Date: 2019-08-15T18:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Fantasy; Adventure; Magic; cat; Young Adult; Epic; War; sorcery; fae; wizard; coming age
Description: The ancient magic of wizards was anything but dark. It was the enlightenment that lifted humanity from the squalor of superstition, and the worship of fell spirits and capricious gods, but those days are gone. The shining glory of the sorcerers burned away the subtlety of wisdom, replacing it with easy power, held only in the hands of the elite—a new age built upon the elemental supremacy of aristocrats and the ignorance of the masses. But this will change, for the greatest power comes with knowledge, and the deeper teachings of wizardry have not been utterly lost. The last wizard of the old t
Publisher: Michael Manning

The Choice of Magic

By

Michael G. Manning

Cover by Amalia Chitulescu

Editing by Keri Karandrakis

Map Artwork by Maxime Plasse

© 2019 by Michael G. Manning

All rights reserved.

For more information about the Mageborn series check out the author’s Facebook page:

https://www.facebook.com/MagebornAuthor

or visit the website:

http://www.magebornbooks.com/

Chapter 1

Will, along with most of the other children, followed the carriage as it rolled through the village. Newcomers of any sort were always a major event, but a gilded carriage was big news. He had never seen anything like it before. Unlike a wagon, the carriage was entirely enclosed, and it was constructed with such delicate craftsmanship that it was hard to believe the conveyance was made of ordinary wood and metal.

Whoever rode inside had to be extraordinarily important—and wealthy. The driver was dressed in expensive clothing, and a footman rode at the rear. Both men looked wealthy to Will’s eyes, and if they hadn’t so obviously been acting as servants, he might have thought them lords.

The village children followed in the carriage’s wake like a swarm of friendly—and very dirty—bees, waving and calling to the unseen occupants. The driver ignored them, but a small window in the back opened, the wood panel sliding to one side, and Will caught sight of a pair of bright blue eyes staring curiously out at them.

The moment passed quickly, as a hand appeared with slender yet masculine fingers, and slid the window shut once more, cutting off Will’s view of the girl who had been staring out.

Unlike the children, the adults of the village of Barrowden studiously avoided the carriage, and parents who spotted their own offspring quickly caught them and herded them into their homes. While ordinary travelers or merchants might have drawn a crowd, the ostentatious carriage was a warning sign to them. No one old enough to understand the ways of the world wanted to catch the attention of whatever lord or lady might be within. Nothing good ever came of interacting with the rich and powerful.

By the time the carriage had passed through and reached the opposite end of the village, only a few children remained to follow it. One of the few who remained was his friend and cousin, Eric, who stopped Will by tugging on his arm.

“We should stop here,” suggested Eric. “They’re just passing through, and that man on the back looks mean. He might do something if we keep following.”

Will gave his friend a look of amazement. Usually Eric was the wilder of the two of them. It was rare for him to caution restraint. “Really?”

Eric shrugged. “I have to go home anyway. Dad’s waiting for me to help him.”

That soured Will’s mood. Ever since they had turned twelve, Eric’s time had been more and more restricted as his parents began asking their son to take on more responsibilities. Eric’s dad, Johnathan Cartwright, was relatively prosperous by their village’s standards, making a good living as a wainwright and wheelwright.

Will shared the same last name, since his mother, Erisa, was Johnathan Cartwright’s sister, and had never married, but the similarities between him and his friend Eric ended there. Unlike Eric, Will didn’t have a father, or a trade to inherit. His mother’s work didn’t require much help, and as a consequence he was still relatively carefree—carefree, and with little hope for the future.

“Go home then,” said Will flatly.

“What are you going to do?” said Eric, squinting suspiciously at his cousin.

Will grinned. “Worried I’ll have an adventure without you?”

“As if you could!” said Eric in disbelief.

Will deflated. “You’re right. I’ll just go home. It’s in this direction anyway.”

“Don’t follow them down the road. They might get angry.”

“I won’t,” said Will. “It’s quicker to cut through the woods.” With that, he waved goodbye to his friend and took to his feet, running through underbrush that bordered the village and into the deeper shadows of the forest of Glenwood.

Weaving and ducking through the heavy brush, Will followed a route that was not so much a path as a game trail. Like all the children of the village, he was well acquainted with the territory and he knew the easiest way to reach his destination, particularly since this was his usual way home. He reached the house in less than ten minutes.

His home sat not far from the road he had left, but since the road followed a curving route, he was confident that the carriage wouldn’t pass by for several more minutes. He stopped and hid in the bushes to get one more good look at it when it came by.

Sure enough, he soon heard the sound of horses, and the carriage appeared shortly thereafter, but to his surprise it didn’t pass by his home. Instead, the carriage turned and pulled into the wide path that lead to the house and stopped a short distance away. The footman jumped down from his seat and moved to open the carriage door for the occupants.

“Why are they stopping here?” muttered Will quietly to himself.

Will’s mother, Erisa Cartwright, made her living growing herbs, tending the sick, and acting as a midwife whenever one of the village women gave birth. Hers was a humble life, especially since she was a single mother with no husband. Will couldn’t imagine what a strange nobleman would want with her.

The man who stepped out of the carriage was a prime example of wealth and privilege. Slender and of medium build, the man had light brown hair and a sharp nose. He exuded pride and arrogance with every breath he took. His clothes were a rich burnt orange, heavily embroidered with gold thread; even in the dappled sunlight of Glenwood he seemed too bright to look upon.

A girl in a yellow dress tried to follow him out, but the man turned and stopped her. “No, Laina, stay in the coach. This place is filthy. You’ll ruin your dress.”

Laina had warm brown eyes and matching hair. She pouted unhappily. “But, Father, I’m bored. I can’t stand another minute in the coach!”

The man pressed her firmly back. “That’s why Selene came with us. Be a good girl and play a game with her inside.” He shut the door before she could protest further, then he turned and strode toward Will’s home.

Is he going to buy Mom’s herbs? wondered Will. That made no sense. A nobleman from the city could buy anything he wanted in the markets there. There was nothing special about his mother’s wares. Certainly nothing that would warrant a nobleman coming to buy them in person. He was torn by the desire to go in and discover what was really going on, but the stern looks on the faces of the driver and footman made him hesitate.

The driver left his seat and stood by the door to the carriage, while the footman followed his lord to Will’s house. The footman knocked, and then opened the door without waiting for an answer. He ducked inside for a moment and then stepped back out. “Only the woman is home, milord. It should be safe.”

“As if I need your protection,” said the nobleman dismissively. Going inside, he shut the door behind him. The footman took up a guard position by the door.

Fear touched Will’s heart and he worried for his mother. Erisa Cartwright was a strong woman, but strength mattered little when it came to men such as these. That lord could kill her and walk away, and no one could touch him, he thought.

What to do? At twelve years of age, Will didn’t have the size needed to protect his mother. Any one of the three men was more than a match for him, and the footman and driver looked exceptionally vigilant. Briefly, he considered circling around and trying to enter his house from the other side, but then movement from the window at the back of the carriage drew his attention.

The wood panel slid to one side, and a pair of slender legs appeared as the girl in the yellow dress eased herself through the opening. She hung from the edge for a brief second before dropping lightly to the ground and waving her hand at a second girl looking out.

Once again Will spotted the blue eyes he had seen before, framed this time by raven-black hair as a second girl poked her head out the window. This girl seemed older, somewhere closer to Will’s age, and she seemed unhappy with Laina’s escape plan, but she kept her silence.

Laina motioned to her friend again, and the second girl turned around and eased out the same way, feet first.

The two girls were hidden from the view of their guardians by the carriage itself, and they carefully snuck towards the bushes across from where Will watched. He couldn’t help but admire their craftiness, for both the driver and the footman seemed oblivious.

Backing away from his home, Will began stealthily circling through the woods, working his way around so he could watch the girls and see what they were up to. For a moment he thought he might have lost them, since he had to take a longer route to avoid being seen, but then he heard a rustling ahead.

He grinned. They were good, but it was nearly impossible to move without making some noise with so many leaves on the ground. Reaching down, he pulled his thin leather shoes off. Barefoot, he could probably get much closer without alerting them. Trying to sneak up on others in the forest was a game that he and his cousin Eric often played with each other, and he was fairly certain of his skills.

If I can’t follow a couple of spoiled brats from the city, I’ll eat my shoes, he thought confidently. He wedged his footwear into the crook of a familiar tree so he could find them later, then set off after his quarry.

Will wasn’t perfectly stealthy—that sort of silent movement just wasn’t possible with the early fall leaves carpeting the forest floor—but he didn’t have to be. He only had to be quieter than the two girls, who were no longer even attempting to move silently.

He couldn’t keep them in sight, either. From his games with the other children of the village, he knew all too well that the human eye was designed to detect movement, so he had to follow them by staying at a distance and keeping them within earshot. Over the course of the next ten minutes, he thought he had lost them several times, when they got too far ahead, but he had the distinct advantage of knowing the area. He was able to guess which way they would go, because he already knew the easiest way through this part of the Glenwood. The two strangers would follow the path of least resistance.

They’ll probably stop at the mossy rock, he told himself.

The mossy rock was a large, flat monolith that sat in a clearing not far ahead, and it was a popular spot for the children of Barrowden. In the spring it was a beautiful place to picnic, when all the wildflowers were blooming, but even now, in early autumn, it was a magical place to play or relax.

“Look, Selene! It’s a castle!” That was Laina’s voice, so Will assumed the other girl must be Selene.

“It’s just a big rock,” responded Selene dryly.

“A magic rock,” insisted Laina. “In fact, it’s probably a fairy fortress, disguised by illusion to prevent our eyes from seeing the fair folk.”

Selene snorted. “Bollocks. I don’t sense the slightest bit of magic coming from it. You should know better, Laina. You’ve already begun your training.”

Laina sighed. “Can’t you play pretend anymore? Why do you have to be so boring?”

“If you want magic, call Tyranil,” responded Selene. “You don’t have to pretend.”

“He’d just burn everything,” said Laina, her voice sounding glum. “That’s not very fun.”

“I’ll show you how to make a grass wreath,” suggested Selene.

Will was at the edge of the glen now, and he could see the two girls sitting on the sunny side of the big, mossy rock. A thought came to him and he smiled. He’d give them a scare.

The ground of the clearing was soft and damp, and there weren’t many leaves. Working his way slowly to the left, he crept out into the open from the opposite side, where the bulk of the stone would keep him out of their view. Moving ever so slowly, he made his way forward, taking care to avoid rustling the grass. Once he reached the rock, he could come around from one side and surprise them.

His plan worked, and soon he was just a few feet from the two unsuspecting girls, peering at them from around the rock. Will paused then, studying them. The older girl, Selene, struck him as particularly beautiful.

Will had never cared much for girls—most of those in the village were either much older, much younger, or extremely annoying—but Selene seemed cast from a different mold. She had a certain grace to her movements, a calmness and surety about her that he wasn’t used to seeing. That combined with her glossy black hair and the somber, midnight-blue dress she wore made her seem almost otherworldly, like one of the fair folk that Laina had been rambling on about before.

Selene’s hands were deftly weaving long blades of grass into a wreath while her friend watched. Too bad it isn’t spring, or she could have put flowers in it, thought Will, having forgotten his plan to scare them. He was thoroughly entranced.

“I want to try,” said Laina, inspired by Selene’s efforts. The younger girl turned in Will’s direction, and but for the fact that she was staring at the ground, she would surely have spotted him. Moving forward while bent over, she searched for a good patch of thick grass to pluck.

Utterly still, Will watched her approach, until he spotted a sinuous, green length on the ground just before her. Oblivious, Laina’s hand reached for the grass that was hiding the viper.

“Look out!” shouted Will, leaping forward and shoving the smaller girl to push her back.

Laina stumbled and fell hard, several feet away, and after recovering from her first shock, began to scream.

Selene jumped up, dropping her wreath. “Don’t touch her!” she yelled, rushing forward to defend her companion. She produced a small dagger, which she held in front of her, though Will hadn’t noticed her wearing one previously.

Will’s eyes grew wide at the sight of the sharp steel pointed at him. “It was a snake!” he announced, trying to reassure them. Looking down, he spotted the viper near his feet, beginning to make an escape through the grass. Without pausing to think, he bent quickly, his hand snapping out to catch the reptile just behind its head. Straightening back up, he held it out to one side. “See? It would have bitten her.”

Laina, who had just begun to recover from her first fright, screamed again at the sight of the reptile. Selene’s response was more measured, though. The older girl’s eyes widened, but she stepped back and lowered her knife.

Grinning, Will twisted at the waist and threw the snake toward the far side of the clearing, where it couldn’t threaten them. “In another month they’ll be asleep, but it’s still warm enough right now that you have to be careful,” he told them, confident in his knowledge.

Then Will heard a crashing noise coming from behind him. The bushes shook and branches broke as the carriage driver charged into the clearing. Spotting Will, he ran forward. “Get away from them!” shouted the driver, his face red with anger.

“I was just—”

The world exploded with pain as the driver’s fist caught Will in the side of the head, sending him tumbling to the ground. Stunned, Will stared upward in confusion, trying to clear his head. In his ears he could hear the girls yelling, but he couldn’t make sense of their words.

“How dare you?” continued the driver. Then he raised his right arm, unfurling the coachwhip he carried and bringing it down in a long, sweeping stroke that caught Will across the face. He cried out in pain and rolled over, trying to shield his wounded cheek, then felt a second line of fire as the driver whipped his back.

Everyone was yelling, but the driver lashed him once more before the girls finally calmed the enraged man down. “There was a snake, you idiot!” yelled Selene, hanging onto the driver’s arm. “He saved Laina from being bitten.”

Selene continued to berate the driver while the younger girl cried, a reaction to both the shock of seeing the snake and the sudden violence she had witnessed. Will gradually pulled himself together and got to his feet, tears of pain running from his eyes and mixing with the blood of his cut cheek.

“We need to return,” said the driver coldly, taking Laina by the hand and leading the girl away.

Selene stayed still for a moment, then started to follow. “We can’t just leave him here!” she insisted. “He’s hurt.”

“He’s a peasant,” snapped the driver. “If you cared so much, you shouldn’t have left the carriage. Lord Nerrow will have my hide for letting you two slip away.”

Will watched them go, his vision blurry. “It’s all right,” he said. Taking a step forward to follow, the world spun around him, and his right leg collapsed under his weight. Crashing to the ground, he wondered what was wrong with his leg. It was throbbing with pain, but he couldn’t remember the whip striking him there. His heart was racing and beating so hard it felt as though it might burst from his chest. Why can’t I catch my breath?

“Something’s wrong!” said Selene loudly, running back to him.

Will tried to focus his eyes, but nothing seemed to work properly anymore. All he could see were the girl’s blue eyes staring down at him. She looked worried.

He felt cold fingers on his leg. “He’s been bitten.” His vision narrowed to a tunnel and then vanished entirely as his consciousness surrendered to darkness.

Chapter 2

“What happened to his face?” demanded a deep voice that Will didn’t recognize.

“My apologies, milord, I thought he had attacked your daughter,” said the driver apologetically.

Opening his eyes, Will recognized his surroundings; he was home, in bed. The unfamiliar voice had been that of the lord who had come to see his mother. The lord looked distinctly unhappy.

“Do you realize what you’ve done? Do you know who he is?” demanded the lord.

The driver stared at his feet. “Just a peasant boy from the village, milord.”

“He’s Erisa’s son!” shouted the lord. “Her only son. You know why I’m here. Think about that for a moment.”

The driver’s face paled. “Forgive me, milord. I didn’t realize…”

“Get out!” shouted the lord. “I’ll deal with you later.”

In the silence that followed, Will slowly became aware of someone crying in the background. Turning his head, he saw his mother sitting on a small stool at the foot of the bed. The lord was standing over her, his features remorseful.

“Erisa, I’m sorry,” said the lord.

Glancing up, his mother begged, “Can’t you do something? Please, Lord Nerrow, he’s all I have.”

“This is beyond my power, Erisa,” answered Lord Nerrow sadly. “There is no magic that can heal this. If your herbs cannot help…”

“It was an emerald viper,” cried Will’s mother. “Don’t be a fool! If magic cannot help, what good do you think herbs will be?”

“Then his fate is in the gods’ hands,” said Lord Nerrow. “Perhaps it is better this way. Even if he dies, I’ll see to it that you’re taken care of.” He pressed a small leather pouch into Erisa’s hand.

Will’s mother shot to her feet and she flung the pouch against the wall. The seams burst, spilling gold and silver coins across the floor. “I don’t want your money! I never wanted it! I just want my son, healthy and whole.”

“And what kind of life could he have had?” said Lord Nerrow. “Stuck in this filth-ridden village. It’s better this way, for both of us. You’re still young, Erisa. You could find a husband—”

Furious, Erisa turned on the man. “I don’t want a husband! I want my son!” She looked as though she might attack the nobleman then and there, but after a second, she clenched her hands into fists and grew still. “That’s right, though, you have your daughters. You wouldn’t care.”

Lord Nerrow started toward her, but Erisa held up her hand. “Leave. Please leave.”

“Erisa, I never wanted this…”

“Go,” said Will’s mother firmly. “Save me your guilt and pity. You can keep them. I regret the day I ever laid eyes on you.”

“Very well,” said the lord, and then he left the room.

Will’s mother followed him out, and he could hear her parting words from the other room. “Don’t come back here,” she said. “I don’t want to ever see you again.”

He thought he was alone, but a small noise made him refocus his eyes, and he saw the dark-haired girl was beside the bed. Will’s eyes met hers for a moment, and then she leaned over, pressing her lips to his forehead. “Thank you for saving Laina,” she said, and then she was gone.

Darkness swallowed him, and Will slept, grateful for an end to the pain.

***

He awoke in darkness sometime later, vaguely aware that people were talking close by, just outside his room.

“Please, Master Arrogan, if you can help him…”

“You have a lot of nerve calling me here, Erisa,” answered a gruff voice.

Will’s mother didn’t relent. “There was no one else I could turn to. If anyone can save him, it’s you.”

“You know how I feel about this, Erisa. Why should I do anything to help that man? Do you have any idea what his kind have cost me? Why should I help his cursed spawn?” answered the man.

Erisa’s voice was strident. “Please! He’s my son. He’s done you no wrong. Don’t condemn him for the sins of his father.”

“There are no herbs for this, nor alchemy either. The venom will have spread throughout his body by now,” argued the man’s voice.

“I know that,” agreed Will’s mother. “You taught me everything I know of herbs and medicine, but I also know that you can do more. Please, you have to try, Master Arrogan.”

“Silence,” commanded the old man’s voice. “Don’t say that name, and don’t mention other things either. Don’t you realize what will happen if they discover my presence here? You worry for your son, but what of the rest of the village? They’d burn this place to the ground and raze the village if they heard I was here.”

“I don’t care!” declared Erisa. “If you won’t help him, I’ll run into the streets shouting your name. I’ll run all the way to Cerria if I have to, until everyone in the world knows you’re here!”

“Fine,” growled the old man. “That’s enough. There’s no reasoning with you.”

“Then you’ll…”

“I’ll do what I can,” answered the old man. Will heard the door open, and then the man cautioned his mother one last time. “Stay outside. Make sure no one comes near the house.”

“Thank you,” said Will’s mother, tears in her voice.

“Don’t thank me yet,” said the old man. “I can’t make any promises.”

The sound of the door closing came to his ears, and Will felt the presence of the stranger beside his bed, though there was no light to see by. A rough hand touched his forehead, cold against his fevered flesh.

“You’re awake?” said the old man, sounding surprised. “Been listening, eh, boy? That’s a good sign, but I’m afraid it won’t do. We can’t have you watching this.”

Watching? I can’t see a thing. It’s pitch black in here, thought Will. Then he felt the newcomer press a finger against his chest, and something cool rushed into him, passing through his body like ripples across a still pond. Will’s eyes closed, and then a white light flashed before him.

He felt as though he was floating, and his dark room was now well lit by the afternoon sun splashing in through the window to paint his room in bright colors. Everything was crisp and clear, and something about the light bothered him, though he couldn’t put his finger on what it was.

An old man leaned over him, and Will recognized the man’s face. It was the hermit of Glenwood, an old man who lived in the forest. The children of the village had lots of stories about the hermit, most of them bad, claiming the old man was a warlock who stole the souls of those who ventured too close to his abode.

Will had never believed the rumors, though. He had met the old man on several occasions in the past, usually when the hermit had come to trade with his mother, but he had never spoken to him.

He tried to say something, but his voice didn’t work, and it was only then that he realized how strange his position was. He was floating above his body, looking down on the room, a disembodied observer. Will got the sense he should feel panic at his unexpected situation, but he didn’t. In fact, he didn’t feel much of anything. He was surrounded by a sense of serene calm.

With mild curiosity, he watched as the old man traced a quick pattern in the air, his fingers trailing lines of blue light before he brought them down to rest on the body in front of him. The old man’s eyes were closed, and he seemed to be concentrating with strange intensity. Motes of light sparked around, and within Will’s body.

What is he doing? wondered Will. Is that magic?

The old man worked over his body for an unknown period of time, and Will could see the swelling in his leg going down visibly. Even the color improved, going from a purple so dark as to almost be black, to an angry red. Eventually, the man stopped, sitting down on the stool and breathing heavily, as though he was trying to catch his breath. He seemed to have finished.

Then the old man’s eyes drifted upward, and he seemed to stare at the place where Will hung in the air. The door to the room opened and Erisa looked in.

“Is he…?” she started to ask.

The old man turned at her voice. “I said to stay out. I’ll call you when I’m finished.” He waited until she had closed the door before looking up at the ceiling again. “I wondered why you weren’t waking up. Now I see why. You’ve been spying on me, haven’t you?”

Will tried to protest his innocence, but again, his voice failed him.

The hermit smiled wickedly. “I should have expected as much. I’ll be keeping my eyes closely on you in the future, boy. Now, it’s time for you to go back where you belong.” Standing, the old man brought his hands together in a clap that sent a heavy bell-like tone shivering through the air. The world spun, and Will felt nauseous as something hemmed him in, pressing him down into a warm darkness.

When he opened his eyes again, he discovered he was back in his body, looking up from the bed. The old man leaned over him, staring at him with hard eyes. “This isn’t over, boy. I’ll be seeing you again, one way or another.” Then he left, and Will was finally alone.

Chapter 3

Will recovered quickly after the old hermit’s visit, and his mother warned him not to mention either the snakebite or the man who had saved him to anyone in the village. Will chalked it up to the fact that people didn’t survive emerald viper bites—they were invariably fatal. His mother was probably afraid of starting rumors, since the villagers were prone to superstition.

What did strike him as odd was her emphatic insistence that he not mention the old man’s visit. She almost seemed more worried about that than having people find out he had survived the snake’s venom.

He brought the subject up several times, hoping she would explain what had happened, but Erisa always evaded, refusing to give him answers. More than a month after his recovery, he tried again. “Why did that lord come to visit you?”

Erisa looked up from her needlework. “He wasn’t visiting me. He just wanted some herbs.”

“But you knew his name,” countered Will. “You called him ‘Lord Nerrow.’”

She sighed, and then, putting down the shirt she was mending, stared intently at him. “Baron Nerrow was a customer. I make it a point of learning customers’ names.”

Will frowned. “Our lord is Lord Fulstrom. Why would another lord come to our little village?”

Erisa picked up the shirt again, resuming her work calmly. “How should I know? Noblemen do as they please.”

“Do you think he knows Arrogan?” asked Will, trying a different line of questioning.

His mother looked at him in horror before standing up, heedless of her work falling to the floor at her feet. With two long strides, she crossed the room and put her hands on his shoulders. “Don’t ever say that name again! Do you hear me?”

The fear and anger in her features shook him to the core, though he couldn’t understand what had provoked her reaction. “Why? It’s just a name…”

She shook him. “Listen to me, William Cartwright! You are never to say that name again. Do you understand? This isn’t a game.”

Will tried to twist out of her grasp, for her fingers were digging painfully into his shoulders, but she wouldn’t release him. “Fine,” he answered. “I won’t repeat it.”

“Ever!” insisted his mother, shaking him again. “If that name reaches the wrong ears, we’re dead. They’ll kill us, William, and not just us. Everyone in the village would be at risk.”

“All right!” said Will forcefully. “I won’t say his stupid name. Who do you mean by they?”

She ignored his question. “Promise me, William. Swear it. Swear you’ll never repeat that name again.”

Frightened by her strange behavior, he agreed, but he crossed his fingers behind his back as he said the words. “I swear, Mom. Can you please let me go?”

Erisa seemed to remember herself then, and she took her hands away. Returning to her chair, she quietly gathered up the shirt she had been mending. When she looked up at him again, her face was calm, but Will would never forget the quiet fear he saw hiding deep in her eyes.

He didn’t ask again after that.

Of course, he didn’t forget his questions, and his curiosity was even worse after his mother’s desperate insistence, but as with anything, time and a lack of new information eventually forced him to stop thinking about the subject constantly. After a few months, it was just one more of life’s mysteries, tucked away in the back corner of his mind.

He had other interesting things to keep his thoughts occupied anyway. Since the day of his near-fatal snake incident, he had gradually become aware of something unusual. The world had changed, or perhaps he had. Will couldn’t really be sure which was the case, but he was definitely beginning to notice things that he hadn’t been aware of previously.

His mother grew a large assortment of herbs in their back garden, and as fall progressed, many of them had to be harvested and either dried or processed into tinctures. Only a few of the plants were perennials that would survive through the winter. As her son, and only assistant, much of the work fell on his shoulders.

He had been helping her for years, but this fall he began to find differences in the plants, things he hadn’t noticed before. In the past, it had always been his mother who made the final determination regarding which plants were fit to be dried or kept. Years of experience had given her a fine discernment when it came to spotting plant diseases and sorting out the best of their harvest, but this year Will had the advantage.

Not only was his initial sorting and grading of the plants nearly perfect in his mother’s opinion, but he also spotted problems with some of the herbs that escaped her attention entirely.

“What’s wrong with this mint?” asked Erisa, picking up a small bundle he had set aside for the discard pile.

Will looked at it again. “Root fungus,” he answered after a moment. “The leaves look all right, but they won’t taste good.”

His mother gave him an odd look. “Did you check it?”

He shook his head. “No, but I’m sure.”

She plucked a few leaves and chewed them before making a sour face. “You’re right,” she admitted. “How did you know?”

Will wasn’t sure how to answer that. To his eyes, the plant in her hands looked almost identical to the healthy ones, but when he concentrated, he could see something else, a faint, sickly glow. It was like a different color, but it wasn’t really a color, and he was at a loss to describe it. All the plants displayed new colors to him now, but they weren’t colors he could see with his eyes. It was as though he had discovered a new form of light, one that came from within them, providing information about their health and properties that he was unable to explain. Trying to tell his mother how he knew was like trying to describe a painting to a blind man.

“I’m not sure,” he answered finally. “I could just tell.”

Erisa looked at him curiously. “Is there anything you aren’t telling me?” When he didn’t say anything, she continued, “I know this is a confusing time for you. You’re about to turn thirteen and your body is going through a lot of changes. You can talk to me—about whatever, whether it’s physical changes, or strange new feelings—”

“Mom!” Will interrupted. “Please, stop. It’s nothing like that.” And I wouldn’t tell you if it was, he thought silently.

His mother pursed her lips. Then she changed topics, “If you’re done with the mint, you can check over the yarrow and pennyroyal. I want to finish this today. Tomorrow I’ll go into the village and see if the spirits I ordered have arrived. If so, we can start making tinctures.”

“Why do they call them ‘spirits’ anyway?” asked Will. “Isn’t it just alcohol?”

Erisa smiled. “The alcohol people drink is more than half water. For tinctures, I need something closer to pure alcohol, and that isn’t easy to get. It requires a special process to make.”

“Why don’t we make our own then?” he queried. “It would save a lot of money.”

She sighed. “If I could afford distillation equipment, I would just make spirits and sell those. Better still I’d make essential oils—those fetch an even higher price—but the copper and glassware costs more than our home.”

“But you know how it’s done?”

Erisa shrugged, and her eyes stared into the distance. “I’ve seen it done. My teacher had the equipment.”

“Who was your teacher?”

That question brought her back from her reverie, and her eyes narrowed as she turned her gaze on him, as though she suspected him of having an ulterior motive for asking. Will kept his face smooth and tried to look innocent. After a few seconds she answered, “My great-grandfather.”

Something felt off about her answer, though whether it was a half-truth or an outright lie, Will couldn’t be sure. He accepted her words, though, for he had the distinct feeling she would react badly if he pushed her for a better answer. More secrets, he thought. What is she hiding from me?

Swallowing his questions, he went about checking the yarrow and pennyroyal, but it still bothered him. The more he thought about it, the angrier he became. If he couldn’t expect the truth from his own mother, who could he expect it from?

He hurried through the rest of the herbs and then excused himself. He needed a walk to clear his head. The brisk autumn breeze cooled his cheeks and did in fact make him feel better, but no sooner than he had stepped outside he felt a prickly sensation down the back of his neck.

It wasn’t a new feeling, and if he hadn’t known better, he would have thought someone was watching him. Will glanced around at the bushes and trees surrounding his home, but he couldn’t find any obvious cause for his suspicion.

“Between that strange old man and my mother, I’m starting to imagine things,” he told himself, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to believe it.

Will decided to visit his cousin, Eric. The feeling of being watched didn’t go away, though. If someone is bored enough to waste their time spying on me, there’s no reason to make it easy for them, he thought. Increasing his pace, he broke into a run and didn’t slow down until he had reached Eric’s house.

The feeling stayed with him until he was almost there, before vanishing as mysteriously as it had appeared.

Chapter 4

Winter came and went, boring and uneventful, with little to do and even less to talk about. During the cold months, Will’s mother’s work was limited to tending the sick and the occasional childbirth. Unless a patient showed up on their doorstep, there was no relief from the tedium for him, for she rarely took him with her when she went to someone’s home.

Spring was a welcome relief when it arrived. Will didn’t even mind the rain and mud, so long as he was free of the confines of four walls, hemmed in by the unforgiving cold. Spring meant freedom. Once the garden was planted, there wasn’t much to do other than watch the plants grow, and there were few colds and illnesses, so Will was free to visit Eric or roam the woods as he pleased.

Except today. Becca Taylor had gone into labor, and Will’s mother had been called to her home to oversee the delivery. That meant Will was tied to the house, in case anyone else showed up wanting to buy a remedy.

It wouldn’t have been so bad if one of his friends had been able to visit him, but they were all busy helping their own parents. At thirteen, most of them had begun working nearly every day. Will was the only one that still had a modest degree of freedom and leisure.

He was sitting in front of the house, staring up at the sky through the slender branches waving in the wind, when his day became a lot more interesting. Several people came down the path from the road, moving in haste. It only took him a second to recognize them. It was Tracy and Joseph Tanner, who lived in the village.

The young couple was a relatively new addition to Barrowden, having moved there only four years ago. Erisa had delivered their first child, a boy named Joey, only two years past. Joseph was carrying their young son in his arms as they hurried toward Will’s house.

“Where’s your mother?” called Tracy as soon as she saw Will, a tone of desperate urgency in her voice.

Will jumped to his feet. “She’s at the Taylors’, delivering a baby. What’s wrong?”

“It’s Joey,” answered the young mother. “He’s got a boil on his leg.”

“We wasted our time,” said Joseph, giving his wife an angry glance. “It’s a half day’s walk to the Taylor house.”

Will had relaxed slightly when he heard the word ‘boil.’ At first, their faces had made him fear it was something more serious.

“Do you have anything that might help?” asked Tracy, ignoring her husband’s complaint.

“You’ll need a fresh poultice to draw it out,” Will informed her. “But I know how to make one. Bring him in the house and I’ll do what I can.”

The father glared at him. “He’s just a boy. We should go home. He’ll only make it worse.”

“It can’t get much worse, Joseph,” declared Tracy. “Everyone trusts Erisa. Her son must at least know a little about these things.”

Will didn’t like the sound of that, but he opened the door and ushered them in, directing them to place their son on the small bed he called his own. When Tracy drew back the blanket to show him the small boy’s leg, he almost hissed in alarm.

That’s no boil, he realized. It’s a septic wound. There was a large, puss-filled abscess on the child’s thigh, surrounded by red and inflamed tissue. Tentatively he pressed on it, noting the thick, yellow fluid that oozed out at the slight pressure. Red streaks ran up and down the boy’s leg.

“When did it start?” he asked, trying to hide the tremor in his voice.

“Two days ago,” answered the boy’s mother. “He came in after playing and had a small scratch. I didn’t think much of it at the time, but it’s gotten steadily worse.”

Will was hardly an expert, but he knew enough to know the boy’s chances were poor. Putting one hand against Joey’s forehead, he noted the heat there. He already has a fever. This is bad. Short of removing the boy’s leg, Will didn’t know of anything that would help once a wound had turned septic. Poultices were nearly useless once the sickness had moved into the blood.

He was also afraid of how Joseph Tanner would react if he told them the truth.

Joseph grew impatient waiting on him. “Can you do anything or not?”

Squaring his shoulders, Will decided to be honest up front. If the boy’s father lost his temper, it wasn’t really his fault, and if he gave the man false hope, it would be much worse later. “I won’t lie. I think it’s bad. I can make a poultice for the wound and try to bring down his fever with some tea, but the wound has sickened. My mother has more knowledge than I do, but I think it might be too late, even for her.” He kept his eyes firmly on Joseph’s as he spoke, then bowed his head respectfully when he had finished.

Before Joseph could reply, his wife put her hand on his arm. “Don’t be angry with the boy. It isn’t his fault. Maybe we can take Joey to the Taylors’…”

Her husband let out a long, pent-up breath. “No. That would take too long, and most of her medicines are here.” Then he put his hand on Will’s shoulder. “Thank you for being truthful. Do what you can and I won’t blame you. The fault lies on me. I should have brought him yesterday.” Looking back at Tracy, he added, “I’ll go to the Taylors; and see if Erisa can come back sooner. You stay here with Will and see if he can help Joey in the meantime.”

The man left soon after that, leaving Will alone with Tracy and her sick son, but he felt as if he were alone, and the weight of the world was resting on his shoulders.

Going to the back of the house, Will soon returned with a small packet of willow bark, which he handed to Tracy. “Can you make a tea while I work on the poultice? This should help with the fever. I’ll do something about his leg.”

But what? he thought to himself, fighting to suppress a feeling of panic. He went back to the storeroom and looked at the dried herbs hanging in bundles there. Compared to what they had been like when freshly cut, they felt dead and nearly useless to him. In his strange way, he could sense that they retained some of their properties, but not the ones needed to cleanse a wound such as the one he had just seen.

He returned to the boy and studied the wound, trying to capture the feeling he got sometimes when harvesting and inspecting fresh herbs. The exercise left him frustrated, like trying to draw a picture of something without being allowed to look directly at it, but he felt as though he had learned something, even if he couldn’t describe it. Then he went outside. He needed something fresh.

A quick perusal of the garden told him what he already knew. None of the plants were ready. He was about to give up and go back inside when his eyes fell on the lilac bush growing by the corner of the house. His mother kept it mainly for ornamental purposes, but he knew the leaves could be used for rashes. Moving closer, he examined it closely. What he found seemed promising. He ripped off several large handfuls of leaves, and as he did, he saw a large, green garden spider hanging in its web just under the eaves of the house.

The web seemed to sparkle, pulling at him, and an idea occurred to him then.

When he returned to the house, Tracy already had the kettle close to boiling, so he borrowed some of the water to scald and clean the lilac leaves before putting them in a mortar to crush. Then he used a little more to clean a sharp knife his mother used to harvest particularly delicate plants. Tracy watched him worriedly while brewing the willow tea.

“What’s the knife for?” she asked.

Will had been trying not to think about that, but he answered anyway, “We have to clean the wound out first. Otherwise it won’t matter what else we do.”

Her jaw firmed. “You’re not cutting my son.”

Will’s own fear and uncertainty turned to anger as he replied, “Fine. We’ll wait for Mom. If she leaves as soon as your husband gets there, they’ll be back by midnight. She’ll tell you the same thing, but it will be too late by then.”

Tracy Tanner chewed her lip nervously. “Are you sure?”

No, thought Will. I’m not sure of anything. He nodded confidently instead. “I don’t know if we can save him, but I know if we don’t clean it out he will die for sure.” I can’t believe I just said that!

Something about his attitude convinced her, and ten minutes later they were sitting by the bedside where Joey lay. They had already coaxed him into drinking some of the bitter willow tea, though not as much as Will thought he needed.

Will took up the knife. “Try to keep him still. I’ll make a small cut. After that, you pour some of the water over it.”

The next few minutes were a nightmare. The abscess was sensitive and painful; the boy jerked and began to thrash as soon as he felt the knife touch his skin. “Hold him still,” ordered Will, grinding his teeth together and praying he wouldn’t faint himself.

The second attempt was more successful, although his cut was slightly ragged due to Joey’s movements. The pus emerged in a sudden rush, followed by a thin, sanguineous fluid. The smell made Will’s stomach turn, but he forced himself to keep his eyes on the wound as Tracy poured clean water over it.

Will could see a deep hole where the pus had been, one that rapidly filled with blood whenever the boy’s mother stopped pouring water. He suspected his mother might have tried cutting deeper, to make sure the wound was clean, but he didn’t have the nerve. This will have to be enough. “All right, stop,” he said.

He reached for the mortar filled with bruised lilac, but he kept his eyes on Tracy. As soon as she took her eyes away, he picked up the small bundle of spider silk and pushed it into the wound. Then he covered it with a handful of ground lilac leaves and put a clean cloth on top of that.

“Will it be enough?” asked Tracy.

“I don’t know,” said Will, but he had a strong feeling it wouldn’t. In some strange way, he could still feel the sickness in the boy’s body. Cleaning the wound had been a good start, but it wasn’t likely to be enough. The lilac and spider silk felt right to him—they would stop the wound from festering—but they couldn’t reach the poison already circulating in the child’s bloodstream.

He’s going to die, thought Will. It would take a day or two, but it was a near certainty, and when it happened they would probably blame him. For the first time, he began to understand the burden his mother carried every time she went to care for the sick or deliver someone’s baby, and he felt a new respect for her.

“I can do that,” suggested Tracy, indicating the hand he was using to keep the poultice pressed against Joey’s leg. “You’ve done all you can.”

“Let me hold it a while longer,” he answered. “Then we can wrap it in place with a bandage.”

She nodded and sat back, but Will couldn’t relax. Staring down at the little boy, he wished he could do more. He could feel something stirring within him, a desire to reach out, but he didn’t understand it.

Closing his eyes, Will kept his mind on the wound, and in his imagination it seemed as though he could almost see the essence contained in the spider silk and lilac flowing outward, ever so slowly, but it wasn’t enough, and it wouldn’t travel far.

There needs to be more, he thought, and then he began pressing harder on the wound, but not with his hand. From deep within, he felt something move, flowing through his hands and cloth and into the poultice. It was as though his own life was pouring into the boy.

It wasn’t quite right, though; it needed to match the feeling he got from the lilac, from the spiderweb. He imagined it shifting, becoming more like the essence within the poultice, complementing and expanding it.

I’m delusional, he thought, but in his mind’s eye he could see it working. The essence was expanding, moving through the small boy’s body, and wherever it encountered the sickness, it eliminated it.

A quarter of an hour passed, and Will grew steadily weaker, as though the strength was leaving his body. He felt as though he had run several miles without stopping. That’s all I can do. Letting go of the poultice, he looked up at Joey’s mother. The woman was watching him with a strange look in her eye.

“I think he’s going to be all right,” he told her. “Can you wrap it? I’m really tired.” Standing up, he started to leave the room—he needed some air—but after only a few steps the world began to spin, and the floor rushed up at him. He was unconscious before he landed.

***

Erisa and Joseph Tanner showed up sometime after midnight. They were surprised when it was Tracy who answered the door to let them in.

“Thank goodness you’re here,” said Tracy with obvious relief.

“How is our son?” asked Joseph.

“He’s much better,” said Tracy Tanner, but her face retained its worried expression. “But something happened to Will.”

“Will?” said Erisa, looking past the other woman’s shoulders. “Where is he?” Tracy stood aside, and they entered. Erisa found her son moments later, stretched out on the floor beside his bed. A pillow had been placed under his head and a blanket covered his body. Joey slept peacefully in the bed itself. “Is he sleeping?”

Tracy shook her head. “I don’t think so. He passed out after putting the poultice on Joey. He had the strangest look on his face. I haven’t been able to wake him since, so I did my best to make him comfortable.”

Erisa checked Will’s breathing and listened for his heartbeat, reassuring herself that her son was still alive. Then she shook him and called his name several times but failed to rouse him. Opening his eyes, she watched to see if they dilated in response to light. They did, which was a relief, but he still showed no signs of waking. Looking up at Joseph, she asked, “Can you help me get him into my bed?”

Joseph Tanner was a slender-built man, but he didn’t lack for strength. He bent and lifted Will before carrying him to Erisa’s room and laying him gently on the bed. Once he was settled, Erisa turned to Tracy. “Can you tell me what happened?”

Tracy described Will’s efforts, from lancing the abscess to preparing and placing the poultice. Erisa was somewhat surprised that her son had had the courage to take a knife to the wound, since he had never done anything like that before, though he had watched her a time or two in the past. She felt a quiet sense of pride in her son, while simultaneously hoping he hadn’t made the wound worse through his inexperience.

Tracy wasn’t finished, though. “After that, he held the poultice in place for a while. It seemed a little strange, almost as though he was praying over him. It was maybe a quarter of an hour, then he told me to wrap it up, but he passed out as soon as he stood up.”

Erisa’s heart sped up as she heard the story, but she tried to keep her face calm. “Would you mind making some tea for us, Mrs. Tanner? You’ll find everything in the cupboards there. I’ll check on Joey in the meantime.” She left the two of them and went into Will’s room, where Joey lay, shutting the door behind her.

Her first impression was that the little boy’s condition wasn’t nearly as serious as his father had described. Joey was sleeping peacefully, and when she laid her hand on his brow, she felt no sign of fever.

That wasn’t too unusual. If he had been on the mend already, his fever might have broken naturally, but it didn’t match up with what they had told her. Chewing her lip, Erisa began to unwind the bandage around the child’s leg, her eyes widening when they saw the wound.

It looked as though it had been healing for several days, with no signs of redness or swelling. The edges of the knife cut Will had made were already puckered and starting to draw together. “No, no, no,” moaned Erisa. “This can’t be happening.”

Examining the poultice, she recognized the lilac leaves. “Why did he use this?” she muttered to herself. “The yarrow would have been better.” She shook her head to clear it. There was no time for wondering at what he had done. Her first priority was covering her son’s tracks.

She returned to the main room and gathered up a fresh cloth bandage from a drawer and went back to the small boy. Judging by the progress of the wound, it needed only a light dressing. Air would be more important than herbs at this stage, so it could dry out and close properly. She wrapped it carefully and went back to the Tanners.

“Joey should be fine in a few days,” she told them. “It wasn’t as serious as you described.”

Tracy frowned. “Your son said he might die.”

Erisa put a hint of condescension into her smile. “My son is a quick learner, but he lacks experience. Boys his age enjoy excitement too much. It might have been serious if you had waited longer, but fortunately you didn’t. I’ll keep Joey for a day or two and he can go home after that.”

“I’ll stay with my son,” declared Tracy.

It took Erisa almost a quarter of an hour to convince both of the Tanners that there was no need for them to spend the night. Their home, after all, was less than twenty minutes away, and Erisa’s house didn’t have any extra beds or other accommodations for two extra people.

“I’ll be back in the morning,” conceded Tracy at last. She had been the more difficult of the two to convince.

Erisa nodded. “That’s fine, but there’s no rush to get up early. You haven’t slept. Whenever you wake up will be all right, or even the next day. I’ll take good care of Joey.”

As soon as they had left, Erisa climbed into bed next to her son. She made sure to leave her curtain drawn, though. She was tired, but she wanted to get up early. There was someone she needed to see before the Tanners returned.

Chapter 5

Will woke slowly. The sunlight was streaming through the window of what he soon recognized was his mother’s room. From the angle of the shadows, he could tell it was quite late, close to noon, though he had no idea why he would have slept so long. When he tried to sit up, the room began to spin, and he quickly lay back down.

Why am I so tired? he wondered. He had quite a few other questions as well, such as how had he gotten in the bed, whether his mother was home, and how Joey was doing?

It was about then that he became aware of the voices talking outside the room, which answered one of his questions. His mother was definitely home. Holding perfectly still, Will strained to make out their words.

“You’re lucky he isn’t dead, Erisa,” said an older male voice, one he recognized as belonging to the hermit.

“How was I to know he’d do that?” returned his mother. “You said this wasn’t supposed to happen.”

The old man sighed. “I said it wasn’t likely. Left on their own, they usually go on to live normal lives. Stressful events have a way of bringing these things out. If he was grown, this wouldn’t have occurred. Puberty is a sensitive time.”

“Next time I’ll take him with me,” said Erisa, “and to hell with my business.”

“There won’t be a next time.”

Erisa’s voice went up in alarm. “What do you mean?”

“He’ll have to come with me,” answered the old man. “He can’t stay here any longer.”

“He’s my son!”

The hermit’s voice grew harsh. “Do you think you can protect him? The first time is always uncertain, but now that it’s happened once, it will happen again. The next time he probably will kill himself, or worse, be noticed. If word gets out, they’ll either lock him up for unlicensed magic or execute him as a warlock.”

His mother sounded angry when she replied, “My son is no warlock!”

“Do you think they’ll care or bother to check?” pointed out the old man. “Besides, no one starts out a warlock. If he fully awakens, who knows what might happen? They’ll be on him like flies on shit, all sweet words and irresistible temptation.”

“You don’t know that,” Erisa argued, but she didn’t sound confident.

“The hell I don’t!” swore the hermit. “They’re everywhere, even in this house. Just because you can’t see or hear them doesn’t mean they don’t exist. If he learns to notice them, they’ll notice him right back. Do you think a thirteen-year-old boy has the maturity to make sound decisions?”

“So, what? You’ll make him like you?”

“Hah!” said the old man, raising his voice. “You think I’d train that pox-ridden bastard’s son? That I’d teach him the keys to power? Not likely. I’ll teach him enough to hide. With a little luck, he could still have a normal life.”

“Oh? You’ve finally given up on your private war?” asked Erisa.

The old man snorted. “I gave up on the world a long time ago, just like it gave up on me. As far as I’m concerned, it and everyone in it can all go to hell. It’s none of my concern.”

“You still sound bitter,” Erisa pointed out. “You’ve never given up your grudge. That kind of hatred will shorten your life.”

The hermit laughed sourly. “My life is almost done. And it isn’t a grudge—I simply don’t give a fuck anymore. I’m not bitter, I just don’t care. I did my best and all they want is easy power to further their stupid games, like mud-covered swine fighting for slop.”

“If you really don’t care, why are you helping us?” asked Erisa.

“That’s your misconception,” said the old man. “I’m not helping you. If I leave this alone, he might do something and draw them down on the village. Then I’d have to move again. I’m getting too old for that crap. I just want to live out the last of my days with what little dignity I have left. I’m doing this because it’s less trouble than the alternative. I don’t give two shits about your little bastard in there.”

“Don’t forget what I said before,” warned Erisa. “If you hurt him, I’ll shout your name from one end of—”

“That threat is getting old, girl,” interrupted the old man. “If I were as cold hearted as that I’d just get rid of both of you, especially with you continually trying to extort me for help. It would be a damn sight easier than putting up with an apprentice. Give me a couple of years. By the time he’s fifteen, he’ll know enough to hide it. After that, you can have him back and I can get on with forgetting the world and all the stupid people in it.”

Will heard the door open and immediately closed his eyes, pretending to still be asleep. Heavy footsteps sounded as the old man crossed the room to his bedside.

“You’ll have to do better than that boy,” said the old man. “Get up. You’re coming with me.”

Erisa put her hand on the hermit’s shoulder. “He’s still sleeping. Let him rest.”

“I may be ancient, but I’m not addled. He’s been awake for several minutes. There isn’t even a trace of dreaming about him.” The bed shook suddenly as the old man kicked the mattress. “Get up, boy. I don’t have any more time to waste on you. We’re leaving.”

Will opened his eyes warily. He was pretty sure his acting had been perfect. “How did you know?”

The old man smiled down at him maliciously. “That’s one of several things you’ll have to learn, or else…”

“Or else what?”

“Or else you’ll wind up dead,” said the old man.

Erisa started to protest, “Don’t threaten him…”

“Stay out of it, Erisa. The boy’s mine now.” Glancing around the room, he searched for something with his eyes but didn’t find it. “Oh, this is your room, isn’t it? Go get a bag and put his clothes in it. I don’t think he’s fit for packing right now.”

Will’s mother left. While she was gone, at the old man’s urging he made another attempt at sitting up. This time he succeeded, but he still felt weak as a kitten. The old man didn’t let up, though. He kept prodding and poking until Will got to his feet, where he stood swaying for a moment.

“You’d better pull it together, boy,” said the old man harshly. “If you pass out on the way back, I’ll leave you in the woods. I’m damn sure not carrying you. It’s your spirit that’s tired, not your body. Learn the difference. You’ll feel worse than this before I’m done with you.”

Will felt the first stirrings of anger at the rough words. “I’m not faking it,” he protested. “I’m doing the best I can.”

The old man reached out with one hand and lifted Will’s chin so he could stare into his eyes. “You think I should feel sorry for you? Maybe I should be nicer? After all, you’re like this because you saved that little boy. Is that what you’re thinking?”

Will pursed his lips for a moment, then answered, “I didn’t say that.”

“But you were thinking it, weren’t you, you selfish little prick?” accused the hermit. “What you didn’t stop to think about was how dangerous what you did was. How would your mother have felt if she had come home to find you cold and dead on the floor? That never crossed your tiny little mind, did it?”

“I didn’t know it was dangerous,” protested Will.

“Then you shouldn’t have done it!” said the old man. “Lesson number one, if you don’t know what the fuck you’re doing, then don’t do it.”

Will didn’t understand why the old man was so angry. Especially since it was clear he hated Will. If saving Joey was dangerous, then Will’s action was all the more heroic. “I’d do it again,” he said rebelliously. “At worst, it’s a life for a life.”

Erisa returned with a sack stuffed full of his meager belongings. The old man took it and slung it over one shoulder, then ushered Will out the door. He stumbled trying to keep up. For some reason, he was extraordinarily clumsy today.

His mother followed them a short distance, uttering an endless stream of advice and warnings. “Be good for him, Will. Learn whatever you can. He may seem rough, but he’s not as bad as all that. I love you.”

“I will, Momma,” he told her, wishing he could reassure her. The old man said nothing at all, ignoring both of them equally as he walked.

Eventually, Erisa stopped following them and they were left alone, following a small trail through the Glenwood. Will knew it well. He had followed it often in the past, during his many adventures with Eric. The hermit’s home had been a favored destination since it seemed strange and dangerous.

Now he was going to live there. It boggled his mind. I wonder if he’ll let me visit Eric, thought Will idly. Almost as soon as his thoughts drifted, he stumbled and fell.

“Get up, fool,” snapped the old man.

Will stared sourly up at his antagonist, then shakily got to his feet again. “You could help me,” he said bitterly.

The old man stretched, running his hand through the bristly white hair that stood out from his head. “I am helping you.”

“You could have fooled me, then.”

“This is a lesson,” said the man. “A lesson in consequences. Don’t forget it. Learn it well and you won’t do this to yourself again, or at the very least, if you do, you’ll do it knowing the price you’ll pay.” He watched Will struggle to coordinate his legs as they began walking again. There wasn’t an ounce of sympathy in his hard, grey eyes.

They walked for fifteen minutes without a word when Will’s new guardian broke the silence without warning. “The worst isn’t a life for a life.”

Startled, Will replied, “Sir?”

“Earlier,” said the old man. “You said at worst it was a life for a life. That isn’t true. There are worse things than dying in this world.”

“Such as?”

“You’ll learn about those things later, if you live long enough,” said the hermit. “For now, you just need to do as I say. Pay heed to my words, and I guarantee the worst that will happen to you is dying.”

“You’re a real charmer,” said Will sarcastically.

“You want me to be nicer? Fine. Here’s another lesson for you,” said the hermit. “There’s nothing wrong with your body. It’s your spirit that’s worn thin. It’s a big surprise to most, learning how hard it is to function when your heart and soul are grey and empty. You’ll recover in time, but for now you’ll have to put all your attention on your movements. Focus on putting one foot in front of the other. Don’t let anything distract you. You don’t have the energy for stray thoughts.”

Will did as he was told, and it did seem to help. So long as he kept his attention firmly on his body, it worked properly. His muscles weren’t tired, though it still felt as though he was walking uphill. It was some sort of internal resistance he had to fight against.

He couldn’t keep his thoughts from straying completely, though. After a short while, he asked, “Is this what happened to you?”

“Pardon?”

“Did you use up your spirit? Is that why you’re so crabby and mean?” explained Will.

The old man began to laugh, long and loud, a hearty laugh unlike anything Will had heard from him before. When he finally stopped and caught his breath, he continued walking without answering.

Chapter 6

When they finally arrived at the hermit’s house, it was just as bad as Will remembered. It didn’t even merit the name ‘house.’ A better term would have been shack, for the place had certainly seen better days.

It was about twenty feet across when viewed from the front, and perhaps as long as that from front to back, although it was hard to tell. The back of the dilapidated structure was completely overgrown with small trees, brush, and a stupendous quantity of thorny brambles. If there had ever been a back door, it was certainly no longer accessible.

“Wait here,” said the old man before stepping up to the front door.

“Can’t I come in?” asked Will. It wasn’t that he was particularly keen on seeing the inside, but even a dirty shack would be better than sleeping outdoors.

“I don’t want you fouling up my home,” said the hermit bluntly. Then he went in and shut the door.

Will stared at the door, angry and confused. Fouling up his home? Is he serious? He was near certain he was cleaner and better smelling than the old man had been at any point in the last ten years.

The door opened again, and the hermit stepped back out, a small glass vial in his hand. He held it out to Will. “Drink this.”

“What is it?” asked Will suspiciously.

“Something to make you feel better, unless you’d rather be a wet rag for the next few days. You’re of no use to me like this.”

As soon as he took the vial in hand he felt something, and when he unstopped it he could see a strange though faint light stirring in the dark fluid. It reminded him of one of his mother’s herb infusions, except that the energy within didn’t remind him of any plant. It reminded him instead of the old man who had just handed it to him.

“Is this blood?” he asked in alarm.

The hermit began to laugh again. “Why would you think that?”

“Because it feels like you,” said Will, unsure how to communicate his feeling.

The old man’s eyes widened slightly. “You’re a little more perceptive than is good for you.” Then he chuckled. “Blood—that’s a good idea. No one’s done that in a long time. It might be easier to make that way, though I doubt it would keep as long. Drink it.”

Will clenched his teeth. “No.”

“Suit yourself,” said the hermit. “You can sleep out here tonight. We’ll call that your second lesson.” He turned away and started to go back inside.

“Wait,” exclaimed Will. “I don’t want to sleep out here.”

The old man looked back at him. “Then drink it. Those are your choices. Drink it and come inside, or don’t and sleep on the ground.”

“What is it?” asked Will sullenly.

“Elixir of turynal,” answered the old man.

“I don’t know what that is.”

The hermit sighed. “Turyn is what the old wizards called the energy that fueled their magic. Think of it as mana, spirit energy, or just as magic, if that helps you understand. Drinking it will help restore what you’ve lost.”

Will’s eyes lit up. “This is magic?”

The old man nodded, his face serious.

Tilting his head back, Will drank the contents in a single gulp, ignoring the bitter taste. It burned as it went down his throat, and he felt a warm glow begin to radiate from his belly. A moment later, a wave of nausea passed through him.

The old man stepped close and grabbed his head then, gripping his skull with one hand and holding his mouth shut with the other. Will struggled in his grasp, but the man’s hands seemed impossibly strong.

His stomach rebelled, sending their contents upward, but the old man wouldn’t release him. “Hold it, boy. Just a few seconds, that’s all it takes,” said the hermit. Then he began to count backwards from five. When he reached ‘one,’ he released Will and leapt back with surprising speed.

Choking and coughing, Will began to vomit, emptying his stomach onto the weeds at his feet. Even after his belly was empty, he continued to heave for several minutes, retching and spitting. His abdomen was sore and tender even once the heaving had stopped, and the nausea was far from gone. “You poisoned me,” he gasped at last.

“That’s a valid observation,” said the hermit, grinning down at him. “From your limited perspective, at least. I prefer to think of it as teaching through experience. The sickness you feel is called ‘spirit poisoning,’ but my intent wasn’t as malicious as you might think. Once your body recovers from the shock, you’ll find that you feel much better.”

Will’s stomach contracted once again. It relaxed a moment later, and he drew a deep breath. “I think I’m dying.”

The old man arched one brow, then replied, “I highly doubt that, but given your lack of ability, I suspect you’ll feel ill for half an hour or longer.”

“Why?” asked Will, spitting to clear his mouth of the taste. “Why would you do that to me? What did I ever do to you?”

“Besides being born?” stated the old man, answering his question with a question. “Nothing. I don’t hate you, boy, though I’ll admit to disliking you. But that isn’t the reason I gave you the elixir.” He sat down on the porch and stared at Will thoughtfully. “My real reason was to get you back on your feet quicker, and to illustrate a valuable lesson. The turyn in that vial was mine, as you correctly observed. If it had been yours, you would have suffered very few side effects, or even none at all. Why do you think that is?”

Glaring at him, Will answered, “Because you’re evil.”

The hermit laughed. “Guilty as charged, but that isn’t the reason. Try again.”

“You aren’t human,” Will suggested. “Or maybe you’re a half-fiend, the wicked product of the union of a demon and a human woman.”

“Better,” said the hermit. “You certainly don’t lack for imagination. Still wrong, though. At least your answer has a testable element to it.”

“Testable?”

The old man nodded. “If you could convince a half-fiend to produce the elixir of turynal for you, you could take it and see how it affected you.”

Will was dumbfounded. “But, demons aren’t real. Right?”

“Oh, they’re quite real,” said the hermit matter-of-factly. “And while I’ve never had one make the elixir for me, I did devour the essence of a demon once, which amounts to almost the same thing. It wasn’t too different from that of another human.”

“You what?” Will gaped at him.

Waving his hand, the old man went on, “That isn’t the point, boy. The important thing for you to know is that even if the elixir I gave you had come from your mother, or a saint, the effect on you would have been much the same. Try to reason out why that is.”

“I don’t believe you,” said Will abruptly.

“As if I give a shit, boy,” said the hermit dryly. “Stick to the question at hand.”

Will stared at the dirt in front of him, then scooted back to put some more distance between himself and the mess he had expelled from his stomach. He didn’t know what to make of the old man’s claim regarding demons. It couldn’t be true. He’s just trying to scare me, he decided. Glancing up, he saw that his new guardian was still waiting for an answer.

He thought about his mother’s herbs then. Each one was different from the others; they all had their own subtle properties. Even plants of the same species were different, as he had come to learn from his newfound insights. If people were the same, or rather the magic within them, would that account for the sickness he felt?

“Because they’re different?” said Will hesitantly, unsure how to explain his thoughts.

The old man’s eyes perked up, sending his bushy brows to new heights. “What’s different?”

“Their turyn, or whatever you call it. If everyone’s is different, maybe that’s what makes you feel sick when you get someone else’s…”

“Now you’re starting to think,” said the hermit. “Here’s something else to consider. Long ago, some mages would make the elixir of turynal and sell it to more skilled wizards. Even today, warlocks use it to barter with their patron spirits. If it makes the user sick when they imbibe someone else’s turyn, why do you suppose it has value to others?”

It sure isn’t the taste, thought Will sourly. Then he remembered something the old man had said a few moments before. “You said I lacked ability. Maybe someone with skill can use it without getting sick?”

The hermit smiled. “You’re not as stupid as you look. A proper wizard would never drink a vial like that in a single draught, unless it was his own. He would sip it slowly, taking time to absorb and convert its essence. Very few, and only those with great skill and experience, could manage to take an entire dose all at once like that.”

“Then why did you tell me to gulp it down?” exclaimed Will angrily.

The old man smirked. “I didn’t. I never said anything about how you should take it.”

“Well you could at least have warned me!”

“It’s better this way anyway,” said the hermit. “If you had tried to drink it slowly, you’d have wasted most of it. I doubt you could have taken a second sip.”

Standing up, Will kicked loose dirt over the products of his insulted stomach. “I don’t see how it’s better. I threw it all up.”

“How do you feel?” asked the old man innocently.

Will paused in mid-thought. He hadn’t noticed before, but his bone-weary fatigue had vanished. Even the nausea had faded into the background and seemed to be rapidly disappearing. In a word, he was better. Much better. He looked at the old man in surprise. “How? It came up almost immediately.”

“The elixir is just a vector or intermediary,” explained the hermit. “It contains and sustains the turyn until it reaches its destination, which in this case was you.”

His head was spinning with unfamiliar words. “Vector?” asked Will.

The old man frowned for a moment. “Vector has several meanings, but in this case, I’m talking about a substance used to convey something from one place to another. Once you swallowed the elixir, it only took a few seconds for the turyn to diffuse from a small area of high concentration into the relatively empty space of your half-dead body. I’m using alchemical terms to describe it, but the principles are the same, although true drugs take quite a bit longer to diffuse, but I won’t get into osmotic pressure right now.” He paused, scratching his beard for a moment. “Actually, I suppose I should say ‘etheric pressure,’ since we’re talking about turyn.”

Will stared at him as though he were speaking a foreign tongue. “Huh?” was all he could manage.

The brief speech seemed to have improved the hermit’s mood somewhat, because he gave Will an apologetic look. “Pardon me. It’s been a long time since I had occasion to talk about any of this. I forget you’re not versed in it. Not to worry, I’ll loan you a primer this evening. Reading through it will help improve your vocabulary immensely.”

“Primer?” asked Will.

The old man nodded. “A book meant for learning.”

“Oh,” said Will, understanding at last. “You’ll have to just tell me. I can’t read.”

His new guardian stared at him as though he had grown a second head. “You can’t—what? Didn’t Erisa teach you?”

Will shook his head. “She says talking is faster anyway, so there’s no point in it,” he replied confidently.

The old man growled. “I don’t have years to sit around telling you everything. Besides which, since I’ve been alone so many years, speaking only to myself, I’ve forgotten how to communicate with ignoramuses. So, if you intend to learn anything from me, the first thing you’ll do is learn to read. We’ll start in the morning. I’m too tired to even think about it right now. I’ll show you the stove and you can start dinner.”

Will shrugged. “You expect me to cook? I don’t know how to cook.”

This was too much for the hermit. Throwing up his hands he shouted at the boy, “Then what good are you?” The sudden movement, combined with the noise, spooked a doe that had been grazing nearby, and the hermit’s eyes tracked her as she sprang away. In the space of an instant, he forgot about Will entirely. “Deer?” he muttered, as though he had forgotten the very existence of such an animal.

Seconds later his face reddened, and his eyes seemed to catch fire. Furious, he sprang to his feet and began running around one side of the house. “Fucking deer! Get away!”

Will watched him go with wide eyes. “He’s mad, utterly mad.”

From the far side of the house, he could hear the old man screaming, “Nooo! Stop! You bastards, what have you done to my squash?” The voice receded slightly as the hermit got farther away, but the volume of his voice was such that the words were quite clear to Will’s young ears. “I’ll kill every last one of you misbegotten wretches!”

Chapter 7

The next morning arrived bright and early, and Will greeted it with muscles stiff from spending a night on a cold, hard floor. The old man’s home had turned out to have two rooms. The front room, which Will had at first assumed was the entirety of the small house, was dirty, cluttered, and without a bed. Its main feature had been an old stone hearth that he had been forced to cook dinner over.

His efforts had been rewarded with singular praise from his new guardian. “That was by far one of the worst meals I have ever been forced to endure.”

“You didn’t have to eat it,” Will responded sullenly.

“Trust me, I won’t again,” the old man said. “But I did so out of respect for your talents. You have a lot of promise, boy.”

“Huh?”

The hermit nodded. “Definitely. When I eventually kick you out for laziness, stupidity, or some other yet undiscovered fault, you have a great career ahead of you. You could do well as the chief cook for King Lognion’s dungeon. One taste of your food would have his prisoners begging to confess their guilt. They’d probably entreat him to send them to the gallows just to escape your culinary torment.”

Will pressed his lips together firmly. He was quickly learning that the old man loved to goad him to anger. He wouldn’t reward the bastard this time.

“Let me ask you, though,” continued the old bastard. “Where did you get the inspiration to combine raw turnips with oat gruel?”

Will ground his teeth, refusing to respond.

“And not peeling the turnips, that was pure genius.” The old hermit sighed. “I can still taste the dirt and grit in my teeth. Do you think you could make it again?”

“You said you wouldn’t eat it,” Will replied.

“Oh, I won’t! I was just thinking that if we spread it around the garden, it might keep the deer away from my plants.”

The old man laughed long and hard after that, before eventually retiring to what must be his bedroom—the door to which Will had somehow failed to observe until the hermit rose and opened it. When he started to follow, the crotchety bastard had turned back to face him. “You sleep out here.” Then he shut the door and locked it.

With no blanket and no bed, Will slept on the floor beside the slowly dying hearth fire. Stretching to relieve the soreness in his shoulders, he glared unhappily at the old man when the door to the back room opened the next morning.

The cruel bastard’s first words of the day were, “Do you know how to cook eggs?” When Will shook his head ‘no,’ the old man showed him, supervising this time to prevent a repeat of the previous night’s disastrous dinner.

After that, he brought out a large flat piece of dark grey slate and a piece of chalk. He began scratching symbols onto it. “This morning you’ll learn the sounds of the alphabet.”

Will frowned. “Shouldn’t you be teaching me something more important?”

Large, bushy brows went up questioningly. “Such as?”

“Magic,” said Will immediately.

“Why the hell would I do that?” said the old man in genuine astonishment.

“But…”

The hermit went on, “You can’t cook or read. Your vocabulary is so poor as to be nonexistent. At this point, I wouldn’t be surprised to find you’d never learned to wipe your ass. You have far more important things to learn than magic.”

Will was beginning to get used to the insults, so he refused to take offense. Instead, he asked, “After I learn to read, you’ll teach me magic, though, right?”

“I’ll teach you herbology, and if you’re lucky, a little alchemy.”

Will’s shoulders slumped. “If I wanted to learn that, Mom could teach me,” he complained.

The hermit’s eyes twinkled with hidden mirth. “Who do you think taught her?”

Surprised, Will answered, “She told me it was her great-grandfather.” Then he remembered his previous doubt. “She lied, didn’t she?”

The old man grew still, his face taking on a serious expression and his eyes misting slightly. After a long pause, he said, “No. No, that’s the truth.”

Will couldn’t believe it. “You’re not old enough!”

“Hah!” said the old man. “I don’t look my age. How old do you think I am?”

Trying to think of the oldest person he had ever met in the village, Will guessed, “Sixty?”

The hermit began to laugh. “I’m a bit older than that, but if anyone asks, sixty will do.”

Something else occurred to Will then. “What should I call you? Mom says I can’t use your name.”

Hard eyes bored into him. “She told you my name?”

Will shook his head. “I overheard the two of you. Your name is Arrogan, right?”

“No,” declared the old man. “Arrogan died a long time ago. He’s a historical figure. Best to forget him. Someone mistook me for him once, and it’s caused me all sorts of trouble ever since.”

“Who was he?” asked Will, his curiosity piqued.

“The betrayer of Darrow,” said the hermit, referring to a country that neighbored Terabinia. “After you learn to read, you can look him up in one of my books. I’m not interested in talking about him.”

He could sense that the topic was considered closed, so Will went back to his previous question. “Well, what should I call you? You do have a name, don’t you?”

“You’re barely weaned from your momma’s teat. Calling me by my name would be disrespectful,” said the old man, deflecting the true question.

Will thought for a few seconds. “If I’m your apprentice I should call you ‘Master,’ shouldn’t I?”

“Probably,” admitted the hermit, “but I’d die of embarrassment if anyone heard you and attributed your idiocy to my teaching.”

“How about ‘Grampa’?” suggested Will, watching the old man carefully.

The hermit froze a second, then blinked, his face taking on a strange expression. “Why would you do that?”

“Well, if you’re Mom’s great-grandfather, then you’re my great-great-grandfather, so we’re family,” said Will hopefully. He wasn’t sure why he had made the suggestion. The only family he’d ever had were his cousins, his uncle, and his mother. For some reason the thought of calling someone ‘father,’ or in this case, ‘grandfather,’ appealed to some inner need he didn’t fully understand.

The old man coughed, then cleared his throat. When he answered, his voice seemed thicker than before. “Fine. You can call me Grandfather if you want, but if we’re ever around other people use ‘Master.’”

“You said that would be embarrassing,” Will reminded him.

His grandfather glared at him. “Not as embarrassing as having people know I’m related to a lackwit.” He pointed at the slate. “You need to learn these ten letters. Once you’ve managed that, I’ll show you the rest. If you can name them all and tell me their associated sounds, I’ll teach you something interesting after dinner this evening, assuming you don’t poison us.”

“Magic?” asked Will hopefully.

The old man paused. “Why are you so damned interested in magic?”

Will looked evenly at his grandfather. “You and Mother both seem to think I’ve got some talent. That’s why you brought me here, isn’t it?”

“I brought you here to teach you to be an herbalist,” said his grandfather. “Along the way I hope to teach you only enough magic to keep you from killing yourself or getting yourself put in prison.”

Defiantly, Will spoke up, “I don’t want to be an herbalist! I want to be a sorcerer, like you.”

The old man’s face hardened. “What did you call me?”

“You’re a sorcerer, aren’t you?”

His grandfather stood, towering over him, his face angrier than Will had yet seen. “I’ll take your ignorance into account this once, boy, but if you ever call me that again I’ll cut your ears off and sew them on backwards. Do you hear me?”

Confused, Will nodded. “Aren’t the most powerful mages sorcerers, though? Like the king?”

The old man’s eyes lit with fury. “Sorcerers are the weakest, most morally corrupt, vilest, and most despicable examples of humankind ever to crawl mewling out of their mothers’ wombs. They aren’t even fit to be called ‘mages.’ I’d sooner be accused of trafficking with demons and named a warlock as to be called a sorcerer.”

The vehemence in his grandfather’s voice set Will back on his heels. It made little sense to him. All the most powerful nobles, and even the king himself, were sorcerers, commanding powers so vast they could wipe out entire armies, or even level mountains, if the stories were to be believed. It had been King Lognion’s distant ancestor, the first sorcerer, who had defeated Darrow and established Terabinia’s independence. By comparison, warlocks were known to be degenerate magic wielders who traded with demons and evil spirits for their powers. Being named one was a capital offense.

So what does that make him? wondered Will. He remembered the old man saying he had once devoured a demon’s essence. Was he really a warlock?

The old man noted the fearful expression on his face. “I’m not saying I am a warlock, dunce! That was a rhetorical device.”

Will wasn’t sure what ‘rhetorical’ meant, but he got the gist of the old man’s statement. “Then what are you?”

“Someone who isn’t going to teach you magic,” spat his grandfather. “You’ll learn to be an herbalist, and I’ll teach you just enough magic to keep you alive and to understand why you don’t want to be a sorcerer.” Will didn’t reply, and after a moment the old man took his silence for acquiescence. Pointing at the slate, he said, “I’ll go over the letters again. Pay attention. I expect you to use the rotten gourd you call a head.”

Will did his best, reciting the sounds as his grandfather repeated them to him. Fortunately, he had a pretty good memory, not that the old man would ever praise him for it. Once he could repeat back all the names of the letters and their related sounds, the old man stood up to leave.

“I’m going to check the garden,” said his grandfather.

A few minutes later, he could hear the old man bellowing from behind the house. “Gah! Get away! I’ll hunt every one of you demon-spawned quadrupeds down and exterminate you if you come back again!”

There was a short silence, and Will laughed quietly to himself, imagining the old man running around behind the house in a panic. Then his grandfather started yelling again, “Fuck off! I’ll curse you and your offspring unto the tenth generation!”

Chapter 8

That evening, after a dinner of peas, roasted carrots, and yet more turnips, Will’s grandfather sat with him in front of the hearth. “Ready to learn something interesting?”

“How was the food?” asked Will warily. Their latest meal had been bland, but the old man had walked him through the preparation step by step. He suspected his grandfather might be planning to punish him if the food wasn’t up to his standards.

His grandfather replied, “Barely edible, but if you keep this up we might not starve to death.”

“As if you could do any better,” Will huffed.

The old man sat up straight, affronted. “I’ll have you know I’m the best cook from here to eastern Darrow. Watching you mutilate vegetables is downright painful for me.”

Will’s eyes narrowed. “First you said you were an herbalist, now you claim to be a chef. I don’t know what to believe anymore.”

“The best chefs are herbalists,” declared his grandfather self-righteously. “Now, do you want to learn this or not?”

Cautiously, Will nodded.

His grandfather rose and went to a side cupboard before returning with what appeared to be a tallow candle. Sitting back down, he placed it on the floor in front of Will. He glanced to one side suddenly. “Look over there!”

Will did, jerking his head around, but the moment his eyes left the old man he felt a sharp pain in his chest. Whipping his head back around, he saw that the candle was now lit. He glared at his grandfather. “Did you pinch me?”

The old man smiled evilly. “No.”

“Then what did you do?”

His grandfather picked up the candle, holding it in front of Will’s face. “I’ve linked your life to this candle. The flame represents the turyn within you. Whatever happens to it represents what is happening within you.”

Will wasn’t impressed. Then his grandfather reached over and pinched his arm. The flame shot several inches into the air, flaring in correspondence with Will’s temper. “Damn it! Stop!” exclaimed Will. “That hurts.” The flame died down slightly, but continued to flicker angrily.

“Did you see what happened?” asked his grandfather excitedly. “Do you understand?”

Will rolled his eyes. “You’d make a great entertainer, if it wasn’t for your foul attitude.”

“They’re linked, idiot!” said the old man. “Your life and the candle flame are one and the same.” When that statement failed to impress his grandson, he reached out with two fingers, as if to snuff the candle out.

Will slapped his hand away, suddenly afraid.

His grandfather laughed, then leaned forward and blew hard on the flame. It jumped, burning higher in response to a jolt of adrenaline as panic ran through Will, but nothing else happened. The fire didn’t even respond to the sudden puff of air. “It reflects you,” said the old man, “not the other way around.”

Awed by the strange behavior of the candle flame, Will blew on it himself. It didn’t move at all. “So it isn’t real?”

“Oh, it’s real,” said his grandfather. “Or rather, it represents the reality within you. Nothing out here can affect it.” He waved his hand through the flame, which remained perfectly still. “The only thing that can change it is you.” Bringing his hand up suddenly, he smacked his palm against Will’s forehead, and the flame guttered and swirled.

“Enough!” exclaimed Will, annoyed. “You made your point. I thought you were going to teach me something interesting. This is a party trick.”

“You said you wanted to learn magic,” said the old man.

“You said you wouldn’t teach me magic,” Will shot back.

His grandfather rolled his eyes. “And I won’t, but if it makes any difference to you, this lesson is the first lesson any wizard learns. It’s the most important thing I could ever teach you, whether you ever become a wizard or not; the first and greatest knowledge you will ever gain.”

Will glanced sideways, impatient and annoyed. “Why are you talking about wizards? I don’t want to be a wizard. They’re just librarians and assistants. They can’t do much of anything.”

The old man closed his eyes. Will could see the muscles in his jaw working as he cussed under his breath. “Give me patience to deal with fucking morons,” muttered the old man. Will waited, expecting his grandfather to explode once again, but after a moment the old man let out a long breath and opened his eyes, his face calm.

“Listen up, boy,” said his grandfather. “I’m only going to give this speech once, so pay attention. I’ve been making allowances, since you’re entirely ignorant. I’m going to explain a few things. Interrupt me and I’ll rip your tongue out and use it to make breakfast tomorrow. Do you understand?”

Will nodded, afraid to speak.

The old man smiled at his caution. “First, do you know the difference between mages, warlocks, sorcerers, and wizards?”

Still unsure whether he should open his mouth, Will shook his head no.

“Mage is a general term,” continued his grandfather. “Anyone capable of magic is a mage. Mages aren’t born, they are trained. Almost anyone has the necessary potential, but very few ever become aware of it, and fewer still gain the skill to do anything.

“Wizards are mages who have learned to control their turyn, and with it they can affect the world around them. Through training and practice, they can accomplish a wide variety of things, including the use of spells and the creation of potions and other magic items.

“Warlocks are mages who bargain with external powers to gain advantages.” His grandfather pointed at the candle flame. “This flame represents your turyn. As you might have guessed, it isn’t a large amount of power and can easily be exhausted. Warlocks seek to augment this power via agreements with supernatural agents. They may deal with spirits, the lords of faerie, demons, or any number of other beings. In general, I think this is a bad idea, as you almost always give up far more than you gain.

“Long ago, most of the early mages were shamans, which was basically a type of warlock dealing with primal nature spirits, but over time, some became more skilled. Magic was studied and better understood. It was codified, and spells were created. This was the beginning of true wizardry.

“The candle flame spell I just showed you is the beginning of that new understanding. It was the foundation that all wizardry rests upon. That may not make sense to you now, but someday, you’ll understand why.

“Sorcerers are mages who hold the heart-stone enchantments of one or more elemental spirits. You can think of a heart-stone enchantment as a leash or binding. It gives them absolute control over an elemental. Elementals range in power from very weak to extremely powerful, but controlling any of them grants a vast amount of power to the mage, crude though it may be.

“A few centuries ago, there were no sorcerers. The first was a wizard of great skill, who designed the heart-stone enchantment and trapped the first elemental. Most of the sorcerers of today are no better than leeches, resting on the achievements of their ancestors. The heart-stone enchantments are passed down through the generations, and those that receive them gain vast power through no effort of their own. Many of them can barely manage a spell, if they have any training at all.” The old man stopped for a second, then asked, “Any questions?”

“What are you?” asked Will directly.

His grandfather sighed. “I’m an herbalist, and an old man who knows a little too much for his own good.”

It was clear he wasn’t going to say more about himself, so Will changed tactics. “Why do you hate sorcerers?”

“None of your damned business,” snapped the old man. “All you need to know is they’re lazy, useless individuals. Also, what they do is morally repugnant.”

“Why?”

“It’s slavery,” said his grandfather. “Rather than develop their skills and use their own innate gifts, they trap and enslave the most basic spirits of nature. The most benign of warlocks makes a victim of himself, at the very least, but a sorcerer violates the purest and simplest spirits in the world. Compounding their wickedness, the power they gain is generally used to exert control over others.”

Will thought about it for a minute, then tried to summarize his thoughts. “So, you’re saying that all mages are evil, except for wizards, and they’re the weakest of the bunch.”

“If wits were food, you’d starve to death,” answered his grandfather, “but at least you’re trying to think.” He sighed, staring up at the ceiling. “No. It’s entirely possible for a warlock to be good, though he or she would still be a fool. A good warlock trades only what they already possess—elixir of turynal, blood, or even their own soul—but most of them wind up stealing to gain more than they deserve. They’ll take children, or other helpless sorts, and use them for their own ends. A good sorcerer, by contrast, would no longer be a sorcerer, because he’d free the elementals that serve him.

“As for wizards, I guess that’s true, these days at least. Most of them spend their time bowing and scraping for the sorcerers, hoping to be given scraps. Not one of the current lot has the courage to rely on their own strength or learn the secrets of true mastery.”

Will stared at his feet, feeling sad and deflated. He had never expected magic to be so depressing.

“So now you understand why I won’t teach any more than you absolutely need to know,” said the hermit. “You can’t be a sorcerer because unless you’re born into one of the noble families, they’d never give you an elemental, and I certainly wouldn’t train you to become a wizard capable of enslaving one on your own. Far better for you to be an herbalist. At least then you can help people.”

Something about that statement caught Will’s attention, for it implied the old man had far more knowledge than he should. “You know how to create the heart-stone enchantment?” he asked suddenly.

“Hah!” barked his grandfather. “Only the most skilled of today’s sorcerers can manage that. If I did have that knowledge, I’d certainly never allow it to be used again. No sense in repeating the mistakes of the past.”

“Oh,” said Will, dejected. But he noticed that the old man didn’t actually answer the question. He could have denied it, but he didn’t.

“We’ve spent enough time on bullshit,” said his grandfather abruptly. “Time for you to learn. Stare at the candle flame.”

Will did so, but nothing happened. “Now what?” he asked.

“That’s it,” said his mentor. “Just keep a close eye on it from now on. Pay close attention to any changes.”

Frowning, Will asked, “For how long?”

His grandfather scratched his bearded chin thoughtfully. “That depends on you, but most likely for a couple of years or so. Actually, I take that back. As dumb as you are, it will probably be even longer.”

Jumping to his feet, Will exclaimed, “What? That’s crazy!” The flame flared up briefly, then swirled violently in response to his anger.

“See that!” said the old man, pointing at the candle. “That’s the sort of thing you need to observe.”

“But why?” said Will, exasperated.

“So you can control it,” said his guardian smugly. “For you to keep from doing magic, you first have to learn the difference between your insides and your outsides, and how one affects the other. Now, go get the broom and sweep the room out before you go to bed.”

“I don’t have a bed,” Will announced, bitterly.

“And you never will, with that attitude.”

A low growl rose from Will’s throat, but he did as he was told. Snatching up the broom from one corner, he began vigorously sweeping.

“Watch the flame, idiot!” shouted his grandfather. “Were you paying attention to anything I told you?”

“How can I do that and sweep at the same time?” said Will in frustration.

“Hold it in one hand. It won’t burn anything. It isn’t a real flame. If that’s too awkward, just put it somewhere in your line of sight. You really are daft. Why do I have to explain every little thing?”

Swallowing an angry retort, Will moved the candle and resumed his work, beating angrily at the floor with the broom. The flame danced in time with his movements, flaring now and then as he silently cursed his tormentor.

“That’s better, moron,” encouraged his grandfather. “Make sure you finish before you go to sleep. I’m off to bed. I want eggs and toast for breakfast. If you’re smart, they’ll be ready when I get up.”

Will’s temper finally snapped. “We don’t have any bread! How do you expect me to make toast?”

The old man ignored his insolence. “Oh, right. One second.” Leaving the room, he stepped through the door into his bedroom. When he returned a moment later, he held a large, relatively fresh loaf in one hand. “Use this.”

Dumbfounded, Will asked, “Where did that come from?” The bread was obviously less than two days old and he knew for a fact the hermit hadn’t gone to town in that time.

“None of your damn business,” said his grandfather. Then the old man gave him a smile and added sweetly, “Good night.” Disappearing into his bedroom, he shut the door and Will was left alone.

Chapter 9

Will woke the next morning, cold, sore, and irritated. The candle sat a few feet away on the floor, still burning and with no sign of having gotten any shorter. Remembering the old man’s words, he got up and started breakfast.

There weren’t any eggs in the house, so he went outside and walked to the back. A small trail led through the brambles and into a wide-open space where his grandfather grew a variety of beans, squash, turnips, and other vegetables. The chicken coop was at the far end, farthest from the house, though still within the defensive, thorny barrier. Idly, he wondered how deer managed to get in, since there was a small gate to prevent them from entering through what he assumed was the only opening.

He managed to collect a handful of eggs with only minor injuries from the offended hens, then went back to make breakfast. His grandfather was waiting on him. “You left the candle behind.”

“I just went to get eggs,” explained Will.

“Leave it behind again and I’ll cook dinner without letting you have any,” warned the old man.

“Fine with me,” said Will sullenly. “You never cook anyway.”

“It wouldn’t be a punishment if I cooked it,” said the hermit dryly. “Speaking of which, why isn’t breakfast ready?”

“I just woke up a few minutes ago.”

The old man scowled. “If you have that much trouble rising, you can start sleeping on the porch. The sun will wake you up that way.”

Will stared at him, trying to decide if his grandfather was joking or not. Knowing how mean the old bastard is, he probably does mean it, he reasoned. The candle flame burned violently.

“Stop cussing me and get busy,” said the old man.

Will glared at the flame, realizing it had betrayed his emotions. “Stupid candle.” He got busy, heating an iron skillet and cutting the bread into rough slices.

“Have you never handled a knife before?” The old man’s tone was belligerent, as usual.

Will gave him a blank stare. The old geezer had watched him cutting turnips up just the day before.

His grandfather stepped closer and took the knife from his hand. “Gently. Don’t cut bread like you’re trying to chop through a carrot. Use a light touch and pull.” Under his skillful touch, a perfect slice emerged from the loaf of bread.

The old man never ceased to surprise him. Will was about to say something when he felt a sudden movement against his leg. Looking down, he saw a large, grey cat. “What’s this?” he asked.

His grandfather glanced down. “Oh, him. That’s the goddamned cat.”

“You never mentioned having a pet.”

“Pet? Hell no,” protested the hermit. Cracking one of the eggs into a small wooden bowl, the old man placed it on the ground, whereupon the cat began to eat.

“If he isn’t your cat, why are you feeding him?” asked Will, puzzled. “If you feed strays, they won’t leave.”

“Who says I’m feeding him?” quipped the hermit. “I’m just paying rent. And don’t call him a stray; you’ll piss him off.”

He really is crazy, thought Will. Reaching down, he tried to pet the grey feline, but it hissed and bared its teeth at him.

“See?” said his grandfather smugly. Cracking the rest of the eggs one by one, he began frying them in the pan.

“You just called him the ‘goddamned cat,’” argued Will. “How is that any better than ‘stray’?”

“He’s got his pride,” said the hermit.

“Is he your familiar?” The cat looked up at Will’s words and hissed at him. If he didn’t know better, he might have believed the creature understood him.

His grandfather slid the eggs from the pan to a waiting plate with a smooth, practiced motion and then used his other hand to swat the back of Will’s head. “Don’t be a jackass!” Then he addressed the cat, “Don’t mind him. He’s a charity case I picked up. He’ll learn better manners.”

The stray blinked once, slowly, then returned to eating the raw egg.

The old man split the eggs between two plates and then arranged the toast beside them and began spreading butter on the slices on his own plate. He pointed the knife at Will. “No butter for you.”

Will was very sure his grandfather didn’t have a cow. “Where did you get butter?”

Predictably, the old man replied, “None of your damn business.” Then he lifted a knob of butter on the end of the knife and offered it to the cat, who had just finished his raw egg. “Want any?”

The cat turned its head away and began cleaning one paw.

“Suit yourself,” said Will’s grandfather. Turning back to his grandson, he added, “Let’s get one thing straight. The goddamn cat owns this place. We’re his tenants, so mind yourself when he’s around.”

Will wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry. It seemed every day that his guardian showed a new facet of his personal insanity. “What’s his name?”

“How the hell should I know?” responded his grandfather. “He’s a cat. If you feel the need to be formal, call him ‘the goddamn cat.’ He likes that.”

Will shook his head. “I can never figure out if you’re being serious or not.”

The old man looked up, spearing him with pale blue eyes. “I’m dead serious. The goddamn cat comes when he pleases, leaves when he pleases, and if he wants anything, you damn well give it to him.” Stuffing more egg into his mouth, Will’s grandfather mumbled the rest.

Will wasn’t sure, but it sounded as though he had said, “I don’t want to have to move again.”

The cat soon wandered off, with nary a goodbye, and Will put thoughts of the strange conversation out of his head. The eggs and toast made that fairly easy to do, since they were perfectly cooked. It would have been better if he’d had some of the butter for his toast, but the eggs were so tasty he almost didn’t care. He really is a good cook, despite being nutty.

After breakfast, and the inevitable washing of dishes, they moved on to Will’s literary education. In spite of the fact that Will had only just learned the alphabet, his grandfather insisted he begin trying to puzzle out words from a small book. As if that weren’t enough, the old man occasionally interrupted him with reminders to keep an eye on the candle flame, as though something might happen while he was trying to puzzle out the meaning of the writing.

In fact, the flame did shift and change while he was concentrating. Most of the changes were subtle, but at times, usually when his frustration began to build, it would grow noticeably brighter.

He got so engrossed in his task that he lost track of time, so it was a surprise when his grandfather’s voice broke him out of his reverie. “I’m stepping out. The garden needs some tending.”

The old man was wearing a leather cap with long thongs tied under his chin to keep it in place. Sticking out from the top were two rather large deer antlers. The effect was simultaneously frightening, and ridiculous. “Wha—what?” Will stuttered. “What is that?”

“A hat, obviously,” spat his grandfather. Then he was gone.

It was a strange testimony to the fact that Will had gotten used to such weirdness that he spent no more than a few seconds thinking about it before returning to his study. Or perhaps it was that he genuinely enjoyed trying to figure out the words in front of him. He had never been confronted with a purely mental task before, and he found considerable satisfaction as he sorted out some of the simpler words by sounding out the letters.

Some time later, he was startled when he heard a voice calling his name. “Will!” It was Eric.

Picking up the candle, he stepped outside. The flame became smooth and stopped flickering when his eyes fell on his best friend’s face. “Eric?”

“There you are!” said Eric. “I got worried when your mom said you were living here. Why did she kick you out?”

“I wasn’t kicked out,” insisted Will indignantly. “It’s sort of an apprenticeship.”

Eric’s eyes grew round. “Is it because you healed the Tanner kid?”

“I didn’t heal him. I made a poultice for a bad abscess.”

His friend nodded, knowingly. “That’s not what Mrs. Tanner is saying. She thinks it was magic.” Then he noticed the candle in Will’s hand. “What’s that for?”

Will shrugged. “I’m not really sure. Grandfather is a little strange.”

“Grandfather?”

“He’s Mom’s great-grandfather, so he’s my great-great-grandfather,” he explained.

Eric paused, staring into the distance for a moment. “If that’s true, then he’s my great-great-grandfather too. Are you sure that’s right? He doesn’t look old enough, and my dad never said anything about it. He always called him a crazy old hermit.”

Will hadn’t thought about that, but Eric was right. Eric’s father was Erisa’s older brother, so his cousins would also be the old man’s great-great-grandchildren. “I dunno,” he admitted. “Mom said her great-grandfather taught her about herbs, and the old man says he was her teacher, so—”

“I’ll ask my dad when I get home,” said Eric. Then he held up the bundle in his hands, pushing it toward his friend. “Your mom asked me to bring you this.”

“What is it?”

“A blanket.”

Unrolling the bundle, Will found a heavy wool blanket along with a thick quilt, the same one that had once adorned his bed at home. He sighed gratefully. “Thanks, Eric. I really needed this.”

His friend laughed. “I told her she was worrying too much, but she was afraid you might be getting cold at night.”

“I don’t even have a bed,” admitted Will.

“What?” Eric seemed shocked. “Where do you sleep?”

“On the floor,” answered Will.

“That’s just cruel,” said Eric indignantly. “Does he think you’re a dog?”

Remembering the goddamn cat, Will replied, “If I were a dog he’d probably treat me better.”

Eric clapped him on the shoulder. “Tell you what. When I get home, I’ll talk to Dad about building a cot for you. No one should have to sleep on the floor.”

Will felt a surge of gratitude and the candle flame shrank slightly, becoming round and changing to a warmer orange color. He had never felt closer to his cousin than he did at that moment. “Thanks, Eric.”

His friend smiled. “Think nothing of it.” Then his eyes lit up. “You said this was an apprenticeship—what are you learning? Are you going to be a sorcerer?”

Will felt a moment of panic and glanced around, making sure his grandfather hadn’t returned. “Don’t say that word! The old geezer gets really mad if you say anything about sorcerers. He hates them for some reason.”

Eric frowned. “Then what are you learning?” His voice dropped lower. “Is it black magic? Is the old man a warlock? He is, isn’t he?”

“Shush!” warned Will. “You’re going to get me in trouble. I don’t know what he is, but he doesn’t seem to like magic very much, even though he definitely knows some. He says he’s going to train me to be an herbalist.”

“Boring,” sighed Eric in a long breath. “Is that what you’re learning now? Your mom could teach you that stuff.” He pointed at the candle in Will’s hand. “What’s that anyway?”

Will grinned. “It’s magic, some sort of spell he’s teaching me.”

His friend’s eyes lit up with excitement. “Really? What does it do?” Eric leaned forward to examine the candle more closely.

“Nothing, as far as I can tell,” admitted Will. “It’s not even hot. You can touch it.” He demonstrated for his friend by putting his fingertip in the flame.

Eric didn’t bother hiding his disappointment. “That almost makes growing lavender sound more exciting.”

Feeling defensive, Will replied, “At least I’m never in the dark. I have to keep it with me at all times.”

“For how long?”

Grimacing, Will answered, “A couple of years.”

“Wow,” exclaimed Eric with mock enthusiasm. “Only two years to learn such an amazing piece of magic? That’s amazing, and in only twenty more, all of this could be yours!” He swung his arms wide to encompass the dilapidated shack and weed-filled dirt yard.

“I’m sure making carts and wagon wheels is a lot more exciting,” replied Will in a surly tone.

“Dad says cartwrights and wainwrights make good money in Cerria,” said Eric, unfazed. “When I make journeyman, I can move to the city and make a fortune. Then I’ll come back and settle down, marry Annabelle Withy, and have a houseful of kids.”

Annabelle Withy was a sore point between them, since Will also fancied her, but he decided not to get into that argument again. He shifted directions instead. “Do you really want a houseful of kids?”

Eric winked. “Kids aren’t so bad, but it’s the making of them I’m looking forward to.”

“Too bad,” said Will. “While you’re off working in the city, I’ll marry Annabelle first.”

“And do what?” said Eric. “Whisk her away to your own hermit’s cottage in the Glenwood? The only thing you’ll do is learn how to be a crazy old man who talks to his cat.”

That brought Will up short. “How did you know about that?”

Eric began to laugh. “What? He really talks to his cat? You’d better start running, Will, or you’ll wind up just like him. I’m sure Dad would take you in. We always need more help.”

“I’ll think about it,” said Will, just before a distant scream of rage floated to their ears.

It was his grandfather’s voice. “Fucking deer!”

“What was that?” asked Eric.

Will pushed him toward the edge of the porch. “You better go. He gets really pissy when he finds deer after his garden.”

Chapter 10

Summer passed quickly as Will settled into a routine living with his grandfather. Each morning he made breakfast, after which he continued his literary studies. His afternoons were taken up by math and measures, and if he had time after that he was expected to clean the house before he made dinner. Through it all, he was expected to keep the candle close at hand. Any time he was caught without it, he would be scolded and punished.

The punishments were rather odd, though. Most commonly, his grandfather would cook dinner while he watched, then refuse to let him have any. Whenever this happened, the old man would show off his culinary skills by turning the most ordinary of ingredients into what appeared to be a masterpiece of the gustatory arts. Will couldn’t be sure if it actually tasted good, since he wasn’t allowed to sample the food on these occasions, but it certainly smelled amazing.

Those incidents put a fire in his belly, and not just the ache of his empty stomach. After the first few times, he began to pay close attention when his grandfather cooked, hoping to learn some of the old man’s tricks. At the very least, if he couldn’t eat during his punishment, he would learn to replicate some of it so he could make it for himself the next day.

As summer turned into autumn, he became grateful for the blankets his mother had sent. If the nights were cold in the summer, they were far worse in the fall. He didn’t want to think about what winter would be like. Without a bed to keep the floor from leaching the warmth from him, he didn’t think the blankets would be enough.

Winter was fast approaching, and with it his fourteenth birthday, though he had little hope it would be marked by a celebration of any kind.

He was sitting on the porch one afternoon, pretending to add and subtract fractions, while his grandfather was off chasing deer—or whatever it was he did when he went out—when Eric appeared.

Will jumped up in excitement. He hadn’t seen another human being aside from his grandfather in months. “Eric!” he shouted.

Eric was hauling what appeared to be a wooden frame of some sort, and another of Will’s cousins, Sammy Cartwright, was holding up the other end. Sammy, short for Samantha, was Eric’s younger sister by two years. She smiled at Will, hazel eyes twinkling above a nose dusted with a light sprinkling of freckles.

The two of them brought their burden to the porch and deposited it. “Sorry this took so long,” apologized Eric.

“Hi, Will,” said Sammy brightly, using one of her now free hands to push back her strawberry blond hair.

“Hey,” said Will, giving her a brief nod. He wasn’t particularly fond of Sammy. Through most of his childhood, she had been an annoyance, always wanting to tag along when he and Eric were looking for adventure. Worse, when they were forced to accept her, usually by Eric’s mother, they weren’t allowed to go very far. Instead, they became glorified baby-sitters.

He turned to Eric. “What is this?”

“A cot,” said Eric proudly. He had a bundle tied over one shoulder, which he now pulled off and rolled out. It turned out to be a large sheet of canvas designed to fit over the wood frame. “I would have finished it sooner, but we had a busy summer.”

“Let’s take it inside and set it up,” suggested Sammy.

In spite of himself, Will was somewhat glad to see Sammy as well. Despite their history, she had obviously matured quite a bit over the past year. She wasn’t as gangly and awkward as he remembered her being.

As they unfolded the wood frame and stretched the canvas across it, he noticed that his cousin had changed as well. Eric’s formerly skinny arms now displayed an impressive bit of muscle, the product of his labor no doubt. Will couldn’t help but look down at his own arms and feel slightly envious. As far as he could see, he hadn’t changed at all. If anything, his occasional missed meals had made him skinnier than before.

Sammy had a bag as well, and she opened it to reveal a linen pillow. “Here, I thought you might need this too.”

Will turned it over in his hands, touched by the gesture. The pillow was off-white in color and stuffed with old, but clean, rags. One side had been embroidered with green and yellow thread, creating a simple design of grass and flowers. “Did you make this, Sammy?”

She nodded, then looked away. “Momma let me have the scraps for the stuffing. She’s been teaching me embroidery, but I’m not very good at it yet.”

“I think it’s amazing,” said Will, genuinely impressed. “It’s probably the best present I’ve ever gotten.”

Sammy blushed, but Eric gave him an abrupt shove. “Have you forgotten the cot already? I put a lot of time into that.”

Will grinned. “All right, the two best presents I’ve ever gotten. Honestly, you’ve probably saved my life. I’m sure I’d freeze to death if I had to keep sleeping on the floor this winter.”

“That’s better,” said Eric. “If you’re done giving Sammy a big head, I have something to talk to you about.” He glanced around for a moment. “Is the old man around?”

Will shook his head. “He’s off somewhere. Probably chasing deer again. What is it?”

Lowering his voice, Eric leaned close. “He isn’t our grandfather.”

Will frowned. By now he was firmly convinced the old hermit was insane, but he hadn’t shown any signs of dishonesty. Sure, the old geezer had a mean streak a mile wide, but as far as Will could tell, he was honest, often brutally so. “How do you know that?” he asked his cousin.

“I asked my dad. He said the first Cartwright to live in Barrowden was his grandfather, Nathan. Before that they lived in Branscombe. He said all his great-grandparents are buried there,” answered Eric somberly.

“That can’t be right,” said Will. “Mom said he was her great-grandfather. Did you tell your dad that?”

“No,” responded Eric. “He seemed so sure, I was afraid it might start an argument between them. He said he’s seen all their graves, though they died before he was born.”

Sammy pulled on her brother’s sleeve. “Tell him what else Dad said!”

Eric hesitated, looking uncomfortable.

“What is it?” asked Will.

“I probably shouldn’t say,” said Eric. “It’s not my place to talk about your mom.”

“Just tell me,” said Will impatiently. “I won’t get mad.”

