmaster laid aside a spade and wiped his hands on a grubby towel.

It was unnerving to have his total attention. His eyes, she thought, were the deepest black she’d ever seen. Something seemed to flicker in their depths, but she had no idea what. A strange sensation crept over her. The pattern was thick and multi-layered around him, opaque to her senses. She itched to get her hands into it, tease it apart, to uncover what lay underneath.

Flushing, Amber realized several seconds had passed. She forced her mind back to the matter at hand.

“Um… about last night…” began Amber.

He waited. Amber was sure the gleam lurking in his eyes was one of knowing amusement, but he wasn’t planning on helping her out.

“I wanted to say… I was with Kael and Troi…” Amber swallowed and finished in a rush, “If there’s any trouble over it, I take full responsibility for my part in it.”

The Headmaster surveyed her for what seemed like an eternity. Mountains might rise and fall in those fathomless eyes of his. Amber tried not to fidget. The thought popped into her head that she didn’t even know his name. Everyone always referred to him as the Headmaster.

Somehow, she doubted now was the right time to ask.

“It was easy to guess, of course, how Kael and Troi located the sword in the first place,” he said finally. “Kael, especially, is known to be very… ah, persuasive, shall we say?”

“That’s true enough,” said Amber fervently. She didn’t quite understand how a rule-follower herself had come to break her contractual obligation of good behavior.

“Relations with Torou Academy,” continued the Headmaster, “have been difficult of late. It remains to be seen if this incident will break them entirely or clear the air.” He lifted a small pot and examined the seedling within. The plant itself was unprepossessing to Amber’s untrained eye, but there was a certain sharpness in the pattern within it.

“Do you know this plant?” asked Headmaster. Amber shook her head.

“It’s dragonsbane.” He placed it carefully on the table.

“Dragons!” squeaked Amber. Anything is possible on the continent!

The Headmaster smiled at her awe. “It’s not what you think, my dear. Dragons are part of an almost mythic past and best they should remain that way. But this little plant has properties that turn away the yuka as well. Dragonsbane is tricky to grow without magic, so we give as many as we can away to the farmers of Carradia.

“It also makes a good tea. I drink a cup of it every day.” He placed the pot back on the table. “We Masters will deal with the Torou situation, but I ask you to remain discreet and not publicize your role.”

“Um, of course.” Amber hesitated. Does this mean I’m not expelled?

The Headmaster cocked his head. “I think we can trust you to be circumspect.” Again, that hidden amusement. “Anything else I can do for you? Are you settling in at Heartwood all right?”

“Yes, I am.” Amber smiled brightly. Aside from sword training, which I suck at. But that’s only to be expected.

“Any trouble at all?” he persisted.

You mean, aside from strangely-twisting passages, memory moths, and Kael’s mad schemes? “None at all.”

Was it disappointment that flickered in his eyes? The Headmaster inclined his head. “Well, then, I won’t keep you, Amberlin.”

Feeling vaguely like she’d passed an examination with mixed results, Amber bobbed a half-curtsey and fled before he could change his mind.

Neither of Amber’s partners in crime were at dinner that night.

“Where’s Kael?” Amber asked Lisette as she sat down with her stack of plate, bowl, and utensils.

“Working,” said Lisette between mouthfuls of beef apple stew. The girl could really pack it in. “Masters figured he’d be better off gone from Carradia for a bit, I suppose.” She gave Amber a sideling glance. “Troi’s also gone, but I don’t ever hear you asking about our resident heart throb.”

“Kael’s easier to get along with.” Amber served herself stew, inhaling the savory-scented steam. “What are they doing?”

“Kael’s out in the wilderness somewhere.” Lisette waved a hand vaguely in what Amber guessed was wilderness-wards. “Troi’s on pretty-boy duty.”

“Pretty-boy duty?” Amber echoed.

“Guarding the governor of the Ravin colonies,” Lisette clarified, “on his tour of the independent townships.” She looked thoughtful. “I hear the governor’s daughter is very pretty, too. I hope she doesn’t fall in love with Troi. You’d think his awful personality would put everyone off, but some people do have a savior complex.” She made a face.

