Icestorm

by Theresa Dahlheim

  Errie, Patrick, Marcus, and Jeff all took turns on the rope-swing, while Rose, Koren, and the Adelard girl—Brigita—kept refusing. Selena and Logan rejoined them once Logan’s medallion had been found, and Selena impressed everyone with a twirling jump from the swing. She said she’d been practicing it for years, ever since she first discovered her magic. Logan wanted to try it, and this time he didn’t ask for Graegor’s help. He wasn’t nearly as graceful as Selena had been, but apparently that was all right.

  Rather suddenly, Graegor realized that almost everyone was looking his way, and both Jeff and Rose were calling his name. He’d stayed in one place for so long without drawing any attention that he’d started to think he’d been forgotten, and could probably slip away. He didn’t know why he hadn’t. “What?” he shouted back, trying to sound casual.

  “Do that jump you did before,” Jeff urged, sending at the same time, “They keep asking me if you’re angry.”

  “Which one?” he asked as he sent, “Did you tell them I’m not?”

  “Where you soared up about a thousand feet,” Patrick shouted.

  “I don’t remember that one,” Graegor returned dryly, but he did. It was more like forty or fifty feet, maybe a bit higher the second time he’d tried it. It was fun. It felt like flying.

  No one was willing to let it drop, and all the boys—and Rose—added telepathic goading to their shouts. Selena and Errie were watching him with bright, eager eyes that made him really uncomfortable, but he couldn’t show it, because he shouldn’t be uncomfortable. He shouldn’t be bothered by the fact that he wore only breeches. None of the other boys wore anything more, and they weren’t bothered. He couldn’t refuse to do this without looking like a prig.

  So he rose from his crouch and waded toward the others, shaking his head as if indulging a group of children. They yelled and clapped, and he noticed that on the grassy bank, not only was Rose watching, but Koren and Brigita were too. He climbed the tree quickly and grabbed the rope.

  There was no reason for Tabitha to find out about this.

  And he wished she would look at him like that.

  He leaned back on the rope swing and shoved off hard. He flew out over the pool and shot up even higher than before, pushing his magic against the submerged rocks as much as he could. The sun was fiercely bright as he rose past the tree cover, and it wrapped him in thick heat as thoroughly as the pond had wrapped him in cool water. He only hovered a few seconds, but it was impressive enough to elicit whoops and shouts before he let himself drop. He slowed his descent a little, but the water still splashed high when he hit and sank to the bottom.

  They were applauding when he surfaced, and he took his time wiping the water from his face to avoid meeting anyone’s eyes. Any girl’s eyes. Then he ducked instinctively as something flew at his head, and his gen rose to swat it away—one of the rubber balls. He ducked again as another ball came at him, and another, but he caught the fourth and threw it at Jeffrei. It smacked him right in the head, which he deserved.

  He really hadn’t intended to stay right in the middle of everyone, but everyone was throwing balls at him like he was the first target in Rahad’s Square. As they tried to hit him, he had to try to catch all the balls and keep them in the air over his head, and once he did that, he could choose the next target. So he had to keep turning, keep moving his eyes, instead of letting them linger on Errie or Selena.

  It was hard not to look, because Errie in particular always seemed to be right in his line of sight, her chest bouncing. Patrick and Jeff kept telling her to splash his face so that he couldn’t see where the balls were coming from, and when she finally did, he lost hold of one of the two balls he’d already captured, and it dropped behind him. He swiped at it but missed.

  “Duck!” Patrick yelled, and Errie shrieked as a rubber ball flew just past her. Graegor caught it with his gen, but Errie surged toward him with her arms up as if to swat it away before he could lift it above his head. She fell right into him and they both went under the water.

  She held him around the waist as they sank, and he couldn’t get his feet under him. He landed on his back, and the exposed edge of a rock dug into his shoulder. That pain was distant and secondary, though—Errie’s body, lying on top of his, had all his attention. When he moved to try to push her off, she clung tighter.

