As dusk settled, they came across the village. Its isolation quickly became apparent, with no roads in or out other than the overgrown footpath they spotted. There were no signs of anything else here.
“It’s abandoned,” she whispered.
Benji opened his mouth and looked like he was about to snap at her, but he bit it back. He breathed in, tilting his head to the side, as if inhaling some of the wind he used to help detect aspects of magic.
“It has been abandoned for some time,” he said. “Unfortunately.”
“Why unfortunately?”
He pressed his mouth together in a tight frown. “I can’t find any evidence of your brother. He has gone quiet. The last trail led us here, but where is here?” He swept his hands around him. “As far as I can tell, there is nothing out here. Nothing but this village. I thought we might find something that would help me know what your brother was doing, but there is nothing.”
“What else does your magic tell you?”
“My magic?” He offered a hint of a smile, the first positive shift in his emotion in some time. He’d been acting unusual, though with Benji, that wasn’t terribly surprising.
“You said that you were magic,” Imogen said. “I would expect that you’d be able to pick up on something?”
“The trees talk. They’re gossipy. They like to tell of other places like this.” He frowned. “I’m not exactly sure why. It’s one more thing that has been obscured from me.” He said the last with a tinge of sadness, something that suggested the depths of his concern. “But the wind also speaks. I expect that, in time, I should be able to find some other connection to help guide me.”
She nodded. There was no use arguing with him about this. “We could stay here for the night.”
“We could,” he said. “If you don’t mind the emptiness.”
She didn’t, and she thought it might be better here than to sleep out on the road under the trees, with the possible danger of attack. She didn’t think there would be anything aggressive, but she simply did not know.
“Why have you been so concerned about that crypt?” she asked. Benji looked over to her, and she shook her head. “You can deny it if you want to, but I recognize how you have changed since we encountered that. I don’t know what it means, I don’t know why it bothers you so much, but I can tell that it troubled you.”
He sighed. “Long before the Sul’toral gained prominence, other magics existed in the world.” As he said it, he stared off toward the stream, the trees, and perhaps the wind, as if waiting for them to answer him. “That was a time when the world was different. The Porapeth were different.”
“How were the Porapeth different then?”
“More involved, perhaps. Those of us who remain have agreed to take on a lesser role in influencing the events of the world. We have believed that it is for the best, but I no longer know if that’s the case.”
“What are you going on about?”
“I am saying that…” Benji frowned, tilting his head upward. “I’m saying that it’s time for us to get moving. Come, Imogen, First of the Blade.”
He got to his feet and started moving quickly. At first, she thought he wanted to avoid talking about what he had uncovered, but as she watched him race into the trees, her skin tightened again and she felt a hint of power. Magic.
It had to be sorcery.
Maybe it was Timo, but if so, what she detected now was far more potent than what she expected her brother to be capable of doing.
Imogen reached a section of the forest where the trees had been knocked down, and she looked at the scene around her. She had her blade in hand without meaning to, and she flowed from position to position using the sacred patterns, though she doubted they would offer her much help at this point. There was no opponent here for her to fight. Nothing for her to do other than take in the strange sight of the forest.
Benji crouched near one shattered tree, which looked as if a giant had come through and crushed the branches, leading to the tree’s collapse.
“What did this?” she asked.
“Seen something like this, but they shouldn’t be here,” he said softly.
“Who?”
He traced his hand along the broken branches, then sniffed it deeply. He let out a heavy sigh, like he might find an answer in that as well. “It doesn’t matter. But they shouldn’t have been here.”
“Benji, if you are going to come with me, you need to share more information.”
He looked over to her, and the familiar Benji smile twisted his mouth. “If I’m going to go with you? Who says I’m going with you and it’s not the other way around? That you are going with me?”
“I need to go with you?”
“I think that in this, our paths are in alignment, Imogen.”
She nodded and glanced around at the trees. “Was this Timo?”
“I can’t tell if this was him or something else. Regardless, there was power that came through here. Magical power.”
It was a strange question for her to ask, especially given that the idea that her brother could have caused this level of destruction was ridiculous. Or it had been. The boy she had known was no longer. She didn’t know how he had changed as much as he had, or how he had acquired the knowledge and power he had uncovered, but somehow he had changed.
He had become a Toral. A sorcerer—the very thing her people had railed against for as long as she had known. Their opposition was tied into their fear of their ancient enemies, the Koral who lived beyond the mountains, people who had shamans with minor magic they had honed over the years in order to withstand the Leier’s attacks.
Those attacks had not come in Imogen’s lifetime, or even in her grandparents’ lifetime. The ancient fear of magic was so deep-seated within her people that it was hard to move past.
She shook her head and followed him, focusing on the cold energy Benji radiated with his magic. There were no answers, though she knew there would not be.
“What is this telling you?” she asked.
