Shadows and Embers

by Lindsey Richardson

  My thoughts were interrupted by the creaking of the door. Nicia ran inside looking as if she had seen a ghost. There was blood dripping down her left arm, staining the wooden floor. She advanced to me and grabbed onto my tunic, sinking her nails into the fabric.

  “We were attacked in the woods. Alaire is fighting them off, but he can’t do it alone,” she explained as she tried to balance herself against my body.

  “I knew something like this would happen! Come on, Leal,” Esmour shouted, already making his way to the exit.

  Pulling Nicia away, I said, “Stay here.”

  We dodged out of the house before Nicia could insist on coming along. She was no longer a part of our world, and it would only be a matter of time before Esmour told the Council. Humans were forbidden to interfere in magical battles. It seemed each time I saw Nicia she became more of an outsider. How much longer would it take for her to become a complete stranger? While such thoughts flooded my mind, Esmour ran beside me. Several of the locals glanced over at us, but we were headed for the woods behind Esmour’s house and soon they’d be the least of our worries.

  “I can’t forgive you for what you did to Nicia,” I said, trying to focus on the path ahead of us.

  “You could, but you’re stubborn like Ewan. I don’t need your forgiveness. Someday you will understand I did it all to protect you and her,” he answered calmly.

  We reached the forest and slowed our pace. Every step, every breath was vital now. Alaire's life depended on it, but the memory of four dead White magicians flashed through my head. No one else could have killed those men except for Alaire. As much as I wanted to ask Esmour, there was no time and no telling how he would react. Instead I pushed the thought away to hide with the other memories. This was the first time I had fought since Rahela’s death and nothing would stop me from completing the mission.

  There were swords scrapping against each other as we approached closer. Alaire was shouting spells while Esmour motioned that we each take different sides. I bent down and crept along the left side. The closer I was, the more clearly I could see our enemies. An elderly man and young woman fought Alaire; each stood on opposite sides of Alaire.

  Esmour motioned for me to stay where I was, but I couldn’t afford to hesitate again. I remembered how easily the White magicians had killed Rahela, and if given the chance they’d do it to Alaire. For a moment I allowed the anger to consume me, and then I dashed out from hiding and attacked.

  The woman barely had time to turn around before I struck her. Water gushed out of my palm, soaking her sweaty face. Esmour had revealed himself by now and was helping Alaire, but all of my attention was on the woman. She would pay for the pain they had caused us. Clenching my fists, I cast sparks of ember at her. A high pitched laugh filled the silence as she grabbed the sparks in mid-air and directed them back to me. I dodged it, rolling across the grass, and then jumped back up. The rage was building up, and this time I wanted it to control me. Quickly, I cast an ice shard and threw it. It struck her shoulder, piercing the skin enough to make it bleed.

  While she screamed, I smirked and decided this was the best way to kill her. I’d strike her down little by little until she begged for mercy. Taking another step forward, I held out my hand and aimed another shard at her. She grimaced, but slowly pulled the one out of her shoulder. A red puddle formed, and I instantly recalled Rahela’s dress stained in the same manner.

  “Leal, stop!” Esmour shouted from nearby. He was too involved in fighting the older man to notice that I did not obey.

  The woman smirked, though her knees quivered. “What kind of name is Leal?”

  “Are you in a position to mock me? You killed my friends, and now you will meet the same fate,” I said, tightening my fists. I turned my hands counter-clockwise and watched as the remaining shard twisted. My opponent’s scream echoed in the forest, sounding loud enough to attract the locals’ attention. Nonetheless, there was no stopping me now. I pressed forward with the spell, allowing the shard to dig deeper into her skin.

  “You’re killing her,” Alaire wailed as he approached me.

  Glancing over, I noticed the elderly man was on the ground. Esmour knelt beside him, appearing grief stricken. I couldn’t understand either of them. I was completing the mission; this battle would not end until she was dead. Even so, Alaire rested his hand on my shoulder and tried to pull me away. With my free hand, I pushed him away and then took another step. No one could stop me; this needed to be done. Hitting the woman’s other shoulder with a larger shard, I watched without any emotion.