“You have that right,” muttered Amber. She scanned the head table where the Masters sat. Still no Master Kristoff. He’d left Heartwood for the Serepentine Isles the very day she’d arrived, leaving her no opportunity to ask how he knew her.

Master Zoya was also not in attendance. Amber’s gaze skipped over the rest of the masters, landed on the Headmaster. He still looked like some kind of artisan, sitting not in a place of prominence, but off to one side, nursing a mug and staring into its depths as if fascinated by what he saw in them.

She wondered if it was dragonsbane tea. It sounded like a dangerous sort of drink, but who knew with sun mages. She’d read about a Serepentine mage-king who’d powered his magic with poison. He’d been powerfully and feared—until the poison finally did him in.

“What’s the Headmaster’s name?” she asked Lisette.

“It’s—” Lisette began, then stopped, frowning.

“You don’t know it?” Amber raised her eyebrows. Curiouser and curiouser…

Lisette shook her head crossly. “Of course I do! It’s Flint. We just don’t call him that much, you know.”

Or at all. Despite Lisette’s confidence, Amber wasn’t convinced that the sun mage’s recollection was accurate.

A brief image—a book?—flashed through her mind. Amber shrugged; her mind made strange connections sometimes.

Lisette applied herself to her food again, and Amber turned to a knot of younger students nearby.

“So, where are you from?” Amber asked a younger boy, after Ainsley described, in much detail, a hilarious episode involving her brothers, a bear, and a keg of ale at last year’s Harvest Festival.

The boy, Flavius, started. He was a nervous, twitchy fellow, who spoke—when he did at all—in stutters and pauses and sentences that trailed off into nothingness. The misalignment in his pattern had engendered a kind of revulsion in Amber; so, to make up for it, she tried to be extra kind to him.

“I-I…” stammered Flavius, wide-eyed. His head turned from side to side, as if he were seeking escape.

The rest of the group stared at Amber in silent horror. Lisette kicked her in the shin.

Uh oh. Everyone here knows something I don’t.

“Hey, did you see old Marius’ outfit today?” Ainsley jumped in. “Do you think he chooses his clothes in the dark or does he actually think they look good on him?”

This led to a hearty denunciation of the eccentric Master’s wardrobe. Amber didn’t know who was more relieved at the change of subject—herself or Flavius, who subsided into a slumped heap. His lips moved as if he were talking to himself. Amber quested her senses out toward him; once again made contact with that fluxing pattern of thorns and snarls.

Lisette kicked her again. “Quit it. It’s rude to stare.”

“I’m trying not to, but—”

Lisette whispered furiously. “Look, I don’t know how it is in the islands, but here it’s considered rude to poke around in people’s background unless they volunteer the information. Not everyone has a happy little family in the past like you do.”

“I was trying to be friendly. But by all means, let’s make fun of a Master’s clothes instead.”

The two glared at each other.

“Look, most of us can handle your nosiness, no problem,” said Lisette. “But just leave Flavius alone. Yeah, he has his issues, but it’s not your place to handle them.” She swung her legs over the bench, and gathered her tray. “All right?” She cocked her head.

“Yeah, yeah.” Lisette thought Amber was nosy? All she’d done was try to draw out the kid a little—but fine. She’d gladly ignore him from now on out.

This is a whole new world, with its own social customs. Maybe I’d better listen more and talk less. It had been a long time since she’d felt so gauche—she’d been navigating her parents’ social circle since she was a little girl.

Amber pushed away her bowl, no longer hungry. She started to get up.

The pattern twisted suddenly around her.

Light flashed, so bright that Amber was momentarily blinded. She stumbled, gripped the edge of the table to keep her balance. Cries of surprise rose from the assembled students.

While Amber was still trying to clear stars from her vision, high-pitched wails ripped the air. She winced, clapped her hands over her ears. The wails broke off into a series of rude noises. These were accompanied by billows of grey smoke and a truly noxious odor.

She had to give it to the sun mages. Most of the Heartwood students were on their feet, weapons in hand and magic sparking around them.