  He didn’t open his eyes. How long could she hold her breath? Did she know how long he could hold his breath? He hadn’t had time to prepare for a long dive, but even so—

  He felt her cheek touch his. His body was reacting. What was she doing? Did she think that if no one could see them, no one would tell Tabitha?

  The thought of Tabitha make him panic. Earth magic flashed white beneath him, and then the water rushed away like a riptide. He held himself against it, but it dragged Errie off him, and as soon as he was free of her, he sat up. He watched the wave crash into the saplings on the other side of the pond.

  There was a lot of shouting, and both Jeff and Logan were sending to him with the equivalent of What the hell was that, but the wave quickly spent itself and the water rushed back, building another wave as it refilled the pond. Before he thought to stop it, he felt a push of green, and earth magic rose behind instead of beneath him. He turned to see Koren on her knees on the grassy bank, her hands spread in front of her and her eyes intent, and the water swirled around him instead of crashing over him.

  Not a drop hit her, Brigita, or Rose, or even the bank itself. When she sat back on her heels, she saw him looking at her, and shrugged. “I don’t want to get wet.”

  This wasn’t the time to ask her how and when she had gotten so good with earth magic. Graegor struggled to his feet, relieved to see that everyone who had been in the water with him was standing up, unhurt, even Errie. She was looking at the trees, away from Jeff’s glare at her back, and Patrick, Marcus, Logan, and Selena were staring at Graegor.

  “Sorry,” he said, embarrassed, but not about to explain. He pushed back his wet hair, then wiped the water from his face and beard.

  “No worries,” Patrick said mildly, and then frowned and looked around. “Where’d all the balls end up?”

  The search began, and Graegor decided that it was time to check on Sable. In the time it took for him to wade over to the clearing, get out of the pond, and find his horse among all the others, he’d further decided that it was time for him to leave. Past time.

  Sable lifted his head from grazing and nuzzled Graegor’s shoulder. “Good boy,” Graegor murmured, and had to smile at Sable’s puzzlement that he was soaking wet. He let out his breath as he scratched Sable’s withers, and Sable whuffed and shifted closer to him. “Good boy,” Graegor murmured again. There was a kind of restfulness to being with animals instead of people.

  Errie knew he was not interested. She knew that he and Tabitha were a couple. Everyone knew that, and everyone also knew that the two of them didn’t care about the politics of it or if it upset people. There were many girls who still tried to flirt with him despite it, but no one else was so … aggressive. No one else had ever done anything like that. He knew he should feel flattered, but he didn’t.

  He kept waiting for Jeff to call to him and again tell him to stay, but it didn’t happen. Eventually he went over to the row of saddles and used his towel, then put on his shirt. Trying to dry out his breeches while he was still wearing them didn’t work so well, and he swore in irritation as he let the magic fade.

  He’d stayed here against his better judgment, and even now, he didn’t want to leave. He shouldn’t have to leave. He shouldn’t leave. Why was he letting a girl make him uncomfortable? If he couldn’t enjoy the attention—like most men would, like he probably should—why couldn’t he just ignore it?

  Watching Tabitha handle men’s attention at parties and events was oddly fascinating. She was so polite and so gracious, but also had absolutely no trouble moving along to the next admirer once the small talk was finished. None of it, none of them, seemed to actuall
y bother her, or even make any sort of lasting impression on her.

  None of them ever tackled her in a swimming pond, he reminded himself. Imagining it made him growl, but not because she needed his protection, of course. If any man tried to do to Tabitha what Errie had just done to Graegor, the wrath of the sorceress of Thendalia would send that man flying a hundred feet through the air.

  He would stay. He had to stay. He could not let one of the magi—one of his own magi—chase him away. If Errie touched him again, if she came too close to him again, he would tell her to leave. Or otherwise make it very clear that she wasn’t welcome.

  His mouth twisted. Sure, you will. He could never bring himself to say anything unkind to women or girls. His mother and sister were undoubtedly to blame.