“Your mom ran away from home when she was sixteen,” blurted out Sammy, unable to contain herself. “She didn’t come back for almost four years, and they don’t know where she was. When she did come back, she was pregnant with you.”

Will grimaced. He hadn’t known much about it, but he had expected something along those lines. “Did he say who my father is? Maybe the old man is my great-great-grandfather on his side.”

Eric seemed embarrassed. “He doesn’t know. He said he thinks your mom worked as a barmaid in Cerria. She probably got pregnant from one of the customers.”

Will’s cheeks flushed, and the candle flame flared. His hands balled into fists. “You’re saying she was a whore?”

His cousin held up his hands. “Look, I’m sorry. That’s just what he said. I don’t think he really knows what she was doing while she was gone.”

“He also said he doesn’t know anything about her being taught by the old man,” put in Sammy.

Will let out a long breath, calming himself. “I don’t know why she would lie about that. Plus, the old man said the same thing. Why else would he visit our house over the years?”

“You do know he doesn’t visit anyone else, right?” said Eric. “He’s never come into the village. Not once that I can remember.”

That seemed odd. Where does he get the butter then? wondered Will. His grandfather never seemed to lack for necessities like soap, salt, dried beans, flour—the list went on. The old man had to be buying things from somewhere.

Sammy broke in, “Dad says there’s been a hermit living here since he was a boy, and according to him, there was one here when his dad first moved to Barrowden, but he doesn’t think it’s always been the same old man.”

“What does that mean?” asked Will.

“The hermit in the woods was an old man when Dad was a boy. He’d have died of old age by now, so the one you’re living with has to be different,” explained Sammy. “Anyway, Dad said the old man who lived here when he was little had dogs.”

“Just because he had dogs back then doesn’t mean he would still have dogs,” argued Will. Though it is a good idea. Putting that aside, he had to admit it seemed unlikely it was the same person living here back then. People just didn’t live that long. “I’ll ask him about it later.”

“Be careful,” warned Eric. Sammy nodded in agreement beside him. Both their faces displayed worry.

“Careful of what?” said Will dismissively.

“Remember what we talked about before?” reminded Eric. “He might be a warlock.”

Will laughed. “He’s a grumpy old bastard, but I don’t think so.”

Sammy grabbed his hand. “He might be fattening you up for later.”

“I doubt it,” said Will confidently. “Aside from eggs, I’ve never seen him eat anything that didn’t grow out of the ground.”

“As a sacrifice,” added Sammy, wrinkling her nose.

“Well he’s got a strange way of doing it, then,” said Will. “His favorite punishment is not letting me eat. I’ve missed dinner twice this month because of that.”

“Maybe his demon likes skinny virgins,” suggested Eric.

“Then you should probably get out of here,” returned Will with a sly grin. “He’ll want to capture both of you.”

Eric sniffed, lifting his chin haughtily. “I don’t have to worry for long. Annabelle let me dance with her at the harvest festival.”

Sammy’s features grew angry. “I’m telling her you said that!”

“I did dance with her!” insisted Eric.

“No, I’m telling her what you meant. She’ll never talk to you again if she hears what you said!” declared Sammy.

Will listened to them bicker without interrupting. It made him feel good to hear their voices, and sad at the same time. Especially the part about the harvest festival. He had completely forgotten it, and it sounded as though Annabelle had forgotten him as well.

His cousins stayed another quarter of an hour, chatting and filling him in on the doings of Barrowden. When they finally left, he felt more alone than ever, and it was hard to get back to his fractions. Math seemed pointless to him. What use did anyone have for numbers, aside from being able to count?

When his grandfather showed up that evening, he seemed to be in a good mood, until he saw the cot. “What the hell is that?”

“A cot,” answered Will simply.

“I can see that, dumbass! Where did it come from?” demanded the old man.

His grandfather’s angry reaction sent a quick surge of adrenaline through Will, and the flame on his candle began to flicker wildly. “E—Eric brought it for me.”

“Eric? Who’s that?”

“My cousin,” explained Will. He doesn’t know anything about my family, does he? Will realized.

“Why did he bring it?” asked his grandfather, his tone more even now.

“Because I told him I’ve been sleeping on the floor. I’ll freeze this winter if I have to keep doing that.”

That brought the old man up short. “You don’t have a bed?”

Will just stared at him as if he’d gone mad. Then he spread his arms wide, gesturing at the small room as if to say, ‘do you see a bed?’

“Oh,” said his grandfather. “No, of course you don’t. I had completely forgotten. Next time remind me. You shouldn’t take things from strangers. Did you pay him anything?”

“Eric isn’t a stranger. He’s my cousin.”

“Strangers, family, friends, it’s all the same,” insisted the hermit. “From now on, you are to take nothing from anyone without paying. Do you understand?”

Will did not understand. Family was how one survived, at least as he understood it, but he simply answered, “I don’t have any money.”

His grandfather nodded. “Then you take nothing.” He paused then, staring at the cot. “Still, you’re right. You can’t keep sleeping on the floor. How much do you think a cot is worth?”

“Eric doesn’t want money for it,” insisted Will.

The old man fixed him with a hard stare. “Listen up. I’m not going to repeat this a third time. From this day forward, you accept nothing without paying or trading something of equal value. As long as you’re my apprentice, you will owe nothing, you will accept no debts. Consider it part of your training.”

Will was staring into the corner, muttering angrily to himself. “He’s crazy, absolutely nutters…”

His grandfather disappeared into his room for a moment and returned with his hand outstretched, a gold coin in his palm. “This should cover it.”

Will’s eyes bulged. A single gold crown was worth dozens of cots—hell, it might be worth more than the hermit’s entire ramshackle dwelling. He reached for the coin, but the old man snatched it back.

“What did I just tell you?”

He stared at the old man in confusion.

“Accept no debts!” said his grandfather emphatically. “Tomorrow you’ll take the axe and saw and go cut wood. You’ll do so every day until you’ve cut enough to last us the entire winter. Then I’ll give you the coin, which you will take to pay your cousin for his generous gift.”

The payment was far more than the work was worth. “A cot isn’t worth an entire gold crown,” said Will at last.

“It is to a man about to freeze to death,” said his grandfather.

Chapter 11

It took Will nearly two weeks to cut enough wood to satisfy his lunatic grandfather. During that time, he was still expected to keep up his reading practice in mornings, arithmetic in the evening, and as always, he was not allowed to leave the candle behind at any time.

The old man did give him one break, though. He didn’t make Will cook during that period, and he got his first real chance to try his grandfather’s cooking, which was a revelation in and of itself. The first meal the old man made was a simple affair; roasted carrots, peas, sliced radishes, and an assortment of greens.

It didn’t look like much, though it was arranged artistically on the plate, but the first bite to reach his tongue told a different story. “Wow!” exclaimed Will. “Oh, wow! What did you do to it to make it taste like this?”

“Not much,” said his grandfather nonchalantly. “A little oil and vinegar for the greens. The peas I blanched and sautéed with butter. Most importantly, I didn’t cook the carrots into flavorless mush as you seem so fond of doing.”

For the first time, the hermit’s complaints about Will’s cooking made sense. If this was what his grandfather expected, then what Will had been giving him wasn’t much better than pig slop. He cleaned his plate and was delighted when he was given more. His compliments seemed to sit well with the old man.

After he finished he sat back, feeling replete with food and warm in the heat coming from the hearth. He almost didn’t mind the fact that his entire body was sore from chopping and hauling wood. Relaxed, he asked a question, “Why don’t you get a dog?”

The hermit looked quizzically at him. “A dog?”

“You’re always fussing about the deer getting into the garden. A dog would solve that,” offered Will.

His grandfather stared into the embers, his expression somewhat sentimental. “I used to have a couple of dogs, but they died a long time ago. I haven’t had the heart to get any since then. Plus, I don’t think the landlord would appreciate it.”

“Landlord?”

“The goddamned cat,” clarified the old man, picking his teeth with a splinter of wood. “He really doesn’t appreciate dogs. He’d probably increase the rent.”

How much could one cat eat? wondered Will, but he didn’t bother voicing his thought. Instead he asked, “How long ago was that? When you had the dogs?”

“Oh, it’s been a while,” said his grandfather. “Before you were born.” He chuckled, then added, “Before your mother was born.”

“You must have been a lot younger then,” suggested Will.

“Not so much,” said the hermit. “It’s all relative I suppose, but I was already pretty old by then.”

Unable to restrain his curiosity, Will was direct with his next question. “How old are you?”

His grandfather looked up sharply. “None of your damn business.” Then he stood and dusted himself off. “Time for bed. Make sure to clean the dishes before you sleep.”

***

The next morning Will rose early, and after stuffing himself full of eggs and buttered toast, he began his reading. After a couple of hours of that, his grandfather informed him that he was free to go and finish the woodcutting. With any luck, he thought he might get enough to finally finish the task.

As he started out the door, axe in hand, the old man reminded him, “Only dead wood. I know you’ve scoured the woods clean close to the house, but don’t be tempted to cut a live tree. You couldn’t afford the payment. Take your time and go farther out if you have to, even if it means you need to spend another day at it.”

His grandfather had been giving him similar warnings every morning, though Will really didn’t understand the prohibition against cutting live trees. He knew better than to go against the old man’s orders, however, and he couldn’t think of much worse than spending a day at hard labor only to get no supper. “I won’t forget,” he assured his guardian.

He set off toward the west, the direction opposite that of the village, since it hadn’t been scavenged for wood quite as much. He remembered seeing a fallen tree in that area previously, which should provide more than enough wood. The only downside was that it was farther away than he would have liked, which meant a lot of extra hauling to get the wood home.

The ground had a gentle upward slope, since the hills that separated Barrowden from the village of Branscombe lay in that direction, but Will figured that was a good thing. It meant the trip back, while carrying a load, would be much easier.

Despite the cold wind of late autumn, the sun was shining brightly and there were no clouds that day, making his hike an almost cheerful affair. Will found himself whistling as he went, and he began to study the plants along his path. At this time of year most of the trees had lost their leaves, but some of the hardier perennials that lived beneath them were still green. Mentally, he named them as he went.

As he walked, a thought occurred to him. He’s supposed to be teaching me herbology, but I haven’t had a single lesson on the topic. It’s all been reading, math, and cooking. He glanced at the candle in his hand. And whatever this is supposed to teach me.

His eyes fell on a tall plant he didn’t recognize. “What’s this?” he muttered. It was unusual for him to encounter something his mother hadn’t taught him to identify already. Ovate and dentate leaves, square stem… Mentally, he made note of its features for future reference. It stood almost three feet tall and was still green despite the late season.

Concentrating, he focused on the plant, attempting to use his strange extra perception to learn something about its properties. He was disappointed, as he got the sense that it wasn’t useful for much. It wasn’t astringent, antiseptic, or good for any other purpose he could discern. It was edible, though, and it resembled sage, so he wondered about its taste. If it had a good flavor, he might be able to surprise his grandfather at dinnertime.

His mother had always warned him about trying new plants, but that had been before he discovered his special ability. Reaching out, he started to pluck one of the leaves, and as soon as his fingers touched it, he felt something new. A strange essence stirred within the plant, something he didn’t recognize, mysterious and tempting.

Will plucked a large leaf and held it to his nose, noting a scent reminiscent of sage. Maybe it’s a variety of sage I’m not familiar with, he thought, before biting a small portion from the leaf. The taste didn’t match. It was more like lettuce, with a faint, thyme-like flavor. He pressed the rest into his mouth and chewed.

The flavor remained mild, but a slightly bitter aftertaste began to build. Despite his former caution, he picked a second leaf and began chewing it as well. The bitterness grew stronger, along with a smoky flavor that hadn’t been noticeable before. “This would go well with some of the milder greens,” observed Will.

The candle flame was shifting now, changing color. It had done that before, but in the past it had always been shades of yellow or orange. Now it had turned pink and was shading toward lavender. “That’s odd,” he muttered.

Then the ground fell away from his feet, and he found himself spinning. He opened his mouth to speak, but words failed him. He couldn’t think at all. The world had become a swirling mix of colors, and he could only watch, mesmerized as his body melted into the earth that reached up to swallow him.

A timeless period followed, filled only by shapes, textures, and strange colors. His body was gone; he was gone. His self had faded away to join the infinite beauty that surrounded him. Emotions remained to him, but he felt no panic or fear, only peaceful curiosity, awakened by his newfound connection to the universe.

Eventually the experience faded, and he discovered himself again, lying quietly on the forest floor. The treetops swayed in the wind above him, somehow reflecting the gentle motion of his own soul. From the sun and the angle of the shadows, he could tell that less than an hour had passed, but although his mind seemed to have recovered, the world was not the same.

Squinting, Will tried to focus his eyes, but no matter how he tried, his vision remained a mixture of perfectly normal shapes and bizarre streamers of color. It was similar to the glimpses he had seen in plants before, but now it was everywhere. He could see energy pulsing within the trees, moving to a slow, steady beat. Wide, diffuse bands of light that were almost too faint to see floated through the air, moving around him as though he had fallen into some giant, ghostly river. More energy moved through the earth beneath his feet.

Everything was connected.

Then Will noticed the candle, which had fallen to the ground beside him. It hadn’t changed, but he could see a slender thread of light connecting it to his chest. Is this magic? he wondered. Am I seeing magic?

The sound of laughter floated to him through the trees in high tones. A girl? Will stood and looked around but saw no one close by. Bending over, he reclaimed his candle and axe, then he took a step in the direction he thought he had heard the laughter coming from.

The sound vanished, and somehow he felt he had moved the wrong way. Stepping back, he heard the girl’s laughter again. Turning his head from side to side, he could see the faint streamers of light diverged there, slipping into two similar but different forests. Not that way, this way. Acting on instinct, he turned a different direction—it was hard to describe, but he stepped sideways, entering the other forest. The laughter grew louder.

“Follow me!” said the girl, teasing him. Her voice sent a shiver down his spine, tickling instincts he hardly recognized.

Will looked around. “Where are you?”

“Over here!” she shouted, but when he looked, he only caught a flash of bright orange vanishing into the underbrush.

Leaping to follow, he crashed along at a reckless pace, trying to catch up to her, but she remained ahead, and always just out of sight. He continued the chase, his heart thundering in his chest, until he heard the sound of rushing water ahead. When he broke free of the trees, he saw a rocky river-bank, and the girl had stopped at the water’s edge.

No, not a girl, he thought. She was a woman, young no doubt, but in full possession of maturity. When she turned to look back at him, his breath caught in his throat.

Hair the color of flames cascaded down her back and over her shoulders, but it did nothing to hide the sight of her nakedness. She smiled at him with pearl-like teeth that seemed to sparkle in the autumn sun, distracting him for a moment from her small but pert breasts. “You’re alone,” she announced in a delighted tone, clapping her hands together.

Will had no response for that. He continued staring, drinking in the view. When she gestured for him to come closer, he took a step forward. Moments later he found himself just inches away from her, so close he could feel her breath. It smelled of mint and lavender.

Her eyes were an unnaturally bright viridian, but it was the pupils that were most startling, for they were slits, like those of a cat. “You’re not human,” he mumbled.

“But you are,” she responded, her lips curling into a smile. “Would you like to kiss me?”

Yes, yes I would, screamed his hormones, nearly drowning out his reason. Instead, he answered, “W—what?”

The strange woman pouted, then ran her hand down his chest, trailing her fingers across his stomach. “Are you afraid? My price is a small thing, though I can sense it growing as we speak.”

For a moment he could hear his grandfather’s angry voice, echoing in his memory. “Accept no debts! Think of this as part of your training.” He took a step back, away from the woman. “I have nothing to pay you.”

“Oh, but you do!” she returned, while her eyes silently devoured him. “What I want is something you would dearly love to give.”

Despite himself, Will asked, “What is it?”

“A fair exchange,” she said, her voice sly. Then she stepped closer and put one hand behind his neck and ran her fingers through his hair. “I will give you pleasure beyond measure, and all you need give me in exchange is your seed.” Lifting her chin, she leaned forward to bring her lips to his.

Will jerked, turning his head to one side before she could kiss him. “No.”

“But why?” she asked. “You have plenty. You can make hundreds of children when you return. I only need one.” Her hand stroked his thigh, moving upward until it reached…

Startled, Will stumbled backward and fell, landing heavily on the rocks. He felt something under his hand and discovered it was the axe. He had dropped it without realizing it. Will lifted it as the strange woman started to settle down on top of him.

She hissed, making a sound like an angry cat as her eyes fell on the hard metal of the axe-head. Leaping sideways, she was suddenly more than ten feet away. “You dare bring iron to this place, mageling?”

The candle flame swirled, reacting to the chaos of emotions within him—relief, fear, and no small amount of disappointment. “I came here by accident,” he managed to say.

The woman’s eyes shifted as quickly as her mood, going from anger to twinkling with amusement. “No one enters the fae realm by accident, manling.”

He could feel the truth in her words, and thinking back on it, he could remember the distinct moment he had chosen to step sideways, seeking to follow her voice. “I didn’t realize what I was doing,” he explained. “Now, I just want to leave.”

“I could show you the way,” she teased, “for a price.”

“No thanks,” said Will immediately, though deep down he couldn’t help but wonder if he really meant it.

The woman was walking back toward him, this time more slowly, making sure to stay on the side of him as far from the axe as possible. “What is your name, manling?”

“W—” he started to answer, then caught himself. “You expect my name for free?”

Her laughter tinkled in his ears. “Fair exchange then, my name for your own.”

That sounded fair, but he still hesitated. What if learning his name gave her some power over him? “What would you do with my name?” he asked.

“So cautious, so careful,” said the fae woman. “You would be worth knowing, if ever you escape the sun-drenched lands. Names exchanged are no sinister thing. A name can be used for finding and calling, just as with friends in your own world.”

Will’s eyes narrowed. “Are you saying you could summon me?”

Her answering smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. “So dark are your thoughts. Are you a warlock, mageling?”

He shook his head. “No.” Not yet, anyway.

She moved closer and bent her head to his neck, inhaling. “You have no smell of wickedness. Very well. To answer your question, if I were to call your name you would hear it, wherever you might be. What you choose to do afterward is your own business, though you would be able to find the closest door to reach me if you chose to come.”

“And if I called your name?” he responded.

“The same.”

“Is there a price for calling?”

She whispered into his ear, sending shivers down his spine. “Only if one is set during the exchange. Would that please you?”

“That’s not necessary,” he stammered, finding it difficult to think with her so close.

“Then a simple exchange it is, are we agreed?” she asked.

Will nodded. The hand holding the axe handle was white-knuckled and beginning to ache.

“I am called Tailtiu,” she responded. “And you are?” She breathed her words into his ear before taking the lobe between her teeth.

“William Cartwright,” he blurted out, unable to help himself. Then her sharp teeth bit down on his tender ear, sending a tiny jolt of pain, and an even larger spasm of pleasure, through him.

Tailtiu pulled away, sighing. A single drop of blood on her lips. She reached up with one hand and wiped it away, then put her finger in her mouth to clean it. A purring sound rose from her throat and she licked her lips once more. “You taste good, mortal. So much potential…”

“That’s my blood,” said Will. “That wasn’t part of our exchange.”

Tailtiu pouted. “Then I am in your debt. What would you like in return? A kiss?” She looked hopeful.

Judging by his reaction to what she had just done, he doubted his reason would survive a kiss. For a moment, his mind pondered scenarios. Perhaps if she was tied and bound it would be safe. He shook his head to clear it. “Show me the way back.” He regretted the words as soon as he uttered them. He really wanted the kiss.

“So stubborn,” she replied. “Very well. Follow me.” Turning away, she started walking at a leisurely pace, her slim hips swaying hypnotically.

To hell and back, thought Will, falling into step. Every part of her movement was entrancing, from her graceful stride to the way her hair shifted from side to side, giving him glimpses of her shoulders that made him want to take hold of her.

The candle flame was burning fiercely, twice as large as normal. It rose and fell to a slow, deep rhythm that matched his heartbeat. Seeing its odd behavior distracted him for a moment and he felt his lustful urge fade slightly. He focused on her feet after that, afraid he might lose his mind if he let his eyes drift upward again.

Damn, even her heels are beautiful.

Logically, he knew that the way back should be the same as the way he had come, but nothing seemed familiar. They walked for nearly half an hour, and when asked, Tailtiu assured him that they were taking the shortest path back to his world. She wouldn’t lie, would she? he wondered. She shouldn’t have any reason to.

The wind picked up suddenly, changing from a pleasant breeze to harsh gale, picking up the leaves and whipping them violently through the air. The trees bent under its strength, and Will was forced to lift his arm in order to shield his eyes. Tailtiu looked back at him, alarm written on her face.

“He comes!” she cried.

“Who?” asked Will, confused and suddenly anxious.

“Elthas, lord of this place,” she explained.

“We should run,” suggested Will.

Tailtiu shook her head. “It is too late. Forgive me. This is the fault of my greed, hoping to keep you for myself.” Without warning, she leapt toward him.

Will struggled to avoid her, but the fae woman was fast, and once her hands were on him he discovered she was far stronger as well. Grabbing his head, she pulled it forward and planted her lips atop his.

Fire burned through him, sending waves of pleasure from his head to his toes. Her tongue danced between his lips, and the intensity of the sensation was so great that it became painful. It was ecstasy, a pleasure unlike anything he had ever experienced in his not-quite fourteen years.

And it was killing him.

From the corner of his eye, he saw the candle where it had fallen. Its flame dimmed and grew gradually smaller. He wondered how long it would take before it vanished entirely. Somewhere deep down, he wanted it to stop, wanted to push her away, but his arms had lost their strength.

Then she released him. Will fell to his knees, washed out and feeble. The air felt colder now and he shivered. Staring up at Tailtiu, he accused her, “I didn’t give you permission.”

“I owe you a debt then, manling,” she replied, a strange light in her eyes.

“Who is this?” said a deep and frighteningly masculine voice behind him.

Weary to his bones, Will turned his head to see the man who had appeared behind him. The figure who stood there was tall, taller than Eric’s dad, and he was also mostly nude. The newcomer had some clothing, if it could be called that—a leafy mantle that covered his shoulders and ran down his back. But it failed to obscure the more pertinent details of his manhood.

Will held up one hand briefly. “Hello.”

The stranger stared down a long, arrogant nose at Will, and one corner of his mouth quirked up into a devious smirk. It was then that Will noticed his hair was green, and the multitude of leaves around his shoulders were growing from him, rather than being a separate article of clothing.

Glancing back, he could see that Tailtiu was kneeling, her eyes on the ground. “My lord, I found a manling within your demesne.”

“Yet you didn’t see fit to bring him before me, did you, child?” responded the fae lord.

“I owe him a debt,” responded Tailtiu. “I was forced to lead him home.”

“Nothing is owed to the dead,” said the man looming over them. “Trespassers belong to me.”

“I’ve done you no wrong, Lord Elthas,” said Will abruptly. “I didn’t know where I was.”

“Silence,” barked Elthas. “Do not taint my name with your tongue.” Moving around him, the fae lord examined him, taking note of his candle and the axe in his hand. “A mageling, I see. It has been a while since one has been foolish enough to tempt my wrath, and you come bearing iron as well. Did you think that would protect you from me?”

“I meant no disrespect, sir,” said Will. “I came here by accident.” Following Tailtiu’s example, he kept his face to the ground, but in his peripheral vision he could see more feet around him. Elthas had brought a host of servants with him.

Elthas laughed. “The hunter has no need of excuses. You are prey to me, manling. All I require of you is your life.” The fae lord looked at the candle. “What’s left of it, at least. Tailtiu has stolen some of my reward already.”

A new voice called out from the trees. “The only reward you’ll be getting is my foot up your ass, Elthas.” Will recognized it at once. It was his grandfather.

Chapter 12

“You dare show your face here, Arrogan?” said the fae lord, his voice deepening with anger. He hadn’t bothered turning around yet, keeping his gaze firmly fixed on Will.

The fae circling them opened up, and Will saw his grandfather walking forward, his face smooth and confident. He had to admit that the old man seemed sure of himself. He almost looked heroic, except for the ridiculous deer horns strapped to his head. “I’ll make an ass of myself wherever I please,” announced his grandfather. “My face is just tagging along for the show.”

Elthas turned then, and his face darkened when he saw the horns. “You’ve gone too far this time, old man.”

Will’s grandfather winked and lifted his hand to touch one of the antlers. “You mean these? I’m the sentimental sort. I keep them around to scratch my backside. They really help to get to those hard to reach places. I’m sure you understand.”

Will could see the turyn gathering around Elthas, streamers of power so intense they almost blinded him. The fae lord’s power wove in and out, and then shot toward the earth at his grandfather’s feet. Vines sprouted from the soil, but they didn’t touch his grandfather; instead they snaked away from him, racing across the ground to bind the ankles and legs of the observers.

“Want to try again?” asked the old man. “Maybe this time I’ll take the only horn you have left.” His eyes traveled downward to stop on Elthas’ disturbingly tumescent manhood.

“You’re bluffing,” said Elthas, but he didn’t attack again. “You’re long past your prime. Your flame is dying, just like the boy’s.”

“Think so?” asked his grandfather calmly. “You’re welcome to test me. But I promise you, I only need a spark to whip your ass. I’ll kick your teeth so far down your throat you’ll be shitting them out for a week.” He looked past Elthas. “Get up, Will. We’re going home.”

Will struggled to his feet, gathering up the candle and axe. He shuffled forward. “Yes, Grandfather.”

The fae lord’s hand shot out, circling his neck. Will could feel the man’s sharp nails against his throat. “Grandfather?” said the fae lord, a wicked smile crawling across his face. “This child is of your line, Arrogan?”

His grandfather’s eyes shot daggers of hate at him. “Didn’t I fucking tell you to call me ‘Master’ when others were around?”

“Does the child displease you, Arrogan?” asked Elthas, his grip tightening. “Perhaps I should punish him for you.”

The old man’s gaze locked with that of the fae lord. “You spill one drop of his blood, and I’ll spread pieces of you far and wide across the Glenwood. They’ll need a hundred years to piece your carcass together.”

“Always rude, always crass,” said Elthas. “Has time given you no taste for diplomacy? Let us make a bargain, Arrogan, like the old days.”

“Bargain?” said Will’s grandfather derisively. Then he spat on the ground, and Will was surprised to see smoke rising from where the spittle struck. “I’m not making any bargains with you. If you’re going to kill him, do it, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Will felt the nails dig into his neck painfully for a moment, but then Tailtiu ran forward. “Stop!” she cried.

Arrogan’s face changed when he saw the fae girl, and Will saw his stance shift. The old man stared at the girl with an intensity he hadn’t even shown to his opponent. “Tailtiu,” said the hermit, the name almost catching in his throat.

And just like that we’ve lost, thought Will. All because he turns out to be just another horny old goat. He knew he was doomed. His despair only lasted a second, however, replaced almost immediately by shock when Tailtiu replied, “Father.”

“She’s your daughter?” exclaimed Will, disgusted. “What the hell is going on? She kissed me!” His eyes rolled sideways to glare at the fae woman. “That’s incest!” Even as he said it, though, he couldn’t help but note her erotic charm.

Both Elthas and his grandfather responded at the same time, “Shut up.”

Will closed his eyes, wanting to block everything out, most especially the sight of his cousin’s naked form. Or is she my aunt? He couldn’t be sure. Either way, I’m going to hell.

His grandfather was the first to speak. “Did you say you kissed her, boy? Did you make a bargain?”

Will tried to shake his head, but Elthas’ grip was too tight. “No. She did it without asking.” Then he felt a need to add some clarification. “I didn’t like it, either,” he lied.

Arrogan looked back at Elthas, a wicked grin on his face. “That changes things, doesn’t it?”

The fae lord scowled. “Not in the least. His life is still in my hands.”

“It’s obvious you just want to kill him so you can negate Tailtiu’s debt,” said his grandfather.

“This is my forest,” insisted Elthas. “I do as I please. Your daughter’s obligations are not mine.”

Arrogan glanced around, letting his eyes linger on the other fae trapped around them. Then he faced Elthas again. “Do you think they’ll believe that? Or do you think they’ll realize that the oh-so-honorable Lord Elthas is nothing more than bog scum? Why don’t we test it out? You kill the boy, I’ll tear you into tiny pieces, and they can go tell the other fae what happened while you put yourself back together. I’m sure your reputation will still be just fine when you are eventually whole enough to tell your side of the story.”

The fae lord simmered with rage. “All this rests on one faulty assumption, old man. I can kill both of you. Your threats are meaningless. This is my demesne. I hold power here.”

“Is that right?” challenged his grandfather. Then the old man stepped closer, until he and Elthas were standing almost nose to nose. “Show me. I’ve been itching for this fight for a long time.”

The moment stretched out, until Will began to grow impatient. Opening one eye, he saw Tailtiu and felt an immediate response. This is so wrong, he thought desperately. I’m about to be choked to death and all I can do is fantasize about my faery aunt. Where did I go wrong?

Without warning, the pressure around his throat vanished, and Elthas stepped away. “Go!” ordered the fae lord. “If I see either of you again, your lives are forfeit.”

Will’s grandfather grabbed his hand, pulling him away. “Empty words from an empty pus bag, Elthas.” Arrogan cast one regretful look at his daughter, and then he turned Will around and marched him out of the clearing.

They hadn’t gone more than twenty feet before Will asked, “Grandfather, was she really your—”

“Shut the hell up!” barked the old man. “Not one more word from you until we get home.”

Will managed to keep his questions to himself the rest of the way back, even though they seemed to be multiplying by the minute. When they reached the place of entry, his grandfather grabbed his hand again and twisted them both sideways in that same strange way that Will had before, and they were back in the normal world again.

But the normal world was still slightly strange. Will’s vision hadn’t returned to normal. He still saw lots of things that hadn’t been present before. His grandfather had an aura around him, the trees still thrummed with hidden power, and faint streamers of light flowed about them in the air.

His candle flame wasn’t the same either. It was small and feeble, less than half the size it had once been. Considering his fatigue, that seemed to match up, but it had never done that before, not even when he had worked himself into complete exhaustion.

When they had finally gotten inside the house, Will couldn’t keep it in any longer. “Am I dying?”

His grandfather was busy untying the thongs that held his bizarre antler cap on. He glanced Will’s direction. “Huh? Why the hell would you think that?”

He held up the candle.

“Just when I thought you couldn’t get any more fucking stupid. You never fail to impress. Don’t you remember the day I brought you here?”

Will nodded.

“Well, if I had done the candle spell for you then, your flame would have been even smaller. Much smaller, in fact. You aren’t dying. You just had some of your turyn sucked out.” Then he cuffed the top of his grandson’s head, hard. “Idiot.”

“Was that really your daughter?” asked Will, rubbing the sore spot on his skull.

The old man passed one hand over his face. “I really don’t want to talk about it.”

“Does that mean she’s my aunt?” prodded Will. “Or am I not really your grandson?”

“I’ll answer one stupid question,” growled the hermit, “then you’re going to explain to me what happened. So choose wisely.”

He thought about it for a moment. He was pretty sure the fae wouldn’t have lied about Tailtiu being the old man’s daughter, and besides, he was more worried about his own status. “Are you my grandfather?”

“I’m your great-great-great-great-grandfather, plus or minus ten or twelve greats. I don’t know exactly anymore. I stopped keeping count of the generations a couple hundred years ago,” admitted the old man.

Will was stunned, then he had a flashback of Tailtiu kissing him. “Was she your great-great-however-many-times-over granddaughter?”

His grandfather laughed sourly. “No, she was my youngest child. The fae are all but immortal. She’ll still look like that long after you’re dust in your grave.”

“So who was her mother?” blurted out Will.

Arrogan’s face blanched at that, an expression reminiscent of an old pain come back to haunt him. “Enough. I told you one question, yet I’ve answered two. How in the hell did you wind up over there?”

Will tried to describe what he had done. “I just sort of moved sideways. Just like you did when we came back.”

“I’m well aware of how it’s done, turnip-brain,” shot back his grandfather. “But to do that, you have to be able to see things you shouldn’t be able to see.”

“I found this plant I didn’t recognize,” began Will.

The old man didn’t wait for him to finish. “Do you always stick strange plants in your mouth?”

“Well, no, not usually. But I can tell if a plant is edible, and I thought it was some variety of sage I hadn’t seen before…”

His grandfather’s eyes narrowed. “How can you tell if a plant is edible? I haven’t taught you that.”

“You haven’t taught me anything!” said Will in exasperation. “You said you’d train me to be an herbalist, but you haven’t said one word about plants since I came here!”

Instead of reacting to Will’s outburst with anger, his grandfather leaned back, his expression thoughtful. “I’ve taught you to read, along with basic mathematics…”

“What does that have to do with plants?” broke in Will.

Getting to his feet, Arrogan left the room. He returned a few moments later with two books in his arms. He placed them on the table and opened them up for Will to peruse. “What does this look like to you?”

The first was filled with colorful drawings that showed leaves, flowers and stems. Each was accompanied by a description. Will could read some of them, but many of the words were too long and unfamiliar for him to figure out. The second had lists of ingredients, along with instructions and numbers. Again, he couldn’t understand all of it, but he got the sense that they were recipes of some sort. He looked at the hermit questioningly.

“There is more information in these two books than you could ever memorize,” said his grandfather flatly. “This one, Winton’s Herbal, describes hundreds of useful plants, showing their leaves, flowers, and recording their life cycles and growing needs. The other, Gidding’s Apothecary, gives instructions for tinctures, potions, extracts, as well as specialized preparations that can be made with various plants and herbs. Does any of that strike you as useful?”

Bewildered, Will flipped through the pages. “Why didn’t you tell me about this?”

“Why should I?” barked Arrogan. “Can you read them?”

“A little,” said Will hesitantly.

“What’s this word here?” asked his grandfather, stabbing his finger at one of the pages.

“Minim,” answered Will immediately. It was one of many seemingly useless names for measurements he had been forced to learn.

“And here?”

“Dram.”

“Here?”

“Two scruples,” said Will, beginning to feel foolish.

“I’ve been teaching you the names, so eventually you will be able to follow the instructions in these books to prepare whatever you need. To do that, you will have to be able to read these books, along with others. Your mother has already taught you how to identify many plants. Why should I waste my time repeating her lessons when you clearly need to learn the basics to progress any further?”

Will didn’t have an answer to that, so he just stared back blankly.

“Would you like to know what plant you so foolishly ingested today?” asked his grandfather.

“Sure,” said Will meekly.

Arrogan flipped the Herbal closed and reopened it at the beginning. “This table at the front subdivides plants into groups. Was the plant deciduous?”

Will nodded and answered several more questions before his grandfather pointed at the book again. “It will be here, in either chapter fourteen or fifteen. I should make you look through them, but I won’t bother. Go to page seventy-two.”

Flipping through the pages Will softly recited the numbers to himself.

“I’ll give you a hint,” growled Arrogan. “It’s between seventy-one and seventy-three.”

Will looked up sharply. “I know that!” His angry response earned him a malicious grin from his mentor. I should know better than to let him get to me, thought Will. Finding the page at last, he laid the book down and studied the picture and its description. It definitely looked like the plant he had found. It even mentioned the square shape of the stem. “Diver’s sage,” he said, reading the name aloud.

“Diviner’s Sage, moron,” corrected his grandfather. “It’s a powerful psychedelic. The early shamans used it to see visions, although personally I think they just liked feeling weird. The important thing for you to know is that it opens the mind, allowing you to see things normally invisible to the eye. For those who are already sensitive, or those who have had extensive training, that effect is permanent.”

“Oh,” said Will, unsure what to say.

“This is just one of several plants and mushrooms that teachers use to initiate their students into the arcane arts,” explained Arrogan. “I already knew you were sensitive, which is why I took you in, hoping to prevent this. But you, in your infinite idiocy, took it upon your shoulders to turn yourself into a mage. There’s no going back for you now.”

Alarmed, Will asked, “I can’t go home?”

Arrogan covered his face with one hand. “Of course, you can go home. I dream of sending you there every day. You can’t go back to being normal.”

That didn’t sound too bad. “Does this mean I can do magic now?”

His grandfather sighed. “You have several choices. One, you can go home, which would almost be a relief, because so far, you’ve been more trouble than you’re worth. If you do, I’ll start packing, since I don’t want to be around when they find you and execute you as a warlock, which is almost certainly what they’ll decide. Proof or no proof. Two, and slightly less stupid, you can go to Cerria and present yourself before the Royal Magister, Grant Haywood. He’s the idiot running the Wurthaven College of Wizardry these days. After a few tests, he’d put you in classes and eventually you’d get to be a lapdog for one of the noble sorcerers running things nowadays.”

Arrogan leaned back, lacing his fingers behind his head. “Personally, I like that option the best, since it means I’ll be quit of you and I won’t have to worry about moving.”

Will could sense the old man wasn’t finished, so he prompted him, “But…?”

His grandfather sighed. “The third option is the best for you, but a pain in the ass for me. Stay here and I’ll train you properly. The only drawback is you’ll still be an unlicensed mage, so if they catch you later, you’ll wind up in prison at best.”

“How is that better for me?” exclaimed Will querulously.

The old man grinned evilly. “Because by the time I’m done with you, there won’t be a mage alive, sorcerer or otherwise, capable of putting you in prison. I can teach you to be a wizard the likes of which even King Lognion would be afraid to face—or would, if any of the fools knew what real wizards could do back in my day.”

That reminded Will of one of his longstanding questions. “Exactly when was your day?”

Chapter 13

Arrogan leaned forward. “Before I answer that, I have to know whether you plan to go to Cerria or train under me.”

Will spoke before he thought. “It’s because they’re hunting you, isn’t it?”

“And that, my boy, has sealed your fate. You have sharp ears, don’t you?”

“I heard you and Mom talking,” admitted Will.

His grandfather grimaced. “Well, options one and two are off the list now.”

He was beginning to feel slightly rebellious. “And what if I would rather study in the city?”

“Do you really want to test my patience, boy?” asked the old man, an angry gleam in his eye. “You saw what happened today. How many wizards do you think would dare to tweak the nose of one of the fae lords? Do you think any of the glorified sanitation workers that come out of Wurthaven would dare? They’d be pissing their pants at the thought! If you think anything that happened today was commonplace, let me be the first to disabuse you of that notion.”

Will let out a long exhale, deflating. He really didn’t know what to think about what had happened, nor did he have any idea how dangerous a fae lord might or might not be. As far as he knew, they might be pushovers. But he strongly suspected they weren’t.

And Elthas had taken all of Arrogan’s insults and abuse and then just let them walk away. That couldn’t be normal. He studied his grandfather with new eyes. Just how dangerous was the old man?

“Are you really going to teach me?” asked Will at last. “You still haven’t taught me anything about herbs. Will you really teach me magic?”

Arrogan thumped his hand on Gidding’s Apothecary. “This book contains recipes for medicines and potions. There are other books that contain spells. You have to be able to read them. Not only that, but you’ll need to learn a new alphabet, the runes of power, in order to work those spells.”

Will groaned.

“Yes, I’ll teach you,” finished his grandfather, ignoring Will’s moaning. “But you’ll learn things in the proper order.”

He nodded. “All right. Doesn’t seem like I have much choice.” Then he remembered his earlier question. “So when was your day again?”

The old man yawned. “I’m getting tired.” He stood up, as though to retire to his bedroom.

“You said you’d tell me!” protested Will.

Arrogan sat back down, grinning at Will’s frustration. “Somewhere around four hundred and fifty years ago.”

“You’re four hundred and fifty years old!” yelled Will, jumping up and knocking his chair over.

His grandfather shook his head. “No. That’s when my day was, if by that you mean the period when I was at my peak, before the so-called Terabinian War of Independence.”

“Then how old are you?” demanded Will.

“Still none of your damn business,” replied Arrogan. “If you ever learn to cook something that doesn’t make my stomach churn, I’ll think about telling you.”

***

The next day, after breakfast and his obligatory two hours of reading practice, Arrogan called him over. “Let’s see your candle.”

Will held it up. The flame was brighter today, but it still hadn’t recovered completely from Tailtiu’s kiss.

“You’ve spent plenty of time observing it as you go about your tasks,” said Arrogan. “Since you’re a mage now, it’s time for you to learn to control it. Here’s a question for you. Why is the flame still so small?”

That was easy. “Because I still haven’t regained my normal amount of turyn.”

His grandfather shook his head. “No, the real reason is because you’re ignorant, but I’ll try to correct some of that today.” Then he added, “Try not to scream; this is for your own good.”

“Why would I scr—” Will’s voice cut off as a vivid green line of power shot from Arrogan’s fingers and straight into his chest. He felt it bore into him, and while the sensation wasn’t painful, it was distinctly unpleasant. Then he stopped breathing.

Panic rapidly overtook him as he tried and failed to make his lungs work. Seconds ticked by, and his grandfather watched him with the same sort of faint disinterest an evil child might display while squashing ants. Finally, the old man spoke. “I’m not controlling your muscles. Look at the candle.”

The flame had turned green.

“Trying to make your muscles obey you won’t work,” said Arrogan. “First you have to make the candle return to its normal color.”

Will’s heart was pounding in his ears, and his face first grew red, then purple. He was beginning to see spots when suddenly his grandfather waved his hand and his lungs began working again. The candle was still burning green.

“I suppose you won’t learn anything if I let you suffocate,” said his grandfather. The green line of light still connected his fingers to Will’s chest. “Right now, I have absolute control over your turyn. I can do anything I want with you. Your lungs take in air at my command. Your heart beats because I allow it. I could kill you with a thought.” The old man reached back and began earnestly scratching his backside, seeming to have forgotten his grandson entirely.

When he looked back, there was a vicious intensity in his eyes. “It’s disconcerting, isn’t it? You feel helpless, violated. Those are perfectly normal feelings, but if you want them to stop, you’ll have to learn. Watch the flame.”

The candle flared, and Will felt a surge of energy. He couldn’t remember ever feeling quite so alive. It was as though his body was bursting with vitality. The flame was now twice its normal size.

“That turyn didn’t come from me,” said Arrogan. “Just in case that’s what you were thinking. It came from you. I’m just controlling it. Everything I am about to show you are things you are capable of doing for yourself, once you learn how.

“The turyn in our bodies comes from a limited source. Think of it as the candle. Make it burn faster, and the candle shortens more quickly, while the flame grows brighter. Ordinarily a wizard wouldn’t do this, since I’m essentially causing you to age faster, but in a pinch it’s a handy way to recover your turyn in a hurry.”

Will’s eyes lit with interest.

“It’s also stupid,” added his grandfather. “This is the main reason why wizards these days live such short, stunted lives.”

Will felt a strange sensation, as though he had relaxed a muscle, though it had nothing to do with his physical body. The candle flame returned to its normal size and at the same time his strange vitality vanished.

Arrogan held up his left hand. “Would you like to see what my flame looks like? Here.” A new flame appeared above his palm, though it was hardly deserving of the term. It was more of an ember, barely more than a speck of orange. After a few seconds, he let the illusion vanish. “Tiny, isn’t it? Some would say it’s hardly enough to sustain life, but controlling your flame is the secret to longevity—and power.

“Even in my day, many wizards would teach their apprentices simple magics first. Would you like to know why?”

Will could feel sweat beading on his brow, and his eyes kept darting back to the green flame. His brush with suffocation had instilled a deep terror in him, and the color of the candle was a constant reminder that his life was in Arrogan’s hands. “Yes, please,” he answered, trying to keep his voice even.

His grandfather smiled. “Because they were selfish. An apprentice who can’t do magic is practically useless, much like you. So they taught them simple cantrips and spells, things to make their lives easier. Fortunately for you, I am not a selfish man. I’m not going to teach you any of that, even though it means you’ll be a greater burden on my munificence.” The old man leaned back, a self-satisfied look on his face. “You’ll thank me later.”

Despite his fear, Will complained, “But you said you’d teach me!”

Arrogan’s expression shifted to annoyance. “I am teaching you, ungrateful wretch though you are. Learning any magic at this point will slow your progress. In the old days an apprentice might spend decades learning to master their turyn, and the main reason it took so long was because their teachers didn’t have the patience to teach them in the proper order.

“You will learn control and discipline first, and with any luck you’ll manage it in a couple of years, rather than ten or twenty.” The old man sat up, and his fingers began to move. He was muttering under his breath, and Will could see tiny, yet intricate lines of power forming in the air.

Arrogan’s right hand clenched into a fist, and Will saw the candle flame shrink slightly, so that it was slightly smaller than it usually was. The shift sent a wave of weariness through Will. Then the hermit’s left hand went forward, pushing the small weave of magic toward him. It drifted through the air and sank into his chest.

The old man studied him for a moment, then snapped the fingers of his right hand. The line of power connecting him to Will vanished, and the candle flame returned to its normal yellow color. Will breathed a sigh of relief.

His grandfather gave him a smile that was pure malice. “Don’t look so happy yet, boy. I’ve released your turyn, but the spell I put within you will cause you no end of trouble if you don’t learn quickly.”

Will’s heart sank. “Spell?”

Arrogan gestured at the candle once more. “As you can see, I reduced the size of your turyn. Currently it’s slightly smaller than normal, but it will try to return to its usual size. To prevent that, I’ve put a spell within you that will stop that from occurring, but if your turyn expands and puts pressure on the spell, you will feel pain—slight at first, but gradually growing in intensity.

“Your job is to keep that from happening. The pain will serve as your guide. The sooner you learn, the less discomfort you’ll have to suffer,” finished the old man.

He gaped at his grandfather. “Why would you do that?”

His mentor ignored the question. Instead he reached into his robes and pulled out a gold coin. “This is your payment for the wood. You can have the rest of today off. Go pay your friend for the cot and be back in time for dinner.”

Chapter 14

Will didn’t need any encouragement to leave. He had been aching to visit his friends for months, and the fear his grandfather had put in his heart that morning with his strange magic demonstration only made him want to get away even more.

The pain started just minutes after he left.

It began as an odd, itching sensation that covered his body but was strongest in his face and scalp, and it got immediately worse when he realized what was happening, going from itching to burning in just seconds.

He stared at the candle fearfully. He had no idea what to do, but he knew from long observation that strong emotions usually caused the flame to flare. Calm down, he told himself.

The flame stabilized, and the burning receded, becoming merely an annoying itch once more. He needed to figure out a way to keep the flame from growing. Maybe if I burn off some energy. In the past he had noticed that heavy exercise tended to deplete his turyn a little. Without waiting to think about it, he began to run.

He ran all the way to Barrowden. It would have taken almost an hour if he had walked, but he covered the distance in half that, dashing through the trees with reckless abandon. By the time he arrived, his face was red and he was covered in sweat, but the itching had faded. The cold autumn wind was a relief for his overheated body, but he worried what would happen once his sweat-drenched clothes began to leach away his warmth.

Walking down the one street that went through Barrowden, he was surprised when a familiar voice called to him. “Will!” Turning around, he saw Annabelle Withy step into the lane, two large wooden buckets in her hands.

“Anna,” he responded, surprised. His friend had changed in the year and a half since he had last seen her. She was slightly taller than him now, and her figure had changed in interesting ways. He had always liked her, since she seemed friendlier and more practical than most of the other girls in the village. “How have you been?”

“I’m well,” she answered. “Where have you been? Nobody’s seen you in forever.”

Good question, he thought. After a second, he replied, “I took an apprenticeship. I’m living with my teacher.”

“Teacher?” said Annabelle, her face growing curious.

Master, Will chided himself. I should have said ‘master.’ Apprentices didn’t refer to their masters as ‘teachers.’ “It was Mom’s idea,” he added.

“Where does your master live? Is he in Branscombe? What trade are you learning?”

All perfectly reasonable questions. None of which he wanted to answer. How could he tell her he was living in the forest with a crazy old hermit? Once the word got out, his friends would laugh themselves sick. It was a miracle they hadn’t heard about it already. I suppose I should thank Eric and Sammy for not telling everyone.

Thinking of his grandfather, Will almost replied with ‘none of your damn business,’ but he caught himself before the words came out of his mouth. I’m learning bad habits from the ornery old bastard. He didn’t want to lie, so he kept his answer vague. “Yeah, he lives near Branscombe. I’m learning medicine.”

Arrogan did live in the direction of Branscombe, though his home was much closer to Barrowden, and Will was supposed to be learning herbalism, so his answer wasn’t really a lie. It just wasn’t exactly the truth, either.

Annabelle’s brown eyes widened, and he found himself marveling at how pretty she was. “You’re going to be a doctor?” she asked.

Her assumption wasn’t a bad one for Will. Being a doctor would command some respect, although many people treated them with suspicion. “Mom said it would be silly for me to become a midwife,” he joked, letting her keep the assumption without actually confirming it. Then he glanced at the buckets in her hands. “Are you hauling water?”

She nodded.

“Let me help you then,” he suggested. His scalp was beginning to itch again, so it wouldn’t hurt to burn off some energy. Plus, he’d get to spend more time with Annabelle.

The well was located in the center of the village, so he walked there with her and then, after she had filled them, he took both the buckets. They were heavy, but holding one in each hand improved his balance and made it easier to walk.

“You don’t have to carry both,” said Annabelle. “We can share the load.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he replied. “I need the exercise.”

Tracy Tanner spotted him and called out to him as they walked back to Annabelle’s house. “Come by after you finish!” she said loudly. “We have a gift for you.”

Will nodded, and then noticed Annabelle looking at him from the side of her eyes. “What?” he asked.

“She’s been talking about you for months,” said the girl. “She tells everyone how you saved Joey.”

“That’s crazy,” said Will, feeling uncomfortable. “I just made a poultice for him.”

“She thinks you used magic to heal him,” said Annabelle. “You’ll probably make a great doctor.”

“Doctors don’t use magic,” argued Will.

“You don’t have to hide it from me, Will,” she replied. “Everyone knows that sorcerer stopped at your house last year.”

“He just wanted some herbs.”

“I think he was there looking for a new apprentice,” she opined.

Will laughed. “Sorcerers don’t take apprentices. They pass their elementals to their heirs.”

Annabelle gave him an odd look. “You seem to know a lot about how they work.”

He put the buckets down in front of her door as he searched for an answer. “My master is pretty knowledgeable. He’s taught me about a lot of things.”

She gave him a sly look. “Mm hmm.”

Will glanced around. “I’d better get going.”

Annabelle put a hand on his arm. “Will you be coming back for the Festival of Elthas?”

He stopped dead in his tracks and his heart went cold. He hadn’t thought about the name of the fae lord in connection with the holiday. Were they one and the same? It was held near the end of May, and from what he knew it was a holiday particular to Barrowden. Like most such events, there would be a lot of drinking and dancing and some of the village men would wear antlers on their heads in honor of the pagan god.

“What’s wrong?” asked Annabelle. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Nothing,” he answered, forcing himself to focus on the girl once more. “I was just remembering something I forgot to do. I’ll be in trouble later.”

Annabelle returned to her original topic, ignoring his remark. “I only mentioned it because Eric’s been asking me if I would accompany him to the dance, but I haven’t decided how to answer him.”

He wasn’t paying attention and he replied hastily, “That’s wonderful, Anna. I really need to go.”

The girl flinched, and he knew instantly that he’d said something wrong. Replaying her words in his mind, he felt like a fool. Apologizing, he backed away. “I have to hurry. Sorry!”

He crossed the lane and headed down it toward the Tanners’, and when he looked back Annabelle had already gone inside. She must think I’m an idiot, he decided. And I’m inclined to agree with her.

Joseph Tanner opened the door to their home as soon as Will came into view; apparently, he had been watching for him. He offered his hand and Will shook it, feeling strange at the older man’s show of respect.

“I wanted to thank you for what you did for us, and to apologize for how I spoke to you that day,” said Joseph.

Will dipped his head. “You were just worried. You shouldn’t apologize.”

“I feel better doing it,” said Mr. Tanner. “Come inside.” He stepped back, holding the door wide.

Feeling embarrassed, Will did, trying not to wrinkle his nose at the smell. While he loved the smell of leather, going to the source of such goods was a pungent education. Since they operated a tannery behind their home, it was inevitable that some of the acrid smell from the tanning pits found its way inside.

He fervently hoped he wouldn’t be offered food, for his appetite had all but vanished.

Tracy Tanner smiled as he came in and motioned toward her son, who was now over three. “He hardly even has a scar. I can’t thank you enough.”

“I really didn’t do much,” said Will humbly.

“Don’t be so modest,” countered Joseph Tanner. “Your mother tries to play it down, but we know you worked a miracle to save our boy.”

Tracy held up a leather satchel in her hands, pushing it toward him. “I made this for you.”

Remembering his weeks of cutting wood, Will felt a momentary panic. The old man will work me to death if I accept this. “I don’t deserve something like that,” he protested.

Joseph took the bag from her and pressed it into his hands. “It’s made from one of my best hides. Tracy spent half the summer stitching it for you.”

The leather felt soft, almost buttery in his hands, similar to doehide, though it was made of more durable cowhide. It was a wide satchel, with a sturdy flap closing it and a long strap for his shoulder. Feeling guilty, he looked inside and was amazed to find that it was divided down the center, with one side forming a large space while the other was subdivided into multiple compartments. Both sides of the interior had been carefully lined with linen. Will closed it again and then noticed that the outside flap was tooled and decorated with a pattern of oak leaves.

“I can’t afford this,” he stammered, still thinking of his grandfather.

Tracy clucked. “It isn’t a matter of affording. We owe you a debt and this is the only way we have to repay you.”

When he still looked hesitant, her husband chimed in, “It would be rude to refuse a gift like this.”

Will bowed his head in defeat. “Thank you. I’ll treasure it.”

“I thought all the compartments might be useful for herbs or whatnot,” said Tracy. “When you’re out gathering.”

That wasn’t really true. If he was gathering wild herbs, he generally tied them into bundles and hung them over his shoulder; putting them into a bag would bruise them, but the satchel would still be useful for any number of other things. “It’s very thoughtful of you,” said Will.

By the time he left a few minutes later, Will was beginning to experience a burning pain all over his body. He ran all the way to Eric’s house, hoping to use up more energy, but he was still itching when he got there. To his disappointment, neither Eric nor his father were home.

“It’s been forever since I’ve had a chance to look at you, Will!” said his Aunt Doreen as she invited him in. She held him out at arm’s length and studied him from head to toe, while Sammy smirked at him from behind her mother. “Are you eating enough? Why are you so skinny?”

“Well…”

“I can’t believe your mother is letting you live with that old man,” declared his aunt before he could respond. “It’s shameful. She could do a lot better for you if she’d get over that willful pride of hers.”

He had no idea what she meant by that, and the expression on her face when she saw his questioning look told him that she had said more than she meant to. She quickly tried to cover up her slip. “I just meant she could find you a proper apprenticeship in Cerria, if she just put a little effort into it.”

Will’s eyes met Sammy’s and she shrugged, indicating she had no idea what her mother was referring to either.

“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell anyone where I’m at,” said Will. “I told Annabelle Withy that I’m studying medicine.”

Sammy spoke up. “Don’t worry. We’ve been pleading ignorance whenever the neighbors ask.”

His aunt looked displeased. “You shouldn’t lie, Will.”

“Well, it’s sort of true,” he said helplessly. Trying to change the topic, he asked, “Where’s Eric?”

“Johnathan took the boys to the city with him to deliver a new wagon to a buyer,” responded Doreen. “They probably won’t be back until tomorrow.” She looked at him again, then added, “You should eat with us.”

The smell of lamb was already beginning to drive him mad, but the pain of Arrogan’s spell was steadily increasing. It felt as though ants were crawling over him. He didn’t want to be there when it got too bad for him to hide. “I have to get back soon,” he answered quickly. “I just wanted to give Eric and Sammy something for the cot and pillow they brought me.” He held out his hand with the gold crown shining in his palm.

Doreen’s eyes bulged slightly. “Where did you get that?”

“Gr—my master asked me to give it to you,” said Will, silently kicking himself for almost saying ‘Grandfather.’ He knew Eric had already discussed it with his dad, but he was afraid of bringing up another uncomfortable topic.

“It’s far too much,” declared his aunt.

“Please take it,” said Will. “He’ll be upset with me if you don’t.”

“I can’t even make change for this,” complained Doreen. “Besides, it was a gift. You shouldn’t pay us anything—hey!”

Will was backing out the front door. He dropped the coin on a shelf as he went. “Just take it. I don’t think the old man cares about money, anyway. I really need to get going.” He darted outside and started jogging away.

His aunt followed him out, calling to him, “Wait! You didn’t even take any food. We can’t take this!” Then she pushed her daughter in his direction. “Go after him! Tell him to come get some food to carry home.”

He kept going, while Sammy chased his steps. With her shorter legs, she couldn’t have caught him, but he pulled up once he was outside the village. She glared at him as she reached him, but she was panting too hard to speak immediately.

“Sorry about that,” he told her. “I was afraid your mom wouldn’t take the money if I didn’t leave it and run.”

“You’ve gotten really weird since you left home,” said Sammy as she caught her breath. Then she pointed at his bag. “Where’d you get that?”

“The Tanners,” he said simply.

She nodded, understanding immediately. “Oh.” After another breath she added, “You really should take some food. There’s too much with Dad and the boys out of the house.”

“I really can’t wait,” said Will. The pain was getting worse, so he began jogging in place, earning him another strange look from his cousin.

“There’s something else I wanted to tell you,” Sammy informed him. “A messenger came from Cerria yesterday. He went to your mom’s house. After that, he stopped in the village and asked several people about you.”

A feeling of alarm passed through Will, and his pain increased for a moment. “What did he want to know?”

“Can you hold still for a second?” asked Sammy. “It’s too weird trying to talk to you like this.”

“Sorry, I have to burn off some energy,” said Will honestly.

She sighed. “He was asking general questions. How you’ve been, where you’re living, that sort of thing, but he spent several minutes with the Tanners. Who knows what they told him?”

Will had no answer for that. He couldn’t even speculate, but he doubted it would be anything good for him in the long run.

“Would you just stop?” said Sammy, frustrated. “All that bobbing is making me dizzy.”

He did, and she put her arms around him, giving him a hug. “I don’t know what you’re into these days, but be safe.”

Will hugged her back, then broke away. “Thanks for the pillow, Sammy. I really love it.” Then he began running, leaving her behind.

As he went, he heard her parting comment. “Weirdo.”

Chapter 15

Will ran as hard as he could back to Arrogan’s house, but despite his best efforts the pain continued to build. His body simply couldn’t do enough to burn off his extra energy, and when he was forced to stop and catch his breath, things only got worse.

The old man began cackling as soon as he returned. “Oh, this is too good.”

“It’s not funny,” insisted Will. “It really hurts!” He was jogging in place inside the house.

“It’s hilarious from where I’m sitting,” said Arrogan, grinning. “Maybe you should try dancing. It’d be more entertaining.”

“Stop making fun of me!” said Will, desperate. “My body feels like it’s on fire! Help me!”

His grandfather sighed. “Don’t be so dramatic. Let me explain…”

“I don’t need explanations. I need you to take the spell off of me!” Will was jumping up and down now.

The old man held up a hand, and once again a green line of power shot forth, spearing into Will’s chest. A second later, his body stopped moving, and other than breathing, he was completely paralyzed. His mouth didn’t work either, so he couldn’t even protest. Arrogan stepped closer and pushed, causing him to fall backward.

He would probably have cracked his head on the floor, but something caught him in midfall and he found himself floating toward his cot, where he was gently deposited. His guardian walked over to stare down at him. “Now perhaps we can talk without all that ridiculous jumping and whining.”

Will glared hatefully at his tormentor. The pain was growing worse, but he was entirely unable to move or otherwise express his distress.

“Apparently your best idea was to use your muscles to burn off some of your turyn,” said Arrogan, “and while this shows that you do indeed have a capacity for thought, I’m afraid it’s a hopeless solution for your problem.

“As you have discovered, physical activity does use some of your turyn, but it’s a small amount. If you were a little smarter, you might have tried keeping your emotions in check, since those can affect it as well, but that’s ultimately a dead-end also.

“The only effective way to use up your turyn quickly is by doing magic of one form or another,” the old man smiled maliciously. “Which is why learning this lesson is much easier if you don’t know how to do that. What you’re supposed to learn here is how to reduce the amount of turyn you produce.

“Unfortunately, that’s really hard to do. It’s akin to learning how to not breathe. The longer you hold your breath, the more it feels as though your lungs are about to explode. Your body will fight you all the way.” His grandfather straightened up and walked away. “I’ll start dinner while you work on it.”

It felt like he was dying, and he silently cursed the old man, until the pain grew too intense for him to even do that. Arrogan’s voice carried to him over the smell of bacon frying. “Not to worry. I’ll keep a close eye on you to make sure you don’t die, but I doubt it will come to that.”

Time passed with agonizing slowness, while Will sweated and suffered. The pain was even worse than what he had felt after being bitten by the emerald viper. I’m going to kill him if I ever get free, thought Will.

Once dinner was finished, his grandfather sat down nearby and began eating. “Would you like some?” offered the old man. Then he laughed. “No, I suppose not.” He finished eating and then went about the chore of washing the dishes, all the while seeming as though he had not a care in the world.

Eventually, Will lost touch with the outside world. He was trapped in a prison of pain, without any hope of reprieve. In his mind’s eye, he could almost see the flame of his turyn, burning and straining against a cage of green light. A voice intruded on his awareness, “Imagine you’re squeezing a muscle, or maybe your fist. You have to tense it tightly, as though you’re trying to squeeze the life out of something.”

He couldn’t tense anything, since his body was paralyzed, which forced him to do what the old man asked purely in his imagination. Will visualized it in various ways, as a fist, or as though he was hugging something tightly, but nothing seemed to work. In the end, he imagined his grandfather’s neck and thought about choking the old man to death. That didn’t work either, which seemed like a real shame.

As the evening wore on, Will found his mind disassociating itself from his body, making the pain feel distant, almost unimportant. He began to think more clearly, and then, almost by accident, he happened upon the solution.

It was impossible to describe, but once he found it, he knew it was right. A secret place inside himself that pulsed and burned, producing the turyn that was causing him so much agony. Mentally, he caught hold of it and squeezed. Nothing happened at first, but gradually his pain began to fade, and a refreshing sensation of coolness washed over his body.

His breathing became easier, and he knew he had done it. Opening his eyes, the one part of his body still under his control, he glanced around to see if his grandfather had noticed. From the corner of his left eye, he spotted the old man still sitting in the chair across from him. Arrogan was sound asleep.

He wanted to shout with frustration, but the paralysis made it impossible. I did it, you ornery old geezer! Let me go! In his anger, his grip on the source slipped for a moment, but he hastily got it back under control.

The rest of the night was less painful, but it was a misery nonetheless. Will was tired and weary from the long hours of agony, and he quickly slipped into slumber, but after a half an hour or so the pain returned. He woke as the burning began, and he was forced to reassert his control over the source of his turyn. The cycle repeated itself throughout the night, until the sun began to peek through the windows.

When he woke the final time, the room was bright and he could smell eggs cooking. He had become so accustomed to paralysis that it was several moments before he discovered he could move.

Arrogan greeted him with a smile when he sat up. “Are you hungry?”

“For blood, you sadistic bastard!” Will growled. “How could you do that to me? I nearly died!”

“Not even close,” said his grandfather. “You should be proud. You learned in a day what some take months or years to manage. Of course, it was all due to my enlightened teaching methods, but still, you are due some of the credit.”

Will cast about, looking for the axe. Where did I leave it? The porch, it was on the porch. Feeling a new determination, he got to his feet to go retrieve it. His mentor didn’t even watch as he left the room, so intent was the old man on his cooking.

He returned a moment later, quietly, placing each foot slowly so as not to make any noise and alert his oppressor. With the axe held diagonally, close to his chest, he approached until he was only a few feet from the evil bastard who claimed to be his guardian, then he raised his weapon.

Arrogan was busy moving the eggs from the pan to a waiting plate, and Will knew his timing was perfect. Feeling only the slightest guilt, Will turned the axe so it would be the flat that struck. He really wanted to kill the wretched man, but he knew his conscience would bother him later if he did. I’ll just knock him out and run for it.

He was just beginning his swing when his body froze in place. Unbalanced, he fell backward, crashing into the floor and nearly dashing his head against the floorboards. He stared upward at his grandfather with pure malice in his eyes.

The old man turned around and gave him an impish grin. “Next time, make some noise. The silence was far too suspicious.” Snapping his fingers, he released Will and held out a plate. “Still hungry for blood?”

Leaving the axe on the floor, Will got to his knees. “I’m on to you now, old man. I’ve taken the measure of your evil. Someday I’ll make you pay for your crimes.”

Arrogan chuckled. “Whatever motivates you. Holding a grudge might help you learn faster. Once you’re good enough to keep me from seizing control of your turyn, you’ll be a lot closer to getting your revenge.” He placed the plates on the table and nudged one of them. “You should eat them before they get cold. They’ll taste a lot better.”

They ate in silence, but after Will finished his food he felt he needed to give his grandfather a reminder. “I’ve learned your lesson, so you can take your weird spell off of me now.”

Arrogan ‘tsked’ at that. “Oh, it’s far from over. That spell will be on you for months yet.”

“But I can’t sleep!” cried Will, despair seeping into his voice.

“Don’t be so dramatic,” rebuked his grandfather. “You’re past the worst part. Once this becomes second nature, you’ll sleep just fine. Until that happens, you’ll just have to make do with a lot of short naps.”

“You’re insane,” said Will. “I can’t keep this up forever.”

“Just until you die,” said Arrogan dryly, “which, if you master this properly will be a very long time from now.” Leaning across the table, he took Will’s plate before fixing him with an intense stare. “Make no mistake, you vapid twat, I’m not training you to be one of those half-baked embarrassments that they produce in Wurthaven these days. I’m forging you into a true wizard, the likes of which brought humanity out of the dark ages of shamanism and obedience to alien gods. You’ll either learn or I’ll bury you in the garden out back to feed my plants. There is no middle way.”

Will could see madness in the old man’s eyes, and he shivered involuntarily before looking down at his plate to escape his grandfather’s gaze.

“Now, it’s time for you to start your reading practice,” added Arrogan.

“How can I read? It takes all my concentration just to keep my turyn clamped down,” he replied quietly.

“You’ll manage. You’ll learn to do everything like that. Reading is important. It’s the best way to cure you of your ignorance. It’s a pity it can’t cure your stupidity as well. You’re going to be a great wizard someday, skillful and well-educated.” Arrogan paused for a second. “But you’ll probably still be dumb as a stump.”

Despite his poor mood, Will laughed a little at the remark. There was a certain pattern to his grandfather’s insults and abuses that had grown on him over time. He still hated the crotchety bastard, but he couldn’t help but like the man a little.

Arrogan’s face remained still and serious. “That wasn’t a joke,” he stated, but after a second his eyes crinkled at the corners.

***

The next two weeks were a misery. The only thing good Will could find about them was that at least he wasn’t in a lot of pain. He couldn’t sleep more than thirty or forty minutes at a time at night before waking up with a burning sensation that told him his turyn was growing again. Consequently, he was constantly sleepy during the day and found himself nodding off at every opportunity, while reading, while cooking, and most especially while trying to learn math.

It came as a complete surprise to him the first night he slept eight hours without waking. He had thought it would happen gradually, but when his unconscious mind finally learned to maintain its grip on his turyn while he slept, it happened all at once. One day he was napping, the next he was sleeping without trouble.

Things got much easier after that, and his reading and math sessions seemed pleasant. His grandfather began to take him on walks as well, pointing out plants and trees that Will already knew, but giving him extra information about them. Many had uses his mother had never mentioned, primarily since she didn’t practice magic. For a midwife, it wasn’t particularly useful to know that ash and oak were helpful in creating protective wards.

What didn’t happen, however, was any actual training in magic or spells. As winter came to a close, Will asked his grandfather about it. “When are you going to teach me how to do something?”

The old man was in a good mood that day, so he answered plainly, “Remember when I first put the spell on you to keep your turyn from expanding?”

He nodded.

“What would you have done if you could cast spells?”

Will already knew the answer. “I would have used magic to keep my turyn lower, but I’ve already mastered the trick. There’s no reason to keep me ignorant.”

“You aren’t even close to being done,” said Arrogan, his tone ending the discussion.

Will sighed, knowing it was useless to keep asking. That evening, the old man illustrated the point by removing the spell on him after they had eaten.

“Oh, that feels good!” exclaimed Will, but seconds later he saw the green line connecting to his chest again. “What are you doing?” He twisted in place, trying to escape the old man’s control, but his best efforts were useless. The flame of his candle turned green, and he knew Arrogan had taken hold of him once more.

The flame shrank even more, as Arrogan manipulated his source. It was now a quarter of its former size. “This is your new goal,” said his guardian.

Will felt tired and lethargic, his turyn too small to sustain him properly. “You’re crazy,” he protested. “I can’t live like this.”

His grandfather smiled, then recreated the spell-cage that would contain Will’s turyn. It was sized to fit his much smaller inner flame now. “You’ll be fine. As you will discover in time, you’ve been relying on your turyn to help you do everything: walk, talk, eat, shit, even think. That’s what ordinary people do with theirs, but you aren’t going to be ordinary. You’re going to learn to live without it.”

“What’s the point? Why would anyone want to be so miserable all the time?” asked Will.

“Ask me again in a few years,” said Arrogan.

Chapter 16

It was over a month before Will could sleep properly again. Keeping his source damped down properly was much more difficult given the new limit that Arrogan had imposed. His only solace was that he hadn’t had to go through the same intensely agonizing period at the beginning this time. He already knew what to do; it was simply a matter of focus and discipline.

What he had more trouble with, though, was his lack of energy. It felt as though he was living underwater—every movement was difficult. Even walking took all of his attention, or he would trip and fall.

Naturally, it was at this point in his development when his grandfather decided that physical training would be beneficial. It began with brisk walks and culminated in Will being forced to run circuits around the house. By the end of the first two weeks, he was covered in bruises and scratches from tripping over vines and brambles that seemed to be everywhere.

When he could finally manage to run completely around the house without falling flat on the ground, Arrogan brought out two long staves of ash. He tossed one to Will, who skillfully caught it with his face.

“Ow!”

“Pick it up,” said his torturer.

Will groaned but did as he was told. Then his grandfather began walking him through a series of staff forms. “Try to follow my movements.”

The staff felt clumsy in his hands and though the movements his grandfather asked him to copy were fairly simple, he found himself having trouble. As usual, his body was incredibly awkward and he knew that if it weren’t for the fact that his natural turyn was so thoroughly suppressed, he could have done it easily.

He got better, though. By the time summer arrived, he was able to follow the forms easily and his grandfather switched to active sparring, or as Will liked to think of it, ‘supervised beatings.’ It was a great relief to him when his cousin Eric appeared one day at the beginning of a training session.

“Will!” called his cousin.

Arrogan turned on Eric angrily. “What do you want? We’re busy.”

“Hi, Eric,” said Will, grateful for the interruption.

“Baron Nerrow is at your mom’s house,” said his cousin excitedly. “He’s looking for you.”

“Tell that two-bit goat wrangler to fuck off,” said Arrogan harshly.

Eric gaped at the old man’s invective, then looked straight at Will. “Your mom told him that you were at our house. He won’t leave without seeing you. Dad sent me to fetch you before Lord Nerrow loses his temper.”

Will’s grandfather was swearing quietly to himself. “Pompous ass! Who does the think he is?”

“I should go, Grandfather,” said Will. “I don’t want anything to happen to Mom.”

“This is her fault to begin with,” spat his guardian. “Erisa can take care of her own problems.”

Eric spoke up. “If Will doesn’t come, she might be forced to tell Lord Nerrow to come here.”

Will was already moving. Leaning his staff against the house, he took a moment to brush the dust and dirt off his clothing. “Let’s go,” he told his cousin.

“Hold on,” commanded Arrogan, his voice projecting authority. Will and Eric stopped and looked at him. The old man pointed at Eric. “Go stand over there. I need to talk to Will for a moment, privately.”

Once Eric had moved off a short distance, his grandfather took him aside. “You need to be very careful when you meet Lord Nerrow. He can’t know anything about your training.”

Will understood. He hadn’t forgotten that his grandfather was some sort of wanted criminal. “I won’t say anything about you.”

“This isn’t just for my sake,” said the old man. “It’s for yours as well.” He made a gesture with one hand and Will felt the spell encasing his turyn vanish. “We don’t want him to see that spell, but don’t think you’re off the hook,” warned Arrogan. “Keep your turyn tightly suppressed. The spell goes back on when you get back.”

“He’s a sorcerer,” reminded Will. “Won’t he see that my turyn is too small to be normal?”

His grandfather cuffed the side of his head. “Fool. Haven’t you been paying attention? Can you see mine?”

Will shook his head. He had a vague sense that his grandfather’s turyn was somewhat smaller than usual, but he couldn’t visualize it directly. He certainly couldn’t tell it was the tiny ember that the old man had once shown him.

“That’s the point of the candle spell,” lectured Arrogan. “In time, you’ll be able to gauge almost exactly what your turyn is doing, based on experience and instinct, but judging someone else’s is even more difficult. You can see the flows of magic around yourself and others, but seeing what lies within someone else is nearly impossible.” He paused for a moment, then went on, “That’s right, I almost forgot the candle. Give it to me.”

He did, and the flame winked out, causing Will a moment of panic. He had grown so used to constantly observing it that seeing the flame vanish made him think he had died for a split second. Arrogan tucked the now-extinguished candle into a pocket. “I’ll restore this spell as well, after you get back.”

Thinking they were done, Will started to leave, but his grandfather caught his shoulder. “Not yet. You need to be ready for what you will see, not just what he might see.”

“Huh?”

“The last time you saw Lord Nerrow, you didn’t have the sight, and as far as he knows, you still don’t,” explained Arrogan.

Will frowned. “He’s not going to know what I can see just by looking at me.”

“He will if you act surprised,” said his guardian. “Sorcerers usually have one or more elementals with them. They aren’t visible to normal people unless they call on them, or when they want to impress people, but you are almost bound to see one around him, and it can be jarring. If you respond with shock or fear he’s going to know.”

“How bad could it be?”

“Mark Nerrow comes from a very prestigious line of sorcerers, even though his rank among the nobility is fairly modest. He will very likely have a major fire elemental with him. Seeing something like that can be very unsettling. Try not to shit yourself,” advised his grandfather. “At its biggest, it could be as big as a large house, though it will almost certainly be compressed into a tiny form, like a ball of fire floating over his shoulder.”

Despite the warning, Will found himself more curious than ever. His training with Arrogan had been singularly boring, except for the painful parts. Seeing an elemental sounded exciting. “I’ll be all right,” he assured the old man.

Arrogan stared after him for several minutes after he left, then he went inside and got his travel boots and staff. As he stepped off the porch and started in the direction of Will’s house, he spotted the goddamned cat. “I should have known you’d show up today,” he told the feline.

The grey feline stretched and then sat up straight, fixing Arrogan with a serious stare.

“Don’t worry, I’m not planning on starting anything,” said the old man. “I’ve left that crap in the past, where it belongs.”

The cat yawned, then stared up at him, closing its eyes slowly before reopening them.

“Trust me,” said Arrogan. “I just want to observe.”

The goddamned cat sneezed before walking away, seeming to have lost interest in the old man’s conversation. Arrogan shook his head and started walking. As he went he muttered to himself, “But if that pompous prick tries to take the boy, I won’t hesitate to start a war.”

***

Will and Eric made good time through the woods on their way to Will’s house, keeping their pace somewhere between a trot and a jog. When they got close, Will stopped and put a hand on his cousin’s shoulder. “You should stay here.”

“I want to see what happens,” protested Eric.

“The man’s a sorcerer,” reminded Will. “If he’s mad about something, or if something goes wrong, I’d rather you weren’t there. It’s bad enough that he’s in the house with Mom.”

“I’d like to see him try!” declared Eric, lifting one fist and shaking it defiantly. “I’d show him what the Cartwrights are made of.”

Will couldn’t help but be impressed by his cousin’s loyalty, as well as a little envious as he saw the corded muscles of Eric’s forearm. Even with his new staff practice, he doubted he’d ever develop that much muscle. Still, Will vividly remembered all the times his grandfather had rendered him completely helpless without so much as a word. If Arrogan could do that, how much could a powerful sorcerer do? “Please stay here, Eric,” he said. “Neither of us can fight magic, and he’ll have guards as well. I’d rather not risk anyone I don’t have to.”

Eric chewed his lip unhappily, but eventually he agreed. “All right. But if anything happens, I’ll run and get Dad.”

“If it comes to that, just run,” said Will. He hugged his cousin briefly, then started through the underbrush. It was only twenty more yards to his house.

As before, the gilded carriage was parked in front and a well-dressed driver stood beside it. The footman stood guard at the door to his house. Squaring his shoulders, Will walked forward.

“Who might you be?” asked the driver.

Will wasn’t sure if it was the same man that had whipped him two years before, but he turned his head to bring the scar on his cheek into view. “Will Cartwright,” he answered. “I was told that Lord Nerrow wanted to see me.”

The footman opened the door to the house and peeked inside. “The boy is here, milord.” A man’s voice responded, and then the servant looked back at Will. “You can go in.”

It’s my home, you asshole, thought Will, but he kept his words to himself. He was surprised by the number of people inside when he stepped in. The main room of his home served as both a kitchen and Erisa Cartwright’s main place of business, so aside from the hearth there was a table with four chairs. The shelves around the sides of the room were crammed with dried herbs, and a variety of bottles and jars of ointment.

Erisa’s favorite chair was occupied by an arrogant-looking man clad in orange and gold—the same one who had visited two years ago. Lord Nerrow had dirty blond hair, brown eyes, and a long, sharp nose that hung over a thin mustache. Seeing him in his mother’s chair didn’t do anything to improve Will’s opinion of him.

Two of the other chairs were occupied by two young women, or more accurately, girls. The first looked to be close to Sammy’s age, with brown hair and eyes. Will thought she must be the same one he had once seen escaping from the carriage, the one he had saved from the snake. He had no doubt about the identity of the other, older girl, whose raven black hair and startling blue eyes had caught his attention immediately. Her name was Selene. At a guess, he figured she was near to his own age.

More fascinating than the three strangers were the creatures hovering above their shoulders. Lord Nerrow and the younger girl both had ghostly flames beside them and when Will let his eyes settle on them briefly, he got the distinct impression that the flames were looking back at him, though they had no eyes that he could discern.

Even more interesting the older girl, Selene, had two spirits hovering beside her, one that seemed fluid and nebulous, and another with sharp, crystalline edges. Will could sense extreme concentrations of turyn within all four of the elementals, particularly the flame that hung beside Lord Nerrow.

While the three visitors were seated, Will’s mother was standing. She shot Will a warning glance as he came in, though he had no idea what she might want to tell him.

No one spoke at first, so Will did the honors. “You called for me, sir?”

The younger girl corrected him, “Daddy should be addressed as ‘Your Lordship’ or ‘my lord.’”

Lord Nerrow frowned and snapped his fingers. “Laina, don’t interrupt if you want me to bring you on any more trips.” He turned his attention back to Will. “Take a seat, young man.”

Will glanced at his mother, who was still standing submissively at one side. “I’d rather not, Your Lordship, since my mother is still on her feet.”

Erisa was alarmed as their attention shifted briefly to her. “I’ll step outside,” she offered.

Selene stood before she could move. “Take my seat, Mrs. Cartwright. My legs are tight from riding in the carriage. Standing would be a relief.”

Laina gave her friend a look of displeasure, muttering to herself, “Both of them should stand in the presence of their betters.”

Will moved closer and held the newly vacated chair for his mother, who radiated embarrassment as she sat, then he took the empty chair. Erisa looked at the girl who had given up her chair and said, “Thank you, Lady Selene. I don’t deserve such treatment.”

“She’s not a—” began Laina, but her father held up his hand and looked a warning at the girl. She closed her mouth, and Will thought he saw a look of mild relief on Selene’s face.

“Let’s get down to business, William,” announced Lord Nerrow. “After my last visit a couple of years ago, I wasn’t sure you would live, but since you did I feel I owe you a debt for saving my daughter’s life.” He gestured toward Laina, whose face soured slightly at the comment.

Will decided he didn’t care much for Laina. She gave every indication of being spoiled beyond redemption, as he would expect from someone born to her station. The older girl, Selene, he wasn’t sure about. She seemed gracious and was more mature. Since she wasn’t one of Lord Nerrow’s children, he wondered what her status was, but he couldn’t very well ask. He guessed she was a well-born playmate kept close by to keep Laina occupied.

If that’s the case, I feel sorry for her, thought Will. “You don’t need to thank me, my lord,” he said at last.

“That’s for me to decide, William,” countered the nobleman. “I will thank you, and I would also like to offer you an opportunity to better yourself.” Lord Nerrow leaned forward, putting his elbows on the table and lacing his fingers together before resting his chin on them. “Erisa tells me that you have studied herbalism with her, but that recently you’ve been taken under your uncle’s guidance to learn the making of carts.”

From the corner of his eye, he saw his mother glance nervously at him, probably worried he would spoil her lie. Will kept his attention on Lord Nerrow, though he was finding it difficult not to stare at the elemental hovering close to the man’s shoulder. “Yes, my lord.”

The Baron reached into a leather case and withdrew a folded sheet of parchment, which he then offered Will. “This is for you.”

Will unfolded it and scanned the page. It was covered in elegant, flowing letters that were so artfully written that it made it difficult for him to decipher, but he did the best he could. His reading skills weren’t good enough for some of the words, but he managed to get the gist of it quick enough.

As he struggled with the words, Lord Nerrow spoke again. “My apologies, I forgot you can’t read. It’s a letter of—”

Will nodded. “Wurthaven? You want me to study to be a wizard?”

“—introduction,” finished the nobleman, who then stopped and arched one brow before glancing at Erisa.

“Pardon, my lord,” said Will. “My uncle has been teaching me letters. I can’t read all of it, but I caught the meaning.”

Lord Nerrow smiled. “You impress me, young man, but then again, I suppose it’s to be expected.” He looked at Erisa once more, but she was keeping her eyes firmly on the table.

Will was thinking furiously, while trying to keep his face calm. While the offer would have been irresistible two years before, he was sure he didn’t want to go there now. His grandfather was cruel and capricious, and he had yet to teach Will even a single spell, but he had come to trust the old man. It went without saying that he didn’t want to leave his mother behind either. Though he saw her only rarely now, living in Cerria would mean he might not see her again until his training was over.

“I don’t think I can be a wizard,” said Will, looking for a decent excuse to refuse.

“Nonsense,” said Lord Nerrow. “Most people have the potential, it’s simply a matter of training and intelligence. You seem bright enough to me.”

Hah! thought Will. If only the old man could hear that. “My uncle says I could make a good living as a wainwright in Cerria,” offered Will weakly.

Laina snickered at that remark and Selene lifted her hand to cover a smile. Lord Nerrow glanced at the two girls then turned back to Will. “I’m sure they make a decent wage, but do you have any idea how much a wizard is paid?”

“No, sir,” Will admitted.

“A journeyman wizard gets sixty gold crowns a year, William,” Lord Nerrow informed him. “And that’s the lower end of what they make. If they’re talented or have good recommendations, they can make double that. It takes six years at Wurthaven to become a journeyman wizard. They only take twenty students a year, and I’m willing to cover your expenses during that time.”

Will gaped slightly in spite of himself. Sixty crowns was a fortune. He could hardly imagine such wealth. And grandfather calls them ‘sanitation workers?’

The nobleman smiled at his reaction. “Once you’ve been a journeyman for ten years, you can demand a trial to be raised to the rank of master wizard. You’re what, fifteen years old now? With hard work and some luck, you could be a master wizard by the time you’re thirty-one. A master commands ten times the money a journeyman can earn.”

“I don’t want to move to Cerria,” Will replied, his tone plaintive.

“I won’t take no for an answer, William,” said Lord Nerrow. “Your future is too important to me.”

Selene spoke up then. “We should make sure he has the basic potential before you push him into it.”

“There’s no doubt of that,” said the nobleman dismissively. “He’s m—” he stopped himself suddenly, then amended his statement. “Go ahead, Selene, examine him. It will be good practice for you.”

Will didn’t like the sound of that, but before he could protest, Selene raised her hands and said a word softly under her breath. A thin line of power flowed from the watery elemental beside her, meeting her hands and then forming a strange pattern in the air before her. The dark-haired girl peered through it as though it was a windowpane, her eyes fixed on him.

Maybe if she sees how small my turyn is, they’ll give up, thought Will hopefully.

Selene frowned, narrowing her eyes. “That’s odd.”

“What is it?” asked Lord Nerrow.

“Give me a moment,” said the older girl. Waving her hand, she dispelled the pattern and created another, studying Will even more intensely the second time. “I can’t see it,” she admitted after a moment.

“What do you mean, you can’t see it?” demanded Lord Nerrow. “It’s there, otherwise he’d be dead.”

“The source,” clarified Selene. “His turyn seems to be roughly what I’d expect, perfectly average, but I can’t see the source at all. Everything within him is cloudy.”

“Ridiculous,” said the nobleman. “Let me do it.” He performed a similar procedure and began studying Will as well, but after only a few seconds he stopped. “That is curious. It’s almost as though someone has warded him, but I don’t sense the presence of a spell.”

“I didn’t eat much this morning,” said Will, at a loss to find a good explanation.

Laina giggled at that. “Your diet has nothing to do with it.”

Will bristled at her remark. He knew from his early months observing the candle flame that being hungry could affect his turyn level, although only slightly, but he didn’t argue. The spoiled brat has probably never gone hungry in her entire life, he thought to himself.

“Pardon me, William,” said Lord Nerrow. “This is intrusive and may even cause you some discomfort.” Then, without waiting for a response, he lifted one hand and a line of green shot toward Will’s chest.

Will knew exactly what that was. Arrogan had done it to him many times already, and he despaired at the knowledge, but even as he flinched, the green line went through his chest and then slid away to one side.

The Baron grunted and tried again, but still failed to make the connection to Will’s turyn. After two more attempts, he glared at Will. “Are you doing that on purpose?”

“Doing what, my lord?” asked Will innocently. It was hard pretending he couldn’t see what the nobleman was doing. “Did something happen?” He had no idea why the man’s spell was failing where Arrogan’s had always worked, but he wasn’t about to ask questions.

Lord Nerrow sat back, momentarily nonplussed. He ran his hand through his hair and let out a long breath. “Never mind. I can see you have a healthy level of turyn in you, so I doubt there will be a problem. The masters at Wurthaven can sort out whatever peculiarities you possess.”

“I don’t really want to be a wizard,” said Will, “though I appreciate your kindness.” Laina frowned at him, and after a second, he realized his mistake, adding, “My lord.”

“You should leave him be, Father,” said Laina, her tone condescending. “Birds fly and pigs root around in the mud. He’ll be happier here.”

“Laina!” said Selene. “That’s enough!”

Lord Nerrow stood and stretched. “Fine, William. I’ll give you some time. Keep the letter of introduction. You can think about it and give me an answer next year. If you change your mind sooner, come find me in Cerria.”

Erisa stood and bowed deeply. “Thank you for understanding, Lord Nerrow.”

Belatedly, Will realized he should be doing the same and he hastily jumped up. Laina laughed at his rush and he found himself scowling at the girl. The touch of fingers on his cheek startled him, and he turned to see Selene had stepped up beside him as the other two made for the door.

“It left a scar,” murmured the young woman.

He understood her meaning then, for he often forgot about the mark on his cheek. “I don’t even think about it most days,” he told her.

Selene pulled her hand away, as though remembering her manners. “Thank you for helping her.” And then she left with the others.

Chapter 17

His grandfather was coming out of his ramshackle dwelling when Will got back, a large, glass jar in his hands. “Oh, you’re back.”

Will was faintly disappointed by his mentor’s bland greeting. “What’s in the jar?”

“Troll piss,” said the old man without even a twitch.

“What is it really?” said Will, repeating his question.

Arrogan lifted the small, wooden lid and held it out toward him. “Have a sniff if you don’t believe me.”

At five feet, Will already knew he wanted nothing to do with the foul odor emanating from the jar. “Oh, that’s awful! What’s it for?”

“I thought I’d use your absence as an opportunity to take care of some housekeeping chores. A little of this sprinkled around the edges of the garden should keep the deer away from my plants for at least a month,” explained his grandfather. “But since you’re back, I suppose I’ll just have you do it for me.”

Ugh, thought Will. “Aren’t you going to ask me what Lord Nerrow wanted?”

Arrogan lifted his chin. “I have absolutely no interest in that man’s doings, so long as he stays out of our business.” Placing the jar on the ground, he stepped up to Will. “Time to put the spell back on you.”

Will had been thinking about what had happened with Lord Nerrow at his mother’s house and had planned a deliberate bit of rebellion. “No.”

His grandfather’s brows shot up in surprise. “Oh, really?”

Will began backing away, and as he had expected, his teacher reacted by sending a green line of power out to seize his turyn. A second later he found himself paralyzed. Arrogan wasted no time reapplying the spell-cage around the source of Will’s turyn. Then he brought out the candle and redid its spell as well.

The old man studied him for a moment and then released him. “What was that about? You should know better by now.”

“I was testing you,” Will answered with a grin.

Arrogan’s mouth went wide. “You? Testing me?”

He nodded, then handed his letter of introduction to his grandfather. “Lord Nerrow offered to sponsor me.”

The old man scanned the page quickly then tossed the letter to the ground. “I should have expected something like this.”

“He also examined me to make sure I had the necessary potential.” After the words left his mouth, though, a second thought came to him. Why would he have expected that?

Arrogan snorted. “I bet that frustrated him. You’re far enough along now that I doubt he got much of a read on you.”

“He tried to seize my source, like you just did, but he couldn’t do it,” said Will, watching his grandfather’s reaction carefully.

The old man frowned. “That would have been bad, but he failed, eh? Hah! I knew the fool didn’t have it in him. The sorcerers these days are sloppy, even worse than those milksop mages they train at Wurthaven.” He eyed Will. “You look like you have some questions. Go ahead.”

“Why can you do it when he couldn’t?” asked Will immediately.

Arrogan nodded. “The training you’re undergoing has greatly increased your control over your turyn. Not only is it smaller, it’s vastly harder for another mage to seize control of it now. In general, that trick is something only done to apprentices or non-mages, because if the target has good control of his own turyn, it’s a waste of time. For it to work the one attempting it has to have much better discipline than the target.”

“So I’m done with it?” said Will hopefully.

“Not at all,” replied the old man. “I won’t be satisfied until you can do far better than that. At the rate we’re going, it will be another year or longer before I judge you ready for the next phase of training.”

Will groaned. “That last time you squeezed it down, I could barely move, any further and I’ll collapse!”

“And yet you’re walking and talking just fine now, aren’t you?” pointed out his mentor.

“That’s the part I don’t understand,” said Will. “Not only that, but they were able to see my overall turyn and they said it seemed relatively normal.” He pointed at the newly respelled candle with its tiny flame. “But that would indicate it’s anything but normal. How is that?”

His grandfather sighed. “I wasn’t going to explain this until later, but I suppose it won’t hurt to tell you now. I told you before that normal people use their turyn to walk, talk, move, you get the idea, but you’re at a point where you are no longer allowing yourself enough to do much of anything. If your turyn was like this when you started, you’d be flat on your back. You might even be unconscious.”

“Then how am I moving?” asked Will.

Arrogan grinned. “That’s the trick. You aren’t using your own turyn anymore. By gradually starving your body of what it needs, it has begun to take turyn from your environment and use that energy in its place.”

“Huh?”

“Here, look at this. It’s easier to show than to explain.” His grandfather lifted his right hand and a few seconds later a small flame similar to the candle flame appeared. “Let’s pretend this is your native turyn, the energy you produce on your own. Watch.” The flame turned blue and shrank until it was much smaller, while faint streams of energy flowed in toward it, forming a second flame, orange in color, that enveloped the original one.

“You’re drawing in external turyn,” said Arrogan. “The blue is you; the orange is what you’re absorbing from your environment. The colors are just to show that they’re different. Ordinarily, you can’t use turyn that isn’t your own, but your body is adjusting—it’s learning to convert that external turyn.” As he spoke, the outer flame shifted, becoming blue like the tiny inner flame. “This is what you’re doing, the reason why you are able to function. It’s also why those idiots couldn’t see your source. It’s too small, and the outer flame conceals it.”

Will felt as though he was on a verge of a new understanding, but he still had questions. “So the reason he couldn’t take control of my turyn was because it was small?”

“Yes and no,” said his grandfather. “The actual size of isn’t as important as the fact that you’ve developed much stronger discipline and control over it. Even though that sorcerer doesn’t compress his own source doesn’t necessarily mean he wouldn’t be just as hard to control. Although, in my opinion, learning this technique is one of the best ways to develop true strength of will.”

“Then what’s the point of all this?” asked Will. “If my body replaces my turyn with external turyn and I wind up with roughly the same amount anyway, why go through the trouble?”

Arrogan showed his teeth in an almost feral grin. “Even in my day there were many who didn’t want to bother, which is why this type of training is unheard of now, but a lot of advantages accrue for masters of this technique.”

“Such as?”

“Well, I already told you that this is the secret to the longer lives that wizards used to enjoy,” said his mentor.

Will wasn’t impressed. At fifteen, he still had what seemed to be a lot of years ahead, and he couldn’t imagine anything worse than the torture of his grandfather’s training. “Is that it? I get to live twice as long? It doesn’t seem to have done you much good.”

“What does that mean?” said his grandfather suspiciously.

“You’re bitter, mean, and you look like something the dog dragged in on a bad night.”

Arrogan’s face remained smooth for a second, then he smiled. Over the past year, Will had learned that the old man liked insults almost as much as compliments. “Well, that’s true, I suppose,” he replied. “But consider this. You’re not just going to outlive regular people, but you’ll outlive today’s lazy wizards by an even bigger margin. The way they work shortens their lives, rather than extending it. Think about what you did for that boy, Jack.”

“Joey,” corrected Will.

“Joey, jackass, whatever he was called,” said Arrogan, waving one hand. “Think about how you felt afterward; imagine what your turyn looked like. You exhausted yourself. What would happen if you did that now?”

Will thought about it for a minute. “The same thing. If I used up most of my turyn, even if it wasn’t from my source, I’d still be exhausted until it recovered.”

“With what you know now, that’s true,” admitted his grandfather. “But you would recover much faster, and you could cope with the temporary deprivation far better. What do you think one of those fools from Wurthaven would do?”

He could still remember their previous conversation on the topic, when the old man had showed him the candle flaring brighter. “He’d increase his turyn production for a while.”

“And shorten his life in the process,” spat Arrogan.

“Better than being so tired you can’t move,” argued Will.

“Since you like tests so much, why don’t we try it?” said his grandfather suddenly. “You never believe what I tell you, so we might as well make a lesson of it.”

Seeing the light of evil mischief appear in the old man’s eyes, Will started to run, but the green line caught him before he could take more than half a step, and he was paralyzed again. Arrogan caught him as he started to fall and eased him to the ground. He set Will’s candle on his chest. “Keep an eye on this. I think you’ll find it interesting.”

Arrogan stepped back and then held his left hand out toward his grandson before clenching it into a fist and pulling it backward. Will felt—and saw—the mass of turyn that emerged from his body. It followed the green line and stopped to hover around the old man’s fist. Arrogan looked at it for a moment and then waved his hand as though trying to get rid of a bad smell, dispersing Will’s turyn.

Will felt an intense exhaustion sweep over him, as he’d expected, but it began fading almost immediately. After just a few minutes, he was merely tired, and through it all the tiny flame on his candle remained steady, neither growing nor shrinking.

“Let’s do it again,” said his grandfather.

No! thought Will. Not again, not so soon. Are you trying to kill me? Unfortunately, he was unable to voice his objections.

Again the old man sucked the very life out of him, and Will was overcome with a bone-deep fatigue. A few minutes later, he did it again. “You would have been incapacitated for days after this when you first came to me,” lectured the old man. “Now you can recover most of your turyn from the environment in just minutes, and you can do it over and over again. I’ll show you something even more interesting this time.”

He drew out Will’s turyn once more, but this time rather than dispersing the energy, he brought it close to Will’s body and released it. Rather than fading away, the cloud of turyn was drawn back into his body, as though a wind was blowing it toward him. Seconds later, Will’s exhaustion faded.

“In the presence of higher concentrations of turyn, you can recover much faster,” declared his grandfather. He snapped his fingers and released Will then.

Sitting up, Will brushed the dirt from the back of his tunic and gave the old man a sour look. “Every time we have a discussion, I wind up frozen while you perform experiments at my expense.”

“All in the name of education,” said Arrogan. “Besides, training an apprentice is a real pain in the ass. The only bright spot is that I get to have a little fun now and then.”

Back on his feet, Will still felt tired, but it wasn’t anything he couldn’t deal with.

His grandfather pointed at the jar that supposedly contained troll urine. Will still hadn’t decided whether he believe him on the identity of the contents, though. “You’ve had enough training for one day. After you spread the troll piss around the garden, you can rest for the afternoon.”

“Yuck,” commented Will. “I think I’d rather train.”

The old man shook his head. “So far we’ve only talked about turyn and its source, but there’s another important factor, something I call ‘will.’ Your will is a lot like a muscle. Training it to control your source makes it stronger—performing magic makes it stronger—but it has a limit. Push yourself too hard for too long and your self-discipline will crumble.”

“How do you know when it’s running out?” asked Will.

“You get irritable,” said his grandfather. “Easy things seem difficult. Your mind feels fuzzy. That’s if you’re lucky enough to notice in time. Sometimes it falls apart so quickly that by the time you realize you’ve overdone it, it’s too late.”

“What happens then?”

“Depends on what you’re doing at the time. If it’s something big, the result can be bad, or even fatal,” said Arrogan.

Chapter 18

Summer passed into winter, and Will turned sixteen without much fanfare. He wasn’t even sure if his grandfather knew when his birthday was. The old man had never asked, and Will never brought it up.

Will went through two more cycles of having his turyn forcibly reduced, and while it was unpleasant each time, it was never as bad as the first had been. The flame on his candle was no longer even a flame—it more resembled an ember, much like his grandfather’s. He hoped that meant he wouldn’t have to go through any more compressions.

“We’re done squeezing the life out of me, right?” asked Will, as the next summer drew to a close.

“Yeah,” said his grandfather. “No one’s ever gone farther than that, though I’m tempted to try since I have you as a test subject.”

“Why haven’t they gone farther?”

“They all died,” said Arrogan in a bland tone. Then his eyes lit up. “I’m game to try, though, if you want.”

Will gave him a sour look. “No thanks. Does this mean you’ll be taking the spell-cage off soon?”

“Hah!” barked his grandfather. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? You lazy little prick.”

Will sighed. “I knew it was too much to hope for. What’s next then?”

“Well, since you’ve got enough nerve to ask, you must be ready. Next, you’ll learn how to increase your available turyn,” said his guardian.

“You have to take the spell off then,” said Will. “I have to keep my source tightly clamped off as long as it’s in place.”

“That’s where you’re mistaken. The turyn you use now doesn’t come from your source. Your body has learned to maintain itself without your source. What you’ll do next is increase what you draw from your environment.”

“This is going to hurt, isn’t it?” said Will bleakly.

“It shouldn’t,” said Arrogan, “but I wouldn’t put it past you to screw it up somehow.”

“Can I ask what the point of this is?”

“You can ask, but it won’t help you succeed, and you wouldn’t understand either, so don’t bother. It will make sense later. What you need to do is push your turyn outward, sort of like you did when you healed that boy.”

It sounded simple. “That’s it?” said Will.

Arrogan just smirked. “Try. We’ll see how far you get.”

An hour later and Will wanted to pull his hair out. No matter what he tried, nothing happened. It wasn’t that he was struggling with a difficult task—he couldn’t even begin, and his grandfather’s advice was worse than useless.

