by Chris Africa
Tuva might have, but not Nita.
Nita grabbed the guard's fingers in her hand and twisted. Fingers snapped, and the man howled.
"That little troll broke my fingers!" he shouted. "Arrest them and take them to the square!"
Why not the dungeons? Several more thugs appeared and secured their hands. Roped together like cattle, they trudged toward the gate.
20: Nita
Nita had not expected to enter Lyesfare under guard. Townspeople stared as they plodded through the gates. Some sneered, but others wore obvious looks of sympathy or cast down their eyes.
If the stupid guard hadn't touched her, they would have gotten through okay. She should have gritted her teeth and smiled as Tuva herself might have done. But Nita didn't know the depth of her disguise. Would he be able to feel the raised pattern of silver veins snaking across her cheek? Would the silver strike out on its own to protect her as it had in the past? If that had happened, the watch would have arrested them for sure.
And anyway, why should he be touching her because he was a guard? He had no right!
She had to do something for so many reasons.
It was true: Nita hadn't formed a plan or allowed her friends to back her up. She gave William a sideways glance, but he walked with a straight back like he was taking a casual stroll.
In the time they took to pass through the city gate, the sky darkened and rain fell. Their captors shoved them along faster, but the downpour soaked Nita's clothes.
Surrounded by escorts, she saw nothing of the city besides the muddy cobblestones under her feet. She worried about how long the ring's enchantment would last and what would happen when it wore off. If the stories about the Wizards of the True Faith were accurate, they may have thrown her in the dungeons either for owning the ring or for the godsilver growing on her skin.
There was no way to win this.
The guards peeled away, and she could see the square ahead of them. Gnarkvetch had constructed iron cages in the middle of the square. Dozens of prisoners crowded each one, huddled against the rain.
Who were these stinking, mud-covered humans, and why were they imprisoned? Nita's heart went out to them. The guard with the injured fingers sneered as he loosened her ropes and shoved her into the closest one with her friends.
"Tomorrow's execution day. Don't get too comfortable."
Nita turned toward the thin, fearful people crammed in beside them. They looked angry and soggy, but not all of them were dirty. Maybe some hadn't been here long.
The door closed behind them with clanks and rattles as the guard fastened the lock.
"Execution day doesn't sound good," Chassy said.
"There must be sixty people in these cages. Are they going to kill everyone?" Nita shivered. They would have to get out, and it would mean using her powers. The guards had taken all their packs but hadn't bothered with the scarf, ring, or glasses. So at least they couldn't detect enchanted items on sight. She leaned in to whisper. "Chassy, are these opponents of Gnarkvetch?"
Chassy glanced over the crowd. "All of them," he said. "But the guards are his allies. They glow red, except one over there has no color at all. But all these other people have the same golden look as you. Why do you ask?"
Nita bit her lip. They would have to convince these strangers to help, but she didn't know whether she could trust them. Just because you were against the Wizards of the True Faith didn't mean you would help prisoners with an escape plan.
"You can trust us," mumbled someone behind Chassy. It was a short man, one of the cleaner ones, with a bloody rag wrapped around his hand. "I can see's you're planning something."
"How do you know you can trust us?" William asked. "What if we're criminals?"
The man snorted. "All the criminals was gone long ago, executed or they left for better pickins. All that's left in Lyesfare is honest folk trying to live our lives without hassle. Except we got hassle, didn't we?" He sounded bitter, and Nita wanted to pat him on the shoulder.
"Are you magic users?" she asked.
"Best to start with names first, don't you think? I'm Clint Flinnigan. That's my wife, Bea, over there wringing her hands and my boy, Jack." It looked like Jack hadn't passed his tenyear.
"I'm Nita. This is Chassy, Cherise, and William. We're from… out of town."
"I could see that," Clint said. "You don't dress normal and you didn't know about the lockup. This is where they take everyone now. No food, no shelter from rain or sun. They throw everyone in here, and once a week there's an execution where they—" he stopped to clear his throat, and Nita could tell this was hard for him to say. "They cut off everyone's heads. All of them."