Pity they had no one to direct their well-honed aggression towards. The masters at their table looked resigned. They, at any rate, had surrounded themselves with protective spells. The Headmaster still smiled into his mug.

A hollow voice boomed, “Take that, Deadwood scum!” A chorus of unseen voices broke out in a rude song about Heartwood Academy.

Water fell in sheets from the ceiling, salty and cold. Amber gasped as it struck her skin. She was soaked in seconds.

Expressions of dismay and disgust rose from the Heartwood students as they scrambled to get up their waterproof shields.

Not a single one of the masters, Amber noted, was wet.

She was already drenched to the skin. Amber looked wordlessly at Lisette, who was wrapped in a golden light. The water was deflected from her figure in strange angles.

The sun mage’s blue eyes sparked with lightning. She was audibly grinding her teeth. “And to think Kael and Troi are missing this very—lovely—gift from Torou.”

Amber caught Ainsley’s eye. Both of them grinned.

Ainsley leaned close to Amber and whispered. “Last time we had trouble with Torou, it got really bad. A ruined dinner is a small price to pay for peace if this is all the retaliation we get.”

Amber whispered back, “I hope so!”

Read Episode 8.

Author’s Note: I’ve been doing a lot of yard work lately so it’s no wonder my brain placed the Headmaster in a greenhouse! He’s a mysterious guy for sure. But now we’re back to Torou. Maybe pulling off this prank will satisfy them…or maybe not!

Thanks to those who have donated to the keep the serial going. As always, I love feedback, so feel free to leave a comment.

“Kael,” she murmured.

“I see them.” Kael let go of her, grabbed the opposite edge of the vent, and flung himself up and out amongst shadowy figures. His fist crashed against one of them, sending it to the ground. He lashed out again, but the other mages dodged out of the way. Their suns were dancing twists of a grey so pale it was almost white.

Air ninjas or no, Amber couldn’t just keep hanging on inside the vent opening. She quickly scrambled out and crouched.

“Well, well,” said one. “Did we just catch you in a midnight raid, Deadwood mages?”

“Oh, so you recognize me. I guess I have no more reason to not do this.” The suns in Kael’s hands unshielded, trailed heat and orange light as he lashed magic at the wind mages. They bounded out of the way, flying up to the sky. Their coordinated wind attack came down like a hammer.

Amber squeaked. Kael met the attack with an arc of his hand, deflecting much of it. Still the gusts blew Amber’s cloak behind her and rippled his coat.

The wind mages danced around them, keeping up a spinning wheel formation, a vortex of air that kept Kael and Amber boxed in. One or two of the five kept darting in with an attack on Kael—a flick of a wind-whip, short sharp bursts of air. Kael fended them off, but he was on the defensive, not moving his feet much at all.

Of course. He’s trying to protect me, not leave me open. Think, Amber, think. How can you help him?

The patterns of wind magic moved so fast, she could barely see them, much less grasp and manipulate them. Whenever she did try, they cut her mage senses like glass shards.

I can’t do my magic as quickly as this fight demands.

“We’re going to nail you to your school doors after we’re through,” yelled a wind mage. “Naked.”

“Just try it,” Kael invited.

“Should we not be provoking them any more than we already have?” pleaded Amber, but she could tell she’d already lost him to battle-fever. A wind mage swooped at him; Kael ducked, twisted and struck at the ninja sneaking behind him.

“You’re too slow—” sneered one, then gasped as Kael jumped past him and grabbed his buddy who was sneaking up behind him. Heat went off Kael in waves, and the air ninjas cried out and sprang back. The entire column of air wavered crazily as Kael threw the mage out of formation.

An opening appeared in front of Kael. For a moment, it looked like he was going to drive through, but he checked. His golden eyes glinted as he looked at Amber.

If it weren’t for me, he’d have gotten free.

“Shall—shall I call the masters?” one of the air mages quavered.

The mean one snorted. “We can handle this one by ourselves. The girl’s beyond useless—what is she, some kind of trophy girlfriend?”