“It’s telling me that we need to keep moving.”
He headed through the forest, weaving back the way they had come, toward the stream and…
From there, Imogen didn’t know where they would end up going. But as she followed him, she cast one last glance back at the trees, amazed by the level of devastation in the enormous clearing. It looked almost as if a storm had blown through and destroyed everything.
They hadn’t gone far before they found another clearing. Much like in the last one, Benji paused, running his hands along the branches and sniffing.
“The same?” Imogen asked.
“Whatever was here had power.”
“But you aren’t saying whether this was Timo.”
“Because I’m not sure whether this was him. All I know is that the power we are seeing is familiar.” He shook his head. “Why here, though? If this was your brother—and I don’t know if it was—I don’t know what he intended to accomplish.”
“And it has something to do with that crypt?”
“Perhaps,” Benji said. “But even in that, I don’t know the answer. I’m afraid that he might stay ahead of us, and then I might not learn before it is too late.” He stared at the shattered remains of a crushed tree, then moved on.
Imogen lifted one of the broken branches, running her hands across the stone beneath, and she could practically feel something within it. Maybe it was magic. Whatever it was, she was aware of something.
She followed him, and they kept moving. So much for a restful night.
There had been no restorative or relaxing nights ever since her brother had escaped. Maybe there never could be again until he was captured.
As she trailed after Benji, she had the distinct feeling that whatever they were after, whatever he was aware of, was dangerous. But it almost seemed as if he didn’t want to worry her, so he was keeping the truth from her.
He would tell her in time. She had to hope that it would not
be too late.
Chapter Four
A soft and mournful howl split the air.
Imogen glanced over to Benji, who had a youthful appearance today, something she had noticed over the last few days. It seemed almost as though his appearance shifted from time to time. Some days he looked younger, and others older. Was the kind of magic he called on modifying his appearance in a way that created an illusion? It made it difficult for her to know his actual age.
The only thing that remained consistent was the bright silver that flashed in his eyes. The color stayed there regardless of anything else.
As he swept his gaze along the rolling grassy hillside, he tilted his head and listened, giving her a strange impression of what he might be doing.
“Well?” Imogen asked, standing perfectly still as she did. She was trying to focus on one of the sacred patterns, Tree Stands in the Forest. She thought that the distraction might help her master the pattern in some way, though so far she hadn’t been as successful as she had hoped.
“I do not detect anything.”
“It’s not always about what you detect,” she said, looking over to him and sweeping her gaze around. “That’s what you’ve told me, I believe.” She adopted his tone, gently teasing him. “It’s about what everything else is detecting.”
He glanced in her direction, smiling tightly and nodding. His eyes flashed brighter, as if there was more power in his silver irises than there had been before. “The trees don’t detect anything either.”
Imogen struggled to hold her pose. “Trees? Where do you see any trees, Benji? There aren’t any for leagues.”
“The trees still talk.”
“I just wish they would talk to me and not only to you.”
Benji looked at her for a long moment, a hint of amusement twinkling in his eyes. She didn’t care for that expression, mostly because she suspected that he would say something ridiculous to her, the way he often did.
He shrugged. “The trees could talk to you.”
She glanced around, noting the barren landscape. Still no signs of her brother. “It would be nice if the trees would share with us more about what they found.”
He stared at her, then turned his attention to what was nearby. “You doubt it?”
“I don’t doubt anything.”
These days, she doubted even less than she had before. There was a time when Imogen would’ve resisted the urge to try to understand magic. But the more she’d been outside her homeland, experiencing the world and starting to see that there were aspects to power she had not understood, the more she began to recognize that the things she had hidden from were not what she needed to fear now.
“You question whether the trees can detect anything,” he pointed out.
She shrugged. “If you told me that the grasses, or the wind, or even the sky itself was talking to you, then maybe I wouldn’t have so much to question, but when you tell me it’s the trees…” Imogen smiled slightly. She’d seen that he was magic, so she knew what he could do, even if she didn’t understand it.
The landscape shifted the farther east they went. There was still evidence of the forest in the north, though they had left most of the trees behind. The land here was so different than the Shadows of the Dead. The grasses grew to waist height, brown this late in the season. An occasional twisted tree rose from the middle of the grassland, with large gnarly branches arcing down and waxy leaves glistening in the pale daylight. She watched those trees like she had when she was in the forest, concerned that they might come across one of the olar. A story she had heard—it seemed like ages ago but was really only a few months back—left her looking through the trees in a different way.
“What do you think the trees can do?” he asked.
“The trees grow.”
He regarded her in a way that said he knew she was attempting one of the sacred patterns, one that just happened to be Tree Stands in the Forest. “You have seen the way that the sacred pattern has connected you, have you not?”
She frowned at him, then cocked her head to the side, nodding. “You know that I have.”