"Gods! Is there no trial?" William sounded as shocked as Nita felt. Nita realized she was clenching her both her hands and her teeth.
"By decree of Lord Gnarkvetch, anyone suspected of practicing magic gets the ax. No questions asked. They used to take people somewhere and question them first, but even then, they never came back."
As sickened as she was by Clint's revelation, Nita could hardly quell her excitement. These people were allies. "So everyone here is suspected of magic?"
"Yes, ma'am."
She slipped into her own form again. Clint gasped and glanced around but didn't cry out. "And how many of them can use magic?"
"You're her! You're the Silver Sorceress!" Clint's eyes were saucers.
"I'm no sorceress. I'm a regular person with a little special ability," Nita said.
Clint raised an eyebrow. "I don't know about that. How many people have silver marks on them like that?"
Nita groaned. "Could we talk about this later, please? Right now, we should think about how to prevent these people from being executed. We need your help."
"I can't do no magic myself, but I can see it in people if you know what I mean. You and you," he pointed to Chassy and Nita, "are both strong magic users. But not you other two."
"What about all those people over there?"
"About half of them can do small things. Pick things up by thinking about them. Light a little fire. Nothing's been useful so far to get anyone outta here. See the man over there with the blue robes? He's a wizard named Fitz. Yesterday, the big guy Robert tried to light a fire in their cage—to warm up Ben Crensly's pregnant wife, not for escaping—and the wizard killed Ben with a bolt of lightning as soon as he saw it."
"Big guy Robert?" Nita strained to see the men in the other cage. It was Robert! The gentle giant stood a head taller than everyone else. He was thinner than she remembered and as wet as everyone else, but his face wore a sullen look. Beside him were Yasmina and Yosef. Yasmina caught Nita's eye, and her mouth quirked into a smile before she turned her face away.
"William, the crew is here!"
"I see them." William trained his eyes on the ground. "Be careful not to draw attention."
"Yeah, Fitz is a real piece of work," Clint said. "Don't get on his bad side."
Clint tilted his head toward a tall, slouching fellow with raven black hair pulled into braids on each side of his head. The rain parted around him; he was the only dry person outdoors. Fitz's face was square, and the corners of his mouth turned downward. He gazed off toward a nearby pub, looking like he'd rather drink ale around a fire. Judging by the demeanor of the guards, they didn't respect this guy and wouldn't mind if he left for the pub. Nita glanced away before she drew unwanted attention.
Clint motioned to them. "Come on over here with us. There's warmth in the group. They notice you if you stand by yourself or talk too much. No one does that unless they are planning something."
Nita followed him over to the larger group and shrugged into a spot near the side of the cage. The other bars were only an arm's reach away, close enough to speak to the prisoners without the sentinels hearing. Cherise, William, and Chassy crowded around. What a bedraggled group they were! Cherise's hat, which was fashioned from some thin, puffy material, had wilted into a sodden mess of cloth around her face. Chassy and William shiv
ered while trying to appear nonchalant. Nita realized her extra cloak, which had felt over-warm a few hours earlier, spared her from much of the chill. The other prisoners shuffled to make room for them but kept their eyes fastened on the ground. One woman gave Nita a sideways glance, brightened a little, and nodded before tucking her arm through Clint's.
"Don't you worry about a thing, Miss Nita." He patted his partner's hand. "You're among friends here."
21: Andrev
"The one what?" Andrev wondered.
"The one who Arrived, of course. Haven't you been listening?" Granny's forehead crinkled. "The book of prophecies speaks of the only human ever to arrive in the village unbidden. That's you. Now we have to untangle what it's saying about you."
Andrev's brain was already pondering that question, and he didn't like the ideas that came to mind. "You shall be the fall of the Waet," he muttered. "It doesn't say I will hurt anyone or destroy the town. 'Fall of the Waet' could refer to downfall from grace or position of authority. Do you really think I have the power to break the spell?"