  She deserves this… She deserves this. I thought, repeating it in my head with each turn and new cut.

  “Stop!” Esmour roared, standing up and murmuring several words.

  Suddenly I was knocked off the ground and spiraled across the forest. I landed, sounding off a thud, but I was still in the battle area. Lifting my head, I could see Esmour sitting next to the woman. He spoke to her, but his words were inaudible from where I had landed. Alaire approached her as well like she was an old friend. Had they gone mad?

  A familiar voice asked, “Are you hurt?”

  I turned my head to look into Nicia’s hazel eyes. Esmour would be furious when he found out she had followed us, but an idea struck me. If he and Alaire were under some kind of obedience spell, I could kill the woman and everything would return to normal.

  Quietly, I responded, “Do you have a dagger on you?”

  “Yes but—”

  “Trust me?” I asked, offering a faint smile. Slowly, she withdrew the dagger from her belt and handed it to me. She didn’t ask questions or even raise her brow. I closed my eyes and thought of a spell, focusing all of my energy into it. Then I opened my eyes and threw the weapon with all of the strength I could gather. Both Alaire and Esmour gazed up in horror, and within seconds it plunged into the woman’s chest.

  Nicia stood up and offered her hand. Once she lifted me up I was able to control my balance, and we walked back to where Esmour and Alaire were.

  “Reckless boy! Do you have any idea of what you’ve done?” Esmour asked with several curse words following after.

  “She was our enemy,” I countered.

  Sighing, he said, “No, the old man was someone within the Council. He was traveling with her for security and information.”

  I raised my brow and looked at Alaire, wondering if he understood what Esmour was rambling about.

  “She was a Dark magician… one of us,” Alaire explained.

  My knees crumbled into the grass. I could not find the words, so instead I watched as Esmour tried to remove the dagger carefully. It had pierced through her chest, probably hitting her heart and ending her life immediately. She might not have ever known what hit her; the pain must have been intolerable. It felt surreal that I had been the one to end her life. Grimacing, I focused my attention on the ground, feeling as if I might vomit.

  After a few minutes, I asked, “Why was she with a White magician?”

  “Surely you’ve heard of the kidnappings?” Esmour continued with his work, attempting to clean away blood stains. At my silence he explained, “In recent years the Dark magicians have been kidnapped by Council members. They’re taken to Belsgar, and if they’re lucky all they lose is their magic. In some cases, though, a White magician will acquire one as a ‘companion.’ Then accidents like these happen.”

  All of a sudden Nicia leaned close to me and covered my ears with her soft hands. I tried to pull them away, but then I realized Esmour’s grip was on the dagger. He withdrew it, and I flinched at the faint noise I could hear. Nicia let go, but my concern was on the woman.

  “When did you realize she was one of us, and how do you know about what goes on inside of the Council?”

  He snickered. “I have spies for a reason, but besides them I investigate on my own. Alaire noticed the mark on her shoulder. I suspect she was misled to believe we were enemies.”

  There was a snap, and everyone turned their heads
as a uniformed man approached. He was the constable in our town, and now he was also a witness of murder.

  “What happened here?!” he asked, taking another step forward.

  “A pity to see you on these terms, constable. The old man had attacked her, and by the time we dealt with him she was already dead,” Esmour said.

  All eyes turned to Esmour. No one in town knew about our magic, and he had been the one to enforce that precaution. Murder was already punishable, but magic was above all the worst crime to commit. We never told a soul, and those who found out dealt with the consequences. This, however, was no accident.

  “People in town heard the screams. What should I tell them?” the man asked.

  “Tell them a woman was caught in a hunting trap. I can manage hiding the evidence,” Esmour responded convincingly.