“Imagine it flowing out through your hands. That helps some people,” said the old man. When that didn’t help, he offered different instructions. “Think of it like an empty wineskin. You’re trying to push your breath out and inflate it.”

After the second hour, Will was ready to give up. “Why don’t you just take control like you did before? You do it and I’ll learn from that.”

The old man shook his head. “What I did before was compress your turyn, so it would fit within the spell-cage. You had to learn how to keep it that way on your own. This is almost the opposite of that.”

That gave Will an idea. Forcing himself to release his inner grip on the source of his turyn might give him more power to work with. He was rewarded moments later when a sensation of intense pain built within him. He clamped down on his source immediately.

“Fool,” remarked his grandfather. “You have to use the turyn you’re absorbing, not the turyn from your source. That’s why the spell-cage stays on, so you don’t develop sloppy technique.”

“I hate you sometimes,” said Will honestly.

The old man grinned. “Time for some staff sparring, then. You can try this again tomorrow.”

He didn’t have any better luck the next day, the next week, or even that month, and to make matters worse, his grandfather delighted in taunting him about his failure. “The first-year students at Wurthaven learn to do this during their first week. It’s the most basic step to creating magic. They don’t even let them start learning the runes until they manage this,” teased the old man.

Will was sitting down in the yard in front of the house, doing his best to concentrate. He was sweating in the heat, and a swarm of gnats seemed to have decided he would make great company. “Can you leave me alone?” he complained. “I can’t focus.”

Arrogan walked a slow circle around him. “Focus? A child could do this. If you weren’t such a moron, you’d have done it by now. Stop thinking so hard and just do it!” He stopped in front of Will and a strange expression crossed his face.

As Will inhaled, he was assaulted by the stench of something akin to rotten eggs. When he glanced up, he saw the old man watching him, and on seeing his reaction, Arrogan burst into laughter.

His frustration boiled over, and for a moment the world turned red. Within him, his anger churned and twisted, spinning until he could feel it as an almost physical object. Snarling, he pushed his hand out and his feeling became real; an intense ball of crimson light shot forth toward Arrogan.

The old man’s eyes widened in surprise, and he raised a hand just before the vicious ball of power struck him with a deafening thunderclap. Will was almost blinded by a flash of light, and when his vision cleared he saw his grandfather still standing, his hand outstretched, palm touching the ball of light. Arrogan’s face was a picture of intense concentration and his brow was beginning to bead with sweat.

“You’ve made your point, boy. Let it go. Now!” ordered the old man.

Will was still angry, and it was a second before he realized he was still connected to the energy, that he was in fact pressing it forward against his grandfather’s hasty defense. Meeting his teacher’s eyes, he wondered what would happen if he didn’t relent. I’ll teach the old bastard a lesson. He pushed harder.

Arrogan grunted, and his arm bent under the pressure. “This is why I hate training apprentices,” he growled under his breath. Sticking his left hand out to one side, he sent a red line of power out. It flowed with fluid grace and began to circle Will’s ball of focused hatred.

Will felt his control beginning to slip as whatever Arrogan was doing began to eat into his spell. His anger turned to panic as he felt his determination falter.

“Let it go, boy!” commanded his grandfather. “You’re just making it worse. If this goes much further, I won’t be able to contain it, and I guarantee that I won’t be the one who winds up a smoldering pile of ash. My kindness only goes so far.”

Unsure what he was doing, Will let go of his anger and tried to relax. As he did, he felt something snap within him, and pain shot through his body. Gasping, Will fell sideways and lay on the ground. Looking up, he saw his grandfather still struggling with the ball of turyn he had somehow conjured. It was growing smaller by the second, with streamers of light trailing behind it like smoke as the old man guided it into a circle around his body. He seemed to be pulling energy from it as it traveled.

Arrogan’s hair was standing out from his head, and to Will’s eyes the old man seemed to glow with light that was shining through his skin. He grew brighter as the ball shrank, and wisps of steam began to rise from his body. When he could hold no more, he sent the now-diminished sphere away from the house, directing it into the forest. After traveling thirty feet, it struck a large oak and exploded, sending splinters of wood in all directions.

Will’s ears were ringing so loudly he had trouble hearing anything else, but after a moment he asked, “Are you all right?” His grandfather was still standing in the same place, panting heavily and glowing like a piece of iron fresh from the forge. Then the old man took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. Flames sprang from his body, forming a shell of fire around him that slowly expanded before vanishing.

Arrogan sat down in the dirt, staring at Will. Streaks of red painted his face and arms where splinters had struck him, and he had begun to bleed. “Do I look all right to you?” spat the old man.

Will was having troubles of his own as a familiar pain began to build in him. He had lost control of his source, and no matter how he tried, he couldn’t clamp it shut again. “I think something’s wrong with me,” he stated, trying to hide his panic.

“Your will is broken,” commented his mentor. “Jackass.” Raising one hand, he made a quick gesture and Will felt the spell-cage within him disappear. The pain vanished with it.

Letting his neck relax, Will’s head sagged back to the ground. “Thank you.”

“Nothing’s ever easy with you,” observed his grandfather. “You could have set something on fire or created a light show. No, you had to try and blow us both to hell and back.”

“To be honest, I was only trying to blow you to hell and back,” said Will, coughing into the dirt.

“Next time distract me first,” said Arrogan. “If I see it coming, I’m just going to feed it right back to you and find a new apprentice.”

“Is that what you were trying to do?” asked Will.

The old man snorted, reaching up to wipe away the ash that was all that remained of his eyebrows. “No. If I had, you’d be dead already. I was trying to defuse the anomaly you created, but you were fighting me all the way.”

He wasn’t familiar with that word. “Anomaly?”

“Accidental spell anomaly,” said Arrogan. “Which basically just means you created something nobody’s got a name for. If you want to give it a name, I suggest ‘the idiot’s ugly fucking death ball.’”

“You think I can do that again?”

His grandfather shook his head. “Shit like that isn’t reproducible. It’s too random.”

“When you were learning, what did you do?” asked Will, suddenly curious.

“I levitated my master.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad,” said Will.

“She would have disagreed with you. I sent her into a stone ceiling so hard it nearly broke her neck,” said Arrogan, chuckling at the memory. “Served her right.”

“Does something like that happen with every student?”

“God, no!” said Arrogan. “Most of the time it’s not a huge problem—things like changing color, innocuous stuff. But I have seen worse.”

“Like what?” asked Will.

“My last student, a guy named Valmon, he unleashed a really weird anomaly. It looked like a black spark, but it kept growing on its own, as though it was alive. I don’t know what would have happened if I hadn’t taken it apart, but it might have continued getting bigger and killed a lot of people. This was in a city, mind you,” said the old man.

“If he was younger than you, is he still alive?”

“No,” said Arrogan, his tone flat.

Will’s head was pounding, and he knew he wasn’t in any shape to stand up, so he kept asking questions. “What happened to him?”

His grandfather blanched, his expression one of profound unhappiness. Eventually, he answered, “He did well, for a hundred years or so, then we had a philosophical disagreement. I killed him.”

Shocked, Will could only mumble, “Oh.”

“Don’t take it to heart, boy. When you get as old as I am, you collect bad memories like a dog collects fleas,” said his grandfather.

“Anything I should know so I can avoid that sort of ending?” asked Will.

The old man laughed. “Don’t piss me off, and don’t mess with my daughter.”

Will immediately thought of Tailtiu and blushed.

“I know what you’re thinking,” said his grandfather. “It wasn’t Tally; she hadn’t been born yet. It was my oldest, Ethnia. She was human. But while we’re on the subject, don’t get any funny ideas about Tally. I know she’s amoral, nearly immortal, and wears less than a whore in Cerria, but as my student I expect you to keep your distance.”

“She’s my aunt, too,” reminded Will. “Is Tally a nickname?”

Arrogan snorted. “She’s so many generations removed you’re probably more closely related to the people in the village than you are to her. Not that it matters; she isn’t human. And the reason I don’t use her name is that she might choose to show up if I do.”

“How did that happen, exactly? If you don’t mind me asking,” said Will. “She has to be at least half-human, doesn’t she?”

The old man wiped his face, which did little to clean it, but did serve to smear the blood all over his cheeks, giving him a barbaric appearance. “There are no half-fae. I guess I’ve neglected your education in certain matters. The fae can’t have children. Their realm is rife with magic, and it’s thought that besides making them nearly immortal it also renders them unable to reproduce with one another. That’s why they like humans so much.”

“So you were seduced by one of them?”

“Oh, hell no!” protested his grandfather. “Her mother was human too, but she gave birth over there. If you’re born there, you grow up fae. Even if you just live there long enough, it will change you, though not as much as if you grow up there. The reverse is true as well, though it never really happens. If one of them gave birth here, the child would be human.”

Will managed to sit up and regretted it. Everything hurt. “That makes no sense.”

“I agree with you on that. When I was young, there was a scholar—I think his name was Angus—who spent a lot of time studying them. It was his opinion that the fae realm didn’t originally have any fae in it, that they were the product of people who had gotten lost and trapped there.”

“So how did she wind up being born there?” asked Will.

Arrogan scratched his head and when his hand came away, he had another long splinter of wood in his fingers. He tossed it away before answering, “That’s another one of those things that goes firmly under the category of ‘none of your damned business.’”

Persistent, Will kept probing. “Does it have anything to do with that hat with the antlers?”

His grandfather stood up, pointedly ignoring him. “Today’s a special day. You’ve made a start at becoming a wizard, and it’s also your first serious attempt at murdering me. That deserves a special meal. What do you think I should cook?”

Chapter 19

The next two weeks were unusual. Although Will felt much better the next day, Arrogan insisted he couldn’t resume training for at least a fortnight. “Your will has to recover. While it isn’t something you feel, like a torn muscle or an injured joint, it’s just as serious,” his grandfather had told him. As a result, he had been placed on the wizardly equivalent of light duty, which was a misnomer. Light duty for a wizard was apparently heavy physical labor.

Arrogan set him to clearing brush that had grown up in the front yard of the house, with strict instructions not to touch the brambles that protected his garden to the rear. When that was done, he was put to work collecting and chopping more firewood for the upcoming winter, even though it was far too early to be worrying about that in Will’s opinion.

He also had more time to practice his scholarly pursuits, namely reading and math. He didn’t mind the reading, but the math made him long to be doing something else.

After the first week of ‘light duty,’ Arrogan called him to his bedroom.

That in itself was unusual; Will had never been permitted to even see what lay beyond the door to his grandfather’s private room. What he discovered shocked him, for the room was easily twice the size of the only other room, the one he had spent the last several years living in.

It was also clean. Not clean in the way that Will was used to, though. It was spotless, without a speck of dust to be found anywhere. Will couldn’t imagine where his grandfather would have found the time to keep the room in that condition. The man spent almost all of his waking hours outside or in the front room with Will. Another mystery to add to the list, he thought.

The furnishings were impressive. A massive, four-poster bed dominated one end of the room while an ornate, hand-carved wood desk occupied the other. In between, the walls were dominated by floor-to-ceiling bookcases that were filled with leather-bound tomes of all shapes and sizes.

“What the hell?” Will blurted out when he first entered.

“What did you expect?” asked his grandfather.

He didn’t answer for a second; he was too busy taking in the view. Will’s mouth formed an ‘o’ as his eyes roved back and forth. Then he replied, “Something like the other room, only smaller and smellier.” Pointing at the bed, he complained, “That thing is big enough for three people! Why did I have to sleep on the floor all those months?”

“Because it’s my damned bed,” retorted the old man. “Get your own.”

“I can’t believe you,” said Will, disgusted. “You’ve kept me living like a dog while you slept in your little palace.”

“Wrong tense,” said his grandfather. “You’re still living like a dog. The only reason you’re in here now is because the entrance to my workshop is over there.” He pointed to an expensive-looking rug in the center of the room.

Ignoring the old man, Will walked closer to examine the bed. The coverlet on top of it was fancier than any other article of bedding he had ever seen. Two large pillows were at the head of the bed, and the material that covered them was of a sort he didn’t recognize. Unable to help himself, he reached over to touch one with his fingers. It was smooth to the touch and softer than anything he had ever felt. “What sort of fabric is this?” he asked.

“Silk,” stated Arrogan. “Keep your hands off it.”

Will noticed that the two pillows were different. Both were silk, but while one was fairly simple and undecorated, the other had frills around the edges. “Why do you have two pillows?” He leaned over to pick up the fancier of the two.

“Stop!” commanded Arrogan, making no attempt to conceal his anger. Will found himself paralyzed once again. “Touch that pillow, and I’ll take your hands off and use them to make bookends.”

A second later the paralysis ended, and Will stepped away, noting a pained expression on his grandfather’s face. Trying to kill him doesn’t bother him in the least, but threaten his precious pillows and he’s furious, noted Will silently. I’ll never understand the man. He started to say as much, but a second glance at the old man’s face made him uncertain. Reading Arrogan’s expressions was never easy. Is he angry, or something else?

Arrogan turned away, then bent over and lifted the edge of the rug. Underneath was a trapdoor. He lifted it, exposing a wooden ladder that led below. “The workshop is down here,” he said flatly.

“You have a cellar?”

“No, I just like confusing people, so I built a false door in the floor,” responded the old man dryly. With a word, he created a globe of light that hovered above his head and began to descend the ladder. As he went, he waved at Will. “Follow.”

Will twisted the corner of his mouth up for a second, then answered with obvious sarcasm, “I can’t. You said you don’t have a cellar.”

“Don’t be a smartass, William.”

Will followed. “I can’t believe you told me that. You’re the king of smartasses.”

“I have a gift. It would be a shame not to share it,” said his mentor. “You, on the other hand, should cultivate your own strengths.”

When they reached the bottom of the ladder, his grandfather made an odd gesture with his fingers, and the magical light split into four parts and flew to the corners of the room where they took up residence in small glass globes mounted on the ceiling. The cellar looked to be as large as both of the upper rooms put together, with stone walls and a tiled floor. Two long, heavy tables, laden with glassware and other oddments, spanned either side of the room.

Unable to restrain himself, Will finally asked, “Just what are my strengths, in your opinion?”

“Gullibility and vapid stares,” answered his grandfather immediately. “Thank you for asking.”

Will groaned.

“None of that,” said the old man, wagging his finger. “You proved the first trait by asking, and you’re putting on a great show of empty-headed goggling at the room as we speak.”

Will closed his mouth and crossed his arms, refusing to respond, primarily because he couldn’t think of anything to say that wouldn’t lead to more teasing. After waiting for a few seconds, his grandfather spoke. “Since you’re unable to formulate a question, I’ll explain. Most of the equipment you see here is for alchemical purposes. Since you’re useless for other training, I thought I’d use this week to teach you a little about alchemy.”

“Are you going to show me how to make essential oils?” asked Will, remembering a conversation with his mother from years before.

Arrogan’s brows shot up in surprise, then he shook his head. “Maybe later. First, I think it would be wise teaching you the basics, such as how to measure with a balance scale.” The next half hour was spent in explanation of just that, and Will began to see why he had been forced to learn so many different names for measures. The room contained a number of tools for measuring things by both weight and volume.

His grandfather also spent an inordinate amount of time discussing safety and showing him where the protective gear was stored. Will learned that for many things he would be expected to wear leather gloves and an apron.

“Also,” said Arrogan, “before we go any further, I should tell you that while the tables are wooden, they’ve been spelled against fire and caustic substances. Don’t take that as a challenge, though. They’ll still burn if you try hard enough.”

Will gave him a look of innocent outrage. “What do you think I’m going to do?”

“I wouldn’t put anything past you,” said his grandfather. “And while we’re on the subject of stupid things you might do, avoid using the emergency exit unless there’s an actual emergency.”

“Exit?” Will looked around but saw only the ladder and trapdoor they had come in through. “Is there a secret door?”

“Pay attention,” said Arrogan. “Look closer, near the wall behind that workbench.” He pointed to indicate which bench he was talking about.

Will saw it then, something like a shimmer in the air, though it wasn’t really visible to his eyes. Walking closer, he moved around the table so he could stand in the spot. His grandfather grabbed the back of his shirt. “I said don’t use it unless there’s an emergency.”

He realized then that it was another point of congruence, similar to the one he had accidentally used to travel to the fae realm. “I wasn’t going to step through it,” he protested, though in fact he hadn’t been sure what it was at first. “Does it lead to the fae realm?”

The old man shook his head. “No, that one goes to Muskeglun, a thoroughly unpleasant place.”

“Muskeglun? What’s that?” asked Will.

“The poets used to call it the ‘Land of the Hidden Mists,’ but the name is misleading. A better name would have been ‘the shithole.’ While it is invariably foggy and misty there, the place is predominantly a swampy dump suitable only for trolls and other unpleasant denizens,” explained his grandfather.

He frowned. “Then why did you pick it for your exit?”

“I didn’t pick it. I found it when I excavated this cellar,” said Arrogan. “You don’t make congruencies; they simply exist. That being said, I’ve found this one rather handy, and if I did have to make a hasty retreat, it’s not the sort of place most people would want to follow.” After a moment he added, “It’s also handy for getting troll piss.”

“That really was troll urine?” said Will, gaping. “I didn’t think trolls were real.”

“Maybe I’ll take you with me next time,” said Arrogan, grinning. “I’ll introduce you to Gleg. He’s not bad, as trolls go, which is to say he’s awful, but he’s learned better than to try to eat me.”

Thoroughly fascinated, Will asked, “How dangerous are they?”

“Depends on who you are,” said the old man. “I find them to be much more dangerous than the fae, but that’s mainly because they’re stupid. Trolls are difficult to deal with because they’re resistant to magic and they can recover from just about any injury. But I would say that if you were a soldier, or preferably, a bunch of soldiers, trolls would be preferable because at least you can fight them. The fae are impossible for most people to handle.”

As his mentor lectured, Will found himself wondering about other myths and stories he had heard. “If fairies are real, and trolls are real, are other things from stories real? What about dragons, or dwarves?”

“A better question would be, are there any other worlds that meet ours at congruencies like this?” offered his teacher. “To which the answer is yes, though no one knows for sure how many there are. Some intersect with our world at thousands of different places, like the fae realm, while others have only one or two known crossing points. Those other worlds have hosts of creatures, known and unknown to us. The dwarves you mentioned live in our world, though they’re seldom seen.” Arrogan stopped then, holding up one hand. “Now you’ve got me digressing. Today I’m going to teach you something practical, one of the most important recipes known to man.”

Nodding, Will waited patiently.

“Ink,” began his grandfather, “is one of the keys that led us out of ignorance. I’ll teach you two types, oak gall ink, and soot ink…”

Will groaned.

Chapter 20

Near the end of his two weeks of ‘light duty,’ Will went to visit his mother. He hadn’t seen her in months, and while Erisa was still relatively young, he worried about her living alone. When he got to the front door he stopped, feeling strangely uncertain.

Do I knock? It was his home after all, but then again, he hadn’t lived there for more than two years. Would he startle his mother if he just walked in? In the end, he knocked, feeling slightly foolish as he did.

His mother answered the door moments later, her face lighting up when she saw him. “Will! You didn’t have to knock.”

“I wasn’t sure,” he admitted sheepishly. “I didn’t want to scare you.”

“It would have been a surprise, but a pleasant one,” she agreed. “Don’t worry, though. I still get lots of visitors from the village, so I’m used to people showing up at odd hours. Come inside. I haven’t cooked, but there’s still leftovers from last night.”

Grinning, he went in and wasted no time demolishing the bread and cold soup she placed in front of him. He had always loved his mother’s cooking, but tasting it again after so long was a revelation. While her food was far better than what he could make, he was startled to realize that it was far from what his grandfather made. The only thing about it that was superior was the fact that she had included some ham in the soup. His grandfather didn’t raise any animals other than a few chickens or visit the village, so his diet was almost exclusively vegetarian, aside from eggs and butter.

And I still don’t know how he gets the butter, Will reminded himself, before being struck by a particularly disgusting thought. What if he gets it from the trolls? Is there such a thing as troll-butter, and if so, what is it made from?

“Is something wrong with the food?” asked his mother, a concerned look on her face.

Will waved his hands. “Oh! No, not at all. I just thought of something unpleasant, but it had nothing to do with the food.”

“Worried about Lord Nerrow coming back?” she asked, misinterpreting his remark.

He had been wondering about that, and since he didn’t want to explain the horrors of his imagination, he simply agreed, “It’s been on my mind.”

His mother nodded knowingly. “He sent a messenger last week. There’s trouble brewing with Darrow, so he’s too busy to visit personally. The offer is still open, though. You just have to present yourself at the college in Cerria.”

Will was relieved to know that the nobleman wasn’t coming back, as he still had no idea how to turn the man down. He had already made his decision, and his grandfather had sealed it by tearing up the letter of introduction. “You know how I feel,” he replied.

Erisa smiled faintly. “I hope it’s the right one. I trust your grandfather, though I worry you’re passing up the chance for a better future. As a licensed wizard, you could become wealthy. You won’t be able to use what you’re learning now without approval from the king.”

“I’m more interested in knowing why Lord Nerrow is so insistent,” said Will, giving his mother a direct stare.

She looked away. “You saved his daughter’s life. Men like him take their debts seriously.”

“You know what I mean, Mom. Why did he come here to begin with?”

“I’ve already told you,” answered Erisa, obviously dissembling.

Pushing his empty bowl away, Will looked at his hands. Her evasiveness made him angry, but he didn’t know how to express it without hurting his mother. “If you don’t want to tell me, just say so. I’d rather hear that than have to pretend I believe the story you’ve made up. I’m not a kid anymore.”

His mother flinched at his words, and he regretted what he had said almost immediately. “I suppose I deserve that,” she said.

“I’m sorry, Mom,” he apologized. “I’m just being honest. I hate being kept in the dark.”

Erisa studied her lap intently, though there was nothing there. “You’ll be seventeen this winter. Another year and you’ll be a man. I can’t keep it from you any longer, but I fear knowing the truth won’t bring you any happiness.”

“Then?” Deep down, Will had always suspected, but he hadn’t dared to face his suspicion in the light of day.

“Lord Nerrow is your father,” said his mother without further preamble. “But he’ll never acknowledge you publicly.”

“And the girl that came with him…”

“Is your half-sister, though I’m sure she had no idea. Lord Nerrow has two daughters. The other is a few years younger. I’ve never seen her, but her name is Tabitha.”

“What about the older girl that came with them, Selene?” asked Will.

His mother shook her head. “I’m not sure. She’s from a noble family most likely, but whether she’s a cousin or just a friend of theirs I couldn’t say.”

Will had always known he was a bastard. That had been a simple fact of life, but he hadn’t known who his father was, not with any certainty. “How did…?” He wasn’t sure how to phrase his question.

“I haven’t told you much, but I ran away from home when I was sixteen,” Erisa interjected quickly. “But things didn’t happen the way most people assume. I was fighting with my mother, but when I got to Cerria, I didn’t work as a prostitute, no matter what anyone tells you. I worked in a small tavern called The Brass Button. It was a lucky job for me, since most of the customers there were rich, upper-crust sorts. I wasn’t hassled much, as happens frequently at many places where men gather to drink.”

He was somewhat relieved to hear that. His mother’s silence on the topic over the years had led him to believe something terrible had happened. As he had grown older, he had stopped asking about his father, fearing he might have been the product of rape. It didn’t sound like her story was heading in that direction.

Erisa smiled. “Mark was very charming back then. I saw him several times before he even asked my name, and after that—well, I can only say I was young and naïve. He was handsome, kind, and I was utterly smitten.”

“But you knew he was a nobleman—that he couldn’t marry you,” said Will, unable to keep from second-guessing her judgment.

His mother nodded. “He was the second son. He told me he wouldn’t ever inherit. Call me a fool, but I believe he loved me. We met frequently, and it wasn’t until later that things became serious. When I told him, I was pregnant, he promised to marry me…”

That obviously hadn’t happened, so when she paused Will put in, “But?”

“His brother died during a border skirmish with Darrow,” said Erisa, her tone becoming sad. “It wasn’t even much of a battle, just an unfortunate event. They encountered a scouting party and although they quickly sent them running, a stray arrow struck him in the neck. After that, everything changed. Mark was suddenly heir to the barony, and his father took a hand in matters. They arranged a marriage for him with the king’s third daughter, a lady named Arlen, and that was that.”

“Didn’t he tell them you were pregnant?” asked Will, outraged.

Erisa shook her head and waved her hands. “Heavens no! What do you think would have happened to me if he had?”

He was too angry to accept that reasoning. “Nothing! If he’d married you, they would have had to accept it.”

“You know better than that, Will,” said his mother calmly. “I know it’s unfair, but I’ve had a lot of time to come to terms with it. Mark helped get me out of the city, and when I came back I lived with Ar—your grandfather. He kept me hidden until you were born, and I didn’t go home until you were almost two. My father was already dead when I went back, and my brother had taken over the business. If it wasn’t for your uncle, I’m not sure my mother would have let me stay.”

Will barely remembered his grandmother, mainly because once his mother had moved out they had only rarely visited her. Now he understood why. “Why wouldn’t she understand? It wasn’t your fault.”

Erisa chuckled, a soft and bitter sound. “I never gave her a chance. I was determined to keep Mark’s secret, both for his sake, and for yours. I worried that the new baroness might seek to get rid of you if she found out. Since I refused to tell her what happened, or who your father was—well, she was always quick to judge. She assumed the worst.”

It was unfair, unjust, and painful to think about. “But she was your mom,” said Will at last. He couldn’t imagine a circumstance that would make his own mother treat him so badly. “She should have trusted you.”

Erisa’s eyes were brimming even though her face was smooth. “And that’s why I will never do the same to you, Will. No matter what happens. I will always be on your side, no matter what anyone says.” She was on her feet and without thinking, Will stood and hugged her.

His eyes were burning as he told her, “I know, Mom. I’m almost grown now. I’ll always take care of you, no matter what.”

She cried some at that, and Will joined her, but their sadness was short lived. While it felt as though the foundation of the world had shifted beneath his feet now that he knew who his father was, nothing had really changed, and the events she had told him about were long ago. They moved on to simple talk after that.

When he left to go back to Arrogan’s home that evening, he walked slowly, taking his time so he could mull over what she had told him. A lot of things made more sense to him now, but in the end his life was still the same.

Chapter 21

“Today I’m putting the spell-cage back on,” Arrogan informed him. “You’ve had enough light duty. It’s time to get back to work.”

Will was relieved. No matter what the old man called it, his light duty had been a pain in the ass.

“Clamp down on your source,” ordered his grandfather.

He did, and he was surprised at how easy it was. He had been worried that the two-week break might have caused him to regress, but that didn’t seem to be the case. Will felt a wave of fatigue and light-headedness as his turyn shrank, but it passed after a few minutes. His body was already drawing in energy to replace the turyn that he was no longer producing.

His grandfather nodded, observing him closely. “That’s good. How do you feel?”

“It was easier than I expected,” admitted Will. “I felt tired for a minute, but it didn’t last long.”

Arrogan raised one brow. “Really?”

Will had the feeling the old man might be on the verge of giving him a compliment, so he seized the moment. “Did I surprise you?” he asked, grinning proudly.

The old man ‘harrumphed’ and his features turned sour. “In a way, I guess. You might not be as completely useless as I anticipated.”

He felt a warm glow. For Arrogan, ‘not completely useless’ was as close to praise as anyone could expect. “Be careful, old man,” warned Will. “If word gets out that you’ve gone soft, you’ll have people lining up outside to be your apprentice.”

Arrogan snorted. “If that happened, I could quit wasting food on the moron I’ve been training. I’m sure even a village idiot would be better than you,” said his grandfather. Without warning, he conjured a new spell-cage, and in the space of a few seconds, had reapplied it to Will.

“We’ll spar and work on your studies the rest of the day, to give you time to readjust. Tomorrow we’ll see if your explosive breakthrough taught you anything,” Arrogan informed him.

The next day found Will frustrated, but he did have some success. After an hour of false starts, he did manage to ‘express’ his turyn as Arrogan described it, but it was far from being what his teacher wanted. No sooner than he had pushed some of his turyn out, it faded, dissipating like steam on a cold day.

“The idea is to contain and control it,” repeated his grandfather for perhaps the tenth time. “Don’t just push it out and forget about it. Don’t try to do magic like you’re passing gas.”

It was a week before he managed to create a well-contained outer layer of turyn around what his grandfather described as his ‘personal’ layer. The terms confused Will a little at first, though. “Shouldn’t my personal turyn be the tiny amount trapped inside the spell-cage?” he asked. “The turyn outside it is what I’m absorbing from the environment.”

“You won’t have that spell-cage on you forever,” Arrogan reminded him. “In this case, I refer to personal turyn as the energy that your body needs and uses to function normally. The fact that you aren’t actually producing it yourself is beside the point. What you’re learning now is to create a larger supply that you can use to do things without affecting yourself physically. Functionally, however, it’s all the same once you’ve converted it into your own energy type.”

Will frowned. “What’s the difference between turyn that’s been converted and turyn that hasn’t? You’ve told me that my body is doing it automatically, but I still don’t understand what it means.”

“Hold out your arm,” said his grandfather. “I’ll show you.”

Suspicious, he hesitated. “Is this going to hurt?”

“All the best lessons do,” said Arrogan, grinning maliciously. “Do it.”

Squinting and gritting his teeth, Will held out his arm.

The old man picked up a long stick from the ground. He used it to point at Will’s sacrificial appendage. “For this example, think of your arm as your turyn. It represents the turyn you control, whether it’s the inner personal turyn that fuels your actions, or the larger outer layer you’ve just learned to create. It’s yours. You can make a fist with it, punch someone, pick things up. You can do whatever you want. It’s a part of you.” Then he lifted the stick and showed it to Will. “This stick represents turyn that isn’t yours. It’s external and beyond your immediate control. It isn’t part of you, and it can easily hurt you.”

Without warning, his grandfather whipped the stick across Will’s forearm. “Like this, for example,” finished Arrogan.

“Ow!” yelped Will, pulling his arm back and rubbing at the red welt that was rising on his skin. “You didn’t have to do that! I understood you perfectly.”

“Pain is an excellent teacher,” said his grandfather. “If you live to be older than me, you’ll still remember what I just did, even if it’s just to cuss me.

“Spells are like the stick,” continued Arrogan. “You create them from your turyn and you can use them to do all sorts of things, as long as you keep your hand on them. The bigger question is, what can you do the next time someone decides to whack you with a stick?”

Will looked around and picked another dead limb up from the ground. “Make my own stick.” He made a pretense of fencing with his grandfather’s smaller weapon.

His mentor nodded. “That’s one solution, and it’s often the best one, but not always. Sometimes the other person has a much better weapon than you do.” Arrogan tossed his branch at Will’s face, and when he flinched the old man stepped close and twisted the larger stick from his hand. “If your will is strong enough, and you have the skill, you can sometimes take the other person’s stick away from them.” Will’s grandfather took the opportunity to whip the branch across the back of Will’s legs.

Will jumped, yelling. “Hey! Ow! Stop that!”

Things devolved quickly as his grandfather began chasing him around the yard, smacking Will’s backside whenever he got close enough. Running faster, Will was surprised to discover that he still couldn’t get away from his tormentor. Damn, he’s quick for an old man! he realized. Eventually, he gave up trying to escape and ran for his sparring staff. Snatching it up, he whirled around and prepared to defend himself.

Undaunted, Arrogan launched a series of lightning-fast attacks with his much smaller weapon. Will managed to fend them off, but his grandfather outsmarted him once again. Getting in close, Arrogan hooked one foot behind Will’s ankle as he changed positions. A second later, Will was falling, and somewhere along the way his staff wound up in the old man’s grasp.

Not content with his victory, Arrogan began cackling with wicked glee as he turned the staff on its previous wielder, and Will was sent scrambling across the ground as he tried to escape real bruises.

Knowing he couldn’t outrun the old man, Will went for the other staff, and while he took several smart raps to his arms and legs, he finally got his hands on it. After that, the lesson essentially turned into one of their more usual staff-sparring sessions.

His mentor finally relented, after more than half an hour. Will stared at him, panting. “How do you move so fast? You shouldn’t be able to outrun me at your age.”

Arrogan didn’t answer for a few seconds, but finally he responded, “What is your personal turyn for?”

Will thought about it, wondering if it was a trick question. “You told me it’s what we use to function. Walking, breathing, etc…”

“So if you can control it, and even increase it, what does that mean?” added his mentor.

Will gaped at his teacher as the meaning became clear. “You’re using magic to make yourself faster!”

“I’m teaching you to be a wizard,” said Arrogan. “That doesn’t just mean learning to cast spells. It means becoming a master of magic in all its forms, the turyn in your body, the turyn in your spells, and even that of your enemy.

“That being said, your body has a limit. You can use your turyn to make yourself faster and stronger, but not beyond the physical capacity of your muscles and bones. You can give yourself an advantage in a fight, but if you try to take on a master swordsman, you’ll still be gutted because he’s spent his life training to do something you’re just dabbling at.”

“If I can make myself faster and stronger than a normal swordsman, shouldn’t I be able to beat him?” asked Will.

“Magic is life,” his grandfather informed him. “Just because you don’t see ordinary people casting spells doesn’t mean they don’t depend on it. Athletes, warriors, people that train themselves to be the best at what they do, they’re doing something very similar with their turyn. And on top of that, they’re building their physical capacity at the same time. You can use your magic in a large variety of ways, including to give yourself a physical advantage, but don’t ever make the mistake of underestimating people who train hard at fighting, or you’ll learn a painful and bloody lesson.”

Disappointed, Will responded, “When you put it like that, it makes wizardry sound a lot less exciting.”

“I just want you to have realistic expectations,” said his teacher. “Wizardry is still far better than anything else you could learn. You might never be the best swordsman, or the strongest man, or the best climber, or dancer, whatever you name, but with conscious control over your turyn you can become much better at any of those things. Your power is much more versatile, and we’re only discussing the enhancement of your physical abilities—there are far more amazing things that can be done when you consider real magic.”

“Speaking of which,” said Will, “when are you going to start teaching me magic? You said it would be after I finished learning to compress my source, so…”

“You’ve already started,” observed Arrogan. “Creating an extended layer of turyn is the first step for much of what you’ll do in the future.”

“What’s the next step then?” probed Will.

“Learning the runes,” said his grandfather immediately. “But before I teach you that, you need to master what I’ve already shown you.”

With a sigh, Will nodded and began to practice ‘expressing’ his turyn again.

Chapter 22

After two weeks of practicing what he had already learned, Will was good and sick of it. “If I have to express myself one more time, I’m going to lose my mind,” he complained.

“Don’t get married, then,” said his grandfather.

“Huh? Why don’t you ever make sense?”

The old man laughed. “It’s a joke, but I suppose you’re too young to understand.”

As much as he didn’t want to listen to yet another weird lecture from his teacher, he was desperate to distract the old man from the repetitive drills. “Explain it to me then,” he said, choosing the lesser of two evils.

“For marriage you need patience, which is one lesson you’ll have to learn, but more specifically, you have to communicate well. You have to learn to express yourself,” explained Arrogan. “Now, let’s try it again.”

Disappointed that his grandfather had finished so quickly, Will decided to fish for more. “You don’t seem like the marrying kind. How did you wind up getting married?”

Arrogan paused, as though caught in a memory. Frequently when that happened, his eventual response would be, ‘none of your damned business,’ but this time he answered, “My teacher was determined to make sure I learned this lesson, so she took it upon herself to make it her life’s work.”

“Your teacher was a woman?” asked Will, somewhat confused. Then his mind clicked, putting together what his grandfather had said. “Wait! You married your teacher?”

Arrogan nodded. “She didn’t give me much choice, but then, she always knew my mind better than I did. Aislinn made that same silly joke about learning to express myself, then she spent more than a century reinforcing the lesson.”

“Hmm,” said Will. “All you ever do is swear and berate people. I don’t think you learned it properly.”

His grandfather growled, “I make my feelings known. That’s the point. But I’ll admit, I may have been a little different back then. You’ll see one day. A good woman makes you want to put your best foot forward.”

Will doubted his grandfather had a ‘good’ foot. As far as he could tell, Arrogan was sour and mean from back to front. Rather than point that out, he asked a different question, “Wasn’t it a little unusual to marry your teacher?”

Arrogan shrugged. “Even in my day, wizards were uncommon. We didn’t have many peers to pass judgement on us, and we were a good match, though she was a little older than me.”

“How much is a little?”

“Forty-three years,” said Arrogan, his lips curving into a faint smile as he waited for his grandson’s reaction.

Stunned, Will almost shouted, “She was older than my mother!”

His grandfather broke into a grin. “I said forty-three years older. I was fifty-four on the day we married.”

Putting his still new math skills to the test, Will added up the numbers mentally. “She was ninety-seven! You said you had two daughters, how—”

“Two daughters and one son,” corrected his grandfather. “You neglect the possibility that I may have had more than one wife during my long life; however, in this case you’re correct. I was only married once, to Aislinn.”

He still wasn’t convinced. “But at that age…”

“Physically, she was similar to a woman in her thirties,” explained Arrogan. “No one that saw us could even notice the age difference. In fact, when we did start showing our age people often thought I was the older one. Forty years is a small difference for wizards.”

Will considered it for a bit and decided that while his grandfather was almost certainly right, it was still strange. As he thought about it, he saw a look in the old man’s eye that indicated he was about to call for a return to practice. Searching for another distraction, Will blurted out the first thing that came to mind: “Her parents must have known she’d be a wizard someday, since Aislinn is the goddess of magic and the wife of Elth—the fae lord that we met.” He caught himself before saying the name, remembering his grandfather’s previous warning.

Arrogan flinched, almost as if he had been slapped.

He knew he had said something wrong, but he wasn’t sure what. “Your Aislinn and his Aislinn are different people, of course.” His heart sank as he saw the look on his grandfather’s face grow even darker. “Right?”

Arrogan stood and walked a few steps away, heading toward the entrance to the house. “I think you’ve had enough practice for today. Why don’t you take the afternoon off?”

“I didn’t mean to offend,” began Will, but his grandfather closed the door before he could finish. He stared at it for several minutes, feeling bad and unsure how to apologize. After thinking it over, he gave up. The old man would only make him suffer if he insisted on talking to him. Better to let him cool off. “I’m going to go visit Eric,” he called to the door, raising his voice in the hopes Arrogan would hear him.

There was no response, so after a short wait, he left.

As he tramped through the woods, he mulled the conversation over. Tailtiu was Arrogan’s daughter, and from what his grandfather had said, Aislinn was her mother. His daughter was fae because she had been born and raised in that other realm. Could his grandfather’s wife really be the same as the Aislinn from legend? And if so, why had she married Elthas?

Whatever the explanation, it was very likely the reason Arrogan harbored such a big grudge against the fae lord. Will shook his head, as if that would clear up his muddied thoughts. It didn’t. In the end, he had more questions than answers, and he could think of no good way to ask his questions. Still, it’s wicked. My grandmother is the original Mistress of Magic, he thought. Not that anyone would ever believe him.

He was so caught up in those thoughts that he failed to notice the sounds of a man on horseback ahead, and he almost stumbled upon the stranger before realizing it. Coming to a sudden halt, he peered through the brush.

The man was probably in his thirties, and he had dismounted to lead his horse along what amounted to a small game trail. That in itself was unusual; few riders would choose to leave the more-traveled roads and paths. As Will watched, the man took an oiled leather skin out of one of the saddlebags and unrolled it. Inside was a strange metal instrument he didn’t recognize, but what caught his attention was the fact that he could see flows of turyn moving around the device.

What is that? thought Will, instantly curious. Turning his focus to the man’s face, he studied his features, memorizing them the best he could. The rider was definitely a stranger. Will knew everyone that lived in Barrowden, as well as most of the usual traders that visited from time to time. Of course, he hadn’t spent much time in the village over the past few years, so it was entirely possible the man was a new trader, or even a new resident, but Will didn’t think that was the case. A trader wouldn’t be on a horse, alone.

After a moment, the man packed his device away, carefully rolling it back up and returning it to the saddlebag. Whatever it was, it was obviously important to him. Leading his horse once more, Will followed behind him, confident that the noise of the horse and a little distance would be enough to hide his presence. He was wrong.

Just a few minutes after he began shadowing the stranger, he stepped on a particularly thick dead limb. Despite looking sturdy, it snapped, and the sound was loud enough that the stranger stopped and looked back. Will froze, then gave the man a hesitant smile.

“Hello!” called the stranger in a friendly manner. “Do you live around here?”

Embarrassed at being caught, Will hoped his cheeks weren’t red as he tried to act nonchalant. “Yes, sir, in Barrowden.”

“Excellent,” said the man, seeming pleased. “Perhaps you can help me. Am I heading in the right direction? I left the road a while back thinking I could shorten my trip, and I’ve been regretting it ever since.”

“It’s not far,” said Will. “If you keep heading in this direction, although it’s a difficult path for a horse.” Curious, he added, “Where are you from?”

“Branscombe,” said the newcomer without hesitation. “I thought I’d see if I could find a farrier in Barrowden to re-shoe my horse.”

The story didn’t ring true. Having spent considerable time around his uncle, Will knew that Branscombe had a blacksmith as well as a farrier. That was where his uncle bought the metal fittings he needed, since Barrowden had neither. Anyone from Branscombe should have known as much. “You’re out of luck, then,” said Will. “We don’t have a farrier. You’ll have to keep traveling and see if the next village has one. Closer to Cerria you’ll probably find one.”

“Damn the luck,” said the man, then he stuck out his hand. “Gavin Kern. Nice to meet you.”

Suspicious, but not willing to show it, Will took the proffered hand, shaking it vigorously. “Will Cartwright.”

“Cartwright, huh?” replied Gavin. “Your family in the business?”

“My uncle is.”

“Is he handy with horses? I still have the shoe my horse threw. Maybe he can put it back on for me and save me the trouble. I don’t think it will need an actual farrier,” said the stranger.

Will nodded. “I can ask him.”

The man gestured to the trail. “Go ahead. Let him know I’m coming. I’m sure you can get there a lot faster if you aren’t waiting on me.”

“Sure thing,” said Will, flashing a smile. Moving around the man and his horse, he darted down the trail and broke into a jog. He ran the rest of the way to his uncle’s house.

When he arrived, he ran into his aunt first. She had a large basket of washing in her arms, but she called out as soon as she spotted him, “Will! It’s been too long since you came to see us.”

Breathless, he took several deep breaths before answering, “Aunt Doreen. I just met a stranger in the woods on my way here.”

His aunt frowned. “In the Glenwood? That’s unusual. Why wasn’t he on the road?”

“He said he was taking a shortcut, but his story didn’t make sense,” said Will.

“Come inside and tell us about it. Your uncle will want to hear this too,” she replied, before leading the way to the house.

Once inside, he greeted Eric and Sammy, and within minutes most of the family had gathered to hear his tale. He related what the stranger had told him word for word, and everyone frowned at the story.

His uncle spoke first. “That story doesn’t hold water. You said he told you to come ahead and let me know?”

Will nodded.

“We’ll see if he shows up. I have a feeling he just wanted to get rid of you,” said Johnathan Cartwright. “He’s probably planning to circle the village and keep going.”

“Why would he do that?” asked Eric.

“Because he’s most likely a scout for Darrow,” said Will’s uncle, his face serious. “We should send a messenger to Cerria to warn the king.”

“But we aren’t at war with Darrow,” said Will. “It doesn’t make any sense.”

His uncle nodded. “Not to you or me. War never really makes sense, but the Patriarch in Darrow is young. He wants to flex his muscle. And that’s before you consider that damned prophecy of theirs.”

Will didn’t really understand the religion of the Highest. He knew the people in Darrow believed in a singular god, and that their government was controlled by the Patriarch, but beyond that he was clueless. “What does their prophecy say?”

Johnathan Cartwright grunted. “You’d have to ask one of them. From what I know, it basically boils down to uniting all the lands beneath the banner of their lonely god. Every generation or two, a new ruler takes his place and figures he’s going to be the one to make it happen, and a lot of people have to bleed before they decide maybe the time of their prophecy isn’t at hand yet.”

Sammy looked anxious. “Are they going to come here?”

“I don’t know,” said Johnathan. “But if they are planning an overland campaign, this is the most direct route. Barrowden is between the two mountain passes they have to control to enter Terabinia. That’s why they’re sending scouts.”

The tension in Will was rising fast. “I need to warn Mom.”

“Relax,” said his uncle. “It’s good to prepare, but they won’t come this year. It’s too late in the season. Fall is almost here. They’re most likely scouting in preparation for the spring. Once the snows melt, they’ll come looking for trouble. They might even wait another year or two, it’s impossible to say. That’s for King Lognion to worry about.”

Doreen put a hand on her husband’s arm. “We need to figure out what to do before spring gets here.”

Her husband nodded in agreement. “Most of the villagers will flee into Glenwood when the time comes, but I’d like to be better prepared. We should plan a route through the forest into the hills. If we start now, we can build a shelter in the hills before winter gets here. We can winter there and then wait to see what happens in the spring before we come back.”

Will’s body was almost vibrating with anxiety as he thought about his mother. His aunt noticed and gave him a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry, Will. You and your mother will come with us. We’re family, after all.”

A wave of relief passed over him at her words.

“I want to fight,” said Eric, suddenly. “I’m almost of age. Will and I could volunteer for the army.”

“Absolutely not!” declared Doreen.

“All the more reason for us to move quickly,” said Will’s uncle. “If the king thinks Darrow might invade in the spring, it won’t be long before the press gangs show up to collect every able-bodied man to increase the numbers of his soldiers.”

Eric’s younger brother, Dougie, the youngest of the Cartwright children at only ten years, piped up at last, “I want to fight too!”

“You’re too young,” said Eric immediately.

“That goes for you too,” added their mother, who then glanced at Will. “I hope you have more sense than my sons.”

Will didn’t know what to say. Being a soldier had never really seemed attractive to him. He wasn’t as heavily built as Eric, and meeting the scout had brought the danger of the situation home to him. The man had looked extremely capable. If all the soldiers in Darrow’s army were similar, Will would feel like a child on the battlefield. I can’t even beat an old man with a staff, he thought to himself. I’d be lost in an army of real soldiers.

“I need to tell Mom,” said Will.

Chapter 23

Will walked back to Arrogan’s house that evening full of nervous energy. His mother hadn’t reacted with quite the level of alarm he had expected, which worried him. Then again, it might have been that she felt the need to stay calm to avoid making him any more excitable. He had been pretty wound up when he told her.

“We’ll do as Johnathan says when the time comes,” she had said calmly. “If anything comes up before then, I’ll come find you at your grandfather’s.”

That had effectively been the end of the conversation, and Will couldn’t help but think his mother wasn’t taking it seriously enough. When he got back to his grandfather’s house, he hoped the old man would have some insight.

After urgently explaining what had happened, his grandfather was equally unimpressed. “Just bring Erisa here. She can stay with us. This place is safe enough.”

“What if the Patriarch’s army comes through here?” asked Will, aghast at his grandfather’s seeming aplomb.

“They’ll never find this house,” said Arrogan flatly. “And, even if they did, we always have my rabbit hole in the cellar. That’s assuming I don’t decide to do something nasty to them rather than hide.”

“But…”

Arrogan held up a hand to silence him. “How many years do you think I’ve been living here? Those fools in Darrow decide to wage their holy war every few decades, and I’m always still here after it all blows over. My only regret is that I didn’t put an end to their self-styled prophet before he ruined the common sense of the people living in Darrow.”

“You knew the Prophet of the Highest?” asked Will, once again surprised by his grandfather’s revelation.

His grandfather nodded. “I mentioned him before—my wayward student, Valmon. He always thought he was smarter than everyone else, and I suppose in the end he was, in a way. He certainly taught me a lesson.”

“I thought you said you killed him?”

“I did,” spat Arrogan. “That was the lesson. Kill a prophet, and suddenly he’s a martyr. If I’d left him alive, he might have lived long enough for them to figure out what a needle-dicked bug-fucker he was. Instead, killing him just poured oil on the fire.”

Will gaped. “Needle-dick—what?”

The old man winked at him. “Take notes. You’ll want to remember that one. It’s a keeper.”

He shook his head. Just when he thought his grandfather couldn’t get any weirder, the old man said something like that. “What about what my uncle said? Do you think they should hide in the hills?”

Arrogan nodded. “Your uncle is probably right on that point. Getting out of the village before the press gangs show up is an excellent idea, whether or not the Patriarch’s soldiers show up in the spring or not. Knowing Lognion, he won’t take chances. He’s probably already getting ready for the war.”

“So what do we do now?” asked Will.

“That’s easy,” said his grandfather. “I’m hungry, so you get to cook supper. Tomorrow I’ll start you on the runes.”

***

The next morning, after breakfast, his grandfather brought out an old and extremely worn leather-bound journal and laid it on the table. “This was my first study journal,” he informed Will. Next to it he put a second book, though this one was considerably newer. “This is yours. As you learn, I’ll expect you to copy everything into this one. It will be good practice for your abominable penmanship.”

Will groaned. “I thought you were going to show me the runes.”

“I am,” said Arrogan. “Runes are the pieces and parts that spells are made of, but as you learn them you also have to know how they’re transcribed on paper. You saw the books in my room. Many of them are full of old spells. The books aren’t magic, but if you’re to use them, you have to understand what they mean. Once you know each rune and what it represents, you’ll be able to recreate the spells created by men who died long before you lived. Open up my study journal.”

Will did, turning it past the first two pages, which were blank, until he found the first entry. His grandfather pointed at a large symbol written at the top of the page. Having become fairly good at reading, Will knew it wasn’t any letter he had learned before; it consisted of a short horizontal line with a downward curve at the end.

“This is the rune ‘bruman,’” said the old man. “Copy it into your book and memorize how it’s written.” He stared over Will’s shoulder until he had done as he was told. “Now, watch me and I’ll show you what bruman represents.”

Will watched as Arrogan brought his hands together and pulled them apart again, leaving a glowing blue line in the air between them. When his mentor took his hands away, the line remained, hanging motionless in the air.

“That’s it?” asked Will. “A line? What good is that?”

“A spell is like a plan that an architect uses to build a house,” said his teacher. “Do you think an architect could draw up a building plan without using lines?”

Will wasn’t sure. He knew his uncle had built the house that his cousin Eric lived in, and he doubted the man had used a written plan to do so. He wasn’t really sure what an architect was, but he guessed it was some sort of builder or carpenter. “Umm, maybe?”

“Don’t be stupid,” chastised Arrogan before sighing. “I didn’t ask if he could build something simple. I asked if he could draw a plan without using lines. Can you draw without making lines?”

“I guess not,” admitted Will.

“Now. Try to imitate what I did,” ordered his teacher.

He tried, but succeeded only in creating a wide, blurry streak of turyn in the air that dissolved almost as soon as it had formed. Will was actually surprised that he did that much. He had never tried to do anything that precise before.

“What the hell was that?” asked his grandfather.

“It was a line,” said Will defensively.

“Drawn by a drunken toddler,” replied the old man. “And where is it now? It has to persist. Otherwise it will be gone before you manage to construct anything. Do it again.”

Will tried several more times but could never satisfy his teacher’s expectations. Frustrated, he asked, “What good is a line anyway?”

“You need it to cast almost any spell you can think of,” said Arrogan. “Such as this one.” Lifting one finger, Will’s teacher pointed at one of the journals on the table. A blur of turyn streaked from his finger, invisible to normal sight, and settled over the book, which began to float away from the table a second later.

Will frowned. “You didn’t make any lines.”

Arrogan smiled. “I’ll do it slower for you. Pay attention.” This time, an intricate three-dimensional figure appeared in the air in front of him, constructed of a multitude of tiny lines and curving shapes. It floated across the intervening space and then expanded to cover the other book before dissolving into it. The second journal began to float as well.

Will was torn between amazement and frustration. There was no way he would ever be able to produce something so complex and intricate. “I can’t do that!” he complained.

“Not yet,” said Arrogan. “Which is why you have to learn the runes first, one by one. Practice and repetition. Even a pig could learn this if it had the capability and enough time. I imagine for you it will only take twice as long.”

The weeks that followed were long and boring, so much so that Will began to look forward to the portions of each day devoted to reading and even math. He began to dread the practical portion of his training. After two weeks, he was still working on the first rune and the old man seemed to delight in finding new ways to tease him about his lack of progress.

“This is hopeless!” Will declared one afternoon, thoroughly sick of the entire thing. “I just can’t do it!”

“That’s the spirit!” said his grandfather, cheering him on. “Accept your own incompetence and you’ll never be disappointed.”

Will wanted to strangle the old man, and his eyes said as much. “Shouldn’t you be encouraging me?”

“Where’s the fun in that?” asked Arrogan, his eyes twinkling with mirth.

That’s the light of pure evil in his eyes, thought Will. “How long did it take you to learn this?” he asked.

“You shouldn’t compare yourself to others,” said his grandfather. “It’s never productive, and you’ll only discourage yourself.”

“Why?”

The old man spent a few seconds digging something out of his ear before examining his finger. When he finally answered, his tone was flat. “Because it only took me a day to learn this rune.”

Unable to take it, Will blurted out, “That’s bullshit!”

“I was something of a prodigy,” said his mentor. “Which is probably why Aislinn found me irresistible. If I had been an idiot like yourself, you probably wouldn’t be here to complain.”

“You are such an asshole,” observed Will with acid on his tongue. “Don’t you think I’d learn faster if you were just a little bit nicer?”

“I was kind to Valmon—look how that turned out,” Arrogan informed him. “I’m not doing this to make you like me. I’m doing it because I think you have potential, and whether it takes a month or ten years for you to learn this matters little in the long run. I’ve got time. Now, if you’re done wasting my time jacking your jaw, start again.”

Whether it was because of his anger or simply a result of repetition, Will succeeded on his next try, or so he thought. “Look!” he cried exultantly.

His grandfather sighed. “That’s lun not bruman. It’s turned the wrong way.”

“It’s a line, isn’t it?” said Will, outraged.

“Orientation is important,” said Arrogan. “Bruman is horizontal and parallel to your chest. Lun is horizontal and perpendicular to the chest of the caster.”

Maintaining his proud little line, Will walked around to one side of it. “There, now it’s bruman.”

His grandfather arched one brow and merely stared for several long seconds, then he burst into laughter. It was a minute or two before he could collect himself enough to speak. “Fine, we’ll count it, this time. From now on remember, it’s defined by the perspective of the caster at the time of creation—all spells are. Otherwise, without an accepted reference point, none of them would make sense.”

Will’s frustration had vanished, replaced by a feeling of relief and accomplishment. Without waiting to be told, he tried to repeat his feat and succeeded after only two attempts. This time his line was oriented properly. Smiling, he did it the way he had the first time. “There, bruman and lun, I’ve learned two in one day.”

“It gets much easier after the first one,” said Arrogan. “It’s just a matter of honing your skill at shaping, as well as memorizing the forms. The later runes are more complicated, but you’re over the worst hurdle.”

His mood was too good to think about what would come next. There was only one thing on Will’s mind now. “What are you making for supper?”

His mentor chuckled. “You’re spoiled! You think every time you accomplish something, I’ll do the cooking?”

Will nodded. “I bow before your mastery of the pan. Please have mercy on this supplicant and grace the table with your divine art.”

His grandfather’s face showed disgust. “You’re going to make me sick with that flowery crap.” When his grandson continued to beg, he finally threw up his hands. “Fine! I suppose you’ve earned a small reward. I can’t stand another day of your cooking anyway.”

He almost clapped at the announcement. The old man’s cooking was no joke. Over the past two years, he had learned that even with only simple ingredients, Arrogan could produce something surprising, and on occasion he would bring out fresh additions that Will still didn’t know the source of, such as butter, flour, or a variety of spices. He had stopped fretting over the mystery of their origin and now only hoped there would be some special additions.

They were headed into the house when a breathless voice called to them from the forest. “Will! It’s me, Sammy.”

Looking back, Will saw his younger cousin standing at the edge of the clearing, her cheeks red and her hair wild. She had obviously been running. “What’s wrong?” he asked, his heart speeding up.

She was bent over, hands on her knees as she panted, trying to get her wind back. “They took Eric…”

“What? Who?”

“The king’s men,” said Sammy at last. “A group came to Barrowden this morning. They rounded up all the men and older boys. Dad and Eric were both taken to join the army.”

“They took Uncle Johnathan too? How do they expect people to survive?” asked Will, aghast at the news.

“They gave Mom fifteen silvers, ten for Dad and five for Eric. Supposedly they’ll be able to send their pay home in a few months, but they could be gone for years!” she informed him.

That was quite a bit of money to Will, but he knew his uncle earned at least two or three times that in a year. He had a family to support, after all. Hopefully his aunt had money saved; otherwise they’d be living in poverty within a year. Remembering the gold crown he had given them for the cot, he hoped she still had it.

“Where are they now?” asked Will. “Maybe we can sneak them out.”

Arrogan spoke up behind him, “And do what? Hide them in the forest? Have your uncle become an outlaw? And that’s assuming you don’t get gutted by the king’s men.”

He looked at his grandfather hopefully. “You could do something.”

His mentor gave him a sour look. “I could, but I won’t. You still haven’t thought the consequences through. It would only make things worse for your cousins. You also haven’t considered the fact that the first thing they’ll do when they see you is truss you up and haul you back to join the king’s recruits.”

“I can’t just let them take him,” said Will stubbornly.

“Eric wanted to go,” announced Sammy. “Mother wasn’t happy about it, and Father certainly wasn’t either, but Eric was glad to go.”

“There, you see,” said the old man. “He’s happy to serve his country. It’s dangerous, true, but it could be worse.”

Will was still conflicted. Deep down, part of him wanted to join as well, although the idea also scared him. But the fact that they had been conscripted bothered him.

“Mom wanted me to tell you to stay here,” said Sammy. “Your mother said you were in Branscombe. As long as you don’t go home, everything will be fine. If you show up now, they’ll just take you.”

Showing a warmth and generosity that Will hadn’t known he possessed, his grandfather asked, “Have you had supper?”

Sammy shook her head. “In all the excitement and confusion, Momma hasn’t had a chance to cook.”

“I was about to make a Darrowan red stew,” said Arrogan. “You can eat with us and take some home to your mother and younger brother.”

Not having heard of that dish before, Will couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like. “What’s in it?”

“Beef, red wine, carrots—you’ll see,” said his grandfather. “It’s a dish fit for a king.”

Beef? Wine? Where did he get beef? Will shook his head. He knew better than to ask. The old man had steadfastly refused to give up his secrets in the past.

“Give me a hand, Will,” added his grandfather. “We don’t have meat often. This is an opportunity for you to learn the art of braising.”

Chapter 24

The following week was annoyingly mundane. Despite the excitement and consternation created by Sammy’s news, Will’s life remained the same. Worse, there was no hope of relief from his routine; his grandfather had expressly forbidden him from visiting the village or his mother for fear he might be picked up by a press gang.

Fortunately, his training wasn’t as frustrating as before. Having managed his first two runes, Will found that ones that followed were more complex, but he was able to produce them each within a day or two now that he could express his power with a modicum of control. His grandfather still found things to complain about, though.

“Damn it, pick a scale and stick with it!” swore the old man.

Confused, Will just stared at him. “Scale?”

“A size, lackwit,” snapped his teacher. “You can make them bigger or smaller, but they all have to match, otherwise you won’t be able to reproduce a written spell—nothing will fit together.”

“Oh!” said Will, understanding at last. “You mean relative size, like a ratio.”

“Exactly, oh lord of the obvious,” agreed the cantankerous old man. “If your bruman rune is roughly an inch in length, then all the others have to follow suit. It’s best to practice with them all at a certain size. Later, when you try adjusting them, it will be easier to scale them.”

“That makes sense,” admitted Will, beginning again.

Arrogan growled. “Everything I say makes sense. Eventually you’ll figure that out, although I despair of you doing it in my lifetime.”

Ignoring his grandfather’s dour remark, Will asked, “How many runes are there?”

His teacher replied without hesitation, “A hundred and twenty-three.”

“Ugh,” groaned Will. “It’s going to take forever to learn them all.”

The old man laughed. “You’ll have them down in a month.”

“Then you’ll teach me some real magic?” said Will hopefully.

“Hah!” said Arrogan. “You’ll know them in a month, but after that you have to learn to connect them and produce persistent spell structures. It will be at least a year or two before you’re ready to start practicing spells. Another ten or twenty years after that, I might even consider you proficient.”

“I’ll be old by then!” complained Will.

“Stop whining,” said his grandfather. “You’ve already gained an incredible boon. Ten years is a drop in the bucket for you now. You probably won’t even get grey hair until you’re over a hundred. Spells aside, you’ve built the foundation for true mastery by learning to control your own turyn before bothering with the more superficial stuff.”

Will’s mind went blank for a moment. Over a hundred? He had figured out that his grandfather’s training would make him live longer, but he hadn’t considered just how long that might be. “How long am I going to live?”

“Knowing you, you’ll trip over your own feet and break your neck, but barring accidents and your innate stupidity…” The old man looked off into the distance as he did a mental calculation. “Somewhere between five hundred and six hundred and fifty years; it’s hard to say for sure. Your turyn source is producing roughly one-eighth the normal amount, so you take the years you expect to live, subtract the years you lived before learning to control your source, and then multiply the result by eight to get an estimate.”

Stunned, he stumbled and almost fell down. To prevent a fall, he quickly sat on the ground. “By all the gods!”

“Don’t thank me just yet,” his teacher informed him. “It’s not as wonderful as it sounds. It’s as much a curse as a blessing, maybe more. You’ll watch all your friends and family grow old and die, including your future wife and children, unless you train them as well. In my day, wizards often taught their families for that reason, but it isn’t easy. Most fail to learn.

“Because of that, a lot of wizards committed suicide before getting past their second century, and some refused to teach anyone, which is partly how we wound up where we are today.”

Uncertain of his meaning, Will asked, “Where are we today?”

“You and I are the only ones left,” said Arrogan flatly. “As far as I know, anyway. Those two-bit dabblers at Wurthaven aren’t even worthy of wiping the asses of the wizards from my day.”

The more Will thought about it, the more it seemed that his grandfather’s bitterness and isolation were the real cause of the problem. “Why don’t you teach them?” he suggested. “If you’re so much better, do something about it.”

“Because I don’t give two shits for what happens in this world anymore,” said Arrogan. “Besides, they’re too old. Training to control your source needs to happen when you’re young, and most importantly, before you start expressing your turyn to perform magic. If you want to try and change the world, that’s your business. I’m done with it.”

“Then why did you decide to teach me?” asked Will pointedly.

His grandfather made a sour face. “Trust me, I ask myself that very question every day when you cook.” The old man looked past Will’s shoulder at the sky. “That’s not good.”

Turning around, Will saw a dark smudge rising above the trees. “Is that smoke?”

“Shit,” observed Arrogan.

The village is in that direction, thought Will. Did someone’s house catch fire? He started in that direction. “I should see if anyone needs help. Something must have happened.”

His grandfather put a hand on his shoulder. “Let’s go inside. You don’t want to see that.”

“See what? What happened?” asked Will. “Shouldn’t we be going to find out?”

“Think about it,” said his grandfather. “Rumors of war, press gangs, and there’s smoke over the village. The most likely possibility is that the Patriarch decided on a surprise attack in a season when no one expected it. You don’t want to see what’s down there. Believe me, Will. You can’t forget such things once you’ve seen them.”

His heart began to race when he understood. “My aunt is in the village. Sammy and Doug are still there!”

Arrogan’s face was dark. “By the time you see the smoke, it’s too late.”

“To hell with that!” yelled Will. His grandfather started to grab for him, but he ducked the old man’s hand and took off running. He knew the old man could outrun him, or paralyze him with a spell, but nothing happened. When he glanced over his shoulder, Arrogan was nowhere to be seen.

Putting those thoughts aside, Will focused on running. During their daily training sessions, he had started learning to increase his strength and speed, but only for brief periods. His grandfather insisted it was more important to learn to change the rhythm of his fighting than try to fight at top speed the entire time. Surprising an opponent with a sudden increase was often more useful than wasting resources trying to become a constantly furious fighting machine.

That wasn’t what he needed now, though. He needed to run faster than normal, and he needed to maintain it until he reached the village. I also need to avoid breaking my neck on the way, he thought ruefully as he narrowly avoided tripping over a heavy limb.

To that end, he expanded and increased his turyn, something he had gotten good at over the previous month, then he took the excess energy and tried to focus it on his legs, heart, and lungs. Rather than try to exceed his best pace, he strove to maintain it for the long haul. His breathing was deep and steady as his legs pounded out a powerful beat beneath him.

He reached the outskirts of Barrowden in half the time it should have taken, and what he saw was pure chaos. Nearly every building was on fire, and people were running in the streets. The only order to be found was in the armed soldiers that stood between the buildings. They moved in small groups of four and five, cutting down anyone that came close, which was often, since the smoke obscured much of the scene.

Will ran through the smoke, slowing his breathing to avoid being choked by the noxious air. The grey clouds obscured a lot, but he could see the turyn of the soldiers and villagers. Dodging around and past them all, he ran straight for his aunt and uncle’s home on the other side of town. Cries went up from some of the soldiers as he ran past, but none of them came close to catching him, and he was soon lost to them in the smoke.

The air cleared as he got closer to Eric’s house. That end of the village was apparently the last to be torched and the flames were just beginning to rise from the houses there. A group of four men stood outside the Cartwright house, laughing as it began to burn. Two of them stood by the door, and Will saw one go inside as he ran toward them. The other two were entertaining themselves by toying with little Doug, who had come out to face them. One kicked the boy’s feet from under him, and the other began mercilessly kicking the child as he lay on the ground.

All of them were easily fifty pounds heavier than Will. If he’d had any reason left, he would have run and hid, but his rational mind had taken a holiday. They hadn’t seen him yet, since their backs were to him, and when he had closed the distance he reached for the sheathed sword of the man on the left.

Moving faster than he had ever believed possible, Will ripped the short sword from its scabbard and whipped it sideways, cutting deeply into the soldier’s companion, nearly severing his arm. The man screamed, blood spurting from the wound while the man whose sword he had stolen looked at him in surprise. Will brought the sword around to capitalize on his advantage, but the warrior recovered faster than he expected. The man stepped away and avoided his swing.

“Not bad, kid,” said the enemy soldier, “but you cut the wrong man. Jenson was worthless, and you’re ten years too young to have a chance with me.” Pulling out a long dagger, he grinned, licking his lips.

The man at the door turned, as if to help, but Will’s opponent warned him off. “Stay out of it, Ed. Let me have my fun.”

The soldier he had wounded sank to the ground, weak from loss of blood, and Will knew the unfortunate fellow would be dead soon if someone didn’t treat him, so he kept his attention on the man with the knife. He’s big, but I’ve got a longer reach with this sword, he told himself. I should have an advantage.

He quickly discovered otherwise. The dagger-wielding soldier was quick, and he knew what he was about, nearly gutting Will on their first clash of blades. Backstepping, Will tried to put some space between them, but the man stayed close, grinning all the while.

His speed was insufficient. The soldier was nearly as quick, and the long dagger was always just an inch from finding a home in Will’s stomach. Within seconds he had two long, shallow cuts, one across his left arm and another down the outside of his right leg. Giving up his offense, Will let his body slow and focused on defense.

“Already worn out?” sneered the soldier. “Enthusiasm only gets you so far, boy.”

Panting, Will glared at him. “I’m just waiting for you to make a mistake.”

The older man laughed. “Is that so?” Then he leapt forward aggressively, shouting. Startled, Will jumped back and stumbled, tripping over the now-unconscious man he had wounded. Scrambling back, he kept his short sword up, assuming that his enemy was about to try and finish him.

The soldier used the opportunity to bend down and retrieve the sword from his dying friend’s belt. Straightening up, he winked. “Now you’re fucked.” Shifting the dagger to his left hand and leading with the sword in his right, he advanced.

Will retreated, but the soldier’s aggressive onslaught was too much for him to avoid it entirely. Beating away attacks, he knew he was only moments from a messy death. A scream from the direction of the house cut through the air, piercing his heart. It was Sammy. The man who had gone in was emerging, dragging Will’s cousin by her hair.

“Distractions will get you killed, pup,” warned Will’s opponent, continuing to press his attack.

Will was practically running backward now, trying to avoid an early death. He wanted to circle around, to get to Sammy, but the man intent on killing him wasn’t about to allow that.

The door to the house opened again, and from the corner of his eye, Will saw his aunt emerge. Her face was red, and one eye was swollen shut, but she held his uncle’s crossbow in her hands. “Let her go!” she yelled at the man dragging her daughter away.

The other soldier waiting by the door drew his sword and thrust it toward her, but Doreen fired before he could strike, hitting the man holding Sammy. The quarrel buried itself in the soldier’s chest with a heavy thump, followed by a gurgling sound as the man began to drown in his own blood.

That got Will’s opponent’s attention. Worried, he looked to the side to see what had happened to his friends. Now! In an instant, Will changed direction, renewing his focus on speed. He blurred forward and planted the tip of his sword in the swordsman’s throat. The man stared at him in surprise for a second before falling backward.

Wasting no time, Will sprinted toward his aunt, but it was already too late. She was on the ground, a sword through her belly as she held onto her killer’s arm, refusing to let go. The man struck her with his free hand, once, twice, and then again, driving her head into the dirt. His arm came back for a fourth blow, but it stopped as Will’s sword went through his lower back.

Crying with rage, Will pulled it out and stabbed again, then again, tears running down dirty cheeks. He could think of nothing else, until he heard a voice behind him.

“Momma? Momma! No!” It was Sammy.

Will stared at her in shock and grief, and the look on her face was something he knew he would never forget. It probably mirrored his own. “Sammy, I tried,” he cried. “I couldn’t get to him in time.”

She fell to her knees beside her mother, crying inconsolably, and Will might have done the same, but then he remembered her brother. Running back, he found the boy still lying in the dirt, dead. One of the soldier’s kicks had killed him, and Will realized he had probably been dead the entire time he was fighting. A wave of dark despair washed over him. What was the point of fighting, when everyone he cared about died anyway?

No, not everyone, he reminded himself. Sammy is still alive. Turning back, he went to her. “We have to go. More of them will find us any minute now,” he told her, but she didn’t listen. Sammy was too caught up in her grief to listen.

He shoved the sword through the rope belt at his waist and gathered her in his arms. Lifting her up, he carried her around the house and into the woods behind it, away from the village. Away from their loss.

She continued to cry as he walked, and his own tears joined hers, falling from numb cheeks to land on her head.

Chapter 25

Will walked for several minutes, trying to put as much distance between them and the village as possible, but as he went, he began to worry about his mother. His home was outside of Barrowden, but not far enough to reassure him. Since the house was just off the main road from Branscombe, he figured the Darrowan soldiers would almost certainly get there soon, if they hadn’t already. He began circling around through the wood to head in that direction.

“I can walk,” said Sammy, her voice ragged and worn. “Put me down.”

He did as she asked, and as soon as her feet were on the ground his cousin turned and wrapped her arms tightly around his chest. She didn’t cry; that had stopped at some point while he was carrying her. After a few seconds, she released him, but she kept a firm grip on his hand as they walked.

Traveling through the underbrush would have been easier with both hands free, but Will didn’t complain. Sammy was squeezing his hand so hard it hurt, and when he glanced down he could see that her knuckles were white. Even so, he wasn’t sure who was comforting whom. It felt like the world had come to an end and they were cast adrift with nothing solid to cling to but each other.

They walked for ten minutes before Sammy spoke again. “Where are we going, your house?”

He nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

“Think it’s safe?” she asked.

“I…” He stopped, unable to finish the sentence as his throat threatened to close up. I hope so.

He started to pull his hand free from hers, but she held on desperately. “Don’t leave me, Will. Please, you’re all I have left.”

He wanted to reassure her, but when he started to answer, he felt his emotions swell, as though they would overwhelm him. Instead, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her head against his chest. He couldn’t breathe, and when he attempted to draw air his chest grew tight. Opening his mouth, a wrenching sob escaped before he clenched his jaw shut. Eventually he managed a hoarse whisper, “I won’t.”

It was a few minutes before they both continued on their way. Will guessed he could get home within about ten minutes from where they were currently, but walking hand in hand would take a little longer.

They were getting close when they began to hear the characteristic sounds of men and horses. “I hear them,” said his cousin softly.

Will nodded. “The road isn’t far from here.”

“Your house is on the other side of it,” she remarked. “How are we going to cross?”

“We’ll have to wait,” he replied. And hope they aren’t already burning it down.

Not daring to get closer to the road, they stayed where they were, listening to the jingle of metal and the sounds of marching feet. It went on for an eternity, at least to Will. How many are there? he wondered. Judging by his ears, more men had passed than all the people he had ever met in his admittedly short life.

“Is that their entire army going by?” asked Sammy. “Shouldn’t they still be in Barrowden?”

“Our village is probably insignificant to them,” guessed Will. “They probably rode straight through and left the ones we saw to burn out everything behind them.”

Eventually the sounds faded, and they were left with only the relative quiet of the forest. Creeping forward, they risked a look and saw that the road was clear. They snuck to the very edge and looked once more before crossing, in case there were others coming, but they saw no one, so they ran across to the safety of the forest on the other side.

They were very near to the small turn off that led to Will’s house, but they didn’t hear anything that would indicate the soldiers had gone to explore it. Please let Mom be safe, prayed Will.

Since the road was clear, they followed it, staying on the relatively clear verge, but they discovered something strange when they got to the place where the turn off should have been. The entire beginning of the path was covered in strange, swirling flows of turyn.

“It’s gone!” gasped Sammy. “I don’t understand. The path was here just a few days ago.”

Will could see the trees and brush, but the magic rippling across the area made him doubt his eyes. “I think it’s been hidden by some kind of magic,” he told his cousin.

“Why would they do that?”

“It’s our grandfather,” said Will, and as he said it he realized that he could recognize the feel of his teacher’s turyn.

Sammy gave him a strange look. “You know he isn’t really your grandfather, don’t you? Dad was very firm about that.”

“He’s actually a wizard,” explained Will, “a very old one. Your Dad is right, he isn’t our grandfather, but our many times removed great-grandfather. He’s been teaching me magic.”

“You really have lost your mind,” said Sammy, a sad note in her voice.

Grabbing her hand, Will pulled his cousin along until they reached the area where the turyn was thickest. Then he walked straight toward a large elm that was standing where the path should have been. Sammy struggled, but she grew still when she saw his body pass through the seemingly solid tree.

The next few seconds were confusing, since the illusion wasn’t thin, and stretched on for twenty feet or so, but Will walked resolutely through until they emerged on the other side. The path was still there, clear in front of him. Now that they were past the magic, he could see his house sitting quietly where it always had. He felt a wave of relief when he saw that it wasn’t on fire, nor were there any soldiers evident. “We’re safe,” he announced.

Sammy was staring behind them at the trees they had just walked through. “They aren’t really there. That was magic?”

Will nodded.

“And that crazy old man did it?” she asked.

He nodded again. “I’m certain of it.” He pulled at her. “Let’s go find Mom.”

Moments later, they were opening the door and Will felt the tension go out of him when he saw his mother and Arrogan arguing and packing in the front room. They looked up as the door opened, both their faces registering shock and relief at his and Sammy’s entrance.

Erisa dropped the pot she was holding and ran toward him. “Are you all right? Oh my god, the blood! Take off your clothes!”

Will smiled. “It’s all right, Mom. It’s not mine. I fought with some soldiers. It’s their blood.” He looked down as he said it and realized his words weren’t true. He had gotten some of the soldiers’ blood on him, but his shirt and pants were now soaked. The cuts on his arm and leg had been bleeding slowly during their journey through the woods. “Oh,” he said lamely. “That blood. Yeah, I think most of that is mine.”

“Don’t worry, Erisa,” said Arrogan. “His body can afford to spare some blood. It doesn’t need the blood it sends to his brain. He never uses it anyway.”

Erisa never looked away. She was busy cutting the cloth away from his arm, so she could dress the wounds. “Shut up,” she barked at the old man. Sammy let out a semi-hysterical giggle at their exchange.

“They look worse than they are,” pronounced his mother after a moment. “I can stitch them up later. For now, we can make do with pressure dressings.”

While his mother wrapped his arm and thigh with clean linen strips, Arrogan interrogated his student, demanding to know what he had seen and what route they had taken to get back to the house. Will had difficulty answering. He relayed the story up until the point where he reached his aunt and uncle’s house, and then stopped. Taking a deep breath, he tried to tell them what he had seen. “Doug was in front of the house, trying to keep the soldiers away, but they were too big…”

“Little Dougie was braver than anyone,” said Sammy, and then her voice broke and she began to cry again.

Haltingly, Will described his fight with the soldiers, though he struggled with telling them about Doreen’s brutal murder. He could feel his mother’s hands tense when he relayed that part, but she said nothing. It was easier explaining his escape with Sammy afterward.

When he had finished, his grandfather sighed. “I’d like to tell you how stupid what you did was,” he said at last, “but I think you already realize that. At the very least you proved me wrong. You managed to get Sammy away safely, and that was no mean feat.”

“He saved my life,” said Will’s cousin quietly.

“Oh, I doubt they’d have killed a girl your age,” said Arrogan. “They’d have—”

“That’s enough,” snapped Erisa harshly.

For the first time Will could remember, his grandfather looked not just chastened, but embarrassed. “Anyway, it’s a good thing you got her away from there,” said the old man. Then he looked at Sammy. “Pardon my rough edges, Sammy. I’m not used to talking to people anymore. I’ve lived alone a long time.”

“I’ve been staying with you for years now,” reminded Will.

Arrogan waved a hand dismissively. “You barely count as people.” Then he addressed Will’s cousin once more. “As I was saying, I’ve been without civilized conversation for longer than I can remember.”

“Why don’t we stick to practical matters for now?” said Will’s mother as she finished tying off the last bandage. “How long do you think we have to pack?”

“We should leave now,” said Arrogan. “I know you want to bring some of your herbs, but they could find us at any time.”

“They can’t find the path here,” said Sammy. “If I hadn’t known the house was here, and Will hadn’t dragged me through whatever it was you did, we wouldn’t have found it.”

“How long will the spell last?” asked Will.

His grandfather shrugged. “Hours. That isn’t the problem. What did you see when you found my illusion?”

“Trees,” said Will simply. “It looked real.”

“Of course, you saw trees, dumbass!” barked his mentor. “What else did you see? You knew it wasn’t real, didn’t you?”

“Oh,” said Will. “Yeah, I could see the magic swirling around it.”

Sammy stared at him. “You can see magic?”

“I’m his apprentice,” said Will proudly, trying to make the title sound more important than it felt.

Arrogan snapped his fingers in front of them. “Stay on track. If you saw the turyn flows, what makes you think someone else won’t?”

“Only we can see them, right?” said Will.

“Wrong,” replied Arrogan. “Any magic user can, and a few mostly normal folk too, though they might not understand what they were seeing. When that army marches down this road, it’s almost certain that whatever sorcerers or wizards are with them will point my illusion out and then we’re in trouble.”

Sammy broke in, “They’ve already gone past it. We had to wait for them to go by before we could cross the road.” Will nodded in agreement.

“That was probably just the lead element, the vanguard,” said Arrogan. “I guarantee that army won’t have crossed into Terabinia without having at least a few high-powered sorcerers with it. The main element could come by anytime, and when they do, someone is going to notice.”

Worried, Will asked, “Can you beat their sorcerers?”

His grandfather laughed. “Without question, but that’s not the problem. They’ll have an army of soldiers with them. Remember what I said about trolls and the fae?”

Will shook his head.

“Although most would say the fae are more dangerous, for me it’s the trolls, or in this case, the army of soldiers. I can deal with magic, but an arrow can put a hole in me just like anyone else,” explained his mentor. “That’s why we need to get out of here, and the sooner the better.” Arrogan stopped, his features growing still, then he frowned. “Someone just took down my illusion.”

“They’ve found us then,” stated Will’s mother. “We have to get out.”

“If we go out the back door and head straight into the woods, they might not see us,” suggested Will.

His grandfather nodded. “Go with Sammy and Erisa,” he ordered his apprentice. “But give me a second to make sure they haven’t surrounded us.” Lifting his hands, he created a small spell construct in the space of a second and then released it. Will saw it expand and then vanish, sending a rippling wave of turyn outward in all directions.

“Whoever is leading them is smart,” said the old man. “He waited until the soldiers were around the house before alerting me by breaking the illusion. There are five men behind the house already.” Moving to the front door, he collected his staff from where it stood, leaning against the wall. He handed it to Will. “Take this. Don’t bother trying to use that sword. You’re outnumbered and inexperienced. A staff is a better weapon against the blades they’re carrying anyway.”

Since Arrogan was effectively unarmed, Will handed his newly acquired sword to him, but the old man handed it to Erisa. “You know what to do,” he told her.

His mother nodded and pulled her winter cloak over her shoulders, concealing the sword beneath it. Then she gave Sammy a long knife from the kitchen. “Hide it,” she told her niece. “Wait until one of them starts to grab you, then put in his groin, belly, whatever you can reach.”

Confused, Will asked his grandfather, “What are you going to do?”

“I’ll make sure the rest of them don’t follow you,” said the old man.

“But you don’t have a weapon!” protested Will.

Arrogan smiled. “Remember the lesson with the sticks? I’ll be fine. Take them to our house. I’ll meet you there after I’ve taken care of this. All you have to do is get past those five in the back. Don’t bother trying to kill them all, just do your best to get past them. Listen to your mother—she knows better what to do here than you do.”

Will glanced at his mom’s face. She looked tense but determined. What sort of lessons did he teach her when she was learning herbalism? he wondered. I guess I’m about to find out.

Erisa motioned at him and Sammy with one hand and led them to the back door. “You’ll go out first,” she told Will. “Don’t go straight out. Cut to the left as soon as you get outside. Do your best to make them focus on you with that staff. Sammy and I will be right behind you. When we scream, ignore us. It’s meant to distract them, not you.”

Then she addressed her niece. “Hold the blade reversed, against your forearm. Here, like this.” She took the knife from the girl and demonstrated before handing it back to her. “When we go out, act terrified. Run toward one of the men on the right, keeping the knife out of sight. As young and pretty as you are, he’ll try to grab you, so don’t be afraid of his sword. When he does, start stabbing. Don’t think, just stab. You’ll be too scared to think straight anyway.”

Sammy looked plenty frightened already. “I don’t think I can do this,” she mumbled.

Erisa patted her head. “You’ve already got it down. Just let your instincts take over. All you have to do is remember the knife as he grabs you. You can do this.”

His heart was pounding in his ears as Will listened to the door. “What if they’re right outside?” he asked. “If they get their hands on me before I can get enough room, I won’t—”

Erisa interrupted him. “They won’t be. As soon as you hear them yelling, throw the door open and do as I told you.”

Will frowned. “Why will they be yelling?” he asked, but as soon as the words left his lips he saw a streak of turyn flash by and pass through the door in front of him. His grandfather had cast some sort of spell. It was followed a second later by several yells and one distinctly embarrassing shriek from the men outside.

What the hell was that? he thought, but his mother was urging him forward. “Go, now!” she barked.

With his stomach in his throat, Will pulled the door open and charged out, nearly dropping the staff as it caught in the doorframe for a moment. Fortunately, the men outside were too busy recovering from whatever had frightened them, or they might have capitalized on his awkward exit. He could see the traces of magic fading away in front of him. Some sort of illusion, maybe? Taking the staff in both hands, he stepped toward the two soldiers to his left and swung at their legs.

One of them recovered quickly and leapt back, but the soldier’s friend wasn’t so lucky. Still slightly bewildered, the man took a hard blow from the thick wood staff, directly to his knee. He fell with a shout of pain.

Will heard his mother and Sammy emerge from behind him. “Please, don’t hurt us!” said Erisa, her voice full of fear and desperation. The soldiers grinned at her obvious fear.

The man who had been in the center took a step toward Will to help his friend who was being steadily forced to retreat before the long heavy sweeps of his staff. That left only two on the right for Erisa and Sammy to deal with. As soon as they were out, Erisa screamed at her niece, “Run, Sammy! Run!”

Sammy didn’t need much encouragement. She bolted like a frightened rabbit. In fact, she almost did her part too well, for she moved so quickly that the soldier on the far right nearly missed her, but his fingers caught the back of her tunic at the last second. The man jerked her back, catching her against his chest as she spun and tumbled into him.

Will thought she might have forgotten to use the knife for a second, for the man made no sound at first, but a few seconds later he began yelling and trying to push the girl from him. It was too late, of course. Sammy had been frantically stabbing for several seconds before his brain registered what had happened.

The dying man’s companion started to go to his friend’s aid, but the moment he took his eyes from Erisa and started toward them, she jumped toward him. Will’s mother didn’t even bother taking the sword out from under her cloak. She stabbed through it and into the man’s side with all the force her slim body could put behind the weapon.

All that happened in a matter of seconds, during which Will was forced to retreat from his two opponents. His back was nearly against the house, and as a result his movements were becoming even more hampered. The two soldiers knew how to work together, and he knew he’d be spitted by one of their swords soon.

One of the two was forced to turn and deal with Will’s mother, though, and once the pressure was off, Will was able to take the fight to his foe. He threatened the man with a wide sweep and then dropped the tip of his staff to the ground and pretended to stumble as the soldier came forward. Increasing his speed as much as possible, Will whipped the end of the staff up and drove it forward in a hard thrust into the soldier’s belly.

If it had been a spear, the man would have died there, but the hardened leather protecting the soldier saved him from the worst of the blow. Even so, he fell backward and before he could rise, Will thumped him on the head. Looking to his right, Will could see his mother retreating from the other soldier.

He’d been surprised by his mother’s strength and quick thinking, but she didn’t have the skill or muscle to match the man bearing down on her. The element of surprise was gone, and while Sammy might have helped, Will’s cousin was still in shock, her head down as she sat atop the man she had stabbed to death.

He started to go to his mother’s aid, but the first soldier, the one he had crippled, grabbed Will’s ankle and he was forced to club the man into unconsciousness. Several frantic seconds passed as he fought to free himself. He was in a near panic by the time he got loose, and in his mind’s eye all he could see was the vision of his aunt, stabbed and then beaten to death.

It was with immense relief that he saw his mother was still alive and fighting. She had continued retreating, making sure to keep her opponent’s back toward Will. Her eyes met her son’s for a split second, but she otherwise gave no sign that he was coming.

The last man went down hard as Will put everything he had into a wide swing that ended against the side of the man’s head. Erisa gave him a tight smile. “Good job.” Then she turned and helped Sammy up. The girl seemed numb with shock.

As she stood, Will could see that Sammy’s hands and the front of her tunic were covered in blood. Her face was white, but she wasn’t crying.

“It’s all right, Samantha,” said Erisa gently. “Come with me. It will be safe at Arrogan’s house.”

He helped his mother lead his cousin away, but he stopped for a second, looking at the wounded and unconscious men. “Shouldn’t we—make sure they can’t come after us,” he said uncertainly.

His mother’s eyes were cold as she responded, “Already thirsty for more blood, William Cartwright? They won’t be going anywhere. Our goal is to escape.” Without another word, she headed into the forest, pulling Sammy along with her.

Will followed them, but after twenty yards he stopped. “What about Granddad?”

“He’ll be fine,” said his mother, but Will could see uncertainty hidden behind her eyes.

Still scared, Will clenched the staff in his hands as he made his decision. “I’m going back.”

“He chose this, Will,” said Erisa firmly. “Don’t ruin his effort. If you go back and get yourself killed, where will that leave us? Think before you do something stupid.”

“I’m sorry, Mom,” he apologized, stepping back before she could grab him.

His cousin’s response was anything but reserved. “No, Will! You promised me!” she yelled.

Will was shocked at the volume of sound that came from his cousin’s diminutive form, but he kept going, jogging away as she yelled at his back.

Chapter 26

Will’s fear grew stronger as he ran, and he wanted nothing more than to turn around and rejoin his mother and cousin. The voice at the back of his mind was firmly in favor of that idea. You’re just going to get yourself killed, it told him. Your mother was right. He made his own decision. The wise move is to do as he said.

“Shut up,” he told himself, coming to a stop at the back door of his house. For a moment he considered going around the outside, but he knew he would be spotted then. His fear quickly overruled that idea. Instead, he opened the door and went back through the house.

When he reached the front door, he could hear his grandfather outside, talking in a strong, clear voice. “I’m not going to warn you again,” said the old man. “Take these ugly-ass soldiers and turn around. I don’t like killing, but I’m not above improving the world by getting rid of fools.”

He paused for a moment, debating what he should do. The door loomed in front of him. Should he open it? Terror gripped his heart at the thought of stepping out in front of so many soldiers, not to mention the sorcerer that must be with them. It was certain death, no matter how confident his grandfather sounded.

Ignoring those thoughts, he gripped the door handle and pulled.

Nothing happened. The door was stuck and refused to budge. Will stared at it dumbly for a second. He had used that door almost every day of his life, and he knew how much force was needed to open it. Then he noticed the magic that followed the edges of the door. His grandfather had used some sort of spell to keep it from opening.

Why? he wondered. Did he know I’d come back, or is this part of some strange plan? Shaking his head, Will went to the left and peeked out the front window.

He didn’t like what he saw. At least twenty men were standing in the front yard, spread out in a broad line. Behind them stood an extremely plump man whose head was entirely bald. Will could tell it was the sorcerer at once, for the man was clad in gaudy orange robes, and if that weren’t enough, a large flame hovered beside him, invisible to normal sight. Beside the sorcerer were four more soldiers armed with crossbows.

“You seem awfully bold for a man with no friends and very little power to back him up,” said the bald sorcerer.

“Why don’t you step up here and try me out if that’s what you think, you hairless flesh-bag,” sneered Arrogan. “I was dealing with scum like you long before your father paid your mother to sleep with him.”

Will saw his teacher’s turyn swell, growing noticeably over a span of seconds.

The sorcerer saw it as well and his eyes widened. “What are you doing?” Alarmed, he barked an order to the men beside him, “Shoot him!”

Arrogan snapped his fingers, and Will saw a blur as a spell-construct formed and just as quickly vanished. The air around his grandfather roared, whipping around him in a circular fashion, sweeping the crossbow bolts away before they could reach him.

The sorcerer seemed surprised. “Who are you?” hissed the plump man. “Are you a warlock? No wizard could spend his energy like that.”

“I’ll gladly tell you my name,” said Will’s grandfather, “but then I couldn’t let you live. Last chance. Would you rather hear my name or keep breathing?”

The leader of the enemy soldiers laughed, but it sounded forced. “You’ve got some serious balls, fellow. Not that I care, but tell me your name anyway. It’ll make the story more interesting when we’re laughing about it in camp tonight.”

“It’s your funeral,” said his mentor before spitting off the porch. “My name is Arrogan Leirendel, and I’m no warlock.”

As one, the soldiers reacted with chuckles. Even the sorcerer laughed, this time more naturally. Straightening his back, he responded loudly, “You’re either a fool or moon-touched if you expect us to believe that, or perhaps you think you think you’re a jester?”

Stone-faced, Will’s grandfather said nothing, but his turyn began to grow again.

“He thinks he’s the Betrayer himself,” sneered the sorcerer. “Kill him.”

The soldiers advanced, swords drawn, but Arrogan didn’t wait on them. Stepping off the porch, he walked toward them. When he was within a few feet of the center of the line, the three men closest to him froze in place. Reaching out, the old man took the sword from one of them, and before the ones farther away could react, he began coldly butchering the helpless soldiers.

Will couldn’t help but feel some sympathy for them. He had been paralyzed too many times himself. He could imagine the sheer terror they must have felt, finding their bodies no longer obeyed them, while a madman killed them with their own weapons.

Those farther away moved to save their comrades, but Arrogan dispatched the first to come within his reach, his sword moving in a blinding display of swordsmanship. Even Will was surprised, and for the first time he realized the old man had been going easy on him during their training.

But no amount of skill would suffice against so many. The invaders surrounded Arrogan, and Will felt sure the old man would be gutted—but as they closed on him Arrogan’s turyn exploded outward as he launched another spell.

It was the same one he had used to deflect the crossbow quarrels previously, but this time it was flesh and bone around him. The raging air turned red as arms, legs, and less recognizable pieces of Arrogan’s attackers flew in every direction.

The violence of the spell was so shocking that in its bloody aftermath no one moved for a second. Most of the soldiers were dead or dying, save for three who had been fortunate enough to be farther away. The crossbowmen were also unscathed, but as they registered what their eyes had just seen, they began backing away in fear, along with the surviving swordsmen.

Only the sorcerer seemed unfazed. He had been waiting, and now that his opponent’s magic was exhausted, he struck. Will saw raw power flowing from the elemental and into the bald man, then it emerged from his hands as a powerful blast of fire, which he hurled at Arrogan.

No! Desperate to help, Will opened the window and climbed out, though he knew by the time he could get to him, his grandfather would already be dead. When he looked up again, he was surprised to see his teacher still standing with swirling flows of incandescent fire circling him.

“Took you long enough, you craven bastard,” swore Arrogan. “You thought your men could take your lumps for you and then you’d step in and clean up afterward, didn’t you?”

The remaining soldiers routed, dropping their swords and running toward the road, followed closely by the crossbowmen. None of them made it. The flames surrounding Arrogan shot out in long streamers, roasting them each in turn.

Will wanted to cover his ears, for the screams of the burning men were too horrifying to bear. Unable to help himself, he watched as they fell to the ground, thrashing and rolling. It was almost a relief when the flames reached their lungs and silenced them.

The sorcerer stared at him, stunned by what had happened. “That’s not possible,” he muttered weakly. His eyes locked on Will’s grandfather. “Who are you?”

“I already told you, you demented, putrescent ass-pimple,” swore Arrogan, walking toward the man. He still held the sword he had taken from the first soldier, and he grinned as he showed it to the sorcerer. “They say fire is the worst way to die, but I think we should put it to the test. I’ll carve you up first, then burn what’s left. If I see you in hell later, be sure to let me know which was more painful.”

In a panic, the sorcerer called out to his elemental. The creature appeared then, finally visible to mundane eyes, a roaring bonfire of flames that reached almost ten feet into the air. It interposed itself between Arrogan and its master, but Will’s grandfather didn’t even flinch. He walked straight through the ravenous flames, ignoring them.

The sorcerer turned to run, but Arrogan leapt forward, stabbing the sword into the heavy man’s leg. His opponent fell, crying in pain. When he looked up at Arrogan, his terror was so great that Will thought the man might pass out, for his eyes were starting to roll back in his head.

The elemental turned and swept great fiery arms at Arrogan, but they fell apart as they passed through the space where he stood. Will could see the creature’s turyn dissolving every time it touched the old man. How is he doing that?

Bending down, his grandfather put one hand on the sorcerer’s chest. “Time to return what you’ve stolen.” The bald man squirmed, trying to push himself back and away with his one good leg, but Arrogan wasn’t having it. With his free hand he stabbed the sword into the sorcerer’s hip, just above the man’s good leg.

The sorcerer screamed, but when Will’s grandfather put his hand on the man’s chest again, his screaming changed, rising in pitch and fervor. Will saw something emerging, being pulled away as Arrogan tugged at the man’s source of turyn. When it finally came into view, he could see a complex, glowing knot of turyn. He had no idea what it was, but he could see a faint line of power stretching from it to the massive fire elemental.

Arrogan plucked at it with his fingers, unraveling it while the sorcerer begged and pled for mercy, weeping all the while. Will’s grandfather ignored him, and after a moment, the knot of magic dissolved. Then he stood and stepped away from his broken opponent. Looking at the elemental, he spoke directly to it. “You’ve suffered long enough, old friend.”

The elemental towered over the old man, unmoving. Will watched, fascinated, unsure what would happen, and then he was amazed to see the elemental bowing before his grandfather. After it straightened up again, it reached for the sorcerer.

The man’s screams cut off quickly, and in a very short time the sorcerer’s body was reduced to a pile of smoldering greasy ashes. Then the elemental faded away. Will was glad to see it gone, but the smell of burnt flesh and hair that lingered after was something he would never forget.

Will climbed through the window, then stood on the porch, uncertain, trying to absorb everything he had seen and heard, but he snapped out of his reverie as his grandfather slowly sank to the ground. At first, he thought perhaps the old man was merely exhausted, but something about the way Arrogan cradled his stomach made him think otherwise.

Then he spotted one of the crossbowmen at the edge of the forest. The man had snuck back at some point and was kneeling with his weapon aimed at Arrogan. Before Will knew what he was doing, he began running at the crossbowman, waving his staff and shouting to try and distract him.

Startled by Will’s mad charge, the crossbowman jerked and fired, then he raised his weapon to ward off a blow from Will’s staff.

Will let him catch the first swing with the crossbow, then shifted his grip and thrust the staff’s end into the man’s face. That effectively ended the fight, but he bludgeoned the crossbowman several more times to make certain before running to his grandfather’s side.

“I knew you didn’t have the sense to stay out of it,” said the old man, holding his stomach with one hand. Will could see the end of a crossbow quarrel sticking out between his fingers, and the front of his grandfather’s tunic was soaked with blood.

“Lie down,” said Will. “I’ll get Mom’s tools. We have to get that out and stitch you up.”

Arrogan shook his head. “Don’t bother. I’m dead already.” He looked at the bodies around him and chuckled. “Those fools were too dumb to realize it. If they’d backed off and waited a bit, I wouldn’t have been able to stop them.”

Will was still numb from seeing his aunt and cousin die. It felt as though he had no tears left to cry. “You’re still talking, so there’s hope. I just wish I had seen the crossbowman sooner. This is my fault.”

“Nah,” said his grandfather. “This wasn’t from him. He missed after you startled him. This was from the first volley. One of them shot before the command to fire. I wasn’t ready.”

Will started for the house. “Let me get Mom’s kit.”

Arrogan stopped him with a word. “It hit an artery, Will. I’ve been bleeding through the whole fight. My heart stopped before I killed that jackass over there.” He jerked his thumb toward the still smoking remains of the sorcerer. “I’m dead. It’s pure stubborn will and magic keeping my blood moving.”

Will shook his head in denial. “That can’t be. You’re going to be fine,” he insisted. “Don’t joke about this.”

“Shut up,” said the old man. “I don’t have time for this. Listen. The house is yours, but my room is locked. Give me your hand.”

As his grandfather spoke, Will could see the old man’s turyn shift, growing weaker. When he reached out, Arrogan took his hand and touched his palm. A shining pattern appeared in the air above it and then sank into the skin. It burned for a second before fading away. “Ow,” said Will reflexively. “What was that?”

Arrogan ignored his question, focusing instead on Will’s chest. He placed one shaking finger on Will’s breast, just above his heart, and Will felt the spell-cage within him dissolve. “Almost forgot to take that off,” said his grandfather with a weak grin. “You’d have been cussing me for years if I had left that there.”

He’s really dying, Will realized, and he felt his heart break all over again. In the span of less than an hour, he would have lost almost half the people he cared about. New tears began to well in his eyes. “This can’t be happening,” he whispered.

“Life’s a bitch, William,” said his grandfather. “Sorry I couldn’t finish teaching you, but you have to…” His eyes closed, and his words trailed off.

“Nooo,” moaned Will, his voice beginning to crack. “You can’t do this.”

Arrogan’s eyes opened again. “The goddamn cat,” he said softly.

“Yes?” responded Will, blinking to clear his eyes.

“Don’t piss him off. Make sure to read my—”

His grandfather didn’t finish his sentence, although Will waited several minutes, refusing to move. When he had finally given up hope, he lifted the old man’s head and torso, squeezing them against his chest. It was the first time he had ever hugged his grandfather, and his chest burned, for he knew it was too late. The old man would never know how he felt.