Granny's jaw dropped, and she stared at him. "Well, you have never practiced your ability. Likely you cannot even use it for something unimportant right now."
"But what if you taught me? Could I then?"
Granny shook her head and grew thoughtful. "I suppose you could. But why would you? The gods themselves refer to your village as a place of endless summer, the home of law and light. To break the Spell of Mysteries would be madness itself."
She was right, but Andrev felt an odd distance had grown between him and his home. He was born and raised there and knew every villager. Some were kind, others indifferent, but no one treated him like the outsider he always felt.
Perhaps they deserved to learn of their heritage as he had learned of his. It had set him free, and he was a happier person. What was wrong with that?
"I can see by your face you are considering how to break the spell. I must warn you, though, there is more at stake than you can imagine."
Andrev started at a crash outside the door. Granny scowled and hopped out of her seat.
"Up with you now! We'll have to find a new place to continue our studies. Here, fill this bag with books. We have to take them with us."
Granny grabbed a matching sack and stuffed books in, starting with the Book of Remembered Prophecies and Andrev's unreadable volume. "Hop to it! The goo spell I set won't last all night."
The enchanted bag held a surprising number of books. No matter how many he dropped in, the bag didn't get any heavier or bulge the way he expected. Finally, there were no more books. Wild thumping issued from the door, and Granny's hands flew, snagging other items from the shelves into her bag. She reached into the front of her dress and pulled out a silver loop on a chain. Yanking it from her neck, she hurled the hoop toward the window where it hung in mid-air. The ring grew bigger until Andrev could stand inside it. Blackness and lightning roiled in the middle.
"And here we go!" Granny grabbed him by the hand and dragged him closer.
As the front door flew open, she gave him a shove and he tumbled headfirst into the dark. Before darkness closed on him, three malformed creatures burst into the cabin. Beyond them was a tall, angry man he was sure he would see again. He had rheumy, yellow eyes and flowing white hair.
After a few weightless seconds, Andrev wondered if he had died. Everything was black. He felt around and relief flooded him when he discovered his pack and the book bag intact on his shoulder. Granny clenched his hand.
A moment later he was falling, like the time he toppled out of the tree, except the drop seemed to last forever. He plopped in a heap beside his mentor. The bag bounced off his head and spewed books across the ground. For one stunned moment, he just stared. They were in another room like Granny's hideaway, except this one was still full of dirt and cobwebs. Andrev hastened to scoop the volumes back into the sack. Granny picked herself up and brushed the dust off her grimy dress.
"Looks like some spring cleaning is in order," she quipped, and Andrev groaned. She stretched out her hand, and a silver ring appeared in it. "She always comes back," she explained when Andrev raised an eyebrow.
"What is this place?" he asked.
"This is my cabin, can't you tell? I know we packed up all the books, but I don't think it looks that much different. Grab these rags and wipe down everything. We can't put the books on these dusty shelves."
"You mean this is your other cabin?" Andrev wondered.
"No, no. This is the same cabin, but on a different plane. Some things don't shift well, like books and herbs. People too. So we got to bring them along through the tunnel."
Andrev picked up a rag and wiped the nearest shelf. This cabin was even dirtier than the other. "Who was that?"
"It was that pest, Gnarkvetch." Granny scrubbed harder at an invisible spot, her face scrunching in annoyance.
"You mean the one who's trying to overthrow magic?"
"That's the one!" Granny threw down her cloth and pounded the table with both hands. "That man has been a thorn in my side since he was a kid. Back then, we were both learning from the same tutor out there in Vianesch—Master Vornole as you know him. I hated that Vornole adopted that young scoundrel as a student after declining me for almost a hundred years."
"But I thought the wizards forbid anyone to teach anyone outside Xillith," Andrev said. At least, Quon had said so.
"Oh, it's forbidden and dangerous. At Xillith, controls are in place—spells and such—to prevent a new wizard from making a foolish mistake. Vornole was teaching us inside my father's barn, which wasn't the safest place to practice fireball accuracy and golem control. My jealousy caused more than one near disaster."