Amber’s cheeks flamed. She twisted her hands in her cloak, forced her will upon the thick ropes of wind magic. It burned across her soul, and Amber clenched her teeth, hard. The column faltered once more, but the combined power of the air ninjas was too strong. She gave up, her breaths coming out hard. Kael was a golden smear in her vision, grappling with grey shadows.

Movement beyond the wind barrier caught her eye. Amber’s heart sank.

Oh no. Here’s another one of them.

Wait, it’s-

Whips of cold air lashed against the roof top. Air ninjas tumbled out of position; stray gusts of air, both warm and cold, knocked Amber first one way, then another. The only one still standing was Kael, and even he had to brace his feet. Two air ninjas were flattened on the roof, two others clung to whatever they could get a hold on. One had gone right over the edge.

Amber hoped he wasn’t injured. How would she explain that to the Headmaster, or worse, Master Zoya?

A dark figure wrapped in air currents hovered above them all, hands in pockets. “You idiot sixth-year students. Don’t you know you’re supposed to watch your backs, too?”

“Come to join the party, Troi?” asked Kael amiably.

“No, I came to give you a thrashing, you numbskull.” Troi was audibly grinding his teeth. Amber’s eyes widened. She had never seen him lose his cool like that.

“Can it wait?” Air ninjas howled as they rushed at the pair, riding great howling bursts of wind. The sound grated in Amber’s ears.

Kael winced, but Troi seemed unaffected, lashing out with his whips. Air ninjas fell back again.

Mean Ninja yelled at Troi, “Stop hiding in your wind shield, barai! Face me with honor, if you still understand what that means.” He rocketed up, and his sword snick-ed out of its sheath.

Winds streamed away from Troi as he dropped several feet to meet his opponent. Mean Ninja snarled, and the two swirled around each other. Mean Ninja swung his sword, but Troi was never in its path.

The other air ninjas stared at the two, mouths agape. Kael took the opportunity to punch the one sneaking up behind Amber, then stood with his foot on the guy’s head, watching, arms folded.

Amber couldn’t follow the fight—it was just a ball of whirling air in the dark night, occasionally lit with blue flashes.

And then the maelstrom split in two, one half falling. The wind around the figure dissipated.

Mean Ninja crashed to the rooftop.

The other three air ninjas bunched together defensively. Troi descended, hands still in his pockets. He looked at Mean Ninja, prone on the stone. Then he glanced at the three still standing.

“It’s over.” His voice sent a chill through Amber. Air currents whirled around her body, lifted her up. “It’s time to go, you two.”

The journey back was rough, caught as Amber was in Troi’s ungentle winds and the force of his anger. The air snarled her hair, snatched away her breath, and stripped all the warmth from her skin.

His suns were white-hot flames.

The sea flashed by, a shifting, glittering carpet of night. Then they were over land and Heartwood’s buildings came up quickly. The winds swooped, dumped her on Heartwood’s grounds. Amber said unsteadily, “Troi, we…”

“Amber.” Kael looked and sounded relaxed, but his gaze never left Troi’s shadowed face. “Go back to bed.”

“What,” said Troi, “do you think you were playing at, Kael? Were you trying to create an international incident? What do you think would’ve happened if the Whispering Winds had been there?”

Magical energy built up around him again, crackling against Amber’s skin. “Troi…” she began again.

“Answer me, Kael!” Troi lashed out and a roiling wave whipped at Kael. Amber squeaked and hid behind the other boy.

Kael took the blow without flinching. He reached behind him, grasped Amber’s arm, and pushed her dorm-wards. “Go home, Amber.”

Amber looked from one to the other. Troi’s face all grim and shadowed, Kael’s odd eyes glowing with a light she couldn’t decipher. Violence trembled in the air. She realized she was more afraid now than she had been on the rooftop at Torou Academy.

There was only one thing left do. Amber backed away, and ran, slipping and sliding on wet grass, to her own room. Where she jumped into bed and pulled the covers over her head.

Boys need to settle things their own way, her mother had been wont to say placidly when her younger brothers got into a brawl and Amber had wanted to stop them.

That may be so, but when the boys are both powerful sun mages? Will they hold themselves back?