Sometime later, Will pulled himself together and got to his feet. Staring down at his grandfather, he knew he couldn’t bear to leave the old man there, so he bent down and tried to lift him. It was a stupid idea, for he knew he couldn’t possibly carry him all the way back to his house, but he was beyond rational thought. He was surprised to find Arrogan much lighter than he had expected.

Was he always so frail? Will couldn’t believe it. The old man had always been larger than life, both his personality and his actions. The body was still a significant burden, but he managed to get him into his arms and stand again. Then he began to walk.

Unfortunately, despite his initial success, carrying his grandfather turned out to be impossible. Will made it into the woods behind the house, but stumbled soon after, and in the end he was forced to drag the body. The best he could manage was holding his grandfather’s chest and letting the feet drag as he went.

It was slow going, and it would be hours before he made it back to his grandfather’s home.

Chapter 27

It was dusk by the time he finally made it to the house, and he found his mother and Sammy standing in the front yard, waiting for him.

“Put him down,” said Erisa, and when he did, she bent and checked for a pulse.

“He’s dead,” said Will.

“I’ve been doing this most of my life,” said his mother. “I had to be sure.” Then she stood and stared into her son’s eyes. Without warning, she slapped him, hard enough to sting his cheek.

As Will rubbed his face, she continued, “Do you have any idea how stupid that was? How worried we’ve been?”

“I couldn’t leave him,” said Will.

“But you could leave us?” she rebuked him. “Don’t ever do that to me again, William. I thought I’d lost you for good.”

He’d never seen such a look of fury and anger on his mother’s face, but despite the intensity of her gaze, Will was numb. Too much had happened. His mother lectured him for several minutes, and he was grateful when his cousin tugged on her arm. “Please, Auntie, let him be. We’re all tired.”

“Why don’t we go inside?” suggested Will, his tone soft.

His mother and cousin looked at one another, then at the house. Sammy spoke first, “Maybe you can talk to him.”

Him? “Who do you mean, Sammy?” asked Will.

Erisa pointed at the porch. “That one.”

It was then that Will finally noticed the cat grooming itself on the porch, directly in front of the door. “Oh. The goddamn cat,” he intoned matter-of-factly.

“William!” reprimanded his mother.

“Sorry, Mom. That’s what grandfather named him. Why didn’t you just step over him?” he asked.

“Try it,” suggested Sammy.

He did, and was alarmed when the cat stood up and hissed at his approach. Will had never really gotten along with the cat. During his years with Arrogan, the two of them had developed a truce of sorts, which was to say that Will fed the cat whenever he appeared, and for its part the goddamn cat ignored him the rest of the time.

Even so, it was just a cat. Will started to step over it, reaching for the door handle, but immediately changed his mind when the cat growled. Its hair was standing out in all directions, and it gave every sign that it was about to start a blood feud with him. “What the hell?” swore Will. “He’s never been like this before.”

The goddamn cat didn’t back down. Instead it began advancing on him, fangs bared and back arched. He almost thought it might be rabid, but as soon as he stepped off the porch the cat relaxed, though it kept its eyes on him, wary for any sign that he might try to approach the door again.

“There’s something wrong with that animal,” cautioned Erisa. “He may be sick.”

Will stared at the cat for a long minute, during which the animal never blinked. To all appearances, mundane and magical, it looked to be a normal cat, but he could see a deep intelligence behind its green eyes. “I think it knows he’s dead,” Will said over his shoulder.

“Well we aren’t spending the night outside,” said his mother. “One way or another we’re going inside.”

“Do you think he’s sad that his master is dead?” asked Sammy.

Will shook his head. “Not exactly, maybe, I don’t know. Let me see if I can convince him to let us stay.”

“Convince him?” said Erisa, her voice tinged with disbelief. “It’s a cat.”

“Grandfather didn’t think so. He always said the goddamn cat was our landlord. Wait here a minute,” he told them.

“Where are you going?” asked Sammy.

“To get an egg.” Will went around the side of the house and through the garden, a trip he had made hundreds of times before. Moments later, he returned with a fresh egg in hand. He had no idea if he was doing the right thing, but he decided to trust his instincts. In his mind he could still hear his grandfather’s last words, “Don’t piss him off.”

Sammy and his mother watched him with odd looks on their faces as he dragged Arrogan’s body until it was at the edge of the porch. The goddamn cat perked up at that and stepped forward to investigate. As they looked on, it sniffed Arrogan’s head and then licked it once before returning to the porch. It lay down there, crossing its front paws and staring at Will.

He could almost imagine its words. Your move, human. Approaching cautiously, he got down on his knees at the edge of the porch and held out one hand to the cat. “I know you had an agreement with him. He’s gone now, but I’ll do my best to honor it, if you let me,” he said, keeping his voice neutral.

The grey tom blinked, once, then sat up.

I hope that’s a good sign, thought Will. Reaching out with the other hand, he showed the egg to the goddamn cat. “Let me in and I’ll get a bowl to put this in for you—ow!” The cat’s claws had flashed out and torn a deep scratch across the back of his hand, causing him to drop the egg.

Standing up, Will sighed and looked at the broken egg. It had fallen on the ground, where it began to seep into the dry dirt. He turned to the others. “I guess I was wrong.”

Sammy pointed at his feet. “Look!”

Glancing down, Will saw that the goddamn cat had moved. It sat beside his leg, cleaning the blood from its foot. It finished and then stood, circling his feet once and brushing up against his trousers before walking to the front door.

“I think he’s telling you that you can go in now,” said Sammy, amazement in her voice.

Testing the theory, Will walked to the front door. The grey tom ignored him, but as soon as Erisa and Sammy started to follow him, it stood and hissed, arching its back once more. “They’re with me,” Will told it.

The goddamn cat let them by after that.

Once they were inside, Will’s mother wasted no time cleaning the scratches on his hand. “I can’t believe we had to negotiate with a cat,” she muttered.

“Maybe he’s magic,” put in Sammy. “This is a wizard’s house, after all.”

Will wasn’t so sure about that. He’d seen no sign of magic around the cat, or any other strangeness, other than its behavior. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “But before he died, Grandad warned me not to upset the cat. He made that point to me several times while I lived with him.”

“Knowing him, that crotchety old man probably did it just to have a laugh. He’s probably looking down on us now, laughing at us for believing him,” said Will’s mother. She wiped at her eyes with one sleeve. “He was always doing odd things when he taught me. I never knew what to think.”

Sammy stared at her aunt. “You’re a wizard too?”

Erisa shook her head. “No. He taught me herbs and midwifery. He always said he’d never take another apprentice.” She glanced at her son. “Until Will convinced him somehow.”

Will had no answer to that. “I should cook something,” he told them.

“What about…” Sammy looked toward the door and they all understood her meaning. Arrogan’s body was still out there, in front of the porch.

“We’ll bury him in the morning,” said Erisa. “Is there something we can wrap him in overnight?” she asked Will. “I don’t want anything taking a bite out of him while we sleep.”

Will gave her one of his blankets, and while she attended to the body, he went to fetch fresh vegetables from the garden. Following his old routine seemed natural and helped him keep his mind clear. The last thing he wanted to do was remember the things he had seen that day.

His mother complimented his cooking, seeming surprised at his skill even though it was simple fare that he served them. After that, he tested the door to Arrogan’s room and found it opened at his touch. In the past it had always been locked by magic. Maybe the spell he put on my hand was a key of some sort, he mused.

Thinking about it caused the spell to itch, and when Will looked at his hand, the spell rose from his skin to float above his palm. He studied it for a moment, noting how similar it was to the heart-stone enchantment that Arrogan had pulled from the sorcerer’s chest. It was connected to something, but he couldn’t be sure what that might be. There was definitely not an elemental nearby. He would have to think about the matter later, and as soon as he pushed his question aside the spell vanished, sinking back into his skin.

“His room hasn’t changed much over the years.” The voice startled him, and he turned to find his mother staring over his shoulder.

“You’ve seen it before?” he asked.

Erisa nodded. “Quite a few times, though he only let me in when we were using the workshop. Is it still beneath the house?”

“Yeah,” answered Will. “He’s been teaching me the basics of alchemy.”

His mother’s brows went up in surprise. “How far have you gotten?”

“Not far,” he admitted. He put up his hands and began ticking off what he had learned. “So far I’ve learned inks, soap making, how to differentiate acids and bases, simple distillation, steam fractioning, and the basics of tinctures, elixirs, and suspensions.” Then he sighed. “None of it involves magic, though.”

Erisa smiled. “That alone could make you wealthy if you have the right equipment.” She walked over to the bookshelves and glanced over them until she found the section that held medicinal recipes and chemical preparations. “If you understand measurement and titration, you can use the knowledge stored in these books to prepare any number of valuable substances.”

It was apparent that his mother was familiar with some of the books already. “Why didn’t you teach me to read?” he asked.

She stood still for a moment, lost in thought. “After everything I went through, I was resentful. Mark gave me hope that I shouldn’t have had, a view of a world I could never be a part of. Then the old man—he taught me more than I needed. When I eventually returned to the village, I thought maybe things would be different. But there was no need for what I had learned. Learning and letters had no place in that world. I thought I was doing you a favor. If you didn’t learn about such things, you couldn’t yearn for things you would never be able to have.”

Will considered that for a moment, then asked, “And what about now? Do you still think that was the right choice?”

Erisa sighed. “Probably not. I started to have doubts when Mark offered to send you to Wurthaven.” She paused. “Do you resent me for it?”

He shrugged. “I’ve gotten pretty good at it now, so it doesn’t really matter. The more I learn, the more I realize we all make mistakes.” Then he gestured at the bed. “I still have my cot. Do you think you and Sammy will be comfortable in that giant bed?”

Sammy had slipped past them and had been staring at the room in awe. She focused on the giant four-poster when he asked his question. “It’s huge! What if we get lost?”

Will’s mother walked over to it, then carefully lifted the frilly, embroidered pillow that Arrogan had so adamantly insisted that Will shouldn’t touch. Moving to the end of the bed, she opened the chest that held Arrogan’s blankets and extra bedding and placed it inside. “He’s gone, but I think as long as we don’t sleep on this he won’t mind.”

Will looked curiously at his mother. “Do you know why he was so particular about it?”

“I guess he never told you,” said Erisa. “It was Aislinn’s.”

He remembered the name. “His wife? Do you know what happened to her? He was awful touchy about it. How did she die?”

It was Erisa’s turn to shrug then. “He didn’t tell me much either. I don’t know how or when she died, but I don’t think that’s what he was upset about. From what I gathered, she left him, though I don’t know why.”

Will pondered that for a while. He knew Aislinn had also been his grandfather’s teacher, so she had been a wizard. Does that mean she could still be alive somewhere? His grandfather had said she was older by some forty years, but then again, Arrogan hadn’t seemed as though he was close to dying of natural causes.

Whatever the answers were, it was unlikely he would ever know the full story. And I’ve got more important things to worry about anyway, he decided. Barrowden was full of Darrowan soldiers, half his family was now dead, and he had to figure out how to keep his mother and Sammy safe.

And he was still two weeks away from turning seventeen. It didn’t seem right to have so much weight on his shoulders. The world didn’t seem to care, though. Little Dougie had only been ten and he’d been beaten to death trying to defend his family. “And Aunt Doreen,” he whispered to himself, seeing her dying moments all over again. He could still hear the sound of the soldier’s fist beating her head into the ground.

Without realizing how he had gotten there, he found himself crouched down on the floor, swept away by tears of grief and rage. His mother and Sammy had encircled him with their arms. This time it was Sammy who comforted him, for her own eyes were dry.

“You should sleep in the bed with us,” said his mother. “None of us should be alone tonight.”

“But…”

“I don’t care if you’re sixteen or thirty,” said Erisa. “Besides, you’re not the only one that needs comfort.”

Will swallowed, unable to speak because of the lump in his throat, then he nodded.

That night his mother occupied the center of the bed, with Will on one side and Sammy on the other. Even with the chill of winter setting in, the presence of three bodies made them almost uncomfortably warm, and although they slept with but a light blanket over them, Will could tell his mother was sweating. But she didn’t complain, and every time he tried to move farther away her arm tightened around his head, pulling him closer.

Chapter 28

“William Cartwright.”

His eyes opened at the sound of his name. It had been a woman’s voice, but not that of his mother or Sammy. Confused, Will lifted his head and looked around the dark room. With no candle or lamp lit, it was pitch black. He couldn’t have seen his own hand in front of his face. Had he imagined the voice?

“William Cartwright, I call thee.”

He heard it clearly then, as though the speaker’s mouth was next to his ear, and he recognized the voice. She had been the subject of a number of embarrassing and often erotic dreams since their previous meeting. Tailtiu.

Will sat up in the bed, straining his eyes. Was she in the room? Maybe he had dreamed it.

“Will, are you all right?” asked his mother, half-asleep.

“I have to pee. Go back to sleep,” he told her before rising and searching the floor for his boots.

“William Cartwright—thrice named and thrice called. I seek your counsel.”

Will froze, waiting to see if the sound of Tailtiu’s voice would wake his mother. After a few seconds he relaxed, for she gave no sign of having heard anything. Finding his boots at last, he gathered them up and stumbled out of the room. Once he was in the front room, he realized he knew where he needed to go. Within his mind, he could feel the direction of her pull. He was familiar enough with the surrounding area to know the spot she was calling from.

He hadn’t realized there was a congruency there, between his world and hers, but that was to be expected, for the weak places between worlds were hard to notice, even with his relatively newfound sight.

Opening the outer door, he went out into the night, grateful for the full moon overhead. It was only then that he paused. Should I answer her call? Since his first disastrous meeting with Tailtiu, he had memorized the rules. He wasn’t required to answer, and given all the things his grandfather had told him it would probably be wiser not to do so. The fae were dangerous beyond belief, and he had very little experience dealing with them.

And if something went wrong, his grandfather wouldn’t be there to bail him out this time. Highlighting that point was the grey bundle on the porch, Arrogan’s body, wrapped and waiting for burial.

Will squeezed his eyes shut and then opened them again as he took a deep breath. Then he began walking. No one has experience dealing with the fae in the beginning, he told himself. This is how you learn. Despite his internal encouragement, he couldn’t help but wonder if he was about to learn more than he bargained for.

It was a fifteen-minute walk through dense forest and undergrowth, but despite the relative lack of light, Will didn’t worry about losing his way. The place she was waiting for him was a beacon, invisible yet impossible to miss. When he finally drew close, he saw streamers of turyn in the air, and a moment later he heard her voice, purring to him from the shadows, “You came.”

The forest cover was too dense there; he still couldn’t see her, just the traces of her magic as it lingered. Will’s mouth went dry as he realized how close she must be. “I was curious,” he answered finally. “What did you call me for?”

“Can you see in the dark?”

“Is that what you wanted?” he returned. “We haven’t discussed terms.”

Another voice found his ears, smooth, feminine, and mature. The hairs on the back of Will’s neck stood up as a fresh surge of adrenaline shot through him. “You’ve learned well. You do your teacher credit.” A light blue glow filled the air, illuminating the area where he stood within the trees. Two figures became visible, Tailtiu, wild and naked as he remembered, and another woman with white, flowing hair.

Although neither of them showed any signs of aging, the white-haired woman emanated a feeling of age and maturity. Like Tailtiu she was bare-chested, but her hair draped artfully over her shoulders, obscuring the places his eyes went to first. Unlike Arrogan’s daughter, she also wore a light ephemeral gown that seemed to be held up by little more than hopes and dreams. It draped from her shoulders, detoured away from her breasts, and then circled her waist.

For a fae, she was practically modest.

Fear helped him keep his thoughts in line. After his previous adventure in the fae realm, his grandfather had insisted he read a book detailing the fae and their customs, and while he hadn’t finished it, he had learned quite a bit. He ignored the stranger, returning his eyes to Tailtiu’s face. “I’ll ask again. What did you call me for, Tailtiu?”

The red-haired fae girl pouted. “I thought we were friends.”

“We are,” said Will. “But we have to make the rules of our exchange clear before we can speak freely.”

The stranger laughed, and Tailtiu’s lips curled into a smirk, then she answered, “Mother wanted to speak with you.”

Mother? If she’s her mother, then that would make her… Will’s mind stopped dead in its tracks, refusing to go further. His mouth opened and he heard himself say, “Grandmother?”

“Ware your words, William,” said the fae lady. “Don’t let surprise be your undoing.”

Her warning was enough to snap his thoughts back into focus. Addressing Tailtiu, he asked, “What will you give if I speak with your mother?”

Tailtiu drew closer, a hungry look on her features. “What would you like?”

She’s hundreds of years old, and she’s my aunt, Will repeated to himself, not that his body seemed to care. “One hour,” he said firmly. “For one hour you’ll answer any questions without deception. In return I’ll do the same.”

The fae girl smiled. “Done.”

“And what of me?” asked Tailtiu’s mother.

“I can offer you the same terms,” said Will.

The older fae seemed to think for a moment, then replied. “Not quite good enough. What if you decide to answer my questions and then kill me afterward to prevent me from using the knowledge I gain?”

It was a ridiculous suggestion on the face of it. Either of the two women could easily overpower or kill him, but it reminded him of something he had forgotten. “For one hour I’ll freely and honestly answer your questions while you do the same. At the end of that time we end our discussion under an oath of peace. I will offer you no harm and you will do none to me.” As he finished, a new thought occurred to him. She’s helping me. That didn’t fit with anything he had learned about the fae.

His chain of thought was broken when Tailtiu eased forward and brought her lips to his. The rush of pleasure shocked him into stillness. Her hands went up to brace his head as she leaned into him, and Will could feel his turyn draining away by the second. Somewhere deep down, a rational voice commented, I’m dying. But even as it warned him, his arms circled her waist.

“Stop,” ordered Tailtiu’s mother, and somewhat reluctantly, the fae girl pulled herself away.

Feeling faint, Will’s legs gave out and he collapsed into a sitting position. “That wasn’t part of our bargain,” he gasped when he could finally speak again. Unlike the first time he had met Tailtiu, his turyn was recovering rapidly.

“I owe you another favor,” said Tailtiu, without an ounce of repentance in her voice.

“An unbounded favor,” clarified Will. “That makes three now. Two from last time, and this one.” He had learned the term from his studies. An unbounded favor was rare, as it meant he could ask for anything. Such favors were almost never given in a negotiation, but were a penalty for a debt that accrued through accident or foul play. Such things were the main reason one had to be careful to set terms before asking questions of the fae.

Yet she indebted herself, thought Will. That wasn’t an accident. She knows the rules better than I do. They’re part of her blood. First her mother had helped him set his terms, now this. It couldn’t be coincidence.

“What did you want to know?” he asked.

Since the hour had started, Tailtiu jumped into the conversation. “Can you see in the dark? You came without a light.”

“No,” admitted Will.

“Why didn’t you make a light? You’re a wizard after all,” she continued.

Her mother interrupted. “He hasn’t learned to use his magic yet. Have you, William?”

He shook his head. “I’m not really a wizard. Grandfather was just beginning to teach me.”

Something passed across their faces, but whatever emotion it represented was too subtle for Will to guess. “Arrogan was the reason I had my daughter call you, William. I felt his death. Would you tell me what happened?”

The shift in the conversation caused Will’s throat to tighten. Unsure what to say, he took a moment to collect his thoughts.

Taking his hesitation for reluctance, she added, “Do you know who I am?”

“I’m not sure,” he answered, “but if you’re Tailtiu’s mother—doesn’t that mean you’re my grandmother, Aislinn?”

The elder fae studied him. Her face was inscrutable as she responded, “He was my husband once, but the woman who loved him died long ago. Don’t make the mistake of ascribing human traits to the fae, William. There is no relation between us. Humans have souls; the fae do not. We are creatures of pure magic, without morals or true emotion. The closest thing we have is hunger and passion, bound by the rules of the power that sustains us. The only thing I share with the woman who was your grandmother is her memories and her name, Aislinn.”

Her words matched what the book had told him, but he still couldn’t believe it. “You’ve changed, but you’re still the same person…”

“Do you know why they caution mortals not to partake of food or drink in the fae realm, William?” asked Aislinn. When he didn’t answer, she continued, “Because it grows inside you.” Stepping closer, she held up one finger then put it into her mouth, when she withdrew it a small cut was on the tip, bleeding. “A drop is all it takes.” She lifted the injured finger to his lips, letting it hover there an inch away. “The fae realm is immortal, as is everything within it. This is true of my flesh and blood as well. Your body is mortal, William, perishable. Any part of me or the realm I come from, if taken into you, would eventually replace your mortal husk.

“Even a drop of my blood would end your humanity, though it might take years. You would slowly begin to feel the call, drawing you to our realm, and you would heed it or perish here. In the fae realm it would grow, gradually replacing your mortal flesh, until all that remained of you would be a fae creature with your memories, and eventually even those would be lost to the mists of time,” she finished.

Will stared back at her. Though she had finished speaking, Aislinn still held her fingertip in front of him, almost touching his lips. He could smell a faintly floral scent coming from her skin, or perhaps it was her blood. Growing up, he had seen blood many times, so it didn’t bother him, but this time he felt a strange urge. He wanted it.

Aislinn’s eyes grew dark. “Take it and your suffering will be over.”

His mouth was watering and Will licked his lips involuntarily. Closing his eyes, he remembered his grandfather. What would the old man say if he was here now? Then he asked, “Did you offer this to him too?”

His grandmother flinched, then withdrew her finger. “Never.”

“Why not?”

She sighed. “In the early days, I still loved him, and his hatred of my husband was always too great.”

“Why did you marry Elth—?” Will stopped, for Aislinn had placed her uninjured hand over his mouth.

“Don’t say his name or even my skills will not suffice to hide this meeting place from him,” warned his grandmother. He nodded and she withdrew her hand. “I did it to save his life.” Then she glanced at Tailtiu. “Though if I had known of the unborn life in my womb, I might have chosen differently.”

According to the myths Will had grown up hearing, Aislinn was the goddess of magic. While it was obvious that those stories weren’t strictly true, it made him wonder. He had seen his grandfather face down Elthas in the fae-lord’s own realm. If she had been Arrogan’s teacher, could she be any less powerful? “Do you fear him?” asked Will.

Aislinn laughed. “Not his power. The fae are bound by rules. I fear my oath. To save your grandfather’s life, I pledged my service to the Lord of the Hunt. I cannot disobey him.

“I was naïve in thinking all he would take was my life. After I accepted his bargain, he took me as his wife. Knowing the dangers of the fae realm, I refused to eat, but it was not food or blood that he used to change me. For years he tortured me with pleasures too great for human flesh to endure. It was a relief when my heart finally disappeared and even my memories could no longer bring me pain.”

As Will listened, the implications of her story began to sink in, rendering him speechless. No wonder the old man hated Elthas so much. Arrogan’s wife had given everything to save her husband, and he had probably blamed himself for what happened to her. And now he’s dead.

Aislinn watched his face carefully, as though she might read his thoughts. “Don’t pity me. I am beyond sorrow now. Let my tale be a warning to you, William Cartwright, as you deal with the fae—as you deal with me. Make a mistake and I could do the same to you.”

“No,” said Will, meeting her eyes evenly. “You’ve already helped me. My mistake with the bargain earlier, Tailtiu’s kiss, both of those things were done on purpose. You’re not the same as Elt—as him.”

“Such thoughts will lead to your doom,” said Aislinn. “Now, I have answered some of your questions, spoken and unspoken. Answer mine. Did you see how he died?”

Casting his eyes downward, Will nodded. “He saved me, as well as my mother and my cousin. Soldiers came to my house, along with a sorcerer.” He went on to explain everything he had seen, but he stopped short when it came to his grandfather’s final moment, telling her only that the old man had removed the spell-cage within him.

“Did he give you something else?” asked his grandmother, her eyes boring into him.

Unsure what to say, Will looked away. He still didn’t know what the spell was that his grandfather had given him, but it felt like a secret he shouldn’t share.

“He did,” declared Aislinn. “You passed the trials. He wouldn’t have died without giving it to you.”

“I’m not sure what you mean,” said Will, stumbling over his words. “He was only beginning to teach me. I’ve only just learned the runes. I can’t even cast a spell yet.”

“Careful, William. Honest answers, remember? Break our bargain and no hidden sentiment will prevent me from extracting a penalty from you—a penalty you do not want to pay,” she warned him. “I know the way he taught you, because I was the one who taught him. If he taught you the runes then you had already passed the trials. Show me the seal.”

“I don’t even know what it is,” admitted Will, “or how to show it to you.”

Grabbing his right hand, she pulled it toward her in a grip that seemed made of iron. “I cannot take it from you unwillingly,” said his grandmother. “I can only examine it. Think of it and it will appear.”

As soon as she suggested it, the spell-construct rose from his palm.

“He never changed it,” said Aislinn, her voice dropping to a whisper. If Will hadn’t known better, he might have thought he heard a hint of sadness in her words.

“What is it?” asked Will.

“Something you don’t need,” she answered, her tone grave. “A worthless relic from our time, long forgotten in this age of degenerate mages and indolent sorcerers. It is called a limnthal, the mark of a true wizard.”

“Why did you say it hasn’t changed?”

Aislinn smiled sadly. “Each one is unique, given by a master to his or her student when they feel the time is appropriate. Usually that comes after an apprenticeship has been completed, but Arrogan couldn’t afford to wait. This is the mark I gave your grandfather when he satisfied my requirements. Ordinarily he should have created a new one for you, but since he was dying, he gave you his own, the one I made for him.”

Will’s eyes began to water, but he was shocked from his sorrow by her next statement.

“Give it to me,” ordered the elder fae.

Without thinking, he answered, “No.”

“It will do you no good,” said his grandmother. “It grants no power or ability. It is little more than a symbol of achievement, something no one will even recognize, and if anyone did, it would bring you only misfortune.”

“Then why do you want it?”

“Because it is mine. It means nothing to you. Give it to me and I will grant any wish you can imagine,” she told him, her eyes shifting colors from blue to lavender as she spoke.

Will closed his hand into a fist, and the limnthal vanished from sight. “It isn’t for sale. Useful or not, it’s the last thing he gave me.”

Aislinn seemed to relax. “Very well, Grandson. I will respect his discernment in deciding to give it to you, but you have chosen a hard road for yourself.”

His face showed surprise at the word ‘grandson,’ and Aislinn laughed.

“Don’t think too much on my acknowledgment,” said his grandmother. “The fact remains that I will not hesitate to take everything you have if you make a mistake, William. Never forget that.”

For a moment he could feel a sense of alien malice radiating from her, but rather than creating fear, it engendered a feeling of sadness in him. How terrible it would be, to have once been a woman who loved and was loved, only to be consumed by a magic that rendered you incapable of anything but hunger and cold logic. Aislinn must have seen the emotion on his face, for she looked away then, unwilling to meet the pity in his eyes.

“I only have one thing more to ask of you, William,” she said. “Bring me his body if you have it.”

“What do you want it for?” he asked suspiciously.

His grandmother laughed. “Nothing malign. I only wish to say my farewells, to bury him in the place where we first met.”

It seemed fitting, but though it went against his human decency, he asked, “What will you give me in exchange?”

Aislinn smiled. “He would be proud of you. What do you wish?”

“My mother and cousin are living in his house, but there are soldiers from Darrow in the village. Can you protect them?”

“I will not go near the house,” said his grandmother. “The creature that owns it and the land it sits upon is not kindly disposed toward the fae, but I can ensure that no enemy finds it. Will that suffice?”

She’s afraid of the goddamn cat? thought Will. How can that be? “That will be good enough,” he told her. “Do you know what the cat is?”

“It is a cat, of the worst kind,” she answered. “It is not my place to speak of it.”

Chapter 29

The sky was beginning to lighten when Will returned to the old shack. His grandfather’s body was still on the porch, but as he started to drag it away a thought occurred to him. Going inside, he returned to the bedroom and opened the blanket chest at the foot of the bed and removed Aislinn’s pillow.

“William?” It was his mother. She lifted her head groggily. “What are you doing?”

“I’ll explain at breakfast. I’m going to cook something nice,” he told her. “Go back to sleep. It isn’t even dawn yet.”

Erisa’s head flopped back down and she closed her eyes. “That’s nice,” she mumbled.

Outside again, he tucked the pillow under one arm and lifted Arrogan by his shoulders so he could drag him into the forest. His grandfather felt heavier than he had the day before, and he was grateful when Aislinn and Tailtiu appeared after he had gone only a hundred yards. Aislinn’s expression was unreadable as she stared down on the man who had once been her husband, then she noticed the pillow under Will’s arm.

“Is that…”

He handed the embroidered pillow to her. “I think you should have this. He wouldn’t let anyone else use it.”

The fae woman accepted it so carefully it seemed as though she feared it would fall apart at a touch. “I can’t believe it still exists,” she muttered. “It should have rotted away by now.”

He didn’t know what to say to that. Whether Arrogan had used magic to preserve it he had no way of knowing. “The needlework is very fine. You must have put a lot of time into it.”

She shook her head. “You’re mistaken. This was his present to me.”

His jaw dropped. “Grandfather made it?” He struggled to reconcile the lace and fine embroidery with his memory of the cranky old man.

“He was a tailor’s apprentice when I found him,” said Aislinn softly.

Feeling awkward, Will didn’t know what to say, so he stood silently for a while. Looking down on his grandfather’s bundled form, he made a quiet goodbye. I hope this is what you’d have wanted. Eventually he nodded to them and began to turn away. “I should go.”

“Wait,” said Aislinn firmly. “There has been no payment for this.” She lifted the pillow in her hands.

“It’s a gift,” said Will.

“Then I must give you a gift in return,” she replied. “Hold out your hand.”

He shook his head. “That’s not how gifts work.”

Tailtiu spoke for the first time in almost an hour. “The nature of our existence requires it.”

Aislinn took his hand and held it up, placing the palm of her own right hand beside it. Another limnthal appeared in the air above her skin. “Call your mark forth, William, so I can make the exchange.”

He did, and a second later he felt something pass between the two spells, as though some energy had transferred from one to the other. “What did you do?”

“You returned his first gift to me, so I have given you the second gift that he gave me,” she answered. “You may find it useful someday.”

Curious and frustrated, he asked again, “But what is it?”

“A small thing,” said his grandmother. “Once you learn to use your magic, you’ll understand.”

His jaw clenched. “But I’ll never learn. I don’t have a teacher.”

Aislinn laughed, long and hard, as though he had said the most humorous thing she had ever heard. “The limnthal you bear is the first to have been granted since Valmon received his over four hundred years ago. You will live a very long life, William Cartwright, if you can keep from getting killed. You will have many teachers, and before your fate is done you will change the world.” Leaning forward, she kissed his forehead before he could react. Unlike before, when Tailtiu had kissed him, he didn’t grow weak. Instead he felt a faint tingling on his skin. “This is my blessing, invisible to most, but the fae will recognize it. If you deal with others of my kind it may save you from a foolish bargain.”

Turning away, she gestured at Arrogan’s body, and a spell ran from her fingers to touch his cold flesh. The body floated up from the ground and followed her as she and her daughter retreated deeper into the forest. Will watched them go, rubbing at his forehead, which itched strangely. He didn’t know what to think of what had happened, so after a few moments, he turned back toward the shack that was now his only home.

***

“This is incredible,” said Sammy, shoving her mouth full of egg toast. “How did you make it taste like this? Even Momma’s isn’t this…” Her voice stopped suddenly, and her face wrinkled as she fought back tears.

Erisa started talking, keeping her voice even. “Will’s teacher was a very good cook. I learned a lot when I stayed with him before Will was born, even though he didn’t let me cook very often.”

That struck Will as odd, since he had been forced to cook the majority of the time. “Why didn’t he let you cook more?”

His mother scrunched up her face. “He said I’d poison my unborn child, among other things, most of which are too rude to say in front of Samantha.”

That made them laugh, a laugh that grew louder than it needed to be. Will stopped himself as he felt his emotions begin to swing out of control. “I always thought you were a great cook, Mom, until the old man let me try his food.” He tried to laugh again, but his eyes were already wet.

None of them could speak for a while after that. Will began sniffling, and soon Sammy was sobbing. The food grew cold before they finished consoling one another. When they finally regained their composure, Will spoke up, “I have to tell you something about last night.”

“Did you go somewhere?” asked Erisa. “I remember you getting up very early.”

“I took Grandfather’s body away,” said Will.

Sammy’s eyes went wide. “Did you bury it by yourself?”

It occurred to him that telling her that would be a far easier explanation, but he knew his mother would never believe it. Even with a shovel, burying a body would take much more work than he could have accomplished by himself in such a short time. “I gave it to his next of kin.”

Erisa looked confused. “Who?”

“His wife and daughter visited last night.”

“Aislinn is alive?” said his mother in amazement. “I suppose if she was like him, I should have known it was possible, but—” She stopped, changing her question, “Where has she been all this time?”

“She isn’t like him,” corrected Will. “Neither is his daughter. They’re fae.”

Sammy was watching both of them, trying to make sense of the conversation, then her eyes lit up. “Aislinn? His wife was the Goddess of Magic? Really? What about Elth—”

Reacting quickly, Will snatched up the toast from her plate and shoved it into Sammy’s open mouth. “Don’t say his name. Both of them can hear you when you say their names.”

His cousin bit off a large piece of toast and began chewing furiously before swallowing it down. “Was he really our great-great-grandfather? Does that mean we have god-blood in us?”

He shook his head. “His wife was human once, but something happened to her before she had her last child.”

Erisa added, “He really was your great-great-great-great-grandfather, though I don’t know how many ‘greats’ to put there.”

“So he was fae too?” asked Sammy.

“No,” said Will.

“He was some kind of wizard,” said Erisa. “Different than the ones we have today. I think he knew some secret that gave him great longevity.”

“How old was he?” exclaimed Sammy.

Will’s mother shrugged. “I’m not sure, but I know he fought against Darrow in the Terabinian War for Independence. He was very bitter about it. I think he had a grudge against their prophet.”

“Valmon,” put in Will. “The Prophet was his last student. He told me he killed him.”

Erisa covered her mouth. “Did he say why?”

“No. He rarely talked about his past,” said Will.

“Wasn’t the War for Independence over four hundred years ago?” asked Sammy, her voice full of wonder.

“A little more than that, I think,” corrected Erisa.

Sammy’s eyes locked onto Will. “He was teaching you magic, wasn’t he?” Her mouth went wide, and she stuffed her fist into it before mumbling around it, “Are you going to be a sorcerer?”

He couldn’t help but chuckle. “Grandfather would have lost his mind if he heard you say that.”

“He hated sorcerers,” explained Erisa.

“And the fae,” added Will.

“And deer,” said his mother, beginning to smirk.

“And fools,” said Will.

“Don’t forget the king,” said Erisa.

“The nobility,” added Will.

“And most people in general,” finished his mother, grinning. Then her face turned serious. “Except you, William. He pretended otherwise, but I could tell. He was very fond of you.” As quickly as that, their tears returned and the conversation ended.

A while later, his mother decided to take an inventory of what was in the house, to see what they had and what they might need in the near future. Will took the opportunity to make an excuse. “It’s cold and getting colder. I’ll need to bring in some more firewood,” he lied. His mother hadn’t yet seen the large supply of wood that was already laid in on one side of the house.

“Don’t go near the village, William,” cautioned his mother.

He nodded. “I know, Mom.” Stepping outside, he gathered his staff and set off in a direction that would take him away from Barrowden, but once he was out of sight he circled around. He needed to find out what else had happened.

Chapter 30

Will knew his decision to return to the village was dangerous at best, but he knew the area well and he was confident in his ability to sneak close without being seen. The thing he most wanted to know was whether the enemy soldiers had moved on after destroying Barrowden, or whether they still remained. If they were gone, there might be a lot they could salvage. I’ll be careful, he told himself. Mom will just have to forgive me.

To avoid detection, he stayed away from the road, approaching the town from the north, where the forest was closest and the terrain the most difficult. He moved slowly, pausing for longer and longer periods the closer he got to ensure there were no lookouts that might spot him, but even so he nearly gave himself away.

He was less than a hundred yards from the northern edge of town, where the trees began to grow more sparsely, and he could already tell that Barrowden was still occupied. The collapsed building still smoldered, giving off smoke, but on the eastern end of town he could see tents and banners in the open field that the road passed through. The town itself seemed empty, though.

He had been getting increasingly more anxious the closer he got, though he couldn’t put his finger on precisely why. His nervousness made him wait even longer before moving, though. He remembered what his grandfather had done with the illusory trees, so he examined the area before him carefully, in case the enemy had used similar magic.

There was no sign of magic, but something still felt wrong. He had almost convinced himself he was being overcautious when he realized what was bothering him, and he studied the terrain again. There was nothing unusual to be seen with what he considered his ‘normal’ sight, but the faint flows of turyn that he had grown used to seeing since his journey to the fae realm were different. It wasn’t deliberate magic; that would’ve been much more obvious.

Sentries, he decided. In several places, the streamers of turyn were moving strangely, as though disturbed by something, like water flowing around a rock in a stream. It was something he had gotten used to seeing around his cousin, his mother, even Arrogan. Humans, like other living things, possessed their own turyn, but it was strongly bound to their bodies, causing the ambient turyn to be displaced near them. Trees and plants did the same thing, of course, but with animals the effect was more pronounced.

There were two trees and a large rock that all displayed an unusual displacement of turyn, as though someone was hidden behind them. It wasn’t magic. The soldiers of Darrow were simply very good at hiding, much better than his childhood playmates had been. And I almost walked right into them.

So much for getting closer. Will settled down to watch. After a few minutes he noticed something that should have come to his attention sooner—the sound of axes. He had been overly distracted watching a group of soldiers digging a mass grave, but on the other side of town they were felling trees. They’re planning to settle in for the winter.

Idiots, observed his internal voice, sounding much like his grandfather. If they were planning to dig in, they should have left the buildings intact. He waited another quarter of an hour and then began to carefully ease away. His mother was probably in a panic by now.

As he made the difficult trek back, he felt his conviction begin to firm up. Something had to be done; otherwise his remaining family and friends would never be able to go home. It would take an army to drive them out, and he was beginning to see the conscription crew that had come to his village before in a different light.

***

“William Cartwright! Are you trying to drive me to an early death?”

They were standing in the dirt yard in front of the house. He had expected his mother to yell, but seeing the stark fear in her face made him feel incredibly guilty.

“If you’re going to keep doing things like this, I’d just as soon kill you myself and get it over with! Do you have any idea the kind of things that went through my mind when we realized you had run off? They could have killed you! Worse, they could have tortured you to find out where we were hiding and then come to kill us as well. What would happen to Sammy if they found us here? Did that ever occur to you?”

Will’s head was down, and he kept his eyes on the ground. “I’m sorry, Mom, but I had to find out what was happening.”

Staring at her shadow, he saw her arm rise, as though she would strike him, but then his mother sat down suddenly, covering her face with her hands. “How strong do you think I am?” she asked, her voice breaking. “It’s hard enough just to survive without worrying about you constantly.”

“I’m sorry,” he began again, but Sammy interrupted, putting her hand on Erisa’s arm.

“It’s all right, Auntie. He came back safe,” said his cousin.

Realizing her outburst was upsetting her niece, Erisa wiped her face and stood up again. “What’s done is done. Since you risked your fool neck, you might as well tell us what you saw.”

Will explained what he had done, leaving out the part where he had nearly walked into the sentries. “They’re burying the dead, but they’re also cutting trees. They’ve set up camp on the east side of town. I think they’re planning to spend the winter.”

“I guess it’s about what we should have expected,” said his mother.

“Shouldn’t they keep going?” asked Sammy. “If they’re invading the kingdom, they shouldn’t stop here.”

His mother shook her head. “Attacking this late in the year was a surprise in and of itself. Winter is just beginning, and the passes will be snowed under in a few weeks. They’re hoping that it’s too late for Lognion to assemble a force to drive them out. In the spring, the Patriarch’s army can cross and they’ll have a good place to begin a full campaign.”

“But the king will stop them, right?” asked Sammy, her voice full of both hope and fear. “Dad’s in the army now. He won’t let them take Barrowden.”

“I’m sure Lord Fulstrom would like to drive them out immediately,” said Erisa. “He’s gathered his men in Branscombe. But the Lord has to obey his king. King Lognion will probably want to concentrate his forces before he responds, and that means they aren’t likely to come until spring.”

“What about us?” asked Will. “If they stay there all winter—”

“We’ll have to get out,” said his mother. “While they’re fortifying the area, they’ll also be sending out groups to scour the forest and hills, looking for survivors, food, and anything they can use. Eventually they’ll find us.”

“They won’t,” said Will firmly.

“Why do you say that?” asked Erisa.

“Aislinn promised me,” he answered. “She said she would make sure that no enemy found this place.”

His mother sighed. “She’s fae. Do you believe her?”

He nodded. “They can’t lie or break their bargains. They can twist the truth, but they can’t break their word.”

“If it was a bargain, what did you give her?” asked his mother, worry written on her features.

“Grandfather’s body,” he replied. “I know she’s dangerous, but I think she really wants to help. They won’t find us here.”

“What about food?” asked Sammy.

Erisa took a deep breath. “There’s enough stored to keep us until spring, but it won’t be pleasant. It’s mainly turnips, parsnips, carrots, and dried peas. Without meat we’ll get sick of those pretty quickly.”

“We’ve got eggs,” suggested Sammy.

“The hens have already almost stopped laying,” said Erisa. “I suppose we could eat a couple of them, but then we’ll be in bad shape when spring arrives.”

Will wished he knew how the old man had been getting butter and other necessities, but it was too late to ask him. “At least we won’t starve,” he said at last.

“We’re wasting heat standing out here,” said his mother. “Let’s go inside. William, bring in some more wood.”

They had a simple meal that evening, though Will still managed to earn high praise from both his mother and Sammy for his cooking. He wondered if they’d still feel the same after several months of eating the same food every day. Without much else to do, they talked and played chess with a gameboard and pieces that Erisa had found in Arrogan’s room. She had to teach them the rules, so Will and Sammy lost every game, but it was fun anyway.

When they got ready to sleep, Will retired to his cot, leaving the bed to them. He claimed it was because he was too old to sleep with his mother, and while that was partly true, his main reason was that he needed time alone to think.

I’m seventeen now, he realized. In all the commotion of the past few days, his birthday had passed unnoticed. In a year he would be considered a man, though he hardly felt like it. Eric was still sixteen when they took him. I’m certainly old enough.

Although it had never been something he considered before, he felt a strong need to join the King’s Army. It wasn’t something he wanted, but seeing the soldiers of Darrow occupying Barrowden after their slaughter had changed something in him. Losing his aunt and little Dougie had shocked and hurt him, but it had also created a newfound determination. Without the old man around to learn from, he had no reason to stay. His main concern was finding a way to ensure that his mother and Sammy would be safe.

Aislinn’s promise was reassuring, but he still worried. Food might not be an absolute problem, since there were plenty of vegetables, but he didn’t like the thought of them spending the entire winter trying to subsist on just those things.

Unfortunately, other than the ability to sneak and hide, he had few practical woodland skills. He knew enough to make simple snares for small game like rabbits and squirrels, but those were unlikely to catch anything in the winter. He didn’t have a bow, but even if he did, he didn’t know how to use one, much less stalk deer or other large game. He could make a fire with simple tools, find edible plants, and move quietly. That was the extent of his usefulness.

Oh, and I can make funny shapes out of turyn that no one can see, he reminded himself. He knew the runes of power, but he hadn’t the faintest idea how to use them. He couldn’t even create a light. I’m just another mouth to feed.

He couldn’t justify leaving them based on that, though. He needed to do something, and joining the army seemed to be the only way he could do anyone any good. But he couldn’t leave unless he knew they would be safe.

His thoughts twisted back and forth along those paths for a long time before he finally gave in to sleep, but even his dreams were troubled.

Chapter 31

Will woke just as the sun was beginning to crest the horizon and went out to see if he might get lucky and find an egg. The hens hadn’t produced many over the past week, but there was always the chance that they might lay one more before they closed up shop for the winter. He stopped when he stepped onto the porch, taking in a view that was unexpected for more than one reason.

The first snow had come, blanketing the world in a sheet of white—a blanket that was stained with crimson streaks. On the ground in front of the house was a large doe, a very dead doe. Arrogan would have been thrilled, was the first thought that came to him when he got over the shock.

There were claw marks along the doe’s flanks, but that hadn’t been what killed her. Something had bitten through the back of her neck, close to her skull, killing her almost instantly. Will jumped three feet backward when something brushed up against his leg.

It was the goddamn cat, his paws and muzzle stained dark with drying blood. Will stared at the feline with undisguised horror. “Did you do this?” he asked aloud.

There’s no way this cat could have done this, he told himself silently.

The goddamn cat coughed and began to retch. After a moment he coughed up what Will thought might be a hairball, but on closer inspection turned out to be a piece of bone. The cat looked up at Will and bared his teeth in what might have been a smile, or a warning. Either way, with the blood all over his face the expression was terrifying. Then the cat walked around him, rubbing against his leg once more before walking over to sit beside the deer carcass.

“Is this for us?” asked Will. I’ve gone mad, he thought immediately after. Now I’m talking to the cat too.

The grey tom stared at him for a long moment, then blinked slowly before walking away, heading back into the wilderness. “This is unbelievable,” Will muttered to himself before turning to the door and yelling, “Mom!”

Erisa took the news more pragmatically than he expected. Rather than ask questions, she instructed him to gut the beast quickly and then showed him how to hang it so she could bleed the body. “She’s still warm,” said his mother. “We want to do it before the meat freezes.”

Will had never cleaned anything larger than a rabbit or chicken, but his mother had apparently had some experience and she walked him through the process. The gutting was essentially the same, but skinning the animal afterward was considerably more work. It turned out that hanging the deer was essential for that as well.

“When did you learn to do this?” he asked his mother when they were almost done.

Erisa smiled, as though remembering something pleasant. “When I was young. My father, your grandfather, loved to hunt. Mom wasn’t very fond of cleaning game, so my father always had to do it. When I was old enough, he let me help him.”

It didn’t sound like a very pleasant memory, but he could tell from the look in her eye that she felt differently. He wondered how many more things there were about her past that he didn’t know. People were full of mysteries. That thought brought him around to Arrogan, and he realized the old man had had hundreds of years’ worth of experiences he knew nothing about—that he would never know about. Once again, he was almost overwhelmed by the sense of how much he had lost.

He was brought back from his reverie when he realized his mother had asked a question. “Sorry. What did you say?”

“I asked if you knew what killed the doe,” said Erisa.

Will couldn’t begin to come up with a lie big enough to cover this, so he simply answered, “I think it was the cat.”

She laughed. “I could almost believe it of that strange cat, but the claw marks on the hind quarters were too big.”

He held her eyes with his. “I’m pretty sure it was the cat.”

She frowned. “You’re suggesting it can transform or some such?”

“I have no idea. I don’t know what the goddamn cat can do, but he’s no ordinary cat,” he told her. “I’m just glad he seems to be on our side. Aislinn said the fae won’t come near the house because of him.”

Erisa looked worried. “That would’ve suited your grandfather just fine, but how can we be sure it’s safe?”

Will shrugged. “It’s just a feeling, but I think he’ll protect this place. Between him, and Aislinn hiding the house from the soldiers, I doubt there’s a safer place in the entire kingdom.”

His mother nodded. “I suppose there was a reason Arrogan chose to stay here for so long.”

The next few days passed quietly as they settled into a simple, yet boring routine. With snow on the ground there was nothing to do but cook and sleep. Will continued his math and reading practice even though he had pretty much mastered the material he had. He also spent some time drilling with the runes. He knew them all by heart now, but it was recent knowledge. He worried he would begin to forget them if he didn’t go over them every once in a while. Not that it matters, he thought sourly. I can’t do anything with them.

“You will have many teachers,” Aislinn had told him, and he believed her. Perhaps someday he would have an opportunity to learn enough to use them.

Such thoughts did nothing to cure him of his desperate desire to do something now. Aside from cooking, he had little to offer Sammy and his mother, and even that was becoming a topic of contention. His mother seemed to think the best way to cook anything, including venison, was simply to stew it. While that was fine now and then, he preferred to have a little variety, and his effort to teach his mother seemed to set her teeth on edge.

And they had only been cooped up together for four days. How bad would it be in a month?

If I’m going to join the army I need to leave soon, he thought. The western pass that led to Branscombe was easier, and wouldn’t close as soon as the eastern pass to Darrow, but it would become impassable if he waited too long.

But he couldn’t imagine telling his mother that he planned to go. She wouldn’t accept it. Even if they had an army of soldiers and retainers to protect the house and see to their every need, it wouldn’t have mattered. It wasn’t her safety she was concerned with, it was his, and joining the army was too dangerous.

The next night, after his mother and Sammy went to bed, he rose quietly and began packing his meager belongings. There wasn’t much, since he only had two sets of clothes. He added Arrogan’s winter cloak to them and wrapped up enough food to last him three days. He didn’t have any portable pans so he wouldn’t have many options when it came to cooking the meat, but he could simply roast it he decided. The carrots he could eat raw.

Before he left, he got out his writing materials and penned a short note:

Mom,

I know you’ll be angry, but I have to do this. I’m going to Branscombe to join the King’s Army there. I also hope to find Uncle Johnathan and Eric to let them know you and Sammy are safe.

Will

He stared at the note. It was very short, and he knew there were many more things he could say, but none of them would matter. He left the page on the table and put on the cloak before going out the door. The goddamn cat was sitting on the porch, as though waiting for him.

“I’m leaving,” he told the cat. “I’m going to join the army to help liberate Barrowden.”

The grey tom began cleaning himself, starting with his balls, as if to show his opinion of that course of action.

Will couldn’t help but chuckle. “Granddad would have likely thought the same.” After a few seconds, he added, “Thank you for the deer. I hope you’ll watch over them until I get back.”

The cat sat up, his ears snapping forward as all of his attention came to rest on Will. Then he walked forward until he was in front of the young man’s boots. Unsure what to do, Will bent down and held his hand out, offering to scratch the feline’s chin. With no warning, the goddamn cat’s paw lashed out, leaving a bloody groove on the back of Will’s hand.

“Ow!” exclaimed Will, snatching his hand back. “What was that for?”

The tom sniffed his paw, smelling the blood there, then walked to the front door and stretched up to catch the wood with his claws. Pulling down, he left scratches in the wood, then he turned and looked at Will again. He blinked once, slowly, then curled up in front of the door.

Was that his way of sealing a bargain? he wondered. It didn’t seem entirely fair. I should get to scratch him back. He grinned to himself at the thought.

The sky was grey to the east and still almost black to the west. Dawn was close, and he knew his mother would be waking in an hour or so. It was time to go, so he stepped off the porch and began to march west. In the summer, when the road was dry and the pass was free of snow, the journey to Branscombe took a little less than three days, but Will knew better than to attempt the road. There were bound to be Darrowan scouts watching it.

He would have to stay in the forest as much as possible, until it thinned out as the land rose into the mountains. He would only approach the road itself when he got close to the narrow part of the pass, where there simply wasn’t another option. If the Darrowans had placed sentries there, he’d have to figure out how to get past them when the time came.

Given that he wouldn’t be using the road, his travel would take twice as long, at least until he cleared the pass, and even after that, the snow would slow him down. His best guess was that it would take him a week to reach Branscombe, and he only had enough food to last about three days.

It was also cold and would be colder still in the pass itself. A normal trip to Branscombe involved three days of travel and two nights camping on the road, but he didn’t have the gear for camping in cold weather. He’d probably freeze to death if he tried.

The solution to both his food problem and the problem of camping was simple: he wouldn’t camp. There would be a half-moon that night, and it was waxing, so it would continue to grow for another week. With clear skies, he should have enough light. He’d travel through the day and continue at night. With luck he would reach the narrow part of the pass at night, making it easier to avoid whatever sentries might be there. By not resting he could keep himself warm and cut his travel time nearly in half. It was the perfect plan, or so he thought.

Will only had a small amount of uncertainty, which, as always, spoke with his grandfather’s voice, Only a fucking idiot would try crossing the mountains at night during the winter.

“Which is why they’ll never expect it,” said Will, arguing with himself.

His inner doubt didn’t reply, but he could sense it quietly cussing in the background. The years with Arrogan had left their mark on him. He’d probably never be normal, but hopefully he could conceal his oddness from others when he joined the army.

The journey through the Glenwood was harder than he had expected. The new snow concealed the ground, causing him to trip over unseen limbs and other detritus. It also made it harder to spot low spots and holes that became more common as he got into rockier terrain. His staff quickly became indispensable as he used it to maintain his balance and check the ground ahead.

In the late afternoon, things got easier. The sun warmed his back, making him almost uncomfortably warm. He was forced to remove the heavy cloak to avoid sweating and making his clothes damp. The forest thinned out, and the terrain became easier to traverse. The snow was thin here, so he increased his speed to a jog. He was already beginning to tire, but his training had given him tools to deal with that. Will first expanded his turyn, drawing in more from the air around him, then contracted it, concentrating it in his lungs and the muscles of his legs to increase his stamina and endurance.

He knew from past experience that he could run for a long time using tricks like that, but he’d never done so for more than a half an hour before. There would probably be a price to pay when he stopped, but that was all right. He could rest when he reached Branscombe.

Thirty minutes into his jog, he stepped into a hole and nearly twisted his ankle. The reflexes he had developed from a lifetime of playing in the forest saved him, taking his weight off the foot that had nothing beneath it and bending his knee before it hit bottom. After he had regained his footing and moved on, he glanced back. “Anyone else would have been in serious trouble,” he said, congratulating himself.

Fool’s luck, warned his inner voice.

“Shut up,” he told himself, resuming his journey, though he stopped jogging.

He was moving steadily uphill now, so his fatigue grew quickly, and his muscles began to feel heavy. The thinning air didn’t help. Will increased the turyn in his lungs, but they still burned from taking in so much cold air.

Night fell as he entered the mountains. He stopped to eat a carrot, for his hunger was so great he thought he might be starving to death. It didn’t do much to satisfy him, so he made a brief attempt at starting a fire.

Though his body was warm, his hands were cold and clumsy. The wood he found was coated with snow and ice. It didn’t take him long to realize he wouldn’t succeed. Making a fire in these conditions is a skill, one you don’t have—moron, said his inner voice.

Ignoring the voice, Will took out his waterskin and took a drink. He was surprised to find that it was empty after only a couple of swallows. Had he been drinking that much? He knew better than to try eating snow, though it was tempting, so he spent some time packing snow in the small opening of his waterskin. It seemed to take forever, but hopefully it would melt while he traveled.

He was only getting colder, so he got back on his feet and started walking again, which was harder than he expected. After the short rest, his legs had gotten stiff and they now felt as though they were made of lead. At a guess he had been traveling for about fourteen hours. How bad would it be the next day?

His fatigue made the tricky terrain even more dangerous, so he began moving closer to the road, where it was more even. It was less than a quarter-mile from where he was, and wasn’t even truly a road anymore, so much as a relatively clear and well-traveled path. The snow made it hard to even tell exactly where the road was, and he fell several times when his feet encountered unexpected rocks.

He focused his turyn once more, strengthening his legs and lungs, but it took longer this time. Even his turyn seemed sluggish, unwilling to respond, though he wasn’t sure why. Fatigue eats away at your will even faster than performing magic, said his inner advisor. Was that something his grandfather had told him before, or was his imagination working overtime?

Gritting his teeth, Will kept moving. “I don’t need your advice,” he told himself.

If stubbornness was the same as ‘will’ you’d have nothing to fear, boy, but it isn’t, said his grandfather’s voice in his mind.

“You should know,” answered Will, his voice raw from the freezing air.

You’ll die if you don’t find shelter.

“If you cared then you shouldn’t have left me alone.” He tried to spit to clear his mouth, but it was too dry.

Sometime after midnight he drew close to the crest, the high point of the path between mountain peaks. His thirst was intense, but when he tried to get water from the skin he carried he discovered it felt like a rock was inside. The snow had melted at some point and then hardened into a solid piece of ice. Ignoring his better judgment, he scooped up some snow from the ground and put it into his mouth.

It didn’t help much with his thirst, but he felt better anyway. He ate some more and then decided he should take a short rest. His body was so tired that a nap sounded like a perfect remedy. He wasn’t that cold anyway. He found a rock jutting up from the snow and sat down, putting his back against it. His eyes closed almost immediately.

Wake up, dumbass!

“Leave me alone.”

You’ll be as dead as that frozen lump of fat you call a brain if you don’t get up, said his grandfather.

Will smiled. “You used to have better insults.”

That’s because I’m a delusion. You’re too stupid to come up with a decent impression of me, said Arrogan. Get up!

Despite thinking it was a bad idea, Will tried. His eyes wouldn’t open, and it took him a moment to realize they had frozen shut. He rubbed at them with his hands, but that didn’t seem to work, so he gave up on it. He struggled to get to his feet but promptly fell over. “I can’t,” he mumbled into the warm snow.

Then call her!

“Who?” asked Will.

Who do you think? Never mind, just forget it. You’re doing the world a favor by removing your stupidity from it.

Will giggled. “I was just teasing. I know you meant Tailtiu.”

Say it again.

“Tailtiu,” he whispered. “Your daughter is really beautiful, even if she’s my aunt.”

Once more.

“I’ve had some really naughty dreams about her. You’d be so mad if I told you,” said Will.

Say it, you demented half-wit!

“Tail—” he began before drifting into a warm darkness.

Chapter 32

The first thing Will became aware of was a red glow that seemed to suffuse everything around him. In fact, it was the only thing around him. When he opened his eyes, nothing changed; there were no shapes or anything else, other than the red glow.

“You called, yet you say nothing when I appear,” said a soft, feminine voice.

It sounded like Tailtiu, but Will wasn’t sure. He might be dreaming. As far as he could tell, he no longer had a body.

“If you won’t speak, I’ll leave,” she warned. “This is boring.”

Will tried to answer, but the only sound that came out was, “Grhk.” That answered the question about his body, though. He must still have one if he could make sounds.

“You’re awake,” she said, sounding surprised.

“Helphh,” he managed. The words got easier as he moved his lips more.

“Why don’t you look at me?” asked the fae. The light grew brighter for a moment. “Oh. Your eyelids are frozen shut. Why would you do that?” A warm wind caressed his face, and after a few minutes he felt his lashes come unstuck.

The red glow made more sense after he cracked his eyes open. A bright light hovered in the air above Tailtiu’s head, but it had seemed red as it filtered through the lids of his eyes. “I’m dying,” he told her, his voice thick but intelligible at last.

The fae woman cocked her head to one side, reminding him of a curious dog. “You’ve been dying since you were born. Is this a riddle?”

“Too cold,” he said. “I need help.”

Tailtiu frowned. “Why don’t you just use your magic to warm yourself?”

Will groaned. “I don’t know how.”

Arrogan’s daughter laughed as though he had told a joke. “That’s ridiculous. Father could do it. You’re just like him; you should be able to do the same.”

Even exhausted, Will found her tone irritating. “Tell me how then.”

His aunt shrugged. “I don’t know how human magic works. Mother does, but you called me. Besides, that sounds like a favor, doesn’t it? We haven’t made a bargain. I could warm you myself if you like. Would you like to use one of the unbounded favors to ask that of me?”

As foggy as his thoughts were, Will still knew that was an unbalanced bargain. “Service for three days,” he declared, although it came out as more of a mumble. “One favor.”

Tailtiu smiled slyly. “Service? What sort of service do you require?”

Will felt a faint tugging lower down. He struggled to lift his head and managed to catch a glimpse of her hand unfastening his trousers. “Not that,” he insisted. “Any service. Warm me up, help me travel.”

She paused. “Any service should include sex, though.”

He wanted to shout at the stupid fae, but that was beyond his capacity. “It does, but I don’t intend to ask for that.”

“It’s gone,” said Tailtiu, staring at his lower body. “Oh, there it is. Oh dear, how sad.”

“Three days’ service,” he repeated. “In exchange for one favor.”

“Shouldn’t it be one favor for each day?” she countered.

Since the favor was unbounded there were no strict limits—Will knew that much. “Would you prefer three years for one favor?”

Her face went sour. “Three days then. Deal?”

“Deal,” he answered. “Can you warm me up?”

Tailtiu exhaled, and a warm rush of air flooded over him, but unlike normal breath it lingered, wrapping itself around him and lifting his body from the icy ground. It felt as though he was in the softest bed imaginable. The warmth sank into him, and soon he began to feel uncomfortably hot. His arms and legs began to tingle and burn as though he had put them too close to a fire. “You’re burning me,” Will complained.

“You’ll have to bear it,” said his aunt. “The air is still cold.”

Will tried to refasten his trousers, but his fingers refused to work. “Can you help me with this?” he asked at last.

“You humans and your fixation with clothing,” said Tailtiu. She closed up his trousers and retied the laces, then fixed his belt. “Although, in your case I suppose I can understand. It’s so small. It must be embarrassing for you.”

He would have blushed if his cheeks weren’t still so cold. “I was freezing to death,” he insisted. “What do you expect?” It was then that he noticed the fae woman was nude, as usual. “Aren’t you cold?” he asked. She didn’t even have shoes.

“Hot, cold, it’s all the same for us,” she told him as she examined his hands. “These don’t look good. You might lose them. Your feet are probably just as bad.” Then she reached up and touched his cheek. “The cheeks too. You’re going to be very ugly if you don’t die.”

“Can you heal me?”

Tailtiu appeared to give it serious thought, then responded, “The easiest way would be if you ate some of my flesh.”

“Not blood?”

“That would be too slow. You need something more substantial.” She held up her hand, wiggling her fingers. “Like this, or a foot.” When she saw the look of revulsion on his face, she moved her hand across her chest. “Or perhaps you would prefer something softer?”

The very thought made him want to vomit. “I don’t want to become like you,” he said after he had wrestled his stomach back under control.

“How rude,” remarked Tailtiu, then after a minute her look of outrage melted away and she began to laugh. “Mother said I shouldn’t tease you too much.” He could see turyn flowing around her, growing brighter and more concentrated around her hands. “I can heal your injuries, but as bad as they are it will probably be very painful.”

Will didn’t like the sound of that, but he didn’t have much choice. He nodded to indicate his willingness.

But Tailtiu wasn’t done with her warnings. “There are men on the mountain not far from here. If you scream, they’ll hear us. Were you trying to hide from them?”

He was almost certain the ones she was referring to would be Darrowan scouts. “I don’t think they’re friendly. Why didn’t they see your light then?”

“We are hidden by my magic to all but the closest observers.”

“Couldn’t you hide the sound of my yells?”

She shook her head. “My magic is good at helping one remain hidden, or to move without sound, but if you scream it won’t be effective. Mother could do it with some of the human magic she knows, but I have never learned such things.” Leaning close, she added, “I can put you into a deep slumber, where perhaps the pain cannot reach you.”

“All right,” said Will, and then he felt her turyn begin to move, sinking into his body. Seconds passed into minutes, and while he felt a number of strange sensations, he remained wide awake.

Tailtiu frowned. “Don’t fight it.”

“I’m not.”

“Yes, you are,” she insisted. “You’re eating my magic.”

Eating it? What did that mean? Perhaps his body was converting her turyn into his own as soon as it entered his body. Concentrating, he tried drawing his turyn inward, compressing it around his tiny source and leaving most of his body empty. When that failed to help, he expanded it once more and tried releasing his hold on his source, allowing it to return to what had once been a normal level of turyn production.

That seemed to work, and he began to grow drowsy, though it still took several minutes before her magic pushed him into unconsciousness. The world darkened, and he sank into oblivion. How long he remained that way he couldn’t have guessed, but a searing pain brought him back. It felt as though flames enveloped his entire being.

He fought the flames for some period before his consciousness returned. He had a vague memory of wrestling with the power that was tormenting him, but he wasn’t entirely sure what had happened. It wasn’t until he heard Tailtiu’s screams that he finally awoke fully, and his eyes snapped open.

The ground was ice cold beneath him, as he was no longer floating. Sitting up, he saw his aunt writhing in the snow nearby, her body marked by ugly black lines that covered her from head to toe in a jagged pattern. As he looked, the turyn connecting them disappeared; her movements slowed, and the screams tapered off into a soft groaning.

“What happened?” he asked as he moved closer. He reached out toward her, but she scrambled back, a terrified look in her eyes.

“You nearly killed me,” she accused, keeping her distance. Her breathing was returning to normal, but the flesh near the black lines on her skin was becoming red. In some places she seemed to be bleeding as well. A fresh spasm of pain shook her, and she curled into a ball.

“How? I was unconscious.” Even as he said it, though, he remembered fighting with something before he had awoken. As he spoke, he noticed his hand, which was no longer blue and purple. The skin was a fresh pink, and although it felt tender and sensitive there was no sign of the damage it had possessed earlier.

He heard a shout in the distance. The Darrowan scouts were beginning to search, having heard Tailtiu’s cries. He glanced around. The magic Tailtiu had been using to hide them was gone, along with her light. They were in a slight depression beside the same rock he had collapsed against earlier, but otherwise they were completely exposed. Only the night hid them, and with a half-moon above that wasn’t nearly enough.

“We have to move, or hide,” he told her, but his aunt didn’t respond. Will shook her, trying to get her attention, but her body was limp and her skin was as cold as the snow beneath her. Is she dead? he wondered. Did I kill her somehow? According to his grandfather, that wasn’t supposed to be possible. The fae were immortal. Even if you cut one of them into a dozen pieces, those pieces would survive until they were reunited. Smaller wounds would simply regenerate.

The voices were getting closer, and Will could just make out dark shapes moving against the grey-white of the moonlit mountain slope. A surge of panic rose within him, causing his mind to go blank. Before he knew what he was doing, he began to kick snow over Tailtiu’s body to conceal it.

An idea came to him then, and he stopped. Brushing the snow away from her, he moved her slightly so she would be more easily visible. Then he moved to the other side of the boulder to hide. Once there, he removed his cloak and scooped as much new-fallen snow over it as he could manage, and then he eased into a low crouch beside the rock and pulled the snow-covered cloak gently up and over himself. Some of the snow fell away, but he thought enough remained to disguise him as a snow drift in the poor light. He clutched his staff in his right hand and touched the sheath on his belt to make sure his knife was still there. Then he waited.

Despite their nearness, it took much longer for the scouts to reach Tailtiu’s body than he had expected, and Will’s hand began to burn with the cold where it gripped his staff. His entire body felt extraordinarily sensitive, and it was a struggle to remain still, much less contain his shivers.

There were two men approaching and one of them held a lantern. Both were wrapped in heavy cloaks, and neither seemed to be expecting an ambush despite the strange sounds they had heard. Will bowed his head and closed his eyes to preserve his night vision. His ears would tell him when they were close.

The crunching sound of boots in fresh snow grew louder, and then a man’s voice called out. “There’s someone here.”

“Where?” answered the man’s companion.

“Over there, near that big rock.”

The steps came closer, and Will heard the sound of blades being drawn from scabbards. That wasn’t something he’d wanted to hear. It was a stupid plan, he told himself. Of course they would draw their weapons. He doubted he’d have much chance against two armed and wary soldiers.

It was too late to do things differently, however, so he remained still. The steps got louder and then stopped. “It’s a woman,” said the first man. “She’s naked!”

“Huh?”

“I think she’s dead,” said the first soldier. “Someone must have killed her and stripped the body.”

“Be careful, it might be a trap,” said the second.

“She’s cold as ice. She has to be dead,” said the first, then he hissed. “She’s been tortured! Look at this!”

The second man wasn’t having it, though. “Make sure she’s dead first.”

“How?”

“Stick your blade in her. Then we’ll know for sure.”

“You’re an idiot,” said the first soldier. “Look, someone’s burned black lines into her. Her skin is charred. Damn, she’s beautiful—or was. Who would do something like this?”

“We would,” said the second man dryly. “Didn’t you see what some of us did back at that village?”

“Don’t remind me. I haven’t slept well since.” The first man added, “This isn’t normal, though. It had to be magic. There’s no sign of a fire, and these lines go all over her body.”

“Let’s get out of here. If there’s a sorcerer, I don’t want to meet him. What are you doing?”

“We have to take her with us,” said the first soldier. “If it starts snowing, we might not be able to find her later.”

“Don’t be daft! Leave her there. You heard about the group that got murdered by that old man claiming to be the Betrayer himself. What if he’s up here?”

“Someone has to bury her. It wouldn’t be right otherwise.”

As he listened, Will found himself agreeing with the first speaker. Neither of the Darrowans sounded particularly bad, and the first one seemed downright decent. He wanted to stay hidden—to let them leave and then sneak away—but he couldn’t let them take Tailtiu. He waited as the first picked her up and struggled to find a comfortable way to carry the girl.

Lifting his head, he saw that they had sheathed their swords and the first man had settled on an over-the-shoulder carry. As they turned away, he leapt forward, using his left hand to sweep his cloak up and throwing it over the unencumbered soldier’s head.

Taking the staff in both hands, he swept the legs out from under the one with the cloak over his head, then turned and rammed the end into the head of the one carrying Tailtiu—or rather he tried.

Both men were wearing heavily padded gambesons and steel caps. It was an excellent choice for winter, as the padding protected them well from cuts and blows and kept them warm in the cold weather. The end of Will’s staff struck the man’s steel cap and slid to one side, knocking him off balance but doing little real harm.

The other was scrambling to regain his feet and throw off the cloak, so Will devoted the next few strikes to beating him senseless. Again, his efforts met limited success. The padding made many of his blows ineffective, and the soldier instinctively covered his head with his arms, preventing Will from getting a clean blow to his face or neck.

The first had dropped Tailtiu by then, and Will heard his footsteps in the snow as he ran toward Will’s undefended back.

Moving forward, Will jumped over the man he had been attacking and turned, making a wide swing with his staff to keep his attacker from closing. The first soldier stepped back reflexively and tripped as one of his feet caught on his injured friend.

Seizing his advantage, Will began pummeling both men, preventing them from rising. As before, most of his attacks had little lasting effect against their padded coats, but he made up for the lack of quality with an abundant quantity of blows.

It seemed to go on forever, and Will’s stomach turned as their efforts to defend themselves grew weaker. He could imagine the pain they felt when his staff struck against their arms and legs. He winced as he heard the sharp snap of a bone breaking.

But he couldn’t stop. As sick as it made him, his fear was greater. He had to make sure they couldn’t follow him or report back to their camp. One of the men was no longer moving, and the other began to beg. “I surrender. Please stop. Don’t kill me, mister!”

Will hit him again, and the man cried out in pain.

“We didn’t do nothing to you! Have mercy!” The soldier’s words were slurred due to the damage to his mouth and jaw.

Will hit him again, and the man rolled onto his belly, trying to crawl away. Why won’t he just pass out? In the stories told by the bards, the villains always collapsed after a single blow, but it was quite obvious to Will that he wasn’t in some hero’s saga. Clenching his jaw, he moved to one side and aimed for the space just below the man’s helmet, where the soldier’s neck met the base of the skull. There was padding there as well, so he brought the staff down as hard as he could manage, closing his eyes at the last second.

The man stopped moving, and when Will knelt and felt for a pulse, he realized the soldier was dead. He nearly threw up then, but though his stomach heaved once, there was nothing in it. He was racked by guilt, something he hadn’t felt after rescuing Sammy in Barrowden. That fight had been quicker, and he’d done it in the heat of the moment. The shock of losing his cousin and aunt had overshadowed the remorse he might have felt at killing them.

But this—this was murder, cold and cruel. He couldn’t even hate them for what had happened in Barrowden, for from what they had said they probably hadn’t participated directly. It had sickened them too.

After several moments, Will got his emotions under control, or at least managed to bury them deeply enough that he could function. When he checked the other soldier, he was relieved to find the man was still breathing. A short inspection showed him that the man’s arm and jaw were broken, but aside from that he didn’t seem to have any serious injuries.

Returning to the dead man, he began stripping the body, which took nearly half an hour, during which time he worried constantly that more soldiers would come. He wrapped the surviving soldier in his dead friend’s cloak, thinking it might keep him warm enough to survive until he woke. Then he put on the dead man’s gambeson and steel cap, which made him feel a lot warmer.

It did nothing for the cold, dead place in his heart, though.

The sky was beginning to brighten as he strapped on the dead man’s sword belt. Will wrapped Tailtiu in his cloak and lifted her in his arms, then began retracing his path down the mountain. It was obvious to him now that he couldn’t get through the pass, certainly not while carrying a body.

He jerked with surprise when he heard Tailtiu mumble against his chest. “Next time, once they’re helpless, take one of their swords to finish them off. It’s a lot quicker than beating them to death.”

Chapter 33

Will walked downhill all morning, and if there was any pursuit, he saw no sign of it. He felt a profound sense of relief when he finally got back into the Glenwood. Tailtiu still hadn’t moved, but she had remained awake. “Put me down,” she said once they had entered the denser undergrowth.

He laid her carefully on the ground. “Are you starting to recover?”

She shook her head.

“I thought you were immortal?”

“In the fae realm,” she whispered without opening her eyes. “Here the connection is too weak. You shredded my insides and exhausted my power. If I don’t go back, I’ll die.”

Something occurred to him then. “Would it help if I gave you some of my turyn? Like before—?”

“I’m too weak. It would only make me sicker,” she answered.

The only entrances to the fae realm that Will knew about were in the vicinity of his grandfather’s house. It would take the rest of the day to reach either of those—longer since he had to avoid the road. “It will take a while to get you back,” he told her. “How long can you last?”

“There’s a place close to here,” she replied softly. Tailtiu lifted her arm to point toward the south, and Will couldn’t help but notice the tremor in her muscles. “That way.”

Lifting her again, Will began walking. He began to wonder at his own stamina. He had been at the end of his rope the night before and he still hadn’t eaten or had a proper rest, yet he felt no hunger. His body was tired, but when he drew in more turyn and focused it, the fatigue in his arms and legs all but vanished. He could only think that Tailtiu’s healing had done more than cure his frostbite.

As the sun rose toward the middle of the sky, he noticed that his vision seemed better as well. In the past, things at a distance had always been slightly blurry, but everything was razor-sharp now. He could see the flows of turyn more easily as well, though his grandfather had told him that that would improve naturally over time.

“Did you do something to my eyes?” he asked as he went.

“You asked me to heal you,” answered his aunt, her voice sounding raspy and faint.

“There wasn’t anything wrong with my eyes.”

“They weren’t quite round enough,” she responded.

Will wasn’t sure why that mattered. He thought about what she had said for several minutes, then asked, “So you fixed everything you thought was wrong?”

She smiled faintly in his arms. “Who knew humans had so many flaws? I fixed as much as I could—before you tried to kill me.”

The first thing that came to mind was his cheek. The scar there had bothered him for years, though he rarely admitted it. “What about my face?” he asked, since his hands were full and he couldn’t check.

“You went berserk before I could,” said Tailtiu. “Besides, it isn’t so bad. It makes you look a little sinister.”

Will didn’t really agree with that assessment, but there was no point in arguing. It was then that he noticed a strange movement in the turyn flows ahead. Coming closer, he realized it must be the congruence she had been referring to. It was definitely easier for him to spot them now. He wondered if there was a connection between his physical sight and his magical sight. Could one have improved the other, or were the two entirely separate?

He stopped next to the congruence and Tailtiu spoke before he could ask. “You’ll have to take me across,” she said.

Will started to, but she shook her head. “Wait. The place this touches is dangerous for you. It’s very close to the Lord of the Hunt’s home. Leave me there and return as quickly as you can. I will find you once I am recovered.”

He shook his head. “You don’t have to do that. I feel bad already for what happened to you.”

“Three days, William,” she responded, her voice firm. “My service isn’t done.”

Will nodded, then moved forward. Standing in the right spot, he could see both worlds at once in a sort of double vision. Moving sideways in that odd way that he had done once before, he took them to Faerie.

As before, the other side was very similar to his own world, though the colors seemed brighter and the turyn in the air was much more concentrated. Taking a couple of steps, he knelt and eased Tailtiu to the ground.

“Who are you?”

Will froze at the sound of the stranger’s voice, then slowly turned his head. A man stood not far away, though perhaps the term ‘man’ was a bit generous. The fae had small horns sprouting from his skull, and though he wore no armor he carried a long, deadly-looking spear in his hands. It didn’t have a metal point, but the tip was carved bone or horn of some sort.

The man pointed it at him with the confidence of someone who knows what he’s about, and the abundance of muscles in the fae man’s arms and chest only served to underscore the danger. Will and the stranger stared at each other for several long seconds without saying anything.

The guardian’s eyes fell on Tailtiu and he hissed. “What did you do to her?”

What do I do? Will had no idea, but past experience had given him one role model. He straightened up slowly, keeping his hands relaxed and away from his weapon. There was no need to tempt fate. Grinning slowly, he made sure to angle his face so the stranger could see the scar on his cheek. Maybe looking sinister will help. “She displeased me,” he said coldly.

The fae soldier’s eyes narrowed angrily. “You dare?” When Will took a step toward the congruence, the fae threatened him with the spear. “Don’t move.”

Keeping his eyes cool, Will responded, “Don’t interfere with our bargain, or your fate will be worse.”

The horned man studied Will’s face, focusing on a point just above his eyes. “You’ve been marked.” His features showed uncertainty. “Who are you?” he challenged, regaining his resolve.

“Abelund, don’t,” warned Tailtiu from her position on the ground. “He’ll destroy you.”

“My name is not for your lips,” said Will arrogantly, warming up to his role. “You need only know that I am Arrogan’s student. If that name means nothing to you, I will be glad to teach you one of his…lessons.”

The fae soldier took a step back, and before he could say anything else Will stepped into the congruence and shifted back to his own world. Once there, he drew his sword and waited. If one of the fae followed, he would see just how effective iron really was against them.

A quarter of an hour passed before he relaxed. The adrenaline had worn off, and his body began to shake as the stress of all that he had been through sank into him. I never should have left home, he thought. Mom was right. A few seconds later, he chuckled nervously. Damn, I was cool, though. Even Grandfather would have been impressed.

In his mind he could almost hear the old man’s reply. Yeah, I was always impressed—by what a witless dumbass you are.

It was late afternoon already, and Will’s need for rest was starting to make itself known to him again, but he didn’t want to sleep near the congruence point, so he headed north again. After thirty minutes he stopped and decided to make a fire. The forest was thick enough that there were still plenty of areas that hadn’t received much snow beneath the boughs, and he was able to find enough dry grass and small twigs to kindle a flame.

He was far enough from Barrowden that he hoped whatever smoke rose from the trees wouldn’t be noticeable. Even so, he stuck to using deadwood and avoided fuel that would tend to smoke a lot, such as leaves or greenwood. Once he had a good bed of coals, he used a spit to roast the meat he had brought. It wasn’t until the first bite that he understood just how hungry he really was. His appetite came flooding back to him, and he wound up roasting the rest of the meat and two carrots before he felt full. All he had left now was dried peas.

He regretted the peas. Without a pot or a container of some sort he couldn’t make porridge with them. Since they were his only remaining food, he would have to eat them dry the next day. The past two days had shown him just how little he really knew about surviving in the wilderness.

Belly full, he began to grow sleepy. The padded gambeson was sufficiently warm, so he removed his cloak and hung it by the fire. Melting snow had gradually soaked it, and while it still felt dry, the wool was many times heavier than normal. That was one of the nice things about wool. It could absorb a great deal of moisture before it felt wet. He hoped the fire would dry it out somewhat while he slept.

Leaning back against a tree, he let his eyes close.

Sometime later he woke. The darkness was thick and suffocating. His fire had burned out long ago, and the moonlight couldn’t reach beneath the canopy of the trees. Will’s body felt cold and sore. And he was hungry again—of course.

With a groan, he got to his feet and checked his cloak. If it had dried by an appreciable amount, he couldn’t tell. It still felt as though it was made of lead.

Unable to see the sky, he had no idea what time it was, or which direction was which. Rather than stumble through the dark, he took down the cloak and wrapped it around himself. Then he tried to find a more comfortable position to sleep in.

It didn’t feel like he slept any, but the sun surprised him, tickling his eyes as it danced between the shadows of leaves on his face. When he opened them, he was startled out of his wits, for just a few inches away were two green eyes staring back at him.

Tailtiu laughed as he yelped, jumped, and then tripped over a heavy branch. “It’s a wonder your race has survived this long,” she commented. “Your kind slumbers so heavily anyone could kill you in your sleep.”

Will didn’t reply as he gathered his thoughts. Tailtiu’s face seemed normal, but he could see silver lines crisscrossing her features. “Are you better?” he asked at last.

“Mostly,” she answered.

Reaching out, he touched her arm, tracing the lines there. “Will these…”

She grinned. “I haven’t decided yet. Novelty is prized when you live forever. I may keep them for a while. Do you think I should color them? Red would look wicked, wouldn’t it?”

“I’d rather you didn’t,” admitted Will. “I feel bad when I see them.”

“So, I should remove my stripes to make you feel better?” she asked. “Is this part of my service?”

He shook his head. “That’s up to you.” Then he added, “You only have one day left, then you’re free to do as you please.”

She held up two fingers. “Two days. My time recovering doesn’t count.”

That didn’t seem fair, but he didn’t feel like arguing. Either way it hardly mattered. He couldn’t cross the pass and he was nearly out of food. His only option was to return home and accept his punishment. “You may as well return home. There’s nothing else I need.”

She turned her head to the side once more, curious. “What was it you wanted to accomplish? Were you trying to freeze to death?”

Resting his elbows on his knees, he stared at the leaf litter on the ground. “I was trying to reach Branscombe, but that doesn’t seem possible.”

“Is that where Branscombe lies? It never seemed so mountainous.”

“No. It’s to the west, on the other side of the mountains. Don’t you know where anything is?” he asked, somewhat surprised.

Tailtiu laughed again. “Not in this world. When my people wish to go somewhere in your world, we use whatever congruence is closest to our destination. Traveling through your world is too unpleasant.”

Will stared at her, then asked, “Can you take me there?”

“It would be dangerous from here. The place you took me yesterday is a long way from the point that connects to Branscombe. You should have called me before you started your journey. There’s a spot behind Father’s house that comes out very close to a place in Faerie that connects to Branscombe,” she explained.

“Behind Father’s house,” Will muttered, comprehension dawning on him. “You mean Arrogan—”

She nodded, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “The place where you live.”

Leaning sideways, he began lightly banging his head against the tree he had slept beside, though the steel cap and padding robbed the action of much of its impact. Will had rarely felt so stupid, even back when Arrogan had been there to remind him daily. “Butter, cheese, beef, spices,” he chanted quietly, listing all the mysterious items his grandfather had shown up with over the years.

Tailtiu studied him with a look of concern.

“I thought he chose to live there so he could be close to his descendants,” said Will, still talking to himself. But he was hundreds of years old. He probably had grandchildren all over the kingdom. Now he understood. The old man had hated everyone. The place he had chosen was half an hour’s walk from one of the most remote villages on the edge of Terabinia. He had picked it for solitude and easy access to a town market. Will and Erisa living nearby had merely been a coincidence. “Wow.”

“Are you all right?”

“Yeah,” answered Will. “Just amazed at all the things that never occurred to me before. Can you show me the spot?”

His aunt frowned. “I’d rather not. There’s a creature there that doesn’t take kindly to my kind. If you wish, I can meet you on the fae side.”

“The goddamn cat.”

He might have imagined it, but Tailtiu seemed to pale slightly. “Is that what you call it?”

“What do you call it then?”

His aunt shook her head, pressing her lips firmly together before answering, “It can hear its name when spoken, much like my people.”

Will sighed. “Can you describe the spot to me then?”

“It is easy to find, just beyond the garden behind your house. Look for the largest tree, an oak. There’s an opening amidst the roots. I should be able to get there before you.”

He remembered the tree she was describing, though he hadn’t noticed anything odd about it before. Of course, he didn’t think he’d ever examined it after his sight had been awakened. Rising to his feet once more, he gauged the sun’s position and started northward. “I’ll meet you there,” he said. Tailtiu was already gone when he looked back.

Chapter 34

The journey back home took most of the day, and Will was forced to stop and hide twice when he heard the sounds of men and horses. It seemed the Darrowans were taking the job of patrolling the area around Barrowden seriously. Then again, it was also possible that word of what had happened to a couple of their sentries in the pass had already been reported. Will assumed that they probably thought someone had attacked the sentries while sneaking into the area around Barrowden.

He grew nervous when he got to the area near Arrogan’s house. For some reason being caught by his mother was more terrifying to him than being caught by the enemy. He gave the house a wide berth, circling around it to approach the tree that Tailtiu had mentioned from the far side.

The congruence point was right where she had mentioned, and as Will stepped up to it he noticed a set of claw marks on the ground. Something big had scored the earth as well as the bark on that side of the tree. The goddamn cat, he guessed. Glancing around, he felt as though something was watching him, but he saw no sign of the feline. He suppressed a shiver and shifted himself to Faerie.

It was dark on the other side, for he had appeared within a small cave. Light entered from an entrance some ten feet away, but the area around him was too dark for him to make out much. He froze when a deep rumbling vibrated through the air, making the hair on his neck stand up.

Could the goddamn cat cross between worlds? Was it making the sound he heard? Please let that be the cat, he begged silently. “It’s just me,” he said aloud.

Something was behind him, and he felt its breath on his neck. Whatever it was sniffed at the air, and Will clenched his eyes shut. The rumbling vanished, and so did the presence he felt. Cracking one eye, he turned his head, but he saw nothing.

Unsure what to do, Will stumbled forward awkwardly. “Thank you,” he said to the empty air, feeling foolish.

The area outside was different than the other places he had seen in Faerie, rather than a forest it was a wide field interrupted only by large stones that cropped up here and there. The sun was bright, the wind was cool but not chilly, and other than the strangeness he felt everywhere in the fae realm, it seemed entirely pleasant. He stepped out under the sunshine and nearly tripped over a large branch on the ground.

Except it wasn’t a branch. As his eyes focused on the thing, he realized it was an enormous femur, sticky with blood and drying bits of flesh. The rest of the carcass lay scattered around him. Will hastened to put some distance between himself and the remains, noting the numerous other old bones hidden in the grass.

A movement in the distance caught his eye, and he saw Tailtiu across the field, some hundred yards distant, waving her arm to get his attention. She stood beside a massive rock formation that jutted at least twenty feet into the air. Will wasted no time crossing the distance to meet her. She looked nervous when he drew closer.

“How long did you have to wait for me?” he asked.

“Too long,” she answered. “This is as close as my people dare approach, and even this is risky.” She pushed something into his hand, and when Will glanced at it he saw a piece of paper.

“What’s this?”

“You keep asking its name.”

Unfolding the scrap, he started to sound out what was written there, a habit he had picked up while learning to read. Cath Bawlg.

His aunt clapped her hand over his mouth. “Don’t say it, and that goes double in Faerie.”

“So the goddamn cat is a native of the fae realm?” asked Will.

Tailtiu shook her head. “It lives wherever it wants. For the past century or so, it has lived here.”

Will frowned. “I saw the remains of a lot of kills back there. If something eats here, doesn’t it become part of your realm?”

“Not if that thing is already immortal,” said Tailtiu. Her voice dropped to a whisper, “And whatever it eats does not return; its prey remains dead—forever—including us.”

That was certainly ominous, but it bordered on a topic he had been wondering about. If even the plants and animals of Faerie were immortal, and Elthas was the Lord of the Hunt, what happened to the things he hunted and killed? From what she had just said, it sounded as though they eventually regenerated or returned to life in some fashion. It also made it abundantly clear why the fae feared the Cath Bawlg. And I’ve been feeding it an egg every now and then, thought Will. The more he learned, the more he realized that nothing surrounding his grandfather had been even remotely normal.

Looking around, he saw a distinctive shimmer on one side of the rock formation. “Is that the crossing point?”

His aunt nodded. “It leads to a small spring close to Branscombe. The town is to the south after you cross over.”

Will offered her his hand, and together they crossed over, where he found himself once more surrounded by moderately dense forest. The spring was something of a disappointment, for it was little more than a damp place on some rocks that fed a trickle heading eastward through the forest. He supposed it must eventually meet other such flows and become a river, but at this point it wasn’t even enough that he would want to try drinking it.

Following a small game trail, they went south, and after just a few tens of yards, Will saw the underbrush open up. There was a road ahead, following an east-west course. Looking out, he could see a wooden wall to the west. Branscombe was within shouting distance.

“You can go home now,” said Will. “This is all I needed you to do.”

“The bargain was for three days,” insisted Tailtiu.

“I don’t need you for another day,” he said, giving her a hard stare.

She stared back at him unflinchingly. “Then you shouldn’t have bargained for three.”

There was no way he could enter Branscombe with a naked fae girl beside him. “I thought it would take me three days to get here, or longer,” he explained. “They’ll arrest me if I try to walk through the gate with you. Humans don’t take well to naked girls gallivanting about.”

Tailtiu turned away. “They’ll arrest you anyway. Mark my words.” Then she began walking back toward the hidden spring. “Call me when you need me. I still owe you one more day.”

That settled, he walked briskly down the road. An older man with a cart reached the gate just ahead of him, and the two guards there ushered the man through without a word.

Will started to follow the cart through, but one of the men called out to him, “Stop! Who are you, trying to sneak into Branscombe?”

Will drew himself up and straightened his shoulders. “I wasn’t trying to sneak.”

The other guard broke in, “You were hiding behind that man’s cart.”

“Walking behind it—in plain view,” insisted Will. “You didn’t tell that man to stop,” he added, pointing to the cart as it pulled away.

The first guard, a man with an impressively bushy mustache, gestured at Will’s belt. “You can’t bring a sword into town.”

“You have swords,” returned Will, but then as he looked at the two men he realized they actually didn’t. They were equipped with spears and knives. “Well, you have spears anyway.”

The mustached guard glanced at his companion. “Ned and I are constables, smartass. The weapons are part of our job. What are you anyway? You’re dressed up like a soldier.”

“A Darrowan soldier,” said Ned as Will handed him his sword and belt. “That’s the Prophet’s crest on the boy’s coat.”

Will glanced down at his gambeson and mentally cursed himself for not thinking to remove the embroidered sun on his chest. “I’m not a boy, I’m seventeen. I’m here to join the King’s Army.”

The guard with the mustache leaned in, fixing Will with a suspicious glare. “Are you a spy, boy?”

Will’s jaw dropped. “I’m not a spy. I’m from Barrowden. This isn’t even my coat.”

The two constables exchanged glances, then Ned said, “Where’d you get the armor from then?”

“They burned my village,” answered Will, trying to project honesty. “I crossed the pass to get here. I took this from one of their sentries.” When that failed to convince them, he added, “Would a Darrowan try to sneak into Branscombe wearing this?” He pointed at the sun crest.

Mustache rolled his eyes. “Exactly what a Darrowan spy would say. Hand over the belt knife too.” As Will did so, the guard went on, “You expect us to believe you killed a soldier and took that gambeson?”

Will nodded his head vigorously. “I caught him by surprise. Look!” He held his staff out for them to inspect. “That’s his blood on the wood there.”

“You’ll have to give up the staff too,” ordered Ned, who then handed it to Mustache. “This is probably a murder weapon. Hold out your hands, boy. You’re under arrest.”

Will didn’t resist, holding out his hands while they began tying his wrists tightly together. “I came to enlist,” he protested. “If I was from Darrow would I surrender like this?”

Mustache snorted. “Probably trying to trick us into letting our guard down. You won’t be fooling us, boy.” Taking the other end of Will’s rope, he tied a loop in it and tossed it over a nearby post that looked to have been put there for just that purpose.

“Isn’t there someone else I can talk to?” asked Will, trying to sound reasonable.

“Sure,” said Ned. “You can talk to the magister in the morning. For now, you’ll be staying here until the wagon comes to pick you up and take you to the lockup.” The two men returned to their posts and resumed staring down the road.

“You didn’t even ask my name,” said Will. “Shouldn’t you do that at least?”

Mustache glanced sideways at him, clearly unconcerned. “What’s your name then?”

“William Cartwright.”

“Good for you,” the guard replied, then looked away.

Will had a moment of inspiration. “There are people in town who can vouch for me.”

Mustache sighed. “Oh really? Who?”

“My uncle and cousin, Johnathan and Eric Cartwright. They both joined the army last week. Have someone ask them,” said Will.

Ned became animated and hopped as though he was preparing to run somewhere. “Why didn’t you say so before? Greg, I’m going to run over to the camp and ask around. I’m sure everyone knows Johnathan and Eric Cartwright!”

Greg began snickering, and then Ned continued, “Is that what you thought we’d say?” The look he gave William spoke volumes. Ned tapped his temple with two fingers. “People always think we’re stupid. Being a constable takes a lot more brains than you think, boy. The first thing you learn is never to abandon your post. You’ll stay right there and if you have something worth saying, say it to the magister in the morning.”

Will shut up. It was obvious he wasn’t going to get anywhere. After a few minutes, his body began reminding him of its needs. “Can I have some water?”

“They’ll feed and water you at the lockup this evening,” said Greg.

“What if I need to pee?” asked Will.

“All the more reason not to give you any water until then,” answered Greg, chuckling.

Chapter 35

The rest of Will’s day was miserable, and the evening proved to be even worse. The lockup proved to be a small, stone room in what was the town’s main headquarters for the Branscombe Constabulary. The building itself was two stories tall, with a front receiving desk and a few rooms on the second floor that were used by the constables themselves. Will didn’t get to see the second level. He was ushered into the holding cell, which was barely ten feet square.

There were no benches or other furniture, and to make matters worse, the room was already occupied by three other men. There was a large clay pot in one corner, presumably for when they had to relieve themselves. The lid that should have contained the smell of what was within it was broken, and Will’s nose notified him that it had already been well used.

The idea of undoing his trousers in such confined quarters with three strangers would have been daunting enough, but their appearances made him even more nervous. One of them was relatively young and slender, with a patchy beard covering a sharp chin. The look in his eyes was threatening.

The second was an older man, slightly soft around the middle, with a grizzled appearance and a mostly bald head. He didn’t look quite as mean, but the smell of him was formidable. Apparently, he had been picked up for public intoxication.

The third man was enormous. His head nearly reached the low ceiling, which meant he was probably close to seven feet in height. The man’s height wasn’t the only thing that was prodigious, for he had broad shoulders and thick arms and legs. There was some fat around his middle, but it was deceptive, for the big man was heavily muscled. Will tried not to look at him, though he wondered how much the man weighed. He’d probably give a black bear an even fight in a wrestling match, Will observed silently.

Each of the men had taken a different corner to maximize the space between them, which left only one corner for Will—the corner where the chamber pot was located. Rather than sit there, Will remained by the door, which put him squarely between the skinny man and the giant.

“What are you, some kinda deserter from Darrow?” asked the skinny man, his tone hostile.

“I’m from Barrowden,” said Will. “They burned our village, so I came here. The coat is from a Darrowan soldier I killed while I was escaping.”

The slender man laughed, but the sound didn’t lighten the mood. “You expect me to believe a kid like you killed a soldier? Look me in the eye when you lie.”

Will met his gaze, hoping he looked confident as he did. “You can believe me or not. They killed my aunt and cousin. I caught one by surprise and beat him to death with my staff when I was crossing the pass. I would have frozen to death without this coat.” He left out the other three men he had killed, since he knew that would be too much for anyone to believe. Possibly five, if that last one wasn’t found before he froze, he reminded himself.

“My, my, my!” exclaimed the stranger. “That just about makes you a fucking hero, doesn’t it? I’m sure that’s why they locked you up in here with us undesirables.”

Desperate to shift the focus of the conversation, Will asked the only thing he could think of, “What are you in here for?”

“Me?” said the lanky man. “I was lifting someone’s purse and got caught.” He mimed drawing a knife with one hand. “I cut the bastard and I would have killed him if the guards hadn’t jumped on me.” He gave Will a sloppy grin, as though he should be congratulated for what he had done.

Hoping to shift the conversation further, Will turned to the big man on his other side. “And what did they put you in here for?”

The big man’s lips parted, and he started to reply, “I was—”

The skinny man interrupted. “The big fat one don’t speak. Do you, fat boy?”

The big man closed his mouth.

“Want to see something funny, kid?” asked the slender man. When Will didn’t reply, he stepped forward and slapped the big man so hard it rocked his head to one side. “This one’s as gentle as a lamb. You could piss on him and he wouldn’t do anything, would you, fat boy?” He slapped the big man again.

Will straightened up, squaring his shoulders. “Don’t do that.”

The skinny man slapped the big guy again. “Why, kid? Does it bother you? You should mind your own business. This is the only fun to be had in here.”

Something about the cutpurse terrified Will, but he couldn’t ignore what was happening. “I said leave him alone.”

The thief grinned, stepping back. “Fine, kid. I wouldn’t want you to be uncomfortable.” He seemed as though he was about to return to his corner of the room, but in a flash he turned and slammed his fist into Will’s gut.

The air left Will’s lungs with an audible whoosh and he doubled over, unable to breathe. A moment later a boot slammed into the side of his head, knocking him sideways. The padding probably saved him from serious injury, but he was stunned, nonetheless. An idle thought passed through Will’s mind, I wonder if this is how the soldiers felt when I attacked them. Another kick sent shivers of pain through his side.

The drunk in the opposite corner started yelling to alert the guards, but no more blows came. Will heard some scuffling, followed by a wheezing sound, and when he managed to look up he saw that the giant had pinned the thief against the opposite wall, his massive hand around the slender man’s throat. The cutpurse’s face was red and shading toward purple, his eyes bulged as he beat feebly at the giant’s arm. Then he went limp.

A few minutes later, one of the constables entered the other room and looked at them through the barred window in the door. “What’s going on?”

“They’re killing one another in here!” screamed the drunk.

It was another ten minutes before the door opened, and Will could see that the other room was full of men. Five constables stood together with small wooden shields and heavy clubs. “Up against the walls!” one of them ordered.

Will complied and soon found himself pressed painfully against the wall. The small cell was crammed full when the rest of the guards entered. “What happened?”

One of them called out, “He’s just unconscious.”

“That guy attacked us,” said Will. “The big man was just defending himself.”

“Let’s go, John,” said the lead guard, addressing the giant. “You know the rules about fighting.”

“That other guy is the one that started it,” protested Will.

One of the constables laughed. “Looks like he already got what he deserved then.” They led the big man out of the cell and shut the door again. A few minutes later he heard the crack of a whip and the sound of a man grunting in pain. Will couldn’t help but flinch as it the punishment continued. Fortunately, the whipping stopped after three strokes.

The big man’s shirt was bloody when he returned a short while later, and he sank into his corner to lean sideways against the wall. The sight of his obvious pain filled Will with a helpless anger at the injustice of it. When the cutpurse began to rouse, groaning and rolling his eyes, Will walked over to address him.

“Hey,” said Will, suppressing the urge to kick the dazed thief.

The cutpurse focused bleary eyes on him. “Fuck off,” he replied reflexively.

“What’s your name?” asked Will, fighting to keep his voice even.

The slender man’s eyes finally focused, and he seemed to take note of the crazed look in Will’s eyes. “Dave,” he said finally.

“The next time you decide to make an ass of yourself, Dave, I’m going to break something. And next time there won’t be anyone screaming for the guards to save your stupid ass.” Will glanced at the drunk in the other corner. “Right?”

The drunkard looked uneasy, but he nodded. “Sure.”

The thief glared up at Will. “You don’t scare me. I’ve already kicked your ass once.”

“Catch me off-guard and maybe you will. But you won’t manage both of us, and the big man here has already proved he can wring your scrawny neck as easily as a chicken’s before a holiday dinner.”