"Why would he do that, if it was so dangerous?"
"Vornole proposed the idea that magic is a gift from Rehn, as knowledge is a gift from Falise, and we should share both with everyone. He also thought the best way to learn a lesson was the hard way!" Granny chuckled.
"So Gnarkvetch turned against his teacher." Andrev didn't give Granny a chance to answer. "He started a movement to eliminate magic, but you can only do that with spells. What a hypocrite!"
Granny shook her head. "Gnarkvetch's big crusade is nothing more glamorous than a power grab. And now, I would imagine, he's after you."
"Me?"
"Suppression magic flickers off you like flames off a log. It's how the crazy old coot found us."
22: Chassy
The cold spring rains continued throughout the day until brown sludge covered the cobblestones of the square. Even the horses trotting past slipped on the precarious stones. The rain had washed away or diluted the stench of humanity though it was sure to return in force once the sun appeared again. More prisoners joined them afternoon and evening. Outside the cages, the guards hunched in oiled cloaks, their red auras marking them as Gnarkvetch's servants. Inside, the prisoners surrounded in their golden auras, bunched together to conserve their meager body heat.
Clint explained they must sit or lie down to avoid attracting the soldiers' attention. They would also have to look dejected and miserable, which was easy. Chassy felt like mud soaked his bones, and despite being crushed up against a dozen other people, he found no warmth. They could not appear to be talking or show interest in their surroundings, which was difficult when planning an escape.
Darkness came far too slowly, and as it descended Chassy pondered his part in this escape. He wasn't sure he could do it, and in fact, he didn't want to try in front of everyone, but it was essential. Each of them had a role, and his job may be the most important. As the guards lit the torches surrounding the square, he felt Nita squeeze his frozen fingers once, twice, thrice.
Chassy focused on the mice in the field—what they looked like, sounded like—and he felt himself changing. First, he grew warmer. He looked at his hands, now covered in a downy fur. Nita gave tiny, fast nods, her eyebrows raised to show she could see it happening. A woman beside him gasped and covered her mout
h, and he realized he had to be smaller, much smaller, for this all to work. Becoming mouse-sized seemed to go against all the laws of nature—though, to be fair, so did transforming from a human into a mouse—but Chassy had to try. He pictured himself in the nest of field mice and focused on fitting. He felt himself falling until a giant, soggy pile of his own clothes buried him. He thrashed around, trying to get out, but there was so much cloth he thought he would suffocate. The clothes shifted, flipping him back and forth. He grasped the cloth with his paws and held on for life. At last, Nita's hand reached in and wrapped around him. It was cold and wet, but gentle, and Chassy let go of the clothes. He found himself extricated from the pile and out in the pouring rain with a dozen pair of eyes staring down at him. Nita put him beside the bars of the cage, and he walked right through.
Freedom! Some rodent instinct encouraged him to run! Run! Run! Chassy struggled against it and looked back at Cherise, who was squeezing through the bars. She shoved her head through first. It smushed grotesquely, and a woman nearby turned her head in plain disgust.
"Chassy, go!" Nita whispered furiously. He realized he was staring when he should have been scurrying.
So he ran as fast as his tiny little legs could carry him. At the edge of the square, he dodged feet, hooves, and wagon wheels before arriving at a safe spot between two buildings where he could change again.
This time, he thought of Shyrea and her cubs, imagining himself in that skin. The ground fell away as his body stretched and grew into the shape of a cougar. Without realizing, he reached out to Shyrea.
Human, do you have trouble? Her voice came back clear and strong.
He recalled a memory of Nita and William in the cage and felt Shyrea's anger explode.
That is wrong, she said, and he knew she was coming. The stocking must have healed her leg as Chassy expected. But he was sure she could not arrive in time to help.
Chassy was supposed to find their packs, and he sniffed the air. Humans smelled repulsive, but their horses might make a good meal. The packs were in the back of a wagon under a tarp. He cut back behind and around a tavern coming out the other side, where a single shivering man stood guard.