It wasn’t her problem. It took some mental struggle, but she shoved herself away from the pattern so she wouldn’t have to feel the battle she knew was happening out there.

Even so, sleep was a long time coming.

Amber heard the rumors all the way to breakfast.

“Did you hear about…?”

“… EPIC fight between Troi and Kael…”

“… a whole TREE was uprooted…”

“Kael burned down one of the sheds, too.”

“How much trouble do you think those two are in?
Amber slipped into place across from Lisette, who was eating a piece of toast and staring off into space. “Who won?” she asked bluntly.

Lisette slowly brought her gaze to Amber’s face. She studied it for a while. Then she shrugged. “Two sun mages fight. Most of the time, no one wins. The idiots.”

“Are they hurt?”

“Those two lumpheads? Of course not. It’d take a stone yuka to bring one of them down.”

“Will they be—expelled?” Amber hadn’t finished working her way through Heartwood’s Rules & Regulations guide. She’d skipped past the section on “magic duels,” convinced that it didn’t apply to her.

She hadn’t planned on getting into fights.

“Nah. Probably one of the masters will give them a dressing down, and it’ll all blow over.” Lisette looked closely at Amber. “You care that much?”

“They’re two of the four people I can say I know here. I wouldn’t want to lose half my friends so soon.”

Lisette crammed the last piece of toast in her mouth, then snagged two sticky buns for the run. “You need more friends,” she commented.

“Um… Lisette?”

Lisette peered over her shoulder, eyebrows raised. “What?”

“Do people know”—Amber swallowed—“why they fought?”

Lisette took her time answering, her face expressionless. “It’ll come out soon enough, since another school is involved. They were called up to the Headmaster’s office this morning. But for what it’s worth, neither of them will out a companion. The masters aren’t dumb, though. You understand?” She cocked her head.

“Clearly.” Amber was relieved at how normally the word came out, given the tightness of her throat.

Amber saw both Kael and Troi later that day, but not together. A rather chastised-looking Kael was moving charred wood around in the distance as Amber took a short cut across the courtyard. She saw Troi as she crossed the lobby an hour later.

Troi was his old, bored-looking self. He didn’t acknowledge Amber, but as she passed, she noticed his dagger back at his belt.

And next to it was the long sword.

The contended humming from both artifacts made Amber smile.

Troi looked up, saw her, and scowled so ferociously that it not only froze Amber dead in her tracks, but also Ainsley who was walking next to her.

“Why did—why did he look at us that way?” Ainsley gasped.

“He hates me,” they both groaned simultaneously. They caught each other’s eye and giggled.

Something tight inside Amber had loosened. She felt lighter somehow.

You understand? Lisette’s words came back to her.

I do indeed. Kael and Troi protected me last night, but I need to take responsibility, too.

“Ainsley,” she said, “where can I find the Headmaster?”

Read Episode 7.

Author’s Note: Ha, I heard the Cinema Sins guy say, “Roll credits” in my head when I wrote Whispering Winds this episode. Titular… things are mentioned. Is this the end of the Heartwood crew’s trouble with Torou Academy? Probably not!

If you’re enjoying the Heartwood Chronicles, please consider supporting the serial. Donors will get a copy of the e-book with my thanks. I’ll bundle the first three arcs into one volume once Whispering Winds Arc is all wrapped up. 

They swam toward the island, away from the beaches and the docks. Kael was right; the defensive spells had worn down considerably at water level.

“Wind mages,” said Kael derisively, as Amber worked at a particular threadbare spot. The spell-threads were so weak, it was a simple matter to detach them and leave them fluttering in the wind without triggering an alarm.

“Just be careful not to let the spell threads touch—” began Amber, but Kael was already through, scrambling up the rocky bank. He held his hand out to her. Amber sighed, took it, and let him pull her up.

She crossed her arms and stood there dripping next to him. Unbelievably, he was already mostly dry. She had to struggle not to lean into his warmth.

There are advantages to being a sun mage.

He looked expectantly at her. “Well, aren’t you going to fix this? You can’t go dripping into the academy.”

Amber opened her mouth to snap at him, then stopped. Well. She could fix this, couldn’t she?