  Out of the corner of his mouth, Alaire muttered, “Are you sane?”

  Ignoring him, Esmour picked up the body and started toward the other. The constable bowed his head and began his journey back into town. Though I considered pursuing him, I noticed that Nicia and Alaire were equally confused.

  “Have you betrayed us as well?” I asked as I stood up and dusted off my pants. For a moment I held up my hands, searching for red blotches. There was nothing; they were almost entirely clean.

  Esmour laid the bodies next to each other.

  “The constable has known for years, and to ensure his loyalty I marked him with the triquetra. The sooner you start trusting me, the easier it becomes to believe me. Now help me with this spell,” he said, motioning us to join him. Alaire ran to him without hesitation, but I wasn’t fully convinced. He admitted to revealing our secret without asking permission, and instead he had chosen to hide the truth for years.

  On the other hand, I was in no position to test Esmour’s limits. With Nicia’s betrayal and Malin’s disappearance, his patience could be hanging by a thread.

  “It’s not a suggestion; it’s an order,” he barked.

  Hesitantly, I moved to where he and Alaire stood. Esmour extended his arms out and circled them above the bodies. Alaire and I did the same, and as Esmour chanted the spell the bodies sunk into the ground. I watched the old man sink down into the Earth, being swallowed by nature, and then the woman followed after. There was nothing left to them, no sign of their existence as if the battle had never occurred. They were trapped under the soil to decay unless another magician knew where to find them.

  “What was her name?” I winced as I spoke, imagining her face buried underneath the ground we now stood on.

  Alaire tapped his forehead for a moment, and then said, “The old man had called her Gwyn.”

  Somewhere in a journal Esmour owned he would write about this fight. He always reminded us that he documented our work in Destin. There was nothing more important than Gwyn’s name being mentioned. Even if my actions were something my loved ones would hate me for someday, Gwyn deserved to be remembered.

  While I was left with painful memories, the men pushed forward to return home. They whispered to each other, but I didn’t want to think about the consequences of Alaire hiding secrets from me. He was my best friend and wouldn’t have any reason to hide the truth. I yearned to warn him that I was slowly losing my mind, that the power from magic would drive me mad. Instead I said nothing and stood alone, feeling the weight of my actions. Meanwhile Nicia had remained where I last left her, and as I glanced over I was certain she had been staring. Malin’s note was in her hand, and I almost hated him for leaving it behind. We were becoming collateral damage because of his words.

  “I can walk with you,” Nicia offered.

  The others were too far ahead to hear us or notice our lack in presence.

  “Can you? You could have come to me about Kinhlr, but you chose not to,” I replied. With Esmour gone, I wanted answers of my own.

  She crossed her arms. “I tried to warn you, but you changed after Rahela’s death. I even tried to talk to Alaire, but he’s been overwhelmed with wedding preparations.”

  “Preparations? They haven’t even decided on a date yet,” I said.

  Frowning, she explained, “They decided a week ago, but like I said everyone has been preoccupied.”

  I looked away from her, trying to pretend I hadn’t heard those words. Had I changed to the point where Alaire didn’t want to tell me about his wedding? I had thought everyone was affected by Rahela’s passing, but it turned out they were reconstructing on their own.

  “Let me help you,” she whispered, holding out her hand.

  “There’s nothing you can do. It would probably be for the best if you stayed away from me and Destin,” I answered. I didn’t have to look to know I had hurt her, but this was the only way she’d be safe. In time Esmour would tell her story, and I doubted everyone would be forgiving.

  “S-stay away?” her voice cracked.

  Avoiding eye contact, I said, “Just for a little while. There’s too much happening right now, and you’re in no position to face Esmour.”

  “Stay away…” she repeated slowly, but there was a change in her tone as she added, “Look me in the eyes and tell me.”