Dave’s eyes burned with hate, giving Will ample warning this time. The man surged up from the floor, only to catch Will’s boot in his chest. He fell back, and his head slammed into the stone wall so hard he lost his bearings for a moment. Then Will felt something heavy on his shoulder. Turning his head, he saw the big man behind him, a hand on his shoulder.

Dave stared at the two of them for a moment as he recovered, and then his tone changed. “Hey, kid, I was just testing you. No reason we can’t be friends. Right?”

Will ignored him and walked back to the other corner before asking the big man, “What did they say your name was?”

The big man answered slowly in a deep baritone, “John, but my friends call me Tiny.”

“Mind if I look at your back, John?” said Will. “I know a thing or two about cuts and bruises.”

John hesitated, then nodded, resuming his place beside the wall and turning his back toward Will. “Call me Tiny.”

Tiny’s back was better than Will had expected. Two of the strikes had only left angry red welts, but one had broken the skin. It might leave a scar, but it would probably heal on its own. He would have liked to clean it, but without water or clean cloth, anything he did would just make it worse. He pulled Tiny’s shirt back down.

“If they bring us some water later, we can wash it, but I think it will be all right,” he told the man. “My name is Will, by the way. William Cartwright.”

“I’m Sven,” said the now mostly sober drunkard from the other side of the room. “If anybody cares.”

“Nice to meet you, Sven,” said Will.

The next morning was a disappointment, since it turned out the town magister wouldn’t be seeing anyone until the next day. Aside from being allowed out briefly to empty the chamber pot, the only thing to break the monotony was the two meals they were served.

Calling the stuff in the bowls they received a ‘meal’ was being generous. Grandfather would have been fine until now, then he’d have probably burned the place down, thought Will. He almost gagged on the first bite. Whoever the cook was, he seemed to think that the best way to cook oats was to boil them until they disintegrated into a gelatinous goo. The cook also probably didn’t know about salt or any other seasonings.

Still, Will was hungry, so he forced down about half of what was in the bowl before he stopped. He just couldn’t make himself eat any more of it. When he noticed Tiny eyeing it, he offered the big man the rest of his portion. Tiny lifted the bowl and finished it in two large gulps.

“Thanks,” said the big man.

The second morning they were taken out and lined up outside of one of the rooms on the second floor. The magistrate had them brought in one at a time. “Name?” asked the rather severe-looking man when Will’s turn came.

“William Cartwright.”

The magistrate gave him a bored look. “Care to explain how you came to be at the town gate wearing a Darrowan arming jacket?”

Will repeated the abbreviated story he had given the guards at the gate, mentioning nothing of the men he had fought in Barrowden or the help he had received from his faery aunt.

“You expect me to believe you crossed the pass from Barrowden while it was being defended by Darrowan soldiers?” asked the magistrate. When Will nodded he continued, “And that you slew one of their scouts and stole his armor and weapons?”

“It was dark and snowing, sir,” said Will, trying to clarify.

The constable beside him growled. “Address the magistrate as ‘Your Honor.’”

“Your Honor.”

“You seem to be of age. Why haven’t you been taken into the army already?”

“I wasn’t in Barrowden when the press g—when the king’s men came,” said Will. “I came to Branscombe to volunteer.”

The magistrate frowned. “Is there anyone who can vouchsafe your stated identity?”

Will nodded eagerly. “Yes, Your Honor. My uncle and cousin were taken into the King’s Army a little over a week ago. If they’re in Branscombe, they can prove I’m from Barrowden.”

The magistrate glanced at the clerk who was seated beside him. “Have a messenger sent to Captain Levan. He can check the rolls. Mister Cartwright, if you will wait over there, we will come back to you once we’ve heard from the captain.”

Will sat on the bench indicated and watched while his three cell-mates had their own moment in front of the magistrate. It turned out that Sven had been picked up for being out after curfew. His wife had locked him out from coming home drunk. Tiny had simply had the misfortune of trying to buy some staples for his father’s farm. The town constables had decided that given his size he had to be a deserter, but the truth was that the big man had simply been unaware of current events. His father’s farm was rather isolated.

Dave was the only one that Will had no sympathy for. As he had stated, the cutpurse had been caught stealing and then nearly murdered someone when his victim had protested. The magistrate made it clear that under normal circumstances he would have had Dave locked in the stocks for a week and then had him branded as a thief. Given the current state of war, he simply ordered the thief be forced to serve in the King’s Army.

That hardly seemed fair to Will, since it was the same sentence given to both Sven and Tiny, even though neither had committed any real crime. Will had the sense to keep his mouth shut, though. The constabulary might as well be another press gang, thought Will. All they do is round people up and then send them to the army anyway.

It was almost an hour before the messenger returned with a note confirming Will’s identity. Even so, he was surprised when the magistrate told him he was free to go. “You can pick up your weapons at the town gate when you leave, Mister Cartwright. Have a good day.” Finished with his work, the magistrate stood as though he would leave.

Will gaped. “But…”

“Yes, Mister Cartwright?”

“You sentenced everyone else to serve in the army.”

The magistrate gave him a severe look. “I know it may seem as though the local constabulary is simply a—what did you almost call them?—a press gang, but that is not the case. My job is to enforce the law. You have broken none that I am aware of, and your age is below that required to serve in the military, no matter what the king’s agents say when they scour villages for able bodies. If you really do intend to enlist, the minimum age for that is sixteen, but that is entirely your business.”

“Oh,” said Will. “Thank you, Your Honor.”

“A word of advice,” added the magistrate. “Remove the Prophet’s crest from that coat before you show up to enlist. I doubt the king’s officers would take kindly to you if they see it.”

A few minutes later, Will found himself on the street in front of the constabulary building, holding his steel cap in his hands. He put it on and buckled the strap since it seemed silly to just carry it. He was hungry, but what he wanted most was a bath.

The guard outside was kind enough to answer some questions, and he soon learned that Branscombe had a public bath, but it cost a penny to use. Unfortunately, he had no money, so that was out of the question, as was buying a meal. Without other options he decided he might as well go and present himself at the military camp, so he asked for directions to it.

“Head back out of town,” said the constable. “The camp is a quarter-mile northwest. You can’t miss it.”

Will took the man’s advice, marveling at the size of Branscombe as he walked down the cobbled street. It was several times larger than Barrowden and perfectly fit what he had always imagined a city would look like, yet the locals called it a town. If this is just a town, what is a real city like Cerria like? he wondered.

At the gate he recognized one of the constables from his previous arrival. “I told you I wasn’t a spy,” said Will sourly.

Ned grinned at him. “You still look like one to me.” He wandered over to the guard post and opened a large wooden box. “I guess you want your things back.”

“If you don’t mind,” said Will stiffly.

Ned sifted through the contents before withdrawing the sword and belt and handing them to the other guard. “One falchion of questionable origin,” he said aloud.

The second guard handed it to Will.

“One belt knife, with sheath,” added Ned. Will accepted that as well.

“One murder weapon,” said Ned with a snicker, producing Will’s staff.

With a sigh of long-suffering, Will took his staff and left without replying. As soon as he had put a little distance between himself and the gate, he took out his knife and spent some time picking loose the stitches of the embroidered crest on his gambeson. At least I learned one thing, thought Will. Never show up at a gate with the enemy’s crest on your armor.

In the back of his head he imagined his grandfather’s mocking laughter. I could have told you that, idiot.

Chapter 36

“You’re here to enlist in the King’s Army?” asked the officer sitting at the desk in front of Will. The officer’s official title was lieutenant, though Will had no idea what that meant, and his name was James Stanton. The soldier outside the tent had told him to address the man as Lieutenant Stanton.

“Yes, Lieutenant Stanton,” Will responded nervously. The office he stood in was actually a tent with a small table and several stools to sit upon. A clerk of some sort sat at another table on one side with several books and a tall stack of papers on it.

The officer sighed. “You don’t have to say that every time you answer. A simple ‘yes, lieutenant’ or even a ‘yes, sir’ will be sufficient.”

Will nodded, which caused the lieutenant to frown, bringing his dark brows together in a steep ‘v’ that went perfectly with his sharp mustache. “Nods and casual replies aren’t acceptable, however.”

“Yes, sir,” he said hurriedly.

“Name?”

“William Cartwright, sir.” The questions went on for a couple of minutes as the clerk recorded his name, date of birth, and where he was from.

When the main questions had been answered, Lieutenant Stanton jerked his head toward the clerk. “Do you have all that? Please add Mister Cartwright to the rolls.” Then he looked back at Will. “Since you’ve volunteered and brought some of your own arms and armor, you will be listed as a voluntary enlistee. This entitles you to a slightly higher pay than the regular conscripts. You’ll receive five silver clima per week and we won’t be taking a fee for armor or sword, though you will still be required to pay for your shield and spear. Do you understand?”

Will was confused, which he quickly admitted. “Soldiers pay for their equipment, sir?”

“Conscripts don’t,” said the lieutenant, “though they are still required to pay for their food and drink, which comes to three clima per week.”

“Would it be all right if I was listed as a conscript then, sir?” asked Will.

The lieutenant gave him a cold smile. “We could do that, but conscripts are only paid four clima per week. After expenses they only net one clima. Are you sure you’d like to do that?”

For the first time, Will was glad that he had learned to do simple sums in his head. If the conscripts only received one clima a week then they’d barely make five gold crowns in an entire year, whereas an enlistee would get a little more than ten crowns. “How much is the cost of the spear and shield, Lieutenant?”

“Five clima each,” said the officer immediately.

Doing the math, Will realized it would take him five weeks to pay for the equipment, at a cost of one crown, leaving him nine crowns for the year, or four crowns more than a conscript would receive. From the point at which he had finished paying for the shield and spear, he would be making double what the conscripts made. “I think I would prefer to be an enlistee then, sir,” said Will.

Lieutenant Stanton smiled again, and this time it reached his eyes. He gestured toward the clerk. “Enlistees need to sign the contract roll, but you can simply make a mark and Sergeant Kavanaugh will witness it.”

The sergeant handed him a quill pen and turned a large book around to face him. It appeared to contain page after page of names with an x marked beside them, though occasionally he saw places where someone had written their own name. Curious, Will closed the book and opened it to the first page, which turned out to be a contract for his term of service. He could read it, though he didn’t understand some of the meaning. “Five years, sir?” he asked.

The lieutenant and sergeant glanced at each other, mild surprise showing on their faces. “Five years is the standard term for a private soldier. I should have mentioned that. Another difference between enlistees and conscripts is that conscripts are discharged from service as soon as the Royal Marshall decides they are no longer needed.” He paused, then asked, “You can read?”

Will nodded, then after a second he hurriedly added, “Yes, sir. I can write too.”

“What other skills do you have, Mister Cartwright? We should list those since you may be eligible for other posts after your training period,” said Lieutenant Stanton. Meanwhile the sergeant was muttering to himself and thumbing through a separate stack of papers.

“Cartwright, Cartwright, that name rings a bell for some reason,” said the sergeant as he searched.

Will answered the lieutenant’s question, “I can count and do sums. I’m well versed in fractions, ratios, geometry and stoichiometry. My mother was a midwife, so I’ve learned a lot about plants and treating wounds and illnesses.”

The officer stared at him, his face blank. “Stoichi—what? Were you an accountant or something?”

“It’s a type of math used for alchemy, sir. My grandfather was teaching me before he died,” explained Will.

The lieutenant nodded. “You’ll need to spell that for us when Sergeant Kavanaugh lists your skills. Is there anything else?”

“I’m a fair cook,” said Will. “I’m not sure if that matters, though.”

Lieutenant Stanton looked thoughtful. “Ever cook for large numbers of m—”

“Found it!” interrupted the sergeant. “Sir, Mister Carwright is listed on the service exceptions roll.” He held up another small ledger, pointing at one of the entries.

Lieutenant Stanton’s expression changed to one of annoyance. “Is there something you should have told us already, Mister Cartwright? Why are you here today?”

“Sir?” said Will, puzzled. “I came to enlist.”

“Then why did someone pay for an exemption for you?” The lieutenant glanced at the sergeant. “Who paid the fee?”

“Baron Nerrow, sir.”

Lieutenant Stanton studied Will for a while, his eyes full of questions. Eventually Will felt compelled to say something. “I’ve met him a couple of times, sir.” The lieutenant continued to stare, so Will pointed at his cheek. “I got this from his carriage driver. I saw Lord Nerrow’s daughter reach down to pick up a snake and pushed her away. His servant took after me with the coachwhip, thinking I was trying to do her harm.”

Lieutenant Stanton shook his head in disbelief. “You’re telling me that you were whipped by mistake after saving the baron’s daughter?”

Will nodded, forgetting to answer properly.

“And that the good baron decided to buy an exemption for you because of that?”

“That’s the only thing I can think of, sir,” said Will with a shrug. It was a lie, of course, but he didn’t want to admit to being a nobleman’s bastard son. He went over to look at the service exemption ledger. As before, he found a short contract statement at the beginning of the book, and he started reading it.

“You may as well put that down and leave,” said Lieutenant Stanton. “You’ve wasted enough of our time.”

“I still want to enlist, sir,” said Will firmly. “It says here the fee can be refunded if the named individual takes service later.” Then he whistled as he saw the cost. Apparently, his father had paid ten crowns to keep him out of the war.

“Mister Cartwright, I don’t keep gold here, nor do I intend to fill out the forms to make such a request for you,” began the lieutenant.

Will was struck by a sudden inspiration. “My uncle! You don’t need to give me a refund. Just mark it in the roll and put my uncle down for the exemption. He’s lost most of his family. If I take his place, he could take care of his daughter and sister.”

What followed was a long argument that showcased how stubborn Will could be. When it became apparent that he wouldn’t win by logic, Lieutenant Stanton tried authority. “Mister Cartwright, I don’t think you appreciate your position,” he said. “I could have you whipped for insubordination.”

Will shook his head. “I’m a private citizen, sir. You’ll have to let me enlist before you have me punished.”

Lieutenant Stanton turned red at that, and Will wondered if the man might explode, but the sergeant tapped the officer’s arm and took him aside for a moment. The two began talking quietly to one another, and although Will’s hearing had become slightly better after Tailtiu’s healing, he still couldn’t quite understand them. He did catch a couple of words, though, ‘Nerrow’ and ‘bastard.’ He clenched his jaw, since it wouldn’t do him any good to start a fight over that.

A moment later the lieutenant returned. “Very well, Mister Cartwright. I’ll allow you to enlist and we’ll release your uncle from his conscription. Are you happy now?”

“Yes, sir,” said Will, trying not to smile.

“You can have the rest of the day to explain the situation to your uncle and see him off. I’ll expect you back here in the morning to be sworn in. I sincerely hope you aren’t assigned to my company, Mister Cartwright,” said the officer. “Both for your sake and for my peace of mind.”

***

“Will?”

Johnathan Cartwright was surprised, to say the least, when he was brought out to meet his nephew. As happy as Will was to see his uncle, he was momentarily overwhelmed by the thought of the things he would have to tell him. “Uncle Johnathan,” said Will, stepping forward to hug the heavyset man.

As soon as they broke apart his uncle asked, “We heard the news about Barrowden. What happened? Are Doreen and the kids safe? Did they get out in time?”

“Let’s talk after we get a little farther away,” said Will, looking back at the camp. The anxiety in his uncle’s voice made it hard for him to reply calmly.

Will’s deflection undid the older man and Johnathan’s face crumpled. “They’re dead, aren’t they?”

“Sammy is safe,” said Will, his eyes downcast. “Aunt Doreen got her out in time. She shot one of the men after Sammy with your crossbow before—” He couldn’t finish the sentence. “She saved Sammy,” he said at last.

His uncle’s breath was coming in great, heaving gasps, and his next question was almost unintelligible. “And little Doug?”

Will could barely see his own feet, his eyes were so blurry. “He was really brave. He tried to protect them.”

“He was only ten,” whispered his uncle. “What kind of monsters would kill a child?” Will’s uncle sank to his knees.

A quarter of an hour passed before Johnathan Cartwright was able to stand, and when he did he started back toward the camp.

“Where are you going?” asked Will.

“I’m going to kill those bastards,” said Johnathan. “I can’t do it alone. The army is the best way I can think of.”

“Sammy needs you,” said Will. “Mom needs you. I left them alone back there.”

“They didn’t come here with you?”

Will shook his head. “They’re living at the old hermit’s cottage.”

“That’s not safe!” said his uncle, his voice rising. “The Darrowans will sweep the whole valley.”

“I need to tell you some things, Uncle Johnathan,” said Will, glancing around to see if anyone was nearby. “But not here. Come with me. Please?”

His uncle hesitated briefly, then nodded his head and followed Will away from the camp and down the road that led toward the mountain pass. They were almost to the spot that was closest to the spring when his uncle stopped. “How far do we need to go?”

Will met his eyes evenly. “I can take you to them.”

“How? It’s too late to cross the pass. There will be soldiers guarding it.”

“Magic,” answered Will. “Can you trust me?”

His uncle’s face wavered between fear and anger. “I knew it. That old man really was a warlock, wasn’t he? I don’t want anything to do with demons or black magic.”

“He wasn’t a warlock,” insisted Will. “He was a wizard, and he did teach me a little. I know enough magic to get you back. It’s a shorter walk than the one from your house to my mom’s if you’ll let me show you.”

“What did you sell for your power?” asked his uncle.

After everything he had been through, Will was beginning to lose patience. He wondered if that was why Arrogan had always been so grumpy. Every day that passed, he felt like he understood the old man better. “I didn’t sell anything. One of the fae helped me.”

“The fae?”

“Do you want to see Sammy and Mom or not?” asked Will, exasperated. “I’m not a warlock. I haven’t sold my soul, and even if I did do something stupid like that it wouldn’t have anything to do with you.” Angry, he stalked away from the road, heading toward the spring. After a moment he heard his uncle start to follow.

When they reached the spring, Will stopped. “There’s a door here. I’m going to take your hand and—”

“I don’t see a door,” protested his uncle.

“That’s why I have to take your hand,” said Will. “I’ll take you with me.”

“Where are we going?”

“We’ll be in a field. From there I’ll lead you across the field to a cave. Inside the cave is another door that you won’t be able to see. When we cross again, we’ll be back in our world, near the old man’s house,” Will explained.

“You’ve lost your mind,” said Johnathan.

Tired of explaining himself, Will grabbed his uncle’s hand and wrenched them both sideways into Faerie. He was rewarded by the sight of his uncle’s jaw going slack as the older man stared around him at the sun-drenched field.

“How did…” began his uncle.

“Come on,” urged Will, starting forward. “It’s not entirely safe here. The sooner we cross back the better.” When they entered the cave, he once again felt as though something was watching him. “It’s me,” he announced. “This is my uncle. I’m taking him to stay with Mom and Sammy.”

His uncle was uneasy, but he couldn’t help but ask, “Who are you talking to?” He froze when he heard the deep rumbling coming from all around them.

“Just stay calm,” said Will. “He just wants to make sure we are who we say we are—I think.”

Again, Will heard the sound of something large sniffing the air, and then the presence vanished. Wasting no time, he pulled his uncle forward and twisted them back, and they appeared next to the tree behind Arrogan’s garden. He felt some of the tension release from his shoulders.

“Past all those brambles and bushes is the old hermit’s house. Mom and Sammy are there,” said Will, pointing out the way for his uncle.

“Aren’t you coming with me?”

Will shook his head. “Mom will throw a fit if she sees me. I kind of left without telling her. Tell her I’m sorry.”

His uncle started to grab his wrist, but Will twisted through the congruence, taking himself away. He had no intention of getting caught up in that conversation. He’ll tell Mom I’m safe. That’s enough, he told himself.

Chapter 37

Not having a place to sleep, Will wound up reporting that evening instead of the next morning, and after briefly being sworn into the king’s service, he found himself in a large tent that was one of many. At a guess there were nearly twenty men inside, and while they were all strangers what really bothered him was the fact that there wasn’t a bed in sight.

The sergeant that had led him in handed him a bedroll. “There’s some space over there. You’ll be assigned to a squad tomorrow, but for tonight you’ll stay here.”

“Will I get a regular bed then?” asked Will.

The sergeant let loose an evil laugh. “Soldier, ain’t none of us got beds around here. Why would you be any different?” When he saw the look on Will’s face he continued, “There’s nearly eight hundred men in this camp. If this was a garrison there’d be beds, but not here. Get used to it. Whenever we eventually have to move, it’ll be worse.”

The bedroll turned out to be a piece of oilskin with a heavy wool liner sewn to one side and a separate blanket rolled up within. It also had extra strips of leather along the edges that seemed to serve no purpose. There was no pillow.

Glancing around, he saw that some of the others had a bag of some sort that they used to rest their heads on, so he asked the man next to him about it.

“That’s a kit bag. They’ll give you one tomorrow. You keep your necessaries in it, but it makes a shitty pillow too.” The soldier laughed after he said it, though Will didn’t see the humor.

The next morning Will woke with a sore neck, shoulders, and back. The sergeant was yelling for everyone to muster in front, and he had no sooner put on his boots on and run out than he was told to return and roll up his bedding. That turned out to be indicative of his day as a whole. One of the officers appeared and began calling out names and listing assignments.

Most of it meant nothing to him, so he waited patiently until he heard his name called. “William Cartwright, Company B, Fifth Platoon, report to Sergeant Nash.”

As he had seen the last man do, he stepped forward and headed to the left, only to be quickly corrected and sent in the opposite direction. He felt awkward and foolish until he finally found the correct sergeant to line up behind. Sergeant Nash turned out to be a relatively short, clean-shaven man with broad, square shoulders and deep-set, serious eyes. Unlike most of the trainees and soldiers that Will had seen thus far, the sergeant wore a metal breastplate over his gambeson and thick leather vambraces on his forearms. Will was the only one lined up behind him, while the other sergeants had three or four new recruits each.

Fifteen minutes later the assignments were finished, and Sergeant Nash led him away without a word. After a short walk, he stopped in front of a large tent. “This is Barrentine’s Fifth. You’re in Sixth Squad. Corporal Taylor will handle you from here,” said the sergeant.

“Thank you, sir,” answered Will, but he paused before entering. “Is that all?”

Sergeant Nash’s eyes focused on him then, as though he hadn’t really seen Will before then at all. He looked up and down, then stared straight into Will’s eyes. “Did you expect a welcoming party, trainee?”

“No, sir, I just—,” Will stopped, unsure what he meant to say.

The sergeant gave him a sterile smile, displaying a flat line of teeth that did nothing to warm up the chill in his eyes. “Fine, here’s my advice, trainee. Don’t fuck up. Embarrass me in front of Captain Barrentine or the lieutenant and I’ll flay the hide off your bones. Dismissed.”

“Yes, sir,” said Will. He remained still, uncertain what to do.

“That means get your ass inside and find Corporal Taylor,” barked the sergeant, then he turned and walked away.

Will did as he was told, ducking through the front flap of the tent. Inside were several dozen men, all of whom turned their eyes to him as he entered, making him feel entirely too conspicuous. His ears picked up a few words from the background chatter, primarily ‘fresh meat’ and ‘another kid.’ A heavily muscled man who looked only a year or two older than Will called out to him, “Which squad?”

“Uh, Sixth, I think. Are you Corporal Taylor?” asked Will.

“Shit squat,” someone muttered, but Will ignored them as the man that had addressed him answered, “I’m Corporal Grim of First Squad. Sixth beds down in the back corner over there on the right. Taylor is the skinny guy sitting next to the giant.”

Will followed the other man’s eyes and spotted a familiar figure, Tiny, sitting on a bedroll in the rear of the tent. He nodded to Corporal Grim. “Thank you, sir.”

“Save the ‘sirs’ for the sergeants and officers,” said Grim. “If a corporal tells you to do something, you do it or get your ass kicked. Other than that, you don’t need to kiss ass.”

“Um, thanks,” said Will. He started for the back, eager to say hello to Tiny.

One of the other soldiers stood up and stepped in front of him as he made his way down the center. The man had a receding hairline and stubble so dense it was on the verge of becoming a beard. “You a private contract?” asked the stranger, his tone slightly belligerent.

Will nodded. “I enlisted yesterday. My name is Will, Will Cartwright.”

“You a merchant’s son or something?” asked the man.

Will shook his head. “No, why?”

“You must have money if you bought that gear,” said the soldier.

“He took it off a Darrowan soldier he killed,” said Tiny, stepping up behind Will.

The soldier snorted. “Probably looted it from a corpse.” Then he glared at Tiny. “I ain’t afraid of you, big man.”

“Bickler, sit the fuck down,” growled another man standing up nearby. “I’m sick of your shit. Private or conscript, we all bleed the same.” Will noticed that the man speaking had a black stripe painted across one arm of his coat, identical to the one that Corporal Grim had.

“All right, Bradshaw,” said Bickler. “I was just introducing myself. No need to get pissy.” Bickler returned to his spot and sat back down, muttering to himself, “Fucking rich kids.”

Will followed Tiny to the back of the tent, and the skinny man that had been pointed out stood and offered his hand. “I’m Corporal Taylor. Welcome to Sixth Squad. Since you already seem to know John Shaw, let me introduce you to the rest of the squad.” He waved his arm toward two other men, both of whom Will recognized. “This is Dave Wilson and Sven Fausk.”

“We met already, sir,” said Will.

“We was locked up together,” snickered Dave. “We’re old friends now, ain’t we, Cartwright?”

Will grimaced. “I wouldn’t go that far.” Sven started laughing when he heard Will’s reply.

“All four of you were locked up?” asked Corporal Taylor. “No matter, we’re all on the same team now.” The corporal seemed slightly anxious, and Will wondered how long the man had been in the King’s Army. He wasn’t about to ask, though.

A horn sounded outside, and everyone got hurriedly to their feet. Taylor glanced at Will. “Just drop your bedroll and kit bag over there. It’s time for muster.” Then he paused. “Where’s your kit bag? Never mind, we’ll get that sorted out this evening.”

Will had hoped that breakfast would be first, but he was disappointed to find out that wouldn’t be for another hour yet. He was even more disappointed when he learned why someone had called Sixth the ‘shit squad.’ Their first duty for the day was digging new latrines and filling in old ones with ash and soil.

Corporal Taylor provided useful information as they went about their task. “Since this is a long-term camp, we dig the trench five feet deep so it will last a week, hopefully. Today is the worst since we’re digging a new one and filling the old, but tomorrow we won’t have to do much aside from add some ash to keep the smell down. When we’re in the field, we only dig them a half a foot deep and we fill them back in each day before we move.”

“Do the squads rotate latrine duty?” asked Will hopefully.

The corporal chuckled ruefully. “Afraid not. It’s not as bad as you think, though. The other squads aren’t resting on their laurels, they’re busy digging and hauling for earthworks. We only have to dig this hard one day a week.”

“At least they don’t have to smell shit while they work,” complained Dave.

The trench they were digging was almost six feet in length, which made it a considerable task since it would also be five feet deep. Will stared at the other five latrines nearby. “Do we have to do all of these?”

“No,” answered the corporal. “Each company digs its own. Those belong to the other platoons in Company B.”

“Why aren’t they out here digging theirs then?” asked Dave.

“Each platoon does theirs on a different day, so we don’t get in each other’s way. Usually we use our own, but if one fills up too quick there’s always a new one just in case,” explained the corporal. Then he added, “Make sure it’s five feet deep or deeper, though. The worst fights are often over latrines if one of the platoons starts slacking.”

It took them a little more than an hour to complete the job, so they were one of the last squads to line up for breakfast. The food was much better than Will had gotten in the constable’s lockup, being a pottage of peas, carrots, and ham. The ham was present in spirit only, being noticeable only by its flavor and the occasional bit of fat or gristle. They were also given a large portion of boiled cabbage and turnips. His grandfather would have probably had a much more severe opinion, but Will was simply grateful to finally have a full belly.

He felt a little guilty when he saw Tiny staring forlornly at his empty bowl just a few minutes after they had started eating. The big man probably needed more food, but the servers didn’t make allowances for size when they scooped out the portions. He resolved to try and save a little for Tiny at the next meal.

The rest of the morning was taken up by a demonstration and then practice taking down and then putting up the platoon tent. They were also instructed in how to load the same into a wagon.

Sergeant Nash was quick to disabuse them of the notion they would be taking their own tent with them. “If and when we actually get the order to move, don’t think you’ll be sleeping in such luxury. We only bring large tents like this for the mess and similar things. On campaign you’ll be sleeping in smaller, five-man tents. Do any of you have questions?”

Will held up his hand and heard several men nearby groan quietly, ‘idiot.’

“Trainee, you don’t need to hold up your hand. This isn’t a school. If I ask for questions just speak up,” said the sergeant. “What’s your name?”

“Will Cartwright, sir. Where are the smaller tents? I haven’t seen any.”

Sergeant Nash’s face lit up with obvious enthusiasm. “I’m glad you asked!” Turning, he waved his arm at another wagon, covered with a heavy tarp. “Over here behind me you will find thirty of those self-same tents, enough for every squad in the company. Next we will go over how to properly set up camp with those tents. When we’re done, you’ll be able to unload a wagon and set up in less than fifteen minutes.”

Will received a number of dirty looks from the soldiers nearest to him. It’s obvious we’d have been doing this anyway, he observed silently. He resolved to refrain from asking too many questions in future, though. He figured it probably wasn’t a good idea to stand out.

After lunch they spent the afternoon learning drills. The main goal seemed to be to teach them how to move in a line without getting separated, which turned out to be harder than he thought. Learning the commands was easy, but learning what to expect from the men on either side of him was where the difficulty came in.

To make matters worse, Sergeant Nash kept pointing him out, though whether it was because the sergeant liked him or because he simply didn’t know the names of the other soldiers, he wasn’t sure.

“Stop!” yelled Sergeant Nash once again. “No! Don’t anyone move. Stay where you are. I want everyone to take note of what a sloppy bunch of fuckwits you are!” He walked along the front line, stopping in front of Will.

“See this man here? He’s where he should be. Look at your positions. Some of you are in line; some of you are so stupid you probably don’t have any idea what the word ‘line’ means.” The sergeant pointed at Dave, who was to Will’s right. “You! What’s your name?”

“Dave Wilson, sir.”

“Trainee Wilson, does your mother know what a sorry excuse for a soldier you are? Straighten up! Square your shoulders and get that shield in line! By all the gods, your daddy’s dick was probably limp by the time you were conceived, judging by your lazy ass! In fact, it’s probably a goddamn miracle you didn’t dribble down your momma’s leg and end up as a stain on the bedsheets.”

Someone laughed, and the sergeant turned on Tiny, who was standing on the other side of Sven. “What’s your name, trainee?”

“John Shaw, sir, but most call me Tiny,” said the big man.

Sergeant Nash responded instantly, “Why? Is your dick that small, soldier?”

Tiny seemed stunned, but he answered anyway. “No, sir.”

The sergeant let out a dramatic exhale. “Well Mister Shaw, I am sure that is a relief to sheep everywhere. Did you find what I was saying to Trainee Wilson to be funny?”

If the insult bothered Tiny, he didn’t show it, since he smirked faintly. “Yes, sir.”

“Why you would find that funny is a mystery, Trainee Shaw, since by the look of you I expect your mother shat you out one day rather than give birth,” said the sergeant.

Tiny didn’t answer, but his face hardened and his ears turned red.

“Did that make you angry, Mister Shaw?”

“No, sir,” said Tiny.

“Really? I find that surprising, Mister Shaw, since from the look in your eye I would strongly suspect you’d like to stick that spear in my gut. Isn’t that true, Mister Shaw?”

Tiny shook his head. “No, sir.”

“Perhaps you’re worried about being whipped. I’m sure you know that striking a superior is a mandatory flogging. Wounding one is punishable by death,” said the sergeant, his voice growing calmer. “In your case, though, I’ll give you permission. Would you like to hit me now?”

“No, sir.”

“Corporal Grim!” shouted the sergeant. The corporal hastily responded with a ‘yes, sir.’ Sergeant Nash went on, “Corporal, please make note that I’m giving Trainee Shaw permission to take a swing at me.” Then he turned back to Tiny. “Mister Shaw, would it surprise you to learn that the reason you’re so fucking big is because your mother was in fact the biggest sow on—”

The sergeant never finished his sentence, because Tiny dropped his spear and unleashed a wild haymaker. Sergeant Nash was expecting it, though. The sergeant leaned back and tilted his head, letting Tiny’s fist glance off the top of his helm, then he stepped forward, putting one hand on the back of Tiny’s arm and shoving while he kicked the big man’s leading foot out from under him.

Tiny fell like a ponderous oak, and the men behind him tripped over one another as they hurried to get out of the way. Meanwhile the sergeant caught Tiny’s spear as it started to fall and whipped it around with one hand. The point stopped just below Tiny’s chin. Sergeant Nash stood over him with a look of malicious glee in his eyes.

“I would dearly love to put this through your ugly neck, Mister Shaw, but until this war is over you are the property of Lord Fulstrom, and he needs your fat ass to help fulfill his duty to the king.”

Will couldn’t stand it any longer. “Sergeant—”

Quick as a whip, Sergeant Nash turned and focused his attention on Will. “I did not give you permission to speak, Mister Cartwright, but seeing as I respect your opinion, I will let it go this time. Did you have something to say?”

All eyes were on Will, and he suddenly felt uncertain. Swallowing nervously, he answered, “I just don’t think you should goad him about his mother, sir.”

The sergeant took a moment and seemed to fall into deep reflection before saying, “Is that so?” Then he looked down at Tiny. “Mister Shaw, according to Mister Cartwright I owe you an apology. Did it hurt your feelings when I suggested that the reason you’re such a colossal turd is because your mother was a farm animal?”

Facing the sharp end of a spear had caused Tiny to calm down quickly, but he still answered honestly, “A little bit, sir.”

Sergeant Nash planted the butt end of the spear in the ground and offered his other hand to the fallen soldier. “Then I apologize, Mister Shaw. Let me help you up.” Once Tiny was back on his feet, the sergeant addressed the company again, “I hope you all learned a lesson in courtesy from Mister Cartwright here.”

Will’s shoulders itched as he felt everyone’s eyes on him.

Chapter 38

That evening Will managed to save a few extra bites for Tiny, but it was an exercise of willpower for him. The long day’s labor had given him a tremendous appetite. But if I’m this hungry, how bad is it for him? he asked himself.

Dave glanced up at them. “Ain’t that cute. Will’s got himself a girlfriend.”

They ignored the remark, but Corporal Taylor took notice, staring at Tiny for a second as though he had just remembered something. Finally, he said, “They want you lean, Tiny, but given your size you probably need a little more.” He offered the big man the last portion of his pottage. “I’ll talk to the mess sergeant later and see if they can give you a little more from now on.”

Tiny seemed embarrassed, and he stared at his knees. “Thanks, Corporal.”

Dave spoke up again. “Sergeant Nash really seemed to love you, Cartwright.”

Before Will could reply, Sven jumped in. “Just his bad luck. They always single someone out like that.”

Corporal Taylor nodded in agreement, but Will was confused. “What do you mean?”

Sven waved his spoon as he talked to emphasize his point. “This ain’t my first time in the army. I served five years as an enlisted soldier when I was a lot younger. They always pick someone and praise them like that. They try to make the others jealous. If he’s a good instructor he’ll switch to someone else in a few days, before the men get so mad they start laying for you at night. He’ll probably turn you into his problem child just to fuck with your head.”

Will didn’t like the sound of that. Either way, it seemed like he was in trouble. Either the sergeant would start picking on him, or the other men would start trying to catch him alone. Pushing that thought aside, he asked, “What about Tiny? Why’d he go after him like that?”

“He was the best example, given his size,” answered Corporal Taylor.

“Example?” Will was confused.

Sven pointed at Tiny with his spoon. “Look at him, he’s huge. Probably the biggest guy in the whole cohort. The sergeant needed someone to teach the hotheads in the company a lesson. Otherwise someone might decide to take a shot at him when he isn’t looking.”

“At who?” asked Will.

“At the sergeant, dumbass,” said Sven. “Everyone hates them, or at least they will by the time they get through breaking us in. So what they do is pick out someone that looks big, or maybe someone who seems especially tough. They push ‘em until they have no choice, and when the poor guy snaps they put him down fast so nobody else will get the same idea.”

“That’s stupid,” said Dave, spitting out a piece of gristle.

“Would you take a shot at the sergeant then?” asked Sven.

Dave huffed. “I’m not afraid of him, but I guess I’d think twice about it after today.”

“I’ve made my point,” said Sven smugly. “You’re exactly the sort of asshole that demonstration was meant for.”

Dave started to jump up, but Corporal Taylor grabbed his arm. “Simmer down, Wilson. You’re gonna have to grow a thicker skin if you want to survive around here.”

Dave glared at the corporal and then relaxed. Picking up his bowl, he turned it up and swallowed the last of his food before leaving by himself. Corporal Taylor watched him go, uncertainty written on his face.

Sven was the first to speak, glancing at Will. “He won’t last long at this rate. He got into two fights the day before you got here.”

“Didn’t they punish him for that?” asked Will.

“Only if an officer or sergeant sees it,” said Sven. “Most guys try to avoid that, even if they get their ass kicked, and if you snitch the other guys will do worse to you.”

“That doesn’t seem right.”

Sven shrugged. “Fights happen when you cram this many men into one place. The sergeants know that. They prefer it this way. If they started paying close attention, they’d have to have half the men whipped before they even finished training. They’ll turn a blind eye unless someone gets hurt bad.”

The next days were similar to the first, except that the men spent more time digging trenches and creating long rolling mounds of soil for the earthworks. The idea was to create a wide, sloping trench and pile the earth on one side, effectively creating a wall they could shelter behind. It wasn’t too good against arrows, but for that reason they would erect a small timber wall at the top once the earthen portion was finished. Even without the wall, any enemy charging at them would be forced to first run down into the trench and then up the sloping earth, putting them at a serious disadvantage.

They spent the afternoons drilling, marching, and occasionally sparring. During most of the breaks, one of the sergeants would lecture them on the importance of this or that. Will was particularly interested in a demonstration given by Sergeant Eckels from the Third Platoon.

Eckels was a burly man with an exceptionally thick beard. He stepped out in front of them while they were resting after a particularly long drill session. “I’m going to talk to you about the drills we’ve been doing and why we do them.”

No one said anything.

“You may wonder why we spend more time practicing holding lines and using the spear and shield when you have a perfectly good sword at your side. The main reason for that is because we fight as a team, not as individuals. The sword is a backup weapon for when you’ve either lost your spear, or the enemy has gotten too close for you to use it effectively. We don’t spend as much time on sparring because if you do wind up that close to the enemy you won’t be sparring. There’s no fancy swordplay involved when you’re shoulder-to-shoulder and face-to-face. The only effective thing you can do at that point is thrust, and we’ll make sure you get plenty of practice at that. Any questions so far?”

Again, no one spoke.

The sergeant gestured to two men standing off to one side. They carried a large, weighted pell onto the field. While most of the practice pells they had seen before were wrapped with leather and padding, this one was different in that a standard padded linen gambeson had been placed over it and tied in place.

“Do any of you know why the padded jack is the one piece of armor we issue to every soldier?” asked the sergeant.

A voice from the back answered, “Because they’re cheap.” A ripple of laughter followed.

“That’s true,” said Sergeant Eckels, “but it isn’t the only reason. Anyone else?”

“They’re warm,” said someone else.

“Also a good point,” said the sergeant amiably, “but we use them even in summer. Why do you think that is?” He waited a long minute before continuing. “The main reason is because it is the single most effective piece of armor you or I will ever wear. Short of something solid, such as a breastplate or helm, it is the only thing that will protect you from blunt impact.”

“I’d rather have the breastplate,” said a bolder voice in the crowd.

The sergeant tapped his own highly polished breastplate. “As would I, but you don’t wear one of these without first putting on an arming jacket or similar padding. The same is doubly true of mail. A thick gambeson will stop most cuts, lessen the impact of a sword blow, and sometimes even save you from more dangerous things. The biggest danger to you while wearing it is a thrust, or an arrow.” He pointed at one of the men sitting close to the front. “Lend me your sword, trainee.”

The man unsheathed his weapon, which was standard for most of them, a short falchion with a blade no more than two feet long. The sergeant inspected the edge with his thumb and then whipped the sword across in a fast cut that hit the pell so solidly that it rocked back despite its weighted base. The gambeson had only a shallow cut in it.

“The falchion is one of the most effective types of cutting swords, but as you can see, it wouldn’t have gotten through. In an actual fight, it probably would have been even less effective, because men don’t generally stand still when you swing at them. That’s one reason we will be teaching you how to effectively sharpen them. These swords need a very sharp edge if you’re to have any hope of cutting through padding.”

Sergeant Eckels returned the sword to its owner and unsheathed his own weapon, which appeared identical. He repeated his slash, but this time the sword cut through the gambeson entirely, though it only lightly scored the leather underneath. “With a very sharp blade and good technique, it is possible to cut the man wearing a padded jack, but it still isn’t much of a wound most of the time.” Then the sergeant stepped in and stabbed the pell, causing his sword to sink deeply into the pell. “As you can see, a thrust is much more effective, whether your sword is sharp or not.

“The enemies we will face are all wearing similar armor to what you have on now, and the most effective weapon you have for getting to them is the spear you carry, or failing that, a sword thrust,” finished the sergeant. “Questions?”

“What if they’re wearing mail?”

Sergeant Eckels nodded. “Good question. Mail does give a man better protection, so long as there’s padding beneath it. The principle is the same. If he’s got mail, a cut won’t work. Ever. Your best bet is still the spear. A solid thrust can pierce mail, though you probably won’t get as deep as you would otherwise. Failing that, your best bet is to hit them with something heavy enough to break the man under the armor. Anyone else?”

“If they’re using spears, and we’re using spears, and everyone is stabbing, what’s the point of wearing padding?” asked a man somewhere in the middle.

“In the middle of a battle, you may get hit several times, but most of those hits won’t be good ones. With a padded jack, your chances of getting wounded are much lower, but the gambeson isn’t your only protection.” He gestured to one of his other assistants, who carried a shield over to him. “This is your first and best line of protection, a shield. Given the choice between no shield and the best armor, or a shield and no armor, you’ll usually want the shield.”

He went on for some time after that, emphasizing the importance of prioritizing the placement of the shield depending on whether one was in the front, second, or third row of a battle line.

Once their rest was over, they did in fact practice sparring for a while, despite what the sergeant had just told them about its relative importance. Will learned how to make effective cuts and thrusts and watched practical demonstrations regarding when he should consider switching to the sword or continue using his spear.

In the last hour before the evening meal, they were shown how to sharpen their swords to a fine edge as well as how to maintain their other gear. Will was exhausted by the time they were finally released to go eat.

As they sat in the mess hall, he noticed that Dave’s cheek was swollen on one side. “What happened to you?” asked Will.

Dave grinned. “Hah. You should ask about the other guy.”

Sven shook his head in disgust. “That shit’s going to come back to haunt you.”

“I’m the one they should be looking out for,” bragged Dave.

Will couldn’t help but agree with Sven, but he stayed silent. He knew from experience that Dave wasn’t one to take advice, especially if it was good advice.

Through the rest of the week Will began to get used to the routine, though it still left him bone-tired at the end of every day. Latrine duty, breakfast, and then digging for the earthworks took up the mornings. After lunch, the entire company would practice marching and formation drills for a couple of hours before moving on to either sparring or learning yet another procedure. Some days it was learning to set up and repack their camp before or after a march, other days it was maintenance of their equipment and weapons.

Through it all Will was constantly hungry—hungry for sleep, and hungry for food. He had never had much fat on him, but what little had been there started to melt away. He was pretty sure he had lost weight, but when he looked at his arms, they definitely seemed more muscular. Then again, maybe it was his imagination.

The changes in Tiny were more noticeable. The big man had definitely been a little chubby, but he was losing weight quickly, revealing the incredible muscle that had been necessary to move him around in day-to-day life. Tiny was still massive, but he lost the almost baby-like roundness to his face and began to look positively dangerous.

Will still thought they would all be gaunt and skeletal by the time spring arrived, however. His belly continually reminded him he wasn’t getting enough food for all the labor that was expected of him. He began to have dreams about the meals at his grandfather’s house, especially the ones that the old man had made personally.

He doubted he would ever have the chance to learn any more about magic, but he kept the source of his turyn tightly compressed, and he occasionally practiced the runes his grandfather had taught him. He did it in secret at first, until he realized no one could see the runes besides him. To the others in his tent, it just looked as though he was sitting quietly. He gained a reputation for being quiet and introspective.

It was almost two weeks after Sven’s warning that he found out what the old soldier had been scolding Dave about. Will heard a strange scuffling that roused him from his sleep. The tent was dark, so he wasn’t sure what time it was, but he could see dark shapes moving nearby. It looked as though someone had been wrapped in something and was struggling.

Will sat up. The back wall of the tent had been unpegged, and several dark shapes were dragging a figure wrapped in a blanket out through it.

“Don’t get up. He ain’t worth it,” advised Sven’s voice quietly.

“Who?” whispered Will.

“Wilson,” answered the old soldier. “Looks like some of them got tired of his bullshit.”

“What are they going to do?”

“Probably just beat the shit out of him. Depends how much they hate him. Sometimes people get a little too excited,” said Sven. “Go back to sleep.”

Will kicked off his blanket and began crawling toward the now-loose tent wall.

“Where are you going?” hissed Sven.

“He’s in our squad,” said Will, unable to think of another reason.

He heard Sven spit in the darkness. “That jackass deserves it. He even beat you up in the lockup. You think you’re the only one that heard them drag him out? You ain’t. Nobody else is going to go after them. Don’t make trouble for yourself.”

“What would your excuse be if it was me?” asked Will, but he didn’t wait for a reply. Lifting the edge of the tent, he slipped out and followed the men dragging Dave’s squirming body away from the camp.

The men taking Dave weren’t gentle as they hauled him along between them. They’d gone barely twenty feet before one of them dropped one end of the bundle, and they angrily kicked their victim several times before lifting him back up. They probably want to take him far enough away that no one will hear, thought Will. So, if I’m going to do anything, I better do it now.

Too scared to think any further, Will charged forward, tackling the man holding Dave’s legs from behind, knocking him prone. Jumping up quickly, he swung at one of the men on the left and felt his fist connect with something. Someone was cursing, and Will got several more punches in before something hard hit the side of his head. As he fell, he realized that there were more of them than he had thought. Eight, nine? I’m screwed. Hands caught him as he struggled to rise, and someone slugged him in the gut hard enough to take the fight out of him.

They let go of him then, and Will fell to his knees, expecting more blows, but when he looked up, he saw two more people had joined the fight. One was of an average size, but the other was too big to be anyone but Tiny. The two were outnumbered, but Dave’s abductors weren’t prepared to deal with a giant.

Tiny picked one of them up with one arm and threw him into a tree before wading into the rest of them. The big man took a lot of blows, but nothing seemed to faze him, and with every swing he sent someone else to the ground. The man with him was no stranger to brawls either, and as Will got to his feet he realized it was Sven. By the time Will rejoined them, it was almost over.

And then they heard the sound of whistles, and Will saw several lanterns approaching.

“Run for it,” yelled Sven. “They can’t see who we are yet.”

“What about Dave?” asked Will as everyone began to scatter.

Sven pulled him along. “He’s tied up, it ain’t like they’re gonna think he did it to himself.”

The tent wasn’t far, and as they reached it Tiny bent down and held the side up for them to enter. Will and Sven shimmied under it, but a voice yelled out before Tiny could follow. “You! Stop, right there!” Tiny dropped the tent flap, and Will and Sven could only listen from their bedrolls as he was taken away.

Looking around the tent, Will doubted anyone was actually asleep, but everyone was making a good show of it. Sven whispered to him, “They’ll come in here in a minute. Just pretend to be asleep. Ain’t nobody gonna say otherwise.”

Will frowned. “How do you know?”

“Trust me. Soldiers hate snitches more than anybody. Remember that when they start asking questions,” answered the older man.

Sven’s prediction turned out to be accurate. Moments later, men with lanterns men with lanterns threw open the front flaps of the tent and walked down the center, checking to see who was present and who wasn’t. They woke the corporals first and then dragged everyone outside for a roll call.

Amazingly, everyone had somehow managed to sleep through the entire event without hearing a thing, even Corporal Taylor. Will felt a strange mixture of awe and surprise as the normally honest corporal lied with a perfectly straight face about what he had seen. Will did his best to emulate the corporal’s example when they got to him.

“What’s that on the side of your face, trainee? A bruise?” asked Lieutenant Latimer.

“Yes, sir,” said Will.

“And you still say you weren’t involved in a fight?”

Will shook his head. “I got it during the drills earlier. I moved wrong and caught a shield with the side of my head.”

The lieutenant looked at Corporal Taylor. “Is that so, Corporal?”

“Yes, sir. It didn’t seem serious, so I didn’t report it,” lied the corporal.

The questioning didn’t go on much longer after that. Dave was released, and ironically, he was the only one who truly hadn’t seen anyone, although from the look he gave Will it was obvious he knew who had come after him. Tiny refused to say who had helped him, claiming it had been too dark, and naturally none of the abductors identified themselves.

It was then that Will discovered how quick military justice could be. The men took Tiny to one of the training pells and tied his hands together on the other side of it. They brought out a whip and he was given two lashes. According to the lieutenant, that was leniency on his part. The appropriate punishment was three, but he deducted one lash since Tiny had been acting on behalf of a squad mate.

Will still felt it was unfair, and he felt guilty that night as he watched the big man struggle to find a comfortable sleeping position.

Chapter 39

The next morning Will examined Tiny’s back. The big man had a scar from his previous time before the whip, and it appeared he would get another from the previous night’s punishment. Since he didn’t have any freshly boiled water to clean the wound, he accompanied Tiny to the chirurgeon’s tent to make sure it was well taken care of.

As they were about to enter, Will caught the sound of a woman’s voice and paused. He and Tiny exchanged puzzled glances, as neither of them had seen or heard of a woman in the camp before that moment.

“What is he thinking?” protested the woman. She sounded young. “He should at least send Nerrow’s men here. They’re going to need more men to hold the pass. Doesn’t he realize we have no magical support either?”

“My apologies, milady,” answered a deep male voice. “You know I agree with you, but it isn’t my place to second-guess His Majesty’s judgment.” Will thought the man’s voice sounded familiar, but he couldn’t place it. “I have two teams scaling the mountains via separate routes. They’re experienced mountaineers and scouts. We should know more about Darrow’s disposition in Barrowden soon.”

“It won’t matter much if he sends the entire army to Thornton. Even a modest force will be too much for us here,” argued the woman. “Eighty-percent of the troops here are green, and our numbers are pitiful.”

“At least we have you, milady,” said the man. “He wouldn’t risk you here if he didn’t believe the intelligence regarding Thornton to be extremely credible. It’s highly probable that Darrow’s incursion into Barrowden is just a diversion.”

“That diversion may well roll over us and sack Branscombe,” countered the woman. “If he won’t send men he could at least send a few sorcerers.”

“At least Baron Fulstrom will be with us.”

“Fulstrom is old, and his elemental is minor. If the Patriarch sends one of his cardinals, or even a couple of his more modest clergy, we will be entirely outclassed.”

Afraid they would be discovered eavesdropping, Will decided to make some noise before entering. “Don’t worry, Tiny. They’ll fix you up better than new.” The conversation inside ceased, and after a count of ten Will opened the tent flap.

A man wearing a full mail byrnie, as well as a breastplate and greaves, exited the tent. Will had never seen the man close up, but he recognized him immediately as Sir Kyle Barrentine. Sir Kyle was one of Baron Fulstrom’s knights and the captain of Company B. Will and Tiny both snapped to attention and saluted, placing a fist over their hearts.

“At ease, men,” said the captain. He left without looking back, and Will and Tiny waited a moment before entering the tent.

Will’s eyes went wide with surprise when he stepped inside, and he stumbled deliberately, hoping to cover his reaction. The woman in the tent was a sorcerer, as evidenced by the two elementals hovering invisibly over her shoulders, one of water and the other of earth. Her hair was tied back and hidden beneath a simple yet elegant wimple, but despite the covering, Will spotted a small, black wisp of hair sneaking out beside one temple.

Two startling sapphire eyes locked on Will as he straightened up from his mock fall. “Are you all right?” she asked. “Is it your leg?”

Will chuckled nervously. “No, I’m just clumsy. It’s my friend.” He gestured at Tiny.

She indicated a low bench beside a table. “If you’ll sit here. What’s your name, soldier?”

Tiny sat. “John Shaw, if it please you, milady.”

The woman waved her hand dismissively. “None of that, Mister Shaw. I’m just a nurse. You’ll get me in trouble if someone hears you treating me like nobility. I’m afraid Doctor Guerin is away today so it’s just me here. Are you the poor fellow who was punished last night?”

Will stood by quietly, watching as she lifted Tiny’s tunic and examined his back. She’s obviously lying, but why? The woman seemed familiar to him, but he couldn’t place where he had seen her before. With the gown and wimple, he couldn’t see much aside from her face, but that alone was striking enough that he didn’t think he could have forgotten such a beauty.

Tearing his eyes away from her, he looked around the interior of the tent, noting several empty cots. To one side was a portable, wood-framed screen, and at the base he saw a shadow cast by someone’s feet. Looking closer, he caught a glimpse of mail sabatons. Will lifted his eyes and caught the woman staring at him. “Uh, is there someone…” he began to ask.

She smiled. “It’s just a patient. I put the screen there to give him some privacy.”

More like a bodyguard, thought Will. Who is she?

The nurse went back to cleaning Tiny’s wound, keeping up a continuous, light banter to set the big man at ease while she worked. Will didn’t pay much attention to it. He was too busy studying her without being caught staring. Then he heard something that brought his mind back to the present. “You haven’t told me your friend’s name,” she said to Tiny.

Will met her eyes again. “William,” he said simply.

“Mine is Isabel,” she replied, then her lips turned down slightly as she frowned. “What happened to your cheek?”

He covered his cheek self-consciously with one hand. “Nothing much. Just an accident when I was small.”

“Looks like it was pretty bad, judging by the scar. What were you doing, trying to impress a girl?” she asked.

“Uh, no. It was just a fall…” he lied, “…caused by my own stupidity really.”

Her eyes twinkled mischievously. “That’s very modest of you. Most would brag about something foolish, or claim they got it saving a damsel in distress.”

Will shook his head, but her attention was already back on Tiny. “I think this needs a few stitches. Can you bear a little pain for me Mister Shaw?” she asked. Tiny nodded, and she looked up at Will. “Would you mind helping? I need someone to hold the edges together.”

He nodded and moved forward while she brought out a curved needle and thread. Just before she started, Will pinched the skin gently together.

Isabel smiled. “Yes, exactly there. You must have read my mind, William. Have you stitched someone up before?”

“No,” he lied. “It just seemed like the best place to start.”

Tiny was a good patient; he flinched slightly when the needle passed through his skin, but otherwise held still. Isabel’s fingers moved quickly, and she deftly closed the cut on the big man’s back with tight, neat stitches. Will moved his hand as she finished each stitch to make it easier for the next.

When she was done, Isabel tied the last knot and clipped the end of the thread. Then she stood and stretched. “You did well, William. You didn’t seem squeamish at all. Most people get nervous when they see blood or needles.”

Will shrugged. “It’s never really bothered me.”

Isabel wrapped a long strip of linen around Tiny’s torso several times before instructing him to put his tunic back on. “Be sure to come back in the morning so someone can check it and change the bandage.”

Tiny thanked her and they started to leave, but she put a hand on Will’s arm at the last moment. “What company did you say you were in?” asked Isabel. Then she added, “I have to report on everyone that receives treatment and what unit they’re in.”

A horn sounded and Will darted outside, pulling Tiny along. “Sorry, we’re late for breakfast!”

Tiny looked at him strangely as they hurried along. “I think she liked you.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” said Will, glancing back at the medic tent. Isabel had finally gone back inside. “Go on to the mess tent. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

The big man seemed reluctant, but after a moment he relented and went on by himself. Will took a different route, and once he no longer in sight of the medic tent, he circled around to approach it from the back side. He stopped once he could hear Isabel’s voice. His hearing had gotten substantially better since Tailtiu had healed him. At fifteen yards, it wouldn’t be obvious to anyone watching that he was eavesdropping.

“Danner,” said Isabel, her voice firm.

“Yes, milady,” answered a male voice that Will presumed was that of her bodyguard.

“Find Lieutenant Stanton. I want to know that soldier’s full name and how he got here,” she ordered.

“The big one, milady?”

“No, the other one,” she replied.

“Begging your pardon, milady, but William is a common name. Without knowing what town he comes from or his company, it will be difficult,” said Danner.

“He’s from Barrowden,” said Isabel confidently. “I can’t remember his surname, but he’s probably in the same company as the man I stitched up. I believe he said his name was John Shaw.”

“May I ask why you’re interested in him?”

Isabel paused before answering. “He isn’t supposed to be here. After you find out his name, tell the lieutenant I want to see him. In person.”

Will left after that, rather than risk being seen if her bodyguard stepped out too quickly. His head was swirling with questions that had no clear answers. Why was a noblewoman posing as a nurse? How did she know he was from Barrowden? The thing that bothered him most was wondering why she seemed so interested in him. Had she seen something unusual when she looked at him?

He vividly remembered his grandfather’s warnings about being caught as an unlicensed wizard. They’d accuse him of being a warlock. It hardly seemed fair, since he hadn’t the faintest idea how to do anything useful with his magic.

He found his place in the mess hall and ate with mechanical efficiency, lost in thought. Sven and the others tried to draw him out, but he remained quiet through breakfast. Once or twice he looked up and saw Tiny watching him, but the big man didn’t say anything.

Later that morning he received another surprise when someone from the company digging near their section recognized him. “Will!”

He knew the voice. He ran up the mound of earth and saw his cousin standing near the top. “Eric!” The two embraced.

“What are you doing here? I heard Dad was given an exemption, but I didn’t know you were here,” said Eric.

The others from his squad were staring at him, and Will saw Corporal Taylor frown. He had too much to say to simply blurt it all out. “We need to talk,” he told his cousin. “Can we meet later? After supper?”

“Where?”

“How about by Company B’s latrine?” suggested Will. It wasn’t an ideal spot, but it was one of the few places he was allowed to go on his own during his severely limited free time.

Eric understood. “Sure. See you there tonight.”

They parted and Will returned to digging. Corporal Taylor walked over to him. “Who was that?”

“My cousin,” he answered. “I haven’t seen him since before Barrowden was burned.”

“I bet you’re glad to see him,” said the corporal amiably.

Will stared at the earth. “Yeah, but I have a lot of bad news to give him.”

“Take your time when you see him then. If anyone asks why you’re gone so long, I’ll tell them you have the piles,” offered the corporal helpfully.

“Thanks,” said Will wryly.

That evening he rushed over to the latrines as soon as he was free, though his feet felt heavy as he did. Eric was there ahead of him, waiting. His cousin waved when he spotted him. They hugged once more and then Eric pushed him out to arm’s length. “We heard about Barrowden a few weeks ago. How bad is it?”

The food in Will’s stomach felt like a rock. “Really bad. They burned the whole village.”

“What about Mom, Doug, and Sammy? They got out, right?” There was desperation in Eric’s eyes, though he was doing his best to control it.

“Sammy is safe,” said Will. “I didn’t get there fast enough to help the others.”

Eric’s face was dark, his eyes swelling. “Then Mom, and Dougie?”

“They died trying to protect each other,” said Will. “Your mom got one of the raiders with your dad’s crossbow.”

His cousin crouched, putting his hands on the ground as though to steady himself and hanging his head. “How much did you see?”

“It was mostly over before I got there. There was smoke everywhere. It was hard to see, but it looked like they died quickly without much pain. I grabbed Sammy and ran to my house.”

“And your mom?”

“We got out before the soldiers got there, but the old man died trying to keep them from following us.”

The two cousins remained together for half an hour, but most of their time was spent in silence as Eric was no longer able to speak clearly. Will sat beside him, feeling numb and dead inside. The only comfort he could offer was an arm around Eric’s shoulders.

When Will finally returned to the tent, the first person to approach him was the last one he wanted to speak to. Dave grinned at him. “I saw you with your girlfriend over by the latrines. When will the happy day—” The thief stopped when he saw the expression on Will’s face.

Will’s fists were balled up so tightly that his knuckles had turned white. Deep down, he hoped Dave would go on so he could vent his anger on the man, but the ex-cutpurse surprised him.

“Whoa, sorry. I didn’t realize it was something important.” That said, the other man backed away and went to his bedroll. Corporal Taylor walked over and began whispering into Dave’s ear, explaining what he knew of the situation.

Everyone left him alone until lights out.

Chapter 40

The next couple of months went by slowly for a couple of reasons, the first being that Will was anxious to get back to Barrowden. Aside from Eric’s family, there were a lot of people he was worried about, like the Tanners—or Annabelle Withy. He tried to be rational. Chances were most of them were dead, but it ate at him not knowing.

The other reason time moved so slowly was that he was miserable. The constant drills and training had taught him new things about fatigue and exhaustion. His body had adapted, so it wasn’t as bad anymore, but the constant supervision and lack of freedom was beginning to drive him slightly mad.

Once his first eight weeks were finished, he was told he was no longer a trainee, though he didn’t feel any different. He had paid off his debt for the spear and shield and had six silver clima in his purse, more money than he had ever personally possessed in his entire life. Unless one counted that time when he had briefly held the gold crown that he had used to pay his aunt.

Since he was no longer a trainee, he was entitled to one day of recreation every two weeks, which seemed rather pointless since he didn’t know anyone in Branscombe. Free days were arranged by squad, which meant he could go into town with Tiny, but Eric was in an entirely different company, so their days would never line up.

The first time he had the opportunity, he declined Corporal Taylor’s offer to go into Branscombe together. He could tell his decision disappointed Tiny, but Will had one thing to do that came before everything else. Starting early, he visited the town’s market and bought everything he thought Sammy and his mother were probably missing: salt, sausages, cabbage, lard, flour, dried beans. He even bought certain perishables, like milk and butter.

No matter how long he thought about it, he felt certain there were things he probably hadn’t considered, but he did the best he could, and when he was finished his purse was empty. Heavily laden, he left town, keeping a close eye on the road behind him. It wouldn’t do for any of his fellow soldiers to wonder about his destination. Then he went home.

The journey was short and unremarkable, taking only a matter of minutes, but when he reached his grandfather’s house he hesitated. Maybe I should just try and leave everything on the porch, he thought, dreading the idea of facing his mother.

He nearly jumped out of his armor when he heard Sammy scream from the direction of the garden. Turning around, he barely managed to angle the hilt of his sword away so it wouldn’t hit her in the stomach before she slammed into him at a full charge. She was slightly taller than he remembered, but that hardly mattered as she clung to him, repeating his name over and over. “Will, Will, Will… Do you know how worried we were? How could you do that? I thought you’d be dead for sure! Then Dad came back and we knew you weren’t dead, but I was still mad! And your mom! Aunt Erisa nearly lost her mind. What’s all this stuff?”

He had dropped his bags to catch her.

“Is that your shield? Your face looks so skinny. Why aren’t they feeding you more? Is Eric all right? Dad said he hadn’t seen him since they were conscripted. Is anyone picking on him?” The questions kept tumbling out of her at such a pace that Will couldn’t hope to remember them all.

“William?” his mother’s voice called tentatively from behind him.

Disentangling himself from Sammy, he turned to face her. She looked old, too old and fragile to be the woman who had raised him, and the expression on her face brought his guilt roaring to the surface. “Mom.”

She took several hesitant steps toward him and he had to caution her, “Watch out. There’s a clay jar full of milk in that bag. It was expensive—” Ignoring his advice, she stepped over the bag and put her arms around him.

Neither of them spoke for a while, but eventually she told him, “Make no mistake, I’m still furious with you. Especially so, since you brought Johnathan back and didn’t even have the decency to let me see your face.”

“I know, Mom. I’m sorry.”

She stepped away and took note of the bags scattered around him. “Sammy, help me. We should take these things inside.”

“Let me, Mom. I brought it.”

“Nonsense. Go inside and take off that thing you’re wearing. It reeks to high heaven. I’ve never smelled such a stench. You need a bath before anything else.” The disgust on her face made it clear she thought his gambeson should be taken far away and burned.

There was nothing he could do but agree. He knew well how stubborn his mother could be. She and Sammy buzzed around him like flies, ushering him into the house and forcing him to strip down while they built up the fire to warm the front room. Sammy let out a gasp when he removed his padded armor and tunic—not because of his near-nakedness though; she had grown up with two brothers.

“Whoa! Look at your muscles!” she exclaimed.

Erisa intervened. “Sammy, take his clothes outside and wash them. Twice.”

Two hours later, he was clean and sitting by the fire in one of his grandfather’s old robes while his clothes were drying by the fire. His uncle had returned by then, and Will spent a considerable amount of time telling them about everything he had been through over the past couple of months.

His mother started to cook, but Will went over and told her to take a break. “You’ve been cooking for the three of you for the past few months. Let me.”

She looked at him curiously. “You’ve hardly had a moment to yourself in ages with all the training. Wouldn’t you like to rest?”

Being in his grandfather’s house again had brought back quite a few memories. “I haven’t been allowed to cook since I left. I miss it.”

Erisa didn’t argue any further, so Will set about his task. He had spent entirely too much on the pork tenderloin he had bought, partly because of his guilt, but he had also been imagining what he would do like to do with it. He cut the meat into four thick chops and melted some of the lard in the pan before adding them. “I saw some wood sorrel outside,” he said without taking his attention from the pan.

His mother smiled and stepped out. She returned a few minutes later with several good handfuls of green sorrel leaves and stems. They looked a lot like clover, but Will knew from experience the taste was entirely different. Sorrel had a sour flavor that suited pork and fish.

While the meat finished, he bruised the leaves and put them in a bowl. Then he nodded at Sammy. “Mash them as much as you can, then add a little water and strain them through a piece of cloth.”

As she started that, he took the meat out of the pan and sautéed some cabbage briefly before removing that as well. Then he added flour to the drippings and made a roux. “A little milk at the end and we have a nice cream gravy,” he said, speaking to himself. Once the sauce was done, he added the cabbage back in and finished cooking it.

“There you have it,” he told them as he divvied up the food. “Pork tenderloin with a sour sorrel sauce and creamed cabbage.”

Everyone was smiling as they ate, and Sammy made no effort to hide her delight. “Is this magic?” she asked. “I’ve never had anything so good.”

“The old man would have probably called it passable,” said Will dryly. “If I had thought to bring some honey and mint, I could have made something even better. Of course, it’s too early for mint.”

“Actually, I’ve been growing some indoors,” said his mother. “It’s always handy.”

Once the food was done Sammy cleaned up and the conversation returned to serious matters. “Have the reinforcements arrived yet?” asked his uncle.

Will scowled. “No, and from what I overheard there won’t be any.”

“That’s insane,” growled Johnathan. “Doesn’t the king realize that won’t be enough?”

“They seem to think the attack here is a diversion,” said Will. “Lognion is sending the bulk of his army to Thornton to fend off an attack there. Supposedly the Darrowan fleet is going to make a landing somewhere near there.”

Unable to contain himself, Will’s uncle got to his feet and went to stand by the door. “The fool! I haven’t risked getting close, but I’ve seen enough to know this isn’t a diversion. There are several thousand men camped around Barrowden, and they’ve spent the winter clearing and widening the road. The Patriarch is obviously planning to march the rest of his army through here in the spring.”

“Someone has to warn them,” said Will, thinking aloud.

“Shouldn’t that be you?” asked his mother. “You’re going back this evening, aren’t you?”

His uncle shook his head. “How? He can’t just go up to one of the officers and tell them he used magic to get here and return. Even if they believed him, he could be arrested for being a warlock.”

“I’m not a warlock,” insisted Will.

“A sorcerer then,” said Johnathan, waving one hand dismissively.

“I’m not that either,” said Will. He was beginning to understand why his own questions had irritated his grandfather so much. “But you’re right. I could be arrested as an unlicensed wizard.” An idea came to him then. “I don’t have to report it in person, though.”

“What do you mean?” asked his mother.

Rising, Will headed for the door that led to the back room of the house. “I’ll write a note. I think I know someone with enough power to get the information into the right hands.” Opening the door, he was surprised to see that the room had changed. The bookcases were still there, heavily laden as before, but the top of Arrogan’s desk was covered with clothes. “Where’s the parchment and ink?”

It turned out that his mother had taken to using the desk as a worktable while mending their limited supply of clothing. “I put everything in the cabinet there,” she said, indicating a cupboard built into a stand next to the bed. While Will brought out what he needed, she cleared away the top of the desk.

Will found the inkwell, several quills, blotting sand, and a small but valuable stack of parchment. Considering its cost, Arrogan had only let him practice his writing with actual parchment on a few occasions. Usually he had to make do with slate and chalk. He hoped the person who eventually saw his note wouldn’t discredit it simply because of his poor penmanship.

On top of the parchment there was a large, leather-bound book. Unlike most of the books he had seen, there was nothing stamped on the cover or spine. He could also see a strange haze of magic hovering around it. Curious, he opened it. The first few pages were blank, but the fourth page seemed to be a title page, for written on it in large bold letters were the words, ‘Journals Are Stupid.’ The calligraphy was crude compared to what Will had seen in other books. Almost as bad as my hand, he thought with a smile.

He turned the page, and on the back close to the bottom, he saw something else. Studying it carefully, he realized it was another line, written so small as to be almost illegible without a magnifying glass: ‘and so is Aislinn.’ Did Grandfather write this? The lettering was far different from what he had seen in the past. Arrogan’s penmanship was neat and precise, completely unlike the clumsy writing on the page.

The next page held the first entry:

Y98 Earrach, Feabhra 10

To whoever finds this, know that I am writing under duress. My teacher insists that writing is good for the soul, but that is in fact simply an excuse for her torture of this unfortunate prisoner. I have been encouraged to use this time to record notable events or lessons so that I can reflect on them in the future. Therefore, I will make this a record of my abuse at the hands of that cruel woman.

Feabhra 11

Nearly died last week (before starting this journal) but I decided I should make a mention of it here so I wouldn’t forget. She (who should not be named) put me through a period of torment unlike anything ever experienced by man or woman. She claimed it was to prepare me for wizardry but that seems unlikely to me. Each morning I was put under a foul spell and forced to endure extreme pain for most of the day. Only at bedtime would she remove the spell and allow me to rest. I finally succeeded in escaping the pain only by twisting my soul into a perversely small knot. She claimed this was her goal all along, but I strongly suspect otherwise.

Feabhra 13

She refused to feed me today. What does cleaning floors have to do with magic? Answer, nothing. I already know she can clean them with a simple spell (which she refuses to teach me, along with anything else useful). Thus begins my slow starvation unto death.

Feabhra 14

After completing a hellish number of tasks, I was allowed food today, if what she prepared could credibly be called food. Once I had tasted it, I realized that deprivation might be a kindness.

“It’s his journal,” muttered Will. Year ninety-eight was nearly a hundred years after the War for Independence, which didn’t make sense if Arrogan had fought in that war.

His mother’s voice spoke from behind his shoulder, startling him. “I think the dates are in Darrowan years. Ninety-eight is around two hundred years before year one of the Terabinian calendar.”

Will looked at his mother. “Have you read this?”

She nodded. “Not all of it yet. I found it after you left. From what I’ve seen, he wrote in it almost daily near the beginning, but later he started to skip weeks and months. Toward the middle he begins to skip entire years. In the later portion he skips decades, until you show up.”

“Me?”

Erisa smiled. “You made a deep impression on him, I think.”

Will thumbed through the pages in the latter half of the journal. His mother put her finger on the page when he reached the right spot. “Here,” she told him.

Y770 Earrach, Marta 17

Erisa’s brat is just as stubborn as his mother. I’m still not certain why I agreed to help her. Maybe I’m starting to go senile. I can’t have too many more years ahead of me, so it makes little sense for me to ruin them with such a burden, yet here I am. If I can teach the kid to hide his differences and avoid doing anything stupid he might live a normal life.

Not sure why I care.

Marta 20

Will asked if he could call me Grandfather today and I didn’t know what to say. The boy is obviously looking for a father figure of some sort, and I suppose I can’t blame him since Mark Nerrow’s biggest contribution to his life is making sure his wife’s family didn’t murder him in infancy. His mother did the same years ago, and I never had the heart to tell her that I didn’t have a clue if we were related or not. After so many centuries it’s possible I’m related to half the people in Terabinia, or none of them. I lost touch with the world for so long it’s hard to say.

Why he would look to me is a mystery, I’ve certainly done him no favors. I definitely haven’t been nice to him. Sometimes his innocence makes me angry, though in all honesty I’m probably angry with myself for all the mistakes I made back in the day. Having him around has brought up all sorts of things I would rather forget.

Y770 Fomhar, Lunasa 3

I dreamt about her again and woke up in a cold sweat. It’s been decades since the nightmares bothered me. I was thinking about letting the boy sleep in my room during the winter, but if this continues it would only frighten him. Not sure why the dreams have returned. My first guess is that it’s his terrible cooking. He and Aislinn could have competed for worst dish if there were contests for such things. Or it might be because he reminds me of myself back when I was his age, stupid and stubborn.

Fortunately, one of the other village brats brought a cot for him. At least I don’t have to feel guilty about him sleeping on the floor anymore.

Lunasa 18

The little shit managed to get himself into serious trouble. Who eats strange plants? He claimed to be able to sense whether plants are edible or not, so he’s definitely more sensitive than I thought. I may have been wrong to choose not to teach him. Either way, it’s obvious the fae were hoping to trap him.

The only good thing about the day was scaring the shit out of Elthas again. I also saw Tailtiu, which hurt more than I thought it would after all this time. How long does it take for the heart to stop caring? Apparently four centuries isn’t enough. Thankfully Aislinn wasn’t there or I might have done something truly stupid.

Either way, I have to teach him now. I don’t have the heart to abandon the boy.

Lunasa 21

He managed to reach the first order without dying. Not that I thought he wouldn’t, but I used the later technique rather than the one Aislinn used with me. Doing it all in one day was far more traumatic, but at least it spared him from suffering for a full week as I did. Not sure if he would agree, though. The last half of it was rough, so I used a link to keep a close watch on him. Hurt like hell. I almost gave up near the end before he finally got the hang of it. I don’t know why I put myself through that. It isn’t as though I like the kid, although he is pretty damn funny sometimes.

Y770 Fomhar, Deireadh 7

Nerrow showed up. The boy is still getting used to the second order. I followed him to make sure his noble father didn’t attempt any jackassery. Surprisingly the pompous prick offered to send the boy to Wurthaven. Of course, the fools there would only ruin my work at this stage, but it might be useful for the kid later.

Y770 Geimhreadh, Noilag 19

He managed the third order and I don’t think I’ve been this proud since Valmon made it. Hopefully he’ll turn out better, but at my age I probably don’t have to worry about living through it if he goes rotten. The kid has a good heart, far better than my last student, even if he’s as dense as a rock sometimes. No less remarkable, his cooking has greatly improved (not that I’d tell him). Will has a tendency to experiment with edible wild plants, which often leads to surprisingly tasty results.

Not sure which is the better legacy, leaving the world with a great wizard or a great chef. It certainly doesn’t lack for shitty food and mediocre magic these days.

Will had to stop for a minute to wipe his eyes. The most the old man had ever said about his food was that it was edible. “I’m on to you now,” he mumbled to himself. Closing the book, he glanced up at his mother, who was still watching him. “I’ll read more next time.” It was getting late and he needed to write his note and return before lights out.

“Read the last entry before you put it away,” advised his mother.

He looked askance at her, but Erisa didn’t say anything. Opening the book again, he leafed to the end but discovered that the last quarter of the book was blank. He turned the pages back until he found the last one with writing on it.

Y771 Geimhreadh, Sauin 5

He’s making progress. Not the fastest I’ve seen, but certainly respectable. Will has a good head on his shoulders. If he can survive the ravages of stupidity that come with youth he’ll be someone worth talking to someday. He’s finished learning the runes, but his form is still rough. There are rumors of war and it seems that Darrow may invade in the spring. I should be able to start the boy on Clerides’, Foundations of Spellcraft, this winter. Just learning the source-link spell would be enough to give him a powerful means of protecting himself should the need arise, especially since his staff-work is still a little clumsy. It won’t help if he meets a skilled mage, but he’s probably more at risk from ordinary soldiers at this point.

His grandfather’s handwriting stopped there. Source-link? Was that the evil green line his grandfather had so often used to paralyze him? He’d witnessed Arrogan using it against soldiers of Darrow right before he died.

Erisa tapped him on the shoulder. When he looked up, Will saw that she was holding a thin book. “I spent a few days looking for it after I read that,” she said. The cover of the book was embossed with dark letters, Foundations of Spellcraft. “You should take it back with you.”

Will shook his head. “I don’t have anywhere to keep it. A book like this could probably get me in a lot of trouble if someone saw it.” He took it from her hands and turned through the first few pages, which seemed to be an overly wordy introduction. Will’s fingers stopped in the middle of the second chapter when he saw a diagram. The title above it read, ‘A Simple Spell for Linking Turyn.’

“Lun, sarcat, kolbet,” said Will, reading to himself. It’s just three runes. The diagram showed them linked in what appeared to be an acute triangle. That was inevitable, of course, if they were drawn in that order and were all created from the caster’s perspective. Arrogan had been insistent that runes should always be drawn in particular directions. He read the paragraph beneath the diagram:

An acceptable spell for beginner instruction, although care should be given to ensure students are not allowed to use it on one another in unsupervised circumstances. The structure is simple and only a small expression of turyn is required to activate. Dismissal occurs with cessation of concentration. Students should be cautioned against separating the target’s will from their source as this is not only painful for the target, but the caster as well, due to the linkage. In extreme cases death can result. In general, the caster must have a far greater discipline of will than the target or the spell will fail.

He shut the book with regret. Will wanted to study it in detail, but there simply wasn’t time. Perhaps on his next free day he could come back. He was fairly confident he could remember enough to try that one spell, however, if he had some time alone. Focusing on the task at hand, he wrote out a letter that he hoped would be sufficient to warn the army of what was happening in Barrowden.

Isabel,

Darrow has moved large numbers of men into Barrowden, which I have seen with my own eyes. I don’t have an accurate count, but their camp is many times the size of this one. I would guess that there are at least several thousand soldiers there. They have also been busy during their occupation of the area, primarily in building a fortified base to operate from and in widening and improving the road that leads to Darrow. I will let you draw your own conclusions on what this means for the spring, but it seems fairly obvious what they plan to do.

Please forgive me for hiding my identity as well as the means with which I obtained this information, but do not discount this letter because of that.

Sincerely,

A friend of Terabinia

With that accomplished he said goodbye to his mother, uncle, and cousin, and set out for Branscombe again.

Chapter 41

Will made it back with half an hour to spare before lights out. Sven was already asleep, snoring loudly, and his nose informed him that the man had had quite a bit to drink. Dave was still awake, though the ex-thief was lying down as well. Dave’s eyes tracked him blearily as Will sat down on his bedroll.

“Where’ve you been?” asked Dave.

“Out and about,” said Will. “I did some hiking.”

Dave stared at him incredulously. “Hiking? You’ve been cooped up in this stupid camp for two months and the first thing you wanted to do was go hiking? Don’t we get enough exercise every damn day?”

“I just wanted to be alone. Being around people all the time feels oppressive,” responded Will, hoping the other man would buy his explanation.

“You missed a good time,” said Dave, smiling with his eyes closed.

Tiny entered then, giving Dave a conspicuous glare as he found his seat. When Dave started to speak again, Tiny growled. “Go to sleep.”

“Fine, fine,” mumbled Dave.

Will raised his brows. “Did you have fun, Tiny?”

The big man shook his head, then pointed first at Dave then Sven. “That one needs a leash, and this one had to be carried.”

“Did you drink any?”

“I don’t drink,” Tiny said flatly.

“Why not?”

“People always want to fight. I have enough trouble already.”

Will had wondered about Tiny’s reluctance to fight before. “Why don’t you like to fight? You seem like you’re built for it.”

Tiny shrugged. “Small men are always looking for someone big to fight, but for me, there’s no winning.”

“Huh?”

“If I fight and win, everyone hates me. ‘Look, the big man is picking on everyone,’ is what they say. If I fight and lose, I’m bruised and humiliated,” said Tiny. “Usually I just refuse to hit back, but then people think I’m dumb.”

Will remembered what had happened with Dave when they were all locked up together, and again during the first few days of their training with the army. He wondered how many times Tiny had been singled out for a fight simply because he was large. It was a perspective he had never considered. “I never thought about it like that.” Remembering the past, he added, “I’m sorry. Because of me, you got dragged into two fights.”

Tiny shrugged. “Don’t apologize. Just think about it. You have a similar problem.”

Frowning, Will asked, “What do you mean? I’m not big, I’m average at best.”

The giant poked his arm. “Not out here.” He shifted his finger and pointed at Will’s chest. “In here. You have a big heart. Too big. It gets you into fights your body isn’t big enough for.”

“Like when they took Dave.”

Tiny held a finger in front of his lips. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. That was just me.” Then he smiled. “I worry about you. You aren’t always where I can see you.”

“It’s not your job to take care of me,” Will replied.

“You’re my first friend.”

Embarrassed, Will gestured at Sven and Dave.

“Squad mates, maybe brothers even,” said Tiny. “But just like family, I don’t necessarily like them.” His eyes turned serious as he stared at Will. “Think about what you do. If that big heart of yours gets you into a fight, you might not be the only one bleeding at the end. Your friends might wind up bleeding for you.” The big man lay back and closed his eyes.

Damn, thought Will. I never realized he was a deep thinker. Tiny’s speech had made him feel bad on several different levels. The big man had been whipped because of Will not once, but twice, and on top of that, Will had been one of the people thinking that Tiny wasn’t especially bright. I’m a shitty friend, he thought, but he promised himself he would do better.

Will stayed awake after the lanterns were put out. It was something of a struggle since his sleep habits had gotten quite rigid over the past few months. Hard labor, a fixed bedtime, and rising at dawn had set the pattern in his bones. He wished he could take a nap and wake in the middle of the night, but he knew if he let sleep set in he would be dead to the world until the sun rose. That was a simple statement of fact since he had joined the army.

Fortunately, that also applied to pretty much everyone else, aside from the men on night watch duty. Just an hour after lights out he could be pretty certain that the vast majority of the camp was asleep.

Easing up to a sitting position, he studied the dark interior of the tent. His eyes had had plenty of time to adjust to the dark, and though the only light was what filtered in from the gap in the tent flaps at the front, he could see well enough to navigate. Once again he had Tailtiu to thank for his better vision.

Slipping on his boots, he took the note he had written from his satchel. It was contained within a hand-folded envelope that he had sealed with wax. On the exterior was written one word: ‘Isabel.’ He hoped that would be enough to ensure that whoever found it first would give it to her rather than open it themselves. Given Isabel’s poorly concealed status, Will suspected that anyone that worked near her would deliver it to her rather than risk reading a letter meant for such an important person.

He crept carefully to the entrance and looked outside. A pole in the center of Company B’s tents held a lantern that provided some illumination, but the camp sentries weren’t there. Each company had two men that walked the darker perimeter outside the circle of tents. Aside from the company sentries, Will knew there were also nighttime guards set in important places to guard the supplies, officers, and livestock. There were also general patrols that patrolled the perimeter of the entire cohort as well as sentries in fixed positions.

Will only had to worry about the sentries inside the general camp, meaning Company B’s patrol and a few that might be positioned close to the medic tent. He waited patiently until he heard footsteps on the dark side of his platoon’s tent. That meant the patroller was now at his closest, while his partner was presumably on the opposite side of Company B’s perimeter. Will counted slowly to ten and then eased through the tent flaps before following the outside of his tent to the side hidden from the light.

He stopped again there, until his ears confirmed which direction the patroller had gone, then he followed the man. In the distance he could see light from the other companies’ positions, and he used his memory of the layout to keep track of how far he had gone. Once he had moved a quarter of the way around the Company B camp, he set off at a right angle that should take him directly toward the medic tent.

After he had gone fifty yards, he knelt and waited again. He was in a nearly pitch-black pool of shadows that existed in the gaps between the various lantern poles. Though his night vision was good, the light from the lanterns regularly spoiled it and consequently he was nearly blind to what might be within the darkened area around him.

The various patrollers stayed primarily within the shadowed regions for an important reason. In the dark areas they preserved their night vision and could easily see anyone crossing through the lighted portions of the camp. Will did the same, but he would have to rely on his ears to warn him if one of the patrollers got close to his position.

Will’s only advantages were his keener eyesight, better hearing, and the fact that he wasn’t following a strict pattern with his movement. It also helped that he knew the patrollers were there, while they didn’t know about him.

There were also the ever-present flows of turyn, and while they didn’t provide much illumination, they helped slightly. At one point he was saved from walking straight into a guard holding a fixed position simply because he spotted the strange movement of turyn where the guard was standing.

He was almost to the medic tent when he heard approaching footsteps in the darkness to his rear. Glancing back, he saw two dark shapes faintly highlighted by a distant lantern behind them. Will froze, then got down on all fours. There was nothing close enough for him to use to hide, but if he stayed still and made no noise…

After several tense minutes they passed by after having come almost within ten feet of where he crouched. Will took a moment to let his heart calm down before continuing. He also took note of how cold his hands were. Though spring was almost upon them, it was still quite cold, and he hadn’t worn his gambeson for fear it would make noise. At least I’m not sweating, he thought wryly.

Will was relieved to see that no guard stood outside the medic tent. Creeping close, he glanced within and saw a man and woman sleeping on two field cots. Seeing the cots made him jealous, for they seemed like an immense luxury after sleeping on a bedroll that was directly on the ground for months.

A sudden noise made him freeze in his tracks. It was the sound of metal and leather rubbing together. There was a guard nearby. It was a while before he heard it again, and his ears helped him gauge the direction. The noise came from somewhere behind the medic tent. Will debated whether he should leave his note and leave immediately or whether he should confirm the guard’s position first.

It wasn’t a patroller, or there would have been more noise. The sound had to be from someone standing guard in a fixed position. I should see where he’s at so I don’t run into him by accident when I leave, Will decided.

Moving slowly and carefully, he eased around the medic tent, stopping to wait and listen after every few feet. He could see something lighter than the darkness around him in the direction he was facing. Another tent, hidden by the shadow of the medic tent.

Will waited another ten minutes, until his eyes had adjusted enough that he could make out the dark form of the guard standing in front of the other tent. Why would that tent have its own guard? Will wondered. A guard meant something important. Or someone important.

Surely it wasn’t possible. A noble lady should be housed in a room in the nearby town, or at the very least have her own tent near the camp commander and other officers. Why would she stay here next to the medic tent? It made no sense to him, since it wasn’t necessary for her disguise, unless Lady Isabel really cared that much about treating the wounded.

Unable to contain his curiosity, Will began working his way in small increments around the tent, making sure to keep his distance from the guard. Once he was on the opposite side from the entrance, he crept up to the back wall. It was a relatively small tent compared to most of the others in the area, being only ten feet wide on each side. He listened patiently until his ears discerned what he thought might be the sound of someone breathing. It was such a soft sound that he wasn’t sure if it was his imagination or not.

Imagined or not, there definitely wasn’t anyone moving within the tent or he would have heard them. Will began feeling around for the bottom edge of the tent and discovered that it had been well secured, with stakes every four feet, keeping it tightly against the ground. He spent considerable time gently wiggling and pulling at two of them until the entire back side was free.

The corners still held it down, but there was enough give in the canvas that he could lift the bottom far enough to slip under. Easing the canvas up, he saw something that froze the breath in his lungs. A pattern of glowing lines covered the ground inside, snaking around the edges of the interior. Some sort of protection or alarm?

If an alarm went up, Will could probably run back to his tent in less than six or seven minutes. The odds were pretty good that as long as no one saw his face he wouldn’t be caught. He considered simply sliding the letter across the ground toward the middle of the tent. She would definitely see it there in the morning.

Making up his mind, he whipped the envelope in a sideways motion, but as he did his hand brushed across the edge of one of the glowing lines. Magic rushed into him, and he felt a split-second of pain as a spell began to take hold, then it began to fade as his body absorbed the turyn, transforming it into his own. Once his panic subsided, Will smiled faintly. He might not be able to cast spells himself, but he had at least learned something useful from his grandfather’s training.

His heart tried to jump into his throat when he looked at the ground once more and realized that the glowing lines were gone. He hadn’t just nullified the spell’s effect on himself, he had completely erased it. She’ll notice that in the morning for sure, he observed.

Lying on the ground, he looked under the edge of the tent to see where his letter had gone. He had been in almost complete darkness long enough that his eyes were about as sensitive as they could get, but he still couldn’t see it. All he knew for certain was that it hadn’t landed in the middle of the room. If it went under something, she might not find it, he thought.

Lifting the edge of the tent, he began to slip under it. I’m not doing this, he thought, even as he slid all the way inside. There’s no way I’m stupid enough to do this. Getting to his knees, he looked around.

The interior was a dark grey mixture of shapes. On one side was something that might be a desk or table, and beside it were several large, square things that might be chests. On the other side was a cot with an irregular shape on it, which he assumed was the occupant of the tent. It occurred to him then that he didn’t know for sure that it was Isabel.

He needed some light to find the letter. Before he had destroyed the protective spell he had been able to see better, as its glow had helped. I wonder if normal people would have seen that spell, or if it was invisible the way the runes I make are? thought Will. Wait, does that mean I can see better if I make a rune?

It wasn’t the proper use for them, of course, but they did glow. He had never tried making one in a place dark enough that it would matter. The light they produced probably wasn’t enough to wake the person sleeping nearby. He hoped.

Trying to search without being able to see was probably riskier than making a small light, so Will tossed caution to the wind and produced a small lun rune in the air in front of him. Looking around, he thought he could see a little better, but the overall change in lighting wasn’t enough to help substantially.

Dismissing the rune, he made another. This time he used pertos, which was essentially just a fat dot roughly the size of the end of his thumb. When he had first learned the runes, his grandfather had been insistent that he make them fixed, so that they wouldn’t move. Apparently, that was important when crafting a spell so that all of them could be added without ruining the structure, but as a result of that practice he also knew quite well how to make them move, for that was what they did when he messed up.

Rather than make this pertos rune perfectly, he affixed it to the end of his left index finger. The light was still poor, but he could move his hand to bring it close to things he wanted to examine. Will was rather pleased with himself when it worked just as he had hoped.

Slowly working his way around the room, he found his letter had come to a stop against the bottom of one of the chests. He retrieved it and placed it neatly on top of the desk. He was about to leave when a cough and rustling from the direction of the cot stopped him cold.

The occupant had rolled over, but after a short time Will decided they must still be asleep. He moved closer, until he could definitely tell it was a woman. She had rolled onto her back, twisting the blankets until they exposed her left shoulder and one of her feet.

Taking a few more steps, Will reached the edge of the cot, and he lowered his finger so he could study her face. It was Isabel. The light was too dim to make out colors, but he knew from seeing her before that the smooth, full lips would be a soft pink color. A dark lock of hair had fallen across her cheek, and he fought a sudden urge to brush it aside. He stared at her for a minute, unable to take his eyes away.

Tailtiu came to his mind then, for the fae woman was flawlessly perfect in every detail. Isabel was not; from the faintest asymmetries in the shape of her face, to the pimple on her brow, she was profoundly human. But I’ll be damned if she isn’t the most beautiful human woman I’ve ever seen, thought Will. Unlike the alien beauty of the fae, Isabel’s warmth seemed to call to him.

Breaking out of his reverie, Will went back to where he had come in and got down on the ground, extinguishing his makeshift light at the same time. Then he slid out and took his time putting the tent stakes back in place. He couldn’t put the spell that he had destroyed back, but perhaps it wouldn’t be a problem. At the very least there was no way they could figure out who had done it.

The journey back to his own tent took just as long, and he was grateful when he was finally able to take off his boots and close his eyes. The next day would be rough with only a half a night’s sleep under his belt.

Chapter 42

Will woke with a shock as horns blared outside, and Sergeant Nash yelled at them from the tent entrance. Sitting up, he pulled his boots back on and started to lift the gambeson so he could slide it over his head and shoulders. He was stopped when someone’s hand fell on his shoulder. “William Cartwright?” said a deep voice.

Two soldiers he didn’t recognize stood behind him. Both were clad in mail byrnies. “Yes?”

“On your feet, soldier!” barked the one who had spoken already. Will got up, and the two grabbed his arms and dragged him into the aisle, where they turned him around and bound his hands behind his back.

“What’s going on?” asked Corporal Taylor.

“We’re taking this man into custody at the order of Lord Fulstrom,” said one of the two men holding Will’s arms. Without another word, they shuffled him out of the tent and marched him across the yard. Once outside of Company B’s campsite, they turned right and took him in the direction of the officers’ tents. As they went, Will could see men hurrying back and forth. Sergeants were yelling, and patrols had formed to sweep the area outside the camp.

His stomach sank, and he realized that he was the most likely cause for the frenzy of activity.

They took him to a large tent he had never been in before, though he already knew who it belonged to. It was the Lord Commander’s tent. He was being taken to Baron Fulstrom.

The interior was far different than any of the other tents he had been inside. It was partitioned, not with canvas, but with wooden screens decorated with intricate carvings of woodland creatures. Will’s captors shoved him along until he reached an enclosed area at the far end of the tent where six people waited for him.

Four were guards, armed with swords and wearing mail. Will supposed they were probably from the baron’s personal retinue, for they appeared to be in their thirties and all of them had the look of professional soldiers. The other two in the room were Baron Fulstrom and Isabel. Above Isabel’s shoulders were the two elementals he had seen before, while above Fulstrom hovered a fire elemental. Will’s letter was in Isabel’s hand. I’m so screwed, he thought.

Everyone was standing, as there were no chairs. The baron walked over and studied Will’s face for a moment. “Kneel,” he commanded.

One of the guards kicked Will’s legs from behind before he could do as ordered, and he fell to the ground. They hauled him up by his shoulders until he was on his knees. The baron stared coldly down at him. “You understand why you’re here. Don’t you, soldier?”

“No, sir,” said Will.

One of the men holding him twisted his arm painfully. “You address the baron with ‘milord’ or ‘Your Excellency.’”

“No, Your Excellency,” said Will, hastily correcting himself.

Isabel stepped forward, the letter in her hand. “You placed this in my tent last night, didn’t you?”

Will shook his head in vigorous denial. “No, milady.”

Baron Fulstrom made eye contact with one of the guards and nodded. The world exploded into splinters of pain as a mailed fist slammed into Will’s jaw with such force that he nearly blacked out. “Lie to me again and I’ll have you whipped. Keep lying and your life will be extremely short.”

“Fulstrom!” snapped Isabel, her voice firm with authority. “A word, please.” The two of them stepped out of the room, and Will heard them speaking quietly on the other side of the partition, but he was too rattled to pay attention to their words.

When they returned, the baron pointed at the guards and snapped his fingers. “Outside.” As the guards left, he looked at Isabel again. “Are you sure, Mistress Isabel?”

Isabel nodded, closing her eyes briefly. Will couldn’t help but notice she didn’t bother to answer properly. The baron followed his men out, and the two of them were left alone. As soon as everyone was out, Isabel went to Will and leaned close.

Will was startled, unsure of her intentions, until he realized she was examining his cheek. “It doesn’t look as bad as it felt, I’ll wager,” she observed. “I was worried the mail might have split the skin.”

His nose caught the scent of something floral. Roses? “Why am I here, milady?” asked Will, feigning ignorance.

Isabel straightened up and cocked her head. She held his letter in her hand. “I think you know why you’re here.”

“Did someone write something bad about me, milady?” asked Will. I can do stupid, he thought smugly, as long as no one is beating my head against a wall.

She frowned. “Don’t play dumb. I know for a fact you were in my tent last night. You were seen.”

Will adopted a confused look while he thought furiously. He knew no one had seen him. She might have some form of proof, but he was certain he hadn’t been observed. He decided to call her bluff. “No one saw me…” he began.

“Then you admit you were there,” said Isabel triumphantly.

“…because I wasn’t there, milady,” Will finished.

Isabel chewed her lip, while the tip of her tongue poked out on the other side of her mouth. It was obviously an expression of deep concentration, but Will couldn’t help but watch her. Damn, she’s cute, he observed. If she doesn’t have me flogged.

Her expression became serious. “Please don’t address me as ‘milady,’” she told him. “I don’t hold a rank worthy of such a title.”

Will was starting to add things together in his head. It was obvious she didn’t want to hurt him, otherwise she wouldn’t have ordered the baron’s men from the room, or checked his cheek afterward. Why she didn’t want to hurt him, he didn’t know, but that was one thing he knew. She was also clearly nobility, and of a rank superior to the baron. Those were his only two facts, however. What would Grandfather do if he were in my shoes? “The hell you don’t!” swore Will.

Isabel flinched as though she had been slapped. “Excuse me? What did you say?”

Will elaborated, “I said there’s no way in hell you aren’t a lady.” He paused, then added, “Milady.”

“Explain why you think that.”

“You called the Lord Commander by his name without an honorific, and he said nothing,” answered Will.

“That doesn’t mean…”

“And you had enough power to order him out of the room, despite the fact that it means you’re alone with a supposedly dangerous man,” added Will.

Isabel laughed. “Your hands are bound.”

Will looked up at her with cold eyes. “My feet aren’t, and I probably outweigh you by at least a hundred pounds. If I were dangerous it wouldn’t be wise for you to stand so close. The baron clearly thinks so, which means you had to have some serious authority to force him to leave us alone.”

Her foot shifted slightly, as though she were about to take a step back, but Isabel held firm. “You’re observant, I’ll grant you that. But you’ve overestimated the danger you pose. You’ve forgotten that most nobles have magic.”

He already knew that, but he decided to needle her a bit as he replied, “What, are you a wizard or something?”

“A sorceress,” she corrected immediately, and the two elementals hovering above her shoulders shifted, becoming visible in the physical sense. One appeared as an intricate, silvery crystal, while the other was an amorphous, watery mass.

Will tried to look fearful as he leaned away from her. “Please don’t hurt me.”

“Stop that,” snapped Isabel. “You aren’t a bad liar, but your acting is terrible.”

“I’m really afraid,” insisted Will, scrunching up his face and keeping his eyes downward.

“That’s really painful to watch,” she observed dryly. “Please stop. I feel embarrassed just watching you.”

Will gave up. Straightening up, he apologized, “Sorry.”

“That’s better,” she said, and Will thought he saw a hint of a smile cross her face. “Now, tell me how you got into my tent.”

“I didn’t—”

“That’s getting old,” she said, interrupting him. “Would you like to see how I know you were there?”

He shrugged.

Isabel held up the letter with her left hand while an intricate construction of runes appeared in the air above her right hand. A second later it moved across to dissolve into the letter, then a strange mist appeared in the air above it. The mist swirled for a moment before resolving into four faces, all of whom he recognized; Arrogan, his mother, Isabel, and his own visage. Isabel pointed at his face, “Who does this look like to you?”

“I’m not sure,” said Will. “It certainly resembles me a little.” Then he asked, “How did you do that?”

“The spell identifies the residual turyn people leave behind when they handle objects, showing their faces to the caster. It only works if the user already knows the people being identified, though. Fortunately, I had already met you,” explained Isabel. “Who are the other ones?” she asked, pointing at Erisa’s and Arrogan’s faces.

Will leaned forward, squinting. “A woman I’ve never seen before, an old man I don’t recognize—” He pointed at Isabel’s visage last. “This one, I’m not sure who it is, but I’m sure I would recognize a beauty like that if I had met her before.”