“I know,” he said, smiling at her. “And I’ve seen how you managed to pull on power that would not have been accessible to you otherwise.”
“I drew on what was necessary.”
Pushing power down from herself and drawing on the sacred pattern had allowed her to work past the Sul’toral barrier, but it had been difficult. Even now, Imogen had no idea what she had done. It had been a one-time thing, and though she had studied and worked with Benji to try to understand the sacred patterns, she hadn’t been able to re-create that effect.
She knew that it was possible, though. That thought, more than anything else, gave her the strength to keep trying.
“You continue to tell yourself that what you did was impossible.” Benji tilted his head, breathing softly. “But I see otherwise.”
She arched a brow at the comment. As a Porapeth, Benji often saw the possibilities that existed in the world, magic that suggested different ways in which the world might open itself to him. Since traveling with him, Imogen had started to see a different side of the world, along with a different side of herself. She had discovered that the truth of the sacred patterns was not beyond her.
This revelation was something that should please her, but it left her concerned for what it meant.
As Benji spoke about the sacred patterns, she tried to focus, knowing she needed to find understanding within herself. She had started to find the truth and had demonstrated skill with several of the sacred patterns, but in order for her to do what was necessary with her brother, she would need mastery over all of them—unless she intended to destroy Timo.
Imogen wanted to find some other way. She had to.
That was her quest now.
“I will do what I need to do,” she said.
Benji nodded. “Then tell me what we just heard.”
“How am I supposed to do that?”
“Because you have the ability to do so.”
“Just because I can—”
The soft howl came again, and this time near enough that she could do more than just hear it.
“I feel it,” she said, glancing over to Benji, though turning only the slightest bit. If she were to move too much, she would disrupt the pattern. This was strangely complex, especially for a pattern that looked so easy. “I feel…” Imogen wasn’t entirely sure what she felt. It was a matter of trying to reach deep beneath her, stretching the roots of the trees in the forest. “I can’t tell.” She looked over, breaking the pattern, and she sensed Benji’s irritation.
“You must keep trying. For now, we will approach. I believe this is an oronth.”
“I don’t know what that is.”
“It is a bizarre creature, but it is not uncommon in this part of the land.”
Benji whispered something to the wind, and the words drifted toward her. She could almost hear what he was trying to say, but then it floated away and she heard nothing.
Even if she could hear what he was saying, she wouldn’t be able to understand it. During her travels, Imogen had heard many different languages spoken around her, but none were like the Porapeth language that flowed from Benji, mingling and mixing with the wind and the world around him. Even hearing him speak felt like magic.
As Benji had claimed, his magic was different, mostly because he was magic rather than having it. Regardless, the kinds of things he could do were drastically different than the ones she could do, but she had come to realize that Benji was no less powerful for it.
“Perhaps a dark creature,” he said, “but I can’t tell.”
“I thought you knew what oronth were.”
“I recognize what they are, but that is not enough when it comes to these creatures. It is different than knowing. There are many things I recognize, but I do not have the same experience as others do.”
“Is it a Sul’toral creature?”
Benji tipped h
is head to the side and frowned. A distant energy came from him, as if power was floating outward, but that wasn’t it at all. Instead, she could feel him speaking to the wind or the grasses or maybe even the sky.
“No, it is not of the Sul’toral,” he said. “At least, not yet.”
He started off, and Imogen hurried after him, trying to keep up. “What do you mean, not yet?”
“I mean that all creatures could be subjugated. You have seen it already.”
“I haven’t seen anything like that,” she said.
“You claimed to have dealt with the darklings.”
“Those were subjugated?”
“And then they were twisted by magic, which turned them into something they were not before. Unfortunately, over time they were drawn deeper and deeper into lost power, and they found a different path for themselves.”
“So you don’t know if the oronth had something similar happen to them?”
“I do not.”
Imogen nodded. She would have to be ready. One thing she had learned while traveling with Benji was that she was always going to have to be prepared for what they might encounter.
They had been traveling for over a month since defeating the Sul’toral. This time, she was certain he had been defeated—he had died by her hand while he was attempting magic to enhance his connection to the dark god Sarenoth.
It seemed impossible, but she had succeeded.
Since then, it hadn’t been easy making their way east, tracking rumors of Timo, but she and Benji had stayed together. Imogen waited for the day when Benji would tell her that he was going to leave. She couldn’t think of any reason to keep him from doing so, but he never did. He always stayed with her. She started to wonder what he might’ve seen with his Porapeth magic, but he never spoke of it.
They walked a little farther and topped a small rise. As they did, she began to feel something different. The energy in the air started to shift, as if she could detect that with her movements. But then, Imogen had taken to walking with the flowing pattern of Petals on the Wind.
“I feel something,” she said, looking over to Benji.
“As you should. They are here.”
Unseen (First of the Blade Book 2) Page 3