  He tended to Sable for a little longer, to make it plain that that was all he was doing, and then took a deep breath and walked back through the trees to the grassy bank. He would stay, but he wouldn’t swim anymore. Swimming wasn’t necessary. It was nice to just be out here, beyond the city walls, with the leafy scents and cooler air. There were so many little animal burrows just out of sight, with their cautious residents observing the human activity. Maybe he could lure out a nogga or a bird and feed it from his hand. He hadn’t tried that in a while.

  Rose was still dangling her feet over the edge of the bank, her pink dress half-dried by now. She was talking to Marcus, who was sitting on a submerged rock. As Graegor approached, he saw Marcus’s eyes flit from Rose to Brigita at least twice. But Brigita still sat back more than a pace from the bank, her brown skirt draped completely over her legs, even hiding her feet. Graegor couldn’t tell what she was looking at, but he was reasonably sure it wasn’t Marcus.

  Jeffrei had once said that the problem with liking shy girls was that you could never tell if they liked you back. Marcus had answered that persistence usually paid off, but Graegor wasn’t sure that would work in this case. Maybe Marcus needed to put his shirt back on. Even if Brigita did like him, she might be too embarrassed to look at him. He had a big frame, and at nearly seventeen, he was building really solid muscle. It was quite a bit more impressive than what Graegor saw in the mirror, but it was useless to let that bother him.

  There was a big tree that looked like it had a nice little hollow in front of it to sit in, and he passed a few feet behind Brigita and Koren on his way toward it. Both turned to look at him, but he only gave them a self-conscious grin and kept moving. The hollow was a little deeper than he’d expected, but moving to another tree now would look stupid, so he settled himself cross-legged and watched the games in the pond.

  “Everything all right?” Jeff sent.

  “Just fine.”

  But he wished he could join them. He was good at white-wheels, even without magic. Selena was good at it too, he noticed, seeming to grasp the strategy of the game a lot more than Errie or even Patrick did. Of course she was smart enough to understand, but in his experience, girls in general just didn’t care about games, and how to win them, nearly as much as boys did. Tabitha didn’t even like card or board games, and watching athletic contests at the stadium held absolutely no interest for her or any of her friends. He wondered if Selena liked horse races too.

  For his next jump, Patrick curled himself into a ball and landed rather closer to the grassy bank than he probably intended, and the splash he sent up was enormous. The sheet of water swept over Marcus first, then fell on Rose, Brigita, and Koren, dousing them as thoroughly as from an upturned bucket. Rose was the only one to gasp, but it was loud enough for all of them. “Patrick!” she shouted as he surfaced. “That’s cold!”

  “Not sorry!”

  “How can you stand it?” Rose asked as she shivered dramatically. Brigita was wiping her eyes, while Koren had risen to her knees again and was staring down at herself in dismay.

  Koren had breasts. Graegor realized he was staring, and he turned away, hoping she hadn’t seen him.

  Of course she had breasts. She was sixteen years old. Just because she always wore plain, modest clothes didn’t mean she was a child. He’d already noticed at the Hall that she was taller now; he knew he had grown taller, and she still just barely reached his collarbone, like she always had. She’d gained both height and curves over the winter, curves that he could see nicely outlined by her wet dress.

  He flinched and looked away again. Stop it! How much would it hurt Tabitha to know what he was doing right now—thinking about, leering at, another girl? Another sorceress?

  Guilt overwhelmed him. He was pretending that Tabitha shouldn’t be bothered by this, but she would be. This wasn’t innocent. The rest of them didn’t care, but he did.

  Suddenly Brigita stood up and said, “I want to try the rope-swing.”

  Graegor could barely understand her. Her voice was so quiet he could only just hear it over the laughter from the pond, and she still had a noticeable, monotone Adelard accent. Rose and Koren looked up at her in surprise, and Marcus gaped for a moment before he smiled at her and said, “Sure, I’ll lead you. Just step where I step … do you know how to climb trees?”

  Brigita only nodded as Graegor rolled his eyes. Marcus was usually smooth, but that question was as stupid as asking her if she knew how to swim. Obviously she wouldn’t be jumping otherwise. But then, who was he to call any his friends stupid around girls?