She focused on the patterns around her. Maybe a little pull on the water in her clothes?

“Aiee!” Amber collapsed to the ground.

He looked down, astonished. “You okay?”

Amber said, with several rocks biting into her cheeks. “Urgh. That didn’t work.”

Kael crouched next to her. “Keep still.” He held his hands over her. A few minutes of warmth, and Amber damp but no longer dripping.

“Let’s get going,” she said. Her wet underthings rubbed and her shoes squelched as she walked, but those were small prices to pay for personal space.

“If you’re sure.” Kael led the way through the trees toward the dark bulk of Torou Academy, bristling with spires, upswept eaves, slanted roofs —a playground for the Kaidan wind mages.

Amber probed the spells on the Academy grounds. They were few and far between. None of them were safety spells. Looking up at the roofs, with tall poles and high hoops sticking up at them, Amber shivered. Kaidan wind mages were supposed to be proficient, anyhow.

There was also one small detail she’d overlooked. “Kael,” she breathed. “There are no doors.”

“No problem.” He crouched. “Get on.”

“Huh?”

“Unless you can fly, get on my back.”

=Amber did so, flushing and stiff. If it was awkward for Kael, he didn’t show it. He leapt high, reached a ledge. Amber tried not to choke him with her white-knuckled grip. Kael bounded to yet another ledge. He jumped again.

“Spell on the window to the left,” Amber said.

Kael switched direction in midair, shoved his fingers into crumbling mortar. His feet slipped.

Oh, help. We’re going to fall.

Then his muscles bunched. A warm wind swirled Amber’s cloak. He leapt to a window-sill, stood at the corner of it, panting hard.

“Sorry,” whispered Amber, miserably. “I’m not helping you any, am I?”

“You’re doing all right,” he whispered back. “You don’t weigh enough to bother me.”

“There are no more hand-holds, though.” Blank wall stretched above them to a roof-edge that looked very far away.

“We’ll make it. Just be ready to jump on my signal.” Currents of warm air swirled around them. They gathered into a strong push just as Kael rocketed up the wall, his hands and feet finding impossibly small places to grab hold of.

The roof-edge approached rapidly. Amber let her legs dangle, and braced a hand against Kael’s shoulder.

“Now, Amber.” Wind caught at Amber, pushed her away. Kael grabbed her by the upper arm, and flung her up, adding muscle power to the wind.

Amber flew up. Roof-tiles flashed under her, then a thigh-high parapet. Hastily, she pulled patterns, and turned her landing into something more elegant than her previous attempts.

Practice does make it better, she thought ruefully. A faint light glimmered on poles of varying heights, some topped with rings, others all spiky with arms, a couple glinting with wicked-looking spikes. The roof-scape was crazy with random walls, abrupt corners, arches and slides.

Touro Academy’s training arena.

Kael was already behind her and moving. He knelt near a rectangular grate. Several of these covered large air-vents all over the roofs.

“This is how air ninjas come home,” he told Amber. “Can you do your finding witchery now?”

“It’s magic, not witchery. I don’t raise the dead or read the future in chicken entrails.” Swiftly, Amber created four separate ghosts. Thanks to the dagger’s strong signature, her own knowledge of the missing part of the set, and Troi’s distinct personality, it was an easier task than finding the Serepentine pipe in Hopeswell.

She blew a ghost through each of four different vents, then went to where Kael was lifting one of the grates.

“I don’t sense any other defensive spells active down there,” she told him.

“Good.” Kael pointed down the vent. “This takes us to a corridor near the Academy’s library and weapons rooms. The sword should be near there. Do you have a read on it yet?”

“This kind of magic takes time, Kael.”

He grunted, then sat back on his heels. His head dropped, chin almost touching his chest.

Did he—did he actually just fall asleep? Amber stared at his tousled head.

I guess that’s an important ability for a combat mage—being able to take a power nap anywhere, anytime.

A breeze stirred, and Amber shivered in her clammy clothes. She suddenly felt very lonely and on edge, pattern senses stretched to the maximum, ears straining for the slightest noise, eyes peering into every shadow and twitching at every movement.