Isabel blushed slightly, then scowled. “That’s me, idiot.” She studied him for a moment, then went on, “You’ve given yourself away. I know you’re a mage of some sort now.”

“No, I’m not,” lied Will.

She smiled. “First, those images are completely invisible to non-mages. A regular person would have seen nothing. Second, you know all those faces. When I said the user had to already know the people shown, I didn’t mention what they would look like if you didn’t know them.” She pointed at Arrogan’s face. “For example, you said this one is an old man, but I couldn’t even tell if it was a man or a woman. It’s just a blur to me.” She pointed at Erisa next. “This one I could see, but I don’t remember meeting her. Who is she?”

Flummoxed, Will clamped his mouth shut. Damn it! He’d been outsmarted, mostly because of his inexperience, but he had to admire Isabel’s cleverness. Then another thought came to him. When would she have met Mom?

“Are you determined not to answer?” she asked. “You realize my patience won’t last forever, don’t you? If you don’t cooperate, I’ll have the baron’s men back in here. Is that what you want?”

He said nothing.

Isabel surprised him by getting down on her knees so she could meet him eye-to-eye. The expression on her face was full of emotion, though he couldn’t have identified what moved her. “People like me can do anything we want to people like you. You realize that, don’t you? We don’t need proof or approval for our cruelty, either. Justice is irrelevant when you deal with nobility. Please talk to me.”

Something in her eyes made his heart catch. “Why?”

Her eyes left his for a second, stopping on his scarred cheek, then they returned. “Because I don’t approve of those who abuse their power. I want to help you.”

“So, you have me arrested and threaten me?” said Will.

Isabel sighed. “Do you have any idea how disconcerting it is to wake up and discover that someone has broken into your quarters and rifled through your things? And I was there when you did it! It’s the stuff of nightmares, especially for a woman. I had already raised the alarm when I found your identity with my spell. I regretted it when I realized it was you.”

“I didn’t rifle through your things,” protested Will. “I just put the letter down and left.” And looked at you for a little bit, he added mentally. That’s not weird, is it?

“I need some answers if you expect me to help you get out of this without serious harm,” said Isabel. “Trust me. I’m a friend of Terabinia too.”

He released the air from his lungs in a long exhale. “What do you want to know?”

“How did you get that information about Barrowden?”

“Next question,” he replied. When he saw the angry look in her eyes he added, “I really want to answer. Just ask me something different, please.”

Isabel’s eyes narrowed. “Who are the other people my spell showed?”

“My mother, my grandfather, and me,” said Will.

“Are they in Branscombe?”

He shook his head. “My mother is hiding in the wilderness near Barrowden.”

“Is the information in the letter accurate?”

“Yes,” said Will emphatically.

“How did you remove the ward in my tent without waking me?”

Will frowned. “The what?”

Isabel’s visage showed a curious expression, but she answered, “The ward. A ward is a protective spell. It was set around the boundaries of my tent. Anyone crossing it should have been paralyzed, not to mention it would have awakened me.”

“Oh,” said Will. “I don’t know. It just vanished after I touched it.”

“It just vanished,” she repeated slowly. “You expect me to believe that?”

Will shrugged. “It’s the truth.”

Isabel didn’t say anything for a while, then she asked, “Who trained you as a mage?”

“My grandfather,” said Will. “But he’s dead now. The Darrowans killed him. I didn’t have a chance to learn much.”

“Was he a sorcerer?”

If only you knew, he thought to himself dryly before shaking his head. “No. Just a wizard.”

“Did he teach you a spell to remove wards? Such a thing might be valuable if you could share it with me.” She looked hopeful.

“No. I don’t actually know any spells. I can see turyn and that’s about it.” A sudden inspiration struck him then. “Oh, and sometimes spells fall apart when I touch them. Grandfather said it was some sort of ‘spell anomaly.’ It caused him a lot of frustration.”

“Spell anomalies generally only happen when you first learn to express your turyn,” explained Isabel. “I’m sure he was mistaken.”

“I’m telling the truth,” insisted Will, as he lied.

“I can find out if you’re lying,” she warned.

Will doubled down. “Please do.”

A tiny spell construct appeared above her palm, and knowing what to look for, Will recognized it. Lun, sarcat, kolbet, it’s the same source-link spell that was in the book, he noted. A green line shot from her hand to his chest and vanished as his body absorbed the turyn. Isabel frowned as her spell fizzled out. “That shouldn’t happen.”

“Told you.”

She repeated the spell, and this time Will made a conscious effort not to absorb the turyn. The green line passed through his chest but just as it had the time his father had tried, it failed to connect to his source. He managed to suppress the smile that threatened to show on his lips.

“Are you doing something?” asked Isabel suspiciously.

“Not on purpose,” said Will innocently. She tried twice more, and he practiced changing tactics, letting his body absorb the first and deliberately letting the second pass through him. He was glad to see that he could control his turyn absorption. He didn’t know enough to be sure, but he suspected that being unable to stop absorbing turyn would probably be inconvenient in certain circumstances.

“That last one should have worked,” muttered Isabel. “How long did your grandfather train you?”

“A couple of years,” said Will truthfully.

“And you never learned a single spell?” she said incredulously.

“He always said he’d get to it later,” answered Will. Then he added, “You have no idea how mean he was.”

“I think he did you a terrible disservice,” said Isabel. “Although, officially, I should say what he was doing was illegal. You should have been started on spell craft during the first year. The only thing I can think is that whatever exercises he was putting you through somehow helped you to develop a very strong will. Normally that spell doesn’t fail unless it’s attempted against a very experienced wizard or sorcerer.”

Will shrugged. “He used to say I was as stubborn as a goat.”

Isabel’s features softened. “I’m sorry you lost him. Though I’m glad he isn’t teaching you anymore. You need to go to Wurthaven. Otherwise you’ll wind up in prison sooner or later.”

“I’m a private contract,” said Will. “I’ve got most of five years left to serve. Assuming I don’t get hanged today.”

She shook her head. “No. As soon as things are settled here, I’m taking you to Cerria. Unlicensed wizards can’t be allowed to run amok.”

“I’m not dangerous. I wouldn’t do anything bad.”

“Like sneaking into a young woman’s bedroom?” said Isabel, raising one brow.

Throwing caution to the wind, he asked, “How old are you?”

“Just a few months older than you,” she replied immediately.

“How do you know how old I am?”

“Oh,” said Isabel, and her eyes darted to the side for a split second. “I saw your age in the contract book. I had Lieutenant Stanton look up the record while they were on their way to arrest you.”

Will knew better, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to confront her on the matter. He had already gotten himself in deep enough for one day. “What happens now?”

Isabel got to her feet and put her hands on his shoulders to steady him as he tried to rise. Will’s knees were numb and stiff from kneeling so long, though, and with his hands tied behind his back he stumbled. Isabel stepped forward and caught him briefly, steadying him as his head landed on her shoulder. He could sense the muscles in her back as she kept him upright until he got his legs sorted out. She’s stronger than she looks. Backing away, he apologized, “Sorry.”

She ignored his remark and moved around him to untie his hands. “I should have done this a few minutes ago, when I was certain you were cooperating.” Then she gave him a stern look. “Wait here. I’ll go outside and explain to Lord Fulstrom that you were the victim of someone else’s attempt to disguise the source of the letter. You’ll be sent back to your company after that.”

“Thank you.”

She pointed a finger at him. “Only until we get reinforcements and the pass is secured. After that I’m taking you to Cerria to be properly trained.”

Will’s shoulders drooped slightly. “Fine.”

“And if you need to speak to me again, come to the medic tent. I’ll make certain Doctor Guerin knows to notify me if you show up. If I’m not there, find Sir Kyle, your captain. I’ll give him the same instruction.”

With that she was gone, and Will took a deep breath through his nose, trying to catch the faint scent of roses she left in her wake.

Chapter 43

Things returned to normal over the next few days. Will managed to dodge most of his squad mates’ questions by simply saying he had been mistakenly accused. Dave had a great time teasing him about being a criminal, but he and Sven seemed to believe him. He wasn’t as sure about Tiny though, and Will noticed the big man giving him odd looks now and then.

He couldn’t help but keep thinking over the things Isabel had said, but nothing made sense. Was she a friend of Baron Nerrow’s? If so, that might explain her willingness to help him. From what he had overheard her say previously, she had already known there was a paid exemption for him on the roll ledgers. Was his father more important than Baron Fulstrom? They were both barons, so he assumed they were of roughly equivalent rank, though admittedly he knew almost nothing of the inner workings of the nobility. If Isabel was acting on Nerrow’s behalf, why was she being treated with so much deference?

On several occasions he was tempted to go to the medic tent and try to see her, but each time he talked himself out of it. All of his excuses seemed pointless or trite. Deep down he knew he just wanted to see her. I’m such an idiot, he told himself, and in the back of his mind he heard his grandfather’s voice agreeing with him.

Almost a week passed before his next big shock. His platoon had just mustered for the morning roll call when Sergeant Nash called his name just before releasing the squads for their first duties of the day. “Cartwright. You’re relieved of duty this morning. See me for your assignment.” Then the sergeant addressed them once more, “Dismissed.”

Will waited, worried he was about to be punished for something else, though he couldn’t think of anything he might have done—this time. The sergeant gave him an appraising look before speaking. “Go into Branscombe and see the armorer there. His name is Andrew Harless. He’s expecting you.”

“Sir?”

“Did I stutter, soldier?” barked the sergeant. “Get moving.”

Doing as he was told, Will started to leave, but Sergeant Nash added one parting remark, “Cartwright, I don’t care who your friends are, if you screw up or make trouble for my men, I will bust your ass.”

Will stopped and saluted, thumping his fist over his heart. “Understood, sir!” Sergeant Nash stared at him for a few seconds longer then walked away. What the hell is going on this time? he wondered.

Half an hour later, he was standing in front of the smithy, feeling conspicuous. The man there sent him to a second building behind the main smithy, which apparently didn’t deal directly with weapons and armor. The other building was open in the front with two small forges operating and a number of apprentices busy working on a variety of tasks. Harless turned out to be a short, heavy-set man with a pronounced lack of hair. Not only was he bald, but part of one of his eyebrows was missing due to a past scar.

“Who’re you?” asked the master armorer, hardly bothering to glance up at him.

“William Cartwright, sir,” said Will. “I was told to see you.”

The smith cleared his throat and then spit on the ground before answering. “Oh, you.” Straightening up, he called to one of his assistants, then directed Will to go with the man. “He’ll take your measurements.” A second later, the armorer returned to his work, apparently having banished Will from his awareness.

Will didn’t move. “Excuse me, sir. What’s all this about?”

The armorer sighed deeply, as though frustrated beyond all endurance. Will almost flinched when his eyes focused on him once more. “Fucking aristocrats,” said the smith. “Not only do they want everything done yesterday, they want a nice chat as well. I’m not a goddamn tailor, and I certainly ain’t a babysitter.”

“I’m not an aristocrat,” said Will.

“I know that, otherwise I’d be kissing your ass instead of cussing you, dumbass,” spat the armorer. “Follow Jeremy and let him get your measurements. We need ‘em if we’re to make anything that fits you.”

Will noticed the aforementioned Jeremy giving him a sympathetic look. Closing his mouth, he went with the apprentice, who promptly instructed him to strip. “Everything?” asked Will.

“Everything above the waist,” said Jeremy. Will did as he was told. The apprentice looked over his gambeson carefully before setting it to one side and walking away. He returned a few minutes later with a similar coat, though this one was slit along the sides with laces to secure it. He helped Will put it on before pulling the laces tight and producing a long string with knots tied in it at regular intervals.

He measured Will’s body in a bewildering number of places, his waist, torso, shoulders, biceps, forearms, and more. As he did, the apprentice armorer chalked his findings on a piece of grey slate. When he had finished, he helped Will remove the padded coat and gave him back his gambeson. “We’ll send a note when it’s ready, probably next week.”

“When what is ready?” asked Will.

The apprentice gave him a strange look. “Your mail shirt.”

“I didn’t ask for one,” stated Will. “How much does it cost?”

Jeremy shrugged. “Usually around twelve to fourteen gold, though we charge more for rush jobs like this. That’s just a guess, mind you. I don’t handle the money. You’d have to talk to Master Harless if he didn’t give you a price yet.”

Will goggled at the man. “I don’t have that kind of coin.” In fact, he had exactly no money whatsoever. He had spent it all buying good for his mother, and he hadn’t yet been paid for the past week.

“Somebody does,” said the apprentice. “Harless won’t start things like this unless at least half is paid up front.”

“Well, who paid?”

“Ask Master Harless,” said Jeremy. “Whoever it was must have been important, otherwise you’d be waiting a few months. Yours is at the top of the list now. If you’ll excuse me, I have to get back to work.” With that, the young man left Will alone.

Will went back to stand in front of the master armorer. He waited without speaking for several minutes before the man looked up at him with obvious irritation. “What?”

“Master Harless, I don’t have any money,” said Will simply.

“So? It’s already been paid,” said the gruff armorer.

“Can I ask who commissioned it?”

Harless stared at him, lifting his partially missing brow. “Soldier, if you don’t know who your friends are, you’re dumber than I thought, and if the person who paid doesn’t want you to know then I sure as hell ain’t going to piss her off by telling you.”

Her? Will bowed. “Thank you, Master Harless.” The armorer’s attention was already back on his work. He said nothing as Will left.

Back in camp, Will considered returning to his squad, but there were still several hours before lunchtime and he wasn’t expected back before then, so he went to the medic tent instead. He figured he had a good enough excuse to see Isabel now.

Doctor Guerin glanced up from the man he was treating when Will entered the tent. “Are you hurt?”

“No, sir.”

“What do you need? I’m a little busy at the moment,” said the doctor amiably.

Unsure what to say, Will gave his name. “I’m William Cartwright. I was told…”

“She isn’t here,” said Doctor Guerin. “Left almost a week ago.” Straightening up, the man wiped his hands on an already-stained apron. “One second.” The doctor went to his desk on one side of the tent and rummaged around through his things. When he returned, he had a sealed envelope in one hand. “She left this for you.”

Will accepted the note and went back outside, looking around carefully to make sure no one was nearby before he broke the seal and opened it. Inside he found a single neatly folded page. On it was a short letter, written in a precise, flowing script. It reminded him of his grandfather’s later handwriting, but the letters were more elegant with long, flowing loops that made it distinctly feminine.

William,

I decided to act on the information I received and to that end I am traveling to the capital. If things go well, I should be back within two weeks with reinforcements. Be ready to travel when I return, for you’ll be going to Cerria shortly thereafter. The army is no place for your talents.

I’ve made arrangements for a small present of sorts. Something to help keep you alive if my return is delayed.

Isabel

He read it twice before folding the letter and putting in his pouch. Will had mixed emotions about going to Wurthaven so soon. Part of him felt a sense of relief at leaving before war broke out. Deep down, his first taste of violence in Barrowden had left him terrified of the thought of facing a similar situation. Conflicting with that was his desire to avenge his family and friends who had died, not to mention fighting alongside the men he had been training with for the past few months.

Will was also confused about the wording. She had said ‘you’ll be going to Cerria,’ rather than ‘we’ll.’ Did that mean she would be staying behind to face the enemy? Granted, it wasn’t as though he really knew her, or that he had any particular claim on her, but he had even less inclination to leave if he was going alone.

“And why in the hell is she wasting so much gold buying armor for someone like me?” he muttered aloud to no one in particular. It made no sense. Unless she likes me, he thought. “That’s ridiculous. She’s some sort of nobility, whereas I’m…” He stopped. What exactly was he? A commoner? The bastard son of a nobleman?

He could hear his grandfather’s answer in the back of his head, All of that comes second to the fact that you’re a mentally challenged half-wit.

Still, she had spent a considerable sum of money on him. Was she trying to buy his loyalty? Something his grandfather had said came back to him. “Most of them spend their time bowing and scraping for the sorcerers, hoping to be given scraps.” Did she expect to train him as some sort of magical lackey?

It couldn’t be any worse than cooking and cleaning for Arrogan was, thought Will. It wouldn’t be a romantic partnership, though, and eventually he’d wind up serving her husband and family as well. As much as he appreciated her kindness and beauty, he didn’t want to live his life that way. Better to be a hermit in the woods.

Putting those thoughts away, Will returned to the platoon tent, which was currently empty. He spent the last hour before lunch practicing the one spell he had learned. The runes were simple enough, but it took him some practice to reliably put them together quickly, and he was still nowhere as fast as Isabel had been, and far slower than his grandfather. The old man had produced the spell with such speed that he’d failed to even notice the spell construct at the beginning.

With no target, he sent green lines spearing outward to pass harmlessly through the tent walls while he practiced aiming. They vanished only seconds after appearing, since apparently they needed to connect to a living source to be sustained, but his first goal was simply to gain proficiency and accuracy.

When the bell rang for the midday meal, he went to meet his squad mates at the mess tent.

“Where the hell have you been?” demanded Dave as soon as he saw Will.

There wasn’t much point hiding it, since it would be revealed when he received the mail, so Will answered honestly, “The armorer in Branscombe.”

Dave and the others waited several seconds before the ex-thief prodded him, “And why would you go there?”

“Someone paid to have a mail shirt made for me,” admitted Will.

“Liar!” exclaimed Dave. “I knew you were some rich merchant’s brat.”

“Is that true?” asked Sven.

Will shook his head. “No. You remember when they hauled me in to see Lord Fulstrom last week? I think someone took a liking to me, or maybe they felt bad for falsely accusing me.”

“Bullshit,” said Dave. “Noblemen don’t give a shit about people like us. We aren’t even human to them.”

Will caught Tiny staring at him with a look that suggested he knew something, but the big man kept his thoughts to himself. The conversation returned to more usual topics after that, mainly complaints about the sergeants and officers. When lunch was over, Will caught Tiny’s arm as they were filing out. “Can I talk to you later?”

The big man nodded. “Last hour, before lights out?”

“Sounds good,” said Will.

Chapter 44

Tiny and Will walked out and stood near the company lantern pole, since it was too dark to go anywhere else. Plus standing in the light gave the added advantage of making it easy to see that no one was close enough to overhear them.

“It was her, wasn’t it?” opined Tiny at the start.

Surprised, Will’s eyes widened. He tried to deflect the other man’s attention anyway, though. “Who?”

“The lady doctor,” said the big man. “She was obviously important, and she took a lot of interest in you.”

Sighing Will gave in and nodded. “Yeah, it was her.”

“Why is she so interested in you?”

“I don’t know all her reasons, but there’s one I’m sure of, and that’s what I wanted to talk to you about,” said Will. “What do you think about magic?”

“I don’t,” answered Tiny. “It’s all nonsense.”

That was the last response Will expected. He’d listened to the villagers of Barrowden talk about it on many occasions, and their opinions had generally ranged from fascination to fear, but none of them had ever suggested they didn’t believe in magic. Will showed his shock with an eloquent exclamation, “Huh?”

Tiny shrugged. “I don’t believe in it. It’s all just stories they tell farmers and townsfolk to keep them in line.”

Flabbergasted, Will cast about for a counterargument. “What about the laws? Why would they have laws against warlocks and unlicensed wizards if magic wasn’t real?”

“Old laws written by superstitious people,” said Tiny. “Or worse, just another way of convincing people like you and me that it’s real.” Warming to his topic, Tiny went on, “Tell me this, Will, have you ever seen magic? Of course, you haven’t. It’s just like the stories of faeries who take milk from your doorstep and clean your shoes, or bogeymen who steal naughty children.”

Waving his hands, Will protested, “But I have!”

“No, you didn’t,” said Tiny firmly. “You saw something you didn’t understand and called it magic. Modern men don’t need superstition to face the hard realities of the world. I’m a little disappointed you brought it up. I thought you were smarter than most.”

“But…”

Tiny wagged his finger in Will’s direction. “If magic was real, why aren’t we using it for war?”

“It was used a lot in the last big war,” argued Will. “And Lord Fulstrom is a sorcerer.”

Tiny shrugged. “I’ve never seen him do any magic. It’s just another excuse for them to claim power over regular people.”

“I’ve seen his elemental,” said Will, but he realized that argument wouldn’t work either. All the sorcerers he had seen so far kept their elementals invisible to normal eyes most of the time. Frustrated, he changed directions. “I can do magic.”

Disgusted, Tiny replied, “Show me then.”

Tiny wouldn’t be able to see the runes even if Will produced them, but what he really wanted was someone to practice his new spell with. “I can’t show you here. If someone saw, I’d be put in irons.”

“That’s what they always say,” said Tiny knowingly.

“In five days, we get another free day,” Will told him. “Come with me and I’ll show you. If you don’t believe me, I’ll buy you as much as you can eat.”

“I can eat a lot,” warned the big man.

Will chuckled. “Trust me, I know.”

“Not just some lousy pottage either,” added Tiny. “I want beef, or a ham.”

“Whatever you want,” said Will confidently. “We get paid tomorrow. I’ll spend it all if you don’t believe me.”

Tiny’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Don’t try to get out of it by spending most of it before our day off.”

***

On the day in question, Will led Tiny to the hidden spring by the congruence that led to Faerie. He didn’t intend to use it to travel, but the place was free from prying eyes. Preparing himself, he gave Tiny a final warning, “I’m going to cast a spell. If it works, you’ll be paralyzed. Don’t panic. I promise I’ll release you right away.”

“Sure,” said the big man, obviously not worried.

Will lifted his hands and constructed the spell in a matter of a four or five seconds. As before, a green line shot out as he invested a small amount of turyn in it, and this time it landed squarely in the center of his new target’s chest and he felt it connect. The sensation was curious, as though he had two bodies. He was shocked to realize that he could feel everything that Tiny felt. “There,” he announced proudly.

“What?” said Tiny, clearly unimpressed.

Will frowned. “You can talk?”

“Most people are surprised when they discover I can speak,” said the big man, his voice laden with sarcasm.

Confused, Will made a suggestion, “Try to do something else.”

Tiny shifted slightly to the side and farted so loudly that Will was surprised that the birds in the trees above them hadn’t taken flight. The big man shrugged. “Don’t blame me, it was your magic.”

Stumped, Will tried to understand why the spell wasn’t working as he had expected. Even now he could see the green line connecting them, and he could feel all sorts of strange sensations coming through it to him. Then a foul odor caused his nose to crinkle, and he began waving his hands to clear the air. “Ack, what did you eat?”

“Your magic is exceedingly potent,” said Tiny dryly, trying not to crack a smile.

Perhaps he needed to do something. Sitting down, Will decided to try meditating to better understand the connection he had created. “Let me concentrate on this for a while,” he told his friend.

Tiny shook his head. “Stop stalling. You’ve lost. Let’s go eat. I’m hungry and you’re paying.”

Frustrated, Will stood up and dismissed the spell. “Give me your hand. I’ll show you something else instead.”

The big soldier studied his open hand as though it might be a trap of some sort. Finally, he took it, saying, “Fine. I love holding hands with fools and drunks.”

Will twisted them sideways through the congruence, and the landscape changed, becoming the open grassland that surrounded Cath Bawlg’s cave in Faerie. Then he looked over to see Tiny’s reaction.

The big man remained utterly still, with only his eyes moving as they darted back and forth to study their surroundings. After thirty seconds or so, Tiny released Will’s hand and turned around to look behind them. He stood there for a while, then his tanned cheeks began to pale and Tiny started to sway on his feet.

Shit! Will grabbed his friend’s hand and shifted them back to the hidden spring. “Sit down,” he cautioned Tiny. “If you fall there’s no way I can catch you.”

Tiny sat, and after a moment his color improved. The big man quietly studied the forest around them, then stared at the tiny spring for a while. “Where were we?” he said at last.

“That was part of Faerie,” said Will. “It touches our world here beside this spring, and at other places. If I’m next to a spot where the two worlds come in contact, I can transport myself and others from one to the other.”

“Faerie,” said Tiny. “Does that mean faeries are real?”

Will nodded. “I’ve met several, but they’re different from what you’ve probably heard about in stories. In general, it’s probably best to avoid them.”

“Does anyone else know about this?”

“Anyone that can see magic probably knows about the congruencies,” he answered.

“Congruencies?”

“The places where different worlds touch.”

Tiny continued staring into the distance, thinking deeply. “Worlds—does that mean there are others? If so, how many?”

“From what my grandfather said, a lot, but no one knows how many,” answered Will. “There seem to be a lot more congruencies between our world and Faerie than other places. I think it’s closer to our world than most of the others.”

Tiny’s head turned, and he fixed Will with a steady gaze. “I think you need to start from the beginning. Explain everything so I can understand this.”

Feeling bad for the shock he had caused, Will asked, “Would you like to eat first? I’ll still buy you whatever you want.”

His friend’s massive hand clamped onto his arm. “I need to understand this. Explain it for me. Food comes later.”

And so Will did, beginning with his life with Arrogan. He abbreviated a lot of it, and he left out certain sensitive details, such as his bastard heritage, his grandfather’s name, or the fact that he was related to a couple of the fae. He did mention the goddamn cat, but he left out its name.

“So, you’re a wizard, but you can’t use magic,” said Tiny at the end, summarizing. “Your teacher is gone, and you know a few of the fae, but you don’t trust them. The lady doctor is a sorcerer, but her elementals are invisible, so I can’t see them.”

“And I’m not sure why she’s helping me,” added Will. “I think she wants to make me into her wizard servant or something.”

Tiny chuckled once, then twice, and after a moment he broke into semi-hysterical laughter while Will stared at him in confusion. When his friend finally stopped, he said, “None of that was funny.”

“Sorry,” said Tiny, wiping his eyes. “It just struck me that way. My entire world has been turned upside down and in the middle of it all you’re telling me that you think the doctor wants to enslave you. I may have been blind, but you’re dense, Will. Has anyone ever told you that?”

Will smirked. “Yes, all the time. My grandfather never let five minutes go without reminding me. And I never said ‘enslave,’ I said make me her servant. I don’t think she’s evil per se.”

Tiny put a hand on Will’s shoulder. “I won’t pretend to know why she’s helping you, but I can tell you this. She isn’t out to gain anything from you. I went back for bandage changes for a week after that first day. Some days she was there, and others she wasn’t, but on the days she was there I saw how she treated the other soldiers. If she really is a noblewoman, there’s no reason why she had to do that job. She was doing it because she wanted to help others. She definitely isn’t selfish, and if she does have a problem, it’s the same one you have.”

“What’s that?”

The big man patted his chest. “Too much in here.”

Will sighed. “I’d rather she didn’t pity me.” He shifted the subject. “So, now that you believe me, would you help me practice? I should be able to paralyze you with that spell.”

“Depends.”

“On what?” asked Will.

“Are you still paying for the food?”

Will laughed, and readily agreed. The two of them went back to town and sat down in a small eatery that was popular with the soldiers on their free days. The place was nearly empty since they arrived at an odd time of day.

Tiny made good on his previous boasts, eating enough to fill up at least three grown and very hungry men. Will finished while Tiny was still getting warmed up, so he spent his free time practicing as his friend ate.

Creating the spell was easy enough, and each time he felt that same strange sense of duality, as though he partly inhabited a second body. The trick was sorting out which was which, but eventually he figured it out. The main thing wasn’t so much picking out Tiny, but identifying himself, since in the future the spell would be used on different people.

Once he could separate who was who within his perceptions, he simply had to force changes on the one that wasn’t himself. Will remembered that sense of complete helplessness, when his grandfather had separated his conscious will from control of his body and turyn, and he used that as a guide.

Tiny had almost finished his last piece of ham when Will had his breakthrough. The big man’s body seized up, causing the knife in his right hand to lightly stab into the meat of his thumb before he stopped moving.

“Ow!” exclaimed Will, feeling a sharp pain as it happened.

Tiny, of course, was unable to reply, but his eyes rolled back and forth wildly, and Will could feel his friend’s panic building. Will released him quickly.

The big man gave him a hard look, then took a deep breath. “That was you?”

Will nodded. “Sorry.”

“You couldn’t wait to practice. Have you been trying the whole time we’ve been sitting here?”

Will glanced sheepishly down at his empty plate. “Only since I finished eating.”

Tiny looked at his thumb, where a small drop of blood was beading up. He wiped it on his trousers and then took up his knife once more, spearing another piece of ham and putting it in his mouth. He talked as he chewed. “Wait until I’m done. We can go back to that spring in a few minutes. You can work your black magic there.”

Will was surprised by Tiny’s nonchalance. “It isn’t black magic, but—thanks.” While he waited for his friend to finish, Will thought about the pain he had felt. Did that mean grandfather felt it when he killed those soldiers he had frozen? He shuddered at the thought. Either Arrogan had been able to overcome unbelievable pain while he was fighting, or the old man had had some method for blocking the sensations from the people he linked with.

Either way, he was a badass, thought Will. He wasn’t sure he could do the same.

Once Tiny had finished, they went back to the forest and Will practiced linking and paralyzing him over and over while Tiny sat in the grass. When he was sure he had a good feel for that, he made a new request. “Mind if I try something different?”

“Is it going to hurt?”

“It shouldn’t,” said Will. “I want to figure out a way to incapacitate someone without pain.” He explained what had happened when Tiny had stabbed himself earlier, then continued, “I think if I draw some of your turyn into myself it should make you tired, or even faint.”

“Turyn?”

“Magic,” said Will. “The stuff everyone uses to move and do things, even normal people.”

“Just promise you won’t kill me,” said his friend with remarkable equanimity.

Will promised. “Don’t worry. I’m really good at manipulating turyn, even if I haven’t learned much about spells yet.” With that said, he cast the spell again, and this time he used the link to draw out some of Tiny’s turyn, pulling it into himself. A faint wave of nausea passed through him before disappearing as his body converted the turyn, but Tiny’s reaction was more pronounced. The big man’s eyes drooped.

“Are you all right?” asked Will.

“Just tired.”

“I’ll replace it. Give me a second.” Reversing the flow, he sent his own turyn back across the link, replacing what he had taken with some of his own turyn.

Tiny shot up into a sitting position, his eyes bulging wide and his face twisting. Leaning forward, he began to violently heave, expelling his stomach contents onto the ground. Will felt terrible as he watched his friend continue retching and heaving long after his stomach was empty. When it finally stopped, Tiny looked accusingly at him. The big man’s face was damp with sweat and he looked haggard. “You poisoned me!”

Naturally, Will realized what he had done, remembering the time he had drunk the elixir of turyn that Arrogan had given him. “Sorry, Tiny. I wasn’t thinking. Your body isn’t adapted to accept turyn from other people. When I gave you some of mine it caused that reaction.”

Tiny was pulling up handfuls of grass to wipe his mouth with. “Well, I’m not tired any more, but please don’t ever do that again. I think I’d rather die.”

It was then that Will realized he hadn’t felt the nausea himself. He had severed the link as soon as it had begun, but even before then it hadn’t affected him. That’s probably the safest way for me to disable someone, he decided. “I won’t do it again,” he said, “but I’d like to try—”

Tiny held up one hand. “No. I’m done. You’ll have to find another test subject.” Getting to his feet, he began making his way unsteadily back toward the road. Then he looked back, “Come on.”

“Where are we going?”

“You owe me another meal.”

Will gaped. “You can eat after that?”

“I damn sure will, if only to get even with you,” said Tiny, spitting to clear his mouth.

“Aren’t you still nauseous?”

Tiny gave him a malicious grin. “If I throw up, I will make certain to aim in your direction.”

Will shuddered.

“Not to worry, though. I have the strongest stomach in Company B,” Tiny assured him.

When the server at the eatery saw them returning, his jaw dropped. Glancing from Tiny to Will he asked, “You can’t be serious?”

“I can pay,” said Will.

The server scratched his head. “Money or not, if you keep coming back we’ll run out of food and have to shut our doors.”

Chapter 45

A week later Sergeant Nash informed Will that he was to return to the armorer. This time it was a bit less stressful, since he had been expecting the notification, and being given part of the day away from his normal duty was something of a treat.

Being in a good mood, Will smiled when he found Master Harless. The older man stared at him for a moment, then asked, “Is something wrong with your face?”

Will dropped the smile. “No, sir.”

Harless nodded. “Off with your gambeson.” He pointed at a pile of similar garments. “Drop it in the pile. We can use it for other things.”

“Sir?”

The armorer sighed. “There’s a new one with your mail. I don’t do shoddy work. The new gambeson and mail should fit perfectly together.”

Will did as he was told and soon one of the apprentices was helping him into a new, padded linen coat. The mail shirt went over that, and after a few claustrophobic minutes of shimmying back and forth Will felt it settle into place. It wasn’t as heavy as he expected, but it still put a noticeable burden on his shoulders. He wondered what it would feel like after wearing it for most of a day.

The apprentice handed him a well-made leather belt. “This goes just above your hips. Be sure to cinch it tight. I’ll mark a few extra holes in case your weight changes later.”

Puzzled, Will asked, “What’s this for? The shirt fits pretty well—”

Harless chuckled. “Damn right it fits well, but you’ll still be miserable after a few hours without that belt. Trust me.”

Will wrapped the belt around his waist and held it in place while the apprentice marked it. That done, the young man took it away to have the holes punched. When he returned a few minutes later, he returned it to Will who put it on. He noticed the difference immediately.

The mail shirt was long, reaching his mid-thigh, which coincided with the length of the new gambeson. The overall weight was probably close to twenty pounds, but with the belt on some of the weight was taken off of his shoulders. The belt transferred the strain from the lower portion to his hips, making the entire thing much more comfortable to wear.

The fact that the gambeson was sized to fit him was also an improvement. Overall, he was carrying some more weight, but it didn’t seem like it would be too much of a burden. Harless walked around him in a slow circle, poking and prodding him now and then. Then he gave a grunt of approval. “If you don’t die this year you should consider coming back.” The armorer reached up and poked Will’s throat. “This is where you’re most likely to get a mortal wound. Remember that.”

“What do you do about that?” asked Will.

“A padded coif and gorget, mail over that and sometimes a double layer of mail over the throat—or if you have enough coin, a new helm with a mail aventail, padded coif, and a gorget,” said Harless.

“How much does that cost?”

“Doesn’t matter,” replied the armorer. “Your patron asked the same, but we’re too busy with everything else right now. Things will be different once the war dies down.”

Will thought for a moment, then asked, “How did you find enough time for this? Doesn’t mail take a long time?”

The armorer nodded to his apprentice. “Show him what we’re doing.” Then he looked at Will. “Good luck, Cartwright. I hope you don’t get killed. It’s bad for business when people wearing my goods don’t survive.”

That was the end of their conversation, so Will followed the young apprentice. The man stopped along one wall and pointed to a large selection of mail that was hanging there. The pieces were of varying sizes and shapes. “We’re up day and night making those. For a shirt like yours we take the sections already done and piece them together, adding just enough to fit your measurements. The gambesons are different, of course—we don’t do those, but there are several seamstresses that work with us to make sure they fit the customer properly.”

Will held up his arm and examined the armor. It was coated in oil that was already leaving gray stains on the linen underneath. Each ring was linked through four others, and there were tiny rivets holding them closed. “It must take forever to make this,” he murmured.

The apprentice laughed. “You have no idea. I see those little rivets even in my sleep.” He held a large leather bag out to Will.

“What’s this for?”

“When you take it off,” said the other man. “The leather is heavily oiled. It will help keep the mail from rusting.”

“What if it rusts anyway?”

The apprentice smiled. “It will. Just put it in the bag and shake it. Or you can rub the mail against itself. Make sure to add oil to it now and then, including the bag. If something happens and it gets really bad, bring it back to us. We have a big sand tumbler we use for exceptionally rusty armor.”

Will returned to camp feeling as though he had grown several feet taller. He definitely got a few extra looks from the camp guards, for not many of the soldiers wore mail aside from the sergeants and officers. Some of the veteran corporals had managed to save up enough for it, but they were few and far between.

When he rejoined his squad at lunchtime, Dave whistled. “Damn, that looks good! I’d kiss a lot of ass if I could get armor like that right now.”

Will frowned. “Why?”

Corporal Taylor leaned in. “The orders came down just before noon. We move in two days.”

“That soon?” asked Will. “I figured we had a few more weeks.”

Sven broke in, “They don’t pay us to think.”

“They probably want to make sure we command the pass before Darrow tries to cross. There’s been a rumor that the Patriarch might have a lot more men in Barrowden than we thought they did. If so, we might not be able to take Barrowden back. It might be all we can do to keep them out of Branscombe,” explained the corporal.

“Easier to hold the pass than defend the town,” agreed Tiny.

Unhappy with what he was hearing, Will protested, “We have to take Barrowden back. Won’t the king be sending the rest of the army here?”

Corporal Taylor glanced around and lowered his voice. “They’d have been here already, which means they’ve probably been sent somewhere else, Cerria or Thornton maybe.”

“Then someone screwed up!” swore Will, “Because Darrow is sending most of their army through Barrowden.” The others stared at him while Tiny closed his eyes and shook his head as if to say, ‘idiot.’ Hastily, Will added, “That’s what I heard, anyway.”

“You know something, don’t you?” said the corporal with interest.

Will shook his head. “That’s just what I heard the officers talking about when they arrested me last time,” he improvised.

“Keep your voice down then,” advised Corporal Taylor. “Or you’ll be getting arrested again.”

“Won’t matter,” snickered Dave. “He’s better at getting arrested than I am.”

They spent the next day packing wagons and double-checking lists while supply sergeants hurried back and forth, yelling at seemingly everyone. That evening the captain, Sir Kyle Barrentine, addressed the company personally, explaining that they would have the ‘honor’ of leading the vanguard.

That made little sense to Will, and he said as much as they gathered in the evening before lights out. Sven merely chuckled. “You’ll see.”

“What’s that mean?” demanded Dave angrily. The ex-thief was no happier about being told they would be in the lead element than Will was. “Our company has the most inexperienced soldiers. Shouldn’t they put the company with the most veterans up front?”

Sven shook his head. “First, this is just while we march, but I have no doubt they’ll put us up front in the first battle as well. They put the green soldiers up front for a reason. If we get an easy fight and win, we build morale. If we don’t, we soften up the enemy for the veterans to clean up after us. The veterans are less likely to run if things go ass-up too, and we can’t run if they’re behind us.”

“Balls!” exclaimed Dave. “How do I get put in a veteran company? This sucks.”

Tiny laughed. “That’s easy. Live through the first few battles. After enough of us die, they’ll probably reorganize us into different companies.”

“Bullshit,” said Dave. “We haven’t had a real war in over fifty years. Who are they to say who’s experienced and who isn’t?”

“At least the veterans have fought bandits and whatnot before,” said Sven. “That’s more than we can say.”

Something occurred to Will then. “Sven, you served a full contract before. Why didn’t they put you in one of the veteran companies?”

“I’m a conscript now,” replied the older man, “so I don’t really count. More importantly, they don’t make new companies out of nothing but green soldiers. They always mix in a few old timers to help the boys grow into soldiers.”

“Who are you calling a boy?” asked Dave belligerently.

“You,” said Sven pointedly. “You can’t even have a drink without starting a fight or trying to steal something.”

It seemed as though a fight was imminent, but Dave relaxed after a tense moment, then he replied, “I never drink when I’m stealing.”

Maybe he’s maturing, thought Will.

***

They woke up well before dawn on the day they left, and even as they were beginning to take down the tents, Will saw several groups of horsemen leave the camp. “Where are they going?” he asked Sven.

“Scouts,” said the veteran. “They have to make sure the engineers don’t get ambushed.”

“Engineers?”

Sven laughed. “The ones who check the route and clear obstructions. The column can only march as wide as the narrowest point, otherwise everything goes to shit.”

“I never thought it would be so complicated,” observed Will.

“You haven’t seen the half of it yet,” said the old soldier. “First scouts, then engineers, then they’ll send us. They’ll send the companies out in intervals with some space between us in case there’s an obstruction, so we don’t all pile up. Behind the main body the wagons will follow, and then behind them the rearguard. We’ll stop at the new camp before the rearguard even leaves this place.”

“Huh? How does that make sense?” asked Will.

“You’ll see,” said Sven. “We’ll be preparing the camp for a couple of hours before they reach us. We probably won’t march more than five hours. And this is a small army. It gets even worse with a larger force.”

Sven’s words proved to be accurate. Company B led the column, marching five abreast through the morning. They stopped at noon and after a brief rest they were put to clearing brush and digging latrines. Men were also sent out to collect wood for the evening fires, and others began setting up tents and preparing food.

In the late afternoon the wagons started arriving, and the drivers and rearguard went to work unloading mules and caring for the horses. Once that was done, the evening meal was started and a variety of minor chores were begun. Watches were set, but most of the soldiers were in their bedrolls shortly after sundown.

Will was glad he hadn’t been assigned to one of the night watches, for it seemed that almost as soon as he had put his head down Sergeant Nash was shouting for them to all rise and begin it all over again. Sitting up, he stared bleary-eyed, at the oiled bag that held his mail, wondering if he should put it on. The army had only covered ten miles the day before, but the march combined with all the labor had made the extra weight a misery.

I’ll still have to carry it, whether I wear it or not, he told himself. And if something does happen… With a sigh, he removed it from the bag and began shrugging it over his head and shoulders.

Chapter 46

The second day’s march was much like the first, except everyone was a little more tired. Will couldn’t help but compare their travel to what it was like alone. A small group on foot could reach the top of the pass in a single day if they pushed themselves, though most would go slower and take two, but a large column took three days.

They had been on the march for three hours when something caught his eye. The road ahead was gradually rising, and the terrain on either side was increasingly rocky, but to the left a distant ravine caused it to slope downward. Trees and brush obscured everything in the distance until the next mountain rose up behind the tops of the trees. What held his attention was a spot where the turyn swirled in an unusual pattern, as though a person or large animal hid behind the thick brush.

Turning his head, he searched farther back and saw a few other similar places he hadn’t noticed as they marched. Opening his mouth, he tried to catch Corporal Taylor’s attention. “There are men hidden to our left.”

The rest of the squad looked as they continued marching, but no one saw anything. “I don’t see anything,” said the corporal. “The scouts would have reported it if anyone was there.”

“I saw them,” insisted Will.

Sergeant Nash, who had been walking alongside the company, drew closer. “Dress the line! You’re too slow!”

The corporal sped up, but he also responded, “Sergeant, one of my men saw something in the ravine to our left.”

“We aren’t stopping because some green recruit is jumping at shadows,” barked the sergeant.

Will didn’t like the way things were progressing, for the more he looked the more convinced he became that at least seven or eight men were hiding within thirty yards of the road. With the way the terrain dipped, there could easily be many more beyond them that were completely blocked from sight. He was afraid of the consequences, but after a moment he simply stopped in his tracks. “Sergeant, they’re there. I can show you.”

The men behind might have marched right over him, but Tiny stopped as well, and his sheer mass was far harder to ignore. Sergeant Nash began screaming, and the look on Corporal Taylor’s face suggested he would have loved nothing more than to be able to vanish from the face of the earth. The entire company came to a halt and despite the shouting, Will heard the sound of hooves approaching as the captain rode up.

“Sergeant Nash! What the hell is going on?” demanded Sir Kyle.

“One of the new recruits is afraid of his own shadow,” growled Sergeant Nash.

“Take him out of the line and have him whipped. Now, get these men moving,” ordered the knight captain.

Will could see his chance of getting through to them quickly vanishing, so before the captain could ride on, he shouted, “I saw their helmets! Just over there!” He jumped and pointed to emphasize his point.

“I saw them too,” lied Tiny, his deep voice booming.

Sergeant Nash hesitated then, and Sir Kyle rode closer. “Both of you saw this?”

“Yes, sir,” answered Will and Tiny bobbed his head in agreement.

The captain lifted his arm and signaled to Lieutenant Latimer, who was riding farther back on the opposite side of the column, giving him the signal for a full halt even though they were already stopped. He leaned over in the saddle and gave Will a glare that could scour the rust from mail. “If we don’t find anything, I’ll have you both whipped.” Then he began giving orders. “Send a runner back to let the other platoons know we are forming up to march on the left side of the road. They are to do likewise. Have Sergeant Moon send a runner from Second Platoon to inform Company D of our action.”

In the span of a few minutes, Will saw the payoff for their months of drill practice as the entire company formed a line seventy-five men long and two ranks deep facing the left side of the road. Will and Tiny were in the front rank along with the rest of their squad. Sir Kyle and Lieutenant Latimer rode behind at either end of the formation.

The knight captain’s voice boomed over their heads, “Company B, forward march!” and a hundred and fifty men began to advance in step with one another. “Shields up, ready arms! Sergeants, watch the line!”

The line shifted as they crossed the rugged terrain and were forced to accommodate obstacles like bushes and small trees, keeping the sergeants busy as they ranged back and forth behind them, shouting orders to keep the company in formation. Will started to get nervous as he saw that the strange flows of turyn no longer showed, indicating the watchers had withdrawn. At fifty yards, the company began to descend a steeper slope and there were still no enemies in sight.

Then a lone man broke from concealment behind an isolated boulder, running away from the shield wall. Shouts went up from the soldiers as they saw him, and the sergeants were busy once more keeping the men from speeding up to catch the stranger. “Hold the line, goddamn it!” shouted Sergeant Nash. “This isn’t a fucking race!”

They reached the bottom of the shallow ravine and started up the other side when a long line of men just twenty yards away appeared, pushing aside the cut bushes they were using to conceal themselves and raising crossbows. Will ducked his head and felt something heavy strike his shield.

“Forward, double time! Stay together!” shouted one of the sergeants.

Will could see the head of a heavy bolt had come all the way through his shield and was now wedged there, halfway through, and from behind he heard someone cry out in pain. Looking over the top of his shield, he saw the crossbowmen fire again before turning tail and running. Something hard glanced off the top of his steel cap.

Even at a double-time march, they had no hope of catching up to the fleeing enemies, but Sir Kyle was firm in not letting the men charge. They followed the crossbowmen for several hundred yards before the knight gave the order to slow to a normal march, and they continued at that pace for another half a mile before he called a halt. Shortly thereafter, they returned to the road and assumed a defensive formation.

Sir Kyle was sending another runner back. “Tell them to get the chirurgeon up here. They can put him on a horse. I’ve got men bleeding to death here.”

Will spotted Sergeant Nash and stepped toward him. “Sir, I have experience with wounds.”

A few minutes later, he found himself with two or three other men, trying to treat those who had been hit by crossbow quarrels. Six men had been wounded: three had in and out wounds in their lower legs, which were fairly simple, but two of the others had bolts buried in their chests. The sixth was dying, and Will knew at a glance there was little hope for that soldier, for the head of the bolt had gone through just beneath his neck.

The leg wounds were already under control, with pressure being applied, so Will went to one of the men with a bolt in his chest. Someone had already cut the shaft down so only a few inches of wood protruded. Taking out his knife, Will carefully cut the soldier’s padded gambeson away so he could see the wound itself.

The head had gone through the padding and sunk a full two inches into the unfortunate fellow’s chest, just below the collarbone on his left side. Ignoring the man’s screams, Will probed the wound, noting that only a trickle of blood emerged. It missed the artery, he thought with relief. If the head was barbed like the one that had gone through his shield, though, he couldn’t safely draw it out. Removing it might hit the artery at worst, and at best would cause a lot more damage.

“I need some feathers,” said Will, glancing up.

Sergeant Brummett was looking over his shoulder. “What?”

“Feathers,” repeated Will. “Preferably large ones, like the sort you’d make a quill pen from.” The sergeant went to see what he could find, and Will went to examine the other man with a chest wound.

The second chest wound was less serious, as it had only gone in far enough to bury the head of the bolt, and it was below the ribs. Will judged it could be removed safely, but he decided to wait on the feathers to minimize the damage it would do.

The company began marching again, while Will and the two other men who were experienced with wounds, Tims and Granthon, stayed with the wounded. Lieutenant Latimer rode up to them a minute later.

The lieutenant offered Will two quill pens he had scavenged from his writing kit. “This is the best I could find. The company will continue marching for another hour. After the chirurgeon gets here, follow the rest of the column and meet up with your squads. Doctor Guerin will have these men sent back to Branscombe.”

The officer started to mount up again, but Will called out to him. “We need a pot to boil some water, sir.”

Granthon spoke up. “I’ve got one in my pack.”

The lieutenant left, and Tims watched as Will trimmed the points from the quills, leaving a blunt end with a large hole. “What are you doing?” asked the soldier.

“We’re going to take the point out of him, but I don’t want the barbs to tear him up,” said Will. Using his knife, he cut the entry hole in the wounded soldier’s chest a little wider. Then he inserted first one and then the other quill into the wound, slipping them over the barbed points.

“Start pulling on the shaft,” said Will. “Slowly.” Tims began pulling, while Will made sure each quill remained firmly over the tips of the barbs. Half a minute later, the head of the bolt was out, followed by a slightly stronger flow of blood. “Put pressure on it until we can clean it. I’ll start on the other one.”

Moving to the other man, he repeated the process with Granthon’s help. Then he instructed them to start a fire while he started searching for herbs. “Bring it to a boil and put some of the linen we cut into the water while I’m looking,” he told them.

He didn’t have much hope of finding anything useful, such as yarrow. It was the wrong time of the year and the terrain didn’t favor that plant, but he studied the grasses around them anyway. Eventually he settled on a coarse bush that grew in clumps not far from the road. In that strange way he had previously discovered, he could tell that the bush wasn’t edible, but neither was it poisonous, and he got the sense that it might keep the wound from festering.

Will gathered several large handfuls of the leaves and then returned. Once the linen had been boiled, he removed two large squares and used them to make two small pouches, which he filled with leaves. Returning to the pot, he dipped them in the still-boiling water for a minute and then removed them.

He was hoping that the heat had softened the leaves sufficiently, and he used the pommel of his knife to crush them against the side of the pot to help bruise them further. That done, he waited for them to cool and then dressed the men’s wounds with them before repeating the process all over again for the soldiers with leg wounds.

The sixth man had already passed away.

Together, the three of them waited with the injured soldiers until Doctor Guerin rode up an hour later. The chirurgeon examined the wounds carefully before addressing them, “Who did this?”

Tims and Granthon said nothing, so finally Will answered, “I guess you mean me, sir.”

“Who told you to draw the bolts? These men could have died!” said the doctor angrily. “And what’s in these poultices?”

Will explained what he had done, and after a few minutes the doctor was somewhat mollified. “You’ve had some training. Who told you about the trick with the feathers?”

“My mother, sir, she’s a midwife in Barrowden,” he answered.

“Hmmph!” said Doctor Guerin. “Well, I guess she knew what she was about, though I wouldn’t expect a midwife to have known how to extract a barbed head. How about the plant you used?”

“I don’t know the name of it, but I’ve seen her use it on wounds before,” Will lied.

“I guess we’ll leave it for now,” said the doctor, “but I’ll change it once the baggage carts get here. You men should return to your squads.”

***

That evening all the talk was about their brief engagement. As Will and his squad mates sat on their bedrolls, Dave asked him, “How did you see those soldiers?”

“The sun reflected off of one of their helms, I think,” said Will. “After that I just kept looking until I saw one of them pop his head up.”

“You got lucky,” said Corporal Taylor. “It was pretty cloudy today.”

Sven piped up, “I’m more surprised one of them was foolish enough to stick his head up. They were good enough to fool the scouts.”

“You must feel pretty stupid,” groused Dave. “All it got us was five men wounded and one dead. We didn’t kill a single one of them.”

Sven glared at the ex-cutpurse. “Shut up. People wouldn’t know what a damned idiot you were if you didn’t talk.”

“It’s the truth!” protested Dave. “Actually, now that I look back, I wish I’d been wounded. Those guys get to take it easy back in Branscombe.”

Corporal Taylor spoke up, “You should be glad he spotted them. Otherwise we might be going hungry soon. They weren’t waiting for us. They were waiting for the supply wagons.”

Will stood up. “How long do we have before lights out?”

“What lights?” asked Dave sarcastically. “All we have is a campfire.”

“We stopped early today, so we still have an hour,” said Corporal Taylor.

“I’m going to stretch my legs,” said Will.

“I’ll come with you,” volunteered Tiny.

The corporal nodded. “Don’t go outside the perimeter, otherwise the patrol guard will be all over my ass.”

Will and Tiny walked until they were beyond the reach of the light from the campfires, then Will stopped. “I need to talk to someone. I wasn’t expecting you to come.”

“I can go back if you want,” offered the big soldier.

“It’s all right, just try not to be surprised,” said Will. Under his breath he repeated a single word three times, ‘Tailtiu.’ Deep down he felt something, and he knew she had heard him.

Ten minutes passed in near silence before Tiny asked, “Is someone supposed to meet you?”

Will nodded. “She’ll be here soon, I think. Thank you for today, by the way.”

The big man shrugged. “I don’t have many talents, but I know who to trust.”

A voice purred at them from the darkness, “You have good taste then.”

Will tried to reassure Tiny, who looked as though he was about to jump out of his skin. “Don’t worry, it’s my friend.” It was then that a slender hand snaked up behind the big man and stroked Tiny’s cheek and neck.

“W-wh-who are you?” said Tiny, his voice tremulous.

“Leave him be, Tailtiu,” said Will sternly. “He’s never met any fae before.”

Tailtiu peered at him from around Tiny’s shoulder. “Oh, I like them fresh.” Then she moved around to the big soldier’s front and gazed up at him hungrily. “And he looks delicious.”

Tiny stood frozen in place, though whether it was from magic or fear, Will wasn’t sure. His eyes moved down, taking in the fae woman’s naked form. She was still covered in scars, though they were a dark green now, making her appearance even more feral. After a few seconds Tailtiu turned away and stepped toward Will. She opened her arms as though she would embrace him but almost immediately leaped back, hissing.

“Nasty!” she exclaimed. “What is that all over you? Iron? Why, William? Why would you do that?”

He chuckled. “I like breathing. This helps keep arrows out of me.”

“Don’t expect a kiss from me until you’ve taken it off and had a long bath,” said Tailtiu with obvious disgust. Will saw one of Tiny’s brows go up in surprise. The fae woman noticed as well and she gave the big man a sultry look. “Didn’t you know? I’m his aunt, but don’t let that fool you. We’re very—close.”

Alarmed, Will waved his hands at Tiny. “Don’t listen to her. It isn’t like that.”

“Sure it is,” said Tailtiu. “Would you like me to show you?”

Ignoring her remark, Will continued, “You still owe me another day.”

Tailtiu sighed. “Always business with you. What do you want?”

“Can you move about without being seen?”

“Of course,” answered his aunt, before glancing back at Tiny. She puffed her chest out slightly and formed her lips into a sly pout. “But I much prefer being seen.”

Will’s friend was turning red, and Will worried that Tiny might pass out from the strain of enduring Tailtiu’s attention. “I want you to scout the mountain ahead of us. There may be soldiers in the area.”

“Of course, there are,” she said abruptly, waving her hand toward the camp. “I can smell hundreds of them over there, along with an unsavory amount of iron.”

“That’s our camp,” said Will dryly.

His aunt smiled sweetly. “I knew that.”

“How long will it take you?” he asked.

She pretended to think, putting one hand on her chin, then answered, “I don’t know. I’ll find you when I’m done.”

Will had hoped it would be quick and easy, but he guessed that was just hopeful thinking. “We have to go back to the camp. I’ll call you tomorrow—”

“It won’t take that long, silly boy. Not to worry, I’ll find you when I’m done.”

“But we’ll be in camp.”

Tailtiu began walking away, fading into the darkness. “I can always find you, Will.” She glanced back once, her eyes glowing ominously. “Remember that.”

Once he was sure she was gone, Will nudged Tiny who seemed to have fallen into a trance, staring into the darkness. “Come on. Let’s go back.”

“Oh, right,” said the big man. As they were walking, he asked a question, “So she’s really your aunt?”

“Don’t remind me,” grumbled Will.

“And you—with her—you—?”

“No!”

They got back to their beds just in time, and while Dave was as talkative as usual, Tiny said not a word until after the fire was extinguished. Will was beginning to drift off to sleep when he heard the big man mutter to himself, “She’s not my aunt, though.”

Chapter 47

In his sleep, Will found himself running through a forest, chased by a foe he couldn’t see. Whenever he turned to look, all he saw behind him were golden cat’s eyes, and no matter how he raced he couldn’t escape the beast. Near the end he could feel its breath on his neck, until he turned a corner and found himself face to face with a dark-haired woman. It was Isabel. She put a finger to his lips to keep him silent, and he found himself sinking into her gaze. Like pools of clear water, her eyes threatened to swallow him, and he realized he couldn’t breathe.

“William Cartwright,” she whispered, and he found himself wondering how to answer. “William Cartwright, you will be mine.”

Run, said a voice deep within. Run before it’s too late.

“William Cartwright,” she said again. “I’ve bought and paid for you. You will be the finest slave to serve me. Show me the limnthal.”

“Thrice called,” said another voice, and Will’s eyes shot wide open. Tailtiu was leaning over him, her nose mere inches from his own. She had her hand over his mouth. “Shhh. Don’t wake them.”

Will turned his head, but quickly realized he couldn’t even see the closest bedroll, aside from Tiny’s, where the big man’s body made a darker shadow against the mist that covered everything. “How?”

“No one will see me in this fog,” said his aunt, “so long as you don’t wake them.”

“You did that?”

Her eyes crinkled into a smile and she nodded. “Of course. It made it much easier to search the pass without being seen.”

“What did you find?”

“Men,” she said simply. “Lots and lots of men, as far as my eyes could see. Were there always so many of your kind?”

“How many did you find?”

“As many as there are in your camp and half again more,” she answered. “Most are on the other side of the pass, waiting just beyond the high point. A third are hidden in a camp in the rocks several miles south of here.”

“Hidden?”

Tailtiu nodded. “No fires. They sleep clustered in small groups among the rocks that cluster along the side of the mountain to the south. Is that what you wished to know?”

“Yes. Thank you,” said Will gratefully. “This resolves your debt for the favor.”

She shook her head. “You still have another half day left, plus two more unbounded favors, but tonight could be free if you let me have the big one for an hour.” Her eyes turned to focus on Tiny’s sleeping form.

“No.”

“Half an hour,” she countered. “He’ll thank you for it.”

“No,” said Will firmly. “Besides, he’s his own man. I have no right to barter him.”

Tailtiu’s features showed surprise. “Oh, but you do! Or didn’t you know?”

“Pardon?”

“The accord between Faerie and the mortal realm,” she said matter-of-factly, “is held in trust by your kind. Or rather, it’s held in trust by you, since you’re the last one.”

“The last what?”

“Wizard, silly,” she answered. “Once you’re gone, we can do as we please, for the accord will no longer hold force. Any humans that seek to deal with us will have to negotiate with their own strength—the strength of power—and from what I’ve seen, most of them have none. Didn’t Father tell you?”

“I’m barely a wizard.”

“But you’re marked as one,” said Tailtiu, “and that’s all that counts. The limnthal proves it. It’s a shame you didn’t give it to Mother. Then I wouldn’t have to ask.” Her eyes flashed. “I could just take what I want.”

“What about the wizards in Wurthaven?”

She cocked her head to one side. “Do they have it?” Tailtiu smiled. “I don’t think so.”

The simple, uncaring malice in her features made his mouth go dry. “I don’t need anything else,” he told her. “You should go.”

“Very well. Take good care of yourself, nephew. When you’re gone we will devour them.” With those parting words, she disappeared into the mist.

Will lay quietly in his bed, but the warmth was gone, replaced by an empty coldness that chilled him to his bones. He tried to sleep, but his mind was spinning. If mankind was protected by some ancient accord, what did that mean exactly? The fae couldn’t take humans without his permission? An evil thought came to him. Does that mean I could offer the Darrowans to them in exchange for getting rid of the invading army?

He shivered at the idea, and though he had no concrete knowledge, he suspected his grandfather would consider it a betrayal of the trust he had been given. Dealing with the fae was risky enough, but selling the life of a human to them was definitely an act of warlockry. Selling thousands was pure evil.

Will was unsure of the time. His body wanted him to return to sleep, but he still needed to figure out how to share the knowledge he had gained without getting himself into even more trouble. Campfires, he thought, but it won’t work after dawn. Shrugging off his blanket, he rose from his bed and headed for the latrine.

On his way back he began to run, assuming an air of urgency. “Lights!” he told the camp watchmen. “There are lights to the south!”

That got their attention, but when they went to confirm none of the night watch could see anything. The perimeter patrol also reported having seen nothing, but Will persisted, claiming he had seen several lights in the darkness to the south. After some argument, they took him back to his platoon’s tent and woke Sergeant Nash.

“Is it already time?” asked the sergeant groggily.

One of the patrollers spoke first. “One of your men is saying he saw lights to the south, but no one else can confirm his reporting.”

Sergeant Nash sat up, irritation on his face. “Who’s the jackass?”

“Me, sir,” offered Will.

The sergeant stared at him until his eyes focused in the dim light, then he groaned. “Goddamn it, Cartwright, not you again.”

“I really saw them, Sergeant,” insisted Will. “They put them out after only a minute or two.”

“What time is it?” Nash asked the guards who had come with Will.

“It’s the middle of third watch, Sergeant. Roughly an hour before wake-up call.”

The sergeant stared at Will, his expression unreadable. “Why should I believe you, Cartwright?”

“I have very good eyesight,” said Will. “I swear there’s an army out there. If we do nothing they’ll be at our rear tomorrow.”

“And yet none of the scouts found anyone to the south of us yesterday,” grumbled Sergeant Nash.

“They didn’t find the crossbowmen either, sir,” Will reminded him.

The sergeant got to his feet. “We’ll let the captain decide, but this is on you, Cartwright. If you’re wrong, I’ll make sure you wish you were never born.”

Sir Kyle was none too pleased to be woken early, but the knight hid his annoyance better. “I’m not rousing the entire camp early on one man’s word,” he pronounced. Glancing at Lieutenant Latimer, he ordered, “Send four men, two to the south-southwest, two to the south-southeast. Cartwright, you’ll go south on your own. Since you have such keen eyes, I’m sure you’ll be fine, and if not, you’ll be one less headache I have to deal with. Report back in an hour.”

Shortly after that, Will found himself walking alone by the light of the stars. There was no moon, but the sky was clear and Tailtiu’s mist had dispersed. Once his eyes had adjusted, he had enough light to walk without tripping, but the terrain ahead of him was just a mixture of blacks and grays. The turyn that flowed through the air helped slightly, and he hoped that by paying close attention to it he would be able to make out the positions of any guards that might lie ahead.

With only an hour to spend he did his best to make good time. From what Tailtiu had said, the enemy was three or four miles distant, an easy walk on level ground, but in the mountains, it was far harder. He had no way to track time, so he would have to guess at how long he had traveled.

After what he judged to be a half an hour, the landscape became more rugged and he doubted he had gone more than a mile. He saw no sign of the enemy, but he believed his aunt’s report, so he continued on. He kept going, determined to vindicate himself.

The sky was beginning to brighten in the east, and he knew he had probably been gone more than an hour before he saw the telltale disturbances in the flows that indicated men hidden ahead. Most probably they were enemy sentries. Just as Tailtiu had said, the land dropped away behind them into a wide crevasse of some type. They must be hidden down there.

Turning west, he followed it for several hundred yards until he could see the land was smoothing out. He guessed that the enemy must enter the deep ravine from there. With two hours gone and dawn rapidly approaching, Will knew the army would begin to march soon, so he turned and began running back.

The light made it safer to run, but the rough terrain made it tiring, even without his mail. He began drawing turyn in and focusing it in his legs and lungs until his fatigue vanished. Once the land smoothed out it was easier, but as the army came into sight he could see they were already forming up to march.

“I told you one hour, Cartwright!” snapped Sir Kyle when Will was brought before him. “The others were back two hours ago. I’d given you up as a deserter.”

“I found them,” said Will, still struggling to catch his breath. He did his best to describe what he had seen.

Sergeant Eckels from Company B’s Third Platoon stood close by. “A man will say anything to avoid a whipping.”

“I’ll still be whipped if they aren’t there,” argued Will.

“If they’ve got units behind us and a solid force at the top of the pass, we’ll be hard put to survive,” said Lieutenant Latimer.

“Which is why we scouted the area so thoroughly,” growled Sir Kyle. “And they found nothing.” He glared at Will. “Have you had any training as a scout?”

“No, sir,” he admitted.

The knight captain’s face was pensive, but after a minute he gave his orders, “Stop the march. Send runners to Lord Fulstrom and the other captains.” That done, he glanced at Will. “Return to your squad.”

Will did as he was told, donning his armor and waiting with the others while Lord Fulstrom and his knights decided on their course of action. Corporal Taylor watched him the entire time with eyes that seemed as though they would burn a hole through his armor. Tiny didn’t ask him any questions, but Dave was far from reticent.

“What the hell did you do now? The entire camp is on standby. Why aren’t we marching yet?” asked the ex-thief.

Will shrugged. “I saw some lights last night and Sir Kyle sent me out scouting afterward.”

The horns sounded then and they had to fall in line. Three companies were sent directly south, while Company B and the other three were ordered to move a full mile west before also heading south. They remained in a standard marching formation until the shift south, at which time they were shifted into a combat line three ranks deep.

After a mile and a half, they reached the sloping entrance to the ravine that Will had found that morning. Companies A and C stood to the left and right respectively, their lines angling forward, while Company B took the center. When they within a hundred yards of the place where the walls of the ravine began to rise up, the officers called a halt and they began to wait.

Half an hour passed, and thick clouds of smoke appeared in the distance, coming from the ravine ahead of them. Horns blared, and the sounds of men shouting followed soon after, and then Will caught sight of the Darrowans emerging from the ravine. The enemy formation was anything but orderly, but the mob of soldiers began to form a line once they spotted the Terabinian troops waiting for them.

“Forward march double-time!” yelled Sir Kyle from behind, and the sergeants repeated his order. Company B began moving forward.

Will glanced at Tiny, who was on his right, and the big man nodded at him. “Keep your head down,” said the big man, his lips tight.

The Darrowans were already in rough line when they finally made contact. Shouts went up, and the clash of spears against shields filled Will’s ears. Something struck the top of his helm, and then his shield was nearly torn from his grasp as a more forceful blow struck it as well. A spear tip came through the gap as Will’s shield shifted. It struck the right side of his belly, almost knocking the wind from him, but it didn’t have enough power behind it to pierce his mail.

The enemy was getting the worst of it, and they might have broken, but their soldiers were desperate. They had nowhere to run. Companies A and C closed on the enemy flanks, and the Darrowan soldiers began to die in greater numbers.

As the enemy started to panic, they surged forward, threatening to overwhelm Company B’s line. Will saw Sven fall on his left, and the enemy began to push forward, overwhelming Dave and the men farther down.

In seconds, Will knew their defensive line would break, and the fight would turn into a chaotic melee. Dropping his spear, Will did the only thing he could think of, casting the one spell he knew. A second later, a green line connected with one of the enemies and he pushed a generous amount of his turyn into the man before dismissing the spell. He repeated the spell as quickly as he could, and one after another the Darrowans nearest him began to collapse, vomiting onto the ground. Five, six, seven, Will kept going, though his head was beginning to spin. The first rank of Company B had collapsed, falling back while the second rank moved forward to take their place.

Will’s knees started to buckle, but a strong hand caught him. Tiny pulled him up and braced him. “Don’t stop,” said the big man.

Rather than pushing turyn out, Will drained the next enemy he caught with his spell. His energy returned, along with a brief wave of nausea. Once he had recovered from that, he began repeating his previous actions, injecting his personal turyn into every Darrowan that came within fifteen feet of him.

Eventually he exhausted himself again, and this time he stumbled before Tiny could catch him. Will tried to rise, but a pain in his side made it difficult to get his feet back under him.

“Relax,” said Tiny. “You’re hurt. The others are coming up from behind them now. It’s almost over.”

Looking down, Will saw blood soaking the right side of his gambeson, though he couldn’t find a hole in his mail. How did that happen? he wondered. Tired beyond belief, he sat down, and the next thing he knew he was opening his eyes to stare up into a blue sky. Somehow, he had wound up on his back.

Tiny was sitting next to him, so Will asked, “Did we win?”

The big man nodded. “We did. We took some losses, but fewer than they expected, given how many we faced.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. You had a lot to do with that,” said Tiny.

“I couldn’t do much.”

Tiny chuckled. “You took the wind out of their charge. I think you must have put at least twenty of them out of the fight.” He glanced to one side, then back again. “Shhh, Sergeant Nash is coming.”

“Is he dying?” asked Nash when he was close enough.

“I don’t think so,” said Tiny. “Something narrow went through his mail, but it wasn’t deep. He’s lost some blood. Where’s the doctor?”

Sergeant Nash’s face appeared above Will, blocking out the sun. “I’d love to know how you spotted their fires last night.”

“Why?” asked Will, doing his best to concentrate on the sergeant’s words.

“Because I heard from the companies that smoked them out that the Darrowans apparently kept a cold camp. There was no sign of campfires,” said the sergeant, studying him suspiciously.

“Maybe they had a patrol with lanterns,” said Will. “I definitely saw something.”

“They’d have to be incredibly stupid to do something like that,” said the sergeant before turning away. “I guess we should be grateful that the enemy is so inept.”

Chapter 48

Will’s wound was even less serious than Tiny had first thought. The puncture in his side was fairly small, though it had bled a lot. He never discovered what had actually given him the wound, but the prevailing theory was that it had been a crossbow bolt with a bodkin point, since quite a few of them were found on the field after the battle, and several other men had been wounded by them.

The tips of such quarrels had a square cross-section that tapered to a long, slender point. Fired from close enough range, they sometimes split rings and went completely through mail, but Will had been more fortunate. His mail had held, and only the tip of the point had gone through far enough to pierce him. It had been pure dumb luck that it had nicked a small vein and caused him to bleed so much.

Sven admitted to some jealously. While Will’s injury wasn’t enough to get him sent back, it did free him from duty for the next couple of days. Will wasn’t quite as enthusiastic, since Dave was also lightly injured and the two of them would be spending their time resting in close proximity. The ex-thief had fallen down when their line started to collapse, and he the rush of men had nearly trampled him. Dave had been fortunate to escape with nothing more than a few large bruises.

Lord Fulstrom had ordered their force to remain in camp for two days while the aftermath of the battle was taken care of. The wounded were sent back to Branscombe, and the dead were buried. The Darrowan force of some four hundred had been slaughtered nearly to a man, and the result was a mound of dead that was difficult to deal with.

In the end, the Terabinian army piled up the enemy corpses within the ravine and burned them, after stripping them of armor, weapons, and valuables. A few of the Terabinian soldiers were lucky enough to scavenge mail from the bodies that would fit them, though not many, because such armor was just as rare amongst the common soldiers of Darrow as it was amongst the Terabinians.

Sven was the first to return to the tent after the first day’s hard labor disposing of bodies. He glanced at Will and Dave sourly. “Enjoying your holiday?”

Dave grinned. “Absolutely.”

Will’s expression was considerably less enthusiastic, and he looked in Dave’s direction before meeting Sven’s eyes. “Not so much,” he answered. “How was your day?”

“Just the drab life of a grave digger,” said Sven. “Things would have been a lot better if Lord Fulstrom hadn’t been so bloodthirsty.”

“What do you mean?” asked Will.

“I heard the sergeants talking about it,” said Sven. “According to them, it was poor judgment not to allow the enemy to surrender, or even run if that wasn’t practical.”

Dave scowled. “It served them right. They should learn that death is the only payment for invading us.”

Sven shook his head in disgust. “We lost more than a hundred men, most of them after the Darrowans started to rout.”

“A hundred dead?” asked Will.

“No, maybe forty dead, but another sixty or so had injuries so severe they had to be sent back. For those of us here that’s just as bad.”

“What does that have to do with not letting them surrender?” asked Dave angrily.

“If you don’t let the enemy flee, they keep fighting,” said the older man. “Even the injured ones that can’t run are still dangerous. They’ll stab you from the ground, and the ones still on their feet will fight like the damned if they know they’re about to be slaughtered.”

The ex-thief still wasn’t sympathetic. “It isn’t as if we can afford to take that many prisoners.”

“You still don’t get it. We lost a hundred men, and three-fourths of those were hurt after we could have stopped fighting. Even if we had captured the entire Darrowan contingent, we could have escorted them back to Branscombe with only forty or fifty men to guard them, and there were far less of them by that point anyway. It’s simple math. Let’s say we had captured the last two hundred. Disarmed and put in a line, we could send twenty men to escort them back. If we had lost twenty-five of our own and then sent twenty with them, we’d only be down forty-five.”

“And we’re already short. They outnumber us,” put in Will.

“Who says?” asked Dave.

“I do,” said Will, feeling irritable. “There’s twice as many waiting for us in the pass, and a lot more about to march up from Barrowden.”

Sven stared at him intently. “How do you know that?”

Realizing he had said more than he should, Will looked away. “I don’t know it. It’s just a feeling.”

“The same sort of feeling you had when you claimed to see helmets in the brush the other day, or lights at night, when no one else saw them?” asked the old soldier.

“Something like that,” said Will.

Tiny ducked through the door of the tent, saving him from answering any more awkward questions. “Sergeant Nash said to get you.”

Will got to his feet. Other than feeling slightly fatigued, he was none the worse for the previous day’s injury. “What does he want?”

“Lord Fulstrom wants to talk to you,” said Tiny.

Uh oh, thought Will, but he kept his concern to himself. Exiting the tent, he found two mailed armsmen waiting to escort him. They were obviously men from the baron’s personal guard. Will didn’t bother asking them questions while they walked. He recognized the one on his left; it was the same man who had bloodied his lip during his first meeting with the baron. That’s not a bad sign, he told himself sarcastically.

Baron Fulstrom’s personal tent was less impressive than the one he had occupied in Branscombe, but it was still the biggest in the camp, a modest pavilion some fifty feet wide on each side. Will bowed when he came into the Lord Commander’s presence. Lieutenant Stanton sat nearby at a small table. “You asked for me, milord?”

The lord studied him quietly for a long minute, during which Will became increasingly uncomfortable. Eventually he spoke. “Have you had any training as a scout, Mister Cartwright?”

“No, Your Lordship.”

“Then how is it that you have not once, but twice found what none of our scouts could find?” asked Fulstrom.

“My mother always said I had the sharpest ears and the keenest eyesight in the village, milord,” Will prevaricated. “I also spent a lot of time in the forest as a boy, playing games of hide and seek with my friends.”

“And do you think this has given you skills my scouts lack?”

“No, Your Lordship,” said Will hastily.

Lord Fulstrom frowned. “False modesty will do you no favors here, young man. Twice you have demonstrated your skills, and twice you have succeeded. I am told your wound was not great. How is your injury?”

“I lost some blood, milord, but I think I fainted from exhaustion as much as from that,” said Will.

“I would like you to ride with my scouts, tomorrow,” announced the baron. “Are you capable enough for it?”

Will’s mind raced as he considered his options. Refusal seemed impossible, and this was a chance to provide the army with the information he had already gained. Plus, he thought he might discover more on his own. Having other eyes beside him would only limit what he could claim to have seen. “I am, milord, but I would rather not.”

The baron’s eyes hardened. “I see.”

“Begging your pardon, milord, I would rather go alone—or separately at least,” Will hurried to add.

“Explain your reasoning.”

“Men on horseback are easier to spot,” said Will. “I believe I can get closer on foot.”

“Men on horseback are also harder to catch,” said the baron. “They are more likely to survive to give a report. You think you can avoid being seen?”

Will nodded. “Yes, milord.”

“The scouts leave at dawn tomorrow,” said Fulstrom. “I would like you to go as well. If you prefer to go alone rather than with them, I will allow it.” The baron turned away, clearly dismissing him.

But Will wasn’t done. “Excuse me, Your Lordship. I would prefer to leave in the evening.”

Fulstrom turned back, curiosity on his face. “I intend to march the morning after tomorrow. Our best estimate is that we can reach the enemy camp in less than two hours. If you leave at night, your report will come too late to be of any use.”

“I’ll start before nightfall,” said Will. “Once it is dark, I should be able to enter their camp. If they have any surprises planned, I can discover them.”

Lieutenant Stanton spoke for the first time. “It will be too dark for you to see anything. Assuming you aren’t caught.”

Will shook his head. “The new moon begins to wax tonight. There should be a sliver in the sky. If we have clear weather, I will be able to see. I’ll definitely see better than the enemy.”

Stanton looked to the baron, who seemed lost in thought. Finally, Lord Fulstrom made his decision. “You seem sure of yourself, and I have little to lose gambling on your cocksure attitude. We march early that night so we can catch them at dawn. Be back two hours before then or any knowledge you gain will be wasted.” The baron waved his hand. “You may leave. Stanton, give Sir Kyle my instructions.”

***

The next day passed slowly. Will felt fine, but he was still off the duty roster, so he had little to do. He had spent part of the night focusing on the small wound in his side, trying to replicate something of what he had done for Joey. He wasn’t really sure if it had made a difference or not, but the wound showed no sign of sickening and the skin had nearly closed. Given what he knew of such wounds, he thought it was healing faster than usual, but he couldn’t say for sure that it wasn’t his imagination.

He tried thinking about what he would do when he left that evening on his special assignment, but it wasn’t possible to plan much. The whole point of scouting was to find new information, so he would have to rely on his judgment to decide what to do once he had seen the enemy force. Other than that, all he could think was ‘be sneaky,’ and his inner critic had nothing but sarcasm for that plan.

In the late afternoon the first scouts began to return, and Will was summoned to Lord Fulstrom’s tent once more so that he could listen to what they said. Their reports matched what Tailtiu had told him previously, though the scouts gave a more detailed account of distances. Darrow’s army was four miles distant, at the narrowest part of the pass. Their forward sentries were a half mile closer, and the scouts had been unable to confirm just how many men the Patriarch had waiting for them.

Will feared that the soldiers of Branscombe would be slaughtered if they followed Fulstrom’s plan to engage the well-defended position, especially given the fact that they were almost certainly outnumbered, but without a good reason for the knowledge he had no hope of convincing the baron of that.

When he returned to his tent, he shed his mail armor. He considered keeping the gambeson, but even that was stiff and rustled more than he liked, so he removed it as well. Instead he wore his tunic and a heavy cloak, bringing only his sword for defense. He’d be somewhat cold, but the cloak would keep him well enough, and its dark gray color would be useful in the darkness.

His squad mates were still out, performing their duties, so he was spared the trouble of explaining his departure.

Setting out, he jogged through the camp and no one stopped him until he reached the perimeter guard, but they waved him on after he gave his name. His body felt light, almost ephemeral. He had been forced to wear the heavy gambeson for months and the mail shirt for the past few weeks. Without them it seemed as though he floated over the ground. Without shield or spear, his hands were free and felt he stronger that he ever had.

Enjoying the sensation of freedom, Will began to run, and even the slight incline and rough ground couldn’t drag him down.

He covered two miles before he slowed to a walk. The sun had set behind him, and the sky was dimming rapidly. The Darrowan army’s forward sentries were somewhere roughly a mile ahead, if the scouts had been correct. He came to a halt, waiting on full night to hide him, but he wasn’t idle.

“Tailtiu,” he called softly, repeating her name twice more. “Thrice called, come and render your service.”

Half an hour passed before she appeared, walking slowly toward him from the north. It was almost completely dark, and the sliver of a moon had yet to rise, but even so he saw her by the light of the stars. He waved to her as she approached.

“Your eyes are much better now,” she said happily.

“Are they?”

She nodded. “Before, you wouldn’t have noticed me in this light until I was much closer.”

Previously he had known his eyesight wasn’t the best, but lately he had begun to wonder if it was now even better than the keenest eyes among the soldiers. “How close to you think I could get to someone else in this light without being seen?” he asked.

Tailtiu looked thoughtful. “It varies with your kind, but a safe guess would be less than half the distance I was at when you waved. Human eyes are not bad in the day, but at night they are exceptionally poor.”

Wow, he thought. He judged that he had waved to her at roughly a hundred yards, but he had seen her well before that. If what she said was true, then his night vision was significantly better than he had realized. It was no wonder he had found it so easy to sneak around the army camp back at Branscombe.

“What did you need this time?” she asked, breaking his train of thought.

“I want to sneak into the enemy camp,” he told her. “The mist you summoned the other night seemed useful. Do you think you could do it for me?”

“So long as I come with you,” she answered. “If you intend to send me back, the mist will vanish not long after I am gone.”

That wasn’t what he’d been hoping for, but he could adjust his plan. “Then you’ll have to come with me,” he said after a moment. “But don’t distract me. If they discover me, I’m dead.”

Tailtiu’s eyes focused sharply on him. “Remember what I said before. If you die, there will be consequences.”

“Are you planning to give me away?”

His aunt took on an expression of great offense. “Please. You should know I am bound to aid you during this time of service. If you are seen, it will be because of your own clumsiness.”

Chapter 49

“There’s two men ahead,” said Tailtiu, her hand on his elbow. “Less than fifty yards.”

Will could see fine out to about twenty feet, but the mist obscured everything beyond that. “Can you see them? How?” he asked.

“My mist is no barrier to my sight,” she told him. “Open your ears. You should be able to hear them talking.”

He listened intently, and after a moment he caught the sound of voices. The sentries were deep in conversation, and while he couldn’t make out the words, he was surprised he hadn’t heard them before. A second later he realized that he had unconsciously focused his turyn on his ears. If I can do that, couldn’t I do the same for my vision? “How do you see through the mist?” he asked quietly.

“How do you breathe?” she returned, answering his question with another question.

“Huh?”

She sighed. “Mother told me wizards could do the same, but they use a human spell. My magic doesn’t work that way, though. It simply happens when I need it.”

“Could I do that?” Will asked. “I was able to hear better by concentrating. Is this similar?”

“Fae magic is instinctive,” said Tailtiu. “Faerie is swimming in turyn, so we learn to use it the same way you use your feet for walking. You could try, but I don’t know if you’ll succeed.”

“Give me a minute,” said Will. Turning his attention inward, he tried to focus more turyn around his eyes while he stared intently at the fog. Nothing happened at first, but then the mist grew bright, almost blinding him. “That’s worse,” he complained.

“What did you see?” she asked.

“The mist got so bright I could hardly see at all,” he answered.

His aunt smiled. “That’s the starlight. It won’t help you. It reflects off the mist and reduces the distance you can see.”

Will was disappointed. “I guess this won’t work then.”

“You give up too quickly. If you were able to do that, you may be able to see the way I do. You just need to change what you’re seeing,” said Tailtiu. That statement confused Will, and it showed on his face. His aunt explained further, “Starlight is just like daylight or moonlight. It’s wonderful when the sky is clear, but in fog or mist it’s terrible. You need to focus on the heart-light.”

“Heart-light? There’s more than one kind of light?”

She nodded. “Is everything one color? Of course not. Heart-light is similar to red, but deeper. It’s the light given off by warm things. You just need to focus on that instead.”

He tried again, and while he did, she continued talking. “It’s sort of like the way you focus your eyes normally. Every mist or fog is different, so your eyes have to adjust to see the right kind of heart-light. You’ll know which is best as your distance vision improves or worsens.”

At first his vision grew brighter, the way it had before, but as he concentrated it shifted and became dark, until he could hardly see at all. “This isn’t working,” he complained.

“Look at me,” said Tailtiu patiently. “When you get close to the right kind of light, my body will start to glow brighter from its warmth.”

He did, changing the turyn in his eyes all the while, and suddenly he caught a glimmer. Adjusting his turyn more, he saw his aunt’s body begin to glow until she stood out as a white figure against a gray background. Looking away, he kept at it until the fog seemed to vanish and the world shifted into a strange, ghostly landscape. The ground and rocks were varying shades of grey, along with the occasional trees and brush, and the sky above was a pure black with no stars to be seen.

The enemy sentries stood out so clearly that he felt sure they must see him, and it took him a moment to get his heart rate to slow down. They can’t see me, he told himself. “This is incredible,” he whispered.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” said Tailtiu. “This will be much easier now that I don’t have to worry about leading you around like some blind worm.”

Will found himself overwhelmed by a whole new world of possibilities, and a new level of responsibility. Being able to see while his enemies could not, did that mean he should try to do something to tip the scales in the favor of his allies? Did he dare? He thought about killing the sentries. He could probably get close enough to use the source-link spell, but could he stomach murdering them in cold blood?

If he did, it would give the Terabinian army another half mile before the enemy spotted their advance at dawn. That might make a large difference in how ready the Darrowans were for them. “And if I don’t kill them, more of us will die than otherwise would,” he muttered. Right and wrong had never seemed more confusing.

“Or you could let me do it,” said Tailtiu eagerly. “I’m at your beck and call for the rest of the night. There’s no need for you to bloody your hands.”

For a moment he was tempted by her offer, but deep down he knew it didn’t change anything. His enemies would still be dead, and it would have been done by his command. It also seemed like a violation of whatever treaty the ancient wizards had worked out with the fae to protect humankind. No, if anyone died, it would be by his hand.

Will shook his head. “No thanks. What time do you think it is?” His aunt looked up at the stars and he saw turyn flickering around her eyes. “What are you doing?”

“Changing my vision so I can see the stars,” she said simply. Then she added, “It’s close to midnight now.”

If the Darrowans used a similar system, that meant the sentries, he was looking at were on the second watch. They would probably be changed out in a couple of hours when the third watch came on duty. Killing them would only alert the enemy. “Let’s go see how far we can get into their camp,” he suggested.

Circling the sentries at a sufficient distance to avoid being heard, they moved on, until the perimeter guard of the Darrowan army came into view. With the advantage of the mist and near-perfect vision, it was laughably simple to get past them. The Darrowans had done their best to erect an earthen defense similar to what Will had worked on near Branscombe, but the hard, rocky soil had limited what they could do. A shallow ditch no more than two feet deep was backed by a similarly short mound of rocks and dirt.

Keeping an eye on the patrols, Will and Tailtiu walked into the ditch and then back up the slope behind it without much trouble. They were in the enemy camp.

The layout seemed familiar, for the Darrowans used a similar layout to what Will had grown used to. Fifty yards past the earthworks lay the first tents, arranged in small circles at regular intervals. Each circle of tents had a lantern hanging near the center, providing light for any night-blind soldiers who needed to take watch or relieve themselves at the latrines during the night.

Will moved on, walking through the areas he thought would be darkest, if he had been using his normal eyesight. It was hard to judge while using the strange new vision Tailtiu had taught him. He began changing his vision back to what he considered normal every now and then, to help him plot a course that would keep them best hidden from the eyes of the nighttime guards.

There was nothing to be gained from examining the tents of the rank and file, so Will worked his way deeper. The officers’ and commander’s tents would likely be in either the center of the camp or to the rear, on the side farthest from danger of attack. Will knew that the Terabinians preferred to keep the supplies to the rear and command in the center, so he went toward the middle first.

Sure enough, he spotted what appeared to be the main command tent in the center of the encampment, surrounded by what were probably the tents of the higher-ranking officers. Unable to restrain his curiosity, Will dodged two patrols and went to the center tent. Two guards patrolled the entrance, yet another indicator that the camp commander was probably inside.

Will crept closer, until he was only twenty feet from the guards. At that distance he wasn’t sure if the mist would completely conceal him, so he approached from the side, hoping the tent itself would block their view. He attempted the source-link spell but couldn’t quite connect, so he was forced to get closer by crouching down and creeping forward, moving around the corner.

The second time he succeeded, and he quickly drew off the guard’s turyn until the man collapsed. The soldier’s companion tried to assist his comrade, but Will repeated the process and after a few seconds the second guard collapsed as well. Will kept pulling, trying to kill the second guard, but the man stubbornly continued to breathe.

“That won’t work,” Tailtiu whispered into his ear. “The body fights against death. The more you draw, the harder his source will burn to keep him alive. All you’re doing is shortening his life by a few days.”

“Oh,” said Will, having learned something new. He stopped what he was doing. His body was already thrumming with too much turyn, so he spent a minute slowly expelling it until he felt normal again. Then he crept forward, toward the unconscious guards. Pulling one flap of the tent to the side, he glanced inside but saw no one in the front section of the pavilion.

“Aren’t you going to kill them?” asked his aunt.

“How long do you think it will take them to wake up?” asked Will.

She shrugged. “An hour, perhaps longer. Everyone is different, but they will be exhausted for days.”

“Then I don’t need to kill them,” decided Will, feeling an internal sense of relief.

“They’re your enemy. Why not reduce their numbers while you have the chance?” argued Tailtiu.

He shook his head. “No. They’re soldiers following orders. The Patriarch is my enemy. My goal is to stop him from invading my country, not to avenge myself on as many of his servants as possible.”

“You’re a fool, nephew.”

Will ignored her remark. “Wait here. I’m going to look inside. If a patrol seems likely to find them, warn me.” He ducked inside without waiting for her to respond.

The pavilion was partitioned, and the section he was inside appeared to be devoted to administration tasks. A wide table occupied the center, and two small camp desks were on either side. A pile of papers sat in the middle of the table, but Will saw nothing written on them. Why are they blank? He adjusted his vision back to normal and saw writing appear as if by magic, then he understood. I can’t see the ink with the heart-light.

He still had no time to read them, so he rolled the entire stack into a tube before tying it with a strip of leather he found on one of the desks. That done, he stuffed the entire bundle into his tunic. It wasn’t exactly comfortable, but at least he wouldn’t risk losing the papers if he had to run.

Moving to the right, he went through the opening that led to the second portion of the pavilion. A large cot stood on the far side of the second partition, while a table and several chests stood near the walls. The cot was empty, and the area seemed unoccupied, but large quantities of turyn were flowing around the room, swirling and twisting like water in a river that had encountered shallow rocks. What is this?

A familiar green line speared into his chest, and Will felt his body seize up. Panic swept through him as he realized he had been caught. The only things he could move were his eyes, and as they darted from side to side, he saw the line of magic that had connected to his source. It emerged from his chest and angled downward, into the ground at the center of the tent. The rocky soil began to boil, as if it were liquid rather than solid, and a man slowly rose up from the earth itself.

The Darrowan commander was a lean man with a thin moustache and a receding hairline. He wore no armor, given the hour, but was instead clothed in a thick and heavily embroidered sleeping gown. “Fortunately, I’m a light sleeper,” said the stranger. “What are you, an assassin?”

The man smiled when he saw that Will was unable to reply. “Next time, kill me first. The sound of you shuffling all those papers woke me. If you had found me sleeping, I doubt I would have survived. Perhaps you’ll remember this wisdom in your next life.”

The enemy commander began pulling at Will’s turyn, draining him in the same manner that Will had with the guards outside. His paralyzed muscles went slack, and he sank to the ground. The other mage continued until Will was reduced to almost nothing, then released the source-link. The commander studied him for a moment, seemingly deep in thought.

Will watched his opponent the entire time, while doing his best to speed up the recovery of his turyn. Fortunately, the room was full of turyn, as he had already seen, which made the process faster. Thirty seconds, he thought. That’s all I need. If the commander got close enough, he planned to draw his sword and stab the mage before he could be trapped again.

The enemy commander didn’t get close, however. He studied Will warily. “Still conscious? How odd. What sort of assassin are you?”

He’s not going to give me a chance by getting close, thought Will. The man was already suspicious. Will didn’t dare wait any longer, so he shifted his plan. Forming the runes as quickly as he could, he attempted to link to the commander in the same manner as had been done to him.

But the stranger was faster. The mage leapt back several feet and caught Will with the source-link spell in the blink of an eye. “A wizard?”

Will focused all his attention on the link, and this time he caught his opponent as the man tried to separate him from his source. Pulling, Will tried to drain the other man’s turyn, and a battle of wills ensued. Clenching his jaw, Will fought silently with the enemy commander, and as the seconds ticked by he felt his opponent begin to weaken.

“Damn,” cursed the commander. “You’re strong.” Then he smiled. “But it won’t matter. “Raiha, Selvaren, Trant, Laira, defend me!”

Will saw the turyn in the room shifting as four massive elementals began to answer the call of their master, coming from whatever strange place they were kept, but he ignored that. Keeping his will iron-hard, he drew his sword and lunged forward, driving the point through the sorcerer’s chest.

He had missed the heart, but his sword must have hit something equally vital, for the commander’s eyes glazed over almost immediately as the man slid into first unconsciousness and then death. “Next time you shouldn’t forget that even a simple sword can kill.” Then, just because he figured his grandfather would have appreciated it, he added, “Fucking sorcerers.”

There were still other presences in the room, however, and when Will looked up he saw that he was surrounded by four elementals, two of earth and two of fire. They didn’t attack, but remained quiet, watching him. Thin, almost invisible lines of turyn ran from them to the dead man, and as Will looked closer, he saw there was still magic glowing softly in the chest of the commander. The heart-stone enchantments, he realized.

Reaching down with his left hand, he felt something tug at him and four knots of intricately wound turyn rose from the sorcerer’s chest. They looked very similar to the limnthal his grandfather had given him, and he summoned it just so he could compare them. But for a few minor differences, they were almost identical.

He was tempted to take them. Will could feel the magic seeking a new home, a new master, him, but he resisted the urge to take them. The elementals were still watching him, and he felt a sense of sadness emanating from them. He remembered what Arrogan had done when he defeated the sorcerer in Barrowden. Could he do the same?

Lightly touching the heart-stone enchantments, he thought he could feel the emotions of the primal spirits, but there were no distinct thoughts. I am not a sorcerer, Will thought, trying to project his intention through the enchantments. I will free you instead. Will you do a favor for me before you go?

As one, the four elementals bowed. Will decided that was as close to a ‘yes’ as he could hope for. Carefully, he began plucking at the knotted enchantments. Once you are released, destroy the camp. These soldiers are trying to conquer my homeland. Help me keep my people free. Please.

He continued teasing the knots apart until first one, then another fell apart. It took another couple of minutes before he had destroyed all four.

The two earth elementals sank into the ground, while the two fire elementals swelled, growing larger by the second. The tent caught fire as Will ran out, and he almost fell as the earth began to shake. Tailtiu waited outside with one hand on her hip.

“I knew you were a fool. That sorcerer nearly killed you, didn’t he?” she accused. The tent exploded in a fireball as she spoke, but the fae woman ignored the conflagration.

“You knew I was fighting?”

“I heard everything,” she answered.

Will glared at her. “Why didn’t you help?”

“You told me to wait outside. Be careful what you say when I am bound by a bargain. I could not have set foot inside even if I had wanted.” Then she glanced to one side. “Although honestly, it might have been more interesting if you had died.”

The ground jumped beneath Will’s feet, causing him to fall, and more fires erupted from nearby tents. Everywhere he could hear men yelling, cursing, and sometimes screaming as they ran back and forth, uncertain where the source of the attack was.

Will looked up at Tailtiu, who was still on her feet, balancing on the heaving ground as easily as a captain on a ship at sea. “Unbelievable,” he muttered.

“You set his elementals free?” asked Tailtiu. “Why not take their power for yourself?”

He sensed something behind her questions, a hidden meaning, but in the chaos, he didn’t have time to think about it. “Because I’m not a fucking sorcerer,” he spat. He might have doubted his grandfather’s prejudice before, but he had felt the emotions within the elementals. Keeping them enslaved was wrong, he could feel it all the way down to his bones. Will got to his feet and promptly fell again when the earth bucked once more. “Can you help me? We need to escape.”

His aunt smiled wickedly, then knelt in front of him. “Climb on my back. I can’t carry you in my arms. I’ll need them free.”

Will gave her a suspicious look. He outweighed the fae woman by at least a hundred pounds, and though he knew she was strong, he couldn’t imagine her carrying him piggyback.

“Hurry up,” she urged.

He fell twice just trying to do that, but finally he got on, wrapping his legs around her waist and putting his arms over her shoulders. Tailtiu stood easily, then leaned back and purred, “That’s a nice place for your hands. Please continue.”

Will nearly fell off as he tried to rearrange his arms to avoid touching any of her more interesting regions. He nearly fell again as her body began to shift and change beneath him. Her skin sprouted fur, and her limbs elongated as her hands and feet changed into cloven hooves. Half a minute later he found himself sitting atop a doe nearly as large as a pony.

Tailtiu’s long neck curved back as she fixed him with one eye. “Ever ridden a horse?” she asked.

“No,” said Will, clutching at her neck so he wouldn’t slide off her back.

“Good,” she answered. “This is nothing like that.” And then she leapt forward, causing him to cry out in alarm. The next few minutes were a nightmare. Not because of the carnage and chaos occurring behind him, but mostly because he was in constant fear of being thrown and falling to what he was sure would be a quick and painful death. The fae doe flew across the heaving ground as though she had wings rather than feet, and at points she soared through the air as she leapt over pickets and other obstacles.

In the beginning he tried wrapping his arms around her neck and keeping his body flat against her back, but that caused him to slam into her every time she jumped, so eventually, he shifted to sitting while just leaning as far forward as he could manage. When he looked over his shoulder, he saw more elementals in the camp, battling the ones he had freed. Apparently, the Darrowan army had more than one sorcerer with them.

Tailtiu ran on, her swift legs, carrying her effortlessly forward across the terrain like a mercurial breeze. They had passed the outer perimeter of the camp and were nearly to the place where the forward sentries should be when she came to a gentle stop. Her body shifted back to her normal form and Will found himself trying to disentangle himself from her without touching anything else that might cause her to tease him.

The fae woman’s face flushed with excitement. “The dismount was almost as fun as the mounting,” she said slyly.

It took Will a moment to get his thoughts under control. Then he asked, “Why did you stop?”

She winked at him. “If you ever let me start, you’ll never have to ask that question.” When Will refused to respond she began to pout. “You’re no fun. My time is up. Unless you wish to invoke another of your favors I’m done. I have paid this one in full. Would you like to state your terms?”

Will shook his head. “No thanks. Do you know what time it is?”

Tailtiu glanced at the sky. “There’s roughly an hour left until dawn.”

“How long will the mist last after you leave?”

“A few minutes,” she answered, “no more. Are you sure you don’t wish to negotiate the terms of your next favor?”

Will bent his knees, then straightened them again, finding new appreciation for ground that didn’t move underneath him. “No. I’ll finish on my own.” He regretted the wording immediately, but Tailtiu only snickered lightly before vanishing in the mist.

With an hour left he knew Fulstrom’s army would be readying to march, but rather than slip past the sentries and return immediately he decided on another path. Slipping forward through the mist, he caught one of the sentries with his source-link spell and disabled him before doing the same to the man’s companion. Once more he considered killing them, but he pushed the thought aside. They won’t be able to fight until this battle is long over.

Expelling the turyn he had stolen, he moved on, targeting the next group of sentries fifty yards down the line. With luck he could get them all, giving the enemy army even less time to react when the Terabinian troops arrived.

Chapter 50

Will found the task of disabling the sentries so easy that by the time he got to the last pair he decided to experiment. He remembered seeing his grandfather catch three men at once, so he thought he would attempt to get both men at once. It turned out to be harder than he had anticipated, and he failed spectacularly.

One of the two spells fizzled immediately, and the second missed its target. The mist had already faded away, and one of the sentries caught a glimpse of his figure in the dark. The guard called out to his companion, and the two men lowered their spears in Will’s direction.

Shit! He repeated his effort, aiming for just one man this time. When the line of his spell connected, he injected a healthy dose of his turyn into the man. It was far quicker than draining the sentry, and with the other soldier leaping to skewer him, time was at a premium. His target fell forward, vomiting, while Will tried to dodge right to keep from being impaled.

The tip of the spear tore through his left trouser leg, grazing the skin. Will tried to move closer, drawing his sword, but his opponent was too quick. The sentry backpedaled, bringing the point of the spear back in line for another thrust, and Will was forced to retreat. It was quickly becoming obvious that the instructors hadn’t been lying—a sword was a lousy weapon against a spear in an open field. Making matters worse, he wasn’t wearing any armor.

