The Heartwood Chronicles

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!

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

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

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

The only thing that was different was…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Congratulations,” she said finally, lamely.

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mother. Lisette’s stomach clenched.

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

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

Jonquil said, “Daughter.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, no, well, I…” Tamsin stammered.

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

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

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

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

Cloud Village.

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

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

Her chest felt tight.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Lisette!” appealed Tamsin.

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

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

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

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

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

Lisette took in a breath so sharp, it hurt.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Trouble.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Outside the hall was a buildup of magic.

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

The thick oaken door exploded.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Naia stumbled through the vegetation, emerging into…

Afternoon.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Naia began, “Your ghosts—”

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

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

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

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

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

“We can eat berries and mushrooms.”

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

“We’ll dry off in the sun.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You-you-you…,” spluttered Amber.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

They were definitely not settlers or traders.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A body tumbled into the road with a thud.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why didn’t she clean it up herself?”

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

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

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

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

A shiver ran over the corpse.

It broke apart into dust.

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

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

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

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

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

His eyes held a reddish gleam.

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

We should’ve smeared them with dirt.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hello, Heartwood readers!

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

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