The pull of a ghost made her start violently.

Kael lifted his face. His golden eyes glinted eerily, making him look not quite human.

He’s fast and strong, and I barely know him. What am I doing alone with him? No one knows where I am.

He said nothing, gazing beyond her. Amber resisted the urge to look over her shoulder. “I-I found it,” she stuttered.

His eyes focused, laser-sharp, the eyes of a predator. Amber leaned back, but he took her hand in a hard grip. “Let’s go!”

Torou Academy was a strange place of high ceilings, tall doorways, curving corridors, and unexpected holes in the floors. There were no stairways.

Air ninjas live here, after all.

Amber moved cautiously, probing for spells and traps. Her spell-light floated like a thin bluish wraith in front of her. Kael crowded behind here, and the back of Amber’s neck twitched.

She turned her head and gave him her best narrow-eyed, thin-lipped back off! glare.

He opened his eyes wide in a sham What-did-I-do? look.

Forget him, Amber. Just focus.

Amber pointed down a round hole in the floor. Kael leapt through. Amber floated down, letting the patterns in her cloak and the air do the work.

The magical signature of the sword was even stronger down here, a spider’s web of twisting corridors with small, arched doors at irregular intervals. Troi’s dagger had started to glow and throb to Amber’s mage-sight, its agitation manifesting itself in a purple glow at Kael’s waist.

Kael sprinted unerringly for the right door.

Well, that trail was hard to miss. The dagger must really be attuned to the sword, must really yearn to join its fellow.

Kael reached for the handle, then snatched his hand back as sparks crackled from it.

Amber examined the spell on the door. “Oh, dear.”

“You can’t take care of it?”

“Given enough time, I could.”

“Define enough time.”

“Half a day to a day.” Amber grimaced. The spellwork was so intricately knotted and interwoven; it would take a lot of time to pick it apart.

“I’m not waiting that long.” Kael unsheathed the dagger and stabbed it into the handle.

Purple light shot out from the point, was joined—like a lightning bolt—by an answering bolt from within the room. The defensive spell flashed bright, blinding Amber. The sun in Kael’s right hand came alive. Heat came off him in waves; his hand was alight with orange and gold.

Amber hid behind Kael’s body. A sizzle, the smell of burning and cloves.

Darkness in her mage-sight as the locking spell charred and crumbled. The click of a turning handle.

The room inside was tiny, hardly bigger than a closet. It contained only one pedestal, and on that pedestal was a sheathed sword.

Kael reached for the sword, then recoiled. “Darn thing.” He shook his hand vigorously.

“Kaidan weapons are attuned to their respective families,” Amber pointed out.

“The dagger didn’t do the same thing to me.”

“You’ve been around Troi long enough for it not to see you as a threat.” It was strange talking about inanimate objects this way. Magical objects had always seemed more than a little creepy to Amber, the way they straddled the line between alive and not-alive.

“Then it should tell that to its friend here.” Kael held the dagger, and picked up the sword with the same hand. It zinged him again, but not with the same vigor it had shown earlier. He thrust both weapons into his belt. “Let’s get out of here.”

“No objections from me.” Amber’s senses tingled, on full alert. She hadn’t noticed any alarms, but…

This time was Kael who led the way to the roof, swift and silent, with Amber shadowing him closely. Her heart hammered and her breath hitched in her lungs, but she didn’t dare ask for a rest or a slower pace.

The sooner we get out of here…

Kael pulled her against his side and leaped for the air-vent. That square of star-sprinkled night sky was one of the most beautiful sights Amber had ever seen.

… the better I’ll feel.

Then, uh-oh.

She clung to the lip of the vent as the suns of wind mages spun to grey-blue life all around them.

Read Episode 6.

Author’s Note: I’m back! The project I was working on in April is done, and I’m happy to have rescued Amber and Kael from the sea. Of course, now they’ve just walked into a group of air ninjas. Hmm, what’s a good collective noun for wind mages? An eyrie? A hurricane? What do you think?

I’d love to hear your comments on the story so far. If you’re reading this via email, click here to leave a comment. 

Next episode in two weeks!