I’m about to die. Will took advantage of the distance between them to turn and run.

The sentry ran after him, but in the dark the sentry quickly lost sight of him. Will circled around, watching the guard stumble through the night, then he closed on the man from the rear. He had just gotten close enough when the man spotted him again, but it was too late. Will’s spell connected with the sentry’s source, and he sent a powerful pulse of turyn into the man. Before the soldier could recover, he ran forward and thrust his sword into the sentry’s belly.

It was anything but a clean death. The soldier groaned and fell forward, vomiting onto Will as he stumbled and tried to stay on his feet. Will thrust again, this time higher, but his sword caught in the soldier’s gambeson, merely grazing the man’s ribs.

In the end it took him three more thrusts to finish the sentry off, and the man screamed repeatedly, begging him for mercy. Will felt cold tears running down hot cheeks as he tried to suppress his guilt. Then he looked around for the last remaining sentry.

The nauseated soldier had gotten to his feet and was running back toward the enemy encampment. Will went after him, catching up easily as the man fell and started retching again. What followed was simple murder. He felt a wave of nausea pass over him that had nothing to do with magic as he finished the man off, but he didn’t vomit.

Closing his eyes tightly, Will spent several minutes getting himself under control. Then he bent and cleaned his sword on the dead man’s gambeson before sheathing it. He set his feet on a westerly course, back toward his friends. He had a report to deliver.

***

The companies had already assembled into marching order when he arrived. The camp perimeter guard took him directly to Lord Fulstrom, who was still in his pavilion. The baron had just finished getting his breastplate on with the assistance of another man when Will came in. “You took long enough,” said Lord Fulstrom. “Did you learn anything?”

Will wasted no time. “They have nearly twice as many men, but their camp is in chaos, milord.”

“What does that mean?”

He pulled the bundle of papers out of his tunic. “I took these from the table in the commander’s tent. They looked important.”

Fulstrom thumbed through the papers quickly. “It’s a mixture of logistics reports and other minutiae. Some of it may be important. Unfortunately, you took too long. We’re about to march. These will have to wait until later.” His gaze returned to Will and fixed him with an intense stare. “Did you say you got into their commander’s tent?”

Will nodded. “I was caught after entering, Your Lordship. I killed the commander and ran. After that, everything went crazy. The earth started shaking and there was fire everywhere. If it hadn’t been for all the confusion, I might not have gotten out.”

“I can’t even imagine how you got into the center of their camp. Didn’t they have guards? How did you kill their commander? Wasn’t he protected?” asked Fulstrom.

He knew he was treading on dangerous ground. He couldn’t simply admit to using magic on the sentries. “There was some sort of commotion in the camp. I think two of the officers were arguing. When the fires started, the guards left their posts, so I ducked into the commander’s tent. After I killed him, everything got worse. I think whatever magic he was using went out of control.” Will was careful not to say the word ‘elemental’ since he hadn’t learned it until after studying with Arrogan, and he didn’t want to give away just how much he knew about sorcerers and their workings.

The baron rubbed his chin, muttering, “That makes no sense. Why would his elementals go out of control, and who would be fighting in their camp? Are you sure you’ve told me the truth?”

“To the best of my understanding, Your Lordship, which is limited. A lot of things happened that were incomprehensible to me,” Will lied.

“Well, your account of their numbers squares with the rough estimates the other scouts gave. If their camp is in disarray, we had best not waste the opportunity,” said Lord Fulstrom. “Find your armor and report back to your company. We march soon.”

Grateful to be out from under the baron’s suspicious gaze, Will returned to his tent. He had worried that it, along with his gear, might have been packed already, but it appeared that the army intended to return to the camp. His bedroll and kit bag were still where he had left them. Working quickly, he shrugged into his gambeson and mail and hurried to find Company B.

Dave gave him a strange look when he fell in with the others in his squad. “I thought you had deserted.”

“I asked to help them scout,” said Will.

Sven and Corporal Taylor glanced at each other while Tiny merely nodded. Then the big man spoke. “At least they’re smart enough to listen to you now.”

Sven grumbled. “Rule number one as a soldier, never volunteer. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“I’d volunteer to go the hell home if I thought they’d let me,” said Dave. “I’ve got a bad feeling about today.”

“They should let you rest,” said Tiny. “You haven’t slept since yesterday, have you?”

Corporal Taylor interrupted, “Fat chance of that. They know we’re outnumbered. I heard the sergeants talking. They want every man that can walk on the field today.”

“If anyone should be given a rest, it ought to be me,” groused Dave. “I’m still covered in bruises.”

“You look fine to me,” offered Sven. “If anything, the swelling improved your ugly looks.”

“It feels worse than you think,” whined Dave. “I just want to make sure it doesn’t turn into something more serious, like a spear in the gut.”

“A spear would probably improve your conversation skills,” observed Tiny.

Dave’s eyes narrowed. “I couldn’t talk. I’d be dead, idiot.”

Tiny nodded in agreement. “Exactly.”

Sergeant Nash yelled, “Silence in the ranks!” and moments later the orders to march went out. They did the first two miles in a column five men wide before switching to a combat formation that stretched out across most of the width of the pass. The main line was three ranks deep, though one unit, Company E, remained behind the lines with Lord Fulstrom.

The fact that they only had one company in reserve was a sad testimony to how undermanned they were. The shield wall passed over the now-conscious but still helpless sentries, and the men of Company E were tasked with rounding them up and putting them under a small guard. The main line was in sight of the small earthworks before a horn blast in the enemy camp announced their presence.

They marched on without pause, while in the distance Will could see the enemy scrambling to get their men into formation and prepare to receive them. We caught them off-guard, but will it be enough?

A chaotic mass of men ran toward their line. As they drew closer, Will could see that they were all young. The spears they carried were strange as well, with short, heavy shafts connected to a long, slender head that was more of a spike than a proper spearhead. Sergeant Nash yelled a warning from behind the line, “Skirmishers! Ready shields!”

“Skirmishers?” Will asked aloud, knowing no one besides Sven or Tiny could hear him.

“They won’t engage,” said Sven. “They’ll just throw their spears and run back. Keep your shield up.”

Just as the old soldier had predicted, the Darrowan skirmishers ran up until they were almost close enough for Will to skewer one, then they threw their spears and darted away. Each of the skirmishers carried two of the strange spears, and they threw the second one before they were out of range. Men up and down the line yelled out as a few of them were unlucky enough to be hit. Will saw one of the spears hit Tiny’s shield, and the slender point went completely through the thin wood. The point had gone half a foot through the shield before it stopped, making it nearly impossible to remove.

Tiny struggled to keep his shield up properly with the long, wooden shaft throwing him off-balance. “Pull the shaft off!” yelled Sven. “It isn’t attached.”

That made little sense to Will, though he later learned the metal points were made that way to keep an enemy from picking them up and throwing them back. Even after Tiny had removed the wooden portion, he was still left with a sharp piece of steel pointing inward and threatening him every time his shield took another blow.

Glancing to one side, Will saw that one man had been much less fortunate. He’d had his shield braced against his shoulder, and one of the strange spears had gone completely through, pinning his shield to his chest. Will wanted to stop and help, but there was no time; the line kept moving.

Crossbow bolts began slamming into them then, and a few more men fell as they advanced. As the skirmishers fled the field, Will could see a shield wall topping the small, earthen ramp in front of them, and he realized they were about to march down into the ditch and then up again, all while the enemy was standing several feet above them. Shit. He was convinced he was about to die, and the urge to break and run was almost overwhelming.

But he couldn’t abandon Tiny and Sven, and even if he were willing to do that, the second and third ranks were pushing them forward. Retreat simply wasn’t an option. It was do or die. Or more likely, do and die, thought Will.

Working as quickly as he could, Will used the source-link spell and began pushing his turyn into the men directly ahead once they were in range. He managed to get one, two, three—and then the lines met, and everything went to hell. With his shield up, he couldn’t see anything; he just kept pressing forward while blindly thrusting with his spear.

The men in the rank behind him could see, though, and they used their weapons to better effect. Most of the Terabinian line stalled in the trench, but the portion in the center, where Will was, managed to get up the earthen slope. Everywhere men were dying, screaming and bleeding, yet somehow Sergeant Nash’s voice continued to cut through the cacophony. “Company B, wheel left!” The perpetually angry sergeant continued screaming, keeping order and somehow making what they had practiced in drill actually work.

Will and the men around him moved forward, swinging to the left while Company C went the opposite direction, opening a wide, clear area in the center of the enemy line which Fulstrom and the reserve company charged through.

Company B continued on, rolling up the enemy and destroying their cohesion, while Fulstrom’s company moved on, wreaking havoc in the camp and scattering the Darrowan reserves who were still trying to form up.

Sven called out to Will from his left, “We might just win this th—” His words cut off suddenly. Will glanced over and saw a long, leaf-bladed spearhead pulling back—it had just gone through Sven’s cheek and the back of his throat. The old soldier collapsed, blood pouring from his mouth.

Their formation had begun to disintegrate, and Will froze in horror as he watched soldiers of both armies trample Sven’s dead body. A shadow caught his attention, and he saw a spear coming toward him. He had been too distracted, and now it was too late. Time slowed to a crawl as his heart sped up, but there was no way he could avoid the thrust.

A larger shadow eclipsed the sun as Tiny’s massive form bulled forward, the edge of his shield knocking the spear away. Thrusting with his own weapon, Tiny impaled the Darrowan. Will saw the big man’s face and was shocked by the rage he saw there. Snarling, Tiny lifted the man he had skewered and swung him sideways, hurling him off the spear and back into the enemy mob.

Tiny’s spear had cracked under the weight of the man he had thrown, but he bent and snatched another from the ground and moved on. As he passed by, Will heard him scream, “Get up!”

Ashamed of his weakness, Will jumped up, lifting his shield and following his friend. He had lost his spear somewhere, but it wasn’t his best weapon anyway. Staying close to the big man, he began using the source-link spell again, incapacitating as many of the enemy as he could. Together, he and Tiny destroyed the knot of rallying Darrowans, and Company B began surging forward once more.

Their line was gone. The enemy soldiers had lost all cohesion, and many of them began to run, followed by the Terabinian soldiers. Sergeants and lieutenants yelled continuously, trying to restore order to their own men, but the Terabinian army was hot on the heels of the routing Darrowans. Order was gone, and the battlefield devolved into a rioting melee in which it was hard to identify friend and foe.

Will stayed close to Tiny, and when he looked to his right, he saw Dave was still with them as well, though the man seemed to have gone mad. Spittle flew from Dave’s mouth as he spat out a constant stream of incomprehensible curses. The ex-thief’s voice had failed him at some point, but his mouth continued to open and close as he screamed and stabbed at anyone who got close to Tiny’s right side.

Ahead, Lord Fulstrom and Company E ran rampant through the enemy camp, scattering the second half of the enemy force before they could form a cohesive force that might turn back the Terabinian army. As Will watched, the baron stood in his stirrups and began drawing power from his elemental, forming a large fireball above his raised hands. Before he could release it, though, streams of fire erupted from the enemy, coming at him from two different sides.

The baron was incinerated, and the massive ball of fire above his head exploded, devastating the men around him. In the span of a few seconds, half of Company E was gone. The world seemed to pause then, as soldiers on both sides stopped in horror to stare at the awful carnage. Will could feel the battle teetering on the edge of a blade. Given the slightest push, it might topple and fall either way.

For once, he was the first to recover. “For Terabinia!” he screamed, charging across the open ground in the direction of one of the two sorcerers who had slain Lord Fulstrom. Tiny and Dave went with him, and the Terabinian army began to move again, becoming a raging mob as they charged forward.

Will only had eyes for the dark-robed sorcerer. He feared to look elsewhere and lose sight of the man. He and his squad mates were ahead of the Terabinian charge, but he couldn’t stop to worry about that. The sorcerer was surrounded by a small, protective guard composed of four men, but otherwise he was alone. His eyes met Will’s, and Will saw them harden as the sorcerer gathered his power to destroy them.

They were less than twenty feet away when a massive ball of fire flew toward them. Acting almost on instinct, Will did what he had once seen his grandfather do. He expanded his will, creating a wide sphere around himself that was nearly devoid of turyn. During his practices, the purpose was to then fill that space with power for use in a spell, but now he merely hoped it would protect them.

As the ball of fiery power rushed toward them, his empty shell devoured the turyn, filling Will with burning energy. Meanwhile, Tiny had taken the lead in their three-man charge and he swept the sorcerer’s guards aside like dolls with his shield. Dave was right behind him, and he dashed through the gap and buried his sword in the sorcerer’s throat.

Will had fallen slightly behind. The burning power the sorcerer had thrown at them was almost more than he could handle. Running up to Tiny and Dave, he put his hands on their shoulders and tried to imagine them as part of himself. In his mind he created a small circle, a space within his power that had to be protected, and then he released the power he was holding. Flames burst outward, turning the enemies around them to ash and creating a burning circle of death forty feet wide around them.

“Fuck yeah!” Dave yelled, his hoarse voice barely rising above a whisper. “Die, you bastards, die!”

A wave of lightheadedness passed over Will, but he ignored it. He was empty, almost devoid of turyn, but his grandfather had trained him for that. He stayed on his feet by pure will alone, and gradually his vitality returned as his body drew in turyn from around him. Bending down, he pulled the heart-stone enchantment from the sorcerer’s chest and began plucking it apart with his fingers. Be free, he told the elemental in his mind. Help us if you can, but most of all, be free.

Dave fell on his ass as the giant fire elemental materialized above them. “Holy shit.” His eyes were wide with fear and awe. Then the fiery monster turned and moved away, wading into the Darrowan soldiers. Dave looked at Will. “What just happened?” he wheezed almost inaudibly.

Will straightened up. “There’s still one more,” he said, pointing in the direction of the remaining sorcerer.

The air was full of smoke and the stink of burning flesh. The Terabinian army had reached the remaining Darrowans, and the field had once again devolved into a chaotic mess. But the enemy sorcerer continued fighting, sending bursts of flame into any clumps of fighting soldiers that appeared to be mostly Terabinian.

The flames had almost died away, but those that were in their path winked out as Will began walking toward the last sorcerer with Tiny and Dave on either side of him. Despite the tumult around them, the few Darrowan soldiers who were in their way ran when they saw them approaching. The sorcerer watched them too, and he turned to flee, but made little headway through the mess. Will began to run after him, heedless of the pandemonium.

This time Will got there first, and he drove his sword into the sorcerer’s back. The fighting continued to swirl around him, but Tiny and Dave stood over him while he extracted the heart-stone enchantment and released the sorcerer’s elemental. This time he asked it to simply be on its way, as he worried that in the mixed melee it would harm as many Terabinians as enemy soldiers.

When he got back on his feet, he saw that the battle had moved past them. He and the remnants of Sixth Squad were standing on a torn field with nothing but the dead and dying around them. Dave was leaning on a broken spear he had found, and the ex-thief looked as though he might collapse from exhaustion at any moment.

“Should we go after them?” asked Tiny, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath.

Will understood their exhaustion. His mail felt as though it had turned to lead, but there was one more thing he needed to do. “Where’s the baron’s body?”

“Over there,” panted Dave, pointing to a cluster of blackened corpses.

The three of them walked over, and Will bent down to free Lord Fulstrom’s two elementals from their magical bonds. Again, he urged them to leave in peace, and he watched with a feeling of satisfaction as the elemental beings faded away.

“What did you do?” asked Dave. “I’ve never seen so much weird shit in all my life.”

Will gave looked at the man, his face devoid of expression. “Nothing. I did nothing. We fought and killed the sorcerers and that’s all.”

Dave stared at him for several seconds. “Right…” Then he nodded vigorously, as though he had made up his mind. “Fuck it. You’re right. If anyone asks, that’s what I’ll tell them.” He held out his hand. “Brothers first.”

He had never imagined saying such a thing to someone like Dave, but Will took the other man’s hand. A second later Tiny put his massive hand atop theirs. “Brothers first.”

Dave’s legs gave out, and he sat down in a barely controlled fall. Will and Tiny sat beside him. All three of them were done. Then Dave said, “I’ll never forget what happened to Sven, but at least we made them pay for it.”

Chapter 51

It took more than two hours to restore order to what remained of the Terabinian army. They had lost more than half their numbers, and of those that survived, many were injured. Company E had taken the worst losses, having been nearly wiped out by first Lord Fulstrom’s fiery death and then the reprisal that followed as the Darrowan mob surrounded them.

Corporal Taylor was found near the perimeter. He had died during the first clash, and Will hadn’t even noticed. He felt badly for the man, but not guilty. He had too many other things to feel guilty about.

More than twelve hundred bodies littered the former Darrowan camp, two-thirds of them belonging to the enemy. At least seven or eight companies of Darrowans had routed, fleeing back toward Barrowden.

The Terabinians had won, but the cost had been terrible. Lieutenant Stanton assumed command of the remnants and tried to organize the survivors to clear the area and loot the bodies, but there were simply too few men in good enough shape to begin such an undertaking.

And then the bad news came. A mounted scout came galloping into the camp. Another of the Patriarch’s armies had been spotted. Will was close enough to hear the man’s words as he reported to Lieutenant Stanton. “There’s at least five thousand soldiers on the road. They’ll be here before evening.”

“Goddamn,” muttered Will.

Dave was close by and he leaned in with interest. “Did you hear what he said?”

“There’s a huge army marching toward us from Barrowden.”

Dave’s eyes widened in disbelief and he swore, “That’s not fair! Goddamn it! We won! It ain’t fair!”

Shortly after that, new orders made their way through the tired army. They were to abandon their position and retreat to their own camp. Since they were too few—and too tired—to take the supplies left in the Darrowan encampment, they set fire to them and began to march. They left the dead behind, both theirs and the enemy’s.

The sun had nearly set by the time they reached their tents, and Will felt grateful that they hadn’t broken camp the day before. He didn’t think he had the strength left to put up a tent. Supper was cold, as no one had the energy to cook. Despite his multitude of worries, he fell asleep almost instantly when he found his bedroll.

It seemed that no sooner than his eyes had closed, he woke to the sound of Sergeant Nash’s familiar yelling. “Rise and shine, assholes!”

“I thought you died, Sergeant,” said someone not far away.

“In your dreams, Corporal,” said the indefatigable Sergeant Nash. “I was not given permission to die. Until I am, I will be here with your sorry ass. Now, get up!”

The sergeant continued until he got to where Will was rolling up his bedding. “Cartwright!”

“Yes, Sergeant!” said Will, jumping to his feet.

Nash held out a strip of linen that had been dyed black. “Since Corporal Taylor didn’t make it back, you will be the new acting corporal for Sixth Squad.”

Will started to protest, but after a second’s thought he realized Sixth Squad now consisted solely of himself, Tiny, and Dave. He shrugged into his armor and Tiny helped him tie the black ribbon around the upper part of his left arm.

The sergeant continued, “Since Fifth Squad only has two men left, they’ll be joining you in Sixth.” Nash looked at the two men in question. “Mayhew, Wilkinson, did you hear that?”

“Yes, Sergeant!”

Will looked at the two men, then at Dave and Tiny. He felt awkward. What was he supposed to say? “Get your things together,” he told them.

Will had thought that Stanton might have them retreat to the south. The mountainous terrain there would offer them a better defensive position, or maybe even a place to hide. But as he saw the supply and baggage wagons leaving, he realized why that hadn’t been an option. They had slightly fewer than four hundred soldiers left, and only half of those were in any condition to fight.

They simply couldn’t hide without abandoning the supply wagons and the wounded. That left them only one practical option. Retreating to Branscombe. With the men they had, the town wouldn’t be defensible, but at least they could warn the inhabitants. The entire town might have to be abandoned, and that was their best-case scenario. There was still the significant threat that the Patriarch’s forces would catch them as they withdrew.

Will found himself constantly looking over his shoulder as they marched. Sergeant Nash noticed his backward glances and slowed his pace until he was abreast of Sixth Squad. “Worried?” he asked.

“Yes, Sergeant.”

“You should be. Our best hope is that they spend a day cleaning up the mess we left at the top of the pass, but they have enough men to spare that they could send some after us and still leave plenty behind to bury the dead,” said the sergeant.

Some of the men farther ahead were looking back as well, and Will saw them staring at him. They looked away when he met their eyes, but he heard them muttering. With the noise of so many men on the march, he couldn’t make out their conversation, but one word came to his ears repeatedly, ‘warlock.’

There wasn’t anything he could do about it, so he ignored them and focused on Sergeant Nash. “Isn’t there anything we can do, Sergeant?” he asked.

“Yeah,” said Nash. “March faster. We’ve done all we can. All the combat-ready soldiers are in the rear. If we see them coming up behind us, we’ll have to turn and fight a delaying action.”

Nash didn’t say it, but Will could see in the old veteran’s eyes just how he thought that would turn out. A tiny voice inside told him, You don’t have to die with them. Take off the armor and run. They’d never catch you, and after night falls, you could keep running.

Shut up, he told his inner coward.

He marched on, but around midday their worst fears came true. A shout went up as someone saw the glint of sunlight on steel helmets behind them. Sir Kyle’s voice rang out, “Company B, halt!” Similar commands came from the other captains and the small contingent of able-bodied soldiers came to a stop.

Dave glanced over at him anxiously. “We’re all going to die. You know that, right?”

“Shut up,” said Will.

“Yeah, I know. I hate myself sometimes,” said the ex-thief. “If it’s any comfort, the only reason I’m still here is you and the big guy, but if the two of you die before me, I’m going to run my scrawny ass off.”

“That’s all right,” said Tiny. “I’m sure you’ll bite it first.”

More commands went out, and the men formed a shield wall. Their numbers were low, so it was only two ranks deep. They faced the oncoming Darrowans, and the words Will dreaded found his ears. “Forward march!” As one, the Terabinians began to march toward their end.

As had happened before, once the two armies were within fifty yards, a large mass of young men darted through the ranks of the Darrowan army and hurled spears at them. “Why don’t we have any skirmishers?” complained Dave as they continued onward.

“Because most of us are conscripts,” said Tiny. “They didn’t have time to form any special units.” Several men along the line screamed as the spears hit them. Then the enemy skirmishers withdrew, and a minute later, the two shield walls came together.

Fear and adrenaline had Will’s heart racing, but his mind had found somewhere else to be. It was blank, empty of anything but the clarity of a man trying his best not to die. Without consciously deciding, he cast the source-link spell, and this time he caught two men simultaneously. He didn’t have time to be amazed at his success, though. As soon as he had sent enough turyn into them to cause them to begin vomiting, he released the spell and caught two more. He didn’t even bother trying to use his spear; Tiny and Dave were doing their best to take advantage of the holes that formed in the Darrowan line.

Thanks to his efforts, the center of the enemy line quickly gave way, but the Darrowan force was considerably larger than their own, and it was wrapping around their flanks. They pressed forward, and Will could see several reserve companies waiting to the rear of the shield wall they had just breached. They were doomed.

Horns sounded behind him, but he didn’t have time to spare looking back. Will was determined to take as many of the enemy with him as he could before he died. Something hard knocked Dave back, and Will had the wind knocked out of him as something hard slammed into his stomach. He only saw the spear as it pulled back, but there was no blood on the point. Already exhausted, Will drained as much turyn from his attacker as he could and used the power to stay on his feet.

Then the Darrowans began to back away, and some of the Terabinians around him started cheering. Sergeant Nash yelled for the advance to halt, and their line firmed up. With the enemy pulling back, Will was finally free to look back, and for the first time that day he felt a surge of hope.

A huge army was advancing from their rear, and they bore the banner of Terabinia, a silver falcon against a blue background. Will saw a second banner beside it, quartered into red and black sections with gold oak leaves overlaying them. He wondered which lord the other banner belonged to.

The remnants of Lord Fulstrom’s force waited, and soon the new arrivals passed by them and formed a new defensive line. Will counted the companies as they passed and tried to estimate their numbers. His best estimate was somewhere near two thousand soldiers. It was five times the size of the remnants of Fulstrom’s army, but nowhere near large enough to retake the pass. Is that all of them? he wondered.

The Patriarch had at least three times that many that Will had seen, and there were potentially many more still in Barrowden.

The commanders of the new and old forces met, and soon Company B was on the march again, continuing their retreat to Branscombe since they were in no shape to stay on the field. It wasn’t long before Dave resumed his usual commentary. “Look! They’ve got skirmishers—and archers. Aren’t they fucking fancy? Cavalry too!”

“I’m just glad they’re on our side,” said Will.

“We could have won if we’d had all that fancy shit,” said Dave sourly.

Tiny broke in, “Technically, we did win.”

Dave agreed. “Damn right, we did! They’re just the clean-up crew.” The ever-energetic thief jumped up and pointed back the way they had come. “The shit’s back there, boys! Go dig us a latrine!”

Will grabbed the slender man’s shoulder, pulling him back into line. “Damn it, Dave! Don’t get me in trouble. It’s still my first day as a corporal.”

Dave grinned at him, then gave an overly pompous salute. “Yes sir, mister Corporal, sir!”

Sergeant Nash had already noticed Dave’s antics. “Corporal Cartwright! Put a leash on your idiot before I have to stop and build a stockade to put him in!”

***

They made it back to the camp outside of Branscombe in the afternoon of the second day. Will would have preferred to find a bed and vanish for a week, but of course the army didn’t work that way. There was always more work to do. The only allowance made for their exhaustion was allowing them to retire as soon as their tents were pitched, but Sergeant Nash made it plain that they would be expanding the camp in the morning to make room for the reinforcements that were a day behind them.

Will couldn’t just put his bedroll down and sleep, however. His curiosity was killing him. There was someone he wanted to see, so once his squad was settled, he left and headed for the medic tent.

He found several things had changed when he got there. A second, much larger pavilion had been set up in the open space in front of the usual medic tent. It was already filled with the most seriously wounded of Fulstrom’s returning soldiers. Men were stretched out everywhere, some on cots and others on the ground.

If she’s here, she’s probably busy as hell, thought Will. But why would she be here? She was only pretending. A figure moved by in his peripheral vision, and when he looked, he saw Isabel. She was clad in a loose, woolen robe that had probably been a clean gray earlier in the day. Now it was marked with numerous blood-stains.

I shouldn’t be here, he realized. He started to turn away when he heard her voice call out to him. “William!”

Turning back, he saw her face. She looked happy to see him. “Hello,” he said, feeling stupid for having nothing better to say.

“Were you hurt anywhere?” she asked immediately, her expression shifting to one of concern. Her gaze searched him from head to toe.

“Uh, no,” he answered. “I just came to see if I could help.”

She stared at him curiously. “Do you know how to clean wounds, or sew stitches?”

He nodded.

Isabel frowned. “When did you learn to do that?” Then she paused, her face blank for a moment. “Oh, your mother. I should have realized.”

Now it was his turn to be confused. “How’d you know about her?”

Something flickered across her features. Embarrassment? Then she replied, “You told me she was a midwife last time. When your big friend had to be stitched up.”

Will thought about it. No, I didn’t. He was certain she had lied, but he merely smiled. “Oh, sure.”

Isabel shifted the topic smoothly. “Well, if you want to help, you’ll need to take that off and wash up.” She waved a hand at his armor.

He did as she asked, and a quarter of an hour later he was back. Most of the wounded in the tent had moderate injuries. Most of those who had serious wounds had died during the retreat, and those with minor injuries had already been bandaged before they arrived.

Those left had wounds that were too much for field medicine but not bad enough to kill them. Will assisted in cleaning wounds and stitching up deep cuts, and when he wasn’t needed for that he boiled water, carried clean linens, and in one instance helped dilute a concentrated opium tincture down to something that could be given to those who were in pain.

Isabel walked up and touched his elbow. “When did you learn to use a scale?”

“Mom taught me,” he answered. A lie for a lie. “What would you like me to do now?”

The hours had flown past, and it was now well after midnight. Isabel wiped her brow with her sleeve, leaving a red streak across her forehead without realizing it. “There’s not much left to do now,” she told him. “Watch and wait. You should go rest.”

“What will you do?” he asked.

She smiled sadly. “I’ll wait. One of the soldiers probably won’t make it through the night. I’ll stay with him, so he isn’t alone.”

“Let me do it,” he offered.

“You can barely stand,” said Isabel. “You’ve probably been up since before dawn. Go get some sleep.”

“Speak for yourself,” he shot back. “I can nap while he sleeps. You need to be free. There are dozens here asking for you every few minutes.”

“Fine.”

Chapter 52

The man’s name turned out to be Tom Marcruse, a conscript from a farm outside of Branscombe. Isabel introduced them, and Will talked to the fellow briefly, but Tom kept drifting in and out of consciousness, partly because of the tincture of opium and partly because of his raging fever.

Will considered sleeping, but Tom kept groaning even as he slept. Tom’s face was red and covered with sweat. He was a young man, and Will couldn’t help but draw comparisons. That could just as easily have been me.

The soldier’s wound had been a relatively minor one. A bodkin point had pierced his upper arm, but during the march back the wound had turned septic. By the time they had gotten back to Branscombe it had been too late. Even removing the arm wouldn’t stop the infection in the soldier’s blood.

Will’s eyes drooped as he watched the man, and his thoughts drifted back to when he had seen a young boy suffering similarly. Joey Tanner hadn’t been as far along, but the result would have been the same. I don’t have any herbs for this poor fellow, though, thought Will.

But then, it hadn’t been the herbs that had cured Joey. They had merely been the start. It had been his magic replicating what the herbs did that had saved the child. Do I dare? Tom would die anyway if he did nothing.

He scooted closer, so that he was right beside the fevered soldier, and he began studying the injured arm, trying to get a sense of the illness that had started there. Just as with plants, he could feel a certain sense of wrongness, but he couldn’t simply push his turyn into the wound. That would only make the man worse. He needed a reference, something like the herbs he had used before.

Will examined the grasses growing around him, but none of them seemed right. A new idea came to him. What about me? He placed his hand beside the wounded man’s flesh, comparing what his magical sense saw in him and in the other man. After a while, he began to get a feeling that he could tell the healthy tissue from the sick, but it needed to be more direct.

Unwrapping the bandage on Tom’s arm, he looked at the putrefying flesh, then he took out his knife and made a cut in the meat of his own palm. The difference in his blood and the fevered man’s blood was apparent to his eyes. Squeezing his hand into a fist, he dripped some of his blood onto the wound, then covered it with his hands, letting his turyn seep into the diseased flesh.

It needed to match Tom’s native turyn, and it also needed to remove the sickness in the man’s blood, making it similar to his own. Will spent several minutes tuning his turyn. The process was somewhat similar to what he had done with Tailtiu, when he had learned to give himself different kinds of night vision.

He felt the rightness of it when the turyn came into phase with what he desired, and then he began to push, forcing his power into the wounded man’s arteries and veins until the flow of blood began to carry it throughout the man’s body.

It took considerably more power than he thought he had spent on Joey, but he kept the flow of turyn slow, letting his body replenish his store from the environment so he wouldn’t exhaust himself. Time passed at a rate unknown to him, so deep was his concentration. At some point he heard the rustle of grass behind him, as someone walked closer, but he never looked up.

Gradually, Tom’s breathing smoothed, and his groaning stopped. The man’s body cooled, and the redness of his skin returned to its normal color. When Will felt he had done enough, he stopped the flow of turyn. He needed to get up, to find a fresh bandage, but he stumbled as he started to rise.

Strong hands caught his arm, steadying him. Isabel was beside him, her face worried. Will gave her a weak smile. “Hi.”

“What were you doing?” she asked. “That wasn’t a spell.”

“I didn’t want him to die.”

“Do you have any idea how much turyn you used? You were at it for hours,” she said, disapproval in her voice.

“Enough,” said Will. “I did just enough.”

She turned him until he faced her, then put her hands on either side of his head. “Are you stupid? You aren’t a sorcerer, Will. You probably used up a year of your life. Don’t you realize how dangerous wild magic is?”

He stared into her eyes, the same eyes that had haunted his dream. “But you didn’t stop me, did you?” She’s upset that I wasted her investment. A short-lived slave is worth less. He started to say as much, but then he was falling.

***

Will knew something was wrong long before he opened his eyes. His surroundings didn’t smell right. The tent he shared with his platoon had a distinctive odor that one learned to tolerate only through constant exposure, the smell of iron and sweat. Wherever he was now had none of that. The air was fresh, and when he inhaled through his nose he picked up a variety of scents that had no place in an army tent—clean linen, roses, and—something else.

His eyes flew open. He was in Isabel’s tent. What am I doing here? Will felt a wave of panic wash over him. The last time he had been there, he had been arrested.

Remaining perfectly still, he turned his eyes to survey the rest of the room. It was much as he remembered it, except for the addition of a second cot in the center, a few feet away from the one he was lying on. The other cot was also occupied.

“Sweet holy Temarah, mother of kindness and mercy, save me from this calamity,” he whispered to himself, repeating the prayer he had often heard his Aunt Doreen use. Isabel’s sleeping form was almost within arm’s reach, and the thick blanket she had wrapped herself in was tangled around her body. Her hair was loose and had fallen to one side, exposing the smooth curve of a naked shoulder. Farther down, one of her legs was entirely uncovered.

I’m dead, thought Will. They’ll have my balls for this. Despite his anxiety, he didn’t move. He watched her breathe, studying her nose and lips. Will knew that people were never one thing or another, but he couldn’t reconcile the contradictory things he knew about Isabel.

She wasn’t who she claimed. She was a noble, but she had none of the conceit he expected from those of her station. She was a sorceress, but despite the evil that was the source of her power, she seemed kind. How could someone so compassionate also live with the knowledge that they subsisted on the enslavement of innocent spirits? He was also nearly certain she intended to bind him to her in some way, though whether that entailed magic or simply mundane obligation he had no idea.

“Isabel?”

It was a woman’s voice, coming from just outside the tent. Isabel’s eyes shot wide, and for a second she and Will stared at one another in mutual horror. She sat bolt upright on her cot and her head whipped back and forth, searching for something. The neck of her gown drooped dangerously low as she did, but Will didn’t dare warn her.

Isabel pointed at the desk on the other side of the tent, and Will answered with an expression that clearly said, ‘who me?’

She nodded emphatically, pointing again at the space beneath the desk.

He shook his head—‘no way.’

“I’m coming in,” said the woman outside. “I better not find you hiding in there. If I do, I’ll be very cross.”

Isabel jumped up from her cot and grabbed Will by the shoulders. He was so stunned he didn’t even think of fighting her as she shuffled him across the room and pushed him down under the desk. He pulled in his legs and folded his knees, but his mind was full of visions. He had seen things he was not supposed to see.

His hiding spot was far from perfect, though. The desk had four legs but no sides, leaving him clearly visible to anyone entering. To solve that problem, Isabel sat in the chair in front of him and threw her blanket over his head and her lap. She scooted the chair forward. “Come in!” Isabel called, answering the woman outside.

Will heard footsteps entering, but that fact was secondary to the reality of his current position. Isabel’s knees were on either side of his shoulders. It was too dark under the blanket for him to see anything, but his mind had already mapped out a picture of where he was in relation to the rest of Isabel’s legs—and her hips.

“So, you were in here. You should have answered sooner,” said the other woman. “What were you doing?”

“I fell asleep at the desk,” said Isabel.

Will couldn’t breathe—or rather—he wasn’t sure how to breathe. Through his mouth? His nose? What was the proper etiquette when one was trapped between a woman’s thighs? Either choice seemed as though it would lead to his early demise. He exhaled slowly through his mouth and Isabel jumped slightly.

“You seem nervous,” said the stranger. “Why is your face so red?”

“My leg went to sleep,” said Isabel, pretending to stretch, which led to yet more interesting moments beneath the desk.

I’m a dead man, thought Will, even as something else occurred to him. What might he see if he used his night vision? No, I’m not doing that, he told himself firmly, then had to stifle a laugh, but what would Tailtiu do? He already knew what her answer would have been.

“What brings you here?” asked Isabel.

“What do you mean?” said the other woman. “I only came to this godforsaken place because you were here, but even though I arrived yesterday I still haven’t seen you.”

“I’ve had a lot of work.”

The unknown woman scoffed at that. “What? Taking care of soldiers? There are others better suited to that. You shouldn’t be working at all.” She paused. “Why are there two cots?”

“I was using the other one to stack things on,” said Isabel smoothly. “You still haven’t said what you wanted.”

“I want some company,” said the other woman. Will thought she sounded young. “I’ve never been so bored in my life. Father won’t even let me explore the town without an armed escort.”

“It wouldn’t be safe otherwise,” said Isabel.

“You don’t have a guard. That’s an even bigger shock. Your father would have a fit,” said the younger woman.

“I do.”

“Where?”

“I sent him on an errand.”

“Lucky,” said the other woman. “I could never get away with that. Yours don’t dare disobey you. Oh! I almost forgot.”

“Forgot what?” asked Isabel.

“Father wanted me to ask if you knew where that peasant boy is. No one can find him. They said the last place he was seen was in the medic tent last night.”

Isabel sighed. “He should be resting. Did you check the soldier’s tents?”

“Of course not. Father wouldn’t let me near them. Besides, he already sent someone to check for him there. They said you gave an order that he be given the day off.”

“Well, he isn’t here,” lied Isabel. “Do you know why your father is looking for him?”

“No idea. Probably something to do with the rumor that he’s a warlock,” said the other woman.

“What? That isn’t true!”

“I heard some of the knights reporting to Father,” said the younger woman. “They say he killed at least three sorcerers, but that’s not the strangest part.” She paused.

“Spit it out.”

The young woman’s voice lowered to a conspiratorial whisper. “Their elementals were nowhere to be found. They just vanished! And that’s not all. He was sent to scout the enemy camp, and when they marched on the enemy the next morning, they found all the sentries unconscious at their posts. Most of the blood had been drained from their bodies, leaving them too weak to fight.”

Isabel laughed nervously. “That’s just ridiculous.”

“That’s what they’re saying.”

“Well it sounds like jealous men trying to undermine the accomplishments of someone else to me.”

“So, are you going to give me a tour of the town or not?” asked the younger woman, changing topics.

“Later,” said Isabel. “Let me take care of a few things.”

“Be sure to dress properly.” The other woman stepped closer and Will felt her tug on Isabel’s nightgown. “You were half out. If your father knew you were half naked in the middle of an armed camp, he’d cast you out for being a whore.”

“Get out,” ordered Isabel. “This is my tent. I’ll dress however I like here.”

Will heard footsteps retreating, and after a moment Isabel shoved her chair back and stood up. She started to speak, but Will put a finger to his lips, warning her to stay quiet. His ears had caught the sound of the other woman stopping not far away. Silently he mouthed the words, ‘She’s still outside.’

Will fanned himself. It had been hot beneath the blanket. As he stared at Isabel, he saw her face flush red. After a minute he heard more footsteps and he said, “She’s gone.”

“What did you do?” demanded Isabel.

“Nothing! I tried not to even breathe. It was your idea to shove me under the desk and—and—”

“Not that! What did you do to those sorcerers?” snapped Isabel. She was searching through a chest as she spoke. She found what she was searching for a moment later, and she slipped into a thick, quilted housecoat.

A little late for that, thought Will dryly, trying to hide his smirk. “I did what I had to,” he said at last. “I killed them. They were trying to burn me alive, so I didn’t have many options.”

She noticed his faint smirk, and her face lit up with indignation. Isabel held up one finger imperiously. “First, you shouldn’t have the power to kill a sorcerer—”

“There were hundreds of men on the field,” he said, interrupting. “I wasn’t alone, and just so you know, a sword works just as well on your kind as it does on anyone else.”

“My kind?” spat Isabel. She shook her head as though trying to clear a bad taste from her mouth. “Never mind. If it was one sorcerer, I’d believe you, but three? No one gets that lucky.”

“Well I did.”

“And what about their elementals? Explain that for me,” she demanded.

Will’s temper was beginning to rise. She had finally shown her true colors. “That’s what you really care about, isn’t it?” he accused.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me. All you people care about is collecting more power,” said Will coldly.

Isabel’s eyes were flashing with fury. “You have no idea who you’re talking to, and after everything I’ve done for you!”

“I didn’t ask you to do anything for me,” Will shot back. “And one way or another I’ll pay you for the armor. I don’t intend to owe you anything. You can find some other wizard to kiss your feet.”

“You ungrateful churl!”

“There it is,” said Will acidly.

“If you don’t explain what happened to those elementals, they’re liable to execute you for warlockry.”

“None of your damned business,” ground out Will, heading for the exit. “And I’d rather be called a warlock than a goddamned sorcerer!”

“William!” she hissed, trying not to yell. “Get back here.”

“I’m late for an execution,” he said, stomping out of the tent.

Chapter 53

Will’s temper cooled rapidly as he walked, leaving him feeling foolish before he had even reached Company B’s campsite. That was stupid, he thought. Changing directions, he decided to circle the perimeter. He needed time to think.

“I’m about to be interrogated for black magic, and I just pissed off the one person with some power who might actually believe me,” he muttered to himself.

He tried to figure out why he had gotten so angry. It’s her superior attitude, he told himself, but he knew that wasn’t true. Sure, she had called him a churl, but that had been after they started fighting. Was it because she was trying to make him into some sort of lapdog?

No, that wasn’t it either. True or not, he found the idea intriguing. There were worse things in life than serving a beautiful lady of wealth and power. It was the sorcery.

When his grandfather had first told him about the magical slavery that gave sorcerers their power, it had been something distant from him. It had been unrelatable. But after freeing several elementals, it felt different. He knew for himself how repugnant the practice was. Arrogan had been right. They were worse than some warlocks. A warlock might only sell himself, though the really bad ones traded in other people’s lives. But every sorcerer was a slave master.

Yet he had met several sorcerers without getting this angry. Why did it bother him so much that Isabel was one? The answer was simple. Because he wanted her to be better than that. She was seemingly perfect in every other way—and he liked her.

Will tried to clear his head. Isabel was not his main concern. His biggest problem was that he was about to be accused of a capital crime. There were only two practical solutions, run or stay. The congruence point that would take him home was only quarter of an hour’s walk away. He could easily disappear.

Running would be the end of his effort to free Barrowden. It would be the end of his friendship with Tiny and Dave. Isabel’s face drifted through his mind. Leave me alone, he thought.

Staying was potentially the end of his life. That fact should override all other considerations. Will stopped, turning in the direction of his freedom, but he couldn’t take the first step. What if they didn’t arrest him? What if he could convince them he was innocent? Even if they did put him in shackles, could they hold him? He was no longer the helpless young man he had once been. If that happens, I could escape, he told himself.

He turned around and began walking purposefully toward the center of the camp.

The commander’s tent had a new banner beside the entrance, the same red-and-black quartered design with gold oak leaves that he had seen carried by the reinforcements. Two guards stood in front of the tent, and one went inside as soon as they spotted him. A moment later he was escorted in.

The man who sat at the center desk was known to him. It was the Baron Mark Nerrow, his father. Will could see several elementals hovering invisibly over the man, one each of fire, earth, and water. The baron looked at his guards. “Leave us.”

They left, and Will found himself alone with his father for the first time in his life.

“Have a seat, William,” said Lord Nerrow, gesturing to a chair that was probably meant for one of his aides.

Will sat. He hadn’t expected this, though perhaps he should have. Does this mean I have more hope, or less? he wondered.

“Do you know who I am?” asked the nobleman.

He nodded. “You’re Baron Nerrow. You visited our house last year.” He wasn’t sure what else to say, but then he remembered. “Milord.”

The baron nodded. “You can drop the formalities since we’re alone, William.”

“Yes, sir.”

Mark Nerrow leaned forward; his features stern. “I’m afraid to ask this, William, but I have to know. Forgive me if this causes you pain. I know you escaped Barrowden, but what of your mother? Is Erisa alive?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Is she here, in Branscombe? Is she safe?” asked the baron.

Will stared at the man who was his father. The question made him feel defensive, or perhaps it was protectiveness. “She’s safe.”

Mark Nerrow paused, then replied, “You don’t want to say where she is. Very well. Perhaps that is for the best.” Rising from his chair, he went to a small chest on one side of the room and removed a bottle and two glasses. He filled each halfway and handed one to Will. “You’ve become a man, William. It seems I will have to entrust Erisa to you now.”

Will held the glass but didn’t drink. His reply shocked even himself. “She was always mine. You weren’t there.”

The baron sipped his wine, closing his eyes for a moment. “I can’t deny that. Whether you believe me or not, all I can say is that I had my reasons.”

Unsure what to say, Will took a drink from his glass. The taste was a shock. Was it really wine? The taste was a far cry from what he had drunk in the tavern.

“You say that she is safe,” continued the baron. “If so, why are you here?”

“You called for me?”

“In the army, William. Why did you volunteer? You know I paid a hefty fee for your exemption.”

“Oh,” said Will, feeling foolish. He didn’t have to think long about his answer. “They killed my aunt and one of my cousins.”

“So, it was your uncle that you passed the exemption to?”

Will nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“Did you make a deal, William? A deal to gain power, so you could avenge your family?” Nerrow’s eyes were piercing as they bored into him.

His mouth went dry. Will knew his life probably depended on what answer he gave. Yet he wanted to be honest. The man in front of him was his father, and this was the first real conversation they had ever had. Nerrow was a sorcerer, but he wanted to believe the man wasn’t evil, if that were somehow possible. “It wasn’t that sort of deal. I didn’t bargain for power.”

“Who did you deal with?” asked the baron, his voice neutral. “And what did you gain?”

“One of the fae,” said Will. “She helped me sneak into the enemy camp, but everything else was done with my own abilities.”

“The fae?” Mark Nerrow’s spine stiffened, and he nearly spilled his glass. “That isn’t possible.”

Will shrugged.

“The fae haven’t dealt with humanity in centuries. They won’t even speak to us. Any who cross into their realm are never seen again. How did this happen?”

“I crossed by accident, without knowing what I was doing,” explained Will. “A girl there stole something from me, but I escaped. Afterward she told me she owed me a debt. The help she gave me was to repay that.”

“And that’s it?” asked his father. “You expect me to believe that?”

“It’s the truth.” Will took a second drink from his glass, hoping it would relieve his nerves.

The baron finished his glass and put it down. “I don’t know whether to believe you or not, but I know others won’t accept that as an answer. They’re already whispering about you. When King Lognion arrives, I won’t be able to stop them from beginning an investigation. Have you considered leaving?”

“Sir?”

Mark Nerrow leaned forward. “Running, William. You could run before the king’s inquisitors take you.”

Will had just been considering that very thing not long ago, but he had made his decision. “I thought about it,” he admitted. “But I won’t run.”

His father’s face changed subtly, showing an emotion that Will couldn’t decipher. “Then you need an answer that won’t get you hanged. You need power to prove you aren’t a warlock.” Getting up from his chair once more, Mark Nerrow left, heading into the private portion of the tent. When he returned, he was carrying a wooden box ornately carved with a depiction of waves. He held it out to Will. “Open it.”

Inside was a glittering knot of magic, a heart-stone enchantment. Will had never seen one that wasn’t attached to a person—or a corpse. He gasped.

“Take it, William,” said the baron. “With that, you can explain your miraculous luck. All that is left is to explain what happened to the elementals of the sorcerers you slew. Do you know what became of them?”

Will was staring at the box in his lap. “No, sir.”

“Then the most likely possibility is that the enemy claimed them after you left,” said the baron. “I still don’t understand why you didn’t take them yourself. Do you have any idea how much power you left behind?”

Will felt his heart sink. For a moment, he had dared to hope. His next words would probably be his doom. “I do, sir. I didn’t leave them behind. I freed them. If you give this to me, I’ll do the same for the spirit trapped within.”

Mark Nerrow’s eyes seemed to bulge. “You—what? What did you say?”

He closed the box regretfully, feeling fresh guilt for not freeing the spirit within. I can only do so much, Will told himself. Then he stood and placed the box in his seat and finished the wine in his glass.

The baron was on his feet. “What are you doing? I haven’t given you permission to leave!”

“Sorry, milord,” said Will. He put his glass on the camp desk and headed for the door, but he turned back before he stepped outside. “I’m not a warlock, and I won’t be made a sorcerer either, which is an even greater evil. I know you mean well, but you’re wrong.”

And then he left, while Lord Nerrow stared at his back as though he had grown two heads.

Thanks to Isabel he had the day off, which suited him just fine as he didn’t want to face his squad mates—or anyone else for that matter. Plus, he had just pissed off the man in charge of the army in Branscombe. The last thing he wanted was to go somewhere he would be found and given new orders.

So, he went into Branscombe instead. He stopped at the armorer’s shop first and found Jeremy, since that was the only apprentice whose name he knew. After a frustrating conversation, he finally convinced the man to look up how much Isabel had paid for the rush job on his mail shirt. He left in a state of shock. “Thirty-seven gold,” he murmured to himself. There was no way he would ever be able to come up with that much money.

“Accept no debts,” Arrogan had told him. He felt like he understood better now. The human world might not have the same black and white rules that Faerie operated under, but the wisdom of those words was still true.

With seven clima in his purse, Will went to the only place he could afford, a cheap pub that catered to soldiers. The sign in front had no letters, but the name was obvious from the garish painting—it was called the Red Goat. He went inside and ordered two ales. “Space them out for me,” he told the barmaid.

Even drinking slowly, though, he finished them in less than an hour. Unwilling to spend more, he got up and left. The world had a slightly fuzzy feel to it now. I’m starting to see why Sven liked his drink so much, thought Will. As he started to step out into the street, he spied an unusual sight.

Four armored guards were escorting two women. One was a slender girl with brown hair and a round face. She seemed young, probably in her teens, and her dress was made of the finest material he had ever seen, dyed in shades of yellow and green. It had to be Lord Nerrow’s daughter. My half-sister, he thought idly. Remembering the baron’s visit to his mother’s house the year before, he tried to remember her name but failed.

She was spoiled, though. That part of his memory was still clear.

The woman beside her almost missed his notice. She was taller and wore a subdued dress of dark gray material with no jewelry or other ornamentation. It was a match for her hair, which was darker still, almost black. When she turned to look at her younger companion, Will saw her face. Isabel.

He studied them for a moment. Isabel looked as though she was playing the part of the young noblewoman’s handmaid. Typical for her, he observed. Why was she so protective of her identity?

Before he knew what he was doing, he began following them, keeping his distance. The younger woman seemed fascinated by the shops, but none of them held her interest for more than a few minutes. She looked bored, and Will could see her complaining to Isabel as they walked. He was close enough to hear their voices, but the noise of the street made it impossible to pick out what they were saying.

An old woman, obviously a beggar, approached them, and Will saw the guards begin to push her away, but Isabel ordered them to let her speak. Nerrow’s daughter reached into her purse and pulled out several coins, but Isabel put her hand out to stop her. She spoke to the old woman for a moment, then they moved on without giving her anything.

So much for charity, he noted. He continued to follow them, until they stopped at a bakery where they bought several loaves of bread.

They almost saw him when they turned and headed back in his direction. Will was forced to duck into the closest shop and pretend to be interested in tallow candles until they had passed. He dropped the ruse and returned to the street after they passed by.

He didn’t go far before he saw why they had bought the bread. Isabel was giving it to the old woman. Goddamn it. Why can’t she just be evil? It would be much easier for him to understand her if she wasn’t so complicated. Will started back toward the camp.

Sergeant Nash was waiting for him when he reached Company B’s tents. “You’re relieved of your duties, Cartwright,” said the sergeant without preamble.

“I had the day off, Sergeant.”

Nash sighed. “I know that. I mean you’re permanently relieved. You aren’t in Sixth Squad anymore.”

Will gaped. “But—”

The sergeant held up one hand. “Let me finish. You’re being assigned to Doctor Guerin, to assist with medical duties. Apparently, they think you’ll do better there.”

He could almost hear Sven’s warning in his mind, “Never volunteer.” One good deed and now he was being sent away from what he really wanted to do. “Shit.”

Sergeant Nash looked almost sympathetic. “Grab your gear, Cartwright. The doctor will have a place for you to sleep. Give the armband to Shaw. He’ll be the new corporal for Sixth Squad.”

“Yes, Sergeant.”

Will went inside. His squad mates were still out, laboring at whatever duty they had been given for the afternoon. He felt some relief at that. At least he would be spared any awkward goodbyes. Moving quickly, he rolled up his bedding, grabbed his kit bag, and hefted the oiled sack that held his mail.

As he walked toward the medic tent, he kept thinking about Isabel and the beggar. He had no illusions about his new duty. He wasn’t being assigned to Doctor Guerin; he was being claimed by Isabel. He paused as the bread reminded him of something Sven had once said.

“An army marches on its stomach,” Will repeated to himself. The biggest problem in the current war with Darrow was that they held Barrowden and the pass, making their supply line invulnerable to attack. Even if the king showed up soon enough to save Branscombe, it would be bloody. Unless something happens to their supplies.

Will began walking again, picking up his pace. He was almost to the tent when he heard Isabel’s voice, talking to one of her patients. Damn, she’s back already. He most definitely didn’t want to see her. Skirting the tent, he went past the smaller tent that had originally been the main medic tent and found Isabel’s. Even though she wasn’t there, a guard stood by the door.

He walked up to the man and held out the oiled leather bag that held his mail. “I brought this for Isabel.”

The man looked at it suspiciously but took the bag. “What is it?”

“Something I borrowed,” said Will. “It belongs to her.” He turned and started walking away.

“Who do I tell her left this?” asked the guard.

“Just tell her I’m sorry,” said Will without stopping.

Chapter 54

Will was already on his way to the hidden spring when he heard hoofbeats on the road behind him. Looking back, he saw a rider galloping toward him.

Damn it! He started to run off the road when he felt the ground tremble. He turned in place and saw massive flows of turyn coming from the rider and entering the earth. Then his view was cut off as the soil at his feet erupted skyward. Within seconds, he was encased within an earthen dome with only a small amount of light coming in from a hole far above his head.

Several minutes ticked by, during which Will was painfully aware of how easily he could die by suffocation. A small change in the shape of his prison would cut him off from any source of air. The last time he had felt so helpless had been when his grandfather had paralyzed him while he was sure he was dying from the effects of the spell-cage around his source. “It doesn’t speak well for my life thus far that I’m getting used to moments like this,” he said to himself.

The opening above widened and the sides began to separate as the earth peeled back like a flower opening its petals to the sun. Isabel stood just beyond; her horse tethered to a bush not far away. She fixed him with an angry stare. With both hands, she lifted the bag that held the mail shirt. “What’s this?”

Will crossed his arms, which he soon regretted. “I’m returning it.”

With a heave of her shoulders, Isabel threw the bag. Arms crossed, he failed to catch the heavy bag before it struck him square in the face. The leather and mail together weighed nearly twenty pounds, and he fell backward to sprawl on the ground. “Ow!” Wiping his face, he found a red streak on the back of his hand. His nose was bleeding.

The look on her face said that she while she had acted on impulse, she hadn’t intended to have quite that effect, but she said nothing. Will got carefully to his feet and then shook the bag at her using one hand. “What the hell was that?” he demanded.

“It’s yours,” she said stubbornly. “I was giving it back.”

He drew back his arm as though he would throw it at her. “How about I return it the same way?”

Her eyes widened in alarm. “You wouldn’t dare!”

“Try me,” he growled, making as if he was about to do just that. Isabel turned and started to run, but he threw the heavy bag at her feet, causing her to trip and fall. Quick as a flash, he leapt after her before she could get back up. She beat at his hands where he held her dress, but he refused to let go. Shifting his grip, Will caught her shoulders and turned her over, pinning her down on the hard road.

She glared up at him, her eyes staring daggers of hate through him. Will froze. Their faces were only inches apart, and his anger was draining away. He could feel her breath against his lips, and he wanted to—a drop of blood dripped from his nose onto her cheek. Embarrassed, he sat up, pushing her away.

They studied each other silently for a minute, and then he noticed the scrapes on her arms. She had hurt herself during the fall. Will pointed with one finger. “Your arm—I’m sorry.”

“Your nose is worse,” she replied.

“No apology?”

Her expression was one of apology, but the words didn’t come out. “I can’t,” she said at last. “I was raised not to.”

Will used his sleeve to pinch his nose shut and tilted his head back. “Are you even human?” he asked with a nasal twang.

Isabel ignored his insult. “That’s the first time anyone has ever laid hands on me. You could die for that alone. Do you realize that?”

“Add it to the list of my crimes.”

She held up one hand, fingers outstretched, then began ticking them off, one by one. “Unlicensed wizardry, possible warlock, and assaulting a—” She paused briefly. “—a person of high station.”

“You forgot one,” said Will. “Aiding a fugitive.”

“A fugitive?”

“My grandfather was a wizard too,” he explained.

Isabel’s eyes grew curious. “You never told me his name.”

“No. I didn’t,” said Will, giving her a mock grin. “Just as you’ve never told me yours. Your real name.”

“Fair enough,” she replied. “Are you going to add desertion to the list?”

Will nodded. “I’m deserting Lord Nerrow, the army, and you. That’s why I’m not keeping the armor.” He noticed a fleeting look of pain as he said the last part. “But I’m not deserting Terabinia. I’m going back to do what I can, since it appears the country is about to deprive me of life and liberty anyway.”

Isabel pulled up her knees and settled her arms over them. “Do you have a plan?”

“A vague one,” he admitted.

“Where are you going?”

“Back to Barrowden.”

The look on her face clearly spelled out how stupid she thought that was. “You can’t get there. You’re going to desert the army only to run into the arms of the Patriarch’s forces. They’ll kill you.”

He didn’t say anything.

Her expression turned hopeful. “I could protect you.”

She’s daft, thought Will, but when he spoke he took a more direct approach. “I’m not your servant. I never will be.” No matter how much I might want to be.

“You’re determined to do this?” He nodded. “And you have a way to get there, some secret you haven’t shared?” He nodded again. “What will you do there?”

“Sneak into their camp and set fire to their supply warehouses.”

“You couldn’t get in,” she challenged.

Will lifted his chin. “I got into their camp before and slew their commander. I can do it again.”

“Another secret?” she asked. When he didn’t answer, she went on. “If it’s some trick of wild magic like you used on that dying man, there are some things you should know. For a wizard, your magic is your life. Keep using it as you have been, and you’ll be dead in a few years.”

“I know that,” said Will. “But my grandfather was quite old. I think I’ll survive a lot longer than you expect.”

“You’re a fool.”

He nodded and got to his feet. Isabel did the same. “Wait,” she told him. “I have a solution.”

“What?”

Drawing herself up and straightening her back proudly, Isabel proclaimed, “William Cartwright, I order you to infiltrate the enemy camp and attempt to destroy their supply line. You are to leave in one hour.” Then she relaxed. “If it’s an order, you’re a patriot, not a deserter.”

He laughed. “I’m not your servant. I thought I made that clear, and besides, who are you to give orders to the army?”

Isabel’s expression failed to conceal the mischief in her eyes. “Someone you shouldn’t trifle with—as you did this morning.”

“Trifle?” asked Will, confused.

“I felt you sniffing my leg,” she accused.

Flabbergasted, he protested, “You shoved me under there! I was just trying to breathe. You nearly suffocated me!”

It was her turn to laugh then. After she had recovered, she told him, “Wait here. I’ll go make this official. I’ll be back in an hour with your escort.”

“Escort?”

She nodded primly. “You’re taking a sorcerer with you. You’ll need some real power to make the most of this scheme of yours, even if you can sneak in there.” Isabel untied her horse and leapt into the saddle with practiced ease. Then she stopped. “Do you need a mount?”

He shook his head. “I don’t think it would be safe to bring a horse along the route I’m taking.” He felt rather uncertain about her suggestion that he bring a sorcerer, but he had to admit that it would open up more possibilities. Worst-case scenario they die, and I can free another elemental, he told himself.

“How about supplies? You don’t look like you brought much.”

“I already have everything that I need waiting for me,” he answered.

“What about for your escort?”

“There’s plenty for him too,” said Will.

“One hour,” she reiterated, and then she was gone.

Will walked a little farther down while he waited, until he spotted the trail that led to the spring. Then he sat down in the grass beside the road. Mentally he reviewed their conversation, chuckling at parts of it. He wasn’t sure how much he should believe. She had certainly showed considerable influence over Lord Fulstrom, but he wasn’t sure if that would carry over to Lord Nerrow.

There was also a significant chance that she would fail. The next people he saw might be a contingent of soldiers sent to arrest him, but that didn’t bother him too much. So long as he stayed alert, he could easily get to the spring and escape before they could lay a hand on him.

An hour and a bit more passed before he spotted a figure coming up the road toward him. The newcomer was hidden by a long, white cloak trimmed in fur. He goggled at it. Is that arctic fox? How much would a thing like that cost?

He judged the stranger to be of average height for a man, though he possessed a slight build. Had there been anyone like that in the camp? Surely, he would have remembered a thin, rich fop of a sorcerer if he had seen one. The stranger kept his head down, face hidden by the hood of his cloak until he came abreast of Will.

Will watched as the stranger threw back the hood of the cloak and flashed a smile at him. It was Isabel.

“Oh, hell no!” declared Will.

“I was the only sorcerer available,” she told him proudly.

“I’m not taking you,” he growled.

One of the elementals above her flashed, and turyn began to flow. The ground started to tremble. “I think you are,” she said firmly. “But if you think you need more time in your cage to think things over, I can arrange that for you.”

He bowed his head in defeat. “Fine, but only under protest.”

Isabel pulled something from under her cloak and pushed it into his arms. “Here. I’m tired of carrying this. It’s heavy.” It was the bag with his mail.

Will pushed it back. “That’s not mine.”

“You’re still a soldier,” she insisted. “I gave you this free of obligation.”

“I can accept no debts,” said Will, then he remembered what she had said about apologies. “It’s the way I was raised.”

Frustrated, Isabel glared at him. “I’m not carrying this for the entire trip. How much money do you have?”

Will frowned. “Six silver clima.”

She held out her hand. “Give it to me.”

Fishing around in his coin purse he found the money and held it out. “What do you want with it?”

Isabel took the coins from his hand and dropped the bag at his feet. “Sold. It’s yours now.”

“You paid thirty-seven gold for that,” argued Will. “You can’t—”

“I can do whatever I please,” she said, cutting him off. Her eyes drifted downward. “Are you going to leave that in the road? Should I add littering on the king’s road to your list of crimes?”

Annoyed, Will exhaled. “You are the most irritating person I have ever had the displeasure of meeting.” He bent and lifted the bag, settling its strap over his shoulder. “Come on.” He began walking down the trail.

She followed. “Where are we going? Is there some secret tunnel that leads through the mountains?”

“You’ll see.”

And indeed, she did. When they stopped beside the spring, Isabel’s eyes narrowed, studying the strange glimmer in the air. “That’s a congruence,” she said, speaking to herself. Her eyes went to his. “You don’t intend to—”

Will took her hand and pulled her through. Isabel froze, her eyes roaming across the wide grassland they were suddenly standing in. “William,” she said nervously. “Look at the flows. There’s too much. We’re in Faerie. Take us back!”

“Take yourself,” he said heartlessly. “My route goes through there.” He pointed at the cave in the rocks ahead.

She grabbed his arm. “You don’t understand. They’ll kill us. The fae hate outsiders. They hate us.”

“Relax,” he told her. “They won’t come here.” He began pulling her forward.

“Why? Why won’t they come here?” she demanded, her voice pitching upward as she fought against her panic.

He kept pulling, dragging her onward. “Because they’re afraid of the thing in that cave.”

“Why would they be afraid?”

Will nodded at a pile of bones they were walking past. “Because it eats them. Don’t worry, though. It won’t eat us.”

Isabel glared at him. “You are a warlock.”

“I have bargained neither blood, body, nor soul. Not mine nor anyone else’s.”

“Then what did you trade?” she demanded.

“He likes chicken eggs,” Will answered. “But that’s just the rent.”

“Rent?” she gaped. “You live here?”

“Not here,” he said, shaking his head. “On the other side. You’ll see.”

He had to coax her when they got to the cave. Isabel’s fear had become a palpable thing, and while he had rather enjoyed lording his familiarity with the dangerous area over her before, he began to feel slightly bad about it. “Just a little farther. We’re almost to the other congruence.”

Isabel’s steps were short and halting as he pulled her into the cave. As before, the darkness surrounded them, and he felt an ominous presence. Isabel seized hold of him when the rumbling began, burying her face against his chest.

“You brought one of them with you?” said a deep, alien voice, thick with menace.

Will was shocked. He had never known the goddamn cat to speak before. “You can talk?” he asked in surprise.

“The fae hate her kind,” said the Cath Bawlg, ignoring his question.

“And you hate the fae,” returned Will. “Shouldn’t that please you?”

“I hate her kind too. You tread on dangerous ground, wizard.”

“She’s not like the others,” said Will. “I need her help.”

A growl answered him, followed by a snuffling sound. “I have your scent now, sorcerer. Come here without him and I will suck the marrow from your bones. Betray us and I will hunt you unto the ends of the earth to extinguish your foul existence. Do you understand?”

“Y—yes,” she said, stumbling over the simple answer.

“Go.” And then the presence vanished.

Will led her to the congruence and took them across. Once they were in the Glenwood, Isabel took several steps before sinking to the ground, hugging her knees. She didn’t speak for several minutes. When she had regained her composure, she asked, “What was that thing?”

“The goddamn cat,” said Will.

“The what?”

“Grandfather called him that. He seems to like it.”

Isabel looked up at him. “Do you know what it is?”

Will shrugged. “There’s a lot I don’t know. Are you feeling better?”

“Only if you don’t have any more surprises like that in store for me.”

He tried to smile reassuringly. “Just one, and it’s a nice surprise.” He held out his hand to her. “Come meet my family.”

Isabel got to her feet and dusted her skirts off. Will led her around the brambles that guarded the garden and took her to the front of the house. He didn’t see anyone outside, so he went to the door and knocked. His mother’s voice responded as she opened the door, “Why are you knocking?” Her face lit with joy when she saw her son standing there. “William!” Erisa threw her arms around him.

She stiffened when she saw the woman standing behind him, and Erisa pushed him away. “You brought a visitor?” His mother began unconsciously combing her fingers through her hair.

Will stepped aside so they could see each other. “Mom, this is Isa—”

Erisa was already studying Isabel carefully, then she interrupted him, her face showing recognition. “Lady Selene?”

“Madame Cartwright,” said Isabel, tilting her chin down almost imperceptibly. “I am surprised you remember me.”

Erisa smiled. “You were only here—what? A year ago? You’ve grown! Please come in.” The two women went inside, leaving Will standing bemused on the porch.

Chapter 55

Will followed them in and glanced around, looking for his uncle and Sammy. Neither appeared to be present. His mother had already begun to busy herself putting a kettle on the stove for tea.

“So, tell me—Selene—if that really is your name,” began Will, “You’ve met my mother before?”

Erisa glanced up. “Don’t be rude, William. She came with Lord Nerrow and his daughter last year. Don’t you remember?”

Everything came together in his mind, and Will’s mouth dropped open. He stared at Selene with new eyes. He had met her twice before. Once, when his father had come to try and get him to go to Wurthaven, and once before, when he had nearly died from the emerald viper bite. He pointed at Selene. “You!”

Selene raised a hand to cover her smile. “Me.” Erisa watched them from one side, unsure of what was transpiring between them.

Will turned to his mother. “Mom, do you know who this woman is?”

Erisa scowled, then crossed the room to cuff the back of his head. “Mind your manners, William. Lady Selene is our guest.”

He refused to give up. “But do you know who she is?”

His mother flushed with embarrassment. “Please forgive him, Lady Selene. My son has always been thick headed.”

Selene smirked. “I am well aware, Madame Cartwright.”

“Please, call me Erisa, Lady Selene,” said Will’s mother.

“Only if you’ll agree to call me Selene,” said Will’s companion in a tone so utterly charming that he wondered if she was the same woman he had recently fought with.

Erisa bowed her head politely. “You do me too much honor.”

“Mom!” said Will, nearly shouting. “Who is she?”

His mother fixed him with a stare that threatened to peel the flesh from his bones. “She came as a lady-in-waiting with Lord Nerrow’s daughter Laina. I don’t know her pedigree, and it would be rude to ask, but you can be sure she’s well above our station. Now, if you’d like dinner, you should sit down over there and shut your mouth before I sew it shut.”

Selene tittered, and Will’s eyes narrowed. Isabel didn’t titter. She laughed, just like other people. “Stop it,” he told her. “Don’t try putting on airs with me.”

Selene leaned across and whispered in his ear, “You’re upsetting your mother, William. Remember, I am well above your station.”

The door banged open, slamming into the wall as Sammy rushed into the room. “Is Will home? I saw a bag on the—” Her eyes lit on Will and she charged into him, knocking him off his stool. “Will! You’re alive! Is the war over? Did we win? Is Eric all right? Were you injured?” She paused to take a breath, then put her hands on either side of his head. “More importantly, are you cooking tonight?”

Will struggled to disentangle himself, but Sammy was like a spider, clinging to him with a multitude of arms and legs. From the corner of his eye he saw Selene enjoying the scene with some amusement. “Eric is fine,” he answered.

“Have you seen him?” asked Sammy anxiously.

“He’s in a different company, but I know he wasn’t wounded. The war is still on, though.”

“Samantha,” said Erisa coolly. “We have a visitor.”

Sammy looked over, finally registering the presence of a stranger in the room. She looked Selene up and down critically, like a dog sizing up a rival that had entered its territory. “Who’re you?” she asked finally.

“Samantha!” snapped Erisa. “This is Lady Selene. Introduce yourself properly before demanding someone’s name.”

Sammy held out her hand. “I’m Samantha.” Selene took it and Sammy pumped it up and down, then she asked, “Why are you here?”

Selene laughed. “I’m here to help Will do something to drive the Patriarch’s army away.”

“Are you his girlfriend?”

Selene’s cheeks colored immediately, and Will began coughing. Erisa was the first to speak, “Samantha Cartwright, do you need something unpleasant to occupy your attention?”

Sammy glared at her aunt. “But we have a guest. I haven’t had anyone to talk to in ever so long.”

“Then be polite.”

Will’s cousin turned back to Selene. “Have you tasted Will’s food? It’s marvelous!”

“I can’t say that I have.”

“Selene was raised on food far better than ours,” said Will. “I doubt she’d be impressed.”

Selene winked at him. “Why don’t you make dinner and let me be the judge.” Sammy began clapping.

Erisa frowned. “But he’s tired. I was going to make dumplings with—”

“Please, Will!” begged Sammy. “If I have to eat Auntie’s cooking one more day, I’ll die. Look how skinny I’ve become.” She leapt up and twirled.

Will’s uncle showed up then, and a new round of introductions began. Once things calmed down, Will got to his feet and began searching to see what he had to work with. His mother frowned, but let him have his way.

There wasn’t a lot to work with. There was no butter, but his mother had stored away some lard they had rendered from deer fat. There was also flour, carrots, parsnips, and green onions. He checked the spice cabinet and found they still had salt but no pepper. Then he went outside to check the garden.

Spring hadn’t quite arrived so he didn’t expect much, but in the worst case he could use some rosemary from the bush beside the house. He was pleased to see his mother had already gotten a patch of thyme started. That will be perfect, he thought. He collected some and went back inside.

He made dough for a pastry first, mixing some flour and a pinch of salt with the lard and rolling it out. Then he checked the stove to make sure it would be at the proper heat when he needed it. After adding a little wood, he returned to his ingredients and began chopping.

As he worked, he listened to the conversation in the room. His Uncle Johnathan didn’t have much to say, and Erisa seemed to be playing referee while Samantha plied Selene for information. Will finished the chopping and put the vegetables in the pan to soften a little.

Samantha had been asking for stories about Will’s time away from home, but she was shifting the subject back to their guest now. “Do you cook?”

“No, I’ve never learned,” answered Selene.

Sammy tsked. “That’s too bad. Will’s the best cook in Barrowden. Maybe he’ll teach you. What about sewing?”

“I know how to tat lace.”

“Ever made a shirt or a dress?”

“No, but—”

Sammy patted Selene’s knee as though she needed comforting. “Don’t worry. Will isn’t much with a needle, but he can sew buttons and mend tears. Aunt Erisa can teach you the hard stuff.”

Will smiled to himself as he removed the vegetables and added some lard to the pan to melt. Once it was ready, he added some flour to make a thick roux. He continued to listen as his mother interrupted, “Samantha, where are you going with all these questions?”

“I just want to know a little about her, Auntie. We should know something if we’re going to trust Will to her care,” said Sammy.

Will fought to keep from laughing. His mother started to apologize, but Selene stopped her. “Please, Erisa, I don’t mind. In fact, I agree with her.”

He added water to the roux, making a thick gravy, then salted it and added the vegetables back to the pan along with the thyme. Will tasted it several times as he adjusted the salt in small portions. Sammy went on, “What sort of things do you like to do, or rather, what are you good at?”

“I’ve been working as a healer for the army,” said Selene. “I’ve got some experience with injuries.” She nodded deferentially to Erisa. “Though I’m sure I’m nowhere near as skilled as your aunt.”

“Or Will,” said Sammy confidently. “He’s been learning since he was little. Auntie says he knows even more about herbs than she does now. A few years ago, he saved a boy who was dying.”

Will could almost feel his mother glaring at Sammy behind his back, but Selene answered generously, “He helped a lot with the wounded soldiers back in Branscombe. I’m sure you must be very proud of him.”

Johnathan broke in, “So what did you do before the war broke out?”

“I learned magic at Wurthaven for several years,” answered Selene.

Will began adding the mixture he had created to the pastry, creating small pies. He brushed a wet finger along the edges and pinched them together before arranging them on a metal sheet meant for the oven. “So, you’re a wizard?” asked Will’s uncle.

“Actually, I’m a sorceress.”

“Oh,” said Erisa. The conversation stopped there, and an awkward silence filled the room.

Will slid the pan of pastries into the oven and turned around. “All done. Now we just need to wait a while.”

Sammy leaned over and whispered to Erisa, “She doesn’t look evil.” Her voice was still loud enough for everyone in the room to overhear.

Erisa’s cheeks flushed red with embarrassment, but Will intervened. “Mom, would you mind watching the oven for a while? I thought maybe Selene would like to take a walk.”

“I’ll come!” declared Sammy.

“Sit down,” growled her aunt.

Selene rose to her feet. “I think I’d like that.” Sammy was pouting as she and Will went outside. Once they were a short distance from the house, Selene observed, “Your cousin adores you.”

Will snorted. “She’s always been a pest.”

“I think she’s cute. She obviously wants to protect you.”

He didn’t answer.

“Your family doesn’t think much of sorcerers, do they?”

Will shrugged. “My grandfather hated them. Mom probably heard his opinions on the matter when she was younger. I don’t think Sammy and Uncle Johnathan have any definite thoughts about it, other than what I’ve said.”

“But you hate them too, don’t you?” asked Selene, fixing him with soft eyes.

Looking at her made his heart ache, but he wouldn’t lie. “Yes.”

“That’s why you said those things before, when we argued,” said Selene, then she laughed. “I’ve always been proud of it. I never thought I’d find myself in a place where people regarded me as something worse than a warlock.”

“A warlock isn’t necessarily evil,” said Will. “Usually they are, but it depends on what they bargain with, and what they do with the power they gain. A sorcerer is evil no matter what they do, because their power comes from suffering.”

She stopped, spinning around to face him directly. “Whose suffering?”

He glanced up at the elementals hovering protectively above her. “Theirs.”

“They aren’t human, William. They don’t have souls.”

“That’s where you’re wrong.”

“I studied at Wurthaven for years. None of the teachers there would agree with you. My family has possessed elementals for centuries. I come from a long line of renowned sorcerers. None of them ever thought as you do. Don’t you think it’s a bit arrogant to presume you know better than the wisdom and experience of so many sorcerers and wizards?” she argued.

“Maybe,” he admitted. “But my teacher thought that all those people you named were fools.”

“And you believe his word over that of every other scholar of magic?”

“I wasn’t sure at first, but over time I’ve seen the truth in everything he told me, even things I didn’t understand at first.”

They walked in silence for a while, the distance between them far greater than the foot or two that separated their bodies. Then she spoke again. “I heard about what you told Lord Nerrow. It didn’t make sense before, but at least I know why you refused his gift. You alienated the one man with some cause to help you.”

“I have other friends.”

She sighed. “You think you can depend on me for everything?”

Her phrasing irritated him. “Not you. Friends who aren’t noblemen. Wealth and power aren’t everything.”

Selene stopped, and when he looked at her, he realized he had gone too far; her eyes were red, and her hands were clenched into fists by her sides. “Am I not even a friend then?”

Without thinking, he threw his arms around her, pulling her close and squeezing tightly. She went rigid at first, but gradually she thawed. “I didn’t mean it like that,” said Will. “Forgive me.” He relaxed and she pushed him back, turning her face away.

“I don’t know why I put up with you,” she said after a minute. “You’ve insulted me in more ways than I can count in just a few months of knowing you. In my entire life I never had to endure so much.”

“No one would dare,” he suggested, “since you were well above their station.”

“I’ve spent a lot of time disguised as an unknown,” countered Selene. “You still managed to outdo all the strangers I’ve met.”

Will smiled. “It’s a gift.”

“Speaking of gifts, why are you so stubborn about accepting them?”

He had spent a lot of time thinking about that, and lately he had begun to develop some ideas. “It’s a rule I was given, but I think I understand the reason now. It’s the difference between a warlock and a wizard.” She waited for him to explain, so he continued, “The simple definition is that a warlock bargains for power, but that doesn’t really cover it. Warlocks bargain things that shouldn’t be traded. In the best case they bargain their soul, and in the worst, they bargain someone else’s, but either way they create a debt. A debt to whatever power is waiting to claim them, or a debt to the people they’ve stolen from.

“A wizard doesn’t do that. A wizard trades honestly, and never trades himself.”

“But a gift from a friend isn’t the same,” argued Selene.

Will shook his head. “It creates a debt of gratitude. That can be a problem for anyone, even ordinary people, but for someone with power it’s more significant.”

“Then friends shouldn’t give one another gifts?”

“Friends should be equals. A great disparity in wealth or gift-giving poisons the relationship.”

“What about married people? Should they also refrain from showing affection through presents?” she asked.

“That’s different,” he answered. “In marriage both partners have agreed to accept each other’s strengths and weaknesses. They’re united, in possessions and everything else. Since they don’t own anything apart, they can’t create that kind of debt.”

Selene became thoughtful, and after a moment said, “What about love? Sometimes one loves another without receiving love in return.”

Considering what had happened to his mother, Will had strong opinions on the topic, but all he said was, “I’m not sure.”

“Love doesn’t count,” declared Selene confidently. “Because it’s the one thing that becomes greater in the giving.” Will didn’t reply.

Selene began swinging her arms. “So, what I’ve concluded is that the only way for anyone to give you gifts is to marry you.” She laughed when she saw the panic on his face. “Don’t worry, I wasn’t suggesting it. As I’m sure you’ve guessed, it wouldn’t be possible.”

He agreed, though perhaps not for the reason she thought. Arrogan and Aislinn had paid dearly for whatever mistake Arrogan had made, and they were both wizards. Applying the same logic, it occurred to him that a wizard had to be even more careful when considering marriage. Only a partner who could be trusted not to endanger the wizard with a debt or obligation that might be disastrous could be considered. By definition, a sorcerer would be a violation of that rule from the very beginning.

She had been watching him from the corner of one eye while he thought. Thinking she had made the mood awkward, she posed a new question, “How did you free those elementals? That was a lie, wasn’t it?”

“Why would I lie?” he replied.

“To make him angrier,” observed Selene. “You’re spiteful like that. Do you have any idea how valuable his offer was?” When he just shrugged, she continued, “The king would probably have given you a title. After Lord Fulstrom’s elementals were lost, his heir wouldn’t be allowed to inherit. His family might even wind up on the streets. It’s possible you might have been chosen to take his estate.”

“I’m not his heir. That makes no sense. Can the king even do that?”

She nodded. “The nobles hold their lands in good faith, but it all belongs to him. He won’t allow someone without power to inherit.”

Will felt a slight pang of guilt over what might happen to Lord Fulstrom’s family, but he shoved it aside. It wasn’t his fault. The entire system was flawed, built upon a foundation of suffering. “Well, what I said was the truth, regardless. Want me to prove it?” He held out his hand toward her chest as though he would pull the enchantments from her body.

She took a quick step back. “Only a master sorcerer could do that, and only for his own elementals.”

Will looked at the ground, studying the dead sticks scattered around them. They reminded him of one of Arrogan’s more painful lessons. “The heart-stone enchantment is just like a spell, only more complicated, and just like a spell it can be taken away from someone. Once you do that, you can pick it apart.”

Selene frowned. “You can’t take someone’s spell away. Once turyn has been formalized into a spell, it can only be used by the owner of the spell.”

“That’s not what I was taught,” said Will. Then he challenged, “Why don’t we see who’s right, my teacher or all those scholars of magic you’re so proud of?”

“You don’t even know any spells,” she said dismissively.

“I’ve learned one,” he said defensively, “but that’s not the idea. You make a spell and hold it without releasing it. I’ll see if I can take it away from you.”

She gave him a smug look. “Would you like a simple spell or a complicated one? Not that it matters.”

“Complicated. I don’t want you saying it was too easy.”

Selene held out her hands, and runes began to rapidly appear, too quickly for him to follow with his eyes. Over the span of a minute they built up into a complex spherical web above her palms. She gave him look of pride when the spell was complete.

“What does that do?” asked Will.

“It’s a spell to clean a room.”

His mind was boggled. “That’s all it does? Why is it so complicated?”

“You’re letting your ignorance show,” she told him. “The most powerful magic isn’t necessarily complicated, and sometimes a minor magic requires a lot of complexity to work properly. A cleaning spell has to have a lot of rules built into it; otherwise it will make a mess instead of doing what you want. It has to differentiate between dust and dirt and things that ought not be removed. Hard floors are not like rugs, and fabric can’t be cleaned like dishes. This spell can handle all those things. Still think you can take it away from me?”

Will ignored the question. His mind was occupied by thoughts of all the hard labor he had done at his grandfather’s request. The old bastard could have cleaned it all in a minute, he realized. He knew for a fact that the old man must have known the spell, for he had seen how clean Arrogan’s bedroom had been.

He held out his hands, putting them on either side of her spell. A second later, the glow of the runes began to flicker, and Selene’s eyes went wide. No, that’s not it, Will told himself. I don’t want to absorb it; I want to take it. He tried to remember the sensation he had felt when he drew the heart-stone enchantments out of the dead sorcerers’ bodies.

Unlike those occasions, he felt a stiff resistance. Selene wasn’t dead; she was very much alive and still holding onto the spell. What had his grandfather told him with the candle? He needed to change the color of the flame to regain control of his turyn. This was similar. He had to convert the turyn within the spell to his own type before the spell would be his.

Pushing aside his distractions, Will focused on the turyn within the spell. He didn’t want to absorb it—he needed to change it. He felt his will tremble as something opposed his desire. Clenching his jaw, he bore down, refusing to accept the outcome.

And then it happened. The spell tore away from Selene, connecting itself to him instead. He took a step back, and the magical construct came with him, anchored between his palms. Selene’s face was damp with sweat, and she stared at him as though he had grown a second nose.

Will began to speak in a nonchalant tone. “Now all that’s left is to take it apart.” With one hand he began plucking at the individual runes, tugging them out of position until the entire thing fell apart and dissolved.

“That’s how you got rid of the ward around my tent,” she sputtered. “It wasn’t a spell anomaly.”

Not exactly, thought Will. That had happened because he had accidentally absorbed the ward. What he had just done was much harder, but he didn’t feel like being nit-picky about his victory. “It was similar.”

Selene’s expression was grave. “Listen to me, Will. What you just did—you can never do that again, not in front of anyone. The magisters at Wurthaven would kill to possess such an ability, and any sorcerer that knew you had it would stop at nothing to see you destroyed. Do you hear me? Every mage in the kingdom would become your enemy, for one reason or another, and they would turn the world upside down to either learn or destroy such knowledge.”

He nodded. “I’ll keep it a secret then.”

“Teach me,” she said sternly with a strange look in her eyes, a look that made him uncomfortable.

“I don’t know if I can,” said Will, waving one hand vaguely.

“Why not?”

“First you have to learn to control your source, then your body has to learn to absorb turyn from around you. I think that’s where it starts,” he explained. His grandfather’s strange method of teaching began to make sense to him. While he had been busy complaining that the old man wasn’t teaching him spells Arrogan had built a foundation in him to enable him to achieve greater control, not just of his own spells, but of others’ spells as well.

She frowned. “Absorb turyn? Like I do from my elementals? It would make me sick to do that from other sources.”

“Haven’t you ever used the source-link spell to do that to someone else?” He thought about that for a second before realizing it wouldn’t make sense. “Well, I guess you’d only do that if you were using it on an enemy.”

“Supper’s ready!” It was Sammy’s voice, shouting from the house.

“We’d better go,” said Will, but he could feel Selene’s eyes on him as they walked back. He had a feeling their conversation wasn’t over.

Chapter 56

The crust on the vegetable pies was light and flaky, though Will felt they could have been better. In his own opinion, he had overworked the dough ever so slightly. If Arrogan had been around, he would have had an earful. Is this supposed to be pastry or leather? The pies would also have been better with meat in them, but the last of the venison had spoiled as spring’s proximity brought warmer temperatures.

“Oh!” said Selene as she took her first bite.

Probably thinking how poorly it compares to whatever they served in whatever palace she grew up in, thought Will. It was an uncharitable thought on his part, and he knew she was too tactful to ever suggest as much.

Sammy nibbled on one side of hers and then held it above her head as though she was making an offering. “The gods have blessed me with this heavenly food. Please grant my wish and chain William to the stove so that he will provide me with such treats for so long as I live.” She yelped when a hot bit of gravy dripped onto her cheek.

Her father laughed. “Serves you right.” Then he gave Will a nod. “Magic is a waste of your life, William. Your calling is obviously in the kitchen.”

“Don’t play with your food, Samantha,” warned Erisa.

Selene smiled at the banter. “She’s right. I’ve certainly thought of chaining him up as well.” She winked at Will to remind him of when she had had her first long talk with him. The conversation at the table stopped as all eyes turned to her, and Selene’s cheeks colored as she realized how her words had sounded. “No, no!” She waved her hands. “It was a joke. When we met at the camp, I nearly had him arrested for sneaking into…” Her words tapered off. After a second, she stared at the pie in her hands with sudden interest. “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever eaten anything this good before.”

Sammy leaned forward. “Sneaking into?”

Selene looked to Will’s mother for help, but Erisa’s attention was fully on her. Placing her pie down, she rested her chin on one hand. “I think I’d like to hear this story. What was he sneaking into?”

Will’s eyes met Selene’s as he considered whether he should rescue her from the situation. Then a look of malicious glee stole across his features. Selene began shaking her head ‘no’ in a silent plea. He ignored it and told them, “I was sneaking into her tent, while she was sleeping.”

Sammy’s eyes narrowed, and she began glaring daggers at Selene.

“Why are you glaring at me?” protested Selene. “I’m innocent.” She pointed at Will. “He was the one trespassing!”

“Should I tell them what happened next?” asked Will with a grin.

Erisa barked at him, “William! Stop tormenting the girl and spit it out.”

“Fine. I was delivering the note I wrote to warn them about the Darrowan army. I put it on a table and left. The next day, Miss Innocent over there used a spell and figured out it was me. They arrested me, and I was questioned about it. But—and I feel the need to stress this—at no point were there any chains.”

“I’m starting to seriously reconsider it,” stated Selene sourly. She took another bite of her food then added, “Especially after eating this. I can think of any number of kitchens you should be locked up in.”

More explanations were needed, and Will and Selene were forced to elaborate on the story. After that, the conversation moved on to other topics, though it primarily revolved around the army and the battles with the Patriarch’s forces. Will was glad when it finally shifted back to simpler topics, such as how his family had been getting along over the winter. Before long his mother noticed Sammy yawning.

“I think it’s time we get some rest,” said Erisa.

Johnathan stood up. “You can have Will’s cot, Selene. I’ve been using it, but I can sleep elsewhere tonight.”

Something occurred to Will then. He caught his mother’s gaze, and then moved his eyes toward the door that led to the other room. Silently he mouthed the word ‘books.’

“Bring it out here, Johnathan. She’ll be warmer by the hearth,” suggested Erisa.

“There’s another room?” said Selene, puzzled. “Oh, there’s a door. Why didn’t I notice it before?”

Will’s uncle wasn’t as quick on the uptake. “Why don’t I sleep out here with William? Selene can share the other room with you and Sammy.”

Erisa gave her brother a pointed look. “She’ll be more comfortable out here on the cot.”

“Me too,” said Will. “If I have to sleep on the floor, it will be warmer by the fire.” His mother and uncle both gave him sharp looks.

“I don’t mind,” said Selene suddenly. “I trust him.”

Erisa stared at the young woman for a moment, and something passed across her features. She nodded. “I understand. An unfamiliar place can be unsettling.” She and Johnathan argued a little more after that, but Will’s mother had made up her mind.

As his family left and closed the other door, he heard his uncle continuing the fight. “This is exactly how you wound up in trouble, Erisa.”

“Shut up, Johnathan,” said Will’s mom.

They were alone, then. Will stared at Selene for a moment until she finally broke the silence. “I like your family.”

She positioned the cot to one side of the hearth while he made pallet of blankets for himself on the other. “Don’t worry,” she told him. “I’ll make sure you’re warm.”

He stared blankly at her for a moment.

“There’s a spell,” she hurried to add. “So the floor won’t be cold.” She held out her hands and formed a simple spell above them that consisted of just five runes.

“Wait,” said Will. “Let me see that.” He studied it for a moment, memorizing the structure. Then he attempted it for himself.

“Whoa!” she warned. “Smaller, much smaller. Make the lines thinner too. You’ll make the floor so hot it will burn if you do it that way.” He tried several more times, but she wasn’t happy with any of them. “Let me do it,” Selene said at last. “You need more practice.”

When her spell was done, he saw a faint, rectangular area of turyn form around his sleeping pallet.

“The spell is timed,” she explained. “It should last eight hours, and if you oversleep the cold will wake you.”

“That’s handy,” he said enviously. “I wish I’d known about that before I tried to escape to Branscombe the first time. I nearly froze to death.”

“You’ll learn a lot more at Wurthaven. You’ll see.”

“Assuming we survive the next few days,” he reminded her.

They bedded down, and thanks to his unforgiving schedule in the army, Will fell asleep almost immediately. Something woke him later, though, and he lay quietly in his cot, listening until he heard a strange sound coming from Selene’s direction. Is she in pain?

Opening his eyes just a crack, he looked in her direction. She was sitting up on the cot, clutching her chest with one hand. Through her fingers he could see a glow.

She stood abruptly, and he closed his eyes. He felt her approach, and it seemed as though she stopped beside him. A few seconds later, she moved on and he heard the distinct sound of the door opening and closing. Where is she going?

Rising quietly, he went to the door. She hadn’t closed it fully, probably to avoid unnecessary noise. He pushed it further open and peeked out. The moon was hidden by the trees, so he adjusted his vision until he could see clearly. Then he spotted her.

She hadn’t gone far, no more than thirty feet or so. She appeared to be talking to herself, so he adjusted his hearing as well.

“It wasn’t planned,” said Selene. “I had to improvise.” She paused as though listening, but Will couldn’t hear anyone else talking.

“I had my reasons,” she said. “He’s no ordinary mage. You’ll understand when you meet him. I’ve seen him do things we were taught were impossible.”

She listened some more, then responded, “No, that isn’t it. I just thought it would be a shame to let him go to waste, but after I learned more, I realized he could be incredibly valuable to you.”

She stopped then, bowing her head as though she had been scolded. When she lifted her head, her eyes were clear and her voice sincere. “My feelings have nothing to do with it. I have to win his trust. He’s very suspicious of sorcerers. You’ll always be first in my heart. Whatever I do, will always be with your interests foremost in my mind.”

Son of a bitch! thought Will. I knew it.

“As you wish,” said Selene, and it was apparent her conversation had ended. Will pulled the door back and hurried to his bed. When she entered, he kept his eyes tightly closed.

He heard light footsteps cross the room, and she stopped beside his pallet again. A soft rustling sound suggested she was doing something else, but she hadn’t moved on. Then something tickled his face. Will opened his eyes and found her face just inches above his own. Her hair had given her away.

“What are you doing?” he asked calmly, though he already knew. Making certain I was still asleep before she crawled back into bed.

Selene jumped, nearly falling back into the fire. He caught her hand and pulled her back, watching her face all the while. Her eyes darted to one side as she tried to find a reasonable excuse. She came to a decision and answered, “This,” and then she closed her eyes and leaned in, pressing her lips to his.

Her action filled him with fury, for he knew it was a lie. She’d do anything to fool me. Was a kiss the limit? Who knew how far she would go to gain his trust? For a split second, he was tempted to find out, but instead he gently pushed her away. Remembering Tailtiu, he said the first thing that came to mind. “I didn’t give you permission to do that.”

She flinched as though she had been slapped.

“If you were fae, I could demand an unbound favor for something like that,” he added.

Selene was already climbing onto her cot. She rolled over and put her back toward him. “Is that how they work? What does an unbound favor entail?”

“Anything,” said Will coldly. “I could even demand your life.”

“Is that what you want?”

“Give me back my six clima,” said Will suddenly.

Selene sat up violently, throwing back her blankets. He heard her bare feet slapping the wood floor as she stomped across the room to rummage through her things. She found her coin purse and extracted the coins, and he heard them scatter across the floor as she threw them in his direction. “There,” she said venomously. “Was it worth it?”

“You tell me,” he snapped. “You think your kiss is worth six silver?”

He heard her moving again, but he didn’t open his eyes. She lay back down, and the floor began to grow cold beneath him. “Asshole,” she muttered. “I hope you freeze to death.”

Will got up, gathering his blankets, and moved to the other room. Maybe the goddamn cat will come looking for his rent and eat her, he thought ruefully.

***

He rose early, since his sleep had been restless after their argument, and by the time his family began emerging from the bedroom, breakfast was nearly ready.

“Where’s Selene?” asked Sammy.

“Outside,” said Will, before muttering under his breath, “probably trying to warm up her cold, dead heart.”

His cousin went to find her, and soon they were all crowded around the little table. Sammy made noises of appreciation as she enjoyed the food, but Erisa and Johnathan had already noticed the chill in the air. They exchanged meaningful glances. “Told you it was a bad idea,” said his uncle around a mouthful of food.

“Shut up, Johnathan,” said Will’s mother.

“Are you fighting?” asked Sammy innocently.

“No,” Will said immediately.

His cousin pointed at Erisa and her father. “I meant them.” Then she leaned closer to Will, squinting her eyes. “Something’s fishy about you.”

Erisa bent in her chair and retrieved something from the floor. “What’s this?”

“Oh,” said Will. “I dropped my coin purse yesterday.”

“You need to be more careful with your money, William,” his mother chided.

“Don’t worry, Erisa. He never forgets what he’s owed,” said Selene, her voice thick with sarcasm.

“Well, that’s good to hear,” said his uncle. “What do you have planned for today?”

“We should start scouting, I would imagine,” said Selene, filling her voice with false enthusiasm.

“Not in the daylight,” said Will. “We’ll go tonight.”

“You can’t be planning to go through the Glenwood at night,” said his uncle.

Selene agreed. “If we create a magical light, it will give us away when we get close to the village. At least during the day we can—”

He cut her off, “I can see in the dark.” Will got to his feet and headed for the door. “I hear really well too,” he said over his shoulder.

“Where are you going?” asked his mother.

“To kill some time. I’ll be back later.” Looking back, he saw a worried look on Selene’s face. Maybe it had been a bad idea to give away his hand, but he was feeling vindictive. Good. Let her worry.

Chapter 57

The Glenwood was a balm for his nerves. Throughout his life, Will had always retreated to it when anything bothered him. He didn’t go far, though, since there was always the chance he’d run into a Darrowan patrol. Instead he wandered in the direction of the first congruence he had found, the one that had changed his life.

He stopped when he was close to it, but he had no intention of crossing. He did consider calling Tailtiu, but decided against it. There were still favors to collect, but he intended to take care of his problems on his own. The last thing he wanted was to have to deal with his sex-crazed fae aunt again.

“What would Tailtiu do?” he wondered aloud. The answer to that was always simple. Of course, in his situation last night, it might have been more practical than what he had done. Seduce the girl to keep her from getting suspicious—that would have been a wiser course. Play off his enemy’s ignorance rather than give away what he had learned.

“That’s easy,” said Tailtiu, standing behind him. “You should know me better by now.”

He was startled, but he did his best not to show it. “What are you doing here?”

“Looking for you. Mother wants to talk to you again.”

“How did you know I was here?”

“I didn’t. I crossed over to make it easier for you to find me when I called. Wait here.”

She disappeared through the congruence and was gone for nearly a quarter of an hour before returning. Aislinn was with her when she reappeared. “Grandson,” she addressed him.

He held up a hand. “Same terms as before? One hour, guarantee of peace afterward?”

Aislinn smiled. “That will do fine.”

“What do you want?”

Arrogan’s one-time wife narrowed her eyes. “You have the scent of a woman on you.”

“I just saw Mom and Sammy—”

She held up a hand. “Not family, an outsider—a sorceress?”

He was impressed. “You can tell all that with your nose? Maybe I’ve been focusing on enhancing the wrong senses.”

His grandmother nodded. “Tailtiu told me of your success with her type of magic. Who is the sorceress?”

Will knew not to trust the fae, even Aislinn, but he needed advice. Deep down he needed Arrogan, but that need sprung from a desire to find support from someone older and wiser. After hearing Selene’s conversation the night before, he felt betrayed—and more importantly, alone. Starting from the beginning, he shared everything he knew about Selene with his grandmother, including his most recent discovery. He finished with a smile that failed to hide his pain. “Honestly and without deception. Was that an answer worthy of our bargain?”

Aislinn frowned. “It was far too much. If you deal with my kind like this in the future, you will surely die.” Then her eyes softened. “But I’m feeling motherly today. Perhaps I won’t use it against you. What would you like to know?”

Motherly? That bordered on a lie. She’s pushing the limit today, thought Will, but it gave him an idea. “If you were still human,” he began, “if you truly could feel motherly, what would you tell me? What would your advice be then?”

“Since you were so forthright, I will give you two answers, since I am not entirely sure what I would really do if I were human. First I’ll tell you what I would advise as a fae, then I will guess at what my old self might have said.”

“Fair enough.”

“Kill her,” said Aislinn, her eyes cold. “Her kind don’t deserve to live under the best of circumstances, and she has betrayed you, so she is doubly damned. Or trade her to me, in exchange I will—”

Will interrupted, “I’m not going to do that, so let’s move on to the second part.”

His grandmother sighed, closing her eyes as if in deep meditation. “Give me a moment.”

Is it that hard to remember being human? he wondered.

A few seconds later, she opened her eyes again and her entire demeanor changed. The alien stillness of her stance vanished, and her face showed such concern that he could almost believe it wasn’t an act. “William, you’ve been hurt. Don’t let your pain cloud your thinking. Do you have feelings for this girl?”

“What? No!”

Reaching down, she grabbed his ear, pulling him painfully to his feet. “Tell the truth.”

“I think you’re overdoing this human thing,” he protested.

She glared at him. “Human does not mean nice. You should have listened better to what your grandfather told you about me.” Then she twisted his ear. “Now, the truth.”

“Ow, ow! Yes! Maybe? I don’t know!” She released him then, and he could see Tailtiu laughing silently in the background.

“That’s better,” said Aislinn.

“So, you have feelings, and now you think she’s using you. What you need to consider is—”

“Think? I know she’s using me,” corrected Will.