  Biting my lip, I looked up into her bright eyes. She had the faintest of a smile like there was hope that I’d change my mind. Memories of us sitting by the fireplace flashed through my head. She knew exactly what to say and do. Her eyes were bright enough to set the world on fire, and then cool it down with her rare smile. They say people spend their whole lives searching for their soul mate, but mine had been standing in front of me all along. My best friend, my saving grace, my everything…. And just like that I told her a lie, the words she needed to hear.

  “Leave me alone,” I said, staring directly into her eyes.

  All of the light in her face dissolved, and she ran before I could change my mind. I tried to warn you: people do crazy things for the ones they love.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Till Death do You Part

  We see what we want to see in people, we create our own heroes and demons, and at night we fall asleep believing we can escape it. I had all intentions of escaping, but from the moment I left the forest up until I entered my house it followed me. To make matters worse, I was informed of a guest waiting for me. I walked into the foyer and poked my head into the lounge room.

  “Hello Leal,” a thin brunette woman said.

  “Alainne…”

  Since last I saw her she had gotten thinner, but now that was all about to change. She was already resting her hands on her stomach, and there were lines underneath her eyes. Despite that, she looked livelier than ever.

  “It’s been too long since I’ve walked among these walls,” Alainne said, filling the silence with her sweet and calm voice. She stood up and paced, admiring each wall with a sense of loneliness.

  “Enric tells me that you are with child?” I asked. While she meant no harm by reflecting on our past, I couldn’t waste precious time. Time was the key, and lately I had no such luck with it.

  Staring at my father’s portrait, she replied, “Yes I am. I’m delighted, and I can sense that this baby will change everything for our town.”

  Turning around with her dress swirling in unison, Alainne stared at me. She looked like the same woman I had loved years ago, and the age difference between us was nearly impossible to notice.

  “Enric is the father, correct?" I blurted out unable to stop myself. I had to be certain I covered all the possibilities.

  Giggling, she waved her hand and replied, “Of course he is! What's the matter with you? You look... the same way you did that night I discovered your secret."

  I shuffled my feet, feeling uneasy. There was no easy way to convince her that her theory was wrong. Once she had an idea in her head it stayed there. This child would be brought up in a society that hated magic, regardless of whether it was human or magician.

  “Enric told me about the child... that you believe it will be a Dark magician," I said, wincing at the thought of
what her reaction might be.

  “Yes, I do believe that. Given everything, I have a right to believe in it, don't I? You showed me a world that I never knew existed, so who's to say my baby cannot be a magician?" She countered with a thin smile.

  Approaching her, I said, “The child will not have power if you have been faithful to Enric. You can't give birth to a magician because you will it to be so. This belief you have is dangerous."

  “You dare to order me on what I can believe?" A sadness entered into her tone, reminding me all too much of Nicia. More than anything, I wanted to return to my bedroom where I could be isolated from the world. Even if it could only be for a few hours, I was yearning for an escape.

  “Listen to me," I said, grabbing her arm, “You cannot talk freely about magic here. The fact that you told your husband about it is bad enough, but if anyone else knows it could cost you. I will protect your family, but you must promise me you'll stop this nonsense."

  She bit her lip. “I suppose you leave me no choice. I promise..."

  I raised my brow, wondering how I had convinced her to change her mind quickly.

  “Do not dishonor that promise," I warned her, and with that said I released her arm.

  Alainne curtsied, and then she left the house in a hurry. I didn't bother to follow after her, for her promise was enough for now. Whether she would stay true to her word or not, I had no way of knowing. All I cared about was a peacefully state of mind. As I dragged my feet across the floor and to the staircase, I slowly attempted to clear my mind. However, out of all of the people I lost today Malin had not left my thoughts. The world was a different place without him. He had always been the brave one, the first to volunteer for a mission, and the last to return home. Even as I climbed the stairs, I envisioned him traveling outside of our town. He could be on a mission of his own to settle a nightmare from his past, or perhaps at last he broke down the chains keeping him in a cage. Either way, I held onto an ounce of hope that someday he would return with stories to tell.