  Brigita stepped toward the tree with her head down, dripping water. She didn’t even take her ankle-boots off until Rose tugged at her skirt and murmured to her. Marcus waited for her, and then pointed out the submerged rocks that she’d have to avoid when jumping. “Aim for the middle,” he said, then looked back at her and frowned a little. “You don’t have to do it if you don’t want to.”

  She nodded again, studied the tree, and picked a branch. Marcus offered to climb up in front of her to show her the best way, and she let him. Graegor watched them until he noticed the swell of her hips under her skirt, and then he jerked his head sideways, gritting his teeth.

  Apparently he couldn’t control himself. He had to leave. It took a few awkward twists to finally lift himself out of the hollow and press his back to the tree to get his feet under him, and it was only when he was standing up normally that he realized that he could have used his gen to help him do it far more gracefully. He wasn’t even thinking straight. He retraced his steps to the clearing full of grazing horses and knelt down beside his saddlebags.

  Marcus suddenly shouted a curse, and his sheer blind panic engulfed Graegor’s mind as a cracking noise rang out over the pond. Graegor scrambled to his feet and ran back toward the others to see Rose and Koren both lunging toward Brigita, who was lying face-down on the rocks in the water. Marcus was sliding down the rope toward her, and Graegor could feel the burn of it against his own hands. Patrick and Logan and Selena splashed forward from the middle of the pond, but Jeff got to Brigita first. Both he and Rose shouted, “Nobody touch her!”

  Contare. Graegor seized his connection to his master, and beneath him he felt a rush of earth magic. Marcus landed in the water and waded forward toward Brigita, but Logan grabbed his arm to keep him back as Jeff and Rose held their hands just over Brigita’s head. Then Contare pulled Graegor into a link with Josselin, Koren, Rose, and Jeff.

  “Broken,” Jeff was sending, and through his eyes Graegor could see the horrible twist of Brigita’s neck. “Depressive fracture in her skull back here.”

  “No breath,” Rose added tersely. “No heartbeat.”

  The earth magic strained to rise, and Graegor strained to hold it down. It wouldn’t help. Despite all his power, he couldn’t heal anyone except himself. Only Jeff and Rose could heal Brigita. Brigita was Adelard. She couldn’t receive any magic that was foreign to her. Jeff and Rose were the only ones here who were pledged to the Circle and could heal across races.

  He was useless. He couldn’t help.

  “Lift her out!” Marcus shouted.

  Patrick reached Marcus’s other side and helped Logan block him away
from Brigita. “Don’t get in the way!”

  “Can I do anything?” Graegor asked Contare.

  “I’ll tell you if you can. Keep a lid on the earth magic.”

  “That’s all?”

  “Pray.”

  Horror writhed in Graegor’s chest like a living thing as he stood frozen, useless. He watched Rose’s and Jeff’s hands hovering over Brigita’s head as they extended their healing senses.

  “This vertebra,” Jeff sent. “And this one.”

  “Koren,” Josselin sent. Graegor saw what Josselin wanted Koren to do, and as Rose and Jeff backed away, Brigita’s body started to lift from the water as if a board had been slid under her. She remained in exactly the same position, not even her wet clothes moving relative to the rest. Water sheeted and dripped from her. Koren stood on the bank with both arms extended, her face set in concentration as she wielded her telekinesis with exacting control.

  “Hibernation?” Jeff asked as Koren moved Brigita toward a flat area of the grass.

  “No,” both Contare and Josselin answered, and Contare added, “Slowing her internal processes will interfere with your healing.”

  Graegor had heard of a hibernation spell but knew little about how a healer used it. He didn’t know anything. He couldn’t help. The earth magic felt like it would lift the ground beneath them, and for lack of anything else he could do, he focused on its complex pattern and started laying strands of his own magic into it to bind them together. He’d done this many times since the labyrinth, but he couldn’t do anything with it.

  Koren lowered Brigita to the grass on her stomach, but Brigita’s body didn’t relax, for Koren kept hold of her, maintaining every bone and muscle as it had been when she had fallen. Jeff and Rose knelt beside her, and Rose pressed a strip of cloth to the bloody smear on the back of Brigita’s head.