His grandmother’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t interrupt me again, William. I didn’t misspeak. You think she’s using you, and that may well be the truth. The words you overhead seem to indicate it, but they could have different interpretations. From this point forward you need to be cautious, but not stupid. Don’t let your prejudice color your judgment. Stay in her good graces, discover the truth, but don’t give away your heart until you know what that truth is.”

Her human-like façade faded away after that, replaced by the cold, alien gaze of the fae. “I’m done,” she said. “But also, I would like to add that you should kill her.”

“You really are bloodthirsty, aren’t you?” said Will dryly.

“The rise of sorcery and the war that followed have a lot to do with my current condition,” said Aislinn. “Beyond that, the crimes they committed go far past my personal grievances.”

“I need her help to destroy the Darrowan supplies in Barrowden,” insisted Will.

“Easy enough,” said Aislinn. “Trade her to me. In exchange, I will do everything she would have and ten times more.”

“I already said no. I’m not a warlock.”

His grandmother smiled. “You’re beginning to think, learning lessons you haven’t been taught yet.”

Will was growing impatient. “You had some reason for wanting to talk to me. Thus far all we’ve done is discuss my problems.”

“I have a gift for you.”

Accept no debts. Will shook his head.

“But you will have to pay for it,” added Aislinn, her lips curling into a faint smile.

“What is it?”

His grandmother waved a finger in front of him. “I will not tell you. I will only say that it is a thing of such vile knowledge and power as to cause weak men to faint and cry out in horror.”

Tailtiu was standing behind her mother, nodding in agreement. “It really is. I can’t wait to get rid of it.”

“Silence!” snapped Aislinn.

“It doesn’t sound like something I would want,” said Will.

Aislinn shook her head. “It is something only you would want, as our prior conversation has already proven.”

For the life of him, Will couldn’t think of anything they had talked about that related to objects of vile power, but her statement that he would want it intrigued him. She couldn’t lie directly, only mislead. “What is the price you want?”

“An elemental,” she said immediately.

“I’m not a sorcerer either,” said Will firmly.

“You don’t have to deliver it. As a service to me, I ask that you free one elemental,” she clarified.

Will thought back to his previous fights but failed to get an exact count. “I’ve already done that several times.”

“Did we have an agreement then?”

He shook his head.

“Then don’t pretend to be stupid, William. Free an elemental and call my daughter. I will give you my gift at that time.”

“Well, if I don’t get killed, I would probably do that anyway. So you have a deal,” said Will. “Anything else?”

“Do you know the elements humans are composed of?”

Will was confused. “Do you mean like earth, wind, fire, and water?”

Aislinn shook her head. “No, they are made of three things, mind, soul, and flesh. All magic relates to those elements.”

“Where is this going?” His grandmother was beginning to remind him of Arrogan, which irritated him. It also caused him to stop and think. “Wait. How do they relate to magic?”

“The mind represents the knowledge to create spells, the soul is responsible for the will that creates them, and flesh is the source of the turyn used for magic. When a person dies, these things become disconnected, but they are not necessarily destroyed. All mages are fundamentally the same, but they have their differences. Wizards focus more on knowledge than the amassing of power; warlocks deal mainly in things of the flesh to attain their goals.”

“Why are you telling me this?” asked Will.

“Because riddles are the way that the fae coerce mortals into doing our bidding when they won’t make a bargain. Teaching you to think is the only way you’ve left me to gain what I want. Think about what I’ve said.” She turned away, walking back toward the congruence. “Think carefully. The answers to more than one question lie in what I have said.”

Will stared after at the place she had vanished for several minutes after she had gone. As always, he felt that he had more questions than answers, but one thing in particular stood out to him. She didn’t say what sorcerers focus on. Is it the soul? The will? Either way, it didn’t make much sense. From what he had seen, he had a will at least as strong as most sorcerers. Nearly all of Arrogan’s strange training practices had focused on it, though he hadn’t realized it at the time. In contrast, he was probably the most ignorant wizard in Terabinia.

“Stupid fae,” he said. “Never a simple answer when you want one.”

Chapter 58

Back at the house, Will found Selene in the garden with his mother and uncle. Together they were breaking up the hard soil to prepare the ground for planting. Since Arrogan had lived alone there was only one hoe, so Erisa and Selene were using sharpened staves to help.

They hadn’t heard him arrive, so he stood just beyond the gate that led through the brambles, watching and listening. There wasn’t much to hear, though. The three of them didn’t have much breath to spare on idle chatter.

What is she doing? Selene’s earth elemental could have probably done the entire job in a matter of minutes, but there she was, bent over and sweating in the still-cold air of late winter. He couldn’t imagine that she had ever done such labor before, and it wouldn’t take long for blisters to form on her soft hands.

Then he noticed that Selene’s hands were wrapped with linen strips. Probably Mom’s idea, since we don’t have gloves.

He didn’t have a good reason to watch. He wasn’t learning anything, but he didn’t move. Quietly, he admired her strength and stamina, as she sweated and pounded the earth with her stake. There was something bewitching about watching her movements.

“Did you kiss her?” asked Sammy from beside him. Will nearly yelped with surprise. He had been so focused that he hadn’t noticed her walk up. “Is that why she’s so mad at you?”

The exact opposite, he thought. “No, it’s nothing like that.”

“I think she likes you,” said Sammy. “Like a lot, a lot, a lot.”

“She doesn’t,” said Will firmly. “And even if she did, she’s nobility.”

“They always find a way in the stories.”

“Real life doesn’t work that way. In real life the princess puts the hero in chains and forces him into slavery.”

Sammy’s eyes went wide. “Is she a princess?”

“No. Just a spoiled brat who wishes she was.”

“She’s working awfully hard for someone who’s spoiled,” noted his cousin.

“Don’t let her fool you. She has magic that could do that entire job in a matter of minutes. She’s just trying to make herself appear honest and sincere. It’s all a façade.”

“Maybe she’s just being polite.”

“Huh?”

“Well, if she just snapped her fingers and finished everything, how would it make us feel? I don’t know about your mom, but my dad would probably feel kind of useless. He’s always been very proud of what he could do with his hands,” observed Sammy.

“Don’t let your prejudice color your judgment,” Aislinn had told him. Maybe he was being too harsh. Then again, maybe she was just trying to fool them. Will was surprised at the depth of his cousin’s thought. He had always thought of her as a pest, and more lately as rambunctious and sometimes funny. Now he knew he hadn’t been paying close attention to her. She was growing up.

And maybe I haven’t paid close enough attention to Selene either. Turning away from the garden, he went into the house. “Come help me clean up so I can cook,” he told Sammy.

The midday meal earned him overflowing praise from Sammy and a meager ‘it’s good’ from Selene. He didn’t blame her though. Whatever her deeper motivations were, he understood she was truly angry with him for what he had said the night before. He needed to find a way to get back in her good graces. Otherwise I’ll have no chance of ever figuring out the truth.

As everyone was getting up from the table, he grabbed Selene’s wrist, pulling her toward the door. “Come on.”

She tried to pull away, but he held on. “I don’t want to go anywhere with you.”

He released her, mainly because his family were giving him disapproving looks. “We need to talk.”

Silence reigned for an awkward span of time before she finally relented. “Fine. Let’s go.” Selene took the lead, striding out the door with the pride of a thoroughbred horse. Will followed, and they she stopped when they were around fifty yards from the house. She whirled to face him. “What would you like to say?”

“First, that I’m sorry. Not for rejecting you, but for how I did it,” said Will.

“Apology accepted,” she answered primly. “Are we done?”

Will frowned. “Don’t you have anything to say?”

“I’ve already told you I don’t apologize, and even if I did, do you think you deserve one?”

He waited, fixing her with an even stare while trying to keep his expression neutral. When she didn’t say anything, he finally asked, “Don’t you?” Selene still didn’t reply, but he could see uncertainty in her eyes. A full minute passed, and he turned around to go back into the house.

“Yes!” she shouted at his back. Will turned back. Her face was red. “But I can’t give you one.”

“Why not?”

“You have your stupid rules about debts and whatnot, but so do we. Never apologize. It’s been drilled into me since I was a girl.”

“It’s a good rule for sorcerers, I guess. Never apologize. They’d never be able to stop if they started.”

He hadn’t thought about what he was saying, but he realized immediately that his words could only make matters worse; yet Selene didn’t look angry—there was something else in her eyes. “Is that why you were angry?” she asked. “Because you hate us so much?”

“No,” he said flatly. “It’s because you lied.”

“I hadn’t even said anything,” she protested.

“The kiss was a lie. You were covering up what you were doing.”

“You did hear then,” she stated bluntly.

He nodded. “Care to explain?”

“I have obligations,” she told him. “But they aren’t sinister. I think you could do a lot of good if you’re allowed to reach your potential.”

“It sounded more like you were buying and selling horseflesh.”

Selene stared at the ground. “I suppose it did, but I didn’t intend for it to. The person I was speaking to is blunt and direct.”

“Who was he?”

She didn’t answer.

Will threw up his hands. “How am I supposed to trust you when I know almost nothing about you? You’ve lied about your name, kept your family a secret, and now I know you’re on some secret mission to—I don’t know what it is—enslave me?”

“To win you over, to recruit you,” said Selene earnestly. “Not enslave you.”

“Well you’re doing a piss-poor job of it,” he said sourly. “How do you expect me to trust you?”

She stepped closer. “I’ve never lied to you. I’ve hidden a lot—because I had to—but I’ve never lied, not in word or deed. I would never do anything to bring harm to you or your family.”

Will sighed. He wanted to believe her. He really did. He wasn’t even angry anymore, just tired. “Let’s just do what we came to do. I’ll trust you that far, but no farther, because you did lie and you’re still refusing to admit it.”

“How?”

He gave her the look Arrogan had often given him when he thought he was being particularly stupid. “The kiss.” Then he turned and headed back to the house.

As he went, his sharp ears picked up a murmur from her lips. “But it wasn’t…”

***

That evening as the sun began to set, they prepared to leave. It didn’t take long, however, since they had little to carry. Will put on his gambeson and left his mail in its bag. As he was belting on his sword, Selene pointed to it. “Are we having this fight again?”

Will shrugged. “I’m not fighting with you. It’s too noisy.”

“There are plenty of soldiers in the enemy camp, many of them wearing similar armor. You’ll fit right in,” she told him.

“Where’s yours then?” he pointed out. “You expect me to go armored while you walk around like an archery target? How about you wear it?”

“It’s too big for me. At least one of us should wear it.”

“It’s still too noisy.”

“I can fix that,” she countered, wiggling her fingers at him in a pseudo-mystical fashion.

His mother stepped in. “You’ve got bigger problems,” she said, looking Selene up and down carefully.

“Such as?” asked Selene.

Erisa stared at her chest. “Maybe they aren’t too big. Come with me.”

Selene blushed, and Will snickered as his mother shooed him away. “Go get your spare clothes from the other room,” she ordered.

He did as he was told and then waited while the two of them worked on Selene’s disguise. When they called him back, he took one look at Selene and began to laugh. His clothes hung on Selene like an empty sack thrown over a fence post. His trousers had the cuffs rolled up and were belted tightly at the waist. The only part that was snug was her derriere, which he found fascinating, since ordinarily it was better hidden by her skirts.

His mother gave him a sharp glance as she saw what he was studying. “William.”

He reluctantly lifted his eyes. The shirt was almost as bad as the trousers, except it was loose everywhere. From the way it hung on Selene he guessed his mother had bound her breasts.

“What do you think?” asked his mother.

“From the neck down, she looks like a starving boy with an oversized b—”

“William,” warned Erisa.

He stopped with a grin. “From the neck up…” Selene’s hair had been tied up and was covered by a thick wool cap, but her slender neck, high cheekbones, and full lips were a dead giveaway. And her eyes—he stared into them for a moment as she stared back, and he felt his mouth go dry. Will felt his cheeks heat up, and he looked away. “Isn’t there some way to ugly her up?”

His remark produced a smile on Selene’s face that in her current attire could only be described as goofy. Erisa took note of the expression but said nothing. Instead she asked her brother, “Johnathan, we need an independent opinion. What do you think?”

His uncle studied her for a minute. “Will’s right. If anyone looks at her close up, they’ll know right away. Even at a distance, her walk will give her away.”

“Because of her butt,” Sammy declared gleefully, wiggling her hips.

“Samantha, would you like to do the wash a day early?” warned Erisa.

Sammy ran out the door. “Nope!”

Johnathan rubbed his beard. “There is one other option. There are some women in the camp. If we dress her like one of them, she might not seem out of place.”

Erisa shook her head. “I still have a dress that would probably do, but trust me, even if they didn’t suspect her, she would draw far too much attention that way.”

“What women?” asked Will. He’d never seen any in the Terabinian camp, aside from Selene and Lord Nerrow’s daughter.

There was a brief silence, then his uncle answered, “The comfort women.”

“Comfort women? I don’t think we had those at the camp I was in. What do they do?”

“That’s because Branscombe was right there,” said Johnathan.

“And how would you know that?” asked Erisa sharply.

His uncle held up his hands. “Don’t look at me! I’m a married man. I’d never do that to Doreen.” He stopped then, a look of pain on his face as he remembered he wasn’t married any longer. “I’ll go make sure Sammy isn’t getting into trouble out there.”

Will felt bad for asking. He’d figured out the general meaning from his uncle’s remarks, but it was the reminder of who they had lost that made him guilty. Erisa patted his shoulder. “It’s not your fault. These things just take time—a lot of time.”

Chapter 59

They left soon after that. Night was falling, and the sky dimmed rapidly after the sun dropped behind the mountains. Will was wearing his mail, and he stopped as soon as they were out of sight of the house.

“Don’t stop,” said Selene. “I won’t be able to see my feet in a few minutes. We need to hurry before the light gives out and we’re lost in these woods.”

“I can see in the dark,” Will reminded her.

“I thought you were bluffing. You know the spell?”

“There’s a spell?”

Selene sighed. “Yes, but I don’t know it.”

“I thought you trained at Wurthaven for years,” he replied, putting on a posh tone.

Selene hid a faint smile. “We don’t sound like that. I told you your acting was terrible. And no, I don’t know the spell, it’s a complicated one. I’d have to study it a while.”

“But you memorized the cleaning spell?”

She put her hands on her hips. “Which one do you think is used more often? I have yet to need a night vision spell, until today. Living in that army camp I needed the cleaning spell every day.”

“What do you do in the dark then?” he asked.

Selene put one hand out, and a brief collection of runes rushed together. A second later a gently glowing ball of golden light replaced them. She extinguished it a second later. “A simple light spell, but we can’t risk that tonight, can we?”

“Definitely not,” he agreed. “But don’t worry, as I said, I can see. I’ll guide you. There’s a game trail here, but the terrain is tricky.”

“All right,” she said after a second.

The path they took sloped downward—sharply in places—as it twisted and turned through brush and trees. Once the light had gone, Selene began to have trouble. She tripped several times and began to slide on particularly steep spots.

Will caught her wrist and anchored them by grabbing onto a scrubby bush. “Careful.”

“Can’t you teach me the trick to whatever you’re doing?”

“You just concentrate some of your turyn around your eyes and then shift its phase until you can see properly,” he told her.

She stared blankly at the spot she thought his face would be, though he was actually a few inches farther to the right. “How do you concentrate turyn in a particular part of your body?”

“The same way you do near your hand when you’re forming runes for a spell.”

“But…” She didn’t finish her sentence. Instead she remained silent, and he could see a look of concentration on her face, though her turyn didn’t seem to be moving. “I give up,” she announced.

“You might have to go through all the other weird shit he put me through first before you can do it,” Will theorized.

“Did he teach you that?”

“No. One of the fae did.”

“Are you going to explain that?” she asked. “In fact, we still haven’t talked about how we got here, or what that thing in the cave was.”

“Are you going to tell me who you were talking to the other night?” Selene remained silent. “How about this, are you going to report anything I tell you to whoever that was?”

In the dark, he could see her biting her lip. “Yes.”

“Then we’re done talking about those other things, but thank you for being truthful—this time.”

She growled, “I’d smack you if I could see where your face is.”

“At least we’re being honest with each other now,” he said brightly. “I don’t share any of my secrets, and you don’t tell me a thing about yourself.”

“You don’t trust me at all, do you?”

Will helped her around several bushes. “Actually, I trust you a little—now that we’re being honest—but I don’t trust whoever is pulling your strings.”

“You would trust him, if I could tell you.”

“Then tell me!”

“I can’t.”

He wanted to shake her, but he restrained himself. They had a mission to accomplish, so he held his tongue and continued leading her down the game trail. A few minutes later she spoke again. “I can’t tell you for two reasons. One, I’m bound by an oath, and two, once you know we won’t be able to be friends anymore.”

“You said I would trust him. Trusting and being friends goes hand in hand.”

“Not where I come from.”

He could see the lights from Barrowden beginning to show through the trees, though they were probably still too far away for Selene to see. Will stopped. “We’re close. You said you could make my armor quiet, right?”

Golden runes appeared over her hand, flowing together into a spell composed of around fifteen parts. Once they had connected, she reached out and pressed it against his chest, where it immediately fizzled out. As far as Will could tell, it hadn’t done anything. “Can you please stop doing that?” asked Selene.

“Oh, sorry.” He made a conscious effort to stop absorbing turyn. “Try again.”

She repeated the spell, and this time it sank into his armor and clothing, spreading out over his body. “It will last about an hour,” she told him. “During that time your clothing won’t make any sound. That includes your boots but doesn’t include your hands or any other part of your body that’s exposed.”

“Why not?”

“So you can talk, for one,” she replied, “though I’m starting to doubt the wisdom of that part. It was the simplest way to make the spell practical, but the upshot is that if you break wind, sneeze, cough, or yell, it can be heard.” She repeated the spell for her own clothing.

“Too bad we can still be seen,” Will muttered. “Can you make a mist?”

“I can,” she told him. “Syllannus, my water elemental, is good for that, but he can’t cover the entire town, just a hundred yards or so. A mist that small would be suspicious, and any mages in the town will recognize the magic. Besides, we couldn’t see through it.”

Will grinned, an expression that was wasted since she couldn’t see his face. “Make some mist. Just a little.”

She gave him an odd look but did as he asked. Her elemental’s mist was thicker than what Tailtiu had produced, blocking his sight of everything beyond a few feet. Will began adjusting his vision until he found the sweet spot, and the mist vanished. “That’s enough,” he told her.

“What was that about?” she asked.

“I can see through your mist. If things go wrong, make as much mist as you can and grab my hand. I’ll be able to lead us out.”

“A night vision spell won’t do that. Is this more fae magic?”

Will shrugged. “I wouldn’t call it fae magic. It’s the same way they do it, but I think you would call it wild magic since I’m not fae.”

They continued on until they were about fifty yards from the dimmest area of light that Will thought the patrollers could see in. He expected they would find the perimeter patrols about twenty yards or so closer in, but there were none in sight from where they were at the moment. He pulled Selene down to sit beside him. “We’ll wait here.”

“Why here?”

“You see the lanterns in town?” he said, pointing. “Closer to us from those is a dim region. The patrollers will be walking at the edge of that, where it’s hard for them to be seen and where they won’t spoil their night vision. Anyone that approaches without figuring out where the patrollers are will probably be caught, and once they’re in the better-lit region, the patrollers can catch them easily. We wait here a while, and after I’ve got a feel for their timing, we can enter the town in between patrol sweeps.”

“Shouldn’t we find a higher point to observe from? We’re in a dip here, aren’t we?”

He nodded. “That would be nice, but they probably have sentries posted any place we would choose for that same reason. So we have to choose a shitty spot like this, where it’s harder to see as well as to be seen. Fortunately, my eyes are good enough to make up for that.”

“How long do you think we’ll wait?”

“Until I see the same guards come by twice. Probably an hour or two.”

Half an hour passed, and the cold began to eat at them since they weren’t moving. Selene moved closer until their shoulders were touching. With little to do, Will began to think dark thoughts. “Hey, Selene.”

“Yes.”

“If something happens and I don’t make it back, will you do me a favor?”

She gave him a sly look, though she couldn’t see him well. “Wouldn’t that put you in my debt?”

“I’d be dead, probably.”

“Then you have to pay in advance. Your credit is no good.”

“What do you want?” he asked.

“Tell me your favor first.”

He sighed. “My cousin Eric is still in the army. I haven’t thanked you properly, but this mail saved my life a couple of times. Could you do something similar for him?”

“I don’t know,” she said reluctantly. “That was a lot of coin, and you’ve made me regret spending it several times.”

“Please?”

“Keep me warm.”

“Huh?”

“That’s my price,” she explained. “Keep me warm until we can get this over with.”

He stood and spread his cloak so she could slip inside it, then he eased back down into a sitting position so the two of them could huddle together. His arm was around her shoulders, and he didn’t trust himself to speak.

After a while, she asked, “Are we friends?”

I would love to know the answer to that myself, thought Will ruefully. Over time he had become intensely attracted to her, but that wasn’t friendship. It was lust. Friends should trust each other. There was some sort of warmth between them, both literally and figuratively, but he didn’t trust her much. He decided to be truthful. “I honestly don’t know.”

“Oh.” There was something sad in the way she said it.

“You have other friends, though,” he told her cheerfully. “A peasant from Barrowden wouldn’t be much to brag about.”

She shook her head, tickling his ear with her hair. “No. I have family, that’s it.”

“What about Lord Nerrow’s daughter, Laina?”

“Mark Nerrow and his two daughters are like family to me,” she said. “In fact, he’s been more of a father to me than my own father.”

Will laughed bitterly. “Then he’s been more of a father to you than he has to me.”

She looked up, and he saw her eyes glittering in the darkness. “You knew?”

“Mom told me a while back.”

“Don’t judge him too harshly. He’s one of the kindest men I know,” said Selene. “I’m sure he never wanted things to turn out this way. That’s why he keeps trying to help you.”

“I don’t know enough about him to have an opinion,” said Will, “and while I haven’t met my other half-sister, having met Laina doesn’t give me much hope. She seems thoroughly rotten.”

“She isn’t as bad as you think,” offered Selene. “She just hasn’t seen enough of the world to learn more empathy yet. Her father has kept her sheltered.”

“Yours certainly hasn’t sheltered you.”

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“You’re obviously from an important family, but they let you run around loose in the world like this. It doesn’t make sense. I was starting to think you were a princess for a while, but there’s no way a king would let his daughter put herself in such dangerous situations.”

“My family isn’t like others.”

“Do you have any siblings?” asked Will.

“Not anymore,” she answered. “I had an older brother, but he died when I was small.”

“I’m sorry.”

She shook her head. “Don’t be. He was much older. I hardly knew him.”

“How did it happen?”

“An illness. They wouldn’t let me see him, but that’s what I was told.”

Even without names, Will was learning more about her than he had discovered in all the time he had known her. “What about your mother?”

She shook her head. “She died giving birth to me. I have a step-mother, though.”

Damn, thought Will. She’s had a tragic life. “So, it’s just you and your dad then.”

“And the Nerrow family,” she added. “I was fostered to their household when I was eight. It was much nicer than mine.”

“Fostered?”

She chuckled. “It’s something the nobility does. Most children are sent to live with a different family when they reach a certain age. It helps to create connections between families of power.”

“But Nerrow didn’t send Laina away,” observed Will.

“He wouldn’t. Not with me there,” she answered. “Besides, he’s too soft. I don’t think he could stand to be parted either of his girls.”

In the darkness, Will watched the first patrol he had seen pass by for the second time. He had a good grasp of the timing now. There were four groups of three men. Each group completed a full circuit of the camp roughly every twenty minutes. It would be six or seven minutes before the next patrol came by. Since they were bundled together, he held onto Selene, and they stood together. “It’s time.”

Chapter 60

They moved forward through the shadowy region beyond the lanterns of Barrowden, and soon they emerged into the light. It wasn’t that late, so there were still a few people moving about, but since it was a military camp there were fewer than if it had still been a village.

“Shouldn’t there be more guards?” Will muttered.

“I think since this region is so well protected by the pass they don’t think there’s much threat,” suggested Selene.

As they walked, Will began to notice the difference in how much sound they made. Their feet were completely silent, and their clothes didn’t rustle, but their voices were completely normal. As many times as he had had to sneak around thus far in his career, he figured he should insist that Selene teach him the spell after they were done.

Barrowden as he had known it was completely gone. The village homes and buildings had been razed, and whatever could be salvaged—along with a significant amount of new timber—had gone into constructing the new Darrowan base of operations.

Unlike the Terabinian army camp and the Darrowan camp in the pass, Barrowden’s tents and new buildings had been arranged in a neat grid. Wide lanes separated the tents and intersected each other at ninety-degree angles. He supposed that the layout facilitated ease of movement and made everything easier to find.

The camp was also well lit, and though the lanterns weren’t that bright there were very few truly dark regions within it. Again, that made it easier for people to move about after dark, but it also made it harder to hide. Will and Selene both tensed when a few soldiers passed them in the street, but the men barely glanced at them.

“This might be easier than I anticipated,” Will observed.

Selene nodded. “Don’t get too comfortable, though. Eventually we’ll have to do something, and it won’t be so easy anymore.”

They continued on in a straight line, following the lane they had first entered on. Most of what they had passed thus far consisted of pavilion tents with short, temporary walls that rose four feet high along their margins to create semi-permanent dwellings. As far as Will could tell, they served as barracks, and they seemed to go on forever. The first section they went through was occupied, but the next was empty. It must have belonged to the units that have already gone to the pass. What worried him most was that there were obviously many more such sections, and soldiers still occupied many of them. The Patriarch’s army was huge.

They went by much larger tents occasionally, and by the smell Will figured they were mess tents, but they found nothing resembling the centralized stores that they were looking for. Still, they had only walked through a small fraction of the enemy base so far.

Two men waited on one corner of an especially large intersection ahead that marked the center of the camp. Given the lighting, they had already seen Will and Selene, so there was no point in avoiding them, so they kept walking.

As soon as they were within twenty feet, one of the pair stepped out and challenged them, “Show your pass.”

Will scratched his head. “I didn’t realize it was that late. We’ll head back to our unit.” He made as if to turn back.

The guard wasn’t going to let them off easily, however. “Stop. Which unit are you—”

Will had already connected his source-link spell to both men, and he began rapidly draining their turyn. Unaware of what he was doing, neither of them made the connection between their fatigue and the newcomers until it was too late, and both slowly collapsed to the ground.

Selene stared at him in surprise. “That would make me sick for hours, but there’s a better way.”

“Hey!” someone called from their left. Four more men were emerging from a small, wooden building that must serve as a guard station.

“Show me,” muttered Will. “Or things are about to get ugly.” He waved to the guards. “Give us a hand; something is wrong with these two!”

The newly arrived soldiers weren’t buying his act, and they lowered short spears in his direction as they approached. The sword at Will’s side felt woefully inadequate. He readied himself to cast his linking spell again, but he knew he could only get two. Shit.

From the corner of his eye, he saw a spell come together in Selene’s hands. The runes had a light green color to them, and when she released it, the spell shot toward the men before expanding and slowly fading from his sight. All four collapsed to the ground.

“Damn!” said Will. “Are they dead?”

“Asleep. Let’s get them off the street.”

Make that two spells I want to learn from her, thought Will. The silence spell and the sleeping spell. Together they dragged the six unconscious soldiers back into the guard building, lining them up on the floor.

“How long will they sleep?” he asked.

“Hours, until the next watch shift comes and wakes them up.”

“Or someone passes by and wonders why there’s no one asking for passes,” said Will. Stepping outside, he looked down each lane that led away from the intersection. The one to their left seemed much the same as the one they had walked down—more barracks—but the other two showed larger tents and buildings in the distance.

The sheer size of the base was daunting. From what they had seen, even if they found the stores and supplies, there would probably be far too many. Setting fire to one would raise the alarm, making it difficult to destroy the rest. “Even if we find the supply tents or warehouses, how are we going to destroy them all?” said Will.

Selene gave him a harsh look. “This was your plan.”

A man emerged from a tent on the opposite side of the lane and walked toward him. The stranger wasn’t dressed as a soldier though; he wore a black robe, and Will could see something like a black flame hovering above his shoulder. A sorcerer. “Stay inside,” warned Will, hissing over his shoulder through the doorway behind him.

Will stepped out boldly. “Show your pass.”

The man stopped, a look of surprise crossing his face, and Will worried that he’d made a mistake. A second later the stranger relaxed. “Certainly. Let me find it for you.” The man lifted his hand, and the black flame pulsed. A spell formed above his palm.

Will snatched his sword from his sheath and ran forward, but he was too late. The sorcerer finished his spell, and a tangled web of black lines shot toward Will. It expanded when it reached him, and he felt a burning pain across his skin before the spell faded and fizzled out. The sorcerer looked at him in surprise, but before he could do anything else, something flashed across the lane and tore through him. Will saw a hole three inches across that went entirely through the man’s body before he collapsed.

He turned back toward Selene. “What was that?”

“Will!” she yelled, trying to warn him.

Will looked back and saw the dead sorcerer’s strange elemental just before it crashed into him. It seemed to be made of black, smoky flesh, and within it he saw claws and teeth. His sword found nothing when he tried to fend it off, and he found himself wrapped in powerful arms. Streamers of black turyn whipped around him, burning whenever they touched his skin, but they couldn’t seem to do serious harm since they faded soon after touching him. It was the claws and teeth that scared him most. He felt powerful jaws latching onto him in several places, and though they didn’t penetrate his mail he felt them begin to clamp down with bone-crushing force.

He was helpless.

Then something slammed into him from behind, knocking him free from the strange creature that had been trying to devour him. When he looked up from the ground, he saw a bizarre spectacle: Selene was battling the beast, her body covered in stone plates, while each of her hands held an incandescent blue blade.

Unlike his sword, hers worked to devastating effect, destroying whatever they touched. They ripped through the monster, and when they came in contact with other things, such as the ground, they tore through it, leaving deep grooves. Her first two attacks caused gouts of black blood to spray from the shadowy thing she fought.

Will watched in shock. What kind of elemental has blood?

For a moment it seemed as though she would win easily, but the monster wasn’t done yet. Slipping past her next swing, it fell upon her, wrapping itself around her body in the same way it had done with Will. With claws and teeth, it pried at the stone protecting her, and black mist began to seep into the cracks. He heard Selene shriek with pain and rage as the black substance touched her skin.

Her stone fists released the blue blades and they transformed, becoming broad, spinning circles that buzzed as they spun around her body, cutting and destroying anything they touched. Within seconds, they had shredded the beast clinging to her, sending bits of blood and gore all over the intersection. The black smoke slowly dissipated, leaving an odd assortment of arms, teeth, claws, and talons on the ground. Will didn’t think it would have resembled any living creature he had ever seen, either before or after Selene had disassembled it.

She sank to her knees, and the stone plates crumbled to the ground, becoming dust, while the blue circles stopped moving and rediscovered gravity. They fell to the ground like ordinary water, soaking into the dry earth.

Will ran to her side. She seemed unhurt, but her face was red and sweat was dripping down her forehead. “What the hell kind of elemental was that?” he asked.

“Not an elemental,” she panted, her breathing heavy and irregular. “A demon. He was a priest of Madrok.” Then her eyes rolled back into her head and her body began to shake violently.

He spotted something dark on her shoulder, just beneath the collar of her shirt, and he pulled it open to reveal an ugly darkness that seemed to boil beneath the surface of her skin. The black mist, he realized. He clamped his hand over her shoulder and tried to draw it out, but had no success—it wasn’t a spell. He decided to try something else, and a second later he cast the source-link spell, connecting himself with Selene.

As always, a sense of duality washed over him, and while he was able to separate his sense of self from his sense of Selene, he could feel the searing evil that was trying to destroy her from the inside out. Without any other options, he began drawing out her turyn, pulling it from her body faster than he had ever done with anyone before her.

The evil came with it, and because of his haste, his body couldn’t change it quickly enough to protect him from the inevitable turyn sickness that came with foreign turyn. Yet this was far worse than the nausea that had he had experienced after drinking his grandfather’s elixir of turyn. The same burning pain he had felt in Selene afflicted him for several minutes, until his body finished absorbing and converting it.

With his ordeal over, Will realized his eyes were closed, and he opened them. A sense of vertigo washed over him and he promptly vomited onto the lane. Off to one side, he saw Selene lying prone, her eyes open as she watched him. “Are you all right?” she asked, exhaustion plain in her voice.

Spitting to clear his mouth, he nodded. Selene sat up and began gingerly getting to her feet.

That surprised him. Normally after being drained of their turyn, people were helpless for hours. “How are you recovering so quickly?” he asked.

“The elementals,” she said simply. “I can draw from them.”

“It doesn’t make you sick?”

She shook her head. “The heart-stone enchantment converts it for me.” She gave him a worried look. “How about you? That was pure demonic turyn. It should have killed you.”

Will got to his feet, doing his best not to stagger. “I guess my whole body is like the heart-stone enchantment. It converts anything I take in, just not as quickly.” He walked over to the man they had killed. The black-robed stranger looked ordinary enough, but as he searched the body, he noticed a strange symbol tattooed on the man’s chest. “What’s this?”

“The symbol of Madrok,” said Selene. “We need to move.”

He had briefly considered moving the man’s body into the guardhouse with the others, but there were shouts coming from several directions. It was too late. Selene grabbed his arm and slid it over her shoulder as a mist rose seemingly from nothing to surround them. Both of them had been through an ordeal, but she seemed to have recovered from it first.

She led him down a different lane, the one that headed to the right. Gradually, Will’s balance returned, and he used his turyn to adjust his eyesight so he could see through the dense fog. He started to remove his arm, but Selene seized his torso, pressing her face into his chest. “I thought I was dying,” she said into his shirt.

“We both would have died if you hadn’t destroyed that thing,” he replied, unsure what to do. Slowly, he relaxed, putting his arms around her. As the stress in his body began to drain away, he felt his arms begin to shake with a faint tremor. That thing scared the shit out of me, he realized. Things had happened so quickly before then that he hadn’t had a chance to register how much it had shaken him.

Selene pushed him away, and her posture straightened as they began moving again. There were shouts in every direction now, and Will saw people running past them through the mist, heading toward the scene of their battle with the demon. He was forced to steer them toward the center of the lane as most of the responders ran along the sides.

“What did you do to that sorcerer?” he asked.

“Not a sorcerer,” she corrected. “He was a priest of Madrok, a warlock.”

“Oh.”

“It was a water drill, a spinning vortex of water,” she told him.

“And that thing with him was a demon?”

Selene nodded.

“Why didn’t it vanish or go dormant after he died, the way elementals do?”

“A sorcerer controls an elemental through their heart-stone enchantment. When they die, the elemental becomes incapable of doing anything until someone new takes control. Demons are different—they’re intelligent. The priests of Madrok sell their souls to him and he grants them a demon to assist them. The tattoo is a mark of that, but they aren’t controlled like an elemental is. Once the warlock dies, they can do whatever they want,” she explained. “What bothers me more is that there shouldn’t be any priests of Madrok here. They come from the kingdom of Shimera. They’re supposedly enemies of Darrow.”

Will didn’t like the sound of that, then he saw something that caught his attention. “What is that?”

“How should I know?” demanded Selene. “I can’t see a damn thing.”

On their right was a large, wooden building and Will could see several women standing along a railing that stretched the entire length of its front porch. They were staring out into the mist curiously, though he was sure they were just as blind as Selene. “There’s several women standing in front of a building to our right.”

“Just keep walking,” urged Selene. “That’s not our objective.”

The women were only twenty feet from them as they passed the building, and Will stared intently at them. His mist-vision rendered everything in shades of gray, so he couldn’t have said anything about their hair or eye color. If Selene had been standing among them, he might have had trouble identifying her, but one of the women seemed familiar somehow. He tugged on Selene’s arm to stop her. “I think I know one of them,” he said softly.

“You know what they are, right?” asked Selene.

He wasn’t stupid. “Comfort women.”

“Technically, the Darrowans call them ‘merchant wives,’” whispered Selene.

“Wives? What the hell does that mean?”

“The Prophet’s laws are weird,” she explained. “Prostitution is illegal, but an unmarried man can sleep with another man’s wife, so long as the husband gives permission.”

“So they’re selling their wives to other men?”

“Well, these are probably Terabinian girls. Women who are raised in Darrow are followers of the Prophet, so they have certain rights that foreign women don’t. So when they took your village, some of the more enterprising soldiers married the women they captured so they could make a profit prostituting them to the others.”

Will felt his eyes go wide. Then these are my neighbors. “We have to save them.”

Selene shook him, hard. “How? Have you lost your mind?”

He was staring hard at the women, and he was pretty sure the one he recognized was Tracy Tanner. “I know that woman. I saved her son, Joey. She’s a friend,” he insisted.

“She’s been here for months,” said Selene calmly. “She’s been remarried, beaten, raped repeatedly. They torture them, Will. She won’t be in her right mind anymore. She’s as likely to turn us over to her new ‘husband’ as she is to help us. And all that aside, how are we supposed to accomplish our mission if we stop and try to help a half-dozen women escape from the camp?”

Will looked down, meeting her gaze. “If it were you, would you want me to walk away and leave you?”

Her eyes were filled with uncertainty, but after moment she responded, “Yes. If it were me, I’d rather die than have someone I care about see what had become of me.”

He stared at her for a moment. His heart was a confusing mess of emotions. “Well, too fucking bad. I’d drag your miserable ass out of hell if that’s where you were and screw the consequences.” Grabbing her hand, he pulled her toward the porch. “Keep your head down. You’re a boy and I’m bringing you here to gain experience.”

“What?” she exclaimed in a panicked whisper. “No!” But it was too late.

Chapter 61

Selene kept her head down as though in embarrassment as Will pulled her up to the front porch. He said the first thing that popped into his head, “My friend and I are here for some fun.”

The women gathered around them like hens, clucking their encouragement. “Your friend seems shy,” said the oldest, a middle-aged woman he didn’t recognize.

Selene had her head bowed, her body facing Will, and she jumped as one of the younger ones ran a hand across her rump and gave it a firm squeeze. “Are you a virgin? I love how shy you are,” said the woman.

It was Will’s turn to be shocked. He had returned his vision to normal, and both the voice and his eyes confirmed the identity of the one who had grabbed Selene. It was Annabelle Withy. Their eyes met, and she stared at him in horror. His eyes darted sideways, and he saw Tracy Tanner staring at him as well. He gave her a smile full of false confidence. “You look ripe. How about you and your friend show us the ropes?” He nodded at Annabelle.

After a moment, Tracy broke out of her trance and smiled. “Of course! Anna, let’s take care of these gentlemen.” She was studying Selene’s face, and Will thought she saw understanding there.

Tracy and Anna led them inside and positioned themselves to hide Selene from direct observation of the man who was seated there. He held out a hand to Will. “Six silver, three for each. You get one hour. If you want more, pay in advance.”

He dug around in his coin purse, but it was empty. He’d never taken the time to recover his money from the floor at home. Unsure what to do, he continued to fumble until Selene shoved a gold crown into his hand. Will passed it to the man.

The man looked at it carefully. “A Terabinian crown?”

“Spoils of war,” said Will with a nervous grin.

“Let me get your change,” said the pimp. After a few seconds, he handed Will four unfamiliar silver coins of Darrowan currency. “You’re lucky it’s me,” said the man with a wink. “You’re supposed to turn in any Terabinian coin you find.”

Tracy pulled on his arm. “Let’s go upstairs,” she said in a sultry voice he would never have imagined coming from her. He followed, and she led them up to a short hallway. There were four doors leading off from it. “Anna’s room is over there,” she said, pointing at the door across from hers, “but it will be more fun if we share mine.” Opening the door, she let them in.

After the door closed, they were alone, and Annabelle latched on to Will’s arm. “What are you doing here? Did you come for us?”

“Not exactly,” answered Will, but Annabelle seized him a hug that nearly crushed the wind from his lungs.

“I never thought I’d see you again,” she mumbled.

Selene was watching them with a face carefully composed to show no emotion. “We found you by accident,” she said.

“It’s dangerous for you to be here,” said Tracy, her expression fearful. “They’ll beat us if they find out we helped you.”

“We’re getting you out of here,” declared Will. “How many of you are there?”

“It’s just me and Tracy,” said Annabelle, still holding him. “There’s two other women here, but they’re both from Darrow.”

“And Stan,” offered Tracy. “He’s the one you met in the front room.”

“That’s it?” asked Will.

Tracy seemed angry. “That’s all they need. Do you think we can just walk out of here?”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” said Will. It was then that he realized that Tracy Tanner was pregnant and just beginning to show.

“Do you know where the supplies are stored?” asked Selene, her voice cool and business-like.

Tracy gave Selene a suspicious look. “Who’s she?”

Will stared at Selene a moment, unsure what to say. I wish I knew. Finally, he answered, “Her name is Isabel. She’s a sorceress with the Terabinian army. We’re here to burn the supply stores if possible.”

“You’re a fool, then,” said Tracy. “They’ll kill you and us too just for talking to you.”

“Told you,” said Selene coolly.

Will managed to disentangle himself from Annabelle. “We’re leaving. It’s up to you if you want to come with us.”

Annabelle answered immediately, “I’m in. Tracy?” She looked questioningly at the older woman.

Tracy Tanner seemed uncertain, but then her jaw clenched, and her eyes shut tightly. “I’m only doing this for Joey,” she said finally.

“Joey?” asked Selene.

Annabelle explained, “Her son.”

Will was afraid to ask, but he did anyway. “Is he…”

“Dead,” said Tracy, her voice cold and empty. “The warehouses take up most of the southeast quarter.”

“What do they look like?” asked Selene.

“The only things in this town that aren’t tents are the warehouses, the brothels, and the commander’s residence,” said Tracy. “The southeast quarter is nothing but large warehouses made of rough timber.”

Will felt like laughing. They had entered through the southwestern quarter, narrowly missing the area of their objective. If they had just turned right before reaching the center lane, they would have found them almost immediately. “Let’s get out of here,” he said.

“How?” asked Annabelle. “They sounded an alarm not long ago. That’s why we were all on the porch, trying to see what was going on.” She glanced at Selene. “The mist, was that you?”

Selene nodded.

“How are we going to do this?” asked Tracy.

Will was full of anger over what the Darrowans had done to Annabelle and Tracy. He put his hand on the hilt of his sword. “I’ll go down first and surprise Stan. Then Selene can re-summon the mist and we’ll head for the warehouses.”

“You’ll have to kill the other girls too,” said Tracy, her tone unforgiving. “The old hag would stick a knife in us as easily as breathing. Marcy is almost as bad.”

That gave him pause. Could he kill Stan and then drain the girls? Selene gave him a glance that clearly said ‘idiot.’ Then she wiggled her fingers. Oh, the sleep spell. He nodded.

Selene led the way down the stairs, and before Will reached the ground floor, Stan and both of the other women were out cold. Annabelle began rummaging through Stan’s clothes and held up a bag of coins triumphantly.

Selene gave will a sour look. “We aren’t here to steal.”

“It’s our money anyway,” said Tracy, before spitting on the floorboards. “Bastards.”

Will shrugged, and Selene summoned her mist again. The four of them stepped outside. “I can’t see anything,” complained Annabelle, grabbing Will’s hand. Will noticed a look on Selene’s face that could have peeled paint from a wall.

Adjusting his vision again, Will told them, “We’ll form a line. Annabelle, hold onto my belt. Tracy can hold onto you, and Isabel will take the rear.”

“Good plan, hero,” said Selene, her voice thick with sarcasm.

They left the porch and threaded their way down the lane, taking the first right they came to. At the next intersection of lanes Will saw a large group of soldiers, but he was able to lead them around it without problem. Further on he saw a massive wooden building looming, along with another large group of soldiers. As they got closer, he could see that the warehouse was nearly a hundred yards across on its nearest side. In the distance a similar building rose from the mist behind it. “How many warehouses are there?” he asked.

“Seven or eight?” said Annabelle uncertainly.

“Nine,” answered Tracy. “They’re all about the same size, built side by side. If you can see the closest one then there’s two more to the left of it, and two more past it. They form three rows of three each.”

“Damn,” said Will. The first one was huge. He could only imagine how much grain and other foodstuffs might be stored in buildings of that size.

Someone called out from the group of soldiers, “They’re approaching! That mist isn’t natural.”

Will focused on the source of the voice and saw a man with a burning flame above his shoulder. Shit, a sorcerer, he swore silently. He moved back along their line until he was close to Selene. “There’s a group of soldiers in the intersection ahead and they have a sorcerer with them.”

“What sort of elementals does he have?” she asked.

“Just one, fire.”

She thought about it a minute before replying, “I could kill the soldiers, but the sorcerer will kill the rest of you. If I drop the mist so I can see him the soldiers will be all over us, but if I don’t drop the mist, I can’t use my water blades.”

“You can’t use them at the same time?”

“No,” she said dryly. “And you wouldn’t want me to anyway. Think about what would happen if I started whipping them around while blind. I’d be just as likely to kill you and your girlfriend as I would the enemy.”

She’s definitely jealous, thought Will, but there wasn’t much he could do about it. “She isn’t my girlfriend,” he whispered.

“Say it a little louder,” returned Selene. “She can’t hear you.”

Exasperated, Will replied, “Neither can the soldiers. Isn’t that the point?” Selene said nothing, but her eyes were as hard as stone. “Can you set the warehouse on fire?”

“I don’t have a fire elemental,” she said, her tone implying he was stupid for asking.

“With a spell. Can’t you just absorb some turyn from them and make a spell to blast it?”

“First, if I wanted to destroy something, ordinarily I’d just use one of my elementals, so I’ve never spent any time studying destructive spells. Second, most spells are small. Even at Wurthaven they don’t teach things like that.”

Will was dumbfounded. “Why not?”

“Because any wizard that attempted one would just wind up killing himself and no sorcerer would bother. Elementals are much better for that sort of thing.”

Will had a feeling his grandfather would have disagreed, but it wasn’t the time to argue. As he watched the soldiers, he realized the sorcerer had walked to one edge of the group, and Will had an idea. “I’m going to leave you for a moment. When you hear them start shouting, or me shouting, drop the mist and come save me.” He walked away, letting the mist take him out of sight.

“Save you?” Selene hissed. “Will! Wait. What are you doing?”

He moved closer to the group of soldiers and shifted his vision back to normal so he could tell exactly how well he was obscured. Crouching low, he drew his sword and crept forward until he saw his first hint of a human figure, then he moved back a step and adjusted his vision until the mist vanished again. He was roughly ten feet from the soldiers. Any closer and they might spot him.

The sorcerer was talking steadily, trying to reassure the soldiers with him. “They’re bound to be close, in the middle of this fog. Stay alert.”

Will’s hand was hurting, and when he looked at it, he realized he was gripping his sword too tightly. Stay calm, he told himself. Taking a deep breath, he exhaled slowly, then he expanded the outer boundary of his personal turyn, so that he would begin absorbing more to fill the emptiness around him. Inhaling sharply, he lunged forward.

The sorcerer saw him, and the man’s eyes went wide with alarm, but it was too late. Will drove his sword into the man’s chest and leapt away. Unfortunately, his sword didn’t come with him. It had caught on something, and try as he might he couldn’t pull it free. He was forced to leave it as the soldiers began to react.

The soldiers weren’t behaving quite as he had hoped, either. None of them had shouted or called out. The fact that their sorcerer had been stabbed was still registering with those closest.

And the sorcerer was anything but dead. The man was gasping with pain, but the thrust hadn’t been instantly fatal, as Will had hoped. The fire elemental swelled, and Will realized he was about to be roasted. “Selene!” he screamed. “Selene!”

The mist began moving, rushing inward as though a strong wind was blowing, and then everything was flames as the elemental’s attack washed over him. Will shut his eyes, unsure if he would die or not, but after a second he realized he was still alive. He opened them again and saw that the mist was gone. Three soldiers with spears were charging toward him. Shit. He started running, heading away from his friends in case the sorcerer unleashed another blast of fire.

And then Selene was there, clad in stone and swinging blue blades of destruction. Men started screaming, and a severed arm flew past Will’s head. He watched in fascination as she waded into the soldiers. Selene’s swords didn’t seem to cut metal, and he saw one man’s sword almost pass through one of her blue blades before it was torn from the soldier’s grasp and sent flying through the air. Their mail armor was similarly unaffected, but it didn’t save them. Her weapons tore through padded gambesons and shredded the flesh beneath the armor. Men died in dozens, and Selene’s swords turned red as blood mixed with the water.

The fire elemental rose up above them, a raging inferno, and Selene’s swords melded to become an opaque disc that she used to shield herself as another searing blast of flame came down on her. The result was a blast of steam that exploded outward from her, scalding the last two soldiers that stood within her reach. But the shield was gone.

Will ran toward her as the sorcerer snarled and prepared a fresh attack. The man was on his knees twenty feet in front of her, sword still stuck in his chest. Ten soldiers were left beside him, but the sorcerer cautioned them, “Stay back. This will finish it.”

Will reached Selene just as the next blast of flame came down on their heads. This time he felt the searing heat as his empty sphere reached capacity and he was forced to expand it even further as he tried to absorb everything the elemental threw at them. When the attack ended, he could feel his hair standing on end, and a globe of burning turyn surrounded him. He had reached his limit.

The power he was holding threatened to consume him, and there was only one thing left he could do. Thrusting his arms out, Will released it, and a wave of incendiary power washed over the sorcerer, his men, and the corner of the warehouse behind them.

The enemies’ screams were brief as their lungs filled with flame, and moments later their bodies were just smoldering, black lumps of flesh as they fell to the ground.

Will looked at Selene first. “Are you all right?” She nodded, and then he glanced at Annabelle, who was huddled against the side of the tent on the opposite side of the square from the warehouse. Tracy was nowhere to be seen.

He spotted her a moment later, or rather, he saw what was left of her. At some point she had run forward and to the side. She had been caught in the edge of his blast. Will screamed, “No!”

The left side of Tracy’s body was blackened, and half her face was gone, yet there was still some life in her. Her head turned as she tried to see the world with eyes that had burned away. Her arms and legs thrashed against the hard earth. “No, no, no,” Will moaned, running to her side.

Tracy’s mouth worked, opening and closing as she tried to speak with lungs that could no longer draw breath. “I’m so sorry,” Will cried. “This isn’t what was supposed to happen.”

Mercifully, Tracy Tanner died a moment later, and her body grew still. Will felt Annabelle’s arms around his shoulders. “It wasn’t your fault,” she said softly.

For some reason his first thought was of Sven, with a spear through his face. “Yeah it is,” he said slowly. “The moment you pick up a weapon, it’s your fault. It always is.” He stood and shrugged off the embrace before going back to Selene.

“Can you make a new mist?”

Selene had dismissed her stone armor, and Will could see that the elementals hovering above her shoulders looked smaller. “No,” she answered. “It will take a while before Syllannus recovers enough power. I’ve been using him steadily since we entered the camp, and that fire blast wiped out everything he had left.”

He studied the elementals for a few seconds, seeing something he had never noticed before. The random wisps of turyn that floated through the air near them were being drawn in, sucked into the elementals. They’re absorbing ambient turyn—like me, he noted. It seemed important, but he wasn’t sure why. He filed the fact in the back of his mind for future consideration.

The warehouse in front of them was blazing merrily, but more needed to be done. Shouts were coming from every direction. Will found the sorcerer’s corpse and quickly abandoned the idea of recovering his sword. The hilt was still too hot to touch, and the leather grip had burned completely away. Bending down, he held his palm above the sorcerer’s chest and pulled, extracting the heart-stone enchantment.

As soon as he had it, he began plucking it apart.

“Don’t!” exclaimed Selene. “William! You could use that to protect us! There are more soldiers coming. I can’t do this alone.”

He shook his head and finished, the enchantment dissolving in his hands. The fire elemental expanded, becoming visible and towering over them. Please help us, thought Will. The warehouses need to be destroyed.

He felt something, an emotion like gratitude, but he couldn’t be certain. The elemental bowed and turned away, moving toward the other massive, timbered buildings. “You’ve killed us all,” said Selene bitterly. “Was it worth it?”

Will began whispering to himself, “Tailtiu, Tailtiu, Tailtiu. Thrice called, come to me.” He looked at Selene. “We just have to survive a little longer. Can your earth elemental keep the soldiers from reaching us?”

Selene’s eyes were searching his face. “Maybe.” A moment later, her earth elemental pulsed and walls of earth grew from the ground around them at a distance of twenty feet, creating walls fifteen feet high. “You’re mad, you know that?”

“I prefer to think of it as purposeful stupidity,” said Will.

“What happens now?” asked Annabelle. They could hear soldiers gathering just outside the walls, shouting back and forth to one another.

“In a few minutes one of their sorcerers will get here,” said Selene calmly. “Whatever elemental he has will take my walls apart. After that we’ll most likely die.”

Will looked up at the sky. It was filled with smoke. “Will they be able to stop the fires?”

Selene shrugged. “I don’t think so. Maybe if they have an elemental like my Syllannus, but water elementals are rare, and greater ones even more so. Fire or wind elementals will just make the blaze worse, and while an earth elemental might help put it out, the destruction would be just as bad.”

“Greater?”

She nodded. “You didn’t know? Both my elementals are considered major elementals. That’s why they recover so quickly. Most elementals have a limited capacity before they need to rest for a long period.” Something pulsed beneath her shirt, and Will saw a bright, golden glow radiate through her shirt.

“No!” said Selene sharply. “Not now! Please!”

“What is it?” asked Will. As he watched, power began to flow around Selene, rippling and shimmering.

She screamed, begging, “Please! Don’t do this.” Her form became indistinct. The last thing Will saw of her was her desperate look at him, and she broke her own rule. “I’m sorry, Will, so sorry.” Then she was gone.

In shock, he stared at the place she had just been standing. “What the hell?” Panic set in as he realized she was truly gone, though whether his fear was for her or himself he couldn’t be sure.

“Will?” said Annabelle timidly. “What’s happening?”

Before he could answer, the northwestern portion of Selene’s wall began to glow, turning red, then orange, before it began to slump and flow sluggishly to the ground. A wide hole formed, and then the entire wall on that side collapsed. Beyond it he could see another fire elemental, and behind that more soldiers. “Fuck,” he said, to no one in particular.

Chapter 62

“Stay close to me,” Will cautioned, pushing Annabelle behind him. He had no idea what to do, though. His last good idea had been waiting until Tailtiu could get to them, but that seemed unlikely to happen now.

Annabelle’s arms went around his waist, and she squeezed him briefly. “I can’t go back, Will. I can’t. You don’t know what it was like,” she whispered. Then her arms released him, and he felt a tug at his belt.

Through the hole he saw a man lift a crossbow. “Stay behind me!” He never saw the man fire, but he felt something strike his chest like a hammer. A second blow staggered him as something slammed into his back, between his shoulder blades. He fell to one knee, and when he glanced up he saw Annabelle holding his belt knife.

She stared at the unbloodied blade in shock for a moment. “I tried, Will,” she mumbled. “I wanted to save you too.” Then she reversed the blade in her hands, holding it out from her chest. “Forgive me.”

“No!” Will surged up from the ground and caught her hands before she could drive the blade into her heart. Annabelle struggled with him, desperation and fear lending her more strength than he would have believed possible.

“Let me go!” she shrieked. “I won’t let them take me. Not again! Not again!” Tears were streaming down her cheeks as she fought to end her life.

Will felt two more hammer blows against his back and a sharp pain as something pierced his mail. Some of the soldiers were cheering the crossbowmen on as they reloaded. A shadow passed over him, and when Will looked up the largest owl he had ever seen dropped down and landed in front of him. It began to shift and change, and moments later Tailtiu was standing there, her hip cocked to one side with a hand resting on it.

With a sly smile, she asked, “Want me to kill them?”

Yes! he thought desperately, but something stopped him. “No! Get us out of here.”

A quarrel appeared, sticking out of his aunt’s chest. She glanced at it in disgust, then pulled it free and studied it. The blood covering the iron head bubbled and smoked, burning away. “They really need killing.” His aunt lifted one hand, and vines shot up from the ground, forming a tight wall of greenery across the breach in Selene’s earthen wall. “Who’s the trollop?” she asked with a sneer, gazing at Annabelle.

Annabelle, for her part, had stopped struggling. With numb fingers, she released the knife and Will quickly put it back in his sheath. Beyond the wall of thorns, Will heard one of the men shouting orders. “Stand back! It’s one of the fae!”

Tailtiu moved forward, studying Will. “Have you been having fun, sweetling?” Leaning close, she sniffed him, then her nose crinkled, and a look of disappointment showed on her face. “Apparently not. You still reek of virginity.”

“She’s a friend,” said Will quickly. “Can you fly us out of here?”

Tailtiu appraised them for a moment. “You’re too heavy.”

“What about Annabelle?”

“Too heavy,” said his aunt dismissively. She pointed a finger at the impromptu barrier. “The sorcerer is about to do something.” Then she looked at Annabelle. “You’re a pretty little thing, aren’t you?” She ran a finger along Annabelle’s jawline, and the girl shivered.

Will moved to stand just inside the green wall. “Leave her alone,” he warned over his shoulder, then he expanded his turyn, creating another empty shell. He hoped it would work again. What happens if it isn’t fire?

An intense wave of flames burst through the wall, incinerating it in a flash. Will caught it immediately, focusing his will to draw the turyn into himself. It felt as though he was getting better at it, but he didn’t have time to waste with self-congratulations. Holding out his hands, he sent a gout of fire back at the sorcerer and the soldiers with him.

Acrid smoke and steam filled the air. The stench of death was palpable. As it cleared, he could see the sorcerer and twenty or so of the soldiers were down, never to rise again. He glared at the ones farther away and lifted his hands again. It was a bluff of course—he was empty—but they broke and ran nonetheless. Remembering his grandfather, he said, “About time I got some goddamned respect!” A laugh tinged with hysteria began to bubble up in his chest. I’m losing it.

Moving forward, he found the sorcerer’s body and released the elemental, giving it one final instruction. Burn everything. He watched with morbid fascination as it went toward the pavilions opposite the warehouses. They caught fire with amazing rapidity. Looking to his left, he saw that all the warehouses were up in flames.

Soon the entire camp would be engulfed by the inferno.

A thin mist was rising from the ground, and when he looked back, he saw Tailtiu had become the massive doe he had seen once before. She knelt so Annabelle could climb onto her back. Will went to join them.

His aunt backed away as he drew close. “Want me to save you?” she asked.

Will groaned. “Really?”

“You have two favors left,” his aunt said evenly.

Thinking quickly, Will said, “I completed Aislinn’s task. You have to take me to her. That was part of her bargain.”

Tailtiu studied him with one large doe eye. “You are so adorable when you say things like that. It makes me want you even more. Take off the iron, though. It stinks.”

“No,” said Will in flat denial. “You’ll have to bear it.” He began climbing onto her, getting into position behind Annabelle. Smoke rose from Tailtiu’s hide whenever the mail came into contact. He did his best to hike up the bottom to keep it away from her, and he put his arms around Annabelle’s waist. “You’re going to have to hold onto her for both of us,” he told his childhood friend.

Tailtiu began moving, gradually building up speed. “I really am going to kill you, William. One of these days you’ll make a mistake, and I’ll be waiting to make sure you enjoy it.”

The fae woman maintained a brisk pace, but she didn’t run, to avoid the risk of losing her passengers. Between her mist and the smoke, the visibility was almost as it had been with Selene’s fog. Will adjusted his vision with difficulty as he discovered that the fires produced an incredible glare. It took him a moment to find a comfortable medium that allowed him to see without being blinded by it.

Tailtiu trotted on, occasionally passing so close to soldiers that they stopped to stare at them in amazement. No one tried to stop them. The soldiers of Darrow had better things to do, and the camp was in complete chaos by then. The glow grew brighter behind them, and when Will glanced back it appeared as though the entire world had caught fire. For a moment he wondered how many people would die in the blaze. Most of those soldiers were ordinary men, like me, just doing what they were told. Then he thought about the women trapped in the other brothels. How many innocents would die because of his actions?

He closed his eyes briefly and tried to push the thoughts aside. I only did what I had to do, he told himself.

But a nagging doubt spoke from within, Did you? You suggested this. The entire thing was your idea.

And what had happened to Selene? He kept remembering the desperation on her face. “I’m sorry.” What could have made her break her rule? He didn’t think she was dead. His impression had been that she was being taken away against her will.

They passed beyond the edge of the camp and crossed the empty region around it. The Patriarch’s army had harvested most of the nearby timber. Will hoped it would be enough to prevent the fire from turning the entire valley into a bonfire. His own family would be in danger if that happened.

Tailtiu angled up as they started into the hills, then she reared, dumping Will onto the ground while Annabelle clung desperately to her neck. “That’s enough,” she said with an air of finality. “You’ll have to walk the rest of the way if you won’t take off that damned iron shirt.”

Will was tired. His fatigue was far deeper than he had been aware of until then. He should have expected it, though. Fighting, even for brief periods, was exhausting, and what he had been doing with the fire elementals’ attacks hadn’t been easy either. Taking off the mail shirt was logical, but when he put his hand on it he couldn’t bear to remove it.

Selene had fought long and hard to get him to wear it. Now that she was gone, it felt more precious than gold. “I’ll walk.”

Tailtiu continued carrying Annabelle as he traipsed along behind them. Something felt odd in Will’s back, so he reached behind himself and his fingers found a wooden shaft. He tugged at it and discovered a crossbow bolt when he looked at his hand. It had a bodkin point, and there was blood on the head of it. Hopefully I can find the money to get Harless to fix my mail, he thought idly.

It took them most of an hour to reach the congruence point where he had met Aislinn before, and Will was beginning to feel faint. His vision kept narrowing, as though he was walking through a tunnel. It was a relief when his grandmother appeared before him.

“I did as you asked,” he told her, his words slurring slightly.

Aislinn smiled. “You never choose the easy road, do you, William?” She held out her hand. In her palm was a golden ring with a white stone set in the center. As he looked at it, he realized that rather than a gem there was a tooth mounted on it, a human molar.

“This is the object of unspeakably vile knowledge and power?” he asked mildly. He saw no sign of magic around the ring.

“You’ll understand soon,” said Aislinn.

Tailtiu cleared her throat. “Please take it away before you bleed to death.”

“Huh?” Will didn’t understand. The world began to spin, and the ground rushed up to meet him. His last thought, as darkness closed over him, was that the rocks pillowing his head seemed much softer than he had expected.

***

Something tickled his nose, and when Will opened his lids, he found two green eyes staring down at him. He was surrounded by a halo of coppery curls. “Auntie! He’s awake!” yelled Sammy, directly into his face.

His cousin hugged him, squeezing the life out of him, then she leapt up and bounced away. “You have no idea how worried I was, Will. Your mom said you were fine, but I was sure you were going to die.”

He tried to sit up, and the world began moving in unexpected ways, so he lay back down again. He was on Arrogan’s massive bed. His mother came in a moment later and sat on the edge beside him. “How do you feel?”

“Tired, sore, and when I try to sit up everything spins,” he told her.

Erisa nodded. “You lost a great deal of blood.”

“How did I get here?” Will shifted a little and the movement of the sheets told him that he was naked beneath the covers.

“Annabelle came. She was in quite a state. Nearly scared me half to death. She was convinced you were dead. Your Uncle Johnathan went with her and carried you back to the house.”

Will peeked under the covers to confirm his suspicions. Worriedly, he looked at his mother, “Who undressed me?”

“Johnathan got the armor off you. The gambeson was soaked with blood. I washed it as best I could, but I’m afraid there will always be a stain,” said Erisa.

“And my trousers?”

“Annabelle helped me clean you up.”

Will grabbed an extra pillow and pulled it over his face in embarrassment. “Kill me now,” he moaned. “At least it wasn’t Sammy.”

“I wouldn’t worry about it, William. Annabelle’s been through a lot. She’s seen far worse,” said his mother.

“Is she all right?”

“Physically? Yes. She won’t talk about what happened to her, but I fear she’ll be haunted by it for the rest of her life.”

“She hasn’t said anything about it?”

Erisa shook her head. “All she talks about is you. The story she told us is hard to believe. She said you were throwing fire with your hands.”

“Only a couple of times,” muttered Will. “What about the camp?”

“Johnathan got as close as he could, but there are soldiers all over the valley. He said that from the smoke it looks like the entire thing may have burned to the ground,” said Erisa. Then she reached into her apron pocket and pulled something out. It was the ring. “What’s this?”

Alarmed, Will snatched it out of her hand. “You shouldn’t touch that.”

His mother lifted her eyebrows.

“It’s a gift from Aislinn,” he explained. “I think it’s dangerous, but I don’t know how.”

“There’s a human tooth set in it,” said his mother disapprovingly. “You should get rid of it.”

He frowned. “Not until I know what it does.” To change the subject, he asked, “Where was I bleeding from?”

Erisa helped him turn onto his side and guided his hand back to feel the bandage she had put there. It felt as though it was just a few inches above his right kidney. “It wasn’t deep,” she told him, “but all the moving you did kept it bleeding freely. Another inch or two down, though, and you might not be here now. Are you thirsty?”

The worry on his mother’s face made him feel terrible. “I’ve never been so thirsty in my life.”

She filled a wooden cup from a pitcher on the nightstand and handed it to him. He gulped it down and held the cup out for more. After his third cup, his mother asked, “What happened to Selene?”

“Didn’t Annabelle tell you?”

“It didn’t make sense,” said Erisa. “What do you think happened?”

“I really don’t know,” he admitted. “It seemed like she was being taken by something. She didn’t want to go.” He described what he had seen, including Selene’s last words.

Erisa pursed her lips. “I liked her. What else is there? You seem like you’re hiding something.”

Will tried to look innocent, but his mother scowled. “Spit it out, William. I don’t know how to help you if you won’t talk to me.”

With a sigh, he told her the rest. It felt good to get it off his chest and he found himself telling his mother everything, from their first meeting up until he had overheard her speaking to the unknown stranger outside their house. When he finished his mother looked perplexed. “Well, what do you think?” he asked.

Erisa threw up her hands. “I lied. I don’t know how to help you.”

“Thanks, Mom,” he said dryly.

“I know one thing, though,” she said after moment. “That girl is in love with you.”

“Mom, please! You heard what I told you. She was just trying to gain our trust,” said Will, but he doubted his words even as he said them.

Erisa shook her head. “I saw the way she watched you while she was here. A woman only observes a man that closely if she’s in love.”

“Or if the man is her target,” countered Will.

“You’re wrong,” said Erisa. “But even if you believed me, you shouldn’t trust her. From what you’ve said, she owes allegiance to someone else, and I don’t think she’s the kind that will let her feelings override her obligations.”

“We agree about that, at least,” said Will, “the obligations part.”

“By the way, Annabelle has been watching you the same way,” warned his mother. “Be careful with her.”

Will groaned and put the pillow back over his face.

Chapter 63

The rest of the week passed peacefully while Will recovered his strength. He was somewhat surprised at how long it took. Aside from his bruises and the small wound in his back, he hadn’t really been too badly hurt, but his fatigue seemed to be bone deep. It was days before he was able to walk on his own safely, and even then, he found himself out of breath after only traveling a short distance.

“Your body is short of blood,” his mother explained. “It takes time to replace it.” All he could do was accept her words, for his body agreed with her.

Another deer appeared on the porch, courtesy of the goddamn cat, and Will was able to enjoy meat with his meals again. Erisa certainly seemed pleased, for she said it would help him replace the blood he had lost.

The only thing that bothered him was Annabelle. While he was bed-bound, she spent most of her time with him, and once he was moving again, she followed him everywhere. Even when she was busy doing something else, her eyes were always on him. Her devotion made Sammy seem like a welcome diversion, and he found himself seeking out his cousin’s company as often as possible to avoid being alone with his childhood friend.

“I think she’s crazy,” said Sammy one day as they were weeding the garden. “She stares at you like she’s going to eat you.”

“You’ll protect me, though, won’t you, Sammy?” said Will, only half-joking.

She punched his arm. “Don’t worry. I won’t let anyone eat you but—” She stopped, rethinking her phrasing. “You know what I mean.”

Will laughed with a smile. “Don’t worry.” The older his cousin got, the more he appreciated her energy and optimism. Everything else in his life seemed impossibly dark. He lightly punched her shoulder in return. “Cousins for life.”

Sammy grinned and leapt to her feet, twirling and brandishing an imaginary sword. “Cousins against the world!” She looked back at him. “Next time you go on an adventure, you should take me with you. We’ll show them what two Cartwrights can do!”

Will laughed again, but it tapered off quickly as he remembered Tracy Tanner. He still remembered her ruined face whenever he closed his eyes. Will tried to smile up at Sammy, but his vision was becoming blurry. “Maybe not, Sammy. I don’t think that’s a good idea…”

She saw the tears begin to spill from his eyes and knelt down to embrace him, pressing his face into her hair. “It’s all right, Will. You’re home now. It’s all over. You won’t have to do any of those things ever again. I’m here. We’re all here.”

It took him a minute to get himself back under control, and before he was ready, he heard Annabelle calling from the front of the house. “Will! Come help me hang up the wash!”

He shared a glance with Sammy, and she looked at her hands, which were covered in dirt. “Don’t worry, I’ll wash my hands and be right there,” she assured him. “I’ll stand in between you.”

***

A few days after that, when he had almost completely recovered, he woke suddenly in the night. That had become a frequent occurrence, as his dreams were often bad, but this time it was for another reason.

He had taken to sleeping in the front room with his uncle, so the three women could share the bedroom. His uncle slept on Will’s cot while he slept on the floor near the hearth.

His eyes opened with a start. Annabelle was lying beside him, her face next to his own. Her hand was under the blanket. Will wore only a long shirt while sleeping, and her hand had found its way under that as well, where it was urgently kneading something with expert fingers.

He started to open his mouth, but she covered it with her own, kissing him. Then she drew back. “This is just a good dream, Will. I know you’ve had it before, but this time it will be better.” Her hand continued moving, and she shifted her body, preparing to straddle him. “You’re ready now,” she whispered.

He was definitely ready. He was so ready he wasn’t sure he would last until she had mounted him. He froze for a moment. It would be easy to let her do what she wanted, what he wanted. But it isn’t what I want, he shouted to himself. Not this, not her! He caught her shoulder with his hand, pushing her off to one side. Again, the first words that came from his lips were, “I didn’t give you permission to kiss me.” Why do I keep saying that? he thought angrily.

Annabelle frowned, but remained determined. “You’re not objecting to this, though, are you?” Her hand continued to move in slow, sure motions.

“Stop it,” he ordered.

“There’s another trick I could show you,” she said, beginning to scoot farther down.

“No, Annabelle,” he insisted, finally finding the will-power to grab her wrists and stop the pleasant torture. “I don’t want this, and neither do you.”

“You do. Everyone does.”

“Goddamn it. Get out of my bed,” he hissed, trying not to wake his uncle.

The fury in his eyes finally convinced her, and Annabelle got to her feet. She stood in front of him, stark naked. A second later she reclaimed her nightgown from the table and slid it over her head. She looked hurt, but as she left, she made one final declaration. “You’ll change your mind.” Then she went to the door and returned to the main bedroom.

Will saw his uncle’s eyes open, noting the girl leaving the room, but Will closed his own, pretending to be asleep. The last thing he wanted was another conversation.

***

The next morning, he made his announcement. It was time to return. He didn’t expect the reaction he got, as everyone seemed universally against the idea.

“You’ve done enough,” said his mother. “The army will be fine without you.”

“But Eric is still there…”

“And if I could keep him here, I would bring him back in an instant,” declared his uncle.

“Please don’t go,” pleaded Sammy.

Will glanced at Annabelle, and she mouthed the words ‘don’t go,’ and that settled it for him. I definitely have to go, he told himself. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I signed a contract for five years. I don’t want to be a deserter.”

His mother glared at him. “You didn’t have a choice!”

“I did have a choice, Mom. I chose to get Uncle Johnathan out. I have to go back. Selene trusted me.”

“She’s dead,” said Annabelle coldly.

“No, she’s not,” declared Will. “I don’t know where she is, but I’m sure she’s waiting for me to keep my word.”

The argument continued for a while after that, but his mother could see the determination in his eyes, and when she gave up the others followed suit. Will apologized for his decision, but he was packing as he did so.

Dressing in his freshly washed though still-stained gambeson, he shimmied into the mail shirt and put on his belt. He no longer had his sword, which gave him a moment of chagrin when he realized he would be forced to pay for it when he returned. Thankfully, he had left his shield and spear back in Branscombe.

He held the gold ring in his palm for a moment, trying to decide what to do with it. It seemed too ostentatious to wear. That much gold in plain sight was an invitation to robbery or accusations of theft. Only a nobleman would dare wear so much wealth in plain sight. Still, he hadn’t put it on even once since receiving it. I’ll just wear it until I get close to the camp, he told himself, slipping it onto the ring finger of his right hand.

Nothing happened. He felt no overwhelming urge to do evil things, and there were no voices whispering wicked advice in his ear. Will was almost disappointed. Holding up his hand, he saw a glimmer of turyn around it, the first sign of magic he had noticed around it thus far. I guess Aislinn didn’t cheat me, he thought. It must do something.

He shrugged and said his goodbyes, hugging everyone again. Annabelle followed him out the door. “I’ll wait for you,” she told him earnestly.

“Don’t,” said Will. “There’s no guarantee I’ll be back, and even if I do…”

“She’s dead, Will,” said Annabelle without a trace of remorse. A hint of madness danced behind her eyes.

“She’s not. No matter what happened to her. I’ll find her.” Turning his back, he walked away, though he could feel Annabelle’s eyes following him until he disappeared around the side of the house.

His trip back to Branscombe was unremarkable. The goddamn cat declined to speak when he passed through the cave, though he spent several minutes trying to convince the creature to converse with him. With a shrug, he resumed walking, and soon he was back at the hidden spring.

He recognized the guard at the town gate. It was Ned. The constable called out to him as he turned right to head toward the military camp, “I don’t see your murder weapon. Did you leave it at the scene this time?” Ned began to laugh at his own joke.

Will just waved and kept going. Actually, I did, he realized.

The camp guards asked for his name when he reached the perimeter, so he answered, “William Cartwright, returning from extended duty away.”

“Which unit are you with?” asked one of the two soldiers.

“Company B, Fifth Platoon,” said Will.

“Extended duty?” asked the other.

Uncertain, Will rephrased his words, “Detached duty? Get Sergeant Nash. He’ll confirm it for you.”

“One moment.”

One guard stepped away a minute, and a runner was sent. Will was forced to wait at the perimeter for nearly twenty minutes before Lieutenant Stanton appeared, flanked by no fewer than six men in mail. The look on his face was not welcoming. “Take him into custody.”

Will’s head went from side to side as the men maneuvered around him and grabbed his arms. “Wait. What? I had orders! Ask Selene, she’ll tell you.”

“Who?” The lieutenant raised one brow curiously.

“Isabel,” he said, correcting himself. “Ask Isabel! She said she’d arranged the orders for us.”

Stanton stared at him for a moment, disappointment written on his features. “I’m sorry to disillusion you Mister Cartwright, but the lady you’re referring to is no longer at this camp. I would also like to remind you that she is not part of the military command structure. Was any part of that unclear to you?”

“No, sir,” said Will reflexively. “I mean, yes, sir! She was part of the command, wasn’t she?” His eyes were full of confusion.

“Bring him.”

The men quickly marched Will to the command tent, but rather than taking him inside, they shackled his wrists together and attached the chain to a metal loop on a pole that stood nearby. The loop was above his head, so he was forced to stand with his arms in the air. “Could I talk to Lord Nerrow please?” he asked.

Lieutenant Stanton gave him a look that almost seemed sympathetic. “Lord Nerrow is no longer in charge of this army. The Royal Marshal has taken command.” He started to walk away.

“But can I see him anyway?”

“He’s returned to his estate. The king saw fit to put him to other duties.” With that, the lieutenant left.

Will stood alone, while the occasional soldier walked by and gave him an amused look. “Goddamn it,” he swore. Once again, he heard Sven’s voice in his head, “Never volunteer.” He promised himself he would never disregard the old man’s advice again. He hoped he wouldn’t have to wait for long.

An hour passed, and he began to wish they had taken off his armor before chaining him up. He was getting tired, but he couldn’t sit down to rest. He tried bending his legs and letting his wrists take his weight, but the iron shackles cut into his wrists.

The afternoon passed slowly, and at some point, he realized he was still wearing the ring. He hadn’t been armed, so the guards had only divested him of his belt knife. He admired their integrity in not taking such an obviously valuable ring. Maybe there is still some good in this world, he told himself.

A horn blew, announcing that mess had begun, and Will’s well-trained stomach rumbled in response. He looked at his belly. “You’re a better soldier than I am.” He supposed he should be grateful he hadn’t needed to pee. He’d been standing in the sun so long that the sweat soaking into his gambeson had dehydrated him and saved him from the need.

Supper ended, and soldiers went by, returning to their tents, but Will didn’t bother to watch. He kept his head down, trying not to think of the meal he had missed. A shadow fell across him, and when he looked up Tiny and Dave were standing there.

“You look like shit,” said Dave cheerfully, but Tiny held up a waterskin, offering it to him to drink.

After several long swallows, Will asked, “Are you going to get in trouble for giving me water?”

Tiny shook his head. “I don’t think so. There’s no rule saying you can’t have water.”

“Then why hasn’t anyone else given me water?” said Will.

Dave grinned. “Probably because they don’t give a damn. Makes you think though, doesn’t it?”

“About what?”

“That maybe you shouldn’t have deserted, asshole,” said the ex-thief.

“I didn’t desert,” protested Will. “I had orders. Sele—Isabel said she would fix it.”

Tiny shook his head again, this time sadly. Then he fixed Will with sorrowful eyes. “I warned you, Will.” He patted his chest. “This is gonna get you in trouble every time.”

“It’s true! Where is she?”

Dave chuckled. “I feel for you. I really do. She hasn’t been seen since you left.” He stepped forward to pat Will’s back comfortingly. “Which means you, my friend, are well and truly fucked.”

“You might be better off not mentioning her,” suggested Tiny. “She seemed important. If she ran off with you and you’re back without her, it might be better to just take the whip for being a deserter.”

They gave him some more water, but eventually they had to leave. Dave waved as they left. “Good luck, Will. I’ll toast you with my first drink every holiday.”

Will wanted to swear, but he didn’t bother. Instead he did what he did best. Stand by his post. He chuckled ruefully. Apparently, I’m here because I didn’t stay at my post. Now I don’t have a choice.

A short while later, another familiar voice called his name. “Will?”

It was Eric. “Evening,” said Will with forced cheer. “How’d you know I was here?”

“Some of the guys from Company B passed me the message. Did you really desert?”

“I vehemently deny that accusation.”

“Then tell me what happened.”

So he did, giving Eric an abbreviated version that left out most of the interesting details regarding Selene and his dealings with the fae. He made sure to include everything about Annabelle Withy, though he left out what had happened to Tracy Tanner. When he finished, Eric looked at him in disbelief.

“It sounds like they should be giving you a medal, not chaining you up. Is that all the truth?” asked Eric.

“I’d swear it on my life.”

“Have you told them?” He nodded in the direction of the command tent.

“I haven’t had a chance. They staked me here as soon as I got back.”

There was a noise from behind, and Eric started to back away. “I think they’re coming for you. Good luck. Try to think of a more believable story. They’re never going to buy the one you told me.” Then he was gone.

“It was the truth!” Will shouted after his cousin. Why won’t anyone believe me? Twisting his head, he saw four more guards approaching.

Chapter 64

Will was on his knees in the same place he had once met his father, Lord Nerrow. The atmosphere was considerably chillier this time. A guard stood on either side of him, presumably in case he decided to act up. Lieutenant Stanton sat at a small wooden desk on the right side of the room, along with a clerk that Will didn’t recognize.

The figure that dominated the room was the Royal Marshal, Duke Vincent Arenata. Stanton had taken him aside before the interrogation began in order to make sure Will knew that the man who would be asking the questions was in charge of the entire army of Terabinia. Duke Arenata stood second only to King Lognion himself. Two elementals hovered over the duke’s shoulders, one of fire and the other of air.

How lucky am I? thought Will.

“Do you have anything to say for yourself?” said Lord Arenata. Apparently, the man thought that was a good way to start a long conversation, though Will felt there were dozens of better questions to start with.

“Yes, Your Lordship—” One of the guards kicked him before he could finish, knocking him onto his side.

Lieutenant Stanton spoke firmly, “You do not address the marshal as ‘Your Lordship.’ He is to be referred to as either ‘Your Grace’ or simply as ‘Marshal Arenata.’”

Will started again, still lying on his side. “First, let me say that I’m incredibly honored to be interviewed personally by such an important personage as yourself, Your Grace.”

Marshal Arenata glared, then nodded at one of the guards, who promptly kicked him again. “Please get to the facts Mister Cartwright. It’s been a busy day and I don’t have time for this. If it weren’t for the fact that you claimed to have received orders from a certain woman, you would already be strung up for the whip. Talking to deserters is not a normal part of my day.”

“Yes, Your Grace,” said Will immediately. “She gave me orders to slip behind enemy lines and destroy their supplies in Barrowden. Lady Isabel told me that she had given orders to that effect. That I wouldn’t be a deserter.”

The marshal leapt out of his chair, his eyes giving Lieutenant Stanton an accusing stare. “Am I supposed to believe this tripe? I’ve never heard such utter nonsense in my life!”

Stanton held out his hands placatingly. “If it please you, Marshal Arenata, there have been numerous exceptional circumstances around Mister Cartwright. I have good reason to believe that at least this part of his story is true.”

You haven’t even heard my story, asshole, thought Will. Then a second thought came to him. Wait, is he trying to help me?

The marshal wagged a finger at Lieutenant Stanton. “Come with me.” The two men left the room.

While they were gone Will looked up at the guards. “Is it all right if I get back to my knees? The floor is very nice, and I am tired, but it seems like it would be more appropriate.”

The guard that had kicked him twice merely growled, but the second one grabbed his shoulder and helped him back upright.

The marshal returned a few minutes later, and he and Stanton reclaimed their seats. “The lieutenant gave me some details regarding your previous service to Terabinia,” said the marshal. “It seems he even believes you killed several sorcerers and the enemy commander at the Darrowan camp in the pass.”

Will nodded. “Yes, sir.” That earned him another kick, but the second guard braced him this time, so he didn’t fall. “Yes, Your Grace,” he amended.

The marshal continued, “So, given your remarkable abilities as a scout, you would have me believe that Lady Isabel ordered you to take on this highly improbable mission.”

“Yes, Your Grace.” Will hesitated a moment, then added, “And she came with me.”

Marshal Arenata’s face colored for a moment, but he held his tongue. “Very well. Explain what occurred during this most secret and highly dangerous mission you undertook almost singlehandedly.” His voice dripped with sarcasm.

Will did his best, leaving out everything about his method of reaching Barrowden, as well as excluding any mention of his family. In the tale he told, they managed to sneak past the Darrowan army at night and went directly to their main camp in Barrowden. His story from that point stayed close to the truth, although he gave Selene credit for most of the feats of derring-do. No one would have believed his own contributions. He ended by telling them that they had escaped together during the confusion, and that Selene had disappeared shortly thereafter. After that he had camped a while, recovering his strength before making the difficult trek back.

The only mistake he made was when he slipped and reverted from calling her Isabel and began using her presumably real name in the middle of the story.

The marshal stared at him, pure malice in his eyes. “Your story is so improbable that it makes me want to laugh, but for one fact. You slipped up and gave yourself away when you called her Selene.”

Uncertain, Will asked, “Is that a bad thing, Your Grace?”

“It means you knew very well what her true identity was. It also gives you an excellent motive for kidnapping or murder. Whichever is the case, you’ll hang for treason against the crown.” He paused for a moment, then addressed the lieutenant. “Wait, that doesn’t sound right. What’s the punishment for treason against the crown?”

“Death by flogging,” answered the lieutenant.

“But I told the truth!” shouted Will. “You can check for yourself. Their entire camp is destroyed. They’re probably already starving!”

The previously somewhat friendly guard kicked him this time, so hard that his head rattled when it hit the ground. Will mumbled into the dirt, “Your Grace.”

The Marshall was on his feet, and he stared down at Will. “You make me sick. You lured Selene Maligant from the safety of this camp and kidnapped her. Beyond that it’s impossible to say, but I would not doubt for a second that you either raped and murdered her or sold her to the Patriarch’s men.”

“But I’m innocent,” said Will desperately. “She said she left orders.” Maligant? She’s the king’s daughter! At last he understood how well and truly damned he had become.

“There were no orders!” screamed the marshal, spittle flying from his lips. “For the love of all that is holy, the only thing I don’t understand is why you thought you could come back here! I’d kill you myself if it were allowed.”

“Lock him in the stockade,” said the marshal.

One of the guards smiled and the marshal turned back. “Don’t touch him. The king will want him in perfect condition so he can see justice done himself.”

Will wanted to cry as they dragged him away, but the hysteria rising up within him had different ideas. “We have a stockade now? That’s new.” He almost welcomed the blow that followed. I kidnapped a princess—fuck me! Then he thought about the night she had kissed him. And I told her off for kissing me. Gods above, I’m the biggest idiot in the world.

The next morning, he was loaded into a wagon, and the journey to Cerria began. Since there was an honest-to-goodness paved road and the weather was good, they made the trip in four days. Along the way, one of his guards informed him he was lucky it was treason he was charged with, otherwise he’d have already been executed by the military.

Small blessings, thought Will wryly. He was too glum to appreciate the high stone arches and soaring towers of Cerria as they rolled into the capital city of Terabinia. The city was a marvel of stonework and artisanship. It predated Terabinia itself, having been one of the two greatest cities of Greater Darrow before the war for independence.

But Will counted himself fortunate. He would get to experience the city from a vantage point few ever saw, the inside of the royal dungeons. He hoped the food would be better than what they served in the lockup in Branscombe, otherwise death might be preferable. He snickered to himself, wishing he could have told Arrogan his joke.

It turned out he was wrong, however. After they marched him down the long, winding stairs he was pushed into a tiny, damp cell and chained to a wall. When the door shut, moments later, there was no light to be seen. Days of absolute darkness without food or water taught him that there were indeed things worse than the food in the Branscombe lockup.

Epilogue

The door to his cell opened, and the rush of light that entered brought tears to his eyes. Two men, ordinary servants by the look of them, entered and unchained him from the wall. They grunted when they pulled him to his feet.

“This is a shame,” said one of them. “They should have taken it off him.”

Will clutched his right hand, trying desperately to hide his ring, but a second later he realized they were talking about his mail. Looking down, he could see that it had gone brown with rust. One of the men lifted his arms, and they carefully helped him out of the armor. Then they carried him along, helping him with the stairs, for his legs had gone wobbly.

“How long was I in there?” he asked.

“Three days,” said one of the men.

“Am I to be whipped to death now?” asked Will, almost hopeful. Anything had to be better than the endless, gnawing darkness he had endured.

The other man chuckled, “Not until you meet the king.”

Will squeezed his eyes shut. “That’ll be nice,” he droned sarcastically.

From there he was taken for a bath. His clothing was taken, and he heard one of the servants instructing the other to have it burned. He wanted to ask about his mail. It still meant something to him, but he supposed that since he was about to die, he would have to let it go. As before, no one mentioned the ring on his finger, but he was past wondering about it by then.

Scrubbed and washed, he was toweled dry by several older women who seemed used to the task. They combed his hair, and one of them produced a pair of scissors to trim it for him. At least I’ll die clean, thought Will. They dressed him in the finest tunic and trousers he had ever worn.

They were dyed in shades of red and gray. “What are these made of?” Will asked, marveling at the softness of the fabric.

“Linen,” one of the women told him. He didn’t believe her, though. Linen couldn’t be that soft and fine. He knew better.

He was given warm wool socks and cloth shoes were put on his feet. Will liked the feel of them, but they weren’t very practical. One step outdoors and they would be quickly ruined. He said as much, but no one was listening to him.

Next they fed him and offered him his choice of either small beer or water. He chose the water, since he was so thirsty, he felt sure he was about to die, and he didn’t think his stomach could have tolerated much else. After a small meal a guard led him into a sumptuous room with cushioned chairs and left him to his own devices.

The chairs were more comfortable than anything he had ever sat upon, but he was tired, so he curled up on the rug and within moments, he was asleep. After an unknown period, he heard a sound, and when he opened his eyes, he saw a man standing over him.

The man was dressed in a similar fashion to Will, though his clothing had embroidery around the edges and a massive gold chain hung around his neck. His hair and beard were a glossy brown, and when he smiled Will couldn’t help but think he had rarely seen someone so good looking, of either gender.

Except Selene.

“Hello,” Will said muzzily.

“Are you comfortable?” asked the man. “Should I get you a pillow?”

“No, I’m fine,” said Will. “This rug is more comfortable than you might think.”

The man began to laugh, long and loud, his voice resonant and hearty. “Might I ask why you are on the floor?”

Will’s brain was beginning to work properly, thanks to the food he had eaten, but he wasn’t ready to give up hope. “I’m waiting on the king,” he answered.

“And is this how one waits on his king?”

Will nodded slowly. “If one is very tired.” Inside, he was beginning to feel a sense of panic. It’s him. It’s King Lognion, and I’m lying on his floor.

Graciously, the king bent and held out his hands. Will took them, and the monarch helped him to his feet, then gestured to one of the chairs. “Please, sit. When we’re done, I can offer you something much better to sleep upon.”

Will struggled to think. “Is it—is it, a coffin, Your Majesty?”

The king laughed again. “Certainly not!”

“I don’t mind, honestly,” said Will. “The past few days have been…difficult, Your Majesty.”

The king’s eyes grew serious. “I only recently learned you were here. For that, I feel a sense of responsibility. The proper reports didn’t reach me soon enough. You have endured a great deal because of that.”

Will couldn’t believe his ears. Why was the king being so courteous? “The Royal Marshall’s report?”

King Lognion nodded. “That one, among a few others. It seems the marshal was too hasty to judge you. Terabinia owes you a great deal for what you’ve done.”

“Then I’m not to be executed, Your Majesty?”

The king smiled. “Not today, at any rate. I won’t make any promises about the future, but it seems unlikely. I’d like you to tell me of your experiences, leaving nothing out.”

Will started, and then started again when the king asked him to start farther back, beginning with his training in wizardry. Will grew more nervous then, for he wasn’t sure how King Lognion knew to ask about that. It had to be Selene. He tried to remember how much he had told her. A mistake at this point might be disastrous.

He started with a brief description of his childhood, leaving out any mention of Lord Nerrow, then moved on to his apprenticeship with Arrogan, though he omitted his grandfather’s name. The king stopped him at that point.

“You didn’t give your grandfather’s name.”

“Bartholomew,” said Will hastily. “I’m not entirely sure he’s even my grandfather. That’s just what he told me. None of my cousins believed it.”

“Go on,” said the king.

He did, though he left out the details of his training and moved on to his time in the Terabinian army. He described his exploits in the army and then moved on to how he had met Selene and how they had eventually left to destroy the Patriarch’s supply line. When he glossed over the journey back to Barrowden, the king frowned.

“You left out any mention of the journey through Faerie,” said King Lognion, his voice edging toward anger.

Fuck. Will retraced his steps, including the trip through the congruence point, explaining that the presence of the goddamn cat kept that part of the other realm safe from the fae. King Lognion laughed at Will’s name for the beast, but he claimed ignorance of the creature’s true name, chalking it up to yet another mystery his grandfather had left behind.

“And you say this thing hates sorcerers?” interrupted the king.

He hadn’t said anything of the kind, but again Will knew Selene must have given her father that information. Will nodded. “Yes, Your Majesty, though I don’t know why.”

“That’s a shame,” said the monarch. “Such a shortcut would be immensely useful. I almost wonder if we could kill the beast, but that would render the path useless, wouldn’t it? Since the fae would no longer need to avoid the area. Please, continue.”

Will did, regretfully including the information that his family was living in seclusion. There was no way he could hide that fact, since Selene had obviously told her father everything. Lognion nodded, waving his hand to urge Will onward. He didn’t seem interested.

He told the rest without much editing, except to say that he didn’t fully understand how he had been able to turn the fire elementals’ attacks back against their owners. He also omitted Tailtiu’s assistance with his escape. Thus far he had said nothing about the fae, and he prayed that Selene hadn’t mentioned his one remark about learning the trick to seeing in the dark from one of them.

He was relieved when King Lognion accepted his story and smiled, but his stomach dropped when the king spoke next. “You are a remarkably brazen liar, William Cartwright. Not many would have the balls to attempt to hide things from me, especially given the fact that you already know how good my information is.”

Will grew perfectly still, and he and the king fell into a staring contest that he knew he was doomed to lose.

But he didn’t. The king spoke first. “I know a lot more about your charming grandfather, Bartholomew, than you may realize. Is he truly dead?”

He felt as though the breath in his chest would explode, and Will exhaled loudly. “Yes, Your Majesty. He’s dead. I buried him myself.”

“More good news, then,” said King Lognion. “Now, if you’ll be patient, I’ll list all the reasons I have for executing you.”

Will shut his eyes in defeat. I knew it.

“Unlicensed wizardry, harboring and giving aid to a fugitive wanted by the Crown, possible warlockry, desertion of duty, insubordination and disrespect to your superior officer, kidnapping and trying to seduce my daughter—”

“I didn’t!”

Lognion held up one finger, silencing him. “Perhaps, but you admit the rest, don’t you?”

“Not warlockry,” said Will stubbornly.

“Yet I can see their mark on you!” The king lifted his hand and prodded Will’s forehead. “You wouldn’t have received that without making a significant bargain.”

“It wasn’t warlockry,” insisted Will. “I didn’t bargain with anything that was not mine to give.”

The king studied him for a moment. “Arrogan’s lessons must have been thorough. Not many understand the difference. What am I going to do with you?”

Will lowered his eyes. “Something that doesn’t involve being whipped to death, hopefully.”

“Answer one more question,” said the king. “You say you’re not a warlock because you haven’t bargained anything that doesn’t belong to you, but many warlocks only sell their own souls. If they aren’t bargaining with someone else’s life, how is that evil?”

Will had been giving that considerable thought, and he hoped the answer he had was the right one. “Because the soul doesn’t belong to anyone. It belongs to the universe. No one has the right to give or sell it.”

King Lognion nodded. “Not how I would have worded it, but good enough. Based on that and what Selene has said, I don’t believe you’ve prostituted your soul. I’m almost tempted to debate you on your arrogant claim that sorcery is evil, but your opinion means nothing to me on that matter. That leaves only one matter to be settled.”

Will waited.

“You lied to me, William, not once, but several times during our conversation. As a ruler, I cannot abide lies.” Will could see something akin to anticipation in Lognion’s eyes.

“Forgive me—” he began to say, but Lognion leaned forward with unbelievable speed, and Will felt something slam into the side of his head. The force of the blow was so great that he flew backward, causing the chair to tip, spilling him onto the floor.

Will tried to focus his eyes, and he saw the king staring at his own fist. The skin across his knuckles had split, and blood was dripping from them, but the look on the man’s face was one of contentment. Will shivered.

“That’s better,” said King Lognion, standing and offering Will his hand once more. “I didn’t break your jaw, did I?”

“No, Your Majeshty,” said Will, having difficulty forming the words.

“Excellent. Now that the air has been cleared, perhaps we can be friends. Just be sure to never lie to me again. The second lesson won’t be so pleasant.”

“Yes, Your Majeshty.”

“You will be enrolled in Wurthaven’s College of Wizardry. Something you should have done when your father first attempted to convince you to go there. This is my gift and my judgment for you. You must be trained properly if you are to serve me well,” said Lognion.

The king’s eyes twinkled as he looked at Will. “You didn’t think I knew? Selene figured it out years ago. I would caution you to make sure no hint of it gets past your lips. If Duke Arenata discovered the fact, it I doubt even my protection could save you. He’s very protective of his sister.”

“His sister?”

“Mark Nerrow’s wife, Agnes Arenata.”

Will couldn’t understand such vindictiveness. “Does it really matter so much if I’m his bastard son?”

King Lognion nodded. “Agnes has given him two daughters, Laina and Tabitha, but no sons. Your existence could endanger their inheritance.” He moved closer and put his arm around Will’s shoulder in an almost fatherly manner. “Don’t worry, though. I won’t tell him. I have great hopes for your usefulness in the future. I never waste good men.”

“Uh, thank you, Your Majesty.”

The king smiled. “That’s it then. I’ll keep you a few days. Feed you and fatten you up, then I’ll send you off to Wurthaven. A servant will show you to your room. You look as though you could use some rest.” He started to turn away.

Will had one more question, though. “Um, Your Majesty?”

Lognion paused. “Yes?”

“How is Selene? I’ve been worried about her since she vanished.”

The king’s eyes darkened. “I almost forgot. She’s currently being reeducated after her recent mistakes. I don’t think she’ll be out in public for a while. I’m sure you’ll eventually see her, but you need to understand your place when you do.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

Lognion leaned closer. “When you see her, you are to say one thing, and one thing only. Listen carefully.”

Will waited patiently.

The king continued, speaking slowly and putting emphasis on each word, “I—know—who—you—are.”

Will stared at Lognion in confusion.

“That’s it,” said the king. “I know who you are. Tell her that and she’ll understand. If she says anything else, walk away. She’s been doing this for years, assuming secret identities and learning about life in the kingdom. Usually she undertakes these tasks at my behest, but I’ve drilled into her the importance of one rule. No one must know who she is. If they learn, that’s the end of it. It wouldn’t do to have her growing attached to people beneath her station. Nor would it benefit you to think that you could mean anything to her.”

Will nodded slowly.

“Those words are a little joke she and I have developed over the years. Once she hears you say them, she’ll understand that your little friendship has come to an end,” said the king.

His heart felt cold, but he answered, “Yes, Your Majesty.”

The king started to leave again, but he looked back one more time and pointed at Will. “Don’t forget! I know who you are.” Then he left, humming a playful tune as he went out the door.

Will stared after him. In his mind he remembered something Selene had told him. “Once you know, we won’t be able to be friends anymore.” Was this what she had been referring to? How long had she lived like this? How many times had she heard those words? I know who you are. It was a cruel joke, and he wanted to weep for her.

He stared down at his hand where the gold ring still lay on his finger. It was the only thing the king hadn’t noticed. The sole thing he had been able to hide. His mind was a confused jumble, and there were only two things he was sure of. The king terrified him, and the king was completely mad.

Table of Contents

- Chapter 1
- Chapter 2
- Chapter 3
- Chapter 4
- Chapter 5
- Chapter 6
- Chapter 7
- Chapter 8
- Chapter 9
- Chapter 10
- Chapter 11
- Chapter 12
- Chapter 13
- Chapter 14
- Chapter 15
- Chapter 16
- Chapter 17
- Chapter 18
- Chapter 19
- Chapter 20
- Chapter 21
- Chapter 22
- Chapter 23
- Chapter 24
- Chapter 25
- Chapter 26
- Chapter 27
- Chapter 28
- Chapter 29
- Chapter 30
- Chapter 31
- Chapter 32
- Chapter 33
- Chapter 34
- Chapter 35
- Chapter 36
- Chapter 37
- Chapter 38
- Chapter 39
- Chapter 40
- Chapter 41
- Chapter 42
- Chapter 43
- Chapter 44
- Chapter 45
- Chapter 46
- Chapter 47
- Chapter 48
- Chapter 49
- Chapter 50
- Chapter 51
- Chapter 52
- Chapter 53
- Chapter 54
- Chapter 55
- Chapter 56
- Chapter 57
- Chapter 58
- Chapter 59
- Chapter 60
- Chapter 61
- Chapter 62
- Chapter 63
- Chapter 64
- Epilogue