《Light Chaser Shorts and Flash Fiction》


 The Burial

    Regan looked down at her mother''s body, silent tears trickling down her dirty cheeks.


    She couldn''t believe it had happened, couldn''t believe that her mother had left them. Again. And this time, forever.


    Little Brennen, just two years old, struggled in her arms, tears running down his face as well, but for an entirely different reason. He was hungry.


    He was always hungry.


    Regan hoisted him up, trying to keep his feet above the ground; the last thing she wanted was for Donovan to find him running around the camp. The last time that had happened, their mother had taken a hit to her left eye, leaving her bruised and swollen for days. Regan supposed that the same thing would happen to her. She was the one in charge of their little family now; there was no mother to defend them anymore. Not that she''d ever done much defending at all.


    Brennen reached out for their mother, and an ear-splitting scream erupted from the little boy. He tried to dive out of Regan''s arms, tried to escape her iron grip on him.


    Regan didn''t have a choice; she turned and walked away from the woman who lay on the ground, out into the field, away from the trees.


    She could just keep walking, could keep going on and on until she couldn''t walk any longer.


    "Where do you think you''re going?" came Donovan''s angry voice.


    She paused; it took a lot of effort for her to remain standing.


    "This is your mess to clean up," he said.


    Regan turned around, and she couldn''t help but let a couple of sobs out. She needed to be stronger now. She needed to protect the boy. That would be her job until they killed her, too.


    "What do I do with him?" she asked Donovan, nodding at Brennen''s head.


    Donovan shrugged. "Not my problem."


    It seemed that she was now faced with an impossible choice: she could set the boy down so she could drag her mother away from the group, or she could keep walking and take the risk of being attacked.


    She turned her head toward the field again, weighing the options. Maybe if she had been alone, she might''ve been able to make a run for it, but Brennen wailed as he realized she wasn''t going to let him go. He smacked her with his little hands, then scratched at her shoulders with his tiny, sharp fingernails.


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    She couldn''t leave the group, couldn''t leave the little boy who was half her brother, half Donovan''s son. She walked back, passing Donovan where he stood with his arms crossed. He gave a short hissing sound as she walked by, and she shrank away. She was just a kid, but she''d seen what had happened to the other women in the group. She was risking her body being ravaged by staying, but she knew the boy would die if she were to leave him.


    You''ll just have to find a way out. Maybe when they''re asleep.


    But she knew she wouldn''t be able to both care for him and make it very far.


    As she approached the group again, she wondered if she would be able to move her mother''s body on her own.


    Then, like an angel''s grace, another woman, Rhona, held out her hands. "Give him to me," she said. "I''ll watch him."


    Regan looked around, unsure, but a moment later, she saw Donovan turn and walk away. This was the closest she would come to getting his approval. She released Brennen into the woman''s care and quickly made her way back to her mother''s body.


    Regan was relieved to find she didn''t look fearful in death. She stood over her and wiped her nose with the back of her hand. Then, she took each of her mother''s feet with her hands and pulled as hard as she could.


    The body only moved a couple of inches. Regan looked around, but no one was paying attention to her anymore. She tried again.


    Moving the body far enough away from the camp took what felt like an eternity, and when she was finally out of sight of the others, she fell down to her hands and knees, covered in sweat and out of breath.


    It was just the two of them now.


    She sat back and tried to figure out what to do. She didn''t have anything to dig with, and she wondered how deep the grave would need to be. Then, an idea came to her; she had once seen a sort of burial where stones had been laid over a man''s body. He was completely buried, not even a finger sticking out from beneath the many rocks covering him. Regan looked around and was relieved to find several small rocks littering the forest floor.


    It would have to do.


    She began collecting, and with each stone she placed over her mother''s body, she started to feel better.


    After an hour of collecting and depositing the little stones, she approached her mother''s head. The blank stare in her eyes made Regan nervous.


    Was she still in there?


    She had two last stones, one for each eye, and she knelt down staring, trying to decide what to do.


    Should she close them? Or leave them open?


    Tears of fear and loss began to fall again. She set down the stones and carefully leaned over her mother, reaching out and closing her eyelids with all the bravery a child could muster.


    That was it, then.


    She delicately placed one stone over each eye.


    There would be a time for more pain, more terror and hunger and most of all, anger. But for now, the deed was done, the goal accomplished.


    Somewhere in the distance, the baby cried.


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 Starfall

    "Grandmother," the little girl said. "Do you think he''ll come to see me this year?"


    Alma put down the cup of tea she''d been drinking, yesterday''s teabags, and looked up at Bree. Such a young thing. Only eight this year and so sensitive.


    That was what she called her; sensitive. Unlike so many, she was connected to the wider world, the animals, the plants, the subtle vibration of a land teeming with magic.


    And yet it was so rare to find in humans, magic. Only a select few were lucky enough to have it. Or unlucky enough.


    "I''m not sure," she said to Bree. "I think he''s been traveling. I haven''t seen him in the market."


    It was true; she hadn''t seen him.


    But Bree had.


    "He was there," she said. "I saw him yesterday on my way back from school." Her face, having been hopeful a moment before, fell as she thought about it. She hadn''t had the nerve to walk up to him. She was still so small, and he was so tall, as tall as a giant.


    Alma sighed. It would have been so much easier if he''d just stayed away entirely. Now the girl would know that he''d put his own needs before hers. Whatever those needs were. Brew. Money. Distance.


    Egan was Alma''s only child. She''d watched him shatter the day Bree was born, the day Alina had died before she''d even had a chance to hold the child in her arms. It had been Alma who''d taken tiny Bree to see her father and to tell him the news about what had happened.


    She''d regretted bringing the baby to him first; he''d instantly had something, someone, to blame for a loss so tragic. Alina had been so young, and their love had still been fresh. His wounds were fresh, too, not to be healed by time or magic.


    He''d brushed past her, past Bree, as he ran into the bedroom where the midwife was cleaning up. Alma remembered him screaming with agony, begging, pleading for Alina to come back to him.


    But her magic was spent, used up on making sure the child had a chance to survive. Alma had watched her face, had seen her eyes as she birthed Bree, and she knew. She knew she was dying, and maybe it was this knowledge, this effort to pass along her gift, that had ensured the child would not only be magical but exceptional.


    "Well, I don''t know about Egan," Alma said. "But I did find something in the market just for you. Maybe even better than a day with your father."


    "Better than Egan?" Bree asked, her voice a whisper. Her legs were still so little that she could swing them back and forth as she sat in her chair, too short for her bare, dirty feet to reach the dusty floor.


    Alma stood up and walked across the room to her bag, a market sack to fill with bread and cheese. How often it was empty. But not today. Not this birthday. She dug her hand into the bag, and her fingers gripped the fruit. She pulled it out and hid it behind her back, then walked back to the child.


    "Which hand?" she asked.


    Bree giggled. She loved this game.


    "That one," she said, pointing to her left.


    Alma''s hand emerged empty. She made a dramatic face as if she, too, were surprised that she had nothing there.


    Bree giggled some more and pointed at the other hand.


    But this was where it got tricky because after Alma showed her other hand to be empty, she clapped them together. No fruit.


    Bree stared, curious but not yet betrayed. She stood up and walked to Alma. Opening her arms, she wrapped them around her grandmother''s middle, and there in the back, tied between the straps of her apron, was the prize. Her little hand gripped onto it and stole it from the ties.


    But this was no ordinary gift. No ordinary fruit.


    It was an orange.


    "Oh, Grandmother!" she exclaimed as she regarded the orange. "How did you get this?"


    Alma winked. "Magic," she said.


    Bree scoffed; she knew very well that there wasn''t an ounce of magic in her grandmother''s body. But her smile remained, for, in her hands, she held a treasure so great that she''d never even met someone who''d eaten one before. She might''ve had fine shoes for the cost of this one, small fruit.


    But the fruit was better.


    She stared at it, then furrowed her brows.


    "How do we eat it?"


    She opened her mouth and licked the skin, then pushed the orange away from her, grimacing at the taste of it.


    Alma laughed.


    "You have to peel it first," she said.


    Bree smacked her forehead with one hand, and at that moment, she looked so much older than she really was. She knew about things like humility and patience and pain, things that other children didn''t yet know.


    "I should''ve known," she said. She dug her fingernail into the peel and pulled at the skin. "Like this?"


    "Yes. But let''s take it over to the table. And I''ll get a plate so that not a drop is wasted."


    Alma watched as Bree carefully peeled away the rind, and she''d been right to get the plate. Juice spurted from the fruit, a drop of it spraying into Bree''s eye.


    "Ouch!" she said, squinting. She dropped the orange onto the plate, but Alma caught her hands before she had a chance to rub her eyes.


    "No!" she said. "It''ll be worse if you touch it with your wet hands. Here, take this."


    Alma pulled a rag from a pocket in her apron and handed it to her. Bree snatched it and held it to the affected eye. Absently, she put the wet fingers of her other hand into her mouth. The rag fell away, and her smile was as wide as the sunbeam streaming in through the south window.


    She was still squinting, but she was on a mission now. She pulled off the rest of the peel and held it out for Alma to inspect.


    "How do I eat it?" she asked.


    "I don''t know, actually," Alma said. "I''ve never eaten one, myself."


    "Really? Well, then we will share it!"


    "Oh, don''t be silly, child. Today is your day. Now open your mouth and take a big bite. Remember to hold your head over the plate so that you don''t lose all the juice."


    Bree did as she was instructed and tentatively stuck out her tongue to test it. Then, like a vampire bat, she sunk her teeth into the orange and pulled away with a mouthful of the stuff. Her face was instantly alight with pleasure, the juice running down off her chin and splashing onto the plate.


    As she chewed, she inspected the thing. Then, seeing that the fruit had sections, she peeled one off and held it out for Alma.


    "Are you sure?" Alma asked.


    "Of course I''m sure," she said.


    It was Alma''s turn to feel like a child, then. She reached out and took the wedge that Bree was holding out for her, held her head over the plate, and popped it into her mouth.


    The flavor burst across her tongue, and she found herself smiling as wide as the girl.


    They sat like this, passing the orange back and forth between them, sharing it as they did all things.


    In what seemed like a very short span of time, the orange was gone. Bree picked up the plate and held it up to her lips, tipping the rest of the juice onto her tongue. Then she sat back and licked every single one of her fingers.


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    And so did Alma.


    It was over now, though.


    "What should we do next?" Bree asked.


    Alma was without more surprises, but she didn''t think Bree expected much more from her after such a gift.


    "Well," Alma said. "The sun is going down. Maybe we should spend the evening on the lake."


    Bree''s eyes widened. She''d only been out onto the lake once in her life. She''d been five, and Egan had had a good day. A clear day. He''d taken her out, given her a fishing rod, and proceeded to lean back in the boat, tipping his hat over his eyes, to nap in the sun.


    Bree had sat there for hours in the burning sun, and soon the skin on her arms and the tip of her nose was an angry shade of red.


    "Father," she''d said. "Can we go back now?"


    Egan opened an eye.


    "Where are the fish?" he''d asked.


    "Um ¡­ there aren''t any fish."


    He''d groaned, irritated.


    "Well, what are we supposed to eat tonight if you haven''t been able to catch any fish? Answer me, girl!"


    But she hadn''t answered. She was scared, but she was angry, too, and her anger spread out into the tips of her fingers, fingers that held the wooden fishing rod.


    It burst from her hands, the wood cracking into a hundred pieces. She''d been surprised by the event; she''d known she had magic in her blood, but they hadn''t yet brought her to see Zahn, the head sorcerer in the castle. Until she was trained by him, it was illegal for her to use her magic.


    But few were trained by Zahn.


    "I''m sorry, Father," she''d said, fat tears threatening. She covered her eyes, unwilling to look into his, praying that he wouldn''t hit her or worse, say anything more.


    He hadn''t hit her, and he hadn''t said anything more. Instead, he merely took up the oars and rowed them back to shore. When they got to the dock, he''d walked away from her, leaving her to find her own way home.


    And she had. Burnt and hollowed out, she''d gone back home to Alma and told her everything that had happened. Then, safe in her arms, she let her tears fall. She had failed so miserably in her attempt to impress him. She just hadn''t been enough.


    Alma regarded her now and could see the memory of the event flitting across her little face.


    "I don''t think I want to go to the lake," Bree said.


    "That''s just because you''ve never been there at night," Alma said. "When you go out late, so late that the sun''s rays are far, far beneath the horizon, you can see a million stars watching you from above."


    "Grandmother, I can see the stars from out my window. How is it different?"


    "I''m going to show you," Alma said. "And maybe," she leaned in conspiratorially, "we might even see a star fall."


    Bree frowned.


    "What''s a star fall?" she asked.


    Alma laughed.


    "It''s when a star from above, too tired to continue lighting the sky, falls down to the earth. Behind it, it leaves a trail across the cosmos, one final mark as it burns away to nothing. You won''t see that from your window."


    She stood up from her chair and went to the little kitchen, wrapping a small, hard loaf of bread into a towel. Then, untying her apron, she crossed the room and picked up her market bag, placing the bread inside. She stripped the blanket from the bed and wrapped it around her shoulders.


    She walked up to Bree and held out her hand.


    Bree looked up, wary, and Alma could see that she was sad at the memory of her father.


    Every memory of her father, for they were all the same.


    But she trusted Alma, and she took her hand and hopped down from the chair. Together, they descended the stairs, and as they went into the open air of the market, the sun was already starting to set. They would have to be quick.


    The lake was freshwater, and it bordered not the city but the farmlands. An aqueduct had been constructed ages ago, bringing clean water to the inhabitants of Eagleview Kingdom. Other constructions were used to water the fields that bordered it.


    The lake was a gift. That was what Alma had always said. Still, Bree was nervous.


    They walked out of the city, which was unprotected against the outer walls of the castle, and into the meadows that surrounded it. It was growing season, and the grass was green and sweet. A band of horses grazed not too far from their path, and Bree watched them as she walked, curious.


    "Don''t they ever get tired?" she asked Alma.


    "Who? The horses?"


    "Yes. I see them in the square, and the cobblestones must hurt their feet as they do mine."


    Alma smiled, taking out the loaf of bread from the bag. She tore off a piece for Bree and another for herself so that they chewed their dinner as they walked.


    "I think the horses probably get as tired as the people do. Though I suspect their hooves are tougher on the cobblestones than your little feet."


    "Maybe."


    They walked along in silence for a while until they came upon the water. The sun was nearly set, and the ripples twinkled in shades of pink and orange as its last light slipped away.


    "It''s so sparkly," Bree said, holding one hand to her brow as she regarded the water.


    "Come down here," Alma said as she sank into the dirt. "We''ll need to wait until the men go."


    Bree looked above Alma''s head. She could see them, the fishermen, coming in now from a long day working on the water. She searched the men for her father, for Egan. But it was too late and too dark to tell if he was among their numbers.


    She wondered if she''d broken his very last fishing rod. Maybe that was why he didn''t come around, because of what she''d done.


    Eventually, the men moved away, their boats tied up for the night, their catches hanging from wooden bars they held over their shoulders.


    The sun was fully down now, and the stars were starting to come out.


    Alma stood up and offered her hand to Bree. She looked nervous, but she took it. Together, they slinked through the night toward the dock. Nobody was out now except for the cicadas and bullfrogs singing their evening tunes.


    They came to the dock, and with one last look around, Alma released Bree''s hand and took off down the wooden ramp, giggling as she went.


    Bree paused, looking around hesitantly, then followed cautiously behind.


    "Come on, child!" Alma whispered. She already had one foot in a boat, and she waved at Bree to hurry.


    A couple of moments later, Bree stood before her grandmother, clearly worried.


    For a moment, Alma felt like maybe she''d made a mistake bringing her here. The girl was so scared, and she needn''t be.


    She sat down in the boat and beckoned Bree to join her. Carefully, methodically, Bree stepped into the boat. It moved with the introduction of her weight, and she nearly yelped with fright. She dropped to the bottom, and the boat stopped rocking.


    Alma laughed.


    "Here you go," she said, handing Bree an oar.


    "What do I do with this?" she asked.


    Alma was untying the rope, and then she sat up to show her how to handle the oar in the water. She pushed back from the dock and began rowing away toward the center of the lake.


    Though she was armed with an oar, it saw little water. Instead of rowing, she sunk down deep in the boat, too scared to look out at the water.


    "Grandmother," she said, her voice panicky. "I don''t know how to swim."


    Alma stopped rowing for a moment and turned to talk to her.


    "I don''t know how to swim, either," she said. "In fact, I don''t know anyone who knows how to swim! Maybe the fishermen do; I''m not sure. But look around you now." She motioned with her arms up to the sky.


    Bree''s gaze followed hers up, and she forgot her fear in an instant.


    The sky was glowing with starlight, and Alma had been right; this was nothing she could''ve seen through the little window in their one-room shack.


    Bree laid back in the boat, and Alma did the same.


    They stayed quiet for a while, just gazing up at the sky. Waiting for a star to fall.


    "Grandmother," Bree said. "When will we see one?"


    "Oh, anytime now."


    But the stars were stubborn, absolutely refusing to fall. Alma spread the blanket over the both of them as the night grew chilly.


    Yet the stars were still stuck firmly in the sky.


    This trip was nothing like the one she''d had with her father. She and Alma snuggled up together, rocked by the ripples of the lake.


    And then, at long last, one fell.


    "Whoaaa! Grandmother! Do you see?"


    A long arc of white was painted across the black of the sky as the star, impossibly bright, fell to its end.


    "I do see," Alma said.


    Bree sat up in the boat.


    "I want to see more of them."


    "Make your own, then," Alma said. And suddenly, she knew how to best end their night on the lake. To end the best birthday she''d ever had.


    A challenge.


    "You know how to do it," Alma said, and she sat up next to her in the boat. "Raise your arms up and make them fly!"


    Bree, full of doubt, looked up at the sky.


    She wanted to see the light show again. She wanted a star to fall all the way down. Maybe it would be so small when it got there that she could carry it around and tell everyone she had a star in her pocket.


    She looked down at Alma. Then, slowly, she raised her arms up above her head.


    "I want to see it fall."


    She closed her eyes.


    "I want to see it fall."


    She wasn''t entirely sure what to do, but a moment later, flashes of light across her vision led her to open her eyes.


    Slowly, silently, drops of light were rising from her fingertips. She tried moving her arms around, and several more droplets dripped from her fingers like water.


    She shot her hands up above her head, and a great wave of light radiated up into the sky.


    Alma gasped, holding her hand to her chest.


    She''d known that Bree had magic, that maybe she even had more magic than many, even most. But the cascade of light that was pouring down upon them now was beyond anything she''d thought possible of her before.


    Bree stood up in the boat and began to wave her arms gently around and around. The droplets continued to flow, though slower and slower.


    Bree was tiring, and she inherently knew she would have to stop soon. One couldn''t pour magic from her fingertips forever.


    When she''d finally had enough, when the dance was done, and she had given everything she had over to the magic, she laid down beside Alma. Together they watched as the drops fell, then silently extinguished as they hit the water.


    Alma wrapped her arms around Bree and pulled the blanket tight. And together, beneath a sky of ending magic and endless stars, they fell to sleep.


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 Duel

    Something was happening in the city; people were gathering, but Kenneth didn''t know why.


    Then he heard it.


    Zahn''s high-pitched voice was echoing through the streets.


    "Run away, little girl!" called the head sorcerer. "You''re not wanted here!"


    Kenneth was tall for his age, as tall as a man, and he lifted his head above the crowd as everyone moved down the dirt road. He had a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach; days ago, he''d heard that there was a bounty on the head of one of his friends. Bree, a street kid from town, was wanted, and the prize for bringing her in was one hundred pieces of silver. Kenneth''s own father had been on the lookout for her, but he hadn''t found her. It appeared that nobody had.


    Until now.


    As Kenneth turned the corner where the market ended, he carefully pushed his way through the crowd until he was standing right at the front.


    Out in the field, Bree was walking away.


    Nobody in the crowd spoke. Bree was one of theirs, no matter the trouble she got herself into, but they were helpless as they watched her go.


    Zahn lifted his staff and pointed it in her direction. Kenneth pushed his way toward him, ready to defend her.


    But he was too late. A huge bolt of red lightning burst from the tip of Zahn''s staff, and Kenneth''s breath caught as he watched it soar across the sky. Bree turned at the last possible moment and lifted her hands, shooting silver fire back at the city, meeting Zahn''s own bolt in midair.


    Kenneth stopped, entranced by the sight of this girl out in the field defending herself without anyone else''s help. He''d never seen her do magic, not like this. He looked over at Zahn, and he was surprised to find his face contorted with concentration, with rage.


    Under different circumstances a smile might''ve crossed Kenneth''s face as he watched his friend fighting back; instead, his heart thudded in his chest as he waited to see what would become of her.


    The bolt of fire that Bree was sending in Zahn''s direction never wavered, and it was so forceful that he wondered how anyone could manage magic like that. Bree had healed him on occasion, and he''d often been on the receiving end of little jolts of power she would sometimes send through him.


    But lately, the tight feeling in his chest when she was close by had less to do with the magic she was sharing; his requests for her kisses had become more desperate. The game of cat and mouse they had always played was no longer a game at all.


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    Not to him.


    Out in the field, Bree''s fire pushed against Zahn''s, slowly inching its way closer and closer to the old tyrant until he looked more fearful than angry. Finally, he stepped back, breaking the connection between them. He grunted in frustration, stumbling and nearly hitting the ground.


    She had won.


    When he righted himself, Zahn muttered something under his breath, just audible enough for Kenneth to hear.


    "Little brat," he said. "Good riddance."


    Then, making sure that Bree''s back was turned again, he turned around and made his way back toward the castle. His students followed him; only the red-haired sorceress stayed behind for a few moments, watching her leave. But she, too, finally turned and followed the others.


    As the people in the crowd slowly dispersed around him, Kenneth stayed right where he was, unwilling to move from the spot. He kept his gaze upon Bree''s retreating back as she left the rundown city they''d both called home their entire lives.


    For a moment, he was tempted to join her, but then he realized he was totally unprepared for such a journey.


    Suddenly, that didn''t matter.


    He turned and started pushing his way through the crowd. He had a backpack in his father''s market stall, and if he was quick enough¡­


    He ran.


    It seemed to take forever to get back to the little tent his father occupied; he, himself, had spent many a night there guarding the food against beggars and rats.


    Those days were over now. He knew exactly where he was going, knew exactly what to do.


    As he slipped beneath the curtain of the tent, he snatched up his pack and quickly grabbed a few things from the piles of fruit, stuffing the pack until it was nearly full to bursting.


    "What are you doing back here, boy?" his father asked as he approached.


    Kenneth didn''t answer. The man hadn''t been horrible, had never laid a hand on him. But he had a cold heart, and a life of selling in the market was not something Kenneth had been looking forward to.


    He ran out of the stall, not even giving the old man a second look as he raced back toward the edge of town.


    But when he got there, he stared around, squinting his eyes as he looked for Bree on the horizon.


    She had disappeared.


    He took a couple of desperate steps in the direction she''d gone in, but then he heard his father''s voice behind him.


    "She''s gone, boy," he said, out of breath from chasing him, clearly irritated. He had failed to win the silver for her capture after all. "He''ll kill her if she comes back. Best to let her go."


    Suddenly, it was hard for Kenneth to breathe. He put his hands over his chest, tight now for another reason. He knew that he would likely never see her again.


    He looked down at the cracked earth beneath his feet and then up at the horizon, searching one last time.


    But finally, with the pull of the city behind him, he turned back. He walked straight by his father without a word, back toward a life he didn''t want, toward a life with no magic, no Bree.


    Not anymore.


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 The Sleeping Tree

    The boy was taller than her and older, too. He and his band of four followers had been chasing her around the city, calling out to her, taunting her, and nothing could send shivers down her spine like being pursued by a group of angry boys. Nearly men, they looked for their revenge, and in her, they saw an opportunity to let their rage take over.


    She hadn¡¯t grown tired, but as she fled, her fear had flipped over, and anger had taken hold. More anger than even the boys who pursued her had. She had a lifetime of rage, too, just like they did, and she was just waiting for the right moment to set it free.


    She stopped running.


    It was easy, her magic. It came out of her like a spring from the earth. Sometimes it was just a trickle. Other times, it was a waterfall. She couldn¡¯t always control it, but she wasn¡¯t totally wild.


    She walked up to the boys, who had also stopped running; they looked surprised. But the one in the front, the leader, with his locks of blond hair falling into his eyes, smiled wide.


    He advanced, ready to attack.


    But he didn¡¯t know who he was dealing with.


    ¡°Looky here,¡± he said, taking a few measured steps in her direction. ¡°A little witch come out to play.¡±


    She raised her eyebrows, smirking. She could feel the power rising up through her body, ready to explode.


    ¡°You think I don¡¯t know what you are? We know. They all know. And it¡¯s only a matter of time before you¡¯re cast out for good.¡±


    ¡°Walk away, Finn,¡± she warned.


    She knew him, had seen him in town throwing advances at girls who wanted nothing to do with him. Even in his fine clothes, most of the girls could see right through him. But the girls who didn¡¯t want him, he wanted.


    Was that why he was so angry? Because those beautiful girls rejected him? Humiliation could do a lot of damage to a person.


    But Bree ¡­ well, she was special, wasn¡¯t she? So much more than just a girl.


    He didn¡¯t walk away. Instead, he got closer and closer, licking his lips as if he were preparing to plant a kiss on her mouth.


    She let him get close. Her skin crawled as he slid his hands around her waist, then slipped them down her backside.


    The boys were impressed by their leader¡¯s boldness, and they hooted as they watched the scene unfold.


    ¡°You see? Little Bree. I¡¯m not so bad, am I?¡±


    She moved her hands until they were both resting on his chest, and as he moved in for a kiss, she let her magic fly.


    The force blasted Finn back a full ten feet, leaving him sprawling at the boys¡¯ feet.


    At first, they looked surprised. One of them even laughed. But then their humor turned to anger once more.


    Another approached, and this time she hit him without even needing to touch his body.


    Ten feet.


    Fifteen.


    Twenty.


    The last one gave pause, looking at his friends down on the ground, one howling with pain, cradling his arm where it had cracked on the cobblestone. Another holding onto his head, moaning.


    Finn was just starting to get his feet under him.


    ¡°What are you doing?¡± he shouted at this last standing friend. ¡°Get her!¡±


    Bree saw the look on the boy¡¯s face, and it was clear he had learned his lesson at his cohorts¡¯ expense. He approached, eyes wide.


    She knew what he was thinking. He would be beaten either way, though maybe even more so by Finn than by her.


    She walked up to him and put her hand up and behind his neck. Then she did the thing that she knew would drive Finn out of his mind.


    She kissed him.


    The boy pulled away, surprised. And in another moment, Finn was back for more. He grabbed her away from the other boy and kissed her forcibly.


    She did the only thing she could do. She waited for him to calm down, waited until his lips were soft against hers.


    And she bit him.


    He stumbled backward, his hand clenched to his face, screaming in agony.


    ¡°You terrible witch!¡± he shouted, looking down at his hand, which was now covered in blood.


    He regained his balance and advanced again, but this time when she hit him, she gave it everything she had, throwing him all the way across the road with just one hand.


    She turned, looking at the boy she had kissed, considering. If she tossed him as well, he would avoid a beating from Finn later on.


    But she wasn¡¯t feeling very generous. She walked up to him and spat in his face.


    ¡°Go now,¡± she recommended.


    He stepped back, hands outstretched to break his fall if she were to attack him, too.


    She looked around at the people in the market as she caught her breath. Many of them smiled, nodding their heads. Others looked fearful, stepping back from their tables as they waited for the lawmen who would undoubtedly come.


    ¡°Get out of here, girl!¡± one of the sellers called, an old woman. ¡°They¡¯ll have you in the stocks for this!¡±


    As if their stocks could ever hold her.


    But she wasn¡¯t a fool. With one last wink in Finn¡¯s direction, she took off running.


    She would pay for it in some way or another. Finn¡¯s family was rich, and she guessed that the other boys¡¯ must be as well. She winced as she thought about the one boy¡¯s broken arm. It wouldn¡¯t matter that he¡¯d had it coming.


    Well, it was too late now. Their pursuit of her hadn¡¯t been warranted. She was just today¡¯s girl to toy with. She knew what happened to some of the other girls who got cornered by Finn¡¯s squad.


    Behind her, shouts erupted, and she knew the lawmen were in pursuit. She sped up as the cobblestones came to an end, and with one last leap, she was running on the hard-packed dirt that surrounded the city. Only the inner part of Eagleview was walled, but on the outer edges, the slums, the streets simply stopped, opening up to the land beyond.


    She raced across the meadow, her magic giving her speed where the lawmen had nothing but armor.


    They did have arrows, though, and she started as one flew by her ear and hit the ground in front of her.


    She ran faster. Another arrow. Then another. Then another.


    How many were there?


    She chanced a look behind her and saw that three had stayed back, pointing their arrows, while two were still in pursuit. For a moment, she thought maybe she would stop running as she had before, that she¡¯d turn back and fight. This was the second group of five who¡¯d chased her today, and she was getting annoyed.


    But she knew better than to do that. She was already on the run, and she knew she¡¯d be in a mess of trouble if she lost the fight.


    The sleeping tree was just ahead, hidden in a grove of oak. She flew into the copse and quickly found the tree. She ran right into it, touching the bark with her hands, practically hugging it. She knew that no one else could see the magic of this tree but she and the other sorcerers who chanced coming out this far from the city.


    She turned around and watched as the two men clanked their way into the trees, searching for her.


    ¡°Check the branches!¡± one of them called.


    They both looked up into the oaks, but there was no girl there. No one to blame and take back to the city in chains.


    In chains. As if.


    One of the men stomped his foot, cursing.


    ¡°How could we lose her?¡± he asked no one.


    ¡°Maybe she¡¯s gone on ahead,¡± the other suggested.


    But the first one knew she hadn¡¯t done anything of the sort.


    ¡°Listen to me, girl!¡± he shouted into the trees. ¡°I know you¡¯re in there somewhere. Don¡¯t show your face again in Eagleview, and no trouble will come to you. But if you do ¡­¡± he took several steps farther into the grove. ¡°¡­ know that I¡¯ll be waiting for you.¡±


    It was his growliest voice, and she tried not to laugh. Of course, she knew that if she were to be caught, trouble would certainly come her way. But it seemed that no matter what she did, trouble came her way anyway.


    The men left the trees, and she turned to climb. She didn¡¯t need to go far before the tree¡¯s branches arranged themselves like a staircase for her.


    A sleeping tree was unlike that of any other kind, and though she shared the city with many sorcerers, this particular tree seemed to be all hers. It served her in every way, shielding her from prying eyes, covering her during the cold night, and feeding her with sweet fruits better than anything she could find in the market.


    As she reached the topmost branches, she sat back amongst the leaves, which instantly wove themselves into a strong lattice seat, cradling her as she sat back to catch her breath.


    ¡°You know, you¡¯re not the only one who can hide in trees,¡± a voice came from below. ¡°I¡¯ve been watching you. Very impressive of late, aren¡¯t you?¡±


    Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    She stood up hastily from her seat and peered down through the branches.


    ¡°How can¡ªwho are¡ªwhy are¡ª¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m Connell,¡± he said. He wasn¡¯t quite a man, but he wasn¡¯t young, either, and he rode a chestnut-colored draft horse with no saddle or reins. The horse tossed his head, but the boy stayed on like glue. ¡°I¡¯m from Zahn¡¯s class.¡±


    ¡°Why haven¡¯t I seen you before now?¡± she asked, brow furrowed in uncertainty. She had never had someone, anyone, approach her while she was in the sleeping tree. She allowed the thought that maybe it wasn¡¯t only hers.


    ¡°My parents have kept me well hidden. It¡¯s only in the past year that I¡¯ve been studying under Zahn. I guess they figured I couldn¡¯t hide it anymore. And they were right. You should come down.¡±


    He hopped down from his horse, and Bree descended a few steps, still unsure.


    The horse lowered his head and snorted as his lips moved over the green blades of grass, searching for the perfect bite.


    ¡°You¡¯re Bree,¡± he said as he walked to the base of the tree.


    He reached out his hand to take hers, to kiss it, maybe. But she wasn¡¯t having that, not after the afternoon she¡¯d had.


    ¡°What do you want?¡± she demanded.


    He stepped back.


    ¡°Nothing, my lady, but to lay my eyes on your beautiful face.¡± He smiled, joking.


    She scoffed.


    But there was something about this boy. She inherently felt ¡­ not safe ¡­ but not in danger, either. He was neutral to her. An equal, even.


    ¡°Why are you out here?¡± she asked. ¡°Doesn¡¯t your family worry that you¡¯re out of the city?¡±


    He shook his head.


    ¡°They know they can¡¯t control me. I do as they ask out of respect, but there is no reason for me to be stuck at home today, and Zahn is busy with the king.¡±


    ¡°How lovely for you,¡± Bree said, smirking. ¡°Are you far off from being busy with the king, yourself?¡±


    He shrugged.


    ¡°I can¡¯t say. But in any case, not today. Come down from your perch; the men are gone.¡±


    She peered through the branches and saw the last two of the lawmen in the distance, their armor glinting in the sun as they walked back to the city.


    ¡°Why would you have me come down?¡± she asked suspiciously.


    ¡°So that I don¡¯t get a crick in my neck from looking up at you, of course.¡±


    She rolled her eyes but obliged him and stepped down the staircase until her feet hit bare earth.


    ¡°Don¡¯t your feet hurt?¡± he asked curiously. ¡°I mean, I understand that you are without means, but certainly, you could trade a spell or two for some moccasins.¡±


    She blushed at this shortfall of hers. She used to be ashamed of her bare feet, and even now, with his attention on them, she felt somewhat helpless. But the truth was that she was better off without them, and she told him this.


    ¡°I find that my power is more concentrated when my feet are on the earth,¡± she said. ¡°Maybe you should take yours off.¡±


    He considered. Then, out of what seemed to be respect, he removed his boots and stood in the grass, his soft toes curling in the dirt. He took a few steps in one direction and nearly fell.


    ¡°Ouch!¡± he said. ¡°How can you stand it? The clods of dirt, the rocks and pebbles. You must have hooves like Chadwick here.¡±


    The horse grunted and chewed, his teeth razing the grass.


    Her shame was gone, replaced with anger.


    ¡°You can leave now,¡± she said, turning to walk up into the tree again. Her tree.


    ¡°Oh, come on now, Bree. I was hoping you¡¯d come for a ride with me.¡±


    She looked back.


    ¡°A ride? With you on the back of that brute? I don¡¯t think so.¡±


    ¡°Please, Bree,¡± he begged. ¡°I¡¯ve been waiting to meet you for so long.¡±


    ¡°And what do you mean by that?¡±


    ¡°I just mean, what I meant to say was, I¡¯ve seen you around the town since I was a child. And I¡¯ve always wanted to talk to you. But I¡¯ve never had the nerve. Now, Zahn is sending me to the mountains to train, and I won¡¯t be back for over a year. Before you go off and marry some other fool, I thought I¡¯d at least say hello.¡±


    ¡°Marry some other fool?¡± she said, incredulous. ¡°I¡¯m fifteen! I¡¯m not marrying anybody.¡±


    He smiled at this.


    ¡°Good. That¡¯s good. But please come with me. I promise you can trust me. On Zahn¡¯s magic, I promise you will not regret it.¡±


    She turned back and regarded the horse. She didn¡¯t know how to ride. Things like bread and meat had been hard enough to come by during her childhood, much less lessons on the back of a horse.


    ¡°I¡¯ll fall,¡± she said, shaking her head.


    ¡°You won¡¯t. And besides, even if you did, you would surely be able to break a fall with your own power. Now, come on.¡±


    He moved over to the horse and hopped onto his back so easily she had to look twice.


    ¡°How did you do that?¡±


    ¡°Magic,¡± he teased.


    He rode the horse up to the side of the sleeping tree¡¯s staircase and held out one hand.


    ¡°Now, just slide over and grab onto my waist. I promise I won¡¯t let you fall.¡±


    She raised an eyebrow, but she did as he suggested. As she wrapped her legs around the horse¡¯s middle, he moved a little, still searching for grass to nibble. She gave a little squeal of surprise as he shifted his weight.


    But then she was on. She hesitated, not wanting to touch the boy after what she¡¯d just been through in the market, but she found she was so frightened that she must hang on to something. She settled on gripping the sides of Connell¡¯s coat with her hands.


    ¡°Okay,¡± he said. ¡°Shall we go?¡±


    ¡°Okay,¡± she said, more bravely than she felt.


    ¡°Come on, Chadwick,¡± he said. ¡°Snack time is over.¡±


    The horse raised his head and walked away out of the grove, snorting and tossing his mane.


    It was funny, but as he walked, she could feel the power within him; not the ordinary power one might feel on the back of a horse, muscles and sweat and flared nostrils, but something much stronger. Suddenly, she didn¡¯t feel ashamed of her bare feet; instead, she felt honored that they would be compared to the hooves of such an animal.


    ¡°Are you ready?¡± Connell asked.


    ¡°Ready for what, exactly?¡±


    He looked back at her, a mischievous grin on his face.


    ¡°Hold on!¡±


    ¡°Hold onto¡ª¡±


    But her words were ripped away from her as the horse broke into a canter. Immediately terrified, she gripped her arms as tightly as she could around Connell¡¯s waist, her resolve to keep her hands to herself broken in an instant.


    ¡°Stop!¡± she cried.


    ¡°What¡¯s that you say?¡± he asked. ¡°You want to go faster?¡±


    ¡°No! I¡ª¡±


    ¡°Faster, Chadwick!¡± he bellowed.


    It was funny, but the faster the horse went, the smoother the ride seemed to be, and after a few moments at a full gallop, she seemed to forget her fear.


    She wrapped her arms even more tightly around Connell and let the wind take her, whipping around her so fiercely that it brought tears to her eyes.


    Connell laughed from up front, and gradually the horse slowed. Beyond them, the mountains stood reaching high up into the sky.


    He had led them to a flow of water, not a stream, but not a river, either. Chadwick splashed into the water and began finding his way across the uneven rocks in the bed. Little droplets sprayed the bottoms of Bree¡¯s feet, cleaning them of the dirt she so often wore like sheer, brown socks. Then, Chadwick stopped, sticking his muzzle several inches down into the water to drink. His nose made bubbles in the water as he slurped it up.


    She relaxed her arms around Connell¡¯s waist, suddenly aware that she was still holding onto him. She blushed, but he couldn¡¯t see it from where he sat.


    ¡°Where did you get this beast?¡± she asked as the horse finished his drink and stepped from the water. She reached back and stroked his hair.


    ¡°I found him,¡± Connell said.


    ¡°You found him?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°And he just miraculously came to your service?¡±


    He laughed.


    ¡°I guess you could say that. You could say that we struck a sort of bargain with one another.¡±


    ¡°And what sort of bargain is that?¡±


    ¡°Well, I¡¯m sure you can tell that he¡¯s a magical being. The two of us trade-off. Sometimes he carries me, and sometimes I fill his cup of magic by transferring my own.¡±


    She paused, confused.


    ¡°How do you do that?¡±


    He picked up one leg and swung it over Chadwick¡¯s mane, jumping to the ground. The horse¡¯s head was up now, alert but not alarmed.


    ¡°Move forward,¡± he said. ¡°All the way up to his withers.¡±


    She did, gripping onto his mane now that Connell was no longer there to hold onto.


    ¡°Now, lay yourself down on his neck. Wrap your arms around him, and put your ear to him.¡±


    She shook her head, raising one eyebrow.


    ¡°Just do it,¡± he said with mock irritation.


    Gradually, she let her body sink toward Chadwick¡¯s neck, and when her head was close enough, she pressed her ear to him.


    Instantly, a surge of magic bellowed out of her, and she could feel that it was filling the horse up as if he were a great vessel.


    ¡°Okay, now,¡± Connell said. ¡°Sit up. I think that¡¯s enough. He¡¯ll have more energy than he¡¯ll know what to do with.¡±


    She sat up gradually, the tendrils of magic joining her to the great horse slowly separating.


    ¡°Wow,¡± she said.


    Connell smiled, but this time it was genuine; no jokes.


    ¡°So you see now,¡± he said. ¡°You¡¯ll have to keep him company until my return. I leave tomorrow.¡±


    She didn¡¯t know Connell, only from this afternoon, but a part of her felt sad that he was going away. It took her a few long moments before she could think of something to say.


    Then, she realized she had nothing to say.


    Connell jumped onto Chadwick¡¯s back, this time behind her, and the animal took the journey back at a walk. Neither of them spoke, and she liked the feeling of the gentle breeze on her face, Connell¡¯s unassuming hands at her waist. So different from Finn¡¯s just hours ago.


    The sun was starting to sink as they approached the oak grove, and when they arrived and she hopped down into the grass, Connell finally spoke.


    ¡°May I stay with you tonight in the tree?¡±


    She frowned.


    ¡°No,¡± he said. ¡°You misunderstand me. It¡¯s just that, though I¡¯ve seen this particular tree in my travels around the outskirts of the city, I¡¯ve never taken advantage of its protection. Though I am a follower of Zahn¡¯s, it would be nice to have one night off before I travel.¡±


    She considered this.


    ¡°Okay,¡± he said. ¡°Your answer is no.¡±


    Chadwick turned to go as if he understood every word they¡¯d spoken.


    ¡°Wait,¡± she said. She was still deciding, but when she saw the hopeful look on his face, she relented. ¡°If you so much as touch me¡­¡± she warned.


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t dream of it.¡±


    ¡°Fine, then, You should stay in one of the lower branches. They¡¯re stronger than those I sleep in.¡±


    ¡°That is no surprise.¡± He dismounted and looked up into the tree. Then, with one last pat on Chadwick¡¯s neck, he ascended the steps.


    Already the tree was preparing for him, its branches weaving together to create a sort of hammock. He sat back into the seat, a little worried, but then his concern cleared, and he smiled.


    ¡°Wow,¡± he said. ¡°It¡¯s very comfortable.¡±


    ¡°Yes. Here. For your dinner.¡± She held out a fruit to him, but he frowned at it. ¡°They¡¯re very filling,¡± she said.


    She turned and climbed higher into the tree until she found a good spot for her bed. Then, sinking down into the protection of the wood, she grabbed two fruits from its branches and bit into one.


    She was used to the tree¡¯s fruits, crunchy and just barely sweet. Just one was enough to last her an entire day, though on days she was forced to use so much of her magic, like today, she required two.


    ¡°It¡¯s very beautiful in here,¡± Connell said. ¡°You can¡¯t tell it from the ground, but the protection is very calming.¡±


    ¡°Yes. And I need protection.¡±


    ¡°I suppose you do. Why don¡¯t you train with Zahn while I¡¯m away? I¡¯m sure he will need another apprentice soon. You wouldn¡¯t need protection, then.¡±


    She thought about this, but the idea of handing over her magic to another sorcerer made her nervous. And besides that, she¡¯d once trialed with Zahn when she was a young child. She¡¯d been sent away, shamed by him about her wild fire magic. Zahn would never let her in.


    ¡°I think I¡¯d rather keep my power to myself,¡± she said.


    ¡°Oh, he won¡¯t take it from you. He¡¯s magical enough on his own. But you may find even the most basic lessons could help you control the energy you carry.¡±


    She didn¡¯t speak. She was getting drowsy, and while she was still a bit wary about sharing her tree with him, she knew it would protect her if he were to try to make an advance.


    She didn¡¯t think he would, though.


    ¡°Thank you for letting me stay,¡± he said as the stars came out above, just visible through the branches.


    She rolled over to one side so that she could keep an eye on him, just in case. But she was tired from the day, and it became harder and harder to keep her eyes open. The tree knew this, and it wrapped its branches around her, cocooning her.


    Connell still had his eyes open and on the sky. The branches did not envelop him yet, as he was still wide awake.


    But as she closed her eyes, Bree decided she was safe with him there, not for her defense, but because his company was pleasing. Slowly, as she watched him watch the sky, she slipped into sleep, as comfortable in the branches as she would¡¯ve been in any feather bed.


    * * *


    She woke with the sun as it burst from the tips of the mountains in the distance. As the world came into focus, the tree removed its protective branches, and she sat up. Below her, the pod that had belonged to Connell was empty, its branches retreating. She looked around, thinking that he must be down in the grass with Chadwick, whom she could hear munching on his breakfast.


    But as she descended the stairs and the tree slowly moved back into its original form, she saw that he was gone.


    ¡°Chadwick,¡± she said. ¡°Where did he go?¡±


    She approached him and stroked his neck.


    He was gone, and she was sad for it. Gone for the year as he¡¯d told her. He must¡¯ve gotten up before dawn.


    ¡°Why did he leave you here?¡± she asked.


    The horse raised his head and put his muzzle into Bree¡¯s outstretched hands.


    ¡°To ride? On my own?¡±


    She regarded the horse, the slope of his back taller than the top of her head. She wondered if she could even manage to mount him without help.


    But she tried. She started at a run, and as she tried to jump, she simply ran into his back and then fell to the ground.


    Chadwick whinnied. Laughing? Then he did something very kind. He bent down onto his front knees to allow her to climb on. She did so unsteadily, but as he raised up again to his full height, she felt secure in her seat. She was certain now that she would not fall, even without Connell there.


    The two of them journeyed out from beneath the trees, and when they were clear of the hanging branches, Chadwick broke into a slow and easy canter.


    She didn¡¯t slip. She didn¡¯t fall. It was as easy as riding on a cloud. And she bent over and whispered the word she knew she would be using with the great animal very frequently from now on.


    ¡°Faster.¡±


    <<<<< >>>>>


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 The Little Witch

    Morgana skipped along beside her grandfather as they went from store to store. The baker. The butcher. The sweet shop.


    She came out of that last one with a fat lollipop in her hand and a smile on her face. Grandfather was a kind man. Not everyone was as lucky as she was.


    Morgana, her parents, and her grandparents lived in an apartment inside the wall, where they could always count on the lawmen to keep them safe and secure. They all followed the doctrine of the king and, by both extension and necessity, worshipped him. In this way, he kept his kingdom in order.


    In this way, he kept his kingdom in the dark.


    Nobody knew the things the king knew. All that mattered was that they thought they did. All that mattered was that it seemed they knew what to expect from day to day.


    All of them protected. All of them the same.


    Only Morgana wasn¡¯t the same.


    She couldn¡¯t figure out exactly why, though. And nobody seemed willing to answer her questions for her.


    Why did the birds stop to listen when she sang a tune? Why did the apples fall directly into her hands from the trees? Why did she dream such fantastical dreams, with beasts and giants and dragons? And why, when she looked up into the night sky, did the stars seem to rain down on her at her will?


    Morgana was five-years-old. Her nine-year-old sister, Eveline, was prim and proper, concerned with fitting in with the girls her age.


    She stayed as far away from Morgana as she could.


    Her little brother, Aemon, was tough and dirty, though a stout little bugger and a big heart, too. They would play together outside the castle walls during picnics their mother would bring them on. Together, they were great warriors, princes and princesses, knights and maidens.


    Eveline never wanted to play. Instead, she would pick up a parasol and follow her friends down toward the lake, then scream as they dipped their toes into the frigid water.


    As if it were a surprise.


    Morgana thought Eveline was pretty stupid.


    The solstice was near, and the kingdom was awash with color and cheer as everyone waited for the longest day of the year. It was the day that didn¡¯t have an end, a day with no night at all. Of course, the days of summer were already quite long, but tomorrow the sun would only get close to the horizon, and it would not dip beneath it, not even for a second.


    This was Morgana¡¯s fifth solstice. Her mother had looked upon her with concern and confusion every year since that very first. What other children created sparks at the bottoms of their feet when they were excited? A fit of giggles could render one¡¯s house burnt to the ground in a giant explosion of flame and happiness.


    There was nothing for it, though, but a pair of sturdy leather boots. They weren¡¯t enough to block the sparks completely, but they did render her gleeful moods less deadly.


    In one hand, she held her lollipop; in the other, Grandfather¡¯s old, wrinkly palm. And she hopped from foot to foot beside him, little sparks flying out behind her.


    In the beginning, her mother and father had tried to hide her oddities, for showing things like magic in the kingdom could be a boon or a sentence.


    Magic.


    They whispered the word to one another when no one was around. When they hopelessly tried to think of a way to make her normal. That, or a way to flee.


    But imagine fleeing from such a blessed life.


    They could send her away, a thought always in the backs of their minds.


    Morgana didn¡¯t know the details about what her family discussed when she wasn¡¯t around. During these conversations, a heavy wooden door would shut the three children out, and while Eveline would stay close and press her ear to the door, Morgana and Aemon would head off to the kitchen to bother the cook.


    A charmed life. Though how could she have known it at just five?


    Grandfather led her through the town as he gathered up provisions for the evening, the lollipop an early birthday present. Together, they walked to the town square in the bright summer sun and sat at the grand fountain.


    It wasn¡¯t a stuffy old fountain like one might have found in other kingdoms; this one was bright and barefoot-friendly. Morgana kicked off her boots and let her little feet soak in the water. A chill went through her, but then she laughed and began to splash with the other children.


    The other children, while mostly good and kind-natured, looked at her quizzically, for Morgana did not merely play in the fountain. She orchestrated it like a great composer might, commanding it with her imagination to rise and fall in great spouts and splashes. The children¡¯s protective mothers and nannies scooped them up and dragged them away.


    But Morgana wasn¡¯t a fool.


    She let the water fall and walked up to where Grandfather sat, putting her lollipop onto the stone ledge as she joined him.


    ¡°Why do they dislike me, Grandfather?¡±


    He looked down at her.


    ¡°They are afraid of you, dear,¡± he said, ¡°because you are extraordinary.¡±


    ¡°What does that mean?¡±


    ¡°It means that there isn¡¯t another in the entire kingdom who is like you.¡±


    She thought about this for a moment.


    ¡°But aren¡¯t all of us different?¡±


    He shook his head sadly.


    ¡°Not so different as you. You have a gift. Have you not noticed?¡±


    ¡°I notice,¡± she said. ¡°But why is that bad?¡±


    ¡°They are jealous, child. And not just the other children; the adults are more jealous than anyone else.¡±


    She considered this, wringing her wet hands together, and looked up at one last, cautious mother who was letting her toddler play in the water well away from where they sat.


    ¡°I suppose I might be jealous, too,¡± she finally said. ¡°Nobody else can make sparks fly like me.¡±


    She beamed up at him, and he smiled down at her.


    ¡°You¡¯re quite right about that.¡±


    They sat by the fountain for some time, and though eventually it filled with the happy laughter of children again, Morgana did not go back into the water.


    Grandfather looked at his watch and got up from the fountain, cracking his back as he stood up straight.


    ¡°Ooh,¡± he said. ¡°I¡¯m getting older.¡±


    Morgana laughed, then got up to take his hand. She kept the lollipop in her mouth and grabbed her boots with her other hand.


    They walked back toward their apartment, through the market, and down the slim alleyways that snaked across the city. When they arrived, Grandfather opened the door for her, and she walked inside, her feet dirty now from her trek atop the cobblestones. He put down his bag and removed his boots. Morgana snatched up his purchases and ran down the hallway toward the kitchen.


    He might¡¯ve called to her, but he would¡¯ve been too late anyway.


    ¡°Morgana!¡± her mother bellowed.


    Morgana handed the bag to the cook and went out to meet her mother.


    ¡°Hi, Mama,¡± she said and opened her arms for a hug.


    But her mother pulled her arms away and looked down at him sharply.


    ¡°Your feet are a mess. Sit down right here, and don¡¯t move an inch.¡±


    Morgana sat and looked at one of her feet. Mother was right; they were filthy, but she wasn¡¯t sure if she should be ashamed or not.


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    Then she looked up, back through the hallway, toward the front door.


    Her boots lay forgotten in the entryway.


    Yes, shame seemed like the right emotion.


    She took a deep breath and let it out again. Then, sensing imminent punishment, she chomped down as hard as she could onto her lollipop and crunched the hard candy until it was all gone.


    Nothing for Mother to take.


    Mother came around the corner bearing a square, white cloth soaked in water, then knelt down with Morgana.


    ¡°You must keep your boots on at all times, Morgana,¡± her mother warned.


    She picked up one of her feet and began to scrub. Morgana laughed, and a jet of sparks immediately erupted from the bottom of the foot Mother was trying to clean.


    ¡°Morgana,¡± she scolded.


    ¡°Mama,¡± Morgana giggled. ¡°I can¡¯t help it. You¡¯re tickling me!¡±


    She rolled onto her back and laughed, sparks flying. Her mother slapped the cloth down onto the wood floors.


    ¡°Fine, then. Do it yourself.¡±


    ¡°Oh, Mama, no,¡± she cried. She loved it when her mother touched her, even if it was just a rough cleansing of her feet. She touched her so infrequently.


    But Mother wasn¡¯t playing. She stood up and walked away, leaving Morgana lying on the floor, heartbroken.


    She sat up, took up the rag, and started to scrub.


    * * *


    Though the hour was growing late, it didn¡¯t feel like it to Morgana. She looked out the window at the children down in the street, ribbons in their hair and big balloons tied to their wrists, as they headed toward the castle gates.


    They would be celebrating at the lake, the best place in the kingdom to watch the sun dip, but not touch, the flat horizon over the water.


    Morgana pushed the potatoes around on her plate, too eager to get moving to eat her food. Besides, there would be cookies and cake and all manner of sweets waiting near the water. She¡¯d snuck a look into Grandfather¡¯s grocery bags from the night before. He thought he was hiding the candy from her, but of course, she knew about it.


    Finally, after what felt like ages, the family gathered at the front door to put on their shoes. Aemon was already asleep in Father¡¯s arms, late as it was, but she¡¯d give him a poke when the time came.


    She was so excited she couldn¡¯t stop prancing from foot to foot, little sparks flying out through the bottom of her boots.


    But they were little, and Mother allowed them without reproach.


    Now that it was time to go, they were all growing excited. Today, the longest day of the year, they would all shout and dance as the midnight hour passed by, and tomorrow the parents would sleep late while the children looked for forgotten sweets in their pockets.


    Eveline wore her best blue dress, white ruffles around all the edges. Morgana figured the dress would be hers one day, just as the yellow one she had on now had been passed down.


    That was okay, though. Morgana wasn¡¯t fixed on buying new things like Eveline was. She was more interested in the world around her, especially outside the walls. Critters of every type crawled around out there; so much to explore.


    As the family left the apartment and Mother locked the door behind her, a strange duo happened to be walking by.


    ¡°Earnest,¡± a man said, speaking to her father.


    Father gave Aemon to Mother, and he held out a hand to shake.


    ¡°Hello, Barden,¡± he said. ¡°Nice to see you on such a night.¡±


    ¡°You as well.¡±


    There was something about this man that made Morgana nervous. He was so formal, and she got the impression that he wouldn¡¯t be the sort to tolerate sparks flying out from her boots. That, and there was a boy beside him, maybe twelve years old. She couldn¡¯t decide if he looked unhappy or scared.


    But she understood.


    ¡°This is my son, Zahn,¡± the man said.


    Father held out his hand to shake Zahn¡¯s, and the boy stuck his out obediently.


    ¡°Nice to meet you, Sir,¡± he said.


    Zahn looked at the children, but then his eyes landed on Morgana. He squinted, sizing her up.


    And suddenly, she knew. He had magic, too, whatever that was. She looked down at his feet and noticed that he had on tight leather boots, odd for summer weather. She wondered how big the sparks were that flew from those wooden soles.


    She smiled up at him, a smile that he did not return. She took a step back and grasped her mother¡¯s hand.


    The adults spoke for a few moments, all gibberish to her. But this boy, with his stiff stature and sharp eyes, had her mesmerized. She started to feel drowsy, and she wondered if the hour really was getting to be too late for her.


    But no. A moment later, the two men broke apart, and Zahn was pulled in another direction by his father. Her eyes popped wide open, and she was suddenly as awake as she could be. She frowned, watching Zahn as he walked away. He looked back once, and she felt a jolt of surprise. Then, they were gone.


    She dropped her mother¡¯s hand and skipped over to her father.


    ¡°Father, who was that man?¡± she asked.


    He shuffled Aemon onto his other shoulder once more.


    ¡°I work with him,¡± he said.


    ¡°Oh.¡±


    ¡°Is something bothering you, love?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± she said. She didn¡¯t want to lie, but she thought it would seem awfully babyish for her to tell him that yes, he had made her quite nervous. So instead, she took his hand and swung it back and forth as they walked toward the gates.


    As they neared the exit of the city and the entrance to the slums, several girls were standing together in a cluster, and she saw Eveline¡¯s face light up.


    ¡°Mother, may I?¡± Eveline asked, pointing. ¡°I promise to catch up later.¡±


    Her mother sighed, then nodded, and Eveline ran away to join her friends, each of them dressed as prettily as she was.


    They passed them by and made their way through the gates and into the outer market. It was a strange place to have to walk through on their way to something so pretty as the lake. The kids on this side of the wall were always dirty, and some didn¡¯t even wear shoes at all. They looked at her with accusing eyes that filled her with shame, though she wasn¡¯t quite sure why. Perhaps they wished for boots as fine as hers.


    When they had come through the outer city and into the meadow that surrounded the lake, it seemed like everyone was rushing down to the water in one big whoosh. Morgana let go of her father¡¯s hand and flew away from them, eager to get to the bottom of the hill where the fine sand would scratch between her toes.


    ¡°Mother!¡± she called back over her shoulder.


    She turned and found that her mother was spreading a blanket on the grass, and her father was setting Aemon down upon it. The little boy rubbed his eyes sleepily, but when he saw where they were, he jumped to his feet and toddled down to the edge of the water with her.


    Morgana felt excited and exhausted at the same time. It would be midnight soon, but not quite yet, and the air was warm and soft against her skin. She took Aemon¡¯s hand and walked up to a vendor selling cupcakes. She looked back at her mother again.


    ¡°Mama!¡± she called.


    Her mother looked up and nodded. Morgana pointed toward her, and the man agreed, putting one cupcake each into her and Aemon¡¯s hands.


    Aemon immediately stuffed the frosting into his mouth, and when he took the cupcake away, his face was covered with it as if he¡¯d painted a clown upon his skin.


    Morgana was a little more careful, but only a little. Together, they walked down to the water, and Morgana found a place to sit in the sand.


    She carefully put her cupcake next to her so that she could peel off her boots on the opposite side of Aemon so that he wouldn¡¯t inadvertently toss sand into the frosting. Indeed, it was only moments before he dropped his own in the sand and found it inedible, covered in crunchy grit.


    He opened his mouth then and wailed as if he couldn¡¯t handle this intolerable crime that gravity had permitted. Morgana sighed, then picked up her own. She stared wistfully at it for a moment and then handed it to her little brother.


    She patted him on the top of the head. ¡°Now sit to eat it, and don¡¯t squirm around.¡±


    He did as he was told as Morgana tried to salvage what was left of his ruined cake. She found that if she ate the underside, she could get to quite a bit of it without eating a mouthful of sand.


    When she was done, she threw the remains of it into the water.


    She could hear her mother clucking from up above, but she pretended to be deaf and took Aemon by the hand instead of heeding her. Together, they walked down to the edge and stared up at the sun on this final day of the year, its birthday.


    ¡°Morgana!¡± she heard from behind her. Not her mother, nor her sister, but her sister¡¯s friend, Angela. ¡°Morgana, come play hide and seek with us!¡± she called.


    Morgana looked up the hill at her sister, who was standing funny and looked distinctly uncomfortable.


    Morgana felt confused.


    Her mother appeared and took Aemon by the hand, leading him away from her.


    ¡°Go and play with the other girls,¡± she said. ¡°It¡¯s okay.¡±


    She looked up again, still unsure. But the girl was smiling so genuinely that she figured she had nothing to lose. She walked up the low hill and met the group of girls. All of them were smiling welcomingly. All of them except for Eveline.


    Morgana frowned, but then the girl was standing between her and her sister, and she was just so much taller than Morgana was.


    ¡°Come on, Morgana,¡± she said soothingly. ¡°Morgana is your name, right?¡±


    Morgana nodded.


    ¡°Come play with us,¡± she urged. ¡°You need to be ¡®it¡¯ first since you¡¯re the last in the game. Do you know how to play?¡±


    She knew, and her feelings of worry were starting to evaporate. She knew how to do something good like the big girls did, like this girl did.


    ¡°Where do we play?¡± she asked.


    ¡°You come right over here,¡± the big girl said, leading her down closer to the water.


    The group followed them down, though Eveline moved more slowly than the others.


    The big girl stopped and put her hands on Morgana¡¯s shoulders.


    ¡°You stay right here. Do you know how to count to twenty?¡±


    ¡°Yes!¡± Morgana nodded proudly.


    ¡°Good. Now, count to twenty when I say go. Then, when you¡¯re done counting, yell out, ¡®Ready or not, here I come!¡¯ Can you do that?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    She felt so good inside, being out in the world like this, so close to these girls who had scoffed at her for as long as she could remember. She wanted to explode with happiness, but she knew if she did, her sparks would go flying, and she would be out of control.


    She took one long, measured breath to calm herself. Then, when the big girl gave a nod, she covered up her eyes.


    ¡°One!¡±


    Scampering.


    ¡°Two!¡±


    Sand on bare feet.


    ¡°Three!¡±


    On and on, she counted, all the while listening carefully to the sounds that surrounded her.


    Where were they? She hoped she could find the big girl first. That would be the most impressive.


    ¡°Sixteen!¡±


    Giggles.


    ¡°Seventeen, eighteen, nineteen!¡± She called quickly, her anticipation unable to be controlled.


    ¡°Twenty!¡±


    She had just started opening her eyes to say the words, ¡°Ready or not ¡­.¡±


    But she couldn¡¯t finish them, of course, because the big girl, Eveline¡¯s friend, dumped a bucket of bait worms onto her head at that very moment.


    She coughed and sputtered, suddenly cold and smelly and covered in slime. She looked up, confused.


    This wasn¡¯t right.


    All of the girls laughed, and all Morgana could do was stand there in her ruined, hand-me-down dress.


    ¡°Eveline!¡± her father shouted, standing up from where he sat and advancing on her sister. When he got to her, she was on the receiving end of a good, hard slap.


    He was yelling, shaking her by the shoulders.


    But the other girls were still laughing. Morgana looked away from her father, from her guilty sister, and from the people watching her, some of them pointing and laughing, too.


    It was this one, the big girl, whom she honed in on. Without thinking, without ever having done it before, she raised her hands before her and sent a jolt of power straight from her palms into the big girl¡¯s chest. The girl went flying backward, landing hard in the grass. She screamed in pain or indignation; Morgana couldn¡¯t tell.


    Then, she turned away from the big girl and focused on the rest of them. All of them in their frilly dresses and fake smiles.


    BOOM ¡­ BOOM ¡­ BOOM ¡­


    They each went down one after another like dominoes until, finally, she felt herself being picked up and dragged away from the scene, which was now a mess of screaming girls and pointed fingers and mumbled accusations.


    And as midnight struck, and the sun came oh-so-close to the horizon, nobody watched it except for Morgana, held tightly, safe as she could be, in her grandfather¡¯s arms.


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 Owned

    Cara opened her eyes.


    It wasn¡¯t until she moved her body that she felt the pain, that she remembered.


    Wynn¡¯s tonic the night before had knocked her out, but sweet sleep was over now.


    Her back screamed from the slashes produced by Chad¡¯s whip. He had them all possessed, but one couldn¡¯t feel pain like this and stay under such submission.


    Somewhere in the back of her mind, she understood that the pain enabled her to think, to focus. It was a way out.


    She cried out as she tried to sit up, tears streaming down her perfect, pale face. She pushed up onto her hands and knees, then fell back down, unable to do it on her own.


    You can break his spell.


    Her thoughts were only clear as she tried desperately to move her body, to position herself in such a way that the burning would be less.


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    It was then that Wynn knelt down before her and produced a gift so valuable, so impossible, that she dared not believe it. He held out a small vial of Light, liquid magic that every Lucent toiled to collect for Chad.


    ¡°Take it, child,¡± he said.


    You must get out, she thought. Don¡¯t fail.


    The Light would heal her.


    Don¡¯t take it.


    She held her breath and pushed up until, at last, she stood.


    Her body shook.


    She wiped her tears with the sleeves of her tattered robes, then took a couple of tentative steps, trying to manage the pain on her own.


    Think.


    They could rise up. She could lead them.


    Don¡¯t let go.


    But as she walked out of the barracks and felt the distraction of a cool wind on her face, Chad¡¯s possession came over her once again, a warm blanket.


    And all her plans went dark.


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 Cloakstone

    Two men lay on the square that had become a battlefield, one father, one son. Arrows whizzed over their heads, claiming target after target. Their small army had nearly succeeded in taking back the Maeryn Crystal, an unusual stone that allowed communication between kings. Stolen long ago, it now was in the possession of a false king, a man who¡¯d taken control of a kingdom he had no rights to.


    That man was Torin.


    The father, the son, and their men had approached this kingdom unannounced, unseen by their enemies, unseen by the thief who¡¯d taken the crystal.


    But the freedom from visibility they¡¯d enjoyed by using the Cloakstone the father carried had vanished abruptly once he took his last breath. The magic of the stone had helped them evade capture, rendering them invisible, but now it hung uselessly against his armor, unclaimed by its rightful heir.


    Morven, the son, lay injured and unconscious, his birthright all but forgotten, no longer hidden by the stone.


    The sorcerer, Torin, walked slowly across the square, the Maeryn Crystal clutched in one hand. Torin held it out, then threw it gently in Morven¡¯s direction until it hovered over his head, ready to strike.


    To Torin, their attempt to take back the crystal was laughable.


    But now, there was something he wanted more than the crystal, something around that old man¡¯s neck.


    He walked up to him, bent down, and ripped the Cloakstone from its chain. It was a mistake, Torin finding this rock, a treasure bestowed upon him unknowingly by those who¡¯d fought to steal from him.


    He turned to Morven, then stood up and kicked him in the gut with his steel-toed boot.


    This was enough to rouse Morven, and he coughed violently, rolling over onto one side. The arrow that had bitten into his flesh was lodged in his chest, a powerful enough strike to pierce his armor, if not his heart. Slowly, he opened his eyes, taking in the sight of his father, dead after half a year of planning how to infiltrate the kingdom.


    How completely they had failed.


    ¡°You have been mistaken,¡± Torin said. ¡°Led to believe that you had a chance to wrest this crystal from me. I do not know who told you it was possible, but he was wrong.¡±


    ¡°It was she who told me it was possible,¡± Morven muttered between coughs. He raised his head slightly, staring around for his soldiers. Then, with a terrible knot in his stomach, he realized they were all dead. Or soon would be.


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    ¡°It matters not who told you about the crystal,¡± Torin said. ¡°The point is that it belongs to me.¡± He held up the Cloakstone, its bright green color amplified by the setting sun¡¯s dying rays. ¡°As well as this trinket here. Tell me, how does this work? It disguises you, yes?¡±


    He moved forward and stepped on Morven¡¯s shoulder, ready to break it beneath his boot.


    Morven looked up at the ancient wizard, up at the Maeryn Crystal that hovered above his head. He did the math, and quick thinking, or cowardice, dictated his next words.


    ¡°All you need to do is think it,¡± he said honestly. ¡°Tell it what you want to cloak, and it will make it so.¡±


    Torin frowned, then raised his eyebrows, interested. He turned and walked a couple of steps away, his back to Morven.


    There was something Torin didn¡¯t know, however: the stone would only work if freely given or handed down from one generation to the next. And, knowing this, Morven struggled up to his feet unnoticed.


    ¡°Cloak us all,¡± Torin said lovingly into the stone, his attention elsewhere. He held it to his mouth, close enough to kiss it.


    But nothing happened.


    He looked up and around, seeking Morven¡¯s face and excuses. But he¡¯d been too slow; a moment later, Morven attacked him from behind, throwing him to the ground beneath his heavy weight.


    ¡°Not today,¡± he growled in Torin¡¯s ear, and before there was a chance for Torin to strike back, Morven snatched the Cloakstone from him and rolled away.


    The stone was rightfully his now, and in an instant, he was gone.


    Torin stood, and Morven, from his invisible place, saw him look around, suddenly panicked.


    The Maeryn Crystal fell to the ground, and while Morven kicked himself for not having stolen it away, the truth was that he preferred his life over the possession of another powerful stone. His king would have to wait a bit longer before having the crystal in his arsenal.


    Morven tried to be quiet, tried to soften his breathing.


    But Torin was no fool. He held up his staff and sent a bolt of lightning through the air, hitting the stones on the outskirts of the square and ripping them to rubble.


    Morven ran, leaving his dead father behind on the cobblestones. Leaving the dying men, who were now hismen, behind as well. He knew when he was on the losing side, knew that he would not be able to save any of them, maybe not even himself.


    As he wound his way through the bodies that littered the square, he focused on one thing only: the gates ahead of him.


    Torin noticed them, too, and a moment later, they began to close.


    Morven ignored the shooting pain through his chest, ignored the slim likelihood that he would make it in time. But he managed to slip through the gates, and he didn¡¯t turn back.


    Knowing his target had escaped, Torin thrust his staff up over his head and shot a beam of light so powerful that it lit up the coming night as brightly as the morning sun.


    He had lost.


    And Morven, breathing hard, blood leaking down the thick leather he wore over his chest, burst into the forest and kept on running, free from the danger at last.


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 Dismissal

    He picked up his staff, a long crack running through its center from the attack by the other sorcerer.


    She had been¡­unexpected.


    As he turned and walked away from the crowd, his students followed closely behind.


    Nobody beat Zahn. Nobody.


    He held his head high.


    He had lost, nearly died; there was no way around it. But in his mind, he convinced himself that he¡¯d won.


    He¡¯d driven her out of the city, after all.


    They approached the square, and Zahn turned and regarded his followers.


    This was the perfect time for a display.


    Immediately, his students lined up for inspection. He walked down the line, then stepped away, walking out into the square.


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    ¡°Albion!¡±


    Albion stepped forward holding out his wand, hand shaking, preparing to fight; they all knew what was coming next.


    Zahn held out his staff and sent a jolt of power in Albion¡¯s direction; more, he knew, than the boy could handle.


    Instantly, Albion fell to the ground, his wand in ruin.


    ¡°Caden!¡±


    This young man flew ten feet through the air and landed with a crack atop the cobblestones.


    ¡°Finn!¡±


    Another down.


    ¡°Seamus!¡±


    Another.


    Finally, after seven of the eight lay on the ground, he turned to face the red-haired woman.


    This time, when he sent a bolt from the staff, it hit hers midair, stopped by her power. He gritted his teeth, then took a step closer. Then, another. Until finally his bolt was only a foot away from hers.


    He pushed her to the ground, their connection broken. His power slashed through the robes on her back, burning her with two long bolts of fire. The place where his curse had been seared into her skin smoked like dying embers.


    He would not let her be healed.


    He smiled.


    All was not lost.


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 Beloved

    Morgana multiplied the bread, multiplied the water. It wasn¡¯t hard for her to do; what was hard was not getting caught. Two sentries stood outside her cell twenty-four hours a day, ensuring she had no privacy whatsoever.


    But they couldn¡¯t stop her. It had been a year already, and none of the fools who guarded her had figured it out yet, the reason why she didn¡¯t cry out with pangs of hunger. She was only ever fed the smallest scraps of bread, often moldy. No matter; she could take the smallest piece and turn it into a feast.


    She wasn¡¯t concerned about herself, though. It was the members of the Cloaked, all of whom resided in the cells nearest to hers, that she worried about. They had their own special magic, but it didn¡¯t involve things like multiplying resources.


    So, in the darkest hours of the night, when the guards were either bored stiff or talking amongst themselves, she would do her best to slip a hunk of bread, a cup of water, through the bars to one of the Cloaked, the one closest to her. His name was Nealon, and she knew he always passed the food down the line before taking even a bite for himself.


    ¡°Take this,¡± she whispered.


    She couldn¡¯t see him; the walls between them were stone, but she would frequently feel the touch of his cold hand reaching out for the bread.


    The guards had retreated to a game of cards. They were within earshot, but not in direct line of sight.


    Nealon took the bread and passed it down the line to his men.


    She vowed that if she were ever to decide to escape her prison, she would do her best to free them. They were her friends, though they had rarely exchanged a single sentence between them.


    Only the highly trained seers were taught how to multiply resources like this, and even then it was illegal to do so except under direct order from the king. For everyone knew that the best way to keep a kingdom in line was to control the food, the trade, and the money. And it was always easier if everybody was a little bit hungry.


    This was where Morgana had gone wrong. Once she was trained to do it, she would sneak out of her room each night and leap effortlessly over the wall around the castle and into the slums four stories down. She could take a single apple and make it a hundred, making a vendor rich for a week easily enough.


    But her favorite was going to the orphanage. Deep in the night she would bring sweets to the abandoned children who lived there. Their faces, often bruised and bloodied by their mistress, would light up with joy at the sight of her. She often thought that it wasn¡¯t so much the candy that made them wish to see her so, but the simple fact that she was kind to them in a world where a single word, a single look, could result in a slap across the face.


    ¡°Nealon,¡± she whispered again and passed along another hunk of bread. They did this several times until everyone in the group was fed. The Cloaked were masters of camouflage, and they were never caught with the rations she provided them. Knowing that she was their only source of sustenance, she could¡¯ve convinced herself to stay down in the dungeons forever, for it was her simple desire to help others that kept her there.


    But after twelve months of incarceration, she knew she would need to escape soon.


    Of course, for a seer like Morgana, the steel bars of her prison cell were child¡¯s play to break through. She¡¯d done it dozens of times. The trouble was making it past the guards. Her little escapades needed to be kept secret, and wounding or killing her captors would let Ulfred the king know that she had been out.


    She wasn¡¯t sure what would happen to her if she were caught, but it didn¡¯t seem right to let others starve while she ran away from her troubles.


    She did miss comfort, though. Oh, the feeling of dry clothes and a warm bed seemed so far away now that she wondered if she would ever experience such things again.


    She¡¯d thought about her escape for weeks, months. In the beginning, she¡¯d seen the needs of the Cloaked and put theirs ahead of her own. But more and more she realized that her talents were needed elsewhere. She would need to leave the dungeons, the castle, the city, and then try to help those in need from the outside.


    She could always murder the king and try to take his power from him, but his son, a young prince, would ultimately take over the throne. Just another king. All of them the same.


    Morgana hated Ulfred, and the bitter taste she got in her mouth every time she thought of him was so vile that she had to literally spit it out. What he¡¯d done to her, and what he continued to do to the rest of his kingdom, was disgusting. He took pride in his misdeeds, starving the people, beating the poor for entertainment, wedding young brides to men of seventy years.


    He hadn¡¯t wanted her to be his bride, however, because Ulfred was already married. His desire was to have her as his lover, and it was her refusal of him that had resulted in her imprisonment.


    As she sat back to take a bite of her bread, she heard the noise of a scuffle, then a howl of pain. Quickly, she stashed the bread into the darkest corner of her cell and pretended to be asleep on the cold stone floor.


    ¡°Kill him,¡± Ulfred¡¯s drunken voice came through the corridor. ¡°Sleeping while guarding the most dangerous witch in the kingdom is punishable by death. Now, where is she?¡±


    She could hardly pretend to be asleep after the sound of a sword unsheathed and the man on the receiving end of its blade crying out for mercy as it cut through his body.


    ¡°Your Majesty!¡± the other man said. ¡°I beg you, do not¡ª¡±


    But the guard with the sword had no mercy, and soon he joined his lifeless friend on the floor of the dungeon.


    Ulfred came into view before her cell wearing the pelt of a stag, his round stomach protruding from beneath it.


    ¡°So,¡± he said. ¡°I see you still haven¡¯t come around. I thought that surely the meager bread rations would¡¯ve been enough to sway you. Perhaps we¡¯ve been feeding you too much.¡±


    He was swaying back and forth, and it seemed inevitable that he would fall, which he did, right onto the floor before her.


    ¡°Morgana,¡± he slurred. ¡°Come with me. We can be together like I¡¯ve always dreamed. Since I was a young king, I¡¯ve watched you from afar. Why do you reject me so?¡±


    His voice was soft, soothing, convincing. He tried so hard to sway her. But she knew better. Ulfred was known for his cruelty, and with all of those imprisoned in the cells beside her, he didn¡¯t exactly inspire her trust.


    She had seen him more and more of late, his wife having contracted an awful sickness not long ago. And with each visit, he seemed to be more and more drunk.


    He could¡¯ve forced her to share his bed, of course, but it seemed to be a matter of his pride that kept him from doing so. Even he understood that taking a woman that way would be pointless, would only result in her hatred and ire.


    What she knew, however, was that he would¡¯ve failed if he¡¯d ever tried. She may play helpless in her cell, but she was anything but.


    ¡°Release the Cloaked who share these cells beside me, and I will be yours.¡±


    Ulfred sputtered.


    ¡°I will do no such thing,¡± he said. ¡°They are here because of their crimes against the kingdom. I will not free them.¡±


    ¡°Then you will be on your own,¡± she said. ¡°I will not join you. I could never be with a man so cruel. Not now. Not ever.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re terrible!¡± he exclaimed as he lay down on his back, his head knocking painfully against the stone. ¡°Agh!¡±


    He seemed close to passing out, which was a good thing. When the guards came to take him back to his bed, they would be gone for a short while, a perfect opportunity for her to get out for the night.


    But should it just be for one night? Was it time?


    Ulfred mumbled something unintelligible, and as he lay his head against the ground, his two guards walked up behind him and picked him up.


    ¡°You¡¯ll regret this, Morgana! My love! You will learn that I am the man for you no matter what it takes! Guards, no more rations!¡±


    And then he was out.


    Morgana waited for them to leave the dungeon before she dissolved the bars of her cell and stepped outside.


    ¡°I think this is it,¡± she whispered to Nealon. ¡°Will you come with me?¡±


    Nealon shook his head sadly.


    ¡°It¡¯s not our time,¡± he said.


    ¡°Your time?¡±


    ¡°We have work to do yet in this castle. One day you will understand.¡±


    ¡°But you¡¯ll starve.¡±


    ¡°We will hunger, yes. But we will survive. We have survived worse.¡±


    She smiled down at him, and then down the row of men, eight in total. She didn¡¯t understand their ways, but she respected them.


    ¡°I will go, then. Be well.¡±


    She reached out one hand through the bars to his cell, and he took hers in his.


    ¡°You as well,¡± he said, and released her. ¡°Now fly.¡±


    She smiled for the first time in a long time, turned toward the door, and took a few careful, barefoot steps until she could see beyond.


    The two guards lay dead at her feet, their punishment for having left her for just a few moments of respite.


    She peered through the doorway and into the corridor. Empty. She dashed down the hall toward the staircase beyond, ready to fight if it came to that. But nobody stopped her; the corridor was deserted.


    One flight up the stairs and she was into the vast halls where Ulfred held court. Parties. Weddings. Celebrations. Coronations. They were all unguarded but for the tall main doorways where two men stood.


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    She gasped and stepped back, hoping they hadn¡¯t heard her. She paused, listening, ready to fight, but she heard nothing. Turning, she ran back to the staircase and didn¡¯t stop climbing until she was on the fifth floor, one level down from the roof, which was guarded. In these chambers those who were less powerful in court slept, and the rooms were unguarded. She dashed down the hall and over to a single stone window, jumping out of it without a second thought.


    But before she was smashed flat onto the dirt road, she raised her arms out to her sides, and power burst from her hands, slowing her. Invisible fire was rare among seers, but she had several gifts that were rare. Most wizards would¡¯ve hit the ground like a rock, but not Morgana.


    Not tonight.


    She crept through the township, silent as a ghost. It was a rare thing to find, but there was a vendor who sold, and often gave, candy to children, enticing them with their sticky sweetness, so much better than an apple.


    And easier to hide.


    She snuck into the stall where the vendor slept and snagged a single piece of taffy wrapped in paper. She immediately multiplied it, leaving him a little pile where there had only been one. She didn¡¯t know the man, but she¡¯d seen him with the children who walked this road. She¡¯d once seen his face upon waking after a night of her thievery; happy, and immediately giving. Those were the days when he gave out the most candy.


    He was a good man.


    She was tempted to give him more, but worried that the riches that might come from such a gift might corrupt him in some way. It was an unfair assessment, but she had seen much greed among men and women alike, having grown up in the castle where food was plentiful and riches were vast.


    Morgana had been only ten when she was brought to live in the section of the castle devoted to housing the seers. The head seer, Malvin, wasn¡¯t a friendly man, but she¡¯d always felt he was decent underneath all of his grumpiness. And he was an exceptional teacher. His knowledge of magic and how it related to each and every person in the world was beyond compare, and he was never stingy with his insight. He understood the patience that was required to learn new skills, and while he would sometimes scoff at a student¡¯s efforts, he wasn¡¯t mean.


    It had been Malvin who¡¯d taught her to fly. He didn¡¯t even know how to do it himself, but together they¡¯d figured it out and kept it a secret. They used to meet late on moonless nights on the outskirts of the castle, deep in the meadow where they couldn¡¯t be seen. Malvin had known somehow that the revelation of her talents would put her in danger. She might¡¯ve been exceptional, but that didn¡¯t make her safe.


    Now, as she slunk through the town toward the orphanage, she realized how much she missed the old man. To her knowledge, he was still the head seer, though the boy Zahn had been vying for his position for some time. She¡¯d met Zahn when she¡¯d been a child, and she¡¯d never liked him. Too focused on his own interests, she thought, as those of great power often were.


    She reached the orphanage and pushed herself through the air until she was stepping delicately upon the window pane. The mistress kept it locked, but that wasn¡¯t a bother at all; she simply waved her hand over the glass, and she was inside.


    Gasps from within. She put one finger up to her mouth. Eyes opened, mouths stayed shut. Silently, she beckoned the children to her.


    The orphanage had grown in inhabitants, but not in size. She saw that several of the children were shivering, and she tip-toed to each of them and placed one hand on their chests, warming them from within. She might¡¯ve given blankets or pillows, but those things would be seen by the mistress, and, unable to explain, the children would be beaten for stealing.


    One girl, Aife, the tallest and oldest of the group, knelt down beside another, smaller child with tears in his eyes. He was new, Morgana realized, and terrified. Tears ran down his little cheeks, pooling on his chin before dropping onto his shirt.


    She sat down on the floor so that she could be eye to eye with this boy, unwrapped a piece of the candy, and handed it to him. But he simply tucked his head under the girl¡¯s arm, refusing to look at her.


    She handed the taffy to Aife, and she made sure he saw her when she popped it into her mouth.


    ¡°What¡¯s your name, little one?¡± Morgana asked, passing around several pieces of taffy to the other children. Everyone quietly sat down in a circle around her, happily, silently, munching on the sweets.


    ¡°His name is Cadman,¡± Aife said. ¡°He¡¯s only just arrived. His parents died a few years ago, and he was raised by his grandfather ¡­ until now.¡±


    ¡°And his grandfather?¡± Morgana asked.


    Aife shook her head, and Morgana understood. It was a fate too common in Eagleview: starvation. That, combined with advanced age, was likely what had killed the boy¡¯s grandfather.


    She unwrapped another piece of taffy and held it out to him. But he was having none of it.


    ¡°I¡¯ll save it for him,¡± Aife said.


    ¡°But what if you¡¯re found out?¡± Morgana asked.


    She shrugged.


    ¡°So be it.¡±


    This hurt Morgana¡¯s heart. The idea that a young girl was being forced to mother all of these children was despicable. Almost as despicable as the visual signs of abuse nearly all of the children had on their bodies.


    Suddenly, it dawned on her, what she should do now that she was free. Before, she¡¯d only thought to leave Eagleview behind, banished forever from her life there.


    But now ¡­


    She looked at Aife and the little boy clinging so tightly to her arm.


    No. She wasn¡¯t just going to fly away and find some new life somewhere away from Ulfred and his dungeons.


    She was going to stay.


    But she had a little business to take care of first.


    ¡°Stay here, children,¡± she said, standing up. ¡°I¡¯ll be back soon. Get in your beds just in case.¡±


    Just in case what? Morgana didn¡¯t know. Her powers rivaled most others,¡¯ but that wasn¡¯t always enough.


    She turned to Aife. ¡°What is the mistress¡¯s name?¡±


    ¡°Isolda,¡± she said.


    It was time for her to face the woman who¡¯d been abusing these kids.


    She slipped from the room and floated down the stairs, not making a sound. Then, at the bedroom door of the mistress, she slammed the door open with a loud BANG.


    Isolda sat bolt upright in her bed, a knife held unsteadily in her hand. Morgana wondered why; what abuse might this woman also be facing? Could it be that bruises covered her arms, too?


    Morgana clapped her hands together and threw a bolt of power at that knife, ripping it from Isolda¡¯s hands and sticking it firmly into the wall behind her. Then, she approached, and as she did, she spread out her arms, puffed up her chest, and hovered over the floor.


    ¡°You are Isolda?¡±


    The woman looked shellshocked, and didn¡¯t speak.


    ¡°Answer me,¡± Morgana demanded.


    ¡°I am,¡± she stuttered. ¡°Yes, I am Isolda. What do you want with me?¡±


    Morgana allowed herself to float down again until her feet were on the floor.


    ¡°I will be here most every night, watching over this place. You can believe me when I say that if I again find another child with marks on him from your abuse, you will not be of this world for much longer. Do you understand?¡±


    ¡°But Ma¡¯am, you do not understand. I don¡¯t have enough food to feed all of these children. And they are a wicked bunch. They don¡¯t do as they¡¯re told, and I¡ª¡±


    ¡°Say another word and I¡¯ll clarify for you what the term ¡®wicked¡¯ really means,¡± she snarled. ¡°There is no excuse for it; I don¡¯t care how the children treat you. They are babies and scared. It is your job to care for them, not to injure them or treat them like soldiers in a war. Is that clear?¡±


    Isolda nodded, eyes wide.


    ¡°As for the food, I will visit your pantry from time to time and fill it for you, though I expect you to feed the children first, before yourself.¡±


    ¡°You can do that? With the food?¡± Isolda then, remembering she wasn¡¯t to speak, clapped her hand over her mouth as if she¡¯d uttered a terrible curse. But Morgana didn¡¯t strike.


    ¡°Yes,¡± she said instead. ¡°Neither you nor the children will go hungry again. Understand that it is my gift to them, not to you.¡±


    Isolda nodded again.


    ¡°Good. We have an understanding, then. Now, you and I have some work to do before breakfast. Get up and come with me.¡±


    Isolda was shaking, her covers pulled up and underneath her chin.


    ¡°I said, let¡¯s go.¡± Morgana pulled the covers and threw them off the bed. Beneath them was the figure of an emaciated woman, and Morgana understood.


    It was a terrible fate for all who called this place home.


    Isolda got out of bed and pulled on a thin shawl, shivering.


    Morgana scowled, knowing what the right thing was to do, but not wanting to do it.


    She did, though. She reached out one hand and put it on the woman¡¯s chest, warming her from within.


    Isolda¡¯s face broke into a wide smile, and the visage that had seemed so vile moments before now looked almost pretty, filled with wonder and appreciation to the giver of the heat.


    But Morgana didn¡¯t let it sway her. Perhaps by extension of the work she was now going to set out to do with the children, this woman would have a better life, even a good life. But the goals remained the same.


    Feed the hungry.


    Protect the weak.


    Punish the abusers.


    Morgana walked out into a long dining room with twenty chairs sitting around a huge, long table. Next to the table was a tiny kitchen, yesterday¡¯s dishes still sitting out, unwashed and forgotten.


    ¡°You have work to do,¡± she said.


    Isolda winced.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I know it looks bad. I just¡ª¡±


    ¡°No need,¡± she said, brushing past her into the back room.


    The pantry.


    A small container of oats, maybe enough for ten for breakfast, and several large containers of brown lentils were the only things she saw in the pantry.


    No wonder they were all so emaciated.


    She turned back.


    ¡°There¡¯s not much I can do with this. Do you have anything else? Sweets, maybe, for the oats?


    Isolda looked away, guilty.


    Morgana put her hands on her hips.


    ¡°Hand it over.¡±


    She looked up, guilt outlining her features. She reached up toward the highest shelf and revealed a tiny container of liquid. Syrup. She snatched it up and then held it tightly to her chest, as if it were the most valuable diamond in all the world.


    Morgana allowed this. There was no way for Isolda to know what was going to happen next. Instead of striking her, she reached out for the cleanest bowl she saw in the pile of dishes and placed it onto the table.


    ¡°Give me the syrup,¡± she said, holding out her hand.


    Isolda hesitated. Morgana glared.


    She handed over the syrup.


    Morgana uncorked the tiny bottle and spilled the contents into the bowl. Then, with a few fanciful waves of her hands over the surface, watched as the little pool of sweetness grew and grew until it nearly filled it.


    Isolda was taken aback, shocked by this action of Morgana¡¯s. But then, like a little school child, she smiled excitedly.


    ¡°What else can you do?¡± she asked in wonder.


    And Morgana realized the truth.


    ¡°Where did you grow up?¡± she asked.


    Isolda laughed nervously, indicating the building around her.


    ¡°I see.¡±


    Morgana moved back into the pantry and pulled out the container of oats.


    ¡°Do you have something bigger than this I can use?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± she said. ¡°Deeper into the cabinet.¡±


    Morgana turned, but then out of the corner of her eye, she saw Isolda dip her finger into the syrup. She turned on a dime and moved to smack her across the face. She winced, waiting, finger dripping of syrup.


    Morgana lowered her hand and sighed.


    ¡°Children first,¡± she said.


    ¡°Yes, Ma¡¯am.¡±


    Ma¡¯am.


    How far she had come.


    * * *


    Later on, deep into the night, Morgana floated among the vendors, still asleep. She stole from them, but only in minuscule amounts. A scrap of bread, an apple core, a stick of meat. She brought these things back to the orphanage and dumped them out onto the dining table. She¡¯d set Isolda to do the dishes an hour before, and she¡¯d done as she was told.


    Morgana arranged the pieces of food on the table so that there was enough room to multiply them. Then, within minutes, there was a veritable feast on the table, enough to feed everyone in the orphanage for weeks.


    She looked up from her work, satisfied, and saw that Isolda had tears running down her face. She approached her and latched onto her, an uninvited hug of thanks.


    Morgana sighed.


    ¡°Okay,¡± she said. ¡°It¡¯s nearly dawn. Get moving on breakfast; the kids will be awake soon.¡±


    Isolda surprised her by jumping into action. A large pot was soon on the stove.


    Morgana nodded, appeased.


    ¡°I¡¯ll leave you now,¡± she said. ¡°I¡¯ll come fill your pantry from time to time.¡±


    Isolda¡¯s eyes were wide, but she nodded in response.


    ¡°Good.¡± She turned to go. It had been a long night, and she needed to find somewhere to rest.


    ¡°Wait, Ma¡¯am,¡± Isolda said, and Morgana paused. ¡°I just ¡­ well ¡­ thank you. I never could have¡ª¡±


    ¡°I know,¡± she said, cutting her off. ¡°Show your thanks to me in your care of the children. They do not understand why they remain here for so long when the wider world has families to care for them. They are their own family. And yours.¡±


    She nodded again, and Morgana turned and climbed the staircase up to the children¡¯s dormitory. She stopped by Aife¡¯s bed, where she found little Cadman curled up beside her. Her eyes were open, though, and Morgana wondered if she¡¯d been awake the whole time.


    ¡°You¡¯re in charge now,¡± Morgana whispered.


    Aife¡¯s eyes grew wide.


    ¡°Things will be different. But you¡¯ll see me every week, so don¡¯t become too fearful in the days to come. There is enough food for you all now, and I¡¯ve talked with Isolda. She is not to lay so much as a finger upon any of you again. And if she does ¡­¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ll find someone else?¡± she asked hopefully.


    ¡°Yes, child. I will find someone else. Now, take care of them. I¡¯ll see you next week, though I daresay you may be sleeping better from here on out.¡±


    Aife¡¯s face was not relieved; there was no smile there. But when Morgana pulled out one last piece of taffy and handed it to her, she closed her fingers over it.


    ¡°I¡¯ll save it for him,¡± she said, indicating Cadman.


    ¡°Good girl.¡±


    Morgana walked to the window, still open with a cool summer breeze floating into the room. She looked up at the sky, still inky black on one side, with the slightest brightness along the horizon where she knew the sun would soon rise. She would head for the meadow.


    And then, with the slightest of effort, and a satisfied look on her face, she spread her arms wide and flew out of the window, like a bird flying into the night.


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 The Little Beggar

    The little boy, only just six, approached the lion Keeper. He knew the lion guarded magic, a pool of mysterious liquid at his feet called Light.


    But magic didn¡¯t matter. Teague was simply hungry.


    The Feie village¡¯s shunning of its poorest could not go overlooked. The place was rich with commodities, yet lean at the same time, like firm, taut muscle. Garbage piles were small, every sinew of meat used, every bit of green eaten.


    Teague reached the shimmering pool and knelt down before it. A woman sat across from him, rocking back and forth, yesterday¡¯s tears staining her face.


    Teague looked at her nervously, but she ignored him.


    ¡°May I drink from your pool, lion?¡± Teague asked.


    The lion did not look down at Teague. Instead, he lifted his mighty head and roared into the morning.


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    Teague scrambled back away from him.


    ¡°You may not,¡± the lion said, his voice booming.


    Teague got to his feet. Despite his fear, he looked up at the lion bravely. ¡°You must help me.¡±


    The lion quieted.


    Teague moved closer, desperation clouding his mind. He walked up to the pool, cupped his hands, and plunged them into the Light.


    But someone grabbed his arm, spilling the Light back into the pool. He looked up and saw the woman who¡¯d been rocking nearby. Her eyes were clear now.


    ¡°You mustn¡¯t,¡± she warned, eyes wild, looking up at the lion nervously. ¡°He must give it to you freely.¡±


    Teague¡¯s eyes filled with tears as he looked up at her, both miserable and terrified. She laced her fingers with his and pulled him along and away from the lion.


    ¡°Someday, you will taste it,¡± she promised.


    He looked back as she guided him down the hill.


    Someday.


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 The Last Run

    The boy stared at Oriana¡¯s hands, which were clapped together, holding something, something he wanted. He was little, though, and he had no idea what awaited him.


    Oriana tilted her head down at him and squinted.


    ¡°You sure you want to see this?¡± she asked. ¡°You sure you can handle it?¡±


    The boy¡¯s eyes grew round, and he took a step back. But he nodded.


    She smirked. Oriana wasn¡¯t a mean girl, but she wasn¡¯t a nice girl, either.


    She took a step closer to the boy. Then, all at once, she opened her hands, each of them filled with a fistful of fireplace ash, and smacked him hard on each cheek, leaving black, smeary handprints on the boy¡¯s face.


    She was out of there before the kid even realized what had happened.


    She sprinted through the cobblestone streets in her family¡¯s part of town, but she wasn¡¯t going home.


    Not yet.


    She could just hear the shouting beginning when she ducked behind an alley door and put her eye up to the peep hole cut into the wood.


    There were a few boys after her, friends of the kid¡¯s, and even though they were smaller, they outnumbered her. She tried hard to control her breathing, to stay quiet, but she had run so fast that her breath seemed to have left her. For a moment, she felt concerned, and had the silence in the road remained, she might¡¯ve started to feel a little scared.


    But the sound of the boys growing closer caught her attention, and she found herself holding her breath instead of gasping for it.


    Two of the boys, one of them the boy whom she¡¯d tricked, flew by on the street, howls of protest escaping them as they pursued her.


    But a third boy, the biggest boy, stopped not far from where she was hiding, gasping for breath, himself.


    Oriana froze, watching the boy walk back and forth in front of her door. Then, just as she thought things were going to work out, she felt a tickle in the back of her throat; ash that she¡¯d breathed in after smacking the kid.


    Horrified, she coughed.


    It was entirely involuntary. And after she coughed once, she found that another followed, and another, until a full-blown coughing fit commenced. She couldn¡¯t stop, and the coughing hurt her throat badly enough that she forgot for a moment what she was doing there kneeling on the hard cobblestone.


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    The boy, curious, pushed the door open and peered down the alleyway, Oriana hiding behind the open door. She was trying desperately to hold her breath, to prevent another sound from escaping her.


    And then, a reprieve. The pursuer didn¡¯t hear her, and he couldn¡¯t see her hiding spot, so he stepped back into the road, leaving the door ajar. She saw him take off again, and just as he ran away, the world around Oriana began to swirl.


    Beads of sweat broke upon her brow, a wicked chill began to creep up her spine, and the coughing began again. This time there was no reprieve, and she coughed so hard and so long that by the time she emerged from hiding and sank down into the street, the taste of blood had touched her tongue.


    A woman bent over, her face uncertain.


    ¡°Oriana?¡± she said. ¡°Is that you? Oh, girl, what are you doing out here! Your mother¡¯s going to kill you! But¡ªOriana? Are you all right?¡±


    The words sounded garbled in her ears, and her field of vision was obscured by blackness closing in on her. When she finally began to lose consciousness, she was glad for it, for already in those early days she was learning that the warm embrace of sleep meant the end of her pain.


    She drifted away.


    When she awoke, she found herself being carried, but the arms holding her did not belong to someone she knew. The man was wide and tall, and a moment later, she realized it was one of the lawmen that patrolled the city streets. She shrank away from him, but as soon as she did, another coughing fit broke loose, and she was too distracted to care who it was. All she wanted was her warm bed by the fire.


    She shouldn¡¯t have tricked the boy.


    It didn¡¯t take long for the man to carry her to her family¡¯s house close to the entrance to the castle. Here, the lawmen were noticeably nicer, gentler, with the public; one never knew whom she might run into in the street.


    The man approached her front door and rapped loudly on the wood. She heard the scuffling of her mother inside, and Oriana¡¯s heart sank. She wasn¡¯t supposed to be out on her own, especially at this time of year, the coldest. She knew she had a hard slap coming.


    She looked up at the lawman. ¡°Put me down.¡±


    He ignored her.


    ¡°I said, put me¡ª¡±


    The door creaked open, and Oriana finally got her wish; the man released her, and he was so tall that she was lucky to land on her feet instead of in a heap.


    ¡°Where have you been?¡± her mother asked angrily. ¡°I¡¯ve been looking for you for an hour!¡±


    Oriana might¡¯ve lowered her head in mock-shame, but instead she dissolved into another coughing fit, and she was just lucky enough to land in her mother¡¯s arms as she lost herself within it. This time, when she pulled away, she saw droplets of blood staining her mother¡¯s dress, alarming her.


    Her mother saw the blood, too, and stared at Oriana. Her face first looked awed, then concerned, and then, finally, deadly, etched with knowing and resolve.


    She looked up at the lawman.


    ¡°Thank you, sir,¡± she said quietly.


    And she backed up, Oriana in her arms, and shut the door.


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 Broken

    Duna held onto the little boy, her charge, as they were pulled through a portal as dark as a moonless night.


    He didn¡¯t make a sound.


    She grunted as she tried to hold onto him, tried not to let him go. She wasn¡¯t sure she could survive without him.


    So she fought.


    The sorcerer tried to pry her hands from around the boy¡¯s ankles, but it wasn¡¯t until he knocked her on the head that she finally let go, hands involuntarily flying up to cradle the spot where he¡¯d hit her.


    It took a moment for the resulting dizziness to clear before she realized what had happened.


    ¡°No!¡± she yelled, the sensation of flying ebbing until she was suspended in midair. The sorcerer held tightly to the boy as they moved away from her, leaving her behind.


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    She slowly began to fall, the rushing, weighted feeling of gravity forcing her down until finally, she hit the earth in a heap, snapping the bone in her forearm.


    She screamed in pain, rolling over and gripping the spot with her other hand.


    How had this happened? How had she become so attached, only to have the boy taken away?


    Her face crumpled, but tears did not fall. She forced herself to sit up and look around, to stand and run in the direction the boy had gone. But in the darkness, her massive feet tripped her up, and she hit the ground again, yowling in pain.


    All signs of them were gone. She climbed to her knees, searching unfamiliar mountains.


    This time when she stood, she moved at a slow walk, making herself a promise.


    I won¡¯t stop.


    She panted as she struggled onward.


    I will never stop.


    She gritted her teeth.


    And I¡¯ll kill the bastard that took him.


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 Alone

    It was the ferocity of his stepmother¡¯s slap that surprised him. He nearly fell, catching himself on the wall.


    ¡°Don¡¯t you dare say that,¡± she spat.


    Dylan reached his hand up to his face, gingerly touching the skin where her hand had made contact. He frowned. ¡°I¡¯m telling the truth,¡± he said quietly, standing up straight again.


    He was already as tall as she was, and this time when she wound up to hit him with her fist closed, he grabbed her arm before she hit home. He thrust her away from him and turned to leave.


    She began to cry as he walked out the door. He was relieved when he closed it behind him and the sound of her drunken tears were drowned out by the hustle of the market. He turned and headed back in the direction he¡¯d come from, back out of town.


    He¡¯d known his father wouldn¡¯t survive the avalanche. He¡¯d been too close, too greedy in his hunt for magic; he¡¯d paid for that greed with his life when the stones fell, leaving Dylan with nothing.


    Nothing.


    He was almost to the edge of town when a kid jumped out in front of him.


    ¡°Dylan!¡± he said. ¡°What have you got? You must be rich by now!¡±


    Aiden was a bit of a nuisance to Dylan; they didn¡¯t live in a big town, and Aiden didn¡¯t have any brothers.


    That left Dylan as the only option for him.


    He brushed by him, and the kid followed closely, clearly hoping for a taste of magic elixir, or maybe even a coin or two.


    ¡°I¡¯m not rich,¡± Dylan mumbled.


    The kid fell into step beside him. ¡°Where are you going?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m just¡ªI¡¯m going away,¡± he said.


    Aiden stopped walking and stared at him. ¡°But you just got back.¡±


    Dylan shrugged.


    ¡°I¡¯ll come with you,¡± Aiden said, taking a few more steps away from town. He stopped again and looked back. ¡°Are you coming or what?¡±


    ¡°Aiden,¡± Dylan said. ¡°What are you talking about? You¡¯re just a kid.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m eleven next month,¡± Aiden protested. ¡°Besides, you can¡¯t go off on your own.¡±


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    Dylan shook his head, but then he finally gave in and began walking again. He knew Aiden wouldn¡¯t last long on the road; the terrible truth was that he knew he wouldn¡¯t last long on the road, either.


    As they walked together, Aiden looked up at his friend and noticed the red blotch on his cheek. His eyes grew round, but he didn¡¯t say anything about it.


    ¡°Should we go to the hill?¡± he asked.


    Dylan let out a slow, exasperated breath. He could argue that he wanted to be alone, but part of him wanted Aiden to come with him. If he was honest, he might¡¯ve admitted that he was glad for the company.


    But he wasn¡¯t going to be honest.


    ¡°You can walk with me,¡± he said, ¡°but when we get there, I want you to go back.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°Because I need to think.¡±


    It would only be a few days before he would have to start work, and as the only man in the family, he knew his hours would be long.


    ¡°Where¡¯s your pa?¡± Aiden asked after a little while.


    Dylan didn¡¯t answer him, and he angrily brushed away a tear. But finally, he felt forced to mutter the truth.


    ¡°Dead.¡±


    Aiden stopped walking and stepped in front of him, blocking his way.


    ¡°Dead?¡± he asked quietly. ¡°What happened?¡±


    Dylan pushed past him.


    Aiden stayed rooted to the spot, not following him this time, and a couple of minutes later when Dylan looked back, he didn¡¯t see the kid following him anymore. Instead, he saw him retreating back toward town. He was almost to the road already.


    He knew Aiden would tell everyone in town at the first opportunity, but that didn¡¯t matter, wouldn¡¯t matter. His little family had been disliked by the locals for the entire time they¡¯d lived in that town. He could expect no kindnesses whether his father was dead or not.


    He stared down at his feet as he made his way up the hill, too angry and upset to look up from the path in the dirt. When he finally made it to the top, he gasped for breath for a few moments, then sat down and looked out over the kingdom.


    He wasn¡¯t looking forward to returning, and maybe he simply wouldn¡¯t. He doubted he would be missed by anyone, even his step-mother. She preferred her habits over him, and he knew that if he went back down, he would find her wasted.


    His father hadn¡¯t been a good man, and he hadn¡¯t married a good woman, either. But after everything Dylan had been through, he¡¯d learned to take care of himself. He looked away from the kingdom and down at the dirt road leading away from it. Out there would be a difficult life, a wild life.


    He sat on the hill for a long while debating, and as the sun went down over the mountains and a chill crept into his body, he did not leave, for he had already come to the conclusion of his thoughts. He knew what he must do.


    He must stay.


    The woman would do nothing to care for him, but if he were to take off on his own now, he would be dead within a few days.


    So, as the stars came out and his stomach rumbled, he finally stood and started walking down the hill back toward town, back to his step-mother and the miserable life that now awaited him. He would keep his eyes open for opportunities; he was almost a man, after all. He would plan, and eventually he would leave.


    As he reached the bottom of the hill and stepped out onto the road, he steeled himself for what was to come. Head down, he made his way back home.


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 Stolen

    The man, Nekanas, held tightly to the little boy his master had required him to capture. It was not the first time Torin had demanded Nekanas steal precious things, but it was the first time he¡¯d demanded a child.


    Nekanas held tightly to Cuinn¡¯s tiny hands as they flew through the night toward Torin, kicking at the blasted giant who was holding onto the boy with all of her might.


    He hadn¡¯t expected her to grab onto him at the last moment, and now he was fighting to lose the dead weight of a twelve-foot-tall woman tasked with a different sort of demand.


    He couldn¡¯t allow himself to feel pity for her. His mind wasn¡¯t yet controlled by Torin, but he knew well enough whose side he was on, whose side he would stay on.


    The winning side.


    Nekanas intended to survive the coming war between Torin and whomever it was that was making him so angry, even desperate.


    Desperation was never a good sign in a leader, but with one as powerful as Torin in the fight, Nekanas knew whom to ally himself with.


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    Finally, he landed a good, hard kick against the giant¡¯s skull, and she let go, holding her head with both hands as she plummeted to the earth below.


    Studying the mountainous horizon now, he imagined the treasure that awaited him on the other side of this journey. He licked his lips as he pictured himself drinking from Torin¡¯s ever-growing pool of liquid magic, pictured himself feeling the strength that ingesting Light brought to him.


    He looked down at the boy and hoisted him up, gripping him hard around the middle, unwilling to let such a prize go.


    He could practically taste the Light on his lips.


    Nothing else mattered.


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 Birthday

    ¡°You really should be at school, you know,¡± Oriana said.


    A coughing fit followed these words, but she tried to keep it quiet. Her mother would only allow her out of doors on sunny days, but if Oriana showed any proof of distress, back inside she would go.


    ¡°You¡¯re going to get caught, otherwise.¡±


    ¡°If I were in school, how could I help you?¡± Bree asked.


    She was hiding behind a low stone wall that separated Oriana¡¯s home from the rest of the city. She dared not talk to her directly over the fence. She knew how her parents felt about magic.


    ¡°You can¡¯t live your whole life based on magic,¡± Oriana whispered. ¡°No one will give you a job if you don¡¯t have any schooling.¡±


    Bree laughed.


    ¡°I have more money in my pocket than my father has ever had. I¡¯ve been saving, you know, for my big trip. That and putting a few apples on our table from time to time. Besides, Alma doesn¡¯t seem to mind.¡±


    Alma was Bree¡¯s grandmother, her father¡¯s mother, and there wasn¡¯t an ounce of magic in her body.


    But there was in Bree¡¯s. More than she knew what to do with. She was sixteen and wild as the wind that messed up her long, brown hair.


    Oriana¡¯s chronic illness made her care about little else other than Bree and the pain relief her visits gave her. Her legs had been deteriorating of late, and she had found herself unable to walk just a few days ago.


    ¡°I wish you could come out with me,¡± Bree said. ¡°I could bring you into the meadow and show you the stars.¡±


    ¡°I can see the stars from my window, silly.¡±


    Bree scoffed.


    ¡°That¡¯s nothing. When you get better, I¡¯m going to take you out.¡±


    Oriana paused. Then, ¡°When will that be?¡±


    She sounded sad. Hollow.


    She was twelve today, and while she would¡¯ve liked nothing more than to accompany Bree, she knew it was unlikely to happen. Beyond unlikely. What gifts could she expect, anyway? Her parents were wealthier than most in Eagleview, but they spent their money on treatments for their daughter. For her.


    Treatments that never worked.


    So they ate the same stale bread like everyone else and fought to keep their family heirlooms out of the pool of money they used for doctors.


    ¡°Soon, if you can get close enough to the gate.¡±


    Bree started shifting over, trying to make it look like she was just taking a rest against the wall. She slowly moved closer, and when she reached the gate, she peeked through the bars.


    Prison bars, as far as she was concerned.


    ¡°Can you make it over here?¡± she whispered.


    Oriana sighed.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± she said.


    ¡°Well, you have to try, don¡¯t you?¡±


    Oriana knew Bree was right. She hadn¡¯t seen her in a few weeks, and she¡¯d been getting nothing but worse since they¡¯d last spoken.


    She looked around and back at the house. Perhaps her mother was busy enough that she would be keeping her eagle eye off Oriana for just a few minutes.


    If only her chair had wheels.


    She scooted up to the edge, then pushed her body off the chair, hitting the stone patio hard against her knees.


    But that didn¡¯t matter. She could barely feel them at all anymore.


    She pushed herself up onto all fours and slowly crawled across the yard to meet Bree. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, she reached the gate and turned to lean her back against the iron bars, breathing hard.


    ¡°You¡¯ll need to turn around,¡± Bree said.


    But Oriana was tired, and she sat for a moment, maybe for a moment too long, before she turned.


    Bree passed a vial of Light to her.


    ¡°Happy birthday,¡± she said.


    Oriana lit up.


    ¡°You remembered my birthday? I don¡¯t even think my parents remember at this point.¡±


    ¡°No matter,¡± she said. ¡°Use it when no one is looking. I stole it off my old man, and he usually harvests good quality Light from the pools.¡±


    ¡°Thank you,¡± Oriana whispered. She tucked it into her bodice, for Oriana was always dressed like a princess, sick as she was. Bree wasn¡¯t jealous, though.


    Not really.


    She reached out with her hands and placed them on Oriana¡¯s shoulders. Then, putting her head down, she tried hard to concentrate.


    She was untrained, and her magic was wild and dangerous, but she was usually able to help her friend. Helping someone that she loved was often enough for her to focus her powers acutely versus blowing things up. It was for this reason that she was unable to reliably make a living as a sorceress. Occasionally, she was able to help those with severe illness because it brought a combination of pity and hope to her mind. But she was unreliable with people seeking potions for love and power, and more often than not, the vials of potion she provided would backfire against the buyer.


    She had a reputation among the people who lived outside the castle walls, and it wasn¡¯t a good one.


    But with Oriana, it was easy. She was so injured. So innocent. So deserving.


    Bree imagined her friend up on her feet once more, breathing normally instead of the strained, choking breath she usually had. She imagined her cheeks rosy instead of white, her feet strong instead of shriveled.


    Slowly, her power began to run into Oriana¡¯s body, and she visibly improved, her breath quieting, her body relaxing.


    ¡°Oh, I wish I could see you every day. If only Mother would allow you in. Then she might understand.¡±


    ¡°What might she understand?¡±


    The voice of Oriana¡¯s mother grated on Bree, and she turned away from Oriana and got to her feet.


    ¡°Mrs. Forrest,¡± Bree said. She tried hard to look innocent. One needed to be trained by the head sorcerer in the kingdom before they were allowed to use magic. It was a rule often broken by desperate families, though, and she herself had flouted the rules many, many times.


    It was a stupid law, she thought, one that only served to trap the poor into forced work duty.


    Oriana¡¯s mother gripped Bree by the front of her tunic.


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    ¡°Next time, I call the lawmen.¡±


    ¡°But can¡¯t you see? Look at her.¡±


    Bree was right. Oriana was on her feet and grabbing for her mother¡¯s arm.


    ¡°Mother, look.¡±


    She held out one foot at a time, then hopped up and down on her newly healed legs.


    But this wasn¡¯t enough for Mrs. Forrest.


    ¡°You¡¯ll get all of us arrested,¡± she spat at Bree. ¡°You¡¯re a dangerous girl. Now get out of my sight.¡± She pushed Bree away so forcefully she almost landed on the stone street.


    ¡°But mother¡­¡±


    ¡°In!¡± her mother said, pointing.


    Oriana looked over the wall at Bree.


    ¡°I¡¯ll talk to her,¡± she said. ¡°Don¡¯t worry.¡±


    Then, glaring at her mother, she walked back inside.


    Oriana¡¯s younger brother, Brand, was stuck in his baby chair, strapped down like a little prisoner. He was picking up the tiny pieces of bread his mother had softened with milk and throwing them onto the floor. Oriana bent over to pick them up.


    ¡°Oriana, sit down,¡± her mother scolded.


    ¡°I don¡¯t need to sit down, mother! I¡¯m up straight right now. Can¡¯t you see?¡±


    She put the discarded pieces of bread back onto the baby chair for Brand, who immediately smashed both of his hands down into the bread and squeezed it out from between his fingers.


    Oriana grimaced.


    ¡°You just wait until your father gets home,¡± her mother said. ¡°He¡¯ll be furious.¡±


    She pulled out a chair for her to sit in, but Oriana wasn¡¯t ready to give up so soon. Her body was teeming with energy, a side effect of Bree¡¯s magic that she always felt after a jolt of it.


    ¡°I don¡¯t see why he should be upset at all,¡± she said. She walked into the kitchen and took up a plate for washing. ¡°I¡¯m only ever better after she comes.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s illegal,¡± her mother hissed. ¡°We can¡¯t afford to risk it with the lawmen, and you know it. We¡¯re already under suspicion because of your illness. We don¡¯t need to give them any reason to come snooping around.¡±


    ¡°Why would my illness make them suspicious?¡±


    Her mother sighed.


    ¡°Sickness makes people desperate. Parents especially. The lawmen know that we¡¯re the most likely kind of family to use illegal magic.¡±


    ¡°So, you¡¯re desperate to heal me, but you bypass the one treatment that always works because you¡¯re scared of getting arrested? That¡¯s crazy.¡±


    ¡°Oh, is it?¡±


    Brand was shoving little handfuls of mushy bread into his mouth now, then spitting them out again.


    "How would you like to move into the orphanage? You and Brand could go together to the children''s home. Would you like that while your father and I languish in one of the towers? I assure you there would be no treatment for you there, magic or otherwise. You''d be dead in a year."


    ¡°So buy Light from the vendors, then.¡±


    Her mother stared sideways at her.


    The vendors in town illegally sold Light to the desperate. The only reason the lawmen let them was that they themselves would impose a hefty tax on the magic, collecting it for their own uses.


    If a regular citizen was caught using it, they would be arrested. It was a secret trade made legal by the whims of the lawmen. Anyone buying Light needed to be always on the lookout. Best to take a swig from a vial the moment money changed hands, just to be on the safe side; they couldn''t catch you if you didn''t have it.


    ¡°I can¡¯t do it,¡± her mother said quietly. ¡°Oriana, you know that your grandfather has spent the majority of his life in those towers and then out in the field, neck red from days and days in the sun. That can¡¯t be us.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re so selfish,¡± Oriana spat. ¡°You say that I¡¯d be dead in a year on my own, but you know that¡¯s not true. I would be able to see Bree anytime I choose, and I would probably be healthier than ever.¡±


    Her mother¡¯s face had grown hard, and now little Brand was watching the exchange, his brown eyes moving back and forth between the two of them as they argued, mash forgotten.


    ¡°I do everything to care for you, and this is the thanks that I get? You tell me you¡¯d rather have me in jail so you could go skipping about with that little tramp?¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s not a tramp, mother. She¡¯s¡ª¡±


    Slap!


    Oriana¡¯s hand flew to her cheek, the skin smarting from her mother¡¯s blow. She looked up at her, scathing.


    ¡°You see?¡± she said, voice low and dangerous. ¡°You wouldn¡¯t dare hit me if I were sick right now. But here I am, standing in front of you, healthy and whole, upright all on my own. You''re a terrible woman!"


    Oriana turned and stormed off to the bedroom she shared with Brand, slamming the door behind her. She sat down hard on her feather bed and punched her pillow several times, finally lifting it to her face so that she could scream long and loud into it.


    She was in for it now, she knew. Her father would be home within the hour, and he never let his belt languish when there was a direct disobeying, sick or not.


    She wondered if her mother would tell him about what had happened or if she would cover for her.


    It was a small kindness she hoped for but didn''t necessarily want.


    Oriana knew, though, that her mother''s word was law and that her father''s was the final gavel on the wood.


    She dug into her bodice for the little vial of Light Bree had left her with. It shimmered and swam in the darkness of the room, the only source of light as the night descended upon them.


    I should save it.


    But for when?


    She''d never had liquid Light before. It was expensive, and her parents obviously wouldn''t buy it for her. Bree must have snuck into her father''s stores and skimmed this little dose off the top of many other vials so as to go unnoticed.


    It was hers now. And she couldn¡¯t be caught with it.


    She unstoppered it and tilted her head back, swallowing it in one gulp.


    The sensation was even greater than the feeling of Bree¡¯s hands on her shoulders. All the way down her throat and into her stomach, she could feel the healing properties of the Light. And it didn¡¯t stop there. It spread out until it reached the tips of her fingers and toes.


    A wide smile spread across her face.


    She needed to run.


    She pulled on her shoes; she¡¯d been so sick she hadn¡¯t worn any shoes for weeks. She tied the laces tight before going to the door to stick her head out.


    Her mother was slamming around in the kitchen, and Brand had started crying.


    She was distracted.


    Oriana crept into the hallway and hid behind the wall that separated their front door from the rest of the cottage. She looked out the tiny window, but in the fading light she didn''t see her father anywhere. Slowly, carefully, she unlatched the handle and opened the door. It squeaked on its hinges, but Brand was crying so loudly, she herself could barely hear the squeaking over the din. She slipped outside and latched the door behind her, then crept low across the front garden and into the road.


    Where should she go? She wondered if Bree was home yet. She didn¡¯t even know where she lived. They had met a year or so back, but their relationship had included little else other than Bree hiding behind the wall and Oriana speaking to her over it. Bree had simply been walking by one day and called her out, and their friendship had sprung from there. Oriana thought that Bree must not have many friends to be spending time talking over the wall with her.


    But what did she know?


    As soon as she rounded the corner, she stood upright and tried to look like walking through town was something she did every day. The merchants were all starting to put away their wares with the night coming, but she still got to take a look. There was the baker with all that was leftover from the morning batches of bread. The milk cow and her calf were being walked down the road now, on their way to pasture and dinner. The old, fat man who sold oranges; who knew where he found such a thing around here?


    Suddenly, she realized how much danger she was in, not from thieves or tramps, but from the men on their way home from the factories. Somewhere in one of those groups, her father would be trudging alongside them. He was the foreman, but his job was just as exhausting as anyone''s.


    She found herself hiding in alleys and alcoves, her shoes having picked up a considerable amount of mud during her brief travels outside of her home.


    Then, she saw it¡ªa break in the shacks on the other side of the road. There was an alley there, yes, and she could see the fields beyond.


    She looked both ways and found there was a break in the groups of men on their evening march home. Could she see him? Her father? Surely he was among their numbers. Surely he would see her.


    But this was no time for cowardice.


    She ran for it, and the feeling of it was exhilarating. She dashed into the alley, and moments later, she was on the outskirts of town where the road ended and turned to grass.


    It was dark out there, and she stopped running as she hit the meadow. She looked back at the town, relieved that the lights were so dim, only coming from windows, not street lights like inside the castle walls.


    She was invisible.


    Would she find Bree as she had hoped?


    ¡°Bree!¡± she called quietly into the night. ¡°Bree!¡±


    Suddenly, a head popped up from the grass, just visible in the moonlight.


    ¡°Oriana?¡± Bree called.


    Yes!


    Oriana broke into a run again and launched into her friend¡¯s arms with such force they nearly went tumbling to the earth.


    ¡°How did you get out?¡± Bree asked, wiping at her face with her hands.


    ¡°I¡ªwell¡ªI¡­ Bree? Are you crying?¡±


    ¡°Crying? No.¡± She sniffed loudly, then buried her face in her hands.


    ¡°Oh, Bree!¡± Oriana took her hand and squeezed reassuringly. ¡°What happened?¡± she asked.


    Bree shook her head, unable to speak.


    ¡°Come on,¡± Oriana said. ¡°Let¡¯s sit down, okay?¡±


    Together they sat, and though her friend was clearly in distress, Oriana still marveled at the feel of the grass across her palms, the brightness of the stars above her head. Bree had been right; they were brighter out here than through her bedroom window.


    ¡°Do you want to talk about it?¡± she asked.


    ¡°No.¡±


    Bree wiped her face again with the back of her sleeve. It was then that Oriana saw that the left side of her face was swollen and dark.


    ¡°Who did this to you?¡± she asked.


    Bree shrugged.


    ¡°Doesn¡¯t matter.¡±


    Oriana thought about the slap she¡¯d felt just an hour ago, but it seemed like child¡¯s play compared to the blow Bree had taken.


    She took Bree¡¯s hand and cradled it in her lap. They both looked up into the sky.


    ¡°You see?¡± Bree said after a few minutes. ¡°I told you about the stars.¡±


    Oriana smiled, squeezing her hand again. A real friend.


    ¡°You were right about the Light, too. It was the perfect gift.¡±


    Bree nodded.


    Oriana didn¡¯t know if she would be allowed to stay gone, to stay missing. She felt certain that she would be found by the end of the night. But for now, life was good. Perfect, even.


    She would deal with her father when he came.


    But it would all be worth it.


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 Secrets

    Smack.


    Trina went down, a drop of blood appearing where her father¡¯s ring had hit her cheek.


    ¡°You get off her!¡± her mother yelled, struggling to her feet and launching herself upon her husband, kicking him in the shins repeatedly.


    Smack.


    Her head snapped back from the blow.


    Trina was recovering, sitting up against the wall. She pulled herself up using the bedframe, then tried walking a couple of tentative steps.


    It was good; she could walk.


    She stared around, the sound of her father¡¯s shouts ebbing, her ears ringing.


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    Now, it was Trina¡¯s turn. Moments before, it had been a few selectively harsh words she¡¯d thrown at her father that had resulted in the blow she¡¯d sustained, but now she focused on something different.


    She focused on attack.


    She rose up into the air; her one magical ability that dwarfed all others came easily to her, and she hovered over the scene.


    Her father stared, surprised. But then, his scowl returned.


    For nothing longer than an instant, Trina wished she could be as fearless as he was. She gritted her teeth and propelled herself forward, kicking him on the side of the head.


    This time it was he who hit the ground.


    She turned to her mother, offering her hand.


    But her mother just stared, alarmed. Afraid.


    Trina¡¯s heart broke as she realized she would not be coming with her tonight. Maybe not ever.


    She withdrew her hand and flew to the doorway, to her solitary escape. And as she wondered where she might sleep that night, she knew one thing for sure, something terrible.


    Come dawn, she would return to her mother¡¯s bruises and her father¡¯s apologies.


    But not now. Not tonight.


    Tonight, she flew away into the darkness, leaving her mother and that most wicked man behind.


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 Home

    Egan and the kids approached Eagleview Kingdom carefully, quietly. The day was coming to an end, and though he didn¡¯t want to get caught out past curfew, he was cautious, slow in his approach. When his daughter, Bree, had left the city, she¡¯d been chased out by the head sorcerer, Zahn. Now, with two kids in tow, he needed to be extra careful. Never before had he taken such care in the treatment of children, but now things had changed. He had changed.


    They skirted around the city through the grassy fields that surrounded the exterior markets. Off to one side, he recognized the place where Eagleview deposited its garbage. Children lived in those fields, and even though staying out late was against the law, he still saw several bobbing heads as they scavenged for food.


    For the first time in his life, it mattered to him.


    Finally, as the sun sunk down toward the horizon, he turned to Regan and Brennen. ¡°We¡¯re going to have to run for it. We¡¯ll start in the outer market and then sneak across the road to my mother¡¯s flat. You ready?¡±


    The children looked up at him, and while it was obvious that both of them were tired, Brennen still wore an expression of excitement on his face.


    Regan, however, looked worried. ¡°I¡¯m not sure now, seeing this place, if we should enter.¡±


    Egan, a changed man from his experiences traveling through the Wild Lands, had gone through very little compared to Regan. She had died right there in front of him, then surprised them all when she was reborn in the fountain of Light that stood beneath the great horse Keeper¡¯s feet. Since then, she¡¯d positively floated across the terrain, so quiet that her footsteps made no sound.


    Egan knew she had magic now, and a lot of it, but this fact didn¡¯t change his plan. He would deal with the issue of illegal magic tomorrow. Tonight, they needed shelter.


    ¡°It¡¯s the only chance we have,¡± he said, looking over their heads at the city beyond. The markets were closing now, and he was eager to slip in beneath his tent and draw the hangings shut. He turned, then, and looked over his shoulder. ¡°We can¡¯t go back.¡±


    Brennen, sunburned and dirty from his travels, was bouncing up and down, waiting to get moving again. ¡°No, I don¡¯t want to go back. Regan, we have to stay.¡± He peered behind her at the city. ¡°I¡¯m so hungry.¡±


    This was true; it had been weeks since they¡¯d had a proper meal, possibly much longer than that if one were to count the years he and Regan spent among the Lifters. Lifters, a wicked bunch who only cared about Light and their own thievery, had abused both him and Regan their entire lives.


    They were away from them now, but Regan remained concerned.


    ¡°I suspect things will not be as you left them,¡± she said. She was looking around, growing fretful, as if a giant beast was on their trail.


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    Egan stepped in front of her and bent slightly, looking her in the eye. ¡°We can¡¯t stay out here forever,¡± he said. ¡°We have to go home at some point.¡±


    She turned away from him and looked back at the city. ¡°This is not our home, but yours.¡±


    He placed his hands on each of their shoulders. ¡°This is home for all of us now, new for you, new for me. I don¡¯t know how I¡¯m going to survive without peddling Light to the lawmen, but I still have to go.¡±


    The look she gave him then was so forlorn that he worried she might begin weeping right then and there.


    ¡°We will be okay,¡± he said.


    Brennen took her hand. He was a kid still, and Regan a young woman, but he knew more than most boys his age. ¡°Look at it this way,¡± he said to her. ¡°At least there¡¯s no Lifters here.¡±


    Her gaze shifted to his face, and this time a tear fell from her eye. She nodded, squeezing his hand.


    Egan went first, holding Brennen¡¯s other hand, crouching down as they began to run through the field. Though Egan knew they were going to make it before curfew, he still had a twist in his stomach.


    It didn¡¯t take them long to make it to the market, but when Egan took them to the place he¡¯d spent years selling Light, he found it was now occupied by another.


    ¡°Who are you?¡± he asked, confused. ¡°This is my stall.¡±


    A young man with dark skin looked up from where he was lying on the small cot at the back. Egan recognized the boy; Kenneth was his name, the only son of the greedy produce seller, Maddock.


    Kenneth quickly got up and walked up to them.


    ¡°You¡¯re Bree¡¯s family, aren¡¯t you?¡± he asked. ¡°Is she okay? Did she¡ªis she¡ªalive?¡± He looked like the question pained him, and he winced as he waited for the answer.


    ¡°She was when I left her,¡± Egan said. ¡°Why are you in my stall?¡±


    Kenneth shrugged. ¡°My father. He took over this spot when you left, and now it¡¯s my job to protect it each night.¡±


    Egan scowled; he¡¯d always known Maddock to be a greedy bastard, but this was a new low.


    He turned to the kids. ¡°I guess we should move on, then. We¡¯ll figure this out tomorrow. There¡¯s still daylight; let¡¯s make a run for it while we can.¡± They turned to go.


    ¡°Wait!¡± Kenneth said. ¡°When is she coming back? When is she¡ª¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know when, kid,¡± Egan said.


    Kenneth¡¯s face fell.


    ¡°Sorry.¡± Egan went to the edge of the tent and peeked out; there were no lawmen in sight. Not yet. ¡°Come on,¡± he said, taking Brennen¡¯s hand again. Together, the three of them shot out into the street, Egan leading the way. It was only a couple of minutes before they were standing at the flat his mother shared with Bree. He caught a glimpse of a lawman beginning to patrol the streets, looking for stragglers to harass for having broken curfew. He didn¡¯t bother to knock, didn¡¯t bother to think about what he was doing.


    He pushed the rickety old door open, pulled the kids inside behind him, and closed it tightly. Then, they ran up the stairs and stood, breathing heavily, at the door to the flat.


    It was open.


    ¡°Hello?¡± Egan called. ¡°Ma?¡±


    He pushed the door wide and stepped inside.


    Outside, the sun sunk beneath the horizon. The flat was dark.


    ¡°Hello?¡± he tried again.


    Nothing.


    Where had she gone?


    His stomach twisted again.


    They were alone.


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 Coming Storm

    Colm stepped back away from Bree, alarmed. He¡¯d never seen her this way, and though their friendship was new, he wasn¡¯t sure how long he could expect it to last.


    All he knew was that he wanted what was in those canteens. Light, they¡¯d called it, and he¡¯d never tasted something so wonderful, sweet as milk.


    But now, she held up her flame-lit staff, protecting her stash. She reminded him of a wild animal guarding her kill, and he knew that if he dared try to take it from her, he would be as good as dead.


    She was as dangerous as a wolf.


    He moved farther away, but he dared not show his back to her, worried that she would attack him. And then what would he do?


    She¡¯d rescued him from the wicked Toag Forest, where trees ensnared their victims, forcing them into their bark prisons for decades. He should¡¯ve been grateful to Bree.


    But that didn¡¯t stop him from wanting the Light.


    This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.He recognized that if he were to let himself go, let himself fall prey to its siren song, he would meet his end.


    So, he lied.


    ¡°Okay, okay,¡± he said. ¡°I don¡¯t want it that badly.¡±


    She scowled at him, putting one of the canteens behind her back as if that would be enough to protect it from any predator.


    Sprinkling rain began to fall, and gradually she relaxed, then stood up straight.


    ¡°Sorry,¡± she said. ¡°I don¡¯t know what came over me.¡±


    Colm took a deep breath, the crisis narrowly averted. He would simply have to wait, that was all. And when she finally let her attention drift elsewhere, he would make his move. He¡¯d helped, after all.


    He was no sorcerer, but when all was said and done, he would take his fair share.


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 Powerless

    The first thing Connell became aware of was drops of water upon his skin. Cold, they fell one by one, raising goosebumps on his arms. He kept his eyes closed, but he couldn¡¯t remember why. He didn¡¯t want to remember; he knew that.


    Suddenly, his head began to throb, and he put both hands up to his temples, mouth open in a silent cry.


    He squeezed his eyelids shut even more tightly than before, now too engrossed by the pain to consider learning where he was.


    Because where was he?


    Vaguely, he wondered if anyone else was nearby, maybe someone who could help him.


    Finally, realizing he had no choice, he opened his eyes. He was sorry he did, for he found himself not somewhere safe, but somewhere decidedly unsafe. He released his temples, too frightened to do anything other than grip the stone beneath his body. He was lying on the edge of the highest precipice he¡¯d ever seen.


    What had happened? He was having trouble remembering. He wasn¡¯t home, definitely not back in Eagleview Kingdom.


    Then, the truth came flooding in.


    There had been a duel, a fight with another sorcerer, a man tall and fine. He¡¯d been dressed in flowing white robes, a decorated staff in one hand, a searing ball of flame in the other.


    Gradually, Connell put his hands beneath his shoulders and pushed himself up. When he looked over the edge of where he lay, vertigo struck, and he found himself lying flat on the rock again. The rain was coming down harder now, and he could feel the water seeping in through his thin tunic. He shivered.


    The sorcerer, that man, had nearly killed him. Connell had tried to protect the great sea creatures in the deep reaches of the mountains, jellyfish as big as houses swimming within a sacred pool of Light, but he had failed. They were dead now, all of them, their Light stolen away by an enemy unlike any he had ever imagined.


    An enemy.


    Suddenly, he remembered more of the battle, and when he reached inside the robe that covered his shoulders, he realized that the small stick of wood he¡¯d used as a wand was broken. He drew it out and stared down at it. Normally, he might be able to use a tool like this despite its state, but when he focused his attention on it and made his intention clear, he found no power came from it. Not even a whisper of light.


    He dropped the ruined wand and pushed up to sitting, this time determined not to look over the edge. Instead, he focused his attention on his hands, focused on the very basic task of lighting them with fire. But no matter how intently he concentrated, they would not light.


    He panicked, his chest growing tight, breath growing fast.


    He tried again and again but eventually came to the realization that it was gone. His power was gone.


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    How was that even possible? He¡¯d been born with abilities, making his brothers jealous and prompting fights over his power time and again. And now it was gone?


    He remembered the man, a servant of someone much greater, for Connell had never known anyone so full of malice. They¡¯d fought in that deep cavern, the place where he¡¯d made a new home for himself, a protector of the Keepers who swam in those waters. At first, the man had feigned that he was a friend, someone to be trusted, even liked.


    But it had all been a lie, nothing more than bait to get Connell to come out of the water.


    Connell¡¯s magic was not something small; he¡¯d learned a lot in his years of training with Zahn, not to mention his natural abilities. As a general rule, he was not one to be trifled with.


    But today, today of all days, the general rules did not apply. He remembered how the man had entered the cavern, how he had convinced Connell to get out of the water. But once he did, his reward for facing the tall, perfect-looking wizard was to be knocked back into the stone at the far end of the cave. He¡¯d hit his head, then become confused.


    ¡°You foolish boy,¡± the man had said. ¡°You¡¯ve been hiding this from us this whole time. Father will be so pleased to learn of my discovery.¡± Then, he¡¯d bent down at the side of the pool, cupped his hands, and taken a long drink. Finally, when he stood up again, he seemed impossibly tall. He¡¯d lifted his staff into the air and aimed it at Connell.


    Connell hadn¡¯t stood a chance. Again and again, the sorcerer¡¯s spells hit him square in the chest and then in the head. He had dragged Connell out of the cavern then, and his power was so intense that he was able to toss Connell into the air, watching as he hovered in the space between peaks.


    Connell couldn¡¯t remember much more than being dizzy, then being powerless to stop the monster of the man who¡¯d entered his place of protection.


    It wasn¡¯t even a proper duel. He¡¯d simply had no chance to fight and wasn¡¯t even sure what he might¡¯ve done if he had.


    Now, tossed onto the precipice like garbage, he found himself alone. He wiped tears away angrily as he looked down at a small path leading away from the top of the mountain. For a moment, he considered simply throwing himself off the edge, for his life without magic would be nothing.


    Instead, cowardice overtook him, and he found himself unable to end his life. Once on his feet, he turned away from the view of the cavern he¡¯d once protected. There was nothing left inside, he knew. Nothing for him.


    Still, as he began the long walk down the mountain, he searched for a way to reach the cavern once more, to know for sure.


    The hike took him several hours, and while he was able to do it physically, he grew more and more tired with each step he took.


    When he finally made it to the top of the other mountain, he paused at the entrance to the cavern. Was the man still here? He moved off to one side and peered in, too frightened to find out the truth. But after several minutes had passed, he finally found the bravery to step inside.


    He didn¡¯t know where the man had gone, but he did know that his own magic had dried up like a puddle on a hot summer day. And as he walked inside the cavern, the tomb, he realized the truth.


    All of the magic was gone, not just his. The light from the pool, the light that had lit the entire place, had gone out. He dropped to his knees, thrust his hands into the water, and drank, hoping that he was wrong, that the Keepers were still swimming within it. But he didn¡¯t feel a change, didn¡¯t experience the feeling of Light running through his body.


    It was gone, all of it.


    And so was he.


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 Dragon Bone

    The teacher held the rod in her right hand.


    ¡°I said come here, Alina,¡± she said, her voice dangerous.


    The papers were all over the place, stuck to the walls and the floors and the desks. One boy tried to peel his sheet away from the wood, but it stayed as stubbornly in place as if it had been glued there.


    Some of the children were crying; others simply watched.


    Alina rose from her chair and slowly made her way up the aisle to the teacher¡¯s desk.


    ¡°Hands, please, Alina,¡± the teacher said.


    Alina knew what to do. She¡¯d been in this position before, though not quite this badly. All she¡¯d wanted to do was to shut the girl up. Moya had been teasing her while the teacher¡¯s back had been turned, the rest of the class snickering at her expense.


    No one was snickering now.


    She put out her hands, palms up, and waited, squinting in anticipation of the stinging slap the rod would soon deliver.


    The teacher raised the rod, but just before she let it fall, a voice rang out.


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t do that if I were you,¡± the voice said.


    Suddenly, the rod flew from her hands.


    Her face was frozen in surprise. Alina looked to her left and found a strange-looking man in long, black robes was standing in the doorway. He wasn''t a young man, but he wasn''t yet gray, and his hair hung in a low ponytail down his back.


    In his hand, he held the rod; the stick meant to bring pain and shame to anyone it touched.


    ¡°What is your name, girl?¡± he demanded.


    ¡°Alina, sir,¡± she said.


    ¡°I see. And how do you like attending school here?¡± He looked around the room and wrinkled his nose.


    The classroom was meager at best, the teacher worse. But there was nowhere else for the slum children to go during the day. Some stayed behind to help their parents, but Alina¡¯s parents worked in the factory on the other side of the city, and she was too young to stay home by herself.


    She didn''t feel like she was too young, though. Eight was old enough to do lots of things, and though she secretly worried that she might get scared being on her own all day long, to her parents, she only ever begged to be released from this prison of a school.


    Today might¡¯ve been her ticket out, too, had the teacher smacked her with the rod. In that way, she hadn¡¯t been sorry about the pain that might¡¯ve come. She¡¯d overheard her mother the last time she¡¯d come home with red, swollen palms. Marvina had told her father that if it happened again, she would take Alina from the school and put her in with the butcher down the street. She could work for free and learn a trade, perhaps even bring home a slice of chicken here or there.


    But now things had changed, and while the man in the doorway made her nervous, she tried to stand tall and proud before him.


    ¡°I don¡¯t like it much at all here, sir,¡± she said, honest to the last.


    ¡°Tell me ¡­ why are you here instead of helping your parents in the market?¡±


    ¡°They don¡¯t work in the market, sir. They work in the factory.¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± he said. ¡°Forgive me.¡± He turned to the teacher. ¡°I¡¯ll take this one,¡± he said, and he turned to leave.


    Alina looked back and forth between the man and the teacher.


    The teacher''s face was no longer surprised but angry. This hadn''t gone her way at all. But she knew better than to question this man, whoever he was.


    Alina left her books on her desk and ran after him. She felt nervous, so she took his hand.


    He looked down at her, grimacing, then stopped walking.


    ¡°Alina,¡± he said. ¡°If you¡¯re to train with me, you must learn to be strong. You need not hold anyone¡¯s hand. With the power you have, you can walk this world alone and never fear another again. Now let go of me, and let¡¯s be on our way.¡±


    Alina''s eyes were wide, and for a moment, she thought she might cry, but then she thought the better of it.


    "Yes, sir," she said and dropped his hand.


    ¡°You may call me Zahn,¡± he said, opening the door to the courtyard. ¡°Have you ever been to the castle?¡± he asked.


    ¡°No, Zahn,¡± she said.


    He smiled as kindly as a great wizard who knew his own greatness could smile. In any case, it wasn¡¯t a sneer, which would have been much worse.


    He stopped walking and turned to her, pulling a watch from his pocket and checking the time.


    ¡°What time do your parents arrive home, Alina?¡±


    ¡°They come home at dark, sir,¡± she said.


    ¡°Do you know what time that is?¡± he asked.


    ¡°No. I don¡¯t know how to tell time. We don¡¯t have a clock in our flat.¡±


    He grimaced, then looked up and around the building that housed the school.


    ¡°Seems to me that they don¡¯t teach you very much in this school.¡±


    Alina shook her head.


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid not.¡±


    ¡°Very well.¡± He turned and walked on. ¡°We will go to your flat and wait. I can hardly snatch up a new student without at least telling her family where she¡¯s gone. Maybe if you were older, I might. Now, show me the way.¡±


    He stopped talking, and she walked out in front of him, trying to be as brave as he required.


    She knew her way through the market streets, and she hopped from one foot to another, skipping as she went. There was even a moment when she forgot he was following her, but it was just for a moment.


    As they passed by the merchants, some of them retreated into their storefronts. Others nodded their heads grimly at him. Even the children who worked in the markets stopped and backed up until they were close enough to take a mother¡¯s hand.


    She took a look back at him, and his head was held high as he strolled behind her.


    He was a powerful man, she knew. And he was following her. She experimented with holding her head high as Zahn did, but she got tripped up by a rock in the road and nearly fell to her knees.


    A child from one of the markets, a boy, laughed and pointed at her as they passed. She looked back at Zahn, feeling ashamed.


    He wasn¡¯t kind. Or, at least, he didn¡¯t seem kind. But it was unmistakable what he did next. He shot a glance in the boy''s direction, and the impact of his power was like a punch to the boy¡¯s nose. His head sprang back, and when it fell forward again, blood streamed from his nostrils.


    Things were going to be different now.


    * * *


    That night, as Zahn took leave of their flat, Alina found her mother in tears.


    ¡°Why are you crying, Mama?¡± she asked.


    She was feeling fantastic. Zahn had explained to her parents what Alina¡¯s life would be like now that she was to tutor with him. But he¡¯d made it clear that Alina¡¯s meetings with her family would be rare. She would be permitted to spend one day per month with her parents, and that was all.


    Indeed, at these words, Alina had felt sure that her parents would not let her go, but now that she thought about it, she wasn¡¯t so sure they¡¯d had any say in the matter. Magic in humans was rare, but even though the lawmen were most likely to arrest one with magic in their blood, magical talents were coveted by all.


    ¡°I¡¯m just sad that I won¡¯t get to see you every day,¡± Marvina said, her face wet with tears.


    Ronan, her father, came to her side and put a supportive hand upon her shoulder.


    "This is a great opportunity," he said, though his face didn''t match the sentiment. "Magic skipped me in the line, but now our little Alina seems to have gotten a double dose. It''s only natural that she should train, and with a teacher like Zahn¡­."


    Her mother scowled.


    ¡°I don¡¯t like that Zahn,¡± she said, standing up abruptly and walking into the kitchen. ¡°He¡¯s basically stealing the child away from us, you know, Ronan. And what if we¡ªwhat if she¡ª¡±


    Ronan walked over and wrapped his arms around her as she broke into sobs, her head on his shoulder.


    Alina was confused. She¡¯d thought it would be such a great thing to go with Zahn. He was serious, yes, but she could be good.


    But now that her mother was crying, she was worried.


    Her father saw her face, and he broke apart from Marvina and knelt down to speak with the child.


    "You are about to embark on a great journey, little bird. Zahn is a very powerful man in the kingdom, one of the highest-ranked in his majesty''s cabinet. You will go far working for him. You will have a life none of us ever could have dreamed of."


    This made Alina feel a little better. Her mother was wiping her tears away with the back of her sleeve, and her father looked hopeful, not sad.


    ¡°You might get lonely sometimes,¡± he said. ¡°But I suspect you may be able to send us messages, and maybe we can sneak one in to you from time to time.¡±


    Her mother knelt down beside her father and opened her arms. And brave little Alina slid right into her embrace, more excited than ever.


    * * *


    ¡°There is one thing,¡± her father said quietly. He¡¯d taken her out into the dark to walk around in the meadow that bordered the city walls. There was a curfew at dark, but they were far enough out that they weren¡¯t likely to be caught. ¡°Something that you may not know, though I know that children sometimes know more than their parents give them credit for.¡±


    He smiled down at her.


    ¡°We haven¡¯t told you before now because neither your mother nor I carry magic in the way that you do, and only those with whom it resonates the strongest can see the beast.¡±


    ¡°The beast?¡± she asked.


    ¡°Yes, he is a beast. He comes to the castle every night, they say. The townsfolk fear him even though they cannot see him.¡±


    He was leading her out deeper into the meadow. Then, as they turned the corner at the first tower, he led her away from the castle even farther where the grass was taller, where they could easily hide.


    ¡°You will have to tell me what you see, little bird. I am blind to this magic.¡±


    She turned and took in the castle from afar, with its four grand towers and a wall as tall as the sky.


    But she saw nothing there.


    ¡°Father, there is no beast.¡±


    He took her hand and sat down, beckoning her to join him. In this way, they were nearly invisible to both man and beast.


    ¡°Just wait for him,¡± he said. ¡°My mother was able to see him, though your mother and I never have. I believe he is there, though some believe he is only a myth. Sometimes it easier to deny a thing one is frightened of.¡±


    She sat down next to him and looked up at the castle.


    ¡°Do you think anybody lives there?¡± she asked.


    ¡°In what, the towers? I do not know. If anyone, perhaps some prisoner or another.¡±


    ¡°Do you think that is where I might sleep?¡± she asked, nervous for the first time since that afternoon.


    Ronan laughed.


    ¡°No, I doubt it.¡±


    They sat in silence for a time, and after a while, she lay back and put her head in his lap. He brushed her hair away from her face with his fingers.


    She must have slept because when she next opened her eyes, it was much darker and colder than it had been when they''d first arrived. What had awakened her?


    She sat up and found that her father was also asleep on the ground.


    Then she saw it.


    The beast perched upon the far tower, and when it opened its mouth, a terrible roar of fire spewed forth into the night sky.


    ¡°Father!¡± she said, shaking him awake behind her.


    ¡°What is it, Alina?¡± He rolled over in the dirt.


    ¡°Father, he¡¯s there,¡± she said. ¡°The beast!¡±


    ¡°Is he?¡± Ronan asked, straightening up.


    ¡°Yes! Can¡¯t you see him? Or hear his roar?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± he said. ¡°I only see the night sky and hear the crickets.¡±


    She turned back to the animal, mouth open in awe.


    ¡°Father, why haven¡¯t I seen him before now? You¡¯ve always told me I¡¯ve had magic since I was a baby.¡±


    ¡°There was no need to frighten you,¡± he said. ¡°And we live on the far side of the castle, so you cannot hear him, either.¡±


    ¡°Will he eat me alive?¡± she wondered aloud.


    ¡°I don¡¯t want to scare you, but when you go to the castle, do your best to stay away from the beast. It¡¯s not safe.¡± He paused, still watching the tower. ¡°What is he doing now?¡±


    ¡°He is roaring again. His breath is fire! Now he¡¯s opening up his wings and flying away toward the mountains. He is so powerful!¡±


    ¡°He is. I¡¯m glad you have had a chance to see him. I wouldn¡¯t want to be surprised by such a beast if I were in your shoes.¡±


    He stood up from the ground and cracked his back with a groan.


    ¡°Time to go back, little bird.¡±


    * * *


    The next morning, she awoke early, earlier than her parents. She walked over to the small window that overlooked the market street and looked outside.


    Nobody was out yet, and the sky was still dark, but Alina felt certain that the sun would be making its debut any time.


    Zahn had told her parents to bring her to the castle at dawn, but they were still sleeping, and she began to worry. Finally, she walked over to their straw bed and shook her mother¡¯s shoulder.


    ¡°Mama,¡± she said. ¡°I think it¡¯s time to go.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± she said, drowsy.


    ¡°We need to go now. To meet Zahn.¡±


    Marvina opened her eyes and looked at her small daughter. Then, she resolved herself and sat up in the bed.


    ¡°Ronan,¡± she said quietly. ¡°It¡¯s time to take Alina.¡±


    She rose from the bed, intending to help Alina get ready to go, but when she got a look at her, she realized that she¡¯d already changed into her daytime clothes. Such a big girl already.


    Her father sat up and looked around, then beckoned Alina closer. He opened his arms for a bear hug, and she let him, but she didn''t need the encouragement herself. It was her parents who were so frightened.


    She went to the door and pulled on her fabric shoes while Alma put together some bread and an apple for her to eat.


    ¡°What are you doing?¡± Ronan asked.


    ¡°Oh, you know. Just making sure she¡¯s prepared.¡±


    ¡°I think they will probably feed her,¡± he said, winking at Alina.


    ¡°Well, I doubt she¡¯ll be in time for breakfast. She can eat it while we walk.¡±


    When her mother was done packing the small sack, she pulled on a thin, cotton cloak, barely enough to keep her warm but better than nothing. She''d traded for a small one for Alina, this one made of wool, and she put it over her shoulders now.


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    Alina took the sack from her mother¡¯s hand and turned to go.


    ¡°Wait a minute,¡± Ronan said.


    ¡°We¡¯ll meet you outside,¡± her mother said.


    Alina didn¡¯t waste the opportunity to go ahead, and she flew down the stairs and out the front door.


    The air was cold as she regarded the market before the day broke. Some people would sleep by their tables, keeping the items for trade safe from thieves in the night. Others would pile up their wares and take them back to their homes each night. She noticed that a little boy, no older than she was, was sleeping in front of one of the stalls, shivering.


    Without a backward glance, she rushed to his side and pulled off her cloak, laying it over his sleeping body. He woke with the feeling of the blanket settling over him.


    ¡°Alina,¡± her mother scolded. ¡°That is your only cloak. You mustn¡¯t give it to him.¡±


    Alina knew that her mother would want to do the same thing, herself if she''d had the means.


    ¡°You¡¯ll give it back, won¡¯t you?¡± she asked the boy.


    He nodded and tucked the cloak up under his chin.


    She pointed to her mother. "She is Marvina. She''ll come back for it right after dawn. I''m trusting you now. Can I trust you?¡±


    ¡°Yes, Miss,¡± the boy said, which was odd. She was maybe a year older than he was, but not much more. Maybe her presence with something as valuable as a cloak brought her some sort of respect.


    Marvina opened her mouth to protest, but then Ronan appeared at the front door, and she didn¡¯t voice her opinion on the matter. They all started walking down the street toward the castle.


    It wasn¡¯t a long walk, but what a difference there would be between outside and inside the great castle walls. Farther up the road, there were buildings built up against the sides like theirs was. But the closer they got to the great gates, the more the wall dominated, soaring fifty feet up into the air.


    Alina had never seen the inside of the castle before; it was well guarded, and children weren¡¯t permitted to walk so close to the gate.


    But today, a young man awaited her, an apprentice, maybe, and the gate was wide open.


    "You must be Alina," he said as they approached. "I am Sloane." The boy stood up tall, and his tone was sharp, but it had a false edge to it. Like he had been practicing this encounter, intending to look intimidating and serious. Like Zahn.


    For the first time, Alina felt uncertain. She could see the castle beyond the wall now, the great courtyard, and the high buildings constructed all the way around the interior.


    She turned back to her parents and tried hard not to cry. But a single, fat teardrop escaped her eye, and her mother bent down to talk to her, tears in her eyes, too.


    ¡°You are going to do great,¡± she said. ¡°You are an honor to our family. Not many get opportunities like this, and you must try your best every day. Your magic is wild; Zahn and Sloane will teach you to control it.¡±


    Alina nodded, wiping her face, for another tear had appeared.


    ¡°Thanks, Mama,¡± she said. ¡°I will make you proud.¡±


    She looked up to her father and was surprised to find him with tears in his eyes, too.


    ¡°Father?¡± she asked.


    She wondered if maybe what she was doing was terrible after all. She didn¡¯t want to be someone who brought her parents pain. Not ever.


    Ronan didn''t bend to speak with her. Instead, he rose up to his true height and looked down.


    ¡°I¡¯m proud of you, little bird,¡± he said. ¡°Now go with Sloane. He will keep you well.¡±


    He nodded to Sloane, and Sloane nodded back. He held out one hand to Alina.


    But she didn¡¯t take it. She hadn¡¯t needed to take Zahn¡¯s hand, and it seemed like this was a morning for bravery. She walked by him and beyond the castle gates, then turned to wait.


    ¡°You take good care of her,¡± Ronan warned.


    Sloane was not an arrogant young man, even though he tried to look important.


    ¡°I will, sir,¡± he said, and then he turned and followed Alina inside.


    * * *


    She had been so excited to get to the gates that she¡¯d forgotten to eat her breakfast. She pulled out the apple and took a huge bite. Then, she offered it to Sloane.


    He shook his head.


    "You''d better finish that fruit before we get there, or Zahn will not be pleased."


    ¡°Will there be food there?¡± she asked, concerned.


    "Yes, of course, there will be food. Silly girl. But Zahn demands all of our attention whenever we are in his presence. I don''t care how much your stomach rumbles; it would do you well to eat that fruit up as quickly as you can."


    She was hungry, but she wasn''t an animal. She took a couple more bites but did not eat the entire apple. Instead, she put it back into her bag for later. Who knew if sorcerers ate lunch?


    They approached the other side of the square, and she saw that the merchants there were just starting to open up their shops. The difference between the shops here and the market on the other side of the wall was that the merchants'' wares were kept inside, not out. During any rainstorm, they would stay dry, whereas, in the market, thick mud would quickly form, sucking at the boots of those walking by.


    Here, cobblestones were tiled throughout the square as if it were one giant ballroom. She looked way up into the sky, and she saw all four towers, one in each corner of the castle wall. She wondered with a shudder what or who was kept up there. Stories of trapped princesses licked at the corners of her mind, and she forcibly lowered her gaze, trying not to think about things like princesses and tall prison towers.


    Soon, Sloane led her to a hallway and a flight of stairs.


    ¡°You must be really something,¡± he said as they started to climb. ¡°There are only two other students that Zahn has agreed to tutor, and I¡¯m one of them.¡±


    ¡°Who is the other?¡± she asked.


    ¡°An older boy. Sixteen. He is Zahn¡¯s favorite pupil.¡±


    She was surprised that his voice wasn¡¯t filled with jealousy, only respect.


    Three. Just three of them.


    Sloane led her to a large room several floors up.


    ¡°We will wait here for the others,¡± he said.


    Alina wandered around the room, taking in the strange glass instruments and staffs made from wood. Out the window, the sun was fully up, and she warmed herself in its rays.


    She wondered if the boy had given her mother back the cloak. It didn¡¯t matter to her, but she knew that Marvina would fret over not having one for her to use when she came to visit.


    They waited in silence for Zahn to arrive. Sloane stayed standing, but Alina sat down on the floor to wait.


    ¡°You¡¯d be better off standing,¡± he advised.


    She sighed, then hauled herself back up. And not a moment too soon, for Zahn and another young man entered the room right then.


    ¡°Good,¡± Zahn said. ¡°She is here. Any problems?¡± he asked Sloane.


    ¡°No, sir,¡± he said.


    Zahn nodded.


    ¡°This is Sheridan,¡± he said, introducing the boy. ¡°Many of your lessons will be with him.¡±


    She looked toward Sheridan and gave a nod. Sheridan held out one hand, looked at it intensely for a moment, and then bright red fire erupted in his palm. It must not have hurt him because he didn¡¯t flinch. Then, with a slight blow of his lips, the fire was extinguished.


    Zahn nodded approvingly.


    ¡°Sloane, you next.¡±


    Sloane looked nervous, but he held out one hand, staring at it just as Sheridan had done. Only a tiny flame rewarded him for his efforts.


    Zahn clucked at him, shaking his head in disappointment. Sloane shook his hand, extinguishing the flame, then lowered to his side. He dropped his head, clearly ashamed.


    Zahn turned to Alina.


    ¡°Your turn,¡± he said.


    Alina was suddenly a mess of nerves. She¡¯d never tried to use her magic before; it had merely happened when she was scared, nervous, or even just annoyed. And when she was happy, her power was at its strongest.


    Now, being watched intently by three others, she lifted her palm and stared at it.


    Nothing happened.


    Sheridan smirked at the two of them, and his arrogance made her angry. Suddenly, a bright white flame shot from her palm and hit the ceiling with so much force that some of the wood planks dislodged and fell to the floor.


    Zahn smiled, but then, when he saw that she was still pushing the magic up into the castle, he scolded her.


    ¡°You must control it!¡± he shouted over the roar of the blast.


    But she didn¡¯t know how to control it. Wasn¡¯t that why she was here? To learn exactly that?


    She stared at her hand, just as the other two had done.


    ¡°Concentrate!¡± Zahn called.


    Slivers of wood were still falling down from the ceiling, and one of the beams was starting to catch fire.


    She stared hard at her palm, but she didn¡¯t understand what to do.


    Less magic. Do less.


    She tried, but though she was getting tired, she still couldn¡¯t stop it. So she ran over to the window and pointed her palm out into the meadow beyond the castle walls. Finally, after what seemed like hours, she ran out of magic, and she slumped, exhausted, to the floor.


    ¡°Stupid girl,¡± Zahn spat.


    Alina was confused.


    He strode over to her and grabbed her by the arm, pulling her up from the floor. For a moment, she was sure he was going to slap her, but he didn''t, though his words were enough to knock her down.


    ¡°I thought I¡¯d found someone worth training,¡± he said angrily. Though she thought she saw something in his face besides anger.


    Jealousy?


    No, that wasn¡¯t possible.


    But she¡¯d seen the same look on the faces of the school children when they regarded her. She didn¡¯t have a single soul to call a friend there. They all hated her for her abilities.


    But now¡­


    Zahn released her and walked out of the room. The two boys followed him, and so she did as well.


    ¡°I¡¯m taking you outside, girl,¡± he said. ¡°And we can see what you¡¯re really worth.¡±


    She thought she understood why he was angry, but when they arrived in the square, she wondered if practically setting the castle on fire was actually the reason.


    Once they were in the center of the square, he rounded on her.


    ¡°Stay here,¡± he said.


    Then he strolled away from her, lighting his hands with magic as he walked.


    She glanced at Sloane and Sheridan. Sheridan had a wicked smile on his face, but Sloane just looked scared. Perhaps that was his usual place in the pecking order; he was the frightened one with little magic, while Sheridan was the man at the top of the class.


    Alina was tired, but she turned in Zahn¡¯s direction and gritted her teeth. She wasn¡¯t sure what was about to happen, but she suspected that it wasn¡¯t going to be good.


    ¡°Ready!¡± Zahn called from thirty feet away. He raised his hands, palms covered in fire.


    She instinctively did the same, only there was nothing but skin on her hands. Still, she raised them out before her, ready to fight.


    Zahn¡¯s blast came without warning, and soon she found herself on her back, ten feet from where she had started.


    This angered her. She scrambled to her feet and put her hands up again, this time ready. Or so she thought.


    Zahn raised his palms and took her down again with ease. This time when she hit the ground, she banged her head on the cobblestone. It took her a few moments to push herself back up to standing.


    ¡°You see, girl?¡± he called. ¡°Don¡¯t fancy yourself above me ever again!¡±


    What? She had done nothing of the sort. But her power was wild, feral, in need of his tutoring. Wasn¡¯t that what he, himself, had said?


    He raised his hands too soon, too quickly, and she just barely got her hands out in front of her when her own power burst forth, creating a shield around her, blowing back against Zahn¡¯s power until he was the one on the ground.


    This pleased her, but she didn¡¯t dare show it.


    Zahn stood up before her. A crowd had gathered to watch the show, but instead of stopping, he called Sheridan and Sloane out into the center of the square. Both boys looked nervous, and Alina stepped aside, feeling as weak as ever. She suddenly wished she had finished that apple because now she felt hollowed out inside as if she hadn''t eaten for days.


    Zahn immediately threw his fire at both boys, one hand for each. He caught them unawares, and they both fell to the ground.


    Zahn smiled a wicked smile, and then he turned to the crowd, who clapped in response.


    She wondered if maybe they were scared not to.


    He turned again, and this time the boys were up and ready. When his fire hit them, they were able to put up shields around themselves, but they were weak, and they were easily overpowered by Zahn¡¯s magic. After a few moments of maintaining their shields, they both fell once more.


    ¡°You see, little girl?¡± Zahn shouted over the applause. ¡°You are nothing compared to me!¡±


    The crowd whooped at this statement. Sheridan and Sloane stood up, brushing dust off their robes.


    Zahn strolled over to her, his head held high. He grabbed her by the arm and spoke to the crowd.


    ¡°This child, this wild wielder of magic, must go to the dragon who frequents our skies and take from him his most precious possession!¡±


    Several people gasped. She was so young, after all.


    ¡°Then,¡± he glared down at her, ¡°we will see whose power is the strongest. If you survive.¡±


    * * *


    She shivered, waiting. She had a name for the beast now: dragon.


    She remembered seeing him just the night before, perched upon this very tower, blue, hot flame erupting from his great mouth.


    But that was last night and a far distance from where she now stood.


    She wondered why the dragon came to the castle every night. She¡¯d read in fairytales that dragons hoarded riches. Did the king offer the dragon gold and silver? Was that why?


    When she saw his silhouette against the moon as he took flight, shivers ran through her.


    He was coming.


    She stood tall, watching him as he came closer and closer, and as he howled with song, he spewed forth his fire.


    He landed with surprising grace on the tower roof, then put his head back and blew his flame into the sky. Then, when he was done, he looked down at little Alina.


    ¡°You are not the one I seek,¡± he said, his voice low and gravelly.


    She took a step back, surprised that she could understand him.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry¡­um¡­sir,¡± she sputtered. ¡°I¡¯ve been told to wait for you and to take your most precious possession.¡±


    He might¡¯ve laughed, but he was angry, and he growled instead.


    ¡°Who has sent you?¡± he asked.


    ¡°Zahn.¡±


    ¡°Then he will pay me double tomorrow. Why should I not eat you up and call you dinner?¡± he asked.


    She thought about this for a moment, but she could only come up with one reason.


    ¡°I am too small to satisfy you for dinner. And I think that humans might not taste good to someone like you.¡±


    The dragon grunted.


    ¡°About that, you are wrong. What¡¯s your name, girl?¡±


    ¡°Alina, sir.¡±


    His scales stood up, shimmering black like knives in the moonlight.


    ¡°Alina. Zahn must be angry if he has sent you to meet me. What have you done to him?¡±


    ¡°Just magic, sir.¡±


    This time he did laugh, a roar of laughter and fire.


    She felt lucky he had tossed his head back so that his fire didn¡¯t burn her.


    ¡°I see,¡± he finally said. ¡°Climb aboard me, child, and I will take you to my most prized possession.¡±


    ¡°You won¡¯t eat me?¡± she asked. She couldn¡¯t decide if she was nervous, terrified, or elated. Maybe it was all three.


    ¡°Do you think my eating you would make your master Zahn happy?¡±


    ¡°Definitely.¡±


    ¡°Then no, I think I¡¯ll skip dinner tonight.¡±


    He lowered his head until he was low enough for her to touch his nose. She found that his breath was burning hot, but not so much that she couldn¡¯t handle it.


    ¡°I am Urvar,¡± he said as she climbed up his scales until she was straddling his neck. ¡°Now, hold on tight. It is a far way down.¡±


    She wrapped her arms around his neck and pushed against him with her knees. She couldn¡¯t have been hanging on any harder if she tried.


    Urvar took flight, and for a moment, she thought she would fall, but he seemed to sense this, and he moved his giant body in a way to correct for her imbalance.


    Alina might¡¯ve been terrified, but the glory of riding on a dragon¡¯s back was too sweet to ruin with fear. She sat up once she got used to his movement and found that they were flying over the lake that lay outside the castle walls. She had only ever been to the lake once, and to see it now under the light of the moon reminded her of shimmering jewels.


    ¡°Why do you come to the castle every night, Urvar?¡± she asked as she settled in for the ride.


    ¡°It¡¯s magic that I seek,¡± he said. ¡°I have been robbed so many times by men that most of my treasures are gone. Magic, however, is difficult to steal.¡±


    The wind that his wings made blew through her hair as they traveled.


    ¡°What good is magic to one like you?¡± she asked.


    ¡°Silly girl. I am magic. I¡¯m made of it. And the more I have, the greater I become.¡±


    ¡°You mean it makes you bigger?¡±


    He snorted, and flame issued from his giant nostrils.


    ¡°Something like that. Now, hold on. We are almost there, but we must go much higher.¡±


    She did as she was told, and she soon found that she felt stuck to Urvar. It was her own magic binding her to him, making sure she wouldn¡¯t fall.


    Urvar changed course, and soon they were flying almost vertically. Alina whooped with joy.


    ¡°Urvar!¡± she called. ¡°You are amazing!¡±


    He didn¡¯t respond; all of his energy was focused on topping the mountain where his lair awaited, and soon he leveled out again and perched on the highest rock in the range.


    Alina looked down, and from up there, she could see her entire expanding world. There was so much that she could do, so many adventures that she could have.


    But she was just a girl, barely old enough to tie her own shoes. She might¡¯ve thought about staying on with Zahn, but considering he¡¯d basically served her to a dragon like a fine dinner, she suspected that he wouldn¡¯t want her back.


    Urvar hopped down until he was at the base of a cave. Then he lowered his head, allowing Alina to slide down.


    ¡°It¡¯s beautiful up here,¡± she said. ¡°Is that why you like it?¡±


    ¡°I like it because I can watch my enemies from high above. The only way to get to this place is to fly.¡±


    ¡°Enemies?¡±


    ¡°Do you think I would require the magic from Zahn each night if he were my friend? Both he and the Lost Kingdom owe me dearly.¡± His gaze focused on the other side of the mountain range, and she saw another castle, this one even larger than the one she lived by, and she understood.


    ¡°What did they take from you?¡± she asked.


    Urvar shook his great head back and forth sadly.


    ¡°Come inside,¡± he said.


    His enormous feet made the mountain shudder with each step he took. She followed him blindly into the dark. She was no longer afraid of him, which maybe wasn¡¯t wise. Maybe he did intend to make his dinner of her.


    But she didn¡¯t think so.


    Instead, he blew his burning breath softly into the cave, lighting up the walls, which were covered in singe marks. She was surprised to find the cave all but empty; there was no dragon¡¯s treasure here. All there was, off to one corner of the cave, was a pile of old bones. Old dinners.


    Or so she thought.


    He stomped heavily over to them, then rubbed the end of his nose against them almost tenderly.


    And she understood.


    ¡°They took someone away from you,¡± she said. ¡°Didn¡¯t they?¡±


    ¡°They did. When I was younger, and my mate was small enough and fine enough to be bothered by something as insignificant as an arrowhead, they came for us. They killed her and wounded me, and it was the combined magic of Zahn and Drem from the Lost Kingdom that kept me from stopping them. They stole the treasure. They took everything from me.


    ¡°So now I take from them, night after night. And I think it would be wise for me to double the debt Zahn owes, now that he¡¯s given me a small child to devour.¡±


    She walked over to the pile of bones and touched them gently.


    ¡°She must have been very beautiful,¡± she said.


    ¡°She was mine,¡± he said simply.


    Alina turned and approached him, then put one outstretched hand on his nose. Without even meaning to do it, she transferred power to him, and his body glowed blue and lifted up off the cave floor.


    "Ah!" he exclaimed. "Now I see why Zahn has sent you. He is jealous of your power! How wonderful for me and terrible for you. If you are wise, you will hide your power while that man is alive. Use it only when you are in the direst circumstances, only to save a life, your own or another''s.


    "But what joy for you to bring me this news. Now, what shall we send you home with?"


    Urvar lit up the room again and looked around. Then, his eyes landed on the one thing he had to offer.


    ¡°It is the most powerful thing I can give you,¡± he said. ¡°I have for thirty years taken Zahn¡¯s power and poured it into these bones. Take your pick, child, and I will fly you home.¡±


    ¡°But shouldn¡¯t we not give Zahn back all of his power?¡±


    ¡°You misunderstand me. He cannot access this power, even though it originated from him. He can only behold the bone and know that it holds within it more power than he has ever known, for it is mixed with my own.¡±


    ¡°So it is a joke?¡±


    ¡°Yes, but pray it will not backfire upon your head. Take a bone to him and throw it at his feet before you make your escape. Then, if you are wise, spend your days hiding from him until he is dead and gone, for he will not forget.¡±


    ¡°But that will be a horrible life for me,¡± she said. ¡°I cannot hide forever.¡±


    ¡°No, but you can hide until the time is right. Until you are powerful enough to defeat him in every way. Use the coming years to practice your magic in secret. Then, when you are ready, confront him. Then you will rule the kingdom, not him.¡±


    Alina was a smart girl, a powerful girl, but she was still a child, and the idea of hiding out for the rest of her life didn¡¯t suit her spirit at all.


    ¡°Why can¡¯t I defeat him now?¡± she asked, ¡°and get it over with?¡±


    "They will kill you if you try. You must be in control for the plan to work. I wish I could train you, but alas, I am not a wizard."


    Alina looked over at the pile of bones and returned to them. She picked up one of the smaller ones and held it out for Urvar¡¯s inspection. He shook his head.


    ¡°Choose a larger one,¡± he said. ¡°He will think it is even more powerful because of its size. The fool.¡±


    She did as he suggested and took a bone nearly as tall as herself.


    ¡°Perhaps that will serve you as a great staff when you are older, for you, of course, will be able to access its power.¡±


    ¡°Are you sure about this?¡± she asked.


    ¡°I am sure. Now climb back on and hold on tight. You can deliver his gift soon. The sun will rise an hour from now, and you will find him awake and elated. He will think you are dead, of course, but this will surprise him. And if he gives you any trouble, tell him that I will come to your door each night for as long as you live so that I can protect you from the likes of him.¡±


    ¡°You will do that? For me?¡±


    ¡°Of course I will, child. You are pure of heart, and you have been mistreated by a man mad with his own power. You will take protecting.¡±


    She held out the bone but didn''t see how she could possibly climb up onto his back with it in her grasp.


    ¡°Put it down. I will take it.¡±


    She did as she was told, and Urvar picked up the bone delicately in his mouth as she climbed aboard.


    At the mouth of the cave, she wrapped her arms around his neck, this time not from fear but with gratitude.


    ¡°Thank you, Urvar, for not eating me.¡±


    The dragon laughed as much as a dragon can laugh, and she smiled. He stomped to the opening of the cave and took to the air again, gliding down, down, down, until they greeted the dawn, leaving the night behind them.


    * * *


    She waited, hidden in the training room, for the day to break in earnest. Any moment now, she was certain, Zahn would arrive.


    But she was mistaken. Instead, Sloane and Sheridan walked into the room, both of them starting when they came upon her.


    ¡°Alina,¡± Sloane hissed. ¡°What are you doing here? You can¡¯t stay here. He will¡ª¡±


    ¡°I have brought him the thing he wanted,¡± she said simply, and she held out the bone for inspection.


    Sloane frowned, then touched it. The power coursed through him in an instant, and a wide smile took over his face.


    ¡°Where did you get this?¡±


    ¡°Urvar,¡± she said. ¡°The dragon.¡±


    ¡°The dragon?¡± Sheridan asked. He put his hand against the bone next, and soon he was practically floating with delight. "Oh, this is a great gift. He was so angry yesterday, and now you''ve brought him something of great value. He will welcome you back with open arms."


    Just then, the door to the hallway opened, and Zahn walked through. When he saw her, he stopped, looking alarmed.


    ¡°Why are you here?¡± he asked. ¡°How are you here?¡±


    ¡°Urvar gave me this to give to you.¡± She walked up to him and thrust out the bone. ¡°He says it is his greatest treasure.¡±


    ¡°Touch it, Zahn,¡± Sheridan said. ¡°It is full to bursting with magic.¡±


    Zahn scowled at Sheridan, but he took hold of the bone.


    Nothing happened.


    ¡°Is this some sort of joke?¡± he spat.


    ¡°No, sir,¡± Sloane said, trying to help. ¡°It is a gift so rare, I could not have dreamt it up myself. Can you not feel it?¡±


    Zahn pointed the bone like he might a staff, but not only did he not feel the power coursing within it, it seemed that his own power disappeared when he was holding it. He threw it to the ground.


    ¡°What is the meaning of this?¡± he asked, cornering Alina.


    ¡°Urvar gave it to me to give to you. He also said that he will require twice the magic from you from now on. And he said that he will be visiting me every night to check I¡¯m safe. That was all he said.¡±


    She turned to go, and Zahn sputtered behind her.


    ¡°You would be wise not to turn your back on me, little girl.¡±


    She turned around.


    ¡°I am wise,¡± she said. ¡°It is you who are lacking.¡±


    She could say these things because she knew that Urvar frightened Zahn. She knew that her power was greater than his, too, even untrained. She opened her palm, and from it, a great fire rose up, blue this time, the flame of a dragon.


    Zahn¡¯s face fell, and she smiled.


    She turned away, leaving the staff useless on the floor. Maybe, if she was lucky, she would get to hold it again someday.


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 Night Swimming

    Silas walked through the forest on his way out of High Kingdom. He was nervous, and it was getting late; already, the light was fading, and as he walked amongst the trees, he felt pinpricks rising up his back.


    The excitement of the journey was gone, replaced by paranoia and terror. How had it come to this so quickly?


    His mother had long told him of her time in these woods, her joyous childhood memories chasing her friends around and braiding hair with pine needles woven through the strands.


    But that was her life, her experiences. Silas had no such friends, no friends at all, really. All he had was a dream, a desire for freedom from the dirty streets of the kingdom.


    But now that he was finally out, he was finding that maybe he wasn¡¯t such a good traveler after all.


    Maybe he should turn back. Run back.


    His breathing became heavy with every moment that passed, and soon he found himself so frightened of the dark that he couldn¡¯t breathe at all. He leaned up against a tree, trying to catch his breath; it was as if he¡¯d just run a far distance, no longer capable of speech.


    He was just starting to move again, just starting to quit, when he saw it. A light was beaming through the trees, and he frowned, not understanding. It wasn¡¯t the fading sun; it was something bigger than that, even brighter.


    Then, as he held one hand up to shield his eyes from the light, he saw it. It didn¡¯t make sense, what he was seeing, and he shook his head, trying to rid himself of what was certainly a manifestation of insanity. He was just getting ready to run when he heard a booming voice echo through the night.


    ¡°Silas!¡± the voice said. ¡°I¡¯ve been waiting for you.¡±


    Something impossible appeared: a fish as big as a house was floating through the trees on his way toward Silas, his giant eyes glowing in the darkness.


    Silas didn¡¯t know what to do, but he was so in awe of what he was seeing that he was frozen on the spot. He¡¯d heard about these huge animals before in stories his mother had told him. He shouldn¡¯t have been frightened now, but he was. Silas had no magic, no defense. What if she¡¯d been wrong?


    The great fish floated around him in a wide circle, and droplets of a blue liquid began to seep from his scales, splashing against the forest floor. One droplet almost fell directly onto Silas¡¯s head, and he reached his arms up to shield himself.


    The surprise came when the orb of liquid stopped before it hit him and hung in midair, round and glowing and perfect. He looked up, surprised to find it hovering above him. He didn¡¯t dare put his arms down; instead, he pushed them forward, the glowing orb following the movements of his hands.


    Stolen novel; please report.


    Suddenly, he didn¡¯t feel frightened anymore.


    ¡°Silas,¡± the fish said, impossibly huge and impossibly dry. ¡°You have friends in these woods. It is my job to ensure you make it through without harm.¡±


    ¡°Friends?¡± he asked.


    ¡°Your mother; she was a blessing to this place. She is a blessing to all places. The connections she made as a girl have not been forgotten. Now, do not be afraid. You can control the Light.¡±


    ¡°But I don¡¯t have magic,¡± Silas said, despair thick in his voice. He let his hands drop to his sides, and the orb of liquid splattered in front of him.


    The fish laughed, but it was not an unkind laugh. ¡°One need not have magic to enjoy the Light I guard in this place, deep in the wood. Try again.¡± And the fish let another enormous droplet fall from its scales to hover just above Silas¡¯s head.


    This time, he was ready. He knew he didn¡¯t have magic, knew he was probably in the worst danger of his life, but he held his hands out anyway, and the orb stopped before it splashed over his head.


    Silas¡¯s mouth opened as if to speak, but he was so awed by the powerful magic he was now using that he couldn¡¯t get any words out. Instead, he did something inexplicable: he began to play. He let his arms raise up, then fall forward, then up again, and as he did so, the Light followed his movements until he was practically dancing with it, a game. Despite his fear, a smile spread wide across his face.


    ¡°Ah, that is good,¡± the fish said. ¡°Your mother made many-a-friend in this place years back. You fear being hunted by unseen monsters, but in fact, you are not alone. You are among friends, for any child so pure as Thea could do nothing more than bring out the goodness in the trees. It is because of her that I may swim again, though my home is far, far from here. Her magic brought with it the ability to heal not wounds but souls. Take rest now. The morning will come before you know it.¡±


    The fish began to turn away, swimming impossibly into the night.


    ¡°Wait!¡± Silas called, but the fish did not turn around. With great regret, Silas watched him as he wound his way through the trunks, his great fins moving as if he were swimming through water.


    ¡°Rest well, Silas,¡± he called out, and he disappeared into the depths of the forest.


    But the Light remained above Silas¡¯s head. Carefully, he lowered his hands to the ground, and he found that the orb did not burst as the others had. Perhaps it was the care that he brought to the thing, the desire to keep it whole. He sat down across from it, studying it, and despite himself, he found that his eyelids were growing heavy. He leaned back against a nearby tree, something that had looked so gnarled and frightening only¡­how long had it been? Minutes? Hours? It didn¡¯t seem to matter. And when he finally could no longer keep his eyes open, when he finally slumped down against the tree, he remembered only the kindness of the beast who had taught him, in this most frightening place, to dance with magic.


    He hoped he would remember it in the morning. He hoped that he would remember